It's funny how you've got plans for yourself. Whether for the day, week, month, or year, we try to plan ahead. And to what typical outcome? Exactly. Very rarely does something go according to "plan." Then you think about it and you come to terms with the fact that our plans don't matter. It's nice to have an idea of what you'd like to do, but the fact of the matter is- we can't control anything. Normally, right about here, I would discuss how the Lord is the keeper of our plans. He controls everything and what happens to us. His plan is final, and ours is essentially an idea.
Which brings me to today's topic. Our plans and how they really don't matter.
At the end of 2012, Husband and I were exhausted. We travelled a lot last year. Big trips, small trips, back and forth to Birmingham, Nashville, Chattanooga, and Atlanta. The trips were fun and were planned ahead of time, for the most part, but still. We were exhausted.
We started out this year with a plan. That was probably our first mistake of 2013. Our plan to was to not do much in terms of travelling. We wanted to use this year to reconnect with our church and church family and to spend time together in our new home, enjoying this phase of our life. As a whole, we've been doing this, and it's been great.
So far this year, we've only gone to Birmingham. Not too bad considering almost two whole months of 2013 has passed. The next few months, however, are about to be busy.
Trips/events included:
Us going to Chattanooga this Sunday
Us going to DC in three weeks
My family coming from Florida for Easter
Us going to Atlanta for a Knicks game
Us going to Pensacola for a wedding
Us going to Destin with church friends
Us going to Birmingham for college/med school graduations
Husband going to Atlanta for a few concerts with a friend for three days
Us possibly going to Hawaii for 7-9 days with Husband's family
Me going to Cedar Point with my mom and sister (possibly Husband too)
Us going to Birmingham for a race
Us possibly going to Gatlinburg for Thanksgiving to see my family
Us going to Florida for Christmas.
That's a lot! I'm happy we are so blessed to have family and friends who love to travel, and that we both have jobs that allow us to travel with them.
Mind you, these are not trips that have been thrust upon us. As much as we wanted to follow through with our plan to stay home, we both love travelling and experiencing new events with friends and family, that we couldn't resist.
But taking one epic year-long nap sounds pretty great too :)
Wednesday, February 27, 2013
Wednesday, February 20, 2013
Multi-tasking x2
This is the second portion of the post from yesterday.
++
This past weekend, Puppy ended up visiting the vet unexpectedly. Here's how it went down.
I'm in our guest room, painting (more on this later), and Husband calls me. He says, "meet me at the kitchen door, Puppy's paw is hurt and bleeding." He said it with such a calmness that I kind of wondered if he was kidding. Of the two of us, he's usually the one to freak out (and I love him for it). So, like any worried Puppy Mommy would do, I looked out the front window to see if Puppy was hurt or limping, and she wasn't. I sat at the back door and they came in, and sure enough, her entire front left paw was bloody, and she'd managed to get splashes of blood pretty much everywhere on her body. Impressive, really. I held her still while Husband used the puppy wipes to wipe off her feet, and try to soak up some of the blood on and around her paw.
We thought she'd torn her dew claw. Dr. Google led us to believe that she could need it removed. We called our vet, and they seemed to play it down. Like there was nothing wrong with Puppy. Um, hello.. if I can see my dog's blood in drips, and there's enough that it splashed around her body, there is something wrong. They said we could bring her by, and that she'd need to be sedated. And that it'd be almost 4 hours before she could be seen. So, now, after telling me my dog is fine, you want me to bring my injured dog to you, so you can sedate her and ignore her for 4 hours? Yea. No.
We called up Trusty Vet.
One of the many things I love about my church is how diverse the people are. We've got everything in terms of careers, interests, hobbies, and talents. It's wonderful. The Trusty Vet veterinarian is a lovely woman who attends our church with her husband and son.
They were so friendly. Puppy was never scared or alone. Or sedated. They saw her right away. They called the other vet for medical records, and we all learned that the old vet never called/emailed/contacted us in any way to let us know Puppy's vaccines had expired! How horrible! Especially considering we live in a neighborhood also inhabited by coyotes. We were very upset by this.
Anyway, Dr. Bradshaw found out what happened and what caused SO MUCH blood. Seriously. A lot of blood. Turns out, at some point while Husband and Puppy were playing frisbee, Puppy landed funny and actually broke her dew claw. The crack in the claw was waaaay up into the quick, which is what caused the bleeding. Luckily, nothing phases Puppy. She got two shots, dew claws clipped, and some sort of vaccine-goo up her nose and never whimpered or fought it.
She's not one of those dogs who allows herself to be subjected to her humans' emotions. No, no. This dog is constantly happy, jumping, playing.. or sleeping. Those are her settings. Always.
