too long

So many different topics to consider on this blog, but the past month has certainly gotten away from me.  How is it May 22nd tomorrow?!  

The Cliffs Notes version is that much is going on in our lives - very good, very exciting things.  Many new goals have sprung forth from these developments.  There's so much to document and to post here, but I don't even know where to begin.  

As far as short-term future blogging goals, I'm hoping to revive "New Meal Monday" this week with a new chili recipe.  Here's hoping I remember to get out my camera when the time comes to make the meal! 

In the meantime, here are 10 extra-short snippets of the goings-on in life right now:

1. I have a job!  Starting July 1st, I'll be diving back into campus ministry full-time after a two-year hiatus.  It is humbling, exhilarating, and exciting to think about being back on campus (my alma mater!) with students, attempting (albeit weakly) to love them like Jesus. 

2. My little sister is engaged!  She'll be married next October, 2012.  It is terribly exciting - and I get to be maid of honor!  (Or, as my husband informed me, matron of honor - it sounds so much older than just maid!)

3. B and I have resolved to begin (slowly) making our way through the seasons of The West Wing.  Considering we just watched the pilot episode this evening, I'd say we have quite a ways to go.  :-)

4. I bought a cilantro plant a week and a half ago, and while I haven't used any of it yet, I am so looking forward to being able to just snip the leaves I need in any given week, instead of buying an entire bunch of cilantro and having about 85% of that bunch go to waste because we just can't use that much cilantro before it spoils.  Hooray for herbs!  I have a small pot of basil and another of chives that have just started sprouting, too.  I am hoping to maintain this trend of keeping our most often used herbs in pots during the summer - it is convenient, low-maintenance, and inexpensive, a great thing! 

5. I am a convert to the FranklinCovey daily system of planning.  (www.franklincovey.com)  I sat in on meetings all week at my new job and after a quick introduction to the daily system, I have resolved to integrate that method of planning into my work next year.  I am hoping it can provide a balance to my work/vocation/homekeeping and increase my effectiveness in each of these areas. 

6.  I witnessed a beautiful Nuptial Mass today of two former students with whom I worked during my first stint in campus ministry.  They are a beautiful example of faithful love - I am honored to have known them during their college careers and to have watched from afar their journey to this momentous day. 

7.  "Sway" by Dean Martin might be one of the greatest songs ever.  I'm listening to the Glee cover of this song right now, and it just makes me want to get up and dance!  (Dean's version is best, however!) 

8.  B is making pulled pork for Sunday Dinner tomorrow!  EXCITED!!!!!!!  (pulled pork is one of my very favorite meals, and we've never made it before)  :-)

9.  Making plans to visit Washington, DC this summer to visit my old roommates at the end of June.  They have lived out there for 2+ years, but this is the first time I will visit them there.  I haven't been to the District in ten years, so I am more than looking forward to my return.  It promises to be quite the trip! 

10.  No matter how many times I fall, fail, or make a mistake, I am a beloved child of God.  All of us are.  How mind-boggling is this?! 

a presto. 

where we're at

This post is both an exercise in describing where we're at right now, as well as a checklist of progress we've made (simply for yours truly) in preparation for our move.  
 
Thus, without further ado.....where we're at!  

- We're down to two options: staying in Madison (and B reapplying to law school for Fall 2011) and moving to Naples, FL and B enrolling in a law school there (this one is dependent on his admission into the entering class off their waiting list).  It is a relief to be so close to knowing our final outcome, but with being so close comes, at least for me, a real bout of impatience.  I went to the mailbox today, just hoping that we would receive some type of closure from the school in Naples, and when there wasn't a scrap of mail there, all I could do was blurt out a frustrated, "come ON!"  I even went back to the mailbox a second time, just to see if perhaps I'd missed the mailman the first time.  I just have to keep reminding myself, Lord, it is Your will we seek, and not our own.  And then I throw in a flustered "but in the meantime, bless me with patience!"

- We're packing - A LOT. I have started the process and it hasn't been terribly overwhelming just yet.  The plan at the moment, if we haven't heard from the school in Naples by July 31st, is to move our stuff into storage until A) we find a suitable apartment in Madison or B) we move to Naples!  I'm finding just two parts of this process a bit overwhelming: the sheer amount of boxes (we will probably have thirty to forty by the time we're done packing) is starting to take over our living space, and I am at a loss with what to do about our laundry.  Part of me just wants to let it accumulate and deal with it later, and another part of me wants to crank out five or six loads right now and be ahead as we look to do our serious moving next week.  I am sure the latter will win - it's just a matter of biting the bullet and getting it done.  Unfortunately, I am very unmotivated to walk all the way around our building to our laundry facilities while it is 85-90 degrees and humid in the middle of the day.  I fear I'll just need to get over it and do it, because I don't think the heat is breaking anytime soon.  


- We're trying - however feebly - to trust our loving Father with whatever plan He might have for us.  I am often the one struggling with this, but I have found a certain peace about things in the past few days.  It hasn't been a complete peace, that's for sure, but it's a start.  I just keep telling myself that this will all get done - somehow, someway, this will all get accomplished.  We will move, wherever that might be, and it will happen when God intends.  In the meantime, as we wait on God's will, I just plug along and do what I need to do in order to get this move started.  For now, that's just a lot of packing.  :-)  


As I left a restaurant where I picked up some dinner for B tonight, I was behind a car that was stopped at a light and was going to go straight through the intersection.  I was in a hurry to get home (one of my weaknesses and struggles lately has been with showing charity to my fellow drivers), and tried my darnedest to wiggle my way between the van and the curb to sneak around her to turn right, but to no avail.  As I waited, impatiently, for the light to turn, I saw that the van had the simplest of bumper stickers on the back: a small image of the Divine Mercy, and Jesus, I trust in You.  How often I need that reminder!  

a presto

signs it's time to move.....

