Frankie + "Dah-dee"

I don't think we can call Frankie a baby anymore but a toddler instead! It's so cute to see his little personality develop and the funny ways he tries to imitate what we say and do.

He and Frank are the best of pals these days. Nobody can make him laugh quite like his dad can! I think Frank is really enjoying the new-found affection from Frankie after all the months of Frankie preferring me during the baby phase.

Matching outfits at Easter

Here are a few recent stories of those two best buddies...

Frankie said "Daddy" for the first time the night of July 11! First he slowly sounded out "dahhh-dee" and then switched to "dahhh-doo" for a few days. But now it's back to either "dada" or "dah-dee" almost all the time. The best.

One great thing about co-sleeping is that you can see all the funny, cute things your baby does between sleep cycles. A few weeks ago, Frankie sat up in bed in the middle of the night and said, "Dada?" Frank was fast asleep, so Frankie leaned over to plant his face on him, and at first I thought he was biting him! But then I heard his little lips smacking and I realized he was KISSING him instead. Then he dropped down and went right back to sleep like nothing happened!

Another night, Frankie was clearly having a hilarious dream. He was giggling and chuckling in his sleep, and I lay there wondering what on earth could be so funny, and wishing it were possible to know what he was dreaming about. Well, my wish was granted, because suddenly he let out an especially loud laugh and said, "Daaa-daaaa!" all without waking up. How cute to know that he was dreaming about having fun with his dad.

One evening I served soup for dinner, and it was still really hot so Frank began to blow on his spoon to cool the soup down before lifting it to his lips. As I served Frankie his not-hot-at-all baby food, he began to blow on each bite too, laughing and looking at Frank the whole time.

Frankie loves going to Frank's softball games every Monday night, and the real highlight for him is if he gets his own "baw" (ball) to play with and can throw it to me just like Frank pitches it from the mound. He's getting really good at playing catch from watching Frank do it!

Watching dad pitch

Frank has taught him that the dog says "woof", except when Frankie imitates the dog it sounds more like "woo! woo!" in the softest little voice ever. Now Frankie starts to "woof" every time he sees a dog, and once he even got down on his hands and knees to really get into the imitating. Last week we walked past a cat in front of a house, and right on cue Frankie began to "woof" at the cat too! Frank also taught him to "roar" like the lion, which in Frankie-speak is more like "woe!" again in such a sweet little voice.

Whenever he sees Frank's tie rack or his potted plants outside, he points and yells "Dadadadada!" Possibly because I always tell him they're "Dada's ties" and "Dada's plants."

And my personal favorite... every morning before he leaves for work, Frank gives me a kiss goodbye, and Frankie has started to imitate him and give me a kiss right after his dad does! It makes me so happy to see our boy imitating this sweet habit.

I sure do love those two Franks of mine.

Meet me in St. Louis // Our first family vacation!

Our little family took our very first vacation together last weekend, to St. Louis. We'd been planning the trip for months—Frank's favorite baseball team, the Phillies, were playing in St. Louis Saturday and he wanted to see them in person at least once this summer. Plus Frank's college roommate and his wife live in St. Louis and are avid Cardinals fans, so we planned to meet up with them for the game and dinner afterward.

Our original plan was to drive there Friday night or Saturday morning and then drive back Saturday night, but at the last minute, Frank decided we should make a getaway out of it and stay all weekend instead. I'm so glad he decided that—this mini-vacation was just what the doctor ordered.

I was worried how the 4.5-ish hour drive would go with the baby in the car, but thankfully he handled it like a champ. He slept a lot of the way, so Frank and I got to partake in one of my VERY favorite pastimes—a road-trip singalong with all the greats, John Denver and Frank Sinatra and Mumford.

That time in the car was really special. The first months after having a baby involve a lot of adjustment in a marriage, and it's hard lately to feel as connected as we used to. But singing and being silly together in the car reminded me of another car singalong from early in our relationship and rekindled that happy-and-in-love feeling. The whole trip was worth it for that alone—but the fun was just beginning.

