2015 in Review (and Favorite Books)

It's time to sum up the year on Packing Lust! This is my fourth year doing this, and it's one of my favorite ways to get the big picture and remember the year as a whole. In 2015, we didn't travel outside of the U.S., however we certainly did some significant traveling and moving within the states. It was a family-focused year as we learned to parent and watch Bump thrive over the course of his first year of life. Our doggie, Jelly Bean, spent a few months living with my parents and then reunited with us in Washington, D.C. in October. At the end of the year we moved again (yes, just a couple days ago) and we're having fun in our new city.

Favorite Books

Of the dozens of books I read this year, my top three favorites were:

1. Dying to Be Me -- A kind of spiritual-health memoir by Anita Moorjani about her near death experience and subsequent speedy healing from cancer. She shares her unusual experience in vivid and convincing detail and what she learned about the importance of living fearlessly and as true to her self as possible.

2. Me Before You: a Novel -- I've read two Jojo Moyes books and both placed one of their main characters in the type of ethical quandary that most of us will never have to experience. This one is about the relationship between a paralyzed man with a death wish and one of his caretakers. I loved the masterful storytelling and the way it helped me see the central question from several perspectives.

3. Life in Motion: an Unlikely Ballerina -- Misty Copeland's memoir reveals her journey to become the first African-American principal dancer at the American Ballet Theatre.  I loved the window into the life of an elite dancer driven by the pursuit of excellence. Most of us will never experience being a prodigy in anything; this books lets you share the excitement of being 14 and discovering that you are one of the world's most naturally talented ballerinas. I was also impressed with the storytelling; it manages to be a page-turner even though we already know the happy ending to the story. I laughed; I cried. At one point I had to put the book down and dance alone in the room just to express the triumph I shared with her. This book is for anyone who ever worked hard on a dream and had to overcome unexpected obstacles to achieve excellence.

By Month

January

Having had baby boy Bump in late November 2014, I was two things: A) tired and B) excited to maintain my writing habit and keep the creative juices flowing.

To help out with A) I featured a guest post on creating a digital vision board to inspire your travel dreams and B) I did a 7-day blogging challenge.

February

My only post for February was a 2014 year in review piece. I guess I was still sleep-deprived from those early months as a new parent.

March

This month I launched SimpleLivingToolkit.com where I help people to declutter and join the simple living movement. I kept getting advice to narrow down/focus what I do to help people with my business (it's so hard when I do a variety of things, both to help people and just to express my creativity) so this new website was my answer. Join other simple living enthusiasts by signing up here.

April

This month I felt that it was time to share what I'd learned about about two things. One: self-publishing. Two: keeping things simple (stuff-wise) when you have a baby. Check out the very shareable "Minimalist Baby" list.

May

This month we took a romantic-foodie trip to Myrtle Beach while my parents took care of Bump. Fun and yummy. Another fun outing was the Dance of the Spring Moon powwow.

Also this month I launched my "Start a Daily Writing Habit" email coaching series. It's awesome and a great way to kick start yourself if you want to write more in 2016.

June

I posted my first and only packing related piece this year in June. It's about how you pack differently when you become a mommy and how certain things are less glamorous than... I thought they would be. I also blogged about a couple trips I took to Charleston, South Carolina.

July

We moved from Lumberton, NC, to Arlington, VA and I wrote about the ups and downs of big city life with a baby.

I reflected on how simple living lets me enjoy textures and details.

August

Though my book on habits to help you make money from your creativity is very behind schedule, I did work on it this year with additional research. I posted this month and later in the year when I found articles about creativity and about the changing landscape of making money as a creative.

Don't worry ; I didn't let the year go by without publishing. Prince Charming and I co-wrote a book called Simple Kitchen and published it this month to Amazon Kindle and Audible. It's a quick read you'll want to check out if you like keeping things simple in the kitchen without sacrificing the cooking experience.

After moving to the Washington, D.C. area last month, we enjoyed exploring our new city including a trip to Teddy Island.

At the end of the month, Bump (his nickname on the blog) turned 9 months old and we took photos in a park in our Rosslyn neighborhood in Arlington, Virginia. I shot more people too.

September

We explored the Washington, D.C. area. You know us; it was all about the food.

 Creative types may enjoy my notes on an interview that Elizabeth Gilbert gave in which she talked about fear and creativity and being a grown-up.

October

We moved within the D.C. metro area from Arlington, Virginia to the Columbia Heights area of Washington.

I traveled to Black Mountain, North Carolina, reuniting with a bunch of family on my mom's side to celebrate my grandmother's 80th's birthday.

November

We enjoyed exploring our neighborhood of Washington (Columbia Heights) on foot and living car-free. On the blog, I wrote about a memory of a snow ball fight I had back in Palestine in 2013. Bump turned one this month and started walking just before he hit that milestone birthday.

December

We moved to Los Angeles on the eve of Christmas Eve. Now, rather unexpectedly, but very happily, we're back in the city where Prince Charming and I met over five and a half years ago. I'm looking forward to what life in this city over the next year brings.

"Make a Plan to do Something that You'll Enjoy"

bench

looking back

on a rock

On October 3rd, my maternal grandmother, Peggy Paparella, celebrated her 80th birthday. As you can see from these photos, she's vibrant and beautiful (with remarkably great legs) at this age and seems ready to take on a new decade. She has filled her life with love, creativity, service, and travel, and plans to keep doing what she's doing.  (It's working, after all.) She seems to really enjoy her life and the love she shares with my grandpa, who she's been married to for fifty-five years.

Grandma has figured out how to wed her creativity with her desire to be of service. She does this in several ways. She gave birth to six children, which any parent will tell you, demands a great many acts of service. Nowadays her creativity takes the form of cooking, baking, sewing, crocheting, knitting, and crafting. She donates many of her hand-made items to be sold at auction to benefit the local Hospice. Other items she gives away to one of her thirty-one descendants.

big smile

pretty close up

So how is it possible to be so prolific while maintaining her energy and joy? Grandma hasn't always had an easy life, and her childhood and adolescence was difficult at times. Yet she rarely complains. She practices kindness and forgiveness and has a soft, tender heart. Grandma also has a very active spiritual life, praying many times a day and starting each day with a written back-and-forth conversation with Jesus. In my family we say "if Grandma's praying for you, watch out." God seems to listen to her more than the rest of us, so if I have a tough situation, I call up Grandma and Grandpa and I don't even have to ask; I know they are praying for me. For years they were praying for my future husband, so you know I'm not kidding around when I discuss the efficacy of their prayers and the special place Grandma has in God's heart.

Grandma credits her physical health to "living with a man who likes to eat well and eat healthily," which makes her want to eat healthily too. She said this with the barest hint of chagrin; grandma's love for bread, pasta, and sweets is well known and has been passed along to many of her progeny.

She keeps things low stress, and says she doesn't have much anxiety in her life, except, she adds with a twinkle in her eye, when Grandpa is driving their big RV, which is one of their favorite ways to travel.

