sometimes you just have to lie

A marriage is based on trust, I know. And I believe in being honest with Josh, communicating with him, being open. But we’ve come to realize, sometimes honesty is not the best policy in our marriage. So we’ve established TWO (and only two!) occasions when it is perfectly acceptable to lie to one another.

#1) A bad haircut. When it’s over and done with and there is nothing we can do except wait for the hair to grow back- we LIE. I tell him he looks great. He tells me I have the face to pull it off. And when six weeks passes and we’ve gained an inch or so back, we tell each other that even though the haircut “didn’t look baaaaad”, we like the other with a little more length.

Hair is a big deal in our household (I’m looking at you JBIgs).

#2) Phone calls. We both kinda hate the phone. I’ve traveled a lot and I know how it is to be away and in a different time zone and so busy, but feeling obligated to call home. I get it.

On the other hand, I’m extremely needy. I require lots of attention, especially from my man. Like seriously. (When I read The Five Languages of Love it was glaringly obvious I speak all five. Need-EEEE). Anyway, the shoe is on the other foot now and Josh is off traveling for work while I stay home alone and eat a can of sour cream & onion Pringles for dinner and watch American Idol. Throughout all this traveling, we’ve learned sometimes we both just have to lie when it comes to calling one another. As in-

“Josh, it’s okay if you can’t call me tonight. Just go and enjoy dinner with your friends and we’ll talk tomorrow.”

But I’m lying. It’s not okay. I hate going to bed without hearing my husband tell me he loves me. I want to hear about his day and tell him I miss him and have his voice be the last thing I hear before falling asleep. I want him to CALL ME!

But I consider it part of the Marriage Sacrifice. It ranks right up there with decorating my house with Citadel pictures and watching sports. I’ve learned to figure it out. I hang anything Citadel in the guest room. I read during all televised sporting events.  I lie when he asks me if it’s okay to talk in the morning.

 The thing is, he always calls. Even when I lie.

That boy knows me too well.

My Reading Life

So, I’ve decided in 2012 I will try to become a more private person. More introspective. To mull over options, choices, ramifications, and possibilities. To think before I act…and blab. To keep the things I hold dearest a little more personal. In keeping with that resolution, I’ve decided it’s time to change this little blog of mine again. To head in a different direction. I am going to start blogging about my reading life. Pat Conroy, my absolute favorite author of all time, wrote a book titled My Reading Life and I LOVED it. So I'm stealing his idea. Plus, I read A LOT. So I figure I'll have plenty to say. Still personal, but I think it supports my resolution quite nicely.
I’m a HUGE lover of books. I read anything and everything and I like them all. Non-fiction is so inspiring. So exciting. I love to read something true, to be affected by it, to know this thing or person or event really happened and changed something in some way, changes me in many cases. Fiction is even better. To me, it all seems so….possible. Even the impossible.
I always read the last word first. Always.  
So, here is my 2012 Reading Life so far: I started with Stephen King’s 11/22/63. As a lover of both fiction and non-fiction, nothing could please me more than when they both collide on the same page. All 900 pages were incredibly imaginative and accurate. I LOVED every word and finished it in 2.5 days. Historical fiction amazes me anyway. The research it requires!! So impressive.
Next I read Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close. This book is so quirky and smart and heartbreaking and uplifting. Jonathan Safran Foer, the author, is Extremely Witty and Incredibly Talented. I love his style and cannot wait to read Everything is Illuminated later this week. I have a feeling the movie is going to be good, but in a totally different way.  The book is just weird. In a deliciously intelligent, inventive way. I have a feeling the movie may be watered down.

And this brings us to Born to Run. This is a non-fiction book written by Christopher McDougall. My dad gave it to me for Christmas and when I opened it I thought…hmmm, interesting. At the very least I expected it to reinvigorate my running workouts. But I wasn’t DYING to pick it up and read it right away. Today I did pick it up and have quickly decided it may actually be THE most interesting book I’ve ever read!! I’m only 20 pages in, but I’m already hooked. I followed Josh around the house this morning reading aloud and discussing the interesting-ness of it all. I can’t wait to finish it.

