Three reasons why I love Ashley Mae.

1. Her lovely paintings of LDS temples, including this lovely painting of the Salt Lake Temple, where S and I were married. She very recently started a new etsy site, solely for her temple paintings. If you purchase a painting from this shop, 40% of the sale goes directly to the LDS Temple Patron Fund, which helps people go to the temple for the first time, who cannot otherwise afford it because the temple is too far away. Amazing, right? At this moment she is also holding a give away on her blog. Among other things, the winner gets to choose the next temple she will paint.

2. Her lovely personalized paintings. She gave this to me as a gift.

3. This lovely video, taken surreptitiously with her iphone. It also felt like a gift. The very best gift. I may have watched it on repeat after she first sent it to me, and again after our very bad accident of which I will write more about later.



I am not joking when I say Ash Mae is my favorite artist. Of anyone. At any time. She is a master of words and color and water.

Here is her watercolor of her own lovely family, including her husband Carl, who I have known and liked since I was 19, and her sweet baby Remy, who I have known and liked since I was 27. Three cheers for Ash Mae!

Airplane, airplane, take me home.

I fly across the sea soon. Tomorrow soon. And I still have one million things I would like to write about my Europe time, since I have written very little. For now, I will say that I am happy that I came, and happy (for the most part) that I am going back. There were a few weeks where we thought we were going to stay for an extended period of time, and that possibility was enough to make me appreciate the many good things (even some better things) we have here. Still, America is where I'm from. It is what I have judged all of my European experiences against.

Just a few things I am excited about in returning:
Christmas in January.
Warm, California weather.
Peanut butter.
Almond butter.
Trader Joe's licorice.
Trader Joe's in general.
Whole Foods.
Cheap tofu.
Cheap anything.
Mexican food.
Black beans.
An avocado tree calling my name.
A lemon tree calling my name.
Cheap bananas.
Hot chocolate.
Target, and being able to take care of many needs at one store.
That my debit card will always work.
English. Glorious, English!
School.
Bookstores and libraries with books that I can read.
Having more than five shirts to my name.
Hot water heaters lasting more than 10 minutes.
Places staying open past 2:00. Or 5:00. Or 7:00.
US dollars/absence of conversions or fees.
Electrical outlets fitting my gear.
Free restrooms.
Drinking fountains.
Claremont.
Family.
Friends.

Just a few things I will miss:
Cheap mozzarella balls. 55 euro cents!
That gouda is the "cheap" cheese.
Better yogurt.
Cheap ritter sports.
Cheap lindt.
Nimm 2's. A fabulous and addictive candy.
Bike lanes.
Public transportation.
Not needing a car.
Markets everywhere.
Christmas markets everywhere during Winter.
The faucet's water is very cold or very hot.
Formage Blanc.
Pastries.
Street food.
Racclette.
D'arbo jam. It is the best non-homemade jam I have ever had.
Castles.
Architecture in general.
Copenhagen in general.
Our International Ward.
German lessons.
Jovero family.
Meservy family.
Katherine and Eric (who beat us back to North America).
Others.

Happy Birthday, Samuel.

Samuel, it's your birthday. God bless you this day. You gave me the gift of a little brother, and I'm proud of you today. Samuel, it's your birthday. Happy birthday, Samuel. Samuel, it's your birthday. Happy birthday, Samuel. I wish you love and good will. I wish you praise and joy. I wish you better than your heart desires and a lemon cake with soy. Samuel, it's your birthday. Happy birthday, Samuel. Samuel, it's your birthday. Happy birthday, Samuel. Yeah!

Chekhov and Pushkin are also proud of you.

As is whoever you were texting.

Just picture me singing to you, okay?
 

Wedding Day, Pictured.

Jessica Peterson flew in from NYC to photograph us. I am so glad she did, and so sorry her flights were so terrible. These are a few of my favorite things (and by things, I mean pictures):

You may also see a few more here, on Jessica's blog, or one million more on my facebook, if you are my facebook friend. And for wedding day details, please see Wedding Day, Written.

Wedding Day, Written.

