Call me hormonal… cuz I think I am.
I just want to cry at everything. I’m on a progesterone supplement and I think that’s the main cause of this situation I find myself in. I went to a wake for a man I didn’t know, and just the sight of a dear friend in distress caused me to almost lose it (normally I can maintain myself in those kinds of situations).
Poor Frank got a dose of it this afternoon. ::sigh:: He handles it well.
Ok, I’m going to go work out and hope that it helps the situation.
AGH!!
one of the musician-types I sat next to on the way home played in a band called the blood arm. Interestingly, she recently was injured in a freak candle holder accident that cut through her quad through to the bone and had to have surgery to repair her muscle, etc. She showed me a picture. It was gruesome. So the blood arm band girl was more of a bloody leg. Sweet.
rock.
Well, we are back from our Vegas extravaganza. We came out ahead of the casinos (by about $50 – hey, better than in the hole $50!) and had a delightful time together.
I will write up a detailed, day-by-day report as soon as I get pics back from Frank. Some things just can’t be explained with mere words.
General thoughts:
It’s good to be back home. Thanks to Andy for the ride home tonight. You’re a fabulous brother. (who I convinced to go on a 2 mile run with me at 9:30 am Saturday).
we will celebrate our six year wedding anniversary.
SIX. YEARS.
our first kiss as husband and wife
It’s at this point I’d like to just point out we were 16 when we got married.
Ahem.
So six years ago, Frank was texting me, telling me that he broke his arm (he didn’t) and that he would need a cast (he didn’t). And I was thinking, “Crud, he’s going to have to hide his arm in all of our wedding photos.” Good thing that Frank was just playing a joke (good thing…).
And we were having our bridal showers and final dress fittings and getting our marriage license.
It was such a rich, vibrant time in my life – but also fast and busy. So many things in my life were changing at break-neck speeds, it was hard to keep things organized. And often we didn’t keep things organized.
In the midst of Frank and I starting our new life together, my grandfather passed away. My grandfather gave me a great appreciation for strong male personalities. I find myself drawn to men with bigger-than-life-personalities and even larger opinions. Meanwhile, my dad’s strong, but very diplomatic and wise personality was a nice balance for my grandfather’s influence. In many ways, Frank is the perfect blend of the two men.
While my parents’ marriage is it’s own great love story, and I love it, my grandparent’s love story was legendary.
They met when Nani was 11 and Papa was 14. Papa’s mom made him share part of his candy bar with Nani. Knowing Papa’s sweet tooth, this was no small sacrifice.
When Papa was a teenager, he went off to fight in World War II. He didn’t speak much of his time there, but when he did, he was very emotional. When he came home, he went to a New Year’s Eve party and Nani was there. Nani was a model and I always imagined that there was a halo of perfect lighting wherever she went. That night, several young men were vying for her attention and it wasn’t until midnight that my grandfather finally won the battle for Nani. He wasted no time – that night they set a date for their wedding and they were married on June 12 of that new year. (6 month long engagements are genetic, I guess)
Their love affair never faded. Vibrant, passionate – their love affair simply evolved and grew over the years. They loved to have a good time, throw a big party, surround themselves with friends and family. As a little girl, I remember catching them smooching in the kitchen and holding hands. It always seemed fresh and sweet.
They argued, absolutely. I don’t know any couples that don’t argue.
On June 12th, 2003, they celebrated their 55th wedding anniversary. I was in another room while they ate breakfast together and heard Nani say to Papa, “How did you love me all of these years?” And he answered back simply and plainly, “Because I just do.”
Less than a month later, Papa passed away in his sleep. I had dreaded that moment for years and years prior to it actually happening. As a little girl, when I became aware of their intensity for each other and then became aware of death, I always hoped that they would die together so that they wouldn’t have to know any days separated from one another. I know that sounds horrible, but it’s true. They were each other’s entire world, and when Papa passed away, Nani’s heart was totally broken.
She made it another three years and just around Valentine’s Day, she passed away. I suppose, as my Uncle Steve pointed out, it was only fitting.
And so what does their love story have to do with Frank’s and my love story? Oh, many things I believe. They made a decision, every day, to love one another. They managed to do what so many others fail to do: turn around previous generations’ issues of alcoholism and infidelity. Their love was powerful enough to clean the slate of what they inherited from their families so that their children wouldn’t grow up in a broken home. They taught my mom what to look for in a mate and she, in turn, passed that along to me.
