book gluttons, unite!

Some people hit the mall after Christmas, trying to score that amazing deal.

Not us.  J and I, we hit the used bookstores.

(Twice.  I decided to sell some books the next day so I'd have an excuse to bring more home).

Here are some of my finds:



The Little Prince -- Antoine De Saint-Exupery

I can't accurately describe to you how excited I am to have this book in my home!!! 

A story about a boy and his rose!  My first exposure to The Little Prince was last quarter in my Writing About Lit course.  I had never heard the story until my prof Michael beautifully read a portion of it to us in class.  One of the genius aspects of the class: every day starts with a reading, anyone from Annie Dillard to Shel Silverstein to Stephen King.  Those readings were among some of my favorite moments last quarter.

If you've ever read The Little Prince, the conversation between the boy and the fox about what it means to "tame" something... phew.  I nearly cried in class.  And now I have a copy for my very own.  :)



Corrections to My Memoirs -- Michael Kun

I have never heard of this author, but bought the book because of the cover, which I thought was pretty damn funny.  I gobbled up James Frey's Million Little Pieces, and a few months later watched Oprah devour him live in front of a studio TV audience for taking what some circles deemed, shall we say, inappropriate creative license.  We'll see.



Bodies in Motion and at Rest: On Metaphor and Mortality -- Thomas Lynch

Found this one randomly in the essay section at Michael's Bookstore downtown, and loved the title.  Once I got home and started reading it, I realized there was much more to it than a neat title.  This guy is an undertaker/poet/essayist.  Undertaker.  Poet.  Essayist.  Need I say more?  I'm only a few essays in, and I'm completely hooked.  If anyone has a solid perspective on death, I think someone working in a funeral home for over 25 years would.  And the writing.  Augh!  Lovely.

 

Where the Sidewalk Ends -- Shel Silverstein

I've meant to own this book (and A Light in the Attic) for a long time now.  My lit class gave me just the inspiration I needed.  I think it nearly impossible to read a few of the poems and not walk away in a better mood.  I dare someone to try!

PS...  Justin tells me Shel Silverstein wrote Johnny Cash's "A Boy Named Sue."  Pretty rad.



The Gift of Asher Lev -- Chaim Potok

When I love a book as much as I do My Name Is Asher Lev, I'm a little hesitant to read its sequel, in fear that the sequel will be far inferior to its predecessor and will leave me with sadness in my heart and a regret that I didn't leave well enough alone with the first novel (some of those crappy rip-off sequels to Pride and Prejudice come to mind, although it doesn't take a genius to stay away from the sacrilege that is someone writing a sequel to another person's novel.  I refuse!).  My Name Is Asher Lev was mind-blowingly powerful to me; a treatise on the dark places artists must journey to fulfill their God-given calling.  Even following their gift away from what their own community and family would approve of.

I stepped out on a limb this time, read some reviews, and if this book turns out to be crap, I'll never heed another book review again.  Probably.  In the meantime, I have high hopes that Mr. Potok wouldn't let such an amazing character falter. 

I also filled in some holes in my Harry Potter collection, although I accidentally bought a duplicate of Book 4 and sheepishly had to return it to exchange it for 5 the next day.

Hooray for books!  We need new bookshelves already.  Sigh.

phew.

Hey!  We survived Christmas!

Never again.

We drove down to Poulsbo Friday (3 hours), spent the night with J's mom and brother, drove to Port Orchard (45 min) and spent the night with my folks on Saturday, drove back up to Bellingham on Sunday (3 hours) so I could work at 5:30 Monday morning, drove back down to Port Orchard Monday afternoon (3 hours), to Poulsbo and back Christmas Eve (1 1/2 hours), to Poulsbo and back Christmas morning (1 1/2 hours), and then back up to Bellingham (3 hours) Christmas night so Justin could work at 5 am the next morning.

I'm no mathematician, but I *think* we spent over 15 hours in the car.  We looked bewilderedly at each other several times this past week, as in, why the heck are we doing this, again?

It's weird to say this, but I think I feel more like I'm on vacation now that Christmas is over and I'm back to work than I did when I was off.  So relieved to have all of it done with.  And -- we'll make far more laid-back plans next year.  Ack. 

Here's a few pics from Christmas (I have no excuses for the boys, who were on a real tear). 





It snowed -- the first time I've seen snow fall on Christmas Day!





We got some fun new games for Christmas -- Settlers of Catan, Carcassonne, and Chess.  I'll probably write about their magnificence soon -- we're really enjoying them.

Hope you all had a good Christmas -- will write more soon.  For now -- time to go to bed and finish recuperating.  :)

ack.

Justin's work called this morning (Day 2 of our week off work) at 10 am and said that his vacation (which he requested and had approved three months ago) doesn't apply anymore, since they find themselves busy and not all of his week off was covered by paid vacation.  By 10:30 am he was back on the phones.  He will be home at 7:30 tonight.

So much for our break.

We were planning on leaving tomorrow morning to visit everyone.  Now Justin works through Friday.

I so hope we'll be able to laugh about this at some point.  Right now it just feels like we're taking it up the... well, you know.  I've never seen the kid so discouraged.  I know he needed a rest.

Sigh.  Corporate America at its best, everyone.

morning ramblings

Good morning!  I just slept in til ten for the first time in several months!  I'm groggy as hell but want to keep my string of posts going.  Quantity, not quality.  That's the motto around here.

Last night, Justin and I successfully completed our Christmas shopping for everyone but each other in about two hours.

I looked at my watch as we were headed out of our last store, and said, "Wow.  I think this is the fastest I've ever done this."

Justin looked at me in awe and laughed.  Left to his own devices, he shops as if he's on a timed mission, where the whole mall is gonna blow unless he's in and out in ten minutes.

Good times.

I had so braced myself to find the mall a complete nuthouse, and then, once we got there, it was just fine.  Lesson learned:  Go in with low expectations, and then you'll be pleasantly surprised.

Right now, I have a 4.0 GPA for this quarter.  Granted, only one of my grades has been reported, but I think it's important to celebrate while you can.  This is the first 24 hours of having a 4.0 that I've had in, like, 10 years or something.  Yay me.  It may all come crashing down once the rest of my grades are reported on Thursday, but hey.  I know I worked hard.  This was the first quarter since I don't know how long that I was a truly good student.  Justin's a bad influence on me, apparently.

We're heading out shopping with Justin's bro later today, who made the trip up to Bellingham for a few days, and we'll be hanging out with his cousins as well.  I think I'll be making dinner for everyone tomorrow night, which, since I've actually been making efforts to learn how to cook good meals, should be a lot of fun.

I did want to say, regarding what I wrote yesterday, that -- big surprise -- I'm feeling a lot better about things.  I'm still a little nervous about Christmas-y activities, but the tension that was covering over so much of my time (because I was spending so much time thinking about it) has faded a great deal. 

Muddled attempts at forgiveness bringing about peace?  Who knew?  It's amazing how hard we fight the things that are actually best for us.  It's precisely when I want to be the opposite of patient and gracious that I actually benefit the most from making attempts to do so, however flawed they might be.

My husband just now, from his corner of the office: "I have this message here from a 'Joseph Poon' in my junk mail box.  The title says 'WRITE ME.'  Hmmm... do you think I should?  I think I should."

Ah.  I love my man.  I've never laughed so often in my life.

shalom aleikhem

This won't be my prettiest post ever... but I need to sort some things out before we head down for Christmas.  Like I've said often -- free therapy, minus the couch.

***

When someone you've wronged forgives you, you're spared the dull and self-diminishing throb of a guilty conscience.

When you forgive someone who has wronged you, you're spared the dismal corrosion of bitterness and wounded pride.

For both parties, forgiveness means the freedom again to be at peace inside their own skins and to be glad in each other's presence.

--Frederick Buechner

***

Glad in each other's presence.  Christmas morning?

That particular scenario seems about as likely to me as an 80-degree Christmas Day here in Washington.

In an act of trying to prove I'm not the bad guy, I said that Justin and I could head over Christmas morning to have breakfast and open presents at the aunt and uncle's house.  It's... hard for me.  I've wished more than once I'd never said it.

Justin and I took advantage of having more than Sunday off this week and went to church on Saturday night.  CTK seems to have a real awareness of how crazy people let things get during the holidays, and so they purposefully dial things down a few notches.  The subject of the message was peace.

We haven't been to church since before school started back up again, and as I've admitted here recently, sometimes it feels like I'm better at doubt than at faith, but I'm at least trying to be good at showing up and listening.  That I can do.  It doesn't mean I have my defenses completely lowered, but I'm there.

So as the pastor was talking about peace, he urged people to practice peace.

"Therefore, as God's chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience.  Bear with each other and forgive whatever grievances you may have against one another.  Forgive as the Lord forgave you.  And over all these virtues, put on love, which binds them all together in perfect unity.  Let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts, since as members of one body you were called to peace.  And be thankful.  --Colossians 3:12-15"

"If it is possible, as far as it depends on you, live at peace with everyone.  --Romans 12:18"

I wish I could say that I had this deep moment of realization at this point -- but my defenses went sky-high and I fought it with all of my being.  Yeah, forgiveness, you would say that right about now.  Did anyone know about in-laws when this was written?  Paul was a single dude, you know.  ;)

The only moment my heart softened was when Grant said, as the time together was purposefully ended on a quiet and introspective note -- "I know that for some of you, this may be the only moment of peace you're going to get."  Softly: "Merry Christmas."

Tears down the cheeks, one in rapid succession after another.  It wasn't really this deeply spiritual moment.  It was really a pity-party where I agreed that, yeah, this may be my only moment of peace.  It was a beginning, a slight softening.  For me, things like this just take a few days to sink in.

Yes, people have acted horribly, but how much of that lack-of-peace is my own doing?  It usually takes quite a bit for me to get pissed off -- but once I'm there, I set up camp there.  I'm not kidding, you guys -- I woke up early this morning and began having a silent (yet angry) conversation with my uncle.  Anytime I'm having a one-sided conversation with someone I'm frustrated with, driving alone in the car, or in the dark of the early morning hours, that's a huge sign that things have gotten out of hand; that there is some work to be done in my own heart and mind.  There will be a time and a place to have that conversation, and J and I are united on that front.  But why waste so many other moments that could be full and beautiful by being bitter and rehashing details and constantly running through my lines?

