Gabriel Goes to the Beach.

When I was growing up, my family took yearly trips to were to the beach with my extended family. I looked forward to sharing a giant beach house with a dozen aunts, uncles, siblings, parents, and grandparents. I looked forward to spending hours learning how to make friendship bracelets from my aunts. I looked forward to packing peanut butter and jelly sandwiches to take to the beach each morning. I looked forward to eating those tiny boxes of cereal for breakfast. II even looked forward to getting a pound of sand in my bathing suit from sitting at the edge of the shore.

I still love the ocean.

I love the sound of the crashing waves. I love the heat that radiates from the clear skies. I love digging my feet into the sand while I read book after book at the beach. I love the expansiveness. I love how life is slower and days are longer and there is nothing my to do list but reading and relaxing.

I spent a semester in Hawaii my sophomore year of college (rough life, right?). I worked at an ice cream shop on Waikiki Beach and during my breaks, I'd go to the pier and lie down on the wooden planks, soaking up the sounds of the crashing waves. The ocean soothes me.

Except when there's a baby at the beach. (And also, baby aside? I am becoming my father because I JUST CAN'T STAND THE SAND. It's EVERYWHERE.)

It was a lot of fun, but certainly not quite relaxing: sand-coated baby crawling around on the beach trying to eat seashells. He had a love-hate relationship with the ocean, as well.

I contemplated writing a post about how to go to the beach with a baby or a post about cloth diapering on vacation (including cloth swim diapers). But in the end, I decided to go with the photos. Because, really, don't you love being forced to look at someone else's vacation photos?

Here, LOOK: *shoves photos in your face*

My little Gabriel.

The beach corral (our camping tent), cousins, and a tiny banana for a tiny baby. :)

Tie-dying fun. And chalk art.

The beach is tiring for my little man. :)

He loved running towards the ocean. And away from it. Kid just thinks he can run.

Gabe's cousins.

Mama and Papa time. Melty heart.

Oh my word. The way he looks at his papa...

Scenes from a Quiet Weekend.

. . .

I hear Gabe stirring, but ignore him because I am so tired that I'm certain my eyelids are too heavy to open.
I hear Mike talk to him, and Gabe lets out a delighted squeal. 
Mike gets out of bed; he comes back and he talks to Gabe as he changes his diaper. Gabe responds happily with gurgles and giggles.
I bury my head deeper in my wonderful, soft pillow, hoping to avoid waking completely. Trying to cling on to this lovely, sleepy place.

. . .

I set Gabe down on the carpet in the living room to pour myself some Cheerios and a cup of coffee in kitchen.
I take two steps and he is whining.
I groan, but then catch myself and remember how quickly he will grow out of this stage. How quickly he will no longer be a little baby who wants nothing more than to be held by his mama.
I scoop him up and plop him on my hip. I get my breakfast one-handed.

. . .

Gabe sits on the carpet while I work.
His toys bore him, or more likely, he's thrown them all out of his reach.
He whines, so I turn around and make some silly faces.
He smiles.
I turn back around and continue working.
He whines.
A game of peekaboo commences.

. . .


 

. . .

We sit in Gabe's quiet, dark room. The ocean waves are crashing on his sound machine.
I nurse Gabe, then rock him, cradling his little body close to mine.
He buries his head in my arm and relaxes.
We rock back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth.
I play Words with Friends on my iPod while the seahorse plays its lullabies.
I remind myself to recharge the seahorse's batteries. It sounds like a dying cat, but Gabe doesn't seem to notice. His eyes are closed and his long eyelashes kiss his round cheeks.
I place Gabe in his crib and sneak out of his room.

. . .

I design. And design. And design some more.
I return client emails. I find new color combinations. I download some brushes for inspiration.
"I've been so productive today!" I say.
"I so have not!" he says.

. . . 

Mike and I have a date with Jillian Michaels.
He makes me laugh while we do jumping jacks, crunches, and push ups.
He kicks my butt, literally, during butt kicks. How predictable.
We give each other a sweaty high-five for completing day eight of the 30 Day Shred.

