Terranea (in film)

{such an unfortunate hair situation}

3 Years

Here's to us!

Here's to all we've accomplished in Year 3,

apart and together,

and to all the promise that Year 4 brings.

I'm so happy I get to spend it with you,

my love, my partner, and my dearest friend.

2 years.

1 year.

Terranea

Last weekend, we went on our first staycation at Terranea in Palos Verdes for our 3rd anniversary.  I was totally blown away by the resort -- it feels like Hawaii, but it's only a 30 min drive from our apartment!

Terranea is a big hotel, but it feels intimate somehow, like you're staying in a really nice house.  A villa perhaps.  There are a bunch of restaurants to choose from, all with different vibes (we had a brunch at Nelson's, happy hour at Bashi, and a fancy dinner at mar'sel), the adult pool has a dj and fruity cocktails, and the views are unbelievable.  We even saw a pod of dolphins swim by from our pool lounge chairs!

I took some film photos of our trip, but while those are getting developed, here are some iPhone photos of our weekend.

{view from our balcony}

{our room!  and they give you champagne when you check in!}

{the adult pool}

{view from our lounge chairs, just before the fog lifted}

{nice shades bro}

{bloodies at Nelson's, again, just before the fog lifted!}

Happy Friday!

{refreshing farmer's market punch at Coqueta in SF}

What are you up to this weekend?

Brian and I have a mini-getaway planned

to celebrate our 3rd anniversary!

Can you believe it's been 3 years?

I'm excited to hang out together

and maybe go hiking

or just drink margs by the pool :)

Cheers!

Valentine's Day

This was our 8th Valentine's Day together, and probably the most stereotypical one to date --

complete with roses, chocolates, wine, and a dinner date.

I usually eschew all of that typical, cliche romance,

but this year, it just kind of happened.

And it was lovely.
Sometimes you just need a cheesy date night, you know?

(Plus, I got to re-wear the Payless heels I bought for Vegas.  Win!)

P.S.  We had dinner at the new Venice restaurant, Barnyard, and it was delicious!  I would highly recommend it!

A Different Home for the Holidays

This Thanksgiving was the first holiday I spent away from my family.  I had avoided the "now that we're married..." holiday talk for as long as possible, but this year I had no choice but to succumb to the splitting plan.  

Luckily for us, Christmas isn't really an issue -- my family does a big Christmas Eve feast, and his does the whole Christmas morning thing, so we just fly from SF --> OC early on the 25th.  But Thanksgiving is problematic.  It's only one night, one indivisible meal.  There's no time for a flight, even a short 90-minute one.  And I'm an only child. 

Plus, it goes without saying, my family is THE BEST at Thanksgiving (if I do say so myself).

{the fam, Thanksgiving 2011}

Last year was the first time Brian had Thanksgiving with my family. He gladly ate spanikopita in place of green bean casserole, he didn't complain a bit about missing his family (although I'm sure he did), and was happy to be there with mine.

This year, I owed him the same.  But I worried I wouldn't be able to do it.  I worried that I'd complain, or I'd be grumpy or sad or resent him for making me miss out on one of my favorite family days.  I thought about it, read about it, self-analyzed, tried to prep for an emotional meltdown.

And now I can tell you, the truth is it was totally fine.  Better than fine -- it was really really nice.  When we got in the car headed to Santa Barbara, I was just grateful.  Grateful to have Brian by my side, and grateful that I had a new family who was willing to add me to their table, include me in their traditions, and invite me into their holiday.  I realized that it wasn't about me (surprise!).  It was about them.  It was about making sure they knew that I was happy and thankful to have them in my life, and to have them welcome me into theirs.

And so it was a rite of passage of sorts, and it was important that I was there, for them, for me, for us.  A very happy Thanksgiving!  (A couple pictures here if you want to see.)

P.S.  We also started a little mini-Pearson-fam Thanksgiving tradition, just the two of us -- we ran our first turkey trot!  (I know, I know, everyone's doing it these days -- but it was funnnn I swear.)  It was a 4-miler in Santa Barbara, and we've made a pact to do it again next year in the Bay Area, no excuses!

A Rooftop Dinner

The summer of 2007 was a hot one in North Carolina.  I remember feeling like I was living in a sauna, but with clothes on.

The good thing about those hot Southern days, though, is that they make for the most peaceful, beautiful nights.  One evening, right at dusk, I remember thinking I couldn't tell where the air ended and my skin began.  For just that moment, everything stood still.

On nights like those, we used to barbecue.  We'd invite our friends over and set up the makeshift grill we picked up at Food Lion on the patch of grass behind Brian's apartment, and play country on his laptop.  One of those days, Brian and I went Californian and picked up some tuna at Whole Foods instead of the usual ground beef, and a half-hour later, the Pearson Burger was born.

