Yet another reason why I'm the luckiest wife in the world

A few weeks/a month or so ago, I saw this online:

I loved it. I coveted it. I showed the picture to my husband. I said, "Look, isn't this amazing? I could really use something like that."

We don't have much of a pantry, so our canned goods end up ... well, all over the kitchen and laundry room.

Zak looked at the image briefly, answered in the affirmative that it was, in fact, cool. Then, he made me one. A better one. A more beautiful one. A perfect one.

My perfect sliding pantry:

It takes up almost no space. 

It just slips into the five inches beside the fridge 

that we were previously wasting.

All the 'foods' in their places:

Demonstrating the genius of it:

Rolling on its smooth rollers, the magic pantry APPEARS:

I mean, really. Who does that? 

My awesome husband does. That's who. 

Knowing that he was willing to take time out of his lunch hour,
to stay late after hours at work, to come in early to work,
in order that he could get this made for me,
knowing I would looove it,
just blows me away.

It is now a daily reminder that I am loved.
Every time I go to eat (which is more often than I'd like to admit)
Every time I go to get a cup of coffee
(or to make the second of my three daily pots)
I see it and I think, there is no way I deserve that.
But he made it anyway, because he loves me.
I'm riddled with flaws, irritating habits, stressful mood swings, immature antics--

But still he loves me,
despite,
and because of,
those things.


Yet another reason why I'm the luckiest wife
in the world. 

Blood is thicker than water

When I say family the word softens in my teeth. It is a round word, a Whole word.

I know a lot of words that are clipped, or broken. Fear is a broken word, and Money sounds like a window that has shattered. Even Faith has its ups and downs.

Words that have no meaning like cup or plate are broken, too. I dropped a cup this morning and it sprinkled across my toes like the dust from which we come.

Family never returns to dust. Family comes from bones, travels in blood, slips into the next generation because the previous one gave it breath.

A sister is a Conspirator. A sister shares your emotions, shivers when you're cold, sips from your cup of coffee and laughs when the froth gets stuck on your nose.

A mother is a Dreamer. A mother knows your brain, gets inside your heart, fills your limbs with the will to move forward, to reach larger, to love deeper.

A father is a Listener. A father's kiss rests eternally on your forehead, hands consistently support your step, eyes forever watching and breathing and encouraging you to learn, to pause and appreciate, to memorize the glory of the lines in the faces of your loved ones.

A cousin is a Learner. A cousin stumbles through your same problems, wades through the same experiences, gives and takes advice when your foreheads are pressed together in the middle of the night waiting for the next big Change, for the next great Adventure.

An aunt is a Helper. An aunt recognizes the fear in your voice and the joy in your eyes with her hands outstretched to lead you between each stepping stone even when your ankles are wobbly and your heart is afraid to be strong.

An uncle is an Example. An uncle shows the way to walk and not trip, the way to laugh contagiously, the way to life a life steeped in prayer, fluent in understanding, drenched in compassion.


---
In 141 days, the list will be longer.
It already feels longer, to me.

Winding down 2009 and preparing for the rest of my life.

- I am in love.

- Today is my last day of 2009 in the Bay Area. This morning was my last morning in Oakland for 2009. Praise all that is good in this world.

- Tonight I drive home to Santa Clarita to see family. My sisters and I are all going to be under the same roof. This is very, very, very Good.

- Christmas is Thursday. The Nativity fast will be over. I'm eager for the birth of Christ.

- Michigan next week, then Chicago for a wedding, then Michigan. I get snow around Christmastime!! Be very jealous, please. Thank you.

 - My mouse is cooped up in my car today while I work.

- So are the flowers Zak bought me this week. I hope my mouse doesn't die of Lily poisoning. It would be ironic because her name is Lil which is short for Lily.

- I'm in love. This is first and last on my daily report. I am very much in love.

Done with Semester One

- A 1/4 of the way done with graduate school.

- The floor is covered in cookie crumbs. My dorm room windows are foggy.

- The Bay Area is cold and understands an inkling of winter: forty-two degrees this morning and I shivered in my blankets before remembering I had a thermostat. Temperature regulator.

- Jesus is on my bookshelf. He watches me sleep and sometimes it is comforting and sometimes I am afraid because he Knows. Whatever it is that I am always hiding. And I never know what I am hiding, for.