I’ll let ya know how it goes!

Rubies

I started reading Extremely Loud and Incredible Close today. I knew it would make me cry before I even began. But I didn't know I would fall in love with it so quickly. I love every quirky line so far. Especially this part:


"When I was your age, my grandfather bought me a ruby bracelet. It was too big for me and would slide up and down my arm. It was almost a necklace. He later told me that he had asked the jeweler to make it that way. Its size was supposed to be a symbol of his love. More rubies, more love. But I could not wear it comfortably. I could not wear it at all. So here is the point of everything I have been trying to say. If I were to give you a bracelet, now, I would measure your wrist twice."

Game Changer

So I really didn’t think I’d be blogging again until after the Holidays, but I’m pretty sure my b.f. Flynn just changed my life.

Let me backtrack for a moment.

 I’ve realized in recent months that I can come across a little…self-involved when I blog. I always seem to be talking about how blessed I am, how amazing my husband is, my family is, my friends are, and on and on and on. I definitely do not mean to be gloating when I say these things, but it may very well seem like I am. I do not want to come across this way.

The thing is I have never really had anything bad happen to me. Truly bad. I have, however, been witness to some of the most important people in my life experiencing deep sorrow and tragedy. And while I ache for loved ones when they are going through difficult times, I have never had to directly experience real heartache. And that is where I believe my compulsion to shout my blessings from every rooftop was born. I feel this need to express my gratitude and acknowledge my blessings because I think I’ll lose them otherwise.

I’ve known this about myself for a long time. I just wasn’t sure how to stop it.

And then, I’m sitting on the porch yesterday, watching the rain fall & chatting with Flynn when all the sudden she says: “Keri, your life is pretty great right now. Maybe it’s your opportunity to really nurture the people around you. To be a nurturer for the people in your life.”

And the rain stopped and the heavens parted and I saw the light.

What Flynn so simply stated instantly changed my perspective. It allowed me, right then & there, to begin to own my happiness. To stop treating it as this fragile thing that must be exclaimed and fussed over in order to survive. That instead of being so afraid of losing  my happiness, I should be afraid of squandering it.

My little Flynnie, so profound sometimes!

So here's to 2012! A year I hope is full of happiness, but more importantly, a year full of opportunities to use that happiness in meaningful ways.

Merry Christmas y’all!

My Christmas Card List

So, this Christmas Season has been a little different in the Metje/Billig household.
 

I didn’t put up a tree this year. When I announced my decision to skip on the decorating I thought Josh was going to either check me in to the ER or the Psych ward.  

I didn’t shop. Usually I LOVE going to a busy mall at Christmas- the people, the music, the line for Santa.  But, I was in a car accident last week. So I had to drive this really big and really ugly rental car. I basically tried to avoid driving all together and did a lot of my shopping on-line. My rental, my driving anxiety, and Atlanta parking kept me home.

And I didn’t go to one single Christmas party. I found out after I booked my flight home, I’d be missing THREE Christmas parties down in Atlanta. No party dresses, no $10 and under gifts, no peppermint or cinnamon rimmed drinks. Sad!

And so, I found myself seriously lacking in Christmas cheer...until I sat down and started my Christmas cards the other day. I love writing Christmas cards. I turn it into a whole production with spread sheets and color coding and assembly lines. It’s fun for me. But the best part is looking over my Christmas Card List. Reflecting on all the names that makeup that list and how they are significant to me, to Josh, to US.

Most of the people on my list I’ve known for 20 years or so. It includes the boy I held hands with in 3^rd grade and the boy I was cruel to in 8^th. It includes the girl I stole my parents’ car with the summer before 9^th grade and the girl who told on me to my parents. On that list are three friends expecting babies and two new mothers. I addressed the card to my best friend and her fiancé for the very last time, next year’s card will read Mr. & Mrs. Five more friends will tie the knot next year.

