Roots

Somewhere along the way, I've forgotten my southern roots. I suppose that's somewhat understandable, considering that my upbringing occurred completely on Yankee soil. As a child, I remember fleeting references that hinted to a heritage beyond the New England states. For example, people would often take note of my mom's slight accent and ask where she was from. I never quite noticed it. Of course we made frequent pilgrimages to Virginia to see Aunt Becky and Grandmama, and they made even more trips to see us. And so I never forgot about where my mom came from; I guess it just never felt like my history. Grandmama died 16 years ago and thus ended our summer trips to her house where my brother and I would pick green beans and drive the tractor around the yard (crashing it every so often). I remember my mom letting me steer Granddaddy's 1973 Ford truck (surprising after the tractor incidents) as we drove the short distance on Route 689 from Grandmama's to US 460. Those are some sweet memories.


My dear Aunt Becky still lives in Virginia with her family, and as I hadn't been back in years and Andrew had never visited, we decided to go over Easter. We were treated to true southern hospitality and Becky's incredible memory. We spent the weekend laughing, listening and asking questions as we relived memories and created new ones. We had Easter lunch at the Peaks of Otter, a childhood haunt I hadn't revisited in years. The following day we hiked Sharp Top Mountain and were rewarded with beautiful views of Virginia countryside. And of course, we found a new friend in Pugsley (who couldn't love that face?).


On our last day, we drove over to where Grandmama had lived. I hadn't been there since she died. We commented on how the property seemed smaller than we remembered. The barn and garage were a little run down, and the trailer was gone, but the well cap was still there, which had always posed a challenging obstacle to our tractor cruising. We remembered where the grape vines and garden used to be and how the land sloped in the back. The garage and utility shed were open. I was hoping for the shed to smell as I remembered, but it didn't. It's been been a while I guess. Smells fade. But amidst the decay and relics of a life once lived, new life persists...

in dogwood blooms...

...and in a renewed connection to a history that is mine too.

[in the cement under the outdoor shelter]

[the barn my grandfather built]

[the garage/shed also built by Granddaddy]

The Wild Wild West

Mountains... hiking... skiing... views... fresh air... sunshine... sunburns... Elsa... Triumph... Wahoo's... friends... family... wild times.

Where Winter Meets Spring

My dear brother never fails to mention how fantastic the weather in Denver is (especially after a particularly long spell of dismal Chicago grayness) . And as much as it pains me to admit it sometimes, he's right. Tonight we head out to the land of mountains and sun, to embrace a Spring more mature than ours, and to steal a few more moments of Winter's most exhilarating activity (see below).


Elsa, get your booties on... here we come!

Communi-tree

We put our tree up this past weekend and we wondered how simple trees with simple trimmings can look so beautiful. Several years ago, for our first Christmas as a married couple, we invited our dear friends over to help us fashion the ornaments for our first Christmas tree. We purchased some materials, poured some wine and laughed over what would soon become cherished symbols of friendship, creativity and a new life together. Every year, Andrew comes up with some newfangled tree topper, usually using something from around the apartment. So far, it hasn't been the same twice.

I like what a Christmas tree represents: light, change, preparation, nature, creation, memories... And specifically, I like that our tree represents a taste of our community, of those we hold dear - those of our past, our present and those yet to come.

Crikey!

Like the new movie, Australia (more on that later), I think our Thanksgiving had it all: fantastic company, plentiful food and drink, good conversation, relaxation, thankful hearts, and the space to know and appreciate those around us. Mom and Dad Daigle drove in from Connecticut and it provided a wonderful opportunity to share our Chicago lives with those closest to us. Isn't it interesting how out of town guests give you new eyes in which to view old and familiar surroundings? Suddenly, our apartment and neighborhood evolved from a place to live into a place to explore. We showed off our Lincoln Square favorites, visited the Field Museum and sampled some of Chicago's varied cuisine.

And, yes... we saw Australia.



The movie, like our Thanksgiving, really did have it all: action, adventure, romance, you laughed, you cried, you get the picture. (And you won't be disappointed.)