We woke up early on Saturday morning to hit up the St. Louis Zoo first thing. My grandma likes to say, "Whenever our family visits a new city, the first place we go is the zoo," so I guess I was being true to tradition there. I texted my dad and grandma that I was at the zoo, and my dad wrote back, "Did you know you went to that same zoo when you were 6?" and my grandma texted back "Did you know I took your dad to that same zoo when he was 4?" Neither my dad nor I remember our first St. Louis Zoo trips, so Frankie is holding to family tradition by not remembering his first visit either.

He looked like this for most of the visit:

But Frank and I loved it. We were really impressed with the exhibits. I think it's my new favorite zoo in the world!

We spotted a mother elephant with her baby and I just felt this kinship, you know?

We also met this friendly young bear:

And this orangutan who was just so over it all:

I'll spare you the other 200 animal pictures I took on my phone, but sadly I didn't get a picture of my favorite animal exhibit—we saw two hippos fighting each other in the water! They were legit dueling it out, cage-match style, with angry noises and wide open mouths and much churning of the water. I would be terrified to encounter that in the wild. It was one of the coolest things I've seen at a zoo in my life.

One other awesome thing about that zoo—at one point the baby got really hungry, so I found a bench, pulled out the nursing cover and tried to feed him. But it was over 90 degrees out and pretty soon we were both sweating to death under that cover, plus random teenagers were staring, and both mama and baby were approaching a meltdown. Frank was looking at the zoo map, and in the map key I saw a lactation room just a few yards from us! We went to find it, and I was able to nurse in a comfortable chair in a completely private, air conditioned room. It was incredible. Lactation rooms are one of those little services that I never would have thought of before becoming a mom, but now they are INVALUABLE. Major props to the St. Louis Zoo for that little touch.

After a few hours at the zoo, we returned to the hotel to meet Frank's friends and head out to Busch Stadium. It was baby's first baseball game!

By the way, I put the above picture on Facebook, and it tried to tag Frankie as my sister Lillian. I'm not sure that's a compliment to her, but it does mean my genes are strong in this child. Yes!!!!

When we first arrived at the game, I panicked. The temperature was still in the 90s and our seats were in the sun. I may try to be a laid-back mom, but I was not going to sit my 7-week-old outside in that kind of weather. Luckily, like at the zoo, the first aid station was open for nursing moms. I spent at least half the game in there with Frankie, enjoying the air conditioning. We didn't rejoin Frank and our friends until the sun had moved so our seats were in shadow.

I took a bunch of pictures of Frankie in his way-too-big Phillies gear. He was one happy little fan:

After the game we went to Chili's for margaritas and dinner. Here's Frank with his college roommate. They had a great time telling stories about "the old days" and all the goofy shenanigans they got up to. Oh, and Josh gave Frank a Cardinals shirt, just to make him squirm. :)

On Sunday, we went to the beautiful St. Louis Cathedral Basilica for Mass. These pictures can't do justice to the magnificence of that place:

We took a short tour of the church after Mass, and checked out the museum in the basement and the Cathedral gift shop before leaving. The gift shop was selling copies of Michele's and Amy's book, which I've been wanting to read for a while, so I bought a copy—the perfect souvenir.

Frankie wore his dapper Sunday best:

After that we headed on home, totally refreshed. Such a great weekend.

By the way, if you're interested, my instagram handle is tessciv. It's hard to find time to blog these days, but I update instagram almost every day—I'm kind of addicted—so follow me over there if you'd like!

Inch by inch, row by row

Frank loves gardening, and as this is his first summer without law classes to take or a bar exam to study for, he is taking advantage of his (relative) leisure time to grow a garden on our patio.

He has an herb garden, three kinds of lettuce, three kinds of tomato, three kinds of mint (I'd never even heard of chocolate mint before!), and two kinds of pepper plants. It's an impressive garden for our glorified fire escape of a patio! We're already reaping some of the results in fresh herbs and salad greens.

Unlike Frank, I have what some call a "brown thumb." Despite many attempts over the years, I've never managed to keep a plant alive, much less a whole garden. There is just something about patience and routine and building the habits necessary to grow plants that is a struggle for me.

