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It seems as though life might interfere with our annual 4th of July plans at the lake, and so we made a last minute decision to head there for a relaxing weekend. I had taken Thursday and Friday off work in a sad attempt to use up my vacation days before they expire, and the weather promised to be kind to us, and so we went.
Thursday evening we road tripped for the second time in as many months---just us and the open road, guided by a late-night moon, the beat of our tunes and the quiet created when each of us surrendered to the pull of our thoughts. The trip began with animated conversation and laughter as we devoured the impromptu picnic I’d prepared to avoid gut-rot courtesy of the food available at rest stops between our destinations. But eventually, we settled into that comfortable place that comes after years together, when you can enjoy silence---alone, and yet so completely together.
Friday was chilly and a bit dreary, but perfect for lakeside reading wrapped in cozy towels with a fur babe snuggled on each side. I tore through three books and adored every minute of it.
Saturday and Sunday gave us bright blue skies and gentle breezes and we checked out the lake by pontoon boat and by wave runner and by kayak. I think if I could begin every morning greeting glass-surfaced water with the left to right rhythm of a paddle, I’d be infinitely more relaxed and would happily boast well toned arms. There is a lot more kayaking in my future, is what I’m saying.
A rogue wave tried to abscond with Jack when he got a little too close as I was attempting to gracefully exit the kayak, but I quickly grabbed him after only a few seconds of furious swimming with all four paws. Husband showed quick reflexes and Hero worthy moves when he deftly scooped Cooper from the water between the dock and the boat lift where he slipped in after running a bit too close to the edge. And we also took an unexpected dip while pausing astride the wave runner to take a closer look at a new-ish house on the lake’s perimeter. A lean too far in one direction dumped us both in one quick flip, but miraculously we were able to drag ourselves back onto the seat without much fanfare.
Unexpected dips into the lake aside, it was the sort of weekend that wraps up every summer staple into the perfect package. The sort of weekend where the Sunday sads came much later than usual, if they come at all. The sort of weekend that you just want to live again and again.
Here’s to lazy days of bright blue skies and yellow kayaks, and evenings full of smoky scented s’mores. Happy summer!
At last, let's talk about the final stop of our much loved, long awaited Italian adventure.
We finished our trip with a few days on the coast discovering the five darling towns of Cinque Terre. It isn't really a place that you can capture in words and photos, but it grabbed me by the heart and I know two things for sure: 1) I will never forget our time there, and 2) without question, we will return.
It's the sort of place that challenges reality; you honestly can't believe it exists. Stunning views at every turn, sleepy villages built into the mountainsides with panoramic line of sight to the ocean thousands of feet below. You look out to the horizon and see nothing but sea in all directions, but it doesn't feel desolate, it just feels peaceful. Comfortable. Like coming home.
I adored every minute and every stop of our Italy travels, but I am a coastal girl at heart, and this place brought out the best in me. We weren't able to do the full hiking experience due to an extra long rainy season that had the trails closed for fear of mudslides. I suspect they opened about a month after we left, and it is now on my life list to return and hike them in full. We did do the infamous "lover's walk" from Manarola to Riomaggiorre, and it was lovely. We stopped to take photos all along the way, and to inspect the locks and trinkets left by people all over the world who had traveled our same path. I posted updates to Facebook while we were on the walk, and immediately several people replied with their own endorsements of the same experience. It seems that everyone who visits leaves truly touched by this special place.
I think about Cinque Terre quite often; I close my eyes and remember sitting at the water's edge when the sun went down. I think about the full afternoon and evening we spent sitting at a table on a cliff. We drank wine and prosecco and ate jams and breads, and talked and talked. It is truly the sort of place that is so difficult to leave, you can actually see yourself forgetting the "real world" and moving there full time. I'd open my own cute shop or restaurant or gelato stand and interact with people from all over the world, every day. I'd hike and kayak and swim and take ferry rides and travel all over Italy and Europe.
I'd endure thirty rocky train rides on dirty cars to get there again. It's a special part of the world, and I am so thrilled that I was able to experience it.
Monterosso, Vernazza, Corniglia, Manarola and Riomaggiore---you captured my heart with your magic, and I will be back.
I wouldn’t know what hard work looks like, what value it brings to the world, what a difference it makes to the life of an individual, a family, a community.
I wouldn’t believe that each of us is in charge of our own destiny and that it is always possible to change your path, shift your perspective. I wouldn’t know, because I wouldn’t have seen the perfect example every day, in my own home.
