Day Three
Day Three: Fresh flowers from my yard. The payoff for all the pollen-induced sneezing of Spring. An abundance means even random hallway windows aren’t ignored.
Day Two
Day Two: Reading Youth Fiction on the Porch
94 Days of Summer
94 Days of Summer: Day One. I am a Syrup Rockstar
So! This is it. We have officially entered summer here in the Northern Hemisphere. Solstice marks 94 days of glorious summer—even if the weather remains uninformed until around day 32.
I have decided to mark my days this summer with a photo essay. Â Some days it will be pictures with words, other days just a snapshot of part of my day. I’m hoping it will keep me focused and in the moment during my favorite time of the year. I’m also hoping you’ll come along for the journey. Maybe you’ll even be inspired to capture your own 94 days of summer?!
Day One: I am a Syrup Rockstar
I’ve always had a compulsion to list out my summer goals. It used to be a vaguely roughed-out list of things I wanted to do. But sometime during graduate school it became a life-line to my sanity. A list of things I could do when I was done with the constant juggling of school and work and a kid and a marriage. Summer represented a reprieve from academics, one less apple in the air, and of course I was hell-bent to relabel the school apple “Summer Projects.”
The list tends to change from year to year. But there are some perennial favorites. Jam making being one of them. In May I start saying to myself, “This summer I will make jam.” And of course, every summer I don’t. It’s been 12 years since I last made anything other than freezer jam (and while freezer jam is absolutely yummy, it does not count!) despite the fact that making jam is always in the first draft of my summer list.
Apparently, “making jam” ranks right up there with “losing weight”. It’s about as likely to happen as my miraculously becoming a physics giant and splitting an atom. It could happen. But I wouldn’t put my money on cold fusion.
You like how I did that… dropped in a sciency term to make my point? Yeah, hanging out with Boy Wonder has its perks.
As you can imagine, I’m not fond of being undone, out done, or over done. I’m a half-baked kind of girl; clearly I needed more than a list, I needed a plan. And so, this summer, I am a girl with a plan.
A plan to make jam. Specifically, White Nectarine and Raspberry jam. A plan that does not include buying premade jam and repackaging it. (that’s plan B, shh don’t tell!) A plan that will make me a Jam making Rockstar. Domesticate this!
Um. So, here’s the thing. Â I hauled out my jam making equipment, made more trips to too many stores to gather supplies, and launched into my super amazing rockstar recipe on Saturday. Â I was prepared, I had plan, I executed said plan with panache and artistry.
And the jam didn’t set. It tastes amazing! The nectarine brings out a softer side of the raspberry, and my hunch to include a real vanilla pod was inspired! But, unfortunately, something went very, very wrong. And my jam is more like soft-set freezer jam in the consistency department.
So, while I’d like to scratch off “making jam” from my list and tell you I have already accomplished something this summer, I don’t think I can. Instead, I think I’ll add “make White  Nectarine and Raspberry Syrup” to my list and refocus my jam making energy on blackberry season.
It’s only Day One, after all. Too early to resort to plan B. I still have faith that I’ll make jam this summer. It could happen. Right?
In Photos: Twenty
In one of these photos, the man is pinching my backside! I’ll let you figure which photo.
Twenty; Again and Again
Twenty. Last year I cheated and put up an archived post from a past anniversary. And while I’m proud of that piece and still stand by the sentiment, I regretted doing it. In retrospect, I wish I had found the right words to sum up the moment. But the words decided to play a game of  hide and seek—and no matter how closely I looked, they evaded me. So, I took the easy way out and pulled an archived anniversary post.
This year is different. Let the damn words hide. I will make up new ones. Because you don’t reach this landmark without stopping. Without stopping, reflecting, and putting up a sign that says, “We were here. And we’re still very much in love.”
So, twenty. Today we reach that landmark where we  can look back and see as many years married as not. Half of our lives we’ve journeyed together with conjoined names and linked hearts. And every day is a blessed day. We can look you straight in the eye and tell you without guile that we know the meaning of “For  better or for worse.” But unlike our earlier selves, we also know that the worse is not to be feared or avoided or endured. We are wiser, if a bit more wrinkled. We are happy, if a bit overwhelmed with life at the moment. We are still married.
And we are still very much in love.
It has not been without work. Or tears. We are pock-marked and scared by this life. And I’m not about to sugar-coat the losses. But again and again, I come back to you. It’s your hand in the horror that holds me close. It’s your voice in the darkness that keeps me sane and reminds me: we are still married. We are still very much in love.