It wasn’t perfectly executed, but it was love.
In the midst of Frank and I planning our wedding, we stopped to remember Papa and Nani’s marriage and love story when Papa passed away.
My father-in-law likes to talk about the giants in our lives. The people who came before us, on whose shoulders we stand. The people who taught us to love big or go home. The people who courageously, bravely, and selflessly made daily sacrifices because they thought more of their legacy and future generations, than of themselves.
Frank and I have been married for almost six years. We faced some difficult challenges together. We enjoyed some of the sweetest times. We argue and snuggle – often within the same 15 minutes.
Frank is an amazing husband. He is kind to me when I am upset. He is gentle, even when I am fiery. He is strong when I crumble. He is generously affectionate, even when I make myself busy to enjoy it. He is wise and seeks to be wiser. He is a great leader, yet he often just walks alongside me. He is my favorite person, my best friend, and my lover.
Six down, forty-four to go. I hope we leave the kind of legacy in the lives of our family and friends that would make God and the giants proud.
This much, always.
–noun
1. the state or fact of being sufficient; adequacy.
2. a sufficient number or amount; enough.
3. adequate provision or supply, esp. of wealth.
While I was driving to my in-laws yesterday, this phrase crossed my thoughts: God’s grace is sufficient. I’ve heard that a lot in Christian circles.
But so many times, Christians say things – true things, but lofty things – and others (like me) nod, but sometimes I don’t really get it.
So I looked it up. What does sufficiency really mean?
God’s grace is enough. God’s grace is an adequate provision. It is wealth.
If that is the case (and it is), then it is all that I need.
slightly cosmopolitan does this awesome thing where she recounts the highs & lows of the week – and because she is awesome, she’s asked others to join in her fun!
highs & lows for the week ending 08.08.09:
highs –
high & low combo – leaving my job – very bittersweet
lows-
if you play along, link back to slighlty cosmopolitan’s blog! (see her blog for more explanation)
one lap around the clock for the big hand! (translation: I completed a 5 mile run today in 1 hour!)
I was dreading this run all day. My shoulder felt crampy and I was starting to talk myself into that being an acceptable reason NOT to run. Yeah, I know. Lame.
I went to church. Went to my parents. Went to the Lake. Hung out with the K-side for a while. Went back to my parent’s to drop off some corn. Went to the gym parking lot. Sat there for a while and thought about it.
A CBS radio station in our area plays 60 Minutes live on the radio, simulcast with the TV version.
Just a few more minutes.
Realizing how ridiculous it was to sit there in the car, in the parking lot, I finally decided to get out and go into the gym.
The first mile was sort of tough. The realization that I would have to repeat that experience 4 more times was daunting.
The second mile was full of temptation to quit. “Emily, 2 miles is respectable. 2 miles is enough.”
The third mile was a little bit more hopeful. Eh, who am I kidding? I had a few moments of “holy cow, there is no way I’m going to make it.” But I also had a few moments of “wow, I’m really running and I haven’t fallen off of the treadmill yet!”
At mile four I realized something embarassing and horrifying: my braid was sweating. Ew. Gross, gross, gross.
I hoped, with all of my heart, that no one was behind me, watching sweat drip off of the end of my braid.
No such luck.
Oh, and how did I realize it was dripping? It dripped on my leg. Yeah – I’m nasty.
And mile 5. Mile 5 was full of negotiation. I made deals with myself. Deals about ice cream, primarily.
Is there some sort of parallel to life in that run? Maybe. If heaven is ice cream, then I think the parallel works out.
But man, if heaven is NOT ice cream, I’m going to be annoyed.
I went to church this morning with my dear friends Toni, Rose and Al. I love worshipping with them!
The message hit home in sooo many ways. SO. Many. Ways.
I don’t even know what to say about it. I will have to think and then write.
::sigh::
I love when God works on my heart. It hurts, but it is so good.
Ok, in the vein of recipes I LOVE, you have to make Pastor Ryan’s bread. Stop what you are doing, go into the kitchen and make it. You only need 5 ingredients, all of which you should have. And if you don’t have these ingredients, you should leave the house, go to the store and get the ingredients. Taking the time to put shoes on is simply unacceptable.
I would direct you to Pioneer Woman for this recipe , however, I feel the need to warn you that making this required several modifications on my part to the recipe and so I would feel better telling you how I make this recipe rather than having you make the recipe on her website. Ok? Ok.