To be honest, I don't know if there's any way that I'm going to walk into my husband's aunt and uncle's home with anything less than a sense of dread.  Forgiveness or not, I feel like I'm walking into a group of people that don't like me and don't trust me, and being asked to be full of holiday cheer and family-type sentiments.  That may be beyond me, but what of this forgiveness that is asked of me?  What of refusing the poison of bitterness and letting go of the wounded pride?

When I try to think of lofty thoughts like forgiveness, the first thing that pops into my head is that this whole thing is just so damned unfair.  I take certain aspects of my character and reputation seriously.  When I find out people have made me out to be a dishonest person with ill motives toward their family, and have compiled a case against me without me having any idea (partially built on sea-sickness a year ago)-- God.  It just kills me. 

I know that these relationships were distant long before I arrived on the scene, and that Justin has seen his family far more since we've been together than in the previous seven or eight year span.  I know that these efforts to visit and keep in touch have largely been on our side, and that the demands are ungracious in light of their own lack-of-participation.  If knowing these things was enough to lessen my sense of hurt-i-ness over the whole thing, I'd be there.  But it's not enough.  I feel raw.  I know that there are far worse things to deal with during the holidays -- I know it -- but for me right now, this burden aches.

Forgive.

But --

Forgive.

I really think that--

Forgive.

They--

Forgive.

Okay... okay.  I hear you.  I get it.  Plus, I must look like a mad person talking to imaginary foes in my car.  It may take me twenty-five moments just like this one where I decide again to forgive before I'm actually there.  But okay.  I'll start heading in the general direction of letting it go, wanting their good, wanting to be glad in their presence (or in their presence at all).  I'm ashamed to admit it's not this benificent thing -- I'm doing this for the sake of being at peace in my own skin more than anything else at this point.  But it's a place to start, I guess, and peace with the relatives or not, at least there will be peace in my heart.  Peace in my marriage.  Peace with God.  

The moments outside of that tough upcoming conversation will be my own again.  Ours again.

Shalom aleikhem.  Peace upon you.

bad things happen when I get bored...

So... I decided to organize our books by color this past weekend.

Seeing as how my book collection nearly doubled about a year ago, this was a lot harder than the last time I tried it.

Yes, I've done this more than once.

Yes, I'm a nerd.

You should have seen Justin's face, watching me organize like some mad thing.

But I think it looks cool and think it will be funny the next time Justin's looking for a book.  "What color is that binding again?"

Done!

Done done done done done!!!

Fall Quarter 2007, I bid you a fond and heartfelt adieu.

finally… a Christmas album for people who are mildly depressed or moderately melancholy, however you choose to look at it

I am loving this CD.  The only Christmas CD Justin owns is James Brown's Funky Christmas, and I'm pretty sure he has a huge crush on Sarah, so I thought this might be a lovely addition to his (our) collection.



It's lovely.  This holiday season, things have been more than usually stressful and somewhat sad, which has been a harsh contrast to all the happy-happy-joy-joy music that's played in every store and on every radio station.  This collection of songs is soft and slow and just a little ache-y -- my heart breaks whenever that gorgeous voice lilts in that unique way she has.  I'm digging it.

Anyone who puts Joni Mitchell's "River" on a Christmas CD truly gets what the holidays are like more often than not.  Especially this year.  I wish there was a river Justin and I could skate away on.  Two problems: the pond behind our house isn't fully frozen yet, and even if it was it wouldn't get us very far, and I'm pretty sure neither of us can skate.  Oh well, it's a nice thought anyway.

Anyway, if you get a chance, give this CD a listen.

check out the majesty!

I was a little more successful today.  We headed out to Whatcom Falls Park and then later I headed out to Fairhaven.  And I don't believe there's a single phallic photo in the bunch. 

I finally figured out how to slow down my shutter, resulting in pretty photos like this (although I need a tripod for the effect to come out perfect -- 2 1/2 to 3 seconds is a long time to try to stand still):





So fun!  And I didn't even fall in the water, amazingly enough.  Isn't this bridge lovely?





Most important of all -- I have a favorite new happy snap:



If any of you Bellinghamians get a moment to head out there, you should.  It's so weird to take that left off Lakeway, park, get out of your car, and immediately hear the soothing sound of rushing water -- right in the middle of the city.  We were only out there for probably 45 minutes, but as we got back in our car to head home, I knew it had done me some good.  The sheepskin slippers I had idiotically worn and hiked down underneath the bridge in -- not so much good for them.  But it was a lovely time.

the road less traveled

Justin and I took a little road trip up to Mount Baker today so I could take some photos for a final project in one of my classes.  He asked me before we left: "Do you know where we're going?"  "Sure," I replied, "Super easy.  We'll just jump on I-5 until we see the Mt. Baker Highway exit."

So we jumped on I-5 North.  About the time we hit Blaine (on the border of Canada), I realized we weren't going to see a sign for Mt. Baker Highway.

So we headed back down south until we hit Custer.  We decided that maybe we could find it if we headed over through Lynden. After driving north and south for about twenty minutes near Lynden, we decided to stop and buy a map. Upon buying a map, we realized that the exit for Mt. Baker was far south of us (off of I-5, of course), so we headed toward Sumas, then south toward Deming, where we finally found the infamous Mt. Baker Highway.

View the Map of Our Lovely Route, Which Will Help This Story Make Sense

This brilliant route took us over 2 1/2 hours. One way. We left a little after noon, and hadn't yet reached a view of the mountain when the sun finally set. Not so great for pictures. And, it was getting icy.

We decided to try something new and took the Mt Baker Highway directly back to Bellingham. When the name of the highway changed to a local street, I craned my neck to see a street sign, so I could know which exit we should have taken.

Oddly enough, the name of the road was Sunset Dr.

Alas. 

Congratulations, Universe.  You win.

I told Justin of my observation and we both laughed til we cried.

We live right off Sunset Dr. It's our onramp to the freeway; our exit to get home. We drive this nearly everyday.  I knew there was some reason Mt. Baker highway sounded familiar:



We traveled over 100 miles to get there when the actual route would have taken us about 44. 

It's okay, I thought.  At least I got a couple of good sunset & tree-y type pictures there near the end.

Upon closer observation when I uploaded the few pics I liked onto my computer, I realized that perhaps I had missed something when I first took the picture.  Given the maturity level of my class (and the fact that we've discussed eroticism in literature and art fairly extensively), there is no way I'll be able to use this:



This is horrible. 

In the end, however, a pretty funny story.  Not sure what I'm going to do about my final project, but we'll see.

icy morning!

Justin caught sight of this frozen spider web as we were watching some birdies on our balcony, so I immediately ran for my camera.  ;)

random bits

Yeah, I know.  A new look.  I got bored today and had some time to play with my new camera.

It's snowing outside!  Yay!

Oh, and by the way -- this would be a great read over the holidays if you get a chance:



If you've never been exposed to some David Sedaris, you haven't lived, at least, not fully.  I've never read something that made me -- literally -- laugh until tears were running down my cheeks.  He kills me.

This is a little book comprised of essays to do with the holidays (if you couldn't tell from the title)... and if you speak sarcasm fluently and find all the holiday cheer a bit much to get through -- this will help.  Trust me.

Among my favorite stories:

SantaLand Diaries (recollections of working as an elf at Macy's)

Dinah, the Christmas Whore (I'll leave you in suspense on this one)

why I heart Frederick Buechner; also, why I am still in school getting that silly Creative Writing degree

...enjoy, writers and teachers everywhere

When you are young, I think, your hearing is in some ways better than it is ever going to be again.  You hear better than most people the voices that call to you out of your own life to give yourself to this work or that work.  When you are young, before you accumulate responsibilities, you are freer than most people to choose among all the voices and to answer the one that speaks most powerfully to who you are and to what you really want to do with your life.  But the danger is that there are so many voices, and they all in their ways sound so promising.  The danger is that you will not listen to the voice that speaks to you through the seagull mounting the gray wind, say, or the vision in the temple, that you do not listen to the voice inside you or to the voice that speaks from outside but specifically to you out of the specific events of your life, but that instead you listen to the great blaring, boring, banal voice of our mass culture, which threatens to deafen us all by blasting forth that the only thing that really matters about your workis how much it will get you in the way of salary and status, and that if it is gladness you are after, you can save that for weekends.  In fact one of the grimmer notions that we seem to inherit from our Puritan forbears is that work is not even supposed to be glad but, rather, a kind of penance, a way of working off the guilt that you accumulate during the hours when you are not working.

The world is full of people who seem to have listened to the wrong voice and who are now engaged in life-work in which they find no pleasure or purpose and who run the risk of suddenly realizing someday that they have spent the only life they are ever going to get in this world doing something which could not matter less to themselves or anyone else.  This does not mean, of course, people who are doing work that from the outside looks unglamorous and humdrum, because obviously such work as that may be a crucial form of service and deeply creative.  But it means people who are doing work that seems simply irrelevant not only to the great human needs and issues of our time, but also to their own need to grow and develop as humans.

...To Isaiah, the voice said, "Go," and for each of us there are many voices that say it, but the question is which one will we obey with our lives, which of the voices that call is to be the one that we answer.  No one can say, of course, except each for himself, but I believe that it is possible to say at least this in general to all of us:  we should go with our lives where we most need to go and where we are most needed.

Where we most need to go.  Maybe that means that the voice we should listen to most as we choose a vocation is the voice that we might think we should listen to least, and that is the voice of our own gladness.  What can we do that makes us gladdest, what can we do that leaves us with the strongest sense of sailing true north and of peace, which is much of what gladness is?  Is it making things with our hands our of wood or stone or paint on canvas?  Or is it making something we hope like truth out of words?  Or is it making people laugh or weep in a way that cleanses their spirits?  I believe that if it is a thing that makes us truly glad, then it is a good thing and it is our thing and it is the calling voice that we were made to answer with our lives.

And also, where we are most needed.  In a world where there is so much drudgery, so much grief, so much emptiness and fear and pain, our gladness in our work is as much needed as we ourselves need to be glad.  If we keep our eyes and ears open, our hearts open, we will find the place surely.  The phone will ring and we will jump not so much out of our skin as into our skin.  If we keep our lives open, the right place will find us.