You hear and discover that a mouse has taken up residence behind your fridge - and it's the FOURTH mouse to decide to move into your lovely abode.  In all honesty, I'm not afraid of mice, and it's not that I don't like mice - I would just rather not live with them, that's all. 

Needless to say, trap is set - no sign of the intruder just yet.  Hoping we'll get him tonight.

T-minus 18 days until the lease is up!  Let's get out of here! 

the waiting

It's 11:00 at night, I should be in bed, but I can't sleep.  Thus, currently, I'm listening to "Wavin' Flag" by K'naan (a World Cup song), reminiscing about the '06 World Cup while I was in Italy, and blogging random thoughts.  B and I both snoozed a little bit tonight (B was tired, and I was nursing a headache), and while my husband has been blessed with the ability to sleep wherever and whenever, I, on the other hand, have not been endowed with this gift.  This is my third late night this week due to later naps during the day - they're never terribly long (maybe half an hour at most), but they're enough to keep me wound up during the time when I should be winding down each day.  

Perhaps part of it, also, is the spinning in my head about possible scenarios for us in these next few weeks.  I lay in bed and my mind starts to whirl with the uncertainty we face once our current lease expires on the 31st.  B is waiting to hear still from three law schools, one in Minnesota, one in Wisconsin, and one (waiting list) in Florida.  

Here, let's do the math:
Three distinct schools + three different cities + three weeks until we're out of this apartment = BIG TIME ANXIETY FOR YOURS TRULY.  

My insides seem literally to twist and turn as I'm poring over all the different situations in which we could find ourselves in just 21 days.  And don't even get me started on how my brain processes all of this - most of the time it's reeling, and just trying to keep up with the barrage of thoughts I throw at it at any given moment.  

A sampling of the thoughts that spin through my head, usually at least once a day:
Where will we be on August 1st? 
Where will our belongings be on August 1st?
With B working, how are we even going to be able to move?  How are we going to get our things out of this apartment in the first place?  
What will our job situation look like in a month? 
What about health insurance?  
What about just staying afloat financially during the transition of moving?  
Will we be able to attend a family reunion in North Carolina next month?  


 Needless to say, this is all just gut-wrenching, and it doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that I don't handle any of this well.  I crashed emotionally earlier this week - I think I had had it up to here for the afternoon, just thinking about the unknown and stewing over the vagueness of our next move in life.  I came home and cried.  (I'm not a terribly emotional person usually, so to have had two emotional episodes in one week is a big deal for me.)  "It's just too much for me," I whined to B.  "I'm sick of this, I just need to know what's next.  There's so much planning involved, but I need to know where we're going to be in order to make those plans."  

"You think you need to know," B assured me.  "But it's not God's time yet.  You want to know now, but it's not God's time to reveal that yet."  

"Well, it needs to be His time," I retorted.  "I need to know."  

Yet here we are, a day later, and we still don't know - I still don't know that which I believe so earnestly that I need to know.  I anticipate the mail every day - almost counting down the minutes to when the postman will arrive, praying that he has something there that will define the course of our lives for the next year.  Sometimes, forgive me, I don't even care if he brings with him three rejection letters - three denials from the three schools, just anything to bring more direction to the next three weeks.  It's so ridiculous, we're off to Kansas City for the weekend, and it hurts to know that I'm going to miss getting the mail for two whole days.  And deep down I know that we will know at the right time - God will reveal this to us when He sees fit.  It's just the waiting around part, as the days tick down, that is seemingly eating away at me.  

What little faith I have!  

not His Will

trFor the past two and a half months, we've played a waiting game with the admissions committee at B's top choice of law school.  We've flirted with the possibilities of enrolling, moving, finding a new apartment, all of those things that come with transitions and new changes.  In my head danced around ideas and fantasies of what these next years at this law school would be like - living in a small apartment off-campus, B going to school, I working to support us, trying to stay thrifty in the one-income household but probably splurging for some favorite things here and there.  Maybe, just maybe, God would also bless us with our first child during B's tenure at this law school.  The possibilities, the dreams, the hopes - they were endless.  And I, deep in my heart of hearts, believed that we'd be getting a big, fat, acceptance letter sometime this summer, and all those dreams would become our reality.  

Yesterday afternoon, as casually as we had received the e-mail about B's spot on the wait list, we received word that there was no way the admissions committee could offer him a spot in the class of 2013.  The dean of admissions rambled off all the generalizing phrases - we had a lot of qualified applicants, and it hurts us to have to turn you away, all of the same, redundant words that really just mean: we can't let you in.  It was the simplest of messages - and I peered over B's shoulder as he opened the e-mail, and my heart just sank, and the tears flowed like rain.  

And for the next half hour I acted like a stubborn, snotty child - angry at the committee, hurt by their triteness in the e-mail, despondent that what had seemed so real had been snatched away in a matter of seconds, and so very devastated for B.  We had just been talking on the way to get the car an oil change that B had felt pretty good about his chances, just an hour or so earlier.  We had legions of people praying for us, praying that God's Will would be this school.  We were so ready to move on with our lives, to get off this pause button of applications and forge onward, toward careers and grownup things.  How had it gone so very different, in just a matter of minutes?  What did this now mean for his chances at the four schools from which we still await a response?  Would we be subject to additional rejections?  My head started spinning with all of these questions, and I grew more frustrated.  Eventually, my poor husband, the one who had actually suffered this rejection, had to comfort me, when it was really I who should have been doing that for him in the first place. 


