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Best Of Summer 2016

2016-09-21T21:11:00.001-05:00

I have a funny relationship with fall. Throughout the final weeks of August I find myself dreading Labor Day weekend and the change of seasons. I'm not sure why this is, because once I've gotten over the transition and the trees start to change, fall is my favorite season. It's almost as if I need that signal from the trees; they know it's time for change before I do. Once those colors start to pop I relax and say, oh, you are right, I'm ready for fall.

One of the reasons I have a hard time giving up summer is because it is often filled with lots of travel, something that is harder to do during the school year since Evan is a teacher. During the summer months Evan works at the airport so we use his awesome flight benefits to visit family and spread our wings. Now that Evan has finished his first couple weeks back at school and we're working our way into new fall routines, I'm already nostalgic for all of our summer adventures.

So as one last hurrah and in order to officially bid summer adieu, I'm having a little award ceremony over here for the Best of Summer 2016! (corny, perhaps, but work with me.) Perhaps it will help someone plan a future trip - like a road trip to the best brewery in the country (IMO)! Or at least reflect on your own summer bests, wherever you spent them.

Best Meal: The Farmhouse Tap and Grill, Burlington, VT

Evan and I spent our first night away from Henry since he was born (!) while visiting my parents in Massachusetts. We drove a couple of hours up to Vermont, where we stayed at a B&B, did some biking and dined at The Farmhouse. I got the fried chicken with honey and brown-butter glaze, with a side of nitty gritty spoon bread (like a cross between cornbread, polenta and grits) and braised kale. Evan got a burger. I don't know if we were simply wooed by the food itself or if the novelty of eating without a toddler magically enhanced our taste buds, but we left that meal on a food-high, determined to recreate it at home. I'll let you know if I ever succeed.

Best Beer: Tree House Brewery, Monson, MA

It's a blessing and a curse: once you've had Tree House beer everything else will pale in comparison. Evan learned about this brewery last winter when a fellow teacher informed him that it is one of the top breweries in the nation - and only 30 minutes from my parents' house in central Massachusetts. The clincher is, you can't buy this beer in stores, you have to get it on-site, after standing in a long line of fellow beer-enthusiasts. They only sell beer a couple days a week for a few hours in the evening, and you have to follow them on Twitter to find out what beer will be available that day. We happened to be there on a popular day so the line snaked around a field, and when we finally walked out of the brewery with a full box in our arms and saw all those poor souls still baking in the sun, it was hard not to smile. Even if you start the day as just meh about beer, by the time you leave Tree House you will be a fan. (Haze and Lights On are my favorites!)

Best Ice Cream: Four Seas, Cape Cod (it was so good I forgot to snap a photo!)

This old-school ice cream shop in the center of Cape Cod (Centerville, MA) is a little crazy inside but it's nothing the skilled high-school servers can't handle. They have ice cream scooping down to a science. Before I knew it, we made our way through the line and had the best maple walnut ice cream in hand. I believe I had this for breakfast on two occasions, and I'm not one to eat ice cream for breakfast. I don't even normally love ice cream, so that's saying something! It was the perfect smooth texture with some firmness behind it, and the taste was not overpowering. Second place winner goes to Ben & Jerry's since we visited the factory in Vermont. But it was so overpriced and the tour guide was pretty bad, so I'm reluctant to give them the win. We had another memorable ice cream stop at Burnette Dairy Coop in Grantsburg, Wisconsin (a roadside creamery), also maple walnut ... apparently that was my flavor of the summer!

Update: We visited St. Louis right after I wrote this post and since it was technically still summer, I should include our St. Louis favorite: Ted Drewes Frozen Custard. On the old Route 66, this place is a legend. If the long line and packed parking lot don't convince you of its popularity, just look at the side of the building for the celebrity board. And then try any of the mixtures off the menu - I gobbled up the Cinna-Crunch, Evan had a Root 66 which he explained as the perfect balance of root beer float and malt.

Best Bike Ride: Stanley Park, Vancouver
In all reality, we went on three pretty epic bike rides this summer. I'm choosing Stanley Park as the winner because it was the only ride we went on as a family of three - Henry rode in a burly. Stanley Park is like the Central Park of Vancouver, only by the water. Riding along the famous Sea Wall, Henry kept saying "awah" (water) and smiling at passing bikers.

Evan and I also biked along Lake Champlain in Burlington, Vermont, and out on the Causeway, where water (and wind!) great you from both sides. Another "honorable mention" goes to my ride with my dad in the Quabbin Reservoir, near their home in central Massachusetts. The best things about this ride: dad had a GoPro so we had fun playing around and we went fast (as all rides with dad go).

At the start of summer I hadn't been on a bike since Henry was born, so it felt great to get back on two wheels again. I'm also excited because we finally have a burly of our own so am looking forward to more family rides around the Minneapolis lakes, once we fix it up.

Best Beach: Nauset Light Beach, Cape Cod
We never even planned on making it to the Atlantic side of Cape Cod, but on a whim one day we packed up the car and drove to Nauset Light Beach (did you know it takes hours to drive through all of Cape Cod? I had no idea). If we ever go back to Cape Cod we will definitely stay somewhere on the Wild Atlantic Seashore, because it has this natural, rustic and I'll say it, wild, feel to it. We parked and walked to the stairs that led down the side of the cliff to the beach and looked down the coastline. From that vantage point, the mist mingled with the sand and there was a gentle haze everywhere. Maybe this doesn't sound like the perfect beach scene to you, but nothing gets me more excited than a mysterious and beautiful landscape. The best part about this beach was the little tide pools along the shore that allowed for easy toddler play, with the crash of the waves serving as a backdrop. We were lucky to have a couple of seals swim by during our visit.

Honorable mention beach goes to Rainbow Park at Alta Lake near Whistler, BC where we couldn't help but revel in the juxtaposition of the snow-capped mountains in the distance and the warm, clear waters of the lake on a perfect summer day. We also touched the waters in Cape Cod Bay, which is known for their low tide that goes out for miles upon miles. But the day we were there was so terribly windy we weren't fully able to explore - although my dad had fun capturing photos of Henry in the waves!

Best Coffee Spot: my parent's front porch
A couple years ago my parents packed up and moved from their home in New Jersey, where they raised their four girls, and transplanted themselves on a hill in central Massachusetts. In some ways I wish they still lived in my hometown, but in other ways I'm glad of where they've landed. And by other ways, I mainly mean the view. To wake up in the morning with hazy mountains on the horizon or to watch the stars light up the sky at night ... a good view is always the perfect way to bookend your day. So naturally, this was also my favorite spot to enjoy a cup of coffee (the free "childcare" wasn't bad either!). And my parents make strong coffee with fancy frothed milk, so it's basically like you're at your own coffee shop ... or bed and breakfast!

Honorable mention goes to ... I can't believe I'm going to say this ... Whole Foods in West Vancouver. But you guys, this WF was so impressive, so much better than in the states! Their bakery section was out of this world with locally made artisan breads, pastries, and cookies. And their cold-pressed coffee had me on a caffeine high before we made it back on the highway.

Best Drive: Sea-to-Sky Highway, BC (Hwy 99)
I've been on beautiful drives before, but our day-trip north of Vancouver to Whistler was one that will go down in the books as my favorite. I knew that the contrast of sea (technically Howe Sound) and mountain was striking before heading out, but watching those mountains gradually present themselves out the front window as we bent around turns with new ocean vistas, was magical. Note: we also took a gondola to the top of this mountain and ventured across a suspension bridge, pictured above.

Honorable mention drive goes to our route through the countryside from Burlington VT to central Massachusetts because it proved that Vermont is just as we imagined it would be: like Minnesota, with rolling hills, small towns and cows, but even better, thanks to the mountains on the horizon.

Best Tour: Cape Cod Chips
I still can't believe we did something quite this touristy on vacation. Well, make that twice. We went on two factory tours: Ben & Jerry's (interesting facility but the tour itself was awful) and Cape Cod Chips. The beauty of this tour, which we did on a rainy morning, is that it is self-guided and short. You simply walk down a hallway and peek through windows into the factory, and read a couple signs if you want. (Fun fact: the 40% reduced fat ones are simply spun longer in one point in the process, but everything else about the chip remains the same as the originals.) Now we have an excuse to buy Cape Cod potato chips, right? The beach I mentioned above also happens to be where the lighthouse on the Cape Cod Chip bag sits (Nauset Light). It's no coincidence that Henry learned the word "chip" on this vacation. ;)

Best Museum: Eric Carle Museum, Amherst, MA
This is where we spent a good 15 minutes reading stories inside of a life-sized Very Hungry Caterpillar and Henry shared a kiss with the butterfly. Most of the exhibits are more geared for adults and are perfect if you're interested in children's book illustrations and stories. We learned about Eric Carle, obviously, but also Robert McCloskey (Make Way for Ducklings and Blueberries for Sal), among others.

Update: I wrote this post right before visiting St. Louis for a weekend, and now that I've returned I have to add that the Route 66 exhibit at the St. Louis History Museum (in Forest Park until July 2017) is very well-done and probably deserves my Best-Of award more than the one above. It is FREE, very comprehensive, and includes all sorts of artifacts, like old bumper cars from roadside amusement parks. Evan and I enjoyed a little day-date and daydreamed of a Route 66 road trip back in the 60s ... maybe we should hit the road now for a modern day experience!

Best Unplanned Moments:
All those little things that stick with you as the highlights, even though they were never planned or anticipated.

Watching Henry "race" in the backyard with the patio string lights turned on.

Jumping in the freezing water during our kayak/canoe trip in the Swift River (central Massachusetts) with my dad.

Henry learning the meaning of the word "mountain" by riding the sea-to-sky gandola and driving through the mountains in British Columbia. Also, Henry showing understanding for the first time that we are packing to go on an airplane (and wondering every day after, if we are headed to the airport)

Finding out that my childhood best friend was vacationing in Cape Cod when we were also there, which is exactly what happened a couple decades ago! (Unfortunately we didn't meet up due to Henry's ear infection - see below).

Scoring some $6 shoes at a Dollar Store in a small Wisconsin town after forgetting to pack Henry a pair of shoes.

Worst Moments:
Just to balance it out, because nothing is ever quite as perfect as it seems:

Losing our Ergo baby carrier in Vancouver and having to manage Henry in an airport without it for the first time (quite the challenge when your kid likes to run)

Henry's meltown after lunch in Stanley Park because he wanted to push the Burley instead of ride in it. Meanwhile, I stood in line for $8 water for 20 minutes. In the same vein, his temper tantrum at the top of a mountain in British Columbia.

Our Urgent Care visit in Cape Cod to confirm Henry's ear infection.

Learning, first-hand, the downfalls of using cheap diapers on vacation: Henry's diaper leaked while I wore him going through customs in Vancouver, and multiple times in his car seat!

As I sit here wrapping up this post, a thunderstorm is rolling through, and I'm pretty sure in the morning we'll have a light carpet of early red and orange leaves. Why hello there, fall.

Vantage Point

2016-08-27T22:01:00.000-05:00

I peer down through the darkness to the coastline sketched below. Tiny towns and broccoli-sized trees remind me of a scene from a puzzle, huddled together along the shoreline of one of the Great Lakes. It's July 2nd and we're flying east towards Massachusetts to celebrate the Fourth of July with family in Cape Cod. The sun is just starting to set from our vantage point above the clouds but the families below us, already in shadow, are shifting into night mode, chasing fireflies and lighting bonfires.

