I'll be spending a lot of time at Crate and Barrel this summer...

Last week, I received a sixth invitation for a wedding taking place within the next two and a half months. Some people might find that annoying. Or expensive. I do not.

You see, I LOVE weddings. Well, I love attending weddings. I’m not so crazy that I watch wedding reality tv shows, I don't want to have another wedding, and I don’t think I had any bridezilla freak outs in the 6 month engagement I had. 

But I will absolutely cry during your vows. And probably your first dance.

If we’re being really honest, I’ll probably get teary during your toasts.

Oh, and I love cake! But I won’t cry over it.

And I get to wear a fancy dress that I can move around in. Wedding gowns are hard to freak dance in, just sayin’.

Since my own wedding three years ago, only one other couple I know has gotten married (Go Sean and Morgan!). When I realized that this summer is the summer that every 20-somethings have where nearly every couple they know gets married, I was stoked. Six parties with our friends with food provided and dancing? I’m so in!

And it also during this time that I am beyond relieved that I am also married, but not for reasons you might expect.

I just really loathe the bouquet toss.

I don’t know why, but I do. I never wanted to catch it when I was unmarried and I don’t understand women who go nuts over trying to catch it. I’m also not about to rip someone’s dress off trying to claw my way to a bunch of flowers, however pretty, in some symbolic “we are next!” kind of gesture.

And what man needs the pressure of his girlfriend pronouncing to several dozen, possibly hundreds of  people what amounts to, “I’m just waiting for you to ask, buddy!”?

At Jerry’s aunt’s wedding, I tried to “go to the restroom” during the toss, that’s how much I dislike potentially being the center of unwanted attention. I was quickly busted by the family, though, and shooed over to the mix of single ladies vying for the flowers.

I shyly stood next to my cousin’s fiancée, Ashleigh, trying to stay in the back and out of range from flying flora.

Wait, I said to Ashleigh, You’re engaged! You shouldn’t be out here! This is cheating!

(I like rules!)

At that same moment, Jerry’s aunt launched the bouquet straight at Ashleigh, who then chest bumped it off of her…

…right into my unsuspecting hands.

A set up! The whole thing had been planned and apparently Jerry and I were the only ones who didn’t know. The pictures of me holding this bouquet are awesome. My face is one of mortification and How in the hell did this happen?!

I’ll never forget looking right at Jerry with I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to! all over my face. He was ghost white and shocked.

But, for as much bashing as I’ve given the bouquet toss, we were the next couple to get married in the family.

And I also threw it at my own wedding. Because I’m a hypocrite! 

While I’m really looking forward to the nuptials of J&S, A&K, M&S, S&J, J&C, and A&C, I’m also glad that I don’t have to find ways to weasel out of trying to catch the bouquet.

Although…I might have to arrange it so the bouquet “mysteriously bounces” off me right into J.Bell’s hands!  Look out, Ian! 

The irony is that while I type this, I'm making a cheesecake.

I love cooking; all of it; I love making dinners, side dishes, desserts, breakfast...you name it. Somewhere along the line though, I've gotten a reputation for being excellent at baking. While this is nice (a compliment is a compliment, people!), I sometimes feel slighted as a cook because my other cooking adventures don't get any press. I realize this is entirely my fault, I never post pictures of the prime rib I make, or the farmers' market concoctions I've put together, or the entire Thanksgiving meal I make, etc. I only take pictures of things I've baked because, well, they are the most photogenic. Vegetables aren't that impressive in pictures. Maybe they would be if I had a sweet, fancy camera but I've only got my sub-par blackberry camera for food shots. I also know that when I give people things I've made, 95% of the time it is something I've baked because that's the easiest to transport or the most traditional. A batch of birthday salad might be disappointing and only a select portion of my friends would enjoy a meat present over something sweet.

So, I've decided to share my favorite homemade salad dressing (of the moment) and salad with whoever might read this blog. I was given the original recipe by a friend of a friend but I've adapted it because I found the original too oily. I've included the original and my version below:

Original Nameless Vinaigrette:
2 large shallots, sliced thin
1 tsp honey
1 Tbsp dijon mustard
Salt and pepper to taste
Juice of one lemon
1/4 cup WHITE balsamic vinegar
3/4 cup extra virgin olive oil

Adapted Nameless Vinaigrette:
2 large shallots, sliced thin
1 tsp honey
1 Tbsp + 1 tsp Dijon, smooth variety
Salt and pepper to taste
pinch garlic powder
juice of one lemon
1/4 cup white balsamic vinegar
1/3 + 1 Tbsp extra virgin olive oil.

