Houston, Texas girl stationed with my Coastie in New England ... Mommy to a rowdy little boy and a lovely little girl ... sports fanatic (esp. my Fightin' Texas Aggies) ... foodie ... drinker of wine (and beer and tequila) ... passionate about cookie decorating and photography ....
Lord grant me wisdom of heart to see, The difference in duty and love for me. Give me the understanding to know, When duty calls, that he must go. Give me a task to do each day, To fill the months when he's away. And Lord, when duty is in the field, Please protect and be his shield.
Way too many memories to even attempt to re-cap right now, but I think the most important thing I'm leaving with right now is that we (me, Ty and A) have a better grip on things now -- though nowhere near a perfect or ideal situation, life doesn't seem to be as frazzled and confused as it was before. Aidan will understand where Daddy is now, and not think he's on every airplane we see fly overhead. And I'll know that he's surrounded by good people (though none that can take care of him [or fuss at him] like I can).
I'm not nearly as resentful of "this place" here on the far northern Washington coast. In fact, I've learned to appreciate its quirkiness, mixed in with its beauty and laughter. In fact, I'll think very fondly of it.
Don't get me wrong -- I can't wait for some breakfast tacos and time with my family and friends back home in the Lone Star state, but I'll miss this time dearly.
Well, not really. But it's felt that way at times.
I love campfires (who doesn't?) ... especially the smells. A good campfire can awaken all senses -- the crackling of burning wood, the glowing embers deep within, the warmth it gives off, and the explosion of different colors as it smolders and grows. But for me, it's all about the smell.
I'm a smell girl. I have an extremely sensitive sniffer. Sometimes that's a good thing, often times it's a curse. For me, the slightest whiff can invoke more memories from the past than a vivid snapshot in a photo album.
Which brings me back to campfires. I adore the smell. So many memories: A burning fire that we kept alive for days on a family reunion trip to the Texas Hill Country. Year after year, the gorgeous and exciting smell of Aggie Bonfire smoldering from miles away. Sitting around a toasty fire with a glass of scotch on the back porch at my daddy's house. So many wonderful times.
Last night, we built our second campfire up here in Forks. And the beauty of it was, it was cold enough to really appreciate! How often is that the case in July? So, so great. And holding my son as he fell asleep last night, breathing in the smokey scent of his soft little three-year-old hair was as close to Heaven for me as it gets.
I love to cook pretty much any type of food ... appetizers, main courses, desserts, you name it. But I'm not much of a baker. The whole process involving absolute measurements intimidates me.
After a day of picking fresh berries in Washington state yesterday, we ended up with a bucket full of ripe strawberries and loganberries (similar to large raspberries). To let them go bad seemed sacrilegious. So the best option seemed to be to bake a pie.
I found a Bobby Flay recipe for Whidbey Island Loganberry Pie which sounded perfect. I mean, how can you go wrong with Bobby Flay? So I combined both types of berries and whipped up something that looks to be a great sweet concoction!
I have no idea why, but I've been wanting to make a fresh berry pie since arriving up here a few weeks ago, and now I've done it. So cool.
Who knows what's next -- fresh bread? A triple-layer iced cake? Nah. Think I'll just stick with the pie.
Anyone who has ever read my blog, or even remotely knows me, is probably aware of my Twilight addiction ... and I'm not talking the teeny bopper lust over Rob Pattinson or Taylor Lautner either (although I could eat both of those boys with a spoon) -- I'm talking about the Twilight story.
For several reasons that I've stated and written about in the past, the plot, setting and characters of Stephenie Meyer's now famous series is very special to me (thanks, Bella B!). So spending my summer vacation this year in Twilight land (aka Forks, Washington) is better than any Carribbean cruise or European tour.
The vampire and werewolf capitalists in this area have definitely taken advantage of the market -- seems like every local establishment in the general Forks vicinity has at least one store corner dedicated to Twilight. It's funny and worthy of a few snapshots.
But the absolute best part of being up here is the stunning beauty of the land and the ocean. It's powerful and gorgeous, and exactly how I imagined it, only better. When the clouds roll in over the mountains in the distance, I close my eyes and almost see Edward's shiny Volvo pulling in the drive. And driving out to La Push and spending time on the beach is almost a religious experience!
At night, I curl up with a Meyer novel (right now I'm reading Eclipse for the fourth time) and smile. There's just something magical reading about the Treaty Line and knowing that it's right outside my door. So, so cool.
Spending time with my son and hubby is priceless and second-to-none. Our little family is together and whole, if only temporarily. So far, Aidan's biggest thrill has been throwing rocks into the tidepools and rivers. However, there have been countless times this trip that I've also wished my Twilight girls were here with me. It's a giddy experience meant to be shared.
As much as I've resented Forks for the past year or so, I'm learning to enjoy and appreciate it's secrets and charm. The people are friendlier than I imagined, and the natural beauty surpasses any postcard.