The person I wanted to do my hair was out of town, so I scheduled someone else from her salon instead. Unfortunately, that was not as good of an idea as it seemed. The woman didn't seem to know very much about hair, or bobby pins, or how to get them to stay in hair. Especially thick hair, which meant especially mine. She also didn't seem to understand my very simple instruction to do a low, side bun. For instance, her first attempt was a large, straight in the center of my head bun. I looked like a lopsided Princess Leia. And while I like Princess Leia and all, that wasn't quite the look I was going for on my wedding day. The hair appointment ran over. And I still had to get my makeup. And drive to Salt Lake City. There happened to be a wreck, or construction, or both. I should not have been surprised. This was Utah, after all. Needless to say, I was late. Needful to say, Spencer was more late. This was very frustrating at the time, because I had called him to let him know I would be coming late, and was counting on him to tell the temple workers I was on my way. Instead I was left to tell them that I hoped he was on his way. He didn't call. It was also frustrating, because exactly seven days before we had been late for my friend Hediyeh's sealing at the same space. The worker helping me find the correct room told me to make sure my fiance didn't get me to the temple late for my own wedding. Oops. Anyway, after waiting a little while longer, Spencer got there. We signed marriage papers. Our fathers witnessed us signing marriage papers. Our mothers (and my oldest sister) waited nearby. I went to the bridal room, and Spence to the men's room. (I actually have no idea what the men's room is like. Is it just a locker room?) The woman assigned to help me was the least kind person I have ever met inside a temple (i.e., maybe the only unkind person I have ever met inside a temple). She actually yelled at me. Twice. Once for getting a bobby pin out of my makeup bag. "You are not allowed to put on makeup on in this room!" was the first, to which I replied, "Actually, I was just getting a bobby pin, but thank you for telling me." I probably should have asked her why a bride couldn't put make up on in the bridal room. And why she had to scream. It was not called for. There was one other instance, in addition to her constant barking at me to follow her. I was so stressed out from the whole affair. When I finally saw S again, the stressed feelings hadn't subsided. We soon saw our sealer. He is someone we know, Spencer's former Stake President, and neighbor, and the former church architect (aka: a BIG reason spencer is in architecture school). He designed the Bountiful Temple and redid the Nauvoo. Seeing his kind face was sunshine. I was wearing my mother's dress inside the temple, because they ask that it be pure white, and my granny's dress is ivory. (By the end of the day, I had actually worn three dresses--a little girl's dress up dream.) The three of us walked into the room together. We were greeted by the smiling faces of my nearest and dearest friends and some (but unfortunately not all) of my family. The stressed feelings continued to melt. I remember little, if anything that was said during the ceremony. I just know that I said "Yes" to spencer and he said "Yes" to me.

Afterward we took pictures on the temple grounds. A lot of pictures. Then we drove to Provo with Spencer's parents, and ate lunch at my favorite pizzeria. They gave us one of every dessert for free, because we had just gotten married/were wearing wedding clothes. It was nice of them. And very delicious. I was nervous I would get pizza sauce on my dress. At 27, I am still not the world's tidiest eater. Thankfully, all was well. All was white. Next stop: my parent's house, and a kitchen full of nearly every woman I love in my life and about 400 cupcakes. It was a beautiful sight. Truly. There was also a lot of work with the flowers still happening. This also involved woman I love. (Spencer's sister Aunika, who masterfully arranged the bouquets, boutonnieres and large pieces, and my sister Cumorah who arranged the majority of the table pieces.) Most everything was set up outside. And then the wind started blowing. And howling. And threatening to knock things over. Then the rain came, in great gusts. I almost started crying. Spencer and I had to go drop something off for his sister. I tried to be brave. Spencer had more faith than me that things would be fine, and we wouldn't have to move the reception. Right before I left my dad told me that it would rain hard for 30 minutes, and then would be okay. He spoke so certainly. Only later did I learn that he spoke so certainly because he was checking minute to minute weather reports, and they told him that it would rain hard for 30 minutes and clear up. Everyone mad dashed to bring everything that could get damaged inside. Which was most things. (All of their hard work!--it had already been so beautiful.) We were inside on our dropping-off errand. It took almost exactly thirty minutes. We came back. As we approached the house, and the field (which was serving as the party site), the sun broke through the clouds. The wind was gone. The rain was gone. It felt like a miracle. Maybe it was a miracle. There were certainly enough prayers ascending to heaven. I couldn't stop smiling: I felt so grateful. I distinctly remember thinking, "I have never been so happy to see the sun." Everything was brought back out. Everything looked beautiful, for a second time. Guests arrived. We exchanged rings and handwritten vows. We didn't really know what we were doing, but hope that our sincerity made up for any clumsiness. That night we also awkwardly cut a cake, and hopefully less awkwardly danced a first dance, and a second one with our parents (me with my dad, spencer with his mom), and then a third and fourth and fifth with friends and little ones. Spencer's thoughtful cousin would bring us crepes. I would eat only two. There was so much hugging. So much loving. I would also change into my third and final dress (the only one that was my very own) before throwing my bouquet. My tiny niece would get it. There were sparklers. Spencer and I would bicycle off into the distance. The entire way. (I wanted to park nearby, bike to my car and ditch the bicycles, but S said if we were doing it, we were really doing it. Thankfully Meg's beloved husband, and my beloved friend, Jared, drove in front of us, with lights flashing. It is a scary and dark road otherwise. This way it felt safe. And so fun. I can honestly say it was the funnest (most fun?) bike ride of my life. The best part of that day was being surrounded by people I love, who love me too, and of course: Spencer. We had friends and family present from California, Nevada, Colorado, Utah, Massachusetts, New York, and D.C. I felt so honored. Thank you, everyone. Thank you.