. . .

 

. . . 

The afternoon is amazing.
The weather is so delicious I want to eat it with a spoon.
I want to stay outside forever.
I want to marry spring and have its babies.
Instead, we walk. And walk. And walk.
And walk some more.
We talk about our summer. About our hopes. About our summer goals. About where we want to go and what we want to read. About sno-cones and street fairs.
"What's your summer mission statement?"
Surprisingly, he doesn't laugh at the question.
He must know he's married a dork.

. . .


Gabe is awake from a nap, crying.
I walk into his room and he stops crying when he hears my voice.
His face lights up and I lift him out of his crib, squeezing him close to me.
I kiss his tiny little lips, my favorite.
Even two hours away from me makes me miss him.
It's so silly and, yet, so true.

. . .

We make taco bowls for lunch.  
Gabe eats a grain of rice at a time, or the tiniest forkful of refried beans.
He leans forward with an open mouth like a baby bird.

. . .

 . . .

He sits on the couch next to me and wraps his arms around me.
I hug him back and rest my head on his shoulder.
Gabe looks at us and start whining.
"Aw, Gabe. Do you want a hug, too?"
We go over together, each pick him up by one arm and carry him back to the couch.
We hug. All three of us. Corny and silly and lovely.
Gabe whines again and twists away.

. . .

He's fussing.
"Milk? You want milk? Are you hungry?"
He nurses lazily, rubbing his feet together, running his hand up and down my arm.
I can't tell if he's hungry or just wants to cuddle.
I always indulge him.

. . .

We get take out from a restaurant in our neighborhood. Veggie burgers and sweet potato fries.
After Gabe is asleep, we eat our dinner on the couch with lots ketchup and watch a movie on Netflix.
I type away on my laptop and Mike reads the news on his.

. . . 

. . .

I realize my quiet life is rather wonderful and don't want to forget this.

Spring Vacation is Doing Nice Things with Your Grandparents.*

It's spring break.

Well, okay. Maybe winter doesn't know that it's my spring break, but it is.

To be fair, there was this a week ago:



So, we did a lot of this:

My vest is swallowing my face, Mom.

I think I'm finally nesting. Is that possible? It's probably been my most productive period of time in...oh, ever. I am practically giddy about the fact that my apartment is clean and there hasn't been a dirty dish in my sink for a week. And my bathroom counter has been spotless for days. I think I've finally figured out how to keep my apartment clean.  I've finally figured out how to clean as I go. Break. Through. This is big. BIG.

Aside from talking Mike's ear off about minimalism, getting rid of boxes worth of stuff, and reveling in the lack of clutter, we celebrated my grandpa's 71st birthday with pizza and several varieties of cakes, spent time with my sister who was home from college for the week, watched a few episodes of Portlandia, visited my other sister who recently got a job at Chipotle (yum), baked peanut butter brownies (which was more like peanut butter brownie batter...yum), and went up to Cleveland twice (where we went to our favorite coffee shop, restaurant, Trader Joe's, and a friend's - so perfect).

I took Gabe to see my midwife today, which was sort of surreal. When she saw him, she said, "It's you!" which is exactly the way I felt about him when he was born. "It's you! You're the one who was in my body for nine months! Ah-ha!"  When I sat in the chair to get my blood pressure taken (they are going to be my gynecologists now), it was like no time had passed at all. I sat on the exam table, looking at the familiar poster of labor positions and the sign that said, "The best place for a baby to grow is inside of you -- each day counts," where I had spent so much time those last few weeks before Gabe arrived, wondering what my baby would be like, what labor would be like, what being a mother would be like...it was odd to be there with my baby - all of the wondering and uncertainty behind me. 

It was nice to see the midwife, although they all seem to want to talk about when I'll be having a baby next. Heh. I suppose it's the nature of the job?

It has been a wonderful spring break - fulfilling, relaxing, full of family, and of course, these two guys:

Belly button!

