Tomorrow Is Another Day...

Quality Over Quantity

It's not much of a secret that Colby and I don't get to spend a whole heck of a lot of time together.  With his job, he averages about 6 months out of the year away from home, and last year was one of the worst with him being gone over 200 days of the year.  The worst part is that frequently, his trips are unexpected and it's difficult to plan anything--even a backyard barbecue--without specifically taking vacation time to guarantee that he won't be somewhere on the other side of the world.

We've accepted that this is just the way things are going to be for at least the next year and a half, and it's pretty unlikely that things will improve dramatically at our next base, but this past month and a half has been particularly frustrating as he had to live on base for one week, then was in Africa for two weeks, then I went to Disney World for a week, and then he left just days later for a two week trip to Asia.  Since he got back home on Monday, he's had time off and we've been trying to make the most of it while he's home.

Every now and then I start thinking about looking for a job, just to have something to do on a regular basis and funnel more money into my Shoes & Travelling account, but then there are the times like these where I'm lucky enough to be able to spend time with Colby during his strange "weekends".  I think part of my misery in Washington was not only due to the weather, but the fact that between my work schedule and Colby's work schedule, I felt that I never really got to see my husband except for the few hours I could keep my eyes open between dinner and bedtime and the rare weekends we had together.  I love having the flexibility to spend time together whenever the Air Force decides that we can have it.

So far this week we've spent time at the dog park, indulged in delicious meals out at favorite restaurants, headed out to Folly Beach for a perfect day with sun, sand and waves, and this evening we're hoping to take in a Piccolo Spoleto show before the festival passes us by.  It's been a lovely week together, and as of right now, it looks like I'll have him around until the beginning of July when he'll once more be jetting off for a week-long school and then heading to New Mexico to visit a friend for a guys' week.  After that, we'll have just a few more months before he leaves for his next long deployment.

But the best thing I can do is not focus on how little time we have together, but instead think of all the fun things that can be squeezed into a South Carolina summer--the Biltmore is beckoning, we've got a variety of beautiful beaches to choose from, and things are looking up for another trip to Europe in August.  We may not spend a lot of time under the same roof, but what time we do have together we make count as best we can.

The Anti-Announcement

There are approximately 6 million pregnancies ever year in the United States.

2.1 million women of the same age range are considered “infertile” (unable to become pregnant naturally over the course of 12 months).

An average woman in her mid-20s with excellent reproductive health has approximately a 20-25% chance of becoming pregnant each cycle.

The average couple in their mid-20s will try for five cycles before conceiving.

On average, 20% of couples do not get pregnant in their first year of trying. 95% succeed within two years.

If you had asked me six months ago how a woman conceives, I would have told you step 1) toss out the contraceptives, step 2) get it on till the break of dawn with your main squeeze, step 3) pee on a stick, step 4) baby.

Today, I could give an impromptu presentation on Basal Body Temperature, cervical mucous, various positions that could increase the odds of conceiving, how charting can improve a woman’s understanding of her cycle, what supplements can prolong the luteal phase, and the evils of a blue dye pregnancy test.

Essentially, now I realize how absolutely ignorant I was about how the reproductive system actually functions and what a miracle it is that anyone gets pregnant EVER. If you think you learned anything in that 2-week long unit on Human Reproduction in your high school Health class, I expect you’ve also got a lot to learn.

Six months ago, I thought you either got pregnant or you were infertile. I didn’t think about this secret group of women who were on a long journey of just “trying”. That despite the informal poll I conducted in my head of all the people I knew who went off birth control and got pregnant overnight, statistics show that there is a silent majority who spent months and months on the process before they finally got those two pink lines. It’s just that no one likes to talk about that part.

After one month of trying unsuccessfully, we were disappointed, but still optimistic. Two months in, and my optimism began to wilt. Three months in, I was charting my brains out and “trying” was verging on a military operation. As we enter the fourth month, it’s becoming increasingly difficult not to obsess, and the beginning of every cycle has become an enormous kick in the gut. Particularly when my body has decided to get its jollies by faking pregnancy symptoms like the past three months of near constant nausea and the joys of tender and swollen boobs post-(alleged) ovulation.

I’ve struggled with how much I want to publicly share this journey. It’s certainly a very private struggle for most women, and I think every woman who wants to have children, has this dream of blushingly and joyously announcing to an unexpecting world, that she is pregnant. That biology hasn’t failed her. That conceiving was a magical, dreamlike experience. Not that she cried every time she had to mark the start of a new cycle on a new chart. That she peed on seventeen sticks over the course of a particularly promising week. That she choked down horse-tranquilizer sized supplements on a daily basis. That she spent almost every evening with her hips elevated, hoping fervently that this time it would take.

That every month it didn’t work, and another friend announced her pregnancy, she bought a gift for a baby shower, or held an infant in her arms, she didn’t feel like a complete failure as a woman. Knowing that others have had to endure much greater trials, but recognizing that at a certain point, they probably also clung desperately to the same dwindling hope as she does that this month will be different.

But I feel compelled to share this experience. That there needs to be a voice saying, no, not every woman gets pregnant just from being in the same room as her husband and that is normal. Sometimes it takes time. If you are feeling this sense of defeat, and the world is telling you to “just relax”, you are not alone. I am not alone.

I would never equate what we are going through right now to the struggles of infertility. I know, and hope against hope, chances are good that we just need a few more months and we too will be making our joyful announcement. If it’s true that the average couple spends five cycles trying to conceive, we’re still well inside the window of “average”. But I also know that every month that ticks by puts us closer and closer to a frightening diagnosis. That something real might be wrong. Something that might not be fixable. Something that I’ve been afraid of since the moment I realized some women just can’t make babies.

I’ve spent so many years doing everything within my power to not get pregnant—cooing over other people’s little bundles of joy, then returning thankfully to my child-free life with my freedom to travel, plan a last minute date night, sleep in all day on a weekend, spend a rainy day with a book and silence. I don’t regret a single day of the past years that Colby and I have had to be selfish and to worry only about our own wants and needs. I treasure that time, and every day that goes by without a baby is another day that we can focus on strengthening our own relationship and relishing that freedom. But there is a bitter irony in the fact that for so long we tried so hard not to have a baby, and now that it’s what we want it has become such a struggle.

In a perfect world, this week I would be sitting down right now to write a sappy, but heartfelt, post announcing how thrilled Colby and I are to be entering the second trimester of a pregnancy. Instead, there is this. My truth. Still somewhere deep below all of the pessimism, there is that belief that our time will come. Maybe this month. Maybe next month. Maybe in a year. And the slimmest of silver linings is that now we know for certain, when our time comes, we will be two of the happiest, most thankful, and excited future parents the world has ever known. And I know in my heart that all of this sadness, frustration and disappointment will have been so worth it.

Three Years

It's hard to believe that it's been three years since I put on the most expensive dress I will ever own, climbed into a black limousine with some of my very favorite people in the world and took a ten minute ride to an event that would change my life forever.
It's hard to believe that Colby has been a part of my life either as a friend, a boyfriend, or a husband for ten years.  That we've been together for eight of those years.
But we've crammed an awful lot of adventures into those years.  And considering the amount of time we've spent apart, we've managed to collect a vast amount of memories.  We've settled into a marriage that is both comfortable and exciting, and I look forward to the adventures that still wait for us down the road.
I'm so curious about where life will take us, what new experiences lie just around the corner.  I'm so lucky that I have such an amazing man to share those experiences with--someone to celebrate with when times are good, and someone who will let me cry on his shoulder when things get hard.  Someone who is intelligent, funny, sensitive, thoughtful, caring, hard working, passionate, not to mention damn good looking!  Here's to another incredible year together, and what I'm sure will be many more to come in the future.  Happy anniversary, Colby!

