I’ve been looking at my life through a pinhole, hitting speed bump after speed bump when trying to think of something to write. Writers block induced by feeling not so very interesting, intelligent, or creative right now with the added pressure of making sure an Instagram worthy image can accompany my text. Sitting here with cold coffee in hand for over an hour, I’ve been half heartedly starting and stopping silly lists of my current “favorites” or trying to eek out some encouraging post. All the while, I’m glancing at the book beside me—Bill Bryson’s “The Road to Little Dribbling”—and wishing I could just curl up with a cup of tea and read about England. Because ya’ll—I’ve been seriously missing England for the past couple of weeks. It’s not just a wish to travel and take a break from the every day, but a real missing of the actual place and the life I lived there. I spent the first half of my engagement to Chris in the UK while studying at Oxford University. Living here for several months solidified the love that had been growing since I was ten years old, when my family moved to Kenya. A former British colony, Kenya is a special mix of African and English. My family came to love certain British brands and traditions, eating Jafa Cakes with our tea and buying mini poppers at Christmas. We learned that Boxing Day was actually about “unboxing” Christmas gifts not about the sport and that the metric system really does make more sense. Something clicked this morning while I battled writer’s block: that I’ve been too focused on my life now. I’ve shut off a big part of my life—moving overseas as a child and thus having the opportunity to travel around the world (funny how travel is so much easier once you’ve crossed that massive ocean!). I’ve struggled with this shutting off instinct ever since moving back to America as a young teen: it seemed easier to just try to blend in. I got tired of being met with blank stares and uncertain questions. People just didn’t get me. So I stopped talking about or bringing it up. I started realizing how bad this was when my closest friends at college would say stuff like, “I totally forgot you lived in Kenya!” or “Wow, I didn’t realize you had been to so many counties!” It’s not their fault that they forgot. I just never talked about it out of some perverted sense that doing so seemed “pretentious” or made me look too privileged. Here’s the truth: my family is really privileged! We lived most of our life together in a free country; we were surrounded by generous, faithful family and friends; my mom made us the most wonderful home and devoted her life to her kids; my dad is a very hard working, principled family medicine-turned-ER doctor. My mom and dad were able to provide beyond just basic needs: they gave us so many experiences. And hands down, one of the best experiences they ever gave us kids was the chance to see and know the world. I am me because they chose not to stay in one town and buy a home and live “comfortably” or “traditionally.” They took some risks and did some conventionally not-so-wise things. In the middle of my dad’s career, they became missionaries. When moving back to the States, they took their savings and used it to RV around Europe for a month, one of the highlights of my life. When I was having a hard time with Kate’s adoption, they decided that I should travel with them to China to pick her up. By the time I was 21, I had been to 21 counties. Few of these were from “vacation;” most were from doing life with my family. I’ve decided to open up this box again, to start peeking back at this life-time of memories so far and sharing what I can. Being a third culture kid and traveling the world has made me who I am. It’s time to start acting like it. So, today I’m sharing some of the things that I miss about England. In the next weeks and months, I’ll be writing about some of the funny, crazy, and once-in-a-life time experiences I’ve had as a Southern-born, African-middle schooled, mid-Atlantic high schooled, New York City colleged, back to the South 20 something. Oh England, I miss:
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So much has happened in the past month that the actual move seems light years in the past. Between then and now we have:
And that’s just scratching the surface. Depending on the day all this transition is either really fun and exciting or really overwhelming and not fun at all. On the not-fun days I find myself missing New York and New Jersey. Missing not exactly our circumstances from this period of life but the concept of comfortable. The past week had me in a particular funk: disgruntled, easily annoyed, irritable, and despondent. Flipping through my phone (the worst possible solution to these problems, I might add), I realized that I hadn’t looked at a single picture I had taken from the moving weekend. I had been avoiding looking back on those high-stress, crazy-out-of-the normal few days, full of so much hard work and change that you collapse in an exhausted puddle of dusty clothes in the middle of the barren, finally cleaned out kitchen and simply refuse to go on. The thing is: moving is just so hard. It doesn’t matter if you have the absolute best friends and family helping (like we did!), plenty of time to get everything done (like we did!), money to be able to afford the necessary vans and boxes and food for crowds, etc. (like we did!)