Tag Archives: memories

The candy collection

Hello everyone! I have just returned from a fantastic trip to the North Woods. I have stories, meditations, and recipes galore just waiting to be slammed into post after post. While I wrap my mind around the blogging material I have come home with and try to wrestle it into compact and coherent little bites, I present you with this small foray into my past and my twisted little 7-year-old brain. Because I know everyone’s interested in all the little quirks and squiggledy-diggledies that were zipping around in my grey matter 20 years ago. Um, right?

I’ve already talked about how I’m a huge delayed gratification girl. I’d like to delve into the roots of this problem as part of my ongoing blog-therapy. One of the astounding examples of this behavior in my youth was the candy collection I kept in my room.

When I was 7, we lived in Madrid. In school, when a kid’s birthday rolled around it was customary for him/her to bring a brimming bag of candy for each classmate. Given the number of kids in my 2nd grade class, there was candy flowing all year long, baby. My parents had never really bought us candy. In fact, we weren’t even allowed to eat any candy until we were school age (with minor exceptions, one photographed below), so this was a big treat for me–so big that I couldn’t bear the thought of just eating the candy outright, because then it would be gone. So I saved it. I had a blue tray and a pink tray that stacked on top of each other, and distributed all my candy between the two. As the year progressed, my stash of candy got bigger and bigger. And this is the crux of the story: I never ate a single piece. I’m sure my dentist was thankful that this psychological aberration played to his advantage, but what does it say about the kind of person that I am??

At some point in the future, it all had to be thrown away—the marshmallows (‘jamones’) had become leathery, shriveled pink things; the chips were stale, the hard candies had melted and become one with their cellophane wrappings, etc.

Years later, it was brought to my attention that 2 certain young girls had been stealing from my stash all along. If I had discovered them back in the day, I don’t know what kind of hellfire I would have raised, but now that I am a more well-seasoned individual, I can say I’m just glad that it didn’t all go to waste. Plus, look at how cute they were, the little offenders.

The guilty parties on either side of the candy collector, circa 1989

Offender #2 indulging in her love of candy

In fact, searching for evidence to explain the obsessive saving habits I engaged in, I came across this picture that illustrates it perfectly. Heidi is in the forefront, having already gulped down half her candy. In fact, she is in mid-chew. Erica is proudly displaying the big bite she took out of her candy . . .

A photograph of the psychological aberration

. . . and I’m in the background, carefully holding the candy between my teeth without taking a bite. As soon as that picture was taken, you’d better believe I whisked that chocolate out of my mouth and put it in my sock drawer for perpetuity. In fact, I should check my sock-drawer for its fossil–the Field Museum might be interested. And donations to museums are tax-deductible, right?

Now I’m trying to undo years and years of hard-wired patterns so that I can enjoy things as they come. If I had just learned this lesson 20 years ago, I can’t imagine how different my life would have been. Like, for one thing, my teeth would have rotted out of my head, which in turn would have caused my wedding pictures to really suck since I would only have black tooth-stumps lining my grin. And I would have been too hyped on sugar to do my homework, so I would have failed out of school, losing the opportunity to move on to 3rd grade. But I sense we’re getting off track. The gist of the matter is: what good is that pretty dress if I’m saving it for a special occasion that never arrives? What good is that bag of frozen shrimp if I’m saving it for a special dinner party that doesn’t happen? Wear the pretty dress! Eat the shrimp! Mark my words: life itself is the special occasion. Every day is a gift that we should be grateful for. Enjoy it now! Don’t let your marshmallows go stale.*

*This is in no way an endorsement of a lack of self-discipline of self-control. Side effects can include but are not limited to: wearing too many pretty dresses, eating untold quantities of shrimp, and overdosing on sugary products. If you experience any of these symptoms, please see your local psychologist, physician, and/or pastor.

The best week of 2009

We’re about to go on Family Vacation 2010! One week of peaceful retreat in the North Woods with my family and my Dad’s sister’s family. . . I can’t wait.

And I’m sorry–it’s not “Family Vacation;” it’s “Family Vacay.” A fruity HR character in the movie “Stranger Than Fiction” called it “vacay” and it was hilarious, so once I called it “vacay” as a passing joke. And suddenly, I find that I can’t actually say the full word “vacation” anymore. What was a passing joke became a permanent vocabulary ammendment. Please watch this movie and report back to me if it has the same effect on you.

The first Family Vacay was last year, and it was a Godsend. One year ago, my husband and I were about to move from Delaware to Chicago, and our apartment was a maze of boxes. Boxes which would shortly be loaded into this truck:

I was also in my last 2 weeks at a job that I can only describe as hellishly stressful. My boss (whose name I will not mention) was possibly bipolar, and had severe mood swings that took him from smiling to swearing in a matter of seconds. I only survived 3 years in that position because, well, you can do anything as long as there’s an end in sight (which was the end of my husband’s Masters program) and because of these two wonderful women:

Thank you Amanda and Lauren. Amanda, thank for every time we did Friday Fries (slathered in blue cheese and spicy sauce). Thank you for the Strawberry Daiquiri that one time that I really needed a drink. Thank you for encouraging me when I needed it–which was pretty much every day. And thanks for proofing my emails when I suspected they were getting a little emotional.

