Tomorrow Is Another Day...

Question and Congratulations

More to come very soon about our awesome and fairly last minute trip to Portland, but I just wanted to post a quick congratulations to President Obama. I am incredibly excited and optimistic for the future of the United States, and just hope the country can turn itself around. We've got big hopes and dreams and I think it's time for this shakeup in Washington!

On a completely different topic--does anyone know if there's a way to make certain posts private in Typepad without making the whole blog password protected? I've tried searching the help section with no luck.

Oh wow they're swearing in Biden as I type! This is really happening! God bless America, let freedom ring.

Resolute(ish)

Every year I claim that I'm not really one for New Year's resolutions, and then every year I find myself making New Year's resolutions.  I think it's a hold over, knee-jerk statement from back in the days when I really didn't make resolutions.  When life seemed like an endless road, full of possibilities stretching out before me.  When I didn't put so much thought and effort into living, and just lived.  Every year that passes, every birthday I celebrate, I feel those possibilities slipping away and the frightening finiteness of life becomes a little more real.

I know that I'm still young, that life is far from over and every day is another opportunity to do something great, but I have reached the age where I have realized that if you do want to "be anything you want to be", you have to work at it.  If you're lucky, opportunity knocks, but it's far more likely that you'll have to hunt it down with a tranquilizer gun, tackle it, and hold on for dear life.

So, anyway, all of this to say, I made some resolutions centered around becoming a better person, both in mind and body, and I'm resigned to the fact that I apparently am a New Year's resolution kind of gal.

"A man is but the product of his thoughts, what he thinks, he becomes." ~Mahatma Ghandi

1) Reading: In continuation of my somewhat belated resolution last year, I'm going to try going another year without reading any "chick lit".  I think I did a decent job cutting the genre from my reading list in 2008, with just a few journeys back into fluff territory, and I was surprised to find that I really didn't miss it and the few that I did read felt a little empty and formulaic to me.  I'm not knocking a good Sophie Kinsella or Jane Green when you need to give your mind a break, but I feel much more inspired and moved when I'm reading books with a little more heft to them.  I've always kept a list going in my sidebar of the books that I've read recently (a list that has been woefully out of date lately), but I've also started a new page (found in "Bonus Features" under my profile picture to the left) tracking the books I've read in 2009, along with a little personal review.

2) Writing: In short: Write more.  I suffer from a strange malady in which I lay awake nights thinking up stories and plot twists, characters and intriguing themes, then I sit down to write them all out and am completely blocked.  From what I understand, the only way through writers block is to just keep writing, even if it's complete crap (which is not to say that everything I write isn't complete crap--I am incapable of judging for myself).  My resolution for this year is to write at least one short story that I deem worthy of submission to various literary contests and journals and to write at least fifteen pages per week of the ongoing trainwreck with the working title, Gemini.  A subresolution would be to come up with a less cringe-inducing title.

"Health is not valued until sickness comes." ~Thomas Fuller

3) Eating: After spending the vast majority of this winter wishing I could either die or trade in my nose/throat/stomach/head, I have realized that both Colby and my mother are right: I eat like crap.  And I think it's safe to assume that my steady diet of candy, cheese, starches, and cereal is having a less than healthful effect on my body.  I don't expect my diet to magically change overnight, but I am going to make a real effort to eat better.  Here are my goals:

• Pizza no more than once a month
• Eat at least two servings of a fruit or vegetable every day
• Drink at least 3 large glasses of water every day
• Take a multivitamin every day
• Dessert no more than twice a week (and YES, Angela, that does include breakfast items from Starbucks)

4) Exercise: Did you know that I bought the 30 Day Shred on October 19th?  Do you want to know how I feel about it or how well it worked for me?  Well, I don't know, because I haven't so much as OPENED it.  Funny thing these workout DVDs.  You actually have to DO them for them to be effective.  Oh, and that elliptical machine sitting up in our loft?  Haven't been on it since before Colby got home from his deployment.  More than two months ago.  So, yeah, safe to say there is plenty of room for improvement here.  Improvement along the lines of doing at least thirty minutes of cardio three times a week and completing the 30 Shred by the end of February?  Yeah, I think that would do it.

So, those are my goals for 2009.  I feel like there's a certain amount of effort involved in all of them, but none of them are completely unrealistic or a set up for failure, so I hope that by the time 2010 rolls around (oh my God, that looks crazy!) I'll be able to look back on this post without feeling completely defeated.  What about you?  Did you make any resolutions this year?

(Oh!  And in case you haven't seen my tweets or Facebook--no, my house did NOT flood and I was back home by about 4 o'clock the next morning.  Thanks for your good wishes!)

Looking Back

So, I'm finally going to close the book on 2008 around here and get the rest of December all wrapped up in a neat little bow.  It was kind of a crazy month  for me and the highlights were definitely the panic inducing snowfall we had just prior to winter break, my birthday, and those other two big December holidays.

The Snow

Unfortunately, I have hardly any photographic evidence of any of these big events as Colby has developed the annoying habit of downloading all of our pictures onto his computer, then deleting them off of the camera before I can get them.  He assures me that it's easy peasy to transfer them onto my computer, but so far that's all talk and no action.  We ended up getting about 8 or 9 inches of snow in our area, and I have never in all of my life seen a city shut down like ours did.  Colby still braved Mother Nature and went to work every day, but the schools shut down on Wednesday, Thursday and Friday--before "the big storm" even hit.  Jack and Ellie totally loved romping in and chowing down on the freshly fallen snow, and I'm willing to admit that it was kind of pretty.  However, I am still not a fan of the slipping and sliding across roads and I never realized how many damn hills there are around here until they all turned into mini-ski slopes.

The Birthday
My birthday was, in a word, AWESOME!  Colby had a pretty steep learning curve when it came to my expectations for birthday celebrations, but he picked up on things after last year and when I woke up, my birthday was already in full swing.  I crawled out of bed to find him making muffins and french toast, a chocolate cake already baked and frosted, hundreds of balloons scattered around the house, and I even got a fancy Birthday Girl badge to wear.  The morning was pretty relaxing, the snow fell softly throughout the day, and that evening we made the trek into Seattle for dinner in the Market and the Pacific Northwest performance of The Nutcracker.  Dinner was absolutely delicious and we had a prime table overlooking a gorgeous view of the Pike Market.  The snow continued to fall as we ate and then headed over to the theater, and The Nutcracker was incredible. 

Funny story:  I recognized the design of the Nutcracker painted on the curtain before the ballet began, and upon reading the bio of the set and costume designer, realized that he was the man who illustrated Where the Wild Things Are, and upon receiving praise for his take on the Nutcracker in the 80's, he published an illustrated version of The Nutcracker story.  Turns out, I just so happened to own that book when I was a little girl and read it yearly, dreaming of being Clara with visions of Nutcrackers dancing in my head!

When we left the performance, we were surprised to see that the snow had begun coming down much harder and the accumulation had already increased by a few inches from the time the performance began and the drive home was more than a little scary at times.  But we survived it, and all in all, it was a phenomenal beginning to my 26th year!

Favorite gifts included tickets from Colby to go see Brit Brit perform on April 9th at the Tacoma Dome, a Nordstrom gift certificate that I put toward the brown leather jacket on my wish list, and a fantastic page-a-day calendar with a picture of a different fabulous shoe each day!

My birthday tea was supposed to take place the next day, but ended up being postponed to the following Sunday because of the snow.  I was thrilled that some of my gal pals were able to take time away from holiday plans and brave the still rather nasty weather to make it to the Meeker Mansion, and we enjoyed our ladylike tea and a tour of the mansion.  I don't have any pictures of the tea, but I do have to show you the fabulous Mad Men dress that I wore for the event.

It makes me feel just like Betty Draper.  Except without all of the crazy and the alcohol/cigarette dependency...

The Holidays
We spent Christmas Eve at Lori's house, eating good food, spending time with great people, and playing a down and dirty game of Scene It? Squabble, boys versus girls.  I always love spending time with Lori and her family because they always do such a great job of making sure that we feel included and like we really are a part of the family.  Christmas morning we woke up and did our standard stockings, breakfast, then presents routine.  It was a totally relaxing day spent with the DVD player going and amazing food just appearing before me from time to time when Chef Colby was inspired.  We got some great deals at the seafood counter on Christmas Eve, so throughout the day our entrees consisted of shrimp, crab cakes, and salmon.  Yummo!

I gave Colby Cranium WOW! and a new lens for his camera that he's been playing with ever since, so I think those gifts went over well.  Highlights of my Christmas goodies included all three seasons of Arrested Development (How had I never seen this show?  HILARIOUS!!) and my spiffy new Marc Jacobs watch (also on my wish list), both from Colby, some beautiful Banana Republic tops from my parents, and a gorgeous Manolo Blahnik coffee table book from one of my favorite girls, Shani.  We were totally spoiled on Christmas morning, and even though we missed being away from our families, it was still a wonderful day.

New Year's Eve was much quieter than last year's craziness.  We went to dinner at a yummy pizzeria and then saw Marley & Me where I proceeded to sob my freaking eyes out.  I wasn't the least bit surprised since I had a pretty identical reaction to the book, but I thought I might be able to retain some semblance of composure.  Yeah.  No.  New Year's Day we spent rooted to the couch while I subjected Colby to hour after hour of The Twilight Zone marathon on SciFi.

And that pretty much wraps up December and my musings on 2008.  I'm ready to look forward to the future and have a lot to say about 2009, but right now the dogs are crying and Gossip Girl awaits, so the new year is just going to have to wait around for another day or so until I'm ready to tackle all of those thoughts.  Ciao for now!

2008 Was Pretty Great

Well, how about that, another year has gone by and looking back on it, I really can't find too much to complain about.  It's a bit strange how last New Year's Eve can seem simultaneously like it was a million years ago and like it was just yesterday.  2008 will probably always hold a pretty special place in my heart.  It was the first full year I ever spent as a married lady.  The first time I'd crossed the pond since college.  The year of the most romantic and magical honeymoon a girl could imagine, as well as the first time I experienced the deployment of my husband.  Friendships deepened with the girls I've met here in Washington, and I had wonderful experiences with friends who live too far away.  I felt the elation of being published as well as the confidence in choosing a careerpath and taking the steps to achieve my goal.  I've definitely hit some rough patches with this here blog, but I'm so glad that I have it as a way to look back on my year and remember the things that otherwise would have probably slipped my mind ages ago.  So, now for my annual year in review--here are the reviews for 2006 and 2007 if you're interested.  I generally take the first sentence from the first post of each month, but for my 2008 review I'll do the first couple of sentences to give them a little more context, and I'm skipping the very first post of the year, because that was last year's review.

