Meet Snowy

He's not exactly new, seeing as he accidentally joined our family back in October, during the epic weekend of dog misadventures. We tried to find his owner, by putting up flyers and spreading the word and checking Craigslist. Nada.

{snowy grinning}

After he had lived with my parents for a couple weeks, they theorized that he might have been purposely lost, due to his complete lack of house training, his tendency to chew on furniture and bolt for the front door whenever it opens and his crack addict like level of energy. In addition, he is admittedly bizarre looking, with a long body, a pronounced underbite and a tail so long it curls over and touches his back. He was white when we got him, but he keeps darkening (making his name more and more ridiculous) and he's developed a racing stripe on his back.

{snowy}

He does have redeeming qualities - he's the most snuggly dog we've ever had and it's wildly entertaining to watch him slam into the walls when he gets worked up. Most importantly, Circe is in love. They spend all day playing and gnawing on each others ears. He cries hysterically if you try to separate them even briefly. She's happier than she's ever been (no longer starts fights with other dogs, no longer hides under the couch in a sulking fit), and now we feel terrible that she was an only dog for so long.

Accidental pets are the best.

Happy Birthday, D!

It is Dustin's birthday and it's one of those years where it just doesn't come together. We had a crazy weekend (hence the lack of a recap yet - we got home too late for me to get photos uploaded). He has to work late today, we have other plans most nights this week, we haven't done laundry in way too long, we're low on groceries and I haven't even thought about getting a birthday dessert lined up.

So, in lieu of any official celebration, I swear I will stop at the store and pick up a dessert, quarters, and also eggs, so we can resume eating breakfast like normal people. And then I will do at least one load of laundry, even though I can last longer in the laundry siege and I have a bad relationship with our washer, which frequently breaks down when I use it. I will wait and not watch the Dexter finale until you are around, even though I'm dying. Oh, and if you make it home in time, I will totally spring for dinner. Anywhere you want, and I promise I won't wear sweats.

{photo of a dessert that i did not bake}

Please note that sometimes I manage to do a good job on birthdays - witness the gift selection from 2008 and the birthday brunch from 2009.  It's hit or miss around here.

104 weeks

I wasn't sure I was going to write about it this year. I was waffling back and forth. This blog is personal to me, obviously, but I'm a surprisingly private person most of the time. I was going to write regular posts this week, but I don't think I have it in me.

This week sneaks up on me. I know the date, of course. But it's more than that - I think my body responds to the season itself, picking up on the tiny cues that let me know the day is approaching. Pumpkins and trick or treaters, the Santa Ana winds in the air, election ads running constantly. I find myself feeling restless and stressed and then the crying starts, out of nowhere. 

A partial list of places I've cried in the few days: in the grocery store, on the bus, at two different airports, in my office at work, in the car, in various bathrooms, over dinner in a restaurant, at home. I almost never cry, so it's shocking to me every time. It hits me randomly, and I feel the tension build up behind my cheekbones and suddenly there are tears. I hate this loss of control. I feel weak.

Two years ago, Dave had his accident. Last year, we had only just managed to get the physical injuries under control so that he wasn't constantly being sent back to the hospital - I wrote a little bit about our experience then, as the big healthcare debate raged. We were at the one year mark, and while we certainly knew that the brain injury was impacting our lives, it had taken a backseat throughout the recovery process because the physical injuries were immediately apparent, demanding of attention.

After that first long day of waiting, while the doctors worked furiously to figure out exactly where all the injuries were, they sent a resident out to talk to us. He was young, with bleached hair and ear stretchers. He was muscled and hardcore and I remember being relieved, because hardcore seemed like exactly what I wanted. Someone tough, someone willing to take risks. He sat us down and tried to talk to us about the various injuries. We wanted to know about the leg, about the bleeding, about his face. He kept trying to talk to us about a brain bleed that they hadn't noticed upon admission that had rapidly bloomed. We would go back to the other injuries, relieved that they had stopped the bleeding, that he might get to keep the leg. The subdural hematoma was just a speck, a tiny little spot of blood in the brain. It was hard to focus on it in the midst of everything else.