And then we talked it out.  Where do we go from here?  What happens if B doesn't get in this year?  And most importantly - what is God really asking of us in this?  That is a question that I don't often like to ask.  There were times yesterday where I was upset with God, frustrated at His Will, so painfully before us.  And in those painful moments, my conscience hit me like a ton of bricks....


God will work in this situation, to bring about His glory.  

No matter how painful, how frustrating, how maddening all of this is, God will use this to glorify Himself.  

My only prayer is that I can remember this as we wait for the next month - hoping, wondering, dreaming about what the next academic year will bring us.  

poh, poh, poh, poh, poh, poh - pooooooh

I just had to make that the title of this post - it's my feeble attempt at phonetically spelling out one of the many victory chants of the Italian tifosi - soccer fans - that I heard during the World Cup mania of 2006, when I was a student in that sleepy mountain town a couple hours north of bellissima Roma, the year that the Italian national team - the beloved Azzurri - won the Mondiale against the hated French.  It's supposed to be the opening bass line of the song "Seven Nation Army" by the White Stripes - to this day, when I hear that melody, I'm transported to a piazza in Perugia, where I heard that riff chanted over and over again, as the Italians waved the tricolore and lit smokebombs and celebrated that marvelous run by their national team. 

All of the frenzy of the World Cup - which begins tomorrow! - has had me reminiscing on that amazing summer, the most influential summer that I've ever lived (with the exception of last summer, when we were married).  I learned so much about my feeble self that summer - about my strongest desires, about my dignity as a woman, about the ability to love.  That summer that the Azzurri won the World Cup was completely life-changing for me - and it prepared my heart for the man I would begin to date just a year later, and, eventually, marry.  Funny how something that seems so innocuous - a five-week study-abroad opportunity in Italy - would become so momentous for the course of my life.  I remain so grateful for the chance to travel there, to experience Italy in all her splendor, and for the experiences I had in that country, that would help to form me into the woman (and wife!) that I am today.  

And as for the Mondiale of 2010?  World Cup fever has struck our house, and is often a point of conversation for us.  I learned several months ago that I married a man very dedicated to watching every waking moment of the tournament, a pastime that dates back ten, fourteen years.  While the Americans are on our short list, we're also backing our favorite European teams (that are, thankfully, not in the same group as the United States!).  My dear husband is rooting for Espana, the favorite, and his favorite team for many years (he claims it's a pick to honor his Spanish heritage).  

As for me?  I will don my Francesco Totti #10 jersey from the most recent Mondiale with pride, and cheer for "my" boys, my beloved Azzurri, a squad so integral, and so popular, in that summer of 2006.  As the defending champions, I know their chances of a repeat performance are slim, yet, it will be so wonderful to watch them once more, and to be transported back to that beautiful summer - the summer I learned to love.  


forza Azzurri!!  :-)

they really do say the darnedest things.

While babysitting for a new family today of three little girls, the three of us got on the topic of how I knew them.  My name and number were given to their mother by my aunt, who has a daughter who is the same age as the eldest one of these girls - about eight.  I began to explain to them that she's my cousin, which they couldn't quite seem to wrap their heads around.  The middle girl, about five, behind the cutest bespectacled eyes said to me, "well, if you're her cousin, how come you're a grownup?"  I ate it up!  Apparently they don't have any "grownup cousins", and thought it was pretty neat that my cousin had one!  

In His good and perfect will, if God chooses to bless us with children, and only blesses us with little girls, I would be perfectly okay with that.  These little girls warmed my heart so very much.  It was in the little moments of my afternoon that I realized, Yeah, I can totally do this - be a mom.  And boy am I going to love it!  I would be perfectly okay with any beautiful soul God chooses to give us, but.....wow, little girls.  They are so beautiful!  :)  

A presto

"in case you forgot....I'm here."

Last Thursday was a difficult day - at least parts of it.  For the first time in a long while, I accompanied B to the east side of town to the technical college for his class that night.  Once I dropped him off, I went onto pick up my cousin and hang out with her for a bit while her mom hosted a "ladies' night" get-together at their house.  On the way over to the east side, B and I had a really great conversation - skipping around from topic to topic, what we normally do during long car rides.  Eventually, however, the conversation switched gears, as we started to talk about the future.  

In recent years, I've always approached the future with hesitance.  For two straight years, B and I have endured a spring where the future was totally unknown.  The never-ending sea of graduate school applications always leaves guessing and speculating about where exactly we're going to end up, come August.  We lived through this last spring - planning a wedding, rejoicing in engagement, but not knowing where we were going to be ultimately.  One of my favorite phrases last year, when folks would ask about our plans, was, "well, we know we're going to be married in this church at this time on August 22nd, but we're not sure where we'll be on August 23rd."  Ideas and dreams and hopes about the future swirled in our minds - would we be able to honeymoon?  Would our honeymoon consist of traveling cross-country in a Uhaul, off to law school?  Would we have to move before the wedding for law school and come back to Madison to get married, and where would we both live separately in the interim before the wedding?  The sheer uncertainty of it all was enough to throw me into a tizzy on more than one occasion. 

And the irony is, that a year after our first round of law school applications and not knowing where we would end up, here we are again, nearly eight months into our marriage, and completely unaware of what the future holds yet again.  There's no denying that God really does have a sense of humor.  This time around, I know there's been a lot more anxiety for the both of us - to us, it seems like there are so many more variables spinning around this decision.  Will law school happen for B?  What school, if any, will accept him?  Where will it be?  If law school doesn't happen, do we really want to go through another round of applications next spring?  Where does starting a family fit in?  The questions seem endless for us - probably more so for a high-strung person like me, but I know that B has been struggling with the uncertainty too.  

