I guess it made a lasting impression...

Five years ago, a group of friends from our church here in DC used to go down every Friday afternoon/evening to the sand volleyball courts by the Potomac River and play a few games of pick up.  Having played volleyball very, very momentarily in high school, it was always a fun time to connect with friends, get a tiny bit of exercise and impress people with my amazing serve.  Which I'm obviously very humble about.

One Friday that summer, we had just finished a set of games and decided that the logical step after completing said games was to go gorge ourselves on local Mexican food.  A little place down on the Hill (where 99.9% of our friends lived back then) was chosen and we made the drive across the city, sweaty and sandy, but in a good mood and ready for even more of a good time. 

Sitting down at a booth once we arrived, I looked up and realized that there were more friends there than I had expected.  So of course I scooted (scootched?) down the bench, hoping to make room.  And then I felt a very sharp, sharp pain and a little throbbing.

My foot was gushing blood, punctured by a broken beer bottle that was lodged under a table.

I don't remember exactly what happened next, but I know I didn't scream or cry.  I think I motioned that my foot was gushing blood (in case people couldn't see it) and I tried to hop back to the bathroom of the restaurant.  Did I mention that my foot was gushing blood?  Spurting, really, is a better way to describe it.  I'm pretty sure there was blood on the walls.

Finally making it back to the bathroom, I began to feel light-headed.  Did I mention blood was shooting out of me?  I sat down in the bathroom and was immediately swarmed by well-intentioned women who worked at the restaurant.  Unable to understand what they were saying to me, all I could really understand was, "This will stop the bleeding" as they poured coffee grounds on my foot.  Reader, I swear to you that I am not making this up.  Thankfully, one of our friends finally had the bright idea that I needed to get to the emergency room, and so one of the guys carried me out to his car (this would have been somewhat romantic had I, 1) not been gushing blood and 2) been in a clear state of mind).  Finally arriving up at the emergency room, the doctor took one look at me, told me the worst part was the coffee grounds that had been poured into the wound and then gave me three little stitches to sew me up (did I mention he had to first dig out the coffee grounds?  Oh yes.  That was not pleasant.)

Needless to say, the restaurant felt very, very bad.  They covered the medical costs, but still felt remorse for the "emotional damage" that had been done.  How to repair that?  Why, free drinks every time I came in of course!  And reader, I'll be honest.  I took advantage of it (as did some of my friends).  When a bill would come near, I would wince and say, "oh, my foot," always guaranteed that the bill would be taken care of.

(Ok, I didn't really do that.  But I thought about it once or twice.)

This past weekend, over five years later, M and I were craving Mexican food and decided to stop by Las Plas for the first time since moving back.  We shared a meal, I had sangria, he had a beer, and we were about to ask for our check when.....

Free drinks appeared.  Not just one, but multiple.  Like, flowing.  And, sure enough, the waiter who had been there on Bloody Friday walked over to me to say hello.  Did you catch that the cutting incident was OVER FIVE YEARS AGO?  The waiter even asked me where I had been the last two years (I have good friends who didn't even realize we were gone!)  He said, "I still remember you.  It's good to have you back."

I guess it made a lasting impression. 

And finally, it's official

Well, it's official.  M and I are moving back to Washington, DC!

Today, M accepted a position doing his "dream job," and I accepted a position last Friday working for an organization I'm really excited about as well.  It has been amazing to see these things come together in just a matter of weeks.

And the reality is that- while we've worked hard and done our "due diligence"- we also know that we have been blessed beyond measure in getting both of these positions.  As I've said before, the health and wealth gospel that so dominates even mainstream American churches tends to make us think that if we love God then He's going to bless us with a job, a happy family and a white picket fence. 

How wrong we are to believe that this is the case.  God doesn't promise us material blessing.  He promises us more of Himself.

It is with that perspective that we are, therefore, overwhelmed (in a very good way) by what we have before us.  And we are so thankful that we have this opportunity.  Next weekend, July 2nd, we'll trek halfway across America, back to our home of DC.  Sure, we don't know yet exactly where we'll be living, but hey, that's minor, right?  We'll finally be able to take a couple of days off and enjoy the Eastern Shore, and will end our "holiday week" with M's family in Alabama.  And then, once again, the hard work of laboring with Him to see His kingdom come on earth as it is in heaven, will start again.

Now, what to do about the name of this blog...

A Big Week

 

We'll be spending Monday night through Sunday morning in DC.  It's a big trip.

