The Girl in the 15" Box!

How could I forget?

We watched this whole act just so I could blog about it.

Okay, NOW the Sydney recap is complete.

Down Undah - The Sydney Chapter

Australia, you have a few things figured out.

a) Who can resist licorice?
b) Who can resist chocolate? (except for you, Lyndsey, you know who you are...)

Simple syllogism, you see where this is going - who can resist chocolate covered licorice? It's a good thing I didn't try these until the flight home or I would have been shipped back to the States in a sugar coma.

Isn't that just typical Allison fashion? Visit our wonderful family on a beautiful continent and start the recap dwelling on the confectionary goodness of the place? If you knew the way my brain was wired, it's either that or public restrooms - so pick your poison.

Our bodies are confused beyond reason with the drastic flip flop in time zones and the chilly northern hemisphere hit us like a brick wall when we exited JFK International before sunrise yesterday morning. But Noah's sunburnt nose and our licorice hangovers are fresh reminders of our adventure down under with the Ben and Natalie Riley fam. And what an adventure.

The Aussie Rileys are in the midst of a move, so we were able to split our time between Sydney + surrounding area and Melbourne + surrounding area. So though it didn't happen in this order exactly, here is the Sydney portion of the trip. You, dear reader(s), might not give a rip one way or the other, but telling a trip out of chronological order is a very bold move for my linear brain.

A little brekky then swimming at Bondi Beach - we'd just arrived, hence the jeans and sweaters in Sydney's record-breaking temps. We would learn quickly...

Home by way of Opera House views for a dip in the pool and Natalie's gourmet cooking (not an overstatement) then it was off to catch a glimpse of 'roos in the wild. And win their love with Blueberry Morning.
Yes! Bondi Beach, Aussie mohawkmullets, the Opera House and wild kangaroos in ONE day. We could have flown home satisfied.

On Sydney Day Two (ah, sheesh - see? I'm craving order here.) Noah and I caught the ferry from Parramatta and spent the day at Manly and Shelly beaches. The lack of snorkel gear in close proximity dashed our hopes of some underwater adventuring, but we enjoyed the clear water, warm sun and picturesque surroundings regardless.

We took the ferry, with its evening mix of sandy beach-goers and little black dresses, back to Darling Harbour and strolled the boardwalks looking slightly out of place - the only beach-goers that didn't part ways with the little black dresses upon arrival.

Sydney Day Three was more Darling Harbour by day and a stroll through Chinatown and Paddy's Market.

That evening, we towed the line between eww-bats-are-creepy and wow-bats-are-strangely-captivating when we watched clouds of bats emerge from the trees at the botanical gardens. HUGE bats.
We followed up with a delicious dinner at Italian Village in an awesome old building with this view of the Opera House.

Blurry Rileys, blurry Opera House. Behold the unpredictability of the night vision setting.

The best thing about vacations is that you can't gain weight while you're on one. So chocolate pancakes with strawberries and chocolate ice cream at Pancakes on the Rocks for breakfast is totally fair game.

We recovered from our a.m. gluttony with a walk across the Harbour Bridge, through the Rocks and around the Botanical Gardens for more gorgeous Sydney views.

And last, but not least, the big hair contest at the Sydney LDS Temple. I won by a landslide.

Like A Virgin

En route to Australia.

We ended up flying Virgin/V Australia.

And so far it meets my expectations to a t - more tight black shirts (top buttons unbuttoned), heavy eyeliner and fedoras than I can count; four dudes rockin' their aviators in the dimly lit cabin; and I just heard a befuddled passenger attribute our 45 min early arrival to daylight savings time?

Here's to the next leg of the trip and many more greasy rockstar coifs.

Completely Self-Serving with a Dose of Adorable

Ashley and I chatted for a bit last night as I put away dishes and clipped my fingernails.

Sisters get all our truly quality phone time, non?

She made my day when she told me Abbey was playing with her hair the other day and said, "I'll make your hair pretty. Pretty like Aunt Allison*."