* There is a Friends quote appropriate for every occasion. TRUTH.

Gone to Carolina in My Mind.

I'm back from a lovely vacation with Mike's family (his parents, two brothers and their wives, and five nieces and nephews) at a beach house in South Carolina. What did vacation look like?

It was...

• Waking up early to the sun streaming in through our shutters and lilting children's voices. Both a blessing (more time at the beach!) and a bit annoying (last vacation without kids!); we got our days started early. 

• Relishing what may very well be my last beach vacation before I become a mother, I was as indulgent as possible. I alternated between lying on the beach in a lounge chair, floating in the pool, and reading in the sun on the porch landing. My biggest decision up waking up each morning (after fixing myself breakfast) would be, “Where shall I start today?”

• Falling in love with our two-year-old nephew. With straw colored hair and big blue eyes, he is absolutely adorable and so happy. I wouldn't mind having such a sweet little child myself. He followed Mike around with his toy guitar and played with him.

• Over thirty total hours of driving. Of which I did none, and slept for only a few of them. It was long. But not terrible. Because, uh, we were going to a beach house. Can’t really complain about that. 

• Building sandcastles and burying children. (Mike and I may get more into sandcastles than the kids. Is that a problem?)

• Being, once again, mystified by the South. The culture and the accents combined make me feel like I'm in an unfamiliar country. It's bizarre – and, at the risk of being dramatic, even culture shock. (And I don’t use the term lightly – I have actually lived in foreign countries!)

• Alternating between reading a novel about a couple who opens a coffee shop in New York City and a book about natural childbirth. A bizarre combination, perhaps, but I couldn't justify not reading a 'fun' book on vacation, just as I couldn't justify not reading as much as I can about childbirth since I'll be doing so in, oh, EIGHTY TWO DAYS. (Approximately, of course; give or take a week or two.)

• Being woken up at three-thirty in the morning by tornado sirens and Mike’s dad rousing us out of bed, bleary-eyed and delirious. The tornado didn’t end up hitting the neighborhood, but there was a quite a bit of destruction in northwest Ohio where his parents live. Sad. Scary. Bleh. 

(Obviously not in northwest Ohio, but at the beach there was also some creepy weather. This photo is not edited and was taken at 5pm. Yikes.)

• Waking up at 5:45 the last morning we were there to see the sun rise with Mike. It was all kinds of beautiful, even when we'd gone to bed only four hours earlier.

• Sandy hands!

• Family photos taken by a professional photographer. And, yes, we all wore khaki and white. It was cliche and awesome.

• Watching Mike with the kids and getting all the more excited to see him become a father. 

Cue: overly emotional heart melting.

The One with Too Many Photos.

Today ends my twelve days of spring break.

I know, you probably don't feel sorry for me. I spent most of these twelve days sewing, watching shows on Hulu while cleaning, updating my Etsy shop, apartment hunting, going for really long walks in the sunshine, cooking myself real breakfasts, feeling the baby kick, and hanging out with my husband. It's been delightful, low-key, and exactly what I needed.

Oh, and spending Easter weekend with my family.  My grandpa turned seventy - so seven of his eight kids and twenty of his twenty-six grandchildren gathered to celebrate his birthday with a fabulous brunch. Which was followed the day after by a delicious Easter dinner.

I am blessed with some beautiful, wonderful family - who I took far too many photos of:

My sister with her favorite child in the universe.

My sister Emmie on my mom's old (as in, 43-year-old) tricycle, which required some major muscle to power.

My grandma's dining room wall - photos of all her grandchildren. My grandpa is a total handyman and built her the shelves. I love this. 

These girls are sweet, adorable, and not squeamish around frogs (toads? I don't know which is which). Just lovely.

Freckles run in the family.

After ten consecutive grandsons, my grandma finally has another granddaughter! (Who was originally seen here.)

Does this not look like an ad for Radio Flyer wagons? I love how all the toys at my grandparents are well-used.

