today

Today is one of those days.

One of the days that I feel panicky, and my heart beats fast and my head starts to swim (although that just might be my head-cold talking).
The months are slipping by. September starts on Sunday, and graduation is a mere 8 months and a week or two away.

My first blog post was one day short of 25 months ago.
I had no idea what I wanted to do with this blog, how I wanted to write, or what kind of pictures I wanted to post. I debated whether or not to include the names of my loved ones, like some blogs who always call their husband "Charming," "Handsome" or simply "Husband".
I didn't post many specifics for a long time, until I realized that was stupid and the only people reading this are my family and friends.

That first post included this summary of my blog:

This is a diary of adventures. Having just graduated from college, my new husband and I are now taking on the grand challenge of moving to the East Coast. To Virginia. We are both life-long Arizonans, yet we are encouraged by our new state's slogan, "Virginia is for Lovers!"

I was cheesy (ok, I still am) and excited and expectant, as well as insecure and shaky and overwhelmed.

The first picture in front of our apartment - dad and Dusty unloading.
We still hadn't even stepped inside!

Empty - so much potential there. 

Mom and I working on thrifted furniture. 

My "Arizona window", which lasted maybe a few weeks before I killed them all.

One of the things that makes me laugh the most is trying to go back and embody that person I was, remembering all of my thoughts and expectations when we arrived. This place is going to be clean all the time (HA). I'm going to garden. I will have a window with thriving plants (now dead and buried). I'm going to learn to cook. I'm going to be fresh and fit and fancy. 
I remember feeling like creating that "Arizona window" embodied all of those wifely things, this tiny clean kitchen and this new blog. A new me was beginning.

Which was actually true - Dusty and I were talking the other day about how much we've changed.
I asked him what he thought was different about me, from then to now, and he said that I am confident and funny, that I make him laugh all the time. I've become a stronger person, despite not checking off all of those "good wife" checklists. And in the long run, I don't think Dusty cared all that much that I killed the Arizona window, because he didn't marry me because of my (lack of) gardening skills.
I can point to many things we've done well, and many things we've fallen short of, in our expectations of moving out here. We still have to work hard to keep things clean in our little place, we rescued two kittens, which wasn't in the (Dusty's) plan. It took me about two years to "finish" the guest room, and it's still a work in progress. That first year we ate out way too much, probably a manifestation of our homesickness that culminated into culinary laziness. We gained weight and stopped cooking as much, and I lost that sense of creativity in the kitchen. Taco Bell was the salve to my wounds, some of which I didn't even realize I had.
It was a mechanism for comfort, I suppose.

Some of the things we did right?

Luna Lovegood. Evangeline. Making each other laugh, being silly. Not taking law school too seriously. Intentionally becoming a part of the law wives. Making friends. Trying new restaurants. Traveling. Winter Wonderland. Summer 12. Embracing our cluttered, fort-like home. Loving each other. Starting my blogs. Putting each other first. Being adventurous. Falling in love with Virginia.

During the first month of my blogging, I wrote another post on the day my mom and grandma left.
I said,

Tonight will be the beginning of a long and wonderful three years of togetherness for Dusty and I, wherein we will be changed and strengthened and blessed by all that we encounter.
During one of my bouts of tears and sadness this afternoon, I simply said, "Well, this is the price of going on an adventure."

What no one told me was that there would be a second price.
Another time to pay up...saying goodbye to that adventure.
I know some of you may be thinking that this is way too early to be sad, way too early to start the process of preparing myself to move.
But honestly, I'm going to need every single day to prepare. I already get teary-eyed thinking about it. I suppose I never spent much time thinking about these three years coming to an end - because we had no idea what that would look like, and we still don't. There's a lot of unknowns and a lot of apprehension, coupled with the excitement of moving back to our beloved Arizona.
The problem is... I'm not wholly Arizonan any longer. I fell in love with this place and the people and the memories it holds. Our silly little apartment and our favorite haunts. I'm going to be leaving part of my heart here when we leave.
But...that, my friends, is the price of going on an adventure.
One I'd be happy to pay again and again.

bookish: bread & wine

There are so many reasons why I love being a part of a book club.
Finding books that I love that I may never have read, hearing other people's perspectives, meeting for breakfast, discovering new friendships. It all boils down to the fellowship, and being able to share a piece of literature and bond over it. To hear thoughts and critiques and favorites, things I didn't consider or catch on my own. Words touch people and trickle into their hearts and minds in different ways, and to have the privilege of being exposed to those differences is one of the best parts of group discussion.