January: I've never been really big on New Year's resolutions.  In fact, I just went back in my archives to see if I even made resolutions last year.  Answer: I did not. (And lo, my resolutions lasted for a few months before I was well and truly over them.  I think I have a couple of good ones for this year though, but more on that later.)

February: So, check out what came in the mail the other day: It's my story!  In an actual, real life, published book!  A book that somebody in the world might have decided was worth the exchange of their very own hard earned money! (I still smile when I think about that little story that could.  It only took me six years to work up the nerve to send it out for publication--with a record like that, I could be looking at a published novella in about two decades!)

March: Went to a new cupcake shop that just opened in our cute little downtown main street.  I decided on a vanilla cupcake with chocolate frosting, and Colby had a chocolate cupcake with vanilla frosting.  Clearly, I have failed spectacularly at my Lenten promise. (I think this marked the beginning of my This Weekend I... posts.  I should really bring those back--I should really also go get a cupcake...)

April: Supervisor IM:  I'm writing your going away email right now.  What should I tell people you'll be doing next?

Angela IM:  Hm.  Maybe just something along the lines of "pursuing job opportunities closer to home."

Angela IM:  Oh, and catching up on daytime soaps!

No response from Supervisor

Angela IM:  Just kidding...

Supervisor:  Okay, so I can highlight your commute time? (Snort. This still makes me laugh.  Oh man, I don't miss that job.  I miss seeing Becky on a regular basis, but not that job...  The two weeks off for Christmas was nice though!)

May: Damn, I seriously suck at blogging regularly when I'm not chained to a desk from 9-5 every week day. (A theme that has continued through the rest of the year, because seriously, blogging IS hard when you're not chained to a desk all day!)

June: This weekend was our big girls night out for the Sex and the City, and it really was a fabulous experience. (I just watched this movie again the other night, and I think I loved the movie even more the second time through.  And Lord, those clothes are just... AMAZING!  I'm sure this DVD will be on a pretty high rotation in our household when Colby is away on trips.)

July: Dear Typepad,Things have been distant between us lately.  I know it.  You know it.  There's no sense in pretending that we haven't hit a rough patch.  I know that I've been ignoring you, spending very little time at home with you and then on the few occasions when I have turned on my computer, glancing guiltily at your button there on my favorites toolbar and then navigating over to my class website or Facebook. (Well, yeah, things are still pretty much the same there--I still read a bunch of blogs, but I just don't comment like I used to, and I definitely don't blog like I used to. But hey, I posted four times in July... and six times in December--that's an improvement, right!?)

August: Somehow, over a week has passed since my last post.  I do not understand where the time is going and how the days could possibly be flying by so quickly while simultaneously dragging on endlessly.  In the words of Confucius, "Time is a sneaky, sneaky bitch." (More bitching about blogging--Jesus, Angela, shut up!  It's a wonder anyone reads this stupid website anymore!)

September: Hey, remember when I was being haunted by a numismatist from the great beyond a few months ago?  I think he (or she) might be back, and this time has more than coins on the mind. (That dang ghost... I wonder if he or she will do anything to increase our property value?)

October: Y'all, I am so tired this week.  I'm not particularly sure why, but I can tell you that I come home from work, stare blankly at the tv for a little while, stare blankly at the computer for a little while, and then try to remember to feed the dogs before I fall asleep.  What I'm saying here is that not only is this Hills recap a little late, but it's also probably total crap. (Oh, Hills recaps, I kind of miss you guys!  Turns out though, that I really stopped liking the show when it meant I had to put all of that extra effort into it.  So, now I just mock it silently in my own head.  Much more enjoyable that way!)

November: I know I have so much to catch you all up on, but I had to come out of blog hibernation today to marvel at the fact that exactly one year ago, I woke up early in the morning to the sound of raindrops to... (GET MARRIED!!!  Also, holy crap, that is the ONLY thing I posted in November.  What have I been doing these past few months?  I have NO IDEA, because I didn't write about any of it...)

December: So, November pretty much kicked my hindquarters.  November was the lion and I was the unicorn, and it resoundly beat the crap out of me all about the town.  Things started off fine and dandy.  October drew to a close with a splendid Halloween celebration involving a limousine, copious amounts of liquor, dancing, and the company of good friends. (So, that explains November... still not quite sure what I DID to become so tired, but maybe I can reflect more upon that in 2009.)

And there you have it--the jist of my 2008.  I've got a lot to say about where I think 2009 might go, and where I hope we might go, and hopefully I'll make a little time in my life to get back to this here blog.  I hope that you all had a splendid New Year's Eve and are enjoying our entry in to 2009.  Enjoy it, because this is the last year that we will be able to purchase these stylish accessories:

Sing Out, Louise!

Today was supposed to be our little before and after school care Christmas performance.  I pulled together a bunch of sweet Christmas poems and five Christmas carols and the kids have been practicing and decorating the stage (where our child care is conveniently located) and yesterday things got a little tense as we all realized that we were only one day away from the play and we still hadn't made it all the way through a rehearsal without a stop.  I was nervous because we weren't able to get a microphone from the school, and while the kids seemed excited about doing the play, when it actually became a reality their nerves were getting the best of them and I could barely hear their soft little voices over the hum of the gym air conditioning and buzzing of the fluorescent lights.  My directorial patience was tried as I tried to keep practices going when the lure of Legos and markers was only inches away, and I felt a little swell of pride when we made it all the way through an acapella version of Silent Night.

Then, this morning I woke up and logged onto the school report website to discover that school had been canceled in our district because of snow.  On the one hand, I feel a little sense of relief.  There is a pretty high degree of possibility that the show would have been an absolute catastrophe--I honestly had no idea there were so many verses to learn in Up on the Housetop for one thing--but the kids have been talking about a Christmas performance since Thanksgiving and it makes me sad that I wasn't able to deliver on it.  And quite frankly, I think the world was looking forward to my directorial debut!

Of course, all of those thoughts ran through my head in the five minutes it took me to dry my hair after the shower I'd already taken and then crawl back into bed to sleep for another four hours.  Since then I've done a bit of homework--all I have left is one paper before I finish my third class and then have two weeks off for the holidays--cleaned the kitchen, and watched Love, Actually and Britney caroling on The Ellen DeGeneres Show.  Quite frankly, as much as I hate the snow itself (that actually turned to rain around 10 am), I could get used to this whole snow day thing.

And if you're wanting to see a little snow, here are some pictures from our very cold and snowy (but beautiful!!) day in Leavenworth.  I don't think my feet have ever been as frozen as they were when we got back in the car to go home.  I was seriously worried about frostbite for about ten minutes there.

Just a pretty farm house we passed on the way.  I thought it looked like it should be on a Christmas card.

Colby made fun of my umbrella until I explained to him that snow is just frozen rain, justifying the use of an umbrella.  Then he still made fun of me.

The prettiest Santa I've ever seen.  I told him he was lovely because I thought that sounded more masculine.  Colby laughed at me.  Noticing a trend?

Did I mention that it was cold?  And that I almost fell down about nineteen times?

Warming up with peppermint tea and a hot buttered rum.  I really wanted to like the hot buttered rum, but I wasn't totally won over.

Baked goods and hot chocolate are just more my style.





And the main event--the town lighting.  It was a beautiful lighting ceremony, complete with Christmas carols and a big countdown, and despite the fact that I couldn't feel any of my toes, I really did enjoy our snowy day in Leavenworth.

Oh, and Colby was there too!

So, that's been about all of the excitement around these parts lately.  My birthday presents have started trickling in--so far a gift card to Nordstrom (SCORE!) and a mystery text from my parents about a gift that will arrive some time in February and then once a month after that for two years.  I'm thinking Puppy of the Month club?  I'm doing a snow dance for another snow day tomorrow and the forecast is looking promising, then this weekend birthday celebrations will kick into high gear with a schmancy dinner at Matt's in the Market followed by a performance of the Nutcracker, and then a high tea with friends on Sunday afternoon as long as the wintery weather doesn't interfere.  I'm so excited about presents and tasty food that I don't even care that I'll be officially well past the hump of the "early 20's" and embarking on my journey into the later years.  I have a feeling they won't be so awful, but that's another post for another day.  For now I'm going to enjoy my last few days of 25 and enjoy the rest of this wonderful day off!

It's a Beautiful Day

This week has been a bit... rocky, to say the least.  Things all started off just wonderfully.  I spent a quiet Friday evening in, cuddling with my cute husband and Saturday we decorated our Christmas tree to the tune of John Denver and the Muppets A Christmas Together, a holiday tradition that goes back as far as I can remember.  Just as we were finishing up our decorating and moving on to cleaning the kitchen, the house phone rang.  Since I never answer the house phone (in my defense, it's ALWAYS telemarketers or wrong numbers), Colby made a mad dash to pick up the receiver.

It was my parents.  Just calling to catch up.

And to let us know that my dad had been to the doctor that day and they had discovered that the small growth on his lung was cancer.

Of course, I melted down.  My dad is superhuman.  Immortal.  Everlasting.  Silly things like cancer don't have any effect on people like my dad.

So, once I recovered from my crying spell, I tearfully asked Colby if we could go to Coldstone.  And of course he said yes.  Because on top of being cute, he is also incredibly kind.

We returned from Coldstone with three containers of ice cream, and I downed as much of it as I could before settling onto the couch with a bottle of red wine.

The week progressed fairly normally from there.  Sunday I wrote a paper, Monday I went to work, today I went to work, and on the way home, I called my parents to see how my dad's follow up appointment went.

And as it turns out, they were just kind of kidding about that whole cancer thing, sorry guys, Merry Christmas!  Rather than a small spot of lung cancer, what my father actually has is a carcinoid, a fairly rare, but non-malignant tumor that pops up on various organs from time to time.  He'll still have to have it removed, but at the moment it appears that this means no chemo and no radiation, which honestly, from what we experienced with my mother is the most nightmarish portion of a cancer diagnosis.

I can't help but be a little upset that my family and some of our friends had to spend three days thinking that my dad had lung cancer, but in the long run, this really is a phenomenal Christmas present.  Though it's kind of along the lines of someone telling you they're going to shoot you in the knee then instead kicking you in the stomach.  Yes, certainly miles better than a gunshot wound, but you're still getting a foot in the gut.  Maybe this is a new medical approach, diagnose everyone with a fatal disease, then bask in their gratefulness when you let them know you got it a bit wrong.

Now we wait, I suppose.  My dad still has to go through some tests and be poked and prodded a bit more, but for now, it seems as though we're in the clear.

Colby is in Alaska right now, doing some sort of Air Force business, but he should be back on Friday, just in time to commence the one week countdown to the celebration of my birth.  I'd gotten quite used to having him around this past month, so the quietness and lack of a cuddle partner has been hard to adjust to once more.  But thanks to those of you who have been sending me all kinds of prayers and positive thoughts over the internet and phone lines.  Clearly, you've worked some kind of Christmas miracle, and for that, you're all stars in my book.

