An Introduction

My husband has always wanted to live in an apartment over a shop or store of some kind. Makes sense. We’re people watchers. No, we’re not creepy stalker-types; we’re writers. We just moved into a one bedroom, one-story walk-up. We live above a gift shop. There’s a coffee house two doors down, next to that a little Italian place, across the way a burger café, a little bakery, and not too far down a true English pub. We live on Main Street. Just up from here the bend in the road turns into Market Street. Although I can’t be sure why, as the bend in the road leads to the end of the road, and all the shops are here on Main Street, even the little convenience store.

The door to our building stays open all the time. Except on weekends. Weekends on Main Street is a mad house. But the rest of the time, it just stays open. The door to our apartment is always unlocked. As are all the apartments here in the Village. Seems kind of counter-intuitive with laptops out, all our personal possessions contained in 300 square foot cubes. But when we first arrived the guy who brought us to our apartment simply shrugged and said,

“This is Korea.”

A Good Night's Sleep

The past few days (Adam might argue past seven weeks...I think) it's been difficult to get a good night's sleep. Between the killer heat, lots of stress, and just being restless there haven't been many nights with a sound slumber.

The good news is: WE ARE FINALLY LEAVING FOR KOREA!!! The bad news is: beside having not slept well the past few days my sleep patterns are gonna be tweaked by my work schedule for the next few days before I go. Perhaps this will all work out to for the best and allow me to adjust more quickly to the time in Korea (they are 16 hours ahead of where we are currently).

In other sad news: Because I'm not a reading whiz like my beloved husband I likely will not finish the book series I am in the middle of right now before we go. This has been the source of much weeping, wailing, and gnashing of teeth (not really, I just kind of like the word gnash. Part reminds me of gnosh, which is a word that appears in the series I am reading right now and it made me sad again to think of that).

In OTHER news...there really isn't any other news. I'm pretty much spent on news. Aside from the potentially embarrassing rupture of my pants the other day whilst visiting in-laws in Kanab--yeah, the only good pair of jeans I had up and DIED less than a week before we're leaving--but it resulted in me getting three new pairs of jeans (yes, THREE!) because Old Navy was having a buy two get one free deal. So in all, it was not that terrible. Although, I will miss those jeans.

The Curse

Ever since people found out Adam and I are going to Korea we keep getting the oddest questions. The conversation goes something like this:

Me: "We're moving to South Korea for a year to teach English."

Person: "Both of you are going?"

Me: "Yes."

Now perhaps I am a tad hasty in this assessment, or maybe I expect too much of people. But really? I mean, we just got married four weeks ago. To me this is the kind of question that one should mentally process before asking. "Wow, she said they're going to Korea. I wonder if they'll both go. They just got married. And she did say 'we.' It only makes sense that they'd both go."

It's called a verbal cue and having mental acuity. Just a thought.

The second most popular conversation follows this line:

Person: "How long are you going for?"

Me: "A year."

Person: "Wow. A year's a long time! What do you do when you plan to get back?"

Me: "Finish school then move to wherever Adam gets into grad school and apply for teaching jobs."

Person: "Sounds like a pretty thought-out plan. Unless of course you bring home a little 'Made in Korea' with you, right?" *insert self-congratulatory laughter here along with a knowing nudge or wink.*

Me: "No. There will be none of that." *in serious tone with blank expression and no return of knowing look or nudge*

The first issue I take with this is, why is it now that we are married that it's ok for everyone to comment on our potential reproduction? Second, I know they mean it in good-natured fun, but when people say this I feel like they're trying to curse us with an accidental pregnancy. Like the mother's curse of getting a child that was just like you so you know how rotten you were. It feels like they're telling me, "I hope you are incompetent enough to have sex without protection/your birth control method fails so that you can have a baby you were completely unprepared for emotionally/mentally/financially because it's fun for me to say 'Made in Korea.'" Bottom line: I don't find it funny.

The last thing that most people ask:

Me: "We're going to South Korea for a year to teach English."

Person: "Oh my gosh aren't you scared?!"

What I want to say in response: "Yes. I intentionally do things that strike the fear of God into me so I can be reminded to be humble. I like feeling uncomfortable and that my life is as fragile as a butterfly's wing to be crushed at any moment. Makes me live so every moment counts. You should try it some time."

What I really say: "No. Not at all."

Granted, there is a thing called "healthy fear" that we should all maintain to stay alive; it's part of what keeps us careful, makes us pay attention to what we do, etc. But if I was literally afraid to move to another country, why would I take this job? This hearkens back to a question I had last semester when a professor asked a classroom of education students (translation: people who want to be/are studying to become teachers) what scares them most about teaching and someone put, "I hate being in front of groups of people" and someone else wrote "I'm really shy." WHY IN THE HELL ARE YOU GOING TO BE A TEACHER? I'm all for challenging yourself, facing your fears, and conquering the weaker parts of one's self, but really? The license and the title isn't going to suddenly make groups of people your friends, and you're not going to become magically outgoing. Pick a new profession.

The truth is Adam and I both love traveling, we like languages, and we like experiencing foreign cultures. We're looking forward to Korea. In fact, it can't come soon enough.

