shrimp boil

Sunday we had the San Diego Young group, Bible class, & their families over for a shrimp boil. "A what?" you ask? A shrimp boil. Think no dishes, no table cloths, no utensils, hot tasty food that you've been smelling cook for what feels like hours (though it's really only minutes), condiments squirted right onto the table, a table runner of..food. If you can imagine, it was a huge hit. And not just with the kids. There's something about gnawing on a potato & sharing a ramekin of melted butter with your neighbor that breaks down all kinds of barriers. Conversation & laughter reigned as people stole food from other tables, wiped their hands on the table, in short, did everything your mother told you never to do at the table. It was jolly good fun:).  We picked the tables clean: as in, there was 1 ear of corn, 6 potatoes, 4 pieces of sausage, 0 shrimp, & 6 bulbs of garlic leftover. I think it might just have to become a tradition that Dar & I will meander down from Oregon for. Whadda ya say, C & B?

willicisms

This morning at breakfast, we had a converstion that went something like this.

Jenna: "Is is legal to talk on your phone in California?"

(simultaneously) Clint: "Yes."
                        Becca: "No."

Becca: "Well, it has to be a hands-free phone."

Jenna: "Oops. I've been talking illegally for the past 5 months then."

Becca: "I used to have a blue tooth, but I lost it. And then I lost the one Noah got me for Christmas."

Noah: "That's very irresponsible of you, Mom."

Will: "Mom, can I see your lost tooth?" (said while peering into Becca's mouth.)

 that look!

Will is my sidekick (when he decides to be). If I'm making anything in the kitchen, and he comes in, it's "Oooh, watcha makin'? Can I help?" (And after our cookies are in the oven, I get to wipe up all the flour he managed to spill down the length of the cupboards.)
If I'm wearing my cleaning gloves (and I do every time I clean, honest. They are orange and floral and make cleaning so much more glamorous...whatever it takes, right?), Will pops his head around the corner, "Ooh, can I help? How about you do the hard parts and I'll do the easy parts?" Then he sets to scrubbing the grout with the toothbrush I hand him. (And after he gets worn out scrubbing, I get to sop up the majority of the water he's spilled from the cleaning bucket.)
And he's got his own little hoe & leather gloves to do yard work in. And I daren't feed the goats the wheelbarrow full of weeds we've pulled without him! (And then I get to push him up the hill in it after it's emptied. "Faster, Janna! Dad goes faster than this!")
And when I started washing my car the other morning, guess who came running out, tripped over the hose, and hauled himself back up yelling, "Ja-nna! Can I help? I'll use the hose!" (And then I spent 20 minutes hauling hot water from the house to fill up his little tub so he could "swim" in water that wasn't ice cold from the hose.)
Hmmm...I didn't realize I was this manipulated til now! But really, I love it:). We do have fun together. And when he pulls my head down to whisper, "I love you," in my ear, then giggles into his hands with that look, I know I'd haul 15 gallons of hot water for him all over again.

six months ago...

 Ah, the past few evenings have been absolutely perfect. Despite consistently beautiful weather, I've been savoring the hazy early evenings like I haven't seen the sun in months. I tuck myself on the "new" patio furniture Becca rescued from the Neighbor's and let the thrum of bees in the air lull me into a very pleasant state of mind. Perhaps knowing that my days of basking & smelling the orange blossoms are numbered makes me take the time to enjoy these evenings. My life right now is probably as uncomplicated as it will ever be, I know that. When I think about the last 6 months, I just feel so unworthily grateful.

 Six months ago, I was in Illinois, rushing about, trying to balance three jobs (and doing it badly, I might add), wondering where in the world my life was going, trying to adjust to a good friend marrying my brother, & feeling very purposeless. It was a somewhat low time in my life. But still good. It has always been a good life. No matter what. I never want to give the impression that serving God isn't worth it. During my year and a half between college & moving to SoCal, I got to be with my dear family, just working and enjoying my nephews & niece, being a fixture in their everyday moments. There was a weekly Wednesday morning coffee date with a kindred spirit. I learned to recognize the subtle shifts in season in the woods near my house from many angsty walks through it. Those trees know more about my inner being than any one person, I suspect. The journey my sister & her husband were on to adopt I got to be a part of. I don't regret any of it. And now (sigh), it's different once again. And will be the rest of my life.