She also keeps her mind active by reading a lot. She recently told me she'd just gotten back from the library with a huge stack of books, which she'll consume quickly. When her supply of unread books starts to dwindle, she starts getting nervous about running out of reading material.  She wrote me that, "Time to read a good book is one pleasure that I reward myself after I get my work done on some days.  Other days it could be a craft project or baking cookies or knitting something special for the great grand babies."

daisy in hand

She says "A wise woman once told me, wake up in the morning and make a plan to do something that you'll enjoy."  This idea of having something planned each day that you can look forward to, a way to get back the sparkle when life seems dull, exhausting, or depressing, has stuck with Grandma and helped her stay happy.

sunshine

Union Market DC, a Foodie Oasis in a Forlorn Area

Obviously, someone has a plan.

The renewed Union Market in DC is the beginning of a plan to revitalize the surrounding historic area, a thriving market for most of the 1900's, fallen since the 1980's into a state of sad dilapidation.

It's the sparkling, almost-trying-too-hard-to be-cool center of an area filled with falling down warehouses, their alleys perfumed with urine. The site, UnionMarketDC.com says the plan is that the area "surrounding the market will be a vibrant mix of retail, restaurants, hotel, entertainment, incubator space for new food concepts as well as retail and wholesale space."

It hasn't happened yet, though that didn't stop us from pushing the baby stroller through rather pedestrian-unfriendly streets to enjoy the delicious offerings of the restaurants and shops inside on two occasions  - once in August and once in September.

All the beautiful food inspired a brief but shining period that had me baking bread daily for almost a week and enjoying it like this:

That looks good. Maybe I'll bake bread today. It's been a while.

Bump is 9 Months Old Today

On the eve of his 9-month-iversary, we went to this odd little manicured, AstroTurfed mini-park; it's part of a sky walk in Arlington:

I snapped a bunch of photos. These are my favorites.

Teddy Island

 

I love that we can be in a city that feels so urban with high rise buildings and a constant hum of activity, and then just a few minutes down the road feel like we are deep in the forest, complete with swamp bugs and a green canopy high above.  The green space I'm thinking of is Theodore Roosevelt Island, or Teddy Island as I now think of it, a memorial to our 26th president.

We visited on Saturday. A kind stranger took the top shot of our family gathered at the feet of the impressive statue of Teddy in an energetic pose, almost like he's dunking a basketball. Or preparing to kick a tourist.

The memorial area around the statue has these stone structures with quotes from Teddy on topics like MANHOOD, NATURE, and YOUTH.

Crossing the Potomac via a pedestrian bridge on the way off the island, we paused to take more family photos.

New Mama and Sleepy Baby

I took these newborn photos in July 2014, a week after my friend Liz became a mommy for the first time. It's hard to believe this adorable little guy is more than a year old now. When I took these, I was about five months pregnant, and seeing those little hands, lips, ears, and all that newborn perfection made me look forward to meeting our Bump even more.

Summer Family Portraits

I took these photos of family members over the past few months. I love shooting people, in a photographic sense that is. I've been practicing my portrait photography for years (and improving very slowly), especially focusing on these types of shoots:

• couples
• engagements
• families
• mamas and babies
• birthdays
• anniversaries

I love taking pictures to mark special moments, milestones, and celebrations. I love how an image can capture a fleeting expression, a laugh, a moment of delight, thoughtfulness, or mischief. Also, my mom always quotes my grammy as saying, "You'll always look back at photos and think you looked good." Or something like that. The idea being that even if the mirror isn't kind to you today, the passage of time will give you a new outlook on your past attractiveness.

There's also the fun and creativity of doing "just for fun," photo shoots, which I have done with many of my friends since college. It's the grown up equivalent of playing dress up. It is playing dress up, with the addition of photos to remember the fun. I did one of these shoots with my friend Leena, where we did dramatic makeup and tattoo shots. You can see those photos here.

Also, I personally believe there is a bit of magical power in these fun photo shoots. I think seeing beautiful photos of yourself and your family can help us remember and appreciate what is important.

I do love to imagine, whimsical though it may be, that the photos I take of friends, where we play and enjoy and act and pose and dress up, do have some life changing magical power. I think portrait photography can help you see yourself in a new way. You can see your soul when you look at your eyes in a photo in a way you can't when you look into the mirror.

Leena

These are photos I took back in March 2014 of my friend Leena in Palestine. She recently got married. Congratulations to Leena and her groom. We miss you!

Baby in the City: Our New Life in Arlington, Virginia

We moved to Arlington, Virginia on July 15th. This could be temporary, a three month visit to the D.C. area, or we could stay longer. We are here because Prince Charming is doing some consulting for a nonprofit in this area, and of course, because we have wanderlust.

Exploring a new city with a baby (now 8 months old) is a whole new world, a world troubled by fear of poop seeping out of a diaper and onto the varnished oak table of a trendy brunch restaurant. And other concerns, like is it okay if my son licks the glass window of the metro train, and is it better to deal with the sweat and back strain involved in baby wearing or the hassle of maneuvering a stroller into and out of elevators, metros, and through the narrow hallways of a trendy brunch restaurant.

We embraced wanderlust, we embraced packing lust, and now we are embracing the result of all that lust, which is a baby. Primary upside: he's adorable.

Deeply adorable. The world -- when I can sweep away the sheer weight of responsibility, thoughts of the strongly worded letters I may write to all installers and maintainers of baby-changing stations in bathrooms, and concerns about poop, germs, and poop, and poop -- is a different place when I am out with Bump.

When we are outside (and inside, and pretty much all the time except when he is extremely hungry or sleepy), Bump acts as a representative of the office of spreading glorious happiness. I watch the faces of people approaching us on the street, the stressed students, the tired tourists, the careworn business people. Those faces transform when they get a glimpse of Bump's slow sunrise smile. They slow down. They smile. Their shoulders relax just a little bit. They sigh. They say things like,

"He smiles from his heart."

"He adorable. He is like, a model baby. He is the model adorable baby."

"Does he always smile like that?"

"Is he always like this?"

Usually I say, "yes, pretty much" in response to the last two questions, but after giving it some thought, I realize that people are hoping they are special, that Bump is smiling at them, really seeing them, seeing their uniqueness and giving them a smiles that recognizes the best in them. And he is. So I may begin to answer differently, perhaps.

Perhaps sometimes I will say, "No, he's not always like this. It's you. You've got a special soul and he recognizes that and wants to give you the gift of his smile as a way to say thank you for sharing that which is good in you with the world."

Or, maybe I'll keep letting Bump's sweet smile do the talking.

Mommy Packing and Birthday Thoughts

This is not my bag.

I'm still learning about packing light as a mama. Bump is exactly seven months old today, and I have very little figured out as far as traveling with or without him.

This is what Bump looks like today.