Definitely Not

It has seemed, of late, that there is a strange flux of Mormon women who suddenly find their lives blog-worthy upon getting married. Then every detail must be recorded in minute detail because their lives have now begun and are deserving of being preserved in the annals of electronic history forever.

That's definitely not me. First, I've been blogging for over six years. Second, we've been married three weeks and just now am I getting around to posting.

Yes, the wedding was wonderful. Yes, everything went perfectly. Yes, we are happy. Other than that it's just waiting to get to Korea.

I imagine this transition has been much easier on me than Adam. Primarily because we are camping in my parents' basement until we leave, so I am still very much in my comfort zone. Adam is an easy keeper, but I can't believe this has been the best transition for him. We are both hoping to get to Korea as soon as possible so we can really start our life together on our own (sounds wrong--the together/on our own--but it makes sense).

I'm working until we go, and I've been trying to get as many hours as I can. Last week I ended with over 35 (I usually average 20-25), and next week I'm already looking at more than that. I feel part bad leaving Adam home alone all the time, until I realise that's what he's been used to for the last nearly 15 years and is probably perfectly fine with it.

It's funny how it feels like right now we're married with a safety net. We still pay bills and have responsibilities, but the full weight of adulthood is not yet upon us. I have no reservations about doing it with him. He's great. When I want to escalate a situation he remains calm. In the moment it's infuriating, but it's what I need. He's wonderful for balancing me out that way.

In other non-gushy news, I've been fighting with a nasty cold/flu/infection since before school ended. I'm now on a round of antibiotics/steroids that seems to be helping. Last week my tonsils were swollen to the point of restricting my breathing. When they rate the size of tonsils it's done on a four point scale. Mine were a four plus. We're really praying for this treatment to work because I have to be well to go to Korea. So far, things are looking up.

And we are doing our best to look up, too.

My Poor, Unfortunate EARS!

No, I don't hate my ears. I don't think they are ugly or need reshaping, and for the most part they serve me very well. In fact, where I work the clients repeatedly ask me if we have recording devices hidden because I always seem to "know" what they've been talking about, to which I reply, "I hear everything." This is, of course, hyperbole. It's more basic social constructs. When you walk into a room and the group suddenly falls silent, or you see a series of knowing glances, it's pretty obvious they've been talking about you or something they shouldn't. Usually both.

But this week, my poor, poor ears are suffering. Which, in turn, causes me even greater suffering. My body fought long and hard against the spring cold that's been circulating. I was bombarded at work, school, and home. For three weeks I resisted. But then it was just too much. Within days I had gone from stuffy nose, coughing, and sore throat to eyes weeping mucus and a raging ear infection.

So bad, in fact, was my infection that my left eardrum "perforated." The most common question I get was, "Ooooh, didn't that hurt?" The idiotic YES seems a bit rude, thus I prefer, "Oh no, it was like a little french-tickler just snugged up inside my head until I couldn't take the pleasure anymore and my body just had to release the exuberance somehow." In reality, it's mostly annoying up until about three hours before the explosion. Then it is the most unbearable, excruciating pain that pounds through your entire head, down your neck, into your shoulders, it even makes your teeth ache. And there's not a thing you can do to stop it. When the eardrum finally breaks it just feels like a little "pop", then the ear continues to crackle, and fluid seeps out. This may sound like terrible news to those of you who don't routinely experience inner-ear problems. For those of us more familiar it's no big thing. Just a month or two of feeling like you're constantly walking around with an earphone in one side, and then it's right as rain again. However, the perforation of that eardrum did nothing to relieve the suffering in my right eardrum.

When I finally made my poor, college student, insuranceless way to the Doctor (you know, about three days too late) she told me that I was, "really, quite sick" that I had congestion in my sinuses and lungs, I had white stuff on my swollen tonsils, my left eardrum had a nice little hole and was still swollen and red, and that she wouldn't be surprised if my right eardrum perforated as well in spite of the 875mg of Amoxicillan she prescribed me to take twice a day for ten days (anyone else seeing a yeast infection coming? Yeah, that'll be BLISS for the honeymoon night--the same day I finish the Rx). She also recommended OTC Ibuprofen to possibly help with the inflammation. Well, I've had my fourth full day of antibiotics. The cough is drying up (and consequently hurting my chest more), no more goopy eyes, and my sinuses are even drying out. Alas, the ear has remained in a strange state of congestion. There are periods when I can hear more, but by about 5pm every evening it's as though someone has inserted a stopper into my "good ear" (if you can call it that), and I become instantly hard of hearing.

Well, I'm tired of not being able to hear. So I'm trying yet another homeopathic remedy that has been recommended to me by a friend. I say "yet another" because, in case you couldn't tell, I've had my share of ear problems.

One of my earliest childhood memories was throwing a tantrum on the landing of our apartment stairs while my dad was babysitting because my mom wasn't home and I just wanted her to fix my ear. I remember the pain was excruciating. I even knew that my kicking the wall was irrational. I just didn't know what else to do because it hurt so bad. I honestly don't recall my dad trying to stop me, and it was probably because he felt helpless.

