And so we make food.

It's become ingrained in me to make food in the case of big, life-altering events. If someone gives birth, make the family a casserole. If someone gets hurt, make the family a casserole. If someone passes a way, make the family a casserole.

I picked up this trait from my mother. Whenever something happened to a family at church or a friend in the community you would soon thereafter find her in the kitchen whipping up an enchilada casserole. She would take it over, visit for a few minutes, and then leave not wanting to take up too much of their time.

I had no idea that this action had become so much a part of who I am until I was in North Carolina and a woman I had known for no more than a few weeks and had spent no more than a few hours with found out that her father had passed away unexpectedly. She was the wife of another Marine that Dan worked with. When Dan came home and told me the news I instantly started making a list for all the things I needed to make enchilada.

I told her I was making this for her and asked when a good time to drop it off was. I ended up staying for some time. She was 3,000 miles away from the family she wanted to be with and company seemed a good fit at that moment.

It was the first moment I felt grown-up. It was no longer my mom making the dish and giving her condolences; my mom didn't even know these hurting people. It was me. It was my job to help in this small way.

It helps me, too. My Type-A personality needs to be active. I need to do something especially when tragedy strikes.

Well, tragedy has struck.

It's hard to watch someone you love lose someone they cared so much about. There is something so deep in me that wants to take that pain away. What can I do? How can I help? But, there is nothing I can do. If there is anything I understand about the grief I have seen in the past 48 hours it is that nothing relieves it.

It's just there. It is all encompassing.

And so, because there is nothing that I can physically do, nothing that will dull the pain or make time pass quickly, I make food.

We'll take it to the family who is hurting on a level I can't begin to imagine. It will fill only a basic need for the grieved, but it's all we can do - we make food because we have to do something.

The Playhouse

It's turning into a shed.

It's about time for it, anyway. It hasn't housed the imaginations and games of any of us four sisters in years. You could make an argument to keep it as a playhouse for the future generations that will certainly come to know this backyard well, but at the rate all of us are procreating it's somewhat less than practical.

There was talk of turning it into a cabana of sorts. The front wall would be knocked down. The grill would go there. It seemed like a good idea. Dan, the logical and unsentimental voice, suggested that we turn it into a shed for all the hundreds of various tools my dad has lying around. This idea resonated with all of us.

Yes, it was dad's.

My dad built it for us. I couldn't tell you what year. It feels like it has always been there. It's doorway always open to whatever uses we had in store for it on any particular day. The usual games were played: house, school, restaurant, office. We were Jills of all trades.

Neighbor kids would come play with us sometimes. When friends were over the playhouse was typically ditched in favor of the thrilling and deadly trampoline, but when it was just us sisters (however many at a time) the playhouse was usually full of noise.

It was a favorite place to be on my own - I was an avid reader and a quiet space was highly valued. One day I had it on my mind to make myself a reading nook. I lugged my bean bag chair and plopped it in a corner near the window where sunlight shone through. I made trip after trip carrying out my mom's collection of Nancy Drew books. She had easily 50 of the series; they were hard cover and had lived through her childhood.

I was so proud of myself as I sat down in my chair and started re-reading my favorite series. It got darker and without any electricity I abandoned my library for the night.

It rained.

That would've been fine if the playhouse was built to code. It wasn't. The rain came through the blue shutters and ruined a good portion of my mom's collection. I was pretty scared to tell her, but I did. She wasn't happy.

I don't think I would forget that even if she didn't remind every so often.

Library is one of the many names of that playhouse.

I'll never forget climbing onto it's roof from the bars of our swing set. Someone would throw the rope swing over. I would sit at the edge of the roof, put my feet on the wooden plank attached to the end of the rope, and push off. It was probably the most daredevil thing I ever did in my life. I would do it over and over, loving the rush.

I cleaned it out today. It has become a storehouse for odds and ends in it's recent years, and a safe house for spiders of every variety. I spared you before photos with the webs and creepy crawlers - you're welcome.

The shutters are gone and have been replaced with screens that have been sealed shut to keep out rodents. The walls have some holes. The floor was covered in leaves and dirt.

But once it was all cleaned out it felt just like the old playhouse. There were even some old scooters and a basketball still in there amongst the debris.

This place has so many memories and it was one of the greatest things my dad ever did for us. Now it gets to be his. A space for all his tools and ideas - his imagination and creativity gets to run wild in there now, too.