Thankful Thursday Through Thursday Through Monday

I really did have every intention of keeping up with my blogging and documenting all that I have to be thankful for this month, but then I didn't.  To think that I actually considered participating in NaBloPoMo this month, HA!  Right.  So, what exactly have I been thankful for?

Well...
Colby made it home safe and sound!  And he brought with him the gifts of jewelry, chocolate, and 8,000 pounds of laundry.  We've spent the last two weeks attached at the hip pretty much 24/7, and now that he's returned to work the house feels awfully empty.  I am, however, incredibly thankful that at least for the next month or so, there will be no trips to far off, sandy locales and he'll be coming home to me and the puppies each night.
His parents and I had been conspiring for the past couple of months to spring a surprise visit on Colby upon his return, and if Colby's look of shock and confusion upon seeing his mom and dad waiting for us at a local restaurant was any indication, we definitely pulled it off.  I'm thankful that our families are close enough to pull off a surprise like this and that we had a beautiful weekend to spend together eating, touring and enjoying each other's company.

Colby coming home was the last big milestone I was counting down to before our big trip, and now an international flight and 12 days floating on a giant boat shaped hotel is just a little over a week away.  We've spent the last two weeks having fun date nights (Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 1 = AMAZING, The Social Network = Wow Justin Timberlake Can Actually Act), squeezing in some sight seeing, spending time with friends as couples, and yesterday I took Colby on a shopping spree that would have made Stacy and Clinton weep tears of joy and pride in preparation for the cruise.

So, now that the vacation is becoming a reality, I'm becoming a bit overwhelmed.  Our itinerary is definitely good enough, but I still feel like it could be better.  I really have no idea what I'm going to wear at any time that doesn't include the phrases "formal" or "semi-formal".  I need to bring some clothes to be altered.  And honestly, I feel like I'm forgetting a whole lot of other must-dos, but can't think of what they could be which means they probably don't exist.  But they're still bugging me.

Oh whatever, can we just go see Harry Potter again?

An Unexpected Twist

It's a strange feeling to take a pregnancy test knowing that you're going to cry regardless of the outcome.  There's some reassurance in the knowledge that at least one result will allow you to drink an entire bottle of wine by yourself, on the sofa, while watching the final episode of The Hills (which you stopped watched years ago, but were relentlessly sucked back into during an epic weekend marathon on MTV).

Colby and I decided a few months ago that when he gets home from his deployment in November, we're going to start trying for our own tiny human.  I mean, someone's going to have to foot the bill for the nursing home in 50 years.  At first, it was supposed to be this big secret, but I've heard him tell about nine hundred people, so whatever, I'm telling the internet now.  It was a decision at which we both arrived with a surprising amount of ease and accord as we agreed, when we got married, that we would wait until Colby's next (as in after the current) assignment to even start thinking about kids.

Then all of our fertile myrtle friends started having the cutest damn babies, and when I saw him making goo goo eyes at one of the toddlers in our circle of friends (yes, some of my closest friends are toddlers), I knew it was all over.  Then my biological clock exploded in a mass of cogs and springs.  Still, I had absolutely no desire to be pregnant for my first time while Colby spent 4 months deployed to the mouth of Hell, and we had already made big plans for a Mediterranean cruise this winter, so we decided to wait until post-deployment to start trying.

It makes sense for a lot of reasons.  Use your imagination.

Fast-forward to late June: Colby deploys, I go to Japan, and suddenly my lady cycle goes batshit insane.  Then for the past few days I've experienced a near constant state of nausea, splitting headaches, utter exhaustion, and most of my nights are spent waking up every couple of hours to pee.  If that doesn't sound like textbook pregnant lady, I don't know what does.  Except I know it's not possible.  Except, seriously, what the hell?

Enter EPT.

I really didn't want a positive result.  That's what I kept telling myself--keep telling myself.  The timing would be beyond awful.  I'm still not completely resigned to this whole pregnancy experience.  How on earth would I find an obnoxiously cute way to tell Colby I'm knocked up when he's thousands of miles away?  Oh God, I don't want to get fat.

And yet...

Still, it was negative.  I have a couple more tests I could take, but I feel pretty confident in the result.  And I feel sad.  Which is stupid, because I really honestly don't want to be pregnant right now.

And yet...

Guess I'll go find that corkscrew now.

The Holy City

This past weekend was the last one that Colby and I will spend together before I leave for Japan and he deploys, so we decided to make the absolute most of it.  We put all of our projects on the back burner and got out of the house to spend some quality time with each other and our city.

 Friday we headed to Middleton Place, the remains of an old rice plantation built in the mid-1700s.  Unfortunately, between the devastation of the Civil War and the massive 1886 earthquake, the main house is no longer standing, but the original owners of the plantation built two impressive flankers to the main building--one to house gentlemen guests and one for their library and music conservatory.  While the gentlemen's quarters were also destroyed in the earthquake, the old library still stands and was converted by the family in the late 1800s into their primary dwelling. Henry Middleton also began cultivating the land as a beautiful formal garden in 1741, and it is now America's oldest landscaped garden.

Saturday we got up early and headed into the city for our Charleston staycation.  At 9:30 we met up with Ed Grimball's walking tour and the next 3 hours were spent exploring the city and learning all sorts of fun new facts.  If anyone is planning a visit to Charleston, I highly recommend Ed's tour.  He's a native Charlestonian with a seemingly limitless supply of knowledge about his hometown, and his delivery is perfectly enthralling.

After the tour, I officially jumped off of the diet wagon with lunch at Joseph's.  The Perfect Grilled Cheese and beignets were certainly not low in calories, but oh, they were delicious!  Our post-lunch entertainment was a tour of the magnificent 24,000 square foot Calhoun Mansion.  According to Charleston lore, its original owner was the model that Margaret Mitchell used to create Rhett Butler, and its current owner is an antiques collector with enough prized possessions to fill the Smithsonian.

By this point in the day, we were getting more than a little worn down, so we hauled ourselves back to the car and headed to our home away from home, the John Rutledge House Inn.  John Rutledge was one of the original signers of the Constitution, and he built his beautiful home on Broad Street in 1763.  We checked into our room in the Ashley Carriage House, then after a short rest, went to the ballroom for the complimentary tea.  And they didn't do it halfway--tea consisted of beverages and a smorgasboard of desserts.  They served a chocolate and strawberry cake, cucumber sandwiches, orange almond cookies, and mini blueberry bundt cakes.  Delicious!  And certainly figure friendly...

Given that it was already after five when we gorged ourselves on tea, and we had dinner reservations at 8, we decided to go for a stroll around the neighborhood.  We found a number of homes that we wouldn't mind moving into should we suddenly have a windfall of disposable income, as well as the crumbling old city jail that appears to be in the beginning stages of a renovation.

After our walk, we donned our finery and headed back out into the evening for dinner at Circa 1886.  Unfortunately, we weren't too impressed with our entrees, though the service and atmosphere were impeccable and the chocolate souffle was to die for.  After our day of walking and eating, we were utterly exhausted by 10 pm, and fell into bed the minute we walked back into our room.

The next morning we were awoken at 9 o'clock for our scheduled breakfast delivery and once more, found ourselves faced with a mountain of food.  We took our time working through the pastries, cereals, fruit and more, then sadly packed our things and bid a fond adieu to our lovely room before heading back across the bridge to our own home.

It was such a lovely weekend, and I'm so glad we took the time to immerse ourselves in the city.  I hope it's something we do again many more times before we leave, and I know it's a weekend we'll both treasure in the months to come when there is so much distance between us.

Sail Away, Sail Away, Sail Away

Well, I'm leaving for Japan in one week (I'm actually leaving on Friday, but since I have to be in the car on the way to the airport at about 3:30 am, I'm just not counting that day), and as if I don't have enough to take care of in the next week, yesterday we woke up to a $900+ charge on our credit card for our automatically paid water bill.

Yes, you read that right.  NINE-EFFING-HUNDRED DOLLARS.  For WATER.

