I'm hooked you guys. I'm digging this boy so bad I'm here rumagging through my pockets for any words I've got hanging around - something to keep him here, reading me.

No warning needed - this isn't a #brag post.

This is a desperate attempt of a girl to put down pretty, compelling words that can keep a good man on the line...

Because it's dark outside.
And soon I'll tidy up my desk.
I'll close the windows.
And I'll head home to the best man.

And I'll know he's been here.

In exactly 3 weeks - 21 days - John and I take off for Europe. We'll have 5 weeks - or 34 days - of wandering the streets of Paris, Bilbao, Barcelona, Dublin, London, Monte Carlo, Nice and so much else and anywhere else we feel so inclined.

Disconnected - far away - together.

I think waiting to take our honeymoon may have been the smartest thing we've ever done.  We're ready to adventure, relax, focus, and just get lost together. Goodbye house, jobs, cars, pets and all other good and distracting things. Goodbye stress, pressure and a world of expectations.

Hello just you and me and Paris.

I know I still haven't posted our wedding photos really.  And I know some of you are pretty upset about it.  Someday, I will do it.  In the meantime, this photo often pops up as my wallpaper on my screen at work.  It's one of my favorite photos.  That could sound pretty selfish - it's a photo of me looking all dolled up.  But that's not what this photo is of at all.

This is a photo of my mother's wedding dress and my new mother-in-law's pearls - the pearls she wore on her wedding day, and her mother wore on her wedding day - on me. It's a photo of a little boy who lived in the apartment downstairs of our first home.  A boy John and I visited in the hospital when he was first born, and we were first growing closer as a couple.  It's of a hen the boy's mom and I talked our men into letting us bring home as a baby chick one spring. His mom has done up my hair in curls and gentle twists for the occasion. Our friend, who once made my sister the loveliest for her wedding day, now dressed my lashes, lips and all the rest to make me look beautiful in this photo. And the photo, one of my best friends created with her camera. The presence unseen but felt; a dear friend close by. You can see a little gold nose ring, the one I'd wanted since I was 13 - the ring that inspired me into a new version of myself at 25 - someone who took risks, was confident, friendly, adventurous, conversational. Who did the things she dreamed. Who decided she should learn to play the violin and talk to boys. Who went to house parties, but showed up in sweaters. The 25 year old girl who met my husband, John Turner one night on a soccer field.

You can see all this in one little photo that wasn't ever on a shot list - in one little moment that hardly anyone saw on my wedding day.  This is what the photo is of, and it is one of my favorites. The details of the day rushed by and hardly anyone seemed to notice the little things that meant everything to us as we said I do.  But I see them here.

A Very Serious Chicken Post

Guys, check out the new coop John built me!  Okay, he built it for the four littler ladies in his life, but essentially, he made it this pretty just for me.  I love it so stinking much and while it will be bitter sweet to lock our liberated ladies inside for a couple months, it's going to be so fantastic to grow our grass back (hopefully), spray my roses and actually watch all my dahlias bloom rather than become expensive chicken lettuce. 

We decided to build a bigger coop for a few reasons.  The first is that the original one we bought, marketed as a coop for 2-6 hens, really shouldn't be used for more than 3 (MAX).  The hen house had one perch and only three of those fluffy bums could fit across it.  One girl was always the odd one out and had to sleep in a nesting box. We weren't just worried about her feelings, sleeping on the ground makes the hens more susceptible to pests and illness. Lately, they've begun picking at one another's feathers too, most likely due to the cramped quarters at night.  The size of the run is far too small as well, which is what led us to let them free-range every day. 

It's one of the sweetest things to watch them run around the yard, or be greeted by them at the front gate, but they take a lot of liberties.  Namely, all of our neighbors know them.  That's because every day while we are at work, they slip through the hedge (around all the chicken wire attempting to keep them in), or they jump our 5 foot fence, and they make their rounds through several neighbors lawns. They typically return before we do (but not always) and eventually they fly onto the top of their hen house where they prefer to perch for the night.  This means John or I have to pick each of them up one by one and place them inside their hen house before locking it up safely for the night.  Yes, each night we have to put our girls to bed. 

