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Good things come to those who wait, I guess. This was my favorite city I have visited so far. It is special.

We arrived in the Gold Coast in Chicago. The Thompson is perfectly positioned at the edge of a residential area at the end of the Magnificent Mile.

Flirtatious window displays twinkle just around the corner from serious, disesteeming brownstones that turn their gazes through oak leaves to Lake Michigan.

We explored the downtown area for four days, absorbing the rich history and art of this place.

From the iconic architecture to a 19th century baseball team
pitching ball in Lincoln park, the city’s confidence in itself is infatuating.

This city is a City. We rode up to the 95th floor in the Chicago Park District for a cocktail that costs more than a plate of dinner. As the sun sinks, the buildings transform themselves into incandescent cliffs of steel and glass from which we can see way down into the shadowed chasms of the noisy streets.

These streets are where we found food we will remember. We savored the bites and found ourselves pulled back again and again to places like The Purple Pig where for two different nights we bellied up to the bar for food and libations. There we made momentary friendships with a mother and daughter from Mumbai and couple from Chatanooga. There was the Lux Bar just across the street from our hotel, were we also chatted and walked and sipped and savored Chicago.

The art was my interest. Wolfgang Butress’ sculpture Lucent is 14 feet in diameter and represents the 3,106 easily visible stars from the Northern Hemisphere. The half-sphere is reflected between water and mirror-polished steel.

We see ourselves in the art that we admire, literally sometimes, like in Cloud Gate. And...

I see myself in the shadow and light that Monet in On the Bank of the Seine, Bennecourt.

I see myself in the distressed and tired eyes of Van Gogh’s Self-Portrait.

I see who I want to become as an artist in the pen strokes of Alberto Giametti’s Diego Seated in the Studio

I see who I am in the creamy brushstrokes in the Shoe Shop painted by Elizabeth Sparhawk-Jones.

I see my front porch as the perfect subject of a painting because of Yellow House 2 by Alex Katz.

And I see my girlhood naughtiness in Stamford after Brunch by John Currin.

The iO theater and Second City are the home of the art of improv and comedy. The Improvised Shakespeare Company was our favorite. These players on the stage weaved iambic pentameter quips into several improvisational acts over the course of an hour. Second City was high energy and high production. And, we now know - in our bones - that there are few things more life-affirming than a belly laugh and a beer.

So on our last day, smitten with a city so alive, I sat in Mariano Plaza and painted for hours as Adam slept on the 5th floor of a stylish hotel and the sun wrapped around the city like a blanket nestling me with a knowing that we will be back so many more times.

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Bear Point

6/6/2018

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Google Maps

For a very long time, I have wanted to climb Bear Mountain. I think part of what kept me away from this one was that I found it so intimidating from the car window on the Glenn Highway. The face of this peak casts its shadow from the morning sun on Peters Creek and loomed in my imagination for far too long.

The reality is that you end up driving most the way up. For the Bear Point hike, we walked about 5 miles out-and-back and gained 1,600 feet in elevation. It was steep at the saddle, but overall a great hike. Later this summer, I would like to do the Eklutna Peak and maybe the loop to compare the two hikes. The Bear Mountain trail is unmarked but is an obvious up-and-off-to-the-left turn about 1/4 mile from the Peters Creek Valley trailhead.

Here are some other resources I found helpful before Jessie and I headed out:

I had a brand new pair of hiking shoes for this trip. They turned out to be great, and I loved taking off my shoes at the top to give my feet a rest - so refreshing. Sunshine speckled through the clouds, there were no bugs, and a pleasant breeze had us layering-up at the top.

I love to look down at my home. We saw the mouth of the Eagle River as it gives way to the Knick Arm. The Arm also receives waters from Ship, Fish, and Peter's creeks. The largest tributary is the Susitna River, and the Knik Arm also stretches into the Matanuska and Knik rivers, most of which can be seen from the flat, rocky perch of Bear Mountain.

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Homer Again

5/30/2018

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On the last day of school, rig packed, I was out of town on the way to Homer. I took my time on the drive, and I grabbed some meat and cheese from Fromagio's to share and a sandwich for the road.

In a flash, the clouds blushed and Kathy snapped this picture with her iPad at sunset. I was already in bed, but glad to be by the ocean, next to nature, with family and friends.

Homer is often a destination of creativity, restoration, and indulgence for me. I eat out too much and find some mode of expression. In the past its been photography and writing. More recently, it is painting, sketching, and more writing.

