love is all you need

short post, but holy cow.

i've got so many beautiful things.

today's my birthday, a day that threatens to fill me with some mixed emotions. and i am totally overwhelmed by the amount of love in my life. really blown away. i've got pictures coming soon, but don't want to wait to write this.

first of all: my husband. wowzer. not only is he handsome, smart, loving, talented... he's so GOOD to me. we spent last weekend celebrating since he had to work. he bought me a beautiful new camera that i can't stop clicking away on. he took me birthday dress shopping. we gorged ourselves on french food at besalu and cafe presse, spent time with my family, stayed at the sorrento hotel, had drinks at vito's, and so much more. and then, today, he showed up in a box (literally!) at my work, and had lunch with the kids and me. incredible! i don't know many women who have a husband like that. actually, i take that back. i don't know any. he is hands down the best - better even than if i had dreamed up everything i could possibly want. i wouldn't have even known to ask for him. he is so far beyond great, and makes me thankful every day.

secondly: my mom. she's pretty wonderful, and twenty-five years ago today she had me! actually, just thinking about how lucky i am to have her as my mother makes me totally sappy. my birthday always lands pretty close to mother's day, too, so i usually spend the entire week getting unreasonably emotional off and on about what a great mom i ended up with.

next: my friends. kelly and kelsey and alyssa and so many others, who organized and took part in some huge surprises for me today. my entire school is decorated with notes from my kids wishing me a happy birthday and telling me how much they love me. there is coconut cream pie from dahlia in the staff room. there were glitter bombs, a dance party, so much artwork. a yoga class on the rooftop, tulips, confetti, and, of course, jacob popping out of big gift-wrapped box. cupcakes, too. (and in my cubby is a chocolate bar and bottle of wine for later).

tonight, alyssa and i will spend my birthday with my family, and hopefully j will get off of work early enough to join us. it'll be great, this whole birthday has been great, and i can't imagine how it could possibly be any better. i am the luckiest duck in the whole freaking pond. my goodness.

and i have some other good news: i am starting a new blog. armed with a shiny new camera, the love and support of j, and a bunch of new ideas about what i want my blog to be, i've decided to branch out. it'll still be full of beautiful things, but will also have projects, recipes, stories from our adventures. it'll be a little more broad, and hopefully a lot more frequent. i can't wait, and as soon as i've finished my first entry, i'll post the link here.

for now, i'm going to bask in this crazy birthday glory.

love,
j

the view

some days the blues grab you and shake you. sometimes they grab seattle, too:

and then, sometimes, seeing how pretty everything is in the rain, everything smelling delicious, your husband driving to see you during your lunch hour and bringing you paseo (a beautiful thing in its own right), hearing a friend say she's never seen anything love the way he loves you and you love him, making it through friday with all your limbs intact, checking things off a to-do list, and then, only then, pouring yourself a glass of wine, snuggling up, and waiting in the company of a sweet dog and a down comforter for him to come home... that shakes all those blues out of you without you even knowing it. those are really good moments.

happy weekend!

love,
j

it might as well be spring

i admit i have a little bit of an emotionally abusive relationship with seattle seasons. they tell me it's getting better, i'm hesitant, they show me a little skin: a few snowflakes in november, or some baby blossoms on the cherry trees in february, or a suddenly hot day in may, i say, 'ok, but this is the last chance,' i fall head over heels, and the next day it goes back to rain, the only real thing i can count on in this ardent affair.

but despite it all, i really, really love this city and its coquettish moods. from my desk i can see highrise buildings, blue sky, blinding sun, and millions of hot pink buds on the trees, and today i'm falling for it all over again, deeper and more desperately in love with seattle spring. and i think this time it really means it.

love,
j

(photo by dana curran).

best email ever

Dear Jessica M Cafferty:

Congratulations on your offer for admission to the University of Washington Graduate School for Autumn 2012.

I am pleased to announce that the Master of Public Administration Admissions Committee has voted to recommend your admission to the Evans School of Public Affairs. The committee was impressed with your strong academic and professional background, selecting your application from our largest pool to date. An offer of admission is a true testament of your hard work and commitment to public service.