Anyway, back to the drive to the east side.   The conversation switched gears and all of a sudden out of my mouth spilled all of the uncertainty, worry, and doubt about the future.  All of those questions that we've asked of each other, and of God, spilled out into yet another conversation between us.  And as always, B was gentle and encouraging, reassuring me that we will know in time where we are meant to be.  And I, as always, in my weakness, was doubtful and uncertain and worried.  All of my worry was suffocating, quieting me for the rest of the trip to the tech school.  I tried to shake it off as I said goodbye to B, but the trip to my cousin's was one of unease, and I tried my darnedest to pray in that moment, even in simply a whisper to my Father God, asking Him to keep our situation close to His heart.  

The night passed, B's class ended, I took my cousin to Culver's and the library and we had a wonderful time out on the town.  B and I headed back to the west side and prayed the rosary on our trip back to our apartment.  We piled into our place, dropping our bags and belongings, and I logged onto the computer for a minute before our weekly TV show came on.  Eventually, we logged onto Brad's e-mail so he could check for any messages.....


and there it was.  

The simplest, yet most wonderful reminder of God's hand in all of this.  

 
An e-mail from the admissions committee of Brad's top choice, informing him of his spot on a waiting list for admission.  


It was as if the voice of my Father God had whispered to me, His silly little girl: "All of your worry and your doubt of my faithfulness, and look!  In the midst of it, I am still here.  And I still love the both of you."

It was littlest, but most needed glimpse of His work in our lives.  Even in our weakness and in our failures, especially our failures to return to Him faithfully in prayer and sacrifice, He is still present in our lives.  In spite of our broken humanity, God still works in the situations that, to Brad and I, seem most important in our lives at this moment.  He is still there; He is still faithful.  The e-mail wasn't an invitation to admission, but it also wasn't a rejection of admission.  For me, that 200-word e-mail was a profound reminder that God is still in the midst of things, even when we doubt He's even there.  

B might get into that law school in the fall, and he might not.  Yet now, more than ever, my husband and I remain convinced at how much God is working in our lives, even when we fail to notice it, and fail even more so to give Him the glory, honor, and praise He most assuredly deserves. 

lonestar

Briefly during our half-iversary celebration yesterday - I believe we were making the trek outside to switch our laundry from washer to dryer - B and I commented on how much we're ready to BE DONE with winter weather.  On some level, I have always enjoyed winter weather - a snowfall on a December night, just in time for Christmas, a soft, snow-covered scene the next morning, all of that stuff.  This winter, however, is a bit different for us.  I think most of this dislike stems from the fact that neither of us really like to drive in the stuff.  In college and even in high school, I was a bit insulated from winter driving - my longest commute was usually to the high school, only about twenty minutes away (and in the city, so the roads were plowed well), and I didn't have a car in college so public transportation and my legs were the means to get around.  This winter, we live on the west side of town and are often traveling around the city or beyond, and we really, truly, honestly don't enjoy a snowy commute.  

Last weekend's commute from Minnesota didn't help matters much either......
We were in the Twin Cities, visiting a dear friend of mine and bridesmaid in our wedding.  She is a director/manager for a summer camp in Twin Cities suburbia and I've always wanted to go and see where she works, since I've heard so much about it!  She also snagged us tickets to go to the Minnesota Wild NHL game while we were there, so we really couldn't resist.  

The weekend was wonderful - an easy, albeit long, drive to the Cities, with a short stopover in Eau Claire to visit my sister and her boyfriend, who were celebrating Valentine's Day there.  The only time we encountered traffic issues was when we got onto 494 to wind around the city, and even then it was only but a brief time.  Saturday was wonderful, being able to see her in her element amongst her campers and then taking in a late dinner to catch up on things.  We eventually came back to her place and proceeded to enjoy "Evan Almighty" and Guitar Hero into the wee hours of the night - something our "old married bones" don't do very often!  :-)  Sunday morning was rightly spent at Holy Mass, singing the final Gloria before Easter and disbelieving that we were truly about to enter into the Holy Season of Lent just days later.  Following Mass, we went to lunch, caught up some more (we were also with an old high school classmate of mine, a law student in the cities, who had a second ticket for B), and before long, it was off to the arena.  


The game was really enjoyable - I hadn't ever been to an NHL match before so it was quite the experience for B and me.  The Wild enjoyed a considerable lead throughout the game and eventually beat Vancouver, 6-2.  All in all, it was a wonderful afternoon, spent with friends who we don't often get to see.  

As we were leaving the arena amidst the throngs of people, I saw it - that old familiar whitish haze in the sky during a considerable snowfall.  I couldn't believe my eyes - we had just talked earlier in the day about how the Twin Cities metro area was supposed to get snow, but only a dusting of one to two inches.  What I saw before me was probably already a good inch of accumulated snowfall.  As if on command, my stomach knotted, and I braced myself for a long, tedious commute back to Wisconsin.  

