We're not dead.

Things have been crazy busy.  I'm having a hard time believing that it's already the end of May, that graduation is around the corner, and that it's been two months since I last sent a shout out into the world of blogger.

And so, now, as Donny Osmond sang, "Let's get down to business to defeat the Huns."

Here’s a list of things we have done lately:

SF Giants games 

Cooking class date nights at Sur La Table with Harry- “Barcelona Nights.”

Imagine Dragons concert. They sold out the Independent in San Francisco, which is no easy feat. We met up with Dan, Aja, et al in the city and found a BBQ place that made us want to cry, it was so good. Then we sat back and enjoyed the best live music ever written.

Things I am currently into:

Nike running chip

Straws, which I steal shamelessly from In ‘N Out and the dining pavilion in the GSB at Stanford.

Wheat bread, which I make in 3 loaf batches now that I have 3 loaf pans (thank you Bed Bath and Beyond for timing your HUGE sale perfectly with my baking desires).

Diet Vernor’s Ginger Ale + Lime juice

Dark Guittard chocolate chips- eaten straight out of the bag. These never seem to make it into cookies.

Mint nail polish

Watermelon-- I ate a 15 pounder almost completely by myself 

over the course of this week and I am dying for more!

Working on this chevron quilt from old college t-shirts

Such a good book.

Stuff Harry is into:

He even got me hooked.

Open Mic Night

The Law School Musical

 Started writing code- and is now doubting his love for Law classes

Upside down push ups

Here There and Everywhere

These bad boys.

We also had the distinct pleasure and honor of getting a long visit from Merzy, Jeff, and Jude this past weekend!  I took some PTO from work (which was heavenly, and resulted in almost 100 unread emails that I get to catch up on tomorrow!) and had myself a wonderful time.  We ate at Pluto's, watched a movie on the projector, ate Sprinkles cupcakes until we were blue in the face, and of course ooohed and ahhhed at all of Jude's tricks.

Sorry Jeff and Merz, I know you were here too but it's undocumented seeing as
Juju stole the show with his adorable toddler ways.

That basically brings us up to date.  I'm tired now, so [insert snappy closing line here].

Birthday Remix and Other Scattered Recountings

Harry's birthday recap: I took him to Flea Street Cafe in Menlo Park where we had a delicious dinner. It's the most unassuming restaurant from the outside, but man! My second course had locally grown golden and dark red beets sliced paper thin with layers of goat cheese in between them in four little towers. It was better than any dessert I've ever had. I was-- (speechless).

Then we came home and Harry opened gifts. One of these gifts was a flier I created and emailed him, letting him know that we are going to take a flying trapeze class. Yes, this is real. Video footage of his reaction is below (please disregard the messy desk in the background-- it was finals week, and not a good week for "clean up your stuff on the desk!" demands):

 

 The sad part is that, because I've been saddled with a fever and cough to rival that of most chain smokers, we'll have to reschedule the Trapeze lesson. #epicbirthdayfail. Good thing I married a good sport.

On an unrelated note, I've gotten into a funny habit lately. I've actually been thinking about what life will be like when we no longer live in this apartment. Will we have a bathroom counter? A toilet with a tank? A dishwasher? A washer and drier? Enough counter space to accommodate a microwave (so that it doesn't have to sit on our dinner table)? Air conditioning? A (brace yourself) sofa that is three cushions long instead of two?

I think these things, and then my knee jerk reaction is: "Psh, no." I have this strange sense of acceptance. Acceptance of the fact that I just know that I will always live in 500 square feet, in this building, on the seventh floor, devoid of most modern day appliances. And, as Celine Dion warbled in the late 90's, "that's the way it is." Just like how Christian Bale will always be a Newsie to me, no matter how many Batman movies he makes. To this day, I look at him, and all I see is:

In other news, my cousin Becca and her main loving man Art have really done it. They have moved to Spain for the next year (ish) so Art can attend graduate school. This will make video chatting considerably more difficult since she is now perpetually eight hours ahead of me. The laws of Cousin-dom demand that I will probably have to go visit her at some point while they live there. And the laws of Cousin-dom are unflinchingly rigid.

What's funny about this is that Becca has lived in Spain before. In college, I went to London one winter, and the next winter, she went to Spain. And while she was in Spain, I went on my very first dates with Harry (about six months before we ever became an item). I emailed her about these dates with creepy and obsessive levels of detail. In fact, here is a choice tidbit. Written by me, to Becca, on February 20th, 2007 (necessary context: Harry had taken me to a little concert put on by some friends, and then we watched a movie back at his apartment with a few roommates. I also hadn't eaten dinner. Because I wasn't sure if we were going to be eating dinner together.):

 around 11 pm i started feeling hungry, and when i feel hungry my stomach is amazingly noisy and there's nothing i can do to stop it. so i prayed hard- we're talking feverish continuous prayers- that it would either be quiet or i'd find a way to eat something so that it would stay quiet. thank goodness his cousin joe offered me a reese's peanut butter cup and i ate it and seriously becca, the rest of the time i felt like my stomach was about to start growling but it NEVER DID!! i was so suprised and so so so grateful. the Church is true. 