So when all of that is combined with home-cooking and new recipes, I am so there. 

This month we picked up Bread & Wine: A Love Letter to Life Around the Table with Recipes, by Shauna Niequist.
I loved this book with a simplicity that doesn't often come to me. It was one of those books that I just drank up, like reading a heartfelt letter from a close friend or having a wonderful conversation on the phone for hours and hours.
(Although, honestly, I hate talking on the phone. So that metaphor is for normal people.)

We had decided on reading Bread & Wine after our friend Russanna reached out to Shauna Niequist, requesting a handful of copies for our book club to read, discuss, review and blog about. She explained that we all love to read (obviously), and our book club is made up of college students and stay-at-home mothers and the like... and Zondervan replied, and very generously provided us with free copies of the book!
It was such an exciting thing for us, since most (if not all) would probably not be able to purchase the book otherwise. But I absolutely love having my very own copy of it, rather than borrowing it from the library - a copy I can touch, highlight, page-bend and bookmark and cover in crumbs.
So a very, very special thank you to Zondervan for sponsoring this month's book club!

We each chose a recipe to make, and gathered on a Saturday morning (today) to try them and talk about the book. I chose to make the bacon-wrapped dates, which happened to be filled with heaven's most scrumptious delight, goat cheese.
Shauna (in my head we're friends, so I'm just gonna first-name her) loves goat cheese. Like, a lot. And for that reason alone, I love her.

She even confesses that these dates may sound like a terrible idea, but just stick with her - "perfect these little numbers, and people will be happy every time you walk in to a party. It's like holding a puppy or a baby - suddenly you become irresistible, which is a great feeling, even if it's just because you're carrying bacon."

This month it was just four of us, so it was cozy with warm coffee mugs in our hands and little plates full of treats.
The four recipes we tried were the Gaia Cookies, Goat Cheese Biscuits, Bacon-Wrapped Dates, and Robin's Super-Healthy Lentil Soup.

We gathered at Russanna's house, and munched away while we shared our thoughts. All of the recipes were delicious, and we enjoyed them all, as well as talking about other ones we've tried or would like to try.

This book is honest and thoughtful - vibrant and sensory, good enough to taste.
Little life excerpts mixed with meaningful recipes in times of joy, trial, fellowship and loneliness.
It all boils down to living life around the table. How sharing your home and sharing a meal can so easily strip down the walls of humankind, bring everyone to a clean slate, an equal sitting.
How food can be sacred; how food and fellowship can nourish on every level.
She shares stories of life-defining moments, relationships that last, flurries of beautiful images of fragrant cooking and fancy dinner parties.

One of our book club members brought up an interesting question (via print-out, read by Tess, since the author Emily couldn't be there). Is time around the table any less sacred with a Foreman Grill in a dorm room? In essence, how beautiful does the food have to be for the experience to be beautiful? Does the beauty still apply to the simple endeavors, the non-extravagant meals, the mismatched everyday budget-friendly dinners?
I think the answer is yes, yes. Of course. Because Shauna definitely lives a life that is strange and foreign to many of us. Fresh cheeses and nuts and 5-course meals, extravagant parties with menus and place cards and dessert and fancy dishware, flower arrangements and candles. That is so not my weekend dinner etiquette. Try paper plates and pizza delivery.
The point (and I hope Shauna would agree) is to open yourself and your home. To live a life of openness and hospitality. The author's messages on the book cover put forth her hopes for her readers in a simple way:

"My prayer is that...it will become battered and stained as you cook and chop and play, music loud and kitchen messy. And more than anything, I hope that when you put this book down, you'll gather the people you love around your table to eat and drink, to tell stories, to be heard and fed and nourished on every level."

