four ingredient fresh summer salsa

One of my absolute favorite things about living in Ohio is the summer. The sea of green that you drive through, the fairs, longer nights - I love it all. But maybe what I love most about it, is making my mom's fresh salsa. 

Growing up, and still to this day, I don't particularly like raw tomatoes. This has always been a perplexing notion to my family, because not only do they all love to eat tomatoes on everything, or by themselves, but they all grow them. However, my usual dislike for raw tomatoes stops when it comes to this fresh salsa. 

Moving to Virginia last year, I never had a chance to make it, so it was my goal to ramp up my acid reflux this summer and make a batch. Luckily for all of you, since I'm making it a priority to spend more time on my blog and other ventures that I set out to do early on when I moved here - you all get the recipe! And even better than that news, it's only four ingredients! You really can't get much easier than that. 

You need the following ingredients:

• Tomatoes - as many as you want depending on how much salsa you want. I used five.
• Cilantro - one small bunch, pick off the leaves and throw away the stems, you can see how much I used. 
• Onion - one medium onion. I like to use the red onions. I left just about a fourth of it uncut based on the amount of tomatoes I used. 
• Chilies - the only ingredient not pictured, I use a 4 oz can of mild green chilies. 
• Salt to taste. 

Okay, I guess I lied. There's that tiny fifth ingredient of salt. Still, you can't get much simpler than this. Just dice up your tomatoes and onion, finely chop the cilantro and add it all together with the chilies. Top off with salt if you wish. 

Isn't it just gorgeous?? I don't know about you, but I could eat this all day long seven days a week! 

an essay on my grandpa

Two Thursdays ago, I lost my grandpa. 

I guess he's not exactly lost. I know he's in heaven, playing endless rounds of golf and eating desserts to his heart's desire, but still, I feel the loss. I feel it in the way that he's no longer going to answer the phone with his deep, raspy "hello," and when asking if I could talk to grandma, responding with, "Can you?" Note to the wise - the question is always "May I?" 

I felt it in the way that there was a void when sitting at the dinner table the day after the funeral. Never again will he sit at the head of the table, not so nonchalantly looking at the score of the football game in the middle of dinner. No more, "Does anyone want bread?" No more complaining the vegetables aren't done enough. All of those little details that I stashed away as inconsequential are now those little details that actually make me tear up. 

"Are you writing a book?" he'd ask when I asked a lot of questions. "Yeah!" I'd say, knowing the next line so well. "Know what you can do with the last chapter? Flush it down the toilet and make it a mystery." 

"Grandpa - how do I know if this cottage cheese is okay or not?" I asked once over the phone, while gazing uncertainly at the container like it was about to grow fangs and bite me, "Well take a bite. What's the worst that's going to happen? You won't die," he said in an incredulous tone. His advice, as usual, was correct. The cottage cheese was okay and I didn't in fact, die from trying it. 

Never will I ever get to pull out my wallet and pay for his meal. "You bring your money this time?" he always asked as the bill would get to the table. "No!" I would say in my child chortle. "Just like I suspected. Always making me pay for everything." 

"Hey there's your house!" Cue the house, almost literally imploding in on itself, exactly like that split-down-the-middle tornado house card in the Game of Life board game. You know which one I'm talking about. "That's NOT my house!!" I would say, Every. Tuesday. as we would drive by it on the way to bowling. That house is no longer there, but every time I drive by the place where it stood, I still think about that dilapidated structure.

"Gosh you're heavy!" he'd dramatically exclaim as I would squeeze myself into the side of his chair to lean on my favorite pillow person. 

"Grandpa, you fell asleep again." "No I didn't. I was studying the inside of my eyelids." 

"Hit the ball!" is what I'll hear in my head every time I see a golf ball. "I'm trying!" my five year-old self indignantly proclaimed, staring out over the bill of one of his baseball hats. "Well are you afraid you'll hurt the worms?" Hands on my hips - "No! I'm trying to hit the ball!" 

None of these moments are the moments I talked about to everyone at the funeral. I stated I could stand up there for hours, telling people about my memories - I have just a month shy of 27 years of them stored up in my brain. A passage in Jennifer Gardner Trulson's book, Where You Left Me summed my speech up perfectly. She felt the urgency to express to others how happy she and her husband had been before she was tragically widowed on September 11th. That, she wanted everyone to know she was going to be okay. I guess I never understood her desperation at that point she wanted to convey to others until two Thursdays ago.