All in all, it was a time to indeed be grateful... for dear family, for God's provision, for our city's endless entertainment and for the chance to pause to give thanks. Many thanks to you, Mom and Dad, for your generosity, curiosity and graciousness in spending a Thanksgiving in Chicago. We are truly grateful.

Cuties

Self-portrait(s)

After being away for a week and a half, I almost feel like I'm returning to another world. Breaks are good. Andrew and I spent about a week in New Hampshire, and before that, I was in Phoenix for a work conference. Our little vacation proved to not only be a wonderful time reconnecting with family and friends, but it also allowed us some time with ourselves. To rest our minds. To relax. To visit with others. To be hundreds of miles away from work. To escape the demands of daily life. To read. To (try to) abstain from email and blogs and phone calls. Instead, we could just be with each other and our families in the most basic sense. Whenever I have a chance to do this, I get a little closer to identifying the kind of life I'd like to lead: one that is perhaps a little slower paced, that is defined primarily by real, human interaction, and one that leaves room for the unknown and unexpected. Communing with loved ones coupled with a little self-introspection: not a bad way to take a break.

A One Car Family

Call it a step in a green direction, call it a fiscally responsible move toward a new fuel economy, call it an opportunity to walk more and drive less, call it a way to save money, gas and parking... call it what you want, but we are now a one car family. And I must say, it feels pretty good. The Red Ranger served us well: it moved Andrew to Chicago, it moved a whole lot of other people to a whole lot of other places, it carried (and stored) Andrew's alley finds, it transported discarded treasures from the museum to our home (and sometimes back again), and on countless occasions, it dependably made those trips to and from Home Depot, laden with materials and supplies. But lest you go thinking we've lost our minds ridding ourselves of such a fine and faithful truck, let me tell you that not every day was a cruise through the park. For the last several weeks, our beloved Ranger couldn't go 5 miles without steaming and spewing. Indeed, as Andrew drove it to and from several potential buyers this weekend, he had to pull over in between each one to let Old Faithful cool down, hoping that he could prevent one final act of ultimate rebellion. Fortunately for us, and for our truck's new owner, he did. And so, with one last display of affection, Andrew said goodbye.


Our truck's new owner can give it what we could not: a new radiator (at least). So, we are happy to send it on to a better place. We're thankful for the many services it provided, but now, we're thankful we don't need to provide it with any more services.

Goofballs

Ah yes... my family.

Water

"...Amazing grace, oh how sweet the sound
There was glory in the air, there was dinner on the ground
And my sins which were many, were washed away and gone
Along with a buffalo nickel I forgot to leave at home
But that seemed like such a small, small price to pay
For the blessed peace of mind that came to me that day
And it was down with the old man, up with the new
Raised to walk in the way of light and truth
I didn't see no angels, just a few saints on the shore
But I felt like a newborn baby, cradled up in the arms of the Lord
This road is long and dusty, sometimes the soul it must be cleansed
And I long to feel that water, rushing over me again."

-from "Baptism" by Kenny Chesney

Congratulations, Ian. We love you. (And you too, Alexander and Charlotte!)

Matt & Annie

I've been friends with Matt and his twin sister, Jessica, since junior year of high school. Over the years our families have become friends and they are the kind of people I know I'll never lose touch with. And so, this past weekend, we headed out to West Palm Beach for Matt and Annie's wedding. It was a great time to relax, escape Chicago weather, see my parents, reconnect with old high school friends and celebrate a new marriage.

The Party Bus. Yep, it's a party on a bus.

Jess and Amy

No comment.

Emily and Jessica (sisters of the groom)

Speaking of the groom...

His lovely bride, Annie

Maid of Honor, Becky

Oceanside reception at the Hilton

Their first dance was to The Luckiest by Ben Folds Five, except that it was really Matt singing. He surprised Annie (and the rest of us) and recorded himself. Wish I had that on video...

1 + 1

Perhaps the only thing better than seeing two of your dearest friends get married is to see them marry each other. Andrew and I feel honored not just to have been a part of Sarah and TK's wedding, but to be a part of their lives. The wedding day exemplified all that a wedding should be: a beautiful, inspirational manifestation of love and commitment, and a vivid reminder of the blessing of friendship... truly the stuff of life.