The Year of Saying No.

Last spring, in the midst of crying over magazine piles and having visitors for 8 weekends straight, I informed James that next year would my year of saying no. It wasn’t that any one individual thing was bad, or that I wanted to change any one thing, but there was just too much. Next year was going to be different. I would start, for the first time in my 26 over-committing-extroverted-people-pleasing years, to say no to things. To commitments that I didn’t have time for, to visitors that we were honestly too stressed or busy to host, to extra obligations I took on because I was worried others wouldn’t do them.

But next year, I told him, next year I would start saying no. Before I go on, I need to insert that “years” for me are still based on the academic calendar, where the year picks up in August with book lists and syllabi and winds down in June with overdue library fees and student evaluations. July exists as an Elysian paradise outside of time. August is for resolutions and resets, not January when it is cold and depressing and all you want to do is skip the gym, forego early rising, and eat nothing but mac n’ cheese. From a box. The Velveeta brand.

But I digress. Last year we took on too much, and in a moment of tears and the waves of everything overwhelming me, I declared that next year I would start saying no.

And then July lulled me out of my resolve with long Parisian days and more pastries than any human should consume in a month, before I came home to an empty apartment and a seemingly free schedule.

And now we are one month in to my year of no and I have been saying yes to everything. It starts slowly, yes to awesome commitments like a weekend here and a weekend there. Yes to meetings with friends and responsibilities. Yes to photography things over the coming months and ecstatic yesses to the people who mention they are coming to DC. So when some colleagues asked when we could grab brunch soon, I had to sheepishly admit that I was busy every weekend in September. That’s a problem.

I don’t want this to be one of those obnoxious posts where people complain about being busy, which is kind of a backhanded way of announcing “I am important and in demand.” I am complaining about having poor judgement and lacking self-control. That is what busyness is. (Unless you are a parent, and then busyness is trying to keep other people alive and purposeful and you are not getting any judgement from my corner.) It’s a lack of judgement to discern what needs to be done, what I should do, what I want to do, and lacking the control to say no to other things. The power to understand that just because something is good, doesn’t mean I need to do it.

So as we roll into September, I’m trying to get my year of no back on track. I said no to a big commitment this week, but more importantly I’m trying to say more little no’s. Maybe it will be no to writing blog posts sometimes. No to buying clothes I don’t need or want. No to trying to squeeze in two commitments on the same night. No to crammed schedules. No to excess.

Which means that then I have room for glorious resounding yesses, ones that I can indulge in without the aftertaste of stress and burden. Quiet yesses, spontaneous yesses, solitary yesses.

Here’s to saying no.

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This and that.

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That picture has nothing to do with this post. It’s been  one of those weeks. 

This weekend I am heading back home to celebrate that baby that’s coming soon and spend some time with my family. It’s been a busy week and I feel like the all the things I am trying to cram in  means that any intelligible blog post I had planned for this week didn’t happen. So, here is a little this and that.

Have you ever had that awesome corn they serve at Café Habana in NYC and other similar Hispanic restaurants? This recipe is pretty amazingly for making it at home, minus a grill for us apartment folk.

And that corn goes pretty amazing with these tacos and a little shredded purple cabbage.

You know that music video that is everywhere right now? I mean, I’m not usually one to defend TSwift, and I’m not really crazy about it when I hear it on the radio, but the music video…. you had me at Swan Lake tutus. Or any tutus. It’s kind of a weakness.

I’m a little obsessed with this girl’s recaps of The Bachelor franchise. It’s not just because she was one of my favorite contestants ever (but it kind of is), but because she manages to love it, mock it, and explain it all at once. Genius. And don’t even ask if I am devotedly watching Bachelor in Paradise because I’m too ashamed to answer. (But if you are in the area and interested, you can totally come to our awesome viewing parties.)

My pasty skin needs this makeup meets sunscreen meets powder perfection. But it’s a little pricey. Anyone have any other similar recommendations that are slightly more budget friendly?

In the meantime, I’ve been protecting my pasty self with that Old Navy hat, even if my brother-in-law routinely asks me if I am going on tour with Jason Mraz. For the fall I’m kind of liking this one, but not sure I would ever be able to rock it. How do you feel about hats?

