15. Learn to Knit or Crochet and Make a Scarf

Knitting and crocheting was not for me. I gave up on both before I even tried to learn. It was too girly, too housewife-y. I threw it into the pile of domestic skills I would never attempt. Gardening, canning, sewing, knitting and crochet - they all ended up in that pile.

"Just admit it, you were a bit feminist..." my sister said the other day as we were reminiscing our childhood. Her point was valid; the only reason I refused to learn any of those skills was because it was considered woman's work and I hated that term with a passion. It felt so unfair, so degrading. Why was cleaning and laundry and preparing meals tasks that I had to do, but my brothers didn't need to help out at all? They contributed to the mess, they added to the laundry pile, they ate their fill and then some.  Unfair I tell you. Unfair.

Years have gone by and I've become less vocal in my feministic ideas. I still hate the term woman's work and I cannot stand when someone is referred to as a housewife simply because they are not pursuing a "professional career" at the moment. I still firmly believe that learning to clean and do laundry and cook meals are equally important for both male and female. My sons will have to help out with those chores. But my attitude has changed in regards to refusing to learn those domestic skills simply because they are considered to be woman's work, which brings us to number 15 on the 23 before 24 list.

18. Learn to Knit or Crochet and Make a Scarf

I have several friends who are super talented at knitting and crochet. They make the cutest little hats for babies, the warmest chunky scarves for themselves, and the overly ambitious ones even make throw blankets. I see their gorgeous creations and I feel intimated and inspired. I want to be like them.

I chose to make a scarf because it seemed fairly straightforward. Because I am left-handed I decided to search Youtube for videos that could teach me the basics instead of asking my right-handed grandma or my right-handed friends. There are countless tutorials, some are long and detailed, others are short and to the point. I like short and to the point. This is the tutorial that I used for my scarf.

I worked on the scarf after Thanksgiving dinner while chatting with my aunts. I worked on the scarf in the evenings while Herm watched Duck Dynasty or Midwest Whitetail. I worked on the scarf while waiting for a batch of granola to finish baking. I worked on the scarf while traveling. I worked on the scarf while... okay, you get the idea. Maybe this domestic stuff isn't so bad after all.

I am pleased with the finished project. If I had it to do over again, I would make the scarf slightly wider and not quite so long. It's an infinity scarf, so instead of wrapping it twice like I had planned to, I wrap it around three times. It's super chunky and warm. And it's red. I love red.

A second scarf has been started with the leftover yarn. It'll be a gift for someone... and the next time I get to a craft store or yarn shop, I will be stocking up, because, um, one can never have too many scarves. Especially if you live in the north where winter lasts for six months, like I do.

Also, my aunt offered to teach me how to knit a beret style hat with Alpaca wool. I'm so excited!

If you are a newbie to crochet, like me, I would recommend choosing a light colored yarn. It was hard to see the stitches with the dark red. Also, your project won't take nearly as long as mine did if you go with a chunky yarn and large hook. Hindsight is 20/20.

Do you like to crochet or knit? Are you a conservative feminist too?
I would love to hear your thoughts!

Gift Well

Christmas is right around the corner.

I know this because my email inbox is overflowing with holiday gift ideas and last minute sales and free shipping offers. I know this because friends keep mentioning how good it feels to have all their gifts purchased and wrapped already. I know this because I've barely started shopping.

Hi, my name is Sarah and I am a gift-giving procrastinator.

I realize that I am really not the most qualified person to write a gift guide. However, being less-than-qualified isn't going to stop me from sharing a few of my favorite gift ideas...

I love fair trade. I love knowing that what is being purchased is giving back to a person, a family, a community. I also love homemade and the time and thought that was put into the item to be gifted. 