This little girl melts my heart.

If we're being totally honest, all these girls melt my heart.

*I'm choosing to remember it this way. She might have said "pretty like Aunt Allison's" since their visit was the day after Jamie gave me a new 'do (thanks Jamie, loving it...). Either way, I'll take it.

New Digs

A few weeks ago, Noah and I told some friends that once our lease expired in Harlem, this year would be the longest we've ever lived in one place. It didn't seem like a topic we could jinx, seeing as how a lease is one full year and there usually isn't much to change that.

Well, hm. The post office charges $1 to submit a change of address request. The post office has seven of our dollars in the past three years.

Ironic that the letter about renewing our lease (complete with the 3% rent increase; thanks for the kick in the pants, NYC) showed up in the mail just one day after the elevator incident. Fortunately, our landlord has been super understanding of our wanting to move and even sent us an email today to remark on how clean we left the apartment when we moved out. (I didn't think these things qualified as remarkable - until we looked at 25 apartments in the last week or so. And yeah - ew. Cleaning is a dying art.)

Saturday, with the help of so many gracious folks, we dragged our heels out of Harlem, bid a conflicted adieu to our old 'hood but an excited hello to our new digs in Battery Park. We are so thrilled with our new place, the neighborhood, the building, the amenities (hello... gym!), the view (hello... Lady Liberty!) and it's kind of fun to see a shot of the NYC skyline and think, "hey! that's our house!"

(**photo credit, Ashley S.)

As a sweet bonus, we already have some great friends living in the building. They sealed the never-leave deal when, faced with the choice between instant oatmeal or dry brownie mix for dinner on Sunday, we got a text, "Dinner's at 6." We left our place at 5:59 and still got to their place on time. It was bliss. Now if we could just get everyone we know to move into the same building...

Pictures are forthcoming. WAY forthcoming. I don't know what to do with a studio, so this could take some time. And every evening when we return home, I'm reminded there are no lights in the bed/dining/living room. Lamp shopping, post haste.

October... The November Telling

What a month! Perhaps summed up best by this photo Noah snapped and appropriately titled, "The Little Roll That Could."

That roll saw us through several sets of wonderful houseguests, two brutal colds, several weepy nights - and it's not even two-ply. A recession is no time for a pampered tush.

We kicked off October with a trip to Connecticut, Sleepy Hollow and the Hudson Valley with my cousins and their kids. It was a day of apple cider donuts, famous graveyards and no fewer than 4,000 handcarved pumpkins arranged into dinosaurs, beehives, pirate scenes and UFOs. Plus, one utterly terrifying picture of Allison:

Then it was off to Pennsylvania with the Cromars for a fall tour of the Keystone State's finest. Unfortunately, we were a little ahead of the leaves, but we made it to Philadelphia, Valley Forge, Lancaster County, Hershey and Gettysburg in record time. Highlights included the famous Vest hospitality and french toast breakfast, whoopie pie, football in the apple trees, peanut butter M&M's with Leslie, anything involving the adorable Sorensen kiddos and calculating the odds of random events with Cromars.

Lowlights included not getting these pictures off my camera before it was stolen and the restaurant we picked for dinner Saturday night. It was total mom-and-pop operation, so I would feel like the worst person on the planet calling them out on this blog (you know, in case they have their Google Alerts set up) - but know before you go. Seriously, ask me and I will tell you where NOT to eat in Amish Country.

We welcomed the Porter family to the Riley home and somebody must have forgotten to teach this trio about how to negotiate a fair trade. Because in exchange for one pan of butternut squash lasagna, we got a delicious dinner and all the cheesecake our little hearts and tummies could handle, a personal yoga session with my new favorite instructor, wonderful company at the perfect time that did our hearts good and all the snuggles we wanted from this perfect little guy.