++
In other news, Big Bertha celebrated her 100,000th mile on Monday evening!
++
This past weekend, Puppy ended up visiting the vet unexpectedly. Here's how it went down.
I'm in our guest room, painting (more on this later), and Husband calls me. He says, "meet me at the kitchen door, Puppy's paw is hurt and bleeding." He said it with such a calmness that I kind of wondered if he was kidding. Of the two of us, he's usually the one to freak out (and I love him for it). So, like any worried Puppy Mommy would do, I looked out the front window to see if Puppy was hurt or limping, and she wasn't. I sat at the back door and they came in, and sure enough, her entire front left paw was bloody, and she'd managed to get splashes of blood pretty much everywhere on her body. Impressive, really. I held her still while Husband used the puppy wipes to wipe off her feet, and try to soak up some of the blood on and around her paw.
We thought she'd torn her dew claw. Dr. Google led us to believe that she could need it removed. We called our vet, and they seemed to play it down. Like there was nothing wrong with Puppy. Um, hello.. if I can see my dog's blood in drips, and there's enough that it splashed around her body, there is something wrong. They said we could bring her by, and that she'd need to be sedated. And that it'd be almost 4 hours before she could be seen. So, now, after telling me my dog is fine, you want me to bring my injured dog to you, so you can sedate her and ignore her for 4 hours? Yea. No.
We called up Trusty Vet.
One of the many things I love about my church is how diverse the people are. We've got everything in terms of careers, interests, hobbies, and talents. It's wonderful. The Trusty Vet veterinarian is a lovely woman who attends our church with her husband and son.
They were so friendly. Puppy was never scared or alone. Or sedated. They saw her right away. They called the other vet for medical records, and we all learned that the old vet never called/emailed/contacted us in any way to let us know Puppy's vaccines had expired! How horrible! Especially considering we live in a neighborhood also inhabited by coyotes. We were very upset by this.
Anyway, Dr. Bradshaw found out what happened and what caused SO MUCH blood. Seriously. A lot of blood. Turns out, at some point while Husband and Puppy were playing frisbee, Puppy landed funny and actually broke her dew claw. The crack in the claw was waaaay up into the quick, which is what caused the bleeding. Luckily, nothing phases Puppy. She got two shots, dew claws clipped, and some sort of vaccine-goo up her nose and never whimpered or fought it.
She's not one of those dogs who allows herself to be subjected to her humans' emotions. No, no. This dog is constantly happy, jumping, playing.. or sleeping. Those are her settings. Always.
Doesn't look so bad after being cleaned for almost a 1/2 hour straight.
So excited, even to be at the vet.
She definitely isn't a guard dog, but she'll love you to death if you let her.
++
In other news, Big Bertha celebrated her 100,000th mile on Monday evening!
I know she's not very big, in fact she's remarkably small.
Big Bertha is my first car, and though I sometimes fear she's out to get me, she's been amazing.
She became mine on December 31, 2006. On December 23, 2006, I had my wisdom teeth out and spent that Christmas and the few fuzzy days surrounding it on pain medication. One day in that fuzzy window of time, I was somehow allowed to take a driving test. Still on pain medication from my surgery. A lot of the test I don't remember, but I know it was raining and that in my license, my cheeks were swollen.
The day I got Big Bertha, I was actually supposed to be getting a green Nissan Sentra. We had the car on hold for me, but Mom and I got stuck in traffic and somehow, some other random person just had to have that car. It's OK. That Sentra probably wouldn't have lasted as long- it had more miles already on it and was a year or two older. So, Big Bertha, who was our second choice, became the winner!
The first place I drove was to my job at Baskin Robbins (and at this point, I was no longer on pain killers, by the way). I didn't have to work, but I had to show Brittany, my Baskin/Dunkin BFF (we even had nicknames from the Blockbuster employees and the Stevie B's bbq employees: Baskin Britt and Dunkin Dsouza- BB/DD) my new wheels. She made a free milkshake- our special "Banana Surprise" -and she ate some ice cream while we admired Bertha. I remember Brittany had a Suzuki.
Big Bertha and I have had some fun, and some not as fun, experiences. We've been rear-ended thrice, we've had tires blow out on interstates, and we've been flooded overnight, causing severe (and still not completely fixed) electrical issues. But she's been a beast. Even on days where I'm pretty sure she's going to kill me, I love her.