- It is easier to write when I am thinking. Today I am not because my fingers are cold.

- I want to live in the city. I want to live in the sometimes sun. I like our friends in the city. They are warm and memory and feel bless-ed ages even though it's only been since August. September. January. My life will be young when I am old.

- I said our because you are my home.

A little country twang never hurt anyone

Oh! Welcome back to the West Coast.

Since Friday I've been to:

Fresno-Las Vegas-Dallas, TX--Nashville, TN--Paducah, KY--back to Nashville, TN--Detroit, MI--Ann Arbor-ish, MI--Los Angeles--Fresno--then back here to Hume.

What? 

Oh. Yes. Michael and Carly's wedding, Pascha, meeting Zak's family  ... all-in-all a long, full, wonderful trip.

I don't quite know what to write about. My brain feels foggy with the rush of travel and I'm still catching my bearings. The mice are still alive, if anybody is wondering ...

Although I didn't take any pictures at the wedding, due to the chaos of my arrival, I did click a few blinks around the cobblestone, brick-building, vine caressed city of Ann Arbor while Zak and I wandered about in the rain. 

Hm. It's lonely here in the Cave. Today I sat for two hours outside in the newfound sun, resting my feet on the rail of the porch while I turned the pages of the life of a saint. 

It all started with a craving for the Sea

Ask me what I did this weekend.

Go on: ask.


I'll tell you even if you don't ask, because it's my blog and I get to write what I want.

Short version of the story: I followed an impulse and ended up in San Francisco, on a beach, in the arms of the one-and-only Zak Landrum.

Long version: I learned all over again what it is to feel yourself so poured out, so poured into, that any question may be asked and the answer freely given; any task may be proposed and the completion eagerly fulfilled; any dream may be shared and the hope willingly infuses the entire air so all you both breathe is Light and all you feel is Belonging.

Mmm.

Ask me what I did this weekend. Sunday morning I woke up in my bed on a mountain. By eight I was at church in Merced. And an hour after church I was nose-to-nose with my dear Friend--with my cherished Heart.

----

(photos all by Zak :) )

I prefer the ocean over the forest, over the mountain, over the plain, over the desert, because the Ocean is old without being ancient, it's young without naivety, and it's friendly without being invasive. Every wave feels new, no matter how many times I've seen the crash of white foam on the rocks, or smelled the salt as it seeped up the shoreline and across my skin. The ocean feels--is--endless. The ocean breathes eternity and I sing back Rest into its quiet expanse.

Literature is a beautiful word.

Sometimes magic comes in sunshine and sometimes it comes in ice crystals.

Today it came in a Stick-Shift-Samauri. That's a Jeep, my friends, and that means I CAN stick shift it sweetly through the snow.

I feel like I am unintentionally hissing.

I also made spaghetti, made my bed, made 10th graders smile and made 12th graders groan.

A full day I say. I'm going to my parents' home tomorrow and for the weekend and my heart feels warm with anticipation.

It's nothing abnormal ... but particularly now ... 

in the still of the twilight that

curls round my chest;

with the lift of the lash

and heart's hum in my breast,

My sigh's the conclusion

that wears the sky thin

and the snowflakes (like starlight),

Breathe--Zak: 

and Miss--him.

The stars in your eyes light up the Skies

Well I have returned to the comfort of four familiar walls and now place myself before a blank computer screen, beginning to attempt to sum up the past six days in something that gives you at least an inkling of my grand adventure. For now, I'll stick to a summary of events. The emotions, I will save for another journal entry.

It all began with Thursday's trip through the airport: my lonely gaze out the window as we swept over unrecognizable terrain, heading north along the California coast. After an interesting adventure involving a confusing bus line and a homeless man asking me if I needed directions (while he eyed my conspicuous luggage), I arrived at my ugly, 70's-style hotel with its gold decorations and cigarette water.

The bathroom: pink tile~ and the Carpet: green&gold.

After settling into the room, I took my own adventure down to Fort Mason, said a surprise hello to Zak Landrum, and then traipsed about the city in search of USF and a good cup of coffee.


I ate dinner alone in a crowded restaurant and the waiter gave me a series of pitying looks and flirtatious remarks, including, "Hey. You're keeping me company, too."

I thought, This is very, very sad. But strangely liberating. I ate dinner alone, surrounded by lovey-dovey couples, and instead of staring at my plate, I made conversation and got a free drink and left a cute tip. I should do it again.