Cousins are the best. (Even though I am much older than most of my cousins, the girls still act like I'm a kind instead of an adult. I LOVE IT.)

Boy with his toys. I see these in my future. :)

So much joy. (And they let the little brother join in. Sweet.)

Saying goodbye.

(In case it seems crazy that my uncle is Mike's age and my cousins are young enough to be my children - let me explain.  My mom is the oldest by five years, her youngest sibling is eighteen years younger. She had me when she was only twenty-one, which meant my oldest aunt was sixteen. Thus, my aunts and uncle are more like my siblings than my aunts and uncles. Just for the curious among you - I know I'd be one!)

The Story of Tsunami.

A really big part of me, I never really talk about on this blog. It’s odd; I’ve been writing for a few years on here, and haven’t told you much about this – save for a few times here and there. Even though it doesn't come up in my daily life, it still influences me daily.

What am I talking about? Being a third-culture kid. Growing up in three different countries. Never going to school for more than three years in one place before moving.

It used to come up every time I met someone new for a while - and still does if they ask me where I'm from and I care to go into a little bit of depth. Or if they ask me if I graduated from the high school I work at. "Nope. I actually graduated from high school in Malaysia." Pause. "The foreign country."

The further and further I get from having lived overseas - it's been seven years since I graduated high school and four years since my family moved back to the States - the more worried I am about letting the precious memories slip.

I want to remember it all - all those little moments that added up to a big part of who I am now. I want to remember staying in a floating hotel. I want to remember drinking Singapore Slings in a bar with my whole family. I want to remember rescuing a tiny kitten from the sewer.  I want to remember riding an elephant. I want to remember the Easter we had fried duck skin for dinner. I want to remember.

People ask you a great deal of questions when they find out you've lived overseas. They ask me if it was difficult. They ask me if it was tropical. They ask me why we moved. They ask me if I hated moving. They ask me if I speak other languages. They ask me why I went to college in the US. I love answering their questions. Except when they're blatantly ignorant, like the time a girl in high school asked me, "They all walk around naked all the time in Thailand, right?"

Right. With their spears and loin cloths.

Indulge me as I share my memories now and then. And, please, if you have ANY questions - ask them in the comments. I'll address in them in future posts.

It was the day after Christmas in 2004 and I was a sophomore in college visiting my family in Malaysia. Enjoying sunshine, pool time, and 90-degree weather was the perfect antidote for a tough semester of school. There was a catastrophic tsunami that day off the coast of Indonesia, and the news was coming in slowly about the tremendous loss of life.  Friends in the US emailed me and instant messaged me frantically to see if I was okay - since nearly every country in south east Asia had been affected. (Kuala Lumpur, the capital of Malaysia, was blocked from the tsunami by Indonesia's north coast.) I didn't quite realize the extent of the loss yet; I don't think anyone did for a few days.

After a big dinner my younger sister, her friend and I decided to go for a walk. We walked through our neighborhood, among the big houses and their gated driveways, the narrow streets, and the perfect view of the Petronas Twin Towers. As we chatted, we heard a high pitched, tiny crying sound - a meow! We looked around, and realized it was coming from the sewer (gutter?) on the side of the street. Peering through the grate, we saw the glinting eyes of a tiny creature. Ever the animal lover, my sister insisted on going into the sewer to see if the cat was okay.

She emerged with the tiniest nub of a kitten I'd ever seen. She set it on the ground and it wobbled as it walked gingerly.

I've never been much of a pet-lover, but this little thing was adorable - so I agreed when Emmie decided she was going to keep it. Emmie is one of the most loving, sweet, kind individuals there is. (When it comes to animals, anyway. Heh.) She called my dad, a definite cat-hater, and somehow persuaded him that bringing home a cat from the sewer in Malaysia was a good idea.

Em wrapped the little furball in her shirt ("Don't touch it! It might have diseases!" I instructed.) and we trooped back home. I'm not sure who suggested it, but we named the cat Tsunami honor of the day's disaster. Looking back, it seems a bit odd or insensitive - but it fits. Tsunami joined my family's other cat, Trixie, and the two have been torturing each other ever since.