An ENT (Ear Nose and Throat specialist) in Cincinnati told me, "Let's face it. You're a girl with ear problems. You've always had them and you always will. Your eustachian (pronounced ess-station) tubes don't drain correctly, and as a result you get ear infections." When I asked if there were any preventative measures he grimly shook his head "no." As a result of my many ear ailments I have been given a whole slew of home remedies. They range from the simple "put heat on it" to the ultra bizarre. Here is a non-comprehensive (albeit most memorable) list:

- Sleep on the other side so the stuff will drain out of your ear

- Put sweet oil in your ear

- Don't use a heating pad; find a nice smooth, flat rock and boil it. Wrap it in a towel and lay on that (this is from a man named Mark who says that "Doctor's don't know shit.")

- Use your own urine and put a few drops into your ear

- Mix equal parts water with vinegar OR hydrogen peroxide OR rubbing alcohol

- Clean your ears more regularly (despite the warning from any ENT NOT to stick anything into your ear, including cotton swabs, I do clean out my ears)

- Sleep sitting up

And now, the one I am trying tonight (no, I have not tried everything on that list--mainly the sweet oil because I've never located it, and the urine because that just be nasty), put a clove of garlic in your ear overnight to draw the toxins out.

Besides the general annoyance I have some added incentive to get my hearing back in say, oh 6 days 18 hours and 30 minutes because I'M GETTING MARRIED and I want to be able to hear and enjoy every minute of it. Hopefully this garlic works...

Breakdown

Yesterday I had a breakdown. I really wanted to quit life because I seem to suck at it lately.

As we work on getting to Korea the thing that takes the longest is the fingerprint process that is sent to the FBI where they do a background check. It can take up to 12 weeks. We are five weeks in. Three weeks ago I received notice that my payment couldn't be accepted, so I resubmitted it. Yesterday I received a packet saying my fingerprints were not clear enough to be read. The ironic thing about that is when I did my fingerprinting the man did two cards, but in both of them he just did a straight press, not a roll. After leaving I reread my directions to ensure that I had done it right, and it specified that I must have them pressed and rolled. So I went back. That means I submitted THREE cards with my fingerprints on them. THREE!

Adam submitted two, one pressed and one rolled. His cleared just fine.

We can't continue the process until the fingerprint results come back, so we're waiting again. I keep reciting the serenity prayer (God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference). I know I can't control this. I know worrying and stressing about it will only cause me unnecessary anxiety. For those of you not yet familiar with my personality I'm a planner, I like to be organized and able to move through the paces of things. Despite my inability to successfully compute mathematical equations I am very much a formula, process girl. Maybe I'm more scientific theory. I become frustrated (yes, you will realise this happens a lot because it's not true to life) when I plug in all the things I'm supposed to do and don't yield my desired result in the prescribed amount of time. I know, I should be grateful it only took five weeks for them to tell me instead of the full twelve.

Should, should, should. We tell our clients that it's not healthy to "should" all over yourself. Yeah, I'm totally guilty of that right now. Sitting in a steaming pile of should. 

Or jelly beans (for those of you have seen "Hop" which Adam and I did last night, and we liked it).

What He Really Said Was...

Ok, so I couldn't find the paper Adam read from to ask me to marry him, but after FINALLY cleaning my room I have discovered the precious paper!

You may not really care as much as I do, but it's sweet and I'm sharing.

He dug, for what seemed like eternity, in his pocket to pull this paper (now securely taped into my journal) out. His hands were shaking, and it was so cute!

(Also, to avoid any accusations of plagiarism, this is a slightly modified version of something Spike says to Buffy in Season 7 during the episode "Touched.")

"I've been alive a bit longer than you, I've seen things you couldn't imagine, and done things I prefer you didn't. I don't always have a reputation for being a thinker. I follow my blood, which doesn't exactly rush in the direction of my brain. So I make a lot of mistakes, a lot of wrong calls. Almost thirty-four years, and there's only one thing I've ever been sure of: you. Hey, look at me. When I say "I love you," it's not because I want you or because I can't have you. It has nothing to do with me. I love what you are, what you do, how you try. I've seen your kindness and your strength. I've seen the best and the worst of you. And I understand with perfect clarity exactly what you are. You're a hell of a woman. You're the one, Chelsea."

Yup, sure did cry. Cried when he read it to me, cried when I shared it with my mom, cried when I reread it putting it in my journal today, and cried typing it here again. To say I'm "touched" might be an understatement. I am completely in lesbians with this man (that was a Scott Pilgrim joke, for those of you not in the know).

A Thousand Words

That's what they say a picture's worth. I think they're underestimating my verbose nature. I'm considering doing a word count on this by the end. No, it's not a self-challenge to write long, I just know myself.

On Wednesday Adam and I met up with our photographer for our engagement photos. We decided to go with Ashwood Photography because the photographer is my former college roommate, Sherrie Heywood. The way we actually came about this was rather fortuitous. You see, ever since Sherrie and I discovered we both lived in Cedar City we say we need to get together for lunch. We finally did it the first time in December 2009 after saying we should for about six months. Ever since then we'd been saying we needed to do it again. This didn't happen until January of this year. While we were at lunch Sherrie and I were talking about what's been going on in our lives and she asked about being the photographer for our wedding.