M was recently selected as a Presidential Management Fellow, and this week is the three day job fair (hard to explain exactly how this works, but it's not just a normal job fair- people are actually interviewing you and hiring you, if not on the spot, then within a week or two.)  And since it overlaps nicely with Easter- when our favorite church has our favorite service (and it also happens to be M's birthday), I get to come along, too!

It's a big week.  The reality that we will be moving back to DC once M graduates is finally really sinking in...and I honestly can't hide my excitement.At the same time, there are a lot of unknowns- what exactly will M be doing?  What will I be doing, besides basking in the glow of being back in DC?  Where will we live?  How muggy and hot will it be this summer in DC?  You know, life-changing questions.

So if you're the praying type, we would definitely appreciate your prayers.  Not just for a safe trip, but for a successful trip.  That those positions M is most interested in would also be the most interested in him.  And that, ultimately, he would be able to use the skills and abilities he's been given to make our country a better place. (Cue cheesy, patriotic music. And a few waving flags.)

 

Just Call Me Nadal

M and I have been playing tennis together for over three years now.  And by playing tennis, I mean that he hits the ball very softly towards me and I still sometimes miss it.  I admit it.  Tennis isn't my best game.  But I love playing it, love being outside and am glad it makes him happy to play, too.

And I'm getting better!  He's started doing his little spin ball move on me and he legitimately has to run after quite a few of my shots (I'm learning ball placement.  Finally.)  Granted, I'm the one doing the most running, but hey, I need the exercise.

With a forecast of partly sunny and 85, M and I headed out to the University tennis courts again today, having been shut down yesterday when they were all full.  Despite no room yesterday, we were able to play in our own little cage today so I didn't have to worry about hitting other people with our balls (I have no idea what this layout is called, but there are two courts in each "cage," ie, there was no one on the other court).  

And then, about five games in, the clouds parted, a bright ray of sun appeared on me and...I WON A GAME AGAINST M FOR THE FIRST TIME EVER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  I don't remember what the score of the game was, but what matters is that I BEAT HIS ARSE.  WAHOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!  Rafael Nadal, watch out.  This Hyde Park Hero is comin' to get ya.

(Now is probably the point where I should mention that M then went on to beat me soundly for the rest of the day.)

Michael W. Smith might just be right

M and I just returned from a (slightly extended, due to complete failure by Delta) trip back to DC for our friend Brittany's wedding.  It was a wonderful time to catch up with friends, spend some time relaxing and not, well, really do anything (minus the whole wedding coordinating part.  Minor detail.)

We are cute!  And bright!

And when we finally touched down last night, I thought to myself that- as much as I hate to admit it- Michael W. Smith might just be right.  Friends are friends forever, if the Lord's the Lord of them... (everybody now!)  The ladies and gentlemen we spent our weekend with are people that we haven't seen- in some cases- in nearly a year and, in other cases, in a few months.  And yet-- these are still mostly the people (outside of our families) who know us the best, who love us the most and who we hope to continue to foster friendships with for years and years to come.  

And then something else hit me: this group, this community, is truly a gift.  It's not just about having fun (though I think riding around with his friend in the cop car might have been one of the highlights of M's time in DC)...it's about rejoicing together, weeping together and ultimately sharing life together.

Of all the things I miss about DC, I can honestly say that this community I'm describing is what I miss the most.  Don't get me wrong, we have a fledgling little community here in Chicago- but man, oh man, I don't know if I ever realized how great I had it.  And yet, more than ever before, I also realize how important it is; to have people there when you're hurting, there when you're rejoicing, to spur you on towards love and good deeds and sometimes say those hard words to you.  At the heart of it, I believe this is what we were created for ("No man is an island" ring a bell?)  I believe that deep- and often suppressed- inside all of us is a desire to be a part of something bigger than ourselves, to be loved and encouraged, to mean something to others and to have others who mean something to you.   

I am so, so thankful for these friends and the others (college roommates, amazing Florida friends, pastors who love us) who are important actors in our lives and who- we hope- will continue to provide this important thing called community moving forward.  

This doesn't mean I'm now a Michael W. Smith fan.

Things I Wish it was Still Appropriate for Me to Do

Sidenote: I think I've been into lists lately.

Confession: I'm now 28. And at 28, some things just aren't appropriate to do anymore. I know, I know, "fight the man," "do what you want to do" blah blah blah. But let's be honest. If you saw me doing some of these things, you would totally judge me. Totally.

Here's a partial list I've come up with of things that I would love to still do but feel like I probably shouldn't because I'm supposed to be an adult now.