Have you heard of that show where people let experts pick their spouse? On one hand, I kind of hate it because the whole you-can-just-get-divorced-at-the-end-of-the-experiment thing isn’t really the view of marriage I think we should be taking. But on the other hand, it automatically started loading on Hulu the other night, and as James – my TV moral compass – is gone, I just couldn’t turn it off. I got a little fascinated with it and am hardcore rooting for Jamie and Doug to make it work.  And I only included this because I knew that those of you who would judge me for this had already done so by the open Bachelor love and I had nothing left to lose. 

This just shows what I have always known: DC is taking all my money. By the way, this was created by that amazing baby brother economist of mine and I am pretty proud.

Love how comfy this jersey dress looks. Kind of like wearing pajamas to work. Nicer, more expensive pajamas, but still. Meaning, it is absolutely nothing like my pajamas, but kind of like the Platonic ideal of pajamas.

What this and that have been floating around in your head this week?

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Beach day.

Summer2014-182 Summer2014-186 This past weekend I escaped away to the beach with my brother, brother-in-law, and soon to be sister-in-law.  Looking back, I am tempted to say that I don’t know where this summer went. How is it almost september, almost time to go back to school, almost time for busy weekends and more responsibilities? Except, I know where all the summer has gone. It went to Kentucky and to Paris, to pain-killers and to car shopping, to visits from loved ones. It was wonderful, and I am blessed to even be able to have the luxury of a summer — thank you Academia.

But still.

The next two weekends I am out of town and then studying regains control of my Saturdays. So this last weekend, we slipped out of the city and headed towards the seashore in Delaware. I couldn’t have told you anything about Delaware before Saturday, and it is one of those states like Rhode Island and Vermont where my geography breaks down and I’m not entirely sure where it is. All I had heard was that there were some great beaches.Summer2014-183DELAWARE I AM SO SORRY AND I TAKE IT ALL BACK. You are glorious.  We stopped for some Chick-fil-a breakfast [Insert moment of silence where I stare off into the distance and think about those chicken minis that I rarely make it early enough to get.] and some Delaware locals heading to DC warned us about the terrible traffic. Instead, they recommended some back roads that took us through the stunning countryside, tiny towns, and about a million garage sales. Which we obviously stopped at and rolled into the beach with a coffee table and side table in the trunk of my car. BEACHES AND BARGAINS. Paradise.

What was not paradise was trying to find parking at Dewey Beach. After driving around for a while, I finally just asked a friendly women doing yard-work if we could park in her driveway for the day and she kindly let us. Paradise restored.  Then off to the beach with some of my favorite people! And a whole lot of sunscreen because I glow in the dark and have a deep fear of skin cancer.
Summer2014-188 Summer2014-191 Summer2014-193 That girl there? I GET TO BE RELATED TO HER. My baby brother couldn’t have chosen a better lady to marry. I think I’ll just go jump for joy. Summer2014-197 And then I will enlist others into my jump shot, because you know how I feel about it. [I also debated long and hard about putting these pictures up because, you know, they feature thighs of much less than model quality. But then I decided that maybe we all need a little more acceptance and glorification of normal bodies.]Summer2014-199 After quite a few failed jumpshots, a “kind” soul on the beach took to critiquing us as we jumped and offering pointers. Very helpful. Summer2014-200 Summer2014-202 Summer2014-205When we had finally cooked ourselves to a nice splotchy pink, we left the beach and headed to a shaved-ice stand between a grungy crab shack and a gas station. Yes, we are the classiest beach goers you ever did see. But seriously, that shaved ice was good, and Richard, the shaved ice chef, made us samples of almost all the flavors before we ordered. Summer2014-207 snocone Summer2014-212 Summer2014-218Richard also had to give us a tutorial in eating crabs, as our zeal to whack away at a crab did not come with any practical knowledge. I might have eaten some gills before Richard swooped in, pulled a knife out of his back pocket, and cleaned our crab for us. 
Summer2014-219 This is a food that my landlocked native southern self just doesn’t know how to approach and I can’t eat shellfish without thinking of Jim Gaffigan’s routine on seafood.  But they are so pretty that it was worth a try. Plus, it kind of seemed like summer itself: something so beautiful that you try to scrape out every last bit.Summer2014-220How are you spending these last weekends of summer?

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Talk photo to me.

