Homing

We're trying to figure out where we're going to live and all those delicious details when my housband graduates come May.  We have no idea.  At this point, we're going where the jobs are... which is... somewhere?

Anyway, we were having a conversation about owning a home.

I asked, "Are we going to buy a house?"

He answered, "Why wouldn't we?"

I love that.  I am SO excited to have a place to paint and decorate.


Another quick conversation:

I said, "I'm going to want our house to be nice.  NICE.  You know that, right?"
He said, "So what you're saying is, I'm going to be busy a lot of the time with stuff you give me to do."
"Yes."

You guys.  YOU. GUYS.  I'm so excited.

An image from a house for sale near mine.  I probably won't even live in this county, but I still like to look and dream.  Also, I have an aversion to tan walls.  So.

A story about toothpaste

Imagine this:  it's a nice summer day, June 17, 2009, to be exact.  A fantastic day to have a birthday (if you ask me). 

My husband calls early in the day, excited.

The conversation:

Housband:  There's Aquafresh for sale here at the store for an awesome deal.  We can get 9 tubes for $xx!! 
Me:  Ok....
H: I think I'm going to buy them!!
Me:  Ok...

Later that day... (or maybe later that week... or something.)

H:  I don't like Aquafresh.  I think I'm going to buy another kind of toothpaste.
Me:  Ok...
H:  But you can still use the Aquafresh if you want.
Me:  Yeah, I think I'll use it.  We have 9 tubes of it now, so....
H: Yeah, I'm a Crest man.  I try to change, but I just can't.

Fast forward three years, four months, and seventeen days:  I'm finally out of Aquafresh.

So, naturally, I bought another tube.  It sucks.  Tastes horrible.

I kinda miss my original 9 tubes of toothpaste.

(Granted, I bought a different kind of Aquafresh toothpaste.  THAT will teach me to venture out again.)

4 years

Four years ago, it was a great day to be marriaged.

In the past year, we have:

• Lived (nearly) separately for four months (that was a doozy)
• Had 5 jobs between the two of us
• Rode our bikes miles and miles
• Walked our dogs miles and miles

•  Had 1 car engine blow up on us
• Bought 1 new (to us) car
• Traveled to many (many) soccer games

• Welcomed a new little niece
• Saw my oldest brother get married
• Moved in with parents
• ...And subsequently moved most of our belongings into a playhouse out back

 

  

• Lastly, we readied ourselves to have two new little people join our family... any day now.

It has been a really great year.   Probably our biggest year yet!  And we made it!  Huzzah!

(I've really been hoping the girls don't decide to come today... but I don't think they will.  This is our special day!  They can have any other day!  Ha.  Cross your fingers for me, ok?)

Sometimes,

I think life moves too quickly.  Actually, most times.  Though I go through periods I don't whole-heartedly love, I often look back and think, that went by far too quickly.

I just heard the beginning strains of a song full of banjo and voices in my head, a song I listened to a lot last summer when I biked most places on my cruiser and spent my time mostly at home with my dogs, missing my husband but enjoying a good bit of solitude. I thought to myself, wow, that went by too quickly.  I remember distinctly the first time he left and drove to Nevada by himself, the first time of many, and I thought, what do I do now?  If I told you someone else besides my husband was my very best friend, I'd be lying.  I truly had no idea what to expect when we realized he'd have to go without me and commute home every weekend.  I had to figure out how to otherwise fill my time because when he's with me, I just want to spend it with him, a non-problem I've had ever since we were first together.  Though I've always enjoyed my time with myself, he's the one exception to that rule: I never tire of him.

So every weekend he came home, we'd go on bike rides and go swimming and watch one-hour episodes of Alfred Hitchcock stories and spend time with our dogs and it was just the best until Sunday afternoon came and it would physically hurt when he'd have to leave again. 

I just remembered it all so fondly--all of it in a few notes of a banjo playing through my head--though I know I probably wouldn't choose to do it again, given the choice.  But then it hit me how quickly I moved on from the summer, how he came home and we found out we'd be having a baby (and then soon realized it would be two babies) and how life is moving at this incredible pace.