Keep ingredients at room temp., combine all ingredients in a small bowl, whisk together right before tossing with a salad.

You can always add more olive oil if you find it needs more balance; I originally started with 1/2 a cup and still found it to be too oily. A little more than 1/3 had rendered the best results for me!

Salad:

One bag baby organic Spinach
Sweet basil leaves, de-stemmed (as many as you like, I use a whole cup)
3 Tablespoons capers, rinsed.
1 cup good Feta in brine, broken into chunks
1-2 cups baby artichokes defrosted and sauteed
 (original recipe calls for fresh peas, which I love in this salad, but my family does not...)
handful of cherry tomatoes for color.

Gratitude Part II:

Littlefoot: The strength and love I’ve seen you put into everything around you is incredible.  You might not remember it, but you were the first person not involved in hiring me at CHS that I spoke to on the first day of school. You saw me in VONS and said that you heard I would be awesome. I think you made that up but I also think you knew I needed to hear something nice because I probably looked like a middle-schooler lost on a college campus.  That’s just who you are; you just know what people need at exactly the right moment. I can’t wait for you to return to work so I can torture you with pictures of birds flying near people and cows with their tongues out.  

Scott: Thank you for being the brother that reminds me how to laugh when life sucks the most. You are unabashedly funny, outgoing, and just so damn goofy that people can’t help but love you. I miss you even when life gets crazy and we don’t see or speak to each other for long stretches of time. I’m so glad that we are close siblings and even happier that we are friends.

Oogie: If Scott and I are mirror images of each other in humor, you and I are replicas of each other in our serious sides. Thank you for being the one I know I can call whenever I need and also for being the one who will call me out when I need it (which, you know, is pretty much never…ha!). I am so proud to be your sister and can’t wait for the perpetual three weeks to pass so you’ll finally come to San Diego!

Amanda: Soon, you’ll be A-JO! Transitioning from crazy college days to adulthood has been easier (and a lot more fun!) with you by my side. I feel like we were destined to be best friends; the college class, living right down the street from each other, being 21 at the same time; something made it so that we wouldn’t lose touch. I am proud to stand at your side as you get married and I am so glad that Kevin is the groom because he is a quality man with character and you deserve nothing less.  I love you!

Mike W: With the exception of one other person, you are my oldest male friend. And to think we drove each crazy in freshmen English! What I first hated about you are now my favorite things about you: your outspoken opinions, your refusal to compromise your values, and especially your love of filthy words. I guess it is a good thing that your wife is such a good match for you; I was still really hoping you’d buy me Hawaii for my 30^th birthday.

Jess: I am in awe of your confidence (that you so rightly have!). You are physically and emotionally one of the strongest and most beautiful women I know, you’re passionate about the things you love, and really an incredible person all around.  You’ve made those around you better people just by being an example…you are inspiring in so many ways, I hope you know.

Kiley: At first I didn’t know how you managed to live with all those boys; it is hard enough for me to live with just one! I’ve had some of the best times in recent memory with you, thank you for being so much fun! You are, in my mind, a perfect woman: independent, beautiful, tough when you need to be and soft-spoken and sensitive when the time is right. I’d crawl up a mountain and sit down in a cactus again in a heartbeat for you! 

Gratitude Part I:

One of the things I struggle with is articulating how I feel to others when those feelings are ones of love, gratitude, and friendship. It isn’t that I don’t have these feelings; I just choke, typically cry, and can’t get the words out the right way. I usually feel like the meaning I had hoped for is then lost.  So, I typically write these emotions to give to people so I can express what I really mean instead of fumbling over the words and feeling like an idiot. For our wedding, Jerry and I decided to have non-traditional vows and –at my suggestion- to also write our own personal tributes to one another. Jerry wrote a beautiful testament to us and his hands shook just a little as he read it. I had everything I wanted to say ready to go but when my turn to read came I got two sentences in and then blanked. Nothing. It was all right there in my mind, but I couldn’t get the words out. I also later stumbled over the actual recital of the vows because my nerves were all over the place. I still feel like I cheated Jerry a little in that regard; some day I’ll give him the tribute he deserves.      