Thinking About Just Hibernating This Winter

So, November pretty much kicked my hindquarters.  November was the lion and I was the unicorn, and it resoundly beat the crap out of me all about the town.  Things started off fine and dandy.  October drew to a close with a splendid Halloween celebration involving a limousine, copious amounts of liquor, dancing, and the company of good friends.

November commenced with my decision to accept the promotion and take the child care site director position which came with a sizeable raise and additional hours and just a few days later, Colby returned home from his deployment.  That day also brought with it Illness #1 of the month, a cold which dragged out over the next two weeks as we spent a weekend in a charming bed and breakfast in Leavenworth, WA and then entertained house guests for the next week.

Then I was informed that there were some fairly sordid activities going on right beneath my very nose at work, and I'm still not sure if I should talk about them publicly, but suffice to say that a lot of children got some very Serious Talking Tos by a lot of Very Important People and Angela had the joy of being interviewed by those same Very Important People.  The situation seems to have been defused, but it will certainly be hanging over my head for a long time to come.

Upon the departure of our house guests, we planned to have a romantic evening in the city to celebrate our anniversary, plans that were postponed by the arrival of our good friend rotavirus.  Colby was taken out on Saturday, and I took my time following suit, but surrendered to Illness #2 of the month by Tuesday morning.  The next two days I spent moaning on the couch, willing my body to just give in and die already, and that is the story of our disappearing Thanksgiving holiday.  I celebrated the pilgrims arrival in and subsequent rape of this New World with a packet of saltines, some ginger ale and a black cherry popsicle.

By Friday morning I was feeling a bit more human, but by the time bedtime rolled around I could already feel that familiar ache in my throat and I woke up Saturday morning with yet another cold, bringing the Illness count up to three for the month.  So yeah, while November had its high points, it is with a happy heart that I bid it adieu and welcome December with open arms.

Of course, it's not off to the greatest of starts as yesterday my alarm clock failed me and this morning I woke up with the voice of a 60-year smoker, but there is still Christmas and my birthday to balance the scales, so I have high hopes for the month over all.  My house smells like cinnamon, the stockings are hung by the chimney with care, and Christmas tree number two is going up this evening, so I'm already feeling better about life.  I'm going to try to be more present around here, but if I've learned one thing, it's that when I'm not sitting in front of a desk all day every day, it's best not to make too many promises about publishing entries and keeping up with my reader.

One Year

I know I have so much to catch you all up on, but I had to come out of blog hibernation today to marvel at the fact that exactly one year ago, I woke up early in the morning to the sound of raindrops to...

Put on this dress

 

Then go to this place

 

Where I met this guy

So that after five years of mostly ups and a few downs, we could finally do this

And this

Then eat this

Do some of this

And, of course, plenty of this

 

I cannot believe how fast this year has gone by.  It feels like it was just a few months ago that I was frantically wrapping bridesmaid gifts, waiting anxiously for our vendors to start arriving, trying not to get carsick in the limo on the way to the venue, and swallowing my tears as the string quartet began to play the processional.  I still have bouts of the giggles from time to time when I think about the fact that I'm married, or refer to Colby as my husband.  It still feels very shiny and new, but at the same time it feels like it's just always been this way.

So many people warned me that the first year of marriage would be the hardest, but all I can say is that the past year has been one of the easiest and happiest of my life.  We conquered a mountain of milestones together--our first Christmas and New Year's as a married couple on our own, an international vacation with zero bloodshed and very little squabbling, as well as a four and a half month long deployment and an exciting homecoming.

Over this next year, I want to work on really appreciating the amazing husband that I was lucky enough to land, and not taking for granted his presence in my life.  I'm going to try to soften some of my sharper words when I'm frustrated, and not lose my patience so quickly in stressful situations.  We have big changes looming in our future as the end of our time in Washington grows nearer and as we both work toward completing our graduate degrees.  I'm so glad that Colby is the one in my life that will be there with me through everything, and whether the year ahead of us is as smooth as the last or filled with more challenges, I'm looking forward to another 365 days together, and then another after that, and another after that, and... well, I think you see where I'm going with this.  Happy Anniversary, Colby, I love you more every day, and I can't wait to see where the future takes us!

Just When You Think You've Got It All Figured Out

My life has settled into a very pleasant consistency lately.  During the week I get in as many hours at work as possible, given our new budgetary restrictions.  I play some Sorry, make sure kids don't bust their heads open when they're playing on the monkey bars, and try not to crush their delicate little souls when I beat them at chess and/or checkers multiple times in one sitting.  Then I maybe squeeze in a brief (read: 2-4 hour) nap sometime during the day, contemplate doing some homework, and catch up on my blog reading and DVR watching.  On the weekends I spend time with friends, actually do my homework, and try to stay away from those addictive eBay auctions.  It's nice, I like existing well within my comfort zone and I'd gotten, well, comfortable there.  (My Lord, I have a way with words.)

Anyway, a funny thing happened today when I was on my way out the door of the school after earning an entire hour's worth of a paycheck.  My site director asked me if I would be interested in being promoted to... site director.  After less than two months on the job.

Obviously, I am incredibly honored to be asked.  I've never been this successful at a job, well, ever.  And I've never felt as appreciated and respected as a worker and a leader as I have at this job.  My immediate reaction was honestly shock, and I had trouble thinking of any of the right questions to ask.  I do know that the job would come with a fairly sizable raise (I say sizable in a sort of 100 x 0 still equals 0 kind of way, but you know, slightly better than zero), an average of 36 hours a week compared to the whopping twelve I'll be lucky to pick up this week, and most intimidatingly, a much greater level of responsibility as I will be ultimately responsible for an entire site and in charge of at least one site leader as well as 20+ kids.  That, in case you are wondering, is not within my comfort zone.

There are a couple of cons, aside from the intimidation factor.  One, I'm not entirely certain that I want what is essentially a full time job.  I'm pretty certain that I could handle school while working those hours, I mean seriously, most of the other people in my class juggle multiple children, multiple jobs, as well as school and they seem to survive.  I just don't know if that's what I want.  Two, I would be going from a ten minute commute to a twenty-five minute commute down one of the most horrific roads known to man.  Third, I have gotten incredibly attached to the kids at my school, and it breaks my heart to think about leaving them.  Four, we're talking a 5 o'clock wake up call EVERY MORNING.  Granted, I'll still be back home by 9:30 in the morning, but damn y'all, 5 o'clock is EARLY.

Of course, I can't make my decision based on the kids, and if I'm going to be a teacher then I certainly need to learn to accept the fact that I'll only have these little people in my life for a short time and that my next class will probably earn their own special place in my heart.  And I suspect that the additional hours and pay raise will more than make up for the longer commute financially.  My initial instinct is to say thank you so much for your vote of confidence, I really appreciate the offer, but no thanks.  But then a second instinct creeps up, right when I feel like I've made my decision, that says, "Stretch your wings little birdie!  Take a chance and a walk on the wild side!  And really, just think of the joys of paid vacation!"

So, you know, I've got a lot to think about over the next few days.  Not the least of which, how cute is this dress, and why shouldn't it belong to me at 60% off retail price?

Oh, eBay, you saucy temptress, you.

Sometimes You Want To Go Where Everybody Knows Your Name

*Tap, Tap*

Is this thing on?

Can you hear me out there?

Ahem, so, how's it going?  Good?  Good, glad to hear it.  Me?  Oh, I'm doing alright, you know...  Boston was fantastic, thanks for asking!  I definitely left my camera at home though, so no pictures, sadly enough.  Actually, that's not true, two things in Boston warranted dragging out the crappy iPhone camera (leaps and bounds better than the Razr, but still, no flash and no zoom makes for limited photo ops).

That right there is the headstone that supposedly inspired Nathaniel Hawthorne to write one of the great classics of American literature, The Scarlet Letter.  Doesn't just looking at it make you want to go have a torrid affair with your town reverend?

And of course, I can't pass up a funny sign, particularly when it's dog related--this one was taken on the Rose Fitzgerald Kennedy Greenway.

It was really great to see my family--there were two uncles, one aunt, a mom, a dad, a great uncle, two cousins, as well as a cousin once removed (or possibly a second cousin--haven't really determined the difference), and the birthday girl, my 90 year old grandmother in attendance.  I certainly enjoyed her birthday party, celebrating with a lobster swimming in melted butter, New England clam chowder, a tasty salad, Jolly Rancher martini, and grape nut custard for dessert (as in the no grapes, no nuts cereal--surprisingly delicious in custard form!).  I swore I would never eat again, but promptly changed my mind when we had lunch in the North End of Boston at a little Italian restaurant, followed up by a Boston Cream Puff from the amazing Mike's Pastry (I love how out of date their website is...).  My uncle took us on a phenomenal tour of Boston's historical landmarks, my favorite stop being the Old North Church of "one if by land, two if by sea" fame.

I arrived home late Tuesday night and went back to work Wednesday morning, where I was informed that my hours are being drastically cut through the end of the year for budgetary reasons.  My multi-site director is working with me to find hours at other nearby elementary schools, and supposedly beginning on January 1st, I'll be back to my 25ish or so hours a week, but until then, grumble, grumble.  I pink puffy heart my job and my adorable kids, but if my hours don't go back up as of the 1st, I'll be seeking employment elsewhere.  Sigh.

This week marks the final week of my second Master's class, and I begin my next one on the following Monday with no break to catch my breath.  Maybe that'll be a good thing though, since I won't have time to lose my momentum and fall out of the school habit.  Last night I finally got around to remedying the horrifying roots situation going on with my hair and chopping off a couple of annoying inches, and today I went on a chocolate tour in Seattle with some of my good girlfriends.  Here is pictorial evidence of both of these events combined:

New hair displayed on left, world's most delicious drinking chocolate (aka "Adult Hot Chocolate") on right, at Fran's Chocolates

And all of us girls with our chocolate haul--and another version of a slightly less delicious, but still amazing drinking chocolate at The Chocolate Box.  I swear, some of the chocolate sampled on the tour WAS chewable!

So, anyway, it's been a good week, and the fun will continue tonight with a trip BACK into Seattle to see Spring Awakening and do a little window shopping.  Because, hey, those Christmas/Birthday/Anniversary wish lists are not going to make themselves!!

The Hills Just Ain't Happening This Week

I'm just going to be honest, blogging is not top priority this week.  I feel like I'm drowning at work--I've been there from 6:15 until 9:00 in the morning and then 2:45 until 6:30 at night the past two days.  Today I worked the same morning shift and I have to go back from 12:00 until 6:30 this afternoon.  Tomorrow the kids don't have school, so we're combining with another childcare site and my hours are 7:30 to 4:00 on Thursday and Friday.  I'm working so much more than usual because my site director has been out of town, so it's been just me and a herd of screaming, unruly children, and honestly, I am about this close to snapping their necks.  This morning alone I dealt with a bloody nose, twisted ankle, and bruised knee. 

