04/01 Direct Link
I imagine a small, quiet suburb of Prague, a country setting where we rent a small, cozy flat with wood floors. There's room for a garden for you to experiment growing tomatoes that we never eat (but they look so pretty!) and basil. I've taken months off work to sit outside and write while the dog runs around in our yard. We chat with locals, and learn the language, speak fluently. A few times a week we take a train to the city, to stay connected, to go out, but always return, contented, to our home away from it all.
04/02 Direct Link
When wherever you are feels like home to me, when I want to be here even when it's not fun and even sometimes when it's utterly brutal, when it's natural and desirable to wake up next to you every morning, when my future includes nothing less than you and everything is done with the assumption that you'll be there, when I want to see the world and make a leap across the ocean only if you're with me, when I want to cook only to make things you like and to make sure you feel well cared for – that's passion.
04/03 Direct Link
You keep feeding me the motivation and the courage to make this leap overseas. I'll learn Czech, learn to speak fluently, flawlessly, and I'll help you learn. I'll speak to you only in Czech while we eat ripe mangoes in our new bed in the suburbs of Prague. I'll speak to you only in Czech while we stand in the kitchen of our own home, cooking dinner, looking out the window as the dog chases birds out of the garden you planted. We'll come back to the states to visit and get homesick, eager to return to our new life.
04/04 Direct Link
I am making lists, things to do before we move overseas. I'll learn the language, make wishes, save money. Pay bills, discard that which we can live without: books that haven't been read in years, cds we no longer listen to, furniture that will cost more to ship than to replace. We'll take ourselves, the dog, some money, and big dreams. I could live off these dreams for a hundred years. They've already kept me going for the past 27. I'll leave a life that no longer fits me, a past I've already forgotten. I get to be new again.
04/05 Direct Link
Sweet crepes with pears, berries, and chestnut and chocolate sauces. Neighborhood frittatas with delicately scrambled eggs, roasted red peppers, spinach and a layer of melted cheese. Lemon custard tarts with raspberry coulis that make my lips pucker after sliding down my throat. Salads with baby spinach, balsamic vinaigrette, warm goat cheese, walnut halves and roasted yellow beets. Baked acorn halves stuffed with warmed brown risotto and toasted pumpkin seeks. Fruits that glisten with sugary glazes, soaking in a bed of warm cream. Glasses of deep burgundy wines with just a hint of oak and cherry flavors. Eating equivalent to sex.
04/06 Direct Link
Luscious. Creamy. Gooey. Milky. Succulent. Caramelized. Tender. Moist. Juicy. Honey-sweet. Bittersweet. Bitter. Tart. Decadent. Indulgent. Melt in your mouth. Spicy. Rich. Thick. Zesty. Mild. Homemade lumpy. Subtle. Delicate Flavors. Tangy. Crunchy. Overpowering. Sour. Crisp. Chewy. Satisfying. Messy. Pungent. Homey. Fresh baked. Fresh roasted. Salty. Curried. Infused. Buttery. Peppered. Pulpy. Gingered. Truffled. Flamed. Battered. Plump. Savory. Marinated. Laden. Rustic. Crumbly. Strong. Understated. Brick oven. Sparkling. Robust. Full bodied. Hints of oak and cherry. Herb crusted. Mashed. Comforting. Accentuated flavors. Sautéed. Ingredient-driven. Grilled. Elegant. Stuffed. Italian. Indian. Moroccan. Chinese. Thai. Cuban. Latin-infused. Ganache. Vanilla. Cinnamon. Mint. Garlic. Delicious. Leave you desiring more.
04/07 Direct Link
I've always dreamt of huge tidal waves sweeping over the land. Fear, panic. Last night I dreamt of a wave, but instead of running, I ran into it, to float on top of it and I had a beautiful panoramic view of the city from on top of this wave. I started to go be forced down by the wave, but I didn't panic. I struggled because I wanted to take pictures of the city with a camera I held high above my head and above the water. It's the first time I didn't feel fear. Good things to come.
04/08 Direct Link