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Sometimes I consider putting a FAQ section somewhere, but then I realize what a joke that would be, as “frequently” implies, well, multiplicity and commonality. The reality is just that this is not the sort of blog where I have to spend copious amounts of time responding to inquiries about where I buy my clothes or how I do my hair. This is probably because the stuff I wear comes from very accessible and, dare I say, normal places like, you know, the Gap and stuff. On clearance, every time. No one cares about my lipstick color or accessories, because they are kind of just generic. Occasionally one of you wants to know where to eat fattening foods in DC or Paris (so glad that my expertise is well known) but even then y’all don’t see me as a city guru. I’m ok with that, and not really interested in trying to franchise my life, as seems to happen all too quickly in the blogging world.

Still I did create an email specifically for this blog so that I could respond to any questions that did come in. Usually, I forget to check this address for weeks or months, and then I do and see like three messages and I freak out with excitement and feel like a rockstar for a little while. Seriously y’all, I am just so not a big enough deal to not get excited about messages from random people, even if it freaks James out because he thinks it’s a little creepy and that people might murder us in our sleep.

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Perhaps one of the only questions that occurs frequently enough to deserve an answer, is about photography. Specifically, what camera, lens, editing software, etc. do I use. I finally decided to sit down and write it up for anyone who wants to be a slightly-above-average-but-not-overly-serious-photographer. Because the truth is, I have absolutely no clue what I am doing, at least in terms of numbers and specs and whatnot. I hate, hate, HATE anything that smacks of technology, which means that people who want to “talk shop” will find a seriously boring conversation partner in me. I don’t understand all the numbers on my camera, but I do know by feel what works for me. So, after a long study of what I have, here are the quick technical details, followed by some things way more important and interesting.

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  • I shoot most photos for this blog using a Nikon d300 camera. However, up until not terribly long ago, I used a Nikon d40 with the kit lens. All the photos on my old Paris blog were taken with that trusty little highly underestimated camera and I would heartily recommend it for anyone who is starting to dabble in photography. In fact, every photo for this post was taken with my old d40 while I awkwardly posed for James in the alley behind our house. No seriously — there are trash cans right out of this shot. I’m so fancy, you already know.
  • I either use a Sigma 24-70mm lens or a 50mm 1.8 prime lens, which is awesome because it is way smaller and makes the camera fit in my purse better. And yes, that is the main reason I started using it. Priorities.
  • I edit with a combination of Photoshop and custom Vsco Film presets that I designed in Lightroom, always with the goal of having the picture look how the moment felt. I shamelessly edit out the occasional zit before I put pictures on here and I am just not even afraid to admit that.

Summer2014-150 Summer2014-155See? The prime lens is SO MUCH SMALLER and means that you can actually carry a normal sized purse. Totally worth learning to use it instead of the regular lens.
Summer2014-156 Summer2014-157Summer2014-178This is my older d40, and you can see that it is a lot smaller and thus lighter than the d300. Plus, it has really great auto settings, so if you hand it to someone who has no knowledge of cameras, they can still take a decent picture of you quickly. Summer2014-179

And here, in a nutshell, is my philosophy on photography:

Better subjects make better pictures. 

Yes, an awesome camera helps. But only if you actually take it with you, figure out how to use it, and take pictures of things that you want to look at. I have seen beautiful pictures created with a point and shoot or phone and terrible ones come out of my camera. I was an artist long before I had a camera, and the two photography classes I took in college really focused not just on the mechanics of photography, but on the art. Good pictures will be ones that are of things you want to look at long after the moment is gone. They will be the ones composed with aesthetics in mind, but also with emotion about what you are looking at. They will not necessarily be ones that everyone else loves or that are technically the best, but that is ok. As I mentioned above, all of these photos were taken with a camera that no one would consider professional, but it was good enough quality to let what I was seeing show up on the memory card, and the rest was up to me.

