{ What's Been Going On }

Sorry for the silence lately, folks. There's been a lot going on, but there has been so much unpredictability regarding the main "thing" that I've been hesitant to mention it. We're buying a house. After--how long? at least 1.5 years--of looking around, putting offers on multiple houses, and nothing panning out, we found a house that we both really like, it's sort of in our price range, and our offer was accepted! {Cue the hysterical happy dance.} We first saw the house in mid-July, the weekend before Amaryah's wedding, if I remember correctly. "If I remember correctly" is a big "if," however, as being 19 weeks pregnant + chasing a newly-walking toddler around + packing + trying to squeeze daily life in between piles and piles of boxes in 847 square feet while keeping said toddler from seriously injuring herself on all these fun new "toys" is a wonderful memory-loss combination when you are already suffering from pregnancy brain.

There have been so many obstacles in this process...I will write about them someday, because it is an amazing testimony of God's grace and faithfulness. But I also want to get this published before Little Miss wakes up from her nap. :-) We are hoping to close next Wednesday, though until we sign the closing documents there is always the possibility that something will come up and the mortgage will fall through. We are moving next Saturday...either into the house, or in with Mike's parents {and renting a storage unit for our stuff} until we can find an apartment to rent that is close to Mike's work. Why move if you don't have a house to move into, you ask? Because, in order to qualify for this mortgage, we had to get renters for our condo. And since we have tenants moving in a few days after we move--wherever we move to--we most definitely have to move.

In a nutshell, that's what we've been up to, and why I've been a bit quiet lately. We only got boxes and started packing on Monday; before that we weren't confident enough about the whole process to start packing. While the thought of packing all our earthly possessions in less than two weeks {while keeping Lainie entertained and all of us fed} is daunting, it hasn't been as bad as I expected. We have never had to pack and move an entire household before--when we got married we each had only a bedroom's worth of possessions. Our small space and my purging tendencies have kept us from accumulating much, but I am nevertheless astonished at how much we have. I am so glad that we haven't been able to spread out over a larger home; I firmly believe that your possessions expand to fill the space you have. Which is why I'm also excited about "our" house--while it has four bedrooms and great living spaces, it's only 1460 square feet. So we can't acquire too much junk...right?

And now I'm going to continue stepping out in faith that the mortgage will go through and we will have a house to move into next weekend, and pack some more boxes!

{ Five Minute Friday: Brave }

Linking up with Lisa-Jo for Five Minute Friday. This week's prompt: Brave.

Go.

It didn't seem brave at the time. It had been my plan/hope/goal/dream ever since deciding to pursue a college degree: One day, I'll get married and start having babies, and I will stay home with my babies. I want to. That's all I've ever wanted to do.

It was an easy choice then, and when I lost my job 18 months ago--a week before finding out I was pregnant with Lainie--the choice practically made itself. We've talked over the months, Mike and I, about whether or not I should keep up my continuing medical education credits {CMEs} and my professional certification, even while I'm a stay at home mom, "just in case." Just so I don't have to re-take the board exams if, by some disaster, I ever need to go back to work. But CMEs cost money, and maintaining my license is a couple hundred dollars a year, and neither of us WANT this. We both WANT me to stay home...so why spend so much time and money on a worst-case scenario?

But then I got the letter. And another. And finally a certified letter, hand-delivered by our mailman because it required my signature. Reminding me that I am no longer a registered sonographer, that I'm no longer current on my CMEs, that I'll have to re-take the board exams if I want to work as a sonographer again. They were clearly trying to make me think this is an awful, final, drastic, horrible choice I'm making.

And then I realized: I may not feel like this is brave, but maybe others do. Maybe me choosing to be a full-time mom looks brave to someone else, to a mom who is struggling with what choice to make, to a dad who is afraid to be the sole provider. Maybe being brave isn't always something you feel or know about yourself. Maybe sometimes you're brave in the eyes of another. Maybe sometimes someone else sees your bravery so they have the courage to do their own hard thing.

That's worth all the certified letters in the world.

Stop.