At least, that's what I hope it is for him.

negative, ghostrider. the pattern is full.

I figured I would make the grand total of posts this month a whopping TWO, and maybe put something on this forgotten space of internet. To be honest, I'm thinking of taking it down, but that's a story for another day.

We've been at the Parents Herrington house since March 7 which means it has been 54 days. In that time Dan has finished redoing the front yard and has completed about half of his project in the backyard. I have taken a nannying position, let go of that position, taken on another two nannying positions and claimed part of my Mexican heritage as a cleaning woman for a family friend.

We've met with friends and spent time with family. I've been accepted, rejected, and waitlisted from law schools all over the country. We've celebrated the birthdays of my 71-year old grandma, Dan's 80-year old great-aunt, and my 93-year old great-grandma.

It feels like we've been constantly busy. We've traveled to Southern California twice since we've been back, and I went to the Santa Cruz mountains with my aunt and mom for retreat. We've got trips planned to Yosemite and Disneyland.

Life is continuing and time is moving quickly, yet it feels like things are a bit stagnant as we wait for the next part of life to start.

Nannying isn't what I want to do with my life neither is it all together fulfilling as employment goes. It's for a time and I'm bringing in some (much needed) money. The kids are great and I enjoy being looked up to as possibly the coolest kid on the block - the one who can do six somersaults underwater in a row - but it is, at the end of the day, babysitting.

Dan is helping my parents around the house and I know they (and I!) are so grateful and appreciative. Us sisters are pretty sure he's taken up the slot as the family favorite over here. It's amazing what he's accomplished in the past few weeks (and not only because someday I know he'll be doing this stuff for our own home), but it's not his career. It's not what he's been trained to do.

Some of these pieces we are so grateful for.

Family, for instance. I have accepted a slot at the George Washington University School of Law in D.C. which means we're moving back to the east coast in just a few months. With this move on the horizon and another three years of being separated by 3,000 miles we're enjoying every second we have with our families.

The meals, the outings, the adventures, the sitting, the talking - all of it is so important to both of us. It was hard being so far away from family these past few years and I know it'll present it's own difficulties as we set out to do it again. For now, I'm just enjoying the close proximity of the people that I love so dearly.

This time has given both Dan and I an opportunity to get to know each other's families better. We got married pretty quickly and were apart for a chunk of our dating relationship so our families, while welcoming on both sides, were largely unfamiliar with their new daughter/son, niece/nephew, granddaughter/grandson. It's nice to feel the familiarity that comes with being in a family - this time has provided that.

All this to say, it's a strange, wonderful, terrible, exciting, and anxious time in our lives. We have so much to look forward to and so much to be grateful for. So, while I fear that some of this sounds like complaints, and maybe some of it is, this is the place where we are. We're in a holding pattern. It's a place of limbo and, man, am I glad I'm not Catholic because limbo is not something I deal with well.

These past few days

 

1. I've started my summer job as a nanny to three kids.
2. Dan's been relandscaping my parent's front yard (he installed a sprinkler system - weirdly hot.)
3. We've been discussing (us), stressting (me), and looking forward to (him) a decision on law school.
4. We've been contemplating a move back east.
5. I went to the Rihanna concert (she's beautiful) with my best friends Brittany. More thoughts on that later - I'm still thinking about it.
6. We went bar hopping in the city (that's San Francisco to all you non-locals). So many tasty drinks.
7. Dan's Grandpa gave Dan his golf clubs for Dan's 30th. So sweet.
8. Family has been close by and easy to hang out with and we love it.
 

settling

{we set up a rod in the attic space attached to our room. my closet is in the attic.}
{those aren't even half my clothes.}

When you've got all your clothes set up in a make shift attic-closet you're pretty much settled in at your folks house. At least, that was my indicator. It was a necessary addition (otherwise where would I put my clothes!) but also had the feeling of a bit of permanence which I think was weird for both of us. 

I've been applying at random secretary/administrative/temp jobs (some that were a bit creepy) and think I've got something lined up. I'm still waiting to hear back from the last few schools - a couple of which are deal breakers (like, I'd go there in a heartbeat and never think twice about the loans). 

Dan is still applying and interviewing and really we're just waiting for a break. Part of me feels like God is just waiting to time this out perfectly - ya know, job/school all in one neat package - but the other part of me just thinks, this is the economy right now; deal with it. Maybe it's a little of both.