Small Happy November 19, 2009

A house. A car. A 401k. A white picket fence. 2.5 children. A “worthwhile and fulfilling career.” A designer bag. A vacation fund. Organic groceries. Furniture that matches. A bi weekly manicure and on time hair appointments.  A patio. A marriage. A wedding. A nursery. A before baby, before college, before gravity body.

Big Happy. Big, impossible, happy lies in the collection of these things. It’s hard not to get sucked into the list of things we self-impose on ourselves. This check list of happiness for our lives. Every check mark brings with it a momentary pleasure and then a void. What next? What can we concentrate on now? What do we set our sights on? What goals can we strive to achieve?

And while I want a good number of the things on that list, I don’t think I want that happy. I want Small Happy. Healthy happy. I want warm bath on a cool night happy. I want “novel you sink into” happy. I want warm cookies, baby laughter, fresh lilacs happy. I want money to pay the bills and keep me in six dollar wine happy. I want matinee movie happy. I want one expensive dinner a year with The Boy happy. I want I don’t hate my job and I get my weekends off happy. I want christmas newsletters about little league games and ballet recitals happy.

I want library card happy.

I want small, quiet, happy.

And to be content with it.

Why Is Tommy Lee Jones Here and Where The Hell Is My Dress? September 21, 2009

Apparently turkey, bridezillas, and Tommy Lee Jones movies will result in really crazy dreams.

Last night I came home from work to fully prepared Thanksgiving dinner made by my multi-talented fiance. Yes, that’s right kids, not only can he fix all things that need fixin, but but can also cook a turkey and make a mean stuffing. And he has a pension.

I know. Lucky me.

So, anyway, we dined and talked and had a lovely meal together and chit chatted about how we need an electric knife to correctly carve a turkey. And I of course, followed this up by shouting “I’ll add it to the registry!” because adding things to our registry is my new favorite past time since I decided to register us through Wishpot.com. It’s just so much fun! The only problem is my indecision currently has my list twice as long as it should be because I can’t decide between correlle patterns and china patterns and do I really want china or do I want two sets of correlle because The Boy is hard on things and china is expensive but it’s oh so pretty and matching linens and candlesticks and am I really this person and how did this happen….and so on.

After our yummy dinner The Boy fell asleep and I made pumpkin cookies (for which I am famous, because they are 1.) completely vegan, 2.) moist and delicious, and 3) extraordinarily easy) and sipped apple cider because it’s starting to sort of feel like fall in SOVA and everyone knows that apple cider is the equivalent of autumn in a glass. Seriously, I love fall.  I’m a summer/fall girl all the way. The crispness of the air makes me want to decorate in orange, browns and reds and get out the comfy warm socks and sweaters and buy pencils and notebooks and read a history book on my bed circa 2003. Ahhh, fall.

So with the kitchen cleaned and left overs put away and the cookies iced and cooling The Boy and I settled in for Bridezillas and the introduction of The Most Annoying Woman on The Planet–Kirsten. Seriously, did y’all watch this woman? I know I say it after every episode, but what person in their right mind could put up with that for the rest of forever? Also, I’d like to see the divorce statistics for Bridezillas. I’m betting it’s slightly higher than average. Both brides this week had some sort of problem with their dress (invisible stains and shortness and such) this week and I’m guessing this is what made me have a dream that my bridal shop was attempting to convince me that I bought a completely different dress than the one I fell in love with.  And no one seemed to believe that no, really, I never said  I wanted this bedazzled vegas show girl dress they were trying to push on me. Even my mother, who was there in dream world, seemed convinced it was the dress. If I remember correctly, I was more concerned about why everyone suddenly went crazy than my dress.  It’s good to know that even in my dreams I won’t become a bridezilla.

