We Went to a Cabin, Etc.

It's been a while since I've written around here and I totally have a complex about it. You should see me when I haven't written in my journal in a while. My palms get really sweaty and I spend at least two pages apologizing first. (To a journal.) (Now try to imagine my prayer life. OOF!)

 Anyway it's just been a busy season, is all. We're in the middle of the busiest time of year at work, and AB and I have had our fair share of extracurriculars as well. (I even got an endoscopy, for fun! It was really great.)

 But here I am now, to write, to regale you with tales of Life on Libby Street and all related nonsense and things. Aaron is playing another riveting game of college basketball on Xbox and Jethro is napping while squarely facing the front door TO BE READY FOR INTRUDERS. And I just spent 20 minutes praying over a Bible verse Aaron assigned me this evening to deal with my frantic heart. It worked, and it made me want to write.

 So does this past weekend.

 I don't know how Aar and I keep finding ourselves surrounded by and loved on by these incredibly generous people. It occurs to me that in our relatively short time together, as college punks and now young married twenty-somethings with not much money, we've vacationed (and honeymooned) in an unbelievable condo in Fort Lauderdale (for free), we've spent every anniversary in swanky hotels at discount rates thanks to my first job and the connections I still have from it (shout out, Morgie), we've taken whirlwind trips to Hollywood and LA and hung out on rooftops and the sets of TV shows, we've stood on the dock the Titanic was built on, and now we've skipped town for a weekend in this breathtaking cabin up in Pinetop, AZ. Because someone offered it to us.

 Pinetop is just like, I mean, it is like, well I don't know. It's like a place where things LIVE. Not where they go to die (the desert.) It's green and rainy and hilly and high (6,000 feet or so, I'm told). The houses have carved wooden bears on the front porches announcing the owners' names. (Are the owners bears? This is a burning question) There are hanging plants. It stormed TWICE. There is a local barbecue joint. Why in the world is Phoenix where people decided Arizona's main city should be? This is what happens when I'm not consulted on these things.

 The porch of this place was bigger than our house; I didn't measure but I know it in my deepest heart of hearts and I am absolutely ok with it. This is the porch. LOOK AT THIS PORCH.

Seriously, we spent the entire weekend out there if you must know; even in the rain. We hammocked. We read books. I wrote some freelance assignments. We read our Bibles. We drank tea. We watched it storm. We talked about our favorite teachers in high school. We talked about the Lord. We talked about each other.

 We couldn't bring ourselves to leave, even for food, so we cooked all our meals in the kitchen inside, with a glass of wine never far away (well we cooked everything with the exception of the local barbecue, WORTH IT). And that's pretty much all we did. All weekend.

 Except we also watched Friday Night Lights.

 Ok listen, it's kind of getting out of hand with the Friday Night Lights at the Baer house. I have been wanting to write about it for a while because it MAKES ME FEEL FEELINGS but I haven't wanted to because I don't want some party pooper to say OH! I LOVE that show! and then proceed to tell me things about it that I don't know yet. (So don't be that guy, is what I'm saying, I will ban you from this blog. And then where will you go for your nonsense reading? HUH?)

Honestly, how do I write about this show? Shall I compare you to a summer's day, Friday Night Lights? Seriously I know I might sound dramatic and this might just be because we're still in the middle of watching it but I'm pretty sure this is my favorite show on television. Ever. (Star Wars wasn't a TV show so we're good.)

 I'm going to write about why I love it and why it's going to save the world and why it's giving me renewed faith in humanity in a little bit. I have to collect my thoughts first. Also just an FYI I have loved Kyle Chandler ever since he was Gary Hobson getting tomorrow's newspaper today, so you can just back off, because we have a history. (My sister and I were so obsessed with that show that our neighbor, whom we used to babysit for, once saw a profile of Kyle Chandler in the newspaper and clipped it out and brought it down to our house for us. In the rain. This is what it's like to be me.)

 So for now, why don't you fire up your Netflix and start watching it so we can talk about it in a little bit.

Sorry I haven't written in so long (THE GUILT)

Weather Philosophy Revisited; Sorry Everyone

When I was in elementary and middle school, I was an altar girl. They always had to save the shortest white robe for me. I liked the way the priest washed his hands before breaking the communion. Our priest always did it very slowly, with his lips moving in prayer. That's one of those things that you find so inexplicably beautiful at the time, but you don't know why, and thinking about it too hard might ruin it, so you just let it be beautiful. You know?