So without further ado, here are the ideas you have all been waiting for:

Mamuye Tote // Live FashionABLE

Blue Waters Mug // Ten Thousand Villages

Chunky Scarf // Homemade

Earrings // Noonday Collection

The Irene Wallet // Live FashionABLE

Dark Chocolate // Amazon

Leather Journal Cover // Homemade

Brown Sugar Scrub // Homemade

Baby Hat // Homemade

Thomas Train Table // Homemade

If you need even more ideas search #giftwell on Instagram.

And there you have it! I feel like my Christmas shopping is already finished. :)

A Series of Unfortunate Events + Chatter

Have you ever wished for something, only to find yourself occasionally wanting to go back and reword that wish after it was granted?

Photo by Lydia

When I was pregnant with Carson and working at a little cafe, customers would often ask if I wanted a boy or a girl. My response was always, "I would love to have an energetic and mischievous little boy..." I knew a little girl would be precious too, but loud and rowdy little boys capture my heart like nothing else can. 

My wish was granted.

I love early mornings. I love waking up before the sun and starting my day off with a few quiet minutes and some strong coffee. I love doing a short workout of some sort and eating a healthy breakfast. I love doing all of this alone, before the Little Mister wakes. 

It doesn't often go as planned.

It's 6 am. I try to crawl out of bed without waking Carson. He begins to stir and snuggles in even closer. I wait. Ten minutes later I try again. He stirs. I wait. Finally at 6:20 am we both get out of bed because we can't handle the puddle of wetness surrounding us. The 12 hour protection advertised on the box of LUVS diapers has expired. 

I change the Little Man and stripped the sheets off of the bed. I trudge down the basement stairs, sheets and baby in hand. As I am adjusting the washer settings and adding laundry soap I hear clatter. The dog food dish has been turned upside down and is now being used as a drum. Morsels of dog food are crunched under the weight of my bare feet as we make our way back up the stairs.

Instead of attempting the desired morning routine, I begin to tackle my mental to-do list. Maybe I can get a few things crossed off and when Carson goes down for his nap I can enjoy those precious quiet moments and a long hot shower. 

• Start laundry
• Empty dishwasher
• Take out the trash
• Wash the dining room windows
• Wax

Waxing. It needs done and I've been procrastination for far too long. I warm the little pot of painful goo in the microwave. Carson is entertaining himself with toys. The timer beeps. I stir the contents and put it back in again for another minute or two. The timer beeps again, this time I know it's ready. But just as I open the microwave and start pulling the pot of hot wax out, Carson walks by and hits the microwave door. The door bumps my hand, causing the overly heated wax to splash out onto my hand, the microwave, the cabinet and the floor. The next 20 minutes was spent scraping wax off of my burnt hand, peeling skin away too, off the floor, and off of the microwave. Large amounts are still clinging to the cabinet as I type. 

As I was scrubbing everything, Carson was cleaning out cupboards and rearranging my house, he doused his dry Cheerios with water and began unplugging cords from receptacles. Next up was attempting to un-pot my potted house plants and clearing the nightstands of all decor and pulling the lights off of our tree. He knows that he isn't suppose to do any of those things. When I tell him to stop, he grins real big and take off running. 

It's only 8:30 am and I'm already wishing for a nap. It's been a long day. The word "no" has escaped my lips at least 100 times. This is when I remember saying, "I would love an energetic and mischievous little boy..."

I want my Little Man to be all boy, I want him to be energetic and lively. I want him to be curious and explore the world... But I also want him to be well behaved and I want my house to stay in order. Tell me, can these traits be mixed?

In other news:

Number 18. Learn to Knit or Crochet and Make a Scarf // IS COMPLETE!

We got our tree and I've been Decking the Halls + Decking the "Hoshy." (the deer.)

And... Cousin love.

Photo by Lydia

Happy Birthday Little Man!

One year and one day ago I woke up earlier than usual for a Sunday morning. It was cold and wintry out; even the air in our house felt crisp.

I grabbed our bags to finish some last minute packing...