So, after meeting my weekly quota of yelling “Seriously?! Seriously woman?!” at the television, The Boy popped in a movie we Red Boxed called In the Electric Mist, with Tommy Lee Jones. I’m not sure how I feel about it. It seemed a little disjointed at parts. The plot follows Tommy Lee Jones who is, of course, a semi-retired hard nosed detective with a wife who could be his daughter and a daughter who looked nothing like Tommy Lee Jones or his strangely young wife. Mr. Jones is trying to figure out who is killing women and leaving them in pieces around NOLA, and in the end *spoiler alert* he does and things are restored to normal.

The killing women and putting them into containers thing must have registered something with my subconcious because I had wild dreams about a girl who was killed by being roasted like a turkey. In a blue Paula Dean roasting pan.

Thirty Four Things For A Tuesday September 17, 2009

1. I’ve come to realize that my chest-size…is perfect for my body. My boobs are one of my favorite parts of me.

2. I’ve come to realize that my job(s)…are not what defines my life. They are a means to yet another end.

3. I’ve come to realize that when I’m driving…I discover more about myself than I do at any other time and I tend not to listen to my music as much as I probably should. All self evaluation and no singing makes Jane crazy-pants.

4. I’ve come to realize that I need…to get back into a routine I love. Including weekly yoga. And vitamins (which, btw, have done nothing for my nails.)

5. I’ve come to realize that I have lost…the person I was a few years ago. And I’m not sure how I feel about that. I’ve also lost my ear phones. Again.

6. I’ve come to realize that I hate it when…I can’t vocalize what I want/need. And when The Boy doesn’t read my mind and do what I’ve OBVIOUSLY been telepathicly telling him to do for the last three days. The nerve…

7. I’ve come to realize that if I’m drunk…I’m happy and silly and goofy and will undoubtedly feel less so the next morning.

8. I’ve come to realize that money…is a renewable resource, so don’t worry.

9. I’ve come to realize that certain people…talk just to talk and not to listen. I talking to you Crazy Newly Married Co-Worker.

10. I’ve come to realize that I’ll always…live inside my head, at least a little bit.

11. I’ve come to realize that my sibling(s)…are becoming human beings. And pretty decent ones at that.

12. I’ve come to realize that my cell phone…is better left untouched for a few hours at a time.

13. I’ve come to realize that when I woke up this morning…I wasn’t tired. And it was 6:00am. Apparently that’s a good time for me?

14. I’ve come to realize that last night before I went to sleep…a good make out session can mend a bad day.

15. I’ve come to realize that right now I am thinking…I’m in a good place.

16. I’ve come to realize that when I get on Facebook…it’s more to stalk semi-friends and acquaintances than to actually connect with people I miss and adore. Which needs to change.

17. I’ve come to realize that today…is sort of my Friday, woot.

18. I’ve come to realize that tonight…is ravoli night. Glorious deliciousness.

19. I’ve come to realize that tomorrow….my house will get cleaned, my clothes will get washed, and my world will feel a little more right again.

20. I’ve come to realize that I really want to…get back into a routine. A routine that includes yoga and regular blogging.

22. I’ve come to realize that love…isn’t easy. But the pay off is awesome.

23. I’ve come to realize that this past weekend…I was cranky and mean. Again. For no real reason.

24. I’ve realized the best music to listen to when I am upset…is something that makes me more upset, strangely.

25. I’ve come to realize that my friends…are gems. And I’m lucky to have them.

26. I’ve come to realize that this year…is going to be a exciting, bumpy, and thrilling ride.

28. I’ve come to realize that maybe I should…pick up the phone more.

29. I’ve come to realize that I love…having my days packed full. I get grumpy without a purpose.

30. I’ve come to realize that I don’t understand…how we go through iced tea so fast. I’m making a whole jug a day.

31. I’ve come to realize my past…is extremely important to me.

32. I’ve come to realize that parties…thrill me, from the planning stages to the clean up. (Ok, maybe not the clean up)

33. I’ve come to realize that I’m totally terrified…of getting stuck in a “comfortable” job beneath my education level. Of choosing the wrong option. Of never feeling content.

