cold wind blowing.

Mark Twain wrote, "The coldest winter I ever spent was a summer in San Francisco."

Couldn't count the number of times I heard these words once Chase and I decided to make the drive up north. Call it a self-fulfilling prophecy, but September in San Francisco was nippy (It really doesn't compare to the October in Utah that I'm now experiencing, but at the time there was definitely some whining going on).

But even with temperatures in the low 60s, we soldiered on.

First things first, we ate dim sum in Chinatown. I've blocked out most of the experience from my memory, but I recall enough to tell you: mistake.

We took the ferry to Alcatraz, which was really interesting. I think we were the only guests there who opted against the 45-minute audio tour; instead we ran around like ghosts in a world full of people with headphones on, yelling out only because we could. We created our own self-directed tour, in which we took turns fabricating stories about the island's notorious prisoners and creative attempts at escape. And when we disembarked from our ferry ride, we dropped 30 bones on a 5x7" photo of the two of us in front of a green screen (not really).

That night we met up with our friend Patrick, ate some pretty darn good seafood and got our Ghiradelli on. We also drove down Lombard street for the fourth time that day. Pat let us sleep on the floor of his hotel room that night, which led to Chase experiencing what he repeatedly referred to as "the best hotel breakfast he has ever had." Think Yoplait, mini boxes of corn flakes, and the game changer -- a waffle maker. I love my sweet husband and his low expectations.

We spent the next morning at the Sutro Baths on the coast. The "Baths" were actually a giant complex of seven swimming pools constructed by the mayor of San Francisco in 1896. The pools were built right on the water and were filled up by the ocean. The structure burnt down in the 60s, and the ruins eerily look like something from ancient Rome (that second picture is of the Baths).

We ate lunch at the famous Tartine Bakery, and were not disappointed. We got there at a good time and didn't wait in much of a line, but once we sat down outside, the place exploded. As we were leaving a bearded, vested, glasses-wearing man asked us in disbelief if our table was really going to be free. Four minutes after sitting down, he was still nervously grinning (and slightly shaking). A table outside Tartine Bakery at lunch time? On a Thursday?

After lunch we hit up Bi-Rite Creamery. Absolute bliss. Brown sugar, strawberry balsamic, honey graham, salted caramel... so many perfect ice cream flavors in one place. Really makes choosing one difficult.

And of course we crossed the Golden Gate bridge and spent the evening in Sausalito, marveling at the floating houses and peeking in cutesy shop windows. Crossing the bridge lands you in a much quieter part of the city, a perfect spot to unwind after receiving an $80 parking ticket earlier in the day (for parking in a tow-away zone.. but it had a meter? I still don't get it.)

All in all, San Francisco treated us well. I'd go back just for the ice cream.

cars and telephones.

Spent Monday in Boston. And fell in love.

My past with the city includes elementary school field trips to the Museum of Science and a duck boat tour (one hell of a ride!). Mow that I've matured, the better part of my time in any new city is spent seeking out the best food. Chase counts on me to do enough research to lead us to the good spots, and I (almost) always pull through.

His faith was recently shaken, however, after a horrific dim sum encounter involving room temperature deep-fried shrimp balls in San Francisco (though I think the problem was not with my judgment call, but with dim sum entirely). But I won it all back in boston. We ate pastries at Mike's--an espresso cannoli and a neapolitan with the most delightful pastry cream--and filled our bellies at Giacomo's in Little Italy. Words cannot express the way I feel about their butternut squash ravioli. Or their olive bread. Or scallops (from anywhere.. but Giacomo's did 'em right). 

The food alone was enough to win me over. . . but the city is gorgeous. The buildings are thoughtfully designed, with so much history left intact. The North End is overrun with weathered brick and impressive flora. The streets are clean, the sea so near.

And the city on a hill made a hero out of me. While walking through a park, Chase pointed out a loose scottie dog trailing its leash behind it and nudged me to return it to its owner. My attempt to catch it quickly spiraled into a dramatic dog chase across the park, ending only when I victoriously stomped on his leash and jerked him to a halt. I walked proudly, albeit a bit winded, towards his elderly owner to watch their sweet reunion. And she laughed and had me set the leash down so he could run free. And I went red. No idea why I listen to that boy sometimes.