She moved with me to Huntsville and since then has taken me all sorts of places around the southeast. Bertha and I (plus whoever else may have been in the car) have driven up Monte Sano for a few hikes- once when her underbelly got scraped up so bad by a ledge that I had to take her get the brakes checked; to Gatlinburg- where we got stuck when the back passenger side tire slipped off a snowy road; to Pensacola/Destin/Gulf Shores; to Nashville and Chattanooga; to Birmingham; to Atlanta, and many more. Oh, and she's driven from Ft. Lauderdale to Huntsville thrice. Bertha and I are all about adventures, you know.
She's got a few bumps and bruises, a dent in the back bumper and a few scratches. She's got an unreliable "check engine" light, and I'll never know again if all the doors are shut (without turning around, of course), she's randomly super loose with the amount of gas she'll devour, and she's got an oil leak, but it's ok, because for the most part, she's gotten me to and from my destinations with ease and safety.
Like everyone who values their first car, she's got some details that make her mine. There are two turtles on the dash board in front of my steering wheel. She's got a metal slinky on the windshield-wiper-stick, and a rainbow plastic slinky on the blinker-stick. She's got a UAH window cling, a UA window cling, and the remnants of a "Charge On" sticker (all that remains is "arg" for some reason). In the back seat leaves a Chick-Fil-A stuffed cow from 2008, two bibles, a frisbee under my seat, and a jacket (always a jacket). And the trunk has a pair of flip flops, a sweatshirt, and a beach chair.
Not to mention, she has a pretty good sound system for an unmodified 9-year-old car.
Here's hoping, but not expecting, another 100,000 miles with her.
Tuesday, February 19, 2013
Multi-tasking
At any given moment, there a million things going through my head. This post will probably resemble that.
In early 2012, Lindsey and I went to Unclaimed Baggage. We each got a few treasures there. I got a new wallet, dress, (originally Lindsey's) fanny pack, and kite. This kite was enormous. Literally bigger than I am. It's also shaped like a puppy's face, which made it that much better. Unfortunately, puppy kite didn't come with puppy kite string. So after over a year of shuffling about, I finally got my kite string! I'm so easy to please- Husband gave me the kite string for Valentine's Day :) The kite was glorious in the 20 minutes there was wind that day. Even at unparalleled heights (compared to other kite-flying events in my neighborhood, of which there have been none), puppy kite still looked huge. And it was such a pretty day! Since Husband didn't have a kite- and I wasn't willing to share mine- he picked up a sweet Ninja Turtle kite for himself at Target, when he got my string.
The wind was nearly perfect when we first ventured to the great outdoors that is our neighborhood. And for days like this, having nearly no neighbors is perfect. No neighbors = no houses to block the wind. Also, the only trees are along the outermost edges of the neighborhood's perimeter.
After about 20 minutes of euphoric kite-flying, the wind pretty much stopped. This caused drastic measures:
+++
Two weeks ago I tore a piece of paper in half and gave one half to Husband, with a pen. I told him to write down 15 places he wants to go - these could be cities, countries, events, specific locations- anything. I was happy to find that 9 of our 15 matched! The places are (in no particular order): Australia, Italy, Germany, the Bahamas, San Fransisco, Chicago, Washington DC, New York, England.
Lucky for us, we have friends who live in two of these places. Chicago and DC. Today we booked our flights to Washington DC for mid-March! We'll be living and touring with my BFFE April! You can find more about April here, from June 2012. I'm so excited to get to A) See April during her spring break, and B) Be all touristy in DC for the first time.
April's been my best friend since we were too young for elementary school. I usually label it as "I was 5 and April was 4," which truly probably isn't too far off. Aside from a few minor spats in high school, we've remained best friends for the large majority of our entire lives. She was a bridesmaid in my wedding! I was the topic of a paper she wrote in high school! We have so many things in common- our love of puzzles, swing sets, rollercoasters, and words. But we've also always been different in our own ways. We've never attended the same school, so we each had our own separate groups of friends, but we always had each other ahead of them.
Some of my favorite memories as a child are with April- walking from her house to the Weston 8 movie theater, then to the pet store down the strip; of course there's our times in our Sunday School classes and VBS (.. and who can forget Kyle Poffenberger?); times when my Mom would be driving me to her house, and she'd go the way I didn't know and I'd tell her she was going the "lost way;" sleeping over and staying up all night; swimming in her pool, and eating Hot Pockets on the mini trampoline. Then there was the period in my life where I sort of hated her sister.. (Lauren.. sorry!). Then even since we've both moved away, we'd get together over Christmas breaks; she also visited me a few times here in Huntsville. Through it all, though, we always had a great time, no matter what we were doing.
In fact, the morning I left Florida to move to Huntsville, she and I got our last breakfast at Bagelmania. Oh Bagelmania.. how I miss you. And April. But no worries, because I'm seeing her in less than a month!