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Here would be my pointers to anyone interested in learning about photography:

  • Figure out how to use whatever camera you have. Yes, you can research things. I call my friend Susannah all the time when I don’t understand what my camera is doing. But mostly, just try turning nobs and playing with it on the manual setting until you understand how it works intuitively. Luckily, going digital allows you to delete a lot of the ensuing mess. Also, photography classes can be really helpful and worthwhile, rather than letting a nice camera sit unused or only break it out while using the auto function. The classes I took in college were especially good because they involved us all submitting images every week, which were then critiqued as a class. This was a great way to share and learn, figuring out our own styles and strengths.
  • Think about the art of the images. One of the better, and easier to understand, series of tutorials I have read on this was the series that Annapolis and Co did on taking better Instagram photos. I encourage you to read her posts on composition, perspective, motion, etc. While they are geared towards iPhone photography, many of the concepts are about basic design and composition and are applicable for regular photography as well.
  • Edit. Delete crappy photos, unless they are so bad that they are funny. Sometimes I see people put up lots of pointless and artless photos on Facebook or wherever and I am just confused as to why. Take the photos you like and enhance them or crop them to capture how the moment felt when you were there. I’m not advocating the curation of a perfect life.* I keep lots of humorous photos or ones that aren’t “great.” I do however delete photos that I don’t feel excited about looking at. Why keep them? And I do believe in editing photos to look how the moment felt, because a camera can sometimes render things lifeless and dull. This doesn’t mean dump a bunch of money on Photoshop. For years, I just used basic iphoto editing and it is non too shabby. I also love the Vsco Cam app that allows you to apply some cool film filters to photos in your phone. You can turn down so your pictures don’t look too fake.
  • Take pictures of moments, people, things, and experiences that matter to you. This is the secret to great photos, the one I already harped on above. Photograph things that matter. These are the things worth capturing to you, and these will be the photos you appreciate having. Not just the big aspects of the moments, like the people and events, but also the little details that make up the moments: the pile of shoes by the door, the way the light looks on the floor, the little details that make big pictures. These things matter.  But a random picture of a detail divorced from a big picture… maybe not so much. Sometimes I think we all take a picture because we have seen someone else take a similar one. We do it without thinking and it is cold and lifelike. I’m not saying I haven’t photographed my share of coffee cups. But those aren’t the ones my children will look at again and again, no matter how beautiful they are.

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Did that hit any photo questions? Would a series (I feel so squeamish about proposing things like that because I am so not a pro, but whatever) on important concepts of photography, both artistic and mechanical, be something people wanted? Any photo tips from the rest of you photographers? Give me your feedback, O ye internet.

*PS: For every one of these pics, where I was whipping my hair back and forth like nothing else, there were also a couple like this.  And I’m sharing this one, because I always see posts like this on people’s blogs where there are all those perfectly styled, hair whipping, magically product highlighting pictures and I wonder, do these people ever take awkward shots?  How do they do the most awkward things ever — POSE FOR PHOTOS — and look so smooth??? Keeping it real over here on the blog. Reality check, and how did my eyes get so tiny?Summer2014-149

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Dating.

By the time James and I got married, we had been dating four and a half years, of which well over two had been spent long-distance. One of those was international long distance, and I didn’t have wifi in my apartment, so we did a lot of scheduled skyping and emails. Another two summers of that time were spent similarly, because James had a cell phone plane without nationwide calling. Yes young ones, that used to be a thing.

I think periods of long-distance dating can be really good for couples. You learn to communicate, you have to learn to communicate, or you won’t make it. Your relationship can’t be about dates, cuddles, or proximity, and instead becomes about verbalizing feelings and explaining life to someone. A lot of marriage is also like this, only it happens daily over the dinner table. Long-distance love also forces on you the valuable life skill of being happy or sad for things that have nothing to do with you. If you had a great day, but your significant other had a bad one, you learn to feel genuine sadness for them and they have to learn to share in the joy of something they didn’t do. Long-distance can teach you much.

But it isn’t enough. You learn to love the essence of a person, but not their actuality, not their daily quirks, not their frustrating habits, not them in the flesh. Dating ultimately involves spending quality time with another person. Still, long-distance can also lead to some awesome dating moments because when you do see each other, you are SO EXCITED THAT YOU GO ON ALL THE BEST DATES AND DON’T EAT VEGETABLES AND LAUGH A WHOLE LOT. Obviously, real life isn’t like that either, and I distinctly remember a totally weepy breakdown shortly after our dating long-distance ended and I moved to DC and I wanted to know why those perfectly planned, every-minute-a-date, weekends weren’t happening anymore. Yep, I’m a real gem.

But we aren’t talking about that right now. Because for now, I am back doing this horribly awful but maybe still good long-distance thing, which means that when James was here visiting this past week, we rocked dating. Like, ROCKED it, non-married style, where I turned off the part of my brain that remembers that we share a checkbook now, so lavish gestures aren’t quite as awesome because they mean tighter grocery budgets. Baseball games! Picnics! Netflix marathons (Olivia Pope, where have you been all my life???)! Dinners out! Dinners in!

