In the Bleak Midwinter

Ok, it's not quite "midwinter" yet.  Is it even winter yet?  God, please, say it is.  Because I'm already cold and grumpy.  In a loving, happy sort of way, of course.

Things have been really crazy lately, due to my role in the Breakthrough Christmas Store (it's not too late to donate new toys and gifts for parents to purchase at a discounted rate!) and M's finals (which he ROCKED by the way!  Or at least has rocked the two he's taken at this point- one law class and one policy class).  But we've still made an effort to get out of the apartment and enjoy the beauty of the season.

First stop, the University of Chicago Harper Library (please note: there are not actually any books here.  Apparently there were at some point.)  I like to sit here and just stare.  Come to think of it, that might freak people out who are there studying...especially since I usually have a goofy grin on my face as I'm sitting.

M's enthusiasm is somewhat less than mine.  And by "somewhat less" I mean that he doesn't bat an eye.  Chalk it up to being surrounded by the beauty of the campus on a daily basis.  I, however, just FEEL smarter sitting here.  Smrtuhr.  That's me.

Also, it sort of reminds me of Harry Potter and/or Oxford, which both make me happy.  Sigh.

Then, since you know M is German and all, we have to stop by the Christkindlmarket.

It's the largest German Christmas market outside of Germany apparently.  And they sell authentic German Christmas stuff at authentic (read: outrageous) European prices!  Yesss!!  It's also a great place to have a reindeer propose to you, as one of our Breakthrough interns, Rae, found out.  (They're writing about them all over the world, y'all! Seriously, google it.  Oh and watch the video on YouTube.  I like the homeless lady at the end.)

And when we're tired of walking around, it's always nice to come back to the apartment and relax.

This afternoon, I made some wonderful granola (healthy) and some of my favorite cookies covered in sprinkles (not so healthy).  Does anyone else remember eating these cookies as a child?  They always remind me of being a kid.  Later, as the next winter storm hits tonight, we'll have homemade vegetable soup with bread and prosciutto on the side.  Ah, the life.

So maybe it's not such a bleak time of the year after all.  Beautiful buildings, yummy food and fun markets make the snow much more bearable.  Oh, and then of course there's moments, as you sit in the holiday traffic, when you see gems like this...

Merry Midwinter!

It's a Pierce, Buchanan, Lincoln, Johnson Christmas

When I was in high school, I took AP American History where, in an all-night study session for the big test, I memorized the names of all the presidents to the tune of Hark the Herald Angels Sing.

Many times since then, I've impressed people with this stupid human trick and thoroughly amazed and enlightened them, no doubt.  And if this isn't a reason to invite me to your holiday party- I can do Festivus, Christmas, Kwanzaa or Hanakkuh/Chanukkah/Hawnickuh- I don't know what is.  Granted, I've had to add another Bush and an Obama, but it's relatively easy if you just smash everyone past Carter into one breath.  (Please don't shoot me for that comment, presidential historians.) And come on, it IS pretty cool when you think about it.

That is, until "Christmas music on the radio" season comes along.  And oh, friends, it's already come along.  In fact, it came along about a day or two after Halloween.

And when it does, all of a sudden, when the beautiful Christmas song Hark the Herald Angels Sing begins to play, I can't help but think about Millard Fillmore and Rutherford B Hayes.  And let's be honest.  They don't exactly inspire a lot of holiday cheer.

This face doesn't exactly say, 'Merry Christmas'...

Santa's younger cousin, perhaps?

Washington, Adams, Jef-fer-son, glory to the new born king!

Thankfully I didn't memorize all the members of the Supreme Court to Frosty the Snowman.

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...

That was fun!

M and I just drove back from Kentucky, where we spent the Christmas holiday with my extended family. It consisted of:

Lots of cookie decorating..

Yes, that's a 3 cookies on top of each other. Guess who made that one...

Lots of presents...

And you can't even see all the gift cards

Lots of people (this is table one of two)...

It IS Kentucky, after all...we're all related!

Lots of eating...

The world-famous chocolate chip cookies

And lots of funny pictures of M.

Merry Christmas, and a Happy New Year to you and yours!

There were probably unicorns, too

First of all, I want to confess that I've been a little slow on my blogging lately. Mostly because work has been really busy with our Christmas Store (huge success!) and because by the time I get home I'm exhausted and don't want to look at a computer. So, there you go. But now, I've returned!

