lessons learned [part a]

This post has been sitting in my drafts for three months (give or take, given that the first paragraph initially read 'less than four months left in my service'), and I can't figure out if that's because it felt inauthentic to write about this topic when I still had a good deal of time left in my town, or if it was because I simply got exhausted, mentally and emotionally, when trying to gather all of these thoughts together.  Either way, here it is now.  A collection of things I think, of things I think I learned, and things I still don't know about Cambodia.  The other half soon, about things I think I know about myself, now.

Given that I have about one month left in my service as a Peace Corps Volunteer, I have begun the intense process that is internal reflection. The other day I actually jotted down a list of things that I felt I've learned about Cambodia and about myself since being here. It is so cliche but I feel like, at this point, I know more about myself than I do about anything else; that the more I've learned about my community, about Cambodia, the less I actually know.

The more information I process, the more confused I become. But here's part of what I know. For certain.

Or, at least, for now.

ONE.
Every single Peace Corps Volunteer's experience is uniquely and utterly theirs. This applies, I'd imagine, to my experience in Southeast Asia, as compared to someone's in Western Africa or Central America. But it even applies to my experience in southeastern Cambodia as compared to someone's in northwestern Cambodia- or heck, even my husband's nearly exact-same-logistical experience in the very same community. These differences make my experience no less valid or important or worthy. Even when I think about the previous Volunteer who taught at 'my' Regional Teacher Training Center (RTTC), lived in 'my' house and I get a bit down about projects he completed or people he worked with, that I meet and tell me all about how much they love him- I remind myself that it's actually better that I have branched out to different people, organizations, projects. If every PCV who went to a replacement site worked with the same people, tackled the same issues, progress would be stagnant. Who's to say that the next PCV at 'his/her RTTC' in 'his/her site' won't meet one of my trainees or students who came to my Camp GLOW and regale them with the things they learned from me, the broadened worldview they gained because of our interaction?

TWO.
Building real, deep relationships are tough. Because of language and cultural barriers, but also, somewhat, because of the inherent time limit of our work. Everyone knows we're here for two years. Then we go home. A co-teacher, when I first met him, remarked how I'd just be gone in two years. And he's right- it can be challenging to get someone who has seen two previous Volunteers come and go at their school to trust you and attempt to build a lasting relationship when you're just going to leave in a short period.  You can't expect to walk in anywhere with instant credibility and authentic relationships.  Often, the deepest and most fruitful relationships have only seemed to blossom in the last month or two here.

THREE.
Sometimes, as a foreigner working inside what I believe to be a struggling education system, I feel ineffective. Sometimes I feel like a prop- that me being inside the classroom could be viewed as belief that the existing system/curriculum/expectation levels are all correct. Sometimes I worry that my efforts are not viewed as I view them- new ideas and techniques that will better the current methods, that will lead to increased learning and thinking- but as fun but unrealistic techniques that the silly foreigner brought for a few years and then left so that the current methods could be continued as they have for good number of years.

FOUR.
All that being said, I've met enough intelligent, inquisitive, open-minded, strong-willed young people that I have no doubt- no doubt- that real change is imminent in Cambodia. That in a number of years I am going to return here and have no idea where the Cambodia I know has gone- and those changes will all be for the better as power shifts and is passed to the next generation of leaders.

FIVE.
Most importantly perhaps, I've learned that the struggles that Khmer people face are universal struggles. That the sixteen year old girl who drops out of school because it's necessary for her to start trekking to the nearby garment factory to bring in income for her family is not unlike the sixteen year old in America who drops out of school because her mom, who works the night shift at the grocery store, can't provide the transportation or money for transport to get the girl to her high school across town every morning. And that if we're still figuring out how to educate that student in America, there's no reason why I should expect that another country should have it all figured out by now. Progress takes time.

SIX.
And I'm increasingly devastated to be leaving Cambodia.  Especially when I spent a very short time working with a counterpart whom I feel truly could be a friend and colleague, with whom I could see us truly making an extensive difference as co-teachers. Just the impact we had in the short month we taught together has lifted my spirits and beliefs so high that I get deeply sad when I consider leaving.  It's devastating because what they told us when we first got here- that we'll do our best service at the end- is one thousand percent true.  My language is at it's highest (and I am on the current ebb of desiring to learn even more new words! just squeeze one more in!), my relationships have reached a place of mutual comfort and cooperation, and I only hate the heat slightly more than when I first came here.