Anyway, the couple that "trained" the altar kids at my Catholic school held a "server appreciation party" for us every year at Halloween. They lived on this giant farm outside of Louisville, with a huge barn and rustic decor and a cornfield. The Halloween decorations were always spot-on and they had a huge bonfire and hay rides and carmel apples and everything Pinterest could ever want.

When I think of those parties now, I feel an actual ache. In my memories of them the sky is in a permanent state of dusk, blanketed in gray clouds; there's always a chilly breeze; a dog howling somewhere. Realistically it was probably just a bunch of 10-year-olds with sticky hands eating tootsie roll pops at 4 in the afternoon, but it still felt like magic.

So much more magic than today. Sunny, 80-degree today; with a slight breeze bending the palm trees. There are pumpkins on porches but I think they're embarrassed to be there.

(Honestly, how many times am I going to write about the weather? Somebody get me a xanax, am I right?!?!?! I MEAN!)

But you know what it is about weather? It's not the weather itself. It's the fact that it changes. Phoenix is nicknamed the "valley of the sun" because the sun shines over 300 days a year here. When I first moved here I marveled at that and tried to figure out why EVERYONE doesn't live here. (The margaritas alone make it worth it, maybe.) But then I realized I was in the middle of a very Lois Lowry-esque novel, where the thing you think is great turns out to be super creepy, and you start to realize WHY no one else lives here, but you're late to the party? And then the thing you thought was really a really great secret is not actually great at all but the impetus to your imminent destruction?

300 sunny days a year make it feel like Groundhog Day, is what I'm saying. I don't feel a day older than the day I moved here three years ago because it still feels like that same day. Same season, same everything. Dead lawns, high cooling bills. What am I doing here? Have I done anything? I need some damn rain so that I can know I'm moving forward. Towards what - I have no idea, but as long as it's not February 2nd again, I don't have to panic. You know?

Stuff We've Been Doing and Eating and Looking At

This weekend, Aaron's sister and her husband got here. We went up to Sedona and hiked and wore hats and things. Then we ate at Oaxaca, which, mmmm. Coincidentally, "Oaxaca" (wah-HA-ca) is my favorite word to say in Spanish, and also my favorite restaurant in Sedona at which to eat. It's like, a perfect storm. Just whisper "Oaxaca" and "fish tacos" to me in the same sentence and I'll vote for you for president.

We've also done other fun things during their visit... like go to a Cubs game and grill out carne asada, which is my favorite thing to eat. This post is making me think I maybe have a lot of favorite things to eat?

I also went to two 90-minute sessions of Bikram yoga over the weekend and I am now dying, or becoming undead, I'm not sure. All I know is I need water. All of the water. I'm going back on Tuesday and already I simultaneously regret it and am congratulating myself for it.

In other news, look at this and breathe.

I mean. Really.

Anniversary 3

We went to Tucson this weekend to play Rich People for a few days and celebrate the fact that Aaron Michael picked me three years ago. 

We watched movies, ordered room service (OMG THE COOKIES), hung out by the pool and ate at the Westin La Paloma's swanky restaurant. AND we got massages. The view from our room was pretty gorgeous (see bottom right) but I think my view at dinner was even better. (wink wink flirt flirt. Seriously, though. What a hunk.)

We've taken that hand picture every year, starting with our honeymoon when we were sitting in an empty little cafe in Key West and admiring our new jewelry. It's getting fun to build up these memories - we've taken some awesome anniversary trips over these past three years.

Every year I pinch myself and thank God for being so smart. When I married AB 3 years ago I knew I loved him and that he was the bees knees, but there are so many things about him I didn't know then but that are such important attributes in a partner. He works hard, he is responsible, he cares about doing things right, he has integrity when it'd be easy not to... and every time he shows me one of these things I think - how smart am I? I didn't even KNOW how good your scrambled eggs were when I married you! Bonus!

Sometimes it's easy to get overwhelmed by things in my life that make me feel sad or worried or anxious, but it's a cold splash of water to realize that through everything, I have this smiley guy right next to me. He is the absolute best and I love him with my whole, entire heart. Here's to a million more, bud.