Ashley and Heather were the next delightful guests to grace the Riley household with their presence. We didn't see them much, which makes me feel like a sub-par hostess (sorry ladies!) - but WOW! talk about travel stamina. They hit up both NYC and Boston during their trip and saw it ALL. I was asleep when they left for Boston, asleep when they got back to NYC and asleep when they left the next morning for home, if that's any indication. I don't sleep that much - these ladies were go, go, go. I love it and I loved the beautiful pictures from their trip. So much so that I stole one. Or four. All photo credit is due the lovely Ashley Stolworthy.Somewhere in the mix, we engaged in a new apartment hunt (found it!) and celebrated our anniversary by seeing In The Heights. Since our upcoming vacation is our actual gift to each other, we didn't have anything planned for the 20th. It was fun to decide last minute to, oh, catch a Broadway show.

(Another photo that deserves Ashley Stolworthy mention... how convenient they saw the same show we did when we are non-iPhone-camera-less!)

Before the calendar could flip from month 10 to 11, Noah's parents and brother came to town for a wonderful week and a trip to Ohio/upstate New York. Stay tuned...

Before and After

Certain events in our life leave an indelible impression. The sort of events and experiences that feel like everything else, maybe if just for the present time, is defined in terms of “before X and after X.”

October 20, 2006 was definitely a before and after. I’m not a parent yet, but I imagine the first kiddo leaves a certain impression.

When I realize where I’m going with this train of thought, it seems almost irreverent to combine weddings and precious new life with what happened. But for me, the last two weeks have been defined by “before October 12 at 10:07” and “after October 12 at 10:07” – for good or for bad, and I’m finding the two aren’t necessarily mutually exclusive.

I was slightly uneasy as I exited the subway station near our place. Noah and I are constantly together, almost to a comical point, so the otherwise two short blocks felt strangely exposed without him by my side. I kept a definitive pace toward our building, noting individuals who passed and keeping careful watch of the empty sidewalk that trailed behind my stride. I rang Noah in the apartment, and just as I did, a man stepped in off the sidewalk and joined me in the vestibule. Immediately, I felt uncomfortable. And though it can be potentially unpleasant to ask a neighbor if they actually live in the building, I asked. In the split second before the beeping gave away the unlocked door he responded in the affirmative and we made our way into the foyer.

Still unsure of his presence, I glanced over my shoulder a few times, wondering if he seemed to have a destination – a first floor apartment? The stairs? And though I rarely opt for the elevator, I found myself walking toward it as he asked if I needed help with my bags.

“Oh, they’re really not heavy – thanks. Have a nice night.”

I guess subconsciously, I hoped my dismissive response would mark the end of this uncomfortable exchange. But as I called the elevator, he made his way toward the elevator to wait with me. I dug for my phone, dialing Noah to chat during the six floor summit – we wouldn’t have had much to say, I just wanted this guy to know someone was expecting me in about 45 seconds. Someone tough. And huge. And mean :).

The elevator approached, the man held open the door and rather than lingering for the phone to connect, I stepped into the elevator. Before I could turn to hit the 6, I felt two arms reach around me, pinning my arms against my side and pulling the ringing phone away from my ear. I didn’t know if it had connected, but I knew if it did connect, I’d better start screaming for all I had. I screamed until he yelled at me to stop and adjusted his grip from my shoulders to my throat. At first I panicked, my adrenaline begging me to thrash and fight, get air and get away. But in that moment, I had the most overwhelming impression to just calm down and everything would be all right.

I came to on the floor of the elevator – but without peripheral vision, it took a few moments to recognize the scene, much less remember the role I had played. I focused on my feet first and in the otherwise eerie silence, heard the shuffling of someone still in close proximity. I noticed my bags strewn about, the glossy tan paint of the cold metal walls. I stood, still foggy and grasping for periphery when he backed out of the elevator. I know we were facing each other because our last exchange consisted of my reaching desperately for the phone I saw at my feet and his demanding I give it to him.