The last time I saw him, he gave me two hugs before I left. It was Easter, and I had only come home again because I knew he wasn't doing well and my uncle was having surgery the following day. "You behave yourself, do you understand me?" I told him after the second hard squeeze, stooped over his chair. I made my hand to eye gesture - the telltale sign that I've got my eye on you, kid. "Why?!" he asked. "Because, you know the rule! No doctor's visits unless I'm here! Be good! I love you." I was spared from his heartbreaking demise in the final week, and for that I'm actually truly grateful. 

As I say to everyone who apologizes for my loss, "It's sad that he's no longer here, but he's truly in a better place." That's my happy thought when I think about these past two weeks. 

So, Grandpa, if you're reading this - because we all know you were such a wiz at the computer and internet - I hope you made your chip shots today on the links. I hope your vegetables were mush and the rhubarb pie was exactly like the kind your mother made you. I hope you put salt on all of your food and had a great time starting a move on TV halfway through. We'll be okay down here because we now no longer have to worry about you going rogue and climbing up the incredibly rickety, leaning ladder to cut a tree down! 

I love you to the moon and back. I always have, and I always will. Enjoy the peace and quiet for now, because at some point - waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay down the road, I'll be up there, filling you in on my opinions on life. 

honest thoughts on 27

In exactly one month and two days, I will turn 27. For many, this is probably just a number. Another birthday - three more to the big 3-0, no big deal. And really, that's what it is. But at the same time, 27 to me is a moment in my life that I have to take a step back and take stock in what's happening and if I'm okay with the answers. 

Am I happy? Am I doing what I love? Do I even know what I love to do? And the big question - finding love. The one. That magical, mystical ONE. My soul mate. The man of my dreams. Prince Charming - the names for him can go on and on and on. 

Shortly before I turned 25 I had a quarter-life crisis for one exact reason - 27. My younger self randomly, and to this day I can't decide why, picked the age of 27 as a good age to get married, and start having kids. When that tiny thought randomly popped into my mind while folding laundry one day in February that year, I had a mini heart attack. I was nearly 25 - single -- sooooo single - and prospects weren't looking good for a change in that prediction coming true. But I took a step back and realized, I still had two years for all of that movie magic to happen. I mean, really when you think about it, finding your soul mate is a pretty easy concept in the end. You meet them, you know, and boom. Done. I know the rest is hard, but the actual physical meeting and realization of knowing you've found the person you want to spend your life with, well, that should be easy, right?

Then I lost my job. 

Then I ended up at Nanny School.

Then I moved to D.C., turned 26 and still found myself as a "singleton" as one of my favorite heroine's Bridget Jones would say. 

But I stepped back again at 26 and said to myself - you just moved here, there are PLENTY of men - you have a whole year. 

And now, here I sit, one month and two days away from 27. Still single. 

In the grand scheme of things, this problem isn't really a problem in the real world. There are such worse realities and issues people face on a daily, minute by minute basis. I get it. Trust me, I'm not out there agonizing over my single-ness being a world crisis situation. If you know me at all, you know I don't put much stock in this single, dating, married life hierarchy. Still, it's a thought I have when going out to lunch alone or wanting to go to a movie - and doing it alone if my tiny circle of friends here are busy. 

Last night, a blogger I love, posted a photo of her brother on instagram recounting all the wonderful things he had done for her that day without being asked because she's on bed rest. She finished the story off with "Ladies, he's single :)" and I jokingly replied that it's nice to know good men are still out there...just unfortunate that he happens to be on the complete opposite coast as me! The struggle is real. Then, a small act of kindness occurred and she responded that it's a struggle she knows many of her friends share and she prays for them daily and she'd add me to her list. It was just a kind word - but that really touched me. Because, let's face it, no one really wants to be alone their whole life. 

While I know I'm not alone in total darkness a la Dory before the angler fish tried to eat her - it's a glaringly harsh reality that I get done with work and have no one to share my triumphs and tribulations with other than my friends and my mom - and they're morally obligated to listen to me rant. (I know my mom is sitting there reading this right now slowly shaking her head "yes" saying, "Oh you got that right..." I love you mom!)

And let's get one thing straight - I'm not some mushy teenager who thinks love stories are all butterflies and rainbows. No. What I'm looking for is something like the second half of Taya's letter to Chris on their wedding anniversary this year, "Today, I have a choice. I can bury myself under the covers and acknowledge the pain of missing you and mourn the future anniversaries without you. Or, I can celebrate never having a day without you in my heart because you loved me enough to leave me a lifetime of memories and beauty. I am somewhere in between today.

