Time Keeps Marching On

15 years. Losing him seems like a lifetime ago. At least, half my life ago. And while time marches on, making those intense bouts of grief fewer and far between — time doesn’t heal, you just learn to live with your loss and manage the pain that absence brings — it is also time that has me scared. Fifteen years later and I feel so far away from him, from the memories we made. They’re in my heart, forever, of course, but sometimes it feels like a foggy recollection of a movie I once saw, or a book I read long ago. I can’t always quickly recall the plot details, instead scouring the corner of my mind to piece them back together. How I wish I could manifest Euripides’ words: “Come back. Even as a shadow, even as a dream.” Just to feel close to my brother once again. 

I’m thankful for days like these, sad as they may be, because they force me to slow down. Reflect. Life gets so busy and it’s easy to let a long stretch of days or weeks go by without thinking of Jeremy. And I’m sure that’s what he would want, for us to get on with it. But it feels strangely good — alive, even — to remember him, to truly feel how much I still miss him, shed my tears and then, as he would want, get on with it. Not to live in the shadows of what could have been but to live in the promise of what is still to come. I’ve always felt a responsibility to honor Jeremy, taken from this world too soon at 26, by living my life to the fullest. So as much as I’d like to see him in my dreams, what is more important is what I do with my time — that all-too-fleeting thing — while I’m awake. 

I love you big brother, I miss you even when I forget to miss you, and I so wish you were here — for me, for Patrick, for mom and dad, and for all those who loved you. Know this: They still do.

Book Report : Big Magic

One of my (many!) New Year's resolutions for 2016 is to read one book a month — which may not sound like a big goal or commitment to some but it is for this gal, who has had many unopened books languishing on her shelves, collecting dust, for years. 

For January, I just finished up the last 20 pages of "Big Magic" by Elizabeth Gilbert and it was an enjoyable and inspirational read to say the least. I dogeared dozens of pages to return to when I need a boost of motivation. The book is chockfull of wisdom, delivered in Gilbert's trademark humor, about the joys and travails of creative living. Reading the book felt like sitting down with a good friend who gets you, a friend who truly understands the difficulties you are facing and listens patiently, but then, knowing all the greatness you are capable of, gives you a swift kick in the ass. (Followed up by a warm hug.) 

"Big Magic" is all about getting past the fear of living creatively, of making things, whatever that may be, and putting them out there for the world to see — and, inevitably, judge. Throughout the 273 pages, Gilbert stresses that your creative expression is important, but not that important, and should be taken seriously, but not too seriously. We have to accept these paradoxes and make space in our creative hearts and minds for fun. She teaches that inspiration is all around us, just waiting to work within us if we let it. And if you fail, well, that's OK. But don't give up; just move on and get back to work. Why? Because we love it and creativity loves us. The work may not always be successful, but it will always feed our souls.

Here are some of my favorite quotes, taken from those dogeared pages:

"The universe buries strange jewels deep within us all, and then stands back to see if we can find them. The hunt to uncover those jewels — that's creative living. The courage to go on that hunt in the first place — that's what separates a mundane existence from a more enchanted one. The often surprising results of that hunt — that's what I call Big Magic." (p. 8)

"And you have treasures hidden within you — extraordinary treasures —and so do I, and so does everyone around us. And bringing those treasures to light takes work and faith and focus and courage and hours of devotion, and the clock is ticking, and the world is spinning, and we simply do not have time anymore to think so small." (p. 27)

"Work with all your heart, because — I promise you — if you show up for your work day after day after day after day, you just might get lucky enough some random morning to burst right into bloom." (p. 63)

On cultivating a healthy sense of entitlement to live a creative life: 

"Because often what keeps you from creative living is your self-absorption (your self-doubt, your self-disgust, your self-judgment, your crushing sense of self-protection.) The arrogance of belonging pulls you out of the darkest depths of self-hatred— not by saying 'I am the greatest!' but merely by saying 'I am here!'" (p. 93)

"Whether you think you're brilliant or you think you're a loser, just make whatever you need to make and toss it out there. Let other people pigeonhole you however they need to. ... But never delude yourself into believing that you require someone else's blessing (or even their comprehension) in order to make your own creative work." (p. 120-121)