Then, in my off time, I'm trying to get all of my homework for the week finished by tomorrow, because on Friday night I'm taking the red-eye to Boston, where I'll be hanging with a large portion of my fandamnily for my Memere's (that's "grandmother" for those of you who didn't take 5th grade French) 90th birthday.  And let's not even talk about all of the laundry that has yet to be done, the packing that I'll probably be frantically trying to finish 15 minutes before departure, and the fact that the dogs have to be dropped off at the kennel at some point which I have yet to determine.

All of this to say, I probably won't even have time to watch The Hills this week, let alone recap it, because my head is busy doing something like this:

This Weekend I...

... Went to a wine tasting at a friend's house.  We had a great evening, sampling six different California zinfandels ranging from $7 to $23.50, and to our surprise, the wine that we rated as number one turned out to be on the low end of the price scale: Gnarly Head.  Also rated fairly highly, taking the third place position was the good old supermarket standby, Barefoot.  I got pleasantly tipsy, probably drinking the equivalent of a full bottle of wine and had a great night talking babies, husbands, traveling, and education with some fabulous ladies.

...Hit the books all day on Sunday, finishing my reading, discussion questions, and writing a paper.  Fortunately, I didn't have a whole lot planned for Sunday, so I was able to get it all done with just a couple of breaks wedged in for Taco Bell and Starbucks runs.  I feel like I totally earned every calorie in that Crunchwrap Supreme and Salted Caramel hot chocolate!

...Watched one of my very favorite childhood movies, the 1985 version of Alice in Wonderland.  Last week, a friend and I got to talking about the upcoming Tim Burton version, and I mentioned how much I had loved an old live action version of the book where Alice wore an orange dress and there was a really terrifying Jabberwocky.  It turns out that she loved it as a kid as well, so I looked it up online, found the DVD on Amazon for $10 and received it on my doorstep a couple of days later.  When we finished our homework last night, we decided to put it on and took a three hour trip down memory lane.  I'll admit there was a high degree of cheesiness, but I also still totally loved the movie!  Alice is adorable, the gigantic cast of 80s stars is both impressive and hilarious (Ringo Starr!  Scott Baio!  JOHN STAMOS!!!).  But of course, the most important lesson I took away from this movie:  "Jam tomorrow, jam yesterday, but never EVER jam today!"

All in all, the weekend was much better than last week, and though I'm still feeling a bit down in the dumpsish, there haven't been any hysterical crying jags in the past few days, so that's certainly a step in the right direction.  How was your weekend?

Confessions

There are some couples that when I find out they are getting a divorce, I am very sad, but also not very surprised.

My opinion of how "fat" or "thin" I am completely depends on how well a pair of pants fit, not how I look in the mirror.

I still really, really want a boob job, but have put off thinking about it until post-babies.  Every time I try on a shirt or a dress, or put on another 34A bra that I can't completely fill out, I reconsider that decision.

Whenever I realize that a blogger is about to launch into a political post, I click away from the blog.  I get enough of that in "real life".

I'm pretty sure if Playboy offered me 2 million dollars to pose in their magazine, I'd do it.  I would, however, require a LOT of airbrushing.

Sometimes I wonder if I'll ever really feel ready to have kids.  I always thought that I'd have my first child at 26.  That happens in three months and I know it's not what I want right now.

That makes me feel guilty for thinking that traveling and new shoes are more important than bringing a new life into the world.

I have written seventy pages of a book that I feel has great potential, but I don't think that I have the talent to make it as good as it should be.  I haven't so much as looked at the file on my computer for seven months, but I think about it every night when I'm lying in bed.

I am terrified of dying, because I am not completely sold on the concept of Heaven.  I wish I could make myself believe that we don't just cease to exist upon death.

Whenever I meet someone new, I always rate my attractiveness against theirs.  Completely shallow, completely automatic.

I always say that I have no regrets.  That is a lie.  I have two of them.  One I can't do anything about now, but the other I can.  I know I probably never will.

It makes me sad that I haven't received birthday or Christmas presents from my last remaining grandmother for the past few years.  I understand her reasoning, but the twelve-year-old in me is disappointed each year.

I don't like The Notebook.

Too Much To Write About, Not Enough Motivation

I have so many wonderful post ideas up my sleeve (well, actually in a word document saved on my desktop), but I just cannot seem to bring myself to sit down and write a well-crafted, linear post.  Instead, I'm just going to dump all of the random thoughts that are jumbled up in my brain and maybe later this week I'll be able to reflect in a rather more writerly fashion!

• This weekend, I went for my very first full service pedicure.  I've made no secret around here about how much I hate feet, and the idea of someone else pawing over them has always just grossed me out.  Before my wedding, I had my toenails painted, but skipped all of the other soaking and scrubbing nonsense.  Well, now I know what a mistake that was!  Mind you, I still despise feet, and I don't think anything will change that, but somehow, for those sixty minutes of pampering, I was in total heaven.  I also discovered a new must have polish for the fall, OPI Bogota Blackberry.  Buy it.  Love it  Thank me.
• I never really realized just how much I lived in "the country" until I had to find an alternate route to work when they closed the street outside of our neighborhood.  Driving along less than two miles of this back road, I pass multiple sheep, cows, and horses, a goat, a shetland pony, a vast expanse of pumpkin patches dotted amongst various other unidentified produce, and the icing on the cake?  A sign for an alpaca farm.  I feel like I need to go buy some overalls in order to fit in better.
• The Air Force has been on my poo list lately.  Colby is deployed to Location A, a relatively safe area from which they fly their missions to the less safe areas.  He's been working the desk a LOT since he's been there, which of course he hates as he is a PILOT.  Anyway, a couple of months ago, he was told that at the halfway point of the deployment, he would move to Location B--a little less safe, but still far from the worst possible place to be--and would be flying a specific mission that he's really wanted to get involved with.  Well, the halfway point came and went and he heard nothing.  Then they told him he would be going there a few weeks ago.  Then they changed their minds.  Then they told him he would be going there tomorrow.  Then they changed their minds.  You see, way back before the deployment, they told all of the experienced copilots that they really needed Aircraft Commanders for this deployment, so they started Colby and a bunch of his friends on that upgrade process.  Colby became an aircraft commander about a month ago, and now they're telling him the reason that they aren't sending him to Location B is because they need more experienced copilots.  And this is the kind of stupidity that we deal with on a regular basis.
• One of the perks of my new job is a free gym membership, which I finally got around to activating last week.  The gym has a nice indoor running track, so I've been starting back with running a little bit, testing it out to see if the shin splints come back.  I have such a love/hate relationship with running, but I definitely prefer an indoor track to running outside (People stare at you!  Dogs chase you!  Weather is completely crazy here!) or on a treadmill--although on this track, a mile is SIXTEEN LAPS.  And I always lose count.  Does anyone have any tips for keeping track of laps while running?  You know, other than depending on your brain to keep correct count.
• I'm super excited about this weekend because I'm watching the undefeated LSU Tigers play Mississippi State at a friend's house on Saturday (well, the Tigers aren't playing at her house, but we'll be watching on her television), and then on Sunday I'm going for drinks with another friend and then to see Phantom of the Opera!!  I've seen Phantom in London and on Broadway, but I've never seen a touring production and I'm quite curious to see how it will compare.  It's been almost five years since I last saw the show, and I cannot wait to experience all of the emotions that it brings out in me.  Oh, how I love Erik!

Okay, well, I think I've done enough rambling and homework procrastination for now.  I'm issuing a challenge to myself to blog at least four times this week, so that hopefully I can get back into the habit of writing here more often.  Feel free to hold me to it and send me Howlers if I don't come through on my promise!

This Weekend I...

... Started looking into tap and ballet classes after being influenced by this post from Tasterspoon and this scene from Carefree with Fred & Ginger.  I've been thinking about going back to dance ever since I moved here.  I figured it could be a good way to meet people, it would make for a couple of hours of fun exercise each week, and really I just miss dancing.  I'm not a good dancer, but I love it all the same, and some of my earliest memories involve barre work and a pair of tap shoes.  I'm hoping to rope a friend into this with me and I have until August 30th to decide for sure, but I'm already kind of excited about the prospect.

... Fell madly in love with Bela Karolyi.  I know most red blooded American women are lusting over Michael Phelps or Ryan Lochte, but I have developed very strong feelings for that Romanian devil, Mr. Karolyi.  Of course, he is an adorable older gentleman, and I have always had a weakness for adorable older gentlemen (although they generally look more like Santa Claus) (and drive 18 wheelers), but mostly I just love him because he will boldly say what everyone else is afraid to say.  He has called out the underage Chinese girls multiple times, he decried the over inflation of some of the gymnast's scores while Nastia and Shawn pulled off nearly flawless routines and still struggled to maintain the gold and silver, and then when Alicia was bumped out of medal contention on Sunday even after Cheng Fei flat out FELL on her vault, he was infuriated and close to tears.  Thanks, Bela, for saying on public television the things that I am screaming from my couch in a raging, frothy fury.

... Went to my first ever book club meeting.  I've always had this fantasy of what a book club meeting would be like.  My imaginary location would vary and the faces of the other book club members were hazy, but one thing that was always the same was that we had all read the book and were discussing the plot in great detail.  So, it was a little disappointing when it turned out I was the only one who finished the book.  We still managed to have some great discussions, talking for close to three hours, and it was really nice to meet some more people with similar interests.  And honestly, I just love me some Francie Nolan.  In my mind, she ranks right up there with my long time beloved literary heroines--Jo March, Emily Byrd Starr, Anne Shirley, Katie Scarlett O'Hara Hamilton Kennedy Butler, and sweet Anne Frank.  I'm in charge of picking our next book and am considering I Capture the Castle by Dodie Smith or Cold Comfort Farm  by Eileen Atkins--any thoughts or other recommendations?

... Officially completely destroyed my sleep schedule.  Between all of the reading I've been doing--Twilight for fun, school books for... well, school, and Brooklyn for the book club, as well as the screwy West Coast delay Olympics schedule, I've been staying up until after 3 am for a couple of weeks now.  Last night we had a very rare storm, complete with some pretty impressive thunder and lightning, and the dogs totally freaked the hell out.  I ended up staying up with them and talking to Colby until about 5:30 before I could finally fall asleep.  Unfortunately, I don't have any of that lovely Ambien pictured above, and red wine or Nyquil does nothing for me at bed time (just in the mid afternoon, of course), so I'm going to try staying awake all night and then just go to bed early on Monday and wake up at a decent hour on Tuesday.