Colby immediately went to work trying to figure out what is wrong, calling the water company, making calculations, and generally stomping around the house with a look of stormy consternation upon his face.  I just tried to stay out of the way and resist the urge to go to the bathroom.  We're currently working under the assumption that the meter is broken.  According to our toilet, it uses 1.6 gallons when it flushes and according the meter, it is using approximately 16.  You'll notice  a very importance difference in decimal places in those two numbers.

Granted, we've been using a lot of water lately as we've put in new grass seed and a new garden and we've been trying to keep them thriving in our recent near drought conditions.  But we have definitely not used $900 worth of water.  So.  That's been fun!  I'm thinking of just building an ark and floating away from all of our cares and worries on all of this water we're supposedly using.

I'm also stressing a bit because my next (and last) class begins on the 24th, the day before I leave for Japan, and I know I'm not going to have time to finish all of my work for the first week before my flight and I'm not going to have any homework time during my trip.  Last summer, there was a week long break in the summer, and I thought it fell between these two classes, so that's why I thought the trip would work out perfectly time-wise.  But apparently, Grand Canyon has gotten rid of their summer breaks.  Argh!  So, I'm going to email my professor as soon as possible and request an extension on my first week's assignments.

I'm still searching for the perfect day bag for Japan.  I got the Sherpani Flora Minor in the mail the other day, and while it's an awesome day bag, I'm concerned about also using it as my sole carry-on.  My goal is to carry only one day bag and a 24" expandable suitcase to make train-hopping easier, and I'm bringing this small hideaway tote in case I absolutely cannot cram anymore souvenirs into my bags.  I ordered a different day bag that is a little larger than the Sherpani to do a test run--now I just hope it gets here in time!  I really want the Sherpani to work because it is so much cuter, but I feel like the Rick Steves is going to be a better size.

(L) Rick Steves Avanti Flight Bag, (R) Sherpani Flora Minor

On top of that, I have homework to finish for the last week of my math class, I haven't even started packing or organizing for Japan, and we have two pages of house projects to finish before Colby leaves.  But on the positive side of things, our bedroom, master bath and upstairs hall is finally painted after three days of workmen tromping through our house and it looks AMAZING!  And we're leaving behind all of our cares and worries on Saturday for a romantic weekend in downtown Charleston.  We can only do what we can do, and everything else has a way of working itself out.  This weekend I just want to focus on enjoying the time I have left with my husband and eating dessert.  Priorities, people.  Priorities!!

Well, It's Not A No...

The one aspect of marriage that I find most difficult is the whole "joint decisions" thing.  Generally speaking, Colby and I are pretty in sync on most things, so it's really easy most of the time.  Which tends to make the times when the joint decisions AREN'T so easy stand out in kind of stark relief.

I've always wanted a cat.  Even before I was begging my parents for a dog, I was patiently writing to Santa Claus year after year with my cat requests.  One year, my parents hinted at the fact that I may actually get a cat, and I actually did--a stuffed cat.  Ha.  Ha.

Fast forward a bajillion years to my life post-college.  I really wanted a pet, I knew that Colby really hated cats and I quite loved dogs and had experience raising them, so a dog it was.  And then another dog.  And then I got married and as we started building our beautiful life together, I realized that I wanted something more.  Something that I could cuddle and love and raise, together with my husband.  A dog of course, you sillies!  But the more I've thought about the idea of a third dog, the more the it kind of exhausts me.

Scene: A friend's house, watching So You Think You Can Dance.  Enter stage left, a delicate little kitten of only a few months old, curling up on my lap and purring contentedly as we watched our show.  Why, yes, I think to myself, this is what I need in my life!  A self-reliant, independent, yet cuddly kitten.

Once upon a time I would have found the kitten of my dreams, marched down to the local animal shelter and procured her.  Now, there is a little more finesse involved, a little more effort on my part to make my kitten dreams come true.  I think I might need to work on my technique, as evidenced by this facebook conversation this morning.

Angela: So, did you see our kitten?

Colby: Our what?

Angela: I've named her Pigwidgeon!

Colby: Define "our".

Angela: It's the kitten you're going to give me when you get home!

Colby: Ohhh, is that what it is? How about them' apples.

So, what do you think, I've got a pretty good shot, right?  He's coming home tomorrow, so I think a visit to the shelter might be in order this weekend so that he can visit little Piggy and fall in love!

Little Miracles

Let me tell you.  I have not felt this happy about life since... last summer!  Actually, that's not even true, because last summer is when Colby left for four and a half months, so though I was not in the depths of despair the entire season, I don't think I was as happy as I've been lately.

Thing the First:

I don't think I have a black thumb!  I don't think I have a green thumb either, but I finally decided to throw caution to the wind and attempt this whole gardening thing I keep hearing about.  I was tired of admiring and coveting beautiful front lawns in our neighborhood and then coming back to our ratty little contractor planted garden, so last weekend we hit up the farmers market and Home Depot and came away with a bountiful crop of fleurs.  I want to show you just how beautiful they are before they all shrivel up and die, but alas, my camera is currently lacking any picture taking abilities and Colby is off gallivanting in some far flung corner or the world (also known as the East Coast) with our schmancy camera.  So, I will tell you them.  Thus far, I have managed to not kill the following:

• 3 rhododendrons of varying colors-- light pink, bright pink, and cream with pink "highlights"
• 1 fuschia
• 1 potted red dragon tree in its infancy
• 3 tiny terracotta pots of some such flowers that I got in the $1 bin at Target and am growing from seeds
• 2 toddler lilacs, henceforth known as Lila and Lacy
• 1 herb garden consisting of sweet basil, lemon basil, pesto basil, mint julep, chocolate mint, lemon thyme, and rosemary, and an ivy, which I realize is not an herb, but does look awfully pretty amidst the more edible plants
• 4 African daisies
• 3 Asiatic lilies

Of course, it's only been a week, so feel free to make a pool placing bets on what actually makes it through the season.  I'll work on pictures in the near future, because I don't feel that a flower post is nearly as enjoyable without them.

Thing the Second:

The weather here has been absolutely phenomenal for nearly two weeks now.  I am cautiously optimistic that this summer may prove itself to be one of those "gorgeous summers" I heard so much about before moving here and have yet to experience.  I think Washington is just being coy.  It has heard that we're leaving, so it's doing everything in its power to woo us into staying.  I will not be fooled by your coquettish behavior, Washington!  I know, come September, you'll be up to your old tricks again!  But seriously, look at this forecast:

That right there is a little something I like to refer to as "perfection".

Thing the Third:

Not only do I have less than three weeks of work-school left before I'm taking this job and shoving it for the summer, but next fall I will be going back to work at a school that is 10 minutes from my house as opposed to the ~30 minute drive that I now face.  And that adds up to not 40, but 80 minutes less spent commuting nearly every day as I make the drive four times because of my split shift.  Even better than the cut in commute time, but from what I have heard, the kids are saints compared to the ones I've worked with this year.  Hallelujah and AMEN!

Thing the Fourth:

And finally, I have a bunch of exciting countdowns going on right now.

• 20 days until my last day of work-school
• 1 month and 5 days until my week-long trip to Montana to visit my sister at her summer theater, see my parents, and go to Crater Lake
• 1 month and 16 days until Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince
• ~2 months and 8 days until I'm lounging on a beach in Hawaii with my favorite husband

So, that's what has been getting me through my bipolar days recently.  What has you excited about life?

Happenings

* I think at some point over Spring Break, the aliens came and replaced my kids with slightly upgraded versions.  I don't know if it was that we all just needed a nice break from each other or if all that I have been trying to teach them finally clicked in their little brains, but work this week has been--dare I say it?--PLEASANT!