{ thirty }

thirty. i've been trying not to think about this birthday, while simultaneously trying to figure out how i'm here already. how i can already be 30 years old. i'm not ashamed of this birthday...truth be told, it doesn't really bother me {yet!}. this morning i realized that in some ways, i'm glad it's here. i think i feel like being thirty years old gives me permission to be me, without any apologies or explanations or sideways glances at the proverbial Joneses to see if i'm keeping up.

thirty is being comfortable in my own skin.

thirty is springing for that overpriced bouquet at the supermarket, because life is too short to live without flowers.

thirty is confidence in my interior design choices.

thirty is a confident, comfortable, damn good-looking wardrobe.

thirty is also wearing sweats all day if i want to.

thirty is speaking up. not being afraid that my voice, my experiences, my struggles, my opinion will be unwelcome.

thirty is realizing that i will probably be tired as long as there are little folks in the house, but that's no reason to drag through the day like it's drudgery.

thirty is embracing the acne, spotty skin, and extra "poufs" that motherhood has given me, and wearing them with pride. i get to be a mama. so many women who want to, can't, and these "scars" are an immeasurable treasure.

thirty is setting my alarm for no reason other than being able to make breakfast for mike before he goes to work.

thirty is spending time with Jesus like never before.

thirty is realizing that Jesus really is all that matters. everything else is so not lasting. but He is!

thirty is letting go of perfection and loving what is.

thirty is short blog posts because i'm a mama.

welcome, thirty. may these years be the best yet.

{ Resolutions }

It appears that in order to be trendy and "in" with the rest of the world's bloggers, I need to choose a word that defines what I hope to be/do/embrace more fully in 2013. Though I've always wanted to be trendy, I've never quite hit the mark--really, when you were homeschooled in Idaho, you are so far removed from "trendy" that I don't think you can ever catch up in a normal lifetime. ;-) Then I think I ought to set some goals, but how to choose? How can I even try to predict what I can realistically accomplish in the coming year?

But intentional growth and change are good things. Goals are good, when they don't become gods. I've been mulling this over, and here's what I've come up with. My hopes for 2013.

I want to enjoy the life God has gifted to me: Enjoy my husband. Enjoy my baby. Enjoy being a homemaker and stay-at-home wife. Enjoy the juggling of cooking and cleaning and errands and friendships and grocery stores with a tiny, wiggly baby girl in tow. Enjoy middle-of-the-night nursing and snuggles, hours on the floor playing with rattles and taggies, because she is already growing up way.too.fast. Enjoy our small home, with its minimal upkeep and the fact that I can clean our whole abode in minutes and re-decorate the whole place in an afternoon.

I want to read more--not just anything, good stuff that will nourish my soul and stretch my mind. I've already started Give Them Grace: Dazzling Your Kids with the Love of Jesus by Elyse Fitzpatrick & Jessica Thompson, and I really want to read this and this, too. Any suggestions on what I should tackle next? Crazy Love? Something by John Piper? Re-read Anne of Green Gables?

Speaking of enjoying the life I have--rather than wishing for some nonexistent reality where I have time to blog in leisure--Little Miss is awake!

{ In Which There is Emotional Turmoil }

Random thought of the week, while snapping photos of Lainie at the beach: If I had a smartphone with a data plan and stuff, I bet I'd blog a lot more. I could just take pictures with my phone and upload them to my blog. None of this "create folder on computer, find download cable, find camera, download photos from camera, edit photos in Picasa, upload to blog, write cute post" business. I was as shocked to hear myself think that as you are to read it, Mike.

 

~*~*~

 

Anyway...

 

This week we looked at houses. More houses. Houses here and houses there. We've never "house-hunted" before. After we got engaged, we only looked at a couple condos {by ourselves, no realtor} before deciding to buy this one, and a friend who was a realtor at the time acted as our agent. Our priorities were different and our list of needs and wants was much shorter then, too. The thing that has surprised me the most so far is how sobering it is to look for a home. A large part of that is realizing the enormity of the decision: We commit to buy this house. To pay a lot of money for this bit of real estate. To live in this community. To say yes to this commute for Mike and these home improvements. We go in a home, and I immediately imagine myself living there...which is surprisingly hard to do. Why would I want to live here when I already have a nice, cozy, full-of-homeyness-home? I try to imagine cooking meals in this kitchen, sleeping in this bedroom, playing with Lainie on this living room floor, and it feels like brain surgery. For reals. Does anybody else have this problem?? And I'm not even thinking {yet!} about saying goodbye to the sweet little treehouse that has seen all our newlywed years, my first pregnancy, Lainie's infancy...all the painting and decorating, watching Hulu on laptops, our first Christmases and dinner parties and so many sweet memories.

 

If those aspects of house-hunting are sobering, the prices are downright discouraging. I know the Seattle area is one of the most expensive places in the country, but seriously?! It's hard to think of spending almost $300k on a house that needs work. And I don't think that's just me being persnickety. The mind boggles.

