{quilt}

Just have to share the beautiful Amy Butler quilt my mom made for me:



Thanks, Mom! And awesome, work!

{the apple doesn't fall far}

My parents visited us last weekend. A little dose of home was just what I needed. Seeing family is really rejuvenating (and also exhausting). As fun as the weekend was--with really good weather, lots of delicious food, and driving tours of the city--I'm glad to have my bed and my space back. I'm sure Mom is too. Anyway, as is usually the case, we came out of the weekend with only one picture, which doesn't even have my mom in it. But it's such a funny picture I have to share. You may recall previous posts about my similarities to my dad. This just illustrates it perfectly:



And, no, this photo was not staged. We both really were sitting on the sofa, laptops running with tv shows, arms folded, headphones in ear. (I should note that the similarities ended there: I was watching a sitcom while I'm pretty sure Dad was watching something sci-fi). Mom and Paul got a kick out of the scene and had to snap a shot.

{memo}

To: Californians
From: Kristin
Re: Spring

Sure, you have your year-round summers, your constant sun, your beaches, and decent Mexican food. But you know what you don't have?

Spring.

Spring, really, is amazing. A-maze-ing. You can't appreciate or understand the beauty and glory that is spring unless you've lived it--and unless you've first lived through winter. Maybe the Ohioans don't appreciate it as much as I do--me, a Californiohian of sorts--having experienced it so many times, but it never ceases to enchant me (so far). Let me briefly describe how it goes: Just as you're about to groan from the cold, and the bleakness--of none, zero, not a color in sight--and the gray mood for the hundredth time, you notice the thin shoots of green that have popped up. You wait, every day saying, "Maybe the daffodils will come up today," again. And then they do. Then all of sudden you notice the streets are lined with a breathtaking view of trees full of pink or white blooms. And you bask in the delight of it. Then the tulips come out. Then the dogwoods get their buds. And on and on. It's a fast-paced, don't-blink-or-you'll-miss-it time when every day is filled with wonder as your eyes feast on something new. And you see your gray world is suddenly a rainbow.

In a small effort to share this season with you, here's a photo of some of the blooms in our yard:

{a whole lot of shakin' goin' on}

It made the national news, so you may have heard that there was a 5.2 earthquake this morning in southeastern Illinois, which was felt as far as 500 miles away and in places like, you guessed it, Cincinnati. Unfortunately, I slept through the unexpected reminder of home. But Paul was up and felt it, as did most of my coworkers. People are all abuzz this morning about the earthquake, how it woke them up, freaked them out, confused them. They wondered what one is supposed to do during an earthquake. But no worries: I, the resident earthquake expert, filled everyone in on how you should get under a doorway (duh). Paul’s first thought during the earthquake was that our house’s foundation was finally giving in. My coworker thought someone was breaking in. Someone else assumed the breeze was rustling the frames on her wall. Which is so weird, because every time Paul shakes the bed during the night, my first thought is “earthquake!” It’s just kind of funny how ingrained the concept of an earthquake is in my mind (and every other Californian), but never even crossed the thoughts of people here.

{shoe armageddon : no worries}

Just an update on Operation: Don't Get Old...at Least for Now. I bought two pairs of shoes from Nine West yesterday (granted, I had to get them there because I only had store credit, but I digress). They are both a nice compromise between style and comfort. They're no Clarks, but I can wear them all day and not cringe. Plus, I wore the white ones today at work and earned the title "Queen of the Cutest Shoes."

{shoe armageddon}

I can’t believe it’s come to this: I’ve finally reached the point of craving comfortable shoes more than stylish ones. I know. This 30 thing it hitting me harder than expected. You may wonder...how did this happen?

It all started last fall when I was looking for a pair of gray suede ballet flats (because gray goes with everything). Anyway, right around that time, I heard about the opening of a local Clarks. Clarks—you know, the comfortable, practical (read: not so stylish) shoes typically sported by middle-aged housewives (ahem...no offense to the middle-aged housewives who are reading this). Let me remind you that I’m not middle-aged nor am I a housewife. But I sought out the store anyway and went right on in when I saw their new Artisan collection in the window—several leather shoes flanking the most adorable, perfect little pair of gray suede ballet flats. I tried them on and bought them in two minutes flat (no pun intended). Fast forward five months. Now the shoes are a little scuffed and worn...because I wear them every darn day. They’re super cute for one thing and really do go with everything. They’re the perfect blend of casual, not-so-casual, and modern.
But mostly they are so—incredibly—comfortable. I didn’t know a dress shoe could be this comfortable. And they’ve ruined me.