... Finally got a call back on one of my job applications!  I'm supposed to have a group interview this week, so I'm feeling a little bit more positive about the whole job situation now.  I also turned in an application for a part time child care position with a company that came recommended by two separate people in two completely separate conversations in as many days.  One of my friends is an employee at the location I'm applying to, so I was able to put her down as a reference and submitted my application this evening.  I'd love to have the retail job because the employee discount is incredible and it seems like a nice environment, but it would be really great to have a job in child care so that I'll have that for my resume when I'm looking for a teaching position in a couple of years.  Anyway, I think the lesson that we can all learn from this is that if you bitch and moan for long enough, eventually things will start to go your way.  One day at a time.

So, that was my weekend!  Now I'm just gearing up for an exciting week that holds The Hills season premiere, and of course subsequent recap right here, an outing to see The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants 2, and the job interview.  I have a feeling my next weekend recap will be here before I know it!

Little Heart Squeezes

You know what I mean by heart squeeze, right?  When something good or bad happens and then you get that little squeezy feeling right around your heart, like a band of emotion is just closing in around your chest?  Sometimes it results in tears, sometimes my breath just starts to come a little bit faster until the band dissolves, but over the past twenty four hours I have had one after another.

• Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince was pushed back for a release date of July 17, 2009.  I am just... heartbroken.  I know that is completely ridiculous, after all IT'S JUST A MOVIE, but I am amazed at just how much I miss Harry Potter in my life, and apparently I was looking forward to this release a little bit more than I realized.  WB gave the most ridiculous reasons for the push, and I think it's not quite a coincidence that the movie version of Twilight is scheduled to be released just a couple of weeks after the original Half Blood Prince release date.  I think WB was just afraid of being knocked out of the top spot by another kid friendly, immensely popular fantasy movie.
• That women's gymnastics all around competition nearly killed me.  Granted, it was very late, and I was very tired, but I was this close to a complete Hulk type tantrum when those judges kept over-inflating the Chinese scores and giving Shawn and Nastia the most ridiculous deductions.  I think the medals were given to the right girls, but I really don't think that the competition should have been that close.  But let me tell you, there were some serious tears during that medal ceremony.  I loved watching Nastia's face as she focused on breathing and remaining upright while she stood on the podium, you could just see the realization that she had just won gold breaking over her face again and again.  That was a really beautiful moment for US gymnastics after a really tough week.
• A few months ago, my high school boyfriend's mother passed away from cancer, and that was a hard thing to accept, then I found out yesterday that the man who was my high school band teacher and the father of one of my friend's ex-boyfriends passed away a few days ago.  Sad enough on its own, but when combined with the other parent death, it hit me pretty hard.  I don't like to think about my parents as mortal beings, and I can't imagine the pain that my old friends are going through.  I feel ridiculous sending them Facebook messages with my condolences, but it doesn't feel appropriate to intrude on their lives any more than that right now.
• Every time the phone rings, I race to answer it thinking that it might be one of the companies I've applied with calling to set up an interview.  One of the managers I dropped an application with told me to my face that she'd be calling this week to set up an interview, and nothing.  Honestly, this is one of the suckiest things I've ever been through.    Yesterday my hair dresser told me that the unemployment rate for high school age kids is at its highest right now, and I tell you what--I feel their pain!  I'm putting in another couple of applications this weekend, but yesterday was a pretty low point for me when I realized that I have a college degree, I have tons of experience in the work place, as well as personal recommendations from CEOs of companies and colonels in the military, and I can't even find a job selling an effing skirt.  What the hell world?

Anyway, I could go on and on ad nauseum, but I still have a long chapter and an article to read and outline for school today and the day isn't getting any longer.  I have a pretty quiet weekend planned--just working on a 30-minute presentation on "Teaching with Purpose" and a book club meeting tomorrow, which means I should probably try to finish A Tree Grows in Brooklyn before 6:30 pm tomorrow night!

This Weekend I...

...Spent Friday evening at a local Y, enduring the most torturous abs and buns workout class of my entire life.  When I was in college, I spent a semester pledging a military fraternity--I'll have to write about that some day--and every week we would have essentially a 3 hour workout from hell.  This class wasn't quite that bad mainly because there was a lot less screaming, tobacco chewing, and camouflage involved, but wow, the pain I felt reminded me so much of those nights.  After more leg lifts and crunches than I could possibly count, I ran for a little over a mile on the indoor track.  My relationship with running is so complicated.  I really do hate it so much, but then when I haven't done it for a very long time, I start to miss it.  I felt really good stretching my legs out as I did lap after lap, but it was still nice to come home to my elliptical machine.

...Went to an amazingly stereotypical Chinese restaurant with a friend to order takeout and then came home to watch the opening ceremonies.  Unfortunately, reports came back that the Amazing Chicken was not, in fact, amazing, but how about those opening ceremonies?  Good Lord, I have never seen an Olympics like this one.  I thought that the show they put on was beautiful and so far beyond impressive.  Those boxes that went up and down to mimic water and wind and Chinese symbols were amazing, and the synchronization of all of those thousands of people literally had my jaw dropping.  Some of the parade of nations uniforms though?  I think someone needs to remind a very specific portion of Eastern Europe that the early 90's are dead and gone and that puce green is very rarely an acceptable fashion choice.

...Finished my last group project for my current class, hallelujah! It was not without a great deal of annoyance on my part, as one girl in my group seemed to labor under the delusion that deadlines were mostly just suggestions, and she didn't feel the need to respond to the many, MANY messages I sent her asking where her portion of the paper was. When she did finally deign to turn it in, two days late, it came with the response, "The paper is due tomorrow. I don't see why you're making such a fuss." Imagine, if you will, stunned silence. Anyway, it's over with and I got another A. So whatever.

...Turned in another job application and then took myself shopping as a reward for surviving my group project without murdering anyone.  I scored a couple of good deals at the Banana Republic and Ann Taylor factory stores and then decided to check out Marshalls.  I have a few friends and family members that frequent stores like Marshalls and TJ Maxx and always come away with the cutest stuff, so I thought I would try my hand at bargain hunting.  Well, apparently I need lessons.  Or maybe they were just between shipments.  Because that was the hugest collection of hideous clothes that I have ever seen in one location.  I did find a couple of potentially cute things, but they were always at least a couple sizes too big.  So, I gave up and went to Target.  I can always find something adorable for under twelve dollars there.

...Went out for a friend's birthday dinner and drinks.  We went to a really tasty Mexican restaurant where I had a super spicy tomato and polenta soup and a moderately spicy ceviche.  Mostly, the margaritas were some of the best I've ever had.  When our waitress up and vanished around 10:30 we decided to try another location for one more drink and landed at a fantastic dive of a martini bar.  I had the vodka sampler that came with a watermelon infused vodka with soda, a raspberry vodka and lemonade, and of course, the jello shot.

So, that was my weekend.  How was yours?

Blogging About Blogging = SO BORING

I've been spending the past week or so mentally composing my goodbye letter to the internet.  I think upon review of my past couple of months of blog posts, it seems more than a little bit apparent that I began reaching blog burnout long before I realized it.  I've been writing sporadically, I've been stressing over comments and page views and return visits to new visitors.  More recently I haven't been able to keep my Reader at a manageable level and feeling guilty about writing on my own blog before reading and commenting on my blog friends'.

At first I blamed it on the fact that I was busy entertaining one set of friends at my house, then visiting another set of friends in San Francisco, then having my parents in town for another full week.  Combined with school my attention was completely diverted from blogging and I spent all of my computer time writing papers or outlines and trying to keep up with email.  But then I was alone again, and once more I had plenty of time to blog.  But then I got caught up in Smallville and I started job hunting and once again, there was always something to do other than blogging--even though I was on the computer practically non-stop.  Anytime I would click over to Google Reader, I would immediately recoil in horror at the absurdly high number of unread items glaring back at me accusingly and then I would just click the X on the tab.

The thing is, I just can't keep up anymore.  Joining 20 Something Blogs was like Dorothy leaving Kansas and landing in the beautiful Technicolor world of Oz.  Prior to that day, I read mostly mommyblogs or infertility blogs, and I LOVED them all--still read them in fact--but I was so envious of the community that those bloggers had that I didn't fit into.  But with the 20 Somethings, I found blog after blog written by amazing women (sorry boys, I'm sure yours are great too!) whom I completely identified with and I promptly began adding one after another to my list of daily reads.  It was so great, but at the same time, the burden of blog interaction got a little heavier.  That unwritten, unspoken social contract that states "I comment on your blog, you comment on mine."

That was fine for the world that I was living in a few months ago.  I had a desk job and reading all of these blogs kept me sane and gave me something to do during those long, horribly boring days.  But then I quit, and I started school.  And it occurred to me that the only job I can really take on right now is an hourly, retail job, and that's not terribly conducive to blog reading throughout the day.  And eventually, I'll hopefully be working as a teacher, in a classroom all day, where I think it would be frowned upon to spend the school day glued to my phone, checking blogs.  All of these realizations have hit over the past week and I figured it was time to just throw in the towel.

But then I realized something else.

I have always loved to write.  I have two partial manuscripts and a whole slew of Word documents filled with story ideas, but every time I sit down to work on them, I am paralyzed by this overwhelming pressure.  Pressure to write something that someone else will want to read.  Pressure to write something that someone else will think is "good".  I write a few pages, and then read over it with a critical eye and I want to cry.  Because oh my God, I suck.  But blogging is writing that I used to do just for me.  Before the page views were in the triple digits, before the comments were in the double digits, I still loved it.  Before I started worrying about writing something that someone else will want to read.  That someone else will think is "good".  And I loved my community, even though it was a small one.  It's not that I don't love all of the new readers and the new blogs that I've discovered over the past year, it's just that I find myself unable to live up to my own expectations.

And so, to make this very long story longer, I'm not giving up blogging.  What I am giving up is that narcissistic hope that I'll ever be an Amalah or a Dooce, or even a Molly or an Isabel.  And I'm okay with that.  I haven't totally wiped my Google Reader slate clean, but I have pruned it back a bit.  And I may not comment on every single one of those blogs that remain, but at least now I'll be able to say that I AM reading every single one.  In a day and age where businesses and schools are focusing on getting back to basics, I'm going to try to do the same thing.  I'm going to try to find that same joy in blogging that I felt even if I didn't get a single comment on my post and my most consistent readers were my parents and a creepy Spam-Bot.  So, for now at least, you're stuck with me.  And honestly, I hope I'll be around for a very long time.  That I'll always have this living document, this story of my life, even if it's of absolutely no interest to anyone else.

Not to mention, have you seen the teaser for the next season of The Hills??  I couldn't live with myself if I didn't have this outlet for my recaps...