Frank works on his gardens in the evenings after work, and often I carry Frankie out to the porch and we join Frank while he works. The baby is hungry more often then not, so I sit and nurse him while Frank plants and waters. Our evenings on the patio are some of our happiest times as a family.

Motherhood is all about patience, I'm beginning to find, especially when it comes to nursing. Frankie likes to eat for at least six hours a day, and it is HARD for this energetic extrovert to spend that much time sitting quietly in a chair (of course I have books and movies and my iPhone to distract me, but still!).

Last week I met with a family friend who is a lactation consultant, and she told me that breastfeeding is so difficult in our rushed modern world because it forces mothers to pause everything and simply be—simply rest, sit quietly, think, and cuddle the baby. I could relate to that! Each day of nursing him requires a little more patience with myself and all the tasks I can't do, a little more building of quiet and peaceful habits.

As I sat on the patio nursing Frankie the other night, it occurred to me that my work nursing the baby and Frank's work nurturing his garden are not that far off from each other. Both require patience and thoughtfulness and at least a little bit of effort every day—but both reap such wonderful rewards. He is growing food for us and I am growing a little person who always will be (already is!) our pride and joy.

I thought about a song we used to sing when we were children: "Inch by inch, row by row, gonna make this garden grow. All it takes is a rake and a hoe and a piece of fertile ground." That's gardening in a nutshell, but it's mothering too. Inch by inch, little by little, with progress that is barely visible day to day, you work to grow something beautiful.

Maybe there is hope for this brown-thumbed girl after all.

Frankly My Dear

The latest and greatest from that husband of mine.

A few weeks ago:
Frank: I'm so excited for the baby. You have no idea. I mean, you're great and all but... New toy.
  
In outrage while cleaning the bedroom:
Frank: I can't believe you stole my favorite corner for hiding clothes in!

When I tried to hug him over my huuuuuge bump:
Frank: Is it just me, or does it seem like the baby is coming between us?

We were getting ready for a concert at our church and I'd invited a bunch of people:
Me: Oh! My blog friend Lyndsey might be coming.
Frank: Is this the one whose blog you sent me?
Me: Yep.
Frank: Oh good! I want to meet her. She likes The National. I think we could be friends.
Me: Um... I don't even know what The National is?
Frank: Exactly.

My little brother interviewed Frank for a school project, and I overheard this bit of their phone conversation:
Frank: Why did I get married? Well. I fell in love.

Last week, before we got desperate:
Me: Hey Frank. I've heard foot massages can induce labor.
Frank: I've heard sacrificing a chicken can induce labor.

A few nights ago:
Me: Do you think the baby is scared to come out? It must be nice and cozy in there.
Frank: Nope, it's time for that baby to come out. Time to grow up and be a man.
Me: Don't be silly, it's just a tiny little thing.
Frank: We're going to do like the ancient Spartans did and leave him out on the patio. If he makes it through the night, we'll keep him.
This was obviously a complete joke in case there was the slightest doubt, but it cracked me up!

After reading articles about babies:
Me: I read that the newborn stage is only 6 weeks long and then they just start getting so big. Their tiny stage is so short.
Frank: Yeah, I know. So sad. But hey, at least we'll have lots of babies to enjoy it with.
Here's hoping!

Happy St. Patrick's Day!

What a weekend!

Frank and I got up "bright and early" around 10 am on Saturday for the St. Patrick's Day parade downtown. We got to the parade route around 11:15 and found a great spot, right up close.

We loved seeing and hearing the many bagpipers (kilts required, of course)...

... and the Irish dancers. So many cute little dancing kids! That got Frank started on one of his favorite topics—how all of our children will take Irish dance lessons. He has it all planned out with our good friends Anna and John that our kids will study Irish dance together, and we parents will make up drinking games for their recitals. (Yeah right. :P )

The Blues Brothers made an appearance, which was fabulous. They're a Chicago classic!

The most inexplicable appearance was from the Ghost Busters. Why were they there? Who knows. But they were awesome.