Another friend who lives in (or, slightly near, in this case) a city on our list is Cynthia! You can find the deets about her here, yes, at the same link, but from a different month- March.
Cynthia and I went to high school together. I'm really not sure how or when we officially met, but I know when we became the type of friends who actually keep in touch after high school. Sophomore year Chemistry. Man.. if those lab walls could tell the stories of the way my class tortured that teacher. I hate to say this because I know so many teachers, but she kind of had it coming for the way she treated us. She hated me for some reason. She'd single me out and put me in the back corner. Regardless, Cynthia and I had a lot of fun in that class. We'd have epic pipette wars. Which literally means we'd try to stab the other with the pipettes. What can I say, we were easily amused 15 year-olds. We also ended up having a lot of other classes together throughout the four years, and were active in a few of the same clubs (which is how we ended up wearing the same shirt to meet each other last year).
Cynthia went to Northwestern University for her undergrad and is now attending the University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign for law school. She's crazy, I tell ya. I certainly couldn't do law school. I digress.
This summer she'll be interning in Chicago- which is another place on mine and Husband's matching lists! So we're going to try to figure out a weekend that'll work for her and for us to go!
Our lists:
+++
As an update to the living room chair situation.. We brought back the zebra print and came home with a different print altogether. Not exactly what we had in mind, but I like it a lot.
There are a few more things to post on, but I feel like this post is getting too long. More later/soon!
In early 2012, Lindsey and I went to Unclaimed Baggage. We each got a few treasures there. I got a new wallet, dress, (originally Lindsey's) fanny pack, and kite. This kite was enormous. Literally bigger than I am. It's also shaped like a puppy's face, which made it that much better. Unfortunately, puppy kite didn't come with puppy kite string. So after over a year of shuffling about, I finally got my kite string! I'm so easy to please- Husband gave me the kite string for Valentine's Day :) The kite was glorious in the 20 minutes there was wind that day. Even at unparalleled heights (compared to other kite-flying events in my neighborhood, of which there have been none), puppy kite still looked huge. And it was such a pretty day! Since Husband didn't have a kite- and I wasn't willing to share mine- he picked up a sweet Ninja Turtle kite for himself at Target, when he got my string.
The wind was nearly perfect when we first ventured to the great outdoors that is our neighborhood. And for days like this, having nearly no neighbors is perfect. No neighbors = no houses to block the wind. Also, the only trees are along the outermost edges of the neighborhood's perimeter.
Puppy kite way up in the sky!
Husband's kite over our house! Look at the sweet streamer/tail action.
After about 20 minutes of euphoric kite-flying, the wind pretty much stopped. This caused drastic measures:
Husband and Puppy ran along our side street in a valiant attempt to fly their kite.
He tried so hard, but the kite put up a good fight.
Two weeks ago I tore a piece of paper in half and gave one half to Husband, with a pen. I told him to write down 15 places he wants to go - these could be cities, countries, events, specific locations- anything. I was happy to find that 9 of our 15 matched! The places are (in no particular order): Australia, Italy, Germany, the Bahamas, San Fransisco, Chicago, Washington DC, New York, England.
Lucky for us, we have friends who live in two of these places. Chicago and DC. Today we booked our flights to Washington DC for mid-March! We'll be living and touring with my BFFE April! You can find more about April here, from June 2012. I'm so excited to get to A) See April during her spring break, and B) Be all touristy in DC for the first time.
April's been my best friend since we were too young for elementary school. I usually label it as "I was 5 and April was 4," which truly probably isn't too far off. Aside from a few minor spats in high school, we've remained best friends for the large majority of our entire lives. She was a bridesmaid in my wedding! I was the topic of a paper she wrote in high school! We have so many things in common- our love of puzzles, swing sets, rollercoasters, and words. But we've also always been different in our own ways. We've never attended the same school, so we each had our own separate groups of friends, but we always had each other ahead of them.
Some of my favorite memories as a child are with April- walking from her house to the Weston 8 movie theater, then to the pet store down the strip; of course there's our times in our Sunday School classes and VBS (.. and who can forget Kyle Poffenberger?); times when my Mom would be driving me to her house, and she'd go the way I didn't know and I'd tell her she was going the "lost way;" sleeping over and staying up all night; swimming in her pool, and eating Hot Pockets on the mini trampoline. Then there was the period in my life where I sort of hated her sister.. (Lauren.. sorry!). Then even since we've both moved away, we'd get together over Christmas breaks; she also visited me a few times here in Huntsville. Through it all, though, we always had a great time, no matter what we were doing.