Thursday night, I sat in a round room on a squishy sofa in the heart of the University of San Francisco and discussed the MFA program with a representative and about five other prospective graduate students. The night concluded with a glass of wine at a wine bar, by the light of a candle and the warmth of conversation with Zak.


Oh, and a round of gross battle wounds erupted across my heels so I was forced to take action, involving the purchase of tacky socks and a lot of bandaids.

Friday, I made my way through the deepest part of Oakland's ghetto and arrived at Mills College: the all-girl's oasis nestled in the middle of a large forest surrounded by barbed wire in order to maintain a safe separation between the students and the gang-infested surroundings.

On the bus ride to the college, a black woman leaned over the bus chair behind me and said loudly, "Whatchou-Doin here, White girl?"

On the other hand, the college was gorgeous. And the interview was fun. I went on a tour of the school and spread myself out on the grass, reading and burning my skin.

Saturday morning, after a breakfast of crepes with Zak, I met up with my cousin (well, actually, I am her mother's cousin... my family's weird) Erin and had delicious tea and GREAT conversation. Like I've said before, I love family. I hadn't seen her since I was a kid, but she's as lovely as I remember her, with sparkling eyes and a heart full of wisdom.

The rest of the weekend is a blur, bookended and caressed by moments of self-realization and a continual outpouring of myself into the nurturing of a beautiful friendship. Zak and I visited the Opera House on Saturday and the San Francisco ballet gave us a performance of a classical piece that was familiar to my aching limbs, an interpretation of Ibsen that moved my heart to tears, and a more modern piece that dragged me to the end of my seat and left me begging for more. I also saw Zak's play Saturday night--the Magic put on a performance that displayed raw, beautiful human relationships--at both their best and at their worst--driven by the conflict surrounding a cancerous diagnosis, one woman's desire for survival, and the ultimate acceptance of Surrender. I am so proud to know that Zak was involved in its development.

Sunday we basked all day in the light of the sun and in the warmth of a deepening friendship, then took an adventure to Cory's, where we witnessed (and, unfortunately, sampled) a bacon concoction just begging for a heart attack, played a few rounds of Mexican Train, and tried to remember who played in the Superbowl and half-heartedly wondered who won.

(Zak's domino creation before he let me destroy it)

As far as the Super Bowl goes, I still have no idea. But I did win one round of Mexican Train.




After wandering through a few bookstores, after a few more long conversations, after a dinner adventure at Cora's and after a rather normal viewing of the Curious Case of Benjamin Button, I bade my farewell to the city and all its beautiful occupants, and returned to the airport, where I got felt-up by a security guard, got my bag opened and inspected, and wondered, "Do I really look this threatening?"


When I spotted a little girl being returned a violated-looking teddy bear, I felt a little better. But not much. I mean, seriously. Do I look like I have a gun hidden in my cleavage? Or a bomb under my belt? I don't think so. America.


Needless to say, my graduate interviews are complete. I came home to a telephone call offering a raise for my pending job (which I start next Tuesday, by the way). I will have about four more students, twenty more dollars a day, and not much more work. So now, not only am I responsible for the 8th-10th grade English and History, but I'm also proctoring the English independent study course for the 11th and 12th graders.

Life's ridiculous. But grand.


I've missed you all. Thanks for putting up with the overflow of information. Now: to clean my room and pack for my next move.


I'm reminded again of how temporary every resting place has come to be for me: I visit a city, I sleep in two beds and a couch, I come back here and spend a few more nights beneath my parents' roof, then I make my way back to the snow and to a basement without the warmth of another human to press their comforting hug around my shoulders at the end of a taxing day, or to join me in prayer at the beginning of another. I long even more for permanence. But I am excited for my next grand adventure.

Don't be a Cheese.

Today was filled with friends and family and I am surrounded by joy.

Blonde hair is a greater hit than the brown was--mainly because it's proof that even though I'm surrounded by my old world, the new "Me" still survives, still thrives in the familiar environment.

Beckie Ruggles appeared in my driveway today and I haven't been able to stop smiling since I saw her beautiful face. I really don't think that woman ages. Her eyes sparkle with the joy and hope of twenty-something. I can't wait wait WAIT to see her again.

