Celebrating Spring!

According to the calendar, it’s spring! According to the mid-30-degree lows we’ve experienced the past few nights, it’s winter! We did reach highs in the 80s last week for a brief, glorious period, so here’s hoping the heat returns soon. Warmth — I needs it.

Like we did for autumn and winter, S and I celebrated the alleged change in seasons by hosting a themed party a couple weeks ago. Our spring party was our biggest one yet, with more than twenty people packed into our apartment. Our gracious guests, who knew we’d have all sorts of tasty treats available, brought enough beer and wine to pack our fridge to the brim. Our guests then consumed nearly all the beer, leaving us with countless (fine, four) bottles of wine to enjoy. That’ll come in handy as we pack for our move!

So – what delicious eats did we share? Here’s the spread!

Spring party!

Our savory dishes included:

• Mini Mushroom and Spinach Quiches (using a recipe from our vegan friend — these were super yummy)
• Carrot Hummus (GF)
• No-Knead Basil and Tomato Focaccia
• Creamy Artichoke-Spinach Dip (GF)
• Chesapeake Dip (GF. Okay, it’s called “Crab Dip” in the recipe, but I wanted a more animal-friendly name!)
• Store-bought mango salsa (GF)
• Lots of dippers! (Veggies and two types of gluten-free cracker-chips)

I would’ve loved to use more seasonal produce, but it was still a little early around here for asparagus and other quintessential spring veggies. Alas!

For the sweet-toothed, we offered:

• Vanilla-Bean Cupcakes with a Raspberry-Cream Cheese Frosting
• Lemon Bars (made GF with spelt)
• Strawberry Mousse “Shots” (my recipe, also GF)
• Raspberry-Lemon Cheesecake Cookies (GF. You could barely taste the cream cheese in these, so I just called them “Raspberry-Coconut Cookies instead because the coconut oil flavor was very prominent.)

I think we did a nice job of keeping things fresh and spring-y with the desserts, yeah? The lemon bars were particularly tasty, but next time I’ll double the lemon layer — it wasn’t thick enough for my liking!

Lemonlicious.

Although we had lots of the aforementioned beer and wine on offer, I also whipped up these amazing Birthday Cake Martinis on request. Sadly, a few of my guests thought these were too strong (one guest-of-a-guest (who called herself bad with alcohol) choked a little on her first sip). I say, if you don’t want a strong drink, don’t order a martini! I personally thought they were fantastic, although I did reduce the amount of vodka and add a little extra coconut milk.

Our spring party was probably our most successful yet by all measurable metrics. If you’ve been following along, you know that S and I are saying goodbye to Wisconsin next month and heading east, which means that we won’t be able to round out our quartet of seasonal soirees with a celebration of summer. Believe me, I’m disappointed — and not just because of the way this bugs my OCD. A summer-themed party would’ve been a delight to throw, with all sorts of fresh produce to use as ingredients. And believe me, if S and I could’ve squeezed a party in, we probably would have. But the fact that we’ve already sold our table and chairs and started to pack up our kitchen items will most likely prevent us from doing that.

What are your favorite spring treats?

Eastward Bound

I moved to Madison with doubt in my heart. Three and a half years ago, in early December, I flew out to Madison to start my first full-time job as a technical writer at a software company. On my second day of work, Madison experienced a full-on blizzard. Welcome to Wisconsin, I thought.

The entire experience was nerve-wracking. I feared that I’d fail at my job, that my writing skills wouldn’t be up to par or that technical writing would be horribly boring, that my new roommate and I wouldn’t get along. I feared not making friends.

In short, I was pretty sure the whole thing was a huge mistake. But the swift decline of the grace period on my loans and my desire to spend no more than six months post-college living with my parents compelled me to take the job. This was back in 2009, in the height (depth?) of the recession. As an English major, I felt pretty damn lucky to get the job I did, with the salary it offered and the benefits I received.

And despite my negativity, it all worked out just fine.

I soon discovered that my roommate and I were kindred spirits and that I was going to be successful at my job. I started to enjoy my new life. I began to appreciate Madison and its picturesque surrounding towns.