In fact, the morning I left Florida to move to Huntsville, she and I got our last breakfast at Bagelmania. Oh Bagelmania.. how I miss you. And April. But no worries, because I'm seeing her in less than a month!
Another friend who lives in (or, slightly near, in this case) a city on our list is Cynthia! You can find the deets about her here, yes, at the same link, but from a different month- March.
Cynthia and I went to high school together. I'm really not sure how or when we officially met, but I know when we became the type of friends who actually keep in touch after high school. Sophomore year Chemistry. Man.. if those lab walls could tell the stories of the way my class tortured that teacher. I hate to say this because I know so many teachers, but she kind of had it coming for the way she treated us. She hated me for some reason. She'd single me out and put me in the back corner. Regardless, Cynthia and I had a lot of fun in that class. We'd have epic pipette wars. Which literally means we'd try to stab the other with the pipettes. What can I say, we were easily amused 15 year-olds. We also ended up having a lot of other classes together throughout the four years, and were active in a few of the same clubs (which is how we ended up wearing the same shirt to meet each other last year).
Cynthia went to Northwestern University for her undergrad and is now attending the University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign for law school. She's crazy, I tell ya. I certainly couldn't do law school. I digress.
This summer she'll be interning in Chicago- which is another place on mine and Husband's matching lists! So we're going to try to figure out a weekend that'll work for her and for us to go!
Our lists:
+++
As an update to the living room chair situation.. We brought back the zebra print and came home with a different print altogether. Not exactly what we had in mind, but I like it a lot.
Puppy's always gotta be the center of attention
There are a few more things to post on, but I feel like this post is getting too long. More later/soon!
Husband and I as attendants in his brother's wedding.
Wednesday, February 13, 2013
Things in Common
Last night around 11:30, I had a small breakdown, thinking I lost something important to me.
+
Puppy and I have a few things in common.
We both:
love Husband (who I frequently call my Puppy Daddy),
love eating Doritos (though hers are an accident and generally eaten off the floor),
love being outside when it's super sunny with a slight breeze,
love being silly,
love chewing rawhides (ok, just kidding.. That one's all her),
and we both love our Bunny.
We have different bunnies.
Puppy got her first Bunny in January 2012. She immediately made it her life goal to get out the fluff and the squeakers, then to rip off the ears and tail. In that order. After that's all done, she just chews on the nasty things until Husband and I either throw it away because it's so disgusting, or we wash it because she just loves it so much. We've done both. But when we throw it away, she rarely actually knows. What happens is that while he takes her outside, I throw away the old one and cut the tags off the new one, then throw it across the room so it lands randomly. Though I'm pretty sure she realizes it doesn't taste like her old slobber, she hasn't seemed to care yet.
+
Puppy and I have a few things in common.
We both:
love Husband (who I frequently call my Puppy Daddy),
love eating Doritos (though hers are an accident and generally eaten off the floor),
love being outside when it's super sunny with a slight breeze,
love being silly,
love chewing rawhides (ok, just kidding.. That one's all her),
and we both love our Bunny.
We have different bunnies.
Puppy got her first Bunny in January 2012. She immediately made it her life goal to get out the fluff and the squeakers, then to rip off the ears and tail. In that order. After that's all done, she just chews on the nasty things until Husband and I either throw it away because it's so disgusting, or we wash it because she just loves it so much. We've done both. But when we throw it away, she rarely actually knows. What happens is that while he takes her outside, I throw away the old one and cut the tags off the new one, then throw it across the room so it lands randomly. Though I'm pretty sure she realizes it doesn't taste like her old slobber, she hasn't seemed to care yet.
Can't blame a girl for knowing what she wants.
My Bunny means a lot more to me.
Last night, as Husband and I were preparing for sleep, I rolled over and said, "Have you seen Bunny?" Husband said, "No, I haven't seen it." "Her," I insisted. I told him I can't remember packing, moving, or unpacking her. I was instantly distraught.
This is a stuffed animal I creatively named Bunny when I was 3 years old. It was a gift, and one of the few decent memories I have of the Bunny-Gifter. I've had her with me since then. Twenty-one years. I slept with her, unashamed, through elementary, middle and high school. I even brought her to cheerleading competitions. No shame. I brought her to college. I stopped sleeping with her because after more than 10 years, her clothes were tattered and torn. I'd always refused to have them fixed because she wouldn't be the same without those rips from my childhood dreams and playtimes.
So last night when I realized I hadn't seen her in nearly 5 months, I was shattered. What made me feel worse is that it took me five months to miss her.
Has my life become so busy that I don't have time to sit and think about things that are important to me? I know my life's priorities have changed, so of course I wouldn't be thinking about a stuffed animal all the time, but still.. five months? That's a long time to generally ignore something that (still) means so much to me.
