*hey there, it's christa*

38: The Year of Living Purposefully

Ever since I turned 30, I've been dreading the birthday I just celebrated two days ago. It's not the "big" one that'll happen in (gasp!) two more years, but in my mind, my 38th birthday was always the scarier milestone.

In the hours leading up to January 2, I found myself feeling a lot like the girl on the left—a guest at a party I desperately didn't want to attend. For me, 38 wasn't just another year where I'd marvel at how quickly time has passed. It was the age my dad was when he passed away.

Strangely enough, I never thought much about death until my dad was taken from us much, much too soon. Unlike those who are preoccupied with death (famed film director Woody Allen, for example), I naively assumed that everyone I loved would enjoy a long, long life. Even when my dad was diagnosed with colon cancer, I remained an eternal optimist. He was young and healthy beforehand and had so much more life to live, so why wouldn't he get better?

But he didn't, and I couldn't help thinking about all the things he'd missed. There were no more ferociously competitive games of one-on-one on 11th Street (even when he was sick, he never let up on me). He wasn't in the audience when any of his kids graduated from high school or college. He missed weddings, the births of two gorgeous granddaughters and Christmas mornings when he'd tear open his presents with the excitement of a five-year-old. He missed countless opening days of fishing and hunting, his favorite pastimes, and two Super Bowl wins from his favorite football team, the Packers.

But most of all, he missed those everyday moments that make life so great, and I missed talking with him, too.

Not surprisingly, I've often spent so much time thinking about my dad that I forgot that my Mom's 38th year wasn't exactly peachy either. When she was my age, she was a widow with a teenage daughter and two kids in the single digits. She had to figure out how to grieve while remaining strong for us, and she handled a tough situation with a whole lot of grace. I'm not sure I could've done the same.

Now 23 years after my parents turned 38, the prospect of my own 38th year filled me with dread. But my sister Lindsey, younger by a whopping eight years, issued me a challenge that's helped in reshaping my thinking. Rather than dwell on the number or what's happened with our family in the past, she said, "I think you should honor Dad by making it your best year yet! Take advantage of each opportunity and moment, and I know without a doubt that great things are headed your way. I am so excited for you!"

So I plan on doing just that. In honor of my beloved father, Owen Farris, I've declared 2014 the "Year of Living Purposefully." Naturally, I'm still figuring out what that looks like, but it began with celebrating my birthday with a smile on my face. And thanks to wonderful friends, family, my hubby, Will, who spoiled me rotten, and the bakers of Sprinkles Cupcakes, it was a fantastic start to what's going to be a fantastic year.

Chances are, I'll still be a bit in denial about actually being 38 since I don't feel a day over 28, but I'll try to wear my new age with as much dignity as I can. And probably a little glitter.

December in Photos, Take Four

The day after Casey went back to Wisconsin, I made my way to Colorado for a few days for an early Christmas. And if you can't tell from the picture, Adelyn was pretty thrilled.

There's no greater joy than how excited a five-year-old is about the holiday festivities. When I even joked about waiting a couple of days to open our presents together, Adelyn offered a simple but emphatic "NO!"

And even though our time together this time was a little on the short side (booo!), we definitely made the most of it. Not only did we squeeze in more games of UNO that I could count, but we made sure to read (Adelyn loves books, which naturally makes her auntie proud), color (she adores art and all things creative, too) and run around, which made for a wonderful few days indeed.

It's also so much fun seeing how much Adelyn loves her baby sister, Emerie, too. While they may be five years apart in age, Emerie basically thinks Adelyn hung the moon—and vice versa. Whenever Adelyn was nearby, Emerie was happy as can be, and I can hardly believe that our littlest sweetie is more than three months old now.

So, so thankful to have these sweet little girls in my life...it makes everything, especially the holidays, so much richer. Love you sweet Adelyn and Emerie. :)

December in Photos, Take Two

My brother Casey's goofy expression is way cuter than mine, but I still love this picture.

Yes, this is the day when our beloved Packers came back from a 23-point deficit to hand the Cowboys a big ol' loss in their home, no less.