The Verona Public Library.

Over the years, things continued to surprise me and I surprised myself with how happy I felt. I discovered that mastering technical writing makes one a better all-around writer, and that working in the healthcare software industry gave me insight as the US began to think about how to reform our healthcare system.

And, oh yeah, I met S. And I adopted Moria.

Wary pup.

My life here is comfortable. I have lovely friends; a sweet pup; and the most loving, forgiving, and inspiring partner I could want. It’s a good life. And we’re getting ready to say goodbye to that life.

In a few short weeks, S and I are packing up and heading east. Because as much as I like the Midwest and my life here, the cold truth is that many of my friends and most of my family live on the East Coast. Visiting them is a chore that requires annoying, expensive, time-consuming flights or a very long drive. And I hate driving.

I’ve been feeling the call to move closer to home for a while now. But when my sweet little nephew Theodore was born last February, well, I knew it was time.

Superbaby!

But I didn’t want to move just anywhere or take just any job. I wanted a job that would keep me engaged and that would not feel like a step down from what I do now. Thanks to my still-existent student loans, it also had to have a decent salary. So I waited. I refused to do the resume spam thing, where you apply to every potentially relevant job you see and hope for the best. Instead, I applied to exactly two jobs. One, I discovered, was for a position that wasn’t actually available.

The other? Well. It was kinda-sorta the position of my dreams. And I got it.

Starting next month, I’ll be working as a production editor for The Humane Society of the United States. I’ll be using my writing, editing, and project management skills to advocate for animals. Pinch me, please.

At the very beginning of June, S and I will be moving out to Maryland. It’s the perfect place for us – it’s where he’s from, and it’s much closer to Rhode Island for me. I can take a quick, direct Southwest flight home or make the 7-hour drive when I’ve got time to spare. It’ll be so much easier.

We’re not sure where exactly we’ll end up. Maryland’s cost of living is much higher than that of Wisconsin, so we’ll be staying with S’s mom until we find an affordable place of our own that’s close to work for me and close to a metro stop so we can get into DC easily. S will be pursuing freelance writing and radio journalism, so he wants to be close to the city.

It’s really scary. Just like the last time I moved, I’m nervous. What if the job and I aren’t a good fit? What if S can’t find enough work to pay the bills? What if we can’t find an affordable, decent place to live?

But it’s a good kind of nervous. An exciting kind. I can’t wait to start this new chapter of our lives and to finally bring my professional and personal passions together.

So in the next few weeks, pardon me if I’m a little quiet. I’m just busy packing and planning and wrapping up my time at my current job… and possibly hitting up all my favorite Madison eateries one last time.

Waiting (+ Mushrooms!)

My posts have been sporadic this month in part because I’ve been in a near-constant state of anticipation. April has been a month of waiting — waiting for something definitive to say and share with the world, waiting for the grey skies and near-constant rain to end, waiting for the other shoe to drop after the tragedy in Boston and before the suspects were identified. Waiting for resolution on some potential Big Life Changes. Waiting for writerly inspiration.

And waiting for my mushrooms to grow.

This past Christmas, my dad gave me a Back to the Roots oyster mushroom-growing kit. I was so pleased by this gift — Back to the Roots is doing great things, and I love that my dad found that gift and knew I’d like it without my ever having mentioned it to him. After Christmas, I let the unopened cardboard box kit sit in my bedroom for months; I was waiting until the seasons started to change so that my mushrooms would get ample sunlight and warmth.

Mushroom kit!

In March, I experienced delusions of spring and decided to start growing the mushrooms. I followed the directions on the box and cut through the plastic, soaked the bag of coffee grounds and mushroom spores, replaced the bag in the box, and set the box on a windowsill. I dutifully spritzed the grounds twice daily and saw a couple tiny mushrooms appear after a few days. Sadly, those first sprouts shriveled up and died within a week or so — I figured there wasn’t enough (read: any) sunlight, or maybe I wasn’t watering them enough. Disappointed, I left the box on my bookcase and ignored it for a couple of weeks.