Each year, the Evans School offers fellowship tuition awards to a very limited number of individuals admitted to our institution. As one of our top candidates, we are pleased to offer you a fellowship of $7,500 for the academic year 2012 - 13.

You must confirm acceptance of our offer by April 15th through the Graduate School website noted below. Once you have paid your enrollment confirmation deposit, we will follow up with additional information regarding orientation costs, registration, and student life.

Once again, welcome to the Evans School of Public, and feel free to contact the Evans School directly at evansdss@uw.edu with any questions. We look forward to meeting you in person and being a part of your educational experience.

Sandra O. Archibald
Dean and Professor
Jason P. Smith
Assistant Dean of Students

this photo

...has followed me around for years now. it's by willy ronis, and i bought it in postcard form at a coffee shop in the beginning of college. i wrote on it, sent it, missed it, re-bought it, hung it on my wall, lost it, and today came across it again.

today, basking in the foreign (and still chilly) march sun and thinking about how i've already been married to j for six months, it seemed to perfectly match the dreamy paris springtime romance grainy lovely mood i'm in.

happy thursday!

love,
j

i carry your heart with me

(i carry it in my heart)

i stopped by the cemetery this morning to say hello to grandpa stu.

it had snowed a little bit last night, and there was ice on the ground. my grandmother had clearly been there recently: there was a bouquet of cheerful red carnations by his tombstone. i could feel the ground give a little beneath my feet and it wasn't an entirely unpleasant feeling; somehow it made me feel a little closer to him.

there's something about cemeteries that i love. and when i visit my grandfather, it's nice to be able to take the time to simply be selfish in missing him. i don't have to think about anything else. i can tell him about what's new, how my grandma's doing, how much i miss him. i don't have to talk to anyone else, or answer any questions. and i can stand there for as long as i want remembering pieces of him i love so much: how he smelled like soap and my grandma's cooking, how deliberate his movements were in setting his silverware beside his plate, how when he hummed it was such a low pitch it made my heart rumble, how smooth his hands were, how he kept everything someone gave him out of love.

as i pulled around the corner to head out on the main drive, i saw a man fixing flowers on a grave not too far from my grandfather's. he rearranged them and took such care in making sure they were just so. and then he stood, glanced once again at the tombstone, and put his hands in his pockets. he closed his eyes and turned his face skyward, and just stood there, a perfect image of love and loss.

dying is no secret. we're attached to our own mortality and finiteness from the moment we enter the world. yet we love, over and over again. despite the knowledge that those we adore won't always be with us, we fill our days with the secrets and intimacies that make us feel most alive. we make stupid choices, we fall in love, we have our hearts broken, we take our family members for granted, we have torrid love affairs, we relearn how to appreciate our family, we have our hearts broken, we make new friends, we become attached, we love with all of ourselves, and if we're very, very lucky, we find someone who loves us right back with all of them.

(here is the deepest secret nobody knows): the fact that the human spirit is so resilient, so flexible, so able to be broken and then renewed like a burning phoenix; the fact that we are so able and eager to love; the fact that every cemetery is filled with countless stories and remembrances, is so incredibly powerful that i was moved to that bittersweet place where only the most perfect beauty exists. we have one glorious lifetime. that we choose to spend it loving is probably the prettiest thing we ever do. (this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart).

love,
j

every day

the original intent of this blog was to post every day, or at least often, to keep searching and acknowledging beauty around me. but sometimes i go for ages without posting, and i think it's because i worry that it has to be something "big" enough. i want to impress you, make an impact with the profound beauty of whatever i'm posting. but that's a little silly, because it's all in the eye of the beholder, isn't it? even the tiniest, most fleeting moments can be breathtaking.

so in that spirit of simplicity, i came across this print today, and stopped. it's sort of perfect. it caught my eye in a moment where i was already filled with gratitude and an urge to explore and expand, and even though it's small, i want it to be the beautiful thing today.

j and i are leaving for belize on monday for two weeks, so i definitely won't be posting much (if at all) while we're gone, but when we come back, i'm getting back on the loveliness-blogging-wagon, even if occasionally my entries are just little tidbits.