Letters to the Internet

Dear Typepad,

Things have been distant between us lately.  I know it.  You know it.  There's no sense in pretending that we haven't hit a rough patch.  I know that I've been ignoring you, spending very little time at home with you and then on the few occasions when I have turned on my computer, glancing guiltily at your button there on my favorites toolbar and then navigating over to my class website or Facebook.  I just want you to know, it really isn't you, it's me.  I've just had so much going on lately and I haven't made an effort to keep you a part of that life. 

But you see--it's just been so hard.  (That's what she said.)  First there were the visitors from out of town, so of course I had to take some time away to show them around Seattle and drink lots of wine and cocktails.  There was even a brief moment of rockstardom at the Experience Music Project where we morphed into the Bourbon Belles and took the stage with an enthusiastic rendition of "I Love Rock and Roll"--I was the guitar player.  Oh, and then there was the time that I went to my first major league baseball game and came this close to being smacked in the face by a speeding baseball!  I wanted to tell you about it right away, but then life got even more hectic and our distance grew.  Then there was the 4th of July weekend in San Francisco!  It was so much fun, Typepad, I wish you could have been there.  I know you would have loved to have heard the stories about hiking up Telegraph and Russian Hill and even finding Scottie's house from Vertigo on Lombard Street.  And the Korean Karaoke!  Oh, the things I could have told you about that night in a private room with seven other friends, an endless supply of Asian cocktails and a heaping collection of classics from the 80s, 90s, and today!  One day, I even won a game of Wii bowling--can you believe that?--and my tennis game really is improving.  I knew you would have been so proud of me if only you could have seen it.

I'm so sorry that I've kept all of this from you for so long, and I hope that we can find a way to make this relationship work.  I have a pile of homework to get through now, and my parents are coming to visit tomorrow for a week--you've met them, they really like you--so I can't promise that everything will be back to normal right away, but please know that I'm thinking of you often and missing you desperately.  It's not often in life that you can find a connection like the one that we have, and I want you to know that even when it seems like I don't care, I really do.  You are the cheese to my macaroni.  The Harry to my Sally.  You complete me.  I'll never let go.

Yours always (even when I have better things to do than blog),

Dear Google Reader,

You are killing me.

Go to hell,

WTF??

I was planning to write about our time in Rome today, but that has been trumped by a very bizarre incident that has just taken place.  An incident that I'm hoping maybe the internet will be able to explain away so that I am able to sleep tonight.

Because you see, I have just discovered that there is a very strong possibility that I am being haunted by a coin collecting ghost.

I suppose out of all of the different variations of paranormal phenomena to inhabit ones house, the spirit of a numismatist with a penchant for 19th century coinage would probably be one of my safer bets.  But still, y'all, I am more than a little weirded out.

Let me explain.  I spent the early part of the afternoon catching up on season 3 of Weeds on my computer, and when I got to episode six, the video was taking a little longer than usual to load.  Instead of sitting around, watching the percentage bar increase, I decided to do a little much needed housework.  Well, before I knew it, an hour and a half had gone by, it occurred to me that Weeds had probably finished loading.

So, I finished wiping down the counters and then moseyed back over to the sofa to resume my previous Weeds watching position.  Before I hit play I did a quick email and Facebook check, and that's when I saw it--a secondary window hiding behind the Firefox window I was using.  I clicked on the window, mildly curious, but mostly thinking it would just be an ad, and what to my wondering eyes should appear?  No, not an ad--an eBay search results page.

The search term?  Morgan Dollar.  And in case you're wondering, like I was

The Morgan Dollar is a silver United States dollar coin. The dollars were minted from 1878 to 1904 and again for one more year in 1921. The Morgan Dollar is named after its designer, George T. Morgan, who designed the obverse and reverse of the coin. Morgan's monogram appears near Lady Liberty's neck on the obverse. The dollar was authorized by the Bland-Allison Act of 1878. It has a fineness of .900, giving a total silver content of 0.77344 (24.057 grams) per coin.

Thanks Wikipedia!  Also, HUH???

Fortunately, it does seem that my coin loving ghost is not a permanent resident of my house, as he (or she!) set the shipping calculator to a different zip code.  However, if you happen to live in or around Carson City, Nevada, you may want to keep a close eye on your change, or at least any Morgan Dollars that you happen to have lying around.

Thank God Colby is coming home tonight and I won't have to go to bed alone, because for the next few days, every single noise I hear in the dead of night will have me convinced that a being from another world has come to raid our change bowl or use my computer.  And I mean, I know that my shiny white MacBook is very pretty, but seriously ghost, use some of that change you love so much to buy your own!

Well, That Was... Awkward

Supervisor IM:  I'm writing your going away email right now.  What should I tell people you'll be doing next?

Angela IM:  Hm.  Maybe just something along the lines of "pursuing job opportunities closer to home."

Angela IM:  Oh, and catching up on daytime soaps!

No response from Supervisor

Angela IM:  Just kidding...

Supervisor:  Okay, so I can highlight your commute time?

********

Scene: Waiting at the elevator bank.

Big Boss: I really like that coat.

Angela:  Oh thanks!

Big Boss:  Yes it's very...

Angela: (Nods encouragingly)

Big Boss:  It's very... like the Gestapo!

A brief moment of silence passes.

Angela:  Except I'm not a Nazi. 

********

Colby:  (Tugs on the back pocket of my jeans)  You've got big pants!

Angela:  WHAT?!

Colby: No, I mean, they're just...

Angela:  Did you just tell me I have big pants?!

Colby:  I mean, the pants aren't big, it's just you're so small--

Angela: (Casts a withering look)

Colby: --it just makes the pants look big.

Angela: ...

Colby:  I'm just going to shut up now.

Quarter Life Crisis: Round Two

My struggles with depression and attempts to define myself have been pretty well documented here over the past few years.  Sometimes, when I want a really surreal trip down memory lane, I just click over there on that depression category, and I read the posts that were written just over a year ago, and I feel like I'm reading about someone else's life.  My method of coping with those memories has been to just completely erase 2006 and late 2005 from my mind.  It was a pretty dark period in my life, and I don't really like to look back.

Lately though, I've been looking back.  I've been trying to gauge what I've been feeling lately against what I was feeling then.  Checking my Crazy Barometer if you will.  The last thing I want to do is put Colby through the hell of an unmedicated, depressed Angela, so every morning I lick my finger and test the winds of Crazy, trying to determine if what I'm feeling is really depression rearing its ugly head once more, or just confusion.

The thing is, I don't feel like driving my car off of an overpass, I don't lay in bed crying every night, and I don't feel like a totally empty shell of a person.  Yes I'm a little grumpier than usual, and yes, my patience is a little shorter than it should be, but I don't feel like it's time to start medicating my brain again.  And yet, still I don't feel quite right.

Then I found this post, from almost two years ago, and it hit me.  That's exactly what this is.  I'm going through my Quarter Life Crisis version 2.0.  I thought it was over and done with, that I had come to terms with who I am as a person, but I'm beginning to think that these little existential crises just never really stop happening.  All of those things I questioned then--whether I would ever find true love, whether I would ever be a published writer, whether I really belonged in the military--have been answered.  I thought that once I was married, published, and a civilian, everything would fall into place.  Magically, my life would have meaning, and I would know why I was put on this earth.

Thing is though?  I'm just as lost now as I was then.  Only now I'm even more confused, because all this time I just thought that if I could accomplish X, Y, and Z, everything would be perfect and I would never have to question my role in life again.

But now I'm once again on the brink of unemployment, spending my afternoons trolling through job listings, waiting for something to jump out at me.  Waiting to feel a pull in a certain direction.  Who will I be next?  What is my calling in life?  What if my calling in life already happened, and I was too busy watching Dancing with the Stars to pay attention?  What is wrong with me that never in my life have I had any sort of passion for a career?  Sure, there's writing, but I haven't done such a great job of making a career out of that.   I've always wanted three things:  to be a wife, a mother, and a writer.  I have two out of three of those things under my belt, and I still feel like I'm floundering.

So then I start wondering once more, am I supposed to be a mom now?  If that's the only thing left that I've always wanted, is that what I'm supposed to do now?  Once every two or three weeks, that starts to sound like a really great idea.  It is generally after I've spent some time with a very well behaved child, or wandered aimlessly through the Target baby section.  I start to feel those maternal twinges, and I think, "Yes, this is what I need."  But then I spend a weekend sleeping in until 10:30, lounging on the couch all day watching America's Next Top Model marathons, planning our trip to Italy and future dream trips to Costa Rica and Paris, and I think, "No, actually, I think this is what I need.  This and a Cadbury Cream Egg will do nicely, thank you."

In two years will I look back on this entry, and laugh sardonically as I hoist a baby on my hip and try to do ten loads of laundry one handed while Colby is deployed to Madrid for 6 months?  How's that for your life long dream, Ang.  Good job pinning all of your hopes on this!  Will I ever have that lightning bolt moment where I realize, "This is IT.  This is your life!  Embrace it!"  Or am I going to spend the rest of my life wondering what the hell I'm doing and if I left the gas on at home?

Deep Breaths In.... and Out...

I need to find a pillow so that I can scream into it desperately for the next five minutes or so.  Maybe then I'll feel a little bit better.

I'm giving my notice at work today.  I have my resignation letter all typed up, and I've spent the past 24 hours rehearsing my speech in my head in the hopes that my propensity to word vomit won't overcome me while I'm meeting with my boss.  I just really hope that we're all able to part on good terms, and no one harbors any resentment toward me for not sticking this out longer.

Confrontation.  It is not my favorite.  My method for breaking up with a boys or ending friendships has always been to just stop calling in the hopes that eventually they would get the message.  Horrible?  Yes.  Do I still really wish that were an option with my job right now?  Absolutely.

So now I'm just sitting in my chair, shaking like a leaf from a combination of nerves and the lack of heat in our office, waiting for my boss to get here so that I can set up a little meeting with her for early this afternoon.  Oh please God, let me get this over with!

Additionally, I have still not been able to figure out what the heck is going on with my domain registration.  I bought the URL through Wordpress, and I've attempted to contact them with my questions twice and haven't heard anything back yet.  I'm starting to get the idea that wickedlyscarlett.com is gone for good--or at least the next year--and that makes me sad, because I'd already formed a deep attachment to it.  We had all kinds of plans for the future together, and now they're all coming to pieces.  I will not be ignored, Wordpress!

But all is not lost.  There is still the prospect of Colby's birthday dinner tonight, and I feel confident that a well made cocktail could help pull me from the depths of despair.  And of course, Easter has managed to sneak up on me once again, and we've made plans to go over to my pretend mom's house on Sunday to celebrate the day that Jesus rose from the dead and rabbits customarily hide eggs.