Then I noticed a new set of mushrooms growing, despite my inattention, and I happily took up the task of giving it its twice-daily spritz of water. Aaand then S and I went away last weekend (more on that later), and the coworker I asked to care for my mushrooms didn’t quite keep them moist enough, and the new set of mushrooms withered up into hard, inedible nubs. Sigh.

But then! Lo and behold, a third set of ‘shrooms popped up in another corner of the box! To quote a recently re-released movie, life finds a way. (Ha ha ha.)

Determined not to let this batch die, I’ve been keeping the roots extremely moist. The box has a new home on the windowsill of my brand-new office during the week and my bedroom during the weekend, and I think that the spring sunshine (which finally appeared) did the trick. Just check out their growth in a matter of three days:

I feel good about this set of ‘shrooms; they’re already growing much faster than my first two attempts did. Third time’s the charm, eh?

The cool thing about the kit is that after you’ve harvested mushrooms from the front of the box, you can repeat the process with the back! When I do that one, I’m going to be sure to soak the roots more thoroughly than I did the first time. I suspect that some of my problems were caused by me not scoring the roots deeply enough when I cut the plastic and soaked the bag. Next time, I’ll knife down deep so that the mass of roots and coffee grounds are well soaked.

In the meantime, here’s hoping that I don’t have to wait on these mushrooms much longer. Got any suggestions for a delicious oyster mushroom dish we should make with our bounty?

Pantry Decimation 2.0

I really like the bulk aisle at my co-op.

Seriously. I really, really like it. So much so that my pantry has gotten into a rather alarming state; it’s packed with re-used glass jars filled with beans, grains, and all sorts of dry goods. And let it be known that my pantry has some deep shelves.

It’s a little out of control.

So, with the intent of actually consuming the staples I’ve been essentially hoarding, I’m trying to make meals that use up those staples and only require purchasing fruits and veggies. It’s actually been quite successful, and I’ve enjoyed seeing S try various grains for the first time (kasha! wheat berries! black rice!). Plus, it’s frugal!

Of course (this is me, after all), I’ve been pretty bad when it comes to taking photos. So you don’t get to see the delicious black rice and sweet potato dish I made, or the creamy, delicious broccoli polenta we had for dinner last night.

But you can see this photo of my quinoa “fried rice,” inspired by Jenna’s non-vegan version.

Bowl o’ quinoa.

My version featured purple cabbage, minced garlic, crumbled marinated tofu, diced green onion, black sesame seeds, and lots of flavorful sauces – ume plum vinegar, hoisin sauce, low-sodium tamari, and mirin, to name a few. (Incidentally, our “sauce and oil” cupboard is nearly as full as the grain-and-bean pantry shelf.)

Quinoa is a lovely stand-in for rice in a simple stir fry. If you haven’t tried it, you should. In the meantime, I’ve got a whole lot of grains to use up, so feel free to share your favorite recipes for black rice, amaranth, Israeli cous cous, and bulgur.

Easter Yummies

I may be 26 years old and have delusions of adulthood, but darn it – I love getting little holiday gifts from my parents! Case in point: my Easter “basket,” which arrived the Saturday before Easter. We got a package slip saying it was at the office, and I was so excited to go retrieve it that I went out in public in – gasp – sweatpants. Which I never ever do, because I think it looks slovenly and sloppy. But I figured I’d slip into the office, grab my package from the floor, and slip out without being seen. When I reached the office around 3:30, I was dismayed to see a sign saying it closed at 3:00 and wasn’t open on Easter Sunday. I peered in the windows to see if any of the staff were around but saw no one. Crushed, I turned towards home.

Suddenly I heard someone call my name. “Kelly?” I turned around. It was Nick, a friendly member of the staff, and he was holding a box. “I thought that was you,” he said as I walked eagerly towards him to grab my package. “But you were wearing sweats, and I’ve never seen you in sweats!”

So much for slipping out unseen.

Anyway, I got my package, opened it, and discovered lots of tasty treats.

Basket-box.