34. I’ve come to realize that my life…will never be a carbon copy of someone else’s no matter how much I attempt to emulate them. And that’s a good thing.

 

What have you realized lately?

Even Bratz Dolls Have A Passion…..For Fashion September 15, 2009

I have a confession. I am extremely jealous of people who know what they want to do with their life. I truly think that those individuals who haven’t changed their career paths since middle school are the lucky ones. Having such unwavering conviction in oneself is commendable, and certainly a lot less stressful than the 20-something quarter life crisis the rest of us face. And I’m not just talking about those people who have been on the course to MD’s or law degrees since seventh grade. I’m also jealous of those weirdos I keep seeing on Oprah or CNN who committed to their life’s passion and made a career out of it. The fact that they have identified their passion, in something, whether it be beekeeping or cupcakes, frustrates me out of raging jealousy.

It seems like I keep hearing about people who have transformed their careers and totally upgraded their quality of life by doing what they love. Then this article from Zen Habits popped up in my reader….

Five things you can do to move toward getting paid to do what you love:

Find your passion. This is all about your great love, and what makes you come alive. To get started here, ask: “What am I insanely interested in?” “What could I talk about for hours?” and “What would I do for free?”

Find your strengths. What we’re looking for are things you’re naturally good at, and the unique strengths you’ve had since birth. This is about contributing your gifts to the world. To get started, interview your friends, family, or peers and ask them what three things you’re naturally talented at.

Find your value. Finding the intersection between what you’re good at and what people are willing to pay you for is what it all boils down to. If you can’t find a way to get paid to do what you love, the other stuff doesn’t really matter. So it’s worth spending some time figuring this out. To get started, think about the benefits you’ll give others by contributing your value. Think about whether or not there is a desperate pain or a deep passion involved in what you’re offering.

Make the commitment. I think, more than any other reason, people fail to succeed is because they fail to commit. Thinking “I don’t know” or “maybe someday” will not get you to the point of doing what you’re passionate about for a living. It takes an uncompromising commitment to make this change for yourself. Instead of thinking “I don’t know,” think “I’ll figure it out.” Remember, paths are made by walking.

Be willing to let go. As much as you might want to make this change for yourself, it can be hard to let go of the old patterns of thinking and behaving. A lot of us have ideas that “work shouldn’t be fun” or “you should just suck it up.” Breaking down those beliefs can be difficult, but moving toward a new direction is most definitely worth it.

What will you give up? You might not think that you have time to take on a new endeavor, and you’re right. You won’t have time until you make the time. There are a lot of things we place in our schedules that we think we must do. But in reality, our world wouldn’t collapse if we chose something else. Make a list of all the activities and time sinks that you’ll give up in order to make time for your new journey

Will you say Yes to yourself? You may want to become a writer, dentist, life coach, painter, or public speaker. If you know that this is what you’re meant to do, then give yourself permission to call yourself that… even if you’re not established yet. And even if you don’t make a full time income from it. Own your passion, completely and unreservedly.

The article is spot on. I do believe people with a passion for what they’re doing will never “work” a day in their life. They may have hours of frustration or unsavory red tape to cut through, but they won’t spend their days looking at the clock tick. I’d love to set these steps into motion, to find out what I really wanted to do and just do it, but I can’t seem to get started.

My problem is I can’t get past step one. I don’t know what my “passion” is.

So I did what anyone would do.

I jumped to step two and asked Facebook what three things I’m naturally talented at.

My answers were: writing, baking, shooting, diving, gymnastics, wedding planning, and The Boy taming.

So, any good ideas as to how I can meld all these Natural Talents into something career worthy?

Preferably something outside the realm of a circus act, though I’m sure a Fiance taming, wedding dress clad acrobatic combination shooting/ high dive act would totally drive in the crowds…..

Especially if I promised them all home made oreos.

Bridesmaid Cards and A Job Related Update August 6, 2009

I’d just like to say, I have great friends.

Yesterday, in the mail, I received two cards from two of my best girls.

