Four on the floor

That's how the day ended, both of us on our knees, laughing and kissing, our minds swimming with dreams and possibilities and finalities.

That event I mentioned the other day? It was our engagement, though I had no idea it was coming - a fact we both laugh and revel in together - even though my mom had assured him that, "of course she knows it's coming."

So much so that when Elisabeth was dispatched during a girls' night out to find out ring specs, I insisted on quieting the topic, knowing that it just wasn't in the cards right now. When she pressed over and over, I didn't move and as I was leaving her house that night, she yelled after me, "You're going to marry him!" I dismissed her with a flip of the wrist and walked on.

You see, we'd only been dating three months and, while we - unbeknownst to each other - both would have jumped in head first even at the two-week or month point, that's just not how things are done, right?

Further, my sweet, ambitious boyfriend was in the first stage of a 33-month graduate program in another state and was only three months away from beginning stage two: a year abroad.

When I was asked if I was going to marry him by another friend, Angie, I skipped the usual response: a categorical rejection and unparalleled disbelief at the suggestion. Instead the response was a bit more demure, and out came "I don't know what will happen, but if Jacob Hardy asked me to marry him, I'd be the luckiest girl in the world."

So, after only three months of dating, one year ago today, my head spinning, heart floating, I listened as the most wonderful man in the entire world looked up at me from on knee and offered me a hand, a ring, a new future. And I accepted.

Dependent Independence

I remember the morning I left for college. It was a rainy August morning and Sarah, along with her mom and her little brother, had come to see me off. After a few hugs, I climbed into the loaded Expedition with mom and dad and wedged myself in between all the boxes I'd carefully packed and labeled with index cards that detailed each item contained within.

I was a little tearful looking back at Sarah and recognizing our first major break. I was a bit conflicted when mom and dad finally stepped out of the dorm room and left me with my new community. But I was also electrified by my newfound independence. I couldn't help but be excited for this new life, this new place. At 17, I was getting my first taste of being grown up. It sounds harsh, in a way, insensitive, that I was so excited to get on to the next thing and leave so much behind, but I guess when the next thing is coming anyway, one might as well embrace it. And, while I didn't ever see myself going back to Indy long-term, I knew I'd never entirely leave my family, Sarah, or that place - nor would they leave me.

Leaving Lexington was different and still the same. This time I packed up not a room, but a life. I didn't graduate from school, I had to leave a job. I didn't stumble out looking for my direction and basking in independence, I set a course and united myself with another person's life and dreams.

Three days after our wedding and still glowing, we left the airport with our four bags in tow and the rest of our things packed up at various family homes. As much as I've loved Lexington and my life there, once we left it began to immortalize itself in my heart. It's been challenging to think about going back. I think it's mostly because Lexington, as Indy, was so perfect for what it was and the time it was in my life and I don't think it can ever be the same, or I don't want to expect it to be and be disappointed.

When you go somewhere new it's not fraught with expectations of rebuilding relationships or hopes of familiarity or fears of the unknown - because everything is unknown. Everything is open to interpretation and shaping.

But going home recently, as a married woman, sharing with our friends (from Indy, Lexington and beyond) in engagements, babies, jobs, lives...it made me question for the first time what I was so scared of. People will change, places will change, but the key in both of my moves has been the relationships that stick. And those are the things I come back for - and will keep coming back for.

Because I need to be a part of the Taylor family life, my brother's and mom's, my girlfriends', my entire family's and new family's lives - and I need them to be a part of mine.

Fete Accompli & Paris Previews

It was just about this time last year I got a call from my mom.

Jacob and I had just returned from a weekend in Indy to celebrate the long weekend and my birthday. It was, admittedly, evaluatory for my then-beau. My mom, brother, grandparents, best friend, as much family as could be assembled and all the guys my dad was friends with were brought to mom's house to "meet the boyfriend."

Despite having already sojourned from South Carolina to meet up with me in Lexington and suffering from a monster cold, Jacob made a good showing in Indy.

But when mom called the week after and asked me, "What did Jacob get you for your birthday?", I still felt like I had to shore up the support and defend him a bit. "Oh," I said. "He's more of an event person. He probably has something planned for the next time he comes up." Mom seemed to be a little incredulous, but I was pretty sure he had something going on.