 

If only we didn't want to have a large family and thus require at least a three-bedroom...

 

Riiiiiight.  

 

I've been struggling with feeling like this is a deadly serious decision and we are either going to get it right {slim chance} or horribly, horribly wrong {entirely possible}. After our second round of house-looking, I went down to the beach with Lainie. I had a headache and really didn't want to make the effort to pack her up and go out. I forgot how windy and cold it is on the waterfront; we were both underdressed. Thankfully Lainie had fallen asleep in the car and was perfectly fine with two blankets {that's all I had with me} snugged around her in the stroller. I had this notion that I was going to read or journal or have this deep conversation with God about what lies ahead for us, but instead I just stared and did nothing. Tide out, noisy birds, lots of boaters, sun blinding white, kids shrieking on the playground.

 

 

:: it was bright as the Second Coming in reality, too ::

 

Lainie woke up pretty quickly. Once she got over her initial shock at the wind--I think it makes her feel like she can't catch her breath--she was utterly delighted to be out. She smiled and cooed nonstop, excited to look at everything and "talk." She's often upset to be in her carseat, and usually takes awhile to warm up to new situations, so her immediate, sustained pleasure and interest in our surroundings was a total kick for me.

 

:: happily watching clouds, trains, kids on the playground ::

 

:: loving our little adventure!! ::

 

 As we meandered down the beach, hopping from park bench to park bench, I had a growing awareness of Jesus' presence and Him telling me

 

Rest.

Rest in this: right here, right now.

Rest.

Trust Mike to make the right decision for your future, your home, and your family.

Rest in his leadership and his relationship with Me,

and then tell him you trust him to make those decisions.

Trust me. Trust Mike.

 

It wasn't audible words, just a really strong impression that I simply need to trust Mike to make these decisions and tell him so. Not in the "don't have an opinion, don't give him any input, don't prayerfully weigh the pros and cons" sense, but in the "I am confident that Jesus is directing us, and the final outcome will be exactly where Jesus wants us to be--it's not up to me to figure this out" sense.

 

It was a lot like when I knew I needed to let Mike decide what to name Lainie. Only this time I'm telling y'all so you can keep me accountable if you see me freaking out about houses and neighborhoods and such.

 

That night I told Mike. As he pointed out, it's not really a big deal, because it is exactly how I should approach this topic anyway. And yet it is a big deal, because it is so very opposite of the way my unruly heart wants to handle these unknowns. If you think of it, pray for us over these next weeks as we determine whether or not to move, where, and when. It's a lot harder emotionally, I think, than either of us was expecting; we have such close friends here, such an awesome community, and we really really love our church family. Neither of us is terribly excited about moving. Yet our good God is writing His story with our lives, and we know that wherever we are, we can rest in His care.

{ Weekending }

What are your plans for the weekend?

I have a scratchy throat, so I'm hoping for a sleep-in sort of Saturday morning.

"Sleeping in" is something I'm not very familiar with of late...at least not since last month when Sunday became a 5:00 AM alarm sort of day!

Next I'd like a few hours to read the next chapter in the Redemption Group book, browse Pinterest, and blog. It would be fabulous if someone could bring me a salted caramel latte, too.

via

My imaginary housekeeper would take care of the laundry {even folded and put away!}, clean the bathroom, vacuum, and do the dishes. This most beloved figment of my imagination would also fix a double batch of the Pioneer Woman's comfort meatballs so I wouldn't feel bad about eating so many in one sitting.

via

Then, in the afternoon, Mr. Husband and I would do something really fun and romantic and outside our little domestic workaday rut.

Like go on a tour of Theo Chocolate with our friends Luke and Joanna and taste delicious organic chocolates with unusual ingredients like coconut curry or bread or fig, fennel & almond and laugh till one of us girls threatens to pee our pants. And then maybe...maybe...we wouldn't have had enough fun together yet, so we'd go find other adventures in the urban jungle of Seattle and laugh some more and maybe find a brewpub and enjoy a pint.

Doesn't that sound like a good plan?!

And it's actually going to happen--the part from Theo Chocolates on, that is. The reality of my Saturday morning is probably going to involve a lot more laundry, cooking and cleaning than Pinterest and blogwalking, but that's really what we're going to do tomorrow afternoon! {I'm so proud of us! We're not old married folk all the time--though I give people plenty of reasons to think I'm an antique!}

For now, I'm enjoying a mug of hot spiced cider. And I think I'll get a head start on that laundry.