After the parade, we trekked over to the Chicago River to witness the legendary St. Paddy's Day green.

It was my first time seeing it, despite growing up in Chicago! Crossing that one off the bucket list.

Frank insisted we get a photo for the baby book. Because Baby needs to know how cool its parents are. (Again, yeah right.)

Frank gets so excited about St. Patrick's Day, especially for only being half Irish. Listening to him talk about Irish history, you would think that he personally fought at the Post Office with Eamon de Valera and Michael Collins. In fact, he is always trying to convince me that Eamon or "Michael Colin" would make a great baby name. In preparation for St. Patrick's Day, he insisted we watch one of his favorite Irish movies, The Wind that Shakes the Barley. Have you seen it? It's really sad, but it gave some good insight into Irish history.

After our day downtown, we went home to rest for a while, and then spent the evening at our favorite Irish pub Molly Malone's. Our friend John (same John from earlier) is part of an Irish folk band, and they were performing there that night. John might be the only American I know who loves Ireland as much as Frank does. Anna and I get a kick out of listening to the two of them talk, trading favorite stories about the awesomeness that is Ireland. The four of us love to daydream about someday taking a couples' trip to the Emerald Isle.

Anna and me at Molly Malone's

The occasion of St. Paddy's Day couldn't pass without a little more celebrating on Sunday. More about that tomorrow!

Frankly My Dear

Courtesy of our parish website, from Catholic Trivia night

About the photo above... Frank and I were thrilled to make the local news with our friends (check out photo #2 if you click through!)

One night when I was bored:
Me: Wanna play a game?
Frank:
Me: Wanna play Catan?
Frank:
Me: Wanna play Scrabble?
Frank:
Me: Wanna play ... tickle Frank?
Frank: Wanna play die?

When the classical radio station announced their next selection:
Frank (with undisguised excitement): Sixteenth century Polish folk song??!
Me: ...
Frank: You had me at sixteenth century!

Every time we pass a McDonald's: 
Frank: I don't think we've been in that one yet!

Upon leaving a Trader Joe's in an unfamiliar and very hipster neighborhood:
Frank: Oh God! There's so many hipsters!
Me: Is that why you took so long?
Frank: The place was overrun with them... the little pests.

Apropos of nothing: 
Frank: I really do have a luscious mustache.

One time my friend Giedre said, "Frank seems like the kind of guy that, the more women are around, the more he wants to join in the fun." When I reported this to Frank later that night:
Frank (very flattered): Wow. That's like what I would want her to say, but wouldn't expect her to know me well enough to say. How does she know me so well??

After getting an unexpected text from a very straitlaced friend:
Frank: I just got a smiley face in a text from [friend]!
Me: Yeah?
Frank: He's really letting his hair down!

When another team beat us at church trivia night:
Frank (scornfully): Are they even parishioners???

When I complained about feeling different now that I'm pregnant:
Frank: It's not like being pregnant has changed anything.
Frank: Except that you're ... more ... pregnantly-shaped.
Tactful.

He reported that his friends were posting ridiculous music on his Facebook wall:
Me: Is that the reason you're listening to "It's raining men, Hallejulah"?
Frank: What are you talking about?? This is a great song!
five minutes later
Frank: Just kidding.
Uh-huh.

Sometimes he philosophizes:
Frank: A good weekday homily always remind me of that scene in "Robin Hood: Men in Tights" when Robin Hood is dueling with another guy, and he makes three quick slashes and the man's pants fall off.
Me: Really?? In what way?
Frank: They're quick, precise, and to the point.

When he decided to do an Ash Wednesday juice cleanse and I asked what kind:
Frank: I'm doing the frank barber school of whatever-I-want juice cleanse :p

When he went all "lawyer" on me during some silly argument:
Me: Well, I still think you're wrong.
Frank: I think I'm right. And I definitely used more big words than you.

And a bonus one...

One day when we were discussing faith:
Me: You believe in miracles, don't you?
Frank: Well, of course. You said yes to marrying me, didn't you?
Aw. This is why I love him.

