you and me / me and you (i.e. seven days till our anniversary)

"Go pack your bags, something small. Take what you need, and we'll disappear. Without a trace, we'll be gone, gone. The moon and the stars can follow the car. And then when we get to the ocean, we're gonna take a boat to the end of the world... all the way to the end of the world.

Oh, and when the kids are old enough, we are going to teach them to fly.

You and me together; we could do anything, baby. You and me together. Yes, yes."

- Dave Matthews Band

{photo by Tim Sohn}

The first time I heard this song, I cried. It was on a week night, and Michael and I were trying to decide what our first dance song would be. He found this, and I was floored. The days leading up to the wedding, as I drove around San Francisco to spend time with relatives who flew in for the wedding, or ran errands around town, I would listen to this song and tear up every single time.

We used it for our wedding recessional, the first song we heard as a married couple. To me, it encapsulates one of the essential reasons I married this man, why I knew he was the one I could and would spend the rest of my life with. Michael, as I said in my vows, enables me to dream big dreams. With him, everything is an adventure and anything is possible.

The line that makes me cry is about teaching our children to fly. When I told Michael that, he didn't understand because he thought it meant taking our kids traveling. I interpreted it differently. With parents who have a sense of adventure, who think anything is possible, these children will grow up believing that they too can do anything. Anything at all. They will tackle the world with ebullience and confidence and a sense of whimsy. And if that is what love between two people can create, isn't that just the most wondrous thing?

Walking up the aisle to this song, my heart filled with love, my hand with a new wedding band, seeing happy faces all around us, and bubbles (what a surprise!) everywhere... I knew it was just the beginning of a most wonderful adventure.

refueled

I have said this more than once, but I will say it again. The key to a good week is having a balanced weekend prior. The balance can be different things at different times. Sometimes, I need a solid, staying-in-bed-with-books to face a Monday. Sometimes, I need to get my butt in gear and get all sorts of errands done in order to be prepared for the days ahead.

Today, I woke up ready to take on the world. It had something to do with a weekend spent with just me and Michael time. (It's been a while since we had an entire weekend of that.) We looked at fresh produce and bought pies at the local Farmers Market, we (meaning I) sniffed Diptyque candles and fell in love with a purse at Nordstrom's, we laughed at Watson frolicking in the grass, we watched a few movies and finished out "The New Girl" and "Modern Family," we drank wine, we talked, and that was only Saturday! On Sunday, we ate these for brunch...

Seriously the most amazing thing EVER. (Recipe found here.) And I mean, isn't that just the most beautiful sight?

I got all nostalgic (and a little sad) about Mother's Day, but a friend's text cheered me up and spending the afternoon reading books and eating chocolate chip cookies did the rest. To end the night, Michael took me to our favorite bar where we proceeded to explain to the bartender what my mom liked to drink and then had cocktails (and donuts!) in her honor.

Now hello, Monday. I am ready for you.

happy mother's day

Growing up, I remember watching my mother put on her jewelry. She had her everyday pieces that would change intermittently. I remember dainty gold hoops that could be swapped out with gold or sapphire hearts depending on her mood, several different bracelets of varying widths and designs, and rings that looked beautiful on her graceful, always scarlet nail polished hands.

I would play with some of the pieces thinking how very grown-up they looked. The bangles were too big for my childish wrists, the rings would slide off chubby fingers, the earrings would hang too heavy on my earlobes.

Today, her collection remains one of the few tangible pieces I have left of her. I had to leave them behind with my grandmother for safekeeping when I moved to this country, but when I got married, I received all of the pieces. In the months since, I have discovered that the tri-gold bangles that I used to admire so now fit me—only I prefer to wear one at a time rather than three in a loud jumble. My fingers, still chubby (I don’t have my mother’s hands), with their now red nails showcase her favorite rings. When I miss her, I play with her three-strand pearl necklace, remembering that she once said they glow more when they are constantly worn.

I am not one for jewelry, per se, in that I think they’re beautiful but would rather not wear many pieces. But I cannot deny the joy I feel, the sentimentality, the love, when I wear something of hers. It is like having a piece of her with me. It’s a physical reminder of her warmth, her thoughtfulness, her sheer joy of life, and how, if I want her to be proud of me, I should try to be the same.

Happy Mother’s Day, Mama. I love you.

{photo by GMH}

bikes, etc

I don't bike, but if I did... This would be the weekend to do it. The weather is gorgeous, people. Gorgeous! It practically begs for straw hats, Farmers Market flowers in baskets, fruit-flavored water in mason jars, mimosas in crystal flutes, loaves of French bread, hand holding, and skipping.

I will be savoring every second with down time. Lots and lots of it. Maybe an adventure with the husband. Perhaps a doggie park date with Watson. And books, but of course. What about you?

(PS. I just had to add. A not-so long time ago, when I was a college freshman and had still not learned how to ride a bike, I read Carol Shields's The Stone Diaries, which, by the by, is on the 1001 Books You Must Read Before You Die list. A character died from a bike crash. I have never forgotten it. So I suppose I can credit Ms. Shields for my fear of bicycles... Ah, literature.)

{image via}

the 101 (travel edition)

Are you ready for Part Trois? It's short and sweet for a reason--all of it is travel-related. Something about this warm weather is translating into wanderlust...

31. Road trip with friends

32. Don glittery sunnies at Graceland

33. Visit Disney World

34. Drink butterbeer in Harry Potter Land

{yes, that is the husband trecking through vineyards on one of our weekend jaunts}

35. Spend a day in Napa (oh, how I've missed you!)

36. Meet my new baby cousin in Vancouver

37. Take a stroll in Central Park

38. Eat cheese curds in Iowa

39. Spend another fabulously warm Christmas in San Diego

40. Say hi to Lincoln in Washington, D.C.

{1, 2, 3}

a simple love in "we bought a zoo"

This weekend, I spent a cozy Saturday night in with my husband and my mother-in-law watching “We Bought a Zoo.” It was a great movie that put me firmly in the Elle Fanning fan camp and got me thinking long after it ended.

Throughout the movie, Matt Damon’s character reminisces about his recently deceased wife. I don’t think my eyes remained dry for any of those scenes. What was so striking was how his memories were of the simplest things… The movie ends (and I don’t think this is particularly a spoiler) with him recalling how he met her. It was an innocuous beginning and made me marvel at how this simple love rang so true and ran so deep.

I will be the first to admit that I am a romance novel junkie (although I prefer the word “connoisseur.”) I love the endless drama within the pages and how they make me cry—so cathartic!—only to make me sigh with giddiness twenty pages later, but I am sensible enough to know that this is not how I want to live. What I took away from “We Bought a Zoo” is the beauty of a simple love, how it can hold a family together, forge someone’s character, and really impact lives.

When I think about a simple love and how that may be exactly what we should aspire for, I realize it becomes that much easier to appreciate the little things. The gratitude when your significant other wakes up five minutes early to make you a cup of tea, the giddiness when you twirl on the dance floor, the thrill over the adventure that is a trip to the Farmer’s Market… All of these are the things that make up a simple love, a happy life.

{image via}

one more reason to pick up a book

"He smiled understandingly--much more than understandingly. It was one of those rare smiles with a quality of eternal reassurance in it, that you may come across four or five times in life. It faced--or seemed to face--the whole external world for an instant, and then concentrated on you with an irresistible prejudice in your favor. It understood you just as far as you wanted to be understood, believed in you as you would like to believe in yourself."

- F. Scott Fitzgerald (The Great Gatsby)

{image via}