Happy Halloween

The Crazy Part

The crazy part about us moving to Houston is that it felt like a difficult decision to say no to moving to Angola.  Some of our Canadian friends were surprised that I would be up for Angola, but that's because they haven't known me for very long.  They know me as the girl who does not like to hike, and that mistake that quality for a lack of interest in adventure.  They don't understand that I view cultural adventure as more engaging and more worthy of discomfort than physical adventure.  I don't want to climb the mountain just for the sake of the climbing the mountain, but if the mountain is blocking the path to something else I want, then I will do it.  I think it must be the same reason why marathons little appeal for me, in spite of the fact that I like to run several times a week.

Mom's Cookies

Pretty Pre-Departure Fall

I'm Never Moving to Houston

When my husband and I got together, it was clear that for most people in his company, and indeed, many in his line of work, all roads lead, eventually, to Houston.  The idea was horrifying to both of us.  Louisiana, fine, but Houston?  We had to draw the line somewhere.  Houston represented (in our minds) everything that we found abhorrent and disappointing about American culture.  The Bush debacle.  Urban sprawl.  Outrageous heat.  Gun-loving Bible people.  Big hair and country club life.  We laughed at our little private joke.  Houston, the very idea.  So when we got engaged, and he continued working in oil, my general message was, "I'm so thrilled for our life together, our partnership, and I love you very much, but I just want you to know that I'm never moving to Houston."

Yesterday I was Houston, Today I'm Luanda

I'm not as easily flummoxed by major life decisions as I am by the ones I face in the course of normal daily life.  I fret about farm conditions involved in cheese production when I buy a block of cheddar, but not so much about a career change.  It's a quirk of my genetic makeup which has been put in stark relief by circumstances of my married life.

However, Houston vs. Luanda (See No-Plans Plan if you're confused) has me stumped.  Only one other decision, the question of whether or not to procreate, has provoked such utter indecision in my heart.  I spend a few days imagining life in Houston, which used to be impossible to picture but is growing on me.  Then, I wake up and overnight, I have shifted into an obsessive curiosity about the Luandan adventure, which lasts a day or two, before Houston hijacks my imagination once more.  I have no illusions of life in Luanda being easy or glamorous, but still, I can't completely shake it off.

No-Plans Plan

The most challenging aspect of living with oil and gas, for me, has been the absolute unpredictability with regard to schedule and life-planning.  For a while I assumed that my husband just wasn't that great at planning because he is a man, a theory which was supported by years of dating other men.  But time has gone by, and I notice that it's not just him.  The people from whom he gets his schedule information are usually also days, weeks, and even months off target.  Again, I can't lie, I attributed this to the fact that his is an industry run largely by men.  It seemed plausible that if men were bad at planning and time calculations, then an industry made up of thousands of men would produce schedules and predictions that were totally off.  On the other hand, I may have to cut him, and them, some slack, because I have also learned that everything hinges on wells.

Where Am I Wearing? by Kelsey Timmerman

I wasn't sure about this book at first.  The author's professional background is not in fashion or textiles, or even research, which is not the end of the world, as it's hard to find fashion writing which is engaging at an intellectual level.  However, the tone in the book is light; a little bit "Watch what happens now", almost like you find on a wild animal taming program or a bloopers video show.  However, he completely won me over by writing a balanced and accessible book about people and factories that produce our clothes.

4th Anniversary

Just before my husband and I got married, we received this letter in the mail from my nephew, who had not been in school very long yet at the time.  It hangs on the wall in our bedroom, and makes me smile whenever I sound it out.

Canadian Thanksgiving

The second Monday in October is Canadian Thanksgiving.  Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday; it is only food, family, friends, gratitude and relaxing, in equal and copious amounts.  This was our second Thanksgiving in Canada, and the second time we were invited into the home of Canadians to share the holiday.  I was pleased, and grateful.  There was a ton of food and copious amounts of laughter.  The meal included turkey, potatoes, cranberry sauce, salads and pumpkin pie, just as it would be at home.  We also had an amazing pear crisp, and peanut butter and chocolate cupcakes, among other treats.  We have heard a rumor that these friends may be able to join us for the American version of the holiday later this fall, so our fingers are crossed.

More Ginger

Canada Plus The New Yorker Equals

"Work" Shirt

Alabama Chanin Studio Style pattern + old tee shirts + one week = new shirt

The Miracle of Modern Clothing

I started thinking about the unsustainability of my shopping habits in my mid 20s.  I knew that I shopped too much, leaned too hard on the excitement of new clothes.  It seemed effective, though, and I have always loved clothes, so it was a hard habit to shift.  At the time, I was working to eat healthier, eliminate toxins from my beauty routine and be healthier in most areas of my life, but I was stumped by my closet.  At my grocery store, I could trace the origins of many foods, but what about my clothes?  I worried most about labor: unsafe factories who knew where, and children chained to sewing machines.  I worried also about chemicals in the fabric dyes, and what were all of those new fibers that I had never heard of listed on the tags?