Sometimes the kids at preschool cry or mope because of something we have to do, like clean up toys or take a nap or do a math assignment.  I remember feeling that way as a kid, the absolute dread of this is going to be the death of me, and feeling it would take the rest of my day.  As an adult, I've learned to embrace situations I don't love because I've learned so many times that this, too, will be gone so quickly.  Days are flying by.  Summer is over, my husband is home, and this summer, I'll have two new little people in my world.  It's sort of mind-boggling, isn't it?  Life moves on, every day isn't the same, bad things happen and we move on, good things happen and we move on to different things, completely different phases and people and life situations.

This summer, I'm going to have a baby for each arm.  I'm going to Summerfest and Nevada and the classic car cruise-in.  I'm going to go swimming (a little, hopefully).  I'm going to ride my bike (a little, hopefully).  My life is going to be completely different.  I'm ready for it.  But I'm enjoying right now, too, this last little while of us and our dogs before the babies come and everything changes.

Just so you know, this is a good song to listen to if you're cruising around on your bike.

And in our native language we are chanting ancient songs
And when we quiet down the house chants on without us.................

A conversation at home.

Me:  Did you look at my Christmas wishlist?

Anonymous:  Yeah, like 22 times. 

...

Anonymous:  I was not impressed.

The real story, part 3.

(Do you remember this at all?  It's really delayed, but I want to finish writing it, so here it is.  The story of how my housband and I met, then got together!!  Read part 1 here, and part 2 here.)

I felt weird about him leaving on his mission...  actually, I was quite struck by how sad I was; I had a bunch of guy friends leaving on missions, and though he was the first, I can't really recall feeling that way about any of my other friends when they left.  I sincerely missed him.

I wrote him a few letters over time, and he wrote back funny and interesting letters detailing his life. I missed him a lot. I wrote a couple other friends also on missions, but none were special to me like his. I never really thought much of it, beyond the fact that I enjoyed writing him and getting letters back, though I didn't write much.

Most of his letters were typed up via email, and his mom or someone would print them out and mail them to me.  Once, though, in the fall of 2005, I received a letter from Honduras.  It had his spidery handwriting on the envelope, which I knew so well from having a class with him--I'd never seen such small and distinct handwriting, and I immediately knew it was from him.  I was so elated.  I opened up the envelope and he'd sent me a few pictures describing different places he'd been along with his letter.  He says now that he's not sure why he sent me photos, maybe because he knew I liked photography, but he never sent any to anybody besides maybe family.  They were so special to me.  I showed them to my roommates, so excited to tell them about my friend who was on his mission and how funny he was.  Getting letters from him was so exciting... I still wonder why I didn't write him more often.

Anyway, February 2007, he was scheduled to come home. I remember thinking he'd probably come home Valentine's day, and I was SO excited. I saw his brother working at this pizza place I used to go to and asked him when he would be coming home; I even had a friend call and ask when his homecoming talk in church would be. I was so nervous, I couldn't talk to his family myself.

He was delayed a few days, and in the meantime, I traveled with some of my friends to Colorado for the weekend. I'll never forget sleeping in my friend's little sister's bed, looking out the octagon shaped window at the darkened night sky, and feeling such excitement about him coming home. Everyone asked me if we were more than friends, because I couldn't help but mention him coming home, and the answer was obviously no, but I think, somewhere, I had the hope of maybe someday something happening, even if I wouldn't have admitted it at the time.

But I had no idea what he thought of me.

On the drive home from Colorado, I finally figured that he would be home by then. We stopped in Price, Utah, and after getting back on the road, my phone rang.  I didn't recognize the number, but I answered anyway.  Turns out, it was his best friend Jacob, and my housband was there with him.  A minute later, I talked to him. I was BEYOND excited. It was so fantastic. We agreed that he'd come over to my house later on that night, so as soon as I got home, I called him, then cleaned like a crazy person.