I do miss my family--dreadfully!--but, California's been a wonderful respite from the hectic life I led in Illinois. (I never start these posts intending to get so "feely" and reminiscent, but I've kind of just resigned myself to the fact that that's just how I am when I sit down at a keyboard and the words start pouring out. Sorry.) God knew I needed a little breather before jumping right into being married, & He gave it to me; all wrapped up in golden sunshine, citrus-scented breezes, and a mountain-trimmed view. And when I let little fingers of doubt start picking at my contentment & peace, and when the rest of my family gets together to celebrate my niece's first birthday, & when I realize how life hasn't actually stopped for them just because I'm not around (silly, I know), I remind myself of this: God wouldn't move me halfway across the country if it weren't part of His bigger plan & wouldn't bring honor & glory to Him. 

And I know I will be okay. And so will those I love best. I love you, family! You stubborn, opinionated people, you:) 

easter

How was your Easter? 

My weekend in Oregon seemed to be one of hope & promise. Everywhere, there were signs of life: the flower beds were a chorus of bright colors, all nodding their agreement to my own happy thoughts. Pale pink petals from the flowering plums sifted down in a clematis-scented breeze. The magnolia tree unfurled her waxy petals for me while I was there. A rainbow framed the Sinn home on Saratoga Drive upon my arrival--and then the rest of the days, it was sunny enough to rival SoCal. All spoke of a lovely future in Oregon, of a promise that all will be well there, that God is the author of this most recent & exciting change. And it was Easter even, a remembrance of His even more precious gift. How could it not be good?!

I love being a part of the "Thomas Sinn" goings-on. Jesse & Laura were there for the weekend, so it was the total clan. Lots of good food again--lamb on Easter, impromptu hikes, walks on the berry roads, a day spent at Pacific City beach. I managed not to disgrace myself tumbling down the giant sand dune this time:). (I knew then, three years ago, I'd never live it down. And waaaay in the back of my mind, I felt like Oregon would be my home one day. Isn't life funny?)  But wow, what a gorgeous day! Seventies & sunny. SoCal had nothing on Oregon that day. It's hard to believe this will be a reality for me, to be able to pack up a cooler & head out to the coast for the day, to have waterfalls in my backyard, flowers blooming in February. I won't have to try too hard to make my family come visit, methinks. 

just another day in ramona

When I first decided to take Clint up on his offer to give me an escape from a job I didn't enjoy & the upcoming Midwest winter, I imagined their house in a nice little culdesac somewhere with a little backyard, possibly a pool, & a back patio draped with some sort of flowering vines. Someone who I shared this vision with nearly laughed when I talked about moving out of the boondocks to highly populated SoCal. "They live down a dirt road & you can't see their closest neighbors. They have goats." Ah. And as I nauseously tried to keep down my lunch on the way to their house, experienced aforementioned dirt driveway, & learned about Max, the crazy English neighbor, I thought to myself, "Perfect." And I meant it.
It's a different SoCal than I was expecting, but Ramona, with her hitching post at the brand-new Starbucks, "Keep Ramona Rural!" signs, small town feel (I recognize my cashiers at Stater Bro's & I'm not going to admit how I know the daily turnover at the local Goodwill...) has weaseled her way into my affections.
Even if there are mornings like this one, where a scream from Becca brought the entire Califamily hurtling to the backyard. There, in their sprinkler-tended back yard, was not one, but TWO snakes. You know how I feel about snakes if you started reading this little blog in November when I moved here. Terrified. And horribly fascinated. I am not ashamed to admit I stood on a chair from the concrete a safe 20 feet away while Clint paused his conference call to dispose of the rattlesnake. The other snake was a king snake, which eats rattlesnakes, so he lived to die another day. You can bet I wore my boots the rest of the day and tread carefully.