* As I got off of the plane all by myself in Seattle on Sunday, I was thinking to myself, rather morosely, how sad it was that I wasn't getting off of the plane in Rome with Colby like I was on the same day last year.  Then as soon as I got home, I heard about the tragic earthquake in Italy, and now reports are coming in that deaths have risen above two hundred.  I'm absolutely heartbroken for the residents of L'Aquila, and hope that they are able to pick up the pieces and recover from this disaster.

* I can't believe it, but somehow, I have managed to make it 42 days without Facebook or Twitter, and have only 3 more days to go until I can get back involved with internet society!  It was kind of hilarious how every time I would meet up with a friend while I was back in Louisiana, the conversation would inevitably turn to my absence from Facebook within five minutes.  I thought maybe this 46 day fast would help break my addiction, unfortunately that doesn't seem to be case as all I can think about is the joyous feeling I will get when I am logging on again for the first time.  You know, so I can see who wrote on my wall.  And added pictures.  And got divorced or married over the past month and a half.  And then log off only to log on again 10 minutes later.  God.  Facebook is worse than nicotine and I have a carton a day habit.

* In happier--or at least somewhat less superficial--news, Colby is scheduled to come home in less than two weeks!  He's been gone since mid-March, so it hasn't been a terribly long time as compared to some of our separations, but I'm looking forward to having him back nonetheless.  Particularly because I'll have someone else with whom to share the dog poo load.  And that right there is what marriage is all about.  That and having someone else there to get your juice when you just don't want to get up off of the couch.

* I'm going to see Britney Spears tomorrow at the Tacoma Dome!  The show doesn't start until 8:00 with the Pussycat Dolls opening (Yes, I love them too.  Shut your Judgey Judgerson face and loosen up my buttons, babe.) and then Britney probably coming on some time around 10.  I am crazy super excited about the show, and waaaaaay less excited about waking up at 5 o'clock the next morning.  But I'm bringing one of my most fun friends and I feel preeeeetty sure it's all gonna be worth it.  It's Britney, Bitch!

* Sigh.  It pains me to admit it, but I am firmly planted in the Team Adam Lambert camp after last night's American Idol performance.  These kids are all just rank amateurs and then Adam comes on stage and blows them out of the water on a weekly basis.  I was skeptical of him during auditions, reached my pinnacle of Adam-hate on country night with that nightmare inducing version of Ring of Fire, and last night's Mad World literally brought tears to my eyes.  I still think he's better suited to a Broadway stage than the pop world, but DAMN, that boy can sing.

* Yesterday, I ran for 20 minutes straight, then after a 2 minute walking break I made it another 10 minutes of running without dying in the middle of the street.  I only started running regularly again last Sunday and then took an extended break (Thursday through Monday), so I am super pumped with the progress I've already made.  It's never been this easy for me to get back into the swing of running after many months away from it, and I'm riding the endorphin wave so high that I am actually considering training for a half marathon this summer. (Insert laugh track here.)

Much Needed Perspective

I was still feeling like a grumpy puss throughout Friday, and despite the copious amounts of wine I drank on Friday night when we went out to dinner with friends, I was still in a dour mood when Saturday rolled around.  I was stewing about all of the injustices inflicted upon me by the world--you know, no trip abroad, a husband who clearly doesn't give a hoot about me, the cold, dreary weather.  We decided to head up to Seattle to see Lucy at the Pacific Science Center, before she left Seattle for the next leg of her American tour, and then go out to dinner with friends.

On the way to the city, I pulled out a piece of gum, casually tossed the wrapper into the console of Colby's car, and became infuriated when he snapped at me to please not just throw my garbage in his car.  I mean, sure, I was the one who threw the garbage, but who was HE to talk to ME that way?  Never mind the fact that I had probably rolled my eyes at least four times at him throughout the course of the day and made a few not so nicely phrased comments myself.  We finished the rest of the long, construction extended drive in silence, each glowering out our respective portions of windshield.

We got the the science center, and slowly began to thaw as first we were forced to talk to each other to figure out how to get to the museum from our parking garage and eventually ended up engaged in a friendly game of mancala.  The rest of our stay was relaxed, and we finally got our chance to enter the small, dark room that housed the bones of Lucy and an artists rendition of what she may have looked like.

I stood over the glass case, staring down at the brittle, ivory colored remains of a creature that lived millions of years ago.  A mammal somewhere between an animal and a human, a 3 foot 6 inch skeleton of a female who was on the cusp of an entirely new species.  A creature who had lived her life, died under unknown circumstances, and was now on display for her ancestors 3.2 million years down the road.  Something about that moment gave me a catch in the back of my throat.

Our lives are truly so insignificant.  In the grand scheme of things, who are we really but self-important beings that lucked out by being at the top of the food chain, here for maybe 80 years if we're lucky and then gone.  In the blink of the eye as far as the earth is concerned.  It's easy to think that our small worries and sadnesses, celebrations and happy moments, grudges and angers can change the course of the universe, but in reality, life goes on every day, whether we're happy or sad, angry or joyful, and it is our choice in each moment of our lives to choose our attitude.  To choose our paths.

In 3.2 million years the world will never know or care if you were a millionaire or a pauper, if you had a happy life or a sad life, if you were alone or surrounded by people you love.  If we are anything to them we will be bones, fossils, relics of an ancient time, a mere stepping stone in the timeline of the past.

After spending time with Lucy, Colby and I went out for drinks while waiting for our friends to arrive in the city.  I downed a rasbperry lemon drop and then told Colby that lately I'd been feeling he hadn't really been registering many of my hopes and desires if they didn't affect him directly, or if he didn't feel that they deserved the same amount of importance I did.  I told him that I was still hurt that he had forgotten the talent show, that it came as a surprise to him every time I mentioned a trip this summer, or a vacation in France next year.  It all came rushing out, some of the things I had been feeling, I didn't even realize until that moment.  We sat together, quietly sharing a plate of garlic fries, both thinking about the things that I had said.

Yesterday, I woke up in an empty bed.  I came downstairs, bleary eyed and still a little tired, to find a dozen Krispy Kreme donuts waiting for me on the counter.  I took a glazed with chocolate frosting and sat down next to Colby on the couch.  "July 14-August 22," he said, as I took my first bite.  "I put my name in the leave books for the whole time since I wasn't sure when you'd want to go.  I can always give some of it back."  We started looking at airfare later that morning.

Life is what you make of it.  In 3.2 million years, not a single person will care that I spent two weeks in the Northeast in the summer of 2009, but while we spent those few minutes together remarking on the fact that the fares were cheaper than we expected, to me, it felt like the most important moment in the world.

Hope

Just about everyone, myself included, likes to blog about the good things in life, particularly when they're in a happy, loving marriage or committed relationship.  I like to get all mushy, and sometimes banging out some sappy, heartfelt blog post is just a really fun way to spend a Friday morning.  But the thing of it is, sometimes being married can be kind of hard.  I know!!  Big shocker!

I'm not even talking about in the big ways that you always hear about in those stories about why the divorce rate is so high.  Like, obviously money issues can cause problems.  You want five kids, he was thinking more like one kid and some new golf clubs.  That stuff can certainly have an impact on a relationship, but I'm talking about the little things.

Like, you want to set the thermostat at 72 because you both make a decent wage and can probably afford to pay the gas bill, but he wants to keep it at 68 because he's kind of miserly and wears a lot of fleece.  So, you compromise and set it at 70, but no one is ever really happy about a compromise, so you both make disparaging comments about the other's temperature preference from time to time.  Or maybe you like the feel of crisply, tightly tucked sheets when you climb into bed at night, and he's more of a "tornado just hit the house, leaving the bed intact but rumpled" kind of a guy.  So you keep your side tucked in and he kicks the sheets out on his side, which SEEMS like it should work, but in reality, every morning the entire bed looks suspiciously more like the tornado situation, and it is POSSIBLE that one time you actually cried, because seriously, is having the sheets tucked in really THAT HORRIBLE??