During those nights when I'm waking up every few hours to feed him, I long for a weekend getaway when I can sleep through the night. But I recently took one such weekend getaway, and the entire time I felt like I was missing a limb, or at least part of one, because he wasn't nearby. I wondered constantly how he was doing and if he was okay, even though I knew he was having a great time with Prince Charming. I also had to carry my rather large breast pump and its attendant bottles and tubes. I forgot to bring milk bags, but thankfully another breastfeeding mom on the trip had brought some with her. Mommy packing is why the top picture is not my bag, but the bag of a friend who is child free.

Mommy Packing with the Kid

• Diaper bag
• Car seat
• Baby carrier/wrap
• Patience
• Baby clothes
• Blankets
• Toys
• Patience
• Pack n play bed
• Mommy's stuff
• Patience
• Sense of Adventure
• Patience
• Patience

Mommy Packing without the Kid

• Mommy's stuff
• Breast pump and accessories
• Sense of disorientation/confusion/"something missing"
• Trust (in babysitters)
• Sense of freedom

Never, during any late-night talks in the dorm with these college friends did I ever imagine that our future would find us chatting over the hum of electric breast pumps. It's funny how dreams of the future never include the less-than-glamorous parts. I had that thought recently as I scrubbed my dog's ears free of the bits of rotting animal carcass she had rolled in.

But it's all part of this magical life. The highs and lows. The sunsets and the stink.

The View from 30

I'll be turning 30 soon, and of course it's got me contemplating the future, which is one of my favorite activities. I went with the friends mentioned above on a weekend trip to Charleston to celebrate our birthdays. We counted our blessings.

Painting

It's pretty amazing to realize that we all are living out our dreams, although of course life doesn't always look or feel like we imagined back in college, when we all met. But what a privilege it is to be alive, to have my beloved, my family, my little one, and an abundance of everything I need.

2015-06-04 20.01.03

I don't know what the next decade holds, but hopefully more babies (whether for us or our friends), more writing, more travel, more learning, more laughing, and always, more love.

baby

Packing List for the Next Decade

• Love
• Curiosity
• Sense of Humor
• Meditative Mindset
• Sense of Adventure
• Patience
• Confidence
• Gratitude

And a notebook to write it down!

Two Charleston Trips

There was a little flurry of road trips about 7-8 months ago, before Bump arrived, and one of them was to Charleston, SC.  It was a quick trip. We saw my sister-in-law and niece, and we took one of the carriage tours that the city is famous for. We admired the old fancy homes, took a quick water-view selfie, and ate a beautiful meal.

Having been raised mostly in the South, I am used to the strong connection to Civil War history places like Charleston have, including the display of the Confederate flag and monuments to fallen Confederate soldiers. However, Charming, a California boy at heart, found it strange to be surrounded by what he was educated to view as "symbols of slavery and prejudice."   I tried to explain to him that most Southerners feel a deep connection to a complex and painful history, including the Civil War, but it doesn't mean they don't condemn slavery and racism.

Seven months later, I found myself back in Charleston. This was last weekend and the city was reeling in shock and grief from the murder of nine of its African-American citizens who were killed in cold blood by a maniac who explained his actions by saying he wanted to start a race war.

In the aftermath three days ago, South Carolina Governor Nikki Haley called for the Confederate flag to be removed from the State House building in Columbia, South Carolina, saying it was a "deeply offensive symbol of a brutally offensive past." Hopefully this act will help create a more inclusive, unified state that can heal from the racially motivated act of violence that rocked the state and the country.

During this recent weekend trip, signs hung all around the city, declaring unity and thoughts of sympathy to the families of the slain and the church they belonged to. The photo at the top of this post shows one of those signs, displayed in the city market and signed by passersby.

I was there with three college friends to celebrate our 30th birthdays, which we did mostly by talking, relaxing by pool and beach, and by going out for fish tacos.

After tacos Saturday night, we walked next door to an outdoor art showing we'd passed by earlier in the day. The large, graffitti-inspired murals had been a backdrop for an inclusive community event earlier that was open to the public. We arrived after the event closed, but walked around the outdoor area to one of the murals that was lit with votive candles lined up under it.

We held hands and said a prayer for Charleston as dusk deepened. A fellow latecomer arrived to the art event on a bicycle and offered to take a group photo for us.

This second Charleston trip was just as beautiful as the first, but marked by a turning point that will hopefully bring good out of evil for the city.

30 Hours in Myrtle Beach

Prince Charming and I picked a weeknight earlier this month and went to Myrtle Beach, South Carolina for two days and a night.

We said goodbye to Bump...

... who was in good hands with my mom caring for him, then escaped for some much needed couple time.

In Lumberton, NC (where we are now),  if you say "I'm going to the beach" without further elaboration its assumed you are going to Myrtle Beach. Myrtle Beach is about a two hour drive (or less if you have a lead foot) from Lumberton. It's a kind of Atlantic City of the South without the gambling. The family-friendly getaway is populated with an abundance of mini golf courses, water parks,  and theaters.  Everything is given a fun theme, including most restaurants, all mini golf, and most theater productions (Medieval Times, pirates, etc). And then of course, there's the beach where you can relax between thematic experiences.

It was a fun little romantic getaway. We stayed in an AirBnB condo on the 11th floor of an oceanfront building and woke up to the beautiful sunrise in the top photo. We took sleepy selfies:

The night before we'd gone to see the The Carolina Opry, a musical variety show at the Calvin Gilmore Theater. A lot of the music was country-western type stuff I wasn't familiar with, but there were also some great covers, including a thrilling rendition of Dolly Parton's made-famous-by-Whitney-Houston I Will Always Love You. We also laughed that the ubiquitous "Let it Go" from Frozen somehow made it into the show as well.

Hungry after sitting in the theater for a couple hours, we made a pit stop at a hole-in-the wall pizza joint. A total gamble that paid off with some of the best pizza I've ever had. Check it out if you're craving pizza in Myrtle Beach. It's in this strip mall:

It's called New York Pizza. Trip Advisor displays love-it-or-hate-it reviews. Maybe they have off-nights. The couple that owns it is Lebanese, so Prince Charming chatted with them about his visit to Lebanon when we lived in the Middle East. I begged for the secret to the pizza, but they wouldn't reveal it, although there were some hints about fresh garlic, thyme, oregano, and how it's all in the crust.

Charming's favorite food experience during the trip was a fried oyster sandwich he had at Noizy Oyster. I was raving equally about my dish of raw oysters there.

For a delicious brunch the next morning we went to Johnny D's Waffles and Bakery where we had eggs Benedict, a large fruit plate, and some sort of banana coconut waffle the server described as "so heavy it kind of condenses on itself." Yeah.

I don't usually care what a restaurant looks like as long as the food is good and it's not too loud to have a conversation, but Johnny D's interior added icing on the waffle with charming hand-painted seascape murals on each wall.

I ate a lot since that morning we'd woken up early with the aforementioned sunrise and I'd gone for a run on the beach. Charming got a picture of the end of my run as I'm looking for him on our 11th floor balcony.

It was fun to show Charming around Myrtle Beach, a place I've visited many times growing up Lumberton, but that he'd never been to.