Happy Weekending!

{ World Traveler }

A few nights ago I was working on a Christmas project, waiting for Mike to come home for dinner. I wasn't in the mood to listen to myself think, so I logged onto Pandora. This is the first song that played, and I was transfixed by his beautiful descriptions of the longings for travel, marriage, and children--those have been my three biggest desires for most of my adult life.





Here are the lyrics, in case you can't {or don't want to} listen:

World Traveler by Andrew Peterson

I grew up in a little town
A southern mix of lost and found
Where most folks seem to stick around
But I could hear the highway song
I'd sit out on the dock till dawn
And dream about the great beyond

(I dreamed that I was)
A world traveler
Set me loose to find my way
Just get me out on the road someday
With my sails unfurled
So many mysteries
I wanted to unravel
If I could travel the world

Soon enough I had my way
I saw the world the Lord has made
Mostly from the interstate
But I had hardly seen a thing
Until I gave a golden ring
To the one who gave her heart to me

(And I became)
A world traveler
That's the day I hit the road
'Cause I walked the hills of the human soul
Of a tender girl
I'm a world traveler

She opened the gate and took my hand
And led me into the mystic land
Where her galaxies swirl
So many mysteries
I never will unravel
I want to travel the world

Take a left at the end of my street
Just a few doors down
Up the hill and into the trees
There's a hole in the ground
Where we traveled the caverns so deep
We wandered the wonders so wide
It was right beneath our feet
All this time, all this time

Tonight I saw the children in their rooms
Little flowers all in bloom
Burning suns and silver moon
And somehow in that starry sky
The image of the Maker lies
Right here beneath my roof tonight

(So hold on tight, I'm a)
World traveler
Pack yours bags and dig down deep
Let's ride the storms and sail the seas
To the distant pole
I'm a world traveler
Into these uncharted lands
To blaze a trail in the vast expanse
Of the heart and soul
In the grace of the God of peace
Let's wade into the battle
Come on, come on with me
And get up in that saddle
There's a million mysteries
I never will unravel
Come on, let's travel the world

I still dream of traveling: Italy, Greece, the British Isles {anywhere in Europe, actually}, South Africa, Israel. I know the reality is that international adventures are not financially possible for us now {along with most other middle-class Americans}, and that since we want to have a large-ish family before we're middle-aged, such travel will probably not be feasible for many years to come, if ever. I sometimes struggle with feeling that I deserve more than my woefully mono-continental life {unless Hawaii counts as another continent!}. Our self-absorbed consumer culture makes me feel antiquated for choosing marriage and family and fiscal responsibility over grandiose vacations. This song really struck me because it speaks to the tension between these desires. It acknowledges that choosing to say "yes" to one opportunity may mean the response to another opportunity must be "no." That's not only ok, it is good and right. While I may not need my passport in the near future, I have chosen to explore the world of a lifetime shared with my husband.

It is still a choice that I find myself facing many times each week. Sometimes it seems like a daily battle with envy. Perusing blogs, receiving Travelzoo's Top 20 Travel Picks each week in my inbox, reading magazines and news articles, all remind me of beautiful, fascinating, faraway places I'd love to explore. I love my husband, I love the life God has given me, and I am so glad that we're able to own a home in this economy.

And yet there's that little tug...don't you want to see the places Jane Austen wrote about? Don't you want to volunteer at an Agathos village in South Africa? Don't you want to vacation in the Greek Isles? Don't you want to visit Cinque Terra and every other lovely spot in Italy? The answer is yes. There's nothing wrong with dreaming of exotic locales or hoping for a trip someday. Sin arises when I feel jealous that others get to travel and I don't, when I give envy, bitterness, and ungratefulness a foothold in my soul.

I never thought this would be such a struggle for me. In spite of my desire to travel, I've only done a little. And I am a homebody at my core who is much happier crafting at home on a Saturday afternoon than getting dressed up and going out. When I was younger, I'd mentally store up adventures for my future: "When I'm married, I'll go to _____" or "When I'm married, I'll do _____." I abhor lonely adventures. I'd almost rather not go somewhere new or do something new if I have to do it alone. So maybe I'm only a world traveler in my dreams.

Now that would be convenient! It fits quite nicely with my life, don't you think?

{ Why }

During last weekend's adventure {entire posts on that coming soon!}, a question was posed: Why do you blog? Honestly, it's not a question I've directly answered--either internally or publicly. Several intertwined roots have blossomed forth in this public, online portal of my life. "Why" is inexorably connected to "how," so I'll begin there.