 And while I'm making nonsensical segues, look at what is next on my list of things to sew!

All you need are two yards of knit fabric and some elastic thread (unless you own a serger, in which case, forget the elastic thread, and in which case, that is awesome). I plan to make one in every color and wear nothing else this summer.

And with that, I leave you. If you were sitting here next to me, you'd hear my rumbling and hacking cough and see my vacant, glazed eyes and say what my sister E said to me last night when I saw her via FaceTime: "Sarah, you look soooo sick." It's so true, I couldn't even summon the emotional energy to be miffed.

Off to slide some more Tylenol down the old gullet,
S.A.R.

Twenty Seven

Today will consist of early morning fresh donuts, a shnazzy birthday dinner at [restaurant name will be hidden to preserve the suspense of any birthday boys who I'm married to who may be reading this before 6:45 pm tonight], and a few gifts, but it doesn't begin to show the love I have for him.

He humored me by smiling for the camera even though he was in the middle of a good book.

Happy birthday to the best thing that ever happened to me.

That's sew hot right now.

I saw this on Pinterest a while back and thought I'd be adventurous.

Source: flickr.com via Sarah on Pinterest

So I went to the nearby (scary) Ross and found an XL men's sweatshirt for $4.99 and bought it.

Before

I used a favorite fleece jacket as a guide and trimmed down the arms.

Then, I psyched myself out and got very very afraid that I wasn't going to do this very well at all and I put everything in a bag and put that bag in my closet.

 Then, my sainted mother came to town, and helped me finish this baby in a few hours.

After

Then I saw another thing on Pinterest-- heart shaped elbow patches.

We each hand-stitched one on.  While "Downton" played.  That detail was very important.  Overall, this was the best $6 investment of all time.

After the After

(Here I am with a little Tae Bo action for all you Billy Blanks enthusiasts out there)

Ski Adventure

A few weeks ago, we got an email that was sent to our whole student housing complex offering discounted ski tickets/lessons at a nearby Tahoe resort.  We jumped at the chance to do it.  Last year we'd tried to go skiing with friends, but the very morning that we tried to go, a blizzard caused all the roads to close.  We kept a store credit from the place we'd used to rent equipment and vowed to go before graduation.


When this offer came up, we jumped on it.  And yesterday was the day to go.  Leading up to yesterday, I was PETRIFIED to go skiing, for you see, I had never been before-- ever.  I was battling conflicting feelings of pure dread and mild excitement... do I really want to spend my precious, precious, precious Saturday doing something I might be completely terrible at?

Last time I felt this kind of dread this was my first week of summer cross country practice as a freshly minted high school freshman.  I realized that starting something from scratch at an older age can be really hard.  I don't consider 14 OLD, but I was certainly a novice runner (and a novice athlete in any sport, for that matter).  I quickly noticed that all the girls who had played AYSO soccer or swam on the Nova swim team since they were little kidlets had a HUGE leg up on me in running (lousy pun semi-intended).


As a 25 year old first time skier, I certainly didn't feel old.  But I knew a lot of my bus mates, including my husband, knew what to expect and could comfortably hop on a lift and coast down the mountain without the fear of going the way of Sonny Bono.


The only relatable experience I'd had to snow sports is that one time my senior year of high school when I went snowboarding for my first and only time at Mountain High in California over Christmas break.  I spent most of my time tumbling down the mountain on a thin layer of icy snow.  Not pretty.


I have felt massive amounts of regret that I lived in beautiful, snow-sports-friendly Utah for college and never once went skiing.  I find solace in remembering that my class and work schedule never allowed a skiing class (I did try every winter semester to fit one in but to no avail).  And, let's be honest, if I don't feel strongly about something, it's not really on my radar.
The bus ride out to the resort was four hours each way.  I prepared by getting an audiobook I've been wanting to read for a while now.

It did not disappoint.  I was laughing like an idiot to myself the entire way up and back.


We arrived, strapped on our boots, and I headed to my beginner class.  And I'm thrilled to say that I LOVED every moment of skiing.  I took a beginner class for an hour and a half, and didn't fall ONCE!  I met up with Harry after class and he did some bunny hills with me until we were starved for lunch.  And after we ate, we went right back to the slopes.

My hot ski date

I am in LOVE!  With skiing.  I would do this every winter forever if I could.  I had a blast.


I have also decided that there is nothing cuter on this earth than the three year olds on little baby skis.  I melted when I saw the little ski prodigies who whipped down the mountains, no poles, out-stripping me by a long shot, their expressions saying, "Yeah, no big deal."


After lunch, Harry said bamboozled me into thinking we should try some intermediate slopes.  He said I could handle it, no problem.  So we went.  Let's just say I survived it.  I didn't fall at all, but I was thinking "OHMYGOSHOHMYGOSHOHMYGOSH!" the whole way down.


All day long I fell a total of two times!  TWO!  I was expecting something in the 30-40 range.