And if I didn't tell you enough in life, then let me tell you today... YOU Chris Kyle, are IT for me. YOU are the package deal who makes hanging on worth it.

I loved you yesterday, I love you now, and I will love you all the days of my life.

Thank you for marrying me, even if I'm the one who had to ask you. " -- THAT'S the love I am happy to wait and find.

Truthfully, I'm not ready to get married and have kids now that I'm nearly at my once "ideal age." I'm perfectly content at being able to go where I want to go, when I want to go, and focus on my passions and my future. Still - the comforting realization that there's someone to travel with, to come home to, to share meals with and make big future plans with, that's a life I'm happily prepared to join into, if that's what the whole "significant other" life is about. And having a man who knows how to fix stuff when it breaks and carry big heavy stuff isn't a bad thing either ;)

In the end, May 23rd will come, I will turn 27 and life will go on. I won't be wearing black in mourning, I won't be having a sob fest to a cliche Taylor Swift lyric or sappy Nicholas Sparks movie. In truth - I hope I'll be laughing and drinking with friends, wherever I am that day. Maybe that day I'll make a new prediction to set my sights on. Or maybe I won't. I guess it's just a thing we'll have to wait and see about. 

having a wicket good time at croquet

Ha ha - get it? Wicket? Wick.....okay maybe you don't - trust me I still don't completely understand the rules of croquet, but I want to be up front and honest, yesterday was definitely in my top five favorite days ever. Ever. I guess maybe I should step back for a minute and rewind a bit...

It's been nearly a year since I made the big move to DC - can you believe it? And it's been nearly that long that I've been looking forward to this weekend in Annapolis. Once a year, the historic Maryland capital turns into possibly the most amazing place in the world and puts on a display that every historian junkie (like myself) falls in love with from the word go.

What is this phenomenon you ask? Croquet. Wait for it...between St. John's College and the Naval Academy. Yes - those hunky Middies don white sweaters with gold Ns and beat some balls around with a mallet. It is as amazing as it sounds. 

I've taken such an absence from this blog that I thought there couldn't possibly be a better way to get back to it than showing off the photos from yesterday. 

I think I've been on cloud 9 from the moment I stepped onto the grounds yesterday. It was the perfect example of my ideal Saturday that I never even thought was an actual possibility. Growing up, I was one of those children that loved Big Band music from the 40s - looking up vintage dresses that the likes of Lucille Ball wore in the 50s and drinking my cream tea while watching anything British that I could get my hands on. I was a gonner the moment we walked up the path and heard the raspy voice of Louis Armstrong and the popping of champagne bottles. The rest was just a smiling memory that I'll carry with me until next year, where inevitably, we'll do it better, like bringing our own picnic basket (finally a reason to buy one!) a nice quilt, and a lace parasol - I didn't even know I wanted one until all the women had them yesterday. Sign me up! 

If you're anywhere in the area next April, I recommend donning your favorite sun dress or flapper head band and joining the fun. 

doing DC: botanical gardens at Christmas

When thinking of things to do in DC at Christmas, there's several that tops the list. Ice skating on the mall, the big lit Christmas trees at the White House and Capitol, theater performances...the list goes on. One place that doesn't immediately make that list, but totally should, is the National Botanical Gardens. 

My friend and I were in search of refuge from the rain on Saturday when we happened upon the gardens. She had never been inside before, so we popped in to dry off and were totally blown away at the displays inside. Each of the big name monuments was recreated using plants. It was like a mix between a gingerbread display and the Rose parade in Pasadena. 

More than 70 plants were used in the recreations, while there were five commonly used materials - pine cone scales, willows, screw pods, grapevine tendrils and acorn caps. They covered an acrylic-based foam with resin window cutouts and obviously took a LOT of time to create. They note that the Capitol took over 600 hours. Let's just break that down for a second....that's 25 days. That's almost a month. For one of these. Are you ready to be awed? 

 The White House

 Lincoln Memorial

Jefferson Memorial

 Smithsonian Castle

 Washington Monument

 Botanical Gardens

 Capitol Building

 Library of Congress - Jefferson Building

 Supreme Court

Isn't that view breathtaking? It made me want to watch Frosty the Snowman...even though this would be the last place he should be. Karen on the other hand - boy that girl was a wreck! 

*All photos taken by me with my trusty iPhone

my best friend ELF weekend in dc

You may be asking "What exactly is this ELF in DC weekend you were instagraming, Sarah?" Well I shall tell you! You know when Buddy calls his dad and has a whole list of things to do? 