We also visited the Boston LDS temple. It was closed since it was a Monday, but it's always a sweet feeling just to walk around temple grounds. 

I could really cozy up to Boston. 

let the century pass me by.

We left Hawaii at the beginning of the month for good. And we haven't spent much time being sad. Instead, we've been celebrating the upsides of leaving, like affordable groceries ($2.99 gallons of milk v. $9.99), seeing family, driving cars that pass safety inspection, and finally being able to buy "nice" things because we won't have to leave them behind when we move. We even ordered a Vitamix and had it shipped to Utah as a welcoming gift to ourselves.

But the other night before falling asleep, I thought about the small space we left behind, and for the first time I felt sad. Real honest sadness. Chase and I laid on our backs in the dark and took turns remembering out loud. I cried, thinking about the one-room apartment that we took over with our singing and our meals and our fights and our laughter; our pictures, homemade shelves and thrift store finds. I cried because the day we moved out, our apartment was a bare white box full of none of those things, and I wish I had taken more time to remember everything before it was emptied.

I can't find the right words to explain what I felt. But I mourned for my memory. For its patchiness. Because the things I remember will never be whole. My memory of our first home will never contain the myriad of emotions that I experienced there. I can't justly recreate it in my mind. I am three weeks out, and already I forget the color of our carpet and the contents of our fridge. 

And that's okay. I can't freeze time, and i'm coming to terms with that (although if I could, now wouldn't be a bad time to do it).

But sometimes, I think, it's okay to be sad for the places and people you've left behind.

let the wind take my body away.

Finally got some photos developed from our Maui trip in March.

I've never seen so many waterfalls in my life. Or eaten so many Krispy Kreme donuts in one weekend. 

Being married really is the sweetest thing. Having your best friend at your side all day everyday. Always having someone to laugh with and tell your secrets to. To split meals with. Someone to wink at you across the room. Never having to go home and be apart, because your home is their home.

Everything is just better with Chase.

the rain can't get you wet.

This past week in Hawaii has brought nothing but gray skies and rain! I've been missing my sunshine.

I've been feeling a little bit gloomy lately. I really am the most weather affected person I know (Chase can attest to this; I always ask if it's sunny out when he tries to wake me up, and he knows to lie and say yes if he actually wants me to get out of bed), so I partly blame the weather gods. But tanning weather or not, I have been feeling so lost these past couple months.

I graduated from BYU-Hawaii in political science this April, and since then I have been bussing tables at a nearby restaurant while Chase completes his last couple classes. At work I clear and set tables, fill ice bins, refill drinks, and so on. It's not torture but it doesn't feel very purposeful either. I plan on sticking with it because we are leaving the Island soon and it actually pays pretty well, but it's made me terribly aware that I don't actually know what I want to do. 

I am only 20 years old (21 in August!) but I feel lost.

And I didn't think I'd say it so soon, but I miss being a student. 
I miss the expectation to grow.
I miss being made to wrap my head around foreign concepts. I miss writing papers and taking tests and just plain going to class. I miss all of the things that I was so happy to abandon; because after 15 years in school, it is so boring not learning anything.

 I love writing, drawing, painting, cooking, photography, nutrition and a dozen other things, but I don't have a singular passion. I want to pour myself into something completely, but I'm clueless as to what. Part of me wants to go back to school, but even then I don't know what I'd study. And then I think, it's pointless to pay for more schooling when you're going to be a mom and likely not make any money. 

I'm tempted to see a fortune teller, since no one who knows me can tell me what to do. (Or maybe my path is to become one. . . I did have a lucrative palm reading business going in my middle school cafeteria until I got shut down.)

now our lives are changing fast.

Bucketfuls of good things have happened since I've last written anything. Bucketfuls.

Chase and I took a weekend vacation in Maui. Camped in the most absurd wind I've ever encountered, drove the Road to Hana, saw tons of waterfalls, went to the top of the real high crater, ate our weight in gelato, resort hopped and got sleeping in a Mazda3 down to a science. This trip also marked the beginning of our love affair with card games, which has only picked up since returning.