Which brings me back to the start of my story. Now that it’s spring I’ve been on the hunt for espadrille wedges, slim leather flats, funky patterns, sling-back kitten heels. And, yet, today I found myself rounding back three times—three times!—to the Clarks table at Macy’s. I found myself having visions of heaven while trying on the sneaker-like flats that make your feel feel like they are sitting on a cloud. I found myself likening the experience of shoe-shopping to that moment when you get in your ultra-comfy bed at the end of a long hard day. I found myself excited at a table with not an espadrille, kitten heel, or stylish pattern in sight.

Move over Nine West.

{misses}

The transition from the label “fiance” to “wife” hasn't been all that weird. And I’ve already gotten used to my new last name. It probably helps that it begins with the same letter as my maiden name and that I started going by that name at church before I got married. I am having a little trouble getting used to writing my new signature, but it’s not weird, just a little awkward for my fingers. But I was just filling out a form online and when I went to double check the form I saw I had accidentally put “Mr.” “Oops!” I thought. “Better change that to “Ms.” And the a second later, “No wait. I’m not really a Ms. [well, technically, I am] anymore, I’m a Mrs.” So I changed the form and then read it back. “Mrs. Kristin B.” Whoa. That one struck me hard. I don’t think I’ll get used to being a Mrs. for quite a while.

{sniff, sniff}

In case anyone is wondering...I miss home. Sure, Cincinnati is a great city, there are so many things about it that I enjoy and would really miss if I ever left. But I still consider California home. To be honest, I really don’t miss the state at all—who would miss $300K condos? Plus, I’m really not a warm weather and beach kind of girl (weird, I know). But I miss my family. A whole lot. I miss my friends. I miss my church. I miss stopping at Mom & Dad’s just ‘cause I’m in the area. I miss having dinner and catching up with old friends. I miss being able to call up Mom have her go shopping with me. I miss Panda Express. I miss going to a church where I know people and I have a place. I miss Golden Spoon pies at Kim’s house. I miss feeling like I fit in. I miss running into people I used to know. I miss impromptu Friday nights watching HGTV and chatting with Mom. I miss birthday dinners and visits from Papa Jack. I miss a small group that I look forward too. I miss girls’ night out. Isn’t it supposed to get easier the longer you’re away? For me, it just seems to get harder.

{miscellaneous}

Second Time Around: I have this theory that nothing is ever as good the second time. Take sequels, for example. And a great local restaurant is always disappointing on visit number two. And then there's the fact that I will never, no matter how much I love it, by a shirt in two different colors because as soon as I have the second shirt, it becomes no fun to wear. I think it has to do with expectations. Or maybe the inevitable failure of trying to re-create an experience.

IKEA: I finally made my inaugural trip to IKEA, West Chester, last Thursday. They have event parking, which was pretty funny (we parked in B2), but it wasn’t all that crowded. I ate the meatballs, which tasted like Swanson frozen salisbury steak. I had hoped to buy a lot more things than I actually did. While cute, everything at IKEA is way too modern for our house. We had lots of time to kill so we were able to spend over an hour wondering through the entire store. And kudos to Paul for shopping with me almost the entire time. I did get much satisfaction in my purchase of two ledge shelves ($15 total!), two large frames ($20!), and $.99 lint brush (those things are ridiculously expensive at other stores).

Cliche: All that really matters is love. I was writing to a friend about marriage the other day and this dawned on me. It’s a cliche, but it's true. Well, love and commitment to God and the institution of marriage. I realized when two sinful people come together, it really doesn't matter how similar they think, how social they are, how well they dress, how great their families are, or what interests they share, that sin’s gonna come out!

Single Stamina: We were recently watching an episode of How I Met Your Mother (the first season of which is pretty funny) called “Single Stamina”. The episode is about how single people are granted the stamina to go out and meet people, whereas married people just can’t muster up all that energy. How true! My coworker and were just discussing how we want to stay home every night versus our single lives that were filled to the core. Case in point: Paul and I re-created our first date last Saturday. We hit the art museum and some shops and restaurants. Needless to say, the experience paled in comparison to our real first date. But we also realized how much less energy we have now that we’re married. First date? 11 hours. Second first date? 4 hours.