I was a little concerned about working with a friend in a professional relationship, but I also knew Sherrie's personality, I was impressed with her work, and I wanted to help her get her photography business off the ground. I discussed it with Adam (can you guess what he said?) and my mom. We decided to make it official, so we told her we'd do it. In February Adam and I met with Sherrie and picked paper, discussed layout options, went over photography packages, etc. and we scheduled our engagements. Looking back it feels like FOREVER ago!


Anyhow, last week the date was closing in on us and so was the weather :/ So I began a campaign to all known Deities responsible for weather to clear their calendars for March 23 because it was MINE and I needed good weather. I am proud to say that prayer still works. In a rash of spring storms Wednesday was the only clear day all week, bookended by gusting winds, rain, snow, and general freakishly cold nastiness. Not only was Wednesday clear, it was beautiful.


I won't lie; I spent an obscene amount of time on my make-up and hair. I think it took me 10 minutes just to get my eye liner the way I wanted. I also took two hours the night before to pick what I was going to wear, only to grab something out of my mom's closet last minute the day of. The choosing of what to wear changed drastically from what I always imagined I wanted. I've been of the opinion that a wedding is a formal event. It's a big deal and people should dress up for it. Thus I had foresworn I would not wear jeans in my pictures, nor would my future-fiancée.


For a lot of things associated with the wedding Adam says he doesn't care (what he actually said is that in Spanish they have two ways of saying "I don't care." One means that the person literally does not care. The other is close to "it's all the same to me." He explained that it's not that it doesn't matter to him, but for the most part he just doesn't have an opinion on the things I ask him about. Fair enough.). On this, however, he dug his heels in. Our announcements and the pictures with them should represent us, as we are. We don't dress like that on a daily basis; therefore, no dress clothes. I wasn't ready to listen and steamrolled him up until Tuesday night when he stood up for himself, I realised he was right, and I conceded the point. Yup. We wore jeans (not that you can tell from the way Sherrie framed the pictures!).


We started out at Braun Books (a lovely used book store where we went on our first date for a reading) before heading down to St. George where the weather was absolutely gorgeous. All told we were taking pictures or traveling to take pictures from 1pm til 6:30pm. It was a long time, but it was a lot of fun.


Can I just say that I'm THRILLED we picked Sherrie? She made the day so much fun! She would laugh with us, say things to make us laugh, and just snapped away through it all. She even braved her fear of heights to attempt a shot she really wanted to try (she mocked us when she found out Adam and I both have fears of heights because we had made fun of her for being so cowardly). I think the fact that we know each other made the real difference in our pictures because she was able to capture more than good poses, she caught our personalities.


She posted the proofs for us Friday (can we say quick turn around?), and of the 45 pictures she put up I can honestly say there isn't a bad one in the bunch (of course, it's 45 of hundreds, but it's still a good selection). Of course there are some I like more than others, but that will always be the case. If you want to check out a sampling of our photos follow the link provided, click "Galleries" then click on our picture (we're the far right!).
I know I'm pathetic for doing so, but I fully admit I have gone to that gallery at least ten times since noon Friday. I just watch the slideshow again and again and again and again. Sometimes I stop it to get a really good look at a picture, and then I start it up again. Narcissistic much? Perhaps. But she made us look goooooood.


Long story short: not only are the pictures wonderful, it was a fabulous experience.
Oh, and Adam was an excellent sport. He didn't complain once :)


(Not including this part there are 970 words. Pretty durned close!)

Here's the Story

About a month and a half ago Adam and I realised that his birthday would fall on my Spring Break. Our conclusion? VACATION! Where? None other than the city known as sin, Vegas! We weren't planning a prenuptial tryst (as we had been loving accused), Adam is actually writing a story and needed to do some research on the Stratosphere's tower. We ended up staying at the Stratosphere (hey, at just over $30 a night it was a great deal, in spite of being on the scarier part of The Strip).

Monday we arrived well before the 3pm check-in time, so we grabbed a bite to eat on Maryland Blvd at the Burger King. To give you an idea of the type of neighborhood it was, in order to use the bathroom you had to ask the manager to let you in (no, they didn't give you the key), there was no mirror, and I used TWO toilet seat covers just for an added measure of safety. After that we went to the Shark Reef at Mandalay Bay where we saw some GREAT creatures (least favorite: Golden Crocodile--it just looked sickly! most favorite: Giant Blue-Lipped fish!--it was shy and had the coolest designs on its face!). We also people watched and thoroughly enjoyed ourselves. We even videoed some unsuspecting women as they hesitatingly tried to touch the rays. We also laughed at the people who were afraid to walk over the glass bottom floor to the exit. As in, we spent 20 minutes just waiting and watching and laughing. Oh, we laughed :)

We eventually checked in, only to discover that our "resort fee" did not cover internet access, so we relied on the age-old phone book to locate some of the places we wanted to see. This was after we were verbally accosted by the gift committee who, unfortunately, could not help us because we were not married and did not have the same address. The used book store was closed, but we found a shop called "Peru Post." A new little shipping store that also carried some special Peruvian items...including Adam's favorite drink, Inca Cola!  We also happened across a clothing exchange store, and made a quick turn through Barnes and Nobel. Lots of fun stuff there, but nothing for us. And dinner ended up at Chipotle.

