Inadvertently celebrating National Pancake Day

Yesterday, Mr. Internet told me it was National Pancake Day. On the ride home from eating pancakes at Cartwright's Maple Tree Inn. But the story of this pancake adventure begins days before. Because sometimes adventures don't go as planned. That is to say, they end up even better.

When I came home from my run Sunday morning, Pete and I decided to go on an impromptu pancake pilgrimage to the mecca of maple syrup. Pete used to go to the Maple Tree Inn with his dad and he's been wanting to take me there for a while. Cartwright's is only open from February 14-April 15 each year. Because nothing says Happy Valentine's Day or Happy Tax Day like pancakes, am I right? Or maybe those are just the worst times of the year in New York and we need the promise of pancakes to see us through to spring. So we drove to Angelica, NY only to discover that Sunday morning is the actual worst time to go pancaking. The parking lot was overflowing and both sides of the street were lined with cars all the way down the street to the house with the giant dinosaur in its front yard (Yes, I agree that dinosaurs and pancakes is almost too much awesomeness for one stretch of back-country road. Almost). There was a seemingly interminable line of people waiting outside and neither of us were very interested in joining them. Enter our backup plan: eat at Brian's USA Diner. No pancakes were consumed and sadly, there is no longer a giant bear statue in the yard next to the diner so it was kind of a letdown (And what happened to the bear? Why didn't it end up at my house? So many unsolved mysteries).

We figured a weeknight might be a better time to pancake, so we headed back to Angelica on Tuesday after work. When we arrived, this conversation happened:

Me: I have very high expectations for these pancakes. Why would all those people spend so long standing in line unless these were the best pancakes ever?
Pete: I think you need to lower your expectations.
(walking through the parking lot)
Me: It smells like horses and butts here.
Pete: It smells like purses?
Me: What do purses smell like?
Pete: I don't know, I was going to ask you. Tampons and lipstick?

There was only a short line this time and we were seated within 10 minutes. For $7 you get all you can eat buckwheat pancakes and the most delicious maple syrup I've ever eaten. I would not recommend waiting for hours for these pancakes, but they were good. The maple milkshake however, is legit. Sweet but not sappy, perfectly creamy and cold. Apparently the record of pancakes eaten is 93 (I asked our waitress because it's the obvious question). Pete and I were happy to eat 7 and 3 pancakes respectively, plus 2 eggs for me and 2 eggs, bacon and sausage for Pete. We also bought buckwheat pancake mix and maple syrup to take home with us for future pancaking.

This milkshake brings all the boys to the yard

On the ride back to Rochester, we passed the time laughing over ridiculous conversations like these:

Me: What is something you could never forgive me for doing?
Pete: Cutting off my penis. Shooting me...in the penis.
Me: So like if you came home and the house was full of live baby polar bears, that would be okay because no harm came to your penis?
Pete: Yes, that is true.

(MJ's Thriller plays in the background)
Me:  When we retire, I'm going to wake up one day and say this is the day we learn all the dance moves to Thriller. And then we'll perform it.
Pete: Yeah, definitely.
Me: Do you think there's a resume out there that includes Diabolical laughter at the end of Thriller as a job/skill?
Pete: Of course there is.

Me: If I die during Many On The Genny, will you go back and carry my cremated ashes the rest of the way?
Pete: Yes, honey.

I laugh and know that I am the luckiest. For this life and this marriage where every day is a weird and hilarious adventure.

Lyric of the moment: "Honey comes from honey bees. Maple syrup comes from maple trees. But nothing in this world, none of these, are as sweet as you..." ~Mayer Hawthorne "Out of Pocket"

Doughty & Wheatus & Waffles & Canada & Life & Everything

Friday after work, we packed up New Gus (Pete recently traded in Old Traverse Gus for New CR-V Gus) and headed for Canada. It's quite fantastic that we can drive for a little over an hour and end up in a magical country with universal healthcare, a base 10 measuring system and a Prime Minister who understands compassion and quantum computing (swoon!). Months ago I saw that Mike Doughty and Wheatus were headed to our neck of the woods and I told Pete I really wanted to go to the concert. He agreed to go, despite having never heard of either of them. They were scheduled to play in Toronto on Saturday and Rochester on Sunday. We weighed the risk of driving north in February against the probability of me being able to stay awake for an 8pm concert on a Sunday night, and decided to make a getaway weekend out of it. As luck would have it, Pete had enough Marriott rewards points to get us a free two night stay and the weather was unseasonably mild.

