One thing led to another

It started out with a bright idea for a little treat for breakfast this morning as we picked up the moving truck.

Which became lunch.

Which became dinner.

Which became embarrassing.

And, quite frankly, Jacob isn't even home yet, so who knows where it will stop.

Peeling Carrots

I still peel carrots the way that Layla - the housekeeper and chef-in-residence in our house in Morocco - taught us. Without a sleek, swift, clean tool to strip off in even curls the outer skins of root vegetables. With just a paring knife, dragging and pressing it at angles to shear off the dermis, leaving cleaner rough edges on the carrots and a layer of orangey-sweet beta-carotine mist on my face and arms.

Layla and lentils (addis) in the villa kitchen in Morocco

Tonight I'm pre-preparing for dinner tomorrow night - a slow-cooked venison roast to serve Jacob and the roommate I displaced, Matthew; and courtesy of the Squires family, who shared of their recent take. It makes me think of our time abroad when we were so alone, but bonded with those around us because of the simple fact of our common lives and locales.

Now, as we look toward home again, I'm thinking of all those we missed and still miss, but who we hopefully will see soon, who we will re-integrate into our schedules and hopefully be marked into theirs.

Layla used to spend one or two evenings a week hosting cooking classes with us at the villa in addition to her regular work days. She shared her talents, comfort cooking and recipes with us and I always remember how she seemed to have a certain joy in the process of preparation and sharing with others. That, I think, is hospitality. Joy in such mundane things that, at their sum, are so much more than mundane because they serve and host others.

And that's why I still think of Layla while I'm peeling carrots.

A work in progress

One of the things I've been mulling is what to do in Cola once we get there and get settled. Among the possibilities are some graphic design and photography classes to augment the study that happened once so long ago in college and the fun I always have with that kind of stuff.

P&J have been so sweet to allow me to hang out and be a part of intimate moments and use them to experiment and practice. Here are a few templates I designed for baby announcements. I'm interested in putting together some more templates and maybe selling them. What do you think?

RIP Cricket

I sometimes chide my husband and sisters-in-law, and friends in general for addictions to their GPS. When my parents first got their GPS-equipped Caddy, my dad ultimately disabled the entire system playing with it and entertaining himself by making the car speak to him in different languages. It eventually became stuck on an Italian woman.

I understand the use of directional helps. I love google maps and my iphone nav systems - mostly because they don't yell at me, "RECALCULATING ROUTE!" like an unhappy spinster taking out her frustrations on an unsuspecting neighbor child (when there is no recalculation necessary). Partially because they allow me to still feel like I'm taking some kind of active part in the process of navigation. Like I'm doing it myself.

So when I started out on the road to Lexington from Akron last week, it didn't even occur to me that I should look up directions. I've driven this route a few times, now. I know where I'm going. And I do. But in order to take the right exits without a voice screaming at you from a nasty dash-mounted electric box there's a catch - you have to pay attention. Which I wasn't doing.

Because as soon as I got on the interstate, I noticed this and became immediately and completely distracted:

I don't know where he came from, but that little guy was so cute. And vulnerable. And about to die. I was sure of it. He was holding on for dear life, antennae flapping in the wind, legs gripping onto perilous holds. I seriously considered pulling over to let the little guy off, but I thought it was no use. He'd never make it past the exit. I kept watching, thinking that the next time I sped up or hit a wind or passed a semi, he'd be ripped off the sideview and thrown into certain death.

I mean, this thing was tenacious. He hung on for a good 20 miles and by that time, I was imagining his stress and cramping muscles. His wife and kids back home. I was stressed out. Then he started making some kind of Macgyver move, tucking his thorax into the space between mirror and casing and there was hope! HOPE!

Then when he made the final move - a thud on the side of the car door as he flew off. Death. RIP Cricket. Gah.

I looked up, eyes fully focused on the road again for the first time in 20 miles and noticed - I had driven completely out of my way. Maybe a screaming GPS might have been a good thing in that circumstance.