Tuesday was Adam's birthday--happy 34th, Sweetheart!--so we started the morning at Roxie's 50's Diner in the Stratosphere. It wasn't bad, and Adam got a Cherry Ice Cream Soda. Yup. For breakfast. Birthdays a great excuses for eating whatever you want at any time of day. We headed back to the used book store and meandered, then went to a comic book shop. I purchased my first voluntary graphic novel, and also bought one of the two Adam was considering for his birthday, then he bought the other one. By then it was time for lunch, so we headed to Chipotle again. We stopped by Target (it's almost kind of a joke--anytime Adam and I go to St. George we go to Target and B&N). And then...it was back to Barnes and Noble (are we creatures of habit or what?!) where we both bought some Young Adult Fiction, and Adam purchased the Girl With the Dragon Tattoo trilogy on DVD.

Following a brief rest in our room we made our way up to the Fremont Street Experience. It was an experience, indeed. We wandered up and down, and back enjoying the people watching most of all. and the periodic person ziplining over our heads.

For dinner Adam wanted to go to a Peruvian restaurant he had been to before, but it had moved and changed it's name. After following my bad directions twice we made it there 20 minutes before they were supposed to close. Fortunately for us they were busy and it wasn't a big deal. We enjoyed some delectable ceviche and Chicha Morada (a sweet drink, purple in color, made from corn). Adam's food wasn't as good as he hoped, but mine was delicious. And the owner, Pablo, was wonderful. We also enjoyed a telenovela while we ate.

Finally, it was time to achieve the business purpose of our visit--the top of the Stratosphere tower. Adam's writing a story and needed specific details to make it real. I had a mini-fit about going up. It's freaking high! and you ride in an elevator :/ But we made it up without incident, and it wasn't as bad as I anticipated. The view really was incredible. I've never understood why the lights of Vegas appear so orangey-yellow. Adam took notes, we wandered around, even braved the outside observation deck, and then settled into one of the cushy sofas they have sitting up there.

After a while Adam said, "So I have another 'Buffy' quote. Do you want to hear it?" This may sound like idle banter, but he used a quote from "Buffy" to ask me on our first date. He pulled out a paper and read it to me (with some minor alterations), then dug into his pocket, dropped down on one knee and asked me to marry him. I cried. Not a lot. Just a little. And I said yes. He handed me the ring in the box. I pulled out the ring and said, "You're supposed to put it on!" So he did. And we just sat there and enjoyed the moment. In fact, we saved the news til morning so we could just enjoy having that between us.

Today was a lovely day. Breakfast at IHOP, then we drove to St. George and spent the afternoon with Adam's sister-in-law (and one of my newest favorite people) Jana before arriving back in Cedar. I part-hated coming home. Because it signifies the end of our vacation, and I hate coming home to a different house than him. But it's also good because I know that the faster these weeks go the sooner we get married and don't have to come home to different houses. So soon. But not soon enough.

All the...STUFF

I am a fairly simple person. I have fairly simple tastes. I don't generally ask for much, but when I do it has a tendency to be kind of "big." With my wedding I don't want "big"--I never have. I want it simple, clean-looking, and fun.

I always thought wedding planning was stressful because of all the stuff people wanted. And when it comes to wedding there is lots of stuff. Flowers, cake, music, place, centerpieces, tablecloths, photographers, dress, people, decorations, book, tables, backdrops, food, favors, gifts, announcements, postage, addresses, fittings, colors, shoes, flatware, rings, moving...and I've only listed the teensiest beginnings of it all. There is also all the stuff surrounding weddings, like registering for gifts. Well to register for things you need to know what you want. In order to know what you want you should also know what you have. And then it's just a craps shoot to see if anyone actually buys or puts money on all the things you now have your heart set on owning.

Not to mention all the additional get-togethers. The bridal showers--having to put together guest lists for that, deciding what dates work, what kind of shower I'd like to have--the wedding brunch/luncheon. Finding a place, selecting who gets to come, and deciding on food for all of that, too.

When I said: no cake, no luncheon, no first dance I thought I was simplifying my life. Now I see why people do these things. Discounting the obvious "because they want to" they do it out of pressure. As soon as you go against the norm and say you want something different people go berzerk. "But you have to!" "It's part of getting married!" "You'll regret it if you don't!" "It's something I always wish I would have done!" "You only get to do this once!" "You should have everything you want!" "Sometimes you have to splurge a little!"

Seriously? Seriously. SERIOUSLY? Yup. Seriously.

I really am beyond thrilled, in fact I spent a while the other night trying to get the right combination of elated euphoric ecstatic blissful wonderous words to describe how I feel about Adam and marrying him, and they just aren't there. But I'm not thrilled because of the flowers or cake or announcements or pictures or centerpieces or backdrops or any of that. I'm thrilled to be joining my life to his, to starting on this new journey together, and I want to enjoy that.

So for now, for now I am sick of the stuff. I just want to be happy (and trust me, I'm pretty ridiculously happy--b had me describe it in a unit of measurement a while back and I believe my response was something to the effect of several thousand million gigatons excited). Kind of the reverse "Bride-zilla" right? I don't want it all, and all just the way I want it. I just want to be left alone.

My Stomach Has a Memory

I'm sick. Again. Except this time it's my stomach, or some part of my digestive system. Anyhoo, the plumbing is messed up. This is never, ever a good thing. You see, my stomach has a memory and it's very, very good.