Frankly My Dear

For a while now I've been thinking about starting a little series with funny quotes from Frank, and finally decided to go for it. Thanks to Grace for inspiring me with her hilarious Simon Says series.

Frank and my dad showing off their beards ... birds of a feather

When I told him I was keeping a list of funny quotes from my nine-year-old sister:
Frank: Wow. You started one for her but you wouldn't start one for me?

Early one morning when I was being my usual chipper self:
Frank: You say more words in the first 30 minutes of being up than I say in the first three hours.
Me:
Frank: That's not even an exaggeration.

When he was going to the grocery store and I told him to get a "good" frozen pizza:
Frank: Honey, I know how to pick out a frozen pizza. You forget I was a bachelor ... for many years.

When he disapproved of something I did (wish I could remember what!):
Frank: Seriously? That's something I would expect from one of my criminal clients.

We've been on a Gilmore Girls kick this winter, and in case you haven't seen the show, those girls eat a LOT of candy. We were on our way to the grocery store:
Me: So what do you want to do after groceries?
Frank: We need to buy lots of candy and then watch Gilmore Girls.
Me:
Frank: I feel like its just respectful.

After we spent two days driving across the country and my attire left something to be desired:
Frank: I think your style theme for this weekend is "homeless."

After I complained about our bad road-trip habit of eating at every McDonald's we see:
Frank: Honey, there's a McDonald's over there.
Me: rolls eyes
Frank: I don't think we've been in that one yet!

When he walked in on me wiping off make-up and saw the foundation-covered cotton ball:
Frank: Ew, gross!!! What happened to preserving the mystery???

While he was working on the grocery list:
Frank: Tin foil... hand soap... croutons. Roger Croutons.
Frank: looks at me expectantly
Me: pause ... then laughs hysterically
Frank: At least we think each other's cool.

Ain't that the truth.

Frank passed the bar!!!

Two posts in one day? What is this? ;) But I just couldn't wait to share our news with you.

This morning, we found out Frank passed the Illinois bar exam!!!

We are both so happy about this news, and relieved to have that cloud no longer hanging over our heads.

Most of all, I'm just really proud of him!

We're back, and we're married!

The wedding was absolutely perfect—every single part. It was even better than I imagined.

A few photos from May 25...

^^Mum doing up my dress at my parents' house...

^^The bridesmaids: my four sisters and Frank's sister. She fits in so perfectly, doesn't she? As she said, "I could pass for one of your sisters!" And now she is. :)

^^The most amazing moment of my entire life: exchanging our wedding vows.

^^We were both so happy and excited! Everyone told me the wedding day would be a blur, but it wasn't; I remember every moment.

 ^^Leaving the church after Mass. My dad says this is his favorite picture.

 ^^I love this picture with our parents.

^^My whole family.

 ^^My darling little trio of flower girls.

^^They took their train-holding duties very seriously. I felt like Kate Middleton all day!

^^This might just be my very favorite photo.

Last but not least, Lillian works for the educational institute ISI, which we joke is really just a front for a conservative matchmaking service (she and I both met our husbands through it). So I pretty much died laughing when she created this hilarious meme:

So there's that, in case you need another reason to sign up for one of their awesome fellowships. ;)

Now that we're back from Rome, I'm keeping busy unpacking and settling in to our Little House while working full-time, so free time is in a bit of short supply. But I can't wait to share more details about the wedding, and I have some awesome photos from our honeymoon I want to share too!

I'll be featuring one more great guest post this week, and then back to just me around here. Hope you've been enjoying them, and thanks for reading!

He did it!

Frank went and graduated!

My fiance is now officially a J.D.

And in five days, he'll be my husband.

I don't think I could be any more excited!

Frank's last class!

Frank had his last class of law school Thursday night.

The rest of the class went out for drinks with their professor, but he came home with an ice-cream cake instead.

"I wanted to celebrate with the people I love," he said.

Of course, I melted.

^^Look at the camera, Joe!

^^Angela's most attractive face (Frank started tickling her)

 ^^Happiness!