Saturday morning, we woke up to a thick fog and went for a run at Humber Arboretum with the deer, woodpeckers and fat black squirrels that looked like miniature bears. We ran 5ish miles of dirt and paved trails and then Pete felt that was enough, which I was secretly happy about since I was tired and had a headache.

Fog

Favorite Husband Man

Arboretum Love

After taking advantage of the hotel's free continental breakfast, we planned out what to do before the concert. Pete chose the Art Gallery of Ontario and I, of course, chose the tallest thing in the vicinity, the CN Tower. The AGO was like the most torturous playground. It was full of spiral staircases you weren't allowed to slide down and art you weren't allowed to touch. They should really call this the You Can't Touch This Gallery. I really, really, really wanted to jump on this artwork:

Art is a wall sink. And a giant hamburger. Apparently.

And pet this one:

It is so hard not to pet a dog. Even an art dog. 

We happened to be standing in front of Peter Paul Rubens' painting "Massacre of the Innocents" (1610) when a tour guide came through, so we learned that the painting sold at action for $117 million and was later donated to the gallery. The painting depicts the biblical story of King Herod who, after being informed by the Magi of the birth of the newborn King of the Jews, ordered the execution of all young male children in Bethlehem out of fear of losing his throne. Pete remarked how the story depicted man's willingness to do anything to maintain his power, even killing children. I found it depressing that anyone would pay a hundred million dollars for a painting of dead babies and more so that 400+ years later, insecure, fearful men are still trying to gain power at any cost.

As we ascended the CN Tower, I felt even more tired and heachachy and worried that I wouldn't be able to stay awake for the concert, but eating vegetarian nachos at 1150ft with my tallest husband remedied that. I love heights. I find that I can often solve problems just by getting high, as in high off the ground. The height bestows a larger perspective, reminding me of the expansiveness and beauty of the world and, in comparison, the manageability and insignificance of my problems. I decided the CN Tower is my new happy place. It's got everything I love: heights, views, a glass floor that can hold the weight of 14 large hippos, and bear and moose statues galore. At the gift shop, I bought a polar bear hat (!!!!) which is clearly meant for children but I don't care. I don't think there's an age limit on awesomeness.

My new happy place

In the tallest tower with my tallest husband

Glass floor that can hold 14 hippos. No actual hippos were present. 

So many new friends at the CN Tower

We spent the night eating ice cream topped waffles and being thoroughly entertained by Mike Doughy and Wheatus. The former paled in comparison to the latter. And that is the highest compliment I can give anything: it was so awesome it surpassed waffles and ice cream combined. Last year I saw Doughty and Scrap on their Living Room Concert Tour in Albany, which was more of an acoustic show. So it was really neat to see them in Toronto playing with a full band. If, like me, you are a person who loves music but dislikes crowds, especially crowds that jostle you or spill alcohol on you, concerts can be tricky. But this one was my kind of concert: smaller venue, comfortable seating and a quirky, funny, fantastic show. Pete enjoyed it too, even though it's not the kind of music he typically prefers.

Wheatus!

Mike Doughty!

Sunday morning I went on a chilly, wintery run from our hotel. I failed at finding a park, so I just ran around the outside of the airport watching the planes land. On our way back home, we stopped to see Niagara Falls and buy maple sugar candies, then had a surprisingly easy time crossing the border back into the US. The customs guy didn't even ask us any questions, other than what was the purpose of our visit and did we buy anything. Pete said "pleasure" and I said "I bought this hat!" and the guy laughed and waved Pete and his polar bear passenger on.

Niagara Falls

Sunday afternoon, I ran a few miles at Ellison with Alison. When I got home, Pete was taking a nap, so left to my own devices, I randomly decided to make crackers (Like from scratch. I know, right? Who even am I now? But don't worry, it's not too domestic, they only have 4 ingredients) and buy cheese from the Trader Joe's. I don't know where thoughts come from, but my brain was definitely in full-on most excellent ideas mode this weekend.