I loved the 8000 ft elevation clean mountain air-- so much that I began drinking it through a straw made of clouds (forced perspective, what what!).

Harry gets extremely motion-sick on long drives if he's not the driver, and as our bus lumbered up windy switchbacks, we knew we were both going to need to get some dramamine for the way home.  Harry took two, so when we got back to Stanford, he was in an ultra-drowsy, comatose-yet-awake sort of state, which was lots of fun for me.


As we plopped down in our car to head home from the bus drop off, I said, "Hey, we should snuggle up and watch a show when we get home if we're not too beat."  He nodded, and then in an exhausted voice that was edged with desperation, he cried, "I need my snugs, boo!"  Yes, I'm never letting him live that one down.


Oh, and we did squeeze in an In N Out burger.  Because how can you not?

Yesssss.

Valentimes

I loved Valentine's Day this year!

Since I began working for the University back in October, a funny thing has been happening.  I’ve been earning more than before, and yet, it vanishes faster than it ever has.  We have been battening down the hatches on all excess spending, and still we find ourselves in a mild panic every time a big expense comes along, which is more often than ever.  Sometimes I get envelopes in the mail, just knowing they are from someone telling us they want more of our cash for things like the BAR exam and all that comes with it, and I want to make finger guns at them and shoot, going “Pshew-pshew-pshew.”

Thus, we planned on a modest Valentine’s Day this year.  I told Harry I’d cook something at home, which ended up being more convenient anyway since he had a late class that night.

After some general hemming and hawing, I decided on the menu:

·         Filet Mignon au Poivre
·         Roasted red potatoes with fresh rosemary
·         Arugula and radicchio with herb mustard vinaigrette
·         Artisan bread with olive oil and vinegar
·         My own drink concoction- Diet Vernor’s Ginger Ale + Welch’s cranberry juice (I wanted something pink or red), in a goblet, of course
·         For dessert, I consulted Pinterest for inspiration and baked two individual pies in canning jars

We ate on cushions on the floor at our coffee table, and draped a pink linen dish towel that my mother brought me.  It has “LOVE” embroidered on it, so it was only right.  As a final touch, I played some Carla Bruni in the background.

I have to say, I much preferred our evening at home to going out.  We went out on the town last year, and it was really great, but it was nice to keep things mellow and easy at home.  I love that there was no parking, no pricey bill, no wondering exactly what goes on back in the kitchen, and that we ate in peace and quiet.

After that, he jumped up and did the dishes.  To be fair, I was folding laundry, but I still so appreciated it.

Then he somehow rigged a giant white sheet over the bedroom closet door, and we used our LCD projector to watch “The West Wing” in bed.  We rarely watch TV in bed, since we can both be such insomniacs, but it was really fun, and so much more comfortable than our 1960's love seat.

Perfect evening.

Mom.

This past weekend, my Mom came to town, and we promptly set about painting it red.

She was coming into town for her annual “Sisters-In-Law Retreat,” and this year the destination of choice was Palo Alto!  I got to see some aunts and cousins, and we all attended my cousin Erin’s concert.  She is the world’s most fantastic Soprano, and soon to be a PhD in Vocal Performance.  It doesn’t get much more legit than that, I’m afraid.  And as if that weren’t enough, she has a sense of humor that has everyone in any room in constant stitches.

On Sunday, I wowed my Mom by showing her the world of Pinterest.  I'm afraid she has now caught the bug.  She's one of the most creative women I know, and so adding Pinterest to the mix could be combustible.  We also  went for a stroll and saw a guinea fowl running wildly through the apartment complex.  I chased it down to get a shot.

On Monday morning, we went for a three hour morning walk.  It poured rain the whole time.  We walked all through the neighborhood she was raised in and laughed so hard I’m sure we were disturbing the peace.  My Mom was born and raised here, and it’s so fun to see her in her old stomping grounds.  Every few seconds a memory would pop into her head and she’d have us go down a random side street where she’d say things like,

“Oh, this is where I used to ride my bike with so-and-so sitting on the handle bars.”

“You see that house?  So-and-so lived there.  She was this really brainy girl in my Latin class.”

“So-and-so’s Dad planted that tree and now look at it!”

“I used to come here with my Mom and we’d get a few treats and then go to the ballet.”

“I remember when I’d save up some money and come here for lunch in High School and get a roast beef sandwich on egg bread with original spread and pickles, and it was like living in the lap of luxury.”

“See what this person did with their house colors?  What they really should have done is made that white trim a creamier color so that you don’t feel like your eyes are being assaulted by all that baking-soda white.”

“Let’s move to the other side of the street so we don’t get whacked by all those agapanthus leaves.”

“Oh I love what this person did with that winding brick walkway.  It just looks so romantic.”

We ate Cheese House sandwiches, bought See’s chocolates, walked around the local fabric store, and then came home, grabbed some blankets, and watched (what else?) “Downton Abbey.”

I rarely get so much wonderful one-on-one time with my Mom, and it was a perfect weekend.

I’ve never been so sad to drive someone to the airport.

Thanks for such a golden weekend, Mom.