I graduated from college, and Chase . . . almost did. We walked at the commencement ceremony together, but he's not official 'til he passes Physics and Life Saving this summer (and then takes Abstract Algebra . . . the kid is going on 14 semesters). I spent the entire ceremony scanning the program for ridiculously long hawaiian names and crossing my fingers that the announcer would screw up their pronunciation, since entertainment was so scarce. Literally, one graduate's last name was "Leimamoia'umeheiponolo'ikamakaokeao." oh, and another graduate was named Risky? Just Risky. No middle name, no last name, just Risky. Sure, fine.

We also sold our beloved beater truck. Honestly, we'd been wanting to sell the thing for months, but I'm just so damn lazy. I can go far enough to make a Craigslist posting, but when I have to start returning calls and responding to emails, I absolutely fail. I was fine with making casual progress on selling it until our neighbors borrowed it and came home telling us that it slipped into reverse and the accelerator jammed, causing it to suddenly speed 4o mph backwards with no foot on the gas pedal. So, no more rusty F250 with the obscenely ripped driver's seat, boasting fuel mileage of up to 8 miles per gallon and teeming full of sweet memories. It was a bittersweet sell.

But we replaced it with a, erm, minivan? I guess all sense of style goes out the window when you get married, because we're both smitten with the thing. It's a '99 Toyota Sienna, with a tape deck, a/c and drink holders. Needless to say, we are very much pleased with our purchase. We bought it on Monday, and today the seller texted me asking that we wipe his phone number off the back windows because he kept getting calls from interested buyers. Again, we are so lazy! Inexcusable.

Chase's parents and sister (and husband and sweet baby girl) came out for graduation and stayed to play for a week. It was so rad. We grilled, spent a couple days beaching it in town and Kailua, watched baby Aspen start walking for real, and ate wayyyy too much good food.

And i started a new job, as a "Serving Assistant" at a restaurant called Ola, at Turtle Bay Resort. A.k.a., i'm a busser!!! Yaya. I was overwhelmed by the pride on my old Humanities teacher's face when he came in to eat and saw me putting my political science degree to good use as I filled his water glass. Joking aside, I love my job. It's a beautiful restaurant right on the beach, with no walls (it's all open) and tables on the sand. We serve seriously good food right up my alley -- food of the sea. Ahi poke, a different fresh fish every day, shrimp the size of my fist, scallops. . . it's a dream.

The only real sad thing that's happened lately is that Chase and I both lost our best friends to the mainland! My Maggie Eliza unexpectedly headed home to St. Louis for the summer last week, and Chase's best friend Skee took off for California after graduating. We miss 'em, bad.

Lotsa changes lately. But, we're still young, in love, and incredibly blessed. Or lucky. Or both.

That hasn't changed. 

love will die without a home.

cinderblock walls, blue carpet, and popcorn ceiling:

the trifecta of good design.

we're spoiled-- we got a corner unit in married student housing, which means we get an extra window and an extra foot or two in width. cha-ching. sure, we still live in one giant room; pretty sure chase could jump from our front step onto the bed (long legs), and we have to crack every window when the oven's on to prevent passing out. but it's home. we've got a walk-through closet (different than a walk-in, but sounds spacious on paper) leading to a little bathroom with zero storage and a small mirror that we're constantly shoving each other in front of so we can check ourselves out (so vain, us carlstons).

we also reap the benefits of living in a community of college-aged married couples, including the temptation to kidnap any one of an unlimited number of unattended children, left free to roam the parking lot, climb on top of cars, get stuck in trees and chat it up with strangers. we are also frequently the recipients of neighbor's baked goods, another perk of TVA living.

it's fun making our home a home together, doing things like thrifting, sewing curtains and building wooden shelves. chase even built a surf rack and screwed it into the wall, despite the strict no-holes-in-the-wall policy-- oops. i guess we're gonna have some patching to do before we leave.

i just love coming home to a warm, clean home.

especially to snuggle with this boy.