And it's about freaking time. I've spent much of this year feeling like the low point in an ultramarathon, that place where you're like I don't think I can do this, I don't have what it takes, I just want to lie down on the side of this trail and cry/sleep. And then I remembered, but you love this shit. I don't know how to explain it. It defies explanation. It defies common sense. It hurts. A lot. But it is awesome. It's like life. And marriage. And anything that is challenging and exhausting and utterly transformative, that forces you to confront your flaws/faults/failures, to accept rather than deny the darkest depths of your being and bring them out into the light, to become braver, stronger and whole. Some days are Wheatus and waffles. Some days are uncomfortable confrontations and embarrassing feelings. But you keep going. Of course you do. Because this trail, this marriage, this life, is your heart, your everything. Because you love it. Because there's no place you'd rather be.

Lyric of the moment: "Yeah I believe the war is wrong. Don't believe that nations can be steered. Lead the world by smarts and compassion. By example, not coercion, force and fear...Down in the mouth and not half right. But I can feel the changes coming on. Bloom like the flowers in bluest night. Bloom like the sunlight in my song..." ~Mike Doughty "Move On"

I don't even know what to call this so I'mma go with: Water Cheetos

This is a post I didn't want to write and I really didn't want to share. But apart from adventures in running and sugar consumption, honesty is kind of my thing around here. And maybe I'm not the only one who is experiencing complex and sometimes contradictory feelings as of late. So here goes:

So far 2017 has been a series of WTF-is-even-happening moments. I feel as if I'm leading a double life. On the outside, it's awesomeness as usual: Exploring the neighborhood woods with Pete, getting lost and getting found. Going to a Valentine's Day canal crawl at Schoen Place, where we check in and are handed a tiny cupcake that is perfect in every way. And we eat popcorn and chat with a nice bartender who tells us all about his tattoos and meditation practice. And we walk into a wine store with a sign that says "Love the wine your with" and I cringe and say (out loud, because I have no filter apparently) "That sign is incorrect and it's bothering me" and an employee overhears our conversation and immediately comes over to fix it, saying "The sign has been up for 3 days and you're the first person to notice" and then I feel bad for not being like everyone else but also wishing I had the power to point out other things that are wrong  - actual important things - and have someone immediately come and fix them (As in "That's sexist/racist/homophobic and it's bothering me." "That is a straight up lie and it's bothering me.") Running down snow covered roads, enveloped by the silence, darkness and solitude, and marveling at how life sometimes just zaps you with random moments of breathtaking beauty. Shoveling the driveway and thinking about how ridiculous it is that I am pushing around piles of what are basically water Cheetos. Watching friends complete amazing acts of physical endurance and strength of spirit. Being part of a marriage that I am severely under-qualified for and and yet have somehow been lucky enough to find.

And then on the inside, there's this seething and inconsolable ball of outrage and profound disappointment that alternates between a bloodcurdling scream and a tidal wave of expletives. Because I am so fucking weary. Of lies, greed, discrimination and fear. Of gorgeous, talented, intelligent (cis and trans) women being body shamed and silenced. Of another Grammy awards where Beyoncé doesn't win Album of the Year. There are so many problems and I feel useless at solving them. It is brutally unfair that my life is rich with privilege, opportunity and love while others' lives are not. Everyone deserves nutritious food, clean water, safe spaces, civil rights, education, love and the opportunity to build a good life. Everyone. But I don't know how to help make that happen, how to help people treat each other as people, not labels/stereotypes/adversaries. There is no us vs. them. There is only us. We are all in this life together. That is the whole point of existence, of everything. To live together, work together, make things better together. Your problems are our collective problems, your struggles are our collective struggles. We cannot turn our backs and say that does not concern me, that is not my fight. The more privileges we have, the more responsibility we have to use them for good.