I wouldn’t appreciate a cold beer on a hot summer day or know the joy of speeding down a mountainside on skis, wouldn’t adore the smell of a grill primed for a cookout, wouldn’t know the feeling of screaming with thousands on Derby Day.
I wouldn’t have enjoyed side splitting laughter at the sight of a grown man attempting a pike jump.
I wouldn’t have a birdseye view of what it feels like to stand behind a huge wooden door in a wedding gown, excitedly facing my future, holding tightly to the arm that guided me every day that preceded that moment (in conjunction with my lovely Mother, of course).
I wouldn’t know the ONE man who actually manages to rock a mustache.
I wouldn’t have survived Connie the Contour, wouldn’t have been able to find my groove in LA, wouldn’t know that in the end, it all works out.
I wouldn’t have found the perfect husband, because I wouldn’t have understood the value of family, wouldn’t have known what to look for.
I wouldn’t be me. And I wouldn’t be here, which is---of course---exactly where I am supposed to be.
The examples are infinite, as is the love, and the experience.
Happy Father’s Day, Dad. And thanks for always providing just the right worldview at just the right time. For pioneering the path that got us where we are, that makes our family us.
And for making the journey so damn much fun.
I have a soft spot for weekends. I know most people do, but my obsession grows constantly, a thirsty plant turned upward toward the rain-filled sky. I'd love to be one of those lucky people who lives with the same joy, same passion, same get-up-and-go every day, not live with one eye constantly trained on the sweet relief afforded by the weekend ahead. But the truth is, I am not. I am a weekend girl, through and through, and I love the arrival of Friday afternoon, the mix of lazy and productive and relaxation and togetherness that colors Saturday and Sunday, the wine infused dinners out and wine infused dinners in, the feeling of opening my eyes with no sense of urgency. No beeping alarm, no frantic rush, no go-go-go, just a steady progression of lovely. Winding through neighborhood streets sipping on Starbucks, nodding hello to neighbors, laughing at pups who lose their minds over squeaky orange balls in the park. Errands and shopping and flitting here and there. Seeing friends and sometimes just enjoying our own company. Popping the cork on wine bottles, firing up the grill or walking to a neighborhood spot for sushi, curling up on the couch or outdoor chair with our laptops or magazines or books. Talking and being quiet, running around and sitting still...the lullaby of weekends sing me through the craziest of weeks.
And while all weekends are greeted with joy and open arms around here, there are always a few that stand apart from the crowd. And one in particular that gives us enough joy to last several months each and every Spring.
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The first weekend in May always brings us Derby, and we happily hunt down attire and hats, pack our things and head for Bluegrass. The energy of Churchill Downs on Derby Day (and even on The Oaks the day prior) is hard to express in words and photos. The entire place just vibrates with Southern pride and good times and family traditions and fierce fashion.
And there is one moment toward the end of the day that really brings the entire experience full circle. A moment when final bets are placed and drinks are clutched and everyone piles into their boxes and spills over into aisles and walkways for a better view. When a hush falls over the crowd and the familiar strains of My Old Kentucky Home fill the air, every mouth singing along, almost every eye spilling over with tears, and a palpable rush fills the air for just a second.
A moment when horses load into starting gates far to our left, an announcer's voice readies the crowd for the best two minutes in sports, and a cheer takes the shape of a stadium wave and grows steadily through the throngs of people until it reaches where you stand and you scream your fool head off, completely lost in the magic of the world's finest animals. You yell for all of your furry friends, and you get emotional again and again thinking of just how hard those beautiful creatures run. How they give it their all, right to the finish.
And you snap photos and hug your family and give thanks for the millionth time that you're part of such an amazing, time honored tradition.
This year's Derby was good stuff. The Oaks the day before wasn't shabby either. And we had such fun.
Behold, photographic evidence:
Rocking PINK for the OAKS!
DERBY FUN:
Next up---separate posts honoring the hats and horses of Derby. Yes, they are fully worthy of their very own post.
So far, summer has been incredibly weird here in the Windy City. It's barely shown up at all, as a matter of fact. A few picture perfect days have slipped in amidst the gray and rain and chill and blah, and we even saw a few days of scorching heat a week or two ago (not that I enjoyed it or want that particular temp to return), but on the whole, it's as if the city has forgotten how to do summer.
We have needed hoodies for the majority of our walks, and could have justified gloves on a couple of particularly chill worthy days. The state of the weather didn't deter us from welcoming summer the way we do every year---with our typical dose of hoopla and fun lakeside---but it certainly put an interesting twist on Memorial Day weekend.
