sail camp & lessons learned from taking the plunge

This past weekend, I had the opportunity to go camping with twenty of my friends. Camping has been a really big part of my life, for like ever, although my camping looks different than a lot of other people's versions of camping. I grew up attending a camp in the Big Bear Mountains where we learned to identify plants, memorized the stories behind constellations, took lessons in archery, and other peculiar activities for a nine year old girl to participate in. My family also camps in Mexico every year, but we bring air mattresses, eat lobster and spaghetti, and have the options of showers. That is not your average person's camping experience, but it's definitely the Novello way.

I was a little intimidated and apprehensive to say yes to the trip because I was nervous that it would be too much. I am such a weirdo, I know. I don't even own a sleeping bag, so I knew I'd have to borrow everything. I didn't want anyone to notice that I was out of my comfort zone. I was afraid to say yes to what turned out to be a really wonderful and beautiful weekend because of fears that didn't even come true. I hate the paranoia that can sometimes keep me too fearful to live life well. I'm working on saying yes to thing before fear gets the best of me.

On Friday, I headed an hour out of Boise and met up with my pals. I was instantly taken aback by the beauty of my surroundings. Lucky Peak is a reservoir right outside of Boise and we were able to secure our little own camping area with a private dock. It was magical. We loaded up our belongings in Chad's sailboat and sailed across the reservoir to our little home.

I think one of my favorite things about the weekend was that there was no cell phone service. Any usage of a cell phone was solely for the purpose of taking pictures. This weekend was an exercise in being present. It's so easy to be with others while being in a different world completely. I find myself more concerned with my phone instead of the person in front of me. This weekend contained none of that. When someone talked, others listened. There was no checking your email, being simultaneously on instagram, or texting someone else. We were present with one another in the way that we have always been intended to be. 

There were some great leisurely moments spent on the sail boat, with the sun on your face and the water beneath you. Even after I got back last night, I still felt like my bed was rocking me to sleep. It was wonderful. I'm a water girl. Much of my childhood was spent in the water and a significant portion of that time, I spent pretending to be a mermaid. Being in a landlocked state, I get serious emoji heart eyes whenever I'm near water. 

Another fear that I had with saying yes to the trip was knowing that saying yes meant agreeing to spend time in a bathing suit in front of my friends. Bathing suits and I have a really long history of not getting along. We are like North and South Korea. I'm obviously South Korea and bathing suits are definitely North Korea. I love being in the water and being near it, but ironically, I'm always afraid of being in a bathing suit. One of the first things my friends did was get on their bathing suits and jump off the dock into the reservoir. I made excuses for why I wasn't out there as well. I realized that not participating in that activity was just so foolish. It was hotter than hades outside and not jumping into the reservoir was just foolish. My friend Diana and I counted to three and jumped in together, as I shouted "TOWANDA!" in my head. If you know what that is from, we are soup snakes. If you know what THAT is from, we are DOUBLE soul mates. After taking the plunge and catching my breath, I decided that some things were going to be different. I wasn't going to be afraid of my body or ashamed of it. I wasn't going to allow it to restrict me from doing the things that I wanted to do. I wasn't going to spend the weekend worrying about how I looked in a swimsuit or what other people thought of me. Frankly, that's a little vain and I needed to get over myself. No one was thinking about me quit as often as I assumed they were. 

Jumping in and taking the plunge was refreshing, both physically and spiritually. This weekend and the quiet moments I was able to steal for myself provided great thinking time of where I am and where I'm going. I'm learning to slow down, to invest in those around me, and to cast away the fear that I sometimes allow to cripple me. 