I don't know how to do this. I don't have the answers. But I do know there is only one person I can change: myself. Change starts from within. I want to be a force of compassion, honesty, love and happiness in the universe. So I'm working to cultivate those things from within. I will continue to read/watch/listen to the words of people whose lives and opinions are different from mine. And try to do so with a sense of curiosity and objectivity rather than judgment so I can react with understanding rather than defensiveness. I will only engage in respectful discussions of politics/problems/potential solutions. I will strive to act with gratitude, honesty, integrity and empathy in all situations. When I make mistakes, I will apologize and make amends. When I fail, I will try again. When I feel like giving up, I will give more.

If you're reading this and you agree, please tell me how I can help. If you're reading this and you disagree, please tell me how and why. Even if we don't see eye to eye, let's try to connect heart to heart.

Lyrics of the moment: "I see problems down the line, I know they're not mine. I see darkness down the line, I know it's not fine. But don't wash the dirt off of your hands. You're doing the same mistake twice, making the same mistake twice. Come on over, don't be so caught up... Don't let the darkness eat you up..." ~José González "Down the Line"

Dear People of Earth:

This should go without saying, but these are some heavy times and so it bears repeating over and over and over. All of my spaces - my heart, my home, my little corner of the internet - will always be open to you, regardless of your gender, race, sexual orientation, religion or political affiliation. I believe in equal rights, compassion and love for all. I believe all people are my people. I believe we are all connected, that as a society we are only as rich as our poorest member, only as free as the least free among us, only successful when we are helping each other instead of holding each other down. 

Life is hard. For some of you, it just got a whole lot harder. I have always been more of a lover than a fighter but these are fighting times. So I will love you and I will fight for you. I will fight for your rights, your liberty and your freedom of choice with my votes and words and actions. 

You are important to me. I want to hear your stories - your struggles, feelings, failures, triumphs, joys and loves. I want to connect with you, human to human. I am here (jen@fromrobotwithlove.org) and you are always welcome. 

I'm a flawed and imperfect being, so please bear with me as I stumble through this thing called life. There are times when I will fail you or disappoint you. For that I'm sorry. But I will keep trying. Because I believe that our purpose here is to be excellent to each other and to make the party of life an epic event for everyone. I believe that my purpose is to work out my empathy and compassion muscles, to strive for understanding over judgment, curiosity over contempt and reason over rhetoric, and to spread love and awesomeness wherever I can. 

Let's be friends. Let's fight oppression and discrimination. Let's be awesome together. 

From Robot, with Love. Always. 

This Is Marriage: Day 505

Pete is laying on the couch and I am propped up on his legs flying Superman style in the most fun pose we learned last weekend at Partner Yoga and Pete says "Nothing about this could go wrong" and we laugh so hard I almost fall on the ground. We spent the weekend running the River Chase loop with Steven, watching Amadeus in Buffalo (The Buffalo Philharmonic was most excellent. I wish this had been a concert instead of a play. The acting was good, I just thought the script and characters were terrible. I am so tired of pompous buffoons and petty, jealous manipulators), having important, uncomfortable conversations and taking a bread baking class at the New York Wine & Culinary Center.

And laughing. At the crackers we made that tasted like saltines but were more pita-like in consistency so I decided to call them pillow crackers. At Pete accidentally using the women's restroom at Kleinhans Music Hall when we walked into this huge room labelled "Powder Room" and I said "I think this is the women's room" but it was already too late. At Pete telling Eric how excited I was to make a rainbow colored veggie/hummus/cheese/chips tray as they are eating steaks and watching football and I was like "you know, because it's the trifecta of manliness: steak, football and rainbows." At me asking and then Googling all my football game questions. Like what are those grey things on the field, volcanoes shooting laser beams? (Turns out they are actually depicting a bridge and tower, which is far less interesting in my opinion). And where can I get one of those giant tent/coat/sleeping bag things that Brady guy is wearing? (Google did not tell me how to get a giant, tent-sized coat but did point me to some hilarious memes on the Brady coat situation and also to a life-sized bear cub body pillow. The internet is a magical place).

Whatever else is going on, there is no one who makes me laugh as much as Pete does. When I'm sick and tired, when the world at large is depressing and upsetting, I hold on to the laughter and I am eternally grateful for its presence in my life.

Marriage is a beacon of laughter, lightness and love that brightens all my days.