Opening day of Rifle Season was on Monday, and as is tradition with the Esh family, we were all heading to the cabin in northern Pennsylvania for a few days over that time. The guys would be out hunting and us ladies and the children would enjoy the warmth of the wood stove and endless amounts of coffee and hot chocolate back at the cabin.

But something felt different. Was today the day? I still had ten days until my due date. Everyone told me to add at least another week on to that time because first-time moms always go over.

Going to the cabin is a major highlight for Herm. He had excitement in his voice whenever we talked about it. A few weeks prior I had jokingly told him that I would make the almost three hour trek down there with him, but that he first had to sign a contract saying that he would play the role of midwife if needed.

Did something actually feel different? Should we stay home? My body didn't feel at all like my own in the past eight months. There was probably nothing to worry about. I had learned that in pregnancy expect the unexpected.

I casually mentioned to Herm what had happened. He continued to load the luggage onto the truck.

We were going to the cabin.

I silently tucked a few blankets, sleepers, diapers, and a cap into the side pocket of our suitcase. I just had this nagging feeling...

As we were traveling I began Google what had happened. Maybe my water really did break? I thought it would be a bit more obvious. Like a gush of liquid? A small river? A mighty ocean perhaps?

Before long I lost cell phone service and was left with a bunch of unanswered questions.

When we arrived at the cabin I pulled my sister-in-law, Anne, aside. She has six children... She would give me the comfort I needed. She confirmed what I knew in my heart all along.

I was in labor.

The rest of the family was just sitting down to eat breakfast. We enjoyed the meal with them. But as soon as the dishes were cleared, Anne and I drove out to the nearest town, fifteen minutes away, so that I could contact my midwife and let her know what was going on. I tried to call her. I tried to text her. But the service wasn't strong enough. I couldn't get through. Finally in the library parking lot I found internet connection. I sent a brief message to her on Facebook. Within a matter of minutes I had a reply, "COME HOME NOW!"

We said our good-bye's to a shocked group of people. Yes folks, we drove three hours, ate breakfast with Herm's family, and immediately turned around and drove three more hours home again.

It was almost 4:30 pm when we finally reached home and not a minute to soon. Snow was falling heavily.

My midwife suggested I walk for a while to try to speed things up. So Herm and I bundled up and drove down to a big parking lot near our home. We walked in circles, well over a mile, in that parking lot as the snow was falling and the air was crisp. A college security guard asked us if we were okay. We probably did look a bit strange.

When we got back to the house, I walked stairs for a while, Herm supporting me through contractions. I just want to sit, I told him. I was exhausted. We heard a loud popping sound; there was that river I was expecting.

After that things really sped up. The birthing pool was filled with warm water and not too long after we called our midwife. She arrived sometime after midnight and coached us through the rest of labor. At 3:52 am Carson was born.

There are no words to describe the joy and elation I felt as he was placed into my arms. My heart was bursting with love. I couldn't help but stare at him. I was overcome with newborn bliss.

We waited for him. We prayed for him. HE WAS FINALLY HERE!

It's so hard to believe that he is actually a year old already. Where has the time gone? But in the same breath, I will also say that it feels as though Carson has been a part of our little family forever. He adds so much joy to our lives. We feel so blessed to be his parents.

Happy birthday, bud!

18. Try a New Dish

It feels so good to start crossing things off the list. I get a warm + fuzzy sensation in my heart as black ink soaks into the page, checking off the completed box. Okay, maybe that feeling has more to do with being in love and less to do with the list. Moving on...

Number 18: Try a New Dish. I know I've mentioned it before on the blog, or perhaps it was my Instagram feed, either way, working in the kitchen is not my first love. I do it out of necessity; my family needs to eat. I prepare simple, healthy meals. Anything that takes more than 30 minutes of hands on time is ridiculous and doesn't often happen.

Two years ago, newly married, and overly ambitious, I searched Pinterest for recipe ideas that I was sure to make. One, among many, was Jamaican Patties. 