Now it's just two weeks until Frank graduates from law school. We just have to get through finals first. I'm so proud of that guy.

My Quest to Love Baseball

Frank is a huge baseball fan. It's his number one conversation topic with his friends, his favorite childhood memories all involve the Phillies, and he has multiple fantasy baseball teams a year.

Pretty early on he realized this was not the case for me. While I enjoy a trip to the old ball game and snacking on stadium food as much as the next person, for most of our relationship I really had no clue how baseball worked.

Although I was more than happy to take pictures in front of bobblehead-doll baseball players.

Recently Frank mentioned that one of his friends, whose wife loves baseball, had taken his wife to their team's opening day game and posted Facebook pictures of themselves in matching jerseys. That set the wheels turning in my mind. A shared interest in baseball brought that couple closer together. Why shouldn't the same be true for Frank and me?

Tickets to the Marlins game, a generous gift from my uncle

But I didn't decide to actually learn about baseball until a few days later, when Frank and I were talking about dancing. Dancing is to me what baseball is to Frank: I love it, while Frank tolerates it in small doses. I'm hoping to take dance lessons with him at some point, and I commented that he would probably like dancing if he had more practice. "You can learn anything you put your mind to," I said.

As those words left my mouth, I realized they applied to me and baseball just as much as to him and dancing. Why shouldn't I learn more about his interests, after all? Especially if I was asking him to learn more about mine.

So I made up my mind to learn about baseball. And not just to learn about it—to love it. I remembered  a line from one of my favorite books, A Severe Mercy. The couple agrees that "If one of us likes anything, there must be something to like in it—and the other one must find it." If Frank loves baseball, there must be something to love about it!

I started off pretty slow—as Frank said the other night, his voice a mixture of shock and horror, "I didn't realize you didn't even know the difference between a ball and a strike." True. I also didn't know the difference between a no-hitter and a perfect game, or the purpose of a shortstop, or what RBIs or ERAs are, or how many games are in a World Series, or what the designated hitter rule is. But I've learned all those things in just the past week.

I started by asking for advice from all my friends who like baseball. They've been so helpful. My roommate Heather lent me an awesome book comparing baseball to Christianity, the lovely JoAnna explained that baseball is philosophical and suggested using a scorecard to understand the games, and Patrick constructed a miniature baseball diamond of plates and napkins on my dining room table. Conor laughed at me: "Only you would try to learn baseball by reading a book, Tess." But then he talked to me about Bill Mazeroski and the ninth-inning walk-off in the 1960 World Series, and my mind expanded. I'm trying to take it all in and learn as much as I can, and I'm asking Frank to please take me to at least one baseball game before the wedding.

So this is it—the start of my Great Quest to Love Baseball. I'm giving it my best shot and I'm really excited to keep learning. I hope that at the very least, someday when Frank is coaching our son's Little League team, I'll be able to go to all the games and actually understand what's going on. And if I happen to become the newest Number One Fan of the White Sox along the way ... that wouldn't be so bad either. :)

Are you a baseball fan? Do you have any tips? I would love to hear why you like the game, how you learned about it, and any other advice!


p.s. Thanks to Sarah for this lovely little reflection on our dinner last week. My take on it here. 

Goodbye, Baby Blue

Once upon a time, 16-year-old Frank bought a car. It was bluish-gray, five years old, had the greatest seat warmers for the winter, and I couldn't tell you what kind of car it was for the life of me.

Frank kept this car for the next seven years. It saw him through high school, college, and law school. He drove it to Chicago, New York, Virginia, and countless places in between. He picked me up in that car for our first date, and we were in that car the day we called our parents to tell them we were engaged.

But it wasn't until after we were engaged that Frank's trusty old car earned a name. We used to argue over the color—was his car blue or gray? A good case could be made either way. So on the day of our surprise eleven-mile hike, after going through that ordeal, I was so overjoyed to see his car that I christened it "Baby Beluga" to honor its whale-like appearance. We called it "Baby Blue" for short. I also made up an ode to Baby Blue, to the tune of Raffi's "Baby Beluga" song (I'll spare you the lyrics).

