Flight of the Hatzs

Ferris and I bolted from Pocasmello and left Eva behind with the grandparents. We're now in Sun Valley basking in the unfettered gloriousness that is also known as LIFE WITHOUT A BITE-SIZED TURD DRIVING ME CRAZY. If you're ever in Sun Valley, please do yourself a solid and have dinner at The Pioneer Saloon. It's a bare bones steak house that lets the meat do the talking. I rarely eat steak but allowed myself to indulge in the petite fillet mignon while Ferris had the prime rib. Then we topped it off with a mud pie mud slide giant berg of coffee ice cream deliciousness. The server said the Oreo crust was the best part, but I feel STRONGLY that the one inch layer of dark Carmel topping was the epitome of decadence. I have no recent memory of ever being this full...stuffed...barely able to move. Seriously, I had to walk to and from the car with my back arched and belly distended to accommodate the extra luggage.

In honor of our parental escape, I'm posting a video of Eva and me singing songs yesterday morning just before we left. She's in such an amazing stage of cuteness mixed with devil. Check out 0:44 when she flaps her tongue to enunciate the letters between L and P. Explosion of cuteness.

ABCDEFGHIJKLMNOPQRSTUVWXYZ from Stephanie on Vimeo.

Highlights

Bombing down a snowy hill in a rickety sled with Eva tucked against my chest.

Back country snow machines with Ferris. Getting stuck up to our wastes in powder. Burning 1,300 calories trying to get out.

Getting my ass handed to me by my entire family playing Bishop's Bridge.

Handing their asses right back at guitar hero.

Conversation with my parents wherein I start to cry when talking about the injustices against the gay community. I was disproportionately passionate. They listen intently and shed a few tears themselves.

Reconnecting with a dear, dear friend who I haven't seen in 9 years. She now has a handsome husband and two beautiful children. We look at each other in awe.

Standing in line at TJ Max in Pocasmello eavesdropping on a conversation between the cashier and the patron in front of me. The patron tells the cashier she planned to do all of her shopping today in an effort to stay away from the TV. She wanted absolutely nothing to do with the black liberal whose middle name is Hussein. I realize I'm not in Kansas anymore.

Sitting next to Ferris, cuddling with Eva during Rick Warren's inaugural invocation. I am surprised and pleased with his poignant words.

Goose bumps and absolute joy listening to John William's 'Air and Simple Gifts'. Mesmerized as Yo Yo Ma sways and smiles and looses himself in the moment.

Aretha Franklin....period.

Ferris and I disagree, adamantly, about the success of Obama's speech. I am pleased and inspired. Ferris thinks he played it safe. Ferris thinks he should have said, "He was not born in a manger, but he was born in the inn next door. Now lets get to work."

He is our new president. He is poised and clearly overwhelmed by the magnitude of this moment. This moment is bigger than him, yet he is the conduit in which it is happening. I do not envy his task, but I am hopeful.

Lil-bit-o-snow

Tomorrow morning our little family is boarding a jet plane headed straight for Pocasmello. We managed to avoid the Christmas gas, but I packed a week's worth of Tums just in case.

P.S. Eva loves Halle.

The family-fueled Christmas fart

Something has come over me and it's starting to get seriously irritating. I'm feeling decent amounts of contentment and happiness which my psyche has absolutely no idea how to compute. Let me explain.

The last few weeks have been a beautiful blur. And when I say 'blur', I'm not referring to time that goes by too quickly. I'm talking about a blur of nondescript days filled with equal parts laziness, productivity, happiness, sadness, stress, ease, decadence, and total peace.

Christmas was sweet (sweet as in nice AND sweet as in radical). We woke up in our home, together, opening mountains of gifts...each one, big and small, representing more thoughtfulness and love than the last. I'm loath to admit I truly missed my 52 nut job relatives in Pocasmello. What is Christmas without hours in the airport, delays, family quarrels, sleep deprivation, regression, endless family events, copious amounts of bad food, and the subsequent gas? That's the real problem, right? Christmas without family-fueled suicidal farts just doesn't feel like Christmas at all.

And then Bimbo, my baby sister, got married. A week before Christmas I got a call while I was at work from My Mother the Prude with the news that Bimbo planned to semi-elope the following week...meaning she was planning a very small affair just after Christmas. I immediately called my baby sister so I could shower her with the happiness and affection I genuinely felt for her and the perfect mate she chose. It was the best decision of her whole life. Then, I quietly put the phone down on my desk and started to cry. Happiness, loneliness, joy, pain, sadness, sorrow, grief, pride, respect, frustration, anger, love. These are the things relationships with my family consist of. My heart ached because I couldn't be there. My heart ached because even if I were there, I wouldn't be allowed in the temple where she got married because I'm not of that Mormon caliber. My heart ached because I was so very, very happy for her.

I ached.

Through the ache, I went home and hugged Eva, canoodled Ferris, and settled into my lovely nest in Portland as we prepared for the beautiful blur of Christmas and the approaching new year.

So, why do I feel so much contentment and happiness amid such complex events? Because everything is just as it should be. I am meant to be here, in Portland in this house with these people doing exactly what I'm doing...just as my family is meant to be there, in Pocasmello in their homes with their people doing exactly what they're doing.

It's bitterly cold tonight, but that didn't stop Eva and I from bundling up and braving the elements for a quiet walk along the water near our house. Each time the water lapped against the salty frozen ocean shore it became increasingly clear that my life has found a longed-for balance. We rounded a bend on the walk that placed us in front of a group of ducks (crazy badass winter ducks) waddling around in a group searching for the warmest position. Eva pointed and babbled about the 'quacks' and demanded to stay longer than I would have liked. Breathing around the snot icicles formed on the tip of my nose, I looked up and saw three small ducks huddled together, heads down, drifting in a circle near the shore. Perhaps a family. Perhaps those ducks would stay extra warm because they decided to brave it together.

And thus brings the theme that will inspire my New Years Intentions for 2009. I've spent my entire life trying to fortify my surroundings, much like the family of ducks, in order to survive and weather the storm. Through it all, I've learned that the storms will always exist, but I have surrounded myself with people who love and protect me (here and there). With this in mind, I've decided to approach this year with reckless abandon.

More to come.

A delicate balance

As much as I love living in Maine, I often get a knot in my stomach when I think about how far Eva is from her Grandparents in Pocasmello. I grew up in the same town as my grandparents. I knew both of my great-grandmothers very well. Eva is named after one of them. Eva, the great-grandmother, was Lula's mom. Lula is my grandma, my dad's mom. Lula is also the namesake and inspiration for my photography business. There's a pattern in my life no matter how fast and far I try to run. Don't worry, my therapist is all over it.

With the extra room in the new house, I finally have space to display the coolest stuff in my possession. My dad spent some time in Japan on a Mormon mission when he was younger and brought back a full set of Noritake china for his mom. By some miracle of lovely fate, they now live in a rickety wooden hutch in my dining room in Maine. Each time I walk by, I take a little glance over and smile. Eva may live far away from the people that love her, but she will always be surrounded by things that bring that love into our home.