We had our backup QB playing since Aaron Rodgers was still out, but we kept right on fighting 'til the end.

Not surprisingly, all my yelling left me with just a shred of voice left, and Casey said he may have gone deaf briefly in his left ear as a result (yeah, I was that loud), but we had the time of our lives.

Meanwhile, my hubby and his dad were extremely good sports as they sat right behind us. I can't say the same, however, for the Cowboy fans sitting in front of us who left in a huff with five minutes left in the game.

Suffice it to say, all the Cheeseheads in the house (and there were thousands and thousands) were happy as can be. We must've slapped hands with a hundred strangers dressed in green and gold after Tony Romo and his teammates found another way to lose a very close game.

The rest of my time with Casey was just as fun. Not only did he accompany me to my press screenings of American Hustle and August: Osage County, but I made sure he had the best burgers, barbecue and Tex-Mex the metroplex has to offer.

I also made him one of his favorites from my kitchen, homemade lasagna, and we snuck in plenty of time for sight-seeing, shopping and hearing him play some of my favorite songs on acoustic guitar. Plus, for a guy who calls Wisconsin home, the 50 and 60-degree temps were definitely an early Christmas present, too.

11.11.83

Thirty years ago, I was given one of the best gifts a girl could ever ask for—a baby sister.

Although I couldn't spell her name correctly at the time (I thought Lynnsey was the proper configuration of letters, but hey, I was eight, so cut me some slack), I adored her from the first moment I saw her.

Unlike her brown-eyed, pale-faced older sister, Lindsey was born with huge blue eyes, beautiful olive skin and a cleft in her chin just like our dad had.

Her face was fragile and bird-like, and despite her petite frame, she was never, ever shy about how she felt about things. To wit, her kindergarten picture revealed about the cutest-ever scowl, a look her mini-me Adelyn later adopted for her own preschool snapshot.

Yes, I was—and still am—a very proud sister. Despite an eight-year age difference, I've always been privileged to count Lindsey as a dear, dear friend. We've walked through so many exciting seasons of life together (graduations, travel, weddings, the birth of her two beautiful daughters and so much more), and I can't wait to see what's ahead for her—and her sweet, sweet family.

Knowing her, it's going to be awesome—and then some. Happy birthday, dear sister.

As a P.S., you've gotta meet the newest member of her family, little sweet pea Emerie Violet. She's seven weeks old now and so much fun. I just had a fabulous week of auntie time with Adelyn and Emerie, and they're both just as lovely and feisty as their Mama was.

 

 

Hey Summer, It Was Nice Knowin' Ya...Part Three

In what's, perhaps, the most glaring reminder that time is passing much, much too quickly...my adorable niece Adelyn is (gasp!) starting kindergarten tomorrow.

Yes, one of the highlights of my summer was being in Colorado for all the birthday fun. In addition to playing all the games I absolutely loved as a child (Trouble, Operation, Old Maid, Chutes and Ladders), and getting schooled at Wii sword-fighting and canoeing (Adelyn is one formidable foe), it was so much fun reading together and having conversations about, well, everything.

There's a million things I treasure about this little girl, but what I love most about Adelyn is how much she loves life and how thoughtful and kind she is. 

While I would've been content for her to stay a snuggly little baby or even a curious little toddler, it's been so fun seeing her grow up, too. Her observations about the world are absolutely priceless, and I already can't wait to hear about what she's been learning in school.

In short, I'm one proud auntie, and I'm so thankful for all the memories during that week I spent with Adelyn and her equally awesome parents. :)

05.10.05

I love whenever May 10th rolls around.

In the world of Will and Christa, it's a national holiday because it's the day we got engaged back in 2005. Speaking of which, I can't  believe that was eight (!!!) years already. Time is, indeed, flying right on by.

Back in 2005, we were in Chicago because that's where U2 was. While Will had seen those fabulous Irishmen in concert already, I hadn't. So needless to say, that needed to be remedied, and the "Vertigo" tour was the perfect initiation.