Recently, I have been feeling remiss in telling people the good things I love about them and how much I appreciate who they are or what they’ve done. I’d like to let these people know in case I can’t seem to get it right face-to-face. Below, in no particular order and with some identified and some anonymous, are people for whom I am grateful and glad to know.

JM: Maybe it is because I’m writing and I seek to emulate your style, but you came to mind first. You are everything I admire about women all in one: strong, warm, open, intelligent, and still incredibly humble. Thank you for teaching me, whether you know it or not, how to own who I am and not apologize for my feelings.  You’ve seen me cry from a whole spectrum of emotions and yet, you always know exactly what to say. Knowing you has made me more comfortable with who I am and has motivated me to take (reasonable!) risks both professionally and personally. I don’t know how you do it all, but you do it all with a grace that I can only hope to one day reach.

Mike O: When I first met Jerry, you were deployed and it was several months before I was finally able to meet the best friend Jerry talked about with such admiration.  In the seven years I’ve known you, I’ve come to understand why Jerry loves you like a brother and how much I love you, too. Between the three of us, I know the words aren’t always there to say what we mean, but I am incredibly grateful for the friendship you’ve given me and for the friend you are to Jerry.

Class of 2011: In my brief tenure teaching, I’ve become attached to each class for different reasons. At your graduation, I looked around at all of you and was so proud of all of you (even the ones we pulled kicking, screaming, and possibly punching through English 12). Your speakers made a few references to your class’s lack of spirit or even lack of unity as a group and as I listened, I reflected on the impressions so many of you left with me.  Your class contains some of the nicest, most caring, and free-thinking individuals I’ve ever had the pleasure of teaching. Perhaps this has been interpreted as lack of cohesion as a class but, after I finished laughing hysterically at your flash mob, it occurred to me how awesome it has been that your class has so many different types of individuals who embrace each other even if you don’t always mesh. Never lose that sense of exceptionality; the world needs more people who aren’t afraid to be different.

To everyone who called, sent messages, flowers, and didn’t become offended when I couldn’t bring myself to respond or answer just then: Thank you for all the love and energy sent our way when we lost our baby. I appreciate it more than I can put into words.  Knowing I had people I could turn to when I was ready to crawl out of my grief meant everything. To D, the woman who thanked me for being open about my personal experiences with infertility and loss, thank you for validating my journey and sharing yours with me. 

There are more coming soon! 

It took me forever to find the words and it still doesn't sound like I want, but I don't think it ever will.

My lost one,

I loved you the moment we met, maybe even before that.  There was an anticipation building, one that made me fall so head over heels for you that my love for you radiated from me, giving away my secret to strangers.  More than one person stopped me to tell me how I was seemingly projecting happiness.

And I was. Friends I hadn’t seen for months before you existed just felt I was experiencing an incredible journey before I could even tell them.

Your tiny heart-beat was visible only to me the first time we saw it. Jerry couldn’t see it until a week later when the doctor told us she was sure we’d have a healthy baby in 7 more months.  That was a false sense of security, as it turns out.

I created a future for you, tiny baby.  In my mind, it was beautiful and it was real. I worried about you and your future happiness. Would I be enough to give you all that I wanted for you? How could I possibly give you the world you deserve? How would I be able to make you feel all the love in my heart?

Everyone who knew about you loved you, too; there was an incredible joy in knowing you were real, even if only for a brief time.

I have accepted that you were gifted to me for such a small time to give me hope. I am grateful for that. Hope is something I struggle with; there often isn’t much space between having hope and feeling hopelessness. Your existence showed me that I must have hope again, for I’d lost it.

Thank you, first would-be child, for giving me back that hope. Even though our time together was much shorter than expected, I find solace in knowing that you must have felt an immense amount of love, because there was so much of it directed toward you.

With more love than I ever thought I could feel,

Me. 

Sometimes, for a tiny moment, I miss "home."

One of my most vivid memories is of coming back from San Diego to visit old friends in late September and October. We would return from various colleges and meet up to go to the Kern County Fair. I remember the heat, dry and stifling despite the Fall season, and the sun bronzing the skin of those of us in shorts and spaghetti straps. Fried food and copious amounts of butter filled the area with a doughy smell. Someone would be missing- they couldn't make it this year- girlfriends and boyfriends, jobs, new lives interfered. We'd reminisce on times when we lived closer and our lives were interconnected.