It's so exciting that the Homer Spit Oyster Bar is in its second season. I was thrilled to belly up and have some great bites. The menu is yummy. I went back for grilled cheese that was more cheese than I thought possible to squeeze between two slices of bread.

The Tickled Pear offered some flavorful food-truck grub. We grabbed a bunch of small bites to share.

Then, there was the gelato. Somehow the Affogato became a daily afternoon delight. The term means "drowned" in Italian which is what happens to the gelato once it is drenched in a shot of hot espresso. It still stirs a sense of gratitude and a smile as I write this sitting at home.

After days of fires, family, and food - I decided to stay one more night. Matt recommended staying in one of the lodgings on the spit. It was an excellent choice.

My last evening in Homer was a good one. I walked the beach and sketched and sat by one last fire with Jessie and Paul.

For dinner, and my single favorite bite, I ordered a K-Bay Octopus Poke to go from Little Mermaid. Please do this: Sit on the beach to watch the waves and the sand and the people and savor the layers of flavor.

On the way home, I ambled up the highway stopping in at the Kasilof Museum. It was neat to walk into century-old buildings. The historical perspective is singularly focused on the settlers' experience starting about 130 years ago. It is fascinating and inspiring to see the desperation, determination, and pioneer spirit required by the frontier men and women.

The painful interplay between the first nation peoples, the Russian settlements, the countless natural-resource booms and busts, the American settlements, and the militarization of this huge state is as epic as the landscape. What does this have to do with Homer? I don't know except that I think everything is connected, even if I don't understand how.

Homer is a happy place for my heart. I love what I get to see and do. Many a painting will be inspired by the five days I spent there.

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Pussy Willows in Spring

4/12/2018

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Pussy Willows in Spring

Mother Spring slept. Sunrise distant. Twitch of
Forefinger, a flutter of an eyelid,
Then silence, Crisp snow on cheeks. Ice air breath
February rose, fell. Cumbrous silence.

Winter Rested. Spring Coiled. A little light
On the ridge. Mother Spring stretched her breath long.
Towards light, fingers reached. Her body lengthened,
Snow fell from her shoulders and into soil.

Trickling waters from dripping snow, soon flowed.
Dripping sun and dripping darkness. Day was
Never now night. Spring stood. She stretched her arms
Wide. March dripped into buoyant, bright April.

Out a kitchen window, a furry flash:
Against blue sky, a pussy willow branch.

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Dreaming for Snow

12/10/2017

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I can see it in mine, and yours too - the corners
of eyes and mouth sag, weighted by our slushy urban slog.
Unurbane, we melt into the night like Dali's clocks,
Counting, counting the minutes of loss.

Soon I'll look into the sun that cleans
every corner and highlights the dust,
and diamonds the snow, and delivers
from darkness my laden soul.

I bargain, beguile, beg for ten degrees
to turn disconsolate rain into sanguine snow.
So snow now,
now
snow,
so we may play in the light of the darkest day.

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Thanksgiving in AZ

11/27/2017

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Family

It has been a few years since we celebrated my favorite holiday with my parents. It was so great to have this time with my brother, Courtney, and Scarlett too!

We all met down at the holiday lighting ceremony by the channel.

Scarlett led me through an awesome pool-side yoga practice.

Mom and me chat by the fire.

Uncle Adam coached us through a game of Go Fish.

It was so good to have fried turkey in my life again.

Each evening we talked all together under the stars.

Selfie Time!

Food

Of course, we spent some good times in the kitchen. For the first time, I made Adam's favorite pecan pie. I got the recipe from Kathy and it was a huge hit. I will be making this pie every year from now on. Aaron made stuffed mushrooms, Courtney whipped up some yams, Mom had the turkey puffs done early in the day, and Dad fried up the best turkey. It was all so delicious.

Golf

When we weren't hanging at home, we were on the golf course. We got five rounds in, in as many days. The best was at Emerald Canyon.

Emerald Canyon

This course is nestled in desert canyons and the most unique round of golf we have played. The course zigzags across the highway, then climbs and winds up to tees that pull the ball through canyons and over cliffs. On the fourth hole, Adam ricocheted his strike, more pinball than golf.

The Refuge

This setting was perfect, right on the lake. We had a delicious meal before our round. Into the sunset, we played on this one-time Arnold Palmer course. The place was empty, but we were happy to be there, and we'll be back again.