While U2 was just as spectacular as I thought they'd be live, not even Bono could top a proposal from the one I loved more than I ever thought was possible. Will surprised me while we were eating deep dish pizza from Gino's East, and I was so happy that I can't even remember what we talked about afterward. I do remember ordering a post-engagement frappuccino, calling my family and my friend Tracey to share the news and strolling down Michigan Avenue, but that's about it.

Now eight years later, we've decided to celebrate that beautiful day yet again. Since we won't be in the Windy City, however, we're opting for the next best thing. Yes, we will be having a slice of Chicago delivered to our home from Gino's East, and we can hardly wait. :)

Missin' the Eternal City

All the talk about the new Pope, not to mention a friend's recent Facebook post about missing Italy got me thinking about how it's already been two years (!!!) since Will and I traveled on the overnight train from Paris to Rome.

Yes, back in March of 2011, I was like any of the random people Will snapped in this picture, a tourist just taking everything in—and loving every minute of it.

The architecture, the warmth of the Italian people, the pizza (trust me, there's nothing like it), the broccoli trees, I loved everything about this city and would've been content to stay a long, long time. For whatever reason, I just felt like I belonged there, even if my Italian is pretty much limited to "hello," "goodbye," "thank you," "you're welcome" and "spaghetti."

Like Audrey Hepburn in my all-time favorite movie Roman Holiday, our time in the Eternal City was short but thoroughly memorable all the same. Taking a cue from Princess Anne, I even stuck my hand in La Bocca Della Veritå and lived to tell about it. Now if I'd only thrown a coin into the Trevi Fountain to "guarantee" a repeat trip...

My guess is that we'll head back anyway, though...it's an absolute must!

Who's Ready for a New Year? I Know I Am...

Happy New Year!!

While 2013 still doesn't sound quite right, and I know I'm going to write the wrong year on checks for the next month or so, I'm so grateful for its arrival.

I'm officially in the process of de-Christmasing our house, save for our adorable tree that I'm just not ready to part with yet. Mind you, if it stayed healthy, I could sooo see us keeping it until Easter. But since I'm guessing it's a great big fire hazard to do so, I'm thinking we'll part ways later this week.

I don't know about you, but Christmas was definitely bittersweet this year. In the midst of the carols, the gingerbread lattes and all the usual merriment, I couldn't stop thinking about those families in Connecticut (and Colorado earlier this year) who lost their loved ones in such an unimaginable, violent way.

Perhaps more than any other Christmas in recent memory, I simply wasn't in the mood to write about it. I'd planned all sorts of blog posts for December and promptly deleted them. 

It's been 22 years now since my dad passed away on Christmas Eve, and yet the hurt always feels so fresh when that day rolls around. So I couldn't even begin to imagine how those parents were coping only a couple weeks after their lives changed forever. 

As I thought of those sweet kids who wouldn't be running down the stairs in anticipation of what Santa brought on Christmas morning, I couldn't help but tear up. I thought about presents that had probably already been purchased and were removed from under the tree. I pictured how awful it would've been to be the sibling(s) left behind, and it broke my heart. Yes, I was basically a blubbering mess—good thing I work at home, right?

Really, the only thing that helped me through was my incredible family and friends. Your calls, your cards, your thoughts from near and far helped make this gray-ish season bright. Well, that, and the timeless words of one of my favorite Christmas carols, "O Holy Night."

Although I never sing along because it's written in an otherworldly key that my voice isn't capable of reaching, the words below never fail to encourage me. And after a year with so much unimaginable tragedy, I've probably never been more grateful for "the thrill of hope."

A thrill of hope the weary world rejoices, 
For yonder breaks a new and glorious morn. 
Fall on your knees! Oh, hear the angel voices! 
O night divine, the night when Christ was born; 
O night, O Holy Night , O night divine! 
O night, O Holy Night , O night divine!

A Tribute to One of My Writing Heroes, Nora Ephron

Although we've never chatted over a cappuccino somewhere in Manhattan or exchanged friendly banter about where you can score the best tiramisu in the West Village since she was a major foodie, I've always thought that Nora Ephron and I could be great friends.