I'm grateful for these friends and this experience. I'm grateful for them teaching me, listening to me, and loving me in spite of myself. I'm grateful for the water, the sun, but not the snake that we saw in the outhouse. That thing gets no gratitude from me. I'm so grateful for the concept of community and this little one in a small town in Idaho that has welcomed me with open arms. I'm grateful for friends taking the plunge with you, even when they aren't entirely aware of what it represents for you. And I'm especially grateful for no cell phone service, corn hole tournaments, and sail boats. 

book review: bread and wine by shauna niequist

I am a lover of food. I bet you couldn't tell by my oh so hollow cheekbones and willowy frame, but I come from a family of food lovers and kitchen wizards.  So many of my favorite memories revolve around being seated at a table with food set in front of me. Whether you enjoying cooking, eating, or some combination of the two, I guarantee that you will love this book.

Source

I found Shauna's book through Lindsay Letters and asked for it for Christmas because I totally judged a book by its cover. I really had no idea what the book was about but it looked pretty and had to do with food. I was sold. When I first opened it, I remember thinking, "This is a little small to be a cookbook." I didn't realize that it was both a cookbook and a memoir, but I'm pretty sure that's my new favorite genre.

Source

One of the really wonderful things that she does in this book is share a story, specific time in her life, lesson, etc. and then pairs it with a recipe at the end of the chapter. There are several chapters in the book that are without a one, but for the most part, the last several pages will contain a recipe. I loved how she wove together her heart and her stomach. I hope that reads as flattering as I intend it to be. Her book reminded me of my own family's food traditions and how special those are to us. There's nothing in the world quite like a Novello Christmas Eve meal and my mouth is watering just thinking about the lagana (not lasagna), ravioli, sausage, and meatballs that my aunts make by hand.

In the last several years, I've been beginning to see the kitchen table as less of a place for me to stuff my face (still guilty though, friends) and more of a place to share stories, experiences, and spend time over full dishes with loved ones. Shauna's book helped me to develop that further and gave me bravery to experiment, permission to fail, and grace for when things turned out far from perfect. I've fallen in love with my kitchen and filling my Great Nana's table with bowls, plates, and friendly faces.

"The art of hospitality is about creating space for someone to feel seen and heard and loved. It's about declaring your table a safe zone, a place of warmth and nourishment."

Shauna's writing style made me feel like I was reading a long letter from an old friend. Within several pages, you'll feel like you know her and you'll long to sit across a table from her  dining on literally anything that's been created in her kitchen. She instantly makes you comfortable, even from the very description on the back of the book. She begs you to wreck the book: to spill on it, to dog ear the pages, to dirty it with food remnants. I loved that, I loved the initial invitation to engage with her and others not only through written words, but through action.

While this book is predominately about cooking and her life, it's about  more than that. It's a call to live in community with others. It's a challenge to live presently and engage with others holistically. It presents the notion that not only can we feed each other's bodies, we can feed each other's souls. It's about love, heartache, and everything in between.

I've already lent this book out several times, that's just how much I love it. It's one of those books that you finish, want to place on a shelf because it's so beautiful and meaningful, but you know that in doing so, you'd really do the book and those that you love a disservice. I'm so excited to read more by Shauna. I picked up her book "Bittersweet" yesterday at the library and plan to read it in its entirety this weekend. I'm not one for savoring books or food, when I find something that I love, it must be devoured.

jessica makes: one pot pasta

I've seen variations of the following recipe on Pinterest, in food magazines, and even had something like it growing up. One of my goals for this year (which I'm not being super successful at) was to cook more. I usually end up justifying NOT cooking because a. It's just me, b. I usually have access to the student cafeteria which is free and easy, and c. I'm really good at talking myself out of things. I'm trying to make something new and easy each week so that I can enjoy the leftovers throughout the week and because I really enjoy the therapy of cooking. There's something very soothing about following a recipe, getting a little creative, and then enjoying the fruits of your labor.  I'm all about quick and easy. Maybe one day I'll be more interested in laborious recipes that call for specialized skills and a wide array ingredients, but for now, I'm a big fan of easy, breezy, beautiful covergirl. 