1. Take naps in the middle of the day.

2. Blow huge bubbles with my bubble gum (which, OF COURSE would be the really fruity, sugary type)

3. Watch cartoons on Saturday morning (though I HAVE watched them while working out)

4. Skip.

5. Wear adorably cute, frilly dresses. (Hey mom, maybe you could smock another one for me!)

6. Eat gummy fruit snacks with my lunch every day.

7. Stick my tongue out at people when I'm mad at them.

8. Throw myself on the floor when I'm mad (I'm not sure I ever did this, but it appeals to an emotional person such as myself)

9. Wear one of those really cute blow-up inner-tubes that has an animal's head on it. When I go to the pool and the beach. Not just around.

10. G0 to the local pool and go down the water slide.

11. Play in the sprinklers.

12. Have an Easter egg hunt.

13. Finger paint.

14. Sleep with my Tigger stuffed animal.

15. Sell lemonade and rice krispy treats and cookies outside for a profit. Without a license.

The good news is that, one day when we have children, many of these things will suddenly become appropriate for me to do again (maybe not #8, but I'll let you know). I think I will SO be that mom who is more into playing in the sprinklers than her children are.

And I'm ok with that.

Rest

Tonight, our small group dove into Joshua 15-21. In all, a pretty boring read. (What, I'm being honest! I'm not really into land allotments, ok?) But the last three verses of the reading really caught my eye and, I believe, can speak to so many of us.

And the Lord gave them rest on every side just as he had sworn to their ancestors; not one of all their enemies had withstood them, for the Lord had given all their enemies into their hands. Not one of all the good promises that the Lord had made to the house of Israel had failed; all came to pass.

The rest Israel received was no doubt very different than the one promised to us (unless you are out conquering lands and slaughtering people. If you are, we need to talk.) But these verses in Joshua closely resemble someone else's promise of rest. Jesus. The whole "Son of God" guy.

"Come to me all you who are weary and heavy-laden and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for my yoke is easy and my burden light."

I believe that over the last few years, the Lord has taught me- and given me- an amazing appreciation for rest. Not only that, He's taught me how to rest. Not like "rub my feet and bring me a pina colada" type of rest (though let's be honest, I sure don't mind that either) but a "find peace and rest in ME" sort of rest. It's not only a blessing but a promise to those who draw near to Christ. And it's something woefully missing from so many American churches.

Maybe it's a symptom of this generation, or maybe it's a DC thing, but there seems to be a competition in so many of the Christian communities that I've been a part of toward being "the busiest" or "the most stressed out" or the most "totally overwhelmed by all the things going on in my life." Don't get me wrong, I'm not mocking how stressed we all think we are (ok, maybe a little) and I'm certainly not saying I've got it all figured out and that I don't get stressed at times. But I can't help but wonder how many of us are the busy Marthas in the kitchen, totally missing out on the blessing of being a Mary, just resting at the Lord's feet, soaking it all- and Him- in. And surely, SURELY, if the Son of God didn't get stressed out by all HE had to accomplish (that whole salvation thing) we can have a better perspective on our own lives, right?

But then what do we do about it? How do we change it? How do we learn to rest? (Even this stresses us out. We want to do, do, do!) I think we have to go back to the beginning. Asking God to give us a right perspective on our place in this world. When we start to learn that we are mere tools to be used by Him, we also start to understand that the world doesn't revolve, or stop revolving, by our strength or actions, by what we accomplish or don't. This is not to say that the things we do- or don't do- aren't important, it's to say that it's not really up to us in the first place. The LORD is in control. And in that, there is rest.

I am so thankful that the Lord has given me this time of good rest these last few years, especially as I know that as kids come and family grows, things will probably be stressful. But no matter what, my prayer will be that the Lord will continue to give me rest on all sides, that I might truly press hard into Him and learn to rest because I trust that He will accomplish His good works.

He is good and in that I will rest.

The B Word. Take Two.

Again, not THAT B word. Or the bad one, either.

This one: budget. Everyone's favorite topic!!

Let me just say, if you're on a budget, you really, really shouldn't be getting this magazine. As we are. (Don't worry, we got it for free. And yes, it's really free, even though when people say "it's free" it's normally not. Trust me.)