I love the aerial view from an airplane. To remove yourself from the hustle and bustle of everyday life and take a quick pause above the clouds, gives you perspective. Something magical happens when you take that quick trip down the runway and lift off into the sky. Homes look extra cozy from a distance, even in the summertime. I imagine camp fires and ice cream gatherings and neighborhood walks, and can't help but think of my favorite summertime memories from my childhood.

I've always been into the big hallmark celebration of summer, the Fourth of July. When my sisters and I were little we'd gather on a friend's front step and make American flag shoe jewelry out of safety pins and beads, we'd pick out our best patriotic colors and then ride our bikes to a nearby parade. The rest of the day usually involved more high-energy outdoor activities, like tennis in the street or cartwheels in the yard, and always ended with a flag cake and fireworks - choreographed to live orchestral music, because that's how you celebrate in New Jersey.

Our celebrations look a little different these days. With a toddler at home, nap time takes a priority over parade schedules and we definitely don't take in the local firework display. But that's okay. Because when little ones enter your life, everything shifts. We let go of some things that used to be important and we hold tighter to those things we now realize truly are. And this change in perspective can be refreshing, promising all sorts of new adventures and surprises.

I was a bit of a reluctant parent in that I wanted to understand it before I experienced it. The thought of being pregnant terrified me because of the big unknown ahead. But at the same time I was craving a change in perspective, new routines, new purpose. I like to think the entrance into parenthood is a little like jumping on a plane. You might know where your destination lies and have a general sense of what your future holds, but it's impossible to know exactly what it looks or feels like until you begin the journey. And thankfully you can't, because otherwise the view wouldn't be a surprise.

The light has faded when I look out the window again, but I can still make out the etched shoreline as we approach the eastern edge of the lake. Our toddler rarely sleeps on a plane anymore and is normally restless, determined to run down the aisle. But tonight he settles in and seems to be just as content to look out the window as I am. And just as surprised when the little coastal towns take turns tossing up fireworks, like bouquets into the night sky.

Summer Buckets

2016-06-23T11:20:00.000-05:00

It's been exactly 10 years since I graduated from college, but I can still remember my English professor as if he just stepped out of the room. We always questioned his age and wondered isn't it time to retire? Not because his lessons were lacking but because, when everything was factored in, he had to be in his 80s. Yet he still kept up with his daily morning jogging routine, treated his students to gifts from his faraway travels, and invited classes over for salsa dancing and dinner at the end of the semester. With all his energy, some might be tempted to say he was young at heart, but if you sat through a class where he broke down and shared how deeply he still missed his wife who passed years ago, or heard tales from his time served in Vietnam, you'd understand that the cliched phrase doesn't hold true.

It's surprising how often a few snippets from a poem heard years ago still surface in my mind today. "I'd like to climb the Matterhorn, and visit Timbuktu," was how it began. Professor Buckstead had an ambitious list of things he wanted to experience in this life, and he crafted a wonderful poem to hold them all together with perfect cadence and diction, which he shared with us once or twice during the semester. Who knows if he really believed he'd one day climb the Matterhorn and accomplish everything else within the poem, or if his bucket list teetered on the edge of "pipe dream." But perhaps that was his secret to a long life. Whether your goals are attainable or impossible dreams, keep filling up that bucket until, as he closes the poem, "at last I have overfilled my cup."

In the spirit of my old English professor, I've crafted a bucket list for the summer. Sure, I won't be able to do everything on it, but it sure is fun to imagine that I can.

Spend more time outside than in

Enjoy bonfires after Henry goes to bed

Spend a day (or two!) on the Pierson family farm

Wake up slowly with breakfast on a dock

Walk with friends around the city lakes

Take Henry on stroller runs

Bike with my dad in Massachusetts

Visit the Eric Carl museum

Savor the morning with coffee on the porch at my parent's home in central Massachusetts

Teach Henry about the garden (plant a boulevard garden and build a bean teepee)

Get a stamp on our passports (Henry's too!)

Spend a night or two away, sans kiddo

Take in outdoor concerts

Touch the waves

What is on your summer bucket list?

2015: Let's Do the Numbers

2016-01-23T15:10:00.000-06:00

It is January in Minnesota and the weather is finally acting like it. Mornings are bright and clear, sun dogs magically appear in the sky, and nose hairs have a habit of freezing the moment you step outside. Oh yea, the arctic temps have arrived. I’m not complaining though. As I’ve said before, there is an excitement that comes with winter that makes you feel a little extreme. You post SnapChat selfies as you warm up your car, feel like a dare devil just for pumping gas, and you assume ultimate bragging rights to your sister in North Carolina {or is that just me?}. But the other bonus of surviving January in Minnesota is that even a normal weeknight feels like a cozy holiday. A night perfect for reflecting on things, like New Years Resolutions and highlights of the year now past. And that’s exactly where I am right now, cuddled up on the couch with Henry’s new cow blankie and a laptop, ready to dive into photos from 2015. {Side note: Evan gave me a deadline of Jan 31 to get this post published because a year-in-review post in January is acceptable, but February? Definitely not.}

A couple years ago I started recording stats of our travels, because who doesn’t like to know how many Delta pretzels they ate, how many hours they spent in the air, and the number of trains hopped aboard? Well, that was before we had a kid. We continued to keep track of some travel stats this past year but we definitely didn’t count every last pretzel! (Although in hind-sight, I wish we’d counted in-air diaper changes). And overall we traveled less in 2015 than we did in our pre-baby 2013 run {go figure!}, with a focus more on family visits and smaller-scale trips.

Now, let’s dive into those numbers!

To find out how we travel non-rev (non-revenue), and to compare our numbers with pre-baby days, read this post. It may seem glamorous at times, but then there are other times that are anything but – like when your husband works at the airport until 1am in negative temps on a school night! … This post is for you, Evan!

Wind and Warmth: Ireland

2015-12-06T15:09:00.000-06:00

WIND

When you arrive in Doolin, there is one thing you will not be able to ignore: the wind. On the western coast of Ireland, “windy” isn’t a mere adjective used to describe the weather or that helps you fly a kite. In this part of the world the wind is most definitely a noun, and a noun with an opinion and a presence that rarely takes a backseat. The Wind is everywhere. From the ribbons of field grass cutting across the hillside to the dramatic cliffs that dive into an angry sea, where foam collects then scatters with the surge; it is as if the landscape itself were created with the sole purpose of exposing the power and tenacity of the wind.

Now imagine you’re driving through this seaside village in a tiny rental car, stick shift, naturally, on the LEFT side of the road. You’ll later learn that traditional Irish music enthusiasts from all around Europe are huddled in nearby pubs, and that just down the coast lie the striking Cliffs of Moher. But for now your focus lies just a few feet in front of your car, as it bounces along between cow pasture and stacked-stone walls. You veer to the right then begin a steep incline, following directions you hope will bring you to your Bed and Breakfast. That’s when you notice the castle. A simple tower overlooking the valley below, taking a beating from the pummeling rain like it has for ages. As you approach at your slow, trying-to-see-between-the-wiper-blades pace, you notice a peculiar sight: bright yellow ponchos, pulled taught and billowing like inflatable Christmas yard statues atop a roadside fence. Rick Steves, the famous travel writer, is known well in this region for sending tourists on long walking tours and hikes. No doubt this is what we witnessed that day: a couple of past-middle-aged travel enthusiasts determined to complete the three mile hike along the cliffs and see the Doonagore Castle, even if it meant scaling a thin fence on the side of a windy road, taking turns holding on to each other to keep from blowing off the island like a kite.

That’s what I didn’t realize before visiting Ireland: you have to work to enjoy the scenery. You must fight the wind, and work to keep your feet rooted on the ground. We had our own adventure a couple days later as we hiked along the Cliffs of Moher. We started south in a Sports Field parking lot recommended to us by our B&B host, then started hiking through cow pastures, north towards Hag’s Head. Once you reach the tower, the next three miles scale the edge of the Cliffs, providing both spectacular and terrifying views, in equal measures. Luckily there were two path options for most of the way, one a little too close to the edge for my liking, and the other tucked inside behind a little stone wall. It seemed the outer path was the more popular, but with baby on back, slick grass underfoot, and unpredictable gusts of wind from every direction, we opted for the safer route.

Next time we’ll remember to bring our unicycle.

It is pretty safe to say that our hike along the Cliffs of Moher gave me a new appreciation for the word “windy.” I remember once in gradeschool when a big gust of wind came along while we played hop scotch at recess and what a thrill it was to discover I could lean my entire body weight into the wind and not fall over. Well, this was windier. Exhibit A:

{wind videos}

And that’s the story of how Henry got his first wind burn!

WARMTH

When we arrived in Doolin, Ireland it was August. Despite the calendar pointing to the height of summer, the weather had us adding layers for warmth and seeking out wool shops for hats and mittens. The good news is that the fall-like weather has a way of stirring up certain food cravings that happen to be a specialty in this perpetually chilly country. Namely, stew. If you had asked me a week prior while traipsing the streets of Brooklyn with baby on back and sweat trickling down the space between us (I realize this isn’t a pleasant scene – it wasn’t!), how would I feel about a bowl of split pea soup? I would have said no thank you, and continued eating my ice cream.

For as much as the elements in Ireland want to keep you from visiting and staying a while, the people wish you to stay, enjoy an extra cup of tea and another biscuit, ey? I suspect these cheerful souls were put on the fierce western coast of Europe to expose the warmth and generosity of humans. If you stop and observe them for a while you will discover that their warmth radiates right off them, to the point where they don’t even have to wear wet suits to swim at Inch Beach on the “sunny” days (read: 60 and partly cloudy, chance of drizzle). No but really, these people are so kind and welcoming. Let me give you a few examples:

A bartender at the Roadside Tavern in the Burren (a region known for it’s barren moon-like landscape) visited our table and invited Henry behind the bar for a photo opp, “so that he’ll have a reason to come back someday.”

The waitress in a candlelight seaside restaurant in Dingle (a town on a peninsula at the western-most point of Europe) brought our food as well as an offer to watch our child “so you can enjoy your meal.” Henry sat on her hip and peeked in the kitchen while we savored our (expensive!) dishes.

And a delightful sheep farmer’s granddaughter directed us through their pasture for a view of the Ring of Kerry from atop their hill [Eask Tower], with the simple request that we “just say hello to Lucy, the sheep.” “Which one is Lucy?” asked Evan. “Oh, it doesn’t really matter, they’ll pass the message along to her,” she said.

You see, in Ireland, even the animals are friendly. Dogs from nearby farms join you for hikes, and cows and sheep – who no doubt have the prime real estate – share their views. And the farmers themselves? They leave out a hose and shoe scraper so you can clean your shoes after traipsing about their property before hopping back in your car.

For people who are always combating the wind and the elements, they are surprisingly resilient. They’ve learned to embrace the day before them despite the wicked elements, have some stew and go about their business. “Ey, it’s a dreary day,” exclaimed a cheerful sheep herder as he passed by on his four-wheeler, sheep dogs in tow. “It’s Ireland!”

top and bottom: Sunset at the Cliffs of Moher; middle: the western-most point of Europe

Firsts

2015-11-09T15:08:00.000-06:00

The first year of life is marked with more “firsts” than a sleep-deprived parent can record in a baby book. Before Henry was born, I didn’t realize how enthralled I’d be by every single little development. The moment his eyes first looked out a window, the time his little arms stretched upward and finally met the cheerful toys above, when he belly laughed, sat up, tasted solid food, flew on a plane, crawled off the blanket in our yard, touched the ocean, when his sounds started to resemble discernible words, when he learned to crawl up the stairs with wild abandon (scary!), how he became obsessed with pushing everything around the house like it’s his job (too funny!) and now we are waiting for those first independent steps. It is so much fun trying to keep up with it all and adjusting to the newness that each new “first” brings.