Here's what you'll need: 32 oz Veggie Broth 1 (28 oz) Can of Diced Tomatos Package of Pasta (I used fettucine) 2 Tbsp Olive Oil  1 Med Onion 4 Cloves of Garlic 8 oz Frozen Chopped Spinach (not pictured because I decided to add it in last minute) 1/2 tbsp Dried Basil 1/2 tbsp Oregano 1/4 tsp Red Pepper Flakes Salt & Pepper  Feta or Parmesan
Put the veggie broth and pasta in a large stockpot. I broke my fettucine in half to make stirring the pot/ingredients a little more manageable. Add the diced tomatos (juice and all!), olive oil, frozen spinach (if you're not a spinach fan, you could easily omit this and it wouldn't alter the taste or flavor), and spices.

Pull out your handy dandy knife that desperately needs replacing and slice up your onion & cloves of garlic. This is one time when thin is best, friends. Then, slice your onion halves in half so that you don't end up with onion rings in your pasta. I love onion rings, but they don't really go in this very Southern Italian meal. 

When everything is all added in, you'll be left with this beauty. Bring your pasta to a boil, making sure

that all of the ingredients are submerged in the broth/tomato mixture. Turn down the heat to medium, making sure it continues to boil, and stir it occasionally over the next 15-20 minutes. Don't stir it too often or your pasta will get mushy and that's just not acceptable. 

After everything is cooked thoroughly, stick your head right near the pot and breathe in that delicious garlicky, basil, tomatoey scent and enjoy your steam facial. Seriously. The scent is that is lingering in my apartment is reason enough to make this dish! It smells like Sunday evenings at my parents house. 

Garnish your generous serving of pasta with an equally generous serving of feta (or shaved parmesan if you have it on hand!) and serve with a side of Italian bread. I know you're not supposed to double up on carbs but how else are you supposed to sop up the heavenly juice left at the bottom of the bowl? It would be a sin to let it go to waste! If you end up making this, let me know what you think! It's going to be on heavy rotation here in the Novello household. 

little snapshots

Although it's summer, so technically I'm on a break from work, my days are still so busy! I really thought that summer would be a time of rest but I'm working 30-ish hours a week at a women and children's shelter (that's a post in and of itself which will be written soon-ish) and then I have class from 8-2 every Saturday morning. Sheesh. It is not super restful, but don't you worry your pretty little head, I'm still enjoying every moment of my summer. Because things have been sort of all over the place recently, I wanted to share little snapshots of what has been going on as of late. Follow along on instagram for joy and shenanigans. 

1. My dear friend Malinda left for Rwanda to spend the summer working with our church's sister parish. She was an intern in our universities counseling center this year and it was such a blessing to send my girls her way knowing that they would be so well cared for.

2. I will never tire of the view that welcomes me home to San Diego. Is there anything more beautiful than tall palm trees, a sun kissed sky, and feeling an ocean breeze on your face?

3. I grew up running concessions with my father so I was under the impression that I've had a snow cone before. Wrong. What I had previously consumed was shaved ice. They are not the same thing. This concoction BLEW MY MIND. The ice is so thin! It melts in your mouth! AND IT IS JUST ONE DOLLAR. I want one each and every day.

4. Poppa Bear turned 60 this week and we threw a co-party for him and my Aunt Mary. Marmee and I were responsible for decor and we wanted to play up the Italian card without putting cannolis, little David statues, and meatballs on each table. I made (and by made, I mean I painted them with chalkboard paint) these little pots, planted herbs in them, and wrote the names of each herb on the pot in Italian. I'm pretty pleased with them. I think it'll be a little project I recreate for my backyard. In case you were wondering, we also included cute little glass containers filled with corks and wine bottles with a picture of my dad and Mary on them. Super presh.

5. Isn't he the cutest? I am so lucky to be his. Also, he can wear his glasses on his forehead like that without them ever slipping down. I've never seen anything like that before. He's a magician.