If you love travel (check) and culture (check) but have very little money at the moment (check, check), the LAST thing you need to be looking at is a magazine about travel. I don't care if it has the title "Budget" in it. Because I'll promise you something. You will want to take every, single trip they mention in the magazine. Of COURSE I want to hike some unknown mountain in the Amazon (are there mountains in the Amazon?) And the Taj Mahal on your cover?? ARE YOU PLAYING WITH MY HEARTSTRINGS, BUDGET TRAVEL? "DREAM TRIPS"?????? AAAAHHHHHH!

Just a few days ago, I was thinking how thankful I am that M and I have both been able to travel pretty extensively (me more so, but with the name change, all my passport stamps are gone). And then what shows up in our mailbox? This little gem. Awesome. Way to feed the addiction.

I fundamentally believe that I am who I am today because of my experiences traveling and living abroad. From an early age, I remember that every summer we would take a family vacation somewhere. Boston. New York City. Alaska. California. Italy (that was a spring trip but, whatever). And always Florida. My thoughts, convictions and beliefs are in many ways shaped by those I have traveled and worked with around the globe. M and I want our children (and I promise I will let you know in person or on the phone when that blessed day comes rather than hearing it first on the family blog) to experience different cultures, around America and beyond. I especially believe its important for those who claim the Christian faith to see what that faith looks like outside of the often-biased walls of the American church. Obviously travel can become an unhealthy obsession, and often feeds (especially my generation's) angst against settling down, picking up responsibility and, well, growing up. But it also provides lessons that are best learned over a shared cup of Indian chai or an unidentifiable Rwandan carbohydrate brick. These are things I want our children to experience. These are things that I want to continue to experience. Just as I never want to lose sight of the reality of the lives of those who have a different experience than I do in this country, I also never want to lose sight of the reality of the lives of those who have a different experience than I do around the world.

So about those around-the-world tickets...

I hope this is a sign

It's November 8th. And it's currently 64 degrees outside. Do I need to remind you that we live in Chicago? The city where everyone talks about the ridiculously cold winters? I laugh at you, Chicago weather!

It was such a beautiful weekend that I took some comp time on Friday and M and I went on a fantastic picnic. Just about a mile from our house is a phenomenal and relatively unknown area: Jackson park. Originally used for the Chicago World's Fair in 1893 (no, I will not get tired of talking about it), Jackson Park is a maze of ponds, streams and beautiful wooded areas, and the perfect spot for a picnic. Especially when it's in the 60s outside.

We ate prosciutto, cheese and french bread, lounged on a blanket and enjoyed the beautiful day. (Minus the goose droppings, which seem to be everywhere. Stupid Canadians.) M even took a break from studying for about four hours! This is big, people.

So maybe Chicago weather isn't that ridiculously scary thing that everyone keeps warning me about. I mean I was certain that it would be snowing by early September the way people were talking. Ha! It's already NOVEMBER! Take that!

(Remind me of this post in February when it's -20 and I'm whining about the weather.)

I love Wisconsin.

I know. It wasn't exactly what you had expected to read. But Reader, I loved it. Maybe it was the fried cheese curds. Keep reading.

As I mentioned in an earlier post, we escaped America's Second City last weekend for our first anniversary. M surprised me, but I had a hunch we would be going north. I had no idea that I would find Wisconsin to be so beautiful.

First of all, it's not flat. Seriously. There are hills everywhere. And while there's tons of corn and cows (and cheese, I guess), it's really beautiful. Lots of streams, rivers and lakes, probably because it's so close to Minnesota which has like a million or something. And it's full of little towns like this:

Mineral Point, Wisconsin. M booked us in this beautiful, historic inn (it used to be a brewery, but now the top two floors are fantastic rooms. They still brew their own beer out back.)

We spent the weekend just lazing around, exploring Mineral Point and enjoying the perfect weather.

And then we went to Iowa. Yep, Iowa. I mean when you're 30 minutes away, you've got to make the short drive, right? Notice, however, that I didn't entitle this post I love Wisconsin AND Iowa. Because, let's face it, I didn't love Iowa. Dubuque, Iowa in particular, I guess, since I can't throw the baby out with the bathwater. Or whatever that saying is. Maybe it was the fact that it was a Sunday. And there was literally no one ANYWHERE. There was one coffee shop open (yes, Iowa, I contributed $3.22 to your economy. You're welcome.) It just wasn't really anything to write home about. Oh, except for this.

This, my Southern friends, is the MISSISSIPPI RIVER. IT'S BLUE UP HERE. Not brown, not muddy. Blue. Clear. Extremely beautiful. Upon further review, this view made Iowa worth it.

So that was our weekend away, I'll spare you the romantic details, but it really was exactly perfect, especially because of the before-mentioned fried cheese curds. "What the heck?" you might be thinking. "Curds? GROSS!"