 --Frederick Buechner

on discovering England

As I've been pondering and wrestling and reading emails (thank you!) and pondering and wrestling some more, a single thought has entered my brain several times regarding this journey I am on, and regarding my particular place along it:

I am discovering England.

It's been years since I read it, but at the very beginning of Chesterton's Orthodoxy, he writes:

"I have always had a fancy for writing a romance about an English yachtsman who slightly miscalculated his course and discovered England under the impression that it was a new island in the South Seas.  I always find, however, that I am either too busy or too lazy to write this fine work, so I may as well give it away for the purposes of philosophical illustration."

-- Just so you know, GK Chesterton's voice, in my head, always sounds like John Cleese of Monty Python.  God, I love English accents. --

"...I have a peculiar reason for mentioning the man in a yacht, who discovered England.   For I am that man in a yacht.  I discovered England."

"...If this book is a joke it is a joke against me.  I am the man who with the utmost daring discovered what had been discovered before.  If there is an element of farce in what follows, the farce is at my own expense; for this book explains how I fancied I was the first to set foot in Brighton and then found I was the last.  It recounts my elephantine adventures in pursuit of the obvious.  No one can think my case more ludicrous than I think it myself; no reader here can accuse me here of trying to make a fool of him: I am the fool of this story, and no rebel shall hurl me from my throne.  I freely confess all the idiotic ambitions of the end of the nineteenth century.  I did, like all the other solemn little boys, try to be in advance of the age.  Like them I tried to be some ten minutes in advance of the truth.  And I found that I was eighteen hundred years behind it.  I did strain my voice with a painfully juvenile exaggeration in uttering my truths.  And I was punished in the fittest and funniest way, for I have kept my truths: but I have discovered not that they were not truths, but simply that they were not mine.  When I fancied that I stood alone I was really in the ridiculous position of being backed up by all of Christendom.  Heaven forgive me, that I did try to be original; but I only succeeded in inventing all by myself an inferior copy of the existing traditions of civilized religion.  The man from the yacht thought he was the first to find England; I thought I was the first to find Europe.  I did try to found a heresy of my own; and when I had put the last touches to it, I discovered that it was orthodoxy.

It may be that somebody will be entertained by the account of this happy fiasco.  It might amuse a friend or an enemy to read how I gradually learnt from the truth of some stray legend or from the falsehood of some dominant philosophy, things that I might have learnt from my catechism -- if I had ever learnt it.  There may or may not be some entertainment in reading how I found at last in an anarchist club or a Babylonian temple what I might have found in the nearest parish church.  If any one is entertained by learning how the flowers of the field or the phrases in an omnibus, the accidents of politics or the pains of youth came together in a certain order to produce a certain conviction of Christian orthodoxy, he may possibly read this book.  But there is in everything a reasonable division of labor.  I have written the book, and nothing on earth would induce me to read it."

Ah.  I love reading this man!

It may be that I'm walking a slightly similar route, only backwards.  I started my search for truth at the nearest parish, and orthodoxy was far from what I found.  So many distractions and add-ons; so many religious-y things that had little to do with Jesus and how he said a life is to be lived.  In a lot of ways, I'm unlearning the catechism I was taught.  Trying to strip all that away and come at this thing fresh.

No, I won't be original.  But perhaps I'll have discovered something new, at least new to me.

flooding at home…

Uh, so it's flooding pretty badly back home in the Bremerton area.  My mom got stranded at my Grandma's in Bremerton yesterday, couldn't get back home to Port Orchard.

This is a picture at a well-known intersection (Silverdale Way/Chico Way):



Ack.  Stay safe out there, everyone!

first snow :)

We got our first snow of the year on Saturday!  I didn't actually think we'd get any, but it snowed most of Saturday and part of Sunday as well.  Now it's raining (back to green again) and the wind sounds like it's going to tear the roof off.  Nice day for a walk around campus later today...

Isn't our view of the pond off our balcony sweet?  We had bald eagles and red-tail hawks swooping over the pond yesterday, but I won't be able to get a good photo until I get a new lens.  All I get right now is a black blob with what could possibly be wings... but still, a black blob with what could possibly be wings photographed with my new Nikon, which I'm pretty excited about.  (It's not quite as nice as the camera I took to Mississippi a few years ago, but it's at least in the same family).  This could be a fairly expensive hobby.  I have a feeling that if I ever figure out what all the buttons do, I might be able to take a pretty good picture.  :)

talking about doubt

I received an email from a pastor today asking if I'm a worship leader.  He's looking for one at his church down in California.

Hmmm.

It's weird when the old world and the new world collide like that.  Whatever the old world and new are, I suppose.  They blend together in ways that are hard to define with any clarity.  I just know the Christian I was yesterday would be scandalized at meeting me today.

I know I've been fairly silent on the subject of faith lately.  It used to be what made writing here so enjoyable for me, and also what helped me find so many connections with others I felt were similar somehow.  Now, when it comes to faith, I feel like I don't have anything valuable to say.  Doubt -- now that, I can talk about.  But most days I feel too ashamed.

I once was on a path toward full-time ministry.  Sprouting wings seems more likely these days.

I haven't stopped praying, not yet -- but most of the time I really wonder if there's anyone on the other end of all those words.  My husband has had to take over our nightly moments of prayer, because I just can't do it, at least not right now.  Even The Lord's Prayer is too hard to get through.

(There.  I've said it.  I guess today is a day in which I'm not too ashamed to be honest for once).

Justin says that a similar thing happened in his own life several years ago.  There was what he called a "stripping down" of his faith to nearly nothing, to the point where he wondered if it might be dead or gone completely.  A stripping down of all the traditions, all the usual arguments, all the "American Christianity" we've both grown up with -- til he felt like it was just him and God.  Then, piece by piece, his faith was restored.  It was nothing impressive compared to the stalwart, certain-of-everything Christian he was before; it was more messy, more shaky... but at least it was his own.  He seems to think that things will resolve themselves with time, and is so supportive and understanding of where I'm at right now, it's ridiculous.

(I find myself thankful at the moment that I'm not in ministry currently, and that I'm not married to anyone in ministry.  Could you imagine what hot water I'd be in if my job or my marriage depended on being certain of all this?)

I take hope in Justin's words, but for me, there's a fear hand-in-hand with them: what if things are stripped down to the point where there's nothing left?  What if there's never a point where I'm able to make the leaps that traditional Christianity seems to be asking of me, where I'm able to be at peace rather than be nagged by what seem to be great contradictions?  (i.e. God's great judgments and killing sprees in the Old Testament vs. God-is-Love in the New Testament; the Church's treatment of homosexuals; end-times prophecy, etc.).  I've never really had a problem with Jesus -- the Virgin Birth and the Atonement of Sins and the Resurrection are not huge problems for me.  Grace still seems to make sense.  It's some of the other stuff that throws me, now that I haven't been indoctrinating myself with it each Sunday.  If there's anything that has been drilled into me, though, it's that faith has to be swallowed whole to count.  I don't know if I can do that.

I can't help but feel like I'm letting God down somehow, that this need to better understand things comes across as impertinence or something.  I don't mean to sound like I expect to be able to fully comprehend Truth in order to try to live by it.  I guess I just don't want to live out my faith in bad faith, that's all.  And to continue without at least admitting that troubling questions exist for me would be to live in bad faith.

So.  That's where I'm at these days.  Anyone been there?  Shoot me an email, we'll talk.

I’m not dead yet!

Happy Thanksgiving Eve! 

Rawr!!!  I've had the rottenest cold/sinus infection this week!  Finally am up on the upswing, thanks to lots of Tylenol and Amoxicillin.  Yay for being able to breathe through my nose!  (This is my major accomplishment, in a week where I needed to be writing several papers.  Thanks to hours upon hours of sleep, I can now breathe through not one, but both nostrils.  Wait... yeah, both nostrils still).

I've called in sick to work for the past two days.  I never call in sick without actually being sick, but I always feel guilty nonetheless.  Does anyone else have this problem?  For once, however, I wasn't all that worried about it.  I know I sounded like Death Itself when I called in, so I didn't worry about them assuming I was trying to head out early for Thanksgiving.

As it is, we actually decided to stay home for Thanksgiving rather than driving down to Poulsbo so I could finish getting better (and so we could both catch back up on our sleep... I kept *someone* up for the last few nights with my coughing).  I was a little bummed, because it would be fun to see my folks and then Justin's family for the meal, but now that I'm resigned to staying home, I kind of like the idea of bucking the system, going out for some Chinese food, and cozying up to watch some football in our living room.  And... probably playing the Wii for a while.

I felt like we should at least have a little Thanksgiving food when we went to the grocery store a while ago, which ended up with some random choices.  We have... a chocolate pie and some sparkling cider.  Impressive.

Anyhow, I hope this finds each of you celebrating the many things you have to be thankful for, with people you're thankful for.  We'll be down at the Panda Palace, eating General Tso's Chicken.  Good times indeed.

hot sauce and other adventures

We had a great time in Leavenworth!  Unfortunately, we missed what ended up being a pretty sweet windstorm here in Bellingham, but I'm sure we will survive the loss somehow.  As it happened, we had lovely clear weather our whole trip.  It was cold, but sunshiney.  It was fun to play for a few days, and to celebrate our first year together.

In case any of you should happen to visit the above-mentioned Bavarian village, and you happen to go into a shop called A Matter of Taste -- do not, I repeat, DO NOT, try the 357 Mad Dog Hot Sauce.  It tastes like burning.



You can't see it in the pic, but they advise you not to try this if you have respiratory problems.

I hesitated, walked around the shop to stall a bit, and finally had to prove my stupidity.  I'm bad at backing down from these kinds of things.  Tiny drop on the end of a pretzel.  Nothing big, right?  I said to Justin, "Meh.  It's not all that bad."

Ten seconds later...

Eyes watering, nose running, skin flushed red, sweating, etc.  Ten minutes later, the cheese shop next door caught me using their handwashing sink to shovel water in my face.  "Ah.  Tried the hot sauce?"