—it’s just a difficult thing to do. Now, I held it together really well. We had fun. Music was blaring. Pizza was consumed. All boxes ended up fitting into the UHUAL. Holes in the wall were spackled and tubs were cleaned. Cats were not lost. It all got done. But it only got done because of our amazing families. I kid you not, Chris and I regularly stop in the middle of cooking dinner or driving to church to remark that we have such cool families. Both sides so selflessly served us this month, as they always do, and we think they are just the best. The week before the move was mainly full of me packing boxes, the turtle in the race to the finish line. One. Box. At. A. Time. Later in the week my mother-in-law and the youngest Svendsen siblings came to the house to help deep clean. I remember this being one of the token panic days, so close to the end (we move in two days!) and yet not looking anywhere near to being done, junk oozing from every nook and cranny. Thankfully, Bethany and Aiden’s cool composure under pressure helped calm my nerves (below: keeping calm and carrying on). The last few days before the move also included a run to Ikea for our new kitchen island and a few bookshelves as well as a very relaxing, fancy dinner with the in-laws at an amazing steak house (where I promptly forgot to take a single picture). Day 1 Chris and I take the Intentionally Relaxed Approach when it comes to moving day. Morning of, we walked to our favorite diner for one last Nutella and strawberry waffle and then visited the local florist on our way home to get flowers for our landlady who lives downstairs. After this slow start our helpers began to trickle in, and long story short, our whole life was crammed into the UHUAL and trailer by 10pm that night. Day 2 North Carolina and New Jersey being so far apart, there was simply no way we could load the truck, drive south, and unload all in one day. So, we spent the night at Chris’s parents’ house after everything was loaded and again decided to take the next morning slow, sleeping in and enjoying a yummy breakfast before honking our way down the road. The morning was filled with coffee and tears. Highlights of our driving day include Eloise being a boss navigator, Chick-fil-a for lunch, only being able to travel 60 miles an hour the entire trip because of UHUAL limitations, the never-ending drive because of said speed restrictions, singing along to the full Hamilton soundtrack a total of three times, and a late night Mickey Dees stop for breakfast sandwiches and yogurt parfaits in the middle of no-where North Carolina. Arriving at the new home at around 11 p.m., we grabbed the keys and then headed to a nearby hotel to partake in such simple luxuries as mattresses and running air conditioning. Day 3 LAST DAY OF THE ORDEAL. By this point we were exhausted but also ready to be done with the whole thing. The need to be done outweighed being tiered, and we dutifully rose for the 7:30 alarm, meeting my excited and more-refreshed family who had driven from Virginia the night before to meet us. While the boys and some new friends from church unloaded the truck, my mom and me grabbed biscuits from a local favorite—Sunrise Biscuit Kitchen—and coffee from Starbucks for everyone. Coming home an hour later, piping hot beverages in hand, we were shocked that most of the truck was already unloaded. The process is so much quicker on the unloading side of the equation! Amy and Kate went to fish in the pond behind our house while the adults put together furniture, cleaned the kitchen, and unpacked boxes. We took lots of breaks and even went to a second hand sporting goods store in the afternoon. This kind of casual is good for me. There is no way I could ever get close to being done—catching up to “perfect”—on a day like this. Best to just let go and enjoy being with the people you love. We ended the day with a Mexican dinner at a festive restaurant and an early to bed—the first night in our new home! As I said above, moving is totally exhausting. It drains your physical, mental, and emotional strength. It makes the normally little things—like missing an exit or not getting quite enough sleep—seem like life-shattering events. I woke up Sunday morning, the day after we had officially unloaded in North Carolina, having a complete meltdown. I kept saying over and over, “I just can’t find the thing. I just can’t find it.” “It” being literally anything I could think of. Brush, a pot, tissues, my jeans—everything was haphazard and I had absolutely no clue where anything was. Moping around in sweatpants, I dragged myself from room to room, sprawling out on the floor and crying if I was unable to locate something immediately. It sounds really funny to me now. I’m more rested and things are in order again. But for these couple of weeks they weren’t, and that’s okay. I put on my big girl panties and just kept swimmin through the boxes. And I’m thankful to report that I now know where all my pots, tissues, jeans, and brushes are. ~SNEAK PEEK OF HOME!~ I must be a true pessimist—I always assume the worst. The great thing about being a pessimist is that you are often pleasantly surprised. The world isn’t always awful! How wonderful! This first week in North Carolina has taught me just that. Because I hate “CHANGE” (I always blow it up in my head like that), I assumed that a big move like this would most likely be de facto bad. My instinct is to think that because something changes it inherently overwhelms any good that might come along with that change. Certainly, our whole daily rhythm has been torn apart, exacerbated by the fact that we aren’t actually living our new “normal” yet. Chris has a FULL schedule with his MCAT prep course and won’t be slowing down until after the test. In the meantime, I won’t begin working full time (more on that in an upcoming post!) until the end of July, so I’m just here hanging out, enjoying some non-stress time, and managing all the “life stuff.” Things are very different, but