This morning, among finishing up dishes, general cleaning of the house (we're hosting Bible Study tonight), making lunch for Husband and I, finding pitchers and bowls for dinner, and playing with Puppy, I found her. Tucked away safely. I'd neatly folded her in half, bending at her fragile hips. I placed her into a canvas bag, folded the top over and put on top of a bunch of soft things. Such care I took when packing her.
I came out of the back room victoriously and showed Husband. He said, "Oh you found it!" "Her." She's now resting safely on my dresser, and the world feels right again.
Battle scars. Ripped and tattered clothes from
being played with and slept on for nearly 15 years.
I think she would have been the most loved toy in
the Toy Story movie of my childhood.
Friday, February 8, 2013
Half-things.
Much like my friend Amanda, I've always been a stickler for remembering special dates. Ask me the birthdays of several friends from elementary school, and I can tell you that. And particular friends from high school? Got it. The dates I started working at each of my jobs- and the dates that I stopped working at them? Got it. But the anniversary of when my now-Husband and I first "officially" started dating? Beats me.
We had sort of an odd happening upon each other. We sort of half-dated for several years before ever actually officially dating each other. In fact, while we were not dating each other, we were dating other people, fairly seriously at times.
But somehow, some way, our semester schedules (including classes, homework, family and jobs) always worked out that our Wednesday nights were free. So, what to do, you ask? We started Wednesdays With Brown. It was our thing. We did it every week, without question, without fail, without reason. We didn't need a reason. We were best friends. Two people who were so overly busy with school, work, and life that we always made sure to get that special time in together once a week. It was rarely the only time we saw each other that week, but it was always the only time we saw each other without bookbags and homework in tow.
We went out to dinner, then snuck into movies. We'd park in the absolute farther parking space, eat an entire sleeve of Oreos, then make a mad dash to whatever we were doing. We'd run through the rain and sing and dance at the mall. We'd take funny pictures (hard to believe, I know). Sometimes, we'd just hang out at my apartment and try to cook. Inevitably, we'd end up eating candy or ice cream with brownies. We saran-wrapped friends' cars (though they wished we wouldn't) and walked around the dollar store.
We outwardly discussed the relationships we were in, and the hardships and trials that came with them. We could do this because it was a safe environment. It was a place that we could go and just.. be. We could vent and scream and laugh and cry and express the real pain and real joy that we couldn't show with others.
It was a time that we used to really live.
This regular Wednesday night occurrence began in 2008.
Before 2008, we were really just starting to get to know each other.
Let's jump back to summer 2006. June. A Florida girl who knows no one in the time zone arrives in Huntsville for her freshman college orientation. I met a few people, most of whom I don't talk to at all anymore. Some I look back on with fun memories- some I just look back on with funny nicknames they don't know about.
All the new freshman at the orientation were made to sit in a circle to play "You're my friend, if.." Simple game, really. One person stands in the middle of a circle of people sitting down, and says, "You're my friend if (insert something applicable to you)." Everyone who the statement applies to gets up and tries to find a new spot in the circle. The last person standing has to start with the statement again.
You know how when you're playing a game with 30-40 people you don't know, all you want to do is fit in? That didn't work for me.
"You're my friend if.. you're from Florida."
No one budges.
"You're my friend if.. you don't like chocolate."
No. One. Budges.
"You're my friend if.. you have shoelaces?"
Everyone gets up, of course, and I was mortified, feeling like moving to Alabama was the worst thing I could have ever done in my life, ever.
Husband was in this crowd, probably thinking to himself, "This girl's crazy."
Fast forward two months. August 13, 2006. Florida girl officially leaves Home, with two car-fulls of stuff, and 4 extra people to help drive the 14-hour drive, and unpack the cars and help me move in.
The first week in Huntsville was spent at what is essentially "Math Camp." Not really the way you want to start out your college years, but it turned out alright. I skipped a lot. I actually sat at the table that Husband's table kept telling to "shhhh!"
First week of being a real college student involved a lot of time being lost trying to navigate the campus, trying to figure out how college actually works, and meeting a million and one new people- daily.
Enter Husband. I remember this day. August 24, 2006.
We met in a lab. It was our MAE100 lab. It was Thursday. The class met Tuesdays and Thursdays in the morning and our lab session just happened to be right after the Thursday class. I walk in to this lab, after being seriously lost in the building for no less than 10 minutes (I'm pretty sure I was near tears, and worried about starving to death in this maze of hallways), wearing a Pink Floyd shirt, carrying a jacket (more to come on that later, possibly), hair down and purple. I sit at a table and say to whoever would listen, "Well this sucks."
