a good thing part 2

merry christmas and a happy new year to me indeed. john certainly had me in mind when he got me my christmas present this year (unlike when i get him a present - i usually have me in mind). Something that would make me handle the snow a little better, something that would make me comfortably 3 inches taller, and something that makes me want to kick over anthills, snowmen, and children of any size. the school bully is back and it's all thanks to these babies.

seriously, i feel like i'm driving a monster truck when i put these on. the world is my domain and i will treat it however i want. it's kinda like when you are in the ocean and the waves keep coming and you just yell back, "IS THAT THE BEST YOU GOT?!" yeah, that's how these boots make me feel. however, to balance out this more masculine based gift (i mean, he also has the exact same pair) he got me this.

i've only been wanting it since 2005 when we use to run to the local Thai "mall" to drench ourselves in it to cover up the fact that we constantly stunk. for some reason running to the store seemed more logical than just simply taking a shower, but don't get me started on our illogical behaviors in the country - our ability to make rational decisions was constantly escaping us.

sometimes

you are stuck at the portland airport for 15 1/2 hours and your boyfriend is too busy "working" to hang out so you end up signing up for 2 different airlines credit cards because they come with a free cup and then end up buying, reading, and finishing McCarthy's The Road and you have to hide the fact that you are crying through the final pages because the stranger sitting next to you keeps tapping you on the shoulder to point out the snow through the plane window and sometimes that day doesn't end up being so bad.

two good things

john knows a good thing when he sees it - i mean clearly, ehem, that is obvious. however, this fact was not completely realized until after we found our new place. it essentially went like this: he found the place, we went and looked at it, 2 hours later john had finally put that MBA of his to good use and successfully convinced me of the pros and we signed our lives away - well at least one year of our lives. I had only one qualification for our place - exposed brick - and the man came through. Why i was hesitant, i know not. the point is, it's ours and it's lovely.
The Kitchen (yes, you do see two full cupboards devoted to water bottles...)

The Guest Bed

Our Neighbor Trax

My Contribution
all are welcome to come over and share a cup of cheer as we silently stare at the bright lights of the gateway or throw a few harmless water balloons at the passerbyers.

Girlz Nite!!!

Yes...it is "Girls Night" tonight for Krista's dear friend Lindsey's birthday.  Well...I guess Lindsey is a friend of mine too...but I guess since I am not female...I am not invited to her birthday party.  Which seems kind of strange since the party is being held at MY house.  Technically this will be our house soon...and yes...I am preparing to be kicked out on occasion for "girls nights".

Honestly I think it is great that Krista has some close friends.  There are soo many girls out there that don't have any girl friends.  It is ridiculous and in turn these girls become a strain on society.  It starts by the girl refusing to let her boyfriend hang out with his friends.  She'll come up with some sort of excuse like cramps or a headache and guilt her boyfriend into staying home with her watching a chick flick.  In reality...all she wants is to make sure he doesn't have any fun without her.  Soon enough this guy turns into the least reliable guy in the world.  Guys who are unreliable and high maintenance are the bane of my existence. 

I'll explain...

Let's go back to when I was 10 years old or so.  Playing backyard football (this story also works for baseball and basketball).  It's around noon and the whole neighborhood is out.  The teams are even...we've been playing for 3 hours with no end in sight.  It is bound to be the best day of competitive sports ever and if it keeps up we will all be in the NFL in just a few short years.  But instead...that one kid (you know the one) looks at his watch and says,

"Guys...I gotta go...its lunchtime"
"Skip it"
"But I hear my mom...I always eat at noon"
"But we will have uneven teams"
"Sorry...but I gotta go"
"C'mon...wait until the next touchdown"
"I really gotta go"

Then the chain reaction...

"I better go too"
"Me too"

So in the end...the one unreliable momma's boy ruins my life.  It happens...all the time...and it is always a female's fault...and it typically involves food or guilt...which just so happen to be very interchangeable.