Lake Havasu Golf Club - East & West

The west course was more fun, for us. It was an easy breezy place to show up and get an early round of golf in. While the east course has some great views of the city and lake, the west course is more interesting. These fairways are as narrow as Emerald Canyon, but the walls are made up of houses, yikes. We fared well.

Memories of desert sunsets will continue to warm my bones despite the deep, dark December and January that await us. I'll smile when I think back to the warm weather, big family hugs, and all the good times we had.

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Matanuska Peak

9/3/2017

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After ascending Matanuska I wondered where the name came from. The answer is simple and complicated. Pete LaFrance offers some beautiful insight.

We started out a little after 8am. The temperature was forecasted to be abnormally hot for this first Saturday in August.

When I was walking the first of twelve miles, I began to write this post in my head. I thought that I would report the first mile as a hefty climb straight up, but in comparison to the peak that awaited us, it was but a moderate rise.

Miles two and three are a lovely romp through rolling and wide-open alpine. We stopped for lunch at mile four.

Yoga and sustenance

Ch'atanhtnu

From far away, everything is glazed with whimsy and ease.
Pebbles to rocks, rocks to boulders,
which an ancient Titan, surely, piled one on another to mold
the slanted peak.

Mytikas is the tallest peak in Greece.
Ch'atanhtnu was the Dena'ina's name for Matanuska,
"the River from Which Trail Comes Out."
Who decides what is remembered?

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PWS: 10 Days | 15 Kids | 40 Miles in a Kayak

9/2/2017

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Jonathan, Laura, and Bryan are skilled navigators and adventurers. Guided by their careful planning, we headed into the
brief-blue sky and waters of Prince William Sound.

Dropped at Point Nowell
Warm, pink glow settled on the mountains like silk.
I wrote: may we stay dry in the rain, joyful in our hearts, and generous in our actions.

Ten Mornings

Xtra Tuffs, forgotten. Ten mornings to go.
Let us start with ten miles to Ewan Bay.
Passing Granite Bay and rocks that crowd Junction Island,
seals furtively eye us, and orange-footed Oyster Catchers
stay grounded while gulls erupt into flight and frantic shrieks.

Zip, peal, zip: from dry suit to tent.
Storm teacher. We learn water below,
water above, water without, and water within.
At Bog Island, fingers are colorless, wrinkled fruit, and we
must think of wetness in layers.

Zip, stuff, zip: from tent to dry suit.
Bog Island becomes a convalescent home, made of polyester tarp.
To stay warm, Yoga in the rain. Two are napping.
While we rest, beached ice become snarling growlers,
I see and listen in the quiet way.

Zip, stuff, zip: from tent to dry suit.
Before crossing Jackpot Bay, we visit a waterfall.
While we lurch to avoid bear scat, dark blurs leap into vertical flows.
Tonight, we tuck our tents under a canopy
of alders against a rock wall, slicked with falling water.

Zip, stuff, zip: from tent to dry suit.
Four days of dampness and heavy brows. The sky teases with streaks of blue
that enliven ice-green bergs. Suddenly, sun spills over clouds.
Wordless gasps and elation melt our moods.
Glacial air chases warm rocks. We race to dry our gear.

Zip, stuff, zip: from tent to dry suit. Again Island found, in Gaanaak Cove.
Blueberries drip from the bushes like the rain of the past four days.
Yellow arnica stand like sunflowers, and I feel her here.
The commuting breeze sounds like morning traffic on the Glenn.
Chenega, that achy glacier, growls like a distant tarmac.

This morning, rays of sunshine dance on my tent for a few seconds.
Zip, stuff, zip: from tent to dry suit.
We arrive to Nassau Fjord as unwelcome, party crashers
To hundreds of seals lounging on their icy chaises.
Don't Go, I think. We were uninvited.

Zip, stuff, zip: from tent to dry suit.
Haibun, Didactic Cinquain, and Diamante:
These formulas are like the handrail method Jonathan teaches for reading a map.
Intentionally point off course to the stream that goes into the lake,
or veer to intersect the road to the parking lot.

Zip, stuff, zip: from tent to dry suit.
At Dual Head, the tide is a mirror to itself.
The echoing waves, equal and opposite to my breath.
I relish the watercolor and poetry on the beach under our
first and only setting and then rising sunshine.

Zip, stuff, zip: from tent to dry suit.
Despite the small-craft advisory in Whittier yesterday,
We are delivered from the Sound on calm waters
as we reunite with family and former self.
I believe I am more than I was.