Mama included a couple of protein bars, snack bars, a cute dish towel, dark chocolate bunnies, and jelly beans. I was very pleasantly surprised by those NuGo protein bars – instead of being gritty, like many protein bars, they’ve got a fun crunchy texture thanks to some puffed rice. They also taste more like candy bars than protein bars because of their high-quality dark chocolate. The mocha one you see up front was my favorite. I knew it contained a decent amount of bona-fide coffee because my pee smelled all coffee-like after I ate it. TMI? Oops.

I also really liked the Rise energy bar (I haven’t eaten the breakfast one yet*). It’s like a Larabar with a few more ingredients, giving it a more diverse texture than that of a Larabar.

The Surf Sweets jelly beans were fruity and sweet without being too sugary, although I discovered that they’re not actually vegan (darn confectioner’s glaze – leave the bugs alone!). And, of course, the dark chocolate bunnies are delicious because, um, they’re dark chocolate.

Yay for Easter baskets! And yay for Easter celebrations in general. That Easter brunch I attended was full of even more delicious treats, including some amazing tofu mini-quiches and muffins bursting with dried fruit. I brought along a batch of macaroons, which I stupidly forgot to photograph when they were all plated up. Instead, you get this crappily lit photo of them just after baking.

Balls o’ coconut.

I used this recipe for my first-ever macaroon-making endeavor, and it was quite successful. I’ll definitely make these again!

* Upon a closer look at the ingredient list, I discovered that the breakfast bar contains honey. I gave it away.

Foodie Finds in Rhode Island

Oh, dear. I spent so long rhapsodizing about my little Teddybear that I never told you about all the delicious things I ate on my trip to Rhode Island. And I call this a vegan food blog! For shame. Let’s get right to it, then!

My first full day in RI was a Saturday, and in the morning I accompanied my mom to the Wintertime Farmers Market in Pawtucket. Color me impressed! This was not some piddly little affair with a couple folding tables stocked with the anemic, sparse produce of winter. No, this was a bustling, busy affair with dozens of vendors, lots of happy shoppers, and a kick-ass locale.

Great space.

The market is snugly housed at Hope Artiste Village, a fantastic space that’s actually a renovated mill. Check out the gorgeous brick walls and exposed ceiling work – isn’t it cool? Beyond the main drag where most of the produce vendors sell their goods is whole other room with mostly prepared goods. My mom and I sampled a delicious Middle Eastern chickpea spread before moving on to a vendor that looked promising – EvaRuth’s Specialty Bakery, makers of wheat- and gluten-free goods.

Now, I don’t do the gluten-free thing, but I do know that many GF bakeries also offer vegan goods. My hunch proved correct – they had vegan brownies, cookies, and… doughnuts! I’ve been craving a vegan doughnut for three years, y’all. This was a baked cinnamon sugar doughnut, and it was good.

Cake-y deliciousness.

Just cake-y enough and not too sweet, this doughnut pleased my tastebuds. I slowly nibbled it as we perused the rest of the vendors, listened to some live music, smiled at some adorable children dancing to the live music, and then poked around in one of the art shops that also lives in the building. On our way out, we purchased some fresh almond milk from a local vendor that’s hoping to buy a food truck to deliver fresh produce to food deserts. Impressive, right? I really enjoyed the almond milk – pure, unadulterated almond milk is nothing like its creamier, shelf-stable cousin, but it’s hard to beat with a glass of cake.

And I definitely enjoyed it with cake – my dad made his famous German chocolate-inspired vegan cake one night, and it was super delicious. And then, a few days before I left, we celebrated my birthday a little early with some yummy blondies.

But I’m getting ahead of myself! One of the other culinary highlights took place at Julians, which I’ve blogged about a couple of times in the past. This time, I was meeting my friend Nicole (and some of her other friends) to celebrate her birthday with a late-morning brunch. And by late-morning, I really mean early afternoon, because the Julians staff clearly doesn’t know how to deal with brunch crowds, and we were waiting for well over an hour. It was not pleasant. At least my meal didn’t disappoint! I got the Tofu Benedict, an amazing concoction of thick sourdough bread; big, soft cubes of tofu; vegan Hollandaise sauce; sauteed spinach; and a side of delicious home fries.