it’s all new and exciting. We love being in a wide-open space with trees, woods, and biking trails. We love our new home and how it perfectly remedies some of those super annoying things about our old place (we now have a washer and dryer and lots of closets!). We love this location and the opportunities and friends to be made here. Don’t get me wrong—I know we are still in the honeymoon stage. I’m sure there will be days of culture shock or sadness. But they haven’t hit yet, and I shouldn’t even assume, come to think of it, that they will. See, in the midst of what is turning out to be a happy transition, I’ve found myself feeling guilty for being happy and carefree. I’ve felt as if I’m not being authentic with my friends when relaying primarily happy news; the pessimistic worrier in me starts telling lies: “Life is too good—something awful must be around the corner.” “Why is God giving us these blessings?! Something’s up.” “Oh well: it will all fall apart soon enough.” It’s as if I am actively seeking out something to worry about in the absence of more difficult life circumstances and “legitimate” worries. But when you get down to it, all these worries boil down to unbelief, to a stiff hand of control that won’t let go. If I don’t get too happy, life won’t disappointment too much. The past two years have been really tough, and yet through it the Lord has been so close, teaching me more and more about joy that transcends circumstances. Now, when our circumstances are happier, I still need to be taught about joy. About how to have joy free of doubt, free of fear. My prayer is that the Lord can use the refreshed and joyful me for purposeful ministry, and that I would be able to see the good of good times. Because this week has been a good time. Our moving weekend (also in an upcoming post!) went so smoothly. My family was able to come help, and we were also blessed to have some new friends from a local church meet us at the house as well. They made us feel so welcomed right from the get-go. My wonderful mom stayed with us for a few extra days, and together we unpacked, ran errands, did loads and loads of laundry, shopped for lights and nails and spackling putty and all those moving necessities, ironed curtains, and ate chocolate pastries at Panera. She’s pretty cool. My new job has already been such a blessing and has enabled us to step right into a community. From welcome gifts of homemade jam and tulips to after-church conversations and lots and lots of restaurants recommendations, Chapel Hill has been treating us well. And to top it all off, I’ve had a burst of energy which has enabled me to do tons of little things like researching the DMV and NC license requirements, scouting out new grocery stores, joining a gym, and learning to drive on the highway by myself (ya’ll, 5 years in the city with public transportation, no hating). From the little things to the big things, I’m thankful for and in awe of a week of provision. I remember my first and last night in New York clear as day. The first time was in early high school, and the city was just a stop along the way to our family vacation in New England. Despite the fact that it was 11 PM when we arrived at the hotel and that we would have an early start the next day, my dad wanted to take me to Times Square. We hailed a cab, craning our necks to see out the window as the spider web of constant construction, nighttime garbage piles on the curb, and ever-present mobs of people passed by. Apparently when you give a cab driver directions to “Times Square” they take it upon themselves to drop you literally in the middle of it, at the NYPD station to be exact. If you’ve ever been you know exactly where that is: in the heart of New York, and what feels like the entire world. I was then, and every time since then, mesmerized, dazed, and overwhelmed. The throb of lights and crowds and cars and noise and stores leaves you in a state of semi-panic. But it also pulls you in, the sheer liveliness of it so alluring. I’m no F. Scott Fitzgerald or Joan Didion, so I’ll refrain from trying to describe that je ne sais quoi of New York. But it’s no accident that writers flock to the city, marking success by their ability to encapsulate it in words. My friends know that New York was sometimes a struggle for me—it can be a very difficult place to live. But still, I recognize and have slowly come to love that very special quality about this place, that something that artists spend their whole life striving to capture, that life of the city. My dad treated us to Starbucks and we walked around, gazing up and often stumbling into people. A year or two later we would be back, this time on a perspective student’s weekend for The King’s College. More than even the first visit I was overwhelmed (that’s a common word in my dialogue about New York!). I think it was because this time the prospect of actually living here was on my mind. I remember leaving from my parent’s hotel and walking to a little Italian place, along 1st or 2nd Avenue in Midtown. My parents were cheerful and chatty, and all I could do was sullenly eat breadsticks while scooting my chair in closer and closer to the table because about a million people were buzzing around me and bumping me and didn’t even seem to care. Dinner was bland in comparison to the sheer volume of everything going on around me: dump trucks rumbling by, jack hammers drilling, fast city walker and slow tourists jostling for the same side-walk space, beeps, hums, and oh look my spaghetti is here, thanks. My poor little first-child, introverted, cautious brain was about to explode from over stimulation in just the short 2 hours it had spent in the city. God had a