SEVEN.
Cambodia changed me indelibly.  This country, these people, gave me more than I could ever dream of giving to it and them.

happy birthday, el topher.

here's to you.  you're a right cool cat, you know that?

happy 28th, mah dear.

reflection, transition: everyday counts, especially these next 37

This week has been a slight up and down of me cursing with stress from the upcoming Camp GLOW (our province's second annual! Thank you to any and all reading this that donated!), and deep breathing through the happiness that is pouring through me as I reap the benefits of two years of relationship building with the unfailingly kind people around me.

Currently, I've pulled myself out of that stressed out place to write this post.  I needed to pause and remind myself of all the good that has happened even in the last few days, and that everything will come together. It always does.

This week has been the absolute ultimate for me.  There is no other descriptive word for it.

At our Close of Service conference, our Country Director (CD) reminded us not only about how far we've come, what we've done, what we've come to mean to our communities (all good things), but also how far we still have to go.  Something our CD has been saying a lot lately is to remember that every single day here is an opportunity to make a difference.  To which I add, every single day is an opportunity to engage in something small (or large) that leaves me with a smile on a my face, and smiles and laughter from others in my wake as I bike away.

Sometimes the hardest thing about being in the Peace Corps is getting wrapped up too far inside your own head, too far inside the introverted side of yourself.  Questioning so much of the whys, the hows, the what-fors.  Sometimes, when you know your primary assignment won't happen that day (in my case, when school is cancelled, or closed for a holiday), the hardest thing in the world is opening that door and entering it all.  Entering Cambodia, entering the heat, entering an entirely new culture.

But I am constantly reminded that when I do open the door (let's say literally and figuratively here, and cover all the bases), my efforts are rebounded upon me double fold in the kindess, generosity, humor and new people, words and experiences.  Unfailingly, I am left feeling ten times better than I did when sitting in by the fan in my little home.  Unfailingly, I am also sweaty and shaking my head from some potentially brash (and honest) comments made to me or about me, but I am absolutely, without a doubt, happier.

This week, I made it my priority to create for myself a very full, and thus fulfilling, schedule for my final five weeks at site (that is entirely insane to seen written out.)  I am with my students in the morning, with time for a stopover at one of my two breakfast stalls before class, and one after, and running errands for Camp GLOW or spending time with students at my library in the afternoon.

Adding to this, Topher and I have decided to take pictures and distribute them in frames with kind words to many of the people who mean so much to us here- our family, the men and women whose places of business we frequent, the students who have been with us every single week from the very beginning.  And it's exhausting, yes, but dear lord, it's also my favorite thing about the end of all this. Finding some small way to thank the community, our community.

And every evening, I am riding that roller coaster of stress and joy because this job is not done, and I feel the ever creeping weight of our final days here approaching, and I'm not ready, and I am, and in the end, every single day is another opportunity.

To learn from, and with, these hard-working, compassionate friends of ours.

sour sounds

"Lee-hoo-ah? Ok, L-Y-H-O-U-R."

"Sr-eye-pitch-a-ra-wa-na? Ok, I think that'd be S-R-E-Y-P-I-C-H-A-R-A-V-A-N-N-A.  Oh, S-E-R-E-Y? Ok, that works too."

.....

Something funny happens when you speak a language separate from your native language.

{Technically, lots of funny things happen as you learn to speak a new language. Every day. Even two years after you've immersed yourself in that language and have begun to use nearly a third of the time when speaking with your husband. Ha.}

But that's not the point of this little ditty.

What's interesting, to me, is how I've adapted to reading the English language through the lens of Khmer.

Khmer is not a language that has adopted an English-phonetical-translation.  Not officially, anyway.  But someone- the French?- gave them a paper. And on this paper is an approximation of the English phonetics for Khmer.

And, as an American native speaker of the English language, this paper and phonetic translation is nearly the exact opposite of what I my brain tells me to write when I hear the sounds.

At least, it was the opposite two years ago.