Any food I've ever eaten and later become sick from my stomach remembers all too well. One might say it holds a grudge. There was the cinnamon roll incident of '98, the Cafe Rio bust of '03, and it seems we're looking at the Subway/Pepsi explosion of '11.

My mother makes the most amazing cinnamon rolls. When I got sick I hadn't even eaten one of her's, it was somewhere else. But because the last thing I ate before I became ill was that cinnamon roll it was years before I could eat one. Now I can have the small one with only a dab of frosting.

Cafe Rio was a whole different story. I had moved out, it was my freshman year of college, and I went to Provo to visit a friend. Since moving out my diet had vastly improved (instead gaining the freshman 15, I lost it), and my stomach had shrunk considerably--not something I took note of at the time. So my friend and I went to Cafe Rio and I ordered what I always ordered, but I had to eat quickly because she was under time constraints, so I inhaled the burrito and drove home to Ephraim. Eight hours later that burrito resurfaced. I might suggest never finding a cilantro leaf in your tissue after blowing your nose...it's not pretty. It took almost a year before I could even set foot into another Cafe Rio. Then, when my mother squeezed lime onto her salad I started gagging, and had to go to the car and wait until they were done eating. Curious that of everything I ate in that burrito the aversion is the lime in the cilantro lime rice. Now I just ask for no rice, and am fine. But it's taken years to get to that place.

Which brings us to present day. I don't know what made me sick. I still don't know why I'm sick. But sick I am. Oooo-eeee! And since the last thing I ate was a Subway Oven Roasted Chicken sandwich on flat bread...guess who won't be frequenting that establishment for a while. Too bad, too, because I just earned a free foot long. The Pepsi comes into play as part of the treatment. Although it may seem somewhat counter-intuitive, drinking carbonated beverages actually helps settle the stomach. As a child my mother always bought me Sprite. Now I can't drink the stuff without going a little green around the gills and starting to feel queasy. Well, we had Pepsi on hand so that's what I've been drinking. And now, because I am sick, my stomach will associate Pepsi with this illness, and I fear I will no longer like my favorite soft drink.

I suppose it's all for the best. Afterall, I'm trying to lose weight, so why not knock off a few of the bad-for-me things? Yeah, that's what I'll do, use my stomach's magical memory to my advantage.

Big News and Minor Revelations

We’ll start with the small stuff (I’ve got to come up with some way to get you to read through the whole blog! Or at least spend some time scrolling/searching for the “big news”). So one of the things I say most often to Adam is, “I’m brilliant!” True story. Ask him. Well sometimes I’m not so brilliant. Take the other night, for example. I turned on a movie and let the credits play while I puttered around getting some things settled before I sat down. Once I sat down I became engrossed in the previews. So engrossed, in fact, that at one point I forgot what movie I had selected to watch. By the time the DVD menu appeared I was no longer sure I wanted to watch this movie, or if my choice had been swayed by a preview. I like to think I’m not the only person this happens to.



Next minor revelation which isn’t really a revelation so much as a nightmare come true, and a testament to gratitude for things I should’ve appreciated more while I had them. What is the one wish of any insuranceless person? You know, beside no catastrophic event. Please, please don’t let me get sick! Guess who got sick. Yup. I couldn’t get the cold that everyone else has, or even the flu that some people have been passing around. No, no, no. I had to go and get myself saddled with strep throat. Sometimes I really do believe my body is intent on destroying itself. But with the timely assistance of a kindly doctor friend I was on a strict regimen of antibiotics and am feeling significantly better.


Last minor revelation (for today). I had a semi-annual review with my boss today. I thought it had gone well, and it felt like it was wrapping up when she says to me, “You seem disgruntled.” Well let me tell you, I was quite taken aback! Disgruntled? Really? Isn’t that the word that newscasters use to describe people who go into their places of employment and have psychotic episodes resulting in the need for news coverage? Needless to say, it was not a feeling word I wanted applied to me. But her insight into me not being on an even keel was well-aimed. It was nice to express some concerns and receive her open-minded responses. By the time it was winding down I was reduced to a more mild grade of “frustrated” and now I feel pretty good.


Ok, you’ve waited long enough…


BIG NEWS
My mother and sisters and I have begun a new blog in which we are equal co-authors. It will document our battles with weightloss. For Christmas the three of us sisters were given Flip Video MicroHD recorders. We will be using them to post videos to build some character with our posts. We hope that you’ll check us out at http://fivemonthstofit.blogspot.com.

Why five months? Well, we weren’t just inspired by the new year and resolving to be healthier (although that is a good reason, and Natasha and Mama were already on that track). SPOILER ALERT: More BIG NEWS! Adam and I are getting married in May. No, he hasn’t proposed. And no, I won’t let him until March because I refuse to be engaged for more than two months, but we are getting married in May. So we have five months to fit into our wedding best, and to get fit!

(FYI: If you go busting over there now you’re not going to find anything because I just set it up today and nobody’s posted anything yet, but watch for some new stuff over the next few days, and keep tuning in over the next five months!)

Today

Why is it when I have nothing to write about in my life I am really good at journaling, then when things worth writing down are actually happening I am an epic failure? I maintain it is because rather than writing I am out doing. Yet the number of hours I've racked up at home this week would suggest otherwise.