Two years later and that speck is front and center, long after it dissolved. We're lucky. Dave came back, he came home. In so many ways, he is still himself. He has his memory, he loves the same music, he has his bizarre sense of humor, he writes just as beautifully. And yet.

He is utterly different. A brain injury changes a person, in ways that are hard to predict or explain. Dave has no temper problems, no inappropriate behavior, for which we are incredibly grateful. He simply isn't Dave in certain indefinable ways. He remembers that he loves us, but the brain injury makes it difficult for him to think of other people, so the generosity and care that we'd come to rely on no longer exists. The love feels like an artifact, rather than an action.

Dave married my mom when I was thirteen, old enough that the transition wasn't exactly seamless. I have a father, and I adore him. My mom and my sister and I had been an independent unit for most of my life, and I was happy with it. But Dave brought so much joy into our home, unexpectedly.

He loved music of all kinds, including Nine Inch Nails, which instantly endeared him to me. He took us on camping trips to the desert and taught Dustin how to rock climb. When I crashed my first car (I was fifteen, sans learners permit, let alone a license, it wasn't my car, and I rammed it through an actual wall, leaving a VW sized hole in an apartment complex laundry room) I told Dave first and he helped me tell my mom. He got me an interview for my first real job, at his company (but in a different department) and when I landed it we carpooled to work every summer while I was in college and then for a few years after. When, while working on my thesis, I accidentally filled my entire lab with hydrochloric acid fumes, Dave is the one I called. He was so calm - How badly are your throat and eyes burning? Is there anyone else in the building that you need to warn? Okay then, I think everything will be fine.

I miss that Dave so much. I miss knowing that I can call him when I have an emergency. I miss his voice, which has a completely different tonal quality since the accident. I miss having him ask me questions about what I've been doing at work. I miss him loving me and being proud of me.

It's hard, this ambiguous loss. Dave is here, he is alive, and everyone expects us to be grateful. And we are grateful, but it's possible to be grateful and also incredibly angry about what you've lost. When someone dies, everyone around you understands the script. It is a tragedy and you grieve. When someone miraculously survives, it is a miracle and you celebrate. We aren't supposed to grieve because we had a miracle. We're supposed to be happy, joyful, overwhelmed. But it's unbelievably hard, seeing Dave walking around, taking care of him, hearing him sound almost but not quite the same, and then being hit over and over again with the realization that he is only partially here. It forces us to live with the loss, constantly.

So much of what we love about people is the way they love us. When that love is gone, or completely changed, it's hard to figure out how to go on. What we have left is the knowledge that he adored our family and that he needs our love now. We continue on as best we can, which means some days are better than others. We live with that commingled loss and love, trying to appreciate what we have left while somehow allowing ourselves to mourn what we'll never have again. Yesterday Dave carved pumpkins for us, just like he always used to. We ate dinner together and he told a joke and we all laughed. He didn't call me girl in his old tone and he forgot to hug me tightly before I left. I have to be okay with that. I don't waste time thinking about how things could have gone differently. There are a million ways in which it could have been worse and a million others in which it could have been better and you can say that about everything in life.

And I am learning. I have always loved control and plans. I like to make schedules and lists and try to find the right time for everything. It's humbling when you realize that everything you've planned can be changed in less than a second. It's taught me to value resiliency. I want to be a person who can set goals and move towards them wholeheartedly but is willing and able to change as necessary, bending without breaking. I am practicing doing my best and then letting go, because I can't control outcomes. I am admitting to myself that above all, above anything tangible I might be able to accomplish in life, I want to be a person who loves well, and who is loved, and who does things right as often as possible.

This all sounds sort of hippie dippy and I prefer to identify as kick ass rather than new age. So I approach it more like that, as a challenge. It's a process, and sometimes it feels like zen and sometimes it feels like I really want to hit someone, hard. I am a naturally anxious person, so training myself to focus on the process and not just the outcome is difficult. But I keep reminding myself that I am moving and changing and growing. This is hard, I am allowed to feel sad, but I'm also allowed to have joy in my life, and I do. I am going to figure out how to keep moving forward.