But now? Now, I hear the name 'sr-eye-da-h' and I know to write Sreydav (yes, that's a 'v' where you, native English speaker reading this, might not think there is a need for it.)  In fact, I now have to remind myself how to pronounce an English word correctly when reading it aloud.  When I see the word 'sour' my poor confused brain has to send override signals to my jumbled mouth to read it with the strong 'ow/ao' sound and not the 'oo-ah' sound that it is interpreted to mean for Khmer speakers writing Khmer phonetically in English.

So, earlier this week, as I was helping some of the students who attended an art workshop with Chris and I a few weeks ago, it was quite second nature to have the students say their names and write them phonetically in English, and then verify with a Khmer counterpart that they were spelled correctly.

So, if you happen to hear me ignore 'v' sounds at the end of the words, or even pronounce that 'v' as a 'vw' sound, please do forgive me.  I'm having to re-learn how to read and pronounce my own language.  And it's hilarious.

reflection, transition: staying to move forward

As I waded through a deeper period of reflection this past week, I realized how authentically I needed to define what's next to go to truly be able to process and discuss what living and working in Cambodia has been like, has meant to me.

Which is to say, I was reminded of the fact that I like to have a plan, and a goal, and next step ready to go before I transition.

I knew what I was doing after college by November of my senior year. Two years later, I had a job in January before my job as a teacher ended in June. Two years after that, I knew for a full five months that I was moving to Cambodia (as did my amazing place of work I was distraught to leave) before my last day of work occurred.

And in true form, I recently cemented a plan for my time immediately after my time as a Peace Corps Volunteer (PCV) ends.

The day after I become a Returned PCV, I become a [short-term, contracted] member of Peace Corps staff.

It would be very inauthentic for me to continue to extrapolate on my reflecting and transitioning and what I was feeling and thinking this past week, without writing that down, here.  For you, whoever you are, and, mostly, for me.

So, I'll be living and working in Cambodia through the end of August/beginning September doing something I love: training and developing teachers for a challenging, but ridiculously enriching, role.

True to form, I created many a pro/con list during the stages of deciding to apply, and then deciding to accept once offered the position.  Thoughts of jobs I'd be foregoing in America that would begin in the perfect mid-July (after I'd returned and settled back into the U.S.) time frame, thoughts of being here, alone, without Topher, while he returned, alone, to face the somewhat intimidating home and world that needs re-organizing in Maryland, and thoughts of complexities and opportunities and challenges swirled around this head for a solid while before it became official quite recently.

Which is all to say, yes, Chris, I will in fact be far cooler than you for the rest of our life because I get to tell our future kids that mama lived in Cambodia for two more months than daddy, which makes her far more legit and awesome, overall.

Plus, mama bakes you cookies and daddy is the one giving you all those noogies.

So there's that.

reflection, transition: two words

This past week was a period of gathering, celebrating, reflecting, planning, laughing, lamenting, and committing.  That's at least how I'd summarize the Close of Service (COS) Conference experienced by the K5 - the fifth (my) - group of Peace Corps Volunteers in Cambodia.

I've always enjoyed reflection.  Even 'forced' reflection, as friend hilariously referred to much of the conference.  I found it inspiring to take the time to sit with some of my fellow Volunteers and just talk about what the last two years has been about.

At one point, we were asked to write two words to summarize our service.

We wrote these words on index cards and taped them to the wall of the meeting room.  Walking around the room, I read words like 'relationships' and 'rice' and 'independence' and a variety of more negative, less actually reflective words.

I chose to view the exercise through the lens of what I'd gained these last two years.  It could have gone many ways- what did I share with my community, what legacy I'd hoping to leave behind- but I chose to ask myself:

What did Cambodia give me?

And it was clear to me.  It can be summarized as an appreciation.  An appreciation for people, experiences, places. Life.  And a recognition of how far I still would like to grow as a woman, as an educator, as a learner, as a human.  An appreciation for all that I have, and all that I still hope to grow in.  Namely:

...
Self-awareness.  
...
Humility.
...

If you'd asked me two years ago, I'd have said that I definitely had a great degree of self-awareness, and a level of humility I'd have found commendable.

Which is essentially the essence of the problem, no?

True self-awareness, I've learned, is knowing you are constantly changing, growing, learning.  Self-awareness is an acceptance of evolving and an absence of guilt and self-blame.

