To Hash Out Life, and then Re-Hash it, is to Live.

This past weekend found me bundled onto a bus, bulleting its way to NYC and to L & G.  With open arms they received me, and dumped me out at one of our favorites, for some of our favorite treats.

The nature of HOL is, after all, made up of favorites:

Eclectic scenery,

delicious drinks,

[Was it coincidence that the opening night of our HOL weekend was also dubbed National Margarita Day? Though we did not plan around 'National Margarita Day', it found out we consider HOL to be its unofficial spokesperson, and so it planned around us.]

brunch at Henri,

 walks about town,

Sweetleaf.

HOL by its very nature is also a weekend of dwelling.  Hence, Saturday afternoon found me wiped out and fast asleep on the couch while L & G read and a woman fell off her balcony.

[Yes. Near-death-experiences are not HOL by its very nature, but I did indeed awake to a woman screaming for help across the way, and spectators scrambling to figure out what to do.  Combined with my dreaming, it was a bizarre experience and--thanks to the fact that the balcony was not on a top floor--one that resolved simply and well.]

Rested and recovered [from shock],
the Saturday night of Winter HOL unfolds into a night of extravagance, where we make a point to celebrate, 

where dinner consists of ridiculousness,

and where conversation spins back over years together.

And though most HOL's involve a bit of Re-Hashing of past events, this year in particular was particularly poignant.  We spoke out loud about the HOL's shadowed by difficult realities. We laid them on the table with love, the kind of love that comes from walking through all seasons of life together.  We looked gently at each other, grateful that here we are, past the dark ones.  

And then, we ate dessert.

And were ridiculously happy.

[Have I mentioned that HOL is made up of food? Did I have to?]

Winter HOL is also a weekend of music, but this year we changed the scene from jazz clubs to Broadway,

 where we took part in the phenomenon that is Once,

and were charmed beyond words.

We returned home to a bit more music, a bit more dwelling, a bit more charm that does not need to be spoken, but which holds us, in our hearts.

Grateful kids, we are grateful.  [I, kids, am grateful.]

And so, the next morning we went to church to continue our gratitude, and to worship the God who holds us together, who keeps us during the dark seasons and rescues us with His Light.

And then we went in search of more light,

and found it at the Guggenheim,

where we delighted in yet another HOL favorite: 

reveling in genius and creative expression.

Then, aware that our time was drawing to a close,

 we finished out our hashing over Jackson Hole fare, 

and held on to what we could.

We need you HOL, to Hash and Re-hash this thing called life...

we'll see you again soon!

There's a dissertation rolling around in my head.

We're really in it now: The final chapter of the dissertation season.

The data is in, it's organized.  The proposal is back out, the notebook is full of sketches, the kitchen is full of treats.

Wait, what?

Yep, treats.

It turns out that my kitchen is a dissertation breeding ground,

as thoughts roll through my head and bread rolls out of my oven.

Eventually those thoughts make their way to the dining room table [along with the treats...] and then:

My brain gets tired.

But, at least my tummy is full....