For our second anniversary, I thought I'd bring back the tradition (maybe it was the ridiculous late-summer L.A. heat wave that brought me back...).  So on a Saturday night, I threw on an LBD, set up our patio furniture up on the roof (OK fine, Brian did that), picked up some gold chargers and candles at the Dollar Store (keepin' it classy), and made a real Pearson-Burger feast.  There may have been a little less beer than there used to be at our backyard barbecues, but they were the same old Pearson Burgers, and we were the same old(er) us.

{this might have been the first time I had cooked in a year ha...}

Pearson Burgers

Sesame oil

2 ahi steaks

Salt & pepper

2 sesame buns

1/4 c. Mayo

Wasabi

1/2 orange

1/2 avocado

Brush the grill/grill pan with sesame oil and let it heat up on medium-high.  Spread some oil on the steaks and season with salt and pepper.  When the pan is hot, throw the steaks on.  Cook for about 5 minutes per side, until fully cooked on the outside, but pink inside.  Squeeze half of the orange over the tuna just before its done. 

While the tuna is cooking, mix together the mayo with as much wasabi as you can handle (in my case, less is more), and slather on the sesame buns.  Slice the avocado and add to the buns, too. 

Top with the tuna steaks.  Eat.

Pearson Slaw

Broccoli slaw (the kind that's pre-shredded and comes in a bag...let's be real here) -- you'll only need about 1/2 the bag

1-2 T. wasabi-mayo (depending on how mayo-y you like your slaw)

1/2 c. cashews (I like to use the chili-lime ones from Trader Joe's to add some spice)

1 t. curry powder

1 orange

Grate the orange rind, and squeeze the juice of 1/2 orange.  Mix all ingredients.  Add some chili powder if you like it hot.

Ginger-Orange Pudding Cups

Instant vanilla pudding

2 cups of milk

1 T. cinnamon

1/2 c. shredded coconut

Whatever is left of your grated orange rind

Candied ginger, finely chopped

Follow instructions for the instant pudding, but add the cinnamon and coconut in with the milk.  When it's done cooking, pour into bowls, and top with orange rind and chopped candied ginger.  You could also add a pour of triple sec if you wanted.  Serve warm.

Enjoy!

Two Years

Love you just as I did on that day (except times two).

Photo by Paul Von Rieter.



Why "Why You're Not Married" is Wrong about Everything

{from our engagement pics by Leonel Medrano and Iris Bai}

This article pisses me off.

I know it was written a while ago, but I'm behind the times and just came across it today.  "Why You're Not Married."   A provocative title, no?  I would read it.  I mean, I did read it.  And it pisses me off.

Tracy Miller, supposedly an expert at "getting married" because she's been married three times, claims that you are not married because:

1) You're a bitch.

2) You're shallow.

3) You're a slut.

4) You're a liar.

5) You're selfish.

6) You're not good enough (or at least you think you aren't).

Obnoxious, yes.  But the substance just kills me.  Here's what Ms. Miller actually has to say about love and marriage:

"[U]ltimately, marriage is not about getting something -- it's about giving it. Strangely, men understand this more than we do. Probably because for them marriage involves sacrificing their most treasured possession -- a free-agent penis -- and for us, it's the culmination of a princess fantasy so universal, it built Disneyland.

The bottom line is that marriage is just a long-term opportunity to practice loving someone even when they don't deserve it. Because most of the time, your messy, farting, macaroni-and-cheese eating man will not be doing what you want him to. But as you give him love anyway -- because you have made up your mind to transform yourself into a person who is practicing being kind, deep, virtuous, truthful, giving, and most of all, accepting of your own dear self -- you will find that you will experience the very thing you wanted all along:

Love."  (Emphasis added to demonstrate idiocy.)

This infuriates me.  It's like when people say that they love another person "for all of their flaws."  Infuriating.  Why would you love someone because of the things that are wrong with him?  Why would you marry and stay married to someone who doesn't do "what you want him to"?

It's offensive to me, and to many other modern-minded women I suppose, to suggest that in order to get married we have to give our lives and love to a "messy, farting, macaroni-and-cheese eating man" who does nothing in return for our love except try to keep it in his pants.  (Ew.)  If the title "Mrs." came with a life sentence of giving without getting back, why would anyone take the vows and sign on the dotted line?

Yes, marriage is about giving.  But that's only half the equation.  It's really about giving to get.  It's about finding someone you want on your team, building a team together, and both of you giving your talents to that team so that in return, you can both get more out of life than you each could on your own.  

Think about it this way: if you were just one person, giving all you could to make your life the best it could be, you could expect to get a certain amount of life goodness in return, right?  The difference with marriage is that married people share.  So when you're both giving all you can to life and getting goodness in return, you get more than just the goodness you would usually get - you get some of your partner's as well.  And then there's the extra goodness that comes from having an awesome person to share with (and knowing that an awesome person wants to share with you).  So yes, you give.  You give more of yourself away than you would on your own.  But you get more, too.  That's the point.