When Tsunami has psychotic tendencies and starts to attack something that isn't there, we shrug and chalk it up to her being a Malaysian sewer cat.

The Belly Pop, Telling our Parents, and other such Milestones.

Around the tenth or eleventh week of pregnancy, I started to notice the tiniest of bulges when I tightened my abs. Now, I've never been Jillian Michaels or anything, but when I tightened my abs - my stomach was always flat. It was sort of exciting - finally! Proof for all the nausea and ickiness and awesomely huge appetite. It wasn't just in my head! (I have this weird fear that I've completely invented this pregnancy. At our first appointment, I was ridiculously nervous because I was certain the midwife was going to say, "Yeah, um, you're definitely not pregnant, crazy face." I blame Glee.)

2am Bowls of Reese's Puffs, Monopoly Junior, and Perspective.

Mike left this Saturday for an eight-day trip to Chicago for work. He was in Chicago the week before that for four days for an interview. And a few weeks, I'll be leaving for three days. At the risk of sounding whiny, I miss him. I am quite independent, so I appreciate the alone time - but it's just odd not seeing Mike in the mornings and cuddling as I fall asleep (that is, until he tells me he's getting claustrophobic and needs space. Does this make you think of the "hug-and-roll"? If so, let's be friends.). I like having him around. I like eating dinner together while we enjoy the hilarity that is Freaks and Geeks. I like teasing him about using the bathroom too long in the morning. I like kissing him goodbye. I like sharing my day with him when we get home. I like hearing him next to me when I wake up in the middle of the nights. I like being able to stretch my legs until my feet meet his under the covers. It's comforting.

On Scary Snow, Growing Up, and Defining Newlywed-ness.

Teaching a four-year-old to use an iPod touch. Surprisingly successful.

1. Christmas and the family gatherings have been fabulous, and I'll tell you more about them when I have some time.

'Time' is a funny thing on vacation, isn't it? Technically I have lots of time, but when it's spent with family, you feel a little silly taking time to document your life - ahem, blog - when you're hanging out with cousins you haven't seen in months and sisters who live far away.

2. I will tell you, however, that it has hardly snowed here this winter until last night. Snow is happy for some people (those kind of people are sad when it's not a White Christmas), but it's mostly scary for me. Because driving in the snow is the WORST EVER. I'm generally pretty nervous about being a passenger in a car - mostly because I'm convinced I will die in a car accident. (I blame it on one of those stupid quizzes about how you will die. Car accident seems likely, right?)

So I tend to grab the door handle, inhale sharply, squeak a bit, or even close my eyes if someone is making me particularly anxious with their driving. (You can guess how much Mike just loves this.)

Imagine how well I reacted today when we slid in the snow to completely FACE BACKWARDS on the exit ramp of the highway. (Thankfully, everyone avoided us, and I only squealed anxiously to Mike for a few minutes. He thinks driving in the snow is fun. FUN!)

Holy heaven. My 40-mile commute is going to be just delightful when I go back to work next week.

(The good part? We're going to walk to a Chinese restaurant down the street for dinner. Yesss.)

3. This website is officially www.ourlittleapartment.com. Woo! I am my own domain. (It's about time, I know.) I'm not sure how this works, but I'm pretty certain my feed will update for you. (It's here, by the way.)

4. Secrets are excruciating. Amen.

5. I have a whole lot of thoughts about being a grown up and Christmas. Like, am I a grown up yet if I still spend ten days of Christmas break at my parents house? When do you choose to just visit for a few days? Do you have to choose that?

6. Someone called me a newlywed last weekend and I proudly pointed out that we've been married two years and four months. Surely that isn't newlywed status, right? He told me that you're a newlywed until you have kids.