love,
j

perspective

all day i've been feeling the dread creep up behind me; the realization that these lovely ten days are drawing to a close, and i'll be back at work tomorrow.

and then something shifted. i spent the day with family: j and i visited grandma g, then grandma lolo, and finally while he was at work i popped over to my parents' house, had a glass of wine, and played sorry. and driving home tonight, i made the very intentional decision to abandon that dread, and instead embrace gratitude.

we filled the break with lots of "to-do's" and appointments, working on ma's house with her, seeing family, spending time with friends in town, running errands. and it was splendid. it was like a mini honeymoon. i miss seeing my husband all the time, and i can enumerate all the benefits of our current schedule, but i had no idea how much i'd appreciate a week filled with mr. cafferty.

so, with only twenty-eight days (just about exactly) until we hop on a plane for our real honeymoon to belize, i'm giving thanks for the "just practicing" vacation we were given.

and i can even feel a little excitement to see my kids sneaking around the corners...

love,
j

ringing in the new year

 
happy new year!

after working for eight hours in the restaurant last night, we realized that there was no way we were going to make it to the new year's party we'd planned on attending. there wasn't a cab in sight, we weren't able to leave the restaurant until well after eleven, and my feet already ached from wearing sparkling enzo heels all night. so we hopped in the car, drove over to the park behind the reservoir, and watched the fireworks and kissed, all wrapped up in a blanket we found in the car. and although there wasn't any real glitz or glamour (other than in my shoes), it was absolutely perfect.

2011 was the best year of my life, but i'm realizing each year only gets better. this year, i've got three resolutions:

1. i want to be an even better wife. i want to learn to pick my battles, because almost none of them really matter fifteen minutes later. i want to be more patient. i want to live in love.
2. i want to finish making our condo feel like home. i want it to feel cohesive and put together, and i want to keep it cleaner and more organized all the time.
3. i want to always be working on a project of my own, whether a painting, or hopefully grad school, or another specific goal.

words don't begin to express how lucky i am. i'm married to my soulmate, surrounded by beautiful people, and live in my favorite city in the world. this year, i want to settle into my good fortune; really cherish it and begin to build in it. here's to the best year ever (yet)...

love,
j

christmas cookies

one of my very favorite parts of christmas is painting (and more recently, frosting) cookies with my family. each year is different, but it's always a blast. about three years ago i started painting political and irreverent messages on my cookies, and instead of being upset, my amazing family absorbed that into part of the tradition as well. so i'm always looking for inspiration for my next cookie platform. my favorite one this year reads, "louis + mormor = bff." plus, this year, i really got to see j excel at his own style of painting. decorating cookies at the demorest household is always marvelous, and it's without a doubt my beautiful thing of the day.

love,

j

irving

i woke up this morning and the first thing i thought was, it's grandpa stu's birthday.

i miss him a lot, especially around this time of year, so i knew he had to be my beautiful thing, but it's hard to know where to start.

maybe with my grandmother? their love story lasted fifty-eight years before he died, and i have a bit of a notion it still continues. they fell in love when she was eighteen. he was twenty-seven, and spotted her instantly. she tells me one of the things that made her really love him was the music... he was an adept pianist and had this lovely, deep, rumbly voice, and he always knew all the words, and then some. and he needed her. she was the person he wanted to settle down with, and she loved him, and cared for him his whole life. on the telephone tonight, i asked her what her favorite memory of him was. she thought for a while; i'm sure after spending your entire existence with someone it's hard to pick one moment. but after a short silence, she told me it was when her mother got married in their living room and he played the piano. the song was "indian love call," and i'm sure he performed it beautifully, and then they had the reception in the long room next to the kitchen.

my cousins and i have more similar memories of him, of course. and whenever we talk about him, there's never a pause in the conversation; the more we reminisce, the more we are able to conjure up the obscure details that made us really adore him.