And then,

"This is what I want you to do: tell someone you love them, and that dinner's at six."

Our everyday life is full of sensory experiences. Things we can easily overlook or forget to appreciate. There are also an endless string of excuses not to open your home - not to be vulnerable, because your house is too small or not fancy enough or is too messy, your cooking isn't good enough or whatever else.

This book brought me back to life, in a way. Not that I was depressed or dead inside, really, but...when I was first married, there were many things that I was excited about. Cooking, decorating, setting up our home, having people over. Being creative.
Over time these things have been pushed to the side in favor of laziness. It's hard to admit, but it's true. Eating out, fast food, quick meals. Cheap, easy, fast, unhealthy. I forgot that I love to cook and experiment, and forgot that I loved the feeling of making a home-cooked meal, even for just the two of us.
This book awakened that desire to cook again, and I couldn't put it down. 

Some reviews of this book took the stance that Shauna is unrelatable, living an extravagant life that only speaks to a tiny percentage of people. She's exclusive...she should expand to include other communities. Her writing only speaks to the upper-class, white, female, married, Christian, blah blah.

I disagree with that. Completely. I found this book to be a blog, a diary - a glimpse into her life. These are her life excerpts. How and why should she write about anything else other than her experiences, in a book about her life and memories?

On the whole, I connected with her because her stories are about passions we all feel and experience. The enjoyment of food, the love of people and relationships, the heartbreaks, the pain of sadness, the joy of family and belonging. She talks about love, faith, sanctuary. Companionship, scripture, feasting, fasting. It's there and it's lovely and compelling, it's personal. 

I found myself reading out sections to my husband, sharing some of my favorite quotes and passages, things I feel I could go back and read again and again. She tops off most chapters with a recipe, often sharing the back story of why it's included in that section, and how it nourished her in a time of joy or need. 

One of my favorite sections is about travel. She talks about how she traveled with her father in junior high and high school, exploring Spain, France, Germany, India, Australia...definitely something most of us have not and may never experience. 

Even so, I love her perspective on the treasures of travel and experiencing other cultures. 

"Now, it seems, it's entirely possible to travel without tasting a new culture, should you desire to do so. There's a McDonald's practically everywhere..."

Cue guilt, since Dusty and I most definitely had McDonald's in Paris. 

"...[my dad] taught me that wherever we are, we eat what they eat, and we eat what they give us, all the time...as we traveled, food became a language for understanding..."

Dusty and I love to travel, it's at the very top of our priority list. Many people don't travel often, especially when they start having children, because of finances or other priorities. I think it's a decision that everyone makes for their own family; where to spend time, what to spend money on. For us, I hope we'll always travel, children in tow, saving and experiencing new things at every opportunity. Even if my life is much different than I plan on and imagine, her words still resonated with me in a powerful way.

"I hold all these places and flavors with me, like a fistful of shiny coins, like a charm bracelet. I want to be everywhere at once. I want a full English breakfast in a pub in London, a hot buttery naan in New Delhi for lunch...I want it all -- all the tastes, all the smells, all the stories and memories and traditions, all the textures and flavors and experiences, all running down my chin, all over my fingers."

"...people ask me why I travel so much, and specifically why we travel with Henry so often (her son)...we travel because it's there. Because Capri exists and Kenya exists and Tel Aviv exists, and I want to taste every bite of it. We travel because I want my kids to learn... I want my kids to learn firsthand and up close that different isn't bad, but instead that different is exciting and wonderful and worth taking the time to understand. I want them to see themselves as bit players in a huge, sweeping, beautiful play, not as the main characters in the drama of our living room."

In another chapter, she touches on the fact that her and her husband remind each other that their kids aren't their vanity projects. They're his parents, not his marketing team. Each son is a person, not a paper doll. I loved this - even without having children of my own, the idea and the reminder is important and applies to so many other parents and children that I know. It's so easy to get caught up. 