6. I bought a car! HEYO! It's a sweet little silver Honda Civic. I love it. I am so excited to not spend an arm and a leg on gasoline! I've been driving a truck since 2009 and while it's been a great car, it's also cost me a fortune to keep moving. This little baby (Trixie Belden) gets great mileage per gallon and has an auxiliary port thing. I AM MOVING IN TO THIS CENTURY YA'LL! Also, I sent that picture to my mom and she said that my hand looked like "a penile code." Her words. Not mine. Sorry that my jeans are dark and my sweatshirt was black and that my hand is pasty white and it just so happened to be at "penile code" level. ALL AN ACCIDENT.

lets go to san diego, hey that's where all the kids go

This past week, I had the opportunity to travel to San Diego for a conference. This, to me, was the best case scenario. I'm getting to travel somewhere beautiful for a conference that also just happens to be the place I lived for twenty one years. My boss allowed me to book my ticket out a couple days early so that I could spend a little bit of time with my family before heading down south for our conference.  I'm always grateful to go home. I don't think I appreciated how beautiful and special my hometown was until I was gone. I had lived there my entire life and was ready to spread my wings. I was ready to grow up, find a new place, and figure out who I was. I'm so blessed to be where I am now, I'm very content in Idaho, but man, the ocean? I can't believe that I saw that almost every single day. I just stared at it when I went to the beach with my sisters. I couldn't get over how vast and expansive it is. I surely was spoiled by that view and I'm glad to get to return to it several times a year.

One thing that's peculiar about returning "home" is that my real home, where I lay my head, is a different place than where I grew up. California definitely feels like home, but the type of home that you don't live in anymore. Maybe it's like seeing the house you grew up in, realizing it's not yours anymore, but cherishing the time that you spent in that place and being grateful to it for helping to raise you. I don't have a room in my parents house anymore. That's understandable. I haven't lived there for over five years, but it's weird to return to stay with them and be in the guest room. I am a guest within my own home. That's a strange place to be.  None of what I've said so far is really what I intended to say in this post, I think I'm just processing through some things so bear with me. Let's get down to brass tactics, as my father would say. Can I just say that one thing I absolutely adore about my father is his ability to butcher the English language and colloquialisms? My mother is a logophile and it drives her absolutely bonkers that my father insists on saying things like "brass tactics" instead of brass tacks and "for all intensive purposes" instead of for all intents and purposes. It may drive her bonkers, but it absolutely tickles me. 

I'm just all over the board today, aren't I? I do really want to tell you all about my conference because it was absolutely fascinating, so I'm serious now, here we go. As most of you know, I'm a Resident Director at a private Christian liberal arts university in the Northwest. This past week, I had the opportunity to attend a conference specifically for the residential life professionals at our sister schools. Over 50 of us gathered at Point Loma to learn, worship, and grow together as continue to navigate our positions.  The speaker that they brought in for the conference is an authority in the area of emerging adults (18-29 year olds). He lectured on that age group and their college experience, presence in the church, and what they are looking for in life. I think sometimes I feel so disconnected from that specific age group although I'm still in it. I am in a position of authority over 18-20 year olds, yet a lot of my struggles, questions, and growth is similar to theirs.  After the lectures, we had the opportunity to gather in smaller family groups where we connected with the staff from other universities. I so appreciated the time to compare notes, verbally process the lectures, and exchange information. Our schools are all over the country, but so much of what we're doing is the same. We shared a lot of stories and it gave me a lot of peace to know that the issues I dealt with this year weren't entirely original. It's nice knowing that someone else out there can relate to your situation. 

I sometimes feel like people have a difficult time understanding what I do. My sister in law thinks I'm an RA and my grandmother is very concerned about me because I'm pretty sure she thinks that I'm unemployed. Sometimes when I try to explain that although I'm technically paid for 40 hours of work a week, my job is really 24/7, people can't grasp that. They have a difficult time understanding what that looks like. It was refreshing to be with a group of people who understand that entirely, who struggle with knowing when to shut their doors and turn their phones off, and who can identify with being a parent/older sibling/pastor/cop/counselor/etc to a 100+ students. 