Downdate.

Maybe Spencer (accidentally) gave away my copy of my favorite book written by a living author, signed by that living author. Maybe I couldn't see him when he told me, because the tears came so suddenly.

Dress(ed): A Miracle.

(Back to belated blogging. Please forgive me.)

My oldest sister, Cumorah, gave me my very first wedding present. It came about after she asked me how my first dress-trying-on trip went, and I answered (rather modestly) that it went badly. The dresses in the shops were too trendy for me. Too flashy. I like simple. I like classic. Of the two I tried on that fit my frame, and were genuinely beautiful, neither felt like me at all. If I were spending that much money on something, I wanted it to to be something I loved and felt comfortable in, rather than something I settled for because it was the best of not-very-good options. My sister excitedly answered, "I have an idea. You should wear granny's dress!" My granny was married in the late 1940's, and her dress was lovely. And simple. And classic. I.e., everything I ever wanted. Unbeknownst to me, my sister had this dress. She unselfishly gave it to me and allowed me to alter it. It was one of the kindest things anyone has done for me. It made my wedding feel special, and it made my wedding dress mine.

As I learned more about the dress, I came to love it even more. For instance, my granny made it herself, when she was only 22 and about to be married to my grandpa. My hero. (When I was a child, they called me grandpa's little shadow. If he was pulling weeds, I was pulling weeds. If he was picking raspberries, I was picking raspberries. If he was watching BYU sports, I was watching BYU sports.) She made the satin "slip" (as she calls it) from a pattern she found, and the lace jacket from another. Unfortunately we no longer had the original jacket, but I was able to use a friend's seamstress to whip up another. My grandfather passed away when I was 18, and so while he was not able to be physically present at my wedding, I felt truly honored to be wearing the dress my granny wore on the day of their union. My granny is still with us, and seeing her for the first time while donning her dress is one of the happiest moments of my life. Her eyes lit up. My smile.

Goals have been set, resolutions have been made.

In my letter to 2012 I wrote my hopes. Prior to that I wrote my predictions for my family. Prior to that I reviewed my year. Here I write my goals. It is remarkable how similar they are to my Resolutions via 2010--not because I failed in 2010, but because I succeeded at many of the things that I wished to accomplish and want to go further. The goals that I did not fully accomplish will likely be tasks for a lifetime. Here they are in all of their glory:

Read 52 books, including Das Book Mormon and Works of Love. (This time I will be reading the latter for an intense one month class, rather than purely for pleasure and needed self improvement).
Work toward graduation.
Stay on the left coast.
Take more time to be quiet.
Be more consistent in my thoughts and actions.
Be a temple worker with S. (Cool fact: my former Mission President is the new LA Temple President.)

Interview at least 20 more women for the Mormon Women Oral History Project. (This is something I am really, super excited about. I have started here in Vienna, and it is amazing to hear women's stories. I will likely write more on this later, but if you are a Mormon, and a woman, and would like to share your story, please let me know. I would love to interview you.)
Learn a language.
Update my HM paper.
Make real food consistently.
Drink the appropriate amount of water.
Eat the appropriate amount of sugar.
Go on slow walks/bike rides.
Journal.

Dear 2012.

New Year's Predictions.

When my siblings and I were little children, my mom started a tradition that has lasted to this time. Apparently it was difficult for us to understand the concept of New Year's Resolutions, so she instated New Year's Predictions, where each person in the family predicts one thing that will happen in the coming year for every other person in the family. All of the predictions are written down and placed in an envelope for my mom to hide away (and impressively never lose) during the next year. On New Year's Eve, sometime during the day, we would gather round and not only make our predictions, but listen to my mom read the predictions from the previous year. Every time someone got a prediction right, they get a "bean" (aka: a peanut butter m&m). Eating of the m&m's is not allowed until the very end, when we can tally who got the most right. It is mostly funny, and sometimes a little sad, if things you hoped for yourself (or others hoped for you that you wanted to happen) didn't happen. All in all, it is one of my very favorite things my family does. Here are our predictions for the coming year:

Rachel predicts:
Dad will finish his book on the atonement, and sell it to the highest bidder. (Also, what happened to the red letter Book of Mormon book?)
Mom will get a new job in Provo, so her awful (sometimes snowy) commute will be over.
H will record music again. And watch Lannegan at least twice.
P will convince H to have another child (because they make such beautiful ones). But my real prediction for P is that she will sell her knitted goods (possibly on Etsy).
J will finish whatever novel he is working on at the moment. (I think it is the youth one.)
S will name her daughter Jane, and J will call her Django when S isn't looking.
Cu will write at least five chapters of her book.
D will not buy his children (and/or wife) any more weapons.
L will get offered a full-time job at the school, and can quit her night shift job for good.
Ch will get another promotion at work.
R will do something cool during the summer. I.e., work at a library, participate in Richard Bushman's seminar, or learn Danish in Minnesota.
Sp will get Best Thesis. (Everyone pray for this.)
Sa will get to move into the house of his dreams.
V will get a full-time lawyer job, and can likewise quit her night shift job.
The family will celebrate Christmas all together at Cu's house.

Spencer predicts:
Dad will get a teaching or art job.
Mom will get a promotion.
H will go skydiving.
P will get a Harley Davidson. (Rachel adds that she'll ride it while wearing her black leather jacket, and pink tutu.)
J will get a movie contract for his book.
S will actually have a boy. The doctors were wrong!
Cu will benefit by someone moving into her ward that is just as dedicated and just as creative as her, that can help share the load.
D will find a million dollar mansion in Arizona for a hundred thousand dollars!
L will learn Spanish, and meet a handsome muchacho.
Ch will get a different job.
R will get pregnant.
Sp will get his first commission in China.
S will ride a camel this year.
V will become the boggle champion of the world.
The whole family will get to go on a sub-orbital weightless adventure.

Christmas Day.

What better thing to do in Amelie's Paris than take photobooth pictures?

R + S: A Year in Review.

Spencer designed our Christmas card this year (inspired by one AJJ). As you may see (possibly by clicking the card below for a more legible version), we have had quite the adventurous year. We can't wait to share many more adventures with the ones we love. Joyeux Noël!
 

Hunt Family Christmas.

I have been thinking about traditions a lot lately. Maybe because this is my second Christmas away from home in two years. Maybe just because I am nostalgic by nature. Either way, my family's holidays are rich with tradition. Some are just from when my siblings and I were small, small kids. Some have continued to this day.

+Advent calendar. (My mamma made it, many years ago. It is a tree with velcro ornaments. The first ornament placed is a star. The last is baby Jesus. Placing either is an honor).
+Setting up the nativity, piece by piece.
+Getting the Christmas tree.
+Drawing names, but not ever keeping it a secret.
+Caroling to neighbors/friends. (Each child got to choose one friend's house, and would be the presenter of the cookie platter.)
+Muppet's Christmas Carol.
+Grinch.
+Graham cracker houses.
+One million cookies.

+Reading the scripture story.
+Acting out the scripture story. (Cumorah was always Mary, which left the rest of my sisters and I as shepherds. Lia and I would braid our long hair into beards.)

+My mother reading a children's Christmas story.

+Singing so many songs together. (Many celebrating Christmas. Many celebrating Bob Dylan and the Band.)

+Christmas pillowcases. (Made by my granny with love.)
+Matching pajamas. (Formerly made by my granny with love. Each year had a theme, and each grandchild would walk down the stairs to model them.)
+My grandpa's train set.
+Poem to Santa, Christmas Eve.
+All of the kids sleeping in the same room, or at least the same side of the house as we got older.
+Not being able to sleep.
+Charity reading The Christmas Box.
+Lia sneaking out to look at presents.

+Waking up to the sweet smell of wassail. (That smell for me is Christmas, more than anything else.)
+The youngest child cutting a ribbon to enter the Christmas tree area. (Everyone else gathers round, and there is a requisite picture.)
+Poem from Santa, Christmas morning.
+A table bedecked with treats.
+Sausage, hash-browns, hot chocolate, wassail, toaster strudel breakfast.
+Pez.
+Almond roca.
+Sees candy.
+Sees suckers.
+Opening presents. One at a time/youngest to oldest.
+Nicknames on labels. (Real examples from the real past include Madam Librarian, Philosopher Queen, and High Jumping Hottie.)
+Family bowling. (No one is good. No one. But we do it as a family every year, twice a year: Christmas and Thanksgiving.)
+Watching a movie at the theater.
+Playing basketball/volleyball at the church.
+Ham and turkey dinner.
+Eggnog punch, red drink, rolls, mashed potatoes, shrimp, crab salad, etc.
+Crackers, sharp Kakuna cheese, and sausage.
+New Year's predictions. (Instead of resolutions.)