Anyway, my emotional strings were always wound tight when our boss was around, and I had to take frequent crying breaks in the bathroom. Especially when he threw or punched things. After years of working for him, my parched soul needed some refreshment, a time to let the peaceful hand of God restore my heart and pluck out the stress. So right before leaving that company, I exhumed my 5 remaining vacation days for Family Vacay 2009, a week of deep restoration and incredible change of pace. It was, in fact, the best week of that year by far.

This year finds me working for a great boss at a non-stressful job, but still ready to leave the noise and bustle of the city for a week. I had a nightmare just the other night, and in this nightmare the end of family vacay came and I realized I hadn’t once been kayaking. Apparently, deep down, that’s my greatest fear as family vacay approaches: that I will somehow forget to kayak.

Hah! When my nightmares resort to that, I know I am living a very stress-free life. And I love it.

The participants last year were:

Family #1: Mom and Dad, the 3 of us sisters, Heidi’s husband Mike, and my own hot little lovecakes man. Sadly, Heidi and Mike can’t make it this year because they just moved to Alaska. Aaargh! Stupid old Alaska. And Erica’s new husband Dave can’t make it because of his job. Aaargh! Stupid old job.

Family #2: My Dad’s sister Kathy and her husband Brian with their three kids, Luke (and his wife Kelsey), Steve (and his now wife Stephanie–you can read about their wedding here), and last but not least, Brianna.

And now let us revisit last year’s family vacay so that I can list the ingredients of this magic and restoring brew, in case you decide to mix one up for yourself:

Blokus

This is an amazing game. It will soon be getting its own post.

Kayaking

This was one of the highlights of the vacation for me. As we coasted around the lake, I felt like I was in the center of a vortex of peace. Here we are last year on the dock, and in the water:

Sailing

I owned that sailboat.

Just kidding, I was only in it once and did nothing at all to help do whatever needs to happen with the poles and strings to get it to go where you want.

And for the record, I was just pretending to fall out here:

Uncle Brian was the true master of sailing.

Cooking: dividing the duties

Last year there were 14 of us, so 2 people per day were in charge of getting groceries, cooking dinner and doing all the dishes. It worked out so well! That way no one got stuck with the whole grocery bill, or all the cooking and cleaning. Here is Luke, cooking his Pad Thai with intensity.

Paul Bunyan Fest

I don’t know what to say about this except that I saw no reference to Paul Bunyan anywhere. It just looked like a gathering of local and traveling craftspeople with their handmade soaps, paintings of wolves howling in the moonlight, and quilted granny vests.

We did pop into a number of antique stores, and considered purchasing Heidi’s wedding gown for her upcoming December matrimonial proceedings:

Beauty

As much time as I spend worrying about my appearance in my regular life (do these pants make my butt look kind of big? Wait, has my butt gotten bigger?! Oh my gosh what is happening to my butt and does it always look like this!?!?!), I didn’t worry about how I looked at all. Most days I kicked around in board shorts, a bandanna, and a tank top–with no make-up! By the grace of God, I was able to spend 100% of the time reveling in the peace in my heart and the natural beauty God had put around me. It was truly one of the miracles of the week for me. I’m working on making this my life policy #3, and progress is being made. I think. I hope.

Biking and jogging

Steve and Steph did a lot of jogging, the little athletes. And some biking. In fact, their whole family is ridiculously athletic. It would be sickening if they weren’t also so darn likeable. At one point, a small bear jogged next to Steve as he biked. Yeah, that’s the only reason I don’t jog–’cause it’s so darn dangerous.

Long talks

There was no rush and no schedule. Relationships were at the center of the week. We lingered around the breakfast table, lunch table, and dinner table. We drank coffee and reviewed the difficulties and blessings in our lives. . . which were sometimes one and the same.


The stars

We could see the stars! I don’t think I’ve seen stars for about a year. It’s amazing how beautiful they are. When I have the chance to gaze at them, I always get the shivers because they remind me of how small we are in the midst of this universe, and how amazing it is that the Creator of all this loves me. And knows how many hairs are on my head. I can’t even wrap my mind around it. The only thing to be done on a clear night on the lake is to stare and stare at that vast, bright expanse with your head flung back, tingling to your very soul.

The dock

A peaceful haven for reading, conversations, or a solitary cup of coffee.

On a side note . . . tomorrow is our 5th wedding anniversary. I’m trying to think of something eloquent to say, and instead it’s sounding like a mere line-up of cliches– “I can’t wait to spend the next 5 years with him,” “We’re more in love now than we were when we were first married,” “it just keeps getting better,” “he’s my best friend and my soul mate,” “I can’t wait to come home to him at the end of each day”–it’s giving me a literary headache just looking at them. I guess that’s why I’m a blogger and not a Nobel prize winning poet. But the thing is, all these cliches all true. I couldn’t be happier. Really. As in, I can’t imagine a situation in which I could possibly be any happier than I am now, with my man, here in Chicago, in this very apartment with its slow bathtub drain, its creaking floors and its paint-spattered, rattling windows. Here we are during last year’s family vacay at Paul Bunyan Fest . . .

. . . and I can’t wait to have 50 more Paul Bunyan Fests by his side. Over and out.