But I'm taking a break until next week, when I'm over this crying in public business. It's hard to feel kick ass when you catch yourself weeping in the produce aisle.

The weekend, briefly

My mom turned 60 this weekend and we normally celebrate her birthday in a big way. Time didn't permit this year, so we forewent the party and made her eat cake for breakfast instead.

{the cake, 6 layers}

Decade celebrations require more layers (one layer per decade) and I was a bit nervous about this one. Six layers is a lot of cake. Structural integrity becomes an issue. I made three batches of cake and four batches of fudge (recipes here) and enlisted D to be my spotter as I assembled. Total kitchen time was about 6 hours, I think, if you include the break I took while the cakes were cooling. I stuck bamboo skewers through the entire thing and let it set up overnight. We only cut through two layers at a time, because we literally don't have plates large enough to hold a six layer slice. I should have taken a picture with a ruler next to it for scale.

{serving (photo by d)}

Also, drove through Lee*s for pre-baking sustenance (drive through banh mi is definitely one of the reasons I love SoCal),

{banh mi}

tried Deb's new rib recipe (killer, but we want to do a bit of tweaking with the sauce),

{ribs, remains}

went fabric shopping with mom (her stash, not mine),

{fabrics}

Circe slept in and almost missed the birthday breakfast,

{circe, morning}

we tried a new taco place and didn't totally love it (but we are really picky, taco wise).

{tacomiendo}

The dark side of DIY

If the spreadsheet yesterday wasn't enough to clue you in, I'm an organized person.  I actually create a Thanksgiving information packet for myself every year with lists of recipes, multiple grocery lists, do ahead and day of task lists and an oven schedule in which every dish is assigned a specific time slot. I love this stuff. I wasn't corralled into planning R's wedding for her, I happily volunteered and I was thrilled that she was willing to let me help. We come from a family that entertains a lot, so it didn't sound totally crazy to go DIY. Basically, we were as well prepared for this as any regular people could be.

That said, we underestimated the work that goes into a wedding. Neither of us had ever done more than simply attend weddings. A wedding is huge. It is 100+ people and a ceremony* where you have to express your undying commitment to each other and a party where you have to make sure that people are comfortable and fed and watered and hopefully also enjoying themselves and you have to make sure people know where to be when and what they should wear.  And it isn't just supposed to be a good party, it's supposed to somehow transcend all normal parties and become magical.

I think the wedding was lovely. It made my sister happy, I'm proud of it, I blather on about it way too often for something that happened almost three years ago (!) and my sister and I had fun together scheming over it. You can see all that in the recaps (overview, invitations, dessert buffet, cake making). But it was rough at times (and it was about as simple as a wedding can get, unless you're just going to the courthouse), and I have learned valuable life lessons about delegating and letting things go and biting off more than you can chew without choking and/or getting tipsy on your first glass of champagne because you forgot to eat for a few days running. I'm grateful for this, truly. Otherwise I would undoubtedly have been forced to learn these lessons while planning my own wedding, and it would have been a huge bummer. So really, this was the best of all possible worlds - I learned that I'm crazy and overly ambitious and my sister got a free, if somewhat bossy and unprofessional, wedding planner.

I looked over the last month of planning schedule that I'd drawn up and just starting jotting down memories as they occurred to me. This won't be a super intelligent summary of dos and don'ts but the rambling stream of consciousness will give you a better idea of how those last few days went anyways. Please note that I did experience frustration with friends and family during this process and for the sake of being honest I admit it in some places below. Sorry, guys. I love you tons. You already know that I'm impatient and easily frustrated so you probably won't be surprised.

:: We ditched the programs altogether and no one seemed to notice. No big deal. People will love your programs if you make them and if you don't, they probably won't notice and they will be able to figure out what's going on, I promise you.