Of course, for every first, there is a last. As a poem posted to a mom group on Facebook pointed out, there will be a last time you swaddle your baby, nurse him to sleep, or carry him on your hip. I understand the sentiment: appreciate life with baby now – the sweet moments and the challenges – because it will all be over soon. After all, babies don’t keep.

But your entire life is filled with “lasts,” and not simply around your children. There’s the last time you attend class as a student, spend a night in your childhood home, visit with a grandparent, travel overseas, read your favorite book. There will be countless lasts with your children, from homework-helping to sport-spectating and Christmas morning surprises to college visits. Some lasts coincide with firsts, like that time you got caught in a thunderstorm in Tuscany, enjoyed fresh seafood on a pier in Aruba, said yes to your husband’s marriage proposal or welcomed your first child into the world.

Recently I’ve noticed this funny thing where parents don’t want their children to grow up. Oh, you’re right, this isn’t new. I’m sure since babies were born, parents reveled in their smallness, and part of their heart dreaded the day when their babies weren’t babies anymore. But in our modern world, we’ve become dramatic about how we express these feelings about our children growing up. “Firsts” have become something to be mourned with crying emoticons and frownie faces, and there are countless articles with a similar wallowing tone. Maybe the complex feelings of parenting simply cannot be translated into the short-hand “language” we use through social media today and people are craving an outlet for expression? Because it certainly is a confusing feeling to want something with all your heart – for him to grow, and learn and love – and at the same time, keep him young forever.

I certainly understand the sentiment of many parents to hold on to their babies. Even when my little sister made the transition from cuddly-pool-holding-baby to swimming-on-her-own-independent-child I thought about this transition and wondered if my mom missed her baby. But life is far too short to dwell on the lasts.

Instead of witnessing his firsts with mournful resistance, I am choosing to celebrate. After all, it is much more fun saying a cheerful hello to each new stage than a tearful goodbye.

I know we all truly want the same thing: for our babies to grow up and be happy. So let’s celebrate the firsts as our children inch closer to the big people they will become, one baby step at a time.

… and now, on to toddlerhood!

Hands

2015-10-04T15:07:00.000-05:00

My mother’s hands. They shuttled heavy bags of groceries to and from the car, leaving lasting lines where plastic pulled taught from the weight. Some days her hands rested on our foreheads, testing for fevers or soliciting calm after a day of play. And other days they settled softly on piano keys, to infuse the house with “Threads of Love” and hymns of praise. But I learned of their true super powers when I witnessed them dip in scalding water to lift a dropped fork or wash a bowl. “Wait until you’re a mom, you’ll be able to snatch noodles from a pot of boiling water,” she said. And as she released the drain stopper and let the water loose, her wedding diamond spun to her cupped palm where bubbles still clung, like pearls.

In my work at St. Olaf College, I am fortunate to be surrounded by good music and deep thinkers. Kenneth Jennings, the former conductor of the St. Olaf Choir, recently passed away. A colleague told me that the current conductor of the choir, Anton Armstrong, once compared Dr. Jenning’s hands to a potter’s, “used with an artist’s gift to mold something beautiful, fragile, exquisite.” I’ve always thought of the conductor as a magician, calling forth music from those who stand before him. But perhaps a potter and a magician aren’t all that different – both use their hands to create their work of art.

I’ve been thinking about hands a lot these days. Often it comes as a secret wish to possess more than just two in order to accomplish all I now must do with this new title as mom. Tonight alone, one hand made dinner while the other held a clingy one-year-old, my hands shuttled zucchini slices to someone else’s mouth (and thankfully didn’t have to pick them out of the rug), tested bath water until it was juuuust right, served as a harness because someone was a little exuberant in his rocking chair, and squeezed little feet in that particular way that helps him unwind from the day.

But I am happy that my hands are always busy and full. When you’re doing the work of shaping a young life, it takes patience, a little craft and a lot of acceptance for the mess along the way. Whether plunging your hands in boiling water or soothing a teething toddler, the work of parenthood is always worth it. Because in the end, like the potter at the wheel and the conductor before the choir, aren’t we too molding something beautiful, fragile and exquisite?

Seasons

2015-09-21T15:07:00.000-05:00

It never fails to take me by surprise when that first pop of orange makes its way into the foliage. I know the days will grow shorter and the nights cooler, but until they actually do, I am somewhat in denial. Don’t get me wrong, I love fall, but something about it keeps me waiting on the doorstep. Once those fall colors start coming in, however, I dive right in and embrace the change. It’s almost as if I need that signal from the trees. They know it’s time for change before we do.

I was feeling antsy this weekend with the coming change of season. There is so much pressure, at least in Minnesota where fall is short-lived, to fill it up with apple orchards and bonfires and all things pumpkin. And now with Henry in our life it would be easy to get wrapped up in the season with the single pursuit to DO IT ALL. After all, this is the only year he will be learning to toddle about amidst pumpkins and leaves. But doing everything – even though the crisp air and Pinterest boards beckon me to try, that’s not what fall is about.

Sure, I love pumpkin muffins and homemade applesauce (and made some of these tonight!) but I want to honor the bigger change the trees are encouraging us to make. After a summer where everything is “out” – blooms and birds and even dinners, enjoyed al fresco, fall is our chance to start focusing “in.” This season has a way of stirring up creative energy – have you noticed this too? I want to use the fall to rekindle my creativity and find time to write, I want to use the extra hours of quiet and dark to focus on making our home warm and bright, I want to embrace a new routine and open a few new books, and I want to feel ready for the winter that lies ahead.

I still have a wish list of fun family activities I’d love to do “before the snow flies” (a fast approaching deadline here in the northern region) like a baby crawl-a-thon and a family photo shoot, but I’m trying to be realistic with my expectations. In the kitchen I am excited to cook up a few soups and I’d love to bring back the Apple – hasn’t pumpkin gotten a little out of hand? What at are you looking forward to this fall?

The Adventures that Bring you Home

2015-08-15T15:05:00.000-05:00

I once heard a tagline to a movie that went something like this: the greatest journeys are the ones that bring you home. In the context of the movie, it reflected the struggles and ultimate coming-of-age experience of a young man of Indian-immigrant parents. I’ve always been a sucker for movie trailers. Something about the grand scope of a preview, where you take a step back and see the big picture, one broad stroke of the story set to dramatic music (of course!) makes my creative spirit say YES! So it’s not unusual for quotes from previews to stick with me. This particular line is one that comes back to me again and again, especially whenever we travel. And although I’m not in the midst of a coming-of-age moment or haven’t even traveled all that extensively, I truly believe that the greatest adventures are the ones that bring you home, both literally and metaphorically.

If you’ve ever traveled with a baby, you may have enjoyed the unique experience, upon your return, of seeing a little soul recognize home. We recently came back from a trip that, although only 10 days long, was a record for our little guy. He was a great traveler and loved tasting new foods, exploring new spaces and listening to new sounds (hello Irish pub), but we could tell by the end, he was antsy for the old familiar (or more specifically, his toys and space to exercise his latest skill: crawling!). It was late when we landed in Minneapolis, probably about 10:30pm by the time we unlocked the front door. But the light of recognition that popped on in his tired eyes as I carried him through the house could mean only one thing: he was happy to be home. In his nursery I showed him his beloved cow painting on the wall, we played with the felt balls hanging from his mobile, and he lay down on the soft sheep skin we use on his floor. He kept looking at us with what I can only explain as Christmas-morning giddiness. Priceless. And all from seeing the familiar, from coming home.

I love traveling. love love love it. And I realize that’s a whole lotta love to pack into one sentence (albeit an incomplete sentence – grammar police!). Experiencing a new place isn’t just about seeing the sights and marking off items on your to-do list, it’s about pausing and noticing another way of life. In Ireland we learned to say “thanks a mill,” and “breakie” (read: thanks a million and breakfast). We noticed that it is not uncommon for cattle and sheep to have the prime real estate, with seaside views, on the edge of cliffs, or perched on a hilltop overlooking rugged beaches. We walked into storefronts that claimed to be both a hardware store and bar, only to discover that one was more an excuse for the other to be open at 10am. We savored hearty meals in roadside taverns and were humbled by the generosity of waitresses and bartenders (tangent: a waitress offered to watch our child so we could enjoy our meal, and a bartender invited Henry behind the bar so he’d have a reason to come back some day).

It’s definitely not a unique statement to say that enjoying a new culture helps one discover and appreciate their own habits and life. But it’s true. Whenever we travel and take time to notice the little things about a culture, we always end up content and ready to come home. Somehow the act of spreading your wings for a while is the best way to put down your roots again. Of course there are some things about other cultures we hate to say goodbye to and roll our eyes once again stateside (cobblestone streets will trump a four-lane highway and stripped-malled parking lot any day). But the simple act of eating, sleeping and moving like those who live in this new-to-you place is tiring, both mentally and physically, and although we love (almost) every moment of it, we crave routine and the familiar by the end. Isn’t it nice to be happy to come home?

Of course on some trip, the adventure itself is “coming home.” My grandparents recently took their five grown kids (sans spouses and children) on a trip to Norway where they journeyed far up north to where my grandma’s grandfather grew up. Not only did they stand on the front porch, they enjoyed a great salmon dinner with the distant relatives who now live there. (You can read more about their adventures abroad on the blog my Grandpa set up. I’ll highlight this post, written by my uncle, because it’s hilarious and a touching read for anyone who is/has/knows a mother).

Thank you Ireland for being a gracious host and to all of the cheerful people who made us feel at home on the road.

Where have you traveled this summer and were you happy that your adventure eventually brought you home? While writing this post, I realized that “the adventures that bring you home” was really what I was thinking of when I came up with the new title to my blog. Perhaps I’ll have to steal it as a tag line! Can you do that? I mean, a quote from a movie trailer isn’t really a quote, is it?

New Beginnings

2015-07-24T22:43:00.002-05:00

To continue reading about the Tales of E and C (and now H!) head on over to Home Heart Wings, my new corner of the internet. I've transferred all of my old content from this blog and although the site is still very much under construction (broken links, poorly sized images, unfinished header, untwined tagline, missing About content, etc) I've decided to let go of the pursuit of perfection and share it as is.

For those of you who currently subscribe to my blog (hi Grandma!) I will get something like that set up for the new blog as well.

Why a new blog, you ask?

Well, sometimes you need a change of scenery, you need to repaint the walls in your house, or maybe just put your bed on a different wall. It's no secret that my blog here has been lacking for the last year or so, and it's my hope that a new space will inspire me to find time in my day (or night!) to reconnect with my writing, thinking, and creating. Oh I know starting up a new blog won't really change any of the challenges I face in my day-to-day that are keeping me from fitting a little "me time" in (...motherhood...) but it's worth a shot. Blank pages and notebooks have always inspired me, and a new platform is essentially the digital version of a new notebook.

See you over in my new home! There's already a new post up there about the art of decision-making and our upcoming trip.

The Art of Decision Making

2015-07-24T15:01:00.000-05:00

It was 9:32am as we sat around our breakfast table. On the surface it had every appearance of a leisurely Saturday, complete with coffee, scrambled eggs, and the iPad all ready for a nice long Facetime with grandma and grandpa. But underneath, the adrenaline was already kicking in.