lot of growing up to do in me. And he used New York to do that. The people, places, teachers, and churches I grew to be a part of challenged and shaped me into the adult I now am. New York taught me about patience. I can’t count how many times public transit has “ruined” a morning or made me late to an appointment. New York taught me about confidence and courage. I learned about who I was, apart from my family or past. New York made me tough, and reiterated the importance of hard work. This place gave me true friends who have stuck by me through thick and thin. And New York softened my judgmental spirit by allowing me to interact with so many different people from so many walks of life. I came to sincerely value the fact that people can be themselves in the city, because no matter how crazy you may look, you aren’t the craziest person others have seen that day. There is a delightful anonymity here that allows you to blend in and just be—empty space to figure out who you are and what you are going to do with this life. By the end of my five years here I wasn’t so quick to assume, so quick to be discouraged, so quick to throw my hands up in defeat. Slower to anger, slower to despair, slower to fear. The Lord used a place that I would naturally shy away from to refine me, subduing my faults and sharpening my virtues and talents. I can look back and see how maturity blossomed in the crammed subway rides and stressful shopping trips to Trader Joes, where lines for the check out stretched through the store, out the front door, and down the sidewalk. I can see how those tearful confrontations from dear friends—awful in the moment—showed me how to be a better friend and solidified my confidence in those relationships. I can see how being nudged ever so gently out of my comfort zone and into high stress college workloads, and deadline-oriented jobs, and lots of large social gatherings made me better. Being stretched is uncomfortable. But it’s good. The Lord is gentle in the way he teaches us. Sometimes I felt like I could not bear to live in this place one more day; it felt like too much—too many people, too much filth, TOO MUCH. But then I’d go for a walk to the Hudson River and see the sunset and the waves, or find a shady park bench in Madison Square Park, or witness a small kindness of a stranger, buying a meal for a homeless person, and I would be reminded of the Lord’s faithfulness. He was and is faithful to refresh my spirit. Faithful to provide. Faithful to give wisdom and perspective. Faithful to send people into my life. My last day in the city couldn’t have been more different than my first. My heart was calm. I spent the day with my husband, eating a leisurely brunch, strolling the Upper West Side, and then taking a nap in the sun in Central Park. We watched a kick ball game. We bought roasted nuts from a food stand. We pretended to shop at Bloomingdales but were really just looking for the bathrooms. I felt peaceful and at home, one of many thankful to have fallen in love with this place and had the privilege to call it home.
I've never been a one book-at-a-time girl. Since I was in middle school I've always had a good three or four, sometimes more, going at a time. Obviously, it takes me a lot longer to finish each book, but I love being able to choose what to read based on how I'm feeling any given day. There's also the advantage of not having to wait until I finish one before starting another! (Especially when I'm at a boring part of one book: I’m looking at you, Goldfinch.) The past few months (months, yes sadly. I'm a ridiculously slow reader) I've been reading a really nice set of books that cover a range of topics and styles. Mixing up the types of books I read--fiction vs. non-fiction, modern vs. classic--has not only helped me learn to develop a well-rounded writing "voice" but also keeps each type fresh and interesting. Too much of any one kind (think only Jane Austen or only Cormac McCarthy) gets really old, really quickly. So, if you're looking for something new to try, why not one of my four spring books? (All titles are hyperlinked: go check them out!) The Goldfinch (Donna Tartt, Little Brown and Company, first edition 2013, 775 pp., $30) This is a mammoth book. At 775 pages it is the epitome of the classic yet modern literary novel. Donna Tartt is known for her precision and detail, her work reading almost like a photograph: every moment caught, piercing, lengthy. She is one of the best character writers I've ever read, developing deep internal lives for each one (which accounts for the page count: it takes a lot of words to do this!). I'm only about 300 pages in, and honestly, it's hard to describe what this book is "about." It's about a boy's life after he tragically loses his mom (this isn't a spoiler, by the way). It's about the 21st century in an age of terrorism. It's about New York, and family, and growing up, and loss. I know these sound like vague descriptors, but the best novels are hard to pin down for the very fact that they are about the big, vague things in life like "love" and "beauty" and "pain." In any case, it's worth the read, although I need to remind myself of that because, as I mentioned above, I'm at a boring part and I refused to go on. Must, keep, going. Not to mention, this won the Pulitzer Prize for Fiction in 2014 and was short listed for the 2013 National Book Critics Circle Award. The Road to Little Dribbling: Adventures of an American in Britain (Bill Bryson, Double Day, Penguin Random House, 2016, 400 pp., $28.95) Thanks to my dad, I've been a Bill Bryson fan for a while now. Nobody combines travel, memoir, and humor like Bryson and I sure do love him for it. This book (and