True humility, I think, is knowing you are always lifting yourself up with a little bit (or a lot) of pride.  Humility is an acceptance that being humble is a daily challenge and a daily willingness to say to yourself "I know a little bit. Other people know more about this (place, experience, person, thing, etc), and I will know even more when I seek out others, when I value their opinion, experiences, knowledge, and voice.  This [blank] will be better with the contribution of others.  I will be better with the contribution of others."

I'd argue I both needed self-awareness and humility for the last two years and gained a greater understanding of what having both really is.

{Which is to say, I have no idea. But I'm trying to learn, slowly but surely.}

happy day for mamma's

For you, Cindy.  You have taught me so much and inspire me everyday to be the best me I can be.  Everything I love about myself is something I've inherited or learned from you.

Thank you.

Happy Mother's Day.

to scott, on the occasion of your college graduation.

When I was graduating from high school ten years ago, there was a really popular "song" that people loved to play to mark the passing of time and hopes for lessons learned upon a graduation. Maybe you cool kids still utilize this song to herald your "future"; maybe not.  It was already four years old by the time I graduated, but I still listened in earnest every time it played.

The song was Baz Luhrmann's "Everybody's Free (to Wear Sunscreen.)"  You know Baz, right? He directed the movie that began Leonardo DiCaprio's heart-throb status, Romeo and Juliet? And Moulin Rouge? And has directed the the soon to open remake of the Great Gatsby? You know him.  And - first piece of life advice here - you're going to go see Great Gatsby when it opens. Why? Because it's a defining piece of literature and Baz is a musical/imagery genius and it's going to be a movie that will forever remind you of your launch into the real world, and will be the best cautionary tale of what could happen if you invest too much time and money into the false reality of the perfect life, the American dream, and all that jazz (1920's reference, there, my brother.)


Is it too cliche to say that I cannot believe that today you graduate from college? Yes, probably, but I've said it.

I haven't got too much time on you- I only got that undergraduate degree a mere six years ago. But damn, have those been a six years full of growth and change.  So, dear little brother from another mother, here is my simple offering to you.  In hope that six years from now, you will feel that who you were at 22, at this graduation, was just the beginning of all that is amazing in life.

Because it is. I promise, it really, really is.

So here goes.

You're going to fuck up.  With your family, with your friends, at work.  Try not to do it too many times.  When you do, own it, learn from it, and move on.  And then remind me of this too.

Write things down. Take pictures.  You're going to forget a lot of the your twenties, but you can forget less of it if you take the time to remember it, to savor it, to pause in the moment and capture it.

Your first job, that job your going to grad school for, doesn't have be the end-all-be-all job.  I mean, give it your all, work your ass off, be the best you can at it.  But if, in ten years, you want to move on and do something different, feel no regret.  Take your lessons and growth from it, and take the next great leap.  Or if, in ten years, you are so content that you can't imagine doing anything else, take a moment and thank your lucky stars that you found that fulfilling thing so early in life.  And keep rocking it.

Speaking of work, don't be your job.  Don't give in to that hype that you have to work seventy hours a week to be worthwhile.  Work smart, not hard.  Manage your time and develop boundaries between work and life.  Keep aspects of your life sacred, protect them, and don't compromise them.  You will always be better at your job when you have the time to be you with those you love outside of working hours.

Be curious.  Don't let your reading to learn stop now.  It doesn't have to be academic, but keep learning, something, anything. 

Every once in a while, pause to consider how you've grown and changed.  I'd liken growing up through my twenties to the slow but progressive change in one's eyesight.  Every once in a while, you have to stop and adjust the prescription- some things are clearer and some aspects are more difficult to see.  You can't ignore it, and if you try, you're in for massive headaches, needlessly. 

Be honest with yourself and note the awesome ways you've changed.  Consider the small things you still think you could improve and commit to trying.  And then, move on.

And when you do change, don't be surprised or angry if people or things seem different.  The best things, the right people, will change and grow alongside you. Not necessarily in the same ways, but hopefully, in complementary ways.  In ways that allow you to flex and bend, and them to bend and flex.  Hopefully, you'll both in ways that allow you to still see and understand one another. 