aunt & uncle

 Have I emphasized enough how nice it is to get visitors from home? It doesn't matter if it's someone I didn't necessarily spend a lot of time with when I was in Forrest, or knew well--it's just that glimpse of a familiar face & sliver of central Illinois that brings a warm rush of affection for them. But these visitors were ones I knew rather well. Holly saw me grow up, made me "gak", put me to work in the garden, separated her daughter and I in church, never batted an eye when I just showed up at their house. She even got me in trouble a time or two:). Always well-deserved, I won't deny that. Larissa & I had some questionable escapades. How long ago it seems! She's going to be a mom soon (eek! Larissa, weren't we just sitting the tub with all our clothes on, bawling our eyes out while our moms laughed over the phone?), and I'm getting married. Holly said as much. They were here to celebrate their 30th wedding anniversary. I quietly observed a marriage of 30 years from the backseat. And what I saw was, yes, it does just get better, despite my fears to the contrary. It's hard to imagine how it can get any better right now. But I know it will. God is good.

It was fun to spend some time with them in the desert; an adventure. (Stopped in Julian and got some pie first...what? We hiked it off.) We went to the "slots", a canyon hike aptly named. I'd never been there before, and I might've directed Glen into someone's campsite & did some meandering circles in the barren landscape before finding the trail. It isn't a place to get lost; cell phones have no signal, and the roads, and by roads I mean paths in the sand that don't have any particular rhyme or reason of direction, aren't marked. But we did find it. And enjoyed it. There's a beauty in the desolate creamy rock, an awe that plants can survive in such harsh conditions, a hugeness in the blue sky that makes a person feel so very, very small. And it's good to feel small sometimes. To be put back into our place. I'm so glad they came.

food & the city

Yasmine organized a lady's night out for my birthday & simply because we haven't done one since she had her baby. It was lovely. I haven't really gotten into downtown outside of tourist traps, which don't count, and the airport, which counts even less. Ramona's a wonderful town--unpretentious, practical, yet spunky, but I do love the city. It rejuvenates a part of my soul that lies quietly (and quite contentedly so) most of the time. But every so often, I need to put on some shoes that click when I walk down the sidewalk and get some food that I can't make myself. Add in some dear friends, subtract the kids, make someone else drive, & it's a great night.

And the food was fantastic! When I entered Extraordinary Desserts, it was like stepping into some of my sharpest culinary memories; I remembered the first "tarte aux framboise" I ate in France; I thought of Shara's stint at Chic, and eating a cake she'd made and brought back to the family one Wednesday night, breaking all kinds of school rules; I heard the footsteps of Evan & I echoing on a concrete floor when we browsed an indoor market in Colmar, ogling the glass cases of desserts not dissimilar from this display; I remembered a day in Columbus with one of my dear friends, splitting a "Suiss Chocolate Bombe" after an especially grueling class. And now I've got another foodie memory to add. Ricotta lemon cake with blackberries; the creamiest feta I've ever had; this chocolate pastry with an unidentified gooey center that was like cookie dough, but hardly plebian enough to actually be that; toasted hazelnuts on my salad...I'm going to have to recreate it. 

After food, we went to the mall where I hit up anthropologie, which was just the icing on the cake. That store...just going in it makes me happy (which is a good thing, because I rarely walk out with anything). And it was so nice to look at lamps & cut-glass knobs & yellow sherbet dishes & think, "This could go in my house. My house. What a strange & wonderful thought!" (Btw, we do not have a house yet. Before you ask.) 

I ended the night by polishing off my leftover Ricotta lemon cake in bed. I am blessed. 

fruited salad with toasted hazelnuts...just doing my job to support a certain Oregon farm. 

Ricotta lemon cake with blackberries...I've always loved berries, but now, I can't seem to order or eat anything else. It's actually quite embarrassing. An OCD thing, I suspect.