You know, if we actually knew each other...

See, in my book she's right up there with Jane Austen and Judy Blume as a writer who has a particularly profound influence on me—and my own work. Not only does her quick wit, ear for dialogue, cultural observations and clever turns of phrase still make me insanely jealous in that "why didn't I think of that?" way, but her stories were born crowd-pleasers and smart to boot. Imagine that.

Funny enough, when I think of Nora's movies, it almost always reminds me of being sick. Whenever  I'm red-nosed, achy and blowing my nose every 20 seconds, my M.O. involves wrapping up in my favorite down blanket, plopping on the couch and watching one of my favorite sick-day movies—You've Got Mail, Sleepless in Seattle or Julie & Julia.

Just in case you were wondering, I adore When Harry Met Sally, too, but it's more of a Christmas or New Year's Eve movie for me, and (gasp!), I still haven't seen Heartburn. I have the book but not the movie and am guessing I'm going to need to remedy that. It has darling Meryl in it, after all.

Anyway, as you can imagine, I, along with the rest of the world was saddened to her of Nora's sudden passing late last month. It's hard to believe there won't be any other Nora Ephron films, but I'm thrilled she ended on such a fantastic note as Julie & Julia was one of my favorites, a rare instance where the movie was totally better than the books.

From the sounds of it, she had quite a send-off, a fitting tribute to a terrific lady who wrote little gems like these...

Harry Burns: There are two kinds of women: high maintenance and low maintenance.
Sally Albright: Which one am I?
Harry Burns: You're the worst kind; you're high maintenance but you think you're low maintenance.
Sally Albright: I don't see that.
Harry Burns: You don't see that? Waiter, I'll begin with a house salad, but I don't want the regular dressing. I'll have the balsamic vinegar and oil, but on the side. And then the salmon with the mustard sauce, but I want the mustard sauce on the side. "On the side" is a very big thing for you.
Sally Albright: Well, I just want it the way I want it.
Harry Burns: I know; high maintenance.

—When Harry Met Sally

Joe Fox: The Godfather is the I-ching. The Godfather is the sum of all wisdom. The Godfather is the answer to any question. What should I pack for my summer vacation? "Leave the gun, take the cannoli." What day of the week is it? "Monday, Tuesday, Thursday, Wednesday."

—You've Got Mail

Annie Reed: Now that was when people KNEW how to be in love. They knew it! Time, distance... nothing could separate them because they knew. It was right. It was real. It was...
Becky: A movie! That's your problem! You don't want to be in love. You want to be in love in a movie.

—Sleepless in Seattle

Julia Child: You and I are vaches enragées.
Simone Beck: That's exactly what we are. Mad cows.

—Julie & Julia

So Long, Farewell, 2011...

In the beginning, I wasn't so sure that 2011 and I were ever going to get along...

While it naturally takes a couple of days to get up to speed with writing the new year on your checks (and yes, I still write checks—sooo old school, I know), I was still using 2010 in June, which might explain why this year felt like it whizzed by so quickly.

But whatever the reason 2011 felt so incredibly short, despite the blistering hot, record-setting summer that I was sure was never going to end, a quick glance through my dayplanner (a New Year's Eve ritual of mine) revealed that it was truly an eventful year—and not just on the work front (although I'm very thankful for how crazy that was, too, given the rather challenging climate for freelance writers these days).

So as we say "so long, farewell" to 2011 (and here's hoping I get onboard with 2012 pronto), I'm so incredibly grateful for so many amazing family memories this past year, for good health and great friends, for such gorgeous glimpses of brand new places (like in the picture on the left) with my illustrious hubby by my side. And most of all, I thankful for new mercies every morning and breath in my lungs. It's truly a wonderful life—and I wish the same to all of you in 2012.

Love, Christa

P.S. Here's hoping that 2012 doesn't end up shaking out like its horrible John Cusack movie namesake. Yikes.