You don't have to always agree, but you have to agree to listen to, and hear, each other.  If you can do that, everything else falls in to place.

You're not too old for that thing you're afraid you're too old for.

And there isn't ever really a good time to do the things you don't want to do, or the things you really want to do.  So, you just gotta do them, and hope to hell those who love you will understand. (Which they will, even if they kinda hate it at first. Promise.)

Oh, and as Baz says, wear sunscreen.

the art of doing nothing

Yesterday, after day seven of a daily two-hour art workshop Topher and I are running at the library I work at here, I came home, showered, grabbed some cold water, and just sat.

I just sat down in front of the fan, and watched my host sister from the window.  We chatted a bit, all the while she was in the process of making mango jerky (even more delicious and natural fruit roll-ups).  I watched her stir and stir and stir a big, boiling pot of mango meat.  The literal name for these fruit strips is "stir mango" because of the process.  There's also hours of drying it in the sun, but that doesn't make it into the name.

And as I sat, my knees tucked under my chin, fan pushing wisps of my hair around, I realized I was immensely happy.  

The other day, a K6 (the group that came after us) was at our house for a few hours and I asked him if he'd like anything, as he was just contentedly lounging (as much as one can lounge on a slatted wooden bench) and looking.  And he said no, he was enjoying doing nothing.  He'd recently realized how truly enjoyable the Khmer way of sitting, and doing nothing, absolutely nothing at all, is.

How truly enjoyable doing absolutely nothing is.

a questionnaire

 While in Bangkok, I spent some free time following the spiral through the interwebs until I happened upon dozens of videos from the Bravo show, Inside the Actor's Studio.

It was as fantastic as you think it was.

After watching a handful of episodes (and oh my gosh, there is an episode with Bradley Cooper and it is so emotional, because the guy just graduated from the school which houses the show, and it was just so dang sweet to see him and James Lipton, who conducts the interviews, to just lose it throughout the show because of how in awe they both were that he was there, and the whole point of the school, and show, had come true.  (And, thought inside a thought, how freaking GOOD was Bradley in the Silver Linings Playbook?! I was blown away! Homeboy totally deserved the Oscar, for shame!)), I got caught up in the questionnaire that Mr. Lipton asks his guests at the end of each interview.  You can read the info in the link above, but it is based on a French show, which is based on an old, old questionnaire.

So I've decided, signed and stamped the decree, that each year, I'll subject Topher and myself to this interview.  See how it all changes, as we do.

So let's begin.

First up, Chris.

It was fun to do this with Topher because of how challenging he found all of these questions.  I even had time to pee before he gave him the answer for the first- FIRST- question.

Regarding number three's answer (genuine humility), it was such a great moment when he said that, for me, as his wife.  Humility is probably the characteristic that I strive to be, that I focus on, more than any other, every day.  Mainly because, frankly, it does not come easily to me.  But I truly believe it to be the cornerstone to everything we do in life, if we wish to do it well, and with others.  His answer was a great reminder, to me, to strive for humility not only because of its value to me, but to my husband as well.

Next up, yours truly.

I took a bit more lighthearted spin to my answers. But they are truthful, nonetheless.

 Ok, so let's just begin with this.  I just love saying Kilimanjaro. It just rolls off the ton so nicely, doesn't it?  And I hate the long version of the word hippo because I really, truly, struggle to say it correctly the first time.  I have to concentrate for a hot minute to get my tongue to wrap itself around overlapping 'p' and 't' sounds.

It's highly embarrassing.

And, for me, number six and nine go hand in hand because I simply cannot stand seeing an animal in pain.  I could not handle dealing with sick or injured pet's day after day, which is why I could never be vet.  Such huge kudos to those who do this- you are my hero.

And finally, regarding number ten, I'd like to believe that at the pearly gates, the most important thing that's going to matter to the entity that created me/looked out for me/guided me/whatever is whether or not I was a kind, compassionate, helpful, just, loving, hardworking person.  And I'm going to stick with that.

Finally, it was rather challenging for me to answer the questions until I first separated out my answers for my current life here in Cambodia.  There are so many things that I love, and that drive me nuts, here.  And so, this:

Barang is probably my least favorite word because it is yelled to me, said about me, inferred about me before knowing, and in general, the bane of every foreigner living in Cambodia's existence.  And I just feel defeated trying to refute it, or open people's minds that being lumped into a mass group of 'other' simply because I'm not from Cambodia is exhausting and frustrating. Le sigh.