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Erin Johnson | Thank you for being with us. You will always be with us.

6/24/2017

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Into the Darkness they Go, the Wise and the Lovely

On Monday, my husband waits until I get home to say the words.
I go to unload the car and carry back tears.
Sitting, stirring, I begin to take out stitches on
a strayed shawl for the third time.

An artist and an adventurer, she sipped Dickle and ate meat
and raised chickens. She slept in a small house to live spaciously.
Erin was tall and never knowing of how she showed me to
express, explore, expand, to exist.

On a long ago Friday, with frayed Carhartt pants, we were
chatting about women, and their depictions in magazines,
Erin says,“Well, they’re not shaped like a real woman.”
For a lasting moment, I see from her wise and lovely eyes.

Erin is a stitch unlooped from our tight knit.
A drafty gratitude, a sudden shiver. She was here, with us, with the world.
And now we are looping onto each other, tenaciously.
Even so, what are we to do with slipped stitches and this hole?

May we purl pain into artistry. All we have to do is add the t.
So we will paint. And we will climb mountains.
We will tear and we will cry and live and bleed and die.
Until then, we have no other task than to knit ourselves together.

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Pepper Peak (ish)

6/19/2017

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Jessie and I met at the Eklutna Lake parking lot just after 11am. Our goal was to do a quick five mile hike on the Twin Peaks trail. I thought I’d be home around 3pm. As with all adventures truly great, it didn’t go as planned. It was one of those gorgeous Alaskan days. The colors cast by jewel blues and greens that relieve me.

Our hike turned into a climb after the second bench, which is the end of the Twin Peaks trail. Jessie and I, not clear about where the twin peaks trail ended, debated whether to go left or right. At the fork in the road, we decided to go high. The climb towards Pepper Peak got confusing because it’s easy to take a game trail. We switch-backed and scrambled-up the spongy tundra until the rain clouds and distant thunder shooed us home.

Well Water

I went to investigate a gently flowing stream
and discovered that it was
coming from the mountain.
The water gurgled up and out
of the massive rock we were climbing
and dribbled on to smaller rocks
and then into fine rocks
that pooled the water every so slightly.

The history of spas, baths, of
“taking the waters” trickles down
from Roman times. We splashed refreshment
on our hot and tired faces.
Eyes closed, I splashed and splashed.
Soon the cold squeezed a gasp out of me.
I splashed again and gasped again.
I splashed once more and gasped again.
This was wellness.

This, with such clarity, wells up in me now.
So much can be understood from
our words.
I go to the forest,
for rest.

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Reflections on Summer

8/20/2016

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Lessons I learned.

Write

Take a journal.

See

Look for beauty and love.

My sweet friend, Kasia got married. On the way to the church, we squeezed in a phone call to Anna who was watching her two boys nap in Ohio. Even though more than a decade has passed since we were all unmarried women working at ZAN and our lives today look little like they did back then, our friendship remains unchanged.

Congratulations to Kasia and Travis! You're one lucky guy.

I was also thrilled to spend the morning with Bekah soon-to-be Arnold on her wedding day. Your friends and family are so amazing. Thank you for the challenge and gift of capturing a few moments. Here are some of my favorite shots.

Be

Like a lake, exist in many ways.

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Blueberries and Baking

7/24/2016

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The rain is here for a few days, and with it came a moment to pause, pick blueberries, bake, and spend time with family. I headed up to my parent's cabin in the woods, which is a 2.5 hour drive and completely removed from the pace of the city. It takes about 24 hours after I arrive, but then it happens: I sit on the front porch and am content to stare at the lake, passing the time without thought, except to notice the sun arch past the trees.

The blueberries are in. Bright blue gems pop out against the green forest floor and stain our fingers.

Myron waits expectantly to share our harvest.

Once we rinsed the berries, we divided them up for two recipes. The first, a quick blueberry jam. The second, banana blueberry bread.

The blueberry jam was made with a bit of sugar, cinnamon, and lime juice. We cooked it down for close to 45 minutes until it became thick and condensed.

The banana bread came together quickly, and we gently folded in the blueberries before popping it into the oven.

Wild Alaskan Blueberry Jam

Banana Blueberry Bread

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Oregon Coast

6/30/2016

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We've been hearing about the coast for years. Starting in Portland, we traveled up and down the 101, had a few adventures, ate incredible seafood, and landed in Seattle for an-always-great time with Laura and Shane.