This weekend, M and I flew to Atlanta for approximately 30 hours to go to my cousin Patrick's wedding. We really, really enjoyed ourselves and it was great spending time with family. Granted we'll see them again in two days but, whatever. Best part, besides the actual wedding during which I cried like a baby (this is nothing new), was sitting in our hotel room with my sister and her husband, cousin and soon-to-be cousin in law drinking champagne out of plastic cups. Our family is from Kentucky, after all.

On the plane ride home, we floated, err, flew above a big storm. You know, like when you look down and it's just a blanket of white below you? You take off and it's gray and gross and then you get above the clouds and...well...it's just magical.

SO magical, in fact, that Mason and I saw BOTH ENDS OF A RAINBOW. It was actually a rainbow circle.

Can you see it? And no, it wasn't the reflection or anything. It was a big rainbow circle!!! And don't we win some pots of gold or something for this? Because I can send you my address, Mr. Rainbow. Although since you're magical, you probably already know it. (Just don't send chocolate gold coins, because we're trying to cut back on our chocolate intake. Thanks. Love ya!)

Nope, it's Christmas

Ok. So my last post WAS titled "It's Practically Summer." But I was using hyperbole. Or a parabola? Or a hypoallergenic? Whatever. Y'all are smart. And whatever you may have been led to believe by my previous post, it is COLD. BUTT COLD if I might be so bold.

But then, it's supposed to be cold at Christmas, right? Because who can go to German Christmas Markets (Christkindlmarket) and pay ridiculous amounts of money for a Christmas ornament (I just accidentally typed organ. Ha!) when it's not cold outside? And you can't drink mulled wine from an adorable green boot cup thingy at said market if it's not cold, right?

(Yes, that's really what the market looks like. Little red and white tents. But they didn't draw in the thousands of people who were there, too.)

And snow is quite purty. Oh, gray sky, how gorgeous you are. Really. Isn't everyone's favorite...color...gray? Hmm.

Ok, but from the INSIDE of my house, the snow looks pretty! Look at how it lays so perfectly on the branches. I feel like I should be singing Christmas Carols and drinking eggnog as I look at this picture. Ahhh, the holidays.

But just one word of advice. If you're going to live where it snows, you really should invest in snow boots. Really. Trust me. Because otherwise you're stuck like this poor girl.

I mean what kind of idiot would not have snow boots and live in Chicago? And then be stupid enough to think that tights and pants, with flat slide on shoes would keep her from falling on her butt in the snow/ice AND keep her warm. Certainly not ME. You know me better than that.

(By the way, I wear a 9 1/2).

It's Beginning to Look a lot Like Finals

Remember those things, those "tests," we had to take at the end of the semester in college? Apparently they exist in Masters programs, too. Shocking, right? And apparently they're a lot harder than writing some BS paper about the impact of blah blah blah on blah blah blah. Not that I EVER BSed my way through a paper in college. Ever.

M is in full finals mode, studying until well after midnight in one of the Harry Potter-esque libraries (my brother-in-law coined that term) on campus. I don't really understand what he's studying, so I'm not much help, especially since everything is extremely quantitative and I haven't taken math since, oh, high school. Not an exaggeration. I'm more of a words gal, myself.

In one short phrase, M is working his arse off. And I, in my sappy, newlywed state, am so proud of him. He gets things I can't even begin to understand. He can explain to you the intricacies of game theory (have him explain what that even is) and can tell you more than you probably want to know about statistics and running regressions. It's so amazing for me to hear him talk about how the things he's learning are an integral part of good policy making and how he believes now, more than ever, that this is what he's supposed to be doing. We're just praying an employer thinks that too. Dear God, please.

But for now, all we need to do is get to December 11th, when this semester- and all the finals- are over. It's beginning to look a lot like the end of a semester. Thank God.

Pretty Much I'm Martha Stewart

Minus that whole insider trading and jail piece.

My in-laws came to town this week for Thanksgiving...and can I just say: we got the job done! The whole event was spectacular, if I do say so myself. The food was great, the turkey was perfect, the homemade rolls were just right (A, my sister-in-law, made them) and the pies were to die for. This was the menu: turkey. obviously. broccoli cheese casserole. mashed potatoes. cornbread stuffing. rolls. sweet potato casserole. home-cooked green beans (despite M's pleas to have canned ones. Ugh.) pumpkin pie. Kentucky bourbon pie. cranberry sauce. Massive amounts of moaning and patting of stomachs. red wine. white wine. water. more red wine.