That night, he came over. I asked him if I could hug him in my dark entry way. It was awkward.  We talked, and I felt like I could barely breathe--I was that excited. He told me about eating a turtle, the crazy people he met, what it was like for two years in a foreign country. I enjoyed it so much. I was so excited to have my best friend back.

He came over the next day. I tried to pretend like I didn't care too much or that it didn't matter he chose to spend his time with me; I didn't have a particularly busy semester, so I had a lot of free time. He came over, and we watched music videos. I remember watching Regina Spector's video for "Fidelity" at least once a day--it became a pattern. He came over almost every day until he began working, mostly because it gave him something to do, but soon I think we both realized we liked spending time together.  We had both grown up, neither of us was as mean as we had been (haha!), and it was nice to have a reliable friend.

A couple weeks later, we were dating after we admitted to each other that we liked one another.

After that, we dated for a while, were engaged for a bit, then got married.

IT WAS AWESOME.

So that's how it happened. Not as fantastic as it sounds, yes? But let me tell you: it was. Everything about dating him was so great. Though I worried writing down the experience would make it feel cheap, it was so much more than what I could ever write.  When I think back to how we got together, what it was like when we dated, I just remember it as just the most fantastic thing.  He was my first and only love--and I love it that way.

It has been a dream to be married to him.  He is just the best.

A very strange week.

This last week, several not good things happened, and one great thing happened.

1st not good thing = my 10-year-old nephew was diagnosed with diabetes, which was quite a shock.  I feel so bad for him... he's just a little guy.  But my sister and brother-in-law are good parents, and I feel as though he's in good hands.  Plus, he's a fighter about everything, so he will be just fine.

THEN, 2nd not good thing = I spilled maple syrup on my macbook trackpad.  Which would not be a big deal, except that it got down in the button clicker and has made it near impossible to be un-sticky.  Although I tried a few things, like taking out the battery and sliding paper up there, syrup is one sticky SOB, in case you were wondering.  I think it's getting better though.  And it happened on the same night I was so upset about my nephew, so BONUS!

My sister and I had a good laugh about my mini-chalkboards.  She came over the other night to watch a movie at my place and commented on the bottom chalkboard, which says "2011 the year of the BEAST." 

The sad and funny part is that though I wrote this in the beginning of the year, I kept it there.  I wrote it mostly to be funny.  And every time someone comments on it, something bad happens.  Have I said this has been one of the most difficult years of my life?  Well, it has, for various reasons.  And yet, I'm still kickin'.  Perhaps 2012 will be the year of the beats.  Beats as in great music.  I do NOT know yet.

Last night, we were at the demolition derby.  Some guy sitting next to us was there with his friends, totally connected with his Ipad-like thing (wasn't actually an iPad), his cell phone, and chatting on facebook or taking pictures or video and then going back to chatting with his girlfriend about how this was his last chance.  (DRAaaaaammmmmaaaaaa!  Sorry, dude, but that's what you get when you type on your thing in front of a bunch of people.)  And I thought to myself:  I don't think I have ever felt that way in my life.  That this was my last chance.  Sure, I get discouraged, I have my days (often enough), but I find myself saying over and over again that things will work out.  I had a really hard thing happen a couple weeks ago where I was virtually offered a job after meeting with these people twice, before they were done interviewing, but they then changed their minds on me.  I was totally and completely heartbroken, and I completely fell apart.  But the next day?  I was busy.  Moving on.  I'm still thinking about it, but I realize there has to be something better out there for me.  I'm finding that positivity is so much easier for me in the long run. Plus, I've heard it helps you live longer. PLUS, nobody wants to be around people who are always pessimistic, am I right?

The great thing that happened to me this week is that my husband moved home.  Surprise!  I didn't tell you we were living apart this summer.  He had an internship in Elko for the summer at a gold mine, and we couldn't find housing that would work for us before he left, so he was assigned a roommate who was also an intern at the mine.  He's home now, and I am so SO glad.  (I didn't write about it because I didn't want to be murdered in my sleep.  My dogs are less brave than I.  We are a ridiculous bunch.)

I want to write more about the whole living-apart thing later, but for now, this will do.  Have a happy Sunday.

So, anyways.