We started our journey back to the Dairy State around 5:30 that evening, taking things easy on 494, not quite trusting the roads just yet.  The snow wasn't yet accumulating on the freeways and traffic was still plugging along at a decent speed, yet we didn't trust what we saw.  As our ride progressed, our hunches were right.  As we got onto 94-West to head back into Wisconsin, in the far east suburbs of the cities, we saw the first of many different incidents of cars spinning out and hitting everything in their paths - culverts, medians, shoulders, you name it.  Eventually, we saw a semi that had jacknifed. Immediately we turned on the brakes and I'm not sure B went over 45 mph again that night.  As we trekked into Hudson, we stopped at a McDonalds, just to shake off the tension of the drive and to regroup - I'll admit I was a bit hysterical.  We went another 40 miles in about 90 minutes, stopping off again in Menomonie to refresh ourselves.  

As we turned onto the freeway from Menomonie, suddenly, we found ourselves at a standstill.  On the highway.  As we tapped our brakes the car started to click-click-click and wanted to slide, but thankfully held on and we stopped in time.  A series of emergency vehicles snaked through the traffic - flustering us as the semis behind us honked incessantly to signal us to move over - and after a few minutes, traffic resumed.  As we passed the emergency vehicles I saw a State Trooper shuffling his feet on the pavement - it was that slick, and we were driving on it!  It was then, as we resumed our travels after our unexpected pause on the interstate, that we decided we needed an overnight furlough.  We called my sister's boyfriend in Eau Claire, who graciously put us up for the night.  We've never been more grateful to get off the road!  We resumed our trip on Monday morning and arrived back to town around noon. 

This long, winding story segues back into my original thought - B and I DO NOT like to travel in this stuff.  B (who is usually driving through it) becomes very tense - there were times on the road two Sundays ago when he only had his palms on the steering wheel because he was trying to relax his fingers.  In the midst of his tension, I become, well, nearly hysterical and terribly, terribly anxious.  And it was during our drive home two weekends ago, in the snow, that we decided, rather abruptly, that we wouldn't mind relocating to a warmer climate for a few years.  

We're in the process of figuring out where we'll be after our lease expires here - B has started to reapply to law schools, which leaves us in a little bit of limbo until we find out if he's accepted anywhere.  As we pray that God will reveal where He wants us, in our future plans we haven't yet ruled out a "big move" to a warmer climate - likely The Lonestar State, Texas.  We're both familiar enough with Texas (B lived there in childhood and heck, I just really love Texas), that we're starting to pray about the possibility of moving, regardless if B gets into law school there.  In these first initial stages, there's a great deal of excitement - anticipating a move, complete with a new city, new people, new church, all of it.  And in the back of my mind there's just a tiny slice of fear - fear of the unknown, fear of being that far from my own family, fear of not having a support system there like we do here.  In spite of my excitement and in spite of my fear, it is a comfort to know that God knows where we'll be, and that He will reveal His plan, in His time.  

How great is He.  

things i'm learning about living with someone else

1. We both tend to hang onto things that don't necessarily need to be "hung onto".  For example: I still have about a dozen copies of surplus wedding invitations, college textbooks (I am particularly attached to my constitutional law book), and seemingly dozens of tee shirts that I just can't part with.  He's the same way, except with other things - oodles of miscellaneous papers, video gaming equipment, and more clothes than me, it sometimes seems.  

2. With all of this stuff comes the need to downsize and be terribly organized - things we aren't necessarily good at.   I've attempted to tackle our master bedroom and get it organized at least three solid times since we've been at this apartment, and each time I make a true dent in the process, but inevitably wind up tired and discouraged.  It's my hope to get off to Target tomorrow and invest in some big plastic storage containers, just to get the clutter out of the way.  We can tackle and eliminate the excess stuff later, it's the organization I'm really after right now.  

3. Our next apartment has to have the following qualifications (in no particular order of importance): a larger kitchen with more storage space, in-apartment laundry, and extra storage space somewhere on the premises.  To think, we saw an apartment this summer with two of those three qualifications, and we were too timid to jump on it right away, and ended up losing it.  At the time we signed our current lease, I didn't want to say that we "settled" on the apartment, but looking back on that moment six months ago, we definitely rushed into this property.  We (or, probably, just I) were so worried on having the apartment situation resolved before B left for Texas that we hurriedly filled out and dropped off an application at this complex the day before his flight.  I'm realizing now that the rent on these apartments, for the amenities we have, is a bit inflated.  Good to know for future reference!  :)  

Pardon these mindless ramblings - I just spent a good ninety minutes on attempting to organize our master bedroom and I'm a bit overwhelmed by it all.  

a presto

buon compleanno! birthday week!

This week we celebrated my husband's birthday, and a whole lot of other fun things happened too.  I would extrapolate and make this post more descriptive, but it seems I've come down with the preliminary symptoms for strep throat (ugh) and am not feeling up to par at the moment....

New car!  

The Green Machine has been showing her age for the past couple of weeks and we were convinced she wouldn't last much longer.  After some weeks researching and doing his homework, my husband and his mom were able to put the gears in motion for us to receive a new car.  Words can't express how grateful I am for this piece of machinery, and for the generosity of my mother-in-law.  We're just not in the situation to be thinking about independently purchasing a vehicle, so to have her assistance is a blessing that can't quite be put into words.  She never ceases to amaze me - in her generosity, her giving, and most of all, her deep maternal love for her son.  It's a blessing to watch and be a part of!  

Of course, a new car isn't a new car without a lovely bug guts splotch on the windshield, no more than forty miles into ownership.  :)  I kid you not, this splotch was a deep, grape-esque purple.  What kind of bugs are out there in October that have purple guts?

And so continues my "culinary prowess."  My latest masterpiece?  A German chocolate cake for my husband's birthday.  I am not entirely sure it is supposed to be that massively big, but it was certainly tasty, and we have some leftovers to prove it!  

.....And so concluded my husband's birthday week.   

Conclusions? 