We don't mind too much.  But it is a bit limiting on vacation and travel.  Finding a person willing to let them out each morning and put them away each night can be asking a lot!  Thus the bigger coop.  We're hoping to take our grand honeymoon this fall and we're hoping to have the girls so well situated that all we have to ask is for a little check in once a week. Refill the water and food, perhaps give them a fun treat and que, sera sera. 

Being so large though, in such a tiny yard, we had to be sure to make the new coop pretty.  And easy to use, access and clean. John designed it in such a way that we can build a little chicken door/tunnel to a second optional run behind the shed later if we like. He also assures me he's figured out how he's going to use the rainwater off the roof to refill the girls water.  In his words, "easy".  We'll see. ;) 

We still need to attach the hardware cloth and door to the run, a chicken ladder, and other final finishes before we can backfill and landscape.  THEN, it's grass time!  The idealist in me is saying we'll get to seed the lawn this weekend. It might be a stretch.

This has been an unusual week with almost no evening commitments for John and me.  Tuesday, my soccer game was even cancelled and the closest to being social we have come is John smoking pipes with the guys next door. So Monday I went for a run and made dinner.  Tuesday, I was in sweats within minutes of arriving home and sat and read for probably an hour before John got home and we decided to check out the Italian place up the street (egh).  Wednesday, we had a couple by to look at our MIL apartment, we cleaned up our own place, ordered pizza, finished 30 Rock and stared at our big European map that arrived. Tonight, we're seeing the Seattle Symphony perform Chopin's Piano Concerty No. 2 (courtesy of my firm). Tomorrow we spring into a full-fledge social weekend, with dinners every night and then into busy, busy work weeks for the next couple weeks. So tonight, I'm relishing.  Just plain ol' relishing. :) Weeks like these are rare and perfect.  

I hope you're finding the unusual and perfect parts of your week too right now. If not, look for it. ;) 

A coworker lent me a magazine - and it sent me into an online rabbit trail of researching the great curator Hans Ulrich Obrist. It wasn't until several websites and interviews later that I realized - I can put that on my list.  I can actually go visit the Serpentine museum this fall.

I  "almost" went to Europe twice in the years directly before John. I begged to go another two times during college (thanks Dad, grr). We day dreamed about getting married in Ireland.  Then we planned to go for our Honeymoon - then decided spring would be best - then pushed it back to fall due to work schedules. And here we are, committed and convinced we are going this fall on our much awaited European - Over - the - (honey)Moon Trip.  We still haven't bought airfare, and I know that's the only thing holding any of my excitement in check, but until we finalize our itinerary, at least our arrival and departure points, we can't! But I've already made my packing list - after much research on how to pack for 5 weeks in a carry on and still look newly-married chic. ;) I've also been collecting all the spots I know I want to go - trying to remember each of the cathedrals, museums or quiet streets that made me long for each of those cities over the past 10 years. We decided to save Italy & Greece for a future trip, so we've narrowed it down to the following: Ireland, Scotland, England (briefly), France and Spain. But when it comes to which cities and which neighborhoods.... good Lord that's a lot of decisions.  And how exactly to tackle them, seeing as my parents will be joining us in Ireland and can't head over until about 3 weeks after we'd ideally be leaving ourselves.

So decisions, decisions, and dreaming and dreaming!!  Our large map will arrive tomorrow or Wednesday and my Pinterest Board is overflowing. :)

Last year John and I practiced a little thing called "No-Plans-November."  It felt both painful and amazing.  I don't know why we all feel like we have to say yes to things.  So many things.  But setting an imaginary rule that said we actually had to say "No" to everything was unbelievably freeing.  It was funny how many friends responded "I'm jealous" or "I wish I could do that" when we politely declined their invitations and explained our pact.  My response became, "you can."

We haven't even talked about repeating it this year.  In fact, I don't think either of us realized that November is this weekend.  But then a friend told me they couldn't make a show because they were going to be practicing "No-Plans-November."  And I got jealous.  