I did some squats yesterday, and now I can't walk too well today.  My feet are floppin like a sloppy horse's hooves.

On another note, I think I am going to go write a novel.  CAUSE THAT'S WHAT PEOPLE DO, RIGHT? I'm just kidding.  I'm not angry about it.  I miss writing.

I have made so many flowers in the last month, I forgot what it was like to NOT make flowers.  You just wait til you see them.  I love them.  I'd keep them all, but I think my housband might boycott our home.  I think I might also be a half-hoarder (not a hoarder to the extent that it's disgusting, but a hoarder to the extent that I have some real crap I should probably sell or get rid of, because I won't always have a whooooooole extra bedroom for my junk.)

I just got back a ton of film from my labs--I'm even still waiting on some!--and I have a ton of cool stuff coming up on my photog blog.  Check it OUT!

July is almost over.  I can't believe it.  It's FLOWN by.  JOOLY!  WHERE DID YOU GO?

Anyway, my life is the same old boring.  But boring is good though I guess.  At least it's not exciting in a horrible way.

Lastly, I'm including a photo of my by my housband.  Mostly because when I got them back, I thought they were cool!  He did a good job.  That dude is rad.  I love him.

I'm sorry about all the yelling.  I'm just real excited, ok?

Two canadians, a swede, the housband, and me.

Last week, I went to Elko, Nevada for the week with my housband.  It was a great week--I made a lot of flowers, visited cute little shops, got to know the place a little, and spent a lot of time with my housband.

(PS:
Dearest Elko, I'm sorry about all the things I said about you and all the continued negativity over the years; you weren't so bad, plus your sagebrush is actually kind of pretty and smells a bit like lavender.  I guess you're not the Armpit of America like I suspected.

Signed, sincerely,

ME)

ANYway, things went well during the week and I really enjoyed myself.  On Thursday night, we were heading back to Logan, having a grand old time, when we were almost run off the road by a semi, and my only reaction was to scream, which, obviously, didn't help the problem.  I just couldn't stop.  It was the weirdest thing; an out of body experience.  Eventually I realized I was screaming but didn't/couldn't stop myself... very odd.

I had a bit of an emotional breakdown after that because I laughed so hard I cried, and then I couldn't stop crying for a little while.  I have traveling anxiety due to previous accidents, and this certainly didn't help.

Soon after that, we were heading up around the hill to Pequop.  PEQUOP!  I WILL NEVER FORGET YOU!  IN THE WORST WAY!  We were rocking out to some Gaga when a peculiar ticking sound began to freak us both out.  Being the bright people we are, we turned off the AC, turned down the music and tried to listen to what was happening.  This particular tick had been happening for a little while, and we made plans to take the car to a mechanic upon our arrival home.

Until the tick got louder, and LOUDER, and LOUDER.

And then.... smoke.

We made it up the hill most of the way to a rest stop which was magically there, and Pedro* pushed it up the hill to its resting spot.

There at the rest area, we see a couple Canadian tourists and their Swedish friend.  We had no idea what to do.  They said they were going to Wendover, and while talking on the phone to my dad, Pedro asked me to ask them if we could catch a ride.  In the meantime, we saw another guy at the rest stop--I asked him if he was headed to Salt Lake, he said yes, I asked if we could catch a ride with him, but he said he doesn't give rides to strangers. Fair enough.  There WAS a prison a while back with road signs which read "NO HITCHIKING."

So we put all our stuff in the trunk of my now dead car so as to discourage people from breaking in, grab the most valuable stuff (like my 10,000 cameras--I am incapable of packing light), and head out with the Canadians and Swede.  Honestly, they were a total blessing.  SUCH nice people, so kind to give us a ride, and I wasn't nervous AT ALL that they would kill us.  Ha.

So then we rode to Wendover, where we thanked the Canadians and Swede and told them goodbye.  Pedro's mother picked us up in Wendover, and we finally got home at around 1:30 in the morning, totally exhausted.