My Portland

With Powell's Books and the Pearl District on my agenda, I landed 36 hours before Adam so that I could take my time in Portlandia.

I was greeted on the drive into downtown with the bustling frenzy of the Starlight Parade preparations. 325,000 spectators were setting up their folding chairs as dodged my way to a parking garage.

I pulled over at one point, seriously contemplating paying for another hotel to valet park the rental, just to hear that I was so close to the parking garage of my own hotel, just five left turns away. Once parked, I was pretty desperate for an oyster bar with a serious cocktail menu. This is exactly what I found at Southpark Seafood. Their version of a "French 75" took the edge off as I slurped down half a dozen oysters. Their oyster shooter choices were wide-ranging. I chose a quail-egg, uni, oyster shooter with asian flavors. Excellent.

After a quick bite, I headed down to the waterfront. I wandered for a few hours through the carnival, downtown streets, past the parade, towards the setting sun.

Our Portland

Newport, OR

Local Oceans Restaurant

The aquarium:

We met the pacific ocean at Newport, which is about in the middle of the Oregon Coastline. Local Ocean Seafoods was the perfect place for dinner. The establishment operates as a fish market and restaurant, our kind of place.

Walking the docks after dinner

The Best Coast

For the next several days, we drove up and down highway 101. We bought fresh almonds and cherries from a farmer in Florence. We drove, walked, and took in the beautiful west coast.

Waves

Yachats
This is one of my favorite memories from our trip.
At the urging of a local, we found ourselves at this beautiful beach where
we watched the waves come in for the better part of an hour.
Rising and falling scupltures of water exploded from the sea like fireworks.

The road less traveled

We got off the 101 for a bit and took Oregon's 131. The rural towns were small and the wilderness big.
Quiet and wild, in a way, like home.

Lighthouse

Cape Mears
The lighthouse was built in 1889 and sits 217 feet above the Pacific but is only 38 feet tall iteself.
The Fresnel lens was shipped from Paris, hoisted up the 20 story cliff, and magnified five tiny flames that could be seen 21 nautical miles away. The lighthouse guided mariners for three generations.
I couldn't stop taking pictures.

Astoria

On our way to Astoria, we passed by Tillamook to get some cheese. Then, it was onward to my favorite town of our trip. Astoria sits at the mouth of the Columbia river. The Maritime Museum gave us a glimpse at the epic feats of the earliest mariners to brave the Columbia River Bar.

I found myself sitting in this window seat more than once looking up marine traffic that was passing us by. Thinking of the people who canned fish in this very building 100 years ago.

We walked around town, ate great food, and flew through the air for over a mile of zip lining; it was all a total blast.

We will be back, Astoria.

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Minneapolis

11/20/2015

For me, being in a city is always intimidating. I feel small and slow. I wonder if city dwellers might have a similar experience in the mountains.

Minneapolis is kind and sweet. I made friends with Konbo, an Ethiopian cap driver with eight children. He used to trade coffee beans and travel the world before immigrating to America. Now, his two oldest children are pursuing degrees in civil engineering and medicine, and he has big dreams for eight futures.

The picture to the left is of a gated cafe out of service for the season. Winter dreams.

Each morning the sun crested over the horizon and ricocheted brilliantly off walls and windows. This got me thinking about how being in a metropolis creates a pin ball machine effect. Hard surfaces and straight lines bounce me and my ideas around, giving them shape but also boundaries.

Then there was the food. . .

I ate at two notable places. The first was Heyday Eats Restaurant.

The second place was the single most memorable restaurant meal of my life. I only wish I had had Adam and some friends to share it with. Though, as it was, eating at Travail Kitchen and Amusements was like falling down the rabbit hole, in the most delightful way.

They recommend a four course tasting menu, and I would too. I indulged in:

Chicken Liver Tart
Malt-Grilled Pork Ribeye
Roasted Squab with Kohlrabi Raviolo
White Chocolate Caramel Olive Oil Cake with Tomato Granita

The bartender custom made cocktails with less sugar/sweetness for me. The dessert was a revelation with the the tomato granita as the highlight of the dinner.

There were 19 courses, and I am rendered a bit speechless, even in reflection. Here, I'll let the pictures do more than I could say. The menu is below.

Scenic City

The city is a forest of windows. Strait lines and grids rebel agains the chaos of nature, but even still an irrepressible frenzy bubbles to the blue surface and echoes the tangled furry of a forest floor.