:: I end up taking Wednesday - Friday off work to finish stuff up. I pick up the flowers from the wholesaler on Wednesday morning and that goes smoothly. I feel very optimistic. I have a car completely full of hydrangeas and there is no traffic on the 405 and this combination makes me feel uncharacteristically whimsical. What could possibly go wrong?

:: Wednesday afternoon - I realize that the cake pans we thought we had for the wedding cake weren't what we needed so I waste valuable time running around to stores to get last minute stuff. Also, we need specific color dyes for the cake, according to Martha. And cake boards. And dowels. We have to go to a cake store because regular crafty stores don't even have all this stuff. Why was this not all purchased earlier? Oh, right. Because my mom was chained to the sewing machine making the flower girls' skirts and ties for the men and a sash for my dress. I (wisely) resist the urge to yell at her (partly because I actually enjoy the cake store quite a bit and we had fun) even though it was technically on her list (I think). Sorry, Mom.

:: My sister realizes she doesn't have shoes, so we go to a couple stores trying to find a good pair. Note that by "we" I mean my mom and I, because my sister has just started a new job and can't take any vacation days leading up to the wedding. Luckily my mom has the same size feet as my sister and I have the same taste in shoes. Between the two of us, we work it out. I resist the urge to call up my sister and yell at her for not picking out shoes earlier. Even though I know she's been incredibly busy settling into her new job and dealing with more important wedding stuff like the ceremony. Sorry, Sis.

:: No one has made playlists for the reception music. I tell them I don't care because it wasn't on my list of tasks. Figure it out or have a music-less reception or just put the iPod on random. I don't even have to resist the urge to yell at people because at this point I. Don't. Care. They get the message. The best man takes over.

:: We have the rehearsal on Thursday. The lady at the chapel warns us that locking our knees while standing during the ceremony can cause you to pass out. I start having mild panic attacks, picturing myself passing out in front of over a hundred people. This could have been left unsaid, I think. Unless you are having a full mass, there really isn't enough time to pass out.

:: Rehearsal dinner was at the local pizza place with pitchers of beer. Best idea ever (my sister's, naturally). We go out for a joint bachelor/bachelorette bar hopping expedition afterward, but I bow out after two drinks, consumed with visions of uncompleted tasks.

:: All the rental stuff is delivered on Friday morning and I have to be there to supervise and sign off. It takes longer than I expected. I have to convince the delivery guys to take the stuff through to the backyard (clearly stated in the contract) instead of dumping everything in the driveway and abandoning me.

:: I spend Friday baking cake layers, a bit frantically, when I was scheduled to be leisurely frosting the wedding cake. I am so distracted that I accidentally forget to add the cream cheese to some of the batches of batter. Only realize it when I notice that I have several bricks of unused cream cheese. Still tasted okay, luckily. There was no way I am remaking anything at this point.

:: We have girlfriends over on Friday night to help us arrange the flowers while we all eat pizza and talk. They are amazing and I think this was the best part of the preparation.

:: We set up the backyard on Saturday morning and it was a bigger hassle than I expected. Helpers need to be told what to do, preferably with a scale diagram with exact measurements of chair spacing. People expect me to know EVERYTHING and I start to get a little snappy. All the serving pieces for the dessert buffet need to be put in place and non-chilled stuff gets put out. Loads and loads of ice need to be procured for drinks. Cookies have to be unpacked and arranged. I call my sister and tell her there's no way I'm going to make it to the hair appointment she scheduled for me. Sad.

:: D comes down to help (he'd been in school, and couldn't get out earlier) and as soon as I get in his car I start bawling and CAN'T stop. Physically unable to stop. I give myself a full 10 minutes to cry it out (this is a epic sob fest for me, as I almost never tear up) and then pull it back together.

:: I end up frosting the cake less than an hour before the wedding, stressed in a major way. You guys, it was a huge cake. With a lot of frosting. We were supposed to have shaved fresh coconut flakes and things to decorate the cake. Eff that. My mom helped with the frosting while my stepdad cut dowels to order. Team work. We slap a bunch of leftover flowers on it, only later learning that hydrangeas are toxic. Spoiler alert - no one dies.