“Well, should we do it?” Evan asked.

“Umm … I mean, we could,” I stumbled in typical non-committal fashion. “It’s not like we’re flying to Europe.”

And with that, we checked the computer one last time to confirm we still had a shot, and then commenced the Great Mad Dash as we threw together overnight bags, baby diapers and airport badges. Everyone should get to experience the incredible high awarded to those who succeed in packing for the weekend, driving to the airport, making it through security, to the gate at the very end of the terminal and on the plane all within 90 minutes. Bonus points for remembering to bring the baby along. Since we started this crazy non-rev adventure (flying non-revenue, aka standby, where you don’t buy a ticket and only get on if there are open seats) a few years ago, I could probably count the times on one hand that I’ve walked calmly onto a plane without looking like I’ve just run a race. But it’s all part of the fun, the adventure, the game.

This particular weekend we only flew out to Rapid City – probably one of the shortest flights leaving the MSP airport that morning. Other contenders for the weekend were St. Louis to visit my sister or Boston to see my parents. Rapid City won because some of the great-grandparents hadn’t yet met Henry and because if we got stuck there (which has happened before) we would still be within driving distance to ensure Mr. P made it home for school.

It’s interesting to notice how you manage the whole decision-making process when living the life of non-rev. I am an indecisive person by nature and can hardly pick out a stick of deodorant on my own (too many choices!). Now imagine me standing in front of a departure board at the airport and trying to decide which destination to go for, or more often, what path we want to take to get there (the old adage rings true: it’s not about the destination but the journey). Flying non-rev is a real exercise in making last-minute decisions and working through whatever challenges result.

Once leaving Amsterdam there was only one seat open and we had to decide if we should split or stick together. As Evan pushed me through the gate and onto the plane I knew we had made a mistake. Sure enough, that night I got stuck in Madison, Winsconsin while Evan hopped on a later flight and flew first class, wining and dining all the way across the Atlantic.

Right now we’re planning our first trip as just our family of three – without any grandparents, sisters or friends on the other end. And with all of these choices in front of us, it makes me think about the art of decision-making again. I’ve come to realize that what governs my decisions – both while traveling and in life – is often not what I want to do but what I don’t want to do, or can’t do. Besides choosing to marry Evan, most of the biggies in my life were somewhat passive in nature. Choosing my college, my major, even where we live and career direction. Sure, I was invested in all of those decisions as well and excited by those choices (Um Ya Ya!), but I’m not the type of person who b-lines it to their destination. I like to carve out my choices by chiseling away at the white space, taking time to create and shape the final product. In many ways planning this trip has been the same way. We weigh our desires and use practical limitations that present themselves to help us govern our choices; the process of elimination, if you will. We have a baby, so we don’t want to go somewhere terribly hot and near the equator, or with lots of indoor museums and stuffy spaces, loud crowds or fancy restaurants. We don’t want to take more than two flights to get there, and we don’t want to go somewhere either of us have been.

… curious where we decide to land? Come and check back here soon or follow us on Instagram (@carolyn.pierson). Now, fingers crossed the seats remain open and we make it on board.

How do you make decisions, whether it be the biggies or choosing where to eat? Do you rely on the process of elimination or are you focused and go confidently in the direction you desire? Apparently I like to think about choices often.

In Pursuit of Sleep

2015-06-13T16:33:00.001-05:00

You know you're sleep deprived when you start dreaming about being tired. Last night while I cuddled a sick baby in my arms all night, waking every half hour at times, I managed to dream ... but in my dream I got lost on our street, couldn't find our house, and then somehow missplaced Henry. I kept running into people I knew but was embarrassed by my inability to think straight. Even in my dream state, I knew the root cause of my confusion was the simple fact that I was over-tired.

Hmm, something tells me that when you dream about being tired you aren't exactly getting the most restful sleep. (And dreaming about castles and Romans is a clear sign you are jet-lagged.)

When you're a new parent, "sleep" becomes the sexy topic that everyone wants to talk about, yet no one really wants to hear when someone else is getting it. How much sleep are YOU getting? Is he sleeping through the night? Every night you feel a little nervous and excited hoping that this will be it, this will be the night when you'll finally get some sleep!

It's surprising what a person can do on little sleep. Somehow I've gone the last 7.5 months on only 2-3 (occasionally 4 and only once 5) consecutive hours of sleep. And this is coming from a person accustomed to a full 8 hours in dreamland. Up until now I've always held that my most sleep-deprived state was when I was sailing on a tall ship out in the Atlantic for 16 days, where we worked in 4-hour shifts, including 12-4am. I remember sitting on the deck around 2am trying desperately to stay alert while the boat bobbed in perfect sleep-inducing, rhythmic fashion. That was the first time I was conscious of the fact that if you are extremely tired yet technically awake, your eyes can still drift from side to side as if you are in the midst of a dream. My body was craving that REM cycle so profoundly it went through the motions while I sat there fighting it*. (*Not scientifically proven, but it sure felt like it!)

My sleep-deprived state while aboard the ship - my barometer for measuring all levels of tiredness since - is nothing compared to my current state of deprivation. And yet ...

I haven't gotten sick (knock on wood!), I still have energy most days, and I continue to feel a rise of happiness and excitement when this little boy wakes up in the morning. (The same cannot be said about my 2, 2:30 and 3am wake-ups last night!).

Evan, who has suffered through numerous sicknesses these last few months, said it so simply the other day. "Your body knows you had a baby, mine doesn't."He doesn't think he's one for words, but this statement speaks truth.

Despite a slew of postpartum experiences many women would love to live without (hair loss, loose skin, stretch marks, brittle hair), it is quite remarkable the way our bodies understand what they need to do to keep baby alive and well. Including living on less sleep.

Although, I'm not gonna lie, it would be nice if Henry's body knew that my body could use just a wee bit more sleep one of these nights. ; )

PS - Since I started writing this post earlier this week, we have started "sleep training," and have already begun to enjoy (slightly) longer hours of consecutive sleep. Fingers crossed we have the stamina to continue!

Blooma Blog

2015-02-12T15:23:00.000-06:00

This will be a really quick post because 1) there are signs of movement on the baby monitor and 2) I'm in the midst of washing a bunch of new cloth diapers. But I just wanted to bop in and share a link to my story published over on the Blooma Blog. Most of you have already seen it, linked up from my Facebook page last week, but in case you haven't read it yet - go check it out! My yoga studio, which specializes in prenatal and baby-yoga classes (among other things), sent out an e-newsletter about new year's resolutions and choosing one word as a mantra for the year. Well, considering I essentially did just that last year, I sent them an email back sharing my story about my Year of Being Fearless (I already wrote about it on my blog here, but now I tightened it up a bit and finished the story). Turns out they thought other new mamas or soon-to-be mamas would also like to hear my story, so they asked if they could share it on their blog!

As a side note, let me just add that Blooma is always featuring birth stories and other mama tales, so if you have something to share, send it their way!

New Mama Energy Bites

2015-02-04T13:52:00.000-06:00

It's a funny thing that happens when you have a newborn living in your house. All of a sudden you revert to your college ways where it's acceptable to partake in midnight dorm room relay races, sing rowdy songs, and eat {or drink} at all times of the night. Only now you're bouncing on an exercise ball at 2am, hoping your singing and someone's crying don't wake the neighbors, and waiting for the arrival of milk-drunk sleep.

Although I still hold that our little one is a relatively easy baby, as far as babies go, I definitely underestimated a few things about motherhood: 1) sleep deprivation is a serious - and scary - thing. I'm sure we'll laugh about it later, but for the first few weeks I hallucinated {dreamt?} about nursing on such a regular basis I had to start writing down our feeding times so I knew what was real and what wasn't. One minute you think your infant is in your arms and the next your baby morphs into a pillow - it's quite traumatic and not what your new-mama-heart can handle at the moment. And 2) nursing = hunger. Serious hunger pangs at 2am.

In my nesting phase this fall I did a few crazy and unnecessary things --> install new light fixtures, furiously clean the tub <-- but I also did a few things that have this new mama patting herself on the back. There were over a dozen mason jars of applesauce sitting in my fridge when I went into labor, as well as a freezer stocked with a few favorite meals {which we just finished this week, 11-weeks postpartum!}. But whipping up a batch of something tasty to eat in the middle of the night was by far my best move.

Tangent: Let me tell you a quick and funny story about how not to be prepared: It's the middle of the night just two days before my due date, when I awake with some lower abdominal pain. It's not consistent and definitely doesn't feel like labor pains, which typically are felt throughout your entire abdomen. So we call the doctor who agrees, I'm probably not in labor, but since I had some complications during my pregnancy [link] it would be wise to get checked out at the hospital. You know, just to rule out anything bad. But you'll probably be sent home tonight, she says. So we jump in the car and head off to the hospital -- consciously leaving our hospital bags at home. I'm sure you know where this story is going. It's like the typical forget-the-umbrella-and-it-rains story.

We check in at the hospital and half an hour later learn that I'm 8cm dilated ... we're having a baby! {For those of you jealous of my short, 3.5-hr labor, I also spent 3.5 hours in the second stage of labor - pushing!].

These Energy Bites are quick and easy to assemble, albeit a little messy. just mash a couple bananas, add a big spoonful of natural peanut butter, a bit of honey, a cup of oats, and then whatever extras you enjoy. My favorite is chocolate chips, coconut and peanuts. Use a spoon to plop on the pan, but for best results, roll the batter in your palms and coat in extra coconut. This is likely to result in a sticky-finger situation {I recommend you remove all rings first!}.

But aren't some of the best things in life messy?

Haha, perhaps I shouldn't have alluded to the messiness of childbirth in a recipe post, but I did, so hopefully I didn't scare you away from making these tasty treats! See full recipe below.

New Mama Energy Bites

Makes around a dozen bites

Print this recipe!

Ingredients:

2 ripe bananas
1 heaping spoonful of (natural) peanut butter
2 tablespoons honey
1 cup oats
1/2 cup chocolate chips
1/4 cup coconut flakes + more for rolling
optional: nuts, craisins, etc.

Directions:

Preheat oven to 350
In a medium bowl, mash the bananas, then mix with the peanut butter and honey.
Stir in the oats, chocolate chips, oats and anything else you'd like to add.
For best results, roll spoonfuls into balls and then roll the balls in coconut on a plate. Otherwise you can just plop spoonfuls on a baking sheet (rolling them in coconut helps them stay together and makes for easier eating without making a mess!)
Bake on a cookie sheet at 350 for approx 15 minutes or until lightly golden.
I like to wrap them individually in saran wrap so I can keep one on my bedside table for midnight nursing snacks, but you can also store in an airtight container (preferably in the fridge) for a few days.

Time:

5 minute prep, 15 min bake

For Unto Us a Child is Born!

2014-12-17T19:52:00.001-06:00

Now that the newest Pierson is officially seven weeks old, I think it's about time we make our official introductions ...

[Cues "The Circle of Life"]

naaaaaa, savetnahhhhh, abbageeseeahooo

ah-hem.

...

Let's try that again.

Henry Allan Pierson

Born:
Thursday, October 30, 2014
8:43am
6 lbs, 13 oz
20.5 in

A wise person once told me that every pregnancy, labor and delivery has its own surprise. No matter how much you plan for the event and process, there are elements you cannot control. So you just have to wait, with an open mind, until you find out what your unique surprise will be.