I think Justin married me mostly for the amusement factor.  He gets to watch all this.

In school news, I'm officially a Creative Writing major... finally.  And, I got my first A in five years yesterday, so I'm feeling encouraged.  We have about four weeks left in the quarter, and I'm throwing myself into it hard, trying to stay on top of everything.  My motto for this next few quarters:  Die trying.  Yes.  These papers scare the shit out of me.  Yes.  I'm afraid of failure.  I'm going to do it anyway.  (I may need to go back and read this soon, when I get some other papers back, so I'm putting it out there, out loud).

Anyway, hope you all are doing well and drinking lots of coffee.  More soon.

Year one: Nailed it!

Howdy.

So has anyone else noticed that Christmas started the day after Halloween this year?

I'm a little creeped out.

There are some people who are slight grinches -- Justin -- who complain about Christmas starting up the day after Thanksgiving, but I think that works ok.  Seeing Starbucks employees in their "Spread the Cheer" shirts and seeing the Santa display up in the mall the first day of November seems a little excessive, however.  The way things are going, ten years from now, we'll begin Christmas decorating sometime in August.

Hey!  It's our first anniversary tomorrow!  I can't believe it snuck by so quickly, although I guess it's not suprising, given work and school and a few moves tossed into the mix.  It's been pretty amazing... one year later, I'm still blinking in astonishment, wondering how this became my life.  I am blessed to have the husband I do, and the past 365 days -- with all the ups and downs that naturally accompany them -- have only served to make me more certain of it. 

Everyone said before we got married that the first year is the toughest, and although there was a learning curve to figuring out how to live together (like learning to put the condiments away)... I think I spent more time laughing than anything.  There were so many times it felt like we were just goofy kids masquerading as grown-ups by occasionally doing responsible things like paying bills and going to work.  The rest of the time?  We played.  Whether it was watching the Seahawks lose, playing laser hockey on the Wii, watching back-to-back-to-back episodes of the Office, or playing online poker -- we played.  It's had to be cut back some since school started, but still, we play. 

There were times I cried too -- I've always done that when I am overwhelmed -- but even in that I experienced a deep-seated joy -- that of being loved and understood when you can't be at your best.  There's nothing like someone pulling you close and holding you there even though you are a red-faced mess of snot and tears.  There's nothing like consistently having someone in your corner, cheering you on.

It's been good.  I'm a lucky girl.  I know one year is no big deal in light of folks that have been married fifty years and head to Starbucks and still sit there holding hands (Justin and I got to know this couple when I was a barista)... but this first year fills me with hope that the best stuff is still ahead of us. 

Justin planned a trip for us this weekend... we're headed to the lovely "Bavarian" village of Leavenworth.  And -- just like in Whistler on our honeymoon, it's supposed to start snowing the first night we're there!  I don't think I can express how cool that is.  To me, all the world is magic when there's snow falling.  And there's nothing funnier than one or both of us totally biting it on some ice, falling down in one big clumsy heap.  Heh heh.

I should be sleeping…

It's 5:03 a.m. and I should be sleeping right now, but I'm wide awake.  Apparently my body is starting to get used to my work schedule.

That, and I think it would be cool to surprise Justin on his first break with Dayquil and some Starbucks.  Poor kid has been sick all week and we ran out yesterday.

Probably the real reason I'm up this early is that I'm stressed out.  (Maybe if I vent for a while I'll be able to go back to sleep for a bit, so forgive me.  I'm going to go into full-on whine mode for a while, because I need to, and this is my blog).  Going back to school has been... really hard.  Harder than I thought it would be, actually.  If I'd known... well, I guess it's a good thing I didn't fully know what I was getting myself into.  There's no way I would have been able to muster up the courage.  As it is, it's kind of a day-by-day battle.  It's also a good thing that it's too late to withdraw, I suppose.  There have been days I've strongly considered it.

I hate feeling this messy.

Part of it, I'm sure, is just the load I'm taking this quarter.  I needed a specific class to allow me to officially declare as an English major, and so I was limited in my choices.  Three lit classes were the result.  I'm just barely keeping up.  This past weekend, I felt like I barely saw Justin, I spent so much time in the office typing up papers.  I'd emerge for a minute, wave, and head back in.

I doubt my class load is going to look much different from here on out, however.  With enough credits to graduate already (if they were toward a particular thing -- apparently my lack of direction shows in the number of credits I have as a Junior), all my classes each quarter will be literature or writing courses if I ever want to graduate. 

I like writing and literature courses.  But they are kicking my ass.

One in particular.  Frustration took over yesterday to the point where tears welled up in my eyes.  During class.  As if that weren't enough, a few of them slid down my cheeks.  I'm glad the lights were low.  I was embarrassed enough as it was, and hope my weakness wasn't noticed.

I genuinely like my prof.  There are days when I really enjoy class.  But the other days... really suck.  We're learning a certain form of writing that for sure does not come naturally.  I think this is the case for nearly everyone in the class.  And the teacher is working really hard to explain it.  But for me, none of the words are gaining ground.  I believe him that there are huge benefits to learning how to write this way.  I'm on board.  But I... don't... get... it.  I feel for a moment like I do.  And I write my papers during this moment.  And then I come back to class and realize I was way off.

I'm used to "getting" things.  Fairly easily, usually.  I'm very used to "getting" things when I apply myself and am working really hard.  This is killing me.

Remember these things?



These things, in case you were asleep for most of the mid-90's, are Magic Eye pictures.  Apparently, if you look at them in a certain way, a beautiful 3-D picture will emerge.

I remember everyone telling me how to do it.

"Relax your eyes."

"Try not to focus, try to look through the picture, and then the picture will start to come into focus."

I could look at one of those things all day and wouldn't see a thing.  Not once have I ever been able to see the damned picture.  I was a pretty happy camper when that craze died off and my next-door neighbors didn't have one hanging on their living room wall anymore.  I don't care what picture they saw in that thing -- it was hideous.

This is how I feel in class.  My prof is explaining exactly how to do this (also, what not to do when you're doing this).  Over and over and with greater detail he's explaining how to do this.  "Relax your eyes.  Relax your eyes.  To the right, and with intensity! OK?"  But the words aren't making sense, aren't connecting, and despite trying really damn hard... for the life of me, the picture won't come into focus.   

At this point, I'm pretty sure my essay will be about the Magic Eye picture that I can't see.  It'll be the hardest I've ever worked for a lousy grade in a class that I need to pass to declare my major.

Ack.

Justin and I are going to look at the class notes a little later and hopefully he'll be able to help translate some for me.  It couldn't hurt -- I'm certainly not going to feel any more clueless than I do right now.

As much as this sucks, it helps to have someone who'll jump in there with me and help sort it out when I feel nuts.  Being married to me for nearly a year is MORE than enough time for Justin to know how overwhelmed and crazy I get sometimes... but every time, he's consistently there, listening, comforting, waiting for me to come around and gain my courage again.  School will only be for a season, and then there'll be new challenges and new stresses -- but it's amazing to have such a partner through all of it.

pumpkins!

We decided to forget we were students for a while and carve some pumpkins tonight!  I seriously needed the break.

I'm not sure I've ever carved a pumpkin before.  Seriously.  Ever.  Maybe once.  It's been a while.

Justin looked like he had violence on his mind.



I'll let you guess who's pumpkin was who's:





 No templates!!  No sharp knives to be found, either!

and the lawlii heave a collective sigh

Hi friends!  We have internet back!

Hmmm... there are a few things to update you on.

The Mazda, aka The Green Judas (Justin's name) is no more.  And, quite frankly, good riddance.  I think I may have mentioned that we were hoping she'd last until end of September/early October, when we'd be ready to trade her in for something that wasn't making odd engine noises yet again.  Either way, I swore I was done fixing that car -- no more money would be sunk in trying to keep it running.

Well, that bitch called my bluff and broke down on our way home 50 miles from Bellingham on Labor Day (we'd been down visiting family over the weekend).

We heard a loud couple of bangs, and pulled off at the next exit.  As we were debating whether or not to just keep going, our heat guage went all the way to the hot side in about ten seconds.  We pulled into the gas station, got out to look, and coolant was pouring out of the bottom of the car.  Shredded belt?  Check.  Cracked radiator?  Check.  Huge towing bill just to get the piece of crap home?  Check.

Did I mention we were evidently parked next to a marsh?  We were instantly covered in nasty black bugs.

I kicked a tire, swore a little.  Hurt my bad knee.

But, in the end, I stayed true to my word.  We emptied the car of our effects, called our cousin to come pick us up, and said goodbye to The Green Judas.  The next day, I contacted JunkMyCar.com, and a tower came and got her.  (Highly recommend JunkMyCar.com.  That was the easiest thing about the whole ordeal.  You tell them where your car is, they pick it up.  For free.  The end).

We now have a shiny new(er) 2006 Vibe.  And for the first time since my accidents, I LOVE driving again.  She's pretty.  I call her Rosie (it's red), while Justin is sticking to his guns with the lovely moniker "Tits McGee."

So this happened the week before we moved.  Exciting times.  But, in the end, I'm quite happy with the results.

We are all moved in to our new apartment, and all I can say is... upgrade!  I'm not sure how we managed to go down in rent and up in square footage, but we did... and having the extra space is WONDERFUL.  Our balcony overlooks this huge pond, and it is so very peaceful.  It's a great place to come home to, and we are both enjoying our new little place in the world.

It's really the calm before the storm... school starts Wednesday and... me being the genius that I am, I'm taking a lot of Lit classes.  Writing About Lit.  Brit Lit.  American Lit.  ACK.

Turns out there's this one course I missed (Writing About Lit) that opens up the rest of the English major to me, so my choices were somewhat limited.  I've always liked to read, so this quarter will hopefully cure me of it.  Filthy habit.

Justin and I were able to get very similar schedules between work and school, however, and I'm extremely grateful that we'll still have time together.  Apparently it will all be spent reading, but that's okay with me.

All in all, right now I'm just feeling extremely grateful for God's blessings to us during this very hectic last few weeks.  We have a car that runs, we're settled in a pretty, serene place, we're looking forward to what the future brings us.

And... we get to relax a little this weekend before all this craziness begins.  :)

More soon.

we found a place!

