We are packed and moved out. All of our stuff, except for a hearty month’s worth of June Gloom-appropriate clothes in luggage bound for San Diego after a few days with my in-laws in rural Connecticut, is in a storage unit in New Haven while we wait to move to our new adventure.
Moving stinks. It just is the worst. I don’t even want to think about how we have to do this again 1) a month from now and 2) a year from now. We are exhausted and I didn’t even do much, if any, heavy lifting thanks to some chivalrous Saturday sacrifices from three of our manliest friends.
I am exhausted, however, by trying to pack with a toddler. You know that video going around Facebook of the stay-at-home mom who gets nothing done because her baby immediately pulls clean clothes out of the dryer or sets fire to things or whatever? That was this week, but without the quirky music. In lieu of another wordy nostalgic post about our magical first apartment, I give you a photo set of Christopher, being helpful.
Being helpful in the kitchen
Being helpful in the living room. Just getting the paper towels ready for cleaning.
Being helpful in the dining room. Always prepared for the movers with seasonal allergies.
Being helpful in the kitchen redux.
Being most helpful of all: giving his parents an opportunity to throw all qualms about screen time to the wind for thirty minutes of Thomas-induced stupor.
Shout out to Martha who was actually helpful in relieving us of Mr. Grump for a bit on Saturday morning. I’m so thankful for the friends around us. This weekend would have involved far more stress crying without them.
I’m going to go pass out now. Godspeed to all you movers and shakers out there.
Chris and I wanted to do something fun (and cheap) for Memorial Day so we started brainstorming things to do in southern Connecticut. I recently came into some money (my mother-in-law slipped me a ten) and it was burning a hole in my pocket, smoldering in anticipation of some treats or books. I suggested Niantic, home of the charming and extensive used book store, the Book Barn. We had been once before in undergrad on a spring break trip to New Haven and I had been daydreaming about it ever since. (Those wild and crazy college years.)
Leaving our reception at Georgetown – Karen Race Photography
It’s our second anniversary today. I’m feeling a definite combination of “has it really been?” and “it has been only?”. We’ve done a lot in two years: moved cities, started jobs and degrees, had a baby, swam the Tiber.
There’s no one else with whom I’d rather
eat too many treats
watch the latest discovery from the Yale Film Study Center
attempt to do housework
clean barf off of our child
dream about the future
kneel before the Lord
Karen Race Photography
Happy anniversary, my one and only love.
Linking up with Kelly for Seven Quick Takes this week. Spoilers for the Mad Men series finale follow.
Original Picture: Justina Mintz/AMC
I spent much of last week catching up on Mad Men so I could watch the series finale. I have no idea why I stopped watching the show when I did, which was around the middle of season five. My mom described every episode as a short story and it is so true. I love the intricacies of the story, the costumes, and the characters.
But I was so underwhelmed by the finale. Maybe it’s just that finales inevitably stink, giving resolution when part of enjoying a television show is the lack of it. (See: Lost)
Warning: many words ahead.
I’m over at Fare Forward today with a review of Leah Libresco’s new book, Arriving at Amen:
Her exposition of Peter’s bold failures and reliance on grace unifies the encouragement to pray she gives in each chapter into a rallying cry against perfectionism. I found it personally encouraging, especially in my current stage of life, which is marked by diaper changes interrupting the mysteries of the Rosary and a toddler roaming the aisles during Mass. “It should be reassuring to us that Christ chose a man who struggled in discipleship to lead his Church,” she writes. “A man who started at sainthood would be a strange model for the Church as a whole; the Body of Christ is certainly composed of sinners who follow Christ haltingly, with our hearts often divided.” And it is reassuring that God’s mercy extends even to our halting prayers in every stage of our movement toward Him.
Go read the rest!
We took a road trip to DC last weekend to see two of our best friends graduate from Georgetown. I had the alma mater stuck in my head from the moment we came in on Canal Road and saw Healy Tower’s “spires and steeples gleaming.” And though we are loyal fellows up at Yale, we did minimal bragging and boasting about our Boola-Boola.
Road tripping with a thirteen month-old is an experience, to say the least. Somehow a five-hour drive became a nine-hour one on the way down. A Chick-Fil-A stop followed by a brief vomit-related catastrophe off the New Jersey Turnpike may have had something to do with it. There may have also been some friendly bickering about the proper name of Interstate 95. I maintain all freeways need the definitive article, “the.” Continue reading
I checked my Goodreads and was confused as to why I had only finished one book since finishing Bring Up the Bodies and my last Quick Lit post; however, my confusion was short-lived because I remembered I am still only 63% through the doorstop (even on my Kindle it seems heavy) that is The Goldfinch by Donna Tartt. Continue reading