Check out this week’s You Capture challenge for more kisses!
happy valentine’s day (and chinese new year)!
For two people who didn’t really make plans for Valentine’s Day, we sure did find a way to have a decadent time. We spent the morning lazing about with breakfast in bed, involving smoked salmon and smoked oysters, english muffins and cream cheese, coffee, mimosas, and strawberries and cream. Then we headed the call of a gorgeous Santa Barbara day and went to Alice Keck Park, a small botanical garden where we got married a year and a half ago.

We took photos of each other.
And photos of turtles
I have a special affinity for turtles.
Here they are storming the beaches of Normandy.
Or something. They’re vicious little beasties too! One would try to scramble up, only to be knocked down with a little plop! back into the water.
Then this guy:

would follow this guy around trying to nip him in the ass.

Animals are entertaining.

Then we wandered some more around downtown. Had crushcake cupcakes. Watched Up In The Air. Played a little wii. And now we’re off to dinner. Let no one say we can’t find love in unexpected places.
(This tree reminded me of a heart. Can you see it too?…or is it just me?)
you capture – color
In this week’s challenge, Beth asked us to show the world some color “during these bleak winter months” – and that really stuck with me. It made me think of what it’s like to find a splash of happy color, in a place where color has gone away.
A bright spot on a cold and stormy day:

A sanctuary from pouring rain:

Little splashes of happiness

Springing up, kind of like hope

When everywhere else, all you see are shades of grey.

But I also have to include this:
Because there’s no hope without coffee.
For more color, check out this week’s You Capture challenge at I Should Be Folding Laundry.
confession
The past year has been a little rough on me. It was the first year of my husband’s and my marriage, which while blissful, is a transition. But add on top of that another shift for me: I had decided to take the year off of teaching to focus on getting my dissertation research done. I was in the data collection phase, which required doing a lot of interviews and observations “in-the-field”, thus requiring a flexible schedule that teaching just did not allow. We’re very fortunate that my husband makes enough for us to afford me not having a salary for a year without too much financial strife.
But I did feel a heavy, heavy emotional burden. In ways I didn’t even articulate to myself, I felt I was a burden. My husband didn’t do anything to cause this per se. This was guilt I put on myself. Since leaving my parents’ home, I’ve always brought in my own salary. Through college, I weaned myself off their financial support and slowly built up my own financial independence. Money isn’t important to me, but somehow the fact that I make money for myself meant a great deal to me. It meant I was independent, strong, capable, responsible. It made me feel good about myself (or at least contributed to my sense of self-worth).
But this year of not only not making money, but also incurring student loan debt on top of that as I finish my degree, made me feel like an incredible financial burden. And in ways I didn’t totally articulate in my head, I tried to “make up for it” by doing more around the house: more than my share of cooking, cleaning, doing laundry, washing dishes…to “earn my keep”. Trouble was, it’s not like I wasn’t working at all. I was still working on my research, writing, and keeping a fairly full schedule…and then doing all the household work on top of it.
My mom and my husband’s stepmom both saw something was afoot and warned me several times that in marriage you can’t think of money as “his money” or “her money”, but as “our money”. But none of this really made an impression on me. I agreed, but that did nothing to assuage my feelings of guilt that I wasn’t putting in my fair share. And because I didn’t feel I was putting in my share, I cut back on as much of my extra expenses as I could: I stopped getting haircuts, I stopped wearing more than a minimum of makeup, I stopped going to yoga, and so on. Meanwhile, my husband freely bought the things he wanted (within reason, of course). If there was something he knew I wanted, he had no problem buying it for me (so generous, I thought in my head). And so he believed his wife wanted for nothing. Except that if I had a desire for something, I had to ask him to help me buy it: in essence, I had to ask his permission. So on top of the guilt feelings, I also had a deep sense of male patriarchy and inequality in our relationship.
Even after I started teaching again, I kept up the patterns that had started to develop. And that’s when the burden really began to add up. I became grumpy, disenchanted, and positively sour. A serious expression was my default face. My husband’s stepmom even tried to offer to help out financially so I wouldn’t have to teach…because she could see I was changing. I wasn’t the same person anymore. My parents started getting concerned. Finally, over Christmas, my mom had me watch a film called “The Human Face” with John Cleese (if you have Netflix, you should really look it up – it’s fascinating, funny, and less than an hour long). This film was all about how our facial expressions have subconscious effects on our relationships. She said I always used to smile, and she wanted me to watch this because I’d lost my smile.
I didn’t think very directly about all this after watching the film, but I know something was happening underneath. I’d finally had enough of my self-imposed burden. Shortly after the new year, I talked to my husband about it. We talked it through and he simply said I cannot and should not feel guilty, that this is what marriage is about, it’s sharing, and it’s helping each other when we need help and not feeling like we owe each other like tallies on a tally sheet. I don’t know if it was what he said, or if I was just finally ready to hear it, but ever since then, I haven’t felt guilty and I haven’t felt unequal. And we’ve reasserted fair shares of the household chores back to the way we used to do it.
And I’m making greater efforts to smile, and discovering my smile comes back easily again.
I think this speaks partly to the new generation of feminism: figuring out the proper roles, since they are no longer defined for us. Before society told us what was fair and what duties belonged to whom. Now we have to negotiate that for ourselves. It gives us greater freedom, on both sides in a way, but with freedom comes the need for communication and negotiation. Part of the negotiation is with our partners in life, and part of it is with ourselves, so that we can let go the burdens we try to carry, even when they’re too much, even when they’re of our own making.
What have I learned from this?
Marriage Lesson #1: Learn to share, and that sharing means knowing how to give and to receive.
Life Lesson #3,486: Sometimes we smile because we feel happy. Sometimes we smile in order to feel happy.
you capture – love around the home
There are things around my house that I would grab first in a fire, like my wedding photo album, my Macbook or my kindle because these things all contain bytes and jpegs of information that are irreplaceable (or at least inordinately costly to replace). And having seen three fires within eyeshot of our apartment in one year alone, I’ve had plenty of test for this claim. I’m not attached to these things; I’m attached to what they contain and what they do for me.
However, assuming the house is not actually burning at the moment and I have at least some time to pack, there are some things I have that bring the sunrise of a smile to my face when I take a minute to look at them.
Things like the vintage accents I’ve added in the Great Remodel of ‘09:


