Appreciating my better half

Posted by random olio

I have not written about him directly in a few months, probably not since our anniversary, but I am inspired to tout my husband. His birthday is coming up, and it makes me stop and think about all the years we have been together, all that we have become, and all that we have accomplished. It makes me giddy thinking about it, but isn’t that the way it should be?

In many ways we are very similar, and yet we are so, so different. He is the calm to my fire, the balance to my scale, the voice of reason, the one you listen to when he speaks because he is not talking all the time.
Midnight snacks in no particular order: cereal or ice cream, or cereal and ice cream.
I lucked out that we have similar aesthetic tastes from wood floors, furniture, to the most important: artwork.
We both waver between being introverts and extroverts. Regardless, I love that we can have a badass time whether snuggling on our couch multi-tasking with our laptops and the DVR, or out for dinner with friends. It does not really matter what we are doing when we are together.
I found a boy who loves it most when I leave the house so he can clean (note: he really just likes to clean uninterrupted, he is not that passionate about vacuuming). We both agree that a clean and organized house leads to a balanced mind. When we feel at home in our home, we are truly able to relax. It is nice that those tendencies are common in both of us, and not something we struggle or have to agonize over.
I know that when we sleep in on the weekends, I will always have to get up first, he will always want to stay in bed, and the only way we will ever start our day is for me to sneak out of bed first.
He likes bourbon, chocolate, and cheese, oh and did I say bourbon?
He knows when I am at that tipping point between tired and exhausted, hungry and famished, and how to keep me from going to the other side.
Lastly, the boy has mad taste in women. I mean he picked me right?

Happy Birfday, Christopher.

Favorite things of summer…

Posted by random olio

Last week it rained like cats and dogs here in Portland. It poured and poured. I guess it means summer is almost over, and yet it went by so fast. I am a bit bummed out about this news. I loved all the time that we worked on our home, being outside, having meetings outside while basking in the sun. Some of my favorite parts of summer: flip flops, dresses, skirts, freckles, iced coffee, sunshine, fresh fruit, veggies, and flowers, farmers markets, the list goes on. Starbucks is already offering my favorite fall/winter drink: a Pumpkin Spice Latte. Yum. So does that mean it is officially fall?

As I look back, nostalgic about summer, it made me remember my local library’s Summer Reading Club. This was back in the day when there was a card in the back of the book that sat in the sleeve, and they would stamp the date of when you would need to return the book. There was a long wall that they set up. It was set up in increments to space out the different numbers of books read over the summer. I loved proudly posting the number of books I had read during each library visit of the summer. If I remember correctly there were mini prizes the higher you got up the wall.

Even though I will miss my dresses and flip flops, there have been a few days of cooler weather when I have pulled out the jeans and long sleeved shirts, and it has been quite nice. Since I live in Portland, I will of course miss the sunny skies, abundant farmers markets, and eventually I will have to put my flip flops away.

What are your favorite things of summer? What will you miss most?

PDX: my art home

Posted by random olio

Portland has my heart. Other than the small Indiana town I grew up in, Portland is the only other place I have lived for at least a decade of my life. From the ages of 15 to 25 I lived in a few different states while living away from home in high school, college, and my first few professional years. I never had a gut instinct of where I wanted to live my life, there was no city or town that captivated me. I can remember friends in college that could not wait to move to Seattle, LA, or New York. Not me, there was no place that I knew I would call home.

Portland is home now. Every time Chris and I travel, we exhale and breathe ahhh when we arrive back on NW soil. We are endeared by the creative food (not that we always partake, ahem, bone marrow on toast, elk tongue with beetroot, blue rabbit with acorn dumplings), the interesting people, the weather. Yes, we even do not mind the nine months of rain. One of our favorite things about Portland is the art. Last week I learned about a cool event called: Forest for the Trees, which is coming to PDX August 19 – 25, and includes artists from all over the world. It is a public mural project, allowing artists to collaborate for a week via outdoor murals. I am all for it. I can think of quite a few buildings that could use some lovin!

Be sure to check out the blog on their website. The artists have teamed up with a variety of companies to showcase their art. You’ll see videos from the artists mentioning creative sustainability, energy in old wood, and being conscious of your social environment. Another check mark on my list of all the things I love about Portland. I am looking forward to checking out the work that comes out of this week!

Home

Posted by random olio

After traveling for a week, I am home. I have a big dopey grin on my face as I think about being home. We should all feel that way. Do you? I love thinking about crawling onto my clean sheets and into the bed that I love, right next to my hubby. As I look around my home to the things that are me, to the things that make it feel like home to us, and I sigh and take a moment to be grateful that my taste and Chris’ align. I know what you may be thinking. We should be taking our sense of home with us wherever we go. I do not disagree. Yes, as cheesy as I know it sounds, whenever or wherever I am with Chris, I feel home. But I am talking about that deep and wonderful feeling of appreciation for your physical home.

There are times when we might travel to a different city and love where we are and what we are exploring, but still end the day wishing we were sitting on our couch, or going to sleep in our bed. Eventually arriving home, it is like a breath of fresh air walking inside, opening up our bags, dropping our crusty clothes into the laundry, showering, and crawling into bed with joy and appreciation that we are home, and that all is good. Do you know the feeling?

We are all creatures of habit, and I am one that thoroughly enjoys being at home. The more I enjoy my house, and the more I cultivate the interior and exterior, the more it becomes my solace after a long day or week. The comfort of my home becomes the balance I need after an exhausting extroverted day, and allows me to nurture the introverted part of myself. A clutter free, clean, and purpose-filled place to rest my body and mind is how I recharge, which allows me to embark and take on the world.

What about you? Do you like things to be pristine and spotless? Does that ground and balance you when you come home from a long day, or is it about the items you have found from your travels that tell the story about your home? Is it the smell of your coffee maker filling the room, or the pitter patter of your dog’s paws across the hardwood floor? Is it the memories and events that happened in your home that make it feel special to you? Or, is it the people you share your home with that make your house a home to you?

I hope you feel you can come home from work, take off your bra, or strip to your boxers, let go of the challenges of the day, and unwind.

What does home mean and feel like to you?

A hot, sticky mess

Posted by random olio

We awoke to many loud popping sounds, almost like gunshots going off. It was the middle of the night. I sat up in bed, my heart pounding. What happened?

My parents, sister, brother, and I ran out of our bedrooms, down the hall, and into the kitchen to find out what had happened. We were shocked. The paneled walls in our dining room, the flowered border wallpaper, the olive green refrigerator, and the painted walls were covered in grape jelly.

A few days prior, we had visited my grandma’s house, and spent an afternoon picking grapes off the grapevines in her backyard. We did it every year. Our fingers purple hued with grape juice. I rarely popped one in my mouth as the tart taste was not my favorite. What I loved is what we would do when we brought our bounty home. Our kitchen turned into grape central. Massive pots brewing and stewing grapes and the counter lined with Ball jars ready for the final product. My mom mostly made grape jelly. Maybe there were other concoctions of grape canning or cooking, but I only remember the jelly. I loved and hated it all at once. It was a lot of work, but the result? Yummy grape jelly (my favorite) for breakfast!

So the grape covered walls? My mom had been canning the grape jelly and had not waited long enough for the grape jelly to cool before sealing the lids on top of the jars. In the middle of the night, the heat inside the jars had made them explode, leaving our kitchen and dining room splattered with grape jelly. It was a bit of a shock and funny all at the same time. The bummer part? My sister, brother, and I had to clean up the hot, sticky mess.

I think of it every time I smear grape jelly on my toast.