1. We are terribly blessed, by our families, friends, and in particular, by God the Father.  Even when we don't know it, we are blessed! 

2. I'm pretty sure I can cook.  Between a tortilla soup on Monday, apple pies last weekend, and the German chocolate cake this week, I've become something of a menace in the kitchen, and I'm always scouring our cookbooks for new recipes to try out.  We'll see how long it lasts....

3. My husband is an amazing soul, a beautiful expression of married love.  It's my prayer that I would strive always after that same level of married love that he shows me each day.  In ways unknown to me, somehow, God saw it fit that I be married to this man and gave him to me, at a time in my life when I did not see him as a gift, at a time in my life when I wasn't ready for him, at a time in my life when I was just learning about sacrificial love and failing miserably at it.  According to my Heavenly Father - my husband was just what I needed, and, as always - God was right.  What a gift my husband is to me - an immeasurable, incredible, unworthy gift.   

A presto 

it's october....and that means......

that baseball playoffs are back!  Just finished watching the Boys from the Bronx beat the Twins, 7-2.  There's just something about October baseball that is really special - I was a bit disconnected from the playoffs last year due to work, so it's been wonderful to reconnect this year!  

In other news, I am down for the count with a nasty head cold.  I woke up yesterday morning with a scratchy throat and some pressure in the sinus/temple region, and by this morning it had reared its ugly head and become a full-blown cold, complete with a constant headache (that sinus pressure is so mild but so uncomfortable), stuffy/runny nose (how can a nose be stuffed and runny at the same time?!), intermittent coughing, and pronounced fatigue.  I was supposed to head downtown for the day to catch up on some work at St. Paul's, but opted not to infect the entire student center and instead, perhaps only (and unfortunately) my husband.  Hoping that it will pass in a few days and I can get back to some semblance of normal.  

Last on the docket is our car situation.  The trusty Buick Century that we've had for about ten months, known fondly as "the Green Machine", is ailing fairly rapidly.  We put a couple hundred bucks of repair into it about three weeks ago when the starter failed, and last week, it was serviced and diagnosed as leaking coolant into the engine, which will ultimately be what causes the Green Machine finally to keel over.  We're holding our breath now, significantly rationing our car trips (as few as possible and only on the west side of town, using the bus when necessary to get elsewhere in town), filling the car with coolant as necessary, hoping it starts each time we need it, and........starting the grown-up process of car shopping, and all that it entails.  We're looking at all of our options right now, applying for a loan, and hoping to have the situation resolved sooner rather than later, because we're not sure how much life the Green Machine has remaining!  

The Buick has been a really reliable vehicle, up until about a month ago.  It was sad finally to come to the realization that the car is on its last legs - it served our purposes wonderfully for so long.  We've had so many fond memories in that car.  Embarking on dozens of trips home to visit my family, freezing our butts off in the dead of winter when the heater took forever to work (and would squeal if turned on too quickly - I kid you not), the countless trips we took back to campus in our engagement when Brad would drop me off at home, usually as we prayed a rosary, those trips a beautiful reminder of the sacrifices we were making in engagement for love of each other and of God, in anticipation of the marriage that was to come.  I know we'll both be sad to see the Green Machine leave our lives, but I can't say that I won't welcome a new vehicle and the reliability, and ultimately, the money saving (at least on repairs) that comes with it!  

A presto :-)  

blender mishaps, flowers, and plenty of beautiful moments: our first month of marriage

We had been married about two weeks and on a beautiful Sunday morning my husband had an idea.  We had yogurt, bananas, and strawberries handy: why not make smoothies to complement what would already be a fantastic breakfast?  Soon he had gone to work putting together all of the ingredients for the perfect smoothie.  Following the blend, he went to detach the pitcher from the motor...only to have the entire smoothie concoction spill out over everything.  It turns out the bottom of the pitcher wasn't screwed onto the pitcher itself, and was still attached to the motor.  I was oblivious to this crisis as the counter was not in my line of vision.  It was only when I approached the counter that I realized the extent of the damage!  :-)  

You can't see it very well, but there are smoothie remnants all over the base of the blender.  Needless to say, it's only been used once since this incident, and only after a thorough inspection of the pitcher and base.  

Beautiful flowers from my husband to celebrate (already!) our first month of marriage.  I can't believe it's already been a month!

In other news, things are plugging along day in and day out.  I am still on the job hunt, looking for something full-time with health benefits for us, so that Brad can switch to part time and focus on his current school stuff and applying to graduate school/taking the LSAT again.   It's a bit scary to know that I'm looking for employment in what seems to be a pretty dismal economy, but that's where trust is a beautiful element in one's life.  

We are still terribly fond of married life, of this beautiful newness in our relationship and the vocation we will learn for the rest of our lives.  Even when the job search and the stalemate of not having employment get the better of me....at the end of the day, we're married - and that's ridiculously crazy, somewhat unbelievable, and undeniably beautiful.  :)

Until next time....!

september tuesdays

Today is the second Tuesday in September. Again, as with every year, the calendars change and September comes, and with all those routine happenings associated with every September: summer winds down and the fall chill sets in, students return to class, shops of every kind are filled with back-to-school merchandise and even already some Halloween knick knacks here and there. And, as has been the case, at least for me, for the past seven years, my mind reverts back to that second Tuesday in 2001, the 11th, the day that life changed (perhaps forever) in America for all of us. It is quite possible that this second Tuesday in September was the first time my generation will be able to remember exactly where they were when they heard it happened. We join the legions of other generations who can remember such events - Pearl Harbor, John Kennedy's assassination, the Oklahoma City bombing, etc. There is a part of me (sadly) that knows this will not be the only day that my generation remembers.