I looked up at the people at my table. A super skinny tall dude we'll call Chris (because it's his name), and Husband. Blonde American Eagle hair, button-down, glasses over his sunflower-and-blue-eyes. A part of me, possibly visible, swooned. But alas, as the three of us talked more, we discovered Mr. Button-down was in a relationship, an had been for quite some time. I myself had just sort of started one with a person I met at orientation two months prior.
Dreams. Dashed.
Two weeks or so later, Chris told me a secret: "Mr. Blue Eyes said he's going to marry you someday." I said to Chris, "That's a little weird."
The three of us hung out and got to know each other pretty well. We were best friends. It was great. We'd get lunch and hang out and do homework. Of course, there's the fact that we were more or less bound together by our team-assigned MAE100 semester lab project- which turned out to be great fun.
Over the course of time, we all got closer and a sometimes little distant, depending on the semester and the situations. But one thing remained: Mr. American Eagle Hair and I were always close- no farther than a phone call- always ready to be there on a moments' notice, ready to fight whoever caused the other pain. Always.
Then begins the summer 2007. I went on a Study Abroad trip to Europe for two weeks. There were no "real" ties between Ol' Glasses and I except our deep, true friendship. I sent him post cards from Europe, each one signed "Love." Never thought about it.
Another year passes. I moved into my first apartment- I like to call this the Ghetto Apartment. Ghetto it is, and probably my favorite nonetheless. The life lived there was amazing. Busy, with full time school, working on campus and at a restaurant, being in a relationship (nope, not with Husband, sadly), and trying to see my family in Florida. We made due. Wednesdays with Brown began in early Spring.
2009 brought three new living accommodations and a million and one huge changes.
Skipping the gory details, this is the year- sometime in July (5th? 6th?)- that Husband and I finally decided to make what we had real. We officially became us. Finally. After six months of excitement, a few trips here and there, many nights up late doing homework (no kidding) and general merriment, Pre-Husband became Husband-To-Be when he proposed on December 31, 2009. Another date I can remember.
I guess I wrote this post to celebrate how much I love and appreciate the route that Husband and I took to get where we are. I think the time we spent really getting to know each other as people and individuals really helps us in our marriage. We really knew each other before we dated, and I think our open relationship really taught us who the other is. We learned each other's insecurities, habits, what makes the other tick, how to argue and how to really enjoy each other.
Today, only slightly three and a half years after we officially started dating (truly, February is actually 3 years and 7 months, but I'm close!), we're still together, and still best friends.
Another half-celebration? February 24 really is the six-years-and-six-month anniversary of when we first met, back in the MAE100L. Back when I had the purple hair and the Pink Floyd shirt.
We had sort of an odd happening upon each other. We sort of half-dated for several years before ever actually officially dating each other. In fact, while we were not dating each other, we were dating other people, fairly seriously at times.
But somehow, some way, our semester schedules (including classes, homework, family and jobs) always worked out that our Wednesday nights were free. So, what to do, you ask? We started Wednesdays With Brown. It was our thing. We did it every week, without question, without fail, without reason. We didn't need a reason. We were best friends. Two people who were so overly busy with school, work, and life that we always made sure to get that special time in together once a week. It was rarely the only time we saw each other that week, but it was always the only time we saw each other without bookbags and homework in tow.
We went out to dinner, then snuck into movies. We'd park in the absolute farther parking space, eat an entire sleeve of Oreos, then make a mad dash to whatever we were doing. We'd run through the rain and sing and dance at the mall. We'd take funny pictures (hard to believe, I know). Sometimes, we'd just hang out at my apartment and try to cook. Inevitably, we'd end up eating candy or ice cream with brownies. We saran-wrapped friends' cars (though they wished we wouldn't) and walked around the dollar store.
We outwardly discussed the relationships we were in, and the hardships and trials that came with them. We could do this because it was a safe environment. It was a place that we could go and just.. be. We could vent and scream and laugh and cry and express the real pain and real joy that we couldn't show with others.
It was a time that we used to really live.
This regular Wednesday night occurrence began in 2008.
Before 2008, we were really just starting to get to know each other.
Let's jump back to summer 2006. June. A Florida girl who knows no one in the time zone arrives in Huntsville for her freshman college orientation. I met a few people, most of whom I don't talk to at all anymore. Some I look back on with fun memories- some I just look back on with funny nicknames they don't know about.
All the new freshman at the orientation were made to sit in a circle to play "You're my friend, if.." Simple game, really. One person stands in the middle of a circle of people sitting down, and says, "You're my friend if (insert something applicable to you)." Everyone who the statement applies to gets up and tries to find a new spot in the circle. The last person standing has to start with the statement again.