+More.

What are your family's traditions? And, if you are in my family, what am I missing?

Solstice in Paris.

I spent the longest night of the year finishing a 40 page paper and walking to the Eifel Tower and back. The walk took over four hours, and lasted until 3 in the morning. The paper took many more, and lasted a semester/intense week.

If you ever want to read about Søren Kierkegaard, Regine Olsen, and their life of sacrifice, I'm your girl.

Joyeux Noël, from the City of (Christmas) Lights!

Letter pressed.

My dear friend Leland printed my invitations at his letterpress shop, Rowley Press. I could not have been more pleased. (I was also pleased with S for designing them, and Ash Mae and Carl for inspiring them.)

I met Leland when I was a baby sophomore at BYU. The place: his house. The reason: Sunday crepes. How: he was already friends with Meg and Drew, two people I loved dearly. I didn't know it at the time, but that day would prove an inspiration for me. It a) helped me develop a long lasting friendship, and b) gave birth to my own Sunday Crepe Nights, several years later. When I was still in Utah, Leland and I had many clubs together, most notably Hot Chocolate Club and Churro Club. They were as legitimate as can be. Additional things to know about Leland: he builds a mean chicken coop and has fixed bike problems for me about a million times. He loves C.S. Lewis, the history of milk, letter press, and Dar Williams' After All.

And the drum roll please....

The dear winner of the Shabby Apple dress contest is none other than Samantha Soucy. (Spencer did some sort of computational geometry to keep it fair. It was too fancy for my blood.)

Samantha is lovely and kind, and was both of those things in a not-so-lovely and not-so-kind Cataloguing Class at Simmons College, during my years of Library Science school. I will forever be grateful for her friendship during that time.

Congratulations, Samantha! The dress will look perfect on you. (As does this baby:)

To all those who did not win, please accept my sincerest apologies.

Psychic hugs.

What do you do when you read the saddest, most beautiful words you have ever read, and you start crying late at night because they are not fiction, but real, and the person you suddenly most want to hug is on the other side of the Atlantic? Please tell me.

All of the love I possess goes out to a friend, a girl, with lovely brown hair and a bad eight months.

Love LA.

(AKA: the first of a flurry of belated blogging.)

Sometime in the summer, my lovely sister, Liahona, and her very precious daughter, Ede, drove S and I to our old home of Los Angeles. (We had driven our friend's car to Utah for her, and were semi-stuck.) Lia rescued us, in more than one way. Not only did she drive us the ten hours, she took our engagement pictures for us. The very day we got in. Pre-shower. Pre-unpacking. Pre-anything. We stopped by Spencer's house first, and walked down the street to the Disney Concert Hall, so he had the full gamut of what he could wear, but not I. How do I compete with a man in a tuxedo? :)

Thankfully for me, we took more photos the next day. Post shower. Post me seeing a pretty place in Beverly Hills, and asking if we could pull over. I am counting my lucky stars the answer was yes.

The last two are my favorite favorites. That Liahona, she is a champion.

For Winter.

Be ahead of all parting, as though it already were behind you,
like the winter that has just gone by.
For among these winters there is one so endlessly winter,
that only by wintering through it all will your heart survive. -Rilke

In the depth of winter I finally learned that there was in me an invincible summer. -Camus

When Chekhov saw the long winter, he saw a winter bleak and dark and bereft of hope. Yet we know that winter is just another step in the cycle of life. But standing here among the people of Punxsutawney and basking in the warmth of their hearths and hearts, I couldn't imagine a better fate than a long and lustrous winter. -Phil

Shabby Apple Giveaway Extravaganza, Part II

I'm not really sure how I got to be so lucky, but I received another email from our friends at Shabby Apple about the possibility of giving away a free dress/skirt. And since it doesn't take much work from me, and one of my dear friends comes away a winner, I thought, "Why not?" Why not, indeed.

The low down, for anyone not aware of Shabby Apple is this: they make dresses. Pretty (women's) dresses. Pretty much any dress I own, that I like. (See my last blog post on the issue.) Now I think they also make skirts, and perhaps even aprons, but I am less familiar with those.

The winnable dress:

It is called Waimea and with its ocean waves, it is about as far away from dreaded winter as one could hope. To be entered, leave a comment, like their fbook--you know, those good things. The drawing/winner will be posted on Sunday.

Also, I have a goal to be a blogger again. And with marriage/bike trip crusades/and European adventures, I have some pretty good stories to tell. I even started reading books again. Real books.

Wish me luck!