"... Learning how to endure your disappointment and frustration is part of the job of a creative person. If you want to be an artist of any sort, it seemed to me, then handling your frustration is a fundamental aspect of the work — perhaps the single most fundamental aspect of the work. Frustration is not an interruption of your process; frustration is the process." (p. 149)

On laziness and perfectionism: 

"If you want to live a contented creative life, you do not want to cultivate either one of those traits, trust me. What you want is to cultivate quite the opposite: You must learn how to become a deeply disciplined half-ass. It starts by forgetting about perfect. ... Perfectionism stops people from completing their work, yes — but even worse, it often stops people from beginning their work." (p. 166)

"It has taken me years to learn this, but it does seem to be the case that if I am not actively creating something, then I am probably actively destroying something (myself, a relationship, or my own peace of mind)." (p. 171)

On shaking off failure and finding inspiration again: 

"Any motion whatsoever beats inertia, because inspiration will always be drawn to motion. So wave your arms around. Make something. Do something. Do anything. Call attention to yourself with some sort of creative action, and — most of all — trust that if you make enough of a glorious commotion, eventually inspiration will find its way home to you again." (p. 254)

"Fierce trust asks you to stand strong within this truth: 'You are worthy, dear one, regardless of the outcome. You will keep making your work, regardless of the outcome. You will keep sharing your work, regardless of the outcome. You were born to create, regardless of the outcome. You will never lose trust in the creative process, even when you don't understand the outcome.'" (p. 258-259)

What books have you read lately? Any suggestions to add to my list for 2016? I have another inspirational read picked out for February: "When Breath Becomes Air," a powerful and undoubtedly emotional memoir by the late neurosurgeon Paul Kalanithi. I purchased the book about two weeks ago while at a book reading led by Paul's wife Lucy (sister of Cup of Jo's Joanna Goddard) in Brooklyn, and so I already know I'll need to make sure tissues are within arm's reach while reading the #1 New York Times Bestseller.

On the Horizon : The City by the Bay

San Francisco, here I come!

Right back where I started from

Well, that's almost the song and that's almost true.

About a week into the New Year, G received the news we had been waiting on pins and needles to hear: where we would be transferring to next. Yes, yes, we've only been in Jersey six months. But with G's promotion to first class gunner's mate last fall, we were 99 percent sure we'd be moving again come summer 2016. Currently, he is working a GM2 job even though he is now a GM1, so it just didn't make sense for the Coast Guard to keep him here. So we sat down months ago, talked about our options, made our dream sheet with eight picks and G submitted the list. 

Of our choices, only two jobs were on boats and both we put at the bottom of the list, due to their location and the fact that they would require G to go to school first. Our top four were all on the West Coast: San Diego, San Francisco, Los Angeles and Seattle. While G and I were really pulling for our No. 1 pick — the hubs has been homesick for SD ever since we arrived in Jersey — we were lucky to have G assigned to our No. 2. He will be supervising the armory at MSST San Francisco.

At G's promotion ceremony in November.

My husband is ecstatic to be moving back to California but honestly my initial reaction was less than enthused. I am a bit sad to be leaving the NYC area so soon; I feel like there is still so much to see and do and I wish we had more time to explore. (Though, I will be doing my best to make the most of our last five months here!) I am also not looking forward to the whole packing up and moving across the country thing again. Our last two experiences were less than smooth. 

And my nervous, hesitant reaction to the SF news was made only more so when we learned that we would have to live in military housing in Alameda. There goes the dream of having a yard for the dogs, something we told each other was non-negotiable on the house hunt this time, and now we have no choice whatsoever in where we live.

OK, time for some good news. Now that I've had a few weeks to process the idea, I am able to not only recognize but actually celebrate all the positives in moving to the Bay Area.

We will be back in our home state of California. While NorCal is very different from SoCal in many respects, we are more familiar with the area than we were when we moved to St. Pete or Union City. We both have visited and vacationed in San Francisco several times and G even lived in Alameda for a couple months. And, it goes without saying, the City by the Bay is an incredibly dynamic place to live. Plenty to see and do there as well!

The biggest pro to moving back to California though is that we will be much closer to our friends and family. It will be easier and less costly for them to visit us and for us to visit them. After living 2,500+ miles away from nearly everyone we know and love, it will be wonderful to be just a short flight or a 8-hour car ride away.