If I can only get through the rest of this day without throwing up or hurling my computer against a wall, I think I might be off to the start of a rather pleasant weekend.  Here's hoping!!

It's My Party... Well, Not Really

Colby's birthday is on Friday.  He'll turn 28, so of course I've been teasing him about how ridiculously old he's getting, because that is what I do every day of my life.  And so, this means that in three years I'll be crying over my 28th birthday dinner because, hey, remember when I was making fun of you for being so old?  Believe me, I can vividly remember poking fun at him at his 23rd birthday because oh my God, he was sooooo oooooold and it did not feel good when my own 23rd year rolled around.  What can I say, everyone seems old from the vantage point of twenty.

Anyway, back on topic, Colby's birthday.  Friday.  Twenty-eight.  We agreed at Christmas that his present would cover his birthday as well, since I spent my entire life's savings on his Nikon, so I don't have to stress about a present, but I am stressing a bit over what we should do to celebrate his big day.  Being together on his birthday is still kind of a novelty--I mentioned before that we spent his 23rd together.  We'd only been "officially" dating for a couple of months and I was thrilled when he invited me along to dinner with his parents.  I didn't start blogging until late 2005, so the memories of the 24th and 25th birthdays are completely lost to me (thank God for this website, I am continuously using it as reference material for my own life), on his 26th birthday we were on a relationship hiatus, and last year we were somewhere around Wyoming on our great trek across the country moving me to Washington.  So, what I'm saying here is that I'd really like to make some damn memories.  (And then write about them so I can remember them next year.)

And here is where the irony comes into play.  I love, love, love planning parties.  I do!  Planning my wedding was some of the most fun I've ever had, and I'm not exaggerating in the slightest when I say I would do it again in a heartbeat.  When I was in the Air Force, I was the go to girl for planning promotions, retirements, going away parties, you name it, I would happily plan it.  But the reason I loved planning these parties so much, was because I knew that there was a guaranteed group of attendees.  Outside of major life events, and parties for other people, I live my life absolutely petrified that no one will show up for my own parties.  This makes planning fun nights out and classy dinner parties at our house less than enjoyable.

I can't for the life of me think of what sparked this fear.  From what I remember, the birthday parties I had throughout the years were always well attended, and when I do get up the courage to host a party, the house ends up pretty well filled.  I may not know where this horrible fear stems from, but it is really crippling when it comes to planning parties.

So, anyway, I'm trying to get over this fear.  Really, I am.  I've been tossing around the idea of having a murder mystery party after we come home from Italy and before Colby heads off for his summer deployment, and I've been thinking it might be fun to have a pajama party with some of the other wives and girlfriends while all of our handsome soldiers are off fighting the good fight.  In the meantime, I've suggested Can-Can to Colby for this weekend, and told him that I'd drive so he can get liquored up if he so chooses, but I'm leaving the inviting of friends up to him.  And the nice thing about marriage is that even if no one else wants to come, I know that we'll still have a wonderful birthday celebration all on our own, and that there's always at least one person who is obligated to show up at my parties!

Monday, Monday

Friday night I had the last of a box of Strawberry Frosted Mini-Wheats and a bowl of popcorn for dinner.  Saturday night was Kraft Mac & Cheese from the blue box (with extra cheese thrown in, quelle surprise).  Sunday was barbecued chicken marinated in lime juice, soy sauce, and garlic, on a bed of salsa and Mexican rice, topped off with a layer of melted cheese.

Guess which night Colby was home?

He pulled into the driveway a little after 9 o'clock on Saturday night, just as I was reaching the exciting conclusion of Bunny Lake is Missing.  I was alerted to his arrival by Ellie leaping up from a dead sleep and then hurtling at the speed of light toward the front door before Colby's keys were even in the lock.  He unloaded all of the presents he'd brought back (eight or nine bottles of wine, pasta alla caprese from the chow hall in Germany, and a Sicilian trinacria) and then we curled up on the couch so that I could finish my movie and Colby could laugh at it.

Yesterday was spent absolutely rooted to the couch, cuddled up under a blanket.  I opted not to do a pictorial review of my weekend today, because it would look something like this:

Thrilling, eh?

And that was how we celebrated the one year anniversary of our engagement.  Is it safe to say that the honeymoon is over?  No, I kid, I kid.  Of course it would sound lovely if I told you that we spent the day gazing soulfully into one another's eyes, taking turns reciting love poems over a plate of chocolate covered strawberries while a symphony of angels sang a chorus from the rooftops.  But in reality, curled up on the couch watching tv is exactly the way I always wished that we could spend our weekends together when we were living on opposite sides of the country.  So really, the honeymoon has only just begun!

Anyway, today I'm back at work and oh my goodness, does it ever feel like a Monday.  I don't know how it works out that whenever I decide to wake up just a little bit early so I can actually brush my hair, rather than just throwing it up in a ponytail, I walk outside and it's cold, windy, and rainy.  I think I'm finally beginning to understand why people around these parts just don't much bother with hair and makeup.

(Completely off topic, but is Google Reader updating incredibly slowly for anyone else?  It's been taking my posts 3 or 4 hours to show up in my reader, and I don't know if it's something I'm doing or if it's just a feed thing.)

My Dream Job List

An unfulfilled vocation drains the color from a man's entire existence.
~Honore de Balzac, "Scenes de la vie Parisienne," La Maison Nucingen, 1838

My level of stress about leaving my job has now begun manifesting itself in snappish remarks to anyone who dares speak to me and a constant eyelid twitch.  I'm like Popeye with severe rage issues.  Additionally, according to WebMD, I'm going blind from staring at the computer 24/7. 

Many years ago, when I was a charming young naif, I dreamed of the day that I would be sitting behind a computer, muttering sarcastic comments under my breath while my eyelid fluttered uncontrollably.  And just look at me today!  Living the dream, people!  Living the dream.

I've been thinking a lot about my childhood dreams lately, and just how far short of the mark I'm hitting on a daily basis.  In all fairness to myself, the vast majority of my childhood dreams were ridiculous.  And so, to make myself feel better about continuously failing meet my own expectations, I'll share those more far fetched dreams with you today.

Ballerina

Oh, how I wanted to be a ballerina.  I began taking ballet classes long before I can even remember, and I so loved the beautiful costumes and ballet slippers that the older girls wore.  I can remember sitting, hunched against the wall, watching the girls practicing en pointe, dreaming of the day that I would be just like them.  When I was in 5th grade, our wonderful teacher left our school, and she was replaced by a woman who would sit on our backs to "help" us with our splits.  It was around this time that I began to realize that becoming a ballerina would take a great deal of practice and require eating far fewer Cheetos than I would have liked.  At nine years old, I hung up my ballet shoes for good.

Psychiatrist

I'm honestly not sure what sparked my obsession with psychiatry, but this dream lasted from 7th grade through early 9th.  At some point along the way I discovered that if I really wanted to become a psychiatrist, I would have to go to medical school, and that didn't seem like so much fun.  Then I found out that a psychology degree required a statistics course.  NEXT!

FBI Agent

Mostly I just wanted to marry David Duchovny.  Once I started to figure out that television shows are not real, and I would never be able to help Mulder track down creepy aliens, I kicked this idea to the curb.  But not before I read up a great deal on FBI application procedures.  Did you know you have to learn how to fire an actual weapon?  Scary!  So, you know, then I joined the Air Force.  No guns there, thank goodness!

Cupcake Shop Owner

This one still sounds kind of fun sometimes for two reasons.  1) Cupcakes are delicious.  2) Frosting is delicious.  But then I remember that I would have to make the cupcakes every day, probably quite early in the morning.  Also, it would be beneficial to me to work rather long hours with the end goal of not going out of business.  Neither one of those things sound very enjoyable, so instead I just frequent other people's cupcake shops.  It's win-win I think.

Astronaut

I went through a period of intense obsession with all things NASA related in elementary school.  It was sparked by a classroom exercise of writing a letter to an astronaut to tell them about ourselves.  I wrote my letter to Bonnie Dunbar, and was thrilled when I received a letter back from her (read: NASA's PR department) along with some glossy 8x10s of her headshot and their crew group photo.  I was entranced and spent the next year begging my parents to buy a telescope (which I seem to remember they did do, but it disappeared shortly thereafter) and reading books and magazines about the stars.  Then I saw Apollo 13.  Dude, nobody told me you could get STUCK out there in space.  Screw that.

So please, make me feel better about myself.  Are you living your childhood dreams, or would your nine-year-old self arch an eyebrow, curl their lip and swear they'd never turn out like you?

Valentine's Day Optimism

I held the giant hairbrush in my hand and belted out the words to "Strawberry Wine", Melissa stood behind me, a hair straightener held to her lips, my backup vocals.  The other girls sat on the beds, giggling and singing along to the chorus.  When the song was over, we collapsed to the floor, laughing hysterically, reaching for the bright red Bartles & James Strawberry Daiquiris.  It was Valentine's Day during my freshman year in college, and we were all together, single and loving it.  The fluorescent lighting flickered overhead, and the radio was blaring the mixed cd we'd labored over earlier in the day.

We talked about going out, but every time we decided to go, a new, better song would come on and we were forced against our wills to dance around the dorm room, screeching the lyrics and opening more wine coolers.

"Who do you want to be your Valentine?" Melissa asked pointedly, a sly grin crossing her face.

I shrugged my shoulders and blushed mightily.

"I bet you want Colby to be your Valentine!" she crowed, and my embarrassed giggling said it all.

Two years later, I was sitting across the table from Colby at a bustling Italian restaurant.  It was our second date and I was still in awe of the fact that he had asked me to be his Valentine.  I'm pretty sure I ate fettuccine alfredo, but I honestly don't remember a thing about that night aside from where we ate and how bummed I was that my carefully curled hair was stick straight by dessert.

The next year, my senior year in college, we returned to the same Italian restaurant.  We had celebrated our one year anniversary the weekend before, and I would be lying if I said I wasn't keeping my fingers crossed for a romantic proposal.  (What can I say, I'm from the deep south, when I got married last year at 24, I was practically an old maid.)

That was our last Valentine's Day together.  Over the next few years, the distance, a brief but heartbreaking split up, and a deployment all conspired to keep us apart.  This year I was thrilled that we were finally living under the same roof, that we would be celebrating our first Valentine's Day as a married couple.  That we would be celebrating five years of unforgettable Valentine's Days.  Today, Colby is on the other side of the country, where he's been since last Friday, awaiting a possible, but unlikely deployment.

If I'm being totally honest, I'll admit that I'm disappointed.  We were hoping that tomorrow we would be flying to New York City to visit friends, see Rent before it closes, spend our weekend wandering the streets of Manhattan.  So, of course, I wish that things could be different.  But then I would be wishing for another life.  When I started dating Colby all of those years ago, when I waved him off as he drove away from home and started pilot training, when I stood in the audience and clapped as he got his wings and then his assignment to a far corner of the country, when I promised to love him for all of the days of my life, this is the life I willingly accepted.