I could probably go on and on about this book. I think I'll stop, but I recommend you curl up on a weekend and devour this like I did. Stay in your pajamas and enjoy. Read the words of an honest woman, talking about her passions and her struggles and her lifelong romance with food and faith and life around the table.
I promise you won't regret it.

the time we could've ...

I don't think I've ever really had a "near death experience" before, although I've definitely said "we almost just died" or "I almost just died" dozens of times in my life, jokingly or sarcastically.
I've said it enough to cause a laugh or a smirk if I were to ever try and say it for real. I don't think anyone would believe me. It's just a really weird thing to say, especially when you look completely fine.
If I were to walk into a room battered and half-collapsing, people might believe me.
This past weekend, we could have...maybe would have...

We were driving to Cleveland, taking a road trip caravan with my mom and brother to meet my other brother to help him move. He'll be starting at the Cleveland Clinic for his 5-year residency on July 1.
Mom and Kevin left in his car 15-20 minutes before we did, because I had to run to the post office (and Dusty wanted McDonald's.)

It was an unbelievably gorgeous drive. I'm not one for road trips usually - the idea is fantastic, but Dusty and I have this uncanny and completely predictable way of fighting every time the car door closes. I'm not sure if it's the confined space, the fatigue of driving, the lack of fresh air, the leftover stress of packing and preparing for the journey...who knows. 
But this time was different. The drive was amazing, the scenery stunning, and we didn't fight a single time.
We had kind of made a pact beforehand that we wouldn't fight this entire trip, because we were simply helpers and had no reason to stress about anything at all.
I'm a shameless texter, and I'll admit that I text and drive a lot. I try to only do it on a long straight road, or when I'm stopped at a sign/light, but still. Early on in this drive, Dusty took my phone from me since I was getting so many texts and he wouldn't allow me to touch it. He responded to my texts per my verbal instruction, and worked on his homework.

The day was cloudy and foggy, beautiful and a little magical.
Sometimes the foggy mist would drift so low, we'd drive through a wave of it like a leftover cloud of magic spell.

We were driving along the i-64, it was noon, around mile marker 160.
We had just gotten a text from my brother that they were 80 miles from Charleston, so we were keeping our eyes open for a big green sign that would tell us how many miles we were lagging behind.

I spotted one a little ways ahead, but there was a line of 3 big trucks in the right lane (there were only 2 lanes) and I knew they would block our vision. I sped up to see in between the 2nd and 3rd truck, and Dusty and I were craning our necks to the right to spot the "this many miles to Charleston".

I'm not sure why I looked back to the road. Probably just because I was driving and looking fully to the right for too long didn't really work.
A red car was speeding toward us, so fast, so straight, going the wrong way on the highway in our lane.
It all happened so fast. I think I said "oh my god", or maybe just "oh my", or maybe I just thought it in my head -- and Dusty had just begun to scream when I swerved.
I can hear his voice so clearly, it's probably the worst part of the memory. I swerved to the right, and even as I did so I knew we were going to die. How could we not? There was no time. We glazed by, inch by inch, away from the speeding car and blessedly between the 2nd and 3rd truck.
The car behind us exploded with the impact, shattered glass, but it was like something out of a bad movie. It looked fake, like it couldn't be really happening. The cloud of smoke and car parts flew upward as the cars jerked apart in opposite directions, spinning.
I was screaming, yelling nonsensical sobs "that was us, oh my god, Dusty, that was us, we were going to die!"

The 2nd truck pulled over after a few seconds, and I waited and pulled over after he did. I was starting to shake uncontrollably and knew I couldn't, shouldn't, drive a second longer.
We were far enough ahead to be out of eyesight of the two cars. I think I'm glad for that. The sides of the road were filled with cars ahead and behind that had pulled over, to help or in shock, like us. Dusty got out and called 911.
He was so calm, I don't know how. He totally took over, held me, told me everything was okay. He led me to the passenger side and helped me get in, then went over and became the driver like a warrior.
This all sounds so exaggerated and the only real reason I'm writing this is because I feel like I want it down and out of my head. And also because...if I was a half-hearted advocate for not texting and driving before, I am fully committed now.
It doesn't have to be something as extreme as a car driving 75 mph down the wrong side of the highway to be deadly.
I think before I had this false sense of accomplishment, that I trusted my own ability so much. But it's not even about my ability, it's about the unpredictability of everyone and everything else. A falling tree, a bad driver, a sudden curve, an unwary pedestrian. I'm pretty darn sure there has never been a life-and-death-level-of-importance text message from me or to me, and there never will be.