And then of course, maybe I--I mean, YOU--want to get a third dog, so you kind of joke about it all the time, but in a way that makes it pretty clear that you're not actually joking, and then he's like "the yard is too small, and you aren't the one that picks up the poop, anyway."  Then, completely by accident you stumble across an adoption listing featuring this adorable, Fraggle-like face:

So, you kind of once more jokingly bring up that whole crazy third dog idea, and you're once more kind of jokingly shot down.  And then you get seriously sad, and you think guiltily to yourself that if you weren't married and didn't have to make joint decisions, you'd just get the damn dog.  And then you realize that you're a horrible person, and obviously being married and having someone else to pick up the poop of the two dogs you're already lucky enough to have and to share your life with is about a million percent better than getting a third dog.  But you still obsess about the dang Fraggle dog and pray that someone else out there will adopt her and give her the love she deserves, and then you just hope that the dreams about Hope go away some time soon.

Because really, what kind of moron has multiple dreams about a dog she's never met anyway?  Not me, that's for sure...

Six

Every now and then, when more than a week has gone by without updating the blog, I get to thinking that maybe it's just too much of a hassle and I should just go ahead and ditch it like every journa or diaryl I have ever written.  But then I forget a rather important, pressing detail of my life, like, just for example of course, how long exactly Colby and I have been together.  You know, it seems like it might be six years, but that couldn't possibly be right because I'm just not that old, right?  But then I can do a little research and find a post from three years ago about how we've been together for three years, and well, you know, the sanity and peaceful sleep that comes with the ability to retrace my steps like that--you just can't buy that peace of mind at Target!

So, I carry on blogging.

Six years.  That means that we've been together for more than 20% of my life--ever since I was just a wee pup of 19 years old.  I'm three years older than he was when he started dating, and holy hell, I thought he was just about the most grown up, mature, OLDEST dude ever.  Even my little sister is older than that now.

We talk a lot about the future.  It makes me laugh sometimes to remember how difficult it was to get him to open up about "where do you see us in five years?" when we were dating and I was desperate for a commitment, or even the hint of one.  Now we toss around the idea of having babies and moving to far off locales and where we want to retire like we're discussing what movie we want to go see.  It feels so natural and completely organic that we'll have all of these experiences together.

Life is a little overwhelming right now.  We're both a little stressed at work and in our respective graduate programs.  The economy is taking it's toll in the form of a continuously diving house value and we are dealing with the uncertainty of having no clue where in the world we will live at this time next year.  I haven't had the time or energy to reconnect with many of my friends lately, and I feel a little bit of the lonely winter sadness creeping around my heart.

Colby asked me the other day if I had changed my mind about ever wanting to have kids.  The full weight of just how incredibly difficult it is to deal with children hits me every single day.  And every night I come home from taking care of and disciplining other people's kids and thank the good Lord above that I can just veg out on the sofa and watch tv without having to worry about taking care of anyone else.  I can just sit, snug in the crook of my husband's arm and feel perfectly content.

I don't know when I'll know that I want to have kids.  Right now, building a family seems rather like the prospect of college did when I was in grade school.  Something that I knew that I was going to to do, but no concrete ideas of exactly when or how I would get there.  I want to be a better person before I have kids.  I want to do the laundry on a regular basis, keep the house clean, and be the wife that gets dinner on the table every night, and doesn't have to be scolded to eat her vegetables.  I want to finish school and actually use my degree for a little while and then take a break so that I can stay home.  I've seen a lot in my short time working at daycare facilities, and as great a program as I think we have, the working mom and dad lifestyle is not what I want for my children.

But I'm just not ready to give up my life for them yet.  I remember sitting in the parking lot of Colby's apartment when he lived in Georgia, about four years ago.  We were in my car, saying our goodbyes when he suddenly stopped talking and gazed steadily into my eyes.

"Our children will have beautiful eyes."

What I didn't know at the time was that we still had years of tumult and distance ahead of us.  What I did know was that he was right and that some day those theoretical children would become a reality.  And even now, six years after he shyly asked me to be his Valentine, as he was dropping me off after our first date, and four years after that out of character moment in the parking lot, I know that some day he will be right.  And when that time comes, whether I'm serving up four course meals or just barely managing to pour cereal and milk into a bowl, I know that our children will have the most beautiful eyes in the world.

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!

Goodbyes

These past couple of weeks have been so surreal.  A blur of painting, yard work, hammers and nails--crossing things off of our list in a frantic rush to finish all of our projects before he left.  From time to time over the past week, I would take a step back from all of the chaos and remember why we were so pressed for time, why every moment felt so short.  But then the tears would begin to well up, and I realized that by stepping back I was actually stepping precariously close to the edge.  Leaning over an abyss that would completely strip me of my control over the situation. 

As long as there are days left to get things done, then there is another day that he is still here.

"When does he leave?  Are you going to be alright?"

"Oh, I'm fine!  I've been through this before, so I know I can do it again."

"Okay, well, just let me know if you need anything."

I don't need anything, but I want him to come back.

The day before he left we gave ourselves the day off from projects.  We went to a nearby wildlife park and laughed at the antics of the animals.  We held hands and took pictures.  He cooked an amazing dinner of steak, crab legs and potatoes.  We toasted with our glasses of red wine, "To us!"  While I was doing dishes, he came up behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist.  We hugged and we kissed and then held each other.  I felt myself creeping back toward that abyss, hovering over the swirling clouds of fear, anger, frustration, and sadness that I had been pushing away for so long.

A bathroom was still unpainted.  The backyard paving wasn't completely finished.  A picture still sat in the living room waiting to be hung.

"You can't leave yet, there are still things on the list that need to be done."

He smiled at me, I put my head on his shoulder and let myself fall.  Silent tears rolled down my cheeks and he let me cry.  Mascara left a trail down his chest when I finally pulled away and reached for a Kleenex.

The next morning I batted my eyes and used all of the feminine wiles at my disposal to go out to their plane.  To bring my husband some cookies and say goodbye again, just moments after I had kissed him goodbye at the terminal.  It was so cold on the jet.  Pallet after pallet of cargo and luggage and dozens of soldiers milling around, the camouflage of their uniforms seemed to meld them all together in one giant mass of people.  I felt like I was standing outside of my body as I searched for his face in the crowd, just watching as I hugged him again.  As I said goodbye and kissed him for the last time until November.  I smiled brightly and waved as I walked away while the out of body Angela sobbed.

It doesn't matter how many times we do it.  It doesn't matter what words we use or how tightly we hold each other.  Saying goodbye never stops hurting.  Even the most well-intentioned friend can't do anything to make that feeling of emptiness go away.

Our list is still upstairs, almost completed.  This morning I drew lines through the incomplete items.  Some of them, I'll do on my own.  I don't need him to help me, I just want him to come back. Everything else can wait.  We'll make a list this winter.  We'll finish paving the backyard, we'll put knobs on the kitchen cabinets.  We'll hold hands and we'll take lots of pictures.

I don't ever want our list to be finished.

Rainy Days and Mondays: One and the Same

We had one hell of a productive weekend, and I've got to tell you, we are giving Ty Pennington and Martha Stewart a run for their money.  We are finally making this house our bitch, and I can't even begin to tell you how thrilling it is to have curtains hung in our bedroom instead of sheets tacked up over the window.  And the office floor!  I can see it!  And successfully walk all the way from the door to the closet without risk of bodily harm!  Rapture!

This weekend also allowed for such lovely exchanges as this one between me and my most favorite husband.

Scene:  I'm leaning my head against the window as we are driving home from the second Lowe's location of the day, where Colby had loaded 50 paving stones onto a wagon and then into the car with my help.  (Okay, I loaded two of the pavers, but they were HEAVY!  And they completely destroyed my nails.)

Colby:  Are you okay?

Angela:  Yes, I'm just weary.

Colby:  You're weary??  Why?

Angela:  It's hard work shedding your uterine lining!