When my car drops over the peak of the mountain affectionately called the Grapevine and the farmlands appear as sprawling green and brown patchworks, the calm that comes with being "home" settles in. I can take my car out of low gear; the almond trees and alfalfa fields fade and become the city I ran away from. That's my Bakersfield; not rednecks and bad air and meth but Tule fog that delayed school buses for an extra couple of hours sleep, feeding blue-jays and picking persimmons from my Grandma's yard, and Basque food most people will never hear of. 

I see now that I've spent the greater part of the last decade trying to escape my hometown, I was looking at it as though it was deficient in some way and therefore less superior to San Diego. But, despite trying to ingratiate myself into San Diego culture and project myself as a San Diego transplant, I remain a Bakersfield woman at heart. What I miss about home is everything I find lacking in San Diego: a cohesive character, intimacy, the memories of my youth. People ask me where I'm from all the time; I don't appear to fit in as a San Diegan. I even talk like I'm from Bakersfield- the long drawn out A sound- I know comes from my father's side of the family. I didn't realize I talk "funny" until I left the place where everyone talks like me. 

Even when San Diego excited me most, even though there are parts I've still yet to see, even when going home to visit makes me hate that place because the Grapevine is closed due to snow, San Diego still doesn't feel like my new home or even second home. San Diego is still radiant- a paradise for which I pay premiums in real estate- but neighborhoods function in cliques and it is fragmented. I feel far away from those I wish to be close to. It seems to me that there is a potential place here for everyone; everyone but me, it seems. 

No More Room for Error

It is 9:30 PM and my husband and I have just finished watching Black Swan at the theatre. We don't go to the movies often but when we do, we generally have nothing to worry about. Until recently, we were responsible only to ourselves. Our pets don't mind if we head to the movies and turn our phones on silent. The garden can hang while I'll power through a box of junior mints before the previews are over so I don't have to share with Jerry. Nothing of serious consequence would happen before if I disconnected from my phone for a few hours.

No more.

Recently, my husband and I have become parents. Not in the traditional sense: we skipped pregnancy, diapers, the first day of school, and even the first day of high school. We just got right into the trenches, I guess.

I am a Mommy-friend (never Mom) to a seventeen-year girl whom I am proud to call my daughter because I love her like one, even if it confuses the hell out of people because I'm clearly not old enough to biologically be so and even if she maintains (we encourage this) a relationship with her birth-mother. The circumstances of our relationship are irrelevant; V. fits into our family as though she was born to be here.

How do parents deal with screwing-up?

V. spent the weekend away from us for the first time since Thanksgiving. Jerry and I saw this as a chance to go to a bar downtown and then to the movies, as bars haven't been a place where we have gone for dinner since V. moved in with us.  I have a hard time winding-down and being fully focused on anything; but this time I sat in the theatre focused wholly on the delicious combination of choclate and mint.

This was my first parental error, surely not my last.

V. needed us, badly, while we were in the theatre. With our phones on silent, we missed her attempts to get ahold of us while the movie was playing. When the lights came on, I checked my phone right away, only to see that V. had tried to get in touch with us nearly two hours ago. My heart sank.

The situation has been resolved, but the guilt I feel over not being there for her when she needed it has not. The downside to skipping the baby aspect to parenting is that we've also skipped all the baby-steps that prepare us for these kinds of situations. I doubt a "real" new mom would go to the movies and forget to check their phones during the movie to make sure everything is well with her child. Given the circumstances of bringing V. into our lives, her age, and where she was this weekend, I didn't have a gut instinct to check my phone.

I really need to find that instinct.

Jerry and I have been very lucky in our transition from DINKS to parental-figures (for the record, Jerry doesn't have the title "daddy-friend" because that's really, really creepy...). Being a super-planner and over-thinker has helped, for once. I think that's why I'm so angry with myself for making such a boneheaded and (albeit accidently) selfish mistake. I should have just known to check in.

There have been too many errors caused by others in V.'s life already. Maybe I'm underqualified in terms of life-experience to be the support she needs. How do I know I'm not one of the problems?