They were accepting my “Will You Be My Bridesmaids” cards.

I made each one a little different, and mailed them out a week or so ago with the “Go Choose A Dress” paint samples. Soon after I got an excited phone call from one, and days later the above cards from two others. I’m getting so excited! I know it’s months and months away, but each little task I check off my list brings me closer to June.  Catering is still proving to be a bitch, but I’m hopeful that I’ll get that taken care of this weekend while I whine to The Boy about it while we drive back to PA to see my family on Saturday and attend his cousin’s bridal shower on Sunday.

Changing gears a little bit, let me tell you all about where I am in The Great Job Hunt of 2009. I’m officially employed part time at a dinky little job that is menial and mind numbing but lets me play with the scan guns and price stickers. I’m also awaiting an offer from a higher paying part time job working with people I clicked with right off the bat. Finally, I dropped off a stack of paperwork to a local private school and will be entered into their substitute pool (apparently) provided my background check comes back clean. I thought I was applying for a full time position, and there’s a slight chance I could be called for an interview for that as well, but I’m not holding my breath.

Now it’s back to laundry and my daily 30 day shred.

Check tomorrow for our first Proposal Project submission!

Storms July 24, 2009

I have had one previous serious long-standing relationship before I met The Boy.
My experience disagreeing with significant others is laughable. Normally two or three disagreements have me running for the hills. I think the problem for me is I don’t have a real example of a healthy relationship, one that includes fighting and making up. Most of my family have these Fairytale Romance stories that make it incredibly difficult to hash out “Normal Healthy Relationship” qualities (I think I’ve seen two fights out of the entire extended family and they were quite tame). And, I’ve always been a little bit of a perfectionist and if my relationships fall short of my romantic comedy ambitions, I cut the cord. I say goodbye and move on because the world is full of men and I’ve never been the type to “need” a man to feel like my life is complete.

That’s what I’ve done in the past. That’s my status quo. So, obviously, when The Boy and I fight over ridiculous things like a snappy statement made at an ice cream shop (Him: Are you ready to go? Me: Why do we always move according to YOUR time line? *Grumble grumble* Him: WTF? Cue ridiculous hour long crappy-feeling fest) my mind immediately goes to We -Aren’t-Good-For-Each-Other-I-Should-Get-Out-Now-Before-We-Start-Putting-Down-Deposits Land. I start to doubt us. I get all worked up and my heart races and I feel like I’m walking through an aquarium filled with whales. I get all teary and I hate to talk through crying so I don’t say anything (which obviously doesn’t help the whole “communicating” thing) and The Boy is left shaking his head and talking me down off the ledge before I jump out of the best relationship I’ve ever been in.

Later, when we’re into the debriefing stage of our outbursts he reminds me how trivial these seemingly World-As-I-Know-It arguments are. And I know they are trivial, they’re like the five minute summer thunderstorms–heated and scary, but soon forgotten. We have a little tiff at an ice cream parlor and I’m rigging up my lifeboat. I’m ridiculous. I ask a lot of him, I make a lot of demands. I expect him to live up to the vision of him I create and a lot of the time he does. And he does it without complaining or asking much, if anything, of me. I’m a rather spoiled brat when it comes to relationships. I know nobody is perfect, so why do I demand it of my fiance? Eventually it will come back to bite me in the ass, I’ll tell him he’s not walking the right way (because I’ve over thought the fact that he’s a super fast walker and always ends up in front of me to mean that I’m somehow subordinate and, hello, I am NOT interested in following you like a puppy!) and he’ll smarten up and realize that this girl he wants to marry is a complete nut job and that he needs to run FAST, FAST AS YOU CAN*away from the crazy lady.