I think it's safe to say that my pregnancy surprise was the DVT (blood clot) that appeared at 30 weeks. After conquering that hurdle, one would think I was in the clear; how much bad luck can one person have? But I had lots of surprises headed my way:

a super quick labor of 3.5 hours (this is obviously a welcome surprise!)
not feeling labor pains the way most women do (also a welcome surprise but it made it hard for the nurses to gauge my contractions, which might have contributed to how things progressed - or didn't progress - later)
not being allowed to have an epidural due to my blood thinner medication. I wanted a natural childbirth anyway, but not even having the option to fall back on was unexpected and scary
a long and drawn out second stage of labor - 3.5 hours of pushing!
not having a supportive nurse or doctor for part of my delivery. It's easy to blame others, but you cannot underestimate the power of a positive birthing environment.
only getting five hours of sleep over the course of three nights - starting your recovery so sleep deprived is an added hurdle
postpartum complications due to my blood clot medication that landed us back in the hospital when Henry was just 10 days old (the youngest "visitor" on the maternity floor!)
finding out I have a genetic blood clotting disorder (Factor V and II mutations)

[above: the littlest "visitor" back on the maternity floor]

The thing is, I don't see any of these surprises as bad luck. In fact, they are part of my story that has now become Henry's story, so how can those chapters, no matter how stressful or painful, be bad? And of course there are other advantages to having gone through these experiences:

I've come to realize that I have a high pain tolerance. Blood clots, natural childbirth, and crazy postpartum procedures (D&C w/o meds!) are just a few of my "tests" these last few months. I don't normally boast about such things, but I think it's okay to let people know that these experiences were hard and I'm proud to have gotten through them. A.A. Milne said it best: "You are braver than you believe, stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think."
Now that my blood condition is known, other family members are able to be checked and I can take adequate precautions in the future to ensure I remain healthy and well
Now that I'm through all of the complications, life with a newborn is relatively easy!

Of course life with a newborn really isn't "easy" per say, but mixed in with all of that hard work and sleep deprivation there is JOY! I'm the type of person who is used to accomplishing a lot with her day and checking stuff off the ol' to-do list. Sure, it's hard adjusting to a slower pace and being okay with not getting much done in any given day. But then I realize how cool it is to be something that doesn't, for a change, require you to accomplish stuff every day.

Yes, there's laundry and nursing and a huge responsibility on my hands now that I'm a mom, but I can sit inside, cozied up with my baby all day and my title doesn't change.

To become a mother:

It's kind of like magic, isn't it?

Standing By

2014-10-26T14:50:00.000-05:00

We've officially hit the final waiting period of pregnancy. Baby P is 39 weeks! Of course the entire nine months is one long waiting game, but something happens towards the end when you realize that the baby actually could come at any time. There's some anxiety, antsy-ness, and persistent nesting that sets in, but there is also a sense of calm in knowing that the events that will enfold in the next week or two are pretty much out of your control. It's a slight shift of mindset, perhaps elevated by the fact that you start fantasizing about handing the baby off to someone else and daydreaming about simple things, like jumping, bending and generally being limber. Some days I feel like I've been studying for a test or preparing for a race, and now we are so close to the big event that we set aside our books, our flashcards, our running cleats (whatever metaphor you want to use), take a deep breath, enjoy a pasta feed or two (oh, that's just for track? ... ) and say "bring it on."

Despite the totally consuming and potentially overwhelming nature of waiting for a baby to arrive, we realize that this feeling isn't all that foreign. Waiting for the unknown, that is. In fact, Evan and I have had our share of practice planning for something we have little control over, packing bags when we don't know our destination, waiting--and waiting--to see how everything will unfold, and literally taking a leap of faith into the great unknown. Because as many of you know, for the past year and a half we've traveled around the world flying standby. As a little recap, the mysterious Mr. P is chemistry teacher by day ... airport luggage handler by night (or weekends, as in his case). Thanks to some awesome benefits, we are able to fly as standby passengers, or non-rev, nearly anywhere. [You can read more about our 2013 adventures here.]

But making a trip happen when you don't have a ticket in hand can be a daunting task, and one that requires a certain level of patience and letting go of control, while still holding on to what is most important to you. As with childbirth, you can't control what gets thrown your way--will your connecting flight to Detroit get cancelled at the last second? Will your midwife be on-call when you deliver? Heck, you don't even what time your adventure will begin! But you can know how to navigate amidst those unknowns and remain optimistic.

After our failed attempt to board the 6am Vegas flight, we checked the board to see if anything else looked appealing - or possible. Good thing we decided to stay home, because later that week I ended up with a blood clot!

I am tempted to go into detail about all the non-rev travel skills we've learned and how this applies to childbirth, but for as valuable as that all is for us, I don't think it would make a very interesting read for you. So instead, let's have some fun looking through the non-rev trips Baby P has taken with us these past nine months - in utero.

Phoenix

Over E's spring break we headed to Phoenix for a little warm-weather reprieve. I was only about a month pregnant at the time and didn't feel wonderful, but that didn't stop me from climbing Camelback and exploring Frank Lloyd Wright's desert home. (Although I did wear those Sea Band bracelets the entire time and I believe there was an emergency string cheese craving run to a gas station at one point). We were happy just to make it home, but for the record, in order to do so, we awoke at 3:30am to catch an early flight to JFK, followed by one to Indianapolis, and finally home on one of the last flights of the day. We worked for this one!

Rapid City

One Saturday morning in April we spontaneously decided to fly to Rapid City, South Dakota. My dad was in town visiting his folks so we decided to go for it. We climbed around on rocks out in the Black Hills, enjoying some quality time with both sets of grandparents, and then proceeded to get stuck there. Yup, the flight home was full and didn't look promising for the next day, so we rented a car and drove home the long way. Mr. P had to make it back for school in the morning!

California

Evan's cousin got married in California in June, so off we went to San Jose (because closer destinations failed), followed by a long drive out to the Yosemite area. We stopped for a baby announcement photo shoot in the park, because I was now entering my second trimester! Baby was juuuuust beginning to show.

New Jersey

My parents made the big move away from New Jersey, where they've lived for the last 20-some years, to Massachusetts. So naturally we had to make a quick stop at home one last time to help go through boxes and say goodbye to the ol' house - and the Jersey Shore!

Germany

Our trip to Germany in June deserves a post all it's own. But in a nutshell, we flew into Frankfurt and took the train west to the Mosel Valley region, where we stayed in a B&B for two nights, exploring the castles and towns in the area. Then we stayed with some relatives in southwest Germany for a couple days, while they toured us around the wineries, pastry shops and university towns in their area. We even bopped over to France for an afternoon! Baby P especially enjoyed the homemade Spaetzle (pasta) with zucchini cream sauce ... and of course, all of the chocolate and treats.

North Carolina

My sister got married in North Carolina - right on the first day of my third trimester! The ceremony and reception were beautiful, of course, on a farm out in the countryside near Greensboro. Baby P thoroughly enjoyed the mac n cheese and all of the amazing PIES! But in hindsight, I realize I was already beginning to feel symptoms of my oncoming blood clot and wasn't able to spend much time on the dance floor. Good thing it held off another couple of weeks! Fun fact: Evan actually worked the plane that I flew out to the wedding (see the airport photo near the top of this post) - that was a first!
[photos by Hartman Outdoor Photography]

Our travels were cut short this August and September by a DVT scare (blood clot! Read all about that and my year of being "fearless," here). So we've been grounded for the last 10 weeks. But we're already looking forward to what non-rev travel adventures lie ahead, this time, with Baby P on board! Hospital bags are packed, homemade felt mobile is hanging above the crib, cloth diapers are prepped and ready to go, I've cleaned some random corners of the house and canned a batch of homemade applesauce.

Now we're just standing by, waiting for our little passenger to arrive.

Fearless

2014-08-28T17:12:00.000-05:00

Fearless. I'm sure this word means something different to just about every living person on the planet. When I chose that as my "word of the year" at the beginning of 2014, I didn't fully know my own definition of the word, I just sensed that I could use a little extra fearlessness this year. Do any of you do that? Instead of choosing a long and intimidating list of New Year's resolutions, just pick one word and try incorporate it into your life throughout the entire year. I've been doing it the last few years or so and am always surprised at how the word ends up fitting me well, before the year is through.

For me, it all started in February when we found out I was pregnant. I know, a joyous occasion for most people - and for us as well - but deep down, if I'm being perfectly honest, part of me was feeling a large portion of fear mixed in. For someone who likes control of her body, eating habits, exercise rhythms, and sleep patterns, finding out you won't have control over any of that for the next 9 months (and beyond!) is a pretty scary proposition. I've never been one to worry too much about change, but lack of control, that is terrifying.

Before becoming pregnant, I never understood why those who were, had to comment on it tirelessly. Every blog post from my favorite food blogger turned into pregnancy or baby commentary, coworkers who were expecting brought it up on a daily basis, and of course friends and family journeying down that road had a knack for keeping the entire Facebook world informed. But now I get it. When you're pregnant (or at least for me) it is all-consuming; there isn't a single part of me that doesn't feel fundamentally different. Maybe it's because I'm so sensitive or in-tune to my body, but it definitely causes me to pause and fully take in this life-changing experience.

Evan's pretty in-tune to his body too.

And it's a good thing I'm sensitive to my body because sometimes your own intuition is just as important (or more so) than your doctor's knowledge. Here's an example: it starts with a tightness in your side that feels like the standard pregnancy Round Ligament Pain, but as the week progresses it moves to your groin and upper thigh, and eventually you're limping around wondering how this can be normal.

The swelling begins ...

By Thursday your leg has swollen and turned a lovely shade of purple so you visit your OB office and the doctor orders an ultrasound of your leg to rule out blood clots. Ultrasound is complete and shows no sign of clots (whew!), so your doctor says to rest, ice and elevate over the weekend. "It will probably be better by the morning." Famous last words.

Baby Shower

After your wonderful baby shower Friday night that keeps you planted in a chair the entire evening, wincing in pain, you wake Saturday morning to find you can no longer walk. Extending your leg past a 45 degree angle is nearly impossible, and the pain in your groin is now reaching record highs. Of course the on-call doctor you speak with over the phone knows you've already been checked for blood clots, so he isn't concerned. Thankfully you have an excellent and intuitive midwife, who, upon seeing you at the clinic Monday, knows something serious is afoot and sends you off to have another ultrasound. This time the verdict is Deep Vein Thrombosis (DVT) - blood clots in three veins originating in the groin with clotting extending down the entire leg. (You can look it up for more info, but in a nutshell: pregnancy is a risk factor for DVT since you have three times the amount of blood and your body simply clots easier in preparation for childbirth. The main concern is that a piece of the clot will break off and head to your heart or lungs - this can be fatal. Once you start taking blood thinner your risk goes down significantly, but it still takes a few weeks until the clot has dissolved and symptoms/pain subsides).

Pain level 8-10 at this point!

I know I should have felt some sense of fear upon entering the ER and spending the night in the hospital hooked up to an IV, but in reality, I just felt a huge sense of relief. I had been right all along - this wasn't normal pregnancy pain, and it wasn't even a normal blood clot scenario (groin clots are much less common than ones in your calf - and three of them?!).