The next day, we borrowed a truck, rented a trailer, and went back to PEQUOP.  I had so much anxiety that my car would be:

1. Towed by highway patrol
A. Broken into
III. Broken into, and all my stuff stolen (including my laptop, which I forgot to use my brain and neglected to pack in the stuffed Canadian car.... whoops.)

BUT, there it was.  Totally in tact, safe, whole, with a bum engine.  We tugged it all the way back home.

There's all my photos from the day trip we took to fetch my car.  We weren't really going 110 miles per hour--the speedometer was broken, but we like to pretend we're hardcore like that.  Also, we both kept thinking there was a jerk car tailing us, until we'd individually realize that it was just my car on the trailer behind us.

It was honestly a nice drive--just too bad it had to be because my engine semi blew up.

And yes, the engine is dead.  It turns on, it drives a little, but it's not driveable.  Today, my father-in-law found a new engine with a friend for $900... so... happy birthday to me?

Kind of a craptastic weekend.  I hope yours was better.  I spent most of today really frustrated, but I've decided to turn the corner and turn my frown upside down.  Life can be annoying, I guess, but I need to move on and accept that sometimes, crap happens.



*I just decided, just now, that I'm tired of not writing my husband's name.  No, it's not really Pedro.  No, he's not Mexican or hispanic.  I just like that name.  He's asked me not to write his name on el blog here, so I will grant him that wish, but I will now call him Pedro in return.  Cool.

Year 3.

Three years ago, we were married.  WHEW!  We made it!

I love Hailey's Jones soda mustache in the bottom photo.

In the last year, we:

• adopted another dog
• had 3 new jobs between the two of us
• kept 1 job between the two of us (lots of change this year)
• bought numerous car parts (for guess who)
• cut off a lot of hair (both of us)
• did a lot of studying, photographing, crafting, and working
• went to Sun Valley, California, and Salt Lake many times
• decided that my housband does the laundry and I do the dishes (which has saved us a lot of dumb fights... I'd highly recommend it)
• moved the furniture around
• began to love yoga
• have grown up a lot
• have been really poor, and then not as poor
• added one niece to the family
• watched dozens of movies together, not as many bad ones as last year

 Lots of good memories from that day three years ago.  Here's to another year....

Happy Christmas Adam

This is the message I just received from my housband.

No idea what he was talking about--I thought maybe he meant to send the message to my brother, who is named, coincidentally, Adam.

I texted him back, confused, and this was his response:

"Tomorrow is Christmas Eve, so today is Christmas Adam."

And then I remembered he says this every year.

There are lots of reasons I love that dude; this is just one of 1,678,956,443 reasons why.

And for your viewing pleasure, the sign I made which was inspired by this:

Hers

Mine, which took a lot longer than I thought it would, and also, I didn't have enough paper to do it awesome like hers.  Plus, I was tired.  Sorry about the crappy iphone photo.  It's a lovely red, though.

  And lastly, here's a photo which will either make your day cheery, or really creep you out:

Bagel (pronounced bag-ul) is really quite happy about Christmas Adam.  Also, don't mind the mismatched sheets and blankets.  This photo was taken a while ago, and I have my life more together now than I did then.... kinda.  (Wishful thinking.)  (Though my sheets do match right now.  BONUS!)

Walking

Last night, we went for a walk with our dogs.

We found a HUGE pile of wood chips--probably 20 feet tall--in a parking lot near our apartment.

So, naturally, we climbed it, let our dogs climb it, and slid down.

It was sort of romantic in the dark, worrying a little about getting caught but doing it anyway, the orange street lights giving just enough light.  Bagheera wouldn't go to the top until someone did before him, and Bert wasn't interested until I was at the top, which made him freak out and and run up the side of our wood chip mountain.  (Bert loves me and I love that.)  My housband didn't make it to the top, but mostly just because he didn't try.

We continued on with our walk, on which we saw horses, people, a giant dirt mountain, a bonfire, and a neighbor who asked to pet our pups.


Then I found wood chips in my underwear (!!), behind my knees (I was wearing long johns, which in itself is an entirely different story), and in my shoes all night.

And yet, it was completely worth it.

