My Favorite Time of the Year is not Christmas

 Just kidding, of COURSE Christmas is my favorite! My SECOND favorite is September 6th, our anniversary.

On our very first anniversary, I wanted to do something really special and our of the ordinary for us. So I surprised Jon with a giant road trip that spanned the Californian coastline, from Trinidad to San Fransisco. I had it all planned out, from the maps and directions to/from every stop, to having a hotel booked for every town we landed in at night, in advance. We spent four days in a two-seater convertible, with our two small dogs on our laps, and sometimes at our feet. We slept in smelly, shady, (but dog-friendly!) Motel 6s every night. We survived out of a tiny blue cooler shoved behind my seat, and ate the cheese, crackers, and salami that we had bought the morning we left. It lasted nearly the entire trip! We saw 14 Northern Californian lighthouses (in various working order), 3 small-town museums, 2 Blue Whales from a boat in Monterey Bay, and drove through 1 Giant Sequoia tree. Among countless other weird and crazy adventures, including stumbling upon a road-side Spanish-only circus.

CLICK HERE to see more pictures from the lighthouse trip!

We planned out second anniversary together. Our Lighthouse trip was so fun, we wanted to do it again, but this time see the Southern half. Well, the further south in California you go, the more populated it becomes. Long story short, there arent enough lighthouses in working order to make it road-trip worthy for us. So back to the Northern we went! We drove through countless adorable small towns the previous year, but one stole both of our hearts: Ferndale. Imagine driving for hours on a heavily wooded 2-lane highway. You drive up and up and up! Youre the only car on the road, and its quiet. Its foggy, and the air that whips your hair in the open-top car smells like the sea. The car turns a corner, and suddenly you are transported back in time to the Victorian era, and the building that loom from the clouds are statuesque. Youve made it to Ferndale! We stayed in the Shaw House B&B for a glorious four days! The town is so small and quaint, not one place is open past 4pm and the only shower in your room is a claw-foot tub. It was magical. Oh! And Ferndale is on the Lost Coast, so we managed to see one last lighthouse.

CLICK HERE to see more pictures from the Ferndale trip!

For us, every anniversary is really special, and we love to celebrate our lives together, in a way that is meaningful to us both. We want to spend our lives creating stories and memories that we will never forget. So because our third anniversary is coming up this September 6th, we started to think about how we wanted to celebrate. We are in a pretty cool country already, and could easily spend it here, and could legitimately stay in arguably the coolest B&B ever (its in a real castle, no joke). But nah. We're going to Paris, baby!

This May Offend Pet-Haters

I have always thought people who do not own animals by choice are weird. How could you NOT want something fluffy and cute (or even scaled and sleek) to call your own? Another life form to take care of, dote on, and cuddle with? A little pile of fur that bounces up and down whenever they see you walk in the door? And by the way, husbands just dont count; mines not much of a bouncer anyway. I tend to think that people who have the ability, room, and time to have even a small animal, and STILL choose to stay pet-less, are often people I dont really get along with. They're generally very tidy and (dare I say) neurotic. They are the white couch lovers, the no-shoes-allowed rulers, the dry-clean-only buyers.

And now Im worried Im one of them, by way of a pet-hating landlord. I bet his wife only buys Organic lettuce, too. The all-white dinnerware and Crate & Barrel color scheme should have tipped me off. When I found out I couldnt have so much as a hamster, it made me want to install carpet over the sterile wood floors, just so I could spill something on it.

But Im starting to like the way the square white plates make even a PB&J look like a work of art. Im beginning to love the simple black fireplace (electric of course, no soot here thanks) against the sand-colored walls. I am actually having a hard time deciding whether or not to hang a piece of art I bought in the living room, because it wont really match. I do my dishes like, as soon as I dirty them, because who wants a dirty dish in an otherwise clutter-free kitchen space? I sweep the hardwood daily, sometimes twice. I do laundry almost as much. Its a hairless, petless, LOVELESS apartment. Not even the candles Jon got for me make it much warmer. They're white.

To help stave off the neurosis creeping up on me, Ive volunteered my time at the Dublin SPCA. Im really excited to get some much-needed cuddle time in with some cute little hairballs! Dog, cat, goat, Ill take anything non-human at this point. I hope they email me back before I feel the need to cover the couch in plastic!

Maybe I Can Get Some Illegal Ones...

Happy Fourth of July, people of the USofA!
I think The Fourth is about as American as it gets. Just the words bring to mind tanning on the blanket-strewn grass, smelling the clouds of sweet smoke from the pit, and floating in the algae-green lake till fingers are prunes. Women in bright dresses, getting reverse-raccoon suntan lines from wearing huge glasses all day. Some men wearing far too little. All in the name of their patriotic love of country, and Doritos.