Benediction.

Most of my fellow diners also loved their meals, although the birthday girl herself wasn’t too impressed with her French toast. I was just happy that I had leftovers – nothing like making a tasty meal last for two days, right?

And that, friends, about wraps up the highlights! Apart from these special treats, I (of course) had lots of healthy, hearty vegan meals cooked up by my parents (and myself). I always eat well when I’m home.

Mini Coconut Cream Pies + Brunch Plans

I’m pleased as punch that it was 45 degrees here today! After a Wisconsin winter that totally made up for last year’s freakishly warm, snow-free season, I’m more than ready for sun and warmth. I’m crossing my fingers that’ll be pleasant this weekend; S and I were invited to an Easter brunch on Sunday, and the invitation promised bocce balls if the weather agreed. We’ll see!

In the meantime, I’ve got to come up with something to bring for brunch. It’s an afternoon affair, so there won’t be any typical heavy brunch foods. I considered making mini tarts or pies, but I made some mini coconut cream pie tarts a few weekends ago when we had a friend over for afternoon tea – the same friend who’s hosting this weekend’s brunch! So I figure I can’t really use that idea again, pretty and tasty as the little pies were.

Tiny tarts.

Yum yum! These were surprisingly easy to make, and they were super delicious. Definitely a recipe I’ll add to my roster! I served them with a sliced orange and a bowl of kumquats that our friend brought – the perfect accompaniments to cup after cup of freshly brewed tea.

What would you bring to a low-key, light brunch? Is it warm where you are?

Stuff and Things, or, My Struggle Towards Minimalism

I spent many nights of my childhood failing to fall asleep as my mind tumbled over concepts like infinity and forever and the nature of the universe, concepts I couldn’t quite grasp but refused to stop wondering about. I tended towards obsession salted with a hefty dash of anxiety, and for a while I couldn’t stop worrying about photographs.

Yes, photographs.

My worry about photographs was a manifestation of a larger concern: my discomfort with the existence of so much stuff in the world. Thinking about trash and dumps and garbage made me nervous, and for a while I fixated on photographs. I became convinced that, at some point, the sheer number of photographs in existence would grow SO LARGE that photographs would take over the world. Because, come on, who throws away pictures? They just sit there, in boxes and albums and envelopes, and you add more and more to your stash as you take more and more photos, but you never throw them away! The thought terrified me more than a little bit.

By the time I graduated high school, digital photography was fast becoming the norm, and my childhood fears of a world stuffed to the gills with yellowing paper photos had long been put to rest. But that larger discomfort with stuff and things persisted. It still persists, and I still get a little nervous when I think about dumps, and I feel a little hollow when I’m in a big department store with oodles of things that will never stop existing.

All of this is to say that minimalism, and the idea of being satisfied and fulfilled with less stuff and fewer things, appeals to me. I’ve been pushing around the notion of reducing and letting go for a while, and one of my goals for this year is to truly start walking down that path. I made that decision on my birthday, a day on which I received more stuff and things. Things like this gorgeous, clothbound edition of Pride and Prejudice thoughtfully given by S:

Because who needs books bound with a dead cow when cloth can be this pretty?

I also received some sweaters, and a heating pad for my oft-sore neck, and a doohicky for making popcorn in the microwave without a paper bag. Stuff and things. And it’s not that I don’t want the things. Generally, the things that people give me are personal and useful. But I don’t want all the things. So I decided that whenever something new comes into my possession, I will get rid of one – ideally, two! – other things. With that resolution in mind, I prepared a small stack of items to donate to make way for my birthday gifts.

Stack o’ stuff.

S and I donate unloved clothing and household items fairly frequently, but I know we can do better. And I’m hoping that my new resolution will make me think even more critically when I feel the tug of consumerism. I will look at a potential purchase not only in terms of the money I’ll spend but also in terms of what I will have to give away to make a place for the new item in my closet or on my bookshelf or in my kitchen. I’m excited about the prospect. I’m not one for buying much, but do make the occasional less-than-necessary purchase, and I’d like to make sure those purchases are ones I really want. I’ll make some exceptions, of course. I received some pretty notecards from a coworker for my birthday, but they won’t take up permanent space in my home; I’ll write letters to friends and send them on their way. So I don’t feel compelled to give something away to make room for them.