There isn't a whole lot more to say about this - I've written more about this day than perhaps any other in my short 23 years of life, and it's always the same haunted visions, sounds, thoughts and memories of that day. Truly, there's nothing more to say or to write about that day - the things I remember of that day hardly change. I'll only post what I wrote three years ago, on the fifth anniversary of that second Tuesday in September, as I remembered the emotions and feelings and facts of that day.

September 11, 2006
It was a Tuesday. I was, in many respects, just a kid, having begun high school as a sophomore just eight days earlier. I was fifteen years old, not even able to drive yet, barely able to think for myself, barely able to hold a conversation with anyone. Dad took us to school, first my sister at the junior high, then me. We always listened to Don Imus, a colorful syndicated radio personality from New York, on the way to school. That morning, Imus talked, ironically, about Saddam Hussein, and when (and if) the United States would ever go after him again. It’s funny how Imus would address something which would become entangled so quickly in our national psyche.

Gym was my first class – we ran the dreaded mile that day, I ran in 8:54, one of my best times ever, thanks to the conditioning of JV volleyball for the previous three weeks. As we all headed into the locker room to change back into our school clothes, sticky and sweaty from the morning run, my principal came over the loudspeaker. I beg your pardon for this interruption, but I must inform you of a national tragedy, the PA crackled. Immediately, I thought of our president – were we witness to his assassination? But as the principal continued his PA address, I realized that the tragedy was so immensely different.

This morning, two hijacked planes crashed into the World Trade Center in New York City, in a terrorist plot against this country. I ask all students to go to their second hour classrooms, where teachers will have on the television in anticipation of an address by President Bush.

I honestly believe, in my heart of hearts, that at the moment each American heard the news, our lives were changed dramatically – perhaps for good. I know that my mind immediately reverted to 1993 – I was seven the first time the building had endured a terrorist plot in an attempt to take down the towers. And while I did not vividly remember the plot of 1993 against the trade towers, their presence in the Manhattan skyline was unmistakable, always piercing the air above the Financial District, the two looming skyscrapers dedicated to the world economy. And now planes had flown into them? Hijacked airliners? A terrorist attack? I had no idea what to expect the next time I watched the television. What could planes crashing into the World Trade Center possibly look like?

Passing time came, and I was stopped more than once by friends who asked me just what the World Trade Center was, what it looked like. I tried to describe it to them – they’re the two big gray skyscrapers in lower Manhattan, you would know them if you saw them, they were bombed in 1993 – but all of this was said rather robotically, as I all I wanted was to get to a television and see just what had occurred in New York City. And while parts of me dreaded going to class and seeing the television, another part of me wanted to run and find out what was happening to my country.

The next class was AP History, with our dreaded, ever-intimidating, overly zealous teacher. Always ready to teach us more about the history of our beloved country, she somehow missed the boat that day by insisting we get through our lesson on the Iroquois Indians before she allowed us to watch what was truly U.S. history in the making. Twenty-five minutes into class, after we scraped through a lesson, CNN was finally turned on.

What I saw is indescribable. Aaron Brown was anchor that morning and broadcasting from the roof of the network building, looking south towards lower Manhattan, the towers – or what was left of them – in clear view. Each of the towers had a huge, gaping hole, with black, billowing smoke pouring out, polluting every square inch of airspace in the vicinity, so thick it could be seen from space in NASA photos later in the week. It looked like something from a cinematic thriller, some flick where Arnold Schwarzenegger would come tethered from a helicopter and save the day. The image was unreal. It all felt like a bad dream, it was as if I was watching a movie. I can’t remember if both towers were still standing by the time we turned on the television – in later news reports, when the times of the collapse were reported, I think perhaps the South Tower had already fallen by the time we were watching. All I know is that at least one tower stood – one hurting, injured, broken tower, a thick, gaping wound in an iconic skyline.

The reports were so sketchy that morning – it felt like no one, not even the news media, had a firm grasp of what was and was not happening. More often than not, it felt like the East Coast was in upheaval. It was reported that the Capitol had been evacuated, there was a car bomb at the State Department, the White House staff had been moved to a bunker, and more sickeningly – there was reportedly a large explosion at the Pentagon. As a young, rather naïve, fifteen-year-old, I felt like my country was falling apart. Our teacher looked baffled herself – she kept asking us, in disbelief, “The Pentagon? The State Department?” None of us could give her answers – we were just as confused.

Passing time came yet again, and I shuffled off to Lit class, goosebumps all over me from the images I had viewed, still in shock as to what had occurred. We watched more of the footage – in those few minutes we were in passing, the second of the towers collapsed. I left U.S. History and in the two minutes it took me to walk across the high school to my next class, there was suddenly no longer a tower standing and people were running for their lives – running for their lives, in New York City of all places. Running for their lives, running to beat the cloud of dust that sought to devour them as the towers crumbled.

We began to hear more about the Pentagon in those next hours – it was confirmed that American 77 had plummeted into the headquarters of the Defense Department that morning as well. Then came reports of an airliner crashed in Pennsylvania – that would later be known as United 93, which had originally targeted either the White House or Air Force One before the brave men and women on board fought back against their would-be killers and crashed the plane before the evildoers could do any more. I eventually went to Band, where our director told us we wouldn’t be marching like had been planned – “It’s just not the right time to march, we’ll just sit and watch the coverage,” she told us. Things began to settle down into the afternoon – nothing else occurred, no new plots unfolded, and now we were left to reel from the images and grieve for the lost. President Bush made several addresses that afternoon – one from Louisiana, one from Nebraska – it felt as if we were hiding him from the terrorists. We watched the footage in fifth, sixth, and seventh hours – finally, in eighth hour, my biology teacher opted not to have us watch the news and try to attain a sense of normalcy to the end of the school day something for which I am still grateful even in retrospect.