While it isnt raining where I am, its not exactly a hot summer either. Nobody's in a sundress, and I dont know anyone who owns a barbeque. I thought about having a big American BBQ here for all my friends, to give them a good taste of what our great holiday is all about! Then I remembered I dont have friends within a BBQ-sharing distance. Sad. Then my Mom asked me where Id put a barbeque even if I did have one. Out of my pure American Spirit and American-like unwillingness to back down when faced with a challenge, I told her Id balance it on the windowsill, since its the closest Ive got to a porch. I havent spotted a smoke detector in my apartment, so I wouldnt have to worry about setting one of those pesky things off either. Perfect!

Not so much, actually. I dont want to be responsible for a fiery mass of red-hot coals falling from under my grilling tongs onto some poor random stranger's bike. Or face. Glorious, big, street-facing window Setback #5: Witnesses. HOWEVER, my good American friends, I WILL be serving the all-American Fourth of July favorite, hamburgers! They'll be broiled (not grilled), on toast (not buns), with sauteed potatoes (not fries) and apples (not watermelon), but they will be burgers, darnit, and they'll be great! SO great in fact, that I plan on making them for everyone I know here! So the job'll be easy, Ill set the table for two.

Enjoy your firework show, ya jerks!

My Neighbor is a Castle

Before we moved cross the ocean to a little green island, the first thing others would tell us about Ireland is how nice the people here were. And they so are! They cant stop throwing us parties wherever we go! We spent our first week in Clontarf, which is a charming seaside village with things to boast like a bird sanctuary, a dazzling rose garden, and parks that sprawl for ages. And they must have heard we were there, because on that Saturday they held their yearly food festival! Just for us, Ive decided. The zoo was there with crocodiles, someone was juggling fire, and there was even a car show for Jon.

When we moved into Dublin on the next Friday, we were greeted by one of the biggest parades we'd ever seen in person! Because our windows face a main street, we got the best seats in the house! Rather than throng on the streets with thousands people, we made coffee and sat on our sill to watch it all go by. It was Dublin's Pride Week, and it was a MAJOR party that lasted all night. I can personally tell you it lasted all night (and into the morning too), because our main-street-facing windows have their setbacks. They may be double-paned to keep heat in, but they dont do much to keep the sound out. Lets just say our sleepless night was fitfully filled with club music and sparkles, and wing-wearing men who apply their makeup with way more skill than I ever could. I bought earplugs today, just in case Dublin decides to throw us any more welcome-home parties this Saturday.

And it really does feel like Home. We made it all the way here, and I can honestly say I love my city. I cross the street with a quick sure pace, because I know where Im going. But look both ways twice because I keep forgetting just what side the cars will come from. I call the bathroom The Toilet, but it still sounds weird. I do my laundry in the kitchen, and keep the softener next to the sugar. But I moved it to the closet because it made my potatoes floral-scented. I buy food for just one day at a time, but its better that way because my fridge is only 3ft high with no freezer in sight. When its time to cook, I switch on the power to the range so the burners will heat up. Then I switch the outlet off again. When we talk about the weather, Ill tell you it got to a glorious 20 degrees! Celsius, meters, and grams are becoming normal parts of my speech now. I spend 5-ers and 10-ers, not 5 bucks or 10 bucks. Wording here is more proper, and Jon has adopted the word 'quite'. Dinner was QUITE good. The weather is QUITE nice. Even a tv ad for toilet paper seems prim when you say 'O-wer tooy-lett pay-pa is new soof-ta than eva'. When I go out, I wear full leggings and a skirt, with flip-flops and a scarf. I tuck sunglasses next to my umbrella in my messenger-bag purse, because the weather changes every fifteen minutes, and I am prepared. The TV is a Telly, the cops are the Gardai. I dont say 'parking lot', I say 'car park'. I love the rain, but I cant say so without strange looks. And you cant call us tourists anymore.

Because we totally live here.

What Time Is It Again?

I sat at the huge glass window, watching the lightning-filled sky over our plane to Ireland. I sent out my last goodbyes over text message as our last flight to our new life was delayed. I wasnt nervous as much as tired. I just wanted to leave already, and I knew there was a 6-hour flight ahead of me. We were finally boarded, only to taxi around for two hours. Luckily, we got seated by possibly the most annoying lady in the airport. She made the whole row (ours) take a picture together (while the seat-belt sign was on) and give each other our emails so we could later Facebook each other (I lied when it was my turn). Everyone in hearing range now knows extremely personal things about this lady, including every detail about her ex-husband and their divorce, and her very graphic 9-11 memories. Anyway, the 2-hr taxi and the 6-hr flight were awesome (when I had my headphones on High volume).


We finally landed in Dublin, Ireland, our new country. A random idea that formed one night on our tiny American kitchen floor after a dinner with good friends. A moonstruck dream come to reality in a few short months' time. The self-crazed lady, to her credit, was the first person to say, "Welcome Home!" to us when the plane landed. And it wasnt even raining! Well it rained later that day, but it was light so I guess here it doesnt count as rain. On a cool note, here they have "Dry Days" and every other day you can expect rain. And Dry doesnt mean Sun, just that the clouds wont drop their rains.