Lastly, I'd love and be terrified of being a journalist here. I'd love to meet people from around the country, tell their story, question their leaders.  But there is also some danger in that too, as press isn't truly free here.  Which is all I can really say about that!

...........

What would be YOUR answers to the questionnaire? Offer them up in the comments!

so sayeth the girl with the lucky face

Last week, I flew to Bangkok.  It was a medical adventure, one in which I was told in no uncertain terms that if I needed serious, or extended medical attention, the rolling plains and majestic mountains of America would be graced with my presence much earlier than intended- essentially, I would have been medically separated and become a Returned Peace Corps Volunteer.

Luckily, thankfully, and all of the other adverbs that indicate how fortunate and grateful I am, it turns out I am basically fine.  There were a couple of touch and go hours, a very long four day wait for some test results, and then the best news possible, if not not-entirely conclusive news.

But all is well that ends well, and this all seems to have ended well.  I have some more serious reflections from the experience, but today, since it's Friday, let's focus on the fun and slightly more gratifying aspects of my recent endeavor, shall we?

The trip began with a nearly empty bus ride (see above picture.)  In the jittery evening before I left, I channeled my feelings of lack-of-control-ness into a desire to do something.  So I cut  myself some bangs.  And then I spent the bus ride trying not to worry about all the what-ifs of the upcoming hospital visit, and, as a study in narcissism, took a bunch of photos of myself.  But, mostly, I did this the whole ride:

But there were a lot of happy, hilarious and delicious things that happened while in Bangkok.  No matter how stress-inducing it all was, there are always a myriad of small little happenings that make life so grand, right?

To begin with, let's take the airline I was flown on.  Known as a boutique airline, it meant I got a full meal and, even better, free wine.  Some red wine was just what I needed on that flight!

I was also graced with a taxi driver who didn't use meter, got a bit lost, and then charged me far less than I had expected and wished me good luck at the hospital as he dropped me off.  So sweet.

And then I was greeted by this:

And there was a bathtub. A legit bathtub.  I took my first bath in nearly two years.

(Not my first bathe, people. I clean myself regularly.  Basically.)

Despite being there for other reasons, I found immense joy in my spacious room with industrial strength air conditioning, huge window and comfy bed.

One of my first days there, I was walking from my hotel to the hospital's food mezzanine across the street when I heard a man yell to me "Miss! Miss! You are very lucky, did you know that?"

When that happens, and you're a female, alone, I think it's a natural reaction to kind of lower your head and walk a bit faster.  But then I remembered I was surrounded by dozens of other people, and besides, he was saying something kind!

So I looked up (continuing to walk briskly, though, just in case), and replied "Me? No, I didn't know it! Thank you."

He then said "Yes, I can see it, in the aura around you.  Your face is very lucky, and I can see it.  You will have good luck this month."

Which is just so sweet, when you think about it.  Here I was all alone, a bit worried about medical type things, and a man just wants to tell me I've got good things coming.  He might be nuts, but, darn it, I'm choosing to believe him.  This is my month!

And it must have been luck, because not long after that, these were in my possession:

And while a good portion of the trip was a lesson in hurry-up-and-wait, I spent those waiting hours enjoying the natural light while inside somewhere with delicious air conditioning and yummy treats.

That would be a second caramel macchiato, this time with ice, and a blurry shot of my delicious pad thai.

There were long walks along bustling roads in Bangkok, a fantastic trip to a grocery store that could have easily been Safeway back home, baths galore, and kind people who recognized me after I tread the same path to my hotel, and food court, and back again for days in a row.

And on and on the sweet, small joys went until all was well, and I was inside this guy's taxi, heading to the airport to head home.



And he was the most hilarious taxi driver ever.  We were caught in some atrocious Bangkok traffic (I left ages before my flight just for this reason), and he would spend those long breaks with his seat lounging back.  When we'd get a path, he'd shoot up, and push that gas so fast we'd pulse forward with such rapidity of movement everything hanging from his rearview mirror would swing with such force I swear it was all about to take off and fly.