G will be working a land job again, which means he won't be getting underway (at least, not on any regular basis) and will be home most of the time.

And while I am still disappointed that we won't get to choose which neighborhood we live in or have an opportunity to rent a home with a yard, living in military housing comes with many benefits. It may not be glamorous or updated, but we will never worry about whether we have enough money to pay rent and utilities; it's covered! We will likely be living much closer to San Francisco than we would have been able to if we were given BAH (basic allowance for housing) to live on the economy.  And we will be living in a community of other Coast Guard families, so making friends, connecting with other Coastie wives and participating in base- and spouse club-hosted events will be easier.

So, there is a lot to look forward to, even if leaving is bittersweet. That's military life. You're never in one place for too long! Though, our tour in San Francisco is a four-year billet, so maybe — just maybe — we can actually get settled in for longer than a year.

All San Francisco photos by Victoria Smith 

of SFGIRLBYBAY. Top & bottom, Golden Gate Bridge. 

Cherry blossoms via Refinery29. 

Goodbye 2015, Hello 2016

Holy hiatus! I never planned to be away from the blog this long, but life got in the way. Things have been busy with the holidays, of course, and working in retail made my days even busier. And yet I can't believe it is the last day of the year! I still have so much I'd like to share here, and I am committed to doing just that in 2016. A new year means new goals and renewed focus, and I'm excited to welcome new adventures and tackle new challenges as well. For now, I'm sending my love and best wishes to all for a happy and prosperous New Year!

I'll leave you with a peek at this year's Christmas card (from Minted), which featured 12 photo highlights from 2015 on the back. Can't wait to see what 2016 has in store for us!

Hello New Year postcard by Lucille Michieli, 

found via Pinterest

Flirty Thirty

Happy flirty 30 to my bestie, Marielle! Friends for 22 years, maid of honor at each other's weddings (hers, mine), we've known each other for most of our lives and been there for the good, the bad and the awkward moments in-between. We're more than friends; we're family. Sisters. We've been on many adventures together and, in more recent years, as happens in adulthood, we've experienced much apart. But no matter how much time goes by or how much distance separates us, we're always there for each other and we can always pick up right where we left off. That's what happens when you know and understand someone so completely, and love them unconditionally. That's family. I feel blessed to have such a friend as her in my life and grateful that our friendship has persisted all these years later, after that first meeting on the elementary school playground! 

I'm thankful we were able to spend my 30th together when I was visiting California this past March (my birthday was just three days after her wedding!) and I just wish I could be home again to celebrate with her. But honestly, Marielle isn't too keen on big birthday parties, and I know she is spending her birthday exactly the way she would want: traveling with her love. Right now she and her hubby are (finally!) enjoying their honeymoon, which they are spending traipsing around Italy. So I know she is having an incredible, magical, fabulous time. And I'm sure JP is spoiling his wifey with a fancy Italian dinner tonight and lots of wine. Just what the birthday girl deserves!

Fortunately for me, my BFF has been feeding my wanderlust by sending photos and messages from Italia. It's almost like I'm on vacation with her. Almost. For now, I'll wish her and her bubs sunny skies, full bellies and happy hearts for the rest of their journey.

Buon compleanno, bella!

Opening Up Shop : wisp + whim calligraphy

Last week, I finally acted on a little dream of mine that I've had for years: opening an Etsy shop. 

Say hello to wisp + whim calligraphy!

Honestly, I didn't even really plan to do this last week. I'd had the name saved for a couple months but had been debating recently on whether Etsy was really the right platform for me and what I currently have to offer. (And, let's be really real, I was afraid of pulling the trigger, of putting myself out there and risking failure. Plus, there were those ever-present nagging feelings of not being good enough, especially when compared to other calligraphers whose work I admire.)

Maybe I was feeling a bit bold or simply curious, but last Tuesday I decided to just see how the process would work for setting up a listing. I made one listing and, in no time at all, four more. At that point, I handed over my bank account information and officially opened up shop. Click! It was so easy. Several hours later I had refined the look of the online store, added an "About" page and shop policies. While I still would prefer to have my own, dedicated website, you really can't beat Etsy's ease of use and low up-front cost. For someone like me who's just starting out, minimal risk and investment sounds good.