i'm finding this a challenging post to write, because i am so full of love (and my eyes are definitely more than half-full of tears), so here, in no particular order, are some of the things that made stuart irving tollenaar such a special human being:

he was very particular. things always had to be a certain way: i remember that the cold faucet in the bathroom had to be turned all the way off, but the hot faucet had to have the H perfectly vertical. he'd check the handles after i washed my hands, and as a child, i always felt the thrill of anticipation as i waited to hear whether i'd satisfactorily shut off the water. he'd always tell us to look both ways before crossing the street. and i'm not saying that lightly; i mean, several times a day. and he'd tell my grandmother to drive on the right side of the road, which i never entirely understood. he didn't like using his turn signals, and when i asked him about it, he told me he was saving them. i always resisted the urge to shout, "for what?" and would grimace instead. he never had crumbs on his placemat, liked quiet at the dinner table, and introduced me to ovaltine.

he smelled so good. sitting anywhere near him, you could catch the winning combination of his own scent mingling with ivory soap and bactine. he liked to wear flannel shirts, and they soaked it all up. i went into his room a few months ago, and peeked in his closet. i was astonished to find that his shirts still smell exactly like him, and was instantly overwhelmed with unexpected emotion.

there was always dancing, too. he and my grandmother courted in an era where it was popular to go on sunday drives, or dance at the german club. late into his life they still attended dances, occasionally taking us with them. it was he who taught me to foxtrot in their kitchen, and he thought it was hilarious how much i loved happy hans' polka music. nothing made me happier than watching he and my grandma dance together, usually in their slippers.

there are infinite funny stories about him too, my favorite of which carries with it an important moral. as my mom retells it, they were eating canned spaghetti while camping at lake wenatchee. my grandfather had poured copious amounts of pepper into his spaghetti to flavor it, but much to his chagrin, there were terrible gnats that year. so while everyone else could easily spot the pests in their pepper-free spaghetti, he was faced with the awful dilemma of not knowing which black specks were bugs and which were simply seasoning. the moral? don't bring pepper to a campsite.

his favorite flowers were irises. he sang amazing old songs, like ramona, just a gigolo, irene, and lullaby of the leaves. he once wrote my mother a three-page letter on the importance of wearing seat belts. when he got older, my grandmother would leave him post-it notes if she stepped out to run an errand. he kept all of them. he'd had a german shepherd named max when my mom was a kid, and would praise him so highly, i don't know if any dog will ever live up to him. he loved the hymn "once in royal david's city." when he was in high school, he'd have parties, play piano for his friends, and go by the very cool name, "irv." he loved the huskies, but didn't like it when i talked during the game. he had great reverence for nature, and taught me about the brothers and the various mountains we could see from the backyard. my mother and aunt and uncle remember him pointing to mount rainier on a beautiful day and saying, "look at the mountain, kids." i remember him chasing me with his mouth in this perfect little circle, shaking his head, or mimicking the commercial for ivory soap: "it floooooaaats..."

and perhaps most importantly to me, before my amazing dad came into the picture, he was my father figure. he was so habitually consistent that he always felt safe and steady to me. i had the gift of knowing that he would unconditionally love me.

shortly before he died, he met j. at that point his memory was almost entirely gone, but like the gentleman he always was, he smiled and extended his hand, then nodded, and said, "it's very nice to meet you." i am so thankful two of the most important men in my entire life had the brief chance to meet. i wish he were here today to see so much of what's happened in the last couple years, but i'm going to focus instead on the gratitude i feel for his enormous presence in my life and in who i am today.

we all miss you grandpa stu. and i sure hope you're wearing your seatbelt.

love,
j

santa paws

craving something (everything) different today, j and i went on a little adventure.

we drove up to la conner, which is maybe one of the prettiest towns in the world, walked around until our cheeks were actually rosy, bought an old jimmy buffett lp (the photo on the back alone was worth the $5), and just generally enjoyed each other's company. we had lunch at the cutest place, too. and while i'm usually pretty open about trying new foods, i have a thing about "weird" pizzas: i never want to try buffalo chicken or coconut curry pizza. but today, in the spirit of breaking all of the molds, i went with thai chicken. and sometimes there are these beautiful moments where you're infinitely rewarded for trying something different.