The West Wing and The Tragedy That Is My Life

Yesterday something strange but utterly predictable happened, and while I do harbor a hatred for "beating the dead horse" I also harbor a love for "baring my honest soul" and today my love for the latter has taken over. Anyway the strange thing! I was watching "The West Wing" because my mama and papa sent good ol' Aar-Baer and me the full series on DVD. Have you ever seen this full series set, like in a Best Buy or anything? They made it look like a big... well, I don't know, a big top-secret presidential file. When I opened it I instinctively looked to my right and my left to make sure no one was seeing me spy on these uncovered cold case files revealing the truth about the Russians and how Sherriff Joe is really just a cryogenically frozen Darth Vader. Top secret government secrets of the topmost nature. Anyway, no one was watching me unfold the folders of discs.

So I put in disc one and pushed play and was instantly reminded of the giggly silliness of the theme music for that show. Immediately I texted my brother to complain and he said "You must! You must push stop on the show and fast forward through the music, lest that the mood be ruined!" And he was right, but sadly it was too late. But I was eating a big leftover pancake from a previous day's breakfast, so nothing could have ruined my cheer at that particular moment.

As I was watching Episode 1 of the beginning of it all, there was a scene in which Josh is having a sandwich with another little Capitol Hill worker bee lady whom he fancies. They made no reference in their conversation to the weather, which made the weather outside their little cafe that much more endearing, because it must have been real and not "backstage." It was windy beyond windy; coats flying, hair mussing, leaves swirling. It was gray and it looked cold out there.

And that's when it happened.

Despite the record-breaking fluffiness of the Leftover Pancake, my heart audibly broke, screeching like nails on a chalkboard. It started singing Alanis Morisette and it put on heavy black eye liner, and it cried into it's pillow and went to the gym just to run through the tears. IT BROKE.

Because RAIN! RAIN, and AUTUMN, and WIND and BRICK STREETS and COLD GUSTS you have ABANDONED ME! I have been deserted in a desert of desertion, with the cruel oppressive sun and air so I dry I wake up with night nose bleeds. I began to think about the last time I was truly, genuinely, in the midst of a crisp Ohio autumn day and it occurs to me that it was THREE YEARS AGO. What a criminally long time!

The dead horse has been beaten, grass confirmed to be greener, and here you are, another blog read and not a smidgen wiser. I'm sorry, but then again I didn't click the link for you.

Come to me, autumn. Come, pumpkin spice latte and gray days. Come make me sad for no reason. But a delicious sad that gives birth to an epically self-indulgent journal entry. I am waiting for you!

We're Melting

Ever since Phoenix started gettting these eerie dust storms last year, I have been waiting for one that would lend itself to "THEE photo" for me. Two weekends ago I was driving to a book signing with Jenny Lawson in Tempe (I'm not worthyyyy) and this is what I drove into.

Once I got in there, it looked like I was surrounded by dark blue fog and it was late evening. I even took a creepy picture of the sun through the haze but unfortunately it didn't turn out well...

It looks like it's about to swallow us all whole... like some terrible CGI from the movie "The Mummy" or something. It makes me feel much like the times when Aaron and I are driving home towards the McDowell mountains and I suddenly can't shake the image of a giant hand coming out from behind the peaks, and then a big giant standing up and looking at us. He is always dressed like Mario in these imaginings. You know, like the video game Mario. I don't know why I am sharing this, but really it's out of suspicion that you all were thinking the exact same thing.

Creepy mountain giants notwithstanding, I'm posting this photo to try to re-energize my affection for this Godforsaken southwestern state, because this is the time of year when every time my Mom calls and hears my pathetically downtrodden voice, she says "what's wrong, honey?" and all I can say is "Mom...it's so hot." Because it is. It is just ridiculous. In the morning when I wake up, I literally dread opening our back door to let the dog out, because the HOT is going to hit me in the face. I just said a little prayer for whatever person/institution I inevitably convince myself is to blame for it.

The ozone? Vegans? The Miss America contestant who rambled that one year? WHO DID THIS TO US.

But dust storms are...cool...right?