:: Fifteen minutes to go time. I manage to shower, finally. We somehow lose the blow dryer and I have a total freakout, but we borrow one from the neighbor and I recover, more or less. (Luckily my sister was getting her hair done at a salon, so she wasn't exposed to the craziness). I may or may not have yelled at several undeserving people at this point. I don't remember.

:: Ceremony is lovely, no one passes out. Reception goes smoothly and we go through massive amounts of champagne. I am a champagne pouring machine, which gives me a chance to talk to everyone and also ensures that they are slightly loopy for my speech. People chat and catch up. I don't blow my (unscripted) maid of honor speech. Cake is cut and served and only one person gets a dowel in his slice. It's our grandfather. He can deal with it. Dancing commences.

:: Bride and groom make their retreat, guests trickle out, family and friends help us break down all the tables and chairs and bag up the tablecloths and scrape and box up all the plates and glassware. This takes a while. I break down the dessert buffet and pawn leftovers off on guests. Give the toss bouquet to my favorite cousin because we forgot about until after my sister was gone. Wouldn't be surprised to find out my feet are actually bleeding at this point but I'm pretty sure they are surgically welded to my heels and I'm anesthetized by champagne and exhaustion.

:: D removes me and we drive through In'N'Out and I attempt to eat everything on the menu before falling asleep in the car.

This is what I try to remind people of every time they mention DIY wedding stuff. It's fun (if you already love projects - this is key), it gives you some flexibility, it can save money. But the bottom line is that there is a reason why people hire professionals and pay them scads of money. It is a LOT of work and there isn't any way of getting around it. I enjoyed it, because I'm the type of crazy person who genuinely loves planning stuff, but I still felt out of my league at some points.

In short ...

Edit your projects
Pick your battles
Remember that every fun little detail you add has to get packed up, carried in and later packed up and carried out
Pad every single time estimate you make by about 25%
An excellent day of (or site) coordinator could be a lifesaver


* I had absolutely nothing to do with the ceremony other than being told when to show up and where to stand. So anyone looking for pointers on writing your own ceremony will have to look elsewhere.

The cookie spreadsheet, explained

Last week's frozen cookie dough post forced me to get going on something I've been procrastinating on for a loooong time. I've had lots of requests for the cookie spreadsheet I used while I was planning the wedding cookie buffet for my sister's wedding, and I'm terrible at getting back to everyone individually (and not always on a computer with the file). Sorry to everyone who thinks I'm ignoring them. This is for you! I'm honestly not sure how often anyone finds themselves in a position where they need to make this many cookies (Christmas, maybe? If you're really intense?), but it will help if you're trying to tackle a huge baking project.

And while I was figuring out how to explain the spreadsheet to you and clicking back and forth between the pages, I found the little last month of planning schedule that I'd drawn up for us so that everything would run perfectly smoothly. I looked at it and laughed hysterically for a minute and then decided to share some of my (less pretty) DIY wedding reflections with you, a few years later. That part is coming tomorrow.

For the uninitiated (people who have not been reading for long enough that you are horribly sick of hearing about this wedding already) there are a series of posts about my sister's family made wedding here (overview, invitations, dessert buffet, cake making).

Back to the spreadsheet - I've uploaded it to my Google docs, so you should all be able to view it here. I've tried to set it up so that you can't edit it, but you can download it in Excel format and play with it on your own computer. If you have trouble, let me know in the comments and I'll try to troubleshoot.

Keep in mind that it's going to take a lot of adaptation unless you want to make exactly the same cookies in exactly the same quantities that I did. I made this for myself, so it isn't foolproof at all, and it will work best if you're already very comfortable with Excel. Here's a brief rundown on how I used it ...

The first page is the master list of recipes. It includes all the recipes I decided to use and how many batches I needed. There is a little check off section so that I could check off batches of dough as I went along, to keep myself organized. There are notes about whether the cookies were to be frozen as dough or as baked cookies. You'll have to enter your own information here.