Went back to my cousin, Kyle,'s house tonight with Heather and we baked banana bread and masked the drywall dust smell with the warm aroma of baking. There really is nothing like the bond of family--the camaraderie, the familiarity, the trust built on a lifetime of relating and understanding and growing together. And the love that transcends all conflict, all turmoil, and perseveres. If anyone needs an example of what God intended for our Love relationships--look to my immediate and extended family.

My bags are packed with every professional outfit I own. Heels and all. I can't wait for my pumps to go clickety-clack against the pavement of the streets of San Francisco. I think my hotel's in a sketchy area though. Better bring some mace. Or just my fist. baha.

My heart's struggling, my friends. Pray for strength and understanding and compassion and wisdom. I pray for new excitement to infiltrate your everydays :)

---

W. Somerset Maugham is funny:

"The crown of literature is poetry. It is its end and aim. It is the sublimest activity of the human mind. It is the achievement of beauty. The writer of prose can only step aside when the poet passes; he makes the best of us look like a piece of cheese."

I could hold on a little tighter, I know.

But even if it kills me ...


----

Well, the room is nearly cleaned; all the people in their prospective boxes. All the clothes in the suitcase. All the makeup in its place.

My hair is blonde again. Sort of. More like the sun kissed me on the forehead and bled its tears across my locks. It's nice. It's more familiar. And I feel better. Chin's a little higher.

San Francisco in two days. Kyle's house tonight for banana bread with Heather. And hopefully some life-counseling. And "where do I go from here?"

'Another suitcase in another hall. Take your picture off another wall.'

---

... I'm gonna smile.

Joy means a Smile even Through Sorrow

My heart is warm and my soul is full.

Yesterday my cousin Heather, my sister Hayley, and I went to high tea at the Tea Garden and had cucumber sandwiches and picked our favorite teas from the list of 120 options, then sat around sipping the warm liquid as it spilled down our throats, nibbling on chocolate scones, and musing over questions of love. The entire experience was rimmed with golden laughter and the love of family.

We proceeded to the theater, where we watched Bride Wars and exploded our sides with laughter.

At seven pm, I dropped Hayley off at home and ditched town to embrace a wonderful reunion with Bre.

We spent the night downtown and met a young man from Ireland, who called me gorgeous, gave us travel tips, and dropped the "F" word as much as we use the word "like." It was actually beautiful. Rolled off the brogue like honey.

I spent the night with Bre, fell asleep to Veggie Tale's Jonah, and woke to the happy smile of Abbe. We sat around talking in the kitchen, pretending we were going to leave and start the day but never quite got there. After berry pancakes and an afternoon of shopping, I ditched that town again and made my way to my cousin Kyle's new--BEAUTIFUL--home, where his mother shared important wisdoms with me and I remembered how fast I've grown up in the last month.

I don't remember the childish anxieties that used to pierce my gut and render me useless for hours. I don't remember the whine that squeezed from my lips.

Instead, my heart pours itself out daily and is filled with the love of the Spirit and the wisdom of His people. I am surrounded by the Faithful.

I am loved by the Friend.

it's Good to be in Love

Either I'm suffering a delusion, or there's only one test between me and the two letters--BA--that will label me fit to launch upon the world.

Nope. I did take my meds. Not a delusion. Reality hits.

Gasp. Someone please fill in the gap that should buzz with memories of the last four years of my life. My mind seems to have chiseled away the landslide of moments that I should be recalling when attempting to reminisce. Instead, I walk away from Westmont clutching a vague, misshapen sculpture of feeling, rather than specific memories. Joy. Times of serious soul-searching; aimless floudering; and meaningless fear--parallel toes tingling with the kiss of rain; smiles shared over a glass of wine, a cup of coffee, a plate of really horrible DC spaghetti. Late-night conversing: while crammed eight-in-a-car, or two shrugged against the laundry machines. The plucking of guitar strings. The pounding of piano keys.

Tonight I am humming contentedly. I began the day lunching with Zak (which, of course, consisted of electricity, vegetables, and Peace), filled the sun with crystal blue oceans and espresso-rimmed conversation, and concluded the day with blessed reunions, a stunning pecan pie (compliments of Lara), warm Fellowship, and this steaming mug of hot chocolate.

Exhale with me. Who needs 'ultimate purpose' when Peace breaths such relief? :)
<--He wearsmyhood so he doesn't get cold in
44degree weather. :)