Life, lately

I am happy.  The weather is getting better, and there's sunshine outside... I forget, every year, that winter ends, that spring always comes. 

Lately, I find myself regularly wanting to share funny stories or little anecdotes with my office-mate at work, but then I realize they're probably only funny to me and my husband.  So I don't share several things; instead, I keep them with me and they make me smile and my insides feel warm and swollen in a good way.

Photos of my grandparents.  I love their goofy grins in the second photo.

I love my dog.  I think I love him more every day.  He has brought me such happiness, and I love his company.  He tries very hard to be a lap dog, but he's not particularly good at it.  He also enjoys getting drinks from the tub faucet, which is charming.  He almost always wags his tail, and he puts himself in his cage when he thinks we're mad at him.  He has whiskers JUST long enough, and his fur is so soft.  He naps by me.  He licks my face.  He's a good dog.

I love my husband, too, but I don't want to tell you everything about him because he wouldn't like that, and I'm not particularly mushy about him except to myself.  He makes me laugh all the time, laugh in the sort of way that is explosive or a "burst laugh" as he calls it.  I think this laugh is embarrassing, but he says he likes it.  Nobody else makes me consistently laugh like he does.  Sometimes I laugh really hard at things he says to me when it's just us, but get embarrassed when he says the same things to other people, but he never cares.  Nobody else is willing to be so silly and crazy with me.  Sometimes, I'll say something I think is incredibly outlandish, and he will, without any hesitation, top what I just said, easily.  It drives me crazy, but it also impresses me--his wit is quick.  (Except that I never win our bizarro what-if situations...it's a regular game we play.)  He's good at making dinner for us, but bad at cleaning it up.  He likes dumb shows on TV, but some good ones, too.  He likes to talk about moving to Nevada because he knows it bugs me.  He's my biggest supporter and compliments me a lot about things like my outfits or my hairdo.  He loves our dog and tries to teach him new tricks all the time.  Ok, yep, I just love him.  That was mushy.  But I didn't tell you everything about him, just a little.

Life is good in the sort of way that makes you want to take off your clothes and play with your brother and sister in a lake.  If you were a kid, that is.

Anyway, life is good and I am happy.  I have a lot of things going on right now, lots of changes and new ideas, but it's good.  So good that I just can't keep it to myself.



What's good for you lately?

The real story, part 2.

Remember this?  Yep.  Here's part 2... finally.

So, junior year passed, and with the start of my senior year, I had lunch with my best friend. I didn't have lunch with my usual group of lunch friends, so I sat with my best friend and her "weird" (or so I thought) friends that I didn't know so well.

One of whom was my housband.

He joked a lot and had big (BIG) hair. I didn't take him very seriously--I had too many experiences with teenage boys that embittered me, and because I didn't think he could be serious, I was more harsh than I should have been.

I remember very vividly days in the lunchroom, bright yellow lunch trays (which he got in trouble for "stealing" over 100 trays, though they never left school property), talking with him and other friends, laughing and joking about our future plans and college applications, things like that.

We became ok friends; that year, we went to a football game with some friends and I remember feeling a sense of security with him and those friends, like maybe we'd be friends for a while.  I felt good about the idea, and felt comfortable about hanging out with them in public. (Ok, so I was weird in high school.  Who wasn't?)  Later in the year, I wished that I could go with him to senior ball--there was a lot of drama surrounding the dance for me, dumb stuff--he went with his girlfriend at the time--and I boogied with him and his girl that night, and had SO much fun. He was very sweet to his girlfriend, and I admired that.  He held her hand in front of all of us, which is a big deal in teenager-dom, and I distinctly remember feeling a bit of jealousy about their hand-holding.

Eventually, school ended, and his relationship did, too. I saw him one or two times that summer.