The second page is the master list of ingredients. I tried to include most of the common ingredients so I would know what to buy in bulk. I looked up rough cup to weight conversions for the dried goods, and they probably aren't exact but I didn't end up way over or under. In order to calculate the totals, you have to tell Excel where to find the values. We'll get to that.

The third and fourth pages are the broken down recipes. For each recipe, you'll need to enter the ingredients and the amounts in the correct columns. The spreadsheet will automatically calculate your scaled up amounts if you enter the number of batches you want to make. To figure out how many cookies you're getting, change the formula in the box that says "total" by substituting your number of cookies per batch for whatever number I have in there. Excel will automatically multiply it by the number of batches you've entered.

In general, I made four batches of each cookie by making two double batches. This saved the most work. Make them one after the other and you won't even have to wash the mixing bowl between batches, most of the time. I automatically had Excel calculate the amounts needed for the double batch, because I found this helpful.

Now the fun part - pulling it all together to get your shopping list. I won't lie, this part can be tedious and it's easy to make mistakes. You'll have to do it yourself because all the cells are going to be moved around once you sub your own recipes in for mine. Let's say you're trying to figure out how much flour you need. You go to the second tab (master list ingredients) and select the cell between "flour" and "cups". Delete whatever is there, because it's my information. Type an " = " sign so that Excel knows you're going to enter an equation. Then click over to the tab with your recipes and select the cell from the first recipe with the total amount of flour for that recipe (you're looking at the "extended" column). Once you've selected the cell, enter a " + " sign and then click on the flour cell for the next recipe. When you've selected all the flour cells, hit enter. You should automatically be taken back to the master list ingredients tab and the total amount of flour needed will show up.

Excel is picky and it can be annoying when you aren't used to it. I don't recommend this spreadsheet to beginners, but if you have some experience I think you'll find it's significantly faster than trying to manually figure out all these totals.

I left my random bits and pieces of information in here as well. If you're curious to see how the last month-ish  of wedding planning went, you can click over to the last tab and see my calendar. I work full time, so I packed in all the major activities on Saturdays. I had goals for each week (you can see them in one long cell that underlines the week in question), and this was stuff that I had to do during the evenings. I started baking on the first of October, to give myself a full month. I aimed to spend about three evenings a week baking or mixing dough, getting two - three recipes done each week. It actually wasn't that bad. Once you have it all laid out, there aren't any decisions to make. You just plug along until you finish the checklist. When you're making double batches of dough, it all goes relatively quickly. The cookie part of this went exactly as planned, but the last week of wedding prep was a killer, for everything except the cookies. More on that tomorrow.

Greece - Sounion

I have never stayed at a Greek resort, so I had no idea what to expect when D's grandmother picked the Grecotel at Cape Sounion. The location was clearly fabulous, but I had doubts about whether fancy resorts actually existed in Greece. While traveling alone, I had never spent more than 30 euros a night for a hotel room (and more frequently paid 10 euros for some distinctly questionable accommodations), so I am obviously not an expert.

I needn't have worried. We were greeted by a giant pear (which was actually part of a fruit platter, and accompanied by a bottle of wine) and robes. Apparently this is standard resort practice. Who knew?

{sounion - hotel greeting pear}

We spent most of our time by the saline pool but we did make it down to the beach.

{yes, my legs are as pale in greece as they are everywhere else}

{palapas - or whatever they are called in greek}

It wouldn't have been our vacation without a little weirdness. We all signed up for the sunset champagne cruise, which sounds super luxe. We were a little thrown when the captain couldn't get the boat into the cove, had us clamber out on the slippery rocks in a failed attempt to board, commandeered Dustin to act as deckhand, and finally (rather inventively) solved the whole problem by having us mount a broken down jet ski, three people at a time, that he tied to an inflatable canoe with a bit of twine and proceeded to row us out to the boat.

{d, with the jet ski and the canoe}

We made it to the boat, clutching our champagne for dear life. And it was worth it.

{captain}

{temple of poseidon}

{sunset cruise}

Totally different from any Greek experience in my repertoire, totally lovely. And a truly perfect way to spend the tail end of a busy trip, with a bit of relaxation after all the craziness a family trip entails.