I committed the 3 on the placard outside the elevator door to memory, and took some comfort in the fact even an old, slow elevator couldn’t take more than 30 seconds to climb two stories. Still shaky and confused, I pounded the 6, pushed my way out of the elevator, rang our bell furiously and found myself telling my sweetheart with more composure than I think I actually had, “I was just mugged in the elevator…”

We rode in the back of the police car to the precinct, all the while keeping our eyes peeled for “anyone who may look like him.” But when black puffy coats and dark baseball caps are practically dress code in the neighborhood, it’s downright overwhelming.

I tried my best to keep my composure until Noah and I ascended the stairs back to our apartment 2.5 hours later. Sheer exhaustion combined with raw emotion as I eyed the 3 on the placard and it sent me into what started as a whimper and quickly escalated into heaving sobs by the time we reached our place.

Noah was my rock.

The next few hours were some of the most memorable I’ve shared with my sweetheart in the time I’ve called him “my sweetheart.” I married an angel. Some is too personal to share through this medium, but we were so closely aligned with what we needed, what we wanted, what we prayed for and what we knew our Heavenly Father was capable of blessing us with.

We knew we stood at a bit of a crossroads. This guy had done what he came in the building to do, and now he was where? Probably not thinking about this the same way we were. Probably not replaying it and wondering what could have gone differently. He had a handful of cancelled credit cards and some M.A.C. eyeshadow and we had an emotional recovery staring us squarely in the face.

Noah embraced me as I asked questions, came to realizations, talked about what I was feeling and thinking and wondering at every 10 minute interval. I felt so empowered as I allowed myself not to dwell on what could have been different, but instead on what I did right. And I felt so, so acutely the perfect love of a Father in Heaven who watched over me, protected me and saw me home to my sweetheart.

After many tearful, grateful prayers we climbed in bed still unable to summon sleep. Noah suggested we listen to General Conference that had been broadcast to the members of our church one week prior. We selected the Sunday morning session and tears streamed down my face as I listened to the powerful message in the opening hymn, “I Need Thee Every Hour,” and listened to a beautiful invocation requesting Balm of Gilead for those who were in need – supplication offered on behalf of millions listening and watching one week previous and now, meant just for us in a dark bedroom in Harlem. I slipped in and out of fitful sleep and could sense Noah doing the same. But at one point, I awoke to hear just a few sentences from Bishop H. David Burton about acts of violence in our communities. I probably took his words of context in my half-awake state, but my interpretation in that moment was one of understanding, one of our natural, God-given capacity for integrity, charity, love and respect, the thought that the man in the elevator was also a son of our Heavenly Father and that He knew what I was going through.

In the days that followed, I felt so powerfully the blessings afforded Noah and me in this healing process. The very fact we work together, probably a short blip on the broader landscape of our eventual jobs and careers, meant I could literally stay within arm’s length of him until I was comfortable enough to be alone. We were able to spend time together in the temple – if there’s ever a place to sob uncontrollably for no apparent reason and just get consoling hugs from sweet old ladies, the temple is that place. The promises and the blessings received in His house always overwhelm me in even my most settled state, and to feel and try to comprehend those blessings in this context was more than I can express. Our incredible families, scattered literally across the globe – we felt so close to them through their prayers and fasting on our behalf. Our truly wonderful friends – within hours of word making the rounds, we had doors and homes opened to us, listening ears, and even more prayers and thoughts on our behalf. Our sweet neighbors, two men who’ve befriended and embraced the Rileys and wish us a good day each morning as we pass – after Noah shared what happened, we’ve come home each evening to their genuine concern wanting to know why we’re so late :). Even strangers, as people I don’t know have passed along their well wishes through mutual acquaintances, it’s impossible not to feel a support system like the one we’ve felt.

As I spoke with a dear friend last night, I recalled what an experience this has been – but that for the truly awful 1.5 minutes, and not so great next few hours, the days and now even weeks that have followed have been full of lessons and realizations and confirmation of God’s love for me. If I wouldn’t allow myself to feel this love and remember the supreme gift of Christ’s atonement – then it was just an awful experience.

I doubt I’ll forget October 12 at 10:07pm, but there is so much “after” that I hope I never do.