Lyric of the moment: "There is a design, an alignment to cry, of my heart to see. The beauty of love as it was made to be. Love, it will not betray you, dismay or enslave you, it will set you free..." ~Mumford & Sons "Sigh No More"

New Years Resolutioning

I don't typically make New Years resolutions. I have thus far managed to avoid the  it's JANUARY! Of a NEW YEAR! Time to load up on fancy gym memberships and unicorn juice cleanses and all the joy-killing life-changing goals! fervor. I've come to realize that I'm not a goal oriented person, I'm an effort oriented person. I like the work, the effort, the striving. That's where all the magic happens. Early morning runs, trying (and failing and trying) at chin-ups, setting up automatic deductions to max out my 401K and Roth IRA contributions - those are my happy places. I love running, I love mornings, I love starting my day doing one of my very favorite things. I love working at something that's difficult for me and letting the discomfort and struggle make me stronger. I love saving my cash moneys for future adventures (or for Pete's future adventures if I die first). The distances and number of reps and dollar figures are not important, what matters is that I find joy simply in the doing of those things.

That being said, I do think there's something compelling about New Year's resolutions, there's a vulnerability in publicly vowing to better ourselves. Especially since 90% of New Year's resolutions fail (80% of people know that is a true statistic and totally not just something I made up). So I figured I would get in on the resolutioning adventure this year. Ok so truthfully, Pete made a resolution to get up and accompany me on my early morning workouts in January. And I jokingly said that for every day he did that, I wouldn't eat dessert. Except that Pete seemed to really like the idea so it turned out to be more of a commitment than a joke. So here we are. Side note: I think Pete totally got the worse end of that arrangement, as he now has to deal with me waking him up most mornings (like the zealous early bird that I am) by jumping on him and saying "Is this helping you wake up?" and with my occasional lack-of-sugar-induced grumpiness. So far, we've run at Letchworth, Ellison, and on the canal, swam laps at the pool, and gone to yoga, P90x class, spin class and something called HIIT & Ripped (which happily did not feel like getting hit by a fuckton of DOMS but sadly did not miraculously result in 6 pack abs). I have not eaten any desserts this year and mostly feel ok about it, aside from the aforementioned sugar-I-pine-for-you blues. The secret to New Years resolutions, I think, is to design your resolution to last for the month of January only. But now that I'm already aboard this resolution train, I figured I might as well add a few more intentions for the rest of the year.

New Year's Resolutioning Attempt 2017:

• Don't do things I don't want to do. Meaning, don't eat foods I don't enjoy, don't say yes to things when I really mean no, don't cave in to the pressure of The Shoulds. Also meaning, if there's some result I want but am dreading the process to achieve said result, change the process or change my attitude so that I can want to do it instead of feeling like I have to do it. 

• Lose weight: the burdensome weight of expectations, judgments, fears and insecurities. Replace with awesomeness.

• Go to space as needed: the space for personal development, the space between thinking and speaking, and especially all the wild spaces. Also go to outer space if someone happens to invite me on their rocket ship in 2017 (HINT, HINT). 

• Hold grudges (perceived slights/injustices/hurt feelings, etc) like I hold babies, which is to say, sparingly and not long enough to require cleaning up any shit. 

• Put my money where my heart is. Be mindful of how I'm voting with my dolla dolla bills. Support causes, products and companies that align with my bleeding heart liberal values. 

• Keep my chin up. In the physical and mental sense. (Sweet bonus: Now when I do my chin-ups, Pete joins in to do some of his own. So I don't have to watch Arrow anymore because I have my very own hot shirtless chin-upping husband. And let's face it, that show is pretty terrible, aside from the epic pull-up scenes). 

Party on, 2017

Lyric of the moment: "There's a place I dream about, where the sun never goes out. And the sky is deep and blue. Won't you take me there with you? Oh, we can begin again. Shed our skin, let the sun shine in. At the edge of the ocean we can start over again..."~Ivy  "Edge of the Ocean"

This is Christmas 2016

I wake up at 4:00am and I smile. It's adventure time! It is 18 degrees Fahrenheit. Two plane rides later, we exit the airport and it's 80 degrees. We have lunch with my dad in Melbourne, FL then drive six hours to Key West. We have traveled from Monroe County, NY to Monroe County, FL. It's the Monday before Christmas. Lights and tinsel abound. Christmas songs play on the radio and I laugh at the nonsensical juxtaposition. There is no White Christmas or Winter Wonderland here, only palm trees, sunshine and ocean breezes. This, I think, is how to December.