Since you could't all be here (really, we meant to invite you...really...) I've included some of the best shots below. Look at how well that table is set with our so-fantastic Kate Spade china! And crystal! And I even had little leaves to sprinkle on the golden tablecloth! Watch out Martha...Liz Laird ain't playin.

Halloween on Memory Lane

When I was younger, I always wanted to wear a bumblebee costume for Halloween. I’m not exactly sure why that particular costume created so much desire in me, especially considering how horrible I look in yellow AND the fact that I am deadly allergic to stinging insects, but I was adamant. The yellow and black striped leotard, the fishnet stockings, the black tutu, the headband with bouncy balls on it…I wanted to be the cutest gosh darn bumblebee in the neighborhood. And yet, it never materialized. Maybe my parents, in their infinite wisdom, decided that I would look just too ridiculous. Or maybe mom didn’t know how to make something out of stretchy leotard material…and she always made our Halloween costumes. Or maybe my parents had an aversion to their 8 year old daughter wearing fishnet stockings which are usually reserved for…shall we say…women of more experience. Whatever their reason, I was simply not going to be a bumblebee.

I do remember, however, the year that I was Sleeping Beauty for Halloween. Decked out in a light blue satin dress that mom had made- of COURSE it was the light blue one, since everyone knows that Sleeping Beauty’s pink dress was just plain ugly- I also had the pleasure of wearing a ridiculously long blonde wig. Obviously dressing up. Obviously not real. And just for further explanation, for those of you who don’t know what great looks I’ve been blessed with, let me describe. I have dark eyes. Dark hair. Very dark eyebrows. I really didn’t think that anyone would actually think the blonde hair was mine.

I learned then a lesson that has served me well ever since: never underestimate the stupidity of a high school student.

That “Sleeping Beauty Halloween”, as I was trick-or-treating with my father and sister, a group of teenagers came up behind us as we moved from house to house. You know the type; in fact, you probably were the type. Kids who wear their normal clothes and claim to be dressed as the “cynical youth of our generation” or would wear their sports uniform and be the famous athlete who plays that sport. Let me just say that even as an 8 or 9 year old I didn’t buy that. Go buy your own candy at the store, and then go in the woods and drink beers or smoke cigarettes or do whatever it is you cynical youth of our generation do.

But these kids were there. Even though they had been following us for a few houses, no one really had said anything and they generally affirmed my conviction at the time that people between the ages of 14 and 18 were generally stupid and not worth my time…I would rather be playing dry cleaner or orphanage (yes, I played orphanage), thank you very much. So they minded their business, we minded ours…until…one of them spoke. She was probably about 16 or so, dressed in what I now only remember to be jeans and a tshirt, though I’m sure she was trying to be a hippie or something. I guess, looking back, I shouldn’t mock this poor girl who was at least kind enough to offer a few words to the little Sleeping Beauty she kept running into. But passing her on my way from the door of some house where some man had probably given me a toothbrush or apple (that rant is for another time…who gives those out on Halloween?! All of American society has agreed that Halloween night is, in fact, the night that it’s OK to not brush your teeth and eat so much candy and sugar that you make yourself sick. It’s as American as the Constitution and the NAACP suing people!)…but the girl smiled at me and said, “Oh my GOSH. You are, like, SOOO cute! Oh my gosh, and is that like your real hair? I bet so. It is sooooo pretty.”

I think I probably stood there, stunned, for a second. Did I hear you incorrectly? Did you just ask me, the little girl who looks more Slovakian than Swedish, if this ridiculous long blonde wig is actually my hair? Do you not realize that one of the main tenets of Halloween is that you dress up to resemble something you are not? Oh my. No really…oh my. I just stood there. And then my dad called, “Let’s go!” from the driveway and I was gone, leaving stupid- high-school-girl-who-obviously-knows-nothing-about-Halloween-or dressing-up-or-the-basic-rules-of-skin-tone-and-hair-color behind to join her friends again. It would be years before my confidence was again restored in the teens of today (and it took a nose-dive when my sister reached that age). In fact, I don’t think it was until I myself reached the oh so mature age of 14 or 15 that I realized just how right, witty and pretty much perfect teenagers really are. At least this one was.

Happy Halloween. Or Fall Festival or whatever you want to call it.