I'm sure you're all sick of hearing me complain about how much there is to do and how overwhelmed I am by this and by that.  You're probably thinking "Just wait until... [insert your life standing right now]..."  But for real folks, we are so done.  So very, very done.  We've been feeling past our limits for so very incredibly long.  And I know that's how we grow.  And I know that's how God stretches us.  And I know that's how He increases our capacity. But we're sooo past our capacity. And I think we're learning we need to say No. 

I like that we say yes.  In fact, it's one of my favorite things about John in particular.  And we have so much fun saying yes. We just are realizing that we have to change somehow, something, for this life to be sustainable.  We need rest. We need time to get to have fun and refuel together.  And we need to be able to feel we have accomplished and completed all that we've committed to - that our home is in order, cared for and being well-utilized; that we are being helpful, healthy employees; that we are stewarding our bodies with less stress and more exercise; that we're enjoying life and not going to look back and wonder what happened to our first couple years of marriage; that we have time for our family and close friends when they need us or just miss us; that we can share a meal and take the time to prepare it, rather than ordering take-out because it's already 9:30 by the time we get to think about dinner; that our time and energy are moving us toward our life-goals, and not just around in busy frantic circles. 

What I want to do this fall:  In October (what remains), I want to watch Doctor Who episodes, eat popcorn, drink lots of chai, and read books. I want to watch movies. In November, I want to write thank you cards and drink spiked eggnog while we hide inside our fort we call a house. December, I know fall is over, and I want to try to enjoy time as it goes, try to soak in each moment and make my feet and clothes so heavy with memories that the holidays won't be able to rush as they always do. I want to take time to celebrate our birthdays in January. Plan surprises. Put paper and bows on boxes and write each other birthday cards. And after that, I'll start to get antsy.  I'll start watching for green peaking up from the ground.  I'll monitor temperatures and note every decimal as it goes up.  I'll wear warm cozy socks, hate leaving for work, and return while it's dark again.  I'll still be finishing up my 'Goals list' for the year. And while we hide inside in our warm, safe place, observing and collecting data, we'll be plotting our escape - our next escapade - another adventure - another spring.

That is what I want to do this fall.

Hey there friends!  It's been a couple weeks hasn't it?  I don't have much time to chat today.  I suddenly have two weeks of work to accomplish in the next two days.  Not sure how I'm going to swing that.  But, I'm going to try.  It's 7:45 and I've been here at my desk for nearly an hour.  Already watered the flowers, woke up my girls and changed out their water and food.  First meeting starts in 60 minutes.

Truth be told, I keep pushing an anxious nausea away. What I have to accomplish is maybe not possible.  And certainly will not be healthy if I do pull it off.  

However, as soon as I push that anxious thought away, I find another waiting patiently right behind it.   John.  I came home yesterday to find he was already there.  The front door and back doors open - his shoes on the patio - my man was in the back yard feeding our girls 'a treat.'  My heart melted.  I ran out a few minutes later for a girls night, said goodbye to him as he began the dishes.  And I came home hours later to find him well into moving everything out of our "workshop" and into our office - reorganizing, cleaning, taking care of so many things on our long list of to-do's for the week - creating a guest room. We spent the next several hours of the night cleaning, moving, folding. I'm so glad I get to work beside and with this man for the rest of my life. I'm glad that when I face impossible tasks - successful or not - I get to find him at the end of the day. 

The Beautiful Game

Tonight is (my) first blueberries game of the season. I've been thinking a lot about soccer. Me and the world have, you know with that whole "World Cup" thing happening right now.  So I've been thinking on this sport that my dad put me in shortly after I could walk. Thinking of all the years I played and what they were worth.  Thinking of the season I had to pull out early and how I assumed that would have to be the end for me.  You take off 6 months and you come back out of shape, out of practice, out of confidence.  That's not the recipe for moving up in the premier world.  But somehow I came back with something else, I wasn't over-thinking it.  And due to a number of other details out of my control - what should have been my scariest, worst tryout - was my best.  I knew no one.  I hadn't been competing.  I was trying out for the same league that I'd pulled out of early last year. What were the odds? Low. I moved up.  I became a part of what would be my favorite team.