More on my birthday story last year (for those who don't already know) later, but right now I'm going to elaborate more on this year's event by posting a few pics from the Paris leg of my birthday (and our romantic) trip:

One of my very favorite things in Paris was the Fat Tire bike tour. It was 7 miles of biking around sights and hearing all the interesting history and backgrounds from a hilarious guide. Touristy: definitely, goofy: maybe, FUN: yes!

Me and my Diana (the camera) on the Champs de Mars in front of the Eiffel Tower where Jacob and I planned some sights and relaxed with, what else, baguettes and brie.

Ok, I skipped the Louvre. I just couldn't do it. Too many people, too much hubub, too much fussy fuss. Maybe next time. But, the Musee d'Orsay? Breathtaking.

You know what else is breaktaking? Or maybe I should say who, because the answer is: my husband.

PS-Pics

You can see the rest of pics of Mia on my google picasa account here, and photos and stories from past posts about the Emirates, Jordan, Oman, Arabic, the US, and various rants and raves about being an independent woman in the middle east at thehardyheyday.blogspot.com!

Tour de Force

Ever since my wedding, there's been this rumor going around that I get things done by, well, forceful measures. Something during the MOH speech about me coercing people to be friends with me by depriving them of house and home...

So, yes, it's true, I threw Sarah's house keys out the window of a school bus after one day in second grade so that she would have to come to my house instead of heading to hers. But it's not like I threw them into a cornfield or a creek! I threw them into my front yard, obviously. And, hey, it worked. Credit where credit is due, thankyouverymuch.

Because here it is some 20-odd years later and we're still the closest of friends (although I'll credit her ability to persist with me through attitude as much as I insisted with her through lack thereof). It's been many moons (as my mother would say) we've seen through all the elementary school recitations, icing fights, carwashes, choir rehearsals, beaded-button rings, goofie movies, catchphrases, college apps and acceptance, marriages, moves and, now, babies (she had just let me get all caught up and then there she goes, moving ahead again).

I've linked to Sarah and Travis' blog before, wherein they've chronicled the 2+ year journey of adoption, but now the process is complete, the family is together and Mia is home.

The absolute and undisputed highlight of the trip home for me was seeing my best friend and her wonderful husband become parents (you can see it, too, on their blog). We had two whole days to drop in and visit and share dinners (and Mia's first cereal) and laughs and hugs before Jacob and I got back on a plane. Praise God for this little family and that I got to see them all together! Below are a few shots of their arrival from Ethiopia with their darling baby girl.

After abandoning my husband and the car at an airport dropoff, I ran through the terminal and up an escalator - pushing people out of my way - to get my first glimpse of this baby. Isn't she gorgeous?

With Travis' dad - proud grandfather!

Momma and baby getting used to being home.

Daddy and Mia, sharing dinnertime.

Cutest nursery EVER!

Parties with the Petries

It's damage only in retrospect (all the eating over the last month at our favorite hometown haunts and vacation spots) as far as the potential (?) weight gain. Now, in photos, I can relive all the wonderful times we had, which, hey, happens to include food...and markets. And people. Mmmmm...markets.

Here are a few shots of our trip to Cleveland, which was at the end of our time at home, but the beginning of the camera's rehab. Beginning with the most important first:
Ha, ha! Just kidding! Dogs are not more important than people...

But seriously, Jackson is so cute and reminds me of Kipling too much and Sadie can catch food she tosses up in the air from her nose!
But, hey, so can Phillip! Just kidding, but maybe with some training. These are the Petries, Phillip is a longtime friend of Jacob's and Josie is a new friend of mine (Marriage is great, right? You get a spouse and new friends!). Mmm...markets...this one was indoor/outdoor and fabulous! I hope we live near one the next place we go. And, hey, I had to show the pig as it should be - a beacon of gastronomy, not a shameful, haram dinner reject!

Eating alfresco? Not something we get to do here, much. And the beautiful, in-season, sweet, tart glistening peaches...oh, yeah. That's summer.