I wake up at 4:00am, bewildered and borderline poultricidal. Roosters are crowing loudly outside of the condo we have rented on the Navy base in Key West. What cockamamie fowlplay is this? Pete deadpans "So, do you feel like chicken for breakfast?" We move to another bedroom (luckily the condo we have rented has 3 bedrooms), where we are able to almost fall back asleep before being awoken at 6:00am by more ear-splitting caws from the cursed alarm cocks! Later, our bike tour guide, Bruce, tells us the chickens were brought to Key West by Cubans for cock fights, then released into the city when cock fighting was outlawed. I sleep with earplugs for the remainder of our stay.

We go paddleboarding at Boca Chica Navy Air Station, even though it is far too windy and the water is too shallow for paddleboarding. My board's fin keeps catching on the sand and vegetation and jolting me into the water. My legs get all scraped up but I don't mind because the water is warm and we get to watch the fighter jets practicing overhead.

We visit Ernest Hemingway's house and look for six-toed cats. Some of the 50-some cats who live on the house/museum grounds today are descendants of Hemingway's polydactyl cat, Snow White. Pete exclaims "This is the best $6 I ever spent. There are cats everywhere!"

Hemingway's house

Cool dude I found in Hemingway's garden

Hemingway's cats don't give a shit about your signs

We climb the 88 steps to the top of the Key West Lighthouse tower. Later we will learn from Bruce that the lighthouse had a female keeper for 30+ years, until she was fired for distributing Confederate propaganda from the top of the tower.

Pete is using his phone to navigate to Mallory Square, where we are planning to watch the sunset. He inadvertently directs us to the end of a street where a line of people has formed in front of a concrete buoy. I realize we are actually at the Southernmost Point in the continental US and Pete says "oh I wondered what all those people were standing in line for." Throughout the rest of the trip, he says things like "Who took you to see the Southernmost Point in the US?" and "We're the Southernmost bike tour in the US right now."

Southernmost Pete & Jen in the continental US

Kapok tree outside the Monroe County courthouse

We eventually find our way to Mallory Square to watch the sunset and see the unicyclists, fire jugglers and this weird, creepy statue made out of natural sponges.

I run. In shorts. Every day. Around town. On the beach. To the Southernmost Point early enough to have it all to myself. I create my own faux Fit1 workout on base. It is glorious. This, I think, is how to vacation.

We go on a boat tour where the food is surprisingly good and the "entertainment" is too bad to even be hilarious. Unless the guy was a professional drunken karaoke singer, in which case he was superb at his job. This, I think, is not how to boat. There isn't even any dessert here. I do, however, have the most excellent and tallest of company. 

We walk and bike around town, eating our weight in Key Lime Pie. Mini pies, pie slices, chocolate covered pie slices, key lime sugar cookies. I cannot overstate how legit delicious that pie is.

We drive back to Melbourne, stopping for lunch in Miami Beach. Pete has now driven 12 hours in a rental car without cruise control. Yes, apparently they do exist. I have now spent 12 hours singing to every song on the radio and asking if we can stop to pee. I am also in charge of buying the Diet Mountain Dew at gas stations and rest stops. This, I think, is how to roadtrip.

It is Christmas Eve. Pete and I swim in the ocean. We watch football. Later we eat Chinese food and mini mince fruit pies with my dad and family friends from England. It is laid back and perfect (except for the people smoking at the bar where we watched football. My lungs were horrified to learn that some places still allow smoking indoors).

It is Christmas Day. I run 6 miles on a soft, white sandy beach, past people who smile and wave. I read "Ready Player One" while Pete is swimming. We eat Christmas brinner (or whatever the word for lunch-dinner is) with my dad at the Hilton Melbourne Beach's buffet. Later, Pete and I go in the hot tub and the heated pool, then order room service (I chose chocolate lava cake. I chose wisely). This, I think, is a pretty awesome way to Christmas.