At this point, all the items listed are custom services: envelope addressing, calligraphed escort and place cards and event signage like hand-lettered chalkboard wedding signs, buffet and dessert table cards and other calligraphed paper signs. 

In addition to the services listed, I will happily accept custom orders! I'd love to take an idea and turn it into reality. Calligraphy really can go beyond just paper and ink; almost anything can be written on!

In the next few months, my goal is to add some ready-made, ready-to-ship products to the shop lineup as well. In the meantime, I'd love it if you'd check out my new online storefront and let me know what you think! 

Finally, I would be remiss if I didn't offer up my heartfelt love and thanks to the friends and family who have supported and encouraged me in my calligraphy journey, especially my sweet husband who is always trying to drown out those nagging feelings of self-doubt stirring within me, to (gently) push me to be my best self and pursue my wildest dreams.

P.S. As you may already know, I have a calligraphy-focused Instagram, but I now also have dedicated Facebook and Twitter profiles, too. Likes and follows much appreciated :)

All product images, except envelopes, 
courtesy a wisp + whim bride, captured by Simply Perfect Images

The Pursuit of Positivity

This is not an easy thing for me. Especially lately. I am not prone to positive thinking. I'm a worrier, an over-analyzer, an anxious heart. Cultivating a "positive mind" and feeling "positive vibes" takes serious work, and sometimes no matter how hard I try I simply can't get myself into a sunshine-and-rainbows state of being. I feel guilty, too, because I keep catching myself slipping into complainer-mode lately when chatting with a friend, family member, or even my husband. No one likes a Debbie Downer, regardless of how legitimate your grievances may be. I do have good intentions though; I do strive for a positive mind and those illusive positive vibes. But my emotional wellbeing is so unsteady at this point that even the slightest bump in the road can throw the Positivity Train way off track. And the Motivation Caboose (or is it the engine?) goes right with it, over the Cliff of Despair and into the Valley of Self-Loathing. 

Anyway, that not very well-crafted metaphor is a vague description of how I've been feeling today. Yet I know this is true: if you think positive and believe positive, you will feel positive. So here's a pep talk for myself (and maybe you, too): Your life is what you make it to be. It is not easy—it is not without challenges or negativity—and it certainly isn't "fair," but hiding from or wallowing in the hard things, the disappointing things, the scary things, won't make your days any better. And they definitely won't make your dreams come true. The only thing that will improve the situation is to take action—to hop back on that metaphorical train—and keep moving forward, remembering that small steps every day are better than no steps at all and that sometimes rejection or failure is pointing you on to something better.

While searching for inspiration to pull me out of my funk earlier today, I found these words particularly comforting and re-energizing: You were never created to live depressed, defeated, guilty, condemned, ashamed or unworthy. You were created to be victorious.

Powerful, right? While re-reading those words and typing them now it hit me that there is great power in positive thinking (and, as I know firsthand, great paralysis in the opposite). And not just the power to feel better in the day to day but to actually create a happy, purposeful and, yes, victorious life. I've always admired people who seem to possess a sort-of innate optimism, my husband being one of them, but I realize now how important it is to cultivate that quality in myself. Positive mind, positive vibes... Positive life. 

(image source)

Breathe and Reboot

This week seemed to fly by in the blink of an eye. Actually, make that the last two weeks. Which is kind of a good thing, seeing as my Coastie hubby is still stuck with his boat in dry dock, only returning home to our new, still-unsettled apartment for all-too-quick weekend visits. (At this point, I feel like I live in New Jersey and he lives in Rhode Island.) His absence is a little more bearable when I'm busy. 

And I have been fairly busy since the movers finally delivered our stuff on the last day of June. Almost every day last week I spent knee deep in cardboard and packing paper, opening and unloading as many boxes as I could. (And, sadly, cataloging broken and damaged goods for claims forms—yippee! Military moves are FUN.) G and I then enjoyed a low-key Fourth of July weekend, with a picnic on our balcony and watching the fireworks from our apartment, before he had to travel back to RI Sunday night. 