his many others, by the way) is just a delight. Mainly for the fact that it is light. And we all need that sometime. However, despite the humor while frolicking across the quaintest country in the world, he delivers some piercing insights into modern Britain. He is able to lovingly critique needless bureaucracy in the government, laziness in the youth, and the alarming loss of British social mores that once lost will be lost forever. Will we lose the land of crumpets, rambling walking trails, and pubs?! Not if Bryson has anything to say about it. Food Rules: An Eater's Manual (Michael Pollan, illustrations by Maira Kalman, Penguin Random House, first edition 2011, 224 pp., $23.95) This is just a fun book. Michael Pollan is a celebrated New York Times columnist, journalist, professor, and food-writer star, best known for The Omnivore's Dilemma and, most recently, Cooked (which was also made into a four-part Netflix documentary that I highly recommend). What I loved about this book was that he tackles the question of nutrition with graceful common sense. His goal is to help bring back a more simple and healthful relationship with food. The book brings together 75 "rules" that help the reader re-think the food they eat, with the overarching mantra: "Eat food. Mostly plants. Not too much." One of my favorite rules was number 57: "If you're not hungry enough to eat an apple, then you're probably not hungry." Covering three main questions: "What should I eat?", "What kind of food should I eat?", and "How should I eat?" Pollan gives us a sensible, easy, simple way forward out of the common-place Western diet of highly processed, sugar-filled "food like substances." Make it Happen: Surrender your Fear, Take the Leap, Live on Purpose (Lara Casey, Thomas Nelson, 2015, 220 pp., $15.99) I'll be honest: I'm not normally into this kind of book. The vast majority of inspirational, self-help type of books reeks of quasi-spiritualism. But not this one. I'm only a few chapters in, but I can honestly say that this book is one of a kind. Casey has a passion for helping women live on purpose. Think about it: it's one thing that we in 21st century America are desperately seeking to do and yet more often than not failing at. The majority of Americans lives in a rushed, stressed, constantly striving lifestyle that doesn’t make them happy or feel fulfilled. Casey reminds us that we were made for a reason and that God desires for our lives to be lived for his purpose. It's been a needed kick in the pants for me: I can make what matters to me happen. There is always time for what matters. Yes, it means sacrificing other things. But if you care about it, it can happen. Exercise, cooking, quality time: you--I!--can make this happen. "'My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.' Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weakness, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me." --2 Corinthians 12:9 What needed words. I've found myself repeating this verse in my head countless times a day this past month. I've felt weak and, well, blind. I want all my plans to work out now. I want to know where we will live, what job I will have, heck, what sort of job I should even pursue, and the crazy thing is that even when one little piece of the puzzle gets figured out (where we are going to live!), I don't feel any rest. More, more, more. It's a battle of the will, against God, against the world, just to control. And gracious is it exhausting. Just this week a little blessing walked into our life. This past year we have been making a very concerted effort to put money into savings, as we knew we would have some hefty expenses this coming summer. Moving and massive tests don't come cheap, ya'll. We also decided to use some of the money to upgrade to some "adult" furniture. So as soon as we nailed down our new apartment, my busy little Type A personality got to worrying about how to decorate, bemoaning the difficulties of finding good quality furniture on a budget that was also stylish and also my style. Well, what should come waltzing along but the most gorgeous couch I've ever seen on Craigslist. Very long story short, we ended up purchasing a custom designed, originally multi-thousand dollar couch from Craigslist for--let's just say--very little money. (This is a huge perk of living in New York: when you shop second hand you are shopping the homes of Upper East Side CEOs). I left the Upper East Side yesterday evening beaming. This find felt like a little gift from God: completely unasked for or even needed, just a kiss of sweetness. Without fail it seems that at the eve of every big transition in my life all knowledge of his previous provision flies out the window. I assume that somehow this next stage will be different: that I will fall flat on my face, that things won't work out, that he no longer cares about the big or the little things. But he does care, the evidence written across my life: I was given an abundantly clear calling to go to Kings and live in New York, without which I would certainly have dropped out and packed my bags long ago. God gave me the most perfect freshman roommates I could have imagined, ladies who remain my dearest friends to this day and who I lived with until I got married. My husband is one of the best gifts I could ever hope for. God has provided the means and way to multiple opportunities, from studying abroad at Oxford to now working at Oxford University Press. I am blessed, and He is good. These are the thoughts I should have been having all the month of March, but alas did not, sheer business taking over. So one of my main goals for April is to let things go and trust the Lord's provision. April Goals 1. Let things go and trust the Lord's provision 2. At the same time, actually house plan and start coordinating the move! 3. Lots of quality time spent with the Svendsens and Beaches and extended family in NJ 4. Have Bethany (my 9 year old sister-in-law) over for a sleep over 5. Be diligent with our budget and put money in savings 6. See An American in Paris on Broadway--one last hurrah, assuming we don't win tickets to Hamilton 7. Have a picnic in Central Park 8. Buy some "New York" art 9. Visit the Natural History Museum: completed! 