No, no my friend. I am salivating even writing about them. These fried little nuggets of, you guessed it- cheese curds- are an appetizer, served with varying sauces. And we're not talking about mozarella sticks from your local Olive Garden. We're talking high-quality, exceptionally yummy cheese. Fried in some sort of cornmeal/flour batter that was unbelievably good. Yeah, I know fried foods are bad for you. And fried cheese is probably even worse. But man they're good. And so Wisconsin if you know what I mean.

And in this perfect atmosphere we celebrated, laughed, looked longingly into one another's eyes, etc etc etc (fade to black) and thought a lot about what has happened this past year.

Wisconsin is known for its cheese, afterall.

More gratuitous pictures of Hyde Park

I still sort of walk around in awe. The weather has been perfect since we moved in, so many afternoons this week we've just taken in the beauty all around us. It's pretty amazing.
Someone left their office window open. How do I get that office?

This has some technical name. I call it "the gate." Sounds reasonable enough.

Uh. Does this freak anyone else out just a little? Whose anatomy are they trying to receive? What does that even mean?! Are they going to...

Just think about the pretty buildings and flowers...ahhhh. Bliss.

Possibly the greatest invention. Ever.

Not the champagne bottle (though it's definitely Top Five)-- the thing on TOP of the champagne bottle.

Friends. Romans. Countrymen. THIS LITTLE DO-HICKY WILL CHANGE YOUR LIFE. Mark my words.

Always wanted to come home and have a glass of champagne after a long day? (Am I the only one raising my hand?) Liked the idea of a glass for dessert? (...uh...guys?....) This, my friends, is your ticket. The champagne stopper/preserver thing. That's the technical name at least.

Right before we left DC, M and I went on a "gift cards from the wedding that we really need to spend" shopping spree. I've always loved champagne, but M isn't quite as in love with it as I am. That means that I either 1) had to drink a whole bottle (uh...not that I ever did that...) or 2) throw away anything I didn't drink or, 3) not drink champagne (horrific, I know.) Until we came across this little guy. I know I've seen these before. It just never registered in my brain that I could own one of my own. Once you've had your fill, you simply pull the side metal things up, then press the little thing down on the bottle, closing the arms around it. Air-tight seal. Preservation of bubbles. No more waste!!

This is my testimony: my life has forever been changed. No longer do I feel guilty buying a bottle of champagne. I can buy it and drink it over approximately four days (I've never saved enough to keep it past then, though I would bet the little seal thingy would work longer) and- I know, I'm probably going crazy here- the champagne is BETTER the second or third day. Bubbles galore. Great, crisp taste. True bliss, really.

This, apparently, is the life of a Hyde Park Hero.

Yes, please.

Last night my friend Sarah and I went to go see Julie + Julia.

Gosh, I love food.

I know, I know, it's all hip and cool these days to be into Julia Child, beef bourguignon and sustainable gardens. But as someone who has always loved to cook- and who has the burn scars on her arms as proof (I'm not kidding)- I feel like I have some right to swoon over poached eggs, beurre blanc and perfectly cooked asparagus.

Oh my gosh, I'm salivating.

This may also be because it's lunch time.

Rain, Rain, Come Again

I'm sitting here on a rainy, Sunday afternoon, doing some work (yes, doing WORK!!) and realizing just how much I love the rain. I've talked to quite a few friends and we all agree that there's something about rain that is romantic, relaxing and just good for the soul. Maybe it's the symbolism of the dry earth receiving nourishment, or maybe it's the idea of our sins being washed away. Or maybe it's just because it makes you want to curl up inside and read a book or doze next to the one you love.

And there's something reassuring about the fact that it rains in Chicago just like it rains here in DC, like it rained in India (ok, they sort of have us beat with the monsoon, which I experienced when I first moved there), like it rained during my childhood in Texas. It's a constant, a known. And that's a comfort. That despite the myriad of differences between one place or another, there are, and will continue to be constants, things we just cannot escape. And that's a very, very good thing.

And really-let's be honest here- if you have to be inside during a rainy day, isn't this where you want to be? Maybe I'll find some secret passage in one of the University buildings.


Or maybe I just love the rain because it reminds me of this. That might be it.

Short but Sweet.

We just returned from a much-needed four day family vacation with my extended fam. Good time, good food, good weather, good beach. With the stress of the move and the big date looming (We move August 30th!) It was really wonderful to get away for a few days and do nothing but...well, relax.