A popular lunch or snack item, these are a pastry pocket filled with curried beef, chicken or veggies. Often they are served with delicious coco bread. When I lived in Jamaica, this was something I ate often. It was affordable and oh so good! 

On Saturday, as I was searching my recipe pin board for something new and challenging to make, I noticed way at the bottom of the board the link for those Jamaican Patties. That was the one. I opened the link, browsed the ingredients, and went shopping for the only item I didn't have in my pantry - vegetable shortening. Everything else was on hand. 

I prepared the pastry dough. As that was chilling in the fridge, I mixed the meat filling. Like always, I did not stick to the recipe. It called for ground beef; I used venison and black beans instead. I also added hot sauce and a bit more curry seasoning. The salt was eliminated, and Italian seasoning was sprinkled in. After taste testing the mixture several times, it was finally perfect. 

The dough was rolled out into small circles, the meat mixture was spread over half of it, and then I folded the dough over to form a pocket and crimped the edges with a fork. After brushing each pastry with the egg wash, the tray was placed in the oven and the magic began.

Scents can be nostalgic. Smelling the curry wafting through my kitchen as the pastries baked brought back so many precious memories of that warm sunny island in the West Indies. A little bit of homesickness washed over me.

The timer beeped; I pulled the tray out of the oven and a squeal of delight probably escaped my lips. The patties looked perfect! Let me tell you folks, they did not disappoint! The crust was flaky and the filling burst with flavor. I opted to serve them with a spinach salad instead of coco bread. It was healthier and it meant less time in the kitchen. Win. Win.

I'm not sure why it took me two years and a birthday list to complete these, but I am so glad I finally tried. This is a recipe I will keep on file and use again, although it won't be on a regular basis, simply because it took well over thirty minutes to prepare and, as you already know, I just don't do that. 

You can find that amazing recipe, along with many other Jamaican gems here. Try it folks, you will be so glad you did.

23 before 24

Inspired, as always, by my sister, Kate, I came up with a 23 before 24 list. In short, this is a list of 23 goals that I would like to accomplish before I turn 24. Unlike a bucket list, I want these goals to be specific and realistic. I want some of them to be fun and free, but I would like most to be challenging and grow me as a wife, a mom, a daughter, a sister, and a friend.

As I accomplish each of these goals, I plan to blog about it...

So here it goes:

1. Record daily things I am grateful for

Because a thankful, contented spirit requires cultivating with intention.

2. Blog once per week for the next year

3. Visit an elderly person (who isn't a relative)

There is so much wisdom to be gained from those who journeyed before us. Honor them; respect them; befriend them; learn from them.

4. Donate blood

This is something I've attempted before, but because of all of the traveling I did as a teen, I never was considered safe enough to donate blood. It has been about two years since I was out of the United States (other than Canada) so I am going to try again.

5. Learn basic floral arrangement

To stop and smell the roses.

6. Participate in one group workout with an instructor

I enjoy challenging myself physically, solo. A little group competition would be good for this introvert-ish soul.

7. Take up gardening

To become more like my mom.

8. Visit a new state

Or province or country.

9. Make French macaroons

I've never had one... I don't even know if they are good. But I have heard they are daunting and require precision. I am not precise; this will not be easy. 

10. Read twelve non-fiction books

This should be fairly easy.

11. Write 52 love notes to one man

12. Break my long distance run record

Once upon a time I was planning to run a full marathon, and someday I will. But this year I just need to run at least 16 miles. 

13. Learn about and use my SLR camera

A great photographer once said, "The best camera is the one you use." But I say, "Move over iPhone. You ain't got nothing on a Canon." Hello Sarah. Practice what you preach. That camera is getting dusty.

14. Hand write a note to someone who inspires me

15. Learn to knit or crochet and make a scarf

16. Bike around Seneca Lake

I've relayed raced those 77.7 miles twice. Now it's time to bike it as well.  

17. Take a personal retreat

Whether a day, a long weekend, or a week, some personal time would be refreshing. 