Cost of Living: I just went to Trader’s Joes to pick up a few things that I can only get there. Trader Joe’s—the place that really is less expensive than the grocery store. I got three bags—three!—and I spend $60. Hello! I didn’t even get the $5 cheese, the $7 flowers, or the $8 can of coffee.

Just like Dad: The other day at dinner I found myself spouting the phrase “You know, because a peanut is a legume not a nut. That’s why people can be allergic to other nuts (tree nuts) but not peanuts, and vice versa.” Where do I pick up this information? Anyway, Paul and I both realized at the same time that I recall some rather random stuff....just like my dad. I have these moments often, it seems. Well, if I’m turning into my dad, I consider it an honor. Well, except for the “no fruit” thing.

Stereotypes: Why, just because I’m a woman, am I expected to make meal-cooking my ministry? I understand that most women in my church are stay-at-home moms that have the time and desire to cook meals and bring them to people. But not me. I hate cooking. And I don’t have the time to drive 40 minutes to deliver a meal I don’t have time to make during the day because I work. I wonder if anyone else feels this way but cringes in silence like I do. I don’t mind providing money or buying a gift card, but it really bothers me how many assumptions and stereotypes are in the church.

{little me}

Just thought you'd like to take a peek at this:

{ikea countdown: 2 days}

Three days ago I was desperate for IKEA to open for two reasons: I needed a bookcase and table lamp. I can’t seem to get either for under $150 (except at Target, and I can’t and anything I like…and why are good-looking lamps so darn expensive!). I happened to rearrange the living room furniture on Friday afternoon (you know, snow day…) and now I don’t need either (a happy accident)! But I still like this Expedit bookcase:

{ikea countdown: 4 days}

Sticking with the chair theme (because we have a ton of random side tables but are seriously lacking in chairs), the blad chair, multicolor:


Okay, so it doesn't actually go with the house, but it's too cute anyway.

{ ikea countdown: 5 days}

I'm so desperately excited about IKEA finally opening! I've already requested a date night to IKEA next week. Paul wasn't too thrilled until I mentioned the cafe and cinnamon rolls. Whatever it takes. Anyway, I've been compiling a long wish list of things I want from IKEAs o I thought I'd share them here. Up first: the Roger dining chair.



I'd like at least two because if we were to have more than two people over for dinner they would have to bring their own chairs. This chair would look fab with my dining table. And I'm thinking I would recover the boring fabric in a stylish, bold pattern.

{free day}

It's noon on Friday and I'm at home, sitting cross-legged on my comfy soaf, watching HGTV. And I didn't take a vacation day (or call in sick). Why?



Snow day! Sometimes, it pays to live in a place where it snows (and not work at home). Our company is pretty stingy with the time off for inclement weather (we never get any time off), but the winter hasn't been bad anyway. Until now. In March.

I have to pat myself on the back; I did really well this winter. I'm pretty proud. I don't freak out about driving in the snow anymore, even when I have to go uphill on an unplowed street and my car is swerving without traction. (Wait, Mom, pretend you didn't read that part). I've come a long way since my first time driving in snow in college, where I was crying and praying and fearing for my life--when it wasn't even that bad and I lived 1/2 mile from campus. Go me!

{politics}

Well, not yet.

Unless you live under a rock you’ll know that the Ohio primary is today. So I feel compelled to post something political. I groan at all things political, so I’m sure it won’t happen again.

A couple of weeks ago, I was really excited to learn that Ohio’s primary results will end up mattering. When I heard our primary was more than a month after Super Tuesday, I was pretty disappointed because I figured that our votes wouldn’t make a difference. But now I wish our votes didn’t really matter. And I know that’s horrible thing to say. But voting is SO stressful for me. You see, I actually care about making an informed decisions befire I vote, and not basing my decision on whoever is most charismatic. But I have a serious problem making decisions. I’m not a person with strong political convictions. Not because I’m apathetic, per se, but because I am not a black-and-white kinda person. I see the world in numerous shades of gray, making it difficult for me to see anybody’s point—with a few exceptions, of course--as wrong. I always feel like everyone makes a good point. And how am I to know what the best answer is? I just feel so worn down with confusions and frustration and a feeling of “I just have absolutely no idea.” Case in point: I took this online quiz that is supposed to tell you which candidate(s) best line up with your ideals. The results? I best line up with both Huckabee and Clinton. Um, yeah, exactly my point. So what’s a girl to do?