Every time we have a minor storm, it sucks. It throws off my balance and I hate it, but within a few hours we’re back to normal. We’re squishing each other on the couch and laughing and being ridiculously us. And, I do feel better about us. I kinda like the fact that our disagreements weigh so heavily on me. It’s much better that I care so strongly than I not care at all. The opposite of love is not hate, it’s indifference. And while sometimes I may get so mad at him I want to scream, I’ve never once felt indifferent. When I stop to think about it, in the grand scheme of things our relationship is strong. It’s healthy. We don’t always agree. We don’t always have rainbows and butterflies, but we also never have screaming matches. We fight nice. We don’t let each other walk away. We talk it out, until we’re comfortable and we remind each other how much we care.

And I think, with each fight, we get better. We get stronger.
With each little storm we add another brick to our foundation.
So if a hurricane ever comes we’ll be ready.
We’ll be ready.

*Hi Fiona Apple fans.

525,600 Minutes June 12, 2009

A year from today I’ll be married.

It seems so unreal. For the most part I’ve settled into the “I’m engaged” feeling. Two months into our engagement and the awkwardness of the phrase “my fiance” has worn off. Now it feels warm and comfortable. I’m excited to embark on this journey, to have the same feelings or weird surrealism that fades to normalcy after we’ve been married for a few months…after we’ve been homeowners for a few months…after we’ve been parents for a few months…after all the big life changing events.

Committing your life to another person’s is hard. And living my life for the past month has made that even more obvious. It’s been difficult to see my marriage role models go through one of their most challenging times. I’m still not sure how things will play out, but for right now they’re trying to work out their issues. I questioned whether this “working on things” was being done for the right reasons. I wrongfully thought that their choice to stay together and work through their problems was the easy way out; after 26 years together it just seemed like dividing now would be more work than staying through the tough times. I was told that I was wrong. That it would be way easier to leave, to wash your hands of the situation, but that’s not what you do in a marriage.

In a marriage you promise to work at it. You promise to put up with each other even when you don’t really want to. You promise to let bygones be bygones sometimes. You promise that after the arguments and the eye rolling you’ll lie down next to each other at night. It’s a promise you make, a choice you make, every day.

A year ago today I met The Boy.

Within that year I made a series of choices. A choice to answer my phone when he called. A choice to take a chance on a long distance relationship. A choice to move our relationship into a place of seriousness. A choice to move 400 miles from my friends and family. A choice to promise to marry him.

Now that we’re engaged the choices haven’t stopped. I wake up choosing him. I go to sleep, snuggled next to him, by choice every night. I choose to apologize when I hurt his feelings, even if I think he’s over reacting. I choose him. Again. And again. And again.

A year from today I’ll marry him.
I’ll choose hundreds of details in the midst of planning our wedding. Colors, food, music, clothing, photographers, invitations. Choices and choices and choices. For someone as indecisive as me, it’s already overwhelming. But I am sure that when we write our vows, “I choose you” will be included. As will “I will choose you.” Because when you stop choosing each other the relationship begins to fade into a partnership of  habit and convenience. Choosing each other, every day, is what makes the difference.

A year ago today I met him.
A year from today I’ll marry him.

It’ll be the best choice I ever make.

And Now I Think I’m Going For A Walk May 21, 2009

First of all, I’d like to thank you all for your kind words and emails and twitters. I wish I could say that things are gettting better but really, it’s not something I have any control over. However, I am starting to settle into the idea of what happened and what could happen because of it. It’s hard, but at least I’m not breaking into tears every few hours anymore.

I think it’s been harder on The Boy than on me. He has to deal with a fiance who is going through major life changing turmoil AND joblessness AND adjusting to living with her lover. All of which is hard. I don’t make it easy on him. He’s a sharer and I’m private. I like to mull over things, to think over them before I share them. He’ll tell me what he’s thinking at the exact moment he’s thinking it; I may wait a few hours or days to discuss the contents of an email. It’s difficult to us both to distinguish what is “being too secretive” and what is “how Shaba operates.” I’m not really sure how to make it better.

It’s not something I do on purpose. I’m not sure if it’s something I can easily change. For instance, if I’m typing my grocery list and someone looks over my shoulder I’m closing the document. This doesn’t mean I won’t share it at a later date. I guess I just like to be in control of when I share what.