Pre-treatment

But it doesn't mean the recovery has been easy. In fact, this whole ordeal has been one of the hardest things I've ever done. It is not like recovering from a sports injury where I'm simply at home resting, icing and watching movies; it is draining both physically and emotionally and this blog post is the only productive thing I've managed to do all week (and that's saying a lot for an over-achiever like me). Since I'm pregnant on top of it all, it adds an extra layer of discomfort and complexity - I can't help Evan prepare the nursery, stockpile food for when baby comes, or keep up on my prenatal yoga or exercise. But I try not to wallow in my misery because in the big picture it could be a lot worse. And after all, this is just temporary and will soon pass.

Although I did manage to get out of helping with this sticky nursery-prep situation. Maybe not a bad thing!
(note: the walls are not nearly this harsh a yellow and the leaning tower is now appropriately assembled inside the closet)

Now, here's where my word "fearless" comes in again. I have to give myself shots. As in half-inch-long needle injections IN MY PREGNANT BELLY twice a day for the next ten weeks (until delivery). If I were to rewind to the beginning of 2014 when I chose the word Fearless and pose the question to myself, Jeopardy (or Apples-to-Apples?) style, I'd probably says "FEARLESS: what is, learning to administer my own injections." Seriously. Well, that would be right up there with spending a night in a haunted hotel. (Which one would you choose? It's a hard question.) If you're on team needle-phobia, maybe you are like me and have to lay down whenever your blood is drawn or you receive a shot because you fainted once in high school. (I can't be the only one who did that!) Fell to the ground and heard the nurse yell "She's gone down!" And they hadn't even pricked me yet. I can't say that shot-giving was ever something I put on my bucket list - whether administering to myself, someone else, or even a cow. But yet …

In order to stay in the half-glass-full club I'm trying to see the positives here. And really, overcoming my fear of needles has got to be one of the biggest challenges - and dare I say opportunities - I've ever been given. To know that within the next ten weeks I will become so accustomed to the routine of shot giving that it will become second nature, helps me want to do it again every day. Every time, I'm one step closer to overcoming that fear. So far it has gone pretty well and the nurse even complimented me on my steady hand. Who knows, maybe I'll switch professions yet! ; )

Of course there are other benefits to this entire ordeal, and for the sake of remaining upbeat, I will list them here:

We were actually scheduled to tour the Birth Center of the hospital the night we were there - I guess we opted for the behind-the-scenes tour instead! Our hospital "trial run" will help me pack my hospital bag: I now know to bring a sweatshirt to supplement the poor hospital pillows, ear plugs and an eye mask.

People make you food. Evan's mom is driving up tomorrow with some quiche, calico beans, bran muffins and peanut butter cookies. Needless to say I am quite excited. Evan has filled the fridge with fruit, yogurt, and a hot dish I've been enjoying every day. Lesson learned: when someone hurts, bring them food. Treats, baked goods, leftovers - whatever! No need to ask, just do it : )

Evan knows how to make me feel better: he brought me kale broccoli salad!

I gained perspective: Last time I was in the hospital I was experiencing very unnatural pain - next time I will also be in pain but it will be natural and serve a very clear purpose.

Now that part of my blood clot area is starting to clear I'm surprised at how much of my stomach pains I've had the past few months and assumed were just pregnancy symptoms are also clearing. After this, pregnancy will be easy! I don't know that much about blood clots but I suspect this one was a long time in the making.

And apparently Germans get pregnant too, although we didn't see a single one during our visit in June!

We discovered that a hospital stay is not completely unlike riding first class (what?!). Of course there are no IVs on an airplane along with a zillion other differences, but we couldn't help but chuckle when we noticed that in both situations you have a bedside service/call button, you often slide down on the slippery inclined bed, and you're constantly woken up or stuck waiting for someone to tend to the next task, whether that be delivering a warm washcloth (happens in both situations), checking your vitals, or spreading a fancy napkin and silverware before you for your five course meal (I'll let you guess on those last two).

I realized, yet again, that I chose well. I have the best in-home nurse in the world: Evan! He's definitely gone above and beyond in taking care of my physical and emotional needs and has proved already that he's going to make a great dad.

***

Ten more weeks and counting!

Back in the Game

2014-06-12T23:27:00.002-05:00

Despite the radio silence on the ol' blog the last few months, I really do have a lot to say.

For starters ...

We're expecting a baby this November! How's that to start off with the big one?

Flight benefits continue as Evan passes the one-year mark - we have recently added Phoenix, the Black Hills and California to our non-rev travel destination list. Oh yea, and he's still a chemistry teacher as well for the majority of the year.

House projects demand attention, especially the office-to-nursery switch and a big basement renovation (need an official guest room and bathroom before Baby P arrives!)

Pearson parents are leaving New Jersey after 25+ years and venturing four hours north to central Massachusetts. This weekend will be my last trip "home" for a final beach day and helping pack up boxes. Yea, it's kind of bittersweet as one would expect, but it's an awfully exciting adventure as well! {And I've never been one to label one singular place as "home" anyway}

Speaking of bittersweet, the Pierson parents just had a big change in their life, that also falls in that category of "moving." Only their home remains in place, firmly planted on the farm just outside of Lake City. When you live on a farm, the definition of home is a complex thing, spread in part between the bodies of 200 dairy cows. Earlier this spring Sapa Ska Farms held an auction and sent their herd out into the world. This event deserves a write-up all its own and I have pictures and video to help tell the story. Don't worry, it has a happy ending, in which the farmer now has time and flexibility to spontaneously visit the cabin, attend a full wedding reception or help his son finish off the basement ... what?

I've been missing this part of my life where I sit down by myself in a quiet room and send my thoughts out into the void. For a good two months, being in front of any screen made me motion sick so I let go of any extra activities that involved screens for a while, and then one gets accustomed to other evening activities (like sleeping, for the most part). Sometimes you realize that you have to slow down a little bit, let life catch up and tend to other things for a while, even if that means pushing pause on your favorite hobby. Now that I am through that early stage of pregnancy, I'm looking forward to bringing the Tales of E and C back to life (although perhaps it is due for a name change?). We have some big adventures ahead and what better fuel to light my creative fire than a year of change and new beginnings?

As Frank Costanza once said ...

I'm BACK babyyy!

Choices

2014-02-09T13:09:00.002-06:00

You know you're over-commited in life when "quality time" spent with your husband consists of rescuing your car from a snowy street at 11pm. Oh, it was quite a date, as we hopped in his old Honda Civic and started our trek down the city streets to where my car decided it couldn't quite make it up a hill earlier in the evening. Really, it should be the other way around, with old Civic throwing in the towel when times get rough and Prius, our young chariot, coming to the rescue. But "old faithful" maneuvered that mashed potato terrain despite the hanging tail pipe that needs welding once again. He takes a little maintenance, but like any good relationship - or marriage - the engine will certainly outlive its frame.

We realize that most of our hectic can't-quite-catch-up lifestyle is brought on by choices we make. Like saying yes to teaching and working at the airport, orchestra rehearsals, freelance assignments, coaching opportunities, dinner with friends ... I'm sure this list sounds familiar. When you're a do-er and feel fortunate to have so many opportunities, it really is hard to ever say 'no.' We want our cake and we'll eat it too. Followed up by a fancy coffee, a long walk in the snow, a trip to the gym, and any other activity you can squeeze in because who can resist the icing on the cake? There are so many choices when it comes to spending your time, that if I pause to consider my options I feel that old decision-making paralysis creep in. I guess that's why I usually just go crazy attempting to do it all. (Not recommended, by the way.)

A friend recently recommended a book to me called The Paradox of Choice. If you have a few minutes, check out the author's TED Talk from a few years ago. Psychologist Barry Schwartz delves into the topic of choice, and how too much choice actually decreases satisfaction. He explains the "grass is greener" phenomenon, how to be happy with what you have, live in the moment, and not regret. I resonate with his statement that "imagination about other choices leads to regret, and regret detracts from satisfaction of the decisions you have made (even if good decisions). The more options there are, the easier it is to regret your decisions ... When everything is possible you increase paralysis and decrease satisfaction."

This can mean small decisions, like choosing a salad dressing or new jeans, but it also applies to bigger things like careers, getting married, starting a family. In my line of work as a contractor, I am constantly having to make decisions about how to move forward with my career, which avenue to pursue. Although I love the freedom this creates - because really, I'm living in the world of possibility - it also requires constant attention and deliberating on choices, which in the end often can leave you second guessing and unsatisfied.

Plus, then there's FOMO.

Have you heard of this? Fear of Missing Out. It's a real thing. Although it has likely always been around to some extent, since the advent of social media, FOMO has become much more prevalent. Not only are we constantly having to make choices about what avenues to pursue in our own life, we can see what choices everyone else is making. Vacation destinations, masters degrees, meal plans, weekend adventures ... social media shows us all of these "options" on how to live your life, and since no one can do them all, it creates this sense of missing out. #firstworldproblem I know. But yet ...

Don't we want to live our life to the fullest potential? We love quotes that spur us to action, that make us ponder our life and fill it with meaning. But sometimes, for a person like me who is already on that bandwagon, it would be nice to hear a different message every once in a while, reminding us that life is life, and what happens IS your adventure, don't worry so much about filling every crevice with adventure and meaning (but of course I still do).

That's what I love about the movie Up! Carl and Ellie begin their life with plans for adventure, filling their glass jar with money for this great trip they will take someday. But as we quickly find out (in the first three minutes of the movie - I'm not giving anything away here) they grow old and Ellie passes before they have a chance to fulfill that dream. It's only a while later that Carl discovers the old scrapbook from their childhood, titled "My Adventure Book" that he assumes is blank because they never ending up taking that amazing trip. But then he turns the page to discover that LIFE was their amazing adventure together ... I wish I could embed the video here but you'll have to go watch it on YouTube.

As long as I'm on the topic of choices and choosing paths, let's go there. Where? To Robert Frost's famous poem that takes place where two roads diverge in a yellow wood ...

Did you know it isn't really about choosing the road less travelled by?

I know, it's been quoted that way for years, but a professor clued me in to the art of close reading back in college, and I've been the nerd telling everyone the "true meaning" ever since.

The Road Not Taken

Robert Frost

TWO roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;	5

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,	10

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.	15

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

Notice the sections I bolded? If you read the entire poem and pay attention to what Frost is actually saying about these two paths that diverged in a yellow wood, you will see that they are in fact the same. He did not take the one less traveled by, he simply chose one, almost on impulse, because he had to make a choice and convince himself of why he was choosing one over the other ("because it was grassy and wanted wear"). This is a tale about the nature of choice and decision making.

Now, look at the last stanza, where it switches to future tense. If you accurately read the first part of the poem and realize the paths are quite the same, you will understand that this stanza has somewhat of an ironic tone. Sometime in the future, "ages and ages hence"you will look back on your decisions and claim with a dramatic sigh, "well that decision, that one made all the difference." Some interpret this to mean that the choices you make don't really matter - in the end, stuff just happens and we only think it's our choices that made all the difference (see this clip from the popular show Orange is the New Black). But I like to think that the choices you make DO matter, but not because we've taken the road less traveled by. We make decisions, and those decisions lead to other decisions further down the path. And although you don't know where that path is leading at the time and all options may even look the same, in hindsight, those choices DO make all the difference because they determine where else you will travel.

This poem is more about the nature of choice and decision making, and how we try to explain our decisions, than it is about taking the road less traveled by.

For more information about the clip in Orange is the New Black, and to read about the history behind this poem, go here and here. Apparently Frost is known for deliberately misleading his readers ...

Isn't poetry analysis fun? I love the simple fact that when you read a poem you know that every single word, space and punctuation mark is there for a reason. It's a clue to figuring out the true meaning behind the poem.

Kind of like cooking ...