In the course of our dating over the past week, we also discovered a couple great new places around this city, and as it is RESTAURANT WEEK this week, maybe you local people are looking to try out some new gems. The rest of you, once again, you should just make DC on your “Must Visit So I Can Gain Weight” list.

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GCDC- Grilled Cheese DC. We have wanted to go since it opened, but it isn’t in our area of the city and is only opened during the week. But after finally making it, we will be inconveniencing ourselves to return again. And again. (I actually have dinner plans there later this week so I can try the sweet grilled cheeses they only sell at night. ) It is nothing but artisan grilled cheeses – and tater tots, which facilitated me whipping out a Napoleon Dynamite reference like it was the early 2000s – but we were especially impressed with the owner. He was there greeting people, making conversation, and was so proud of his restaurant – with good reason. James got the buffalo chicken grilled cheese and maybe I still think about it.

Summer2014-162 Summer2014-166 When he left, James hid gift cards to various local places around the house and gives me clues to find them if I a having a rough day, so I can take myself on a “date” (yep, this totally isn’t our first long-distance rodeo). One of them was to Sona Creamery, which just opened a couple blocks from us, and I saved the card so we could go together. It is a wine and cheese bar that also serves some food, and while the menu is small and things are a little pricey for their size, the quality is perfection. Summer2014-170 Summer2014-172

That iced tea. Lightly spiced, a little sweet, locally brewed and bottled. Hello hipster glory.

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See that tasty looking flatbread with heirloom tomatoes? AMAZING. By far our favorite thing there, which is saying a lot, since I got the mac n’ cheese and mac n’ cheese is my favorite food group. We got suckered in and had to know about the artisan cheese on the bread, only to find out it is made from milk from a water buffalo….

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… which obviously led to lots of googling of water buffalos at the table…

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… and the purchasing of a small brick of the cheese to take home so that we can recreate the meal tonight for dinner.

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Sona is having a 3course lunch for 20$ restaurant week special, so if you are nearby, you should totally go. And take me, because I told you about it.

James leaves tomorrow, and it will be mid-September before I see him again. Back to phone calls, emails, and me sleeping starfish style in the middle of the bed. Long-distance marriage is way less fun than dating, with one exception. When you are dating long-distance, you always wonder if it will have changed when you see the person, if you are going to make it through, if you will or should stay together. But with marriage, I know.

He is mine. I am his. Forever. He’s coming back, and we will just get right back to dating.
jh2

 

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That time I wanted to buy a house.

This month we enter our third year of living in this little one bedroom apartment on Capitol Hill, a place where I don’t think we really intended to stay for three years.tumblr_lyrl9bzbuS1qkmsleo1_500

And I love this little place, really I do. I am fiercely proud of the little home we have built, eager to invite people in and [usually] happy with our space [when it is clean].

But sometimes I fantasize about better days.

Days when we have a smoke detector that doesn’t go off every time you open the oven. Days when we have a toilet that can be flushed twice within a 30 minute period. Days when you can shut the bathroom door without it locking you in. Days when we have an electrical system where you don’t have to have turn off all the lights to use the toaster without flipping a breaker. Days where we have a bathroom sink with an actual counter because I have broken almost all of my beauty products by knocking them off of that stupid pedestal sink, leaving me applying powder and eye shadow from ziplock baggies where I have gathered the pressed powder fragments. Getting ready in a bathroom where the only surface is a pedestal sink is probably a lot like landing an airplane on one of those floating airstrip things: no room for error. While we are on the bathroom note, sometimes I fantasize about a bathroom big enough to where I could actually have a breakdown and lay down crying on the bathroom floor. As it stands now, half of my body would have to be losing it in the hallway. And someday, someday I will have plumbing that doesn’t just stop working at amazing moments – like when 12 people are seated in my living room for Thanksgiving dinner. I dream of guest rooms, storm sealed windows, and shiny new floors. I dream of homes where the outside and inside are clearly defined, unlike our doors which let winter winds and summer heat blow right on in. The other day there was a squirrel in our living room. Sometimes I dream of, well, not that. (Although it was totally adorable and it maybe fled because it could sense my intense desire to domesticate it.)tumblr_lj66og1m4F1qc7vazo1_500

Which is why, I recently decided that we were going to buy a house. In DC. On the combined fortunes of a politico and a grad student. Because I am an idiot.