There are the boys who helped Josh survive Knob year, the boys he got into trouble with in high school, and all his family members who are now mine. Cards were sent to the Carolinas, California, Missouri, and Tennessee. People we’ve worked with, laughed with, fought with, and grown up with. That list is like a roll call for those who have made our lives full and happy.

I hope your Christmas Card List is long this year & your Christmas Season full of love!

Thank you for reading this little blog of mine. I’ll catch ya in 2012.

XOXO

Grace Under Fire

Most of my blog posts are about one of four things: my husband, my family, my friends, or reality T.V. This post is no different. Today I’m gonna tell you a little bit about my best friend Flynn.

 Flynn & I have known each other for 19 years. For the first three of those years, Flynn hated me. I have no idea how we turned a corner and became so close, but we did. And we have been since.

 Flynn & I are opposites. She is private and carefree and artsy. She holds her cards close to her chest, she doesn’t really stress over the details, she takes vitamins, and she doesn’t watch T.V.

 She hardly ever shops, she works multiple jobs, she’s adventurous, and she “doesn’t like sweets”.

 Like I said, opp.o.sites!

 Do any of you remember the show from the 90’s, Grace Under Fire? I think it was about some woman named Grace and all her daily hardships. I can’t really remember. But while I was down in Florida visiting Flynn last week that show popped into my mind. I decided if Flynn had a reality show right now it would be called Grace Under Fire. Flynn is going through an incredibly difficult time right now. If I were in her shoes, I would be a crumpled mess on the floor or a binge drinker or both. But not my Flynnie. She is the picture of grace under fire. She takes it all in stride, she talks it out, she doesn’t allow her sadness to take away her happiness.

 She’s an inspiration.

 Every time I talk to Flynn she says “I’m just lucky I get to _____”. Fill in the blank. In the midst of all this stress and heartache Flynn never stops feeling grateful. She never takes anything for granted. And she hardly ever cries about things. She does what needs to be done and most of the time she does it with a smile on her face.

 Grace.

 She is full of it. It is beautiful to witness.

Friday

You know what I love about Fridays? Besides the prerequisite weekend stuff of course. I love thinking about all the girls getting married tomorrow. I love to think about all the guys and all the gals that are right on the precipice of marriage. How exciting that night was for me. I felt on top of the world. I felt so loved, not just by Josh, but by every single person that made the trip to Charleston for the weekend. How they all gushed over us and clapped every time we walked into a room and laughed and danced and celebrated.

It was such an occasion.

And I just get so darn excited for anyone and everyone about to experience the same. This is what I want to tell the brides and grooms of the world on the Friday before their wedding:

This weekend, this much anticipated fancy affair called a wedding has NOTHING on an actual marriage. Yes, it means special lighting and sappy toasts and the Electric Slide, but it’s the marriage part that’s truly an event. It may be more sweat pants than wedding dress and more Bud Light than Champagne, but it’s also more tender, more intimate, and, if you can believe it, more special than this one single day will ever be.

This isn’t to say you shouldn’t enjoy your wedding. Celebrate it! Obsess over it!  Agonize over the perfect shade of coral! But be sure to realize this is only the beginning. You are starting off the most precious journey with a bang. If you think you are happy now…just wait.

It gets so much better.

Best wishes to all the brides and grooms out there. As my father said the night my brother got married: “May your wedding day be the worst day of your marriage.”

Chevrolet's True Stories

This little story gets me choked up every single time I watch. The dad just kills me.


 LOVE!

http://youtu.be/E_I9fyX0RhI

Kroy Andrew Sauer

Kroy is big brother to my best friend Flynn, little brother to my best friend Brittny, and Executioner of Torment to me in my teens.

In 6^th grade he started a rumor that I stuffed my bra.

On my first day of high school, he picked me up by my brand new Express jeans and stuffed me head first into a trash can.

He nicknamed me ‘Dumbo’ in Spanish class because my ears always stuck through my hair.

I never knew people could actually be stuffed into a locker…until Kroy stuffed me in mine.

He once placed dozens of cigarettes around my desk. I had to stay after school to clean them up because I wouldn’t tell the teacher who did it.