The honest truth is I am in The Good Place. I talk a lot about "taking it to The Bad Place" or "I went straight to The Bad Place" or "I'm in a Bad Place." But I don't talk enough about being in The Good Place. But I'm here. It feels kind of like jinxing my happiness. If I actually admit I'm in The Good Place the world will tug the rose colored carpet out from under my feet, tossing me into a black sky, leaving me broken again.

Today I want to trust The Good Place.

I want to believe it can last, that I can be here, and that I deserve to be happy. Sometimes, and I can't speak for men because I'm not one, I think women don't allow themselves to believe they deserve anything. Including happiness. We are so concerned with making sure everyone around us is happy that we forget ourselves.

Today I am happy.

Some may say it's all because of Adam. It would be unfair and untrue if I did not admit that I am happier than I ever thought I could be because of him. But it isn't all because of him. A friend (thanks again, Rata!) put it this way, "He is the other half of you that you never knew was missing." She's right. He is. That said, I had to be a complete me before the other half could fit. He showed me, even though I didn't think it was, the wound--that emptiness, that sadness, that ache--was healed. I was healed. And I was whole.

Today I am whole.

Because I am whole there is a new half to me who makes me smile all the time, who helps me find the silver lining when I want to be angry, and who teaches me how to be a better version of myself. He is more than I could hope to dream for, and better than anyone I could ever deserve.

Today I am in love.

Emotional Rollercoaster

So...finals this year has been harder than any other year in the history of ever. I'm not sure why, exactly. I mean, four years ago this coming May I was coping with the news that my best friend was dating my exboyfriend of a week, and that she was going to meet his parents. That seems harder. Perhaps it's being away from the rigor of academic life, since the mish was the first break I've taken from education since Pre-school. It might also have to do with being divided in mind as I have someone who is much more interesting than any book or paper in my life, now.

But the weirdest part was after I turned in my last paper (final grades were posted today, two As, three A-s for a semester GPA of 3.83, WOOT!), the stress didn't end like it always has. Instead, it multiplied exponentially. Things went haywire at work (see previous post), and then there was this inexplicable weirdness between Adam and me.

Tonight, as I was I visiting with a dear friend in Kentucky who was up WAY past her bedtime (I love you Rata Stevens Robinette!), and I was highlighting all of Adam's amazing qualities I realised something. I've been taking advantage of him. I've been demanding, and rude, and been treating him downright terribly. I felt (and feel) awful. He's had to cope with people treating him this way his whole life, and now he has been getting it from me, too! After a good conversation we came to the conclusion that neither of us have been in the best of places lately, and now that we've identified the problem we know what to do.

And, amazingly, most of the icky feeling went away. Especially when, because he really is phenomenal, he says to me, "Don't worry, you're not getting rid of me that easily." Oh I love him.

Sidenote: I also realised how much I completely depend on my bestie, Bethany, to be my moral center and guide. She's been in the Dominican Republic for five days and will be gone for five more, and I'm not quite sure what I'll do without her! I love you, b!

Could Use Some Cheering

Today. What is there to say about today? At work I thought I was being helpful when I donated the clothes in the back of the van to DI (after reading that someone loaded them and then the donation center was closed). Turns out the clothes for donation were donated, and the stuff in the back of the van was t-shirts for us to do a service project. Seriously? What are the odds?! How often do clothing donations get donated--without notation--and new clothes appear in bags in the same place--again, without notation? I can't help but feel responsible, because I'm the one who made the mistake. At the same time, I don't feel entirely to blame. Blech.

Then, after that high note, I came to my parents house after work and saw the newspaper on the table. Not unusual. Yay for the Brian David Mitchell conviction that takes up 3/4 of the page...and then I see another headline. "8 arrested in online prostitution sting" (you might find the article here). Not only does it have that attention-grabbing headline, it has mugshots of the individuals. Who is first? Only my high school ASL teacher, and quite possibly one of the most influential people during that time in my life. I cannot help but to think of his family, how it will jeopardize his career, and how--more than anything--I feel so deceived because I believed in him, I trusted in him, and then to see this...I pity him.

In other, more positive/exciting news...while I was driving home I passed Santa Claus--in full regalia--driving a red Ford truck. He waved kindly. I'm not sure if that's just because he's nice, or if it means good things for Christmas this year (hehe). Also, I've officially started working on Adam's Christmas present and I'm super-duper excited for it! I would put samples up as a teaser for the final product, but since he reads the blog there will be no ruining of surprises.

Bad Writing JuJu

There is something about being forced to write that sucks all the fun out of it. Like reading a book. Chances are good that reading it without being required to somehow make it better. For instance, I really like to write. In fact, I would like to do it more often. And yet I find myself stuck in this finals week conundrum. I have papers to write that I cannot sit down and force myself to get down on paper.

Today I made the most valiant effort so far. I went to the library, found a table near a jack so my laptop wouldn't die, set out all my study materials: notebook, the good pen, research, water, iPod with the "Writing Music" playlist set, and sat down to write. About four sentences into my introductory paragraph a startling thought happened upon my little brain. I didn't have the book I was analyzing. I didn't have the anthology I was drawing the theory from. I had absolutely nothing I needed!