Colby:  (Look of abject horror)  Oh my God.  In the future, If I ever again ask you why you're weary, don't ever say that.  Even if it's true.  Make something up!

It's a good thing I've got a signed contract for this whole marriage thing.

Anyway, we just had another 3 pallets of paving stones, river rock, and paving sand dumped on our driveway, so that should keep Colby entertained for the next few days.  I'm off to brave the wintry weather and obscene gas prices as I run another in an endless line of errands, but I'm oh so thrilled to leave you with this clip of the continuing story of Charlie the Unicorn.

Glub glub! Happy Monday!

Update: Not Dead From Ghost Attack

Damn, I seriously suck at blogging regularly when I'm not chained to a desk from 9-5 every week day.

Anyway, I just wanted to dispel any fears that I may have been taken hostage by a ghostly being who is demanding one Morgan dollar minted in 1898 and rights to my computer between the hours of 11:00 pm and 6:00 am in exchange for my release.

No, instead I've just been reveling in the joys of having my favorite guy back home from the deployment he was sent out on two days after we got home from Italy.  Yesterday, we spent the entire day rooted to the couch watching a full day's worth of Torchwood and Doctor Who, but today we got a little more adventurous and tried out a new sushi restaurant before taking the dogs hiking at Point Defiance and then rewarding ourselves for our physical exertion with multiple quarts of Cold Stone Creamery signature blends.

I promise to get my act together next week and knock out those Italy reminiscences and then move on to the always exciting topic of I'm Going to a Wedding At the End of the Month, and Must Look Mind Blowingly Gorgeous Because There Is a High Degree of Possibility That Stupid Jerk Boy Will Be There, So What Should I Wear (Not That It Really Matters, But Come On, Who Doesn't Want to Be The Winner in Life)?

But right now, I am going to go collapse into bed next to the very unstupid, nonjerk boy that is snoring like a chainsaw upstairs, and who agreed, without hesitation, to accompany me to the theater this weekend to see My Fair Lady.  Am I not the luckiest girl in the world?  A bientot!

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?

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.)

Wishing For That Phone Call

Friday afternoons in blog land are so lonely, aren't they?  Everyone is off living their life, away from the internet, while I'm still chained to the computer in the miserably lagging Pacific Time Zone.  I'm still at work for another hour and a half, and then it's home to a classic movie marathon weekend courtesy of Turner Classic Movie channel.

I didn't make any plans for the weekend.  I was hoping against hope that Colby would be home by tomorrow and we would be able to spend our time together.  Doing anything together, I really didn't care what it would be.  He has had so few weekends at home this year.  I think I can count our weekends together since January 1st on one hand.  The last I heard from him was a one line email on Wednesday night telling me they were leaving "Over There" and that he was glad to be well rested before a flight for the first time on this trip.

Usually, we're lucky enough to communicate in some way, be it phone, email, or IM, at least once a day.  So, of course, now that it's been nearly two full days, the silly little fears and apprehensions are marching steadily through my mind, one after another.  A constant succession of unlikely but possible scenarios that will not be silenced.

I know that they've probably just had long days, with his crew rest on an opposite schedule from mine.  I know it could just be that the internet cafe is too far from his lodging, or that it closed before he could get there.  I know that if something were to go wrong, I would hear something from someone.

But none of that can do anything to silence the negative thoughts that keep pounding in my brain on a loop.

Probably I'll get an email or phone call from him, just as I post this.  That is the way these things work, no?

Until then, I'll do my best to quash the paranoia with a visit to Starbucks for a comforting cup of hot chocolate, a stop at the cupcake shop by the train station on the way home, and the company of my old friends Clark, Jimmy, and Laurence for the evening.

But all of the chocolate treats and matinées idols in the world won't stop me from darting to my phone every time it rings or checking my email obsessively for a new message.  Let's just hope, for all of our sanity, that at some point soon, my wish will come true.

UPDATED: Colby emailed me to say that he should be home tomorrow.  The time stamp on the email was EXACTLY one hour from the time that I posted this entry.  Oh, Life, you crazy bastard! 

This Weekend I...

...Finally finished writing and addressing all of our wedding gift thank you notes!  Today I have to go buy stamps, but by tomorrow, those suckers will be in the mail and winging their way to our patient and generous friends and family!

... Had a fun filled movie night courtesy of On Demand and my evil DVR.  At least it managed to record all of Pride & Prejudice without chopping off the last half.  And is it just me, or would it have been all that difficult to find a somewhat more smoldering Mr. Darcy?  I know Colin Firth really made the role his own, but Matthew Macfayden's portrayal really is just a pale imitation.

... Managed to beat Colby at Scrabulous even while thousands of miles apart.  I will have the grace to admit that it was indeed a very close game.  He's a worthy opponent, although I still reign as the undefeated champion in our household.

... Broke in our lovely new elliptical machine with two 30 minute workouts that left me sweaty, breathless, and with the realization of how horrifically out of shape I've gotten in the past few months.  I've got a long way to go if I want to be a svelte, elegant American in Italy in just a few more weeks!

... Watched six episodes of that classic 90's television series, Party of Five, again, courtesy of On Demand.  I spent most of the nineties watching Nick at Nite, ABC's TGIF lineup, and The X-Files, so all of those favorites of my peers such as Party of Five, Beverly Hills 90210, and My So Called Life are a whole new world to me now.  I really had no idea that Matthew Fox existed before Lost, and I'm loving him with his long flowing locks.   And this was probably giggled about 15 years ago, but does anyone else find it amusing that the surnames of two of the leading actors are "Fox" and "Wolf"?

... Made two decisions regarding The Great Shoe Quest!  The results really will be coming this week, I promise!  I know I said the same thing last week, unfortunately, Zappos' new shipping policy has made reorders a bit difficult, and apparently Privo shoes have a HUGE disparity in size compared to the rest of the shoes in my closet.  Watch this space--results coming SOON!!

I've reached the conclusion that it's a really good thing I married Colby, so that I'm forced out of the house from time to time.  If I had my way, I'd never change out of my pajamas and cross the threshold unless we were running low on dog food.  How was your weekend?  I hope you managed to leave the house at least once!

You Ask, I Answer!

A couple of weeks ago, I signed up for The Great Interview Experiment.  There are few things in life I enjoy more than talking about myself, and asking other people personal questions, so the combination of those two activities was an experience I could not pass up.  I was interviewed by the oh so fabulous Darcey, a.k.a. The Muse of Strip Search City, and I very much hope she doesn't mind me posting the interview here.  It's been kind of a busy couple of days at work, so, you know, free blog fodder!  Can't pass it up!

I think she came up with a lot of really fun questions, so without further preamble, on with the show!

1) First off, congratulations on your wedding - the pictures were beautiful! What was the inspiration for your wedding colors?

Thank you so much!  My colors were red and ivory, with hints of gold, and like most of my wedding planning decisions, were kind of a no-brainer for me.  Red has been my absolute favorite color for as long as I can remember.  I love its richness and warmth, and honestly, what girl doesn't look fabulous is a stunning red dress!  I chose ivory rather than white because all of the white dresses I tried on made me look like the Corpse Bride.  On top of that, our wedding was in late November, and I thought it was a nice nod to the holidays without hitting people over the head with snowflakes, reindeer, and stockings.

2) What would you do if you and your husband supported vastly opposing football teams? (Case in point: my bf and I are polar opposites - I'm a UGA grad, and he's a GaTech/Tennessee fan.) Do you think it would have any great impact on your relationship?

That's a tough one to answer since I've never had to face the tragedy of seriously dating a fan of an opposing team!  I would like to say that the power of our love is strong enough to overcome his misguided affection for a team like Auburn or Tennessee, but I don't know.  We would probably just have to have separate residences from September through January!

3) Yay, another fan of the great and powerful Eddie Izzard! Of his stand-up shows, which is your favorite and why? And also, have you been watching "The Riches" - what do you think of it?