as if that wasn't enough - it was - i caught this ridiculously cute picture of lou:

pretty perfect, huh? he's a cute "santa paws" and is a great reminder of how fortunate i am.

now i'm going to go snuggle up against my husband, eat red and green peanut m&m's, and watch christmas movies (hopefully white christmas and elf).

love,
j

tramp.

 
tonight i skipped yoga (again) and drove out to my grandma gerrie's house for some old fashioned comfort. we chatted about all kinds of things: who we think will get married next, how cute lou is, her social engagements each week. she showed me how the house was before she and my grandfather remodeled it, then told me they did it all themselves and were totally self-taught. we looked at old pictures, and i told her about what's new.

then i headed home, and as i crossed the west seattle bridge, the most beautiful mist had settled into the city. it rested around the steel mill and blurred the light from all the cranes in the shipyards. everything that can be harsh and dirty during the day was soft and neutral and inviting in the golden glow that seemed to spread out through the fog. even the lights from the ferry headed in were hazy in the most lovely, laissez-faire kind of way.

i love a city that is comfortable in its own shoes. tonight, after a whirlwind week, i took solace in my city knowing who it is.

love,
j

(p.s. the photo is all vivian maier and just how i feel).

thanks.

i know thanksgiving is well past, but it's been so busy lately (mostly with celebrating!) that i haven't sat down to write. thanksgiving came at the perfect time this year. i was burnt out at work, frustrated with pieces of my friendships, and struggling to find balance. i took four days and filled my soul with reminders of things for which i am oh so grateful.

today i feel those things magnified again. i am grateful first and foremost for my beautiful marriage, a life-long adventure with my favorite person in the world. i am grateful for my ever-growing family, which is full of laughter and surprises and a little obsessive compulsiveness, all of which make me even more grateful. the span of generations at a table together amazes me. i am grateful for my friends, for the ebb and flow of our lives and the fact that we enjoy sharing them with each other. i am grateful for lou. i love the way his whiskers look like an old man's beard, how he smells funny and has a puffy face when he wakes up, and how happy he is to curl up with me whenever i need it. i'm grateful for my job; it is challenging and certainly not the end of the line, but it's a special place full of dynamic, beautiful, dedicated people that teaches me something new every day and allows me the financial freedom to enjoy the time i'm not there. i'm grateful for our condo, which is feeling less like an apartment and more like a home, and the fact that each night my favorite person (see above) calls it home too. plus, this time of year, it almost always smells good. speaking of smelling good, i am grateful for the delicious food i get to enjoy - there is so much of it, it makes me happy, and does so much more than provide nutrients. it nourishes my soul. i am grateful for hot yoga, for taking the time and making the commitment to myself to become stronger, create peaceful spaces in my brain, and feel beautiful. i am grateful for the exploration i am able to do every day, because of the people in my world, the opportunities i've been given, the work i strive to do...

i don't know who exactly i say thank you to, but i am so overwhelmingly thankful.

and that's definitely my beautiful thing of the day.

love,
j

mid-day text

just picked up my phone, and there was this sweet little tidbit from my husband:

"Sometimes I look at a picture of you and fall in love with you all over again. Wife."

beautiful thing? easy.
love,
j

happiness is:

• the friday before a three day weekend.
• having ended the week with incredible support from your boss.
• eating shitty msg orange chicken guilt-free.
• a practically perfect 13-pound boston terrier snuggling on your lap while you blog about how you're happy.
• knowing it's just a few short hours until your husband is home and you get to be hyggelig.
• getting your wedding ring cleaned and thinking, "bling-blAng" every time you look at it.
• clean, warm laundry coming out of the dryer.
• hope and joy about the direction you're headed... professionally, personally... geographically...
• LEAVING FOR SAN FRANCISCO AND OAKLAND IN THE MORNING to see one of the loveliest human beings on the planet (e) with the love of your life by your side. lucky me.

love,
j

run, jaron, run.

for my beautiful thing of today, i'm going to tell you a little bit about one of my best friends, jaron bernstein.