I've heard that we might attend this conference every other year. I wish it was every year because I feel like I met so many wonderful people and it'd be a shame to not see them for a long time. I'm hopeful that the next university to hold is our sister school in Boston or Nashville. I could get behind a trip to either of those locations, for sure.  Has anyone ever attended a conference for work or pleasure that they would absolutely recommend? 

jessica makes: almond breakfast cookies

Confession: these are adapted from a recipe I found on pinterest which you can view HERE. My cookies turned out drastically different than what I imagine they were supposed to turn out like. That's probably because I really didn't follow their recipe and I think I got the wrong almond flour/meal. Maybe I should say my recipe was inspired by their recipe? Yes, that's it. I guess I should also admit that these really aren't breakfast cookies. They just pair so perfectly with coffee that it would really be a crime to not have them in the morning for breakfast. There's nothing too shameful in them, so it's completely acceptable to eat them for breakfast.

When I found this recipe, I knew I had to try it because I love almond. Not like. Not like like. I love the bold, yet subtly sweet flavor of almond. I really don't care for almonds though. I don't make sense, I know. I think it's because I've eaten almonds like it was my job during all of my different dieting phases and so now, when I eat an almond, it just doesn't do it for me. I love almond flavored things though (says the girl who is currently sipping on an almond americano) so I knew that almond cookies would be a slam dunk. 

Here's what you need:

1 c Almond Meal

1 heaping tbsp of coconut oil

1/2 tsp almond extract

1 egg

1/4 c brown sugar 

First, melt the coconut oil put it in your mixing bowl. Then add everything else. Seriously. It doesn't matter what order you put it in. Just put it all in there and mix it. If the cookie isn't sweet enough for you, you could add some agave or more brown sugar. If you do this, you'll probably have to add some more almond meal, just so it doesn't become too runny. I found that the brown sugar I originally addd was perfect. Not too sweet, but just sweet enough. The perfect combination for breakfast.  I used a tablespoon to ball out the dough, rolled it in my palms, and then placed it on a cookie sheet lined with parchment paper. I recommend flattening them a little, but not too much. You want them to remain chewy. 

While the oven preheats, you should really take a selfie with your cookies. You should also probably take a picture of your shoes. It passes the time you have to wait for the oven to preheat. Oh, what's that you say? Preheat the oven before you start making your cookies? You're a genius. 

Oh yeah. Preheat the oven to 325 degrees. Bake for 12-15 minutes. 

And voila! 

Now you've got some deliciously chewy, almond cookies that pair perfectly with a cup of joe. The recipe only makes about ten cookies, so don't expect a ton, but with cookies this delicious, maybe it's best that we don't keep too many in our homes. 

nostalgia is a four letter word

I've been weepy recently. I know, what else is new, right? My thoughts have been drifting towards Korea a lot. First it was the absolutely horrific ferry accident that rocked the country several weeks ago. Then I was distracted by the pictures from those who are living the life I lived over there for more than eleven months. Some I know, some I've never met. But I feel a connection to them. We've walked the same streets, taught the same children, lived in the same apartments, yet the people over there (with the exception of several) have no idea who I am, though I feel as though they are kindred spirits. I'm slightly jealous of them. They're doing the things I did and falling in love with a place that I'm in love with. Their present is my past, but that means nothing to them. It's hard to not look at that experience through rose colored glasses. Sometimes I wish I could just teleport myself back to soak up some of those experiences again. The truth is that if I were to magically arrive there, it would be entirely different. There would be no Cameron & Lisa, no Kait & Doug, no Thomas & Bethany, no Seo Kyung Hwa, and no Shim Hyun Seok. My life over there wouldn't really exist like it did in 2011 and 2012. The people that made that place home aren't there anymore, they're back in America. 