Or they’re things people I love have given me. Like this little guy:
Sitting in front of my favorite books (bonus points to the first person to recognize them!), he brings a smile to my face and reminds me of my mother. She gave him to me, and the funny thing is, he isn’t even a childhood gift. She gave him to me when I was in college, clearly long after I had given up stuffed animals. Some people might be put off by such a gift. But I treasure him because, I think, in a way, he reminds me of the two of us, in the fact that we both find joy in the simple things and that neither of us are overly bound by convention.
Or my engagement and wedding rings:

Or clothing and accessories I got as gifts but fell in love with as if I’d gotten them myself. Like these red jacket:

Or this purple jacket:

With it’s gorgeous pattern and this fabulous pirate-style detail on the back:
(I’m a whore for jackets, can you tell?)
And sometime it’s not things that make me smile, so much as sights.
Like the sight of our bathroom tile. (This makes me smile – backslash laugh, backslash cry.)
I really want to know what whoever thought this was a good idea for a color combination was smoking, because that there must be some GOOD s—. Of course, the story behind this is even better.
But then there is also this:
The sight of a glorious sky after a downpour.
These everyday things are special not because they were expensive, newfangled status symbols (though they can be). They are special because they make connections to things intangible: to thoughts, to ideas, to memories, and most importantly, people we love. Part of their beauty may be aesthetic beauty, but more often it’s the beauty they bring to our hearts and minds.
That kind of beauty is all at once everyday and rare.
For more love around the home, check out this week’s You Capture challenge at I Should Be Folding Laundry.
today my daddy sent me this
“Invictus“
by
William Ernest Henley (1849–1903).
Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.
In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.
Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds and shall find me unafraid.
It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.
This is but one of the many reasons why I love my father.
you capture – red
The color red encompasses so many things:
from lust, passion, excitement, and love – oh, above all else, love -

to caution, rage and anger, and anger’s patron: fear. The red haze of fear.