Otherwise though, things have been good. We now have a working washer and dryer. We’re in the process of couch hunting. My flowers look to be coming up (or they could be weeds, I couldn’t tell). My phone interview yesterday seemed to go well. It’s not exactly the type of work I was hoping to get, but it’ll be a good experience. Now I’m just hoping that I get picked to come in for a real interview.

Weekend, Brothers, and Wedding Questions April 20, 2009

This weekend was spent with The Boy and my family. My little brother made us a “Happy Engagement” cake. I spent an hour on the trampoline playing horse and attempting to teach the littlest brother how to do a back handspring. He’s now too heavy for me to spot the real way so it was a very interesting experience. I feel bad that I didn’t teach him how to do it when he was little, I spent hours on the trampoline with my oldest brother when he was little. I taught him how to do everything, front tucks, back tucks, handsprings. He was doing everything by the time he was six. I taught him a lot because there wasn’t much else to do. I was twelve. By the time the littlest one was in kindergarten I was driving and itching to be out with my friends. I have some hope though, my sixteen year old brother (who can take his drivers test on Thursday!) told me over the weekend that he wants to take the littlest one to diving practices with him this year. He said he thought it’d be cool for all three of them to practice together since their age difference won’t allow for all three of them to compete together. Sometime he surprises me with his sweetness.

The Boy* and I also received some awesome engagement gifts from my daddy. I got a hammock that I cannot wait to put up in our yard and The Boy got a bottle of whiskey, because my father is irish and whiskey is what he gives any male over the drinking age.

The weekend was almost perfect. Friday night my dinner consisted of pretzels, pepperoni, Dubliner cheddar, and Harp. Saturday we went my brother’s little league game, which is something I’ll truly miss this summer. I love love love watching my brothers compete. The littlest one is a football star and baseball standout. The middle one eats and breathes baseball, but is really doing well in diving and rifle too. And the oldest one plays football, dives and shoots and in the spring competes as a pole vaulter, which I’m sorry, is just SO COOL. It’ll be odd to not have some sort of live sport to watch on the weekends.

Sunday The Boy and I had breakfast with my folks and later got some “quick pictures we can send to the paper” done at Sears. I want to schedule a real engagement shoot for the future because I love the idea of having professional photos we could use in the wedding if we want. And I really like photo shoots.

Speaking of wedding related stuff, we’re still thinking of a date. For some reason I’ve always thought I wanted to get married in May, but there’s a date in June we’re sort of leaning towards. The June date would work better for some important family members and has a special meaning for The Boy and I, but I’ve not yet convinced myself to let go of May.

Since I spent the weekend with my parents we talked wedding quite a bit. Talking to my mother about wedding stuff tends to follow this pattern.

Shaba’s Mama: So do you know who you want in your wedding party?
Shaba: Yea, I’ve got that pretty much figured out. It’ll be (names five people including The Beautiful Woman and The Boy’s sister).
Shaba’s Mama: That’s a lot of people.
Shaba: It’s five people. Including my maid of honor.

Shaba’s Mama: I think you should just have a maid of honor and a best man. Bridesmaids are pretty useless and then you’re just making your friends buy a dress they’ll never wear again.
Shaba: Ummm.

Kids, I don’t plan on making my bridesmaids wear matching expensive dresses. Its one thing on the long list of practical wedding influenced things I plan on doing. I don’t even care if they wear a dress. A nice pant suit would be awesome. I’m just going to request that they pick something close to one of my wedding colors. Ta-da. Done.

Now, maybe it’s because I’ve never been in a wedding, but I always thought being asked to be a bridesmaid would be flattering. Especially if it didn’t involve shelling out 300 dollars for a stupid dress.

For those of you who have been in weddings, what do you think? Did you enjoy it? What do you wish the bride would have done or not done?

