The real story, part 1.

So, I think it is only appropriate that one day after my one year blog-iversary, I'll tell you what you've been waiting for since June: our story.

Like I said then, I met my husband in middle school.

Our school was awkward, like most schools which house kids that age. I remember seeing him every once in a while--he was skinny, gangly, short hair, glasses which lightened or darkened according to how bright it was. I didn't really know him. I passed him in the halls filled with shiny, navy blue lockers and teal-and-cream wall tiles. Still, I didn't know him well, and he was friends with a boy I really liked (which, obviously, didn't work out and didn't last too long).

I remember thinking he was goofy.

Middle school is a blur of awkward experiences, bad haircuts and weird changes. High school came along, and I didn't see much of him. Our high school wasn't that big--but we had two separate lunches according to how our schedule was. I don't know that we ever had the same lunch; either that, or I just didn't notice him. (I mean, yeah, he's good looking, but you don't look at your friends or people you've known for a long time and think that about them most the time...)

So, high school flowed along and my junior year was turning out to be tough because my best friend moved away and my mom was seriously dating my-now-stepdad. I was in the same choir, different class than my husband, and we were scheduled to go on a trip to Disneyland. I almost opted not to go, as my best friend had moved and I didn't have a ton of good friends in choir, but eventually I changed my mind.

I found a random group of people to hang out with, and I had a lot of fun. I remember waiting the 5 or so seconds before California Screamin' took off, looking to my left and noticing one of my friends and my husband standing there on the boardwalk. He was watching me. I didn't think much of it, but for some reason, I've never forgotten that.

To be continued...