So why would you marry a person who doesn't give to you, who doesn't make your life better, who doesn't give his all to your team?  Why would you give your love to someone who "doesn't deserve it"?  Isn't that the definition of an unhealthy relationship?  There is something so screwed up about the way our society repeats the absurd notion that "love is sacrifice" like it totally makes sense when it totally doesn't.  It can really screw with a girl.

Women should be choosing life partners because of their strengths, because of what they bring to the table, because we see so much good in them that their flaws pale in comparison.  Because they make good teammates.

If you have to "transform yourself" into some kind of a yogi-zen martyr just to keep your relationship going, it's not love, and it's definitely not marriage-worthy.

The Walk

Love is the emotional response of one man to the virtues of another.  It is with a person’s sense of life that one falls in love—with that essential sum, that fundamental stand or way of facing existence, which is the essence of a personality. One falls in love with the embodiment of the values that form a person’s character and create the style of his soul. It is one’s own sense of life that acts as the selector, and responds to what it recognizes as one’s own basic values in the person of another.  Thus, to say ‘I love you’ one must know first how to say the ‘I.’

- Ayn Rand (as compiled and read during our ceremony by our friend, Michael)

When I think back to our wedding day, the memory that hits me hardest is my walk down the aisle.

It's probably because I was so unprepared for it.

You see, I didn't know until it happened that I would be walking part of the way down the aisle alone since I didn't pay attention at the rehearsal (typical).  So you can imagine my surprise (and panic) when we reached the end of the chairs and I found myself released from my parents' steady grips, with nothing to lean on, no one to take the lead, and 15 feet of empty aisle ahead of me.  Every part of me wanted to reach out, grab them back to me and hiss frantically "Don't leave me here alone with all these people watching!"  (Luckily for everyone involved, I kept that impulse to myself.)

I remember a painful awareness, then, that I was all alone, standing in a rather ostentatious dress, awkwardly holding a bunch of thrown-together flowers, trembling with adrenaline.  Oh yeah, and there were 150 pairs of eyes watching me, waiting, expecting a bride.  What do I do with my hands?  Am I supposed to hold this bouquet with both of them?  That feels too weird to be right.  Why does it even matter?  It totally doesn't matter.  Maybe I should just toss them under a chair and hope no one else cares about the flowers.  And these shoes can go, too.  Am I supposed to smile?  I think that's physically impossible right now.  What's wrong with my cheeks?  Ohmygod I am totally failing at being a bride.  Why am I here?  Tell me again why we didn't elope?!

I felt distinctly overdressed.  And completely vulnerable.

I looked down the aisle at Brian seeking some kind of assurance that there was a reason I was going through all of this; that somehow, this fumbling mess would turn into us being married if I just made it to the end of that aisle, even if I ditched the flowers and the shoes, and that married was worth it.  And thank God (whichever one you prefer) I did, because it was there, in his eyes, and I needed it -- confidence.  He had known from the beginning that I would be here, walking down the aisle to meet him, and he believed in it.  Plus, somehow, he was still waiting there, wanting to promise his life to me despite my awkward unbrideliness.  He even looked like he might think I looked beautiful.  I trusted him.  Maybe if he can't tell I'm falling apart, no one can?  There was hope, at least.

But most of all, what I felt was relief.  The relief of knowing that we had won the battle for togetherness.  That after choosing each other over and over, through college, living abroad, grad school, job interviews, traveling Monday through Thursday, relocating, relocating again, planning this stubborn wedding, we were now to be rewarded.  The relief of knowing that the decisions I had made had been the right ones; of knowing that my future was now securely in the hands of the person I loved and trusted most; of knowing that I wasn't alone, and would never be alone because we had made sure it would be us.  It wasn't just me standing in that room anymore, then; it was us, together, on purpose.  And we had earned this.

But for the last few steps of that aisle, it was just me.  So.  I (still awkwardly, but with determination now) took that bouquet in both hands, made a mental note not to trip, and all on my own, decided to place one foot in front of the other, to meet my husband at the end of the aisle, and to marry him.  I chose togetherness for the last time.

I walked quickly, too fast for the music, anxious just to get there, just to squeeze his hands, just to be together at the end of that aisle.  It was not the composed procession you see in the movies, and it was not particularly pretty.  But it was real.  It was terrifying and it was freeing, and most of all, it was acutely honest.  It was the moment I have felt most myself in all of my life.

I was not being "given away," I was giving myself over.  Looking back, I would not have had it any other way.

And when it was over, I was so proud.  Proud of my choice of husband, proud of our decision to form a family, proud of how we were doing it.  I'm prouder still, today.