He caught me skinny dipping one summer night and shined every pool light on my scrawny, pre-pubescent body.

The list goes on and on.

 But still, I cannot think of that boy without the corners of my lips curling into a smile. He was completely impossible. And impossible not to love.

 The day he passed away is the #3 Absolute Worst Day of My Life. They day I wrote his obituary is #1.

 I often think about what Kroy would think about me being the one to handle all those details, like his obituary or collecting his personal effects. By no means was I the most important person in Kroy’s life…but we did love so many of the same people- Flynn, Brittny, Nancy, Valerie. It makes me realize how closely we’re all connected. How loving one person means you automatically love the people they love. How you carry people in your heart without even realizing it…and then they’re gone and you feel their absence way more than you ever took the time to feel their presence.

Kroy taught me a lot of things (besides the words to Gimmee that Nutt). He taught me how strong I can be when I have to. He taught me to not take the people in my life for granted. He taught me how to be a better friend.

I think Kroy & I were unlikely friends from the beginning, but somehow, somewhere in the course of our lives, we became just that. Before Kroy passed away I used to imagine Heaven in one particular way: I used to imagine walking up to the gates and seeing my Grandma G waiting for me on the other side. I would be anxious to get through those gates and hug my Grandma again. Now, when I imagine Heaven, it’s mostly the same exact scene, except once I open the gates, a huge bucket of water dumps on my head. I realize in that moment that everyone I love has been waiting for me and Kroy has rigged the whole set-up. Just to torment me for eternity.

So, in the past few months, I’ve had two serious disagreements with two different friends. Close friends.

Of course I cried my eyes out both times.

I’m not very good at confronting an issue with another person. I usually get defensive and I always get emotional.

These disagreements were not connected or similar in any way, but they both share one thing in common. After each incident, after we’d made up and I’d dried my eyes and my sniffling had subsided, my friends both asked the same thing:

“Does this mean I’ll make it into your blog!?!”

And then, with tissue in hand, I started to laugh. And the tides turned. And all was right in the world again.

Is there any better feeling than resolving a conflict with a best friend and walking away feeling closer and stronger then ever?  This is not to say I argue with my friends often. And it is not to suggest my friends are picking fights with me just so I’ll cry and blog about it (at least I certainly hope not!!). But I guess I am starting to realize the merit in confronting issues (the important ones) in my relationships. I have some of THE best friends in the world. Ones I’ve known for more than half my life. And so I’m beginning to realize that these people will continue to love me through the disagreements and the tears. They will always listen to me. They will tell me when I’m wrong. They will accept my apologies and offer theirs.

Then, they’ll turn my tears into fits of laughter.

So, yes Brittny & Rori- I will mention you in my blog. But not because we had an argument and not because I cried, but because you love me like you do.   

The best laid plans

You know when you have the perfect something planned and all you do is look forward to it and build it up in your head? I had one of those today. It was a cold rainy day out so I made turkey meatballs and sauce for a warm yummy meal, Kim K’s Wedding Special Part II was on, I found one of my favorite wines on sale for $10.99, and Josh was working late. This left me with two uninterrupted hours of the perfect ‘me-time’ evening!

But then it all started falling apart.

It started when I spilled a can of tomatoes on my kitchen floor.

Then I go to open a box of spaghetti noodles, picked it up by the wrong end, and they all fell out of the bottom. I just know I’ll be finding dry spaghetti noodles in my kitchen for the next 6 weeks.

Of course, all this mess made me miss some of the wedding activities and now I had no idea why Kim & Kris were fighting three days before their wedding.

So I rushed to put the sauce on, rushed to boil the water for the noodles, and grabbed my wine so I could watch.

Then I stubbed my toe on our stupid coffee table.

Then I found a gnat in my wine.

Then I went to check on the noodles and realized I had turned the wrong burner on.

I made it through all of this without crying, but not without cussing.

I got the tomatoes & noodles cleaned up. I got the water boiling & the noodles cooked. I got the gnat out of my wine & my toe to stop throbbing. And then proceeded to bawl into my meatballs during the second half of Kim K’s special.