When I awoke Monday morning I proceeded to write a laundry list of things to do in the week ahead. (Laundry not being one of them, but in hindsight it should have been on the list.) Now that it's Friday, I'm looking at those scribbled tasks and feeling like I didn't get nearly all the things I wanted to accomplished. Sure, I inventoried all the stuff we have and don't need that can be donated and set up a pickup with the Salvation Army. I researched local vets and groomers and scheduled an appointment for our furbabies to get clean. (Jasper is in desperate need of a bath and a good brushing.) And, happily, I applied to two magazine jobs—which, to be honest, commanded most of my energy and focus the last three days. 

As a result, there are still many boxes left to unpack and rooms to organize and claims forms to submit. Plus, there is so much content I have been planning to share here, including our road trip from Florida to Jersey, our first adventure into NYC, recipe and wedding posts... So stay tuned. But for now, I'm going to hit pause on my stress, pick just one more task to tackle and then be proud of what I did get done this week. 

Sometimes you just gotta breathe and reboot. And when all else fails to quell the overwhelm: Puppy snuggles. Works like a charm.

(Top image of our new doormat from Target,

bottom photo of my little unpacking helper)

Happy Fourth!

Happy Independence Day from New Jersey! While this past month has been trying, to say the least, I'm going to do my best to focus on the positives today: my husband, who has been in Rhode Island since the beginning of June, is coming home this weekend to visit. This will be his third quick trip down to Jersey and while I loathe the fact that I still don't know when his boat will be coming home from dry dock for good and resuming a more normal schedule, I'm happy that I at least get to celebrate the holiday with him, especially since up until recently that didn't look like it would be the case. I'm not sure what our plans are, if we'll go out or stay in, but I'd be fine just staying home, making dinner, sitting out on our balcony and (hopefully) catching a glimpse of a few NYC fireworks. Whatever we do, I'm just glad we'll be doing it together.

Hope you and yours have a fun and safe Fourth of July!

Bittersweet

After 13 long days in Rhode Island, my husband called me Saturday afternoon with a surprise, of sorts: He was coming home! But just for a day. A part that the ship's crew was waiting on didn't come in, so the CO (that's commanding officer, for you non-military folk) gave the guys liberty for the rest of the weekend. 

G didn't arrive in Union City until almost 7:30 Saturday night, so after catching up and taking the dogs out for a walk, all we had time for was a late dinner of just-OK Chinese take-out. (We're slowly discovering which eateries in our neighborhood are good and not-so-good.) Knowing he had to get back to the boat Sunday night to be ready for work at dawn on Monday, we tried to make the most of our short time together. In a perfect world, I would have woken up early to do so, but G kindly let me sleep in. I'm not a morning person, never have been, but while the hubs has been away I've been waking up early every day to take the dogs out. (Jasper usually starts ruffing in my ear around 6 or 6:30, sometimes earlier.) So my loving husband, who always rises with the sun, took the pups on their morning walk and let me snooze until 9. That's love. I say that jokingly, and yet with all sincerity.

Once I was ready, we headed over to—where else?!—Target, to get a few must-have items for the apartment: a shower rod and curtain so I can get clean without splashing water all over the floor, semi-sheer white curtains for the sliding glass door in our bedroom, to offer a bit more privacy, and since our apartment was less-than-pristine upon moving in, a few cleaning supplies—including a Swiffer WetJet that I truly hope lives up to the hype because these apartment floors are dirty. After our Target run, we took the mutts to the Lincoln Harbor Dog Park, which is only a short car ride away from our apartment but, unfortunately, due to a big cliff and hilly terrain is pretty impossible for me to walk to. We then took a quite detour down Washington Street, the main drag in Hoboken, to see what's there (read: to see what we're missing) and give ourselves complete real estate envy.

Finally, with the afternoon passing into the evening, my sweet hubby said all he wanted to do was spend quality time with me, sans errands. So we went out for a nice, fancy-but-casual dinner at Chart House Weehawken. Located right on the Hudson River, it boasts incredible views of the New York City skyline, inside and outside the restaurant.

The food's not too shabby, either. We had the lobster bisque to start, followed by Mac Nut mahi for him (with warm peanut sauce, mango relish, soy glaze and mashed purple sweet potato) and a slightly spicy Chilean sea bass for me (with Yukon gold mashed potatoes and a refreshing tomato-cucumber gazpacho sauce). We then sent ourselves into a full-on food coma with the hot chocolate lava cake for dessert.