Happy first anniversary to my favorite person.  
May we always remember what it felt like to choose each other.

A Dress Story

Since I've already started in on the anniversary posts (I couldn't just have one, could I?), I have a wedding-related story to tell you.  Well, actually, it's an engagement-related story, I suppose.

It's about my dress.

{you've seen this before}

I haven't told you much about our engagement (or anything about it, actually) and that was on purpose.  I've been reluctant to talk about it because it was so private, much more private than our wedding (which clearly, I have bored you to death spoken at length about), and I'm a little afraid of shaking the glitter off that day.  I'm also a little afraid that the sugary fairytale-ness of it all will make you want to barf, and then you will associate my blog with nausea and you will never want to read it again because you'll be so traumatized by the cheesiness.  But then again, everyone loves a dress story, no?  So I'll make it short.

Brian proposed to me in Florence, at sunset, in a piazza overlooking our beautiful city blanketed in a layer of unexpected snow, with a bottle of wine in hand and no one else around.  He got on one knee, I got on both.  It was everything.

After the sun went down and we soaked up our chianti, we carefully picked our way back down the iced cobblestone stairs, commenting on what a tragically hilarious story it would make if we ended this night with a slip-and-fall trip to the Italian ER rather than a dinner at Il Santo Bevitore.  Luckily, we made it to the bottom with all of our extremities in tact.

{this was actually taken on the way up, before the dark set in, transforming this picturesque staircase into a death trap}

Then we strolled through the old streets of Florence, under the twinkly Christmas lights, both of us smiling like dumb Americans, a ring on my finger and a warm Tuscan meal in our future.

As we turned onto another vaguely familiar street, I caught a glimpse of something poofy and sparkly and white in a store window -- a wedding dress!  I remember that place, I thought.  I had passed the boutique years before when we studied in Florence and when I was young enough not to pay more than a second's notice to a wedding dress in a window.  But now, this store and this dress were suddenly relevant; now, I could be one of those girls, ringing the buzzer for an appointment, and trying on the dress in the window.

How funny, I thought, that we should pass this place now.  And how appropriate, I thought, that the dress in the window was so gorgeous and wow, I would totally wear that.  It was a coincidence worthy of a picture, and so I snapped this shot:

A year later, after our wedding, I printed the pictures from our engagement trip to make an album, and I came across this off-hand snapshot.  That was a pretty dress, I thought.  And then I looked closer.  Atelier Aimee, reads the window inscription.

Atelier Aimee...Atelier Aimee?!  As in, the designer that has only one workshop in Rome and a flagship store in Florence?  As in, the designer who made my actual wedding dress, which was the very first wedding dress I ever tried on?  As in, my dress, purchased from discount store all the way in San Francisco, might actually have come from that shop?!

Yes, that Atelier Aimee.

Sometimes, I don't know what to believe.

An Anniversary Photoshoot by My Mom

I'm so lucky to have a mom who is a fantastic photographer.  Besides the fact that we get to have fun learning and experimenting with photography stuff together, it also means that I get to have pictures like these to put in my family album.  Plus, it's so much less awkward to have your mom take pictures of you than it is to have other people do it.  Like, so unawkward that I even broke the "always BYOB for PDA photoshoots" rule, and it was still fun.  Really.

My mom shot these at Baker Beach in SF last weekend.  It was the perfect excuse to wear this dress I bought that I always want to wear but it never really seems appropriate for the occasion (umm maybe because it's long and flowy and white...).  

The morning got off to a foggy start (in true San Franciscan fashion), but the sun came out toward the end and you could almost see the top of the bridge!

  

Most people usually splurge on wedding photos and then never really take the time to take real photos again (unless it's for one of those awkward Christmas cards), but I think it's really important to have a record of your life together, and not just your wedding.  Because when you're old, you'll need whatever you can get to remember what it was like to be young.  And because you need something to convince your children that you were once cool(er).  So forgive me for loving these photos, even if they are a little cheesy :)  Thanks, Mom, for being the most awesome photog ever!

Anniversary Present

Picture books are all the rage in anniversary presents these days.  I swear, everyone is getting them and giving them (OK, maybe it's just Joanna, but she counts as "everyone" to me), and I am no exception to the trend.  Here's a peek into the book of pictures and vows I made for Brian on Blurb.com (we exchanged gifts yesterday so that we wouldn't have to tote them all the way to Turkey with us)!

{engagement and wedding pics by Leonel Medrano and Iris Bai; others by friends/randoms/self-timer}

*Ummm, that should say September 18th (not 19th)...details are not my strong suit.  At least he didn't notice.

{ceremony readings} 

{our vows + pics from Year 1}

Their software was easy to use, and lets you mix words with pictures (unlike Pinhole Press, the company Joanna used), their prices are reasonable, and the quality of the book is impeccable.  I would definitely recommend them!