Etsy

"Ahhhhhhh now I know what you're talking about!" You're saying. I knew I only had one weekend in DC before going home for a well deserved Christmas holiday, so my very best friend that I've known since middle school came up to visit and we did a DC Christmas ELF in the city weekend. So we didn't make snow angels, eat a whole roll of Tollhouse cookie dough, or snuggle we did live life the Buddy way. 

We saw some Christmas trees...

 I refuse to show the White House tree because it was even more pathetic than the Capitol tree.

We saw some statues with buildings all decorated.

 Took our typical George selfie.

Saw the monuments recreated using plants

 Another view of the Capitol tree

 Ice skated at the sculpture garden...

And finally....saw Santa on the Mall before getting on the metro. 

I think Buddy would have been proud. 

*All photos besides the first taken by me with my trusty iPhone

that time I saw Prince William in D.C.

I don't know if you know this or not, but I'm kind of a huge Royal Family aficionado. And by "kind of a huge fan" I mean "really really big, basically obsessed" fan. In the fifth grade, we had to read a biography on someone of our own choice and do a life time-line on a jar for a presentation. I was so obsessed with young Prince Wills that I talked my teacher into letting me do my report on him. She didn't want anyone under 40. I feel like that was a real accomplishment for me to persuade her that the life of a teenage Prince with a recently deceased mother had enough to write a decent life timeline on. Not to mention the fact that I was pretty sure we were going to get married so I needed to do my background check on him.

Anyway, we all know how that one turned out. The marriage part, not the book report. I aced that baby.

Who was up at 3am to watch the wedding on all ten channels it was airing on?? Me. I mean, I was basically there in my eyes. I slept on an air mattress in my living room.....basically the same as camping out for a solid week on the streets of London if you ask me.

(Sorry Laura and Jeannette for showing off the photo....but for being up for five hours already, I feel like we look pretty good)

Who was live streaming a wall when it was announced Kate had gone into labor? This girl right here.

So, it was basically only natural that the minute I heard Prince William was making a stop in DC while on his three-day tour of New York in December, I immediately freaked out, jumped around yelling for a few solid minutes and then began devising my plan on how I was going to see him.

(Note, all of the above actually happened in that order last month. I am not ashamed.)

Last week, after it became clear that the only way to get into the World Bank is to know someone that works at the World Bank, I frantically started asking around for anyone that might know someone who works there. In return, it turns out that quite a few people know someone, but for all various reasons, mostly being a time issue, I didn't actually get inside the Bank today.

But I would not be stopped. Oh no. Failure was not an option.

So, I found myself standing outside of the Bank today at 9:30am. Totally alone. I mean, totally alone. Since it was only 30 degrees outside, I popped over to Starbucks across the street and wait for a while until it was closer to "go time" which was 11am. 

Totally alone. Not deterred! 

Around 10:15am I made my way back over where there were now roughly eight people or so waiting. So, I grabbed my front row spot. And the waiting commenced.

We waited and waited, and waited some more. Then around 11am, when Will was supposed to show up, the police and Secret Service guys started checking out a red SUV that was parked on the street and evacuated us. Apparently I experienced my first ever, "this could actually be a bomb" threat today.

By 11:30 everyone was getting extremely cold and hungry and tired of waiting and being pushed back, but then, magically, they determined there was no bomb and closed up the car - did I mention they legit broke into the car?? I wonder if they have a sticker for that like the TSA do with bag checks.....

Obviously, I ran back to my original spot - wasn't NOBODY getting in my way!

Then, that's when this happened...

The super blacked out window was him. He waved. We saw it. And then started freaking out.

I'm going to be honest, this exact picture is NOT mine. But, technically, that would have been the picture I would have gotten had the person who took this one not stuck their arm right in front of me - over me basically, to get it. So, thanks whoever you were for putting it on instagram so I could regram it. I never actually figured out who the original picture taker was, but as you can see, we got a great view! 

This one, and all the other ones though are totally mine. Hey Prince William!!

And basically 15 seconds after he showed up, he was inside and I ran back to Starbucks to start thawing. Although it's hard to see, my finger tips were super red from taking the pictures, as well as my face and my legs, even though they were all covered! I didn't get warm again until I took a nice half hour bath in scalding water. That was after I fell asleep on the metro headed back. What can I say? The cold and excitement really zapped all my energy!

But It. Was. Totally. Worth. It. Every second of waiting was worth it. Because one day, I'm going to be able to tell my children and my children's children that I stood less than 50 feet away from the King of England.

*all pictures - except the one - taken by me with my trusty iPhone