First, I gather the ingredients:
Pre-heat the oven to 450 degrees.
Put the flour and salt in your mixing bowl. Use the bread hook attachment. Or maybe you are a flower child and you want to knead this by hand. Again, own this bread. Work it. Become one with it.
In the cup of water, add the yeast to get it all “activated” and stuff. Add the herbs to the melted butter. Dump the yeasty-water and herby-butter into the salty-flour. Marvel at your amazingness.
Turn on your mixer and watch it mix. The dough should ball up around the dough hook. The dough should be loose and not clumpy. After about 10 minutes of kneading on the dough hook, you can pull off a piece of the dough and see if it is stretchy and transparent without breaking (window pane test). Or you can do what I do, which is pray. While you’re praying, let the dough sit and rise for 1 to 4 hours, until it doubles in size. Knead the dough a couple of times to, as Pastor Ryan says, “redistribute the yeast.” Make it into a cute ball of doughy happiness. Cut a deep X into the top of the dough.
Coat the bottom of a castiron or metal dutch oven with olive oil. (Make sure that your dutch oven doesn’t have any plastic handles!! They will melt in the oven which will ruin your dutch oven AND your bread. And you definitely don’t want to ruin this bread!) Please your dough ball in the center of the dutch oven, douse it with some more olive oil (about a tbsp or two), sprinkle with coarse/kosher salt.
Put this bad boy into the oven with the lid on for 30 minutes. Then take the lid off and let it brown up and get real pretty for another 15-30 minutes. REMEMBER TO USE OVEN MITTS WHEN TAKING THE POT OUT OF THE OVEN. I say this more for myself than for anyone else. But just in case you are like me – do as I say and not as I do.
The bread should have an internal temperature of 200-220 degrees.
Let it cool down a bit (which may take lot of will power). Then slice it up and devour it before your guests arrive. Err. I mean, thank goodness it’s such an easy recipe, you can make two loaves!
All credit for this recipe goes to Pastor Ryan and Pioneer Woman, Ree. Enjoy!
Today was not as productive as I had hoped. I sort of recovered for the morning and then went out into the world
Stop one: Chase.
This was the part of the day where I confessed my idiocy to a complete stranger. Somehow (I am vague on purpose cuz I know how) I wound up with 3 debit cards. An old one and two new ones. I activated one of the new ones, which in turn, deactivated the old one. But I didn’t have the pin for the new one. So I went up to the fine tellers at chase, laid out my three cards and told them all of my troubles. They fixed it and even lied to me, saying, “This happens all the time.” Right. Nice.
Stop one and a half: Dominick’s
Since the Chase branch is IN the Dominick’s grocery store, I figured I’d pick up a few missing essentials – cotton balls, razors, bread, two pints of Fro-Yo (Frozen Yogurt) and Magic Shell. Have I mentioned that I am having a roughish day?
Stop two: Bed Bath & Beyond.
And this was the part of my day where I resisted mightily purchasing something for myself. I wanted some air-tight canisters for my flour and sugar. I wanted a rug for the office in the basement. I wanted a new TV stand. I want, I want, I want… But I stayed the course. I only purchased the gift I needed for the shower tomorrow… oh, and a pack of gum. And now my dear friend’s registry has Dentyne on it – cuz the cashier put it on her registry. So it should say, “Dentyne Gum. Wants: 0, Has: 1” What’s going to be the real bummer is that I have no plans of giving her the gum. Hey, you can’t have everything.
Stop three: Valli’s.
This was one of those stops where Dorothy sort of veered across three lanes of traffic (not really) and squealed into the parking lot saying, “Guys! Since we’re here, just gotta get a few things.” Like we’d say no to that. (we = Kristin H-J and me). The produce at Valli’s is SO cheap. SO. Cheap! But again, I resisted the urge to make any rash purchases and instead just bought some bread flour. Yum.
Stop four: Dorothy & Erik’s
Okay, I haven’t made this stop yet because I am patiently waiting for the durned bread to be done. “C’mon bread, you can do it!”
Addendum to Day 1 Post:
Talked to La Doctor today. She is upping my Clomid (seriously, if everyone is suddenly busy in August, I understand. Heck, I want to avoid me too!). I don’t really have any more to say about that. I have to be home on Monday to receive my meds, so I’m not sure I’ll make it to the Wisco State Fair. Grrr! All hope is not lost yet, tho…
emmy kay and co. 