I was so excited about my finds. When my husband got home that evening, he instantly loved the typewriter, affirming the charm it brought to our space. He then looked at the window frame absently (namely at the cracked pane of glass in the bottom right corner) and said in his most supportive [but not supportive] voice, “This is cool.”

Once I described my plans for the window, however, he started to come around, but was happy to leave it entirely in my hands. The first thing I did was sit in front of the dirty wood for 45 minutes with a toothbrush and some bleach, spiffing it up a bit. It may seem silly, but I really do think it made a difference—erased the dirt, but maintained the antique charm with the chipping, faded white paint. You can see the [albeit] slight transformation from left to right below.

[This is a good time to note that the battery for my camera has died, and it's charger is nowhere to be found. Thus, we are left with the photographic wonder of my cell phone. No, it's not an iphone. It's not even a smart phone. So we'll just have to make do.]

I then selected three of our engagement photos to be printed into glossy 8×10 portraits. Soon after, I ransacked my closet for old patterned skirts that I’d be willing to part with for the sake of a charming wall hanging. Finding myself torn between the options, I lined them up and stared at them, eventually adding the frame & photos atop to try to cure my indecision.

I decided to go with the muted florals, hoping my husband wouldn’t later scold me for making it too girly. But I figure, if I can willfully hang his Beastie Boys poster in our dining room, he can make do with some muted florals in the living room.

Now, the construction is about as classy as it can get. Tony has always been a firm believer in duct tape, even going so far as using it to patch holes in his favorite old comforter. He swears by it and always will. It was no surprise, then, that as I searched our apartment for some sort of adhesive with a bit more eloquence than duct tape, I was left empty-handed…duct tape would have to do. And it did! (Besides, no one sees the back of the frame, anyway!) I’m sure there are a dozen different ways to do this, so if you opt for something a little more high-class, I won’t stop you.

I did it square-by-square—it seemed easier to secure the photos that way. All it took was a quick measure, a few snips here and there, some abrasive rips of duct tape, and voila!

Soon it will be hanging on our wall next to the living room door, but I’ll wait to let Tony do that in hopes of avoiding shattered glass coating our shabby wood floor.

But there you have it: super easy, inexpensive, and charming.

The imagination goes beyond what we can think of and rises to lofty heights where it contemplates the glory of God. It is those elevated thoughts that help us know that everything has meaning. We have artists to stimulate that imagination and to show us that things have meaning. Artists have a special capacity to recognize the “other country” and communicate with the rest of us regarding the greater reality. A good artist will reveal something about the greater reality in an indefinable but inescapable way…

While we have artists because they have the ability to see the greater reality, we need artists because…we can’t understand truth without art…

We all need one another because we cannot possibly see the whole thing. We need one another because only together do we get some idea of the multifaceted array of glory.

[excerpt from Tim Keller's essay, "The Work of Our Hands"]

I love taking a space and making it my own. And I am very fortunate that Tony enjoys my taste in décor, because I basically had free reign to arrange things the way I wanted, as long as I included bits of his things here and there…and again, I am very fortunate to enjoy his taste, as well. His Pearl Jam posters, bass guitar, and vinyl collection go perfectly with my thrift store trinkets, vintage lamps, and unruly collection of books (and of course, my birdcages & lanterns).

Anyway, after about 5 months in our apartment, I’ve finally been able to get most all of my things from where they were being stored at my parents’ house. So yesterday, I went around and arranged things to my liking…and things largely referring to birdcages & lanterns. For that reason, I felt like sharing some photographic evidence of this. At home with the day off from work, sick as a dog, this serves as my entertainment—Netflix can only take me so far. Besides, who doesn’t love sharing collections of things they love?

This gem was gifted to me by my sweet sister-in-law, Abby. It sits atop a vintage trunk between two, plush recliner chairs. Filled with gold candle votives & coffee beans, they emit the most lovely smell when lit.

This one was thrifted a few years ago and has always blended perfectly with everything else I own. I particularly love the brassy tones—they give it a nice vintage air.