Mom tells me stories about when I was little. I used to be so independent, choosing to wander off by myself. I would choose to be away from everyone, to amuse myself. Now I fear being alone. I dislike the discomfort of being solo. When did the change occur? What happens in your life to make you stray so far from how you used to be? I will be independent again, will regress to my childhood self to find joy in wandering alone. I will go to the bookstore to read in solitude. I will see a movie by myself.
04/09 Direct Link
I do not fit into my current life anymore. The brand-new things do not fit the past. A new relationship, new desires, the want for a new career and new confidence are awkwardly squeezing in around the edges of the old life. I am going to move away, begin a new life empty of the things that just take up space now. This life gathers dust. I will start a blank page to write ourselves on. New things to learn. A life outside the familiar. My current job and way of life is getting uncomfortably tight, like an outgrown shirt.
04/10 Direct Link
If I could be anything I wanted to be, I would be an oceanographer or a marine biologist. A dolphin trainer. An ecologist and an environmental warrior. A travel writer. A translator for a hundred languages. An artist. A secret agent. A vet. A world geography college professor. A world explorer. A photographer for National Geographic. A recluse on a small island, making a living with articles about Caribbean life. I would work for Greenpeace and force the world to have passion and care about the living earth. I would be in a band or an actress in art-house films.
04/11 Direct Link
Our last night in Amsterdam found us in a club called the Melkweg – we dressed up and expected to see an international jumble of dancing, flailing limbs. Instead, we saw a couple hundred people dancing in quiet stilted shuffles, barely moving. We were stunned. So I got a glass of vodka, downed it quickly, and said Let's show these Dutch kids how to dance. I remember the rush of being up on the stage, dancing with abandon, then realizing I was being watched. I was in Amsterdam, but these people had never seen anything like this American Girl dance before.
04/12 Direct Link
I took him to Amsterdam for his thirtieth birthday. I wanted it to be memorable, amazing. I wanted it to be the coolest trip he'd ever taken, blowing Prague away. But it was quiet, uneventful. We wandered, ate, hung out at cafes drinking espresso and red wine. We sat on the canals sharing a joint. We walked hand in hand on the Leidsplein. We fought, kissed, got high, sprawled out in bed, naked, kissing some more and laughing at Dutch television commercials. It wasn't overly stimulating, but we were there, together, which is more than can be said for Prague.
04/13 Direct Link
My first glimpse of the Red Light District remains burned into my mind. We searched for it for days, not expecting it to be so difficult to find, so hidden. Finally we asked directions and the Dutchman pointed where to go while laughing, "Oh, you want to see the whores?" We walked down the street and as we turned the corner, there was no doubt we'd found it. Glowing in the dark, squares of hot pink and red in the windows where girls danced, trying to entice the drunken men. It was Mardi Gras and a carnival rolled into one.
04/14 Direct Link
I thought it would be Amsterdam that would be most memorable, not expecting this Mexican vacation to be the one to push his travels before me to the back of his mind. But Cozumel did it, as he rolled around in the sand, eagerly shoving his feet into flippers, pulling the mask over his face, grinning at me before sliding into deeper waters, snorkeling for hours. I watched him dive, proudly bringing me a conch shell from the bottom of the ocean. I watched troubles roll off his shoulders disappearing into the sea forever, and I knew he was mine.
04/15 Direct Link
Alex strongly suggested we do the mushrooms outside, it would be more fun that way. Being stubborn and needing to be in control of my situations, I insisted on being inside until I knew how I'd react. I had horrible visions of running through town, shrieking in reaction to seeing hundreds of half human lizards walking around, thinking inanimate objects wanted me to take my clothes off and throw myself into the canal. No, I wanted to be secluded in a room where I wouldn't make an ass of myself. Secluded or no, I made an ass of myself anyway.
04/16 Direct Link