There are all these minute details that contributed to our safety. Dusty taking my phone away from me - I had no distractions. Leaving after mom and Kevin, and pulling forward between those trucks to see the sign. Had we not, we could have swerved into a truck, or simply panicked and resigned to being hit head-on.

The woman driving that car was 56 years old, and she died. I don't know how or why she was on that road - I hope she was crazy, certifiably, because if she purposefully drove down that road in a fit of suicidal despair, I despise her for her selfishness. She didn't even slow down...there was no squeal of car brakes. She hit the car behind us head-on, full speed. A 19-year-old boy from Ohio.
I've had dreams about him, hoping he's okay, wishing there had been something I could have done to warn him. I wonder if he even saw the danger before he felt it.
As we drove, my mind was spinning with the how and why. We were in the middle of nowhere. The highway was straight, simple. The median was huge, a large grassy green expanse, with a little pit of concrete dipping along the center. No one could cross that unwittingly. There wasn't another exit for miles - and certainly not one that could have been confusing in any way.

There's no use in thinking about what could have been, of course. We're totally fine, not even a scratch. It's all just mental and emotional. But every so often throughout the rest of that weekend, I would think, "this memory may have never happened."

Dusty and I just held hands for the rest of the trip, talking quietly, but mostly sitting in silence. I just stared at him for a long time. I love my husband, and am so very grateful for him.
The rest of the weekend was also wonderful, and we quickly shifted our focus to family and fun and enjoying the exploration of Ohio.
Even so, the experience has been heavy on my mind.

Moral: don't text and drive. Always be alert. And whatever else you may take away from this little story of ours. Be safe.

In love,
Cait

life lately

Top of the morning to ya!

I finally did it.
I convinced Dusty that being a man and carrying an umbrella were completely compatible.
As an early Valentine's Day gift, I got him this ultra-manly black umbrella, with a curved wooden handle.
It's really perfect.
The brand is also called "totes", which I gotta kick out of, because it's one of those obnoxious abbreviations for "totally" that we use really often because it makes us laugh. "Totes def!"
Yeah, that's really obnoxious. But I still giggle.

Otherwise, our week has been lovely.

It's actually warmed up finally, so we're thrilled! We even went and had snow cones yesterday.

One of the things I love about Instagram is that it is a timeline of my daily life.

It's all the "important" things that happen to me in a week.

But not really, because a lot of it is just pictures of my food and my coffee cup and maybe what I'm wearing that day - but all bunched together, it gives a really good impression of what life was like in my last 7 days.

Cutesie little snapshots of my point of view.

Naysayers may think it tricks people into thinking really stupid and mundane things are really interesting, but I take the flip approach - it teaches me to be more attentive to the smaller things I might usually overlook, or not appreciate. 

Because let's face it, pictures are memories. Memories fade and are inaccurate and sometimes are forgotten altogether. Brains are unreliable. 

And while I do think technology has taken over our lives and we sometimes forget that life is happening outside of our touchscreens, having an iPhone has allowed me to capture thousands more fun little moments that are now tucked away in a little treasure box called Instagram. 

And being the sentimental person that I am, I love looking back through our time in Virginia and remembering that little random cafe we went to, or the hilarious thing Luna was doing, or that night we made dinner together and sat watching our favorite show for hours, holding hands in our PJs. 

I suppose I've transferred my pack-ratty nature into pictures, but I'll tell ya, it's a lot easier to store digital files than it is to hold on to every gift, note, letter, and stuffed animal I've ever received. 