I disagree mostly I tend to want people to take me seriously - so when I'm labeled a 'newlywed' or 'young' - I take that at 'naive,' 'inexperienced,' or 'in for a rude awakening.' But also because I don't think that you don't need to have kids to experience challenges with your spouse. I can't judge what it's like to take care of an infant with Mike and how much kids will change our marriage - but we have also been through things that other couples have not and have come out much stronger. What do you think?

I Wanted to Blog to Tell You How Awesome You Are.

I wanted to blog to tell you how several people have shared this article with me and that makes me happy.

I wanted to blog to tell you how I went to the dentist for two cavities and ended up getting four filled.

I wanted to blog to tell you how a drunk girl told Mike he looked gay.

I wanted to blog to tell you how wonderful and sweet my dentist is, despite the inordinate amount of Novocaine.

I wanted to blog to tell you how three out the four new emails in my inbox last night were about freelance design jobs.

I wanted to blog to tell you how absolutely hilarious our staff and faculty Christmas party was - and how I won the spa prize. Free manicure and a bottle of White Zinfandel!

I wanted to blog to tell you how excited I am about break. Two weeks of no work and pure family time and laziness.

I wanted to blog to tell you how I'm going to pick up my sister from college today to start our break.

I wanted to blog to tell you how I have another giveaway. It's a big deal and I'm swallowing my Apple snobbishness to do it.

I wanted to blog to tell you how I'm a bit sick of finding out about people's Huge Life Changes via Facebook.

I wanted blog to tell you how I am more obsessed with the idea of giving birth than a squishy little baby face.

I wanted to blog to tell you how brunch is the best meal ever.

I wanted to blog to tell you how wonderful getting cards in the mail is, and how I seem to have misplaced our stack of Christmas cards.

Instead, I'm going to pack up, pick up my little sister, drive 2.5 hours and pick up our other sister. There is a possibility that much baking will ensue. Family time, commence!

A Gift Guide with Heart.

The holidays are rapidly approaching (hurrah!) and I put together a few ideas for those who haven’t finished their gift shopping. This time of year can be a lot of fun, but can get out of hand when we think about how much stuff is consumed. From the gifts no one really needs to the insane amount of wrapping and cards to the numerous big family dinners, there is a mass consumption of stuff.

I think a bit of indulgence is allowed, and I certainly don’t want to be Scrooge. But instead of feeling like we need to get bigger and better presents to express our love, we can still buy gifts, but ones that are more thoughtful and in line with our values. Sprinkle this season with a few gifts and lots of family time.

And copious amounts of hot chocolate and cookies, of course.

Fair Trade

Last year, along with making most of my presents, I got lots of Fair Trade goodies to give to my family – chocolates, teas, and coffees. It was my little way of supporting Fair Trade with my money and introducing family members to Fair Trade goodies. If you’ve been trying to convince your dad for-ev-er to drink Fair Trade coffee, this might be your chance to introduce him to it! Equal Exchange has put together some baskets – some fabulous, last minute deals! (Although, they expire TOMORROW, December 15th, so you’d better order fast!)

Eco-Friendly

Think reusable. Reusable shopping bags, reusable water bottles, reusable travel coffee mugs (or, if they shun drinking from reusable coffee mugs, get them one of these), and reusable towels (boo to paper towels!). Break your brother's disposable habit by filling a (reusable!) bag with lots of these goodies.

Local

Got a friend who's addicted to big box stores, chain restaurants, and corporate coffee shops? Introduce her to what your town or city has to offer with some gift cards to a local business or two. Soon she’ll see how much more fun shopping local can be!

Healthy

Maybe your mom keeps talking about going on some crazy fad diet (as she does every year) – encourage her to eat healthy (and eat, period! Crazy diets…bleh) by purchasing a share of a CSA. Depending on the CSA, she’ll get some form of delicious, local fruits and vegetables every week or month. Check out Local Harvest for more information or to find a CSA near you.

Clean & Green

Is your sister a tad OCD? As in, you’d rather eat off her bathroom floor than your kitchen table? If she’s using lots of bleach and other nasty chemicals, help her break the habit and keep a healthier home by giving her a basket full of fabulous cleaning supplies without all the nasties. Some of my favorite are this, this, this, and this. She will appreciate it, I promise.