Isn’t it interesting how red encapsulates such disparate concepts as love and fear?
But perhaps the true irony is how often love and fear go hand in hand.
To love someone means to protect them: to defend them from harm…but also to prevent ourselves from losing them.
And isn’t it strange the things we do when we are afraid?
We fear difference because we fear the possibility we might be wrong. So ‘Love Thy Neighbor’ becomes ever more difficult as the perceived differences and distances between neighbors increase.
When we fear infidelity, what do we do? We invade privacy; we curtail liberty. We read through emails, sneak into cell phone data, we snoop and we spy. We do this to our loved ones at home as well as to our fellow Americans and fellow citizens of the world.
When we fear our significant other is about to leave us, what do we do? We leave them first. When we fear being hurt, we push others away. We shut them out and wall ourselves off. We cause our own loneliness and isolation to prevent someone else from committing the act of leaving us alone.
We withdraw our love to preempt the possibility that we might be unloved.
Sometimes we even tell ourselves we do not deserve love, so it might not hurt so much if we are ever proved right.
Fear is strong, it is compelling, whether it is fear for the sanctity of our bodies or of our hearts.
So the challenge, then, is how to love, even in the face of fear. The challenge is to shed the walls of anger and distrust and to find the courage to take a leap of faith and give out love, even when we are afraid.
To see what others have captured in red, head over to Beth’s website, I Should Be Folding Laundry, and check out this week’s You Capture challenge.
P.S. Did anybody else get Pearl Jam’s “Better Man” stuck in their head with this challenge? “She dreams in color, she dreams in red…can’t find a better man. Can’t find a better man….” Sorry. I’ll stop now.

“still in peaceful dreams i see…
…the road leads back to you”
This was my first attempt at an I Heart Faces entry. Check out I Heart Faces for more (and better) “Completely Candid” shots!
(Lyrics quoted from “Georgia on My Mind”)
you capture – macro up close and personal
Love is in the little things.
It is in held hands on a Sunday stroll.

In shared tales after a long day,

In the first kiss of the morning and the last kiss at night.

It’s in coffee brewed and meals created,

In bills paid and groceries bought.

It’s in the honey-dos and every-days.
And it’s in the pitter-patter of our hearts
Even when our minds are too busy for our ears to listen.
For more shots up close and personal, check out Beth’s website at I Should Be Folding Laundry.
Here’s to finding the little bits of love in our lives.

this is what it means to heal
“We know who we are and define what we are by references to the people we love and our reasons for loving them….I’d lost my closest friends and with them I’d lost the mark on the psychic map that says You Are Here.” -Gregory David Roberts, Shantaram
Five years ago, I lost my husband – or rather, I should say, we lost each other. Everything I thought I knew about love and relationships came crashing down around my ears in that moment, and I was left crying and bleeding on the cold tiled bathroom floor. All I could think was “This is the sound of my heart breaking. This is what heartbreak feels like.” It was then that I learned what strength meant, what it required, and what I had in me to endure.
It took nearly a year, a phone call, a few soul-searching letters, and a midnight conversation on a pier overlooking the ink black ocean before we found each other again. Even then, I think our souls recognized each other before our wary minds and jaded hearts did. Because heartbreak changes you. When it happens to you, you are never the same again.
It took two more years before I found a place where I could say I had healed. There are scars still, a few ghost twinges of pain remembered, but I finally felt we had rebuilt something new: something so much stronger, and so much deeper, that I could trust it for a lifetime.
Because forgiveness is not something you easily or automatically have; you flip a switch and suddenly it’s there. It’s a choice you make every day: a choice between grumbling over the hurts of the past, or dealing with what’s in front of you here and now. It’s not always the big traumas that doom a relationship. Often it’s the little things we do every day that either strengthen or undermine the bond between ourselves and others.
Commitment is not just a promise you make on your wedding day. It’s also a choice you make every day. Sometimes the choice is so easy you never even think of it. It can be as simple as picking up the phone, picking up the kids, or picking up the socks from the floor. Or it can be as difficult and profound as the right words at the right time, an embrace when it’s most needed, or sticking through the rough patches to reach the sun on the other side.
When you lose someone you love, it is like losing the magnetic pull on the compass of who you are. But sometimes being lost for a time is necessary. Becoming truly lost means you finally know who you are when everything else is stripped away. That way, when you begin again, you know what is real. It gives you the strength you need to make a leap, to love someone when all you have is hope, and trust when all you have is faith.
The second time around you are stronger. Wiser. More thoughtful. And all that was, was worthwhile, to have what you have now. Finding out that the love you thought was lost has actually been with you all the while, and moreover, that the love is better and deeper than you ever believed love could be is like getting a glimpse of the Eternal. It is something too powerful to be felt completely, all at once.
So I do the only thing I can. I celebrate it in little pieces, every day.