And are moving the 12th of September.

More later, we sleepy.

:)

cat pee, etc.

The apartments I was so excited to visit once Justin got off work were... stinky.  Like years of cigarette smoke and cat pee and rotting garbage all rolled into one heady, stuffy, nasty scent.

And they had a fruit fly problem in the kitchen.

Off to a few more (hopefully more promising) places tomorrow.

Sigh.

fifty years and retirement

In the sleepy, silent, still-dark of this morning, I woke.  As I often do when I wake up this early, I break my own rule.  I untangle myself from the sheet, inch my way over from My Side of the Bed and find a comfy spot on Justin's chest to lay my head.  He's usually still half asleep when this happens, but his arms always pull me in tight by way of welcome.  I can't sleep like this -- my always-too-warm body will never successfully nod off -- but some mornings I just need the closeness more than I do the sleep.

I still marvel that, in over nine months of nights, I've never slept alone.

This morning, a very clear thought entered my drowsy little mind: "None of this is guaranteed." 

You know, I'm better than I used to be.  This is a little hard to admit (although I suspect I'm not alone in this newlywed tendency), but when we were first married, I could hardly bear to let Justin out of my sight.  It was difficult to let him drive to the store down the street without me, for fear that something might happen to shatter our charmed existence.  I'd say I didn't want to go, but over and over again, at the last minute, I'd throw on some shoes and jump in the car to drive the three blocks with him to Albertsons. 

All of a sudden my heart was walking around outside my body.  And I was very, very conscious of it.

Am very, very conscious of it.  

*****

Less than a year after I left Bible college, I attended the funeral of someone I'd known more of than had actually known personally.  He was super-involved in campus life (famous for some of his hilarious stunts), and was a friend of several of my friends when I attended Northwest.  When his memorial service was set at a church less than twenty minutes from my home, I decided to go.

I have been to many memorial services.  Even as a life is celebrated, still -- the loss breaks me every time.  This one was especially hard, in a very unique way.  Paul had married his sweetheart only about a month before he died in a freak accident (the basic gist was that he was scoping out camping spots for his youth group, got out of his car to look, and his car slipped out of gear and pinned him underneath).  His wife seemed as strong as she was broken at the service -- they played her recorded words at the memorial, and as she honored her husband and shared her heart with us, I was amazed.  They also told lots of funny Paul stories, played a video of one of his most out-there sermons.  It was so strange to be laughing as much as we were crying. 

But I've never forgotten how small she looked in the front pew.  I've often wondered about her since, have said prayers for this girl I didn't know.  And I've often remembered, because of her, that none of us are promised fifty years and retirement together.

*****

"None of this is guaranteed."

As he slept, I prayed this morning in the darkness.  I'm not good at praying, but this one, I've gotten good at.  I asked God to keep Justin safe and protect him as he goes about his day.  I asked him to bring us both back together once our day's work is done.  I ask him often to give us many more days and nights and months and years together. 

I'm not afraid to ask God for fifty years and retirement.  (I think all of us ask God for it, whether we form the words or not).

I also ask God for the strength to still trust him and serve him if, someday, that prayer isn't answered the way I hoped it would be.

Most of all, I ask God for the grace to love Justin as much as I can today, on purpose.  I'm expecting a lot more days, of course, but I'm also squeezing as much laughter and hand-holding and heart-filled words as I can out of the one day I know I've got.  Hoping for the best, but not taking it for granted as a sure-thing.  It's the only way I know of to let my heart walk around outside my body and still know some peace.

It's also the best way I know of to spend fifty years or so.

four posts in four days… can it be so?

Hi kids!

You'll notice that to the left of your screen, you'll see a shiny new goodreads link.  (Thank you Cecelia, for opening my eyes to one more great use of the internet).  A list of a bunch of the books I've read, books I'm currently reading, books on my to-read list (see also: books I couldn't walk out of the used bookstore without purchasing).

I lost an hour this morning listing a bunch of my books, and then I discovered that you can enter the date you first read it!  Circa 2002, I began writing the date in my books along with my name, so I basically tore apart my bookshelf this morning, writing down the dates in my book journal.  I lost at least another hour there, though it was well worth it.

I think it's clear at this point that I have no life.  That, and I'm an incurable nerd.  Having married an incurable nerd, I am at peace with this.

If you are also a nerd and/or book glutton, you can be my pal on goodreads, and I'll see what you're reading when, what you thought of it, etc.  I'm all for avoiding crap books, and finding good ones, so this could prove helpful to me.

Alright, off to grab some food items before work.  Have a good day, all. 

I leave you with a few new favorite t-shirts I found online at threadless.com and bustedtees.com:

daily bread, etc.

Ooh, boy, am I groggy.

To make sure I never get into a regular sleep pattern, my job switches me from a week of 5:30 or 6 am - noon shifts to a week of 2 pm -7:30 shifts.  Ack.  This is my afternoons week.  I always sleep too late and accomplish nothing at all til my shift starts.

I guess I should enjoy it while I can.  Soon, things are going to look quite different.

Right now I'm in that annoying place where you know a whole bunch of change is right around the corner, but you can't do a thing about it at present.  I know we'll be moving in approximately three weeks.  Can't pack yet.  I know we need to find an apartment.  Can't look in earnest until Saturday.  Our car is on its last legs, but we won't be ready to get a new(er) one til September, so we're hoping she lasts.  School starts at the end of September, and apart from the "oh-crap-I-haven't-done-this-in-four-years-what-was-I-thinking" type of thoughts, there are very real scheduling concerns.  It's a possibility that if things don't fall into place just so, J and I will have fully opposite schedules where he leaves for work at 5 am and I don't get home from my job until 8:30 pm, taking our classes at Western at different times, etc.  I'm not a fan of this arrangement.

I know that in all honesty, most likely things will work out just fine, with little adjustments here and there.  But still, it seems I'd rather worry than trust.  I like to have all the details nailed down, and when I can't secure them, I feel all out of sorts and get overwhelmed easily.

I was talking with a girl at work last week about training into that new position at work.  She dragged her heels big-time at having to stick people in the arm, and really had to be pushed to take on the new role.  I asked her whether she liked it now (she does).  But she said she really prayed about it hard.  She prayed that God would steady her hands, that he would help her remember what to do.  A few months later, she looks like a pro out there.

It was just an off-hand comment made by someone who is much better than I am at speaking of God openly.  (She's also much better than most at being sincere when she says it).  But her words stuck with me.  I wrote her a little note and thanked her for reminding me that God even cares about little things like us learning to put a needle in the right vein.

*****

In letting go of "youth group" faith, I let go of a lot of the emotionalism, much of the spiritual superstition that I had long believed was part of being an "on-fire Christian."  (I chuckle to myself here at my keyboard as I wonder what this sounds like to an outsider.  What a poor choice of words.  An on-fire Christian is a horrific thought.  Stop, drop and roll, etc.). 

Faith has become much simpler, and much more complicated at the same time.  I don't miss thinking that if I could just get things a little more together, God would be more happy with me.  I don't miss looking for all these mysterious signs that I was doing God's will for me, forever fearing that I might not be.  I don't miss being in The Club, saying all the right spiritual words and having all the expected things to say right there in my pocket.  I don't miss trying to please everybody with a spiritual title, thinking that somehow that was pleasing to God. 

I do, however, miss the constant (even if sometimes misdirected) awareness of God that came from having so many of my activities centered around "church stuff."  I miss having him on my heart, praying in the car for opportunities to show grace that day.  I miss turning to him first when I have a need, rather than simply worrying for weeks at a time until I remember God, until I finally think to pray.  (Most of the time, it's Justin who prays first, which always humbles me).

Letting new faith grow where the ashes of my youth group faith still lie and smolder-- that has not been easy.  I don't want to go back to the Christian I used to be, but I've been hesitant and scared to do the hard work of figuring out how, exactly, to follow Christ in the here and now.  It's been... awkward.  Halting at best.  Immobile at worst.  I've never felt less good at being a Christian.

I don't know exactly what to do with that, but there.  At least I've said it.

*****

Give us this day our daily bread.  Today I remind myself that God knows my heart.  He knows my needs, he sees beyond today's concerns, and he is incredibly faithful.  I remind myself that he actually cares about little things like finding a good place to live and having time together to play and rest.  Even though the words feel painfully awkward, I pray for help.  I pray for guidance.  I pray to be a blessing.

Regarding our little family, he cared enough to bring the two of us together -- I'm sure he's not going to leave us on our own now.  He will provide what we need when we need it (and, I remind myself, he gets to decide).

If I can keep this in mind all day today (or even five minutes into my shift), it will be a miracle.  But I'm going to try for at least 51%.

what a man wants, what a man needs...

Okay, so here's what was meant to happen on that last post.

Justin and I were fairly busy last week -- he was finishing up his last week of training at the call center, and I am training into a new position at work.  "Phlebotomist:  -noun. 1. a specialist in phlebotomy. 2. a nurse or other health worker trained in drawing venous blood for testing or donation."  I had never heard this word before I went to work at the plasma donation center.  And now I'm going to be poking people in the arm.  Scary.  People really like it when I tell them I'm an English major.  Makes them feel safe, somehow, like they're in truly proficient hands.

Anyway, we took it real easy yesterday and had some great conversations throughout the day.

One thing we've done ever since we've been married is that we do little checks on what our pre-marital counseling literature called "The Love Tank."  Basically it's just a little way to check in with each other and make sure we're both feeling loved and nurtured, that things going on inside the other person are okay.  Sometimes we have a rough day and need to take some time to refill some of what that conflict consumed -- to reassure each other, to be tender.  Sometimes even a force outside the marriage can take its toll -- a bad day or week at work, conflict in another relationship, etc. -- but it's still good to know if you're partner is feeling down or depleted, because then you can make an even stronger effort to bolster them up.

I know.  It's a little silly.  We laughed too.  But we use it more often than not as a way to open up the conversation.

We were having the Love Tank talk last night, and after a day of slowing down and curling up together, we were doing great, but I asked Justin if there were any things that I could do differently, things that he wished looked different in our marriage.

This, and I don't misquote him in the slightest, was his response: "No, not really.  I mean, you watch entire football games with me now, and you're even doing a fantasy football team this year, which is above and beyond and not even what I expected from you.  No, we're good."