Sometimes my mind drifts back to that place and those people, our experiences that are so precious simply because we shared them. I think of how terrified I was when I went to LAX, knowing full well that I was saying goodbye to my family for a while. There was no "see you soon," it was "see you in a year." I remember hugging my dad out at the car. He couldn't come in to the airport with us. He said it's so we wouldn't have to park the car and he could just drive it around, but I think it's because he is emotional and he knows he would have shown it. I think of hugging my mom and sisters that one last time before leaving to go through security. I remember being in line, turning around to get one last look and seeing my mom waving frantically, with tears rolling down her face. I quickly turned around before all of my courage left me. I wanted to be strong and brave, but really, I felt like a little girl going on an adventure far too big.  I remember spending my first weekend holed up in my teeny, tiny room. I ate McDonalds and watched endless hours of Friday Night Lights. We all cope in our own way. I then remember meeting Cameron and Lisa. They invited me to go to Costco with them and showed me where the best place was to do laundry. I was grateful to be included in something. We instantly connected over shared taste in books, music, and television shows. We swapped quotes from The Office. Life started to feel normal right around that moment. I felt slightly settled. It's funny how a little bit of comfort can go a long way when you're so far from anything you know. They introduced me to Doug & Kait. We formed a little family. It was the five of us. There were others, of course, that we would spend time with, but at the end of the day- they were the ones who I spent most of my time with. 

I think of the weather changing and how when it became cooler, my heart followed suit. I experienced the second wave of homesickness that I thought I'd be immune from. Thanksgiving was hard. I tried my hardest to be thankful, but in reality, I just wanted to be back at home. Slowly but surely, I began to feel okay again. It took a while. I remember a lot of tears. I remember feeling guilty that I wasn't thankful for the experience. I remember walking home from Seo Kyung Hwa's apartment after she had brought me home from school and I made myself vocalize my thanks the entire way home. Some of them were big and important thanks and others were small, like my thankfulness for endless colors of nail polish that were less than a dollar at Etude House which was conveniently located just steps from my apartment. I remember when Thomas and Bethany arrived. We connected over coffee and board games at the coffee shop by our homes. They were such a seamless addition to our little family. Sometimes I think about the nights we spent at Baby Bar. None of us actually know what it was named, but we called it Baby Bar because there were weird baby dolls all over it. We loved that place though and I spent far too much money on their large glasses of house wine that turned out to be Carlo Rossi. They served this weird little crackers and whipped cream. It sounds like an odd combination, and it definitely was, but we ate it up because that's just what we did.  One of the things I yearn for most when I think about that experience is the simplicity of it all. I walked to and from the school I worked at. I didn't know my students names but that was okay because they wanted me to call them things like "Mario" and "Harry Potter" instead. I ate simply and enjoyed my routine of running after work or walking to the gym on the street corner where a Korean friend helped me negotiate a membership. I would always see Shim Hyun Seok there. He was a blessing. He worked at the same school as I did and managed to always end up in my office at the end of the day to chat or watch silly Youtube videos. We still keep in touch, but it's not the same. I miss those moments we spent together. 

I was so ready to leave Korea that sometimes I think I didn't fully grasp how wonderful it was until I had been back in the states several months. I know that I romanticize things, so it should be noted that not all of my experiences in Korea were lovely. Some were hard, some were very trying, and others were down right discouraging. I was ready to come back and now I have a job that I could have only dreamed of having, but sometimes I think to myself what life would look like if I went back. It wouldn't be the same, it wouldn't be nearly as wonderful. I think we got lucky when we discovered each other over in that city halfway around the world. I can't fathom having those experiences with anyone else.  I sometimes fear that I'm doing the same thing to my job now that I did to my time in Korea. I'm not soaking it up and being entirely present. I have this problem of getting too concerned with what's next. I have trouble setting down my anchor and letting myself just be. I'm fearful of looking back on this time, this truly wonderful time and realizing I didn't savor it enough. Nostalgia is a wonderful thing, but sometimes it can be a real beezy. Maybe I'm just overcome with sappiness because I'm getting ready to say goodbye to the girls that I've spent the last nine months with. Whatever the reason, it's interesting to think that so much of my hear resides over the ocean, without a home. I reallythink when you exist for so long in one place, there's a part of you that will always remain there.