Buena Vista

I live in this state. Isn't that weird? Isn't it beautiful? Can you believe that view? Don't you wish I had caught a cowboy in action out there? Don't you want to come visit me now? Orange you glad I didn't say banana?

Second Visits

Last week Mom and Papa Fisher came to sunny Scottsdale for a visit. Actually, what's funny is, it wasn't so sunny. Mom didn't find that funny. (These rhymes are unintentional.) I felt terrible, because obviously, one comes to Arizona expecting rays and heat and palm trees. And that is our norm 364 days a year. Mom and Dad just happened to be here on the annual week of clouds and gloom and rain.

The horrible part: I loved it.

It made me want to curl up and read and snooze and watch movies. And actually, for a lot of their visit, that's what we did! That's what's great about Second Visits. You don't have to have the traditional "let's go see the sites" kind of time together. You can have REAL time together. As if they lived down the street, and we happened to take a Saturday to shop at Tempe Marketplace.

That's my backwards way of saying I'm trying to bamboozle them into moving down the street.

(Although I don't think that would be too hard, honestly. The excessiveness of Dad's "oohs" and "ahhs" at the scenery and his endless references to foreclosed homes was telling. AHEM.)

On an honest and more somber note, I can't describe the yuckiness of the ends of Mom-and-Dad visits. I've blogged before about how I'm not cut out to live this far from them. When they leave, all I can think about are these pretty childhood memories that I wish I could grab back.

But homesickness ain't nothing a little bitta Aaron Michael and Biggest Loser can't fix, right? At least temporarily.

So this week got off to a tear-filled start when Mom and Dad caught their return flight on Monday morning, but it's looking up now. After all, it IS the 99th anniversary of the Titanic's voyage. Coolest week of the year. What have you been up to?

Autumn

Some days I feel magical. Then, other days I feel like everyone else is more magical. And then on really rare days I feel like everyone else is magical, and I am colorless. I may get flak for this, but I always chalk those days up to being somehow related to my womanhood. I am sure they are. Because Aaron never feels colorless - not that he should. But so many women do, don't we?

Today I don't feel so magical, but I certainly can see that everything around me is. So let's talk about that.

Autumn in Arizona is quite different than the chilly, cloudy, cozy autumns in Ohio. But I am still mesmerized by it all the way out here. Right now I am sitting at our kitchen table with every single window in our apartment open around me. Do you realize that that hasn't happened in almost 7 months? The heat usually keeps them closed and sun-blocking curtains drawn, but today they are wide open. And we have A LOT of windows - it's the first thing we loved about this place. Tonight it's a bit breezy out, and the crickets are really at it. Jethro keeps running to the back door to see what's going on out there - such a watchdog. The other night we were woken up by coyotes right outside our window, so I think he is feeling a bit hyper-alert.

Today after work I could feel that it was Ohio football weather - I would say it was around 65 degrees in Ohio talk, but that translates to about 81 out here. (They really do feel the same - it's the lack of humidity). So I knew I couldn't let the opportunity pass. I got Jethro hooked up to his leash and made a mad dash out to the street, and he and I went on a 45 minute run around the mountains up here. The sun set while we were out, and it was purple and pink and orange and magic. By the time we got back to the apartment it was downright chilly out, and I had a good stretch on the porch and got in a hot shower.

Now there are pumpkins sitting on our hearth, and a jar of apple butter on the counter, and the open windows are making it just cold enough for me to need a blanket. Aaron Michael is in bed... he's been getting sleepy earlier and earlier lately. He must be getting old. ;) It's quiet and dim and dark and chilly in here, and even though I don't feel magical, tonight certainly does.

If I were magical today I would have something profound and simple and enlightening to say, or a story to tell, or a verse to tie in my feelings and what-I've-learned-today. But I'm not, and I don't. I'll just let you know that if you're not here, I wish you were, and I wish you could try out an Arizona autumn because it's quite charming. We found this in Sedona two weeks ago.

Perhaps in a few days something will click.

Seasons

One of my best friends' family moved out of their home last week, to a new town. Growing up, they lived down the street from my house; and the memories I save in the "hometown" file of my heart consist almost as much of scenes in her house as in my family's. Her sweet mom had brilliantly decorated their kitchen in a combination of old Americana, apple-related trinkets and somehow, always the smell of something sweet and soothing baking. We spent so very much time in that kitchen. Usually munching on something warm and sweet and cookie-related; always giggling about some newfound analysis of our always-dramatic teenaged lives (boys included - er, favored) and always finding new snapshots of how God was continuously molding us. Thinking of time in that kitchen literally lifts my heart. What sweet memories those were!

