September 29, 2008
No Tears
I'm not quite cured of my weddingitis. I still enjoy looking at former brides' wedding bios and I still check in on our photographer's blog. (Though not nearly as often.) And one thing I've noticed is that there was a distinct lack of tears at our wedding! There were a few moments, of course, like right after my dad gave me away, he leaned over to kiss me on the cheek and whispered "Good luck honey," in my ear. I had to pull it together after that.
And though I can neither confirm or deny that any tears were shed by the groom, there are a few bridesmaids who may say (only under duress, I'm sure) that they got a little choked up themselves seeing Aaron's reaction.
But other than that I was just too stinking happy to be weepy. Aaron still teases me about how fast my dad and I flew down the aisle, but I just wanted to get there already!
Though it was a little awkward as we all stood there waiting for the bridal processional song to end. (I even saw our photographer give the ole "wrap it up!" hand motion to the musicians!)
I've cried at so many other weddings -- I was literally heaving sobs when Melissa got married -- but shed nary a tear at my own. When I think about that day (almost five months ago!), I remember feeling like I could burst I was so happy.
I was just happy happy happy about starting my life with this great guy. And we were by the ocean and the hotel was pink, and I couldn't even have dreamed of that when I was a little girl.
Sometimes waiting feels unfair. Being patient -- when it's the thing you want more than anything else -- is difficult. But sometimes you get more than you could have hoped for, more than you could have dreamed. God is good like that. I am so thankful.
Posted by hannah at 10:23 AM
September 27, 2008
Apples
There are a few things that will always remind me of my grandmother. Certain hymns, songs, moments. But more than anything, certain foods. A farmer's wife, she always had a garden, so of course there are items that always filled her kitchen. My grandfather loved beets, and she would pick them out of their backyard garden (once they'd moved to town), and he would eat them sliced on a plate with just salt and pepper. She made wonderful chicken and dumplings, and when I was a kid and we came to visit, her cookie jar was always filled with sugar cookies. Her coffee cakes were infamous and even when we lived in Texas, she sent us one every year. She loved black coffee and lunch at Bob Evans.
But for some reason -- more than anything else -- it's applesauce that makes me think of her. She made it every year and always had some jarred.
When the remnants of Ike blew through Ohio, the apple trees got stripped bare. So my mom has been making a lot of applesauce! The other day on the phone, I asked her how to do it and she said, oh it's so easy and proceeded to rattle off a bunch of measurements and "if you have x apples you need x sugar and water," and I said, "Mother. I can't remember this. Please e-mail it!" So she did.
Wash, peel, core & quarter 8 to 12 medium large apples. Place in large sauce pan with small amount of water 1/2 to 3/4 cup? Cover and cook slowly till tender. I like my applesauce a little chunky so I don't cook it until it gets too smooth. Add sugar to taste about 1/4 cup sugar for every 4 medium apples. Cook until sugar is dissolved, just a few minutes. Add spice to taste, 1/4 t nugmeg, 1/4 t cinnamon, 1/8 t cloves. Serve while warm. Will keep in refrigerator for several days. I always think of MeMe when I peel apples or make so many of her recipes. She would peel and cut 50 or so apples at a time! I miss her.
Posted by hannah at 10:21 AM
September 16, 2008
A Weekend In Pictures
Softball, Vikings and life in Dogville. That pretty much sums it up.
Posted by hannah at 03:50 PM
September 09, 2008
Eight
This week marks eight years that I've been writing online. That's a long time to do anything, let alone navel gaze. I cringe a little when I go back and read some of the older entries. I was so clueless much of the time, but I was always transparent. Always the truest form of myself. My sense of needing accurate history is grateful for that, at least. I can't fool myself into thinking I truly knew it all at age 24, because the proof to the contrary is floating around out there.
These days, when even grandmothers are blogging, it's hard to believe that there was a day you could journal your thoughts, throw them on the Internet and have them be read only by strangers. My mom found this site several years ago, and other family members soon followed, and now it's a blessing to stay connected this way. But there was a time when such an intimate state of being known would have been unheard of. In fact, it was something of a novelty back in the day (ye days of Internet olde) if someone from your "real life" read your online journal. (As we ye olde folk called them.)