Things that were the same (aka normal): feel-good runs around the lake, plenty of time for indulgent reading and relaxation, yummy family time, grilled food galore and lake-gazing at the end of the dock, lost in thought as the wind churned waves rolled in around us.
Things that were not the same (aka wackadoodle): temps of FORTY-SEVEN degrees the first two days we were there, tornado warnings, nasty storms that upended trees, ripped off portions of roofs, and tossed patio furniture all around. Being without power for fifteen hours. Reading at the end of the dock wrapped in a hoodie and a towel with extra towels for blankets. Insane temperature ranges---low forties upon arrival, but the gauge in the card read 106 when we left to head back to the city. Bazar.
We made the most of it though, and rocked our long holiday weekend as hard as we always do. We just had a few different experiences this particular year.
Uncle Kevin ditched his beard, and it is unanimous that the new look is much improved:
After a decent day of enjoying outdoor time, albeit wrapped in extra layers, a storm blew in quite speedily and put on a thunder clapping, lightning flashing, wind whipping show:
We lost power almost immediately, and were without it the rest of the night. We improvised, and got quite cozy. It is certainly one of those times, though, when the merits of switching to e-readers are overshadowed by the simple truth that an actual book will never need to be plugged in. :)
Mother Nature made up for the insane storm in the form of a most rad sunset that we were thrilled to soak up from the dock:
It was an odd beginning, but a beginning all the same. And as we do every year, we happily welcomed the season of sunscreen and pruny fingers and s'mores in one of our very favorite places.
Happy summer, friends.
I can feel the pendulum readying itself to swing at work. The mood is shifting from well managed chaos indicative of any agency environment, to anxiety ridden days that bleed into sleepless nights where work invades dreams and I wake up with intent focus on a particular to-do. It's inevitable, and expected, but I'd really like to stem the tide a bit this year, not let the last six months of the year roll by in a stress-riddled blur of travel and events and late nights and holidays shoved in between. The truth is, my tendencies toward Type-Aville make the situation far more dramatic that it needs to be. It will require constant effort on my part, but I believe I can shift the sentiment back toward center, at least a little.
Friday was the sort of day that ended with me high-tailing it to the nearest wine bar where I released pent up stress for several hours with great company and more than enough wine. I woke up Saturday feeling the effects of a little too much vino, and decided immediately that I want to upend the pattern starting now, set the stage for calmer, more reasonable waters. It begins with me, and I need to make a conscious effort to right the ship every single day, until that way of thinking---the slower, less intense response---is commonplace, habitual.
I have gone about the rest of my weekend with that mindset front and center, putting the focus where it should be---on my little family---and literally redirecting my thoughts every time I feel the stress invade, the knot tighten deep in my stomach. It's a start, and I'll take it.
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The older I get, the more I enjoy the comforts of home. I will choose a night in our cozy quarters over a raging party on the town every time. I'm inspired by interior design, intrigued with the notion of having a home that tells a story. And committed to making sure our home tells a story that is indicative of us. We reconfigured a bit this weekend. Shifted things around, brought in a few new items, gave everything a hearty clean. It feels good; bright and cheery and comfortable without eschewing chic. Good stuff.
We have a small eat-in nook, like our very own Italian cafe right in our front room. It's charming and happy-making, don't you think?
We're psyched to enjoy meals here and turn it into a mini office for my work-at-home Fridays. The sun streams through the window just right, and it's lovely.
The main room feels airy and open thanks to a quick redo of our furniture layout. Now we're on the lookout for the perfect barstools for our island, so our options for dining seating will be complete. I've got my eye on a few different options, and I suspect we'll have them in no time at all.
In the interim though, I'm loving our new seating cluster, perfect for curling up with a good read:
And my beloved shelves, flipped from horizontal to vertical orientation, really opening up the room:
Rustled up a little organization/containment for the coffee table:
And of course, kept a sweet little corner spiffed up especially for the kings of the house:
And our bedroom is feeling a bit more soothing thanks to our neutral bedding upgrade. Next up: better pillows, art for the walls, and pops of yellow to brighten our days. It's quite beckoning, yes?
Our front patio is summer ready too---bright red geraniums and pattered pillows draw us out there all the time to soak up the air and people watch.
Our fridge and pantry are stocked for the week ahead, the fur babes are spent from sun-soaked walks to the park, and we're contemplating a little tennis on the Wii before dinner and another walk and the regular bedtime routine.
Happy week ahead. Make it a good one.
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