Years and years ago--four? five?--my dear chum-since-childhood Chelle told me about her blog. Chelle and I grew up together, and in God's good providence, when I moved out-of-state after high school, I landed in the area where all the extended family of Chelle's future husband reside. A couple years after I moved, Chelle and David married and moved over here. I was beyond shocked and delighted. Even though they lived about an hour away and we still didn't see each other often, a one-hour drive is much better than eight hours. Which it had been before. Long story short, Chelle's blog was a sweet little peek into her sweet little life. I think she was pregnant with Annabelle, her firstborn, when I started reading. Eventually I began to explore Chelle's links to other blogs that she read. Many of them were, like her, stay-at-home wives or mothers, around our age. For a single college student whose dream was to be a stay-at-home wife and mom, these blogs were glimpses into a future I hoped and prayed and dreamed would be mine someday: a loving husband, chubby babies, a home of my own filled with beauty and blossoming creativity.

On numerous occasions, Chelle would mention that I should start a blog. She never pestered; she'd just say that I would be good at it, she'd love to read it, that my posts would make people laugh and that I'd enjoy it. In my senior year of college, I took her advice and started one, the name of which I cannot even remember. Petrified of being stalked by online lunatics, I created a pseudonym and was as vague as possible about all details of myself and my life. This puts significant strain on one's writing, to be sure. Had I set out to blog a novel, this would have presented no roadblocks. However, if you try to write about your life whilst changing all details that might possibly give readers an inkling of who you really are, where you really live, and what you really do, you will see that it is no easy task. How can you connect with readers and develop relationships when everything you are presenting is a facade designed to mask the real you from the internet public? You can't. At least, I couldn't. I wrote maybe three posts before deleting the blog.

Fast-forward several years to 2008/2009. Mike and I were dating, and we had a discussion about God's giftings to us and how we utilize them. Writing is one of my gifts, and I shared how I have not used this gift well...in fact, I have pretty much silenced it because I don't know how to implement it. {I don't want to boast or sound prideful by saying that I'm gifted in the area of writing. I state it as a simple fact; much as I would say I have curly hair or green eyes. None of these attributes are things I asked for or sought, but curly hair and green eyes and a forte for putting together words are all gifts that God has bestowed upon me. There are innumerable people, both alive and in ages past, who are incalculably better writers than I. All I'm saying is that I have some talent, however small, in this area.} But...I didn't feel that I had anything worth writing; I had nothing to write that was worth other people reading. We talked about blogging. Working in the information technology industry, and always concerned for my safety, I expected Mike to react negatively to the idea of having a blog. After all, he knows firsthand the crazy things people can do online to hurt others.

In one of those twists that shows God is clearly the author of humor, Mike encouraged me to start a blog. I hesitated. I hemmed. I hawed. I was too busy. I was too afraid of crazy internet people. I prayed, too. I was convicted about neglecting my writing skills. I was reminded of the parable of the servants who were given the talents, knowing that I was the servant who buried his one talent.

And in October of 2009, this newly minted Mrs. set up this blog.

That's how. Now why, in no particular order:

• To better keep in touch with family and friends who don't live in the area. All my family, and many of my friends, live in another state. I want them to have a feel for the rhythms of my life; to be part of the ongoing story God is writing in Mike's and my life. A blog, I think, forges a stronger connection than Facebook or the occasional mass e-mail. It is the perfect way to keep faraway loved ones in the loop of our lives. And I love that I can make it pretty. :-) The number of photos I've shared via this blog just since October probably exceeds the total number I've shown my peeps in the previous year!
• In my increasingly busy life, it is harder and harder to find time to record the days. I was a prolific journaler up to the point when Mike entered my life. Now that there is much more living going on, my life is much more interesting but there is also much less time for reflecting. I don't want to forget the richness of God's daily graces and mercies to us. I want to glorify Him by sharing His work in our lives. My hope and prayer is that this blog will stand as an Ebenezer, a memorial of God's grace and goodness. The word Ebenezer comes from 1 Samuel 7, where God routes the Philistine army before the Israelites. Samuel set up a stone in memory of God's work on behalf of His people, and named the stone Ebenezer, which means "stone of help."
• In a similar vein, I simply want to record this season of my life. I love scrapbooking. I started scrapping in college and love love love it. It is one of the few crafty areas I'm good at, and I enjoy it so much! But it's expensive, and time-consuming, and when you're approximately three years behind, it's overwhelming. Blogging by no means replaces scrapbooking, but it provides a similarly verbal-and-pictoral record of my adventures.
• Blogging is a creative outlet. Writing is one of the ways I process things, and it is incredibly cathartic. I often struggle with the idea that what I write needs to be perfect and polished before it is shared. One of the reasons I have been so hesitant to write in any public form is because I'm afraid it won't be "good enough." {Good enough for what, I don't know--I never said this would make sense, I'm just being honest!} Which is why writing consistently is challenging, humbling, and also rewarding. It's me exercising long-unused muscles. It's me stretching my wings--maybe only a centimeter at a time, but eventually I will be limber enough to attain the full wingspan given me by my Creator. It's me being brave enough to be vulnerable by sharing what I write. Vulnerability is a very great struggle for me. Coupled with my insecurities regarding writing itself, the transparency inherent in blogging honestly is huge. Even though this exposure is through the filter of a computer screen.