{dispelling myths about editors}

I get a lot of incorrect assumptions about my job. I also get a lot of people pointing out typos in my blog posts and emails. So in an effort to clear up all this confusion as well as prevent future pointings-out, let me explain a few things about editors:

1. Just because we know the right thing to do, doesn’t mean we actually do it. It’s like a doctor who smokes. I hate typing, so when I’m writing a quick email, the last I’m caring about is proper grammar.
2. We don’t know everything about grammar, we just know when and where to look something up. The dictionary is my best friend.
3. Whether you’re an editor or not it is nearly impossible to perfect your own work (and the reason why we need editors in the first place). Our minds play fill-in-the-blank when we read are own writing. So my emails and posts, even if I reread them, are bound to have mistakes.
4. An editor’s job is not to check spelling. In fact, I rarely pay attention to spelling. A proofreader’s job is to check the spelling, along with grammar, punctuation and adherence to style manuals. An editor’s job is typically much more. My job consists of working with an author to take their manuscript from first draft to prepress. I mentor and guide authors through the book process, I rework and rewrite their manuscripts so that they are comprehensible and appropriate for the topic of the book. I do photo shoots, I work with designers who design the book, I track budgets, and attend title brainstorming sessions. I love this description: “The job of an editor is, among other things, to prod, shape, wheedle, cajole, mediate, challenge, anticipate, nit-pick, chastise, inspire, support, confront, defend, harangue, and, as required, suggest different words, phrases, or grammar.” That pretty much sums it up.
5. For the record, although everyone thinks think they can proofread, few are really good at it. In fact, most of the proofreaders that I work with at my job are pretty poor proofreaders. Proofreading doesn’t just require an interest in reading or an ability to spell, a proofreader has to recognize when wording, grammar, or spelling might be amiss. They must be very detailed, paying attention to every word. They must pay attention to consistency, remembering if the details on page 99 matched those on page 1.
6. Contrary to popular belief, editors are not perfect. Just like every other person, we make mistakes. Only unlike doctors, our mistakes won’t kill you, so give us a break!

{just a little something...}

…to get you through to my next real post. My latest scrapbook page (about me and my dad), which I made for work (of course):

{happy valentine's day!}

{i heart ikea}

Saw this today and I was so excited I had to share:

OH, West Chester


Yippee!!!!!!

{of blogs and valentine's day}

I know, I have been a blogging slacker...but I have good excuse. I’m contributing to not one, but three blogs (two for work and this one). Since I paid to write the ones for work, those are my priority. I just recently got the job of writing the third blog. Our company started a web site that’s like Facebook but for people who do all kinds of crafts. The fact that I’m even involved in this new site is kind of ironic since I’ve pretty much refused to involve myself with either Facebook or Myspace on principle, and now here I am populating blogs and message boards and photo galleries on a Facebook clone. I have to say I was pretty honored at being named the scrapbooking and papercrafting group leader on the new craft site. A long with a lot more work to do, I get...a lot more work to do. I really shouldn't imply that I’m annoyed about it because I’m not. I’ve always been a big fan and having too much (rather than not enough) work to do, and I’m glad to know that my boss acknowledges that I’m a good blogger and all my blogging experience has paid off. Plus, it’s pretty cool to get paid to play around on web site and read message boards.

So, in honor of both my new post (pun intended) at work and Valentine’s Day, here’s a digital scrapbook page I made recently for the work blogs:



The quote (from Story People) says: “I'm not that good at being a tourist because I'm always looking at the way the light shines in your hair or the way your dress opens to the wind & my favorite places in the world are places filled with you.” This is actually my “token of appreciation” (we don’t exchange gifts) for Paul, but he won’t be reading the blog before Thursday.

Photos courtesy Jennifer Disney Photography.

Happy Valentine's Day to all my friends and family. I love you guys!