The other part of my resolution for the next year is to buy most of my clothing at secondhand, thrift, and consignment stores. I have no problems whatsoever with wearing used clothes, and a large portion of my wardrobe is secondhand already. It’s less expensive, I have more luck finding a variety of clothes in my size, and I’m extending the life of existing clothes rather than purchasing new ones. I’ll make exceptions for undergarments, socks, and – potentially – shoes, because shoes are pretty hit or miss at thrift stores.

I’m excited for my resolutions. I have a tendency to want to keep things for sentimental reasons, but I’m trying to dissociate the objects from their related emotions and memories. When I was home last month, I purged lots of childhood knick-knacks, and it felt good. I hope to capture that feeling more often as I learn to let go of things (the things that, paradoxically, stress me out by their very existence!) and live happily with less.

Happily, not all of my birthday gifts this year required me to get rid of something else. S, being the crafty and wonderfully thoughtful guy he is, thumbed through my copy of Vegan Food Gifts and found the perfect things to make for me: simple syrups! He made me a strawberry and an orange simple syrup, and I’ve been enjoying them in cocktails. He did need to buy some jars to store them in, but I know I’ll be able to re-use them repeatedly in the future.

Colorful syrups.

Aren’t they pretty? That’s the kind of gift I love: homemade, simple, and thoughtful. I aspire to give gifts like that, and I think that notion fits well with my minimalistic goals. In other words, be prepared for more handmade gifts than ever, friends and family!

Do you have tips for living simply? How do you handle feeling sentimental about objects, or do you not feel that way?

Turning Twenty-Six… with Tacos

In case you were suspicious that my blog was going to turn into an all-out sentimentality-fest with lots of uncomfortable monologues about unconditional love and babies and crap, never fear! I’m back on solid ground with a post about food. Birthday food! By which I mean, tacos. Naturally. I’ll get to them in a second, I promise.

Last Friday, I turned 26. I feel surprisingly neutral about this birthday, even though I’m officially closer to 30 than 20 now. Or maybe I just haven’t had time to stop and think about it – my excitement over Teddy’s birth kinda eclipsed my own mopey musings on aging. But I think I’m okay with 26. It’s a solid number, respectable, even. I feel good about where I am in my life and the people I share it with. And that’s what really matters, right?

Happily, I shared an early birthday celebration with most of my immediate family when I was back in RI. Mom made a batch of these yummy blondies (and gleefully crowed about the secret ingredient when certain family members couldn’t guess what it was), the adults all sang “Happy Birthday,” and Teddy snoozed away. I received gifts from my parents that night and gifts from some other relatives at various points during my visit. It was low-key and lovely – just the way I like it.

On my actual birthday, the 15th, S and I kept it equally low-key. We decided to have dinner at Tex Tubb’s Taco Palace, a taco-centric establishment that we’ve been meaning to visit for a while. We were seated after a short wait, and we promptly ordered drinks – a Shiner for S and a blue agave margarita for me – while perusing the vegan menu. We wanted to order their vegan nachos as a starter, but the waitress abashedly informed us that they were out of vegan queso. Boo! Instead, we got chips and a cute tub of guac.

Bowl o’ guac.

Yum! This guac was perfect – creamy, simple, and fresh. The diced tomatoes and onions on top (not mixed in!) were a nice touch, and the portion size was perfect for the both of us. Actually, it might’ve been a little large for me – I couldn’t quite finish the two tacos I ended up ordering! I went with the two-taco plate and chose the Avocado Frito (fried avocado, mushrooms, black beans, tomatoes, and red onions on corn tortillas) and the Black Bean Something or Other (no list because it’s not on the online menu, but it was pretty similar to the other one). The platter came with a side of beans (I chose refried) and rice.

Two-taco plate.