Neither Meghann or I have lived on that street for quite a while. We both went off to college in new towns and have now both relocated to different states. I know, though, that her family moving out of the house was difficult for her. It was weird when my family moved off the street a few years ago, too. But Meg made a small comment on my facebook wall this week and referenced something I have been trying to mold into my heart for quite a while now - the truth of seasons.

Moving out to Arizona has been amazing. Aaron and I are starting to really deepen some very cool relationships, and we are so enjoying getting to know an entirely new terrain. Our camping trip last weekend was just another Arizona-related AHA! moment for us - we live in such a COOL place! There's so much to see! So much that is different from anywhere near where we grew up! So many fun little trips to take! So many cool restaurants to sample... so many beautiful sunsets to watch from our patio. We even started golf lessons last week...so many fun new things to try!

But at the same time, living so far from home and having to adjust so harshly and quickly to something so new has been trying. Being homesick for family and comfortable memories is still a very real part of almost every day for me.

And here's what makes it the hardest: I am a chronic sum-upper. I have conditioned myself so fully to have a 'live for today' mentality that I've gone way too far; I tend to view 'today' as, well, IT. I unconsciously conclude, almost daily, that now that college is over and I am apparently 'in' real life, what I'm doing now is what I've decided to do. This will be it. Forever. If I don't write in my journal today, I am not a journaler. (Because if I didn't do it today, a "regular" day, when will I?) If I didn't get a job at a magazine out of college, that ship has sailed. If we live in Arizona, we live in Arizona. Period.

Seriously, the dichotomy between how irrational that line of thinking is and how often I think it is kind of alarming. (But amusingly so, if you happen to be familiar with my particular brand of charming psychosis.)

But thinking about Meg's family home and hearing her heart timidly break over the memories there reminded me of God's promise of seasons. Everything has one. Living on that street had its season for Meg and I. And living here in Arizona is one for Aaron and I. Both the fun of it and the homesickness of it will end at some point. Getting up every morning at the exact same time and driving the exact same commute will look completely different one day. And while I truly am enjoying our time here, it softens my heart so much to remember that the difficult parts of it are not meant to last. The oppresive sunshine won't always be there. (Seriously, won't someone PLEASE give us some curtains??) The suffocating heat that is now starting to be an everyday thing (110 degrees today!) will not be a part of my life at some point in the future. (Speaking of that, I need to seriously up my water intake...)

And it sounds crazy, but realizing those things have made it so much easier to just take a deep sigh and enjoy it while I'm here. It's not stealing my life. I'm not going to be "that sister" in my family that moved away and never came back. It's not 'driving a permanent wedge' between us and those we're far from. It's a fun adventure for a while. It's the place we found our adorable puppy. It's our first real jobs. It's my introduction to human resources, which, despite the exhaustion of the 'people-pleasing' theology, I am thinking more and more every day is something I seriously love. It's a state with some AMAZING scenery, and some pretty cool proximity to OTHER amazing scenery (something else Ohio can't really boast of...) It's our first year of marriage! It's a beautiful place...a part of our life. A great part. But not the only part.

I'm so grateful that our stories will never be, could never be, and never are as boring as I tend to conclude they will be.

P.S. - naming this blog "For Now" was something truly inspired by my attempt to teach my heart this seasons concept...little behind the scenes for you...

Now. Hey. On a somewhat related note, I want to take this opportunity to continue my beration of two of my other best friends, Amy and Ashley, to move out here. Seriously, do it. Now. It's just for a season, see? Come on out here, we will have an amazing couple of years, save some money, see some cool things, have a fantastic adventure, and go back home. Yes? Yes. Start packing.

Easter Joy

I didn't sleep great last night. I am feeling kind of under the weather...scratchy throat and tired muscles. I have discovered that when I don't feel well, I take to yelling at Aaron during the night. Well, less like yelling and more like...scolding. Apparently last night I yelled at him for leaving his laundry out... forced him to re-fill the air humidifier (a necessity in the desert!)... forced him to close the window... yelled at him for being on "my side of the bed"... etc. The worst part is that while in my sleep I am evidently quite demanding, in his sleep, Aaron is quite... obedient. Haha... I am a terrible person!

