WE MADE IT...ALIVE, TOO!

Wow.

The past few weeks have been a whirlwind and finally, here I am, returning to the blogosphere and world wide web. It was odd not checking blogger almost daily, or email, or reading, or writing [um, that didn't stop me from talking to my characters in the car all by myself. Three days of driving with only the dog for company (Ben drove our other car)...you can hardly blame me...]. What did we do before the internet?! I felt lost - completely disconnected from mankind - peppered with fear, driving through Death Valley while my cell phone displayed comforting words like, "No Service".

I've got loads of photos to share from our GORGEOUS drive - and plan on doing so - but I must organize them first. The new homestead took precedence, and I gladly report things are in order...well, mostly. Just a few odds and ends remain, you know how it goes...

Personally, I think "odds and ends" play a game of "divide and conquer" when your back's turned...

But I want to take this opportunity to say THANK YOU!! Ben and I feel spoiled rotten having such awesome friends and family. All the cards, all the gifts, all the support...there was so much it was hard to accept (and made it harder to leave...). :'( Your encouragement has made the varying emotions easier to handle and the unknown seem less frightening.

I wasn't sure what to think, walking into our new home for the first time. Part of me was thrilled - WE'RE FINALLY HERE! - and the home was so cute and perfect for us. But the other part, the one that doesn't have a reputation for being very logical, was extremely sad. Sad at the emptiness, the foreignness, the lack of memories...the silence.

I immediately went about, setting your encouraging cards on the counters, leaning your pictures against the walls, putting all the goodies on display (they're all lovely!)...it was like you were there with us. Having those pieces of you brightened the corners and filled the spaces in our empty home with love when I couldn't have needed it more. Thank you.

While I know this isn't really "goodbye" forever, I'm going to miss so many of you. The last minute dinners, the weekend trips, the conversations, seeing many of you at (and after) work amidst cap wars while getting kicked out of my chair (yes, I know I deserved it). Now you HAVE to visit and see all the decor you helped purchase :D

Until we get all the photos in order, I'll leave you with this. See if you can find Sammy :)

ps I'll have you know I spent a good deal of thought and time making him a comfortable passenger seat.

Samson & the Cone of Shame

Think YOU had a bad day? He just had his "boys" removed :(

When I'm trying to write...

 

This was his arrangement.

Merry Christmas!...and a joyous New Year!

Ben and I spent a marvelous Christmas Day at my parents. And those parents, the wonderful people they are, waited until we arrived before everyone opened gifts. Mom was Santa's skinny, dark-haired twin, handing out gifts to their proper (and eager) recipient. Samson attempted to play with Gigi, their dog, who did nothing but bite and swat at him (he has the bloodied battle wounds to prove it. I've come to the belief that Samson is a masochist). Gigi, however, stood undeterred, on the hunt for Dad's chocolates--compliments of Annie. Which,

thanks to Annie's foresight, wasn't actually placed under the tree. Gigi has a rather unfortunate habit of opening wrapped boxes of See's chocolates, eating the lot of them, forcing my mom to spend an exorbitant amount of money at the Vet.

Left: Samson & Gigi (see

how she shuns him?)

Right: Me & Annie

Gigi likes to hide under the gold couch.

And Samson waits. And waits....

We ate a delicious meal of honey-baked ham, scalloped potatoes, bluegrass salad, and hot rolls (thanks Mom!), and afterwards Annie helped me serve my Italian dessert (see, I told you I'm obsessed with all things Italian): Stracciatella Semifreddo, recipe given to me by the infamous Uncle A.

It's home-made custard, whipping cream, and nutella folded together and frozen on top of a graham cracker crust. YUM!

Afterwards, We all took up varying locations upon the floor and napped.

Mom and I played a round of Scrabble, to which I was the willing victim, and we all finished the night with Sherlock Holmes. It really is a "good-clean-fun" movie for any of you that haven't seen it. Ben and I particularly enjoy the soundtrack.