jaron lives in chicago. we went to middle and high school together. we've done eight million things together, but what brought us close was theatre. jaron is an unbelievably talented actor. i've thought so forever, and even now, when i feel more disconnected from acting than ever, i would love to work with him again. more than that, he's an extraordinary friend. he returns messages, calls me wasted from chapel hill to remind me he loves me, adores my husband and makes him feel at home in our group of friends and with his family, is thoughtful and lovely and funny. even when we drive each other crazy, he's one of my favorite people in the world.

last year, he lost his dad to pancreatic cancer. like jaron, his dad was a very special human being, one remembered only with fondness. it was so fast, too: i can remember the moment jaron told me about diagnosis, and the short months that flew by too quickly before he was gone.

so what i want to write about is what jaron is now working on. because when i lose people i love, and trust me, i've never lost someone i'm as close to as jaron was to his dad, i mope. i clean my house and that's about the extent of any great effort i might make. i sink into sadness until i'm ready to return to the world of the living.

but jaron has grace beyond his years. in honor of his amazing dad, he's running a marathon this thanksgiving weekend. it accomplishes so much: it will raise money for pancreatic cancer, it is an homage to his father's love of healthy living and exercise, and it is a hugely positive action in the face of enormous loss. before he set this goal, he'd never run more than three miles.  i've been following his training, the ups and downs, trials and victories, of pushing your body and soul to the edge of its capacity, and i am so proud of him, and lucky to call him my friend.

i'm posting a link to his personal fundraising page. please, whether you know him or not, pause to consider whether you might be able to donate anything to this beautiful cause. i know it would mean so much to him, and it would absolutely mean the world to me. you can find his page here.

jaron, i'm rooting for you and remembering your dad, and, as usual, am one sappy hot mess.

love,
j

i got you this.

i've been meaning to write about this for a while, actually -

my beautiful thing today is a game i play with my mom. it's simple, easy to include others, takes very little time, and makes me feel so much better on days where i'm a little ornery.

basically, we send each other quick emails that say "i got you this," occasionally with humerous commentary. and then we attach images of truly heinous, tacky, tasteless things. or bizarre. it's an exercise in finding the least appealing gifts on the planet, and she and i are both masters at it. and it makes me laugh every time. so now, when i have a really rough day, i type "i got you this" into the search box of my email and go through a few archived classics. it never ceases to improve my mood.

here's a few examples:

don't i have the coolest mom?

ps. i got you this:

love,
j

what i like about einstein

there's a lot.

but i ran across some words of his today, initially just the first half of the quote, and then the complete text. and every cell of my romantic preschool teacher self swooned a little. here it is:

"if you want your children to be intelligent, read them fairy tales. if you want them to be more intelligent, read them more fairy tales."

no, seriously. please do... i'm pretty sure the fate of... everything rests upon it.

love,
j

this moment

i've re-written this post four times now. each time i've deleted it for fear of it sounding negative, or breaching privacy laws at work, or offending someone. the things i want to write about today are too personal and bittersweet to grace this page, and i think i can be at peace with that.

let it suffice to say: this past week has contained some of the greatest depth of emotion i've ever felt. 

and then we got our "trash the dress" photos back, and in the midst of a lot of darkness they were a beautiful reminder of the inordinate amount of joy that fills j's and my days.

so i'm not going to write about any of painful or challenging things that transpired over the week. i'm just going to share one photo, one perfect photo capturing a moment with my favorite human being on the planet. i love him, i love our city, i love our life together, more than anything i really love being his wife. and all of that comes rushing at me when i look at this:

just like a painting, our lives are made up of positive and negative space; light and dark. and one only serves to give us perspective through which we may view the other. i'm glad this photo popped up during my planning time on monday. it was a good reminder that no matter how hard my day at work is, no matter how many things feel like they're going wrong or are spinning out of my control, i have the gift of waking up and coming home to an incredibly loving marriage each day - an adventure with the one person i can't imagine life without - and i'm grateful for those other, harder pieces, too, because they drive home the realization of how truly beautiful finding that is.

j - thank you for being "home" to me. i could never find the words to explain how lucky i feel to have this with you, that marriage is so much better than i could have imagined, that no task is insurmountable because i have you by my side, but this photo can.

love,

j