Love/Do Not Love {No. 2}

Fran and I love most of the same things, but we disagree on college sports...

I posted my first Love/Do Not Love list a month ago, and it was so much fun, I wanted to bring it back. Several of you joined in, so like last time, if you make your own list, leave a link in the comments so we can all visit you. Without further ado, here are a few things I love and a few I'm not so fond of...

I love:
-Hanging out with Fran of Freeborboleta fame. Though I forgot to take my camera (thereby forfeiting the title of blogger and only using blurry cell phone photos in this post), it was so much fun getting to see her again. The last time, I was on her turf in Seattle. This time, Fran and her sweet mama drove hours just to spend an afternoon and evening in Chambana. It was awesome to introduce her to Millie and Walter. But mostly, it was just did my heart a lot of good to spend a day with one of my dearest friends- eating deep dish pizza, taking a cold walk around campus, and warming up with some Starbucks. The only do not love part of this? Having to say goodbye.

The rest of my loves:
-Chinese food. I order the same dish 99.5% of the time: sauteed broccoli in brown sauce with white rice and lots of crab rangoon. We have a pretty great place nearby, which means the owner lady instantly recognizes me, Sky, my dad, and Millie. In fact, Millie's managed to charm her way into free watermelon slices ever time (which aren't on the menu). Every so often I like to pretend I have room for doughnuts, eat one, and then complain that I'm dying. I could eat there every day and not get sick of it.
-Huge, fluffy bath towels. The bigger, the better. And someday, this lady is going to buy a heated towel rack (and heated floors, while we're at it). I once used one of the towels Sky takes on military trips, and I'll never get over it. It was a potholder-sized square of sandpaper, I think. Gross.
-Praise for cooking. If someone tells me twice that they love the meal, I may believe them. If they tell me once, I'm sure they're just being polite. If they don't tell me at all, I am positive they hate my food, hate me, and I should just burn down the kitchen. I might be slightly insecure about my cooking- can you tell?
-Snail mail. I love letters, packages, those random address labels- if it's not a bill, I'm excited about it. (I'd ask you all for your addresses if I thought there was hope I could write back.) I swoon over pretty stationery and fancy pens.
-Ginger. It's all I want lately. Christmas may come early in this house, because it's going to be gingerbread everything. (Speaking of, make these cookies.) Pumpkin is so last week.
-Notebooks. Specifically, the smaller ones that fit well in my purse. I think up ideas for blog posts in two main places- in bed, long after I should have been asleep, and while I'm out somewhere running errands. I keep a little lined notebook between the front seats, and grab it to jot something down all the time.
-Saying 'peanut butter' in Spanish. Google it. It sounds twenty times tastier, and slightly scandalous.

And now, a few things I don't love:
-Driving and spacing out. All I know is that I leave my house, and ten minutes later, I'm in a different part of town. I have no memory of all the twists and turns that got me there. It scares me a little, and makes me wonder exactly how I can be on auto pilot so much that I am completely unaware of what I'm doing.
- Also, driving at night. I always feel about 85 years old when I'm squinting through the windshield and complaining that everyone has on their high beams. Blind as a bat.
-Flute music, especially jazz flute. (I apologize if you play the flute.) No thanks.
-The person who invented white kitchen floors. No, it's cool. I like needing to sweep five times a day.
-Deciding what to wear. It takes me more time to pick an outfit than it does to do my hair and makeup. If I (magically) love the outfit I'm wearing, it still takes a lot of time. If I don't love it, it takes years.
-The wrong cleaning products used on things. Pledge used on glass? Glass cleaner used as bathroom cleaner? Kitchen cleaner used in any other room of the house? I can't handle it.
-The first time someone asks how old I am after a birthday. So awkward. I state at them blankly until I figure it out, and probably seem 10 years older than I am just because I can't remember.

What things are you loving- or not?

The Quiet

For a while now, I've been saying it. "I hate Facebook." "Facebook is so dumb now." "Why am I even on here anymore?" And one day, it finally sunk in what I was saying. Why was I still on there if I claimed to loathe it so much?

I signed up back in 2008, when my brother suggested our family sign up to better communicate with him during his deployment. So I created my account, despite thinking at the time how much better Myspace was in comparison (oh, 2008 Erika, how you make me laugh!). I could only post statuses saying "Erika is ______." back then, and maybe that's part of it. But Facebook is changing, just like the whole of the internet seems to be. The pretty big silver lining to signing up then? I started chatting with my brother's roommate in Afghanistan...and as you all know, he ended up becoming my husband. Ironically enough, my brother wasn't on Facebook much longer than the deployment, and he's been off the grid for years now.

But back to the story-people have rights to opinions. I hope they have them- I know I have plenty. But one day, a family member started posting statuses that completely trashed the people in the economic situation my family is in, and it really hurt my feelings. After they wrote me a long message apologizing, I thought it was over. It wasn't. The posts continued, and someone's personal opinion began to feel very much like a personal attack. So family or not, I unfriended them. It was at that time I realized at the end of the day, I prefer keeping the peace, but the peace of my own heart should be worth something too.