10. Finish work well My prayer is that this month will be a joyful and purposeful one, where not my weakness but His strength dictates how life functions. March Recap Revisiting my goals from March, I actually accomplished most of them! 1. Register for the MCAT: completed! 2. Apartment hunt online: completed! 3. Choose a date to go apartment hunting in Chapel Hill: completed! 4. Book a hotel and GO visit! completed! 5. Meet my March 15th deadlines at work: completed! 6. Write some letters: completed! 7. Research graphic design and blogging formats. 8. Win tickets to Hamilton. 9. Celebrate a special friend and her March birthday: completed! 10.Enjoy my little brother's visit: completed! 11. Keep cooking. Keep writing: completed! I'll let pictures do most of the talking, but March was one for the books. Apart from our visit to Chapel Hill, which I blogged about here, the month was filled with friends, food, travel, and Easter. A highlight was the weekend my brother Ben and his girlfriend Kristin came to visit, which necessitated Chris and I putting on our New York Tour Guide Hats. That weekend also included a surprise run-in with none other than famed actress Saorise Ronan, star of Brooklyn. I got my picture taken with her. I asked her how to pronounce her name. I'm still nervous pronouncing it. Chris was way more chill and chatted with her about what it was like being nominated for an Oscar, no biggie. Later in the month brought about my darling Laura's birthday, an occasion that mainly consisted of me being in awe of this lady and telling her as much and also excellent food. Now hoping for warmer weather as April unfolds....happy Wednesday everyone! I think we've all had an experience of walking into a true home. The kind where you step over the threshold and feel instantly at ease; where books and papers are scattered on desks, a bowl of fruit rests in the kitchen, and a tall umbrella props in the corner of the porch. You get the feeling that this place has a life of it's own, that the house is somehow alive with a story to tell. I remember a home like this. It is on the Upper West Side, on the very edge of Central Park. Through various college and church acquaintances, some friends and I were able to visit a very old lady who was friends with Corrie ten Boom in World War II. Little notes and old photographs stuck out of the edges of a large oval mirror hung above the fireplace; a dog leash shared the bar cart with the champagne glasses; bright floral arm chairs cozied up to the stately leather chesterfield couch; newspapers crowded the dinning room table where snacks and tea cups were set out for us. It was as if I had stepped into Narnia and was having tea with Mr. Tumnus. And that's how I want my home to be: lived in, joyful, full of stories, warmth, and the many little details that take the place you live in from house to home. It's these little things--from tulips to teacups--that help cultivate a rich home life that makes people want to come on over, prop up their feet, and stay a while. But what are these little "details"? For this week's Nesting Series post I thought it would be fun to collect some of my favorite "tiny" home tips to share with everyone, courtesy of a life-long observation of my most amazing mother (and some other tremendous ladies). Thus in no particular order.... It's all in the details
This post is a long time coming, and I mean a longggg time coming. So long I don’t really remember when we started thinking about, planning, or working toward it. I do remember junior-year-of-college Chris starting to doubt his plan of going to law school. I remember him feeling worried about a desk job, and feeling trapped. I remember a particular walk along Battery Park City on a cool evening where I asked him if he had ever thought about going into medicine. He said it was strange I should bring it up—our Dean of Students had recently asked him the same thing. To my great surprise—and I think his too—we both took the suggestion seriously, and started researching options. In the months that followed there were many serious talks about whether or not med school was doable at such a late point. Because he was so close to graduation and had never planned to go, med school would require not only taking the MCAT but also 2 years worth of extra classes (all the sciences Chris didn’t take in college). After much prayer, and countless talks with parents and friends, we decided to go for it. My dad, an ER doc, was our constant companion, and was able to help us navigate the many requirements needed for a successful application. Chris was even able to do his clinical hours in the ER where my dad works. We aren’t quite at the end of the road yet. Chris will finish his last semester of pre-requisite classes at the end of April and is slated to take the MCAT on June 18th, after which he will begin the official application process. But, we made a huge step forward this weekend! After a successful house-hunting trip in North Carolina we can say that we are officially moving to Chapel Hill in May!!! We signed a lease on this lovely little townhouse in a great location of Chapel Hill, and we could not be more excited. When we started our deep dive into medical school research it became pretty clear to us that while there were great schools across the country, we wanted to stay close to the East Coast and family. We also knew that we wanted to be in a small town rather than a big city; as much as we love New York, it’s time for a change! And, of course, Chris wants to get into a really good program. Those preferences basically narrowed it down to Virginia and North Carolina schools. There are a couple of really great options in N.C.