WHAT?

Seriously, if I could change one thing about myself, it's that I respond emotionally when first presented with difficult information.  Translation for the layperson: I get a little pissed off about stupid things and it takes me a moment to return to being what J calls "a reasonable human being."  I was assuming this would be the area of growth he would want from me.

Nope.  I can keep my brief outbursts of feisty.  If I'm watching football with him once a week, we're good.

ARE YOU KIDDING ME?  I laughed hard for a few minutes and had to regain my breath before we resumed our conversation.

If ever I needed a more perfect picture of my sometimes-cluelessness as to what Justin wants and needs from me, I couldn't do better than this.

Who knew that the secret to happiness in marriage was to watch the NFL?

Okay.  In no particular order, here's my little list of some of the things I've learned/am learning to be for my husband.  I write it as much as a reminder for myself as I write it for the five people who may or may not stop by today.

Buddy

People have laughed at the fact that Justin's favorite pet name for me is Buddy, but it's the truth.  He needs a playmate in me.  This means sharing time together, but it also means sharing interests.  You should see the look on this kid's face when he catches me reading football news on the net.  He brags at work that his wife is doing a fantasy football league with him.  When I remember the name of a coach or a person's position or what is going on with a particular player (Michael Vick has been a gold mine for me), it is like screaming a big huge "I LOVE YOU!!!" to him.  This blows my mind, but it's true. 

When I really think about it, it shouldn't be surprising.  Justin and his dad used to watch football together when he was little, and his dad passed away several years ago.  He and his closest friends have been in a league together for over seven years, and never stay in such good contact with each other as much as during football season.  Each year, their draft is a big deal and they almost all make the trip out to see each other. 

Simply put, this is something sacred.  I would never have developed an interest or understanding of football on my own, but by making this sacred for me too, I've allowed something my husband loves to be something we share together.  There's a limit, of course -- I'm usually only good for one full game in a given day -- but by welcoming football rather than treating it as competition for Justin's time, I win.  I've actually grown to like it quite a bit since I understand the game more, and by taking an active interest in the game, I've told Justin that what's important to him is important to me.  That, and I get to sit with Justin when a bunch of us watch the game, rather than having to hang out in the other room with all the girls, talking about scrapbooking or puppies or some such nonsense.

This principle applies when it comes to playing Texas Hold'em online together, visiting his friends, watching movies together, etc.  (And in return, he's not afraid to play some Scrabble or watch a little Pride and Prejudice with me, either.)  The point is, when we're not at work, 99% of the time, we're playing somewhere together.  Or, occasionally, doing something useful around the house.  But mostly just playing together, cracking slightly inappropriate jokes, laughing.

Lover

No worries, I'm not going to get graphic here.  But I would be remiss if this wasn't on the list somewhere near the top!  This is a topic I'm fairly passionate about, because I know this is an area wives tend to screw up a lot.  Husbands do too, but they're known for it, and it's allowed us women to sneak under the radar without being called on our baloney.

Here's the deal.  Somewhere in Justin's vows, between promising to help me keep track of my glasses and keys, and loving me fiercely all the days of his life, Justin promised to be loyal to me.  He promised to be faithful.  What no one ever says out loud, but what I thankfully knew when I signed up for this is -- his promise means I have a big responsibility.  He promised to meet his needs physically with me only.  All the other needs -- emotionally, relationally, recreationally -- although I'm meant to be a large part of meeting them, other people play into them as well.  But this one area, that's the need only I can meet.  The brutal truth is, if I don't meet that need, it doesn't get met.  That's a huge responsibility on my part.  That's a huge amount of trust on his part. 

Wives usually are all about meeting their man's needs emotionally and relationally, but what they don't always realize is that, if their husband's needs are not being met physically, there will be damage emotionally and relationally.  It makes me sad to hear of men who are made to feel guilty for needs that are legitimate and healthy, when they are trying to meet them in a healthy and legitimate way -- with their wives.  It frustrates me to hear men degraded as sex-fiends just as much as it pains me to hear women put down as needy and over-emotional.  It's stupid and cruel, to put someone down for their needs rather than being concerned and intentional about meeting them as much as you can.

I hear stories.  I never want it to be Justin's story.  Or mine, for that matter.  For this reason, this topic is not off-limits when we're checking up on the state of our marriage.  And for this reason, I decided that when I married him, I was committed to not only taking on this need, but to doing my best to bless him in it.

So, we're figuring out what works.  For us, that means we compromise and are really gracious with each other.  In wanting to meet his needs, I've made the choice to cheerfully show up for Team Lawlis even if sex wasn't top of my list at that given moment.  (Justin is realistic and doesn't have skyrocketing expectations when this is the case).  Recognizing my need for 8-9 hours of rest, when I'm super sleepy and the kitchen's closed, he's totally okay.  When timing and desire aligns, we make the most of it.  :)  Good times.

(Hopefully I did okay there... I know this is a hard topic to talk about).

Partner

Not boss.  Not manager.  Partner.

This one is pretty simple in principle, although it gave me fits in the beginning.

--If I want help from Justin, I ask for it.  I don't nag him, although I do ask him to write it down if he's been busy and it's been forgotten a few times.  I don't assume he knows what I want from him when it comes to helping out around the house.  I simply ask or leave a note, and most of the time, he jumps right on it.  It is SO nice. 

--When he takes something on, I don't go behind him and tell him the few spots that he missed.  I hate when people do that to me, so I try my best to avoid it, although I'm sure I've been critical before.  It may not be exactly as clean as if I'd done it, but it's still cleaner than it was, and that's something to celebrate.

--I take into account that he does things that I don't do.  He mows the lawn, he takes out the trash, he works on our piece-of-crap cars.  Sometimes I mow the lawn so he doesn't have to.  (The cars, he's still stuck with).  But I realize that there will be things I'll need to cover so he has time to do that outside manly stuff that he's so good at taking care of.

--Most of all, I let him know that I notice he folded that load of laundry, or that he did the dishes before I got home from work.  (In fact, if I forget to say something, he asks about it to make sure I know he thought of me while I was gone: "Did you see that I got the dishes done for you?"  It's adorable).  Every man wants to know he's appreciated, that the things that he does matter.  I'm sure there's things he'd rather do than vacuum the living room right before company arrives.  But every time, he's there.

Cheerleader

This one is probably my favorite one.

Justin is not impersonal.  He's always making people laugh, always saying some off-the-wall random thing that people weren't expecting.  Alternately, he's always wearing some off-the-wall random shirt that people weren't expecting.  He plays well with others, is confident.  Is quick to make friends, or at least to make acquaintances who consider themselves friends.

I get to be a part of that world, and I really enjoy it.  I never laugh so much as when I'm hanging out with J.

But there's another side of Justin that the world "out there" isn't a part of.  A vulnerable side that only a few see, and that I see most of all.  I get to be there when he's having a rough day.  I get to be there when he's feeling discouraged or worried.  I get to be there when he's having trouble sleeping or when a nightmare has intruded on his dreams.  I get to be the one to say, "You're doing great."  "Way to go, babe!"  "Things will be okay."  "I'm really proud of you."  "Set your mind at ease."  "Will a back scratch help?"

I get to be the one to see the look on his face when I slow down and tell him how much I love him.  And why.

Other than being a Buddy, this is my favorite part of being a wife.  Just as his words mean the world to me, mine have tremendous power with him, and it's fun watching how much happiness they bring him when I just take the time to say 'em out loud.  I seriously had no idea how much of an effect they would have. 

My words of praise probably mean the most.  I'm learning to be liberal with them, to catch him doing things right.  It's not real hard.  :)

*****

These are pretty "duh" offerings, I know.  No rocket science here.  But these are the things I'm learning as a newbie wife.

These are the ways I'm keeping my vows the best that I know how.

Justin,

I am so happy to be standing here with you today.  You are more than I even knew to ask God for -- the answer to countless prayers.  I hope you know, not only here in this moment, but always, what a joy you are to me.  I love you and I choose you today with my whole heart.  I'll always choose you.

I promise to be your buddy, your lover and your companion all the days of my life.  In the big moments as well as small, uneventful ones, I promise to be by your side.  When you're cracking jokes and goofing off, I'll be the one laughing a little too loudly at all your craziness.  When you're watching movies, I'll be the one curled up beside you on the couch, trying to garner just a few more movie quotes.  Whether your football team is winning or losing, I promise to cheer along with you... at least, on most Sundays.  On all those trips to Starbucks, I'll gladly ride shotgun.

I promise to cheer for you relentlessly and to cherish your dreams as if they were mine.  When you succeed and those around you applaud, I'll be the one cheering loudest, a huge proud grin on my face.  In seasons of struggle, I will believe in you -- sometimes enough for both of us.  I'll always be there to listen and offer words and arms of comfort.  When you fail, even when you let me down, I promise to choose to see the best in you.  In moments when circumstances bring out the less-than-lovely in us, I promise to be quick to say I'm sorry and quick to forgive.  I will always be truthful with you.

No matter what comes our way, I promise I will fight for you, and will fight for these promises we've made.  I will be faithful to you not only in body, but in my heart and mind as well.  What's ours is sacred and I will guard it as the precious thing it is.

Justin, I love you.  I'll love you my whole life.  Thank you for loving me and making my life so sweet.

(In case you're wondering, no, I didn't make it through these vows without crying.  I am a wimp).

new job descriptions

Funny story:  Friday afternoon I attended Justin's graduation from his two-month training at the call center where he works.  Justin has a ton of call center experience, but this was his first-ever graduation.  No kidding, they had baseball caps with the graduation cap squares on top, and everyone walked up to get their certificate of completion, the whole deal.  I was a bit sheepish -- it felt a little like attending someone's graduation from junior high school, but I wanted to have a mental picture of where Justin spends his workday and am not usually one to turn down extra time with him, so I went.

While sitting at one of the tables, Justin was being his characteristic funny, sarcastic self.  One of the girls said, "So, he's always like this, then?"  I smiled and said, "Yep."  Another piped in, "How do you handle him?"  I thought for a second, smiled even bigger, and quickly replied, "I laugh a lot."  I meant it.