But what is the point of all those years?  What's the point that I didn't quit playing soccer in 10th grade? Well, I'm engaged to a guy I met on a co-rec soccer team.  And who knows, maybe I'd still have joined it if I quit back in 10th grade.  Then again, maybe not.  It's just delightful to me to look back and see that this thing that became a part of my life so early on - introduced me to the guy with whom I'll be spending the rest of my days.

I can't just leave it at that though - because I don't think the guy is the end goal of it all.  I don't believe who you spend your days with is more important than who you become - before them - with them - maybe even after them. This sport also crafted deep parts of who I am, taught discipline to my stubbornness and teamwork to my strength.  Taught me that sometimes it pays to sprint the field and be the only one down there by the goal.... but more often, it pays to wait for a good teammate to join you. Your glory might be less, but your score will most likely be higher.  There's nothing better than a good teammate that you don't have to see to know they're running the opposite sideline and setting up for you - nothing better than creating something beautiful with someone you trust.  That's what soccer taught me.  And perhaps it's fair to say, that's what soccer brought me.

I'm glad I didn't quit the berries that first season. That's another thing soccer taught me, part of that disciple and stubbornness. Don't quit.


I'd never have met that guy making dollar bill rings with Chris.

Life is Good

Life is good, and I am grateful.

I seem to be hearing the same sentiment all around me lately.  Life is not perfect.  It isn't exactly "comfortable" most of the time.  And it could never get mistaken as "easy" - but, life is good.  And I think if we can learn to feel comfortable in ourselves amidst all of its surprises, irritants and discomforts, we'll be able to see and enjoy all of its pleasures, joys and gifts.

One of our favorite things lately is making our first cup of morning coffee and sitting out on the lawn with our "girls" - letting them wander around exploring and pecking.  I also have this constant hankering to sit on the front porch in the evenings.  We don't really even have a front porch.  We have front steps, and a concrete landing just big enough for us to fit two old ikea dining chairs beside the door. And I love it.  We leave the front door wide open despite the flies and bees it kindly invites into the main house, we crank up my dad's old record player we had repaired and we sip on something strong.

Work is crazy.  My body seems to have some old grudge against me. The house has a few dozen projects that need attention (not to mention flies).  We're planning a wedding on the fast track. And we're working on growing together. It's stressful and demanding. But it's also fun, when I take the time to remember.

Life is good. And inside these moments, I find comfort.

The sun is soaking into my skin and I can't help but crave a little country, some cut offs, sweet tea and a long flat drive. I'd thought perhaps I was over country music, maybe it had all gone flat - thought maybe Beau had gotten to my music taste, drugged me with a distaste.

Nope.

That loves still going strong, it was just waiting for a warm ray and a new worthwhile song to make my foot start swinging.

And I'll win Beau over, if it's the last thing I do.  The man's from Boise and loves a cold bud light, mountain biking and girls who bake him homemade pies.  But he hates country and called the first ball cap I saw him wear a "costume."  This guy.  All I can do is continue to spam his Spotify inbox.  :)

I'm itch'n for the 75 degree weekend - 7 hours and counting.

Oh hey, we were there... the evening apparently 12-15 tornadoes were noted around Nebraska and Iowa.  When the sirens went off, we headed to the basement.  My hands were definitely shaking.  It's been a while since I've been that legitimately afraid.

Getting engaged one night, and two nights later sitting in a basement hoping to be "missed" by a tornado reportedly heading your way - it was a quite the exciting weekend, we had lots of feelings.

New Terrain

As I sat alone in a coffee shop in San Fran, penning down my goals for my upcoming 25th birthday, I realized I travel moderately enough.  Yeah, I have yet to have that grand European adventure I've been dreaming of, but I do find myself on a plane a few times each year.  Only thing is, I find myself on a plane to the same couple places each year - San Fran and Nashville. And while I love both dearly, I decided I need some new territory.  Not just that, I realized I want to always be discovering new terrain all my lifetime.  I deemed it a life goal right then in San Fran.  Every year, one new city. It doesn't have to be on a different continent - maybe it won't always even be in a new state - but it will be an intentional, obvious, new city.