And it will not always be so scary and so hard and so fraught with meaning. Life will cycle back again, and someday soon we will find ourselves at another anniversary—calmer. We will still be married. And we will still be very much in love. For better. For worse. Again and again. It’s this promise I’m keeping.
Happy Anniversary, IZ. I love you. More than these words. So, so much more.
Again and again, however we know the landscape of love
and the little churchyard there, with its sorrowing names,
and the frighteningly silent abyss into which the others
fall: again and again the two of us walk out together
under the ancient trees, lie down again and again
among the flowers, face to face with the sky. ~~Rainer Maria Rilke (1875 – 1926)
In Photos: A Summer List
Up to No Good
You can just make out the bite marks. (click to embiggen)
I’ve been waking up every morning to an interesting phenomenon. Day after day I wake to find the Honeysuckle attempting escape. I’d placed a small bouquet in the living room when our friends  came to visit—and every morning the Honeysuckle is half out of the jar. I’ve been shoving it back down without much thought. But, really? Day after day? Does it want outside that badly?
Me: I just don’t get it, IZ. How does it keep moving like that?
IZ: Uh, Kitty. It looks like Snickers has been munching.
This is not a big deal. I just  feel really stupid for playing along all week without noticing. Once again I can just hear that cat mocking me. Snickers 1, Wende 0.
(make-up your own interesting segue here, because I don’t have one. We’ll call this the reader participation portion of this post)
And what’s up with June? I don’t know what the weather is like in your neck of the woods, but it’s downright November out here on the coast. Ok, I exaggerate. A touch. But it’s not what I had in mind for June. I had plans and those plans involved sunshine and sandals and short skirts. Someone needs to stop feeding Pudge the fish tuna. (and if you’ve been reading this blog for anytime, then you know I like to kick this particular cultural reference until it’s dead.)
Speaking of plans, it turns out… talking about them is a big no-no (um, is this the reason I’m sucking wind losing weight? No, it’s probably the chocolate cake, ahem). Apparently, simply announcing our plans and being acknowledged for them is enough to fool the brain. It’s interesting research, based on a study done in 1933. Which, I think might explain the expanding girth of the American population. We’ve been talking smack and that strokes our egos enough we don’t bother to follow through (Or it could be the chocolate cake) Â It certainly seems to shed some light on a particular generation’s tendency (MINE MINE!) to be the epitome of flake.
Anyway, go read it and tell me what you think.
While you do that, I’ll tell you what it makes me think. It makes me stop a bit short on posting all my June plans! Â You know, all the plans that float around in your head during June because the impending onset of summer makes you think you have unlimited time, resources, and are 12 years younger than you really are? Yeah, those plans. Call me superstitious or just scientifically informed, but I’m not willing to jinx all the stuff I’ve got on the agenda this summer. So, I guess you’ll just have to assume I’m up to no good.
Like the cat.
A Dose of Sunshine
The World’s Cutest Baby came for a visit yesterday—bringing sunshine and lots of laughter. Â His equally adorable parents brought ridiculously yummy cheese and good conversation. It’s just what we needed!
Marital Advice
IZ and me… and some really self-satisfied guy. Don’t ask me who he was, but I bet he gives good advice.
Two weeks. In just two short weeks we hit 20 years. And that should make me an expert on marriage, right?  Yeah, not so much. I’ve always taken a “no advice” approach to the topic, because I believe that marriages are as unique as the individuals in them. If it’s advice you’re looking for, the google can point you to any number of books on the subject. And there are more blogs with twenty-something experts willing to tell you how wonderful marriage is and how you can solve every argument in a mere 15 minutes if you just take their webinar. And I’m pretty sure Dr. Phil is still on the air. Don’t even get me started on the twitter gurus.
But I don’t think a successful pairing of individuals can be boiled down to pat formulas. What works for us may not, probably won’t, work for you. However, I would be disingenuous if I said I hadn’t learned something in the past twenty years. I suspect there are some universals; like respect and compassion and understanding the difference between need and want, I just don’t think those universals solely apply to marriage. They are the universals of a life well lived. And you hardly  need me or some expert to explicate the obvious!
What I can tell you, is that I’ve been ridiculously blessed. And I can honestly say  I’ve attempted to live every day mindful of how fortunate I am to be spending this life with IZ.
Nothing more. Nothing less.
Reading
Tonight I am breathing in roses and reading bedouin poetry.
Desires have their way,
circulate freely,
but I cannot see your share of my heart
given away. ~~Dhu al-Rumma (d. 735 CE)
Hello ~ Welcome to Evidently
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- ISFP... what are you?
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