Early Winter

11/8/2015

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Anchorage

So many personalities in the sky that night as
we walked the coast.

Eagle River
Yurt times are good times

The light of the fire, aurora, and candles
danced and dazzled.

Morning

Where's Jason?

The dew droplets are frozen orbs, enlightened diamonds dangling in the heavy cold.

And cotton clouds glow peachy rose on a sky that is anything but blue this morning. A gradient of hues sweep from pale yellow and green to lilac, then--at the apex of this dome--a granite periwinkle. The sun is generous but furtive as it reaches and recedes behind a curtain of bedrock giants that give shape to the place I call home.

Stone Carvings

The tendrils of winter kiss and crawl to form illuminated manuscripts on stone.
These elaborate designs are surely gone by now, but I saw them and held them and bring them back to you.

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Some days require a campfire

10/31/2015

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Some days require a campfire. I dragged the logs from the pile, split the wood, and poured breath into a fledgling flame. With hopeful glances, I furtively groomed the yard as the coals came to life, and words came slowly to the page.

Right now nothing is on my mind.

I pet my dog, listening to the sizzling logs dry out
and the flames twist in the air like
an arrant flag contorting in the current.

The chickens peck and flap and groom
and tap dancing
leaves roll across our mossy roof.

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Fall 2015

10/3/2015

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The pageantry of this season urges stillness like nothing else. There is a rhythm, and it goes like this: First, the sound of rain splashes broadly on surrendering trees, and then (in mid-morning) the water droplets form rock garden patterns in the bowled leaves that have come to rest on the deck—just briefly in this silence--before the chimes signal the winds.

As they do, the cranberries soak the air, and—for this season of endings—our family has been met with sweet, sweet beginnings.

Congratulations, you two!

Juniper and me

Yes, there is the food . . .

Prince William Sound Shrimp

Adam and I were delighted in the surprise delivery of these beautiful shrimp on one of the last days of the season. Thank you Jessie and Paul for sharing your bounty.

Jessie and Paul

Pizza Night to Celebrate an Engagement

Soups and stews to warm the
bones before the frost coats

Beef Burgundy

Chicken Broth

Lastly, friendship

Toes in the sand against the
backdrop of
caramelized leaves
Kasia, my friend, we'll sip wine and

Fall
Fall
Fall into a season.

and landscape

and fall is done.

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because to why

10/3/2015

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There are those days that seem to take form from pure kinetic energy. The work you do, the plans you lay bring into motion a day, whole in rejuvenation.

It started with poetry from my favorite, E.E. Cummings.

Blueberries, port like, summoned and satisfied; they burst into crimson stains in the snow beneath my footfalls, not to mention on my yearning palette.

Then, after a facial from Kelly Strong, I walked up the saddle in Eagle River. It was a silent and spacious hike, so I'm compelled to bring back scenes from the mountains.

Doesn't the soil seem richer in anticipation of the nutrient dense leaves? Decay and life are interwoven here, and the yellow will melt into the earth to return in the spring.

Back from the mountain, Adam and I savored the vestiges of summer. Allie, my sweet friend, shared her father-in-law's tomato bounty with us, so Adam and I crafted the best recipe we know for fresh tomatoes: Caprese, and it was the finest version we have ever had.

To close, E.E. Cummings

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An Alaskan Wedding

8/29/2015

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Get Ready. . .

The house has never been more beautiful, and just days before the wedding a cadre of us were focused on getting the details just right. That meant setting the stage, delivering the beer, prepping the mac and cheese, tomato soup, wedding cake, and caesar dressing. The day before, Laura and Erin climbed the saddle and collected boutineer and boquet flowers. The trip was muddy but the result was the best beauty Alaska has to offer.

Get Set. . .

The rehearsal was beautiful and just a few decisions had to be coordinated before the big day. When we returned, we had an amazing lasagna and finished prepping that last of the beef ribs and caesar salad.

With three generations in the house, it was impossible not to make the connection that we are right in the middle. Just 30 years ago, our parents and aunts and uncles were right where we are now, and we are just 30 years from helping Olive and her siblings and cousins celebrate their big day. It's an obvious realization, but one that I haven't really sat with before. It makes me thankful, quiet, and buzz with warmth.

Go!

Here we are. . .Game day. . .5 years in the making.
Everyone was calm, happy, and ready. The food came out without a glitch, the ceremony was sweet like honey, and the party lasted late late into the night. What a day.