it's been long, but you are right

Suddenly it is May and it is spring and sunny--perfect weather--and my to-do list inexplicably doubled overnight. And this is the month we will say goodbye to our best little apartment of five years and move a few streets away to our new (very old) home. This picture was taken in the backyard. Backyard! Everything is already different. How did I live so long without a bit of green space? I can't wait to make this little house a home.

Still, I'd by lying if I said the implications, the permanence of a home, hadn't given me pause. We've been on a "maybe in a couple of years we'll decide" road in terms of leaving or staying (always the question for everyone(?) in New York, can we make it work? Is it worth it?) for most of our time here. And now, well, barring unforeseen circumstances, we are here. We don't have a reason not to be. In fact, we have a lot of good reasons to be. I remember talking to Elliott's uncle once about this, how do you decide where to settle down? And he sort of laughed that we even had this choice. He said he never "decided where to live," he said he had to follow the work and hope the work let him stay put. And I guess to a degree that is true for us, in terms of where Elliott should be for work.

Really,  I know that staying put is the best way to move forward (for us).

But there is always something to miss. I learned that probably when I first moved to New York, and I recognize it as a part of life that follows you regardless of where you go. I don't like being far away from family. But I know even moving back to Arkansas wouldn't completely change that. Still the nagging feeling, the sadness of only a few times a year. I'm not sure what to do with that.

[completely unrelated! I made these cookies last night for homegroup and they were a hit. browning butter is magic, no?]

Grandma Criss

Eileen (Criss) S. Lepine

October 22, 1920 - March 22, 2013

My grandmother died on Friday. She was 92 and she was ready. She said, "it's a lot harder to die than you might think." But thankfully when she died, she was peaceful. She wasn't sick and she didn't have cancer and she didn't have an accident and fall. She was 92 and her heart failed her.

Growing up, my Grandmother was what you might think of: she made us soup when we were sick, always had cookies at her house, took us on trips (me to London in the 7th grade), sewed us flannel pajamas every Christmas, and babysat us when my parents went out of town. Truthfully, I didn't really like it when she babysat. She was strict, but admittedly, we were also kind of difficult (at least, I was). She liked to tell the story about the time she babysat us and I purportedly sat on my younger brother Jimmy during a fight. I think she liked to tell the story now because Jim and I became good friends as we got older, and she couldn't believe we would ever be nice to each other.

My Grandmother wrote me letters when I was at summer camp, and when I moved away to New York. She kept all of the letters that I wrote her back. She bought me a coat for my birthday during my freshman year of college, "You'll need a warm coat for those New York winters." (I still wear that coat.) She was practical, but generous, careful to treat her grandchildren equally, and individually. Growing up as one of five siblings, I think we all craved that. She spent time with us one on one, taking us out to lunch, making sure she got to ask us lots of questions, and always making at least a few comments that were supposed to "stay between us."

She always said to me, "everything in moderation" and I appreciated her sensibility. She was blunt and sarcastic, but not irreverent. She was confident and resilient, and I think passed that on to her children and her grandchildren. Her life was not always easy. Her oldest daughter and my namesake, Kathy, died in a car accident at the age of 22. Even in her grief, I never knew my Grandmother to be bitter. She believed in God and she believed that everything happens for a reason.

The last day that I saw her, my 28th birthday, I had a feeling it might be the last time. My grandmother rarely showed emotion and preferred actions over words, but we both got a bit choked up when we said our goodbyes. I'm grateful I was able to tell her I loved her, and grateful that she said she loved me too. I knew she was ready to go, I just hope she knew how much she would be missed.

nothing ever stays the same, nothing's explained

[cozy reading a book with d]

| finally seeing Desaparecidos play a show
| picking the pup up from daycare after work, stopping by the Meat Hook, cleaning the bathrooms, and making brownies all before homegroup at 7:30pm
| the Walkers arriving in town and cooking salmon for dinner
| finally getting to see our little house again and dreaming about hanging out in the backyard this summer
| the brooklyn flea and sandwiches at beecher's
| leftover soup for lunch after church
| ramen and art
| sunshine, lunch date by myself, 3 mile run after work, reading in bed to fall asleep

Real talk here. There have been good things, but there have also been Elliott working until 10pm things. He is busier than ever, working hard, and thriving. He has grown so much in his work and his career in the past five years. It's incredible really, and such a blessing. For me though, my job has always been mostly a job (don't tell my employers), and I have found fulfillment and growth through relationships and experiences. Sometimes it is easier than other times, but right now it is harder. I'm trying to stay motivated, to pursue my interests, but feel like I can't move forward.
When I was training for the marathon last fall, I enjoyed having something to focus my energies on, but it did make me feel more distant in my relationship with Elliott. How do we press on, be challenged, pursue things we enjoy, and yet stay on the same page? As someone who enjoys independence, how do you maintain that spirit, while allowing for enough dependence on your spouse? It's a delicate balance. When I pursue my own things, I feel distant from Elliott, but when I take a step back and try to support him, I feel stagnant and boring (not bored, but as though I have nothing to contribute to the conversation). Is this the point in marriages when people have kids? Kidding. Kind of.

without leaving a piece of youth

| 3 mile run in the rain
| Elliott bringing home Shake Shack for dinner
| talking about feminism over sushi
| karaoke in ktown and singing along to Tonight, Tonight
| sandwiches from Saltie
| skype date with Dana

three-day weekend

[breakfast in bed]

| valentine's sushi dinner at 15 East

| 4.5 mile run on Saturday (I'm signed up for two half-marathons this spring, so I need to kick it into gear) 

| house of cards

| a movie and dinner with my ladies

| quiet day off spent at home doing laundry, cleaning, and cooking