Frank and Baby Blue sojourned down to Virginia this past week for his spring break (which included our visit to Miami). Yesterday morning, he began his drive back to Chicago from Virginia. But late Monday afternoon, somewhere in the Middle-of-nowhere, Ohio, Baby Blue gave out on him.

We're not sure what exactly went wrong with Baby Beluga. All we know is that he suddenly stopped accelerating, and Frank barely had time to glide to the side of the highway before Baby Blue stopped running completely. After that, he wouldn't turn on, no matter what.

Luckily, a state trooper pulled up and stayed with Frank until a tow truck came to take Baby Blue to the nearest mechanic. Luckily again, there was a Motel 6 just up the road from the mechanic's shop, with plenty of restaurants and a grocery store in between.

So Frank stayed at the Motel 6 last night, and this morning he heard the verdict: after twelve years and close to 200,000 miles, Baby Beluga was done. Getting him to run again would cost close to $5000. So he said goodbye to Baby Blue and rented a car to take him back to Chicago.

I talked to Frank on the phone a few minutes ago about our plans for the future. We had always planned to be a one-car family for the first few years of our marriage, but now it looks like we'll actually be a no-car family instead. It's just not practical for us to buy a car right now. My parents have promised Frank the use of one of their cars while he's living with them, and in a real stroke of good fortune, the apartment we're looking to rent is close enough to his office that he'll be able to walk to work every day. We should be just fine without a car for the next six months or so.

But a part of us is still mourning the tragic end of Baby Blue. As Frank said on the phone, "I feel as though a pet just died.... I didn't think it would end like this." That car was with him through so much. It might be an inanimate object, but we sure are going to miss that car. Baby Beluga, RIP.

St. Patrick's Day on Key Biscayne

After the bridal shower last week, we spent Sunday at my aunt's house in Key Biscayne, where we celebrated St. Patrick's Day as any Irish-Cuban couple visiting Miami should: wearing green and eating Cuban food.

I bought this dress for St. Patrick's Day when I visited Cathy in Spain last April. After spending four years at Notre Dame getting pinched every year for not wearing green (Do you know what I'm talking about—the tradition that you're supposed to pinch anyone who's not wearing green on St. Patrick's Day? At least that's what the kids in college said!), I had been on the look-out for a green dress for a while.

But since it was Miami, we feasted on Cuban sandwiches instead of the classic corned beef and cabbage (which Frank tells me isn't actually an Irish meal? Someone needs to set the record straight for this confused and very-ignorant-of-Irish-cuisine Cuban girl...).

Not pictured: the little cups of Cuban coffee ("cafecito") that we bought from a little roadside stand after Mass. So delicious!

We got to spend more time hanging out with Lillian and Matt... always my favorite. I miss Lillian so much when we're apart, and I'm really happy Matt is joining our family. He's the easiest person to get along with ever, and always fun to talk to. We had a good chat about Wendell Berry, since I finished Jayber Crow last week and had it on the mind.

After brunch we headed out to visit the local Key Biscayne Arts Festival.

Our means of transportation? This fabulous golf-cart chariot (chauffeured by my favorite driver).

Key Biscayne is a small enough island that you can drive around in golf carts instead of cars. My aunt and uncle lent us their cart for the weekend, and we felt so cool cruising the streets in that baby ... even though it maxes out at 12 miles per hour.

Next to the village green we found parking spots reserved for golf carts only.

We joined a whole row of carts in the reserved parking spots:

Isn't that the cutest thing? It almost makes me want to move to Key Biscayne so I can sashay around in a golf cart all the time.

In the evening, Frank and I drove to Fort Lauderdale to have dinner with my mom's side of the family. I couldn't resist taking this picture from their back door:

Doesn't that just slay you? Especially today, when winter seems to be back with a vengeance, I'm longing for that hammock and a few more days in sunny Florida.

We had such a great visit to Miami. I'm grateful for my extended family, who pretty much embody hospitality and have welcomed Frank (and Matt!) into the family with open arms. We can't wait for our next visit. :)