Et Cetera

A few more ideas that may be a bit more sustainable than the average gift :

• A donation to charity
• Soy candles
• An experience – a concert, dinner at a nice restaurant, or a play.
• A microloan on Kiva.org.
  
• Essential oils
• An iTunes gift card – digital music is less waste than a hard copy.
• Shop around on Etsy and support handmade!
• Paraben-free make up or nail polish without formaldehyde (um, ew)
• Anything from Heifer International.
  
• Homemade anything – from food to pampering kits.
• Wood toys are much better than plastic ones for the kiddos in your life – they last longer and are more durable. (Bonus points if it’s sustainably forested!)

A note on waste

During the weeks from Thanksgiving to New Years, about 1 million additional tons of garbage to our landfills each week in the US. EACH week. As in, in ADDITION to the waste we already create. That is just crazy ridiculous. To help reduce this waste, give your gifts in reusable gift sacks or wrap your gifts in newspaper or other reused material. I promise, with a little creativity, they will look even nicer than those glossy wrapping papers!

My Favorite Day is Today.

Today has been glorious.

I woke up this morning at eight o'clock. It always makes me happy to wake up early on the weekends, because I feel like I'm making the most of out my little two days off. I cleaned for an hour before Mike woke up (Cleaning with no one else awake in the house is a treat. Yes, I am slightly crazy.)

We went to brunch at the adorable Vine & Bean Cafe (our visit was documented here). It's a restaurant in a house - you feel like you're visiting a friend with the cozy dining room and fireplace. A darling 10-year-old boy greeted us and showed us to our table. I have this problem where I can't resist talking to kids if I'm around them. (Last weekend, I got into a discussion with a 3-year-old at Target in the check out line. I'm telling you, it's serious.)

Me: "What a bummer! They make you work on Saturday?"
Him: "I know! Doesn't it stink?"
Me: "I'm sure you'd rather be watching cartoons or something."
Him: "...Actually, I like working because then I can earn money and buy stuff for people."
Me: "You are adorable. Will you be my adopted son?"
Him: "You're freaking me out, lady. Can I get you guys some water?"

Okay, so maybe that last bit didn't actually happen. But I did make sure to give him his tip personally. And tried not to tuck him in my pocket.

I ordered a mimosa and a giant cup of coffee, which made my waitress want to be friends with me. Then I enjoyed the best brunch ever: curried tofu, potatoes, veggies, and buttered toast. Sounds simple, tastes insanely delicious.

During breakfast, I got a call from my aunt that she, my uncle, and their three boys were at a toy store around the corner. The kind of toy store that is filled with the most fabulous toys you've ever seen. The kind of toy store that makes you want to pop out a child just so you have an excuse to buy this, this, or this.

We bought a few presents for Mike's nieces and nephews. This is the first year in our marriage that we've been earning a decent salary, which means we can afford to splurge a teensy bit and get real Christmas gifts! Hurrah!

Seeing my squishy faced 2-year-old cousin and his 5-and-6-year-old brothers (Me: "Do you remember who I am!? It's been forever!" 5-year-old: "Yes! You're Ashley!" Me: Melting.) was equally wonderful. May I say again how much I adore being near my family? Adore.

After stopping by the library to return some things, get a new novel, and pay my fine, we're now at a deliciously cozy local coffee shop, drinking mochas (hazelnut mocha for me, thank you) and I'm about to email some clients about freelance design projects and work on my final for design class.

Hello, dream day, my name is Ashley.

Thanksgiving + Black Friday in Five Photos.

I am thankful for...

A husband who plays music. (Especially when he learned Falling Slowly for me.)

A husband who can cook.


Peanut butter. Chocolate. Especially together and in fudge form.


This post-Thanksgiving breakfast.


A sane Black Friday wherein we got this for $8.99.


Enjoy time your family, friends!