That fall, we both went to school at the same University, as kids from our town tend to do since it is a college town. I was pretty overwhelmed with the whole concept of COLLEGE, but when I went to my last new class, there he was. Sitting alone. Looking ornery. I found out his e-mail address and told him via msn messenger we should sit together in Psychology. So we did, and we doodled together, laughed at our professor's weirdness, made jokes, and generally had a good time. He walked with me after every class to the bench where my sister would pick me up after her class. We'd laugh and talk, and he'd make excuses to go the direction I needed to go next.  Once, after a psychology study session, his longboard got ran over and broke in half.  Later, he told me he was thinking about something I said, which caused him to hit a crack and bail on his board... but all I got from his story was wondering what I could have said that would stick with him.  He was thinking about me?  On his own time?  That was interesting.

I kind of liked him, but I didn't want to admit it--like I said, I didn't really trust him, or most boys in general. We did things outside of class, too, like bowling and watching movies on Fridays with friends, and I grew to really enjoy my time with him.

One day, he asked me on a date, mostly because his friend needed someone to double with.  It was extremely awkward. But we ended the night at this certain park, and I doubt I've ever laughed harder.  After the date, we went to my house and he helped himself to apple juice in my fridge--perhaps the first time he ever did that.  I liked the familiarity of the gesture.  We decided that night that we were best friends. Even if we really weren't, we decided it anyway and it sort of became reality after a time. We made it some sort of ritual that we'd go to that park, sit on the lawn in the dark, and talk that fall semester.

After that semester, he prepared to leave on a two-year religious mission for our church. I knew he'd probably be going all along, but what I didn't realize was how much I'd grown attached to him and his friendship, and how much I'd miss him.

The morning he left, I went with my best friend (who is also one of his best friends) to say goodbye to him before he reached the MTC (or, Missionary Training Center) with a care package he could have, but we accidentally slept in due to staying up late the night before getting the package together.

We missed him--he'd already left.  I felt sick to my stomach that I'd missed him, because who knew where I'd be two years from then?

To be continued...

Two years in,

and sometimes it still surprises and delights me that we're married.

Sometimes it's hard, other times it's fun, and most times, it's fantastic to have him around.

We drove in my little red car to our wedding dinner after I frantically packed in my wedding dress for our honeymoon--apparently I'm not much of the organized sort, and didn't think to do that before, oh, just then.  We stopped along the way at his parents' house; he ran in to drop something off.  The thought hit me so clearly: we're married.  My stomach felt light, and I was so excited to have him forever.  I also felt kind of silly because I was in my wedding dress in my dinky little car.  Life's funny like that sometimes.

I'm still glad he's mine.  He's my best friend.  I remember our first dance, how my cheeks were burning because everyone was looking at us, and I much rather would have been part of the party than the STAR of the party.  But in that moment, it didn't matter much because we were there, dancing.  And who really cared, anyway?  Not me, not in that moment.  So we danced.

Remember this?  I will tell you more about how we met... later today.  Lucky you... maybe?

Saturday

Two years ago today, I helped my family set up the mansion we were going to have our wedding dinner at, and I felt odd that this thing--this wedding--was really happening.

Two years ago tomorrow, my life changed forever.

Two years have seriously flown by.  And look at us now--we're raising a puppy (ha.  ha ha.).

Just so you know, we have a hierarchy of things to keep alive before we can have kids.
It goes like this:

1.  Keep a plant alive for at least one year.  (Done--Pete, our plant, is thriving and probably needs a new pot here soon... he's growing out of it.)
2.  Keep a dog alive for at least one year.  (Not there yet.) (I'll let you know how it goes.) (I haven't killed him--the dog--yet.)

Perhaps someday, we'll get to the having kids part of life.

Other interesting things about our two years together:

We've been on 5 trips together (some more local than others...), had at least 7 haircuts between us, moved once, adopted one dog, gotten one new car and numerous car parts, gone camping twice and had the best tinfoil dinners I've ever had (what is wrong with us?  Only twice?), added two nieces to the family, bought two cruiser bikes, had 6 jobs between the two of us, and watched dozens of movies together, the worst probably being Knowing and Gentlemen Broncos. 

I couldn't think of any other random stats.  Anywho, we're going to celebrate by having a little jaunt in the city this weekend... but I have some things scheduled for your entertainment in the meantime.

Happy Friday.