2012 (Twenty-five):  Boise, Idaho
2013 (Twenty-six):  Bella Vista, Arkansas
2014 (Twenty-seven):  Omaha, Nebraska

Omaha, next weekend people.
Unsurprisingly, each of these trips have also meant meeting a new part of Beau's family.  I am looking forward to meeting Grandma Turner next Saturday and hopefully understanding this crazy man of mine a bit better. ;)

2015 (Twenty-eight):  Dublin? Crete?

A Tribute

It's only been a few years since my dad plopped an old 33 on his turn table and we sipped coffees to the melodies of Peter, Paul and Mary.  I fell in love.  That same vinyl spun around and around and around for months.  When I was cleaning.  When I was reading.  Always.  I started treating myself to album after album - though I think my dad had their best from the start.  Last weekend we took my dad's old turntable to Hawthorne Stereo for a diagnosis.  Within the hour we were back at John's, the voice of Karen Carpenter streaming through the living room speakers.  The Carpenters were a feature in both of our childhoods - my parents played "We've Only Just Begun" at their wedding, us girls selected it for the renewal of their vows 25 years later.  John's family danced to their Christmas albums each December.  It seemed only fitting to be our first album on this record player that had now become "ours" - one of the many things we've taken from the lives of our parents.

But the second album?  It had to be Peter, Paul and Mary.  Because while I love the Carpenters, because it is "theirs" - well, Peter, Paul and Mary - they are mine.  And after Saturday, I think perhaps they could be "ours".  Grateful to have the man I do, one who'd fiddle for hours with wires and cords and nobs, just to make voices that have been singing worthwhile words for 50 years, a little clearer.  

The Rolling Stone Encyclopedia of Rock and Roll called Peter, Paul and Mary "the most popular acoustic folk music group of the 1960's." During that decade they produced 11 albums, 5 of which became million sellers. And they scored 12 hit singles, including the classic children's song, "Puff, the Magic Dragon" and "Leaving on a Jet Plane," a ballad written by John Denver. The group brought folk music to a new prominence in the post-McCarthy era, putting songs about politics and morality on the radio amid the syrupy boy-girl love songs that dominated when they began playing together in the early 1960s. 

 Peter Yarrow, Noel Paul Stookey and Mary Travers made their debut in 1961 at the Bitter End in Greenwich Village. On the strength of this performance, they were signed to a recording contract with Warner Brothers. Released in May 1962, their first eponymously titled album included their rendition of Pete Seeger's song, "If I Had a Hammer," a hit that was the first record to bring protest music to a mainstream audience. Eighteen months later their version of "Blowin' in the Wind" became a hit, and the first commercially successful recording of a song written by Bob Dylan.

As their fame grew, Peter, Paul and Mary mixed music with political and social activism. In 1963 the trio marched with the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. in Selma, Ala., and Washington, D.C. The three participated in countless demonstrations against the war in Vietnam. And they sang at the 1969 March on Washington, which Mr. Yarrow helped to organize. 

Exhausted by nearly 10 years of nonstop touring and recording, Mr. Yarrow, Mr. Stookey and Ms. Travers disbanded in 1970. But it proved to be only an intermission. They reunited on a part-time basis in 1978, and continued to perform together for decades. They have five Grammy Awards and a handful of gold and platinum albums. Ms. Travers died on Sept. 16, 2009, at 72. 

The New York Times.

John is getting sent to Thailand for work in February.  My passport expires in March.  Mere coincidence? 

17/20 

I think the only thing better than reading Tina Fey - is listening to your boyfriend read Tina Fey.  Especially if it is her memoir of coming of age, being a woman in the comedic workplace, becoming a mother and the rest of the hysterical (pun? social critique? historical allusion?) aspects of womanhood. And ESPECIALLY if he laughs harder at it all than you do. Beau, you're just the best.  :)

Off with my Boise boy!!

See you all on Monday! xo