Thursday, August 23, 2007

it's just the way that you love me

While organizing our boxes in a storage room in my parents' basement, my dad encouraged me to go through the seven boxes that I had been storing at their house since high school. I was shocked that I had been kicked out of the Single People Who Store Their High School Junk With Their Parents club, but was actually a little excited about what I might find.

In Box One:You know you are jealous. That collection includes Belinda Carlisle! Tiffany! Wilson Phillips (back when one of them looked like a boy)! And my favorite, listened to every day, knew all the words to, Paula Abdul, back before she went insane. You remember that video that she had with the cartoon cat? Opposites Attract? Oh, Paula. Cats are not our opposites. They are an entirely different species that we don't get attracted to. And thus began her spiral into insanity. Man, I loved that tape collection. And then I threw it away, because, well, I don't have a tape player anymore.

In Box Two:
You're impressed, right? Fine wood? Fine workmanship? Yeah. I pulled craft after craft, drawing after painting, ceramic pot after wooden box out of Box Two. Every single item I held up with pride for Somebody to ohhh and ahhh over. He was all busy eating a carrot stick and mostly just stared at me like I wasn't forever his girl. And after the ninth or so item, he finally said, "You should stop showing those to me, because you are not going to get the response you want." Well, shut right up. You think I wasn't looking for eye rolling and gestures toward the garbage can? Hello, someone in this room doesn't appreciate fine high school craftsmanship. I responded with something like, "Straight up now, tell me, you think I have mad skills, don't you?" But he just stared at me blankly and then left the room. Cold hearted snake. But you think I have mad skills, right? Because I made those! I designed those boxes, picked that wood, cut it, sanded it (oh my gosh, I have horrible memories of sanding that wood for weeks), glued it, polished it, and then put it in a box for 12 years. I think maybe Somebody spent too much time studying in high school and not enough time in ceramics, wood shop, jewelry making, painting, and textiles. Poor kid. He can’t recognize a master when he sees one. He could promise the moon and the stars above, and even if he promised me the world, I just can’t throw it all away.

Oh, yeah, there were other boxes. Books. Photo albums. Toys. I purged a lot of it and ended up with only three boxes of stuff. That’s right. More than a 50% reduction. You don’t believe me? Look in to my eyes. Oh oh. I’m not telling lies.

Monday, August 20, 2007

underwear party, take 2

Me: We want to come up and have breakfast in the canyon again.
My sister: We call it The Underwear Party.
Me: Sweet, let's go.

The festivities this year, sadly lacking in underwear.

Remember this group picture from last year? And how my favorite part of it was this highlight?Here is the group photo from this year.
And the crazy one did not disappoint. She just can't get enough of the good looking Asian.

photos of the summer

Looking back over the summer months, I have realized that, not only have I not posted much (what with the crazy, busy job, the packing and moving, the applying for jobs, the trying to spend as much time as possible with Utah family and friends, and the oppressive heat that made us strip down and lie in front of fans when we were home) this summer, but there is a shameful lack of photos (which is almost as bad as a shocking lack of lace, but not quite). Fear not. A picture story of our summer is now available.

These are the fun people who kept me sane at work this summer. Except for the one that I had to smack on the head several times to get to stop playing computer games. And the one that was engaged but couldn't stop flirting with all the boys and who is clearly not ready to get married. Whatever. You can't win them all, right?

The family that Somebody and I will miss most in Utah is this one:

Happily, we spent the July 4 with them and had a great time. Here we are at the Cherry Days Parade, also known as People Driving By In Trucks Throwing Candy. Except for that one float with the Little Miss Cherry Days Royalty, which my niece rode on. Oh yeah. Good looks and sparkling personality totally run in my family. The week before we left our friends had a little going away gathering. After much unnecessary drama, everything worked out well. We celebrated with, what else?, scrumptious cupcakes. We bid a tearful goodbye to friends who know us when. Man, we miss you guys.

A parting shot from Andersen Point.

And Amiga Tags was there to talk sense in to me. Yeah!
With Somebody's guidance, I was able to rid our lives of bag after bag of useless, broken, or otherwise crappy items. The entire summer, as we packed a few boxes each night, I would mentally prepare myself to chuck these two rabbits. Oh, the rabbits. So not part of Somebody's dream decor. And while I was able to purge the crusty t-shirts, the old journals and photos, and even the basket of guest washrags, in the end I was not able to part with the rabbits. I painted those rabbits! And have loved them all these years. And they remind me of my Aunt Julie. So for now, until the next move, the rabbits are sticking with us. Somebody is so disgusted with me.Part of our anniversary activities was a morning spent here. Quite possibly the best way to celebrate a marriage is to return and assist others. I was once again reminded of, not only the promises we made, and the blessings promised us in return, but also of how in love I am and how I would make all those same promises again.

Oh, Kansas. Look what you've done. I have no idea why Somebody finds this disgusting. He actually runs from the room in convulsions when I show him my shoulders. (This photo is so much more disturbing when you view it really large. May not be suitable for children, though.)