Wouldn't have done the cricket any good though.

I feel the earth move...

The top state for earthquakes in the US is Alaska.

I have never been to Alaska.

The second state in the US for earthquakes is California. I go to Cali all the time. Lots of family there. Never been in an earthquake, though...in California.

Neither Kentucky nor Ohio are even in the top 20 of states for earthquake activity and yet...I was in an earthquake in Kentucky a few years ago.

And I was in an earthquake in Ohio TODAY!

It wasn't bad at all, but it was really disconcerting and I actually thought I was crazy or having a really bad attack of vertigo before Jacob called me and confirmed that it was, in fact, an earthquake.

I know I can only think this is funny because no one got hurt, but earthquakes always make me think of the movie Knocked Up when there's an earthquake and everyone freaks out and one of the guys rescues his girlfriend and supa-high Seth Rogan totally forgets about preggo Katherine Heigel and she yells at him about his huge bong. Ha. Bong.

I just thought this was a really funny pic. It came from the local news story about the earthquake. Isn't that so typical? Ah, local news.

Flashback

Recently while working on a client project, I decided to enroll in a web-based tutorial to get up to speed on programming html emails. So I sat on my couch and logged in to the webinar.

As I listened to the muzak and calming voice telling me to remain on the line, the persistent beep beep beep beep beep of other users logging in took me right back to the days of pharma and daily, seemingly-hourly, teleconferences.

Even though I now work from home and freelance on a variable schedule, I had quite a flashback. I guess some things never change.

Home is where...

Just as Jacob and I got engaged nearly two years ago, his family experienced a bit of a material tragedy. I say material because no one was injured, but the family house burned in an accident. Though some of my darling's collection of mementos and a couple of Moroccan rugs were taken up in the blaze, the important things were spared, ie family members and the basic structure of the house. They moved out to a temporary apartment and then a rental house and eventually back into the reconstructed (and redesigned) home.

We have lived a parallel existence in a way. During the time that we were packed up and living abroad, they were packed up and living in temporary quarters. But now, they are unpacked and settled in and we are...still packed up.

I remember a card that someone got them posted on the fridge. It said,

Check out Curly Girl designs from The Good Life company for more designs like this!

As I paw through the next share of potential homes in our next destination town, I'm thinking about all the things that I'll be unpacking that might make our house more of a home - dishes (a set large enough for a dinner party), a waffle iron (that one's for the husband) for Saturday morning breakfasts, familiar furniture...but even more, I know I'll be taking my heart - oh, and my dog.

Time Machine

Tonight some of Jacob's siblings and cousins will arrive in (still-dreary) Northern Ohio on a trek toward fun and nostalgia. They're bedding down at our place, probably taking up just about every bit of floorspace in our tiny apartment in a squeeze reminiscent of camp time so that we can all trek further up north to glorious Sandusky in pursuit of amusement park time.

This kind of pilgrimage was yearly for me and the Sabatino clan as dad and I - and sometimes Michael - rode wild and mom waited patiently and we devoured horrible food, spun sugar and gallons of water. We haven't gone in years. There have been moves and marriages and time crunches.

But tomorrow, it's going to be time machine time. I'm putting on some shorts (rarely wear them) and chacos, slapping on the sunscreen and packing a small bag with zippers so I'm ready to ride...

ilovemywife.com

I'm so ridiculously spoiled. Spoiled by my sweet husband who is working so hard right now and still comes home and has the energy and good nature to have sweet dinners with me. Spoiled by his thoughtfulness in bringing home "Hot Lady" roses for me (they're hot pink) after driving around to four different Giant Eagles to find "good flowers," because the other ones didn't look good. Spoiled by the tiny little things like letters after we've been away from each other and naming our wireless network so that I think of him every time I get online. Thanks, love. And thanks, God.

PB&J

Baby day came and went not too long after Jacob and I arrived in Ohio, so I not only got to be there to snap some shots of J carrying the baby, but of all three: baby, P and J. So, now it's PB&J around their house, and all I can say is that's one very very goodlooking sandwich.