2014 In Review

I started off 2014 in cold water.

After feeling like just another member of the hoard of tourists that constantly pulse through Venice, Italy, we found a remarkably local-feeling celebration in the city on New Years Day, 2014. It was at Lido Beach, at an annual event of the Ibernisti club. I joined a bunch of other so-called "hibernators," mostly middle-aged men clad in Speedos and ladies in swim caps, in a celebratory plunge into the ice-cold Adriatic sea. (Anyone is invited.) Scroll down to the lower part of this blog post to read details.

During the ensuing adrenaline spike, I enjoyed a warm lentil sausage soup, and, improbably, the sounds of my Carolina upbringing as a live band played Beach Music there on that Italian beach.

In February we spent some time enjoying the not-so-dry season of the dry lands around Israel and Palestine, including the examination of an extra large hole in the ground.

As Spring came to Palestine, I spent a lot of time at Juthour, the arboretum nurtured into being by our  tree-loving friends, American-Palestinian couple Morgan and Saleh.

Out on the land, I enjoyed long walks with Jelly Bean, getting away from the commotion that came with living in the city center of Ramallah, and picnics with a dear group of friends that we became close to and who made Palestine feel like home into our second year there.

As the year wore on,  I started to feel the pangs of wanderlust.

In April, while celebrating our two-year wedding anniversary at the beach in Tel Aviv, we scheduled a visit to a doctor nearby and learned that the home pregnancy test I'd recently taken was correct.

I was pregnant! We'd been trying for what seemed like a while and had been discouraged and thought it might never happen. After we heard that little heart beat, we joyfully called our family to share the news.

In the first half of the year, we had the pleasure of hosting some friends in Palestine.

When Kimberly visited us, we had the usual Dead Sea shenanigans, plus some new explorations in Nazareth and Jerusalem.

In late June and early July we took a big trip to the USA that included a cruise with a stop in Canada. We saw New York City; Boston; Halifax, Nova Scotia; then Portland, Oregon; Los Angeles; and San Francisco. I had an inspiring bowl of Pho. We went on a cruise with family and I have a wonderful memory of soaking in a hot tub on deck with my dad and siblings  as evening came on and Hurricane Arthur pelted our faces with cold sideways rain.

We arrived back to a summer of chaos and bloodshed in Gaza. In our home in the West Bank, we were never in danger, but our hearts went out to the people who lost so much during the escalation in Gaza, those whom Prince Charming served in his position with a large humanitarian aid organization.

August and September were bittersweet, as we prepared to leave our friends in Palestine and looked forward to giving birth in the U.S., surrounded by family and friends. My belly was growing, and I looked forward to being able to not worry about overcoming a language barrier with healthcare providers in the U.S.

Morgan spoiled me with a spa day that included an all-natural face mask that made me look like an alien.

I ate a lot of bananas and drank a lot of green smoothies.

We visited Armageddon (underwhelming) and the Bahai Gardens in Haifa (wow).

 And we said goodbye.

We arrived in Lumberton, North Caroline where we've been staying with family. They have been so generous in giving us a place to land in the U.S. so that Prince Charming can take a sabbatical and enjoy new fatherhood.

Once settled, we set up the baby stuff and took some short trips: babymoons to the Richmond, Virginia area; to Holden Beach and Asheville, North Carolina and to Charleston, South Carolina. We met the medical staff who'd be attending the birth of our baby.

Then, just before we were scheduled to sit down for a Thanksgiving feast with lots of extended family, I started to feel the birthing waves begin.

Some fifteen hours later, he arrived. Our beautiful son.

We spent the rest of the holiday season lost in Babyland, the reason this blog post is so late. It's an enchanting place to travel to and get lost in. It's a hormone high every time he coos or caws. It's been so fun to get to know this little boy who gets bigger and brighter every day. Time is flying.

Packing Advice on Packing Lust

IN 2013, I posted only one packing advice article on packing lust. in 2014 I did a little better, and posted 5, with a little help from others:

I'm happy with the increase in posts about what to pack this year.

Professionally

Professionally, 2014 saw me simplify my web business situation, combining my coaching practice with Packing Lust. I continue to learn and grow as a creative entreprenuer. I have some changes planned for 2015 to clarify what I do and make my site easier to navigate so visitors can find what they are looking for. Sales of Minimalist Living were strong in 2014 and the Facebook community continues to grow. The Minimalist Living page had around 6,000 "likes" at the end of 2014. I worked on my next book, which will be about the habits required to make a living as a writer or artist, in 2014, but did not make my goal to have it finished and published in 2014. Hopefully I will publish it in 2015. I want to share what I've learned about making money from my writing, but I want to test what I've learned before I do so. I want to earn more income myself through the application of the habits and practices I've been studying. Then I'll share what I've learned in the book since one of my professional goals is to help other writers do the work independent creative work they want to do and get paid for it.

Where We Are Now and The Birth of Our Son

Where In the World Are We?

We are currently staying in Lumberton, a small town in southeast North Carolina where my family lives, and where we chose to have our first baby.

The Ecstatic Birth of Our Son

The birth of our son was an incredible experience at the local hospital. We had competent and caring healthcare providers, including a nurse who told us she was leaving her job soon and wished our birth could've been her last because it was so touching.

Prince Charming held me in his arms for the ecstatic final moments (or was it hours?) of my 15 hour overnight labor. He skipped the lavish Thanksgiving feast (that he helped cook) to be there for every moment. I rewarded him by hitting him (apparently, although I have no recollection of that) when he came too close to me with breath smelling of powder-cheese snack crackers.

Magic and Romance

Parenthood has been magical. Our little boy is so deliciously perfect he's almost edible. We delight in snuggling with him and kissing his chubby cheeks. I give him new nicknames every hour. Charming likes to discuss solutions to world hunger and poverty with him.

New parenthood has also been hard. Hard, as in, sleepless and grumpy. The romance has taken a predictable hit. You know things are bad when, asked what he would like for his birthday, your husband says "just be nice to me."

Please keep in mind my sleep-deprived and cranky state as I describe our current location.

Lumberton, The Ugly

Located in Robeson County, NC, Lumberton is known for its violence, drug-trafficking, and obesity.

Parts of the county are considered a food desert. It's franchise fast-food for as far a the eye can see. And the eye can see far, as the land is flat here in this part of the state. My high school cross-country team would go to the man-made byway overpasses to do hill training.

There are no independent coffee shops or bookstores. Two recently opened businesses include a drive-through Starbucks and a large, almost warehouse-sized sex shop.

Lumberton, The Love

There are some things to love about Lumberton. Most importantly, my family is here, and they are immensely loveable.

It's got that slow-paced, small-town friendliness. We were standing in line at the post office, asking the attendant a question about the location of some government offices she didn't know the answer to. Three people in line behind us volunteered answers and other helpful tidbits.

People here are kind, friendly, hospitable, and truly caring. They have time for each other. There isn't much elitism, and, with a population evenly divided into four main ethnicities, the racism is, at least, a fair fight.