Lyric of the moment: "You and I would have our first Christmas in space. Space Christmas. Maybe it'd be better if I didn't spend at all. Sometimes the bestest presents don't cost anything at all... ~Allo Darlin' "Space Christmas"

Holiday partying when you're not Martha Stewart & Snoop Dogg

Saturday night we hosted a Welcome Home Pete/Trail Family Holiday party at our house. I love people, I love parties. But party planning quickly devolves into a panicking party as I am faced with the harsh reality that I have zero hosting skills. I would love for my hosting level to be Martha Stewart and Snoop Dogg, but it's barely even Frat Party Without The Keg. Basically, it's just red Solo cups and a plastic tub of Cheetos. Our 1200 square foot house is too small for a party of 30-40 people. I am averse to holiday decorations. (While I can appreciate them aesthetically and think they look lovely in other people's homes, the thought of buying and displaying decorations in my own home induces stress not joy). As for my cooking skills, the most charitable thing you could say about them is that I have yet to burn anything down. So I tend to be anxious whenever people are coming over to our house. I want to have people over. I want them to feel welcome and be well fed and have a good time. But I have strong doubts about my ability to deliver on those promises.

Pete wanted to keep things simple for the party so we ordered meat pizza, veggie pizza and wings. Then I made vegan and gluten free pizza so we had all the dietary needs covered. Though when I say made I really mean that I helicopter parented it (I was putting all my non-dairy eggs in this basket and I had to make sure it was at least edible and not on fire). I roasted the butternut squash. I massaged the kale. That is a thing people do to kale apparently (or else Mark is laughing maniacally somewhere at having convinced me that is a thing people do to kale). I bought what in hindsight was an excessive amount of vegan cheese. I practically climbed in the oven with it trying to determine if the crust was lightly browned enough. (WTF cooking directions?! What does lightly browned even mean? Ecru? Beige? Khaki? Burnt Umber? No probably not that last one. Why can't food just be all "Stick a fork in me, I'm done." I'm not a mind reader, pizza!)

Then I had a moment of sanity where my brain decided: You can just be who you are. And I finally relaxed. People are well aware than I am not Martha Stewart or Snoop Dogg. No one comes to my house expecting a gourmet meal or a Pottery Barn catalog or Gin & Juice. People come to my house bearing cookies and dressed in a banana costume. I am never going to throw a Pinterest-worthy party. That is not my thing. And that's ok. I am going to throw the kinds of parties where everyone is welcome, where love, laughter and chin-ups are plentiful, where somehow we always end the night dancing in the living room (and by somehow I mean because of Pete). Because those are my things.

Holidays are for dancing, bananas, cookies and Tramily.
(Thanks to Amy, Sheila & Stephen for the pics!)

At the party, I looked around and marveled at all the people who had come to see my funny, strong, remarkable husband, all the people who had filled up my 2016 with so much happiness and love. Steven pretended he was leaving every 5 minutes and went around giving everyone goodbye hugs. And I realized that was the perfect metaphor for how I want to live my life. My time here is short. I don't know when exactly I'm leaving the party of life (hopefully not for many decades). But I could be tossed out of this aliveness rave at any time. As long as I'm still here, I want to embrace it. Might as well do it literally. And Jenuinely.

And so my very best good friends, if you ever feel overwhelmed by expectations or pressures to be a certain way or do a certain thing, remember that you can just be who you are. You can say no to that thing you don't want to do. You can opt out of the traditions that don't bring you joy. You can make the holidays whatever you want them to be. Party on.

Lyric of the moment: "The moon is right. The spirits up. We're here tonight. And that's enough. Simply having a wonderful Christmastime. The party's on. The feeling's here. That only comes this time of year. Simply having a wonderful Christmastime..." ~Paul McCartney "Wonderful Christmastime"