I was always a small drop in a sea of words, but now that sea is a raging ocean and who isn't putting some part of their life online? Whether it's through pictures or cooking blogs or Facebook, it's the new norm. Even presidential candidates are Twittering. In some ways that is comforting. For instance, I don't think twice when someone asks how a friendship started and I say "the Internet." But in other respects, it does feel like some of the specialness has flown out of it. (For this I mostly blame MySpace.)
I'm not interested in traipsing down a nostalgic road (how unusual for me), but it did strike me that even just a glimpse at my entry categories is evidence of the many changes in my life the past eight years. From "Looking for Love" to "Wedding Planning" to "Married Life." From Atlanta to Minnesota, and a whole category just for Montego. (I can barely remember what it was like to only have one pet.)
This state of communication is here for good, I think, so even though I've taken several unintentional breaks and probably will again, (remember when it was all the rage to go on "hiatus"?), I can't imagine not ever having this site.
So if there are in fact still strangers out there reading this, thank you for keeping up and staying on. Let's see where we go from here.
Posted by hannah at 05:35 PM
September 08, 2008
Overcome the World
I am working on a long(ish) entry about many of the things swirling in my head these last few weeks amidst conventions and hurricanes and loss. But Pastor Greg Boyd already said it better (and more succinctly!):
True Believers and the Religion of Politics
I'm excited for this election, because I love politics and I love discussion. But I'm finding it hard to get worked up about it. Whoever wins is whoever wins, and it really doesn't matter to me all that much which way it goes. He's already overcome the world. He's already won!
John 16: 31-33 (The Message)
Jesus answered them, "Do you finally believe? In fact, you're about to make a run for it—saving your own skins and abandoning me. But I'm not abandoned. The Father is with me. I've told you all this so that trusting me, you will be unshakable and assured, deeply at peace. In this godless world you will continue to experience difficulties. But take heart! I've conquered the world."
Posted by hannah at 11:13 AM
September 03, 2008
Welcoming Fall
Fall came to Minnesota overnight. For the past few weeks you could smell it occasionally -- that elusive fall smell. But the days heated up like they do in the summer, and you figured you imagined that crispness in the air.
I've never lived this far north before, and things are more dramatic. The seasons don't fade in and out the way they do in the south, spring bleeding into summer, summer stubbornly giving way to fall, holding on to the heat for as long as it can. But here it's marked. You just wake up one day and it's summer, the cool mornings a memory of yesterday. Or like today, we woke up and it's suddenly fall. The days didn't gradually get shorter, they just got shorter in a hurry. Leaves have already started falling and I can once again see the lake from our living room, shimmering beyond the trees. A patch of red has grabbed hold on one of our old big maples, and it's only a matter of time before they battle out the green.
I think about the pioneers a lot. What must they have thought when they woke up one August or early September morning to red trees and crisp air? Did they walk down to the lake for water or washing and shudder at the temperature change? That first year, did they know what was coming for them? The bitter, life-changing cold and the snow so thick and deep that you can't see tomorrow? Or was there joy in the harvest. Relief from the summer sun. Their descendants -- these modern day Minnesotans who are my neighbors, my coworkers, my family -- they love fall. The Vikings are back and the Gophers are playing and even though they're aware of what lurks in November, what will latch on for unending months, what will keep the sun set for most of the day, they welcome it.
So I welcome fall too. This summer wasn't long on the calendar, but it was long in my life. Fall is a fresh start, a turned corner, new adventures. My grandmother loved fall too. Maybe she was like those pioneers, happy to no longer have to work in the beating sun. Or maybe she was just always happy to send her brood away to school for most of the day. I know she would have loved the beauty of a Minnesota fall, so I love it for her. I see things for the both of us.
Aaron pulled his favorite argyle sweater out of a drawer this morning, which is what fall feels like to me this year. A favorite sweater, forgotten in a drawer, but that makes me feel like me.
Posted by hannah at 09:32 AM