I like the thought that Justin is his same self when I'm around, that there's not this pressure to be on "best-behavior" when I show up.  I like it even more that this is somewhat shocking to people.  A person being themselves!  And loved all the more for it!

I know guys who have this "best-behavior" mentality, in some respects.  They reserve the moments of being themselves for Guys' Night Out, or for golf outings, or for poker night.  They have no problem with swearing, but won't swear around their wives because they find it distasteful when those same words come out of the little missus' mouth.  They like sarcasm, but don't like when she picks up on it and her joking sometimes bites him a little more harshly than he expected.  They feel constricted by their new responsibilities, weighed down, but would rather talk about it with the guys than with their wife.

I know that all relationships work differently, but the thought of being in this situation makes me sad, for both people involved.  From my perspective, home should be where you are MOST yourself.  Your marriage should be the one relationship where you use the fewest filters possible, where you share the biggest and sometimes most ridiculous fears.  I'm all for guys' nights (and girls' nights) and poker tourneys, but I enjoy knowing that  Justin's real self doesn't need those occasions to bust on out.  (And I secretly like that he often doesn't want to go play poker unless I can come, too, even though I still push him to go). 

I married my husband because I like him when he's being himself.  

*****

That said, there were still some adjustments that I had to make, both before we got married, and this past nine months.  Some of them, I knew were part of the deal.  Others, well, they surprised me a little quite a bit.  

What follows was my first big shift from "me" to "we."  I had intended to write a little list, and at one point there really was a link to the story I shared above, but then this story came out instead.  It's painful, but a good'un.  What's the saying?  Thank God we're not what we used to be... thank God this ain't all we're ever gonna be. 

*****

Just before we got married, my mother-in-law Karin gave me a little present, and I thought it was pretty appropriate, given her relationship to my beloved: a book entitled The Proper Care and Feeding of Husbands... by Dr. Laura Schlessinger.  Truthfully, I hadn't read any of her stuff before, but knowing of Dr. Laura as a Conservative with a capital-C, I was a little skeptical, although I thought it was sweet that Karin had given me the book.  I'm not saying my prejudices were correct, I'm just being honest that I put the book in the "To Read Later... Probably Much Later" pile.

About three months after we were married I busted the book out while waiting for Justin to get done with a very long dental appointment.  I settled into a chair at the Starbucks across the street and began reading.  If you've ever heard Dr. Laura on the radio, you know it's an understatement to say that she's not real touchy-feely -- but I teared up about halfway through the first chapter.  She wrote about how women tend to think of their needs as more important, and tend to downplay -- even sometimes outright disrespect and degrade -- their man's needs.  I read for another half hour, stopped, bought a card, and started writing to Justin.

I'm a "card" person -- Justin has a menagerie of cards and letters in his nightstand -- but this is the one card he read three times before putting down, the one that kept him silent a moment before he spoke, the one he said really meant a lot to him, with wavery voice.

The thing is, while we still really enjoyed our first few months of being married and while most days were pretty peaceful, I wasn't exactly a pro at being a wife (of course, NOW, I have it ALL figured out.  Just kidding).  That, and thanks to our little friend The Pill, I was slightly really emotional.  (This was really hard for me -- I'd never been one of those girls who was forever using PMS as an excuse to go on a bitch rampage -- but those first few months adjusting were truly awful). 

I got frustrated easily.  I nit-picked about the housework.  Rather than asking for help (a request that would have been honored pretty much immediately), I would turn myself into Housework Martyr, banging dishes and pots and pans rather loudly as I washed them, then declining his help when he'd immediately jump up from the computer and offer it.  In my tiny brain, it was too late.  He hadn't read my mind and anticipated that I wanted the dishes done.  His game was more important.  And so on and so forth.  Bitter, party of one...

(I know.  I sound like a horrible person.  But find me a new bride who hasn't pulled something like this one at some point or another, and I'll pay you money). 

As I sat there in Starbucks, thinking, I realized we only watched the movies I picked.  This is a small thing (except that Justin is HUGE into movies), but as I continued to think about other situations, us often doing what I wanted to do -- I realized I still had way too much me in my marriage.  I still thought of me first.  Always.  It wasn't that didn't really love Justin, that I never considered Justin's needs, it's just that I wasn't considering him first.  As the girl, I was a bit too much in princess mode.  If you know me, you know how much I hate admitting that.  But it was the truth.

On our wedding day, Dan gave us new job descriptions as he led us through our vows.  He said Justin's job to wake up each morning and ask, "How can I serve my bride today?"  Mine was to ask myself how I could serve my husband. 

I realized that my husband was way better at his job description than I was at mine.  And he wasn't getting very much credit for it.  I was deeply shamed to think that if Justin responded as harshly as I did sometimes to a misunderstanding or a misstep, I would be heartbroken.  My sensitivity was still often only for myself.  When my needs weren't met, I was hurt and angry; I was far too busy thinking about that to think about what Justin needed from me. 

I wrote Justin from my heart and let him know that I see all the ways that he serves me.  I named them, one by one.  I made sure he knows that I notice and that he's appreciated.  I let him know that he's been far better at his job description than I had been at mine, but that I was going to be better.  I thanked him for being patient with me, and for loving me despite the fact that I didn't have this all figured out yet.  Justin had told me only the night before that he still had a lot to learn as a husband, but I confessed that it was me who had far more to learn.  I said that I wanted to deserve how much he spoils me. 

It was a long letter, and hard to write.  To realize that you sometimes grieve the one you love most in the world, and that they continue loving you and serving you even when you're too self-centered to see it -- that's humbling.  Justin never complained.  Not once.  And thinking about that now, I still get that ache that I sometimes get right down in my sternum when something really nails me right in the heart.

An elderly man stopped as he was passing my table and asked me what I was doing, writing so furiously in this card.  I said, "I'm writing my husband.  We're newly married and I realized that I don't let him know often enough how much I appreciate him, so I'm trying to do that now."  I was a little choked up, and my eyes were a little more shiny than I wanted to show this stranger.  The man grinned at me, real big, told me congratulations and that he's a lucky guy, and squeezed my shoulder gently as he left.

One of the things Dr. Laura wrote that stuck with me (man, that's so not something I ever throught would come out of my mouth!) was this:  A good man is hard to find.  He's not hard to keep.  Meaning, essentially, that once you've found that good man, the things you need to do to keep him happy are fairly basic, if a woman is willing to put some effort into them.  There was story after story in this book of men, good men, loyal men, who were simply beat down and neglected by their wives to the point that it's not super surprising that they withdrew and became silent roommates rather than husbands and friends.  It broke my heart.  I never felt like I needed to worry about Justin going anywhere -- he's one of the most loyal and honest beings on the planet.  But making sure that he's happy -- that his needs as a person are met -- that has become one of my main concerns as his wife, his friend.  I never want his sweet heart to feel taken for granted.

I'm obviously not perfect at it, and Justin's learning too, but there's a lot of grace in this home, and we celebrate when we get it right.  I'm just really grateful that I got smacked upside the head early on by this book, and was able shift direction quickly.  I know our marriage has been better for it -- it's not super hard to enjoy your marriage when you're both serving each other and meeting the other's needs, all the while feeling like you got the better end of the stick. 

And the moments when that doesn't happen quite right -- well, love covers those too.

notes from the married front (part one)

So this has been my dilemma this past several months.  I don't like writing any less than I did when I was posting daily... but have been incredibly reticent to write like I used to.  For one, my stories nearly always tend to involve this whole other person in them.  This person is very open with me, but tends to be far more private with the rest of the world than I am.  He gave me permission when we were first married to continue to be myself with the blog, that is, to continue to write just like I used to.  After all, he said, in the beginning, it was my writing on the blog -- one post in particular --that brought about the big email that started us on our way to where we are now.  (Crazy, huh?). 

I've always had permission, I've just been hesitant to use it.

That, and I've wondered sometimes if life now is all that interesting.  Most of my pals here online are single.  I wasn't sure if life now is anything one would want to read about.  A single friend recently encouraged me that it's kind of fun reading about the married antics, that it's actually kind of encouraging, given how many marriages don't sound all that fun.

So here I am.  Few thoughts buzzing around, some things I've been learning (learning, always always learning!).

Before I jump into this, the disclaimer: I've been married a little more than eight months at this point.  I don't know much.  Newly marrieds are often idealistic, and no couple more so than J and I -- an INFJ and an ENFJ respectively.  (We did some study on personality type before we were married, and had to laugh as we were reading about the category we both fall into -- the idealists.  It was weird to basically see many of our tendencies spelled out.  I highly recommend giving these tests a go -- they're pretty amazing, and it's just fun to learn more about yourself.) 

But the deal is -- I know that I don't know it all.  Or even most of it.  I just want to share some of the things I'm learning, some of the things I'm trying to figure out.  Etc., etc.

******

As a single person, whenever I'd see the man in black and the woman in white walk back down the aisle out of the church, grinning ear to ear, I'd sigh a little to myself.  There they go, off into their happily-ever-after.  And here I am.  Still on my own.

The thought would soon pass -- until some goofy older guy would ask when I'd get myself a man, at which point I'd console myself with some cake -- but I'm not that far this side of the altar that I don't remember what that felt like sometimes.  To be envying them just a little, even as you're trying so hard not to.  To be doubting God a little or a lot, even as you're trying to trust that he knows you, that he knows what's best and how to bring that about.

I'll never forget my friend Grace's wedding.  I have been friends with Grace and Andy since their beginnings as a couple, and couldn't have been more ecstatic that their big day had finally come, or more honored to be a bridesmaid.  After the wedding, they had a lovely reception.  Except -- I had no one to sit with.  I had assumed that there was a table set aside for the bridal party, as had my parents, so they didn't save me a spot.  There wasn't a table set aside.  I ended up awkwardly pulling up a chair at a table half-full of people I'd never met before in my life, sitting there feeling lonely and sad and inwardly cursing the guy who had recently dumped me.  I ended up getting over it and haltingly asking the table of eight with all my friends (and their boyfriends) in it to make it a table of nine, which they gladly did, thank God.  Grace and Andy have been married two years and I still remember exactly how that felt.  Awful.