For those of you who are planning on getting married (soon or in the unforeseeable future) Where do you stand on bridesmaids?

Surrealism April 3, 2009

On Wednesday I told my job my last day is April 30.

Yesterday I turned in my thesis.

On Saturday The Boy will look at a house I fell in love with online and *hopefully* we will be residing in it come May. It has a claw foot bathtub. And a little yard with a fence and a stonework path. And lots of delicious light and a non-working fireplace and it’s within our price range and distance range and omgsofreakingperfect! Well, The Boy would prefer it had a garage, but I think it’s perfect. I’m trying not to get my hopes up too high. He still has yet to see it, and it may not be the right home for us, but I can’t promise I won’t be disappointed if we decide to keep looking

I have never been this excited about housing before. While I perused the photos of it on the website I envisioned our life there. I thought of decorating and setting up a home with a person I intend to spend my life with. I picture hanging photos and making dinner. I pictured planning our wedding in the living room, papers strewn about the floor and laughing about how silly wedding culture is (umm, no. I do NOT want to construct 150 personalized photo books with fifty dollar paper and twenty dollar ribbon). I pictured sitting on the porch (yes, it has a porch!) drinking lemonade and arguing over which one of us is prettier (“You’re pretty,” “no, you’re pretty). I am so excited to come home to him every day. I’m excited to spend our weekends together without the dread of Sunday or Monday looming over us. I’m excited to have a routine with him, to have those things, you know? Those “we do x every Thursday” things. I welcome the miniscule, the monotonous, the comfortable. ” I am so excited to start playing house.

That’s what it feels like at this point, playing house. Everything in my life feels surreal. Graduating feels surreal. I’ve been in school for eighteen years. While I’m eager to be done with APA and syllabi and textbooks it’s really a very weird feeling to think that I’m done…at least for now. Because, hello, I’ll never really be done. I love learning too much to never walk through the halls of academia again. Next up? Maybe a language. Or a teaching certification? Graphic design? Law school? Who knows. But right now, I’m content to be done and entering the work force. Which in of itself feels weird. There are times were I still feel like I’m getting away with something when I collect my paycheck or buy alcohol. Sometimes I still feel like I’m thirteen and masquerading as a grown up.

My impending engagement feels surreal. We’ve been talking about it for a while, but the fact that it’s actually happening, that there is concrete proposal plans and a ring and the whole shebang is a surreal experience. Of course I imagined I’d be engaged/married at some point, but really, I never put a whole lot of thought into it. It existed on a fantasy plane for me, like “Someday that’ll happen and it’ll be awesome and my family and friends will be so happy and it will play out like a fairy tale” and now that it’s transitioning into reality that is very real (weird familial/friend reactions, expenses and all) it’s an odd experience. Similar to my high school graduation, it feels like something you always knew would happen, and you looked forward to it, but when you actually got there the brevity of it all shocked you. After years and years spent waiting to walk across that stage it felt dreamlike to actually do it. Even when my principal messed up my name during the ceremony. Twice.

A few nights ago my mother had me try on her wedding gown and I felt like I was playing out a scene in a movie. When I put on her veil she did the stereotypical mother of the bride thing, putting her hands to her face and sighing a soft “oh my god.” The epitome of surreal. Sharing that moment with my mom will definitely live forever in my memory. I get chills now just thinking about it.

I’ve seen the photos of her gown and truthfully I never thought I’d even want to try it. I surprised myself. I really liked the material, though not the style, and will probably have a dress made from hers. I still get to go and try on a bunch of dresses and see what style I like on me, but I’m excited to have a dress made for me from the same material my mother wore twenty-five years ago. Supporting local seamstresses and having an heirloom gown makes me unbelievably happy.

I truly am looking forward to the next few months with more optimism than I ever thought possible. I am so excited to be starting on this new adventure, and I intend to make a valiant effort of staying mindful of each passing moment. I am so in love with my life.

(Keep your fingers crossed about the house! Clawfoot tub! Light! Porch!)