Well, maybe not, but everything in this recipe is there for a reason. And that reason is tasty, healthy no-fuss weeknight dinner. I make this a couple times a month when I'm tired of sifting through all the blogs and Pinterest options. Too many choices! Sometimes it's nice to have a few meals just decided for you ... kind of like being in a book club.

Here ya go: get yourself some quinoa, your favorite stir fry sauce, and (natural) peanut butter. Make the quinoa according to directions, stir fry your favorite veggies on high heat, add a heaping scoop of peanut butter to coat the veggies, then add the stir fry sauce. I like to mix in the cooked quinoa because I love how it clings to the veggies. Add some peanuts if you like it crunchy and Enjoy!

Now you just have to decide what night you'll make this. But that's okay, because we all like to have at least a few choices, don't we?

2013: Let's do the Numbers

2014-01-06T14:05:00.000-06:00

It's 20 below zero in Minneapolis today and E and I are hunkering in and reminiscing on the past year, especially this sunny vista:

When I think back on 2013, the main word that comes to mind is travel. I laugh when I look at my planner, especially last summer, when we were home in Minnesota a total of two weekends. (Suffice it to say this took a toll on our house, and our sleep!) Before you ask I will tell you: no, we are not rich. As it turns out, you don't have to be wealthy to travel like you are. You just need a crazy husband (or be so yourself) who happens to love spending his free time throwing around 50-pound bags and hanging out in the belly of a plane.

Let me explain. Evan started working for the airport as a luggage handler this summer during his off-season from teaching. We spent the summer visiting family and friends and faraway lands thanks to the amazing Delta benefits, and when school came around again we couldn't bear to part with the perks, so on he continued into the fall while juggling his teaching schedule. "Let's just make it to fall break so we can take another trip," he said. But after that there was a short weekend jaunt to St. Louis for my 30th birthday and then of course our annual Christmas trip to New Jersey, so he kept holding out. Now that it's the new year he claims he can see the light at the end of the tunnel - summer. So onward we go! He's already working in sub-zero temps and it can't get any worse than that! It's been a heckuvayear and we're grateful we've been given this opportunity ... and I'm grateful I have a husband who's willing to work 60 hours a week to make it happen.

In typical Carolyn fashion, I've accumulated pages of notes and thoughts from our travels and some pretty crazy tales to share (caught in the worst storm of our lives, lost in Tuscany! on bikes!). And they'll make it to the page ... err blog ... eventually. But until then, I had a little fun going through old photos and finally putting these crazy stats together we've been tracking since the first flight last May.

Let's do the numbers!

(Turns out we like to sleep on the plane, and the rest of the time we're usually planning the next leg of the trip)

Carolyn. By herself. In a cheap motel. While Evan flew FIRST CLASS from Amsterdam. Not bitter at all, why do you ask?

We both turned 30 this past year, so I like to think of these travels as a way to keep us young and to remember, although there are definitely some amazing destinations along the way, when it comes down to it, life's all about that old cliche: enjoy the journey!

Summer 2013 Destinations:

Orlando, Fla.

Fairbanks, Alaska

New Jersey, Part 1 (and NYC)

St. Louis, Part 1

Italy, Part 1

Italy: Pisa

Italy: Cinque Terre
Italy: Florence/Fiesole
Italy: Orvieto
Italy: Rome
NYC Day Trip

New Jersey, Part 2

North Carolina

Colorado

Fall 2013 Destinations:

St. Louis, Part 2

New Jersey, Part 3

Amsterdam

24 Hours in St. Louis

New Jersey for Christmas

Reflections on Travel:

Behind-the-Scenes Non-Rev Travel

Here's to more adventures in 2014!

Where did you travel in 2013? Or do you have a dream destination you're saving your pennies for? I've never been to Hawaii but Evan really wants to go back to Europe, so we'll see who wins the next coin toss!

The After-Thanksgiving [E+C Blog] Special

2013-11-29T17:37:00.004-06:00

When you grow up in a different time zone than your cousins and grandparents, attend a college that's a 21-hour drive from your home town, watch your sisters settle down in three separate states, marry someone from a state that ~~makes hot dishes instead of casseroles~~ requires a plane ticket home, and spend more time interacting via technology than you do face-to-face, you learn that distance does not always dampen a relationship.

In fact, living with family spread across the country has its advantages. Most recently, I've discovered that it provides us unique opportunities to gather together in unusual combinations of "mico-families." Just this last weekend I had lunch at the airport with my grandma from South Dakota, my Minnesota-based aunt, and my uncle from South Dakota and his daughter - but not her siblings. We were all missing people from our immediate family unit, and I'm sure the thought crossed all of our minds that we'll likely never be together with that specific group of people again. But it was fun, and I'm grateful for long layovers and that my family takes advantage of these little opportunities to stay connected.

This Thanksgiving we went down to the farm for a laid-back gathering with the Pierson clan. I brought orange-glazed sweet potatoes and a simple green bean dish (non-casserole style). And then we got to visit the cows.

Sometimes simple is best.

And you can't beat sharing Tday with a barn full of hungry calves. (Watch my Instagram video here)

Just for fun, here's a little video I posted a few years ago about the time my family drove through the night from New Jersey to celebrate Tday morning with my oldest sister who was away at college ... in Minnesota. Twenty-one hours in the car makes for a pretty loopy morning. This video is awesome in so many ways. All the little things: the fact that we parked far away on purpose so our plan wasn't found out (not really necessary), that we crept through strangers' backyards and felt the need to whisper, that dad forgot the keys in the car in all the excitement (and loopiness), that we actually squatted in the woods and dad's subsequent comment no one seemed to hear, Karrin's hand gestures while squatting in the woods, and of course the final surprise ... priceless. Unfortunately this was 12 years ago so the video quality isn't great. You may need to squint. If you don't feel like watching the whole thing, skip to the end since that's the best part!

Thanksgiving Surprise from Carolyn Pierson on Vimeo.

Notes from C: November 2013

2013-11-26T21:38:00.001-06:00

It's been a while since I've made a post inspired by the little notebook I carry around with me. I think I'm rather seasonal in my creativity and thinking and am drawn to these types of ponderings in the colder months. And colder it is, at least here in Minnesota. Saturday morning at 8am Evan and I, along with his sister and brother-in-law, were at the starting line to our Turkey Trot ... with temperatures just reaching 4 degrees. Lesson learned: if you only wear one layer of winter running tights you will be nursing your numb legs back to health for a good half day. Also, chicken noodle soup is a necessary post-race treat.

As I was saying, the change of seasons feeds my creativity, and fall is the start of my new creative year. To be more precise, it's actually the weeks that follow those colorful peak days that are my favorite of all. Yup, call me weird, but I like to watch the colors gradually fade, when the textures and patterns of tree branches become the main attraction, and the entire landscape settles into one of muddied, muted tones, contrast and mystery. Give me a quiet, chilly scene and top it off with a vibrant sunset that only November can produce and my mind is more alive than on a sunny day in July. Only when it gets cooler and the world begins to turn inward do I have access to those scenes and thoughts.

This time of fall makes me want to be a painter, so I can capture every blurry smudge of color, the long brush strokes of branches, the texture. It's past the peak, the "show" is over, but life continues on. Trees don't wear life solely in their branches; their life is within, calm, steadfast, determined ... resilient. I think this is why I love the coming of winter. It strips away your "accessories" and shows who you truly are. There is less of life around, but the life that remains is persistent and true.

Wouldn't it be nice if we saw aging like this too? Where "past-your-peak beauty" was more striking than prime-time youthful beauty? Wrinkles are just life's way of adding more contrast, texture, shadows ... I'll try and remember that.

Imagine this if you will: you're driving along your usual commute that takes you across a large four-lane bridge. Downtown St. Paul is on your left, Minneapolis in your review mirror, and the hustle and bustle of an international airport is just over your right shoulder. But what most drivers don't realize as they speed along on their way to work is that just below them is Fort Snelling State Park, and from the bridge you are privy to a unique peak down into that world. One day in late autumn as you're driving along, you get distracted from the road (just a little bit, it's okay) by something bright down below. There's this tree just bursting with color, surrounded on all sides by a tangle of leafless trees. The contrast is shocking and somewhat unbelievable - why would one tree stay living while the others wait for spring? Yet there it stands, with golden tendrils reaching out in every direction, as if trying to poke the rest of the forest awake.

This is a true story, and one in which I was almost tempted to break the law to capture this mystery tree. See, I was so obsessed with the glimpse I caught of this striking scene that I wanted to go back on the bridge with my camera to photograph it from above. But alas, after scouting out the area I soon realized there is only a pedestrian lane on the west-bound side of the Mendota Bridge, which does not provide a view of said golden tree. So instead of scaling the illegal side of the bridge, I resorted to driving in the right-hand lane for the next few weeks, obsessively glancing out the side window like a child looking for Santa Clause. I had to watch and see what that magic tree would do. Turns out the vision of gold was none other than a weeping willow, just entering it's prime color-changing season (which, is much later than the average deciduous).

I really don't know why this tree had such an impact on me or what the symbolic meaning could possibly be, but I still think about it every time I drive over that bridge. And now maybe you will too when you're driving over bridges. Watch out for those weeping willows!

Yes, it's just some marketing for an expensive yoga shop, but take away the logo and you can appreciate some of these nuggets of wisdom.

My favorite? "dance, sing, floss and travel." What is yours? Although I would organize them as floss, travel, dance, sing ... just cuz flossing is important.

Have you ever listened to Dvorak's New World Symphony? I just performed it with my community orchestra last week and highly recommend you at least listen to it on YouTube (or better yet, a recording on iTunes). It's great for the imagination, and makes for fun driving music, especially if you have ever been (or dreamed of) ~~being a pirate~~ sailing. Can't you just hear the camaraderie on the ship, the hoisting of the sails, the fierce waves, the first glimpse of land?

I love coffee but for some reason it doesn't really like me. Well no, that's not true, it really likes me. So much so that I have one cup o' joe and I am over-caffeinated and loopy. Trust me on this one (or ask Evan). So I started making my own caffeine-free warm and cozy drink to enjoy this winter. But beware, this one really is best closer to bedtime since the milk will make you want to toddle off.

1 cup milk

Microwave until HOT (about 2 minutes)

stir in a drop or two of vanilla extract

1-2 squeezes honey (to taste), stirred

If you have one of those froth-maker tools, whip that out now

Top with a little whipped cream (I am partial to Reddi Whip)

sprinkle some cinnamon on top

Now you need a good book to curl up to with your warm cup of ~~sleep potion~~ cozy vanilla steamer, right? You might have to pay $27 cover price or wait on the library list for a month like I did, but this book by Colum McCann is excellent. It's about the first mail carrier flight across the Atlantic from Newfoundland to Ireland, and other stories spanning 150 years, all connected in some way to Ireland, woven and tucked in together. Anyone in my book club will tell you that you can gauge how much I like a book by how many quotes I jot down in my notebook; if I spend half of my reading time not reading but writing down quotes from the book, that's a good sign. And this has been a late-night quote-writing kind of book so far, and I'm only 100 pages in.

And with that, I'm off to plan my contribution to Thanksgiving dinner this year. I'm thinking sweet potatoes, because they are my favorite. Yup, better than stuffing, cranberries, and even turkey in my book. But nothing beats pumpkin pie. : )

Here's the story behind Notes from C here.

Read past Notes from C here.