Before I was married, I had a tendency to fully idealize the couple.  It's not hard to do.  Candlelight is flickering, vows are being spoken, she's never looked lovelier and he's never looked more happy.  I assumed that they were all headed for their happily-ever-after. 

A lot of them weren't, in the end.  I know people not married much longer than J and I who are most likely going to get a divorce.  I know others that just don't seem like they're enjoying life with each other very much.

One of the things I see here on the other side of the fence here in Marriageland is that being married doesn't make you compatible, or good friends/playmates, or respectful, or self-sacrificing, or a good match.  It definitely doesn't make you perfect.  It just makes you bound for life.  I used to think that everyone who was married had entered that state because they were brilliant companions for each other.  It's not necessarily the case.

The truth is that we have to learn how to be those things for each other.   Some have a much harder time of it.  I believe that some marriages are somewhat ill-advised due to the reasons for the marriage (the white dress is not a good one) and the compatibility of the people entering it -- but the fact is that no matter how great a match a couple is when they begin, not one of them is exempt from making adjustments, big and small, for the sake of their marriage.  It's part of the deal.

Now, I have to be honest here and say that when I walked down the aisle, I walked toward the only man that I wanted to share my life with.  I feel like I've won the lottery in that department.  I've said it before, but I still can't believe this is my life.  When people complain about their husbands, I can't really relate.  I married a great guy.  I'm happier than I've ever been, and I know how good I have it.  Justin gets haircuts a little more often than he did before, and he has fewer holes in his T-shirts, but he's essentially the same man I married, and I wouldn't have it any other way.  I'm sure I've changed in small ways, but I'm essentially the same girl who walked down the aisle to Justin.

Some of the not-great things about me haven't changed, either -- as much as I wish they were totally different -- those kinds of softenings tend to happen by degrees over time.  One of the things that gives me such peace is when I apologize for some moment of not-at-my-best-ness.  Justin's response is usually something like this: "Buddy, I know you.  I knew you when I married you.  I knew this was what I was signing up for.  And it's okay.  We're okay.  I love you."

Yeah, I'm not kidding when I say that I have it really good.

We make adjustments, but in most cases who we are -- our deep-down tendencies and preferences -- that doesn't change to a great degree.  Justin tries to be a good sport, but I see an antsy look in his eyes when we've hit our third store in the mall -- so if I'm headed out for a big trip, I go on my own.  I have learned to appreciate and enjoy football -- profootballtalk.com and nfl.com are now a regular stops of mine -- but Justin knows I'm only good for about one game on a Sunday, unless there's a BIG one other than the Seahawks, in which case we'll watch two.  Although we try hard, sometimes we don't communicate like we want to.  Sometimes I respond emotionally and get overly feisty. Sometimes Justin doesn't know where the line is when he's jokingly provoking me. 

Just this past week we abruptly finished a pool game when I was highly oversensitive to Justin's post-win taunt.  But seriously!  The guy's ape-like arms are a huge advantage, and I'd been struggling!  It was a major improvement over when we were playing poker heads-up and I got so mad at being bullied that I threw all my cards at Justin, though, so I'm impressed at our growth.  

Yes, that bump is funny now.  We're headed down to the pool hall later this week to give it another go. 

The point is, we're not perfect.  Sometimes petty things don't seem so small at the moment, and sometimes it takes a while before these things become funny.  But Justin and I have benefited from the fact that we knew each other well before we took the leap, and although there have been a few surprises, we knew for the most part what we were signing up for, and the good stuff so clearly outweighed any potential difficulties that it wasn't hard to choose the whole package. 

Even in the moments when the difficulties rear their head, we remember this.  And there's a very real, tangible grace there.  Justin's stuff isn't all that scary to me.  Mine isn't all that bad to him.  We're learning how to support each other where the other is weak, how to cheer each other on in our strengths.  No one's keeping score.  And we're finding Team Lawlis quite the team.

One of the best things I've learned during this first season of our marriage is that the bumps we hit aren't as scary as I thought they'd be when we first began our marriage.  When you first get married, you DREAD that first argument, those initial misunderstandings.  You want to do it all right, never mess up.  But the bumps have actually brought some very deep peace, because, while those occasionally messy moments aren't fun, they teach you that you don't have to be perfect all the time to have a happy marriage.  You find that love and grace really do exist, that you don't have to achieve perfection to live in their embrace.

When we've hit our little newlywed bumps, I've never once doubted that I chose the very best for myself when I chose Justin.  The bumps confirm it.  There is no one I'd rather be learning all this stuff with -- no one who forgives so easy or whom I find so easy to forgive.  And the rest of the time -- which is the great majority of the time -- I'm having more fun than I've ever had, whether we're laughing at each other as we talk or we're just all snuggled up in bed (sometimes this is one and the same scenario).

Not perfect.  Perfect for each other.  Not quite the cliche I always thought it was.

I'll write more about this marriage craziness when I can.  I'm excited to finally have given myself permission to write about this journey, but also know it's not really advisable to do it all in one post, so goodbye for now.

garage-saling with the professionals

Team Lawlis drove home a few weekends ago, stayed with my folks, and caught up with friends for a few days.  Part of this revelry involved garage-saling with Chris.

This is Chris.  Note the classy use of my garter at our wedding.



Chris is forsaking us; is moving to glamorous California.  Apparently, we're not good enough in comparison to palm trees and sandy beaches and eating disorders.  So, to celebrate his impending demise departure, we decided to accompany him on his garage sale quest.

First thing you need to know: to Chris, if anything is worth doing, it had better be done in a suit.  Whether searching for reduced-price crap on someone's lawn, or a wife and career out on the side of the road, you need to look the part.



Justin and I were slummin' it -- we showed up in our usual civilian garb -- but Chris was not one to disappoint.  Suit and tie, kids.  Suit and tie.

A few snippets from our little adventure:

Chris, at our first stop: "How much for the lot?"

Man running garage sale: "What?"

Chris: "How much, for everything here?"

Man: "One thousand, nine hundred and ninety five dollars."

Chris: "I'll give you fifty cents."

At our next garage sale, my fine husband found a vampire cape which he purchased for $1US.  He proceeded to wear it to each garage sale that followed, which elicited strange looks at some sales, and open staring at others.

Justin and Chris were discussing a potential purchase at one house and the lady walked up to them, in vampire cape and three-piece suit, respectively, and said, "Hi there.  What's the occasion?" 

They looked at her as if that were the strangest question in the world.  "What occasion?" they asked.  "We're garage saling." 

She then felt awkward to have asked, mumbled a "Sorry," and returned to her lawn chair in the garage.  It was one of the more tangible awkward moments I've been able to enjoy in a while.  That, and when Chris asked at one house if they were selling pot.

Chris purchased a fan from the Philipines for fifty cents, not to keep, but to barter with at the next garage sale.  He pointed to an item, requested its price from its owner, and then had Justin ever-so-suavely pull the fan from the inner pocket of his suit and display it ever-so-tantalizingly.

(Justin has come in handy before.  Once he carried around a clipboard, jotting down notes for Chris as they were perusing.  Chris would point; Justin would say to the seller: "The gentleman would like to make you a very generous offer," write down fifty cents on a sheet of paper, fold it up, and hand it to the person.)

While we were saling, Chris also tried to garner a book of Shakespeare plays by delighting a garage-saling crowd with a dramatic reading: "Act One..."  I thought he did the Bard justice, but they insisted on him paying 38 cents for the book.

By the way, random thought, I think this T-shirt is brilliant.  With that, I leave you.  (There was pretty much no way to wrap up this random post, and I really do like the T-shirt.)

it’s probably a poor idea to throw a baseball mitt at your husband’s head (even if he deserves it)

This is how the "Welcome to America and Our Awesomeness/Congratulations on Fleeing Canada" sign should have looked.

Justin is at work.  I am not.  Current mood: Lazy.  Major accomplishments for the day -- coming in 1st in a big online poker tourney, which always makes me feel good, and doing a load of laundry.  Impressive.  A post is just the thing to complete my industrious trifecta.

The two of us had a really fun weekend.  Yesterday we bought J a mitt and went down to Cornwall Park to play catch for a while.  We also brought a blanket and read for a while once my arm got tired (I try WAY too hard not to throw like a girl, which wears me out rather quickly).  Justin bought Love in the Time of Cholera during our last used book binge, but I picked it up first and am really enjoying the read.

Someone, I won't say WHO (it was Justin), decided it would be a good idea to start a grass fight, pinning me down and throwing fistfuls of torn grass in my face and hair.  The struggle probably lasted a little longer than it should have, with me struggling against this big dumb animal and his ape-like arms.  Not fair.  I lose EVERY wrestling match.  I decided the only just retribution for grass down my pants and shirt was to throw his shoes as far as I could, and then throw his mitt at him as he ran to retrieve them. 

Unfortunately, it hit him right in the neck/head area -- not the hind-quarters area as I'd intended -- and the firstborn-sibling pleasure of having "gotten" the other person disolved quickly into "Oh, crap, that probably hurt.  I bet I'm going to get busted."  Although a look of irritation immediately crossed his face, as in "I can't believe you just did that -- what the hell is wrong with you?", it was fleeting, and we proceeded to enjoy the rest of our slow and easy-going afternoon.

We've been married eight months now, and I am having the time of my life.  I don't want to get too "mushy-gushy," as my brother and I used to call it when we were little, but I am so deeply grateful to have such a companion.  I'm not sure what I thought married life would be like, but I sure didn't expect to laugh this often or play this hard.  What a playmate I got in my husband, jumping on the bed to wake me up from a nap, yelling, "Wake up!  I want you to come play with me!!"  I didn't expect to hear "I love you, Cuteface!" -- or so many reasons why -- so regularly and with such heartfeltness.   I didn't expect to be so like-minded with someone, or to be able to find such easy compromises in the areas where we differ.  Justin dispenses grace to me so easily, it's impossible for me not to know how loved I am.  We have our moments, to be sure, but they are few and far between, and the rest is so... easy.  Fun.  Deeply satisfying.

I keep on looking around, going, "How, exactly, did this become my life?"  I'm trying my best not to take it for granted, to savor each moment's sweetness.

Yes, even pinned down on a blanket with a mouth full of grass.