I mean, who really thought I’d make it through two hours of anything wedding without crying? Plus, there is a deceased father-of-the-bride involved. I was a goner from the start.  

P.S. I love Bruce Jenner. A lot.

P.P.S. Kim Kardashian is gorgeous even when she is a crying mess.

When my Grandma started losing her memory I came to terms with the fact that she would be a different person in some ways. In many ways, I guess. But I had convinced myself , that through all the issues we would face, she would never forget who I was. I just knew that I, and my brother and my parents and uncles and cousins, were all too important to her for her to forget who we were.

 Last weekend I found out that in many ways I was wrong. But in others I was right.

I didn’t let it bother me when my Grandma started forgetting my name. Both my grandparents have been calling me Katelyn for at least 20 years.  I’ve even gotten a few ‘Brad’s’ and ‘Kim’s’ as well. So no biggie if Grandma can’t remember what to call me. But when I came up for breakfast last Friday and kissed her good morning, I had to hold back tears when she asked me who I was and where I lived. It was like a kick in the gut when I told her I was Randy’s daughter and she asked me who Randy was. I didn’t know how I was going to cope.

 So, I did the only thing I knew to do and relied on humor and patience to get through the day. And we had a good time together. When Josh came up for breakfast she squealed like a little girl, grabbed his face with both hands, and said “You are just so handsome!” over and over. Then patted his belly and told him it looked like he had gained some weight and walked into the next room, leaving my husband with a pout on his face and me reassuring him through my laughter.

Since my Grandpa had to be at church every morning by 6 to start making apple butter, it was up to me to get Grandma & Josh fed and clothed and to the church. On Saturday my Grandma got a distressing phone call from the nursing home about my Aunt Lucille and it sent her all out of whack. She was very confused and upset and all she wanted was my Grandpa. I didn’t know what to do to calm her down. So I grabbed her sweater, made sure she brushed her teeth, and got her in the car. She was crying and rambling and not making much sense. When I stopped to make sure she was uckled up, she grabbed my hand, and said “Thank you for loving me. You are very special. You are very special to me.”

 And that is how I knew in some ways I had been right about her. She may not remember my name or where I live or how we are related, but she does remember that I love her. And that we are special to each other.  She may ask me each morning what I do for work and how long I plan on visiting, but she still told me she was so excited to have me there and she still cried the day I left for home. It is the sweetest relief to realize that the relationship we’ve built can survive a cruel disease that seems to take so much. She may have lost a lot of memories, but it seems the strongest ones have survived. The ones of love. I realize that as we all progress through this ordeal even the strongest of memories may fade. That one day the humor may fade too and it will be only patience and one another that we rely on, but if it’s the love that lasts the longest, I’ll be truly thankful. And I’ll do the remembering for her.

September 30th

I am writing this from my grandparent’s house in Missouri. It’s early. The sun is rising in the backyard and my husband is sleeping in what used to be my Uncle Todd’s room. The old wood-burning stove is to my left, brown shag carpet under my feet. There are six crates of toys on the floor; the same toys my dad, my uncles, my brother, my cousins, and now their babies, have played with. This place is filled with nothing but happy memories.

I have never brought anyone outside my family here before. It meant so much to me to bring Josh to this place, my home.

Of course I also have other homes. There is my home in Georgia, where I get my mail, cook dinners, and sleep each night. There is my home in Virginia, where my high school friends and adopted family and Metjes live. My home in Greenville, where the Billigs and Cooleys and Millers and Merritts live.  But my grandparent’s home is special. Not a thing has changed here in 30 (probably more like 50) years. Seriously, last night we found a Vick’s Vapor rub jar with an expiration date of 1977. Josh pointed out how old all this stuff was when he noticed that none of the medicines or cleaning supplies had directions in Spanish. And Grandma’s container of Comet is advertising a savings of a whopping SIX CENTS!! This house may look a little like one from HOARDERS, but to me it has been a constant place of love and happiness since the day I was born. This is where I hunted Easter eggs, pedaled around in the toy fire truck, made homemade ice cream, and learned how to play poker. I helped water Grandpa’s garden and snap string beans, practiced my layups, and performed talent shows. I opened up presents on Christmas morning, got a million chigger bites in the backyard, and played with my Grandma’s Avon samples without asking. I cannot think of one unhappy time in this house.