(Duke, East Carolina, Wake Forest), apart from our top choice, UNC Chapel Hill. Even though Chris hasn’t been accepted yet, we really feel God moving us toward Chapel Hill this year. We know He has a plan for the perfect school for us. In the meantime, we are going to move to the area we love, establish N.C. residency (yay for cheaper schooling cost!), and trust the rest to Him. Risky? Maybe a little. But not really. The worst that could happen would be a move to a better place in a year, having saved money in 2016 by not living in the New York City metropolitan area. Exciting? So, so exciting. Last night as we drove down Franklin Street on our way to the Mediterranean Deli (which has changed our lives; so much delicious), we talked about how strangely comfortable we felt here. Like this is where we are supposed to be. Compared to looking for apartments in New York, this past weekend was a joy. After driving down late Thursday evening, we grabbed coffee Friday on the way to our first appointment of the day: a 10:00am total let down. But our spirits were high. We saw several apartment complexes, had lunch at a Mexican place, and showed up to our 4:30 appointment with our front-runner: the two bedroom townhome in a wooded setting about 10 minutes from downtown. It had everything we were looking for and more. The landlord was accommodating, jolly, and obviously cared for the home. It took about 30 minutes to decide on the place while lounging on the UNC quad sipping iced tea. And that was it. We had a celebratory dinner at a sushi place, and the landlord swung by our hotel the next morning so we could all sign the lease. That left us Saturday to chill out and explore the area. This included mural hunting, antique shopping, eating at cafes, cartoon watching, gym exploring, tulips, sweet tea, baklava, biscuits, and lots and lots of walking around our new town. It’s a little surreal to be leaving our New York. I’m sure there will be lots of tears and some second-guessing. But we feel confident that this new stage will be worth it. We love that Chapel Hill has a small town feel combined the conveniences of a thriving University town. And we love that this thing Chris has been working for is finally coming to fruition! Thank you to everyone who has supported, prayed for, and encouraged us these past few years. You have helped make this new beginning possible! The most shocking part of being an adult is how quickly time flies. I cannot believe we are already in the third month of the year and so soon moving away from New York. Nostalgia is kicking in hard core. The last few weeks have involved 1) Chris and I re-working the budget countless times to see if maybe we could afford to live in NYC as students after all (surprise: we can't); 2) deciding which neighborhood of the city we will move back to in 10 years, and 3) researching how to buy Bryant Park bistro tables and chairs to take with us. Back at Christmas it seemed like ages before we could actually get going with the move. Four dreary months of winter seemed intolerable. But, as always, being a pessimist has paid off when those four dreary months weren't so dreary after all. In fact, February was full of amazing fun, as per the usual, since both my birthday and Valentines Day are crammed into this wee little month. My birthday is February 5th, so that first weekend was full of cake. My mom surprised me with a spontaneous visit, and we ate at an amazing little restaurant in midtown east called Bea. Other than lovely conversation, cold walks, and pink presents, the visit also included funfetti cake baked by my chef hubby and a trip to the Bronx Zoo. Valentines Day marked the coldest day of the winter: 3 degrees. What we had envisioned as a day sauntering around the city turned into a hurried shuffle from one food establishment to the next. First stop: Starbucks. Second: M&M flagship store in Times Square. Third: Fossil, because, Fossil. Fourth: a casual Italian place in Hell's Kitchen: Bocca di Bacco. The food was excellent, but I was especially keen on the bold wall paper in the bathroom and am now considering it for a future home....Fifth: the Bank of America building indoor atrium. Sixth: back to Starbucks. Seventh: underground mall at Rockefeller Center and the amazing Masion du Chocolat. Seventh: back to Bocca di Bacco to retrieve the bag of Valentines M&Ms I bought in Times Square and inadvertently left under my seat. All in all, a fabulous albeit disgustingly cold day. The rest of February involved lots and lots of work. Every author in the world seems to want to submit his manuscript right now. However, despite the extra hours spent at the desk, I was still able to commute home in the daylight many days, as it is now light past 5:00 o'clock. It's a big deal, you guys. At least once a week Chris and I have a catharsis moment in which we marvel at the sun. To top the month of, I spent the lovliest weekend in Boston with some of my favorite girls in the world. This weekend involved lots of laughing, lots of walking in the cold, the movie Brooklyn (see it), history, sight seeing, coffee, Harvard, more coffee, car trips, Taylor Swift, talking about emotions, and words of affirmation. March is now in full swing, and it promises to be quite a busy few weeks. Apart from the regular day to day, I have some over-arching goals for the month that hopefully will help us as we move into the end of the semester and the move. Time runs away so quickly, and it's easy for me to waste it--by setting goals before the month even begins I can gauge and utilize my down time effectively. (****Otherwise I decide that every night I deserve to soak in the tub and watch Friends re-runs. Every. Night). So without further ado, our March goals are: 1. Register for the MCAT.