The town is also known for its extensive healthcare facilities. It's marketed to retired couples who make use of the healthcare facilities and enjoy relatively low-cost housing.

The landscape can be beautiful, especially if you enjoy lush fields of soft white cotton buds, lanky pines, and tastefully dilapidated tobacco barns. The Lumber River hides secrets in tea-colored water that languidly flows around knobby Cyprus knees.

The weather is mild in the winter. Air conditioning is plentiful in the summer.

The Lumbee Indian tribe here has a compelling history worth reading up on. The local, incomprehensible, deep-country dialect of English has a lilting musicality.

Lumberton isn't a place I would likely choose to spend much time in if my family wasn't here.  Sometimes it feels like I have a love-hate relationship with Lumberton. But the truth is, a place is really all about its people. And if that's the true, then Lumberton is a place to love.

Pho and Everything else in America

There are rare occasions when traveling that one experience rises so far above the others,  that no matter how amazing the others are, they fade into the background when remembering the trip.

Such is the case with one experience from our pretty-epic-if-I-do-say-so-myself July travels around the U.S. (and a quick trip up to Canada).

Now, if I saw you on this trip, I don't want you to be jealous. If I sailed on a boat with you, went to a funeral with you, rode a cruzbike with you, danced in your bedroom, crab-clawed my way down a mountain with you, cherished your adorable newborn, planned world domination with you, rode in a hot air balloon with you, chased waterfalls with you, cuddled with your loving, one-eyed Chihuahua, or floated in a jacuzzi during a hurricane with you, please don't be jealous.  I'm telling you I had a wonderful time.

If you are my husband, please don't be jealous.

I think you will all understand.

What happened was, I fell in love with a bowl of Pho. It was just so delicious.

More specifically, this bowl of Pho served up at New Tu Do on Bowery Street in NYC is the one that has my heart:

For the uninitiated, Pho is a Vietnamese rice noodle dish usually prepared in an oxtail broth that has been slow-simmered for a long time.

This one had juicy pieces of thinly-sliced beef, bean sprouts, Thai basil, cilantro, and lemon. I dressed it with the perfect amount of Sriracha. How my heart longs for it again.

I emailed a friend, "I can have hope in all things turning out okay in the world because that bowl of pho exists."

Now let's put that bowl of Pho in its place in the trip.

Saying Goodbye

My trip began a week earlier than we had planned with the passing of my Aunt Jenny, who had been suffering with brain cancer for almost two years. I wasn't planning on going to the memorial service, but after I talked to my mom, Prince Charming and I decided to scramble and see if I could fly home to NC for a week before our regularly scheduled trip which would have begun in NYC. I could and I did.  It was great to be with my family during this really sad time. Of course, joy was mixed into our grief, because Aunt Jenny's suffering has ended.

It's always fun to get together with my big family, even if though what brought us together was sad. Being one of the oldest cousins on this side of the family, I remember the birth or toddlerhood of most of my cousins, who now, inexplicably, have become handsome young men.

The handsome part is explicable (those good genes everywhere) but not the grown up part, and not the "men" part. I have no idea why there is a preponderance of males on this side of the family. Out of my seventeen cousins, there are 13 boys and 4 girls.

NYC

Next Prince Charming flew over and I flew up. We met in NYC where we enjoyed civilization, including lots of people-watching and wandering the streets of Manhattan. During our time in the city, we ate things like hipster pork sammies served on chopping boards with artisanal sasparilla soda. But more importantly, I met my other soulmate, that aforementioned bowl of Pho.  The first time I ate it, I regretted not being able to finish the bowl. Even though I was stuffed, I immediately wanted to go back to the restaurant. I begged Charming. I hoped for burps that would bring back the taste. I had a very vivid dream in which I was eating it again. So of course we went back a second time. I made sure to get a pho-to of the two loves of my life.

I think this pho-to captures the crazy look in my eyes revealing my obsessive adoration.

Both times after I took that first bite of Pho, I felt my unborn child move in my womb. No joke. I wasn't sure if I'd felt fetal movement before, but the kid loved the pho and decided to let me know. Oh! Yes, we are expecting. This is the first time I've mentioned it on the blog. If all goes as planned, we'll have our baby in December.

After eating the Pho the second time, we left the restaurant. I was just thinking of how excited I was to tell everyone about the Pho and the baby kicks, and then I looked down and there on the ground was a fifty-dollar bill. No joke. The streets of New York paid for both meals.

The Boat

Immediately after the second pho-ntastic experience, we met my family on this cruise liner in Brooklyn.

We had a lovely family reunion on board Cunard's Queen Mary II.

Boston & Halifax

This cruise had two stops: Boston and Halifax. Boston was rather rainy and cold due to Hurricane Arthur. We spent most of our time inside foggy-windowed cars, busses, and restaurants.

Halifax, Nova Scotia was more fun. We debarked and enjoyed shenanigans around the old port city.

Then, back in NYC after the cruise, we took the last opportunity to hang out with the family for a while and enjoyed a nice, long, getting-a-bit-lost walk on and around the Brooklyn bridge. My sister hurt her knee and had to be carried part of the way.

Portland

From New York, Charming and I parted ways with the family, enjoyed a couple more days in the city, and then got on a plane bound for Portland, Oregon.

My dear college friend and travel buddy Elizabeth and her husband Chris had welcomed, just a few days before our arrival, their firstborn into the world. What a little bundle of heart-melting sweetness! I'm so thankful for getting to share this special time with Chris and Elizabeth and their tiny one.

Elizabeth and I both had the extreme good luck to fall in love with and marry devilishly handsome, virile men who do all the grocery shopping and cooking for the household. I know. You want to hit us. It is pretty awesome since we all know the corollary to "love covers a multitude of sins" is "a fresh baked loaf of sourdough bread covers a multitude of sins."

The guys talked sauces, charcuterie, and local produce. A friendship blossomed.

Chris took us out chasing waterfalls and showed us the splendid natural beauty of the area.

And of course there was lots of gorgeous hipster food, including the city's famous Voodoo Donuts (second photo down).

My weekend activity in Portland was the World Domination Summit, which was incredible, and which I will postpone writing about until later this month. For now, suffice it to say I rode in a hot air balloon.

San Francisco

After Portland, we jumped on a flight for San Francisco. This time, it was all about seeing family, friends, and enjoying my uncle's amazing electrified Cruzbikes.

Los Angeles

A few quick days in LA were next, and that trip was about seeing friends too. It's been more than two years since Charming and I have been together on the West Coast, where many of our friends and connections live.  We are so grateful we got to spend some time with these folks and even more who aren't pictured.

Back to Palestine on One of the Last Flights

This is a long post, and it doesn't even cover the whole trip - just some of the good stuff. I didn't even have time for the misadventures, the things the hurricane ruined, the arguments, the vomiting, the hurt feelings, the flight delays, the exhaustion.  There's always more to the story.