The tacos come sans salsa and mostly sans spice (except for one burning bite in my bean taco – weird!), which lets the eater customize the level of spiciness. This is made easy by Tex Tubb’s salsa bar, which features four different salsas. The spiciest one wasn’t too exciting, the next-spiciest chipotle-ish one was flavorful and yummy, the tomatillo salsa was good, and the mild red salsa was just fine. The tacos themselves were decent, although I’m pretty sure my avocado was not frito and was instead raw. Not that I’m complaining! I prefer the fresher flavors. The beans and rice were simple but tasty. S also got the avocado taco, along with some sort of Roasted Veggie Tostada (yeah, no list here either, but there was lots of corn!)

Pink platter!

S and I both saved one of our tacos for later, and I saved some of my rice and beans, too. They made great leftovers!

Tex Tubb’s is oh-so-conveniently located down the street from The Green Owl, so we swung by there after dinner to pick up desserts for later – a berry-lemon cheesecake for me and a passionfruit cheesecake for S (his was superior). We enjoyed them at home while watching Rise of the Planet of the Apes. All in all, a really great birthday. S gave me some sweet gifts, and I’ll probably blog about a couple of them soon.

Now, you might remember that last year, when I turned 25, I gave myself a list of 25 things to accomplish before I turned 26. Full disclosure: I totally failed on a lot of them. But I’m okay with that. Many of the things I didn’t do were the more self-indulgent goals, like making things for myself or getting a tattoo. That stuff will happen eventually, but it’s not as important as the more meaningful goals I did accomplish, like volunteering more often and keeping in better touch with friends. So with that ringing endorsement of my success, here’s my final list:

1. Pay off a loan. Completed! (I actually paid off two or three smaller ones!)
2. Sew myself a dress. FAIL.
3. Blog at least five times a month. Completed! (Or, I’ll complete it at the end of this month.)
   
4. Drive in a big city. FAIL.
5. Send people birthday cards and gifts on time. Completed!
   
6. Work out weekly. Completed! (Very proud of myself for this one. I know it’s not much, but it’s consistent, and I’ve never been good at keeping up a consistent workout schedule. I intend to amp it up in the next year!
   
7. Learn how to use InDesign. Um… I used InDesign to make the invitations to my sister’s baby shower, but I’m no expert. Not quite completed!
8. Knit myself a sweater. FAIL.
9. Do more creative writing. Completed! Nobody will ever read it, but whatever!
   
10. Start making Christmas gifts during the summer. Completed!
11. Make a pie with a lattice crust. Completed!
12. Re-learn how to crochet. FAIL.
13. Get another tattoo. FAIL. (Cry!)
14. Read more poetry. Completed(ish)! I read more than I usually do, so… it counts.
    
15. Take the GRE. FAIL. (And I probably won’t.)
16. Try hot yoga. FAIL. (Stupidly. Would’ve been so easy.)
17. Start and maintain an Etsy shop. FAIL. (But I’m working on it)
18. Consistently make some of Moria’s food. Completed! (I had to stop for a while when she had a bladder stone and needed a special diet, but for the most part I’ve augmented her dry food with veggies and/or rice.)
19. Knit a pair of socks. FAIL.
20. Call (or write to) far-away family and friends more frequently. Completed!
    
21. Visit a new country. Completed!
    
22. Do more hands-on volunteering. Completed!
23. Super-secret private goal! Completed!
    
24. Super-secret private goal! This is an ongoing goal. But I made progress!
25. Super-secret private goal! Errr… nope.

Not great, but not bad. I’m happy with what I accomplished this year. I’ve got some thoughts in mind for how to approach this next year of my life, but I’m keeping quiet on that front for a while.

A Visit Home, or, A Love Letter to Teddy

A few nights ago, I wrote a really long post about going home. It was a self-indulgent meditation about the way returning to my childhood home is a little like entering a time warp. I spent far too many paragraphs describing the landscape of my home city and my house itself and the way they’ve both changed and stayed the same, and the way I’ve both changed and stayed the same.