Oh, I adore Eddie!  Is it just me, or is he the only man who can pull off lipstick, eyeliner, blush, and high heels and still be supremely sexy? A friend introduced me to his stand-up when I was in college and I've never found another comedian who can make me laugh as hard.  I have a very soft spot in my heart for Dress to Kill, as it was the first show of his I ever saw, and I still find myself offering people the choice between cake or death and always giggle when anyone asks me if I want a cup of coffee.  I love that you get what is essentially a history lesson over the course of his shows and his humor is so intelligent and referential, but he can also drop an f-bomb like nobody's business! I've actually never seen The Riches.  I know, I know!  I was so excited when I heard about it, and then I just never knew when it was on or what channel--still don't come to think of it.  Anyway, it's definitely on my list of things to watch before I die.

4) If you could live in any city in the world, where would you go and why?

I would absolutely love to live overseas some day, for just a couple of years.  I am in love with Howth, Ireland, a quaint, picturesque town on a peninsula, just a short DART ride away from Dublin--but I don't know how long I could stand living that far away from all of my family and friends with those tiny, tiny bathrooms.  Within the states, my current obsession is San Francisco. I've been dreaming of living in the Bay Area for well over a year now. I love the weather there as well as the thought of being within driving distance of mountains, beaches, woods, and  great shopping.  I love that I already have good friends that live there, and I just find the city charming.  It just fits all of my criteria for the perfect place to live.  Except for the real estate prices.  Those suck.

5) Are you a believer of destiny/fate or is everything just chance and luck?

I believe that we choose our fates.  One of my favorite pastimes is thinking back over all of the decisions I have made in my life that have led me to where I am now.  I've managed to get as far back as 9th grade, when I opted to take Junior ROTC for two years rather than one and a half years of gym.  That turned into four years of Army JROTC, which led to an AFROTC scholarship, which is how I met my husband, and how I ended up in Washington when the Air Force stationed him here.  I had a miserable time for the two and a half years that I spent in the Air Force, and many days spent wonder why on earth I had ever signed up for that life, but in the end I truly believe that it was my destiny to be there because it brought me to the life that I have today.  I could have made a very different choice at thirteen and taken gym, and I'm sure that my life would be very different right now, but when I made that decision to enroll in a different class I chose a different fate. I'm pretty sure I just made zero sense.

6) How/why did you start blogging?

I actually started blogging in college, about six years ago, I just didn't know that's what it was called.  I had a bunch of super-geek, computer whiz friends and one of them randomly offered to build me a website.  I remember thinking, what the heck am I going to do with a website?  But it was free, and I was probably bored, so I said sure, and while you're at it make it very flowery.  And so he did.  And I wrote about my life for about six months until I got distracted and went to a movie or something.  No one ever read it outside of my circle of friends, and I completely forgot about it for almost three years. Then I entered the real world and started my job and got bored again. A couple of my friends that lived far away had these websites that they would write about their lives on, and I started clicking on some of the links on their sites (what I would now call their "blogroll"), and I was hooked.  I read silently for about four or five months before I realized that I too could get a blog, and then when I was at work I could write on it and comment on other people's and it would look like I was working!  Brilliant!  And so my blog was born in August of 2005 and I never looked back.

7) What kind of pizza do you like - do you always go with a specific chain, or does it vary? And do you and your husband agree on toppings?

Lucky, lucky girl that I am, Colby and I are in agreement not only about our love for the LSU Tigers, but also for Papa John's pizzas with light sauce, extra cheese, and black olives and/or mushrooms.  Are we not a match made in heaven??  Unfortunately, Papa John's does not recognize our neighborhood as a legitimate residential area, and so we are forced to turn to Papa Murphy's and Pizza Hut.  It's not the same, but when you need a pizza, you need a pizza!

8) You mentioned sending Colby into the lingerie department to find a replacement sticky bra for the Air Force Ball - is there anything that you wouldn't send him to the store for - whether it's because it would be too complicated for your hubby (makeup, perhaps?) or just isn't worth trying to explain the details?

Oh no, after that, he totally sealed his fate.  I will now send him to the store for anything.  Any man who can successfully select a stick-on bra can do anything in my book.  Although I will admit I'm hesitant to allow him to go grocery shopping without me.  He always comes home with the most bizarre generic items, and I am very choosy about which brands I prefer.  But he's learning.  I'd say within the next year or so, he will be fully licensed to go to the grocery store without my supervision.

9) You seem to stay fairly active - what is your favorite form of exercise?

Hm, yes, I think once upon a time I did indeed do something other than sit on the couch and stare at the moving pictures on the other side of the room.  Running is absolutely the greatest exercise in the world, both in terms of how many calories your burn and how quickly the results start to show in your legs and core.  Unfortunately, running also destroys your knees, hips, and ankles, and in the past year I really started to feel it.  So, the next best thing for me is the elliptical machine.  It simulates the motion of running, but without the nasty joint pain side effects.  It doesn't burn quite as many calories, and it doesn't start to show for a bit longer, but I'm sure my eighty-year-old self will thank me some day!

10) And everyone has one of these... what is your best drinking story?

Oh, nice.  Okay, well, there are a bunch of really great ones, but since this is a family blog (i.e. My mother and father know of its existence and read on a regular basis), I think I'll stick with a story they've heard before and isn't too shocking.  Admittedly, it involves only an average amount of drinking, but at least it was underage, and it did take place in a house of spirits! 

So, when I was eighteen, I called home to let my mom know that I was going to Ireland for six weeks over the summer, and did she want to by my airplane ticket?  Seriously, when they're pitching those study abroad programs, they do NOT warn you about the horrifying cost of international airfare.  And so it came to pass that I spent half of the summer between my freshman and sophomore years of college in Ireland. After our four weeks of class in Dublin, we had two weeks of free travel.  I had decided to travel around the perimeter of Ireland on my own for a week, and then meet a friend in Dingle for the last week.  It was amazing, fabulous, and the greatest experience of my life, until our last weekend before meeting back up with our group.  We'd had a very fly-by-the-seat-of-our-pants approach to traveling, and typically made our reservations in a hostel on the day we arrived in the city. This all worked very well until we tried to make reservations for our last night on our own in Dublin, only to find out that it was a bank holiday weekend and EVERYTHING was booked.

We meandered sadly over to our local pub, plunked ourselves at the bar and began pounding back the ciders (me) and Guiness (her).  At some point over the course of the evening, we decided that our best option would be to stay at the pub until they kicked us out, and then wander down to St. Stephen's Green where we would take turns sleeping on a bench.  We'd had a fair amount to drink at this point, which I'm sure is why this seemed like a remotely reasonable proposition.  As the night wore on and the locals trickled out, we were left nearly alone at the bar, surrounded by our various backpacks and shattered dreams.  The bartender struck up a conversation with us, and when he discovered that we were seriously planning to spend the night in a public park, he was understandably horrified.  Due to the combination of his fear that we would be attacked in the night by a crew of homeless Irish folk and his attraction to my friend's very large breasts, he offered up his tiny apartment over the pub.  We weighed our options and eventually determined it would be easier to fend off one suspect Irishman than twenty, and agreed to his proposition.  We all drank a bit more together, invoking that unbreakable bond of drunkenness, and eventually stumbled upstairs to his loft.  The next thing I remember is waking up the next morning in the bartender's bed (I was alone--he was quite the gentleman, and also I was not the one with large breasts), my friend shaking my shoulder viciously and insisting that we needed to leave NOW.

It turns out that in some point in the night she had looked over at his head and noticed that it was crawling with lice.  It was never determined whether this was indeed the case or if it was the pot they had been smoking talking.  Regardless, we scurried to the nearest drugstore and as soon as we were able to get into the dorm room that we'd managed to secure at Trinity College, spent the rest of the afternoon scrubbing ourselves raw with every bottle of Rit we'd been able to lay hands on.  And so ends the longest drinking story known to man.