Shortly after we got back, flights into Tel Aviv from the states were grounded until further notice. We got back safely to Ramallah, preparing ourselves to try to understand exactly how bad things are. Things are indeed very bad in Gaza (although we are safe here). Israel's bombs and chemical weapons have killed and injured many children and civilians in Gaza, and likely more by the time I publish this. Thousands of people have been displaced. Remember our friend Osama from Gaza? He and his wife now have 28 people living in their apartment, and he says they will soon run out of water. This conflict needs to end, and it needs a truly peaceful and just resolution.

Top 10 Food Blogs for Foodies

No  post and email from me today,  partly due to the insanity of tax day for my U.S. readers. In case you are checking, here's a consolation prize: Top 10 Food Blogs for Foodies from LifeScoop. Enjoy.

The Real Power of a Power Suit

My aunt, Kelly Parker Palace, wrote today's guest post. I write in my minimalism books about how the true power of a belonging lies in the memories and stories you attach to it, not the actual possession itself. I think this dramatic story illustrates that point perfectly. Once you realize that the memories are the treasure, you can let go of the old and let the new in. Enjoy. -- Genevieve

I often fantasize about how nice it would be to have an uncluttered organized closet. My clothes lined up by color or purpose, everything in its place.  The huge dose of inspiration I needed for this came to me from reading my niece’s book, Minimalist Living. I felt I was ready, normally I am a purger-not a collector. Most of our home qualifies as minimalist. My closet was the last untouched area. I thought I was ready to conquer it, but when I went to take action, I froze like a statue standing in the doorway.  Lucky for me I had access to Genevieve a world traveling, minimalist expert-author, who I knew could assist me. I whipped off the following email to her, asking for help.

Hi Sweetie,

I am reading your book on minimalism (and loving it) and it is inspiring me to de-clutter my clothing/closet. But I am having trouble getting rid of my "winter" wardrobe. Having moved here from NY and DC, I have a great collection of wonderful winter-wear: coats, expensive business suits, and all the accessories that go with these items.

Though we have now lived in hot Florida for 9 years, I still have all my winter coats, suits and clothes hanging in my closet. I keep thinking that "one day" I may move north again and would need them. Also, of course, I do travel to cold climates, so I may need a few cold weather items.

I know part of getting rid of the suits is saying goodbye to my fun and successful career with Pfizer. It makes me sad. Also some sadness is involved in the winter coat goodbyes. Any advice you can give me in letting these go?

I love you!

Aunt Kelly

Though Genevieve is time zones away on the other side of the world, she picked up the phone and called me when she read my email.  After a quick check-in, she cut to my plea for help.  Who knew what followed would be like one of the best, most cathartic “counseling” sessions of my life? That I would be shedding tears of deep emotion related to clothing in my closet?!

The Session

In our phone conversation Genevieve asked me to think about the feelings I got when I evaluated various pieces of my clothing. She recommended that I take a picture of items with which I carry powerful memories.  Maybe write a story about the most important ones. She reminded me that by taking old things out of my closet/life I would make room for new/exciting things. She asked me important questions in my search for the reasons why I had held onto items for decades, without using them, even once. I answered. She listened. I cried. I thought about things more deeply than I had in a long time. After the call and this writing exercise, I felt ten times lighter! And I’m ready to really take action towards my fantasy closet. What follows is just one story of a “Power Suit” that was holding power over me, hanging in my closet untouched for the last 14 years. I hope by photographing this suit and writing its story I will be able to get rid of it and invite something new into my life that serves me better.

The Story

The day was September 11, 2001 and I felt extra good as I walked to work in my freshly dry cleaned, chartreuse, Liz Claiborne suit, pearls, tan pumps and hose.

It was also a “good hair” day, I noted with pleasure. I was living and working in New York City.  Like many people in NYC that day, I had a spring in my step on what started as an exceptionally beautiful, crisp, clear morning.  Additionally, I was happily anticipating September 12th, my 40th birthday, and was looking forward to celebrating the big 4-0 with friends during the upcoming weekend.

The route I covered daily from my apartment to my office took me by a charming old firehouse with an open truck bay and handsome, friendly firefighters that waved and smiled at me every morning while sitting at a round table and drinking coffee, as they started their shift. Seeing these men in uniform was of the highlights of my morning walk/commute. My office was located on 42nd Street on the 36th floor of one of Pfizer Pharmaceuticals buildings, our global headquarters in the heart of Midtown Manhattan.

Loving Life

I had a job I loved at Pfizer, great co-workers and thrived on the energy of the amazing city and all it had to offer. Life was good.  In fact, in my “Power Suit” on the streets of NYC, I felt deep gratitude to be living one version of my dream life.  I was smiling at people on the way to work, not always a common practice in NYC, but I did it anyway on this gorgeous day.  Little did I know, in just a couple of hours I would be carrying my pumps and wearing holes in the bottom of my stockings as I ran down 36 flights of stairs in a terror filled exit from my office. That would be the beginning of a 16-hour saga of escaping the war zone New York City became that day.

I often feel guilty about mentioning any of my own sadness, grief, anxiety, confusion or pain which I experienced on 9/11. It feels as though it should be insignificant compared to the many that had worked at the twin towers or lost their life or a loved one. Yet, my experiences, memories and emotions of that day run so deep that to this day if I see the images of the planes hitting the towers, I am rocked with immediate tears and flashes of feelings that still haunt me.

The First

As I sat at my desk around 8:45 am on 9/11, a co-worker popped their head into my office and said, “Hey, come to the back window. A plane just hit one of the twin towers and you can see it perfectly.” Initially my mind conjured up a two-person “piper cub” plane just scratching the facade of the mighty tower.  When I turned the corner of the hall to our big picture window facing south and looked at the towers, I was not prepared for what I saw.  The clear day with low humidity provided a direct, flawless view of the towers from our 36th floor sight-line. There were no buildings tall enough to interfere with our view. What we saw made the TV images look meek. The plumes of red, orange and yellow flames and thick black smoke pouring from a gaping hole in the tower was huge and horrific against the brilliant blue sky. This was no piper cub.  A giant aircraft had hit the tower and the tragedy and loss of life was obvious. BAM! Oh my god! Just as we watched the first tower burning, it was surreal to see a second plane slam into the other tower directly in our view. Not on TV, but live before my very eyes. This could not be real. Was I having a nightmare? Were we at war?

The Second

Fear and confusion struck many of us when the second plane hit . A wave of nausea came over me. One of my male co-workers, whom I particularly admired for his strong leadership, vomited in the nearest trash can. I felt like doing that too, but didn’t have enough breakfast in me to produce it. At this point time was both fast and slow.  Several of us stood in silence watching ghastly clouds of blackness and flames rise into the sky.  What we thought was debris falling from the towers, we later realized were people jumping from their offices.  We were shaken out of our disbelief when emergency sirens to evacuate our building began to boom loudly through the halls.  Panic mode was now in full swing for all of us. We were instructed to quickly grab our personal items and “walk” down 36th flights of stairs.  I ran. So did many others.