No worries, I thought, I can save this. I can start writing my other paper, yeah. I've already been functioning with that theory today, I'll just start writing that paper...no, no wait. I need the anthology for that, too.

To quote one of my favorite songs from Beaches, "And the sigh...that issued forth from [Chelsea's] mouth was so loud that it was mistaken by some to be the early onset of the Siroccan Winds which would often roll through the Schwarzwald with a vengeance!"

Still bent on being productive I spent an hour writing one heck of a kick-a introductory paragraph and outlining the rest of the essay. And it was there, somewhere amidst the rather useless, but pointedly so, scratching of my pen that I lost my oomph.

That's right, my oomph. That burst of motivation to work and be successful, and to complete the projects. The oomph got died. If I even began to try to write now I would be drooling my way through page ten of my notebook before I could get three words down. There's something so drab about writing in the academe. It's just so droll. Although, strange-and-slightly-warped-high-point, I do get to insert a bit of necrophilia into my analysis of Othello, so that's fun.

Oh, oh, best part of the day! So we had this presentation for my critical literature and theory class. We were to pick a theory and an artifact (read: book, song, movie, etc.) and analyse the artifact using the theory. Initially the groups were to be between 4-5 people (some ended up with six and there was one with only two). Well the two were initially in our group, but decided to break off when we would not concede to do a more serious song (we had firmly settled on "Show Me the Meaning of Being Lonely" by the Backstreet Boys). Come presentation day we are to take ten minutes per group to share our ideas. There were six groups total. Theoretically this should take us 60 minutes. Theoretically.

We ended up being last. Who came before us? None other than the traitorous two, who also chose to use the same theory and a song for their artifact. All of the other groups had gone over on time. We were now one hour and thirty minutes into the presentations. What did the group of two do? They took fifteen minutes! FIFTEEN! Not only did this only leave us three minutes to do our presentation, one of our group members had a final immediately following this one. So what did we do? In GameSpeak: PWNED (pronounced "pont" and, as is visible, misplaced the "p" for the "o" in "owned) them.

The class, and the professor, loved us. With good reason. We. Were. Brilliant. And we did it all in seven minutes.

Loving This

I am absolutely loving this stage of my life. Not so much the three-10-page-essays-with-5-academic-sources-and-in-class-presentations-next-week part. More the spending-all-my-free-time-with-Adam and enjoying-the-holidays-with-family-and-Adam parts.

Yesterday we went to Kanab where I met his parents, a brother-in-law and one of his nieces. His parents live in this lovely historical home that is cozy and wonderful. His mother made lunch, I visitied with his father, and Adam played the piano and sang (AUWOOGA!--can we say love?!). It was totally relaxed, no pressure. Just nice to sit and visit. While Adam was doing the dishes from lunch (his mother said I'm a good influence because he hasn't done that in a long time) she thanked me for getting him to come home. It'd been a long time since he went to Kanab. I just smiled, but I should have told her it was really his doing.

On our way back we stopped in Hurricane to visit his brother Thearon and his wife Jana. We were surprised to find some of her family there, and were invited to go to dinner with him. They are so much fun! It was really precious when we were leaving his brother hugged me and said, "You already feel like part of the family." *melt*

With gusting winds, lots of holiday traffic, and less-than-intelligent fellow travelers by the time we arrived in Cedar City poor Adam had had enough. He was running on five hours of sleep and had been through a long day. And I still love him. The sweeter part was after he went home he texted me and apologised for being crabby. Really? A person can't have a bad day? I just chalk it up to life.

Today was the real deal, though. He came to Thanksgiving Dinner at Grandma's house. We were missing 21 people, but we still had a crowd of 40. Did I mention he doesn't like crowds? Or being the center of attention? After Grandpa finished blessing the food Mama announced, "And we brought Adam for all of you to meet." Fortunately, nobody heard her.

He. Was. Brilliant. Everybody loves him. He fits right in. I always knew he would.

On our way to pick him up Daisy and Levi rode with me. Daisy asked, "Is he going to be our uncle?" I told her she should ask him herself. She refused, claiming to be too scared, but told me I should ask him for her. When he climbed into the car I told him what she had said. He replied, "I refuse to answer on the grounds that I might be incriminated."

Yes, I am willing to close my eyes to the three-10-page-essays-with-5-academic-sources-and-in-class-presentations-next-week part and just revel in this moment a little longer. I'll need it to get through that next part.

Thank You, David Cassidy

My relationship with Adam is unconventional. We don't do things "normal" because, well, we're not normal. The part I love most is that we share pretty much whatever we're thinking. We also relate a lot through music, and at times will message in song lyrics.

Geeky? Yes. But so are we.

Tonight we had watched a few more episodes of Firefly and were just being cozy, not needing to talk when he says,

"Of all things, I've had this David Cassidy song in my head all afternoon."

"Which song?" I ask.

He gave me a little kiss in between telling me each word. It went kind of like this...

"It *kiss* goes *kiss* like *kiss* this *kiss* 'I *kiss* think *kiss* I *kiss* love *kiss* you *kiss*...'"

Being the sentimental fool I am, I immediately responded, "You think, huh?" 

He replied, "No, I'm more sure than that."

Yeah, he's presh. I'm thinking of keeping him.