----this goal is actually already completed! Chris is signed up for the test on June 18th, in Chapel Hill, NC. 2. Apartment hunt online. 3. Choose a date to go apartment hunting in Chapel Hill. 4. Book a hotel and GO visit! 5. Meet my March 15th deadlines at work. 6. Write some letters. 7. Research graphic design and blogging formats. 8. Win tickets to Hamilton. 9. Celebrate a special friend and her March birthday. 10.Enjoy my little brother's visit. 11. Keep cooking. Keep writing. I mean, where are you without ambition, am I right? Gotta keep on cooking. (But actually, I feel like it's a huge accomplishment to cook 5-7 dinners a week, just saying). So here's to baby steps towards success. Also, stay tuned this month for my Nesting Series here on the blog! I'll be sharing some of my best home recipes, organizing, spring-cleaning, and homification tips all month long. I found myself walking north up 5th Avenue, towards the Park. It was Wednesday, very cold, and by 12:30 had already been a whirl-wind day, the kind of day where it takes you about five minutes to close out all the tabs on your work desktop before heading out to lunch. With unusual decisiveness I had made up my mind to take a long lunch; my mind needed a good airing out. As I walked hurriedly, fur hood pulled close around my ears, I almost ran smack into two girls I used to know at college. Running into people you know in the middle of the city is always a surreal experience. Many an author and movie and song pay tribute to New York's ability to hide you. This feature has its darker side, but it is also one of the things I love best about this place. You can walk happily along without any pretentions; no one cares what you are wearing or doing. Happily alone in the swirl. It shouldn't surprise me by now--I run into people I know all the time. Having lived here almost 5 years (!), I am bound to know a good number of faces. But still. To take a moment to brag, other's I've run into include Karlie Kloss, Taylor Swift's bestie. It was in the West Village, and she was on her post-Sunday-brunch-jog. Her neon Nike sports bra was fierce. At just about this spot--5th and 43rd-- a few years ago I also came across the cast of Glee while they were filming. It must have been in the winter because all I remember is that my hands were freezing when I tried to take a picture. But by far, the coolest person I have run into is Leonardo DiCaprio. Spring semester of last year, hurrying to class, head down like a true New Yorker, avoiding eye contact and buzzing past the slower lane of walkers who insisted on taking pictures of One World Trade Center from every angle. A curb approaching, I glanced up and spotted a very ugly, ragged looking man walking towards me. Dismissing him, I eyed his companion: a leggy, tottering blond with a smirk and a latte (not from Starbucks). "She's just the type Leo would date," I thought. Honest. It dawned on me. I was so close I could have touched him, which I did. Just joking. Instead I ran all the way to school, yelling to the security guard and all fellow students my good luck, and finally collapsing in a tizzy at Student Services, where Laura and Kendall helped me hyperventilate. (EDITOR’S NOTE: It must have been when he was filming The Revenant. It was his greasy beard that was so off-putting and veiled his otherwise lovely appearance). I was so flustered that I didn't have the wherewithal to snag a picture. Apparently in the time between freshman and senior year my celebrity-sighting-response-skills have decreased. Below, taken a few months after moving to New York, my shot of the wonderful Hugh Jackman, caught exiting a play on Broadway. I had just left The Million Dollar Quartet, and he was coming out of some talk show. I got him to look in my direction by screaming, creatively, "HUGH JACKMAN----LOOK AT ME!" But I digress. Despite the desperate cold, the city looked fine this week. Clear, brilliant, and fast. On my lunch breaks I ate yummy left overs at my desk, then darted out for brisk walks, sometimes on Park, sometimes on 5th, and sometimes even all the way to 3rd. I discovered a lovely French patisserie on a side street near the Library. Delightfully, a macaroon shop opened across the street from work. An old man gave up his seat on the train for me on Friday, so I got to read my book and it was a treat. Another day, a sweet stranger and I shared an inside joke on the train when I made an "I give up" face at the pushing throngs and she thought it was hilarious. And to top it all off, I have--all at once--some amazing food in the fridge: roasted butternut squash soup with apple, curry, and bacon; spaghetti with creamy meat sauce; and homemade tikki masala. It's been a good week. Here's to the next, in which I will try to remember the little things I have to be grateful for. |
Authorwife to a med student and mama to three under three, seeking the joyful and learning to live by faith. Find me on Instagram and Pinterest or shoot me an email. I'd love to hear from you!
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