A War Zone

Though I never saw the media cover it from this angle, several of us in the tall buildings of NYC had our thoughts race to Pearl Harbor. We felt like we were in a war zone.  Would there be more planes flying into tall buildings in the city? I wasn’t going to stick around to find out. I needed to get to the place where I felt the most protected, safe and loved on earth--my parents home in Richmond, Virginia. I needed to sit on Mom and Dad’s couch and sip tea and have them tell me things would be OK. Even though I was 39 years old, I felt like a small child, lost in the grocery store, panicked. But I was lost in NYC which was now a very scary place and I wanted out.

Running

The rest of that day is a blur. I ran all the way back to my apartment in bare feet. Sirens were blaring everywhere and the streets were filled with a parade of fire trucks. The sidewalks were crowded as people rushed to safety. At my apartment I tossed off my power suit and got into comfy traveling clothes and running shoes. My plan was to catch a train to Richmond. I packed a backpack of stuff and went to find my roommate Barb to say goodbye. She was on the roof of our apartment watching the sliver-view of the towers, with other residents.  I found her shiny blonde hair among the crowd and told her my plan. That is when we heard a massive sound and felt the ground tremble.  One of the towers was falling to the ground. My heart rate had almost returned to normal from the morning and my plan to get out of the city had calmed me a bit, but the tremor beneath me now was like another blow.  As the first tower was falling to the ground,  we watched what felt like slow motion. The storm cloud of dust was rising in the sky and I thought it would engulf us, even though we were a safe distance away.  We all knew the death toll was rising as we watched. Panic struck me again. I began to run once more. Yes, real sub-8-minute per mile running. I was scared and wanted out.

Escape

I headed south to Penn Station to catch a train. I passed people covered in white dust heading north. People crying everywhere. Strong, handsome men in $3,000 power suits crying on their cell phones.  Strangers hugging one another. Emergency vehicles were abundant. The streets were crowded.  Taxis weren’t stopping. The amazing, powerful positive energy of the city was different.  People were scared. When I arrived at Penn Station, I was met by a gruff policeman and barricades.  The officer informed me that Penn Station was closed. No trains were running. In fact, he told me that “the island” (Manhattan) was being closed down. No entry nor exit. This made me crazy! “What?!” I screamed at him, “I have to get off the island!” Then he mumbled that one of the north bridges might be open.  I felt trapped. Rumors were flying about the corpses piling up and how the city might become a health hazard. Now I was heading north hoping to find an open bridge. Again, I began to run, my anxiety still high, for the next few miles until I took a rest in Central Park. My heart rate was high, even though I was a competitive runner. Running with heavy back pack while scared can do that. I needed a rest.

Shared Grief

In Central Park I found a bench with only one person on it and plenty of room for me to stop and drink one of the water bottles I had packed.  I sat down and got control of my breathing. That is when I noticed, in detail, the well dressed young man sitting next to me, his shoulders heaving with each crying sob he made.  At first I noticed just the movement of his body, then I heard his waling. Maybe me sitting there with him allowed him to release his emotions. Or maybe the reality of the day had just hit him, but he was in pain. I put my hand on top of one of his and I gently asked, “Are you OK?”  “No, no,” he quietly gurgled through tears. “My best friend was in tower two on the 101st floor. He was above the crash. I know he’s dead”, he continued.  “I’m so sorry”, I said and began to cry with him. As each hour passed my emotions were getting more raw. It felt good to let out some of the pressure. My shock and anxiety was now grief for this young man and his friend.  I couldn’t think about the other massive loss of life that day, or I never would have stopped crying. I felt stuck to the bench, drained of energy now. But again, as if on cue, I was jolted out of an emotional nightmare by a loud rumbling in the sky.

The rumbling rocked us. Hard to identify at first, but then clearly, it was the sound of a fleet of fighter jets zooming over Central Park and NYC.  Everyone in the Park looked up, visibly shaken by another assault on our already damaged senses.  Fear and adrenaline filled me and my fellow bench dweller. We speculated. Were we being attacked? Were those US jets or enemies’? Now my negative imagination was in over-drive. I needed to run again.  After a quick farewell to my sad friend, I was off.  I walked-ran many miles over the Triborough Bridge until I strained a hamstring. Finally I reached LaGuardia Airport by foot, where all planes were grounded.

The Last Car

At the Budget Rental Car desk I got their last vehicle to drive to Richmond.  The trip should have taken 8 hours in normal circumstances but with the required detour around the city and the traffic it took 13 hours. Going south on I-95 I passed hundreds of fire trucks heading north to assist NYC in her hour of need. The fire trucks all had their lights flashing which helped keep me alert as I made the long drive. The processional of endless flashing fire trucks is a unique visual which I will always remember.  I arrived at my parents at 2am. Mom and Dad were waiting up for me. I had forgotten to eat all day.  Mom wrapped me in a blanket on the couch, brought me a bowl of cereal and both parents said, “Happy Birthday Honey, we’re so glad you are home safely.”

A New World

As I crawled into bed at my parents’ in the wee hours of the morning, I thought of my NYC apartment and what it would be like to be going back there. At that point, I didn’t know when I would be returning to NYC. I would learn many things had changed in this great city. My friendly morning firefighting crew lost some members from their shift in the towers. One thing I knew I would find upon my return was my chartreuse, Liz Claiborne power suit crumpled on the floor of my room where I had thrown it in my hasty escape on 9/11.

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Inspired? Join the 10-Day Decluttering Challenge by signing up here.

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1st photo credit: ifindkarma via photopin cc

2nd photo credit: Kelly Parker Palace

2013 in Review

A month into 2014, and I've finally found space to look back at the last year on Packing Lust and review 2013. 2013 was the first full year of this blog's existence, since I started it in the summer of 2012.

2013 started out with visiting family on the East Coast, where planning for my mom's Cruzbike Race Across America (then 6 months away) to race 3000 miles for the cure for brain cancer was in full swing.

Down in beautiful and sunny Florida, I visited with my aunt and uncle, Trog, and Grammy.

In the meantime, Prince Charming was struggling through a very snowy week back in Ramallah.

In March, we left our new-but-problematic-and-far-flung apartment and moved into a fixer-upper, near the city center.  Along with our new home came a bunch of new friends we are thankful for. We tried not to offend our neighbors.

It was a Spring of enjoying both Palestine and Israel, with trips to Jaffa and Herzeliya beach, where a bulldozer almost ruined our day.

In May, I officially unveiled Prince Charming's handsome face. For now, we are still keeping his real name off the blog. Our marriage turned one in April.

Also in May sometime, we took a trip to Amman and Petra, Jordan. I blogged it, then lost that post. Eventually I re-blogged what I could remember. [Update: that re-blogged post is here.]

In June, my mom won the Race Across America, and I was there crewing from California to Maryland and every state in between.

Jelly Bean turned one sometime in June. We forgot to celebrate, but we give her birthday presents almost every day in the form of treats, toys, and bones.