We had a volleyball match that evening, so I remained at school for the better part of five, six extra hours after class let out. I grabbed dinner somewhere close by, on the north end of town, before our warm-ups at 4:45, trying to stay on the gameday regimen and eat something light, which was not hard to do, considering the circumstances of the day and my acute lack of hunger which followed. Everything seemed so nonchalant, so passé, so meaningless – all I wanted was to go home and be with my parents, the only ones who could assure me that everything was going to be all right regardless of what transpired in New York City and Washington. There were times I stopped myself that afternoon and thought to myself, “Did all of that really happen, or is this all just a dream? Am I imagining what happened in New York this day?” The afternoon seemed to crawl, but eventually we played our match against Wausau East and lost in two – the JV squad wasn’t very good that season and my mind was beyond preoccupied, more often than not I was unable to concentrate, even on the sport I loved. Dad stuck around for the varsity match – I was a record keeper for two of the players – and Mom, Grandpa and Grandma went back to the house to get dinner.

I don’t remember a whole lot more from that day. Dad and I talked sparsely about the tragedy that night during the varsity match – he was actually speculating that he may have lost an old friend in one of the towers – and then I came home, ate Rocky’s for dinner, and got the 411 from my family about the president’s evening address. Finally, finally, finally, my president had returned to Washington, in an act of defiance against the terrorists, and had addressed his broken country from the Oval Office, a supreme sign of resolve, assuring us that we would rebuild, we would heal, we would strike back. My grandma assured me that he did very well, but I didn’t process much that night, keeping the status quo of the day. There had still not been adequate time to process anything.

I retreated to bed early, probably around 10:00 or 10:30, closing my door to the outside world, sitting in a corner of my room, and crying, letting out the first tears of the day, the tears I had restrained all day, the tears I had wanted to cry for the past twelve hours. I cried that night, warm, fat tears, tears for my country, my world, for my fellow citizens who had perished that morning, for the children and spouses they left behind, for their lost potential in what the day before had been a normal world. I cried out of confusion, I cried out of sorrow, I cried out of bewilderment, I cried out of naïveté. Armageddon, I thought to myself. This must be Armageddon. I eventually crawled into bed, my face still wet with tears, digging my head into my pillow and yearning desperately for a new day. And, although I did not know God intimately, I prayed that night for September 12^th…

Five years ago….five years ago, on a Tuesday in September.

coming up to breathe on a 90-degree day

What a crazy ten days! It's hard to imagine the last time I updated was two Fridays ago. So much has happened since then, I don't even know where to begin. Last Monday, the 25th, was my first official day at St. Paul's. I walked to the student center that day, which sits at the pulse of the campus at the intersection between Library Mall and the beginnings of State Street, a wee bit nervous for this next adventure of life. Since that walk to campus that Monday morning, there has been a sea of frenzy amongst the staff, preparing for the upcoming year, coordinating "Welcome Week" events, and in the midst of all the busyness, we still find time to come to the chapel and kneel before Our Lord, the Reason behind all of our anticipation and preparation for these students. While my job this academic year is to be an "urban missionary" among these thousands of college students, I do not (and probably haven't ever) considered myself missionary material. I stumble for words in the midst of introductory conversations and I grasp for questions that, unfortunately, each new student has probably heard in their week of experience on campus. Before last week, the sheer thought of engaging people, even just people walking by the center on Library Mall, sent me into a quasi-panic. Much of me would rather just be the "liturgy girl" who hides in the sacristy and serves her Lord as she assists the priest in preparing for the Masses. But my Lord knows this of me, and He knows my struggle to step out of my comfort zone and engage with people. That's why He put me front and center at a Library Mall table last week, manning the booth alone, without anyone else, on Thursday morning. The hour I was alone at the table was brutally painful, but entirely humbling. And in the midst of my awkwardness and uncertainty, as I grew more accustomed to engaging with people, it was almost as if He were behind my shoulder, whispering, "See, I knew you could do it. All you had to do was tell yourself that you could do it." Don't get me wrong, I'm still awkward and it still feels like nails on a chalkboard during conversations with some of those particularly soft-spoken freshmen, but then there are moments like Thursday morning and He tells me that I can do it, despite my inadequacy and despite my fear. On my computer at my desk at the student center, I posted a huge picture of John Paul II on my desktop. Each time I close out of a program or minimize my program to my taskbar, there he is, stately and stoic. It's almost like I can hear him, my generation's spiritual father, booming to me and to the masses, "Do not be afraid!" It's that message, the message he conveyed to the youth throughout his papacy, that Christ also conveys to me in these first few days as a missionary. My order is tall and my plate has often been full this past week. I'm coordinating two retreats and the liturgies at St. Paul's and it's entirely rewarding but can also be very demanding on my "office time" at the student center. Yet each time I find myself on the brink of becoming overwhelmed, I seek His face and remind myself why I'm here. And then I remind myself that He knows what will transpire in these coming weeks and all He asks me for is my trust. It's that relationship, the trusting relationship, that He is seeking from me. So much has already happened and so much is yet to come! I'll write more when I'm not so overheated - temperatures soared into the low 90's today, an oppressive welcome to the first day of school for our students. I'm definitely ready for a glass of water, a fan, and a couch! Until next time....!