18. Try a new dish

Hello Pakistani restaurant, here I come! ... oh wait, you mean I actually have to prepare it?

19. Go hunting

Archery, muzzleloader or thrift shopping. All three count. Yes they do.

20. Explore downtown Rochester

21. Take dancing lessons with my man

As a rule, most Mennonites and Baptists don't dance very well. (Folks, we need all the help we can get.) Besides, it would be a fun couple of date nights. 

22. Make fresh mozzarella from scratch

Again, to become more like my mom.

23. Go paddle boarding

I live in the Finger Lakes region of New York. There is water all around me... let's make good use of it and try something new, shall we?

A Tribute to Ev

It was such an honor to be asked to share memories of my friendship with Ev at his funeral yesterday. The service was a beautiful memorial to a life lived with passion and love for people and for God. To know Ev, to be his friend since childhood, was a blessing. He is sorely missed - but the fact that he is with the Father and is completely well is glory. 

Dear Ev,

I wish I would have been asked to share memories of our childhood at your wedding reception or thirtieth birthday party. Reminiscing those years with you, both of us digging up childhood antics and reliving them together would be my choice. I want to hear the stories from your point of view too.

Our friendship started 22 years ago - with our parents being such close friends, it was only natural that we, too, would be friends.

I remember a time where you and I weren't quite cool enough to keep up with our older brothers, so when they deserted us, we started our own club. I was the bossy president and you were the member who had to pay an initiation fee. You obliged. However, willingly? I'm not sure.

We spent countless hours out in the hay loft of that dairy barn. We built forts among the hay bales, complete with tunnels and dead ends and booby traps. We played cops and robbers, freeze tag, and broom sock out there. Burying each other in the soybeans, freshly harvested, still in the grain wagon and walking through those cow pies, soft and warm, letting the smelly contents squish between our toes was pure bliss. I think I even convinced you that mud puddles taste sort of like chocolate milk if you are thirsty enough. The kitchen tap was a good 200 yards away, and we were so dehydrated that we wouldn't have made it that far.

Summers were spent swimming in the pond, playing king of the raft or having diving and flipping competitions with our brothers. We would beg our moms to let us go out before lunch, and as soon as lunch was over we would be begging to go out again. The thirty minutes we had to wait so our food would settle before swimming was an eternity in our ten year old minds.

In the winter we were back on the pond, although this time we were bundled up and playing hockey on the ice.

One summer day I was at your house when you got home from school. You were going to ride in the combine with your dad and invited me along. Climbing into the cab barefoot, I somehow managed to pinch my big toe in the door, immediately the nail turned black and eventually fell off. You were so worried about me and kept asking if I was okay.

I could go on and on with memories of those carefree days, of "night out" every other Friday, where you and your siblings would come to my house or vice verse, so that our parents could enjoy a date night without the trouble of finding a babysitter, of biking the Outlet trail on Sunday afternoons, of riding the four wheeler at full speed through the fields.

Peers would tease you about me, and you were quick to tell them that I was a girl and I was a friend, but I was not your girlfriend.

Our friendship did change as we reached our teenage years. While we no longer did everything together, we still hung out with the same group of friends and saw each other often. You had such a quirky sense of humor and could always make me laugh. You also had a very caring heart and put effort into relationships. To many of us, you were a very close friend.

As we got back to your house after riding in the combine that day I pinched my toe, you proudly told your older brothers that I was the bravest girl you knew, because even though it hurt like crazy, I didn't cry at all. Ev, today I am trying so hard to be brave, but the pain of losing you, my closest childhood friend, is so much greater than anything I have ever experienced physically and the tears won't stop coming no matter how hard I try to hold them back.

Your life has been such an inspiration to me. You lived those 22 years with passion and energy, and I wish I would have told you how much I admire you before you were gone. Because of you, I want to grow in relationships; because of you, I want live more fully.

I love you. I miss you.

Sarah