And just one for the road: a delectible cheese plate from Luxe, which, if you're in Cleveland: yum!

PS-Ramadan

I totally forgot-following our culinary frolic through France that when we returned here it would be Ramadan. So when we made our first trip out to the grocery, it was odd and interesting to see that the entire mall was devoid of food (not the grocery, of course, but anywhere one might purchase and partake of food on the spot). That means KFC, McDonalds, Curry (my fave little Indian spot), Herfy's...you name it - all dark. In the middle of the day!

It makes sense, though, since fasting is the order of the month - from dawn until dusk. And, that old saying, 'when in Rome...' has real implications here. Even a non-Muslim foreigner can't be spotted eating in public; the offense can result in jail time for the remainder of the month.

I guess we'll be eating in...

Back to Buraimi

It's hard to believe that it was five short weeks ago that we packed up our little Buraimi flat and headed out (encouraged by our desire to get home and one of the many summer power outages that plagues our little town during the "hot" months). Last night, after a minor snafu regarding some very expensive film, an x-ray machine, the French police and two late-arriving travellers (more later), we made it back to Dubai and were reunited with our SC Crew.

It was familiar to get back to the Middle East in a surprising, yet comforting way. The Arabic, the local dress, the sand (oh, the sand), and the heat.

But the first thing (after a bit of sleep) I was excited to get to was the trip pics. Unfortunately, our camera up and got a bit of flash flu and had to go to the shop for most of our trip and little Coca-Cola bath washed over our early-home-trip-pics-including memory card, BUT we do have a few of the end (and some really extraordinary events) as well as a TON of France and our romantic-buffer-birthday trip.

As soon as I get them downloaded, I'll be sure to post (and they'll be posted in the order of occurance on the memory card).

In the mean time, enjoy your Labor Day weekend, which we don't have (such a cruel early reminder of the culture change!).

Too Cool for School

In addition to one of our fave wedding gifts, the Nikon D90, we are continuing to move into the tech-savvy subculture with the latest addition to the Hardy family: The Hardy's Kindle (thank you Aunt Mary, who has been tirelessly committed to bringing us into the new world with the digicam and, now the reader).

Looking back on Journalism 101 and all the chitter chat about internet media and case studies of those weird things called "blogs" and the bastardization of news by "online publishing," I can't believe that I, former print magazine writer and editor, own a Kindle.

I love books...the real things. The ones I can look at and smell and flip through and admire on my shelves once their done, like some kind of finished piece of art I can pride on. I love holding a real newspaper and getting inky while manipulating difficult pages into manageable creases. But, I am not about to turn down a device that is thinner than my iphone and stores about as much media as I can cram onto it - especially while we're still so transient, constantly on long- and short-haul flights and carrying our entire lives in no more than four suitcases and two carry-ons (yes, that's the baggage we packed for an entire year of living and traveling abroad).

So, let's be honest, the first thing that catches an avid reader about the Kindle is that, hello, it's soooo cheap to buy books and mags. You'll remember my obsession with YThe New Yorker, my search for the pub and finally locating it in one store in one mall in one province of the UAE. And, you might remember that it was about $10 a pop. Not exactly the best budget line item for newly-married MBA student couple, right? Well, it's $2.99 for a month subscription (weekly) and $3.99 for an individual issue! YES!

I also found a searched-for, but slightly random title, Little Pink House: A True Story of Defiance and Courage (the story of Suzette Kelo and her neighbors in New London, CT in an eminent domain legal battle that went to the Supreme Court). It's half the price of print in the Kindle Store!

So, we leave off for our next US step with our little digital world intact. The D90 is home, the Kindle is loaded up and we are on the road again.

Look out Cleveland, here we come...

Uuuugggmmmhhh

Jacob and I aren't too addicted to TV, especially since we have all of six English-language channels at our humble abode in Oman.

But can. I. Just. Say...

Food Network. Where have you been all my last seven months? I miss you, Giada and Paula and culinary inspiration and excitement about cooking and fun utensils and aromatic herbs and worn wooden cutting boards and roasting vegetables and...of course, cooking with wine (or Brandy or Beer even) and pork.