Table for One

This is what dinner looks like when the husband's not around:

Pan grilled marinated chicken with red wine reduction and spring greens

Unless, of course, it looks like this:

McDonalds Angus Third Pounder with bacon and sweet tea 

(am I the last in the whole world to catch on to McD sweet tea?!)

What kind of luck did you wish for? (UPDATE)

thehardyheyday.blogspot.com

So I was working on this charming little assembly project like a little one-woman-sweatshop because it was delivered to P&J's house while they were off having the baby and when I tell P that its in a box, he's all, those bastards, it was supposed to be assembled.

Assembled. Did you hear that Crate+Barrel. Assembled. That means putitogetherplease.

Well, whatever. I knew, having been a single girl homeowner, I was more than qualified to tackle this project. I also knew that being a Sabatino, I should NOT read the directions.

Ha. Just kidding. I did. And I put it all together - just right. And it was perfect...until P saw it and was all, shitman, they sent the wrong one.

Huh.

A (co-op'd) room of one's own

I love my little house in Lexington. I love that it's close enough to walk places and in a bustling little neighborhood where there are always people walking around with dogs and kids and backpacks. But it's so easy to get distracted there, what with things always going on and friends around the block.

I spent today holed up in our pals' home while they're off having a baby. Just me and the dogs. Ok, it was more like me, the painter, the Crate + Barrel deliverymen and the dogs. But still. Their place is kind of in the middle of nowhere. Not like deliverance middle of nowhere, but trees on all sides leave the shades open with no fear middle of nowhere.

The point is, I think sometimes I forget what quiet is. Not quiet like sealed in your house silent, but quiet. Quiet like sitting in a sunroom - or on a deck - with only the sounds of wind rustling the trees and creeks flowing and herons winging overhead and the gentle pushing up of green things all around. The air, the sun, the scent of spring - everything just quietly being all around.

It was a beautiful day.

Tie-ins

thehardyheyday.blogspot.com

I didn't realize it at first, but when Jacob and I went shopping upon our return to the states for a few essentials it occurred to me I've picked up a new responsibility: dressing my husband. I'm not saying he can't pick out his clothes, or that men can't dress themselves. But I've never participated in the opinion-giving process for guys' clothes.

I know what I like when I see it, I guess. I definitely know what I don't like when I see it.

I'm not bad at sweaters, dress shirts, polos, khakis, shoes even, blazers sometimes, belts maybe. But ties?

I have no idea.

Is this really my job? If so, I'm going to need some training.

Routinely out of schedule

There's a popular book for business people operating in the Middle East called, "Don't They Know It's Friday?", which addresses the confusion over scheduling snafus resulting from Eastern v Western schedules. Friday is holy day in many Muslim countries and, therefore, not a working day. Our weeks generally operated on a Sunday-Thursday schedule and our neighbors in Oman were mostly Saturday-Wednesday (I think). Back home in the states, a typical work week is...

dependent, I guess, on what you do. I've always worked jobs that are structured on the Monday - Friday, but required a bit more than that - as Jacob's job right now does. Bless than man's hardworking heart, he is killing it every day except Sunday and a couple of hours on Monday. And not just 9-5. Oh, no. He is out the door most mornings at 8 and comes back in 12 hours later, if we're lucky.

So I'm routinely out of schedule. Even when I spend a couple of hours every day slacking off or exploring or daydreaming or reading, I'm still left with plenty of time to get my work done and still miss the man. What's a girl to do? Not that I'm complaining, mind you, just super appreciative of everything he's doing and hopefully expressing just how proud I am of all his hard work.

G L A M O..r not so much

Today dawned beautifully, full of sun and clear skies - and such a relief after the last few days of grey. I was looking forward to my big household task of the day as I stepped outside to mow the grass. HELlo! Speaking of wake up call. It was like 45 degrees and WINDY! How can do they stand it up here? It should at least be warm enough to enjoy if you have to be outside doing yard work. C'mon!