[side note: this lovely framed piece in the foreground was given to me by my sister, Callie. She photographed these house numbers during her time in Australia and arranged them into our wedding date. So sweet]

I love the ethnic look to this lantern that was gifted to me by my lovely friend, Kendall. She picked this up at an estate sale for my birthday gift last year. The combination of the matted brass & stained glass panels make this one perfect…especially next to that lamp & matador clock!

This one was thrifted a year or two ago. I loved it particularly for the chain & hook at the top…because that meant I could hang it from the ceiling! Plus, it jives pretty well with Eddie Vedder.

This last one was picked up by my mother for a musical she was putting on with her students. After the musical ended, I was happy to give it a home. It pairs wonderfully with a mason jar lantern and a vintage vase filled with eucalyptus leaves—the perfect set-up for this spare corner of our hi-fi phonograph console (which we’ve promptly named Cynthia).

And that concludes our collection…for now. Gifted or thrifted, they were all either cheap or free. I have no doubt that it will continue to grow as the years pass—I can only hope that our little apartment will someday transform into a cozy house, which means lots of things…comfort, permanence, the future, and much more space to decorate. Never a bad thing

Chicken Korma

What you’ll need:

• Approx. 1 1/2 lb boneless chicken thighs – cut into chunks
• Salt & Pepper to taste
• 3tbs canola oil
• 1 yellow onion – sliced
• 2 large cloves garlic – minced
• 2tbs ginger – finely chopped
• 1/2c tomato sauce
• 2/3c chicken broth
• 2/3c plain whole-milk yogurt [must be whole-milk, not fat free...otherwise it will curdle]
• 2tsp garam masala
• 3tbs fresh cilantro – chopped
• Basmati rice (or plain white rice) for serving
• 1/2 cup roasted cashews – coarsely chopped

What to do:

• Season chopped chicken generously with salt & pepper
• In a large, deep frying pan (we used a wok), warm oil over medium-high heat
• Add the chicken to cook until golden brown on both sides; use slotted spoon to transfer chicken to plate

• Add the onion to the remaining oil in the pan; sauté until softened
• Stir in the garlic & ginger; sauté until softened
• Stir in tomato sauce & broth
• Return the chicken and any juices from the plate to the pan, spooning the liquid over the chicken
• Bring to a simmer, cover, and reduce heat to medium-low, stirring once or twice for about 20 minutes
• Remove from heat and stir in the yogurt, garam masala, and 2tbs of cilantro
• Divide onto plates and top with remaining cilantro and the chopped cashews

And there you have it, delicious Chicken Korma with plenty left over for later. I think next time we will try adding some cheese to it, as they do at the India Palace. Either way, we’ll be making this again.

Daily, we breathed it in,
     ducked under its threshold when we walked.

We would speak for peace, but feed corruption
as we gnawed the string with our teeth,
and then sat back down at the dinner table…

Later,
we walked the earth, kicking small fragments of string with our toes,
remembering when they strung our air together
     so that everyone could breathe fully.

The air left our lungs that morning
as we mourned our hands
and the ruin they had caused.

Can it be built back up?
Can shredded string be connected again,
strung through holes we can’t even see?

               We chose hope; possibility.
So we danced, dipped our hands in the river water.

Most visibly present when it shouldn’t be there…
   to what does this not apply?

                         Our people kept dancing.

There is no one but us. There is no one to send, nor a clean hand, nor a pure heart on the face of the earth, nor in the earth, but only us, a generation comforting ourselves with the notion that we have come at an awkward time, that our innocent fathers are all dead—as if innocence had ever been—and our children busy and troubled, and we ourselves unfit, not yet ready, having each of us chosen wrongly, made a false start, failed, yielded to impulse and the tangled comfort of pleasures, and grown exhausted, unable to seek the thread, weak, and involved. But there is no one but us. There never has been. There have been generations which remembered, and generations which forgot; there has never been a generation of whole men and women who lived well for even one day. Yet some have imagined well with honesty and art, the detail of such a life, and have described it with such grace, that we mistake vision for history, dream for description, and fancy that life has devolved.

Without fail, every single time we order Chinese take-out or dine in a Chinese restaurant, Tony orders beef lo mein. It is and always will be his favorite. I tend to be the more adventurous one—the one who tries to order something new every time, usually the strangest sounding thing on the menu. And I have no shame in admitting that there have been times when my adventurous dish doesn’t pay off and I am led to sneak bites of Tony’s lo mein.