Cheers to another great week!
In love,
Cait

a scary story

As you know, Dusty and I went to the State Fair in North Carolina last weekend!

We had a lot of fun.
We spent way too much money doing all the ridiculous things you do at fairs.
Eating fried foods, riding ferris wheels, playing games where you end up paying like $50 trying to win a $5 stuffed animal...but we had a blast!

Deep-fried 3 Musketeers Bar!

We even had a caricature done, which I've always wanted to do!!
It's kind of my new favorite thing.

The high swings was another highlight. :)

But what you DON'T know, is that we almost never made it to the fair.
We almost died, guys. It was going to happen.

In true pre-Halloween fashion, a rather cryptic tale was about to unfold as we made our way to the town of the fairgrounds...

On Friday night, we began our long drive to Raleigh, North Carolina.
The drive to our Red Roof Inn was supposed to be about 2 1/2 to 3 hours, so we leisurely began our drive and enjoyed the scenery on our way.

About 3 hours later, it was dark out, but we were getting close. We had decided to go the Cheesecake Factory for dinner, because it's one of our favorite places! And we hardly ever get to go there, because there aren't any close to Lynchburg.
We wanted to stop and check in at the hotel first, then go to dinner. But the resident evil had other plans.

We started going down a couple of side streets, and I kept looking down at my phone because it said we were less than a mile away.
But I started getting a very, very icky feeling.
We were going down a super dark street, and our last turn ended up being into some kind of odd corporate backlot.
We drove a little ways down, and sure enough, we were going down the Food Lion Distribution Center backlot.

Have you ever heard that rumor that GPS systems are sometimes high-jacked by killers that lure you into the middle of nowhere at night to kill you?

Well, I have. I really have.

It was so dark, and I just went into full-on panic mode.
"Turn around, Dusty. Turn around. Turn around now, I don't like this, this is awful, this is not our hotel."

Dusty, being the cool cucumber, soothed my fears and suggested that maybe it was just some kind of shortcut and that our hotel was on the other side if we kept driving through. There were trees all around us, so it was hard to see where the road led.
I started cursing every horror movie I've ever seen, but agreed that he was probably the logical one in this situation.

We kept driving, and as our lights slowly began to unveil what was ahead, we saw that the road dead-ended into a vast expanse of woods.
In the midst of the woods was a big, black truck, backed into the trees, facing us.

GET ME OUT OF HERE! NOW! NOW!

I don't think I've ever screamed that loud. It was a frantic, half-laugh kind of maniacal scream.
Dusty didn't even bother turning around, he just threw the car in reverse and started driving as fast as possible.
I just stared ahead at the face of that evil black truck. "Dusty...I swear...if his lights turn on...."
Dusty was scared now too, I could tell. Probably because I was freaking him out, because I knew how these stories ended in all the movies.

We finally turned around, and were just rambling our fear and anger at Google maps. What was happening?
Dusty sat, concentrating on the phone map, trying to find the Red Roof Inn the old fashioned way with his eyeballs.

About five minutes go by, and Dusty has found where we're supposed to go. We weren't even close. We were nearly 30 miles off.
Frustrated, hungry, and scared almost pee-less, we decided to go the mall and go to Cheesecake Factory first which was also about 20-25 miles away.
Somewhat relieved, I glanced in the rear-view mirror.

That's when I noticed the truck's lights had turned on. 

"Car. CAR! It's HIM! OMG IT'S HIM!"

The big black truck was speeding toward us, and Dusty flew out of that street faster than a nun could hail Mary.

I don't think I've been that scared in a really, really long time.
We managed to calm down enough to enjoy our dinner, but I really thought we might die that night.

Then, to make matters worse, after we left dinner around 10pm, we ran into some kind of crazy drug deal in the giant parking structure.

Life is short, guys. Really short. I wish I learned something from all of this to give some sort of wise advice but all I can really say is, use a real map. Pay attention to the map. Don't ever stay at cheap motels. Don't ever go to any kind of corporate back lot after dark. Or ever, maybe.
Happy Halloween :)

What are you guys doing for Halloween!?

Until next time,
Cait