Monday, August 13, 2007

living with the heat index

I spent most of this summer whining about how every day, quite literally, of the Utah summer had temperatures over 100 degrees. And in an apartment without air conditioning, that's hot, people. Now I find myself in Kansas, also known as, Land With Yucky Weather, and am not so much enjoying the Excessive Heat Warning. That's right. I'm living in an Excessive Heat Warning. Temperatures will not only reach 100 degrees, but with the heat index (or, for my Canadian friends, the humidex) they will hit 110-115. I might die. I might get into my car after work and keel over from the oppressive, wet heat.

In related Kansas news, I spent an hour and a half out at the lake with my family on Saturday. In the morning I applied spf 30 sunscreen. When we got to the lake I applied spf 45 sunscreen. Then, just for good measure, I added a little spf 50 sunscreen to my shoulders. Yeah, baby! I left the lake with the worst sunburn of my life. I can barely more. My arms will not raise up to the height of my shoulders. I'm blistering. I can't believe that I spent 12 years in Utah (Land Close to the Sun) and didn't get burned...much...and in just a short time in one day here in Land With Yucky Weather I fry.

Apparently, if the humidex doesn't kill me, the skin cancer will. Honestly, I'm afraid. Very afraid. As soon as my health insurance kicks in I'm going in to get checked.

Sunday, August 12, 2007

five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes

When you cut the watermelon you offer me the center piece--clearly the best piece in the slice.

You know what I'm talking about when I say, "that spot that itches."

It only took you about a month to realize that I just don't get cheerful in the morning, and that I don't like people to invade my space, and now you patiently wait for the all clear signal.

Somewhere along the way you seem to have fallen in love with my nieces and nephews, just like I have. And so you actually look forward to family gatherings.

You drive the 1-5 a.m. shift because you know that is when I'm most tired.

I almost couldn't try on clothes in that one store when they wouldn't let you in the changing room with me. I had no idea how much I depended on your option and didn't think it was even worth my time to put something on if you weren't there to approve or reject it. Good thing you snuck in later because we found that great polka-dot dress.

You encourage the best parts of my personality, and patiently wait through the less pleasant moments.

I think it is a good indication that for both of us the year has gone by so quickly. It means that we aren't dreading the days, and weeks, and months together. It means that being together has felt so natural that we haven't even noticed the passage of time.

You are the kindest, most patient, most kind-hearted person I know. You are also very good-looking. I can't imagine that there is anyone out there who is a better match for me, and who I could love more than I love you.

Happy Anniversary. I love you.

Wednesday, August 08, 2007

the plants made it okay

Believe it or not, that was one of my big worries: how are the plants going to take the move? With no children and no pets, my love and affection (the amounts that overflow from Somebody) are lavished upon my very healthy plants. As a precaution, we placed the two bigger plants in an open box in the cab of the Penske truck. Three hours into the drive, I opened the cab door to check on the plants (my brothers were driving the truck) and discovered that they were using the plants as a table for their groceries. After much freaking out, we moved the plants to the back of the truck where they finished the trip uneventfully. They are now on the ledges in our bedroom and show no signs of the abuse of the trip.

The drive was relatively uneventful. The brothers left the NOG just a little ahead of us. We left out of SLC and caught them on the road after only half an hour or so. My sister and dad left the NOG about two hours behind us, so in Rock Springs we killed some time browsing the Walmart. Ah, Walmart. Much like the Church, it’s the same everywhere you go. Still white-trashy, and still without my favorite eyeliner.

At one point around 5am, Somebody was driving and I was sleeping and I woke up because he was slowing down to exit for gas. I sat up and saw the truck ahead of us, but didn't see my sister's car. I asked him where they were and he said he hadn't seen them in a while. We followed the truck to this closed-down gas station, and then when we started pulling up close, I started thinking how my truck looked way bigger than I remembered it being before I fell asleep. And then we got up even with the cab and this big, hairy man leaned out and looked over at us. I think we both screamed a little. We got back on the highway and called my brother and found out they were more than 10 miles ahead of us--at some point in the night Somebody had started following the wrong truck. Good times.

As if the pressure of moving wasn’t enough, I started my new job bright and early on Monday morning—about 20 hours after arriving in Kansas.

We woke up early so that we could get into Lawrence in time for work. When we came upstairs we found that my younger brother had gotten up early to make us pancakes and eggs for breakfast. And made juice. And filled two travel mugs with orange juice for the road. And he even spelled "Good Luck" in chocolate chips on my pancake. So cute. With support like that, was there any chance it wouldn’t be a good day?

The new job is fine. They don't have an ice machine with small ice chunks like I love, and they don’t have two large, flat-screen monitors for me, and they don’t have big windows along the wall, and they don’t have the chatter of the students that bothered me so much before but that now I miss like crazy. What they do have, though, is a job for me that pays well.

It’s hard to sit at work all day while my siblings, spouse, parents, nieces, and nephews frolic and play all the live long day, but somehow I’m getting through it. It’s nice having the family here, even if I only get to see them in the evenings. It will be lonely when they all go home this weekend, and I worry that only when the house gets quiet will I really start to realize that it’s real: that we packed up our lives and moved ourselves to Kansas. And that everything that is friendly and familiar is over 1,000 miles away. And that our friends aren’t close anymore and won’t call us to meet them for sushi at lunchtime, or a late movie, or invite us over for cupcakes and games. Tears will be shed.