And this weekend I am making more memories. Josh will become a part of my home here in Missouri. The four of us are making apple butter together at church this morning. Josh is leaving early to golf with my cousins. I am going to try and talk Grandpa into hiring a housekeeper behind Grandma’s back.  And on Sunday we have our big family reunion. Among the old glass coke bottles and family pictures, candy jars and figurines, there is so much love to be found here.

And so much dust. 

The Dirty Thirty

I would pay to be on facebook just for the birthday messages alone. I’m totally feeling the love today y’all. Each and every one of those messages makes me feel so giddy. Thank you, thank you!

 I’m SUCH a birthday person- my birthday, my loved ones’ birthdays, any birthday! I love an excuse to get together with friends or pick out the perfect present or eat cake or all of the above. It’s just so FUN! And I seriously can’t imagine that the excitement I felt on my 5^th birthday at McDonalds has weakened for any birthday since. It might be immature, but that’s just how I roll.

 So, if I’m a big celebrator of birthdays, then Josh is the Scrooge of birthdays. He just doesn’t really get into it. And that’s okay. So, imagine my surprise when I woke up this A.M. to breakfast in bed and this little treat sitting next to the most delish cinnamon toast crunch bagel EVER.

And I’ve been smiling from ear to ear since. I think I practically skipped through Sam’s Club this morning while I loaded up on 2 lb bags of Chex Mix and White Cheddar popcorn for the weekend. I even told the casher it was my 30^th birthday and listened intently as he told me he thought I was 24. I decided, since it’s my birthday, I would believe him whole heartedly.

 Anyway, I think birthdays are so awesome because they serve as a benchmark for your life. With each year that passes you acquire new friends or reconnect with old ones, you experience successes and failures, set new goals and celebrate accomplishments. It’s the perfect time to make a big deal about LIFE and all that comes with it. That being said, I decided I should try to set some new goals for my next 30 years. Here goes:

1. To be the best wife I’m capable of being. This could probably be goals 1-10!

2. To be a mother. Even though I’m not ready to actually have a baby yet, I am already working on being a good mommy one day. I watch other moms and collect little quotes and pieces of wisdom and think really hard about what kind of person I want my child to be raised by.

3. To worry less.

4. To stop comparing myself to others. I’m getting better, but I’m going to master this in my 30’s!!

5. To be a better arguer…one that doesn’t yell and cry in .5 seconds. I want to be calm and listen and act like a RATIONAL HUMAN BEING during a disagreement.

6. To find a job, no scratch that, a career that makes me happy.

7.  To run a marathon.

8.  To be a better Christian.

9. To travel more… for pleasure!

10. To accept I’m a crybaby and always will be, but to work to ensure I smile and laugh just as often. Maybe more!

All growed up!

So I’ve been super obsessed with Taylor Swift’s album for the last few months. Hopefully, my new ATL neighbors are getting used to seeing me belting out her songs in my car. My particular faves are Mean and Long Live. There is just one song on the whole album I don’t really like called Never Grow Up.  Here is a sample of the lyrics:

“Oh darling, don’t you ever grow up

Don’t you ever grow up, just stay this little.

Oh darling, don’t you ever grow up

Don’t you ever grow up, it could stay this simple.

Won’t let nobody hurt you.

Won’t let no one break your heart.

And even though you want to, please try to never grow up”

Maybe this is offending my one-day-away-from-turning-thirty-years-old feelings, but I just don’t like this song. I am kinda digging this whole growing up thing. I’ve been thinking about it a lot as my 30^th birthday approaches. Yes, I guess childhood is simpler, easier, more innocent, but I think there is real beauty in the wisdom that comes with age.  As a child you live life in the moment, you don’t stop to relish, remember, or appreciate. It may be true that with age comes much responsibility and worry, but I think the trade off is worth it.  