Next year this time we'll be living in Arizona. After 14 years of living in California, this is my last Christmas here. I wonder if we'll decorate a cactus next year. My fingers are hurting just thinking about it.

2010 has been a year of anticipation and hope: applying to Dental school's, Ben wrapping up his last few classes to graduate, flying to DS interviews, waiting...waiting, and me handing out my unfinished manuscript to an incredibly insightful beta-group.

I might say that 2011 is a brand new chapter, although it feels greater than that to me. More like we're opening an entirely new story. The story of personal milestones: Ben's graduating, we're moving to another state (a much, much hotter one), Ben's starting Dental School, I'll be starting a new job (hopefully), and I'll be submitting my manuscript (aka throwing out my heart and soul to be trampled on by professional critics). Needless to say, I feel blessed to have these sorts of challenges and opportunities--and all the support of great family and friends. There's a lot to be thankful for. And, like everything that happens along this journey we call life, I'm excited to have Ben right there beside me, holding my hand, every step of the way!

Stockings, Christmas Trees, and Decapitated Snowmen

It is that time of year. Our banks accounts dwindle, the air is filled with pine, Christmas lights replace trim (singlehandedly causing an energy crisis), and if you're like me in the valley of Northern California, you wish some miracle would happen and it would snow. But we make the most of it.

To me, making the most of it usually requires music and cookies. So this week, the amazing and brilliant Annie (my sister) came over.

We decked the halls--well, we decked

my kitchen counter--with cookies, icing, sprinkles. It was a beautiful sight to behold.

<---that's Annie's meticulous hand.

Samson the Faithful

waited by our feet,

hoping desperately to catch a

rogue sprinkle.

Annie had to keep rinsing excess

frosting from her hands...

Gingerbread lost limb, star lost point, snowman lost head--all in a duel between the territorial cookie sheet and the spatula.

Very few cookies perished.

Ben came home from a long a

grueling final to indulge in the festivities.

He also started taking photo's.

Even the amazing Uncle A,

all the way in Atlanta, was able to join us!

Skype is THE fastest way

to travel.

(Ciao il mio preferisco Zio A!)

An afternoon well spent.

We enjoyed the fruits of our labor.

With a side of egg nog, of course. :)

Samson

Need I say more?

The Greatest Fear of Samson the Terrible

Samson is our dog. You may have seen him perched in the window, scanning the perimeter for trespassers. For hours. You may have dared cross his path, earning yourself bark after relentless bark, hoping to get away with your pants still intact. But just like any terrifying creature, he has his fears.

Ben was away for a Dental School interview. I was left with Samson. Samson is excellent company, usually. Always watchful. Always wanting to play. I was busy writing and had forgotten about him (mistake #1).

To get my attention, he hops on the couch with droopy ears, trembling. Violently. "What's the matter?" I ask. Of course he understands everything I say to him. He's brilliant.

He trembles some more, licking his lips like he always does when he's scared. I walk around our house turning on all the lights so that nothing can hide in the shadows. Everything is fine. And Samson is still shaking.

I press gently around his huge, muscular frame, checking for injury. Nothing. I throw his buddy--a fluffy bone made of lamb wool. He just stood there and watched it land. If you've ever been to our house, you know this is strange. Very strange. Now I'm scared.

Samson slinks off into our dark bedroom, hops on the bed, and curls up with a sigh. I've called Ben, called my mom to get the number to the animal hospital, and figured out how to budget our food for the next few months to pay the vet bill.

As Samson lay there on our bed, I heard a soft squeak. He whimpered. Soon after, another squeak. It suddenly occurred to me how many Greenies we'd given him over the course of the past few days (mistake #2). More than normal, because of all the travel. We felt bad (I certainly hope this habit doesn't carry over in to child rearing someday). I heard another squeak, and frightened whimper.

I couldn't believe it. He had gas. Lots and lots of it.

For all his ferocious barking--for all his yanking on the leash to chase after any dog, or person, within eyesight--he's afraid of his own gas.