But that story is an old story, and it is not a unique story or a story much worth telling. It’s probably your story, too, if you ever left home and then returned, years later, as an adult with your own life only to find that your own life gets a little dim and shadowy when you walk into your childhood house and see the same old photographs on the walls and the same old stained grout in the bathtub and the same old books on the shelves.

Eventually, after all those long-winded paragraphs, I meandered my way to the real point of my story, which is probably not a terribly unique story either, but it’s a new one for me. It’s a love story, and the object of my affection is tiny and soft and irrefutably the sweetest little sprout I’ve ever seen. I met him for the first time on my visit home.

Sleepy Theo.

That’s Theodore, or Theo, or – as I call him – Teddy. He’s my nephew.

During this visit home, I realized that I don’t like the word nephew. It is not an elegant word, either in speech or in writing. But it is what he is.

During this visit, my nephew took a little piece of my heart and grabbed it real tight and didn’t let go.

During this visit, I spent far too much (or was it far too little?) time staring down at his tiny face, at his rounded nose and his soft, pliant ears and his pale, pale eyelashes, almost invisible unless you look really closely. I called his every gesture the cutest thing ever! because it so totally was.

He crumples up his face while he sleeps sometimes, his brow furrowing and his lips pursing and his nose twitching, and it is adorable and absurd because what on earth could trouble his dreams? We joked that he was having a nightmare about curdled breastmilk, but that couldn’t be it because he literally has no concept of such a thing. Sometimes he squeaks in his sleep, or moans a bit, and it really is the cutest thing ever! and there’s no way you’d disagree if you saw it.

During this visit, I greedily stole time holding and touching and generally soaking up the deliciousness that is my nephew. Even when he peed on me (twice!), I didn’t mind at all, and I secretly felt a little happy about it, like he was marking me as his own. If it were up to me, I’d have held him every hour of the day, and soothed him every time he cried in the night, and even changed every one of his poopie diapers. But it was not up to me, and I know that this love I feel for him is probably not even a teeny-tiny infinitesimal fraction of the love that his parents feel for him. So during this visit, my “greedy” stealing of time was really just not-so-greedily accepting him when his mama or daddy offered him to me, adding an “Are you sure?” so they knew it was okay if they really wanted to keep holding him and were only offering out of courtesy.

Sleepy baby.

And during this visit, while lying in the daybed that is not my bed in the room that is no longer my bedroom, failing to fall asleep because of the change to Daylight Savings and the fact that I was still kinda-sorta operating in Central Time (a flimsy half-truth, but a good excuse for sleeplessness), I had a kinda-sorta epiphany.

I thought about babies, and I thought about the totally pure, unfiltered, unqualified, unconditional love they receive from nearly everyone who sees them. It is the most joyful, unadulterated love I can imagine. They receive it simply because they are tiny and adorable and so wholly innocent and helpless. I know that, pragmatically, they receive it as a matter of necessity; if babies weren’t so cute we wouldn’t be so inclined to help them and they might not – would not - survive. So, sure, maybe babies are toying with us and tricking us into giving them our love, but even if that’s true I don’t care. I’m happy to give it.

I also started thinking about how babies don’t – can’t – appreciate all the love that gets heaped on them. I’m sure they feel it and know that they are cared for and safe, but they can’t consciously acknowledge or appreciate it. And then I started thinking that the people who could use a helping of unconditional love and who could consciously acknowledge and appreciate it are the adults, the jaded, world-weary people with worries and problems and mortgages. And it’s totally not fair that we don’t get any of that, right?!

And then I realized, Oh. We do get it, if we’re willing to accept it. Parents give their children that unconditional love even when those children are forty-three with paunches and tempers and mortgages, because parents still see the tiny, helpless, innocent infants their not-so-children once were. And they always will.

And during this visit, I decided that maybe I understand a little more about parenthood. Because, even though I am not a parent, I think that when Teddy is fourteen and decides that all the adults in his family are so stupid! and don’t understand anything! and he is being an undeniable brat, I will look at him and I will still see the teeny-tiny newborn who stared up at me, helpless, with chapped lips and flailing fists and made my heart melt when his lips curled into a little smirking smile. And I will love him just like I did then, and just like I do now. No matter what.