 As a child, I’m sure my father took me out for an ice cream every once and awhile. I’m sure I gobbled up that ice cream and made a mess and enjoyed myself, but I'm just guessing because I don't actually recall ever doing this with my dad. A few weeks ago when my parents were visiting, my dad & I went out for ice cream. Just the two of us. (On a side note, my precious husband stayed home and watched reality tv with my mother. Swoon). And yes, while it’s true that as an adult I did count the calories I was ingesting that night, I also soaked up the entire time with my dad. I appreciated it. I was thankful for it. As a grown up, I understand how lucky I am. And I'm smart enough to cherish it.

 So Tay Tay, even though I love you girl, I’m gonna have to disagree with you. I’m glad life isn’t simple any more. I’m thankful I’ve been hurt and had my heart broken and that I’m in the midst of growing up.

 And while I wish words like cable bill, wrinkle cream, and SPANX were not in my vocabulary, I am certainly thankful my life is full of words like family, friendship, faith, and love.  

 I’m a lucky girl indeed. A lucky, grown up girl.

my perfect day

This is how I know I will spend forever with Josh:

We just spent the last five days in Charleston and had a PERFECT trip.

We spent 8 hours a day on the beach

We ate tons of seafood and went out on the town each night

We visited all the sentimental spots from our wedding week, like Crosby’s, our rehearsal dinner location

And The Summerall Chapel, where we said our vows

And The Francis Marion, where we held our reception.

And we didn’t even try to keep our hands off each other. PDA galore!  

On our last night there we listed three things we love most about our marriage and exchanged them with one another. I cried and Josh laughed and I just knew I was the happiest girl in the world at that moment.

Then we came home. It was rainy and there were tornado warnings (like seriously- sirens were going off in our neighborhood!) and there were four heaps of laundry staring at me.

It was my favorite day of the vacation.

Our house was kind of dark and cozy because of the weather. I had a pot of homemade soup on the stove and we spent the entire afternoon on the couch together. I read a really good book and Josh squeezed my leg or hand or whichever body part I had draped over him at the moment and whispered “God, I love my wife” about every five minutes.

 Any day spent with Josh is a perfect day, whether it’s a sun-filled one spent at the prettiest place on earth or a rainy one on our couch. Life with Josh is perfect. Even when it’s not.

Things I've learned in Year Two

After two years of marriage I am certain of one thing- time flies. Like really flies. Josh & I just got home from celebrating our anniversary in Charleston-, where we met, fell in love (actually fell in love, fell out of love, then fell back into love) and got married. We were both giddy over this trip and this time together.

For each anniversary, I make Josh a photo book of our past year together. I started this before we got married, so this weekend I wrapped our fourth book. Fourth. I know one day we’ll be celebrating our fortieth anniversary and two years or four years will feel like a drop in the bucket, but I am proud of what we’ve done together in our short time as husband and wife. I’ve learned so much:

Like how sometimes it is easier to just do the dishes myself because I’m the only one that can do them “right”.

Or, even though it is the hardest thing EVER, sometimes I need to just shut my mouth.

That Josh’s hugs can cure almost anything that ails me.

That I yell when I’m angry and I need to learn to turn the volume down a notch.

I’ve learned Josh bites his nails and it drives me crazy and I’m going to nag him til he stops!

I’ve learned to buy the Half Caff coffee and dump it in his regular coffee container so he doesn’t notice, but now he sleeps better at night.

I’ve also learned to shop and cook for two.

And what kind of aftershave Josh prefers.

And that I love his friends.

And that now, after already knowing how true love feels, I understand true commitment.

I never understood why people called their husbands/wives/significant others their ‘partners’. I never really liked the sound of that. But now I get it. A partner is defined as “a person who takes part in an undertaking with another” and Josh is definitely that. He is part of all my undertakings- from grocery shopping to life decisions to daydreams. He’s as steady as rock, my husband. And I know we have many more years and much to learn together.

I can’t wait!!!  