You know how when you're playing a game with 30-40 people you don't know, all you want to do is fit in? That didn't work for me.
"You're my friend if.. you're from Florida."
No one budges.
"You're my friend if.. you don't like chocolate."
No. One. Budges.
"You're my friend if.. you have shoelaces?"
Everyone gets up, of course, and I was mortified, feeling like moving to Alabama was the worst thing I could have ever done in my life, ever.
Husband was in this crowd, probably thinking to himself, "This girl's crazy."
Fast forward two months. August 13, 2006. Florida girl officially leaves Home, with two car-fulls of stuff, and 4 extra people to help drive the 14-hour drive, and unpack the cars and help me move in.
The first week in Huntsville was spent at what is essentially "Math Camp." Not really the way you want to start out your college years, but it turned out alright. I skipped a lot. I actually sat at the table that Husband's table kept telling to "shhhh!"
First week of being a real college student involved a lot of time being lost trying to navigate the campus, trying to figure out how college actually works, and meeting a million and one new people- daily.
Enter Husband. I remember this day. August 24, 2006.
We met in a lab. It was our MAE100 lab. It was Thursday. The class met Tuesdays and Thursdays in the morning and our lab session just happened to be right after the Thursday class. I walk in to this lab, after being seriously lost in the building for no less than 10 minutes (I'm pretty sure I was near tears, and worried about starving to death in this maze of hallways), wearing a Pink Floyd shirt, carrying a jacket (more to come on that later, possibly), hair down and purple. I sit at a table and say to whoever would listen, "Well this sucks."
I looked up at the people at my table. A super skinny tall dude we'll call Chris (because it's his name), and Husband. Blonde American Eagle hair, button-down, glasses over his sunflower-and-blue-eyes. A part of me, possibly visible, swooned. But alas, as the three of us talked more, we discovered Mr. Button-down was in a relationship, an had been for quite some time. I myself had just sort of started one with a person I met at orientation two months prior.
Dreams. Dashed.
Two weeks or so later, Chris told me a secret: "Mr. Blue Eyes said he's going to marry you someday." I said to Chris, "That's a little weird."
The three of us hung out and got to know each other pretty well. We were best friends. It was great. We'd get lunch and hang out and do homework. Of course, there's the fact that we were more or less bound together by our team-assigned MAE100 semester lab project- which turned out to be great fun.
Over the course of time, we all got closer and a sometimes little distant, depending on the semester and the situations. But one thing remained: Mr. American Eagle Hair and I were always close- no farther than a phone call- always ready to be there on a moments' notice, ready to fight whoever caused the other pain. Always.
Mr. American Eagle Hair and I, in my dorm room in 2006.
Then begins the summer 2007. I went on a Study Abroad trip to Europe for two weeks. There were no "real" ties between Ol' Glasses and I except our deep, true friendship. I sent him post cards from Europe, each one signed "Love." Never thought about it.
Fuzzy picture from the week before Thanksgiving in 2007.
Another year passes. I moved into my first apartment- I like to call this the Ghetto Apartment. Ghetto it is, and probably my favorite nonetheless. The life lived there was amazing. Busy, with full time school, working on campus and at a restaurant, being in a relationship (nope, not with Husband, sadly), and trying to see my family in Florida. We made due. Wednesdays with Brown began in early Spring.
Mr. Pebbles, the cuter version, in Ghetto Apartment
in 2008. Wearing my bracelet mind you.
2009 brought three new living accommodations and a million and one huge changes.
Skipping the gory details, this is the year- sometime in July (5th? 6th?)- that Husband and I finally decided to make what we had real. We officially became us. Finally. After six months of excitement, a few trips here and there, many nights up late doing homework (no kidding) and general merriment, Pre-Husband became Husband-To-Be when he proposed on December 31, 2009. Another date I can remember.
Chattanooga, 2009
I guess I wrote this post to celebrate how much I love and appreciate the route that Husband and I took to get where we are. I think the time we spent really getting to know each other as people and individuals really helps us in our marriage. We really knew each other before we dated, and I think our open relationship really taught us who the other is. We learned each other's insecurities, habits, what makes the other tick, how to argue and how to really enjoy each other.
Today, only slightly three and a half years after we officially started dating (truly, February is actually 3 years and 7 months, but I'm close!), we're still together, and still best friends.
Another half-celebration? February 24 really is the six-years-and-six-month anniversary of when we first met, back in the MAE100L. Back when I had the purple hair and the Pink Floyd shirt.
Us from the weekend before Christmas, 2012.
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