Greece - Nafplio

D and I knew we had to arrange a side trip to Nafplio, which is only a couple hours outside Athens. It's an old port town, not ancient, but fabulous. Teeny little streets with beautiful balconies, some fun antique shops, and a fairly quiet port.

{nafplio port at sunset}

We ended up renting a car and driving. I was super nervous, because driving in Athens can be insane, so we took the metro to the airport, picked the car up there and then got right on the highway. And it was fine.

{driving, greece - not the highway}

On the smaller roads you run into some sticky passing situations. Brave drivers pass in all sorts of places that you would think impossible (i.e. blind curves, on a mountain) but we avoided this.

{little hyundai}

Apparently, picturesque Nafplio did not get much camera time. I was too busy relaxing. D took the family out to Mycennae, which is only 30 minutes away and is a must see if you haven't been before (I have, several times). The site is ridiculously wonderful. We all went to Epidavrus, which is as stunning as I remember and they've added a cute (if overpriced) cafe.

{theater at epidavrus}

{museum at epidavrus}

We stayed at the Pension Andromeda, and it was a great (accidental) find. I have major issues with hotel duvet covers (I know, weird) and was so happy to walk in and find an actual blanket on our bed, in a totally modern bright orange shade.

{pension andromeda - good bedspread}

The only downside was that the little guy stepped on a sea urchin and I had no idea how to handle it (after a failed attempt at pulling the spines out with my tweezers). He was super brave, even though we ended up having to take a trip to the hospital, where we were given a prescription for antibiotics and instructed to rub warm olive oil on it. Bases covered. Was sorely tempted to take photos of us in the hospital but managed to restrain myself, out of some notion of appropriateness. The foot recovered enough for him to enjoy the old fortress the next day.

{nafplio - palamidi}

Nafplio was a lot easier on the kid, because it's small and quiet and because it was swarming with Greek children (I'm thinking they must have been on a field trip). And it has a serious fort and some amazing gelato. Hard to beat.

Greece - Athens

Tried and tried and tried to shorten this post and failed. Sorry. Scroll down if all you want is pictures. Or see all the photos here. I'll share bits of Nafplio and Sounion later in the week.

I'm not Greek (to my everlasting disappointment) but I have roots there, of a sort. My parents lived there while my mother was pregnant with me, flew back to have me, and then returned to Athens. We lived in a suburb right outside the city, in Filothei, for those of you who might know it. We left before I was old enough to have any concrete memories.

I returned in high school, on a dorky school trip with three of my best friends (and many other people who I've forgotten). We stayed for three weeks. We learned absolutely no Greek. We got sunburned. We found a bartender in Crete who spiked our milkshakes with (a teeny tiny bit of) rum. We lacked in supervision due to a few planning snafus on the part of the program. We felt very Grown Up.

I came back in college, for my semester abroad. This time I learned enough Greek to ask directions and order food and discuss my ancestry (a truly critical matter that comes up far more often than you might think). I lived in a huge, old apartment in Kolonaki with 7 other girls, at the base of Lykavittos hill. It was a hike - my calves barely fit into my pants by the time we left, so muscle-y were they. We lived on lentil soup and cheap wine, saving money for excursions all over the country. I learned the city like the back of my hand, navigating by feel, wandering at all hours of the day and night. I sobbed into my suitcase at the airport as I waited for the flight that would take me out of the country.

Touching down a couple weeks ago felt like coming home. We arrived right after a few days of rain, so the city was at its absolute best.

We settled into our rented apartment, right on the edge of Plaka, close to Syntagma. We visited the acropolis (which is truly brutal in the heat, but lovely in this sort of moody weather) and we oohed over the New Acropolis Museum (miles better than the poor old one) and we ate.

{athens, from the acropolis}

{acropolis, erechtheion}

{taverna dinner}

The weather warmed up, quickly. We spent our days exploring the city. D took the family to Delphi, while I stayed home and indulged in a free day. Morning city walking (fast, determined, disdainful of traffic signals) with a stop at my favorite bakery and my old stomping grounds, followed by a long afternoon nap in our breezy apartment.