Our hosts, Phil & Betty, are really amazing! They have driven us around to so many cool places already, just to show us about town! They are so generous and kind. Not only do they cook three meals a day for us and let us live with them for an open-ended amount of time, they even forgive us when we butcher the foreign street names. Betty told me she will take us to tea in Clontarf Castle this week! So stoked! She said, "Americans love to have tea in a castle". Yes ma'am! We dont have them laying around in the States. Their castles here are like Starbucks there: one on every corner. (Side note: No Starbucks in Dublin, but she told me their coffee place 'Insomnia' is as plentiful and delicious as our beloved green mermaid. I will let you know).

So our first and second days have been amazing, but every once in awhile Ill catch myself in a thought and realize, "Woah. I totally live in Ireland." Which is pretty fantastic.

It's Raining Change! (in more ways than one)

Call me Frodo. The movie is Lord of the Rings III (Return of the King), near the last scene. Frodo is saying goodbye to his Hobbit buddies, about to sail off to live with elves and never see the mortal world again. He's also the only dry-eyed one in the group. Its not that Frodo isnt really sad about leaving, because he is. I think he will really miss his friends back home, and his family especially. Isnt a goodbye consistently harder for the ones left behind? It doesn't matter what kind of leaving behind is being done, if you're the one left. I'm not going to be gone forever, and my ship looks a lot more like an airplane, but there are parallels. I think Frodo cried some on the ride to his new home, even if there were elves there. So did I.

One last goodbye after another this month finally led to our departure through the Magic Portal Into Space (the quickly over, yet intrusive, full body scan). As we boarded our first tiny airplane to our Phoenix layover, I was trying to not explode with thoughts. They ranged from being kind of thirsty, to the knowledge that I will probably miss my little brother's high school graduation ceremony. And all in the name of adventure. Sometimes I wonder how much is worth sacrificing for a dream. My dog forgetting who I am? Missing literally years of my sister's life? Is it really worth the pain?

Luckily, there was a man in the seat right behind me who interrupted my thinking. He had at some point during today, decided that an entire sandwich-sized Ziploc full of change would be a good thing to have in a carry-on. Then he decided that carry-on belonged directly above my head. Well as I was staring at my coffee (Venti house brew, Coconut sweetener & nonfat milk thanksverymuch), there was a sudden onslaught of change falling onto my head! My row got a good laugh, and I think I stole half a buck.

But change is everywhere. Not just in my hair either. We are in for lots more changes before this month is through, and I can honestly say we are enjoying it. If there's one thing Jon & I are good at, its traveling together. So as sad as its been to say goodbye to our loved ones, we wake up each day ready for more. More stories, more experiences, more life. Tears, or no.

The Great Green Yonder

People say many things when we tell them we are moving to Ireland. My Mom is one of them. Over the last few months, her favorite question was "Where will you live?", to which we had no direct answer, except, "In Dublin I guess?"

See, I have a theory about the unknown. I think there's probably a law that says things have a way of working themselves out all on their own. In our house, this theory is called the 'Dont Worry, Jon Will Handle It' law. When this law is in effect, all I have to do is pack my bags and go. This law gives me the freedom as a wife to simply trust that my husband has our best interests at heart, and will take the initiative to take care of us in the future. This law also gives him the freedom to make plans he thinks are the optimum choice for us.

Sometimes, this law is seriously stupid. That's why I call it a theory, because theories always look great before real life tests them. In theory, the "Don't Worry" part of the law looks a lot more like me worrying a great deal, nagging a ton, and/or criticizing bad choices. Sometimes the "Jon Will Handle It" part of the law looks more like Jon doesn't know what the heck he's doing, forgot to remember to handle it, and/or handled it the wrong way.

For instance, our last apartment. Jon said it was smaller, but a great deal, and seemed legit. So we went and glanced at it once (in a perfunctory attitude), and told them we'd take it. Well. It was not until we had paid first (out of many) month's contractual rent, got the keys, and took pizza to our spankin' new place, that I realized: no dishwasher, cat-pee carpet, 3yr old boy living right on our heads. More like IN my head after a few months of torturous running back-and-forth across our bedroom/living room ceilings at all hours of the day/night. All things that I would have avoided had I chose our new place myself. The law had failed me! Maybe I should have taken more initiative and made more decisions!

But just by moving there from our old (spacious, clean, upstairs) place, and washing EVERY dish we ever dirtied, we were able to pay off our credit debt and our second car, and start this awesome journey we're on now. These things and more work together for the good of those who love God, says Romans 8:28. So when I trust in Jon to do things like find us a place to live when we move to a new country, Im putting my trust in God to work things out. Thats really what my theory comes down to in the end. Jon will fail, but God will never.

PS Mom!
We found a place to live! They are a retired couple in Clontarf, Ireland, which is 6km from City Centre in Dublin, where Jon will be working. They have graciously offered us a room to stay in for our first week there, to give us a chance to find yet another (hopefully furnished!) apartment to rent.

See? My law is working again. Hopefully he finds a place on the TOP floor this time.