***
Such great questions, thank you so much for giving me the opportunity to ramble on about myself extensively!  I'll be posting the interview that I conducted as soon as I get the answers back--no pressure Erin!

This Weekend I...

...Became obsessed with Jon and Kate Plus 8.  I alternated between feeling maternal twinges and abject horror at the concept of having six infants, never mind one!

...Smiled at the beauty of the irises in my Valentine's Day bouquet finally blossoming.  The striking orange daisies finally met their fate in the garbage can this morning, but the yellow lilies have now begun to bloom.

...Finished twenty-five wedding gift thank you notes before I realized that I didn't have enough stamps or return address labels.  I ordered new return address labels, effectively giving myself a 3-7 day extension!

...Edited the first fifty six pages of my story and wrote another 4,000 words.

...Vacuumed, dusted, and washed and folded EIGHT loads of laundry.

...Sighed and swooned over the tempestuous love affair between Lizzie and Darcy.  I love the Keira Knightly version of P&P, but the BBC classic just never gets old!

How was your weekend?

A Newly Engaged Girl's Guide to The Knot.Com Crazies

So, Jen, from Operation Pink Herring, recently abandoned the internet for an extended length of time while she and her boyfriend went gallivanting around Barcelona.  When finally, her first post in over a week popped up in Google Reader, I immediately surfed the internet wave over to her place.  The first part of the post detailed the standard post-vacation slump, but then, the final picture in the entry was a picture of a gigantic diamond smack dab on her finger.  That sneaky girl went and got ENGAGED!

A few days ago, I got an email invite to attend her Surprise Virtual Engagement Party, the idea being that all of Jen's bloggy friends would post a wedding-themed entry on February 15th in honor of her big news.  It seemed simple enough, but immediately the pressure hit me.  I mean, what can you say to a recently engaged girl that she hasn't already heard a million times!  Clearly there is "Congratulations!", but I needed a little more than that to fill out an entire blog post.  So, I thought and I thought, and I realized that the first thing that most newly engaged girls do is log on to The Knot and often times get sucked into their message boards.

I loved using my local board to find vendor suggestions, but before much time had passed, I realized that there were certain types of people that I kept coming across.  And so, to help Jen out, I have decided that I will detail the nomenclature of The Knot should she decide to journey to that bizarro universe of all things wedding--The Knot Message Boards.

The Regular
The Regular is the easiest species to spot as they will almost always be the first people to respond to your queries, and have three or more of the small blue circles beneath their names in their posts.  The Regular  is the most predominant species in The Knot universe, and often can be sub categorized by some of the following descriptions as well.  If a poster has been married for more than a month and is still residing on The Knot, it is safe to assume that they are a Regular.

The Troll
The Troll can generally be found on typically peaceable boards, and their sole purpose in life is to wreak havoc and cause dissension amongst the masses.  It is usually easiest to spot the Troll by their use of all caps or poorly spelled missives, usually choosing a random "Regular" and criticizing their carefully constructed "Knottie Bio".  The Troll is most efficiently dealt with by ignoring their attempts at upheaval and feeds on heated responses such as, "Oh yeah, well I bet ur fat and ur fiance hates you!"  Proceed with caution.

The Co-Dependent
The Co-Dependent can be easily detected by their chosen identifying moniker.  It will typically involve composition such as "Mrs.XXXtobe"  "XXX'sWifetobe", and in extreme cases "XXX'sGirl4Eva".   It is important to note that although this species' identity seems to have melded with that of their mate, it is almost always harmless to others unless provoked by its main predator, The Troll.

The Beebee
The Beebee is a species of poster who has chosen their life mate at an age that is lower than that of the average bride.  However, the youth of the species alone does not qualify it as a Beebee.  This is a trickier species to spot, as it is usually necessary to investigate their chosen nuptial arrangements.  In addition to their youth, the Beebee will typically include a great deal of pink in their decorating scheme--often including several different shades of the color with contrasts of lavender or possibly ivory.  You will also often find that they have selected a cake topper in the shape of a castle,  reference the term "fairy tale princess" in their descriptions, almost universally choose to wear a tiara, and generally have a date set two or more years in the future.  Like the Co-Dependent, the Beebee is fairly harmless though often considered a pest.

The Shrew
The Shrew is the most dangerous species of the lot, although if observed from a safe distance, often a source of great entertainment.  The Shrew is the hunter of the universe, and they move in large packs, feeding on Regulars, Co-Dependents, and Beebees.  Their natural habitat is the Not Engaged (Yet) board, but they often forage for their kill in other boards selected at random.  The Shrew is often an older, married woman and is most easily identified by their razor sharp tongues, sarcastic comments, and regular use of foul language.  They are a fascinating species to study, however, approach at your own risk.

This is of course, not a comprehensive list of the species you are likely to find when traveling through the wilds of The Knot message boards.  Jen, I wish you the best of luck on the battle field that is wedding planning.  Congratulations once again on finding such a wonderful man, and I look forward to hearing all about your beautiful wedding day when the time comes. 

(Important side note:  Be assured that as beautiful as everyone else's weddings are sure to be, you will always know in your heart that YOUR wedding was the most beautiful.  And you'll always be completely right!)

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!

Things That Are Currently Hanging Over My Head

Don't you just love making lists when it comes to getting things done?  I adore the feeling of checking things off one by one, seeing the progress being made in a visual, hard copy form.  Without lists I do nothing but sit around watching My Fair Brady reruns and stuffing my face with Baked Cheetos (surprisingly delicious!). 

And so because I don't feel like discussing how bummed I am that we're not going to New York over the upcoming three day weekend because Colby is swanning around D.C. (waiting to possibly be deployed but mostly touring and going out to dinner a lot), and how for the fourth year in a row we won't be spending Valentine's Day together, I'm going to enumerate in fascinating detail the things that I will be doing this weekend to keep myself entertained.

1. FINALLY sitting down to go through the 1200 or so photos that were provided by our photographer to select 200 photos for the proof book, 75 photos for the flush album, and upload to Target's online photo store any others that I want to put in my scrapbook.  I've already gone through the pictures a few times to pick out favorites, but now I need to commit to our selection and get Colby's approval.  We've had the pictures since December 3, a mere, 10 days after the wedding, now it's time to get off my arse and do my part.
2. Thank you notes.  Yeah.  Sigh.  They're coming folks, I swear!  I kept waiting for Colby to be around to help out with them, but it appears that this is not in the cards for us any time soon.  And so thank you notes I shall write!
3. Send our dang wedding announcements to our hometown newspapers.  I've been putting this off because the announcement form for Colby's hometown basically asks that you write a novel about your wedding, and, um, I don't want to!  However, I know it means a lot to our parents to have the announcements printed, and in 30 years I'll probably be glad I did it.  I just really don't feel like describing every single person's attire, flowers, and blood type.
4. Book some of the Italy tours that I've been reading up on but putting off actually scheduling.  Specifically this one, because YUM.  I'll probably become homicidal if it's already booked to capacity.
5. I want to get at least another 20 pages of The Book written.  I'm hovering around 12,000 words right now, so I'm pretty proud of my accomplishment over the past month, but rather than banging out a couple of pages at a time, I'd like to sit down, get in the mood, and go with the flow for a few hours to see what comes out on the page.
6. Must, must, must go to the UPS store and ship back some returns as well as do a couple of in store returns.  I didn't get them done before my credit card cycle ended and so I am left with a much larger balance than I would have liked.  Bummer.
7. Maybe, if this warmer weather holds out, go for a run.  But probably not.

So, aren't you jealous?  Don't all of those things look SO FUN!  Wouldn't the majority of those things be so much MORE FUN if Colby were home?  And maybe to spice things up and make it a REALLY exciting weekend, I'll throw in a little dusting and bathroom cleaning!  Y'all I am so excited!  Bring it on President's Day, I'm going to make you my bitch!

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)