At the root, it all comes back to obedience, doesn't it? My main incentive for blogging has always been to use the skills God has given me--the fact that it enhances communication with others is a nice bonus. Why is it that I feel that the daily use/cultivation/growth of other skills {echocardiography, being a homemaker, being a good wife, etc.} is good and profitable, while with the skill of writing I feel that daily use ought to be leading up to a grand finale? That I ought to have some sort of magnum opus in view, with every jot and tittle drawing me closer to that final crescendo? Perhaps God calls me simply to write. Not for the purpose of someday penning The Next Great American Novel, or sharing some phenomenal spiritual truth, or becoming famous, or anything else. Perhaps He simply wants me to write.

Regardless of where God may lead me in the future, I know this is where He wants me today. It is so beautiful how God weaves together the many {seemingly separate} cords of our lives into one perfect whole. "Obedience in blogging" sounds funny and rather oxymoronic, but that's really why I'm here. I don't know where this path may lead, but I'm confident that I'm following One Who does.

{ How did you spend Super Bowl Sunday? }

I spent it lounging in my pj's with my handsome husband. He ran to the grocery store for bacon and sausage and "starchy things" while I made coffee and cleaned up the kitchen. Lo and behold, he returned with pastries from Henry's Donuts! Henry's has a couple of locations, one very close to my work, and occasionally we'll get a box of goodies and share it at work. I was delighted to find a Henry's just a few minutes from our condo, and Mister not only remembered that I wanted us to go there, he telepathically sensed that maple bars are my favorite pastry! I was so happy. Combined with bacon, sausage, and fried eggs, we had a deliciously artery-clogging breakfast.

I also made Mrs. Field's Chocolate Chip Cookies. Same recipe as the one here, with the addition of 3 cups of chopped nuts and the stipulation that you only bake them for 8 minutes if you want them soft and chewy. FYI. Well, the recipe says it makes 112 cookies. Uh-huh. Not true. I made over 200 golf-ball size mounds of cookie dough, realized that after 3 1/2 hours I was nowhere near close to being done by the time we needed to leave for church, and threw a bunch of dough in the freezer. Not literally, of course: Nicely rolled in golf-ball-size balls and contained within a sturdy Tupperware dish. I've never frozen cookie dough before. Will it thaw and bake ok??

We go to the 5pm service at our church, smack-dab in the middle of Super Bowl time. So the pastor invited all of us volunteers who assist with setup and teardown {we're in a rented auditorium} to his home to watch the game on TiVo.

Well, Mister had the radio on when I jumped in the car after church, and unfortunately I heard the final score. He was on the phone and didn't notice. I found this actually made the game much more interesting to watch, since I knew the Saints would come back from their 10-point deficit!

One caveat: I am not a sports fan. I've never watched a football game all the way through. I've never even been to a live football game. True to form, I spent most of the third quarter talking to the pastor's wife about their trip to Italy last August. She made a book of photos from their trip--it was so drool-worthy! Who wouldn't want to visit here?

Or here?


Mister and I have been lightheartedly, almost jokingly, dreaming of visiting Italy and/or Greece someday. Their photos and adventures made me want to go so badly! It was all I could do to restrain myself from looking up ticket prices online this morning.

Tonight for dinner I'm making Rachael Ray's "Inside-Out Pizza-dilla Margerita." Super easy and very yummy. The first cookbook I bought {embarrassingly recently in the past--let's just say it was less than five years ago} was one of Rachael Ray's 30-minute meals books. I love it. Her recipes are so tasty! Even if you, unlike Rachael and myself, do not love pasta and cheese.

How is your week shaping up?