Should I let my hair be natural, ash blonde gone medium brown? Natural, earthy and wear my hair up in a bandanna. Or should I be blonde – cool, icy punk rock white-blonde? Would that make me seem sexier, more off-standish, hip? Trashy blonde, tough.

Or maybe I'll be a dark brunette. Deep semi-sweet chocolate brown. I will be reserved, bookish and slightly mysterious.

But I prefer red. A warm, light copper red. Fiery and earthy all at once. Giving the impression of someone wild, smart, sexy, spontaneous.

Or maybe I should just shave it all off and tattoo my head.

04/17 Direct Link
When we move, I'll leave my computer world behind. I'll write of my adventures, culture shock of an American girl abroad. I'll write stories of the wonders of leaving a life behind to start from scratch - the wonders of starting new not as a single girl with a boyfriend and a job in web development no longer wanted, but as a married woman of the world. I'll live fearlessly, try new things, do the things that scare me most. I'll wake up early to watch the sun rise over my new home, and stay up to watch the stars.
04/18 Direct Link
Alex is home working in our home in the Czech Republic. I've run out for groceries and stop for a cup of coffee. I sit, picking at a pastry when I notice a tall, handsome man across the room, smiling and gesturing in my direction. I smile back, since I am a friendly person. He walks over to me, talks to me, an inquiry. "Sorry, I'm quite happily married," I respond. He looks at me, smiling, hoping to hear more. I shrug, pack up my stuff and move on, returning home to the dark-haired, handsome man who changed my life.
04/19 Direct Link
I have always been a girl who never cared for the idea of marriage. Diamond rings, public ceremonies, why-do-you-need-a-piece-of-paper-to-prove-your-love, was not my thing. I feared the idea of being tied to one person for the rest of my life (as I believe marriage should be forever though it doesn't seem to be that way anymore). I warned my parents not to get excited, there would be no change of name for me. Why now? Something about the word "wife" that started to sound possessively romantic. Something about the word "married" that sounded real. Something about him that just sounded right.
04/20 Direct Link
During our first year I would walk beside him through the city, dressed up, to have drinks and dance, walking quickly trying to keep up. I would walk closely, wishing and hoping for hand-holding, walking slowly. The second year I spent Friday nights drinking with friends, trying to distract myself from going to bed separately. Now we walk arm in arm, kissing our way down the street, barely known apart. I have not slept alone in almost a year, and it's good to wake up, sharing the misery of leaving a warm bed, of untangling our appendages from each other.
04/21 Direct Link
If I ruled the world, Mondays would always be bright and warm. They'd be half days or I'd just play hooky. I'd drive Alex and the dog to the shore to throw Frisbees for Lucy at the edge of the water, watching her play tag with the waves that run up the beach and then fall back into the ocean. Then we would walk her along the boardwalk, stopping to get funnel cake and ice cream, then play skee ball at an arcade. At the end of the day, we would all collapse on a blanket under the falling sun.
04/22 Direct Link
I like to fall asleep with him spooning me, the curve of my hips fitting perfectly into the angle of his hips and stomach as he bends slightly to envelope me. Then I wake up with my leg thrown over his and as he rouses I nudge him to turn around to spoon him, his bottom against my stomach, my hand wrapped around him, hand flat and grasping the rounded part of his belly and press my face against his back, breathing in his scent and staying in this position against the pain of an arm stretched unnaturally beneath me.
04/23 Direct Link
I broke the rules. We met, under the common requirement for casualness. Attracted to this mutual need from each other we carried on until enough time passed to grow close, to chang minds. I broke the first decree by allowing my feelings to develop, by saying them aloud. I wanted a relationship. Rule number two was broken with a word: girlfriend; number 3 trampled on by my desire for more time, rule number four was gone when I moved in. Rule number five barely existed by the time I became a wife.

Sometimes the rules are made to be broken.
04/24 Direct Link
If left to my own devices, with no outside influence, what and who would I be? When I see the girls at La Colombe, I long for long dark hair and black turtlenecks, a lithe body that smokes French cigarettes and owns an accent from somewhere far away. I want to be an intellectual, a beauty and a brain, reading Voltaire in between my photography classes and Starbucks coffee house job; Then I get home to nestle on the couch with someone I love and admire and who has his own similar identity crisis and I forget anything but myself.
04/25 Direct Link
I was popular, best friends with Brandy who had so many acquaintances each one got the opportunity to be her best friend for two months. I drifted into the loner who got teased at every turn. I morphed into a punk rock girl, cutting school to dye my hair black then went indie for a week, wearing red hair in high pigtails with Doc Martens and band t-shirts. I slipped out of the oversized t-shirts into short skirts, from bed to bed seeking an identity. Finally I grew into a culmination of all these things, no longer seeking something new.
04/26 Direct Link
If only I could find a way to make myself get to the gym on a regular basis. I fear growing old, the effects of aging, growing brittle, falling apart, things not working. When I do finally move, when I run with the dog and shimmy my way through a belly dancing class, I feel good. I feel my limbs stretching, waking up. I feel good, accomplished, I feel "I can stick with this," until the morning comes and another day at work beats me down. I envy the construction workers, the dancers, the people who move for a living.
04/27 Direct Link
He doesn't understand why or how I can want sex after we fight, in the middle of arguments. Sex, more than just a physical act, tells me things are ok, love still exists. Sometimes it's the only way I can connect, the only way I can reach out to touch, to feel myself be one hundred percent there. Sex is my barometer, a communication tool. It is a way to say, "I'm still here." I'm happy, even if he is unwilling at first, because once it gets started and once we finish, all is once again right with the world.
04/28 Direct Link
I am not a baby making machine. I have things I want to accomplish in my life, other than spawning, having a child or two. I have many travels to make, days to sleep in on, much time to run around the house naked and have sex with abandon. I have sacrifices I'm unwilling to make, fears of a life in chains made of diapers and toys and homework. What I don't have is desire. I don't have fear of coming to the end of my fertile days. My parts will bear no children. We don't all change our minds.
04/29 Direct Link
Comfort: Spooning. Sunday mornings. Homemade apple pancakes and banana bread with chocolate chips. Love reciprocated. Hot showers, shared, taking turns soaping up each other's two-thousand parts. The one you love bouncing down the stairs to greet you after a day at work. A puppy that wiggles and wags so hard with happiness she falls over. Being surprised with orchids, cards, love notes, Stewart's Orange Cream soda. Having an "our song." Falling asleep and waking up to the same person. A smile that lights up his whole face. Staying through the rough spots. Choosing quiet nights in over loud nights out.
04/30 Direct Link
Things that anger me: Lack of principles and consideration. SUVs and their owners. Loudness, Wild children. Being unaware that there are people around you. People who vote for and support George Bush. Americans who don't care to see the world, and who believe the world stops at our borders. The fact that Wendy's doesn't make vanilla Frosty's, only chocolate. Being told I'll change my mind about wanting to have children. Pro-lifers. Mondays. Daylight savings time. Cell phones. Allergies. "Trickle-down economics." Wondering why Americans have such a high rate of obesity in a world of two for one Big Mac deals.