Since our leisurely dinner went longer than planned, G had to hightail it out of here the moment we got home. I didn't want to say goodbye, especially not knowing when he'd be back, and instantly missed him the second he walked out the door. The dogs did, too. I had told the hubs not to make a fuss about leaving, so Jasper kept waiting (and sometimes barking) at the door for Daddy to come back. 

Being married to a military man, you know what you signed up for. He's not going to be home all the time. He's going to get deployed every so often. Fortunately with the Coast Guard, he's not gone as long as he might be with other branches of the service. But it doesn't make it any easier, especially when you are in a new city with no friends or family (and still no furniture, TV or most of your wardrobe). Not to mention I'm still kind of new to this whole military wife thing. So here's hoping it's not another two weeks before this Rhode Island dry dock business is resolved and that my man can come back home and stay for longer than a day... before getting underway, again.

For Daddoo

Happy Father's Day to the guy who agreed to wear a lavender shirt and tie just for me! Ha! But seriously, I'm so grateful to have a father who is willing to do just about anything to make me happy. While he can come across as intimidating to some—with his big 'n' tough exterior and gruff voice—I've always known there was a teddy bear deep inside that grizzly bear front. I mean, the man made me cry hysterically during our father-daughter dance as he recalled memories from my childhood. Growing up, my dad would usually avoid having serious, deep, emotional talks with me, deferring such conversations to my mother, understandably so. But ever since I got married—and especially after I moved far, far away, across the country—our relationship has begun to change in this regard, and I'm so happy that it has. As surprising as it may be, my  65-year-old father has become quite the texter since (finally!) getting a cell phone and "Daddoo" (one of his sign-offs) consistently checks in to see how his "kiddo" is doing, and "his favorite veteran" the "Sailorman," too. Sometimes he gives sage advice or words of encouragement and other times he delivers a one-liner (or two) in his typical fashion. The warm and fuzzies are intermixed with a dry, offbeat sense of humor. That's my dad.

So today I want to say what I feel all the time: Thanks, Dad, for your constant love and support over the years, and for still considering me your "babygirl" even when I'm now "Mizzus T."

And although I'm a tear-soaked, ugly-crying mess, please find the video from our dance below, as a Father's Day surprise.

(Photos by heidi-o-photo)

I've Wanted to Be Here My Whole Life

The view from our apartment.

We arrived in our new town of Union City around 6 o’clock on June 5, exactly two weeks ago. After checking out (for the first time!) our new digs and unloading the car, we decided to take the dogs out for a much-needed long walk since they had spent the bulk of three days in a cramped backseat. Plus, we wanted to get a lay of the land and see what our new neighborhood was all about. 

We ended up running into a couple other dog owners, all friendly, who offered their knowledge of the area, including (upon my asking) exactly where to take our pups to relieve themselves in this concrete jungle. As I told one guy who called Union City the ‘burbs, this is a very urban suburbia to us native Southern Californians. No manicured sidewalks with miles of grass here. (I won’t even get into all the honking and the sirens and the general perpetual noise.) Anyway, both the couple and the man we spoke to insisted that we stroll a couple blocks thataway to JFK Boulevard East “to see what (we) moved here for.” We listened. And once we got to the Weekhawken waterfront, we were greeted with the most spectacular view of the New York City skyline, just beginning to light up the sky as the sun was setting. 

We continued walking along the path and gawking at the incredible scene just across the Hudson River, which until then I had really only seen on TV and in movies. The view seemed to get better and better as we went along, and I took another photo every couple steps. When we decided to turn back and head home—and in search of dinner—I stopped my husband first for one last look.

NYC at night, the illuminated Empire State Building taking center stage.

“Come here,” I said, motioning him to my side. “Let’s have a moment.”

I put my arm around G as we looked across the Hudson at the twinkling city lights. Moving is tough, military life can be tough, but I wanted us to have a moment where we just felt happiness and all the possibility before us.

“That’s New York City,” I said. “I’ve wanted to be here my whole life.”

And then I got all watery-eyed. I’m a sap like that. 

“My whole life” is an exaggeration to be sure, “since high school” might be more accurate, but it sure feels like I’ve waited forever. And now I’m finally here.

#####

When I wrote this post a week or so ago, before we had internet, the next sentence was an optimistic plea: "Let's make the most of it!" Even when I typed it the first time it didn't feel quite right, but I tried to trick myself into a mood of hopefulness and positivity by tapping into the feeling I had our first night in Jersey.