Anyway...back to what I was saying...I am glad Krista isn't one of these depressed girls who doesn't have any friends.  Sure...I may be kicked out of my house from time to time...better to be kicked out because we have a sweet place and she has friends than be stuck at home with a girl who only wants to hang out with you because she has nothing else to do.

So...Happy Birthday Lindsey...here's to you!...and GIRLS NIGHT!

Oh...and this just in...girls just want to have fun.

beatable

It’s an interesting thing, getting married. It’s as if you are making a public proclamation that everyone previous was wrong, which, duh, I typically realized after the first month of dating but this doesn’t just incorporate ex’s but friends, potentials, could have beens, and strangers. It certainly accentuates the fact that the one right in this sea of wrong is a complete miracle. Ever since childhood I have known that love was a miracle. I could hardly comprehend being in love let alone having that one person who you have somehow come to love, pick you to love back, I mean, the odds are completely against us. In my early twenties I loved a boy and he loved me back but confidence in marriage requires more than love and I will always stand behind that so it ended, slowly and painfully. However, I can now say confidently that against the odds, right prevails. So to my past: you were great, but you were wrong; to my future: you are great and you are right.

starting and staring and loving the man in the mirror

Blogging consistently is a difficult thing to do. Blogging consistently and making it interesting? Nearly impossible. I have realized that a greater sense of narcissism is required to keep the readers coming back (readers being well, John and me) so I’m committed to escalating the self-adulation. That and I swear once I finish the third (and forth) season of The O.C. I’ll be much more committed and focused, but you know, priorities. The real news is I’ve succumbed, joined the forces, bowed down to the man and let him slap me across the face only to write me a check. I got a job. And it’s wonderful. It’s actually a dream, well sort of. Stuffing envelops, answering phones, updating the books is not exactly the American dream but working for someone who is not delusional, dishonest, and all the negative qualities of Michael Scott is certainly a breath of fresh air. The organization is One Heart International and it epitomizes what humanitarian work should be. That and my boss is a saint. She is pure goodness. Seeing what she has accomplished by 50 makes me want to roll over and die. And how did she start One Heart you might ask? Oh, well the Dalai Lama personally asked her to of course, same old same old. Anyway, it feels good to be contributing something to society again – not that you have to have a job to do so, it’s just I have to have a job to do so. So farewell pilates at 3 in the afternoon, so long spontaneous trips to Oregon for weeks on end, goodbye hours of wedding blog surfing, nice knowing you midmorning bike rides. Hello self-righteous attitude toward everyone who doesn’t have a job and immediately forgetting how effing difficult it is to get a job and that it was only by the grace of God that I landed mine. I’ve missed you so. To me!

...and the children

forgot to mention one little thing, a ring.

So I must admit, I feel a little stupid wearing a wedding ring. Not so much because I still love flirting up a storm with whomever walks by but because I feel like I’m trying so hard to look like an adult with it on, yet it’s apparent to EVERYONE that I am hardly pulling it off. It feels like there’s this club with these members only rings and now I have one but everyone, including myself, thinks it’s a joke. I mean, when I’m standing in a circle with a bunch of married ladies, I have to resist the urge of apologizing for making a mockery of such a symbol and excuse myself to sit at the kids table. It’s sort of like when I try to wear lipstick – it’s so blazingly obviously that I’m just not cut out for it. The ring itself is beautiful. It was his mom’s and since John was the last boy to be wed, she gave it to him before she died. I mean, really amazing and clearly means way more than a ring from Kay Jewelers (no offense to rings purchased there) or the like. It actually makes me want to wear it less since I’m scared to death of losing it, which let’s face it, is eventually going to happen with my luck. It’s a good thing I’m not a day younger than 26 or else I would feel even more stupid and justifiably so (again, no offense – this time to children tying the knot). And I think, eventually I will just get over it and then it will seem oh so fitting, but like calling John my husband, or fiancée, or boyfriend, I just can’t imagine it feeling normal. So, let’s raise our glasses and toast to feeling completely out of place and kinda like an idiot, forever.


I post this picture for two reasons; first as a reference for you of simplistic class and second for a reference for me after I accidentally drop the ring down the drain in years to come.