But James, bless his soul, has learned that he should just let my stupid ideas run their course, let me crash and burn into a million flames on my own first, and then calmly put me back together. So, he let me go house hunting.

The first house I found was perfect, by my standards, which are as follows:

  •  Does it have enough light so that I, if transformed into a plant, could photosynthesize?
  • Is it in a cute neighborhood, meaning, what is the brunch proximity?
  • Does it appear to have all major walls and doors?
  • How many people that I love can I get inside?
  • Are there fun quirky things like exposed beams and brick walls?

Things that house-hunting Hannah doesn’t really think to check:

  • If you flush the toilet, will you immediately re-see what was just flushed?
  • Do those bulges in the ceiling mean water damage?
  • Does this structure meet all current building codes and practical concerns for a structure that will house humans?

And the first house I found met all my criteria, but apparently none of the second, as James took one look – merely peering through the windows – and declared that my beloved row house needed at least 100k of work to be livable. I declared him a dream killer and pouted.

But when that little two bedroom house finally sold for over half a million dollars (go vomit and come back), it was immediately gutted, leaving nothing but the front brick façade standing.

Y’all, someone paid half a million dollars for an address and one brick wall. VOMIT.

But still, I persisted in my stupidity. The problem with the houses in DC is that they usually go for around a million dollars (VOMIT), which means that it has given me a warped sense of “cheap,” that is totally independent of our finances. 500K? PENNIES. The second house I found was a little smaller than the first, but totally livable from the get-go, no need for any massive demolitions. And it was cheap… for DC standards. Having basically already picked out curtains and a move in date, I blithely entered in some info on the online mortgage calculator, only to find out that, given what we could put down and factoring in a 40 YEAR MORTGAGE, we would pay a monthly sum that was about 3 times our current, already ungodly high, rent.20c0fbe0ba220baf1afdcbc64961a648

And then I laid half in the bathroom half out and cried as I told James that we would officially be renters FOREVER and that WE WOULD NEVER OWN NICE THINGS.

Because sometimes I forget that we can’t all live the same life. I see so many of my friends who live elsewhere buying homes, planting gardens, letting their pets out to run free in their large fenced yards, as if I even remember what a yard is. They are painting guest rooms and re-doing kitchens and buying real furniture (real meaning, not from Ikea with the added middleman of Craigslist). And I wonder, why can’t we do that now, why can’t we have that now?

Because we can’t. Because our life is not anyone else’s. And we chose this life, this little apartment big-city life, and I have to remind myself how much I love it. Because the rest might come, someday, even if it feels like it never will. But it probably won’t come here, in this city, not unless we change careers or become involved in shady dealings that make big profits. And when it comes, we won’t get this back, this life where we have so few responsibilities and such freedom.

Plus, with James home this week, I’m reminded that where he is, there is home, and that’s enough to make me happy.

But I still wouldn’t mind a toilet with more flush frequency and some squirrel free living.

Any house hunting horror stories out there? Or apartment living horror- I’ll take both!3789273a4ed3535578bbe7a610c85be7

PS: These images are obviously NOT from our home, but rather from the ephemeral someday home that exists only in my Pinterest board, in which I also become a way better interior designer than I am now. Plus, James would totally veto a lot of these looks, especially that last one, as he doesn’t share my love for ridiculous pattern juxtaposition and obnoxious colors. Oh, and weird animal pillows- I LOVE IT ALL. Images via /1/ 2 / 3 /4/

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Celebrating.

Summer2014-130 James came to town for a visit right after I got back from Paris and we celebrated his birthday over the weekend with the type of party that he wanted: no gifts, no decorations, no fuss, small guest list. Just some burgers, strawberry cake, vanilla ice cream, and a small group of friends. On Sunday we celebrated his actual birthday with a baseball game, just the two of us.

Because some years, you want to do crazy birthday adventures. But other years, you just want to stay close to home and end the day in your pjs watching TV on the couch. Together.

Having him back in this city, back in our home, is the best gift.

I’m pretty crazy about this guy.

And fiercely proud of all that he has done with his life in all the years leading up to now and I know that this year will be no different.

Happy Birthday husband, you’re the best. Summer2014-131

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