From where I come

"A poem needs understanding through the senses. The point of diving into a lake is not immediately to swim to the shore but to be in the lake, to luxuriate in the sensation of water. You do not work the lake out; it is an experience beyond thought. Poetry soothes and emboldens the soul to accept the mystery."--From the movie Bright Star, spoken by John Keats' character


Sometimes, I wish I could remember this description while trying to explain my fondness for poetry to others.

This is one of my favorite poems.

somewhere i have never travelled, gladly beyond
any experience,your eyes have their silence:
in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,
or which i cannot touch because they are too near

your slightest look easily will unclose me
though i have closed myself as fingers,
you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens
(touching skilfully,mysteriously)her first rose

or if your wish be to close me,i and
my life will shut very beautifully,suddenly,
as when the heart of this flower imagines
the snow carefully everywhere descending;

nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals
the power of your intense fragility:whose texture
compels me with the color of its countries,
rendering death and forever with each breathing

(i do not know what it is about you that closes
and opens;only something in me understands
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)
nobody,not even the rain,has such small hands 

ee cummings

I gave this poem to my husband once, and since he's a science-minded fellow, I don't think he particularly understood it.  But, the thing is, it's more about being in the poem, staying in the moment.  It's somewhat nonsensical, but at the same time, it makes perfect sense.  It's not so much literal, but requires Emily Dickinson's sensation: "If I feel physically as if the top of my head were taken off, I know that is poetry."  You have to think about it while not thinking about it.

Say the idea is a fly, zooming around my head; I get it, I feel it, it makes sense, it's right there--but it's just far enough that I'm reaching to understand or grasp its sentiments.  That, and it's one of those things where I don't mind the fly zooming and zooming around; perhaps I would be bored if it stopped too easily.


This is why I love ee cummings.  His poetry isn't easy or predictable.  It makes just enough sense, and after that, I make what I want of it.  I think this poem excites me, too, because I get it.  I really do. 

And to my husband:  "nobody,not even the rain,has such small hands"


Tonight, I'm going to eat some ice cream, work on some photos, and hang out with my blue-eyed boy (my dog).  Housband will be out of town at a soccer game, so we're partying on our own.  How's THAT for a Tuesday night?

It must be January.

I am feeling a bit better--I just know it's a great thing to have a husband that blesses my life in so many ways.  I know now that I need to be more patient, that I'm supposed to be doing something different right now than what I thought was so right for me.  It's not, at least not right now. 

Because there's a person who knows better than me, and it was spoken very clearly to me last night while I was awake for 2 hours from 3:30 to 5:30 am.  (I've been sick--again.  And sleeping somewhat miserably.)  It was an experience I will never forget.  Everything will work out.  Everything will be fine.  I know that now.

On the plus side, as I drove to work today, I noticed all the trees glazed in white.  That's one of my very favorite parts of winter--all the ribbons of snow on tree branches.  It feels a bit magical.  Still, I wish it would snow a little more.

Also, I've decided that kids are my favorite subject to photograph.  Actually, I really love all sides of photography, but kids are just so genuine.  I really love that.  I think it would be fantastic to photograph kids for magazines (like Crewcuts).  Kids in funky outfits?  It doesn't get better than that.

See what I mean?  These photos always make me smile. 

It's going to be a good Friday, I can tell.  I have a bunch of photos to catch up on this weekend, and I'll probably go on an outing with my housband and pup.  Have I told you lately how much I really like my dog?  I do.  He's a good boy, and so much fun to have around.

Happy Weekend.

So...

Tomorrow is my housband's birthday.

If you remember last year, I love birthdays, and his was fantastic.

I think I like his birthday almost more than mine... except mine is warm... because it's June...

On days like today, I just want to run away with my camera and husband and nothing else. There are a lot of things bugging me lately; I know I'll get over it, but for now, I've been really grumpy and easily provoked.

I am really annoyed with myself today. These kinds of days are the worst, because you can't really escape yourself. I'm just not sure what to do with myself.

BUT, I know tomorrow will be better. I just need to be positive... Right?

Hopefully.

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...