"Love actually is all around"

This is a quote from my all-time favorite movie ever- Love Actually. The full quote is: "Whenever I get gloomy with the state of the world, I think about the arrivals gate at Heathrow Airport. General opinions starting to make out that we live in a world of hatred and greed, but I don't see that. It seems to me that love is everywhere. Often, it's not particularly dignified or newsworthy, but it's always there - fathers and sons, mothers and daughters, husbands and wives, boyfriends, girlfriends, old friends. When the planes hit the Twin Towers, as far as I know, none of the phone calls from the people on board were messages of hate or revenge - they were all messages of love. If you look for it, I've got a sneaking suspicion... love actually is all around."

I love this. It makes me cry every time I read it, hear it, think about it. Except yesterday- when I dropped my parents off at the airport. I thought I wasn't going to cry because I get to see them in about 4 weeks, but I cried anyway. Just a little. Then a lot. I felt so sad to drive away from them. Just five days earlier I had driven this same drive with my parents in tow- excited chatter filling my car. And now I was alone and they were heading back to Virginia. Sad.

But then I thought about this quote. Because of the airport connection of course, but also for inspiration. I've been promising myself recently that I would work to stay positive during my blue moments. I have a habit of wallowing, so I tried to think about this quote for the rest of the afternoon to push myself. To push myself to cheer up. To push myself to not go home and cry into my pillow. To push myself to see the love all around me… even when I am blue.

And it worked! Instead of going home and moping (like I normally would have) I ran some errands, stopped by to see a friend (and her little dog: a major pick-me-up in fur) and went for a run. I started to cheer up as I kept busy and looked for love all around me... I didn't have to look hard.

Day 142

On Sunday, I put all my books aside to do one of my favorite things- read my new Southern Living. This is a recent favorite past time, as my mother just gifted me the magazine about a year ago. My grandmother gifted her the magazine when she married my dad and I remember them fanned out on our sunroom coffee table as a child. I had no interest in these magazines when I was younger. They seemed boring and mom-ish. I guess that’s why I love reading it now. I feel so domesticated. I cherish those Sunday evenings when dinner is cooking in the oven and I’m curled up with my sweat pants on and my husband next to me, reading about the perfect whipped potatoes or pound cake.

One of my favorite writers for SL is Rick Braggs. He is the only other writer that I would come close to comparing to Pat Conroy. He can reduce me to tears with a simple story about rebuilding a car with his son or a road trip with his Aunts. He’s heartfelt and sentimental and quintessentially Southern. So imagine what a wreck I was on Sunday when I snuggled up to read my new magazine and the issue was dedicated to the victims of the tornadoes in Alabama, Georgia, Mississippi, and Joplin. And the article was by none other than Mr. Braggs. Josh got another earful, but had to go and get tissues while I read aloud.

I’m ordering all of his books tomorrow. I’m also making that Lemon Pie on the cover.

Day 141

I pretty much read a book a day. Not every day, but most days. Especially when it is summer and I’m unemployed and I have a kick ass porch to chill on. Every now and then I get kind of ADD about books and I start reading like three or four at a time. This is one of those kinds of weeks. I had Pat Conroy’s new book, My Reading Life, at home, but I also had a B&N gift card burning a hole in my pocket. So I went shopping.  I picked up a book I hadn’t heard of yet called The Happiness Project. I thought it sounded like the kind of pick-me-up I needed in the middle of my unemployment funk. I also got Dorthea Benton Frank’s new book about Folly Beach and one of Jennifer Weiner’s paperbacks.  

On Saturday Josh & I drove up to Greenville to visit his family. I drove him crazy the entire trip reading excerpts from Pat’s book. His writing is so achingly beautiful. I am both extremely jealous and in awe of his memory and vocabulary. I can’t help but cry when I read anything he writes and I always feel the need to read his words out loud. Josh was a good sport, turning down NPR every time I wanted to read him a line about Pat’s old English teacher, or how many times he’s read Gone with the Wind, or how books saved his life during Hell Week at The Citadel. He also pretended not to notice my tears.