This recipe was originally for pork lo mein, equipped with some pretty intense roasting instructions. We used steak instead. It was easier, and we find it to be yummier.

Beef lo Mein

What you’ll need:

• Steak [or pork, beef, chicken...whatever you prefer, and as much of it as you'd like]
• Dried lo mein noodles [or spaghetti]
• Salt to taste
• 3tbs Asian sesame oil
• 3 large cloves garlic – minced
• 2 carrots – peeled & chopped
• 3/4c chicken broth
• 2tbs soy sauce
• 2tbs oyster sauce
• 1tbs dry sherry
• 4 green onions – thinly sliced

What to do:

• Cook your noodles until al dente

• Meanwhile, warm the oil in a pan over medium heat
• Add garlic & carrots; stir for about 30 seconds
• Stir in broth, soy sauce, oyster sauce, & dry sherry

• Cook your meat and then add it to the sauces & carrots
• Bring to a simmer, reduce heat to medium-low, and cook uncovered for about 5 minutes

• Add the noodles to the pan
• Sprinkle with green onion & toss well to combine
• Salt to taste

And there you have it…a tasty helping of lo mein that you didn’t have to pay a delivery guy for!

He told us to close our eyes, and he told us to breathe. He told us that 90% of our energy remains untapped, simply because we don’t breathe deeply.

So we breathed. Deeply. An uncomfortable process to try to control. Calculated, counting the seconds, wondering if you’re doing it right.

But the longer I breathed, the more my body melted and unfurled. My knuckles loosened—something no longer held, but freed.

He said, with eyes closed and deep breaths, to picture ourselves in a place of comfort, of resting, and to then, while breathing deeply, picture God in that place.

Expecting a ball of light in a dark room, or some sort of robed and bearded man walking toward me with out-stretched arms in an open field,

I was instead met by a lake. Sitting at the lip of that waterbed with those same deep breaths, I looked up to see a mountain, and trees, and birds soaring across my eyelids, a meaningful wind grazing my knees. I waited for some sort of manifestation of God. Something majestic. Something I’d never seen before.

I waited, but nothing happened; nothing changed. Birds kept flitting shadows on the dirt, the current kept pushing fallen leaves to the shoreline, the mountain scolded even the tallest trees.

And it wasn’t something I’d never seen before. In fact, it was something that I see, in some state of season, every day, the moving and breathing of the universe. Majestic manifestation.

So we kept breathing. Deeply.

I
have
learned
so much from God
that I can no longer
call
myself

a Christian, a Hindu, a Muslim,
a Buddhist, a Jew.

The Truth has shared so much of itself
with me

that I can no longer call myself
a man, a woman, an angel,
or even pure
soul.

Love has
befriended Hafiz so completely
it has turned to ash
and freed
me

of every concept and image
my mind has ever known.

This is another recipe given to us by my wonderful sister-in-law (see the first one here). Because we loved her recipe suggestion before, we knew we couldn’t go wrong with this one…not to mention the fact that it uses both curry and honey. Yum!

Honey Curry Chicken & Rice

What you’ll need:

[for the chicken]

• 1/2 stick butter
• 1 1/4 – 1 1/2c honey
• generous tsp mustard
• 1 tsp curry
• 1 package chicken breasts

[for the rice]

• 1/4 – 1/2 stick butter
• 2c white rice (not instant)
• 2 cans chicken broth
• sprinkle of garlic powder
• 1/2tsp paprika

What to do:

[for the chicken]

• Melt butter—mix with other ingredients
• Pour over oven-friendly dish w/boneless, skinless chicken breasts
• Cover dish with foil; bake @ 350º for 30 minutes
• Remove foil & continue to bake for another 30 minutes (1hr total)
• *flip chicken over @ first 30 min mark [and possibly turn oven temperature down a bit to ensure chicken doesn't become dry]

[for the rice]

• Melt 1/4 – 1/2 stick butter in pan
• Add 2 cups white rice (not instant)
• Cook 5-7 minutes, stirring occasionally
• Add 2 cans chicken broth
• Sprinkle with garlic powder & 1/2 tsp paprika; cook 20 minutes covered