Jet-lagged in Pisa

2013-10-12T16:34:00.000-05:00

Everyone will tell you not to go to Pisa. There's nothing but an underwhelming tilted bell tower packed in with tourists and trinket carts bent on selling yet another leaning-tower key chain (which, as it turns out, you can purchase at any other city or tourist trap throughout all of Italy). While there is some truth to this, and there are far more impressive sights in nearby Florence and the Cinque Terre, do not cross Pisa off your list just yet. No, do not overlook this under-appreciated city nestled between its far more glamorous neighbors. In fact, a brief visit to Pisa might be just what you need.

Pisa is like the training wheels of Italy; it's the perfect city to get oriented to the culture, comfortable with the maps, and most importantly - to recover from jet lag.

If you're anything like us, you'll fly across the pond from the U.S. with too much excitement for your upcoming adventure to get a wink of sleep. (It doesn't help when you're flying first class for the first time!)

You'll touch down at 7 a.m. Pisa time, which will feel like the middle of the night to your eyes. After a quick outfit change and brush up in the bathroom, you'll strap on your money belt, pull out your trusty Rick Steve's travel book, and head outside into the morning light. Since Pisa is a relatively small city, it is quite navigable on foot. If you were arriving during the night you'd probably hail a cab for safety reasons, but walking through the streets in the morning might just be the best way to shake off that it's-the-middle-of-the-night-why-am-I-not-asleep" feeling.

Have you ever arrived in a city at daybreak? If you land in Pisa at 7 a.m. and decide to walk through the streets, you will notice that your rolling suitcase is the loudest sound around. Women will open their green shutters (which you'll soon learn is the color of 99 percent of all shutters in Italy), sweep off their patios, and go back inside to drink their espresso (or so you assume). Cats catch the morning sun on old stone walls and recycling bins sit next to garbage cans on every street corner, because Europeans are organized like that.

If you arrive in Pisa at 7 a.m., you will discover that the best way to get to know a place is to watch it wake up.

As you get closer to the center of town (although you aren't quite sure since your map lacks details and the streets are winding), the occasional scooter will buzz by to remind you that you're in Europe, in case you forgot. Shops begin to open, and you'll learn important idiosyncrasies of Italian living, like that Farmacia (pharmacy) shops don't necessarily sell "pharmacy" items, like razor blades - you must head to the Tabacchi (tobacco) shops for those items, which can be found everywhere, even in the train station.

Following the general direction of traffic sounds like a good plan because you don't really know where you're going. But there's no hurry. Because even though it's 7 a.m. on a Monday morning and people are hopping on buses and heading to work, your agenda for the day is simply to stay awake and see how the day unfolds.

If you arrive in Pisa at daybreak, you'll likely need to check your bags for the day. We opted to stay at an Airbnb rental (here, to be precise), with check-in sometime in the afternoon. Bag check at the train station is reasonably priced, so after you drop your bags, you'll use your newly freed arms and burst of energy to commence a Rick Steve's historic walking tour. You'll quickly discover who is the natural tour guide and who is the wanderer/photographer. Assume those roles, and don't fight over the maps.

If you are fortunate to spend a day in Pisa and wander outside the touristy tower arena, you will likely find yourself amongst backpacks and class-bound students at the University of Pisa. A chatty student on lunch break might practice his English by filling you in on all sorts of information, most notably that the student population of 57,000 makes up for about 60 percent of the city and was home to the famous Galileo Galilei. Tourist destination? Try advanced education institution. Your new student friend will then try and learn the English word for the little army of critters carrying sandwich crumbs up the tree (it's "ant") before jumping on his bike and leaving you to ponder the significance of a university that dates back to the 12th Century. Makes our Princeton and Harvard universities seem new!

If you arrive in Pisa at 7 a.m. you will be quite tired by the time you venture to the Leaning Tower. But you'll find some shade, learn about Romanesque architecture (trademarks: marble, arches, decorative arcading, symmetrical, etc) - which contrasts to the Gothic architecture that came later, decide not to climb the tower (quite pricey and you don't get very high), observe the hordes of people lined up for "leaning" photos, and then decide to join in yourself - because why not?

When it's time to check in at your Airbnb, you will be delighted to find your bed is circular, and since you arrived in Pisa at daybreak and have been on your feet ever since, you may grab the quickest mini nap just to make it until real bedtime. But then you're on to the next adventure ...

Because the best thing about Pisa? It's within a short train ride of the medieval city of Lucca!

Wondering how we flew standby to Italy? Read about Evan's job at the airport here.

Summer 2013 Destinations:

Orlando, Fla.

Fairbanks, Alaska

New Jersey, Part 1 (and NYC)

St. Louis, Part 1

Italy, Part 1

NYC Day Trip

New Jersey, Part 2

North Carolina

Colorado

Fall 2013 Destinations:

St. Louis, Part 2

New Jersey, Part 3

Reflections on Travel:

Behind-the-Scenes Non-Rev Travel

Travel Day Preparations

2013-09-20T09:29:00.001-05:00

Happy Friday! It was an early start to the day here at the Pierson house. Evan is always an early bird, and has that unusual quality of being the most cheerful version of himself before the sun rises. Seriously, the man tries to rouse me from my slumbers with made-up jingles and random songs, most of which I hear for just a second before diving back under the covers. But today I had the ~~task~~ opportunity to rise and shine with my better half (seriously my much better half at that hour).

Because there's lots on the agenda today!

1 - Watch this How I Met Your Mother video to get some packing tips:

2 - Remind self to find trusty hand's-free belt satchel

3 - Check the weather for my weekend locale:

4 - Wake up Mr. Purple

5 - Sketch out a meticulously detailed route to the donut shop. Return route must include stop for first and second ~~and third~~ donut breaks. Don't forget to leave room in carry-on for my stash of buttermilk donuts. And another stash for Mr. P.

6 - Select airplane reading material

(I've had this book on my shelf for years and I think it has finally "ripened")

7 - Be a grown-up and get some work done ... trying to do a few hours from home for one job, followed by another few hours on site at my other job

(okay, so this may actually be the majority of my day. Not as fun to write about though, is it?)

8 - Look at photos of hot air balloons for half an hour to prepare for the big St. Louis hot air balloon festival this weekend. Get sidetracked and start searching for your copy of James and the Giant Peach to see if a peach could ever really fly.

(but seriously, there's a hot air balloon light show tonight I'm super excited for, if it doesn't get rained out)

9 - Consider aborting plans and flying to NC instead when your sister sends you a photo collage of her new puppy: Alfred Pennyworth. (don't worry Kirst, I'd choose ~~donuts~~ you over a puppy any day)

10 - Check flight loads to see if I will even get on the airplane. 23 seats open on the 3pm, I'm number 9 on the list. Not too shabby. I'll try my chances.

(But all it takes is one cancelled flight and I'm out of the game! #livingontheedge)

11 - Cross fingers (and toes!)

Wondering how we're flying standby this summer? Read about Evan's job at the airport here.

Summer 2013 Destinations:

Orlando, Fla.

Fairbanks, Alaska (I have more to say about this amazing trip!)

New Jersey (and some NYC)St. Louis, Part 1

Italy, Part 1

TO COME: New Jersey, Part 2; North Carolina; Colorado

Regroup

2013-08-31T21:36:00.000-05:00

The best laid plans of mice and men go aft astray ...

I'm sure you've all been there. At the beginning, it seems easy. You're in that morning coffee-high phase where everything is possible. You can get a workout in before work every day, keep up around the house, take on extra freelance work, and travel 90 percent of your summer weekends, all while documenting each adventure on the ol' blog. Well, the run before work was never a part of my game plan and I tried to scale back on the freelance work. But the last one I was really envisioning as a fun summer project where I'd fill ya in on all sorts of travel adventures with witty writing, travel tips and of course some awesome photos.

Since it's Evan's first week back at school as Mr. P-who-teaches-chemis-try, I thought it only fitting that he give me a grade on my attempt: C-

Yup, I only managed to post a handful of times and have way more photos and stories waiting in the wing than I do on the page ... err screen. But maybe that's a good thing? It means I'll have material to fill the space in the coming months and instead of quickly posting about the "whats" of our trip, I can take my time reflecting and weaving together some of my favorite stories: when we happened upon rats in the Mediterranean, (almost) bonded with an Italian girl on the train who knew "cups," experienced a little Italian heat for not finishing our meal, got caught in a (terrifying!) storm while biking (alone!) in Tuscany, walked through olive groves by moonlight, and found an oasis atop the busy streets of Rome.

But for now, I am letting those thoughts and stories germinate while I enjoy a new destination this weekend: home. Yes, it is quite exotic and a place I haven't been in a while. I looked back through my calendar the other day and realized that this will be my third weekend at home since Memorial Day where we don't have company or some other major social event - and those other two days were way back in June. So as you can imagine, I'm spending the weekend getting the house back in shape*, going on a run, and maybe, if I get to it, sorting through some travel photos.

It's interesting how a bit of travel really changes your perspective on things. Yes, flying can be glamorous but most often it is not. Besides the fact that tickets cost a fortune, the act of traveling via airplane is pretty much the same as traveling by an other means: it's just transportation. Point A to point B. Whether you're in a car, plane, bus or train, luggage needs to be loaded, you have to wait to board, sometimes the air doesn't work, you get hungry, have to wait to use the bathroom, and there are inevitable delays.

When you fly standby you are privy to a peak behind the scenes that unmask the illusion of luxury; traveling is just a numbers game. Pilots traveling as passengers hop into jump seats so that you can get on the plane (like when your friend in college rides on the floor so you can all make it to Mall of America in the same car). You follow the stats online religiously for weeks prior to departure, tracking as the open seats fluctuate. And sometimes, when those numbers don't work quite in your favor, you get left behind.

If this guy hadn't come running to the gate I would've made it on!

Of course this doesn't mean we don't appreciate this lovely little travel situation we find ourselves in these days. It's just fun, especially for someone who already ponders things while flying, to have new thoughts to think on.

And now, I'm off to unwind the way most normal people do - with a movie and a fried egg. What? You don't eat fried eggs every night? It's kind of my MVP of night-time snacks.

* In typical E+C fashion, "getting the house back in shape" involves a little more than laundry and groceries (although those are begging for attention too!).

Here is what the office looks like right now:

And the walls of our upstairs:

Oh, house projects, how I've missed thee. It sure feels good to be grounded for a bit!

Wondering how we're flying standby this summer? Read about Evan's job at the airport here.

Summer 2013 Destinations:

Orlando, Fla.

Fairbanks, Alaska (I have more to say about this amazing trip!)
New Jersey (and some NYC)
St. Louis

Italy, Part 1

TO COME: New Jersey, Part 2; North Carolina; Colorado

HOME {heart} WINGS

Best Of Summer 2016

Vantage Point

Summer Buckets

2015: Let's Do the Numbers

Wind and Warmth: Ireland

Firsts

Hands

Seasons

The Adventures that Bring you Home

New Beginnings

The Art of Decision Making

In Pursuit of Sleep

Blooma Blog

New Mama Energy Bites

New Mama Energy Bites

Makes around a dozen bites

For Unto Us a Child is Born!

Born:Thursday, October 30, 20148:43am6 lbs, 13 oz20.5 in

Standing By

Fearless

Back in the Game

Choices

2013: Let's do the Numbers

The After-Thanksgiving [E+C Blog] Special

Notes from C: November 2013

Jet-lagged in Pisa

Travel Day Preparations

Regroup

Born:
Thursday, October 30, 2014
8:43am
6 lbs, 13 oz
20.5 in