I will never be happy to see him leave for two weeks or four months or a year.  I will always cry a little bit that first night, and rage against the Air Force when they use so little common sense in their logistics.  But I will always be fiercely proud of him and what he does for his country every single day.  I will always support him from near as well as afar and I recognize that I will probably spend more hours talking to him on the phone than sharing dinner table conversation.

Our holidays will often be spent apart, or rearranged to fit our schedules.  And this probably won't be the last Valentine's Day that I spend home alone watching Love, Actually.  But even still, I would choose this life of uncertainty and belated holidays with him in it before I would ever choose a life without him.  I will never consider myself anything but the luckiest girl alive to have found this gem of a man who is my Valentine every day of the year.

Happy Valentine's Day!

Blogging is Kind of Like Match.com For Friends

A couple of months ago, Colby and I decided to use some of our wedding gift card money to buy new bedding for the master bedroom.  We have almost the entire house finished now, with the typical exception of our own room.  The walls are painted, and while I hate the blah, neutral color we decided on, it does provide quite the blank slate for decorating.  So, we ordered bedding from Pottery Barn, and then sat back and awaited its arrival while I dreamed up window treatment ideas.

Eventually the package arrived at our doorstep, but unfortunately, the duvet cover was too large and so back in the box it went for the exchange.  The box then sat on my counter for about a week until I remembered to bring it with me to work, where it then resided under my desk while I worked up the energy to take the elevator ALL THE WAY downstairs and then make the brutal trek next door to the UPS Store.

Finally, a couple of weeks ago, I bundled up, tucked the box under my arm and made the long journey next door.  I filled out the shipping paperwork, and then zoned out while waiting for the woman in front of me to go through every possible shipping option available for three different packages all going to different locations.  I was staring off into middle distance, quite possibly slack-jawed when a voice floated into my consciousness:

"Are you... Angela?"

I turned around, trying not to look totally dazed and saw a pretty, and oddly familiar brunette standing behind me in line.  I immediately started flipping through the mental Rolodex, trying to place the face...  A wife or girlfriend of someone in Colby's squadron?  Someone I had met through work?  An old school friend that had relocated to the Northwest?

Thankfully, once I had answered in the affirmative, she was kind enough to identify herself as Ashley, one of my more recently acquired blog friends.  Of course, as soon as she said her name, I immediately recognized her from her picture, and we spent the next few minute laughing about the surreal meeting that had just taken place.  On top of randomly deciding to visit the same UPS Store at the same time, it was revealed that we actually work in the same building.

My world just keeps getting smaller, and smaller.

Last week, after a bit of back and forth emailing, we scheduled lunch together along with another long-time blog friend, Dawn, who has recently relocated to Seattle from Chicago.  I had a great time meeting them "in real life", and as always was taken aback by how very much it felt like I'd already known them for ages.  This weekend, Ashley and I got together again, with one of her incredibly sweet and funny friends and one of my friends, and went for drinks and a movie downtown.

It's a little crazy how many of my friends have come from the world of the internet--be it the long distance relationship message board that sustained me through my trials and tribulations while dating Colby from across the country, or the people who have shared their lives with me through their blogs from across the world.  I have trouble opening up to people in real life--I form lots of friendly acquaintances with really wonderful people, but very rarely do I let people get too far beyond that level of friendship.  I have a small and wonderful group of extremely close friends--most of whom run in very separate circles themselves--and I cherish them with all of my heart.  They are the people that you can live 2,000 miles away from and talk to on the phone once a month and still feel just as close to them as you did when you were next door neighbors, or roommates, or international travel buddies.  But by blogging, and letting you all into my life in a very private way, there's a sort of bond that is formed that can often translate into real life friendship very easily, but unfortunately not nearly as often as it should.

Anyway, I guess this is just a big thank you to all of you who have let me have a peek into your life and have supported me and laughed with me and cried with me throughout the years.  It's very easy at times to get overwhelmed by the feed reader, to open up Typepad and wonder why on earth I do this.  And then I randomly run into a lovely person at the UPS Store that I probably never would have spoken to if it weren't for our penchant for sharing our thoughts with the internet, and I'm reminded why I keep coming back day after day.  I could very easily keep a private diary, or password protect my posts, but then I wouldn't know all of YOU.  And where's the fun in that!

Love in 2008

The first thing I noticed about him was how tall he was.  In a room full of uniformed men, he stood a head above them all, and he had the kindest face.

I was seventeen, high school was only three months behind me and I'd never been so scared in all of my life.  I think he smiled at me.  Or maybe he smiled at someone sitting near me.  Either way, I was instantly in love.

I mooned over him from afar.  I became friends with his friends, and discovered that he had a girlfriend.  I was crushed, but had the arrogance of youth.  I knew my time would come.

The music was pounding, the light was dim and the room was packed with people.  I wore my favorite shirt and my highest heels.  I was giggling with my girlfriends.  I was eighteen, with my whole life in front of me.  Someone whispered in my ear, "He broke up with her today."

The next day I went on a first date with another man.  He was in love, or so he said.  It was the definition of a whirlwind romance.  It was the definition of dysfunction.  Fourteen months later, it was over.  I was nineteen and my world had shattered.

Another four months passed, and I was healing.  That day the sun was shining and I felt a sense of peace as I walked amongst my fellow students, beneath the tall, shady oaks.  I kept my head down, sadness still in my heart.  I heard him say my name.  The first thing I noticed was how tall he was, and he had the kindest face.  He greeted me with arms outstretched.  I hugged him back and waved as he walked away.

This time he had smiled at me.  Instantly I was in love.

The music was pounding, the light was dim and the room was packed with people.  He was standing there on the other side of the room.  "I'm going to do it tonight, or never," I whispered to a friend as I went to him.  The hours passed, but they felt like minutes.  He kissed me.  Or I kissed him.  It didn't matter in the end.

Twenty years old, and my heart was breaking.  The distance is too hard.  We're too young.  Live your life and I'll live mine.  Maybe someday...  I kept believing.  I had learned that the end of love isn't the end of the world.

He came to visit after Christmas.  Standing side by side, as we watched the otters play in their pool, I knew that it wasn't over.   He held my hand.  Or I held his hand.  It didn't matter in the end.

Twenty-one.  Twenty-two.  Years go by.  The laughter outweighed the tears, but still we knew that the distance was too hard.  A long distance relationship can only work when there's hope that the distance can end someday.  We didn't talk about the cracks forming below the surface.  It felt like the beginning of the end again, but I did nothing to stop it.

How many times can a person survive a heartbreak?  How can something that hurts so much not kill you?  How do people expect you to keep living?  Twenty-three years old, starting over again.

Somewhere along the way life regained its glow.  I could smile without hiding tears and for the first time in a long time I felt whole again.

He wanted to be friends.  Three months.  Five months.  Six months go by.  I knew that we were more than friends, but it took him much longer to realize it.  He came for a visit.  Standing there, watching the dogs playing in the water I knew that it wasn't over.  Before he boarded the plane he leaned down to kiss me.  "I love you," he whispered.

The first thing I noticed was how tall he was.  In a room full of uniformed men, he stood a head above them all, and he had the happiest face.  Twenty-four years old and my whole life stretched before me.  "Are you ready?" she whispered as she arranged my veil.

I'm seventeen years old again as I take my first steps down the aisle.  He smiles at me, and only me.  I am instantly and always in love.

(Entered into the February Write-Away Contest)

Maybe Baby, Maybe Not

When I was single, everyone was asking me if there was "anyone special" in my life.  When I was dating, everyone was asking about "the big question".  When I was engaged, everyone was asking about wedding plans and where our honeymoon would be.  Now that I'm married, I'm somewhat shocked to find that all of those cliches about baby pressure are surprisingly true.

It's only been two months since the wedding, and I've already had multiple people ask me if I am pregnant (because I was home sick with a stomach bug), whether I wanted to have kids soon, and when Colby and I were planning to start a family.  It seems as though everywhere I turn people are pregnant, having babies, or trying to get pregnant.  If one day could go by that I didn't have to think about BABIES, I would be a blissfully happy girl.

And a lot of the conflict I'm feeling stems from the fact that I do want babies.  If I woke up tomorrow and found out that I was pregnant, it wouldn't be the devastating discovery that it would have been five years ago.  I do want a family and I do want to eventually be a stay at home mom.  But while there are some days that I feel like, "Hey, babies sure are super cute, maybe that would be fun!" those days are by far outweighed by the days that I feel like, "Hey, babies sure are super cute, thank God I don't have one of those to deal with right now!"

I don't know why I'm feeling so overwhelmingly pressured about this.  It isn't as though my mom or Colby's mom is calling multiple times a week asking whether they'll get to meet their grandchildren before they die.  Colby seems perfectly happy with our mutual decision to wait until at least our next assignment before introducing miniature people into the world.  And for chrissake, did I mention yet that we've only been married for two months??

The only conclusion I can reach is that this pressure is spawned by my ridiculously competitive nature, which OH MY GOD, is not a reason to have kids.  I don't feel like I need to compete with other people specifically, but with Mother Nature and convention.  It's like the mentality of an 19th century Jane Austen heroine has been embedded in my brain.  I have my education, I've dabbled in the world outside of my parents' house, I've found my Captain Wentworth, and now it's time to start popping out babies.  I want to be the best at what I do, and if that means having babies is the customary next step after getting married, my brain is screaming at me to get busy woman, we don't have all day here!

On top of that, I have this horrible and unfounded fear that when we do decide to start trying for a baby, we'll find out that one or the other of us is not so well equipped in the fertilization department.  And what if it's too late at that point to do anything about it?  And then I spend the rest of my days wondering why I spent so much of my life trying SO HARD not to get pregnant when I could have been more effectively using my time.

(Right now, Colby is screaming into his pillow in terror.)

But the thing is, I want to be able to decide at the drop of the hat that I want to see the Vegas strip.  I want to be able to spend my money on frivolous shoes that I really, REALLY don't need and a new party dress that I'm sure to find an occasion to wear.  I want to be able to go out and get deliciously drunk and not worry about finding a babysitter.  I want to use our spare room as the exercise room, or guest room, or office, not as the nursery.  I don't want to spend my days listening to a screaming baby, disciplining a mischievous toddler, or grounding a rebellious teenager.  I don't want to get fat.

I know that I'm not ready for babies, so why is it that they invade my every thought?  Please tell me that this is perfectly normal and this too shall pass.  And how do I know when I really am ready to have a baby or when it's just a passing fancy that I will totally be over in a matter of days?

I swear.  If there is absolutely nothing going on in my life to angst over, I will turn anything into a total drama fest, won't I?