This Is Marriage: Day 456

I wake up next to Pete! In our bed! In our house! I have had this dream so many times over the past 10 months, only to wake up and feel disappointed. But now I wake up and it actually is real. We go to the gym and work out together. We come home and I make pumpkin bread french toast (and I realize I haven 't ever made french toast before. I know, who even let me into the adulting club anyway? Someone left the door unattended for a minute and I ninja-ed my way inside, skipping right over making basic french toast and jumping face first into making fancy french toast out of bread I made myself. Ok, bread I made with the help of a bread/muffin mix). We run errands. Pete cannot find the toothpaste and I remind him it's in the medicine cabinet hidden behind the mirror. He has been away so long he's forgotten all the secret compartments (Note to self: more secret compartments. Secret compartments everywhere!) Pete builds a closet. I bring him a snack and laugh, because it is such a Pete thing to do. When we first moved into this house, his main priority was building a shelving system and adding doors to the bedroom closet. The first day he is back in our house after his deployment, he builds a standalone closet in the basement for all of his Navy uniforms. These quotidian moments suddenly feel anything but ordinary. After the year we've had, they are extraordinary.

People refer to your wedding as "the happiest day of your life." But I always secretly thought what does that say about your marriage if the best day is the first day? That it's all downhill from there? Our wedding day was an epic day for sure. We laughed, we danced, we walked on stilts and juggled and played frisbee, we ate both cookies and cake (because why choose?) But we also had so many amazing days before we got married and I knew that we would have even more amazing days in the years following our wedding. That is why I married Pete. Because every day is an excellent adventure. An adventure like picking up seaman at three different airports in three weeks (And getting the chance to use glitter and poster-boards for the first time in over a decade! And finally figuring out what to do with that weird little drawer in the kitchen: create a batteries & glitter drawer! Because really, that's the perfect blueprint for building an awesome life: energy & sparkles!) An adventure like wandering the streets of Virginia Beach, spotting a building labelled iFLY and wondering aloud what it is. And having a husband who doesn't give you that exasperated look that you have received so many times from others when you ask questions aloud as if the entire world is an oracle or Google. And then later when you send your husband a link to the iFLY website and a message that says "Indoor skydiving!!!!!!!!!!" he good naturedly says "So I'll get us tickets then?" AND THEN YOU GO INDOOR SKYDIVING! An adventure like waking up next to your life partner and realizing your life has far surpassed your most spectacular dreams.

Marriage is oodles and oodles of very best, happiest days.

Lyric of the moment: "I've come so far so fast. And it feels like a hundred years. Am I dreaming? Is it gonna last? I could be better still than anything I've done. I know you think you could do too. I know you think you feel it's true. It's the little things in life that I feel..." ~Big Gigantic "The Little Things"

Things I want to say to you

Hi Friend! (To those of you who just thought "Who are you weird person from the internet? We're not friends," Why are we not friends? Let's be friends!)

Infinity of thanks for being here. Infinity of thanks for being you! I'm so happy that our paths have crossed, whether on the internet or in person, on or off the trails. My life is better for having known you. That is the truest thing I know. I want to give you an epic hug. Like an almost uncomfortably long hug. But maybe that would be weird? I dunno. If I'm wrong and you want hugs, by all means come get some. Anytime! My door is always open to you. (Literally and figuratively. I am not great at remembering to lock the doors). In the meantime, here are some word hugs from me to you. I don't always say these things out loud in your direction but they are always true.   

You are awesome. There is no one else quite like you. You are the you-est person in the entire universe! Probably in the entire multiverse, if that is a thing. You are interesting. You are lovable. You are enough. The world might not always treat you as such. Sometimes some people might treat you poorly. But you should know that is on them and not you. Everyone struggles and sometimes people take out their struggles on others. It is not right, but it happens. Try not to take it personally. Keep doing the best you can at each particular moment in time and space. Assume others are doing the best they can.  

Life is unbelievably awesome. We are so lucky to have been given all this aliveness. But sometimes life is unfair and unreasonable and downright sucky. Sometimes it's hard out there for a carbon-based lifeform. My experience of life, reality and everything is different from your experience of life, reality and everything. So I don't know what it's like to run a mile in your shoes. But if you need a shoulder to cry on or a hand to hold or an ear to listen, I have two of all of those things! And if what you want is someone to just sit with you in your sad/mad/bad place for a little while so that you don't feel alone, I will do that with you. And if what you want is someone with whom to run all the miles/go on all the adventures/eat all the cookies, I will totally do that with you.

From Robot, With Love. All of it. All the love.