The truth is, our transition has not gone smoothly, and that's putting it mildly. The hubs has been in Rhode Island for 12 days and we're both still not sure when he'll be back. Each day some new problem pops up, delaying his return. And all our stuff from Florida has yet to be delivered. All our boxes hadn't even been weighed or placed on a moving truck on Monday, the estimated move-in date. So I'm still living in a mostly-empty apartment, sitting on the hardwood floor, sleeping on an air mattress, cooking with few kitchen utensils (I bought a couple cheap items at the store the other day) and growing increasingly tired of the limited clothing options I packed when we left St. Pete.

I'm actually starting to get used to the whole set-up and having my husband gone. But that doesn't make it feel any better. Except for two crazy mutts, I'm all alone in an unfamiliar place. Nevertheless, I am trying my best to regain that excited, the-world-is-your-oyster feeling, to find joy in small things and to know that there must be a light at the end of this tunnel—even if I can't quite see it yet.

Because once we're on the other side, I'm going to want to make the most of it.

View from Hamilton Park, a frequent stop on our morning and afternoon walks.

Our First Anniversary : Honeymoon Island & Sea Salt

On day two of our first wedding anniversary festivities (catch up on day one here), G and I journeyed north to Dunedin to visit Honeymoon Island. I had heard it was one of the best beaches around, not to mention its romantic name seemed perfect for the occasion. 

While it was a beautiful beach,  the shoreline was a bit narrower than I had imagined and much, much rockier. The strip of sand was also surprisingly busy for a Tuesday. (Though, the beachgoers were mostly senior citizens, I'll admit. That's Florida for you!) While lounging on chairs in the shade, eating our Firehouse Subs picnic, I noticed that everyone seemed to be wearing sandals or water shoes while slowly, carefully tiptoeing into the surf. And for good reason we learned, when we finally got up to go in. The hubs and I did the eee-ahh-ooh-ouch dance as we stepped into the Gulf Coast waters. Nevertheless, we still had a good time together. Honeymoon Island is a beautiful place and absolutely fantastic for shelling. I could have stayed for hours and hours with my head down, just looking at the sand and picking up interesting shells and stones. (A favorite pastime as a child and still as an adult!) My husband basically had to drag me away.

After checking on the dogs at home and freshening up, we cruised over to downtown St. Pete for an early but long and leisurely dinner at Sea Salt, a new restaurant G and I had visited once before for appetizers (oysters!) and drinks. This time we got the whole experience, starting with a salt tasting. 

A trio of salts was served with the bread and olive oil. Our server explained each salt, including which one to only taste in small amounts because of its incredibly potent flavor, reminiscent of hardboiled egg. (Seriously.) G favored the mild pink Himalayan sea salt while I quite liked the weird egg-y one, as well as the mellow, red Alaea Hawaiian sea salt. 

Since we enjoyed the oysters we tried last time (our first time giving them a go!), we decided to be adventurous yet again and ordered a half-dozen of the sommelier’s choice. The oysters were larger this go-around, a little more imposing for us newbies, but they were still good. After mentioning my observation to our kind server, we learned the selection was from East Coast waters, whereas the smaller ones we had last time were harvested from the West Coast. 

We were presented with a complimentary farro-based amuse bouche before we enjoyed our entrees: the Black Grouper for me, with fava beans, smoked salt fingerling potato, raisin tomato and a black truffle butter sauce that I couldn’t get enough of. G had the Ora King Salmon served with black cyprus sea salt barbecue and chorizo-beluga lentil ragu. The orange-glazed fish looked stunningly beautiful set against the inky lentils.

Before we could even contemplate what to order for dessert, out came a giant cloud of cotton candy. After seeing a few other surprised guests receive a bowl of sugared air, we realized it must just be Sea Salt’s thang. Cotton candy for everyone! But, moments later, another dessert arrived at our table, just for us: a decadent orb of fudge topped with sea salt, of course, and caramel sauce, with the words “Happy Anniversary” written out in chocolate.

Yep, it was a sweet night with G for sure. And I wouldn’t want to share all these adventures (culinary or otherwise, fuzzy selfies included) with anyone else.