And these, dear readers, are the two pictures that best sum up the feel of the vacation. Yes, that's M. And yes, he's happily snoozing (ok, not really snoozing but at least relaxing) under a couple pounds of sand. Is there anything better than this? He would probably say "Yes, if I had a PBR in my hand." Which he did most of the time, come to think of it...

And then this, below. All I can say is that this is the face of a happy woman, who is not concerend about a job in Chicago, or world peace or international economic development (these are the things that keep me up at night.) This is the face of a woman who woke up to the sound of the surf outside the sliding door, drank Mike's Hard Lemonade (yes, I know it's a girly drink. I'm a girl. Get over it.) and ate so much seafood it almost made her sick. And this is the face of a woman who apparently has many more freckles than she ever realized. Interestingly enough, a family friend once told me that freckles are kisses from angels. If this is true, M's probably going to want to have a little talking to with some of them angels...

Sigh...

The only thing getting me through this...

Is the knowledge of this in just a few more days...

Can I just say that I applaud the workers who first brought us the weekend? And can I also say that we have a LOT to learn from European attitudes toward vacation? Man, to take a whole month off....

In the meantime, I'll look forward to our five day break coming up.

Overseen. With bonus material: We really did just do that.

First, I give you Overseen, episode 3.

Yesterday as I was walking to meet M at the metro, I was stopped by a red light. I was looking around, as I'm prone to do, and there, lying on the sidewalk- actually in the little handicap access ramp that leads from the street/crosswalk to the sidewalk- is a man. He's in spandex workout gear. And he's doing what appears to be sit-ups extremely fast. And he has some free-weights next to him. Did I mention that he is on the sidewalk? On the corner? Of I Street and 16th Street, one of the busiest intersections in DC? At rush-hour? Doing these weird hiccup-like sit-ups? In the middle of the sidewalk? I am seriously considering getting the dude a real gym membership. Along with that other guy who runs through the streets and, when stopped by a red light, runs around in circles yelling "HEY! HEY! WOOO! YEAH!" in the middle of the intersection. Also in spandex.

Bonus material:

My work friend N and I just raced up the elevators. Like as in she went in one, I went in the other, we both pushed our floor and we "raced" to see who would get there first. She says she won. I'm not so sure.



And yes, we raced in the elevators of a "high class" law firm building (our government organization is renting the space). And yes, we've both graduated from elementary school.

If you sat in a cubicle all day, you would probably do the same. All in my quest to lighten this city up, one worker/exerciser/traffic person at a time.

Weekend update

This weekend M and I headed to the hills o' Kentucky for some R&R and family visiting. Here are the highlights:

* Hitting 100,000 miles on the odometer
This is a happy, sad and scary moment all at once. 100,000 miles seems like a LOT of miles. But the SUV is a 1999...so that's not a lot, right? And then that stupid song "I would walk 500 miles" kept going over and over and over in my head.

* Eating a sit down dinner for two for $20
This DOES NOT happen in WDC. Trust me. I mean we're talking a full, sit-down meal. Wow.

* Visiting with my favorite grandparents
There are few people I love more than my grandparents. They are the most active, with it 80ish year olds that I know. I love being with them. I love talking politics with them. I just love them. Period.

* Boating and swimming on Yatesville lake
"Boating" makes it sound sort of like "yachting", which it wasn't. But man, it was good. Though it's really weird to me how there would be sections of really warm water, then sections of really cold water. And I don't think it's because M was peeing.

* Continuing to peel from our trip to FL
How long should I expect my skin to fall off???? Seriously! I even exfoliated a lot last night thinking it would help. It most definitely made it worse.

* Picking fresh asparagus and strawberries in Grandpa's garden
Man, seeing the bounty of Grandpa's garden reminds me, again, that we need a garden. Broccoli, potatoes, asparagus, strawberries, onions, lettuce (which, by the way, looks like it's just been thrown on the ground when it grows), grapes, gooseberries, zucchini, tomatoes, corn, etc etc....I would save over $200 a month if I grew my own fruits and vegetables. Geez.

* Aunt S's new house
We'll grow that garden, mentioned above, when we buy a house, and I love Aunt S's new one. The only problem is that I get severely depressed when I think about what we could afford "Not in DC" (or Chicago, for that matter). Yippeee!

* Slowing down. Finally.
May has been a crazy month, and after a hectic week (and a projected hectic week to come), sitting on the back porch, reading about FDR and eating fresh-picked strawberries really can't be beat.