{my beloved old apartment - that's our balcony on the first (not ground) floor}

{curtains, breeze}

An evening out at the Dora Stratou theater, to ogle the costume collection and the dancers both.

{dora stratou theater}

{dora stratou dancers}

Late in the evening (the sun didn't set until 9:30 or so) we'd sit on our balcony and drink beer and look at the acropolis, all lit up.

{acropolis, lit}

And on our very last evening in the city, we went to the top of Lykavittos hill, to visit my favorite tiny church and to see the city.

{lykavittos church}

{athens from lykavittos}

The only sad bit is that D's brother, for whom the trip was designed, did not love Athens. As in, mostly hated everything about it (specifically, noise, cars and crowds), with the exception of the Acropolis. We clearly waited too long to immerse this suburban child in a city environment. I was heartbroken, but we tried to make the best of it. I mean, it's a bit like handing someone the most amazing present you can think of, beautifully gift wrapped, waiting with bated breath for the reaction and then watching them burst into sad tears when they open it. Not good. 

The weekend, briefly

Such a busy weekend and I didn't manage to take nearly enough pictures to capture it all. We had three birthdays + a graduation.

There was plenty of dessert.

{birthday scene, meringue peaks & birthday cake}

A teeny tiny amount of creative time (although not with the serger, which I don't know how to use - I just love the way it looks).

{serger, thread}

Some very worn out dogs.

{baxter + shauna}

Leftover birthday cake + tea for breakfast. Yum.

{leftover birthday cake}

Mother's Day printables

My favorite mother's day tradition is the flowers. I go to the thrift store a few weeks prior and pick out vases or fun containers for all the special women in my life and then fill them with flowers.

{last year - mother's day bouquets}

Add a pretty little tag and some ribbon and you're done.

{last year - mother's day brunch}

Here are the tags I designed last year, but with empty spaces so you can sign your own name. Print the file on cardstock, using a color printer, cut out the tags you want to use and punch a small hole in the top to feed the ribbon through. Tie around a vase of flowers or a gift. Let me know if you have any trouble accessing the document - this is my first attempt at linking directly to one of my PDFs.

{clicking on the image will take you to the PDF}

Details from last year - I purchased thrifted vases, made croissants and set up a simple brunch.

Dinner time

The new rule in our house - no distractions during dinner. The TV is off, no work is allowed. We sit and eat our dinner like civilized people (even if we are on the couch or the floor). We catch up on our days, we talk about things that are coming up. For such a little step, it's amazingly refreshing.

{gyoza}

This was always supposed to be the rule in our house, but we'd gotten busy and lazy and tired and let ourselves slip out of it. You know how sometimes you come home and you're just too worn out from your day to even want to talk about it? That was happening too often.

{wine + cheese + olives}

It's a good reminder that nothing just happens. D and I have been together for years, so it's easy to take our closeness for granted and sometimes that's just fine and even exactly what we need. But we have to remember that relationships (including friendships) aren't static - they constantly change and evolve and that's the best part. We have to stay active and interested in the process. I have friends from all stages of my life, which is wonderful, but it takes effort. Fun effort that I wouldn't trade for anything else, but effort nonetheless.

{pesto!}

When it comes to the most important things, you just can't afford to be lazy. At least, not all the time.

The holidays, briefly

So ... "sporadic posting" became a complete blog fast and as much as I missed everyone, it was a nice little break.

And it was so incredibly busy.

There was Christmas...

{reindeer candelabra}


{orange, silver}


{holiday bounty}

Followed by a week of relaxation and recuperation (and quite a bit of obsessive organization) ...

{the day after}


{paper punch, tags}


{organizing}

A festive New Year's Eve at home ...

{New Year's Eve table}

And a lovely lie in, followed by a late breakfast, the next day.

{New Year's breakfast}

It's back to work and back to normal for us. D and I had a (scheduled) strategy session yesterday afternoon, to revise the budget and think about goals for the upcoming year. Yep, we're dorky.