Anyway, the real hilarity in all this is that, as I was sweating (in a fleece and patagonia tights) and toiling, pushing, pulling and coaxing the mower up hills of way overgrown grass and occasionally stepping in dog-dug holes in the backyard, Glamorous by Fergie came on my ipod.

Ha. Not so much.

Rainy Saturday

Jacob now works Saturdays at this new job and his 12 hour days (plus commute) and 6 day a week schedule are a lot different from what we've had in the past. We knew this kind of change would come and, in a way, it's wonderful. I love waking up and seeing him off in the morning and, even more, I love it when I see him pulling into the driveway.

But, I have this observation: I'm thankful that I have work - and work that is flexible enough I can take it with me anywhere. Because, I have to think that being a housewife sans kids would bore me to death.

Well, maybe not if I had oodles of cash on hand and just shopped and worked out and was groomed all day by a dedicated staff.

...

Nope, I think I'd still be bored.

Anyway, I was planning an exploratory trip to the West Side Market today and, while much of it is indoors, I was really hoping for some nice weather and photography ops. It turned out to be a rainy Saturday and I just wasn't feeling that for traipsing around, so I stayed closer to the house.

Thanks again for the casa, P& J!

I'll have to save that one for next week, so stay tuned, but in the mean time: a little sampling of the Ohio spring and our new (temporary - although, aren't they all right now?) digs.

Rice-in

thehardyheyday.blogspot.com

Remember when it was all the rage to send some kind of poisonous powder to some government office (and just for that line, I fattened up my FBI file for sure, just like all the little geniuses who joined that facebook group 'Dear Lord, this year you took my favorite actor Patrick Swayze, my favorite actress Farah Fawcett...yada yada, Barack Obama is my favorite president'. Don't you people know anything? If Al Gore invented the internet, Barack owns it - but I guess he is giving it away so, whatever right? Wrong. Add a page to all their files. Maybe two. And audit them).

Anyway. that was a major tangent and the point was, I made rice so bad the other day that it could have been poison. Thus 'Rice-in,' it's a play on words. Get it? Gah, what a waste. At least it's Saturday. It was, what I hope is a few-and-far-between black mark on my cooking record. It was rice porridge. It was rice soup. It was pure gluten in a pot. A pot which boiled over and spewed, well, I'm not going to describe it. I did take a picture of it, though. Mostly because it dried and peeled off the pan in these crinkled little rivulets that make you wonder just what is in the food you eat if this is what happens to it when you leave it alone for two seconds?! (Oh, and because my husband still did the dishes - even after being presented with that monstrosity for dinner)

So, I have been cut down to size once again. This is a sidenote that I think will inspire a new label called 'I was wrong'. This post is dedicated to my brother who, when he complained about not being able to cook rice, I teased. He has a rice cooker, now. And I am a sucker.

PS-I was so excited to read notes from people who know the GIANT EAGLE personally! Love it!

Baby, it's cold outside

Have I mentioned Cleveland is cold?

Because it is.

The upside?

We get to see spring again, yay!

But it still stinks when you wake up and the floors are cold.

Baby Time (NO, not ours)

I was so excited to get to snap a few shots of Josie during a laid back afternoon up here in Ohio (Cuyahoga Falls, to be precise). She and Phillip are expecting in just a couple of days, and she's barely had a shot taken of her pregnancy, so it was such an honor that she asked me to be a part of capturing this special time! 

Since both Phillip's and Josie's families are abroad (Josie is Swedish and Phillip grew up between Lexington and Brussels), it's important to have photos so the family can be a part of things. 

As you can see, and I already knew, Josie is absolutely gorgeous and I swear she hasn't gained an ounce of weight except baby. It's unbelievable. 

We're so happy that we'll be here to welcome this little one to the world and experience this wonderful time with our friends. 

I'm no professional, but I'd have to say that she'd make this an easy job for anyone.