Today was a sunny morning, of course. In Ohio, sunny mornings are few and far between and always gave me the joyful, yet anxious, feeling that I should 'make the most of them' by spending them outside when possible. Here in Arizona, sunny mornings are the rule, not the exception. I guess the statistic is that we have something like 300 days of sun on average each year. While I don't think I've lived here long enough to not still love it, I admit there are days when I feel a slight nostalgia for clouds.

There's a Hootie & the Blowfish song (I love them, and am in no way ashamed of that. You should know this about me.) with a lyric that says "Sometimes you wanna see the rain, but the sun gets in your eyes..." and I love that. I am quite certain he was trying to be much more existential than I am now interpreting, but I felt that way this morning. I feel under the weather and a little homesick, and if there were ever a day for clouds, today should have been it! Come on!

I went to Good Friday mass last night. I don't belong to a Catholic parish anymore, but something in me still pushes me to mass on special occassions, especially when my Christian church doesn't have anything going on. The mass last night was beautiful and quiet and serene, but respectfully sorrowful. Growing up, it was my absolute favorite service of the year. So somber, but not bleak; because we know what is coming on Sunday.

I sang at my church growing up for something like 7 years or so I think, and there's a song we sing on Good Friday that I LOVE. We sang it last night, too - it is called "Behold the Wood." It is sung while the church practices the "veneration of the cross," which is when a wooden cross is placed at the front of the altar, and church members can come up and touch it, kiss it, etc. and pray. It is so lovely.

The thing that always gets me about Good Friday is trying to imagine how God's people felt when it was actually happening. It's not something I think we as a church concentrate on too much; to imagine a Good Friday when we didn't know Easter was coming soon after. There really isn't much reason to concentrate on that I suppose; other than the fact that it makes Jesus' ressurrection that much more SURPRISING, and I think that has value.

Can you imagine what Jesus' disciples must have been thinking? We're told that each time Jesus predicts his death to them it confuses them; that the truth of it was "hidden from them." I really don't think they understood that he was physically going to have to die. So if they didn't understand that, and then it actually starts happening... can you imagine? Here's what I imagine would have been going through my head:

1: WHAT THE?!?
2: Is he seriously dying?! I thought that couldn't happen!
3. Maybe He isn't who He said He was...
4. Did I just waste an entire 3 years of my life following this fraud?
5. How could He lie to us like this? I thought he was the Son of God! I really did!
6. This is so embarrassing...how am I going to answer for my faith in Him after this?
7. He looks so pitiful up there...that can't be what God looks like...

etc. etc.

We don't really have any info on what the disciples did on Saturday, but I imagine it was quite a numb day. And fearful, and embarrassing. Everything they had been proclaiming so boldly for so long; the thing that had given their lives purpose was completely gone and dead. And we know it must have been a fearful day, because even AFTER Jesus rose, they still lived in fear because they were Jews (see Acts.)

But thinking about all that just makes Easter seem that much more glorious, doesn't it? They may have thought it was all over and that their lives were wasted, and then suddenly, oh! Right! He came back for us!

Maybe some of the disciples had the faith to know He wasn't gone for good, but I'm not sure I would have. Either way, imagining the monumental, body-filling relief and the joy they must have felt when they realized it was Him who rose on Easter morning makes my heart glad. Would that I can feel a little of that surprised and grateful joy tomorrow (and always!)

Well, Aaron is home from the Cubs game he went to this afternoon with our pastor, and I think I am going to lie down and chase this scratchy throat away.

By the way, I just had a little chat with my best friend Amy and promised to give her a mention in this post. Last night another of our friends stayed at Amy's place in Columbus, and at one point during the night Amy admitted to noticing that our friend didn't seem to be breathing (our friend has narcolepsy) yet Amy simply rolled over and went back to sleep. Now, I may be bossy in my sleep but at least I'm not homicidal! Watch out for Amy, Ohioans. (Not sure this was the "mention" she was hoping for but I have to write the truth!) ;)

Happy Easter! Be joyful!