The best was when we came over a small hill so quickly that it knocked everything stashed in his visor over his head and trapped it all between his back and his seat.  He paused for a minute, we both laughed, and I fished the papers, CDs, and other items out as best as I could without actually inappropriately touching him.

And when I touched down in Cambodia, I had the most wonderful conversation with the man who drove me to my hotel in Phnom Penh, and I was reminded how far things come in a short time when we understood each other completely for the entire thirty minute conversation.

And my lucky face and I rest a bit easier, now.

Cheers, all! Happy May!

yep, i'm still a muggle

There are few things I hate more...

...than carrying this fan from our 'living room' to our 'bedroom' every evening.

If only I could 'swish and flick' it back to its place at the foot of our bed.

Granted, it is basically my job since the fan spends the evening pointed directly at me.

But I hate unplugging it, and carrying it, and plugging it back in. It's awkward and heavy and I always knock my knees into it.

How exactly would we classify this whine? A foreigner-fortunate-to-have-more-than-most-in-a-developing-world problem?

Let's go with that.  Just add in that hashtag. 

three (3)

Today marks three years since this guy officially, legally, became my partner for life:

Since recently having a semi-health scare (and subsequently finding out all seems to be fine), I'm finding myself even more than ever deeply grateful for the choice we made in choosing one another.

Hitting the third anniversary begins to feel, finally, like we're moving out of the newness of this, and are very much settled into the rhythm of being both with one another, and beside one another, every day.

Though not all married couples who've had the experience feel the same, Chris and I agree that getting to spend such a solid chunk of time together- and in our first few years married- has been the ultimate experience.  We quickly went from two or three hours awake beside each other, to seemingly countless hours doing everything with each other.  Experiencing days and moments that have broken us down, exposed our vulnerabilities, and built us up.  And we've done it together, weaving such an intricate web of events and experiences that few could hope to truly understand as we inherently do.

I've done a reflection for the our first two anniversaries (one and two) before, and I'm incredulous that we're here, at another.  But I'm still counting myself so very lucky this kid and I stumbled across one another when we were just babies years ago.  And I can't wait for dozens upon dozens more.

To Topher:

Life with you is three times as grand because:

When I ramble on about all those things I really want to do, and be, and experience, you listen.  And, very often, you surprise me by helping me fulfill my need to learn and grow and do:

You gave me the sweetest, most lovable little brother.  And, hope for our children to have some beautiful recessive gene, like those baby blues of yours.

You love to do things that you know will make me laugh, even when I'm not around to witness it. And, you get my brother to do it too:

You've always admired encouraged appreciated something-a-bit-kinder-than-tolerated my quirks, like that underwear obsession thing:

You're logical emotions are close to the surface (like my non-logical emotions), and you've never hidden them from me:

You totally get my sense of humor, and we can throw it back at each other all day long.  And no one else has to understand (and few rarely do...):

You give the best hugs.  When you hold me, you hold on for real: tight, and close, and hard:

I really love to look at you. Not creepily, but I just love seeing you interact with people and places and experiences.  I always appreciate our world so much more when I pause to see it through your eyes:

You make me laugh.  Even when I don't want to.

You're affectionate, and fun, and spontaneous.

When I get super caught up inside my head, you are the only person who can pull me back out again and help me find solid ground.

You humor me like no one else does, and often, can predict what I'm about to say or do before it happens:

When I give you tickets to the gun show, you're always on time, in the front row.

When we had lessons for our first dance as spousal units, you worked really hard on learning how to dip me.  I like to think it's because you know how much I love old black and white movies, where they do things like take their women for a spin on the dance floor and dip them with abandon.

You love and eat up all of my baking adventures, even when they're broken down versions of what they were in my mind.


When I curse like a sailor, you say you hate it, but we both know you secretly love it.  Like that time I dropped the f-bomb at our cake cutting? And it was...cute?

You're really, really good at kissing.  And other things.

 You are my favorite, dear one. Always.

**these photos are all copyright b scott photography, and of the most amazing wedding photographer and team in the DC/Maryland area. seriously, if you want an amazing person to capture amazing, emotive photos from a special moment in your life, book him. i can't say enough words about how ridiculously happy i still am, three years later, that i chose him for our wedding! thank you brian and susan!