I celebrated my July birthday with a small, quiet celebration, and by posting some sun-soaked photos I took with my birthday present.

In August, it was back to the states again for another big traveling month, with visits to Maine to see Charming's parents, then down the East Coast to see lots of friends and attend two weddings.

Maine:

K&C got married:

And then my brother too.

In September, Calli came to visit us in Palestine!

Fall brought a fun trip to the Golan Heights, where we stayed in a yurt and tasted some nice wine. Romantic.

I didn't post it on Packing Lust, but I had a great time painting my own and some friends faces for a Ramallah Halloween party:

We found a home for this stray puppy.

Just before Christmas, Ramallah got hit with some heavy snow; despite the weather, my family still managed to survive and thrive on their visit here.

Then it was Christmas in Rome. I plan to post soon about our Rome-antics and Italy fun, but for now here's a preview photo.

Career

My writing got a boost when my first book, Minimalism for Grandparents, won an About.com Reader's Choice Award early in the year. In April, I started blogging for Fairy Tale Life and officially launched my coaching business, Fairy Tale Life Coaching, in May. Today, I'm planning to bring my coaching practice over here to Packing Lust, and to bring my blog content over here too. In November, I focused hard on drafting book number two, Minimalist Living, and launched the book in December.

Packing Lists

There was only one post in 2013 dedicated solely to packing advice:

Minimalist Packing for Visiting the Gaza Strip

Must remedy that in the 2014 with more packing advice!

On Community

A huge theme for the year for me was community. When we moved into this home in March of 2013, we instantly had good friends in our neighbors, and we also gained access to the vibrant cafe downstairs, where it's easy to meet up with or bump into friends and colleagues.  Over and over, whether it was through what I was reading or in my life around me, I saw that community matters more than almost anything else. Whether it was my neighbor showing up at my door with fresh eggs from the chickens in her garden, family and strangers rallying around my mom's Race Across America in support of brain cancer victims, or my online community of beta readers and supporters of my book publishing, I felt deeply thankful for my community is 2013.

What were the themes for you in 2013?

What did you learn, experience, or do that you are proud of or grateful for?

Here's to a great 2014,

P.S. I thought this "year in review" thing was such a good idea, that I recently did one for 2012, too! I backdated it, but you can see it here.

How to Offend Your Neighbors

I had good intentions. I truly did.

I wanted to paint every room in my house a different color.  At the paint store, Morgan (my downstairs neighbor) and I chose what we hoped would be a deep, calming blue, like diving into a swimming pool on a hot day. It turned out looking more like Smurf blue. Okay.

Once the blue was done, I decided to paint one of my favorite spiritual quotes on one wall.

I read "Only love is real" in a book about A Course in Miracles, and I thought it would make an inspiring quote for me to contemplate each day during breaks from work.

I began, painting high on a ladder in thick, white block letters.

I soon finished, happy with my wall.

But then Morgan gently noted that I hadn't left much space between the "is" and the "real."

Since I wrote it high on the wall, it was visible from the street below, as we are on the second story.

So to Palestinians passing by -- people affected every day by the brutal Israeli occupation -- it looked like my wall said:

"Only love isreal." Or, to the quickly glancing eye,

Only love Israel.

And I had written the unintentionally political message in white on a blue wall, exactly the colors of the flag of Israel.

Who does that? Sets out to write an uplifting spiritual quote and ends up reminding her neighbors of the bane of their existence?

Me. I did it. Hahaha.

Although this happened close to when we moved into this apartment back in March of 2013, I thought it blog worthy now, since each time I tell the story it gets funnier. Mistake + time = funny.

Don't worry, I hussled back up that ladder to paint over the "real" with my Smurf blue. I moved it way over to the right and down, at such a safe distance that "is" and "real" could never, ever, be in danger of turning into "Israel."

Now the wall looks like this:

Lesson learned. Don't move into the middle of an oppressed people group and write a pro-oppressor message on your wall.

Love is real,

How to Make Jibneh (Guest Post by Prince Charming)

Jibneh is the Arabic word for cheese. As many of you know, Charming is a talented and dedicated chef.  He enjoys challenges like trying a new recipe or cooking an unfamiliar vegetable. I've enjoyed the results of his dairy explorations and think it only fair that we share his forays into fromage with you. -GPH

How to Make Jibneh by Prince Charming

I originally started making cheese in Palestine because Cheddar costs a fortune. I did not think that Cheddar would be hard to make,  but that it would simply take a lot of time. I was wrong; it is hard to make. I found out, however that another thing I miss from home (which costs more than it should in America) is very easy to make. Basic white cheese. Also called full cream ricotta. Or queso blanco. Or paneer. Or Farmer’s Cheese, Cottage Cheese. Or, in Palestine, Jibneh.I also started making cheese in Palestine because we moved into an awesome apartment above La Vie Cafe in Ramallah. Our neighbors own the cafe and their love of DIY fit in pretty well with the way my wife and I want to live. It’s inspiring. The fact that they rave about everything I make doesn’t hurt.I wake up early for work, usually around 5am. I like watching the sunrise, and it's a good way to remind myself that I want to skip hangovers when we’re drinking cocktails at the cafe downstairs in the evening. The habit, however, is hard to break on the weekends, and I am usually lucky if I can sleep until 6am. To kill time until Genevieve wakes up I usually do something in the kitchen -- bread or cheese for the most part. Sometimes butter. I have mustard marinating right now too.

Simple White Cheese

Ingredients

A pot, 2 liters of cow milk, lemon juice or white vinegar, salt, cheesecloth. If you don’t have cheesecloth a clean cotton t-shirt or pillowcase cut up into a square will do. If you want to press the cheese, you'll need a carton (such as a cleaned out ice cream carton) with small holes sliced into it for the liquid to drain.

 

Instructions

• Heat two liters of milk in a pot until it is almost too hot to put you finger in. Don’t let it boil. turn off the heat.
• Immediately add ¼ cup (125 grams or so) of white vinegar or the juice of half a lemon, mix.
• Let sit for 20 minutes until the curd and whey have separated (when you see white chunks of cheese floating in yellowish liquid, it is done)
• Strain this through a cheesecloth. I usually tie this to my kitchen faucet and let it drain overnight, but if you want to eat it immediately just ball the cheese in the cloth and press it until most of the whey is out.
• Add a couple pinches of salt and mix.
•  If you want paneer or queso blanco, you can press the cheese slightly using heavy cans or jars set on top of the cheese in a carton. Here is how it looks pressed:

 

If you want classic American cottage cheese, mix it with a bit of cream only without pressing. Otherwise, I usually mix it with spices of some kind, cream, and put it through the food processor. It is particularly good mixed with lemon pepper, jalapenos, or zataar (Genevieve's favorite).Alternatively you can add it to pastry,  or you can use it to make lasagna.Serve with olives, olive oil, zataar, or whatever else you want.

Sawtain! (Double Health = Bon Appetit!) *** Al albak (right back atcha -- literally "to your heart") Prince Charming