There have been issues since that time, too...like the person who commented on my status every time just to disagree with me. If I had said the sky is blue, they would have countered with, "Well, no, not really." There was the one who always posted pictures that really offended me, like a painting of Jesus saying the f word. And the political things this year have been so over the top, it made me not want to vote at all. I've already voted. So at least until after this election, I decided not to be on personal Facebook page, and limit things just to you on my blog page.

And that's when it really hit me- why am I doing this to myself? I spent so much time complaining about Facebook, yet I spent so much time on it. And I realized it wasn't even so I could share things about my life- I have this blog to do that, and to post every picture I want. It's because the writer in me is afraid to miss out on everyone else's story.

What if they announce a marriage or a baby? What if they move across the world, and I didn't know? What about seeing cute pictures of their kids, or chiming in on that new outfit they posted? As silly as it sounds, I realized I just can't read everyone's stories anymore- that some story lines aren't a good, enriching part of my life, and that it benefits no one to keep reading them. If they are close family or friends, it's likely we communicate in other ways anyway, and if they aren't, then the world doesn't end if I don't know what kind of sandwich they had for lunch that day.

We're never getting 1950 back, where the only means of hearing other people's stories was actually speaking to them, or maybe listening in on a party line. And maybe that's okay for a fairly shy girl like me. The internet is amazing, but it's the biggest Pandora's box the world has ever seen. I've only been off Facebook for a week or two, and it's amazing how much good it has done me. Maybe I won't get back on after the election. Maybe I will, and limit myself to checking it once a week. Either way, I'm done making it such a focus in my life.

The point is not that Facebook is evil. It's quite literally who you know, and it's the time you invest in it, too. The point is that sometimes it's okay to not listen to the 400 'friends' I have, and to listen to the people closest to me instead- or even, sometimes, just to listen to the in and out of my own breath, away from everything else. It's so hard to get away from it all these days, but the introvert in me not only craves it, but needs it to function.

And you know what, Mark Zuckerburg? It's been pretty beautiful out here in the quiet.

Don't Mess with Milspouses

As a blogger, I've become accustomed to getting emails from all sorts of people. There are lots of offers for giveaways- some wonderful, some fairly odd, and some I delete while blushing. But I received an email a week ago that was unlike anything I'd found in my inbox before.

A CBS casting associate said that she had found my blog. Part of her email read,

"Our show is entitled "_____"  {I refuse to link to the site} and it is a series that chronicles three different woman as they search for love. I assure you I would not be reaching out if I thought this show would in any way trivialize or exploit anyone's situation, but rather, we are interested in featuring the journey of a widow in the hopes of inspiring women who also find themselves in a similar position. I have had the pleasure of seeing the first season of the original show (from Israel) and I can say with much confidence that this show is unlike anything a US audience has seen. It does not follow the conventions we are used to seeing in a "reality" show.I understand that this is presumptuous, and I assure you I mean no disrespect, but I did want to reach out to inquire if you may be interested in learning more about the show and passing along our casting notice to your fellow widow community."

From speaking with other military spouses, I knew that (unfortunately) this was a legitimate email. Although I wrote her back and suggested she do her research better (as nearly any page on this blog with show that I am not a widow), I found the email offensive, seemingly targeting military widows, and completely void of taste.

Since that time, I've seen that other ladies have gotten similar emails, including military widows, and that they have been contacted several times (i.e., harassed, in my opinion). I'm not quite sure what CBS is thinking, or if they realize what they are getting themselves into, but tonight I became so furious about the situation that I wrote another email to the casting agent.

Hi Karla,

I belong to a huge group of military spouse bloggers, some of whom are widows. (I assume you're targeting military widows from the amount of emails that have been going around.) I understand that you have a job to do, but I ask that you stop sending all the emails. You obviously don't have the sympathy and tact to understand that something as outrageous as a widow's dating show is highly offensive on so many levels. I cannot imagine one of my widow friends having to deal with one of these emails, and I'm being told they have been sent more than one. We're a tight-knit group of bloggers, and when one of us hurts, we all hurt. Please look for stories elsewhere if it's truly a show that needs to be done (I think not), but stop this outrageous harassment of military widows in particular, or I will be forced to bring this to the attention of the media.

Sincerely,

Erika

P.S. You mentioned my blog didn't give you any clue as to my relationship. My blog gave plenty of information as to my marital status- see the front page, about me, or just about any blog post. Also, most of the ladies you have been writing are already in a dating relationship and have no desire to splash their struggles and triumphs in a silly TV show.

Don't mess with these girls- my girls. This is just too personal for me to ignore.

Because they don't have a problem writing me and so many other military spouses, I thought they might like to receive some email back. 

So, if you'd like, email the Magical Elves casting at 

datingshowcasting3@gmail.com OR 

cesarzjster