Month: December 2010

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Post-Christmas post

Christmas came and went in a flurry of tests, extensive flight delays, time with family, laughter and hugs, and it was wonderful. There are bucketloads of moments to share, so I'll resort to my usual summarizing tendencies. Let me present the best of Christmas, 2010. Except, really, the best of Christmas was that it was our first married Christmas. That exciting sense of anticipation didn't stop on December 25th. Each day forward, together, is a gift far better than I will ever deserve. So,…

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I want to be a part of it

From Scotland to Paris to Newark, despite impending storms, we made it a few clouds early enough. Jet-lag plus endless hours transporting in and out of the city to take even more endless tests, and my outlook on New York was dire. Just when the noise and exhaust and chill had officially snuck under my skin and started irritating me, I slid my subway MetroCard through the scanner Walker had just gone through only to read "Insufficient balance". Bummer. And then there was a tap on my back, and…

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Favorite Day of the Year

A year ago, I was longing for today. Here we are, baby. (By today, I mean yesterday, as I didn't get a chance to post yesterday.) Some days I say, remember when we took a road-trip through a blizzard going to Alabama? and we shake our heads at how much has happened since. We're legends at reminiscing. But, invariably, Walker says this is better. We always come back to that: that was good, but this, right here, is better. Goodness gracious, today is SO much better than a year ago. It's his first…

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The secret

Can you be allergic to Christmas trees? Because between a migraine and sinus pressure, this past week hasn’t been fun on the feeling-great front. And then, I’ve burned a pan black with apple cider, cooked olive oil onto the stove, and gotten a pot stuck in the dishwasher. Over and over, I’ve wondered what the future holds, wondered why what I like to do is neither profitable nor prestigious. I’ve grumbled about itty things: having to clean up the dishes, vacuum the pine needles, and carry…

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Did I hear party?

Hilarity always ensues. Despite a thrown-together supper, and me feeling tenuous, it was as good n' goofy as always. Moments when I am shown that I can’t have all the dishes washed before I serve, when I see that everything won’t come out of the oven before company walks in the door are good. It is good to know that with friends, the food is second. We smacked down a Jersey-style dinner down with meatballs and sauce, fettuccine, salad, mozzarella and tomato caprese, and garlic rolls. The final…

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And life begins again . . .

with chicken soup and liters of water. My poor hubby wrapped up the term (until January exams) and proceeded to spend his evening Friday getting me cold washcloths. It was the migraine again. Raise your hand if you hate having to be waited on hand and foot. Yeah, me too. I realized once again, in my semi-delirious state, that I find too much of my identity in what I do for other people. Walker had to load the dishwasher and make breakfast and clean up my trails of blankets---and non-shocker of…

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Day(s) in the life.

The food processor squirted oil onto my arm, and the caramel hardened to the counter as I crunched over peppercorns and popcorn kernels. Fifteen minutes later, when I’d whished away all the flour and the dishwasher had been shoved closed, my apron was at last dangling on its hook. Stay. It withered to the floor. Such was my day. Today, I looked through cookbooks, and was uninspired. My toffee didn’t set, and my popcorn refused to snap open on the stove. (I did feel a surge of excitement,…

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Scottish Translation 101

I knew it would come. I belong here. I do. Walking to these rocks, I suddenly felt protective. I wanted people who saw me with a camera to know I was from here, not a bussed-in tourist. I've often felt that transplanted feeling of an ex-pat, that feeling that I don’t belong here, but I don’t fit in the last place, either. When someone casually asks where we’re from, we invariably turn to each other, and I give Walker the you can answer this one eyebrow. "Well I grew up in Minnesota, and she…

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Audience participation, please.

With schemes to snaz up this lil blog, I spent last night trying to coax my old posts into straight-lined categories. Ain’t workin’, baby. All my posts preferred to mingle together around the campfires of “I love this man” and “I love this about my town”. And it made me wonder why I’m trying to make my blog something else, something practical or researched, when it seems to be about one thing: instants of life where we are. I have no printable recipes, no spiffy logo, no button, and certainly…

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Hello, silent world.

Walk. Walk? (You know how it goes: you’re technically whispering, but it’s just loud enough.) Walk. You have to look outside! Somehow, the enthusiasm of the awake never fully rubs off on the dreary. But, I'm pleased to report, when he saw the snow, he was as overjoyed as I. Flake upon downy flake has filled our garden with silence and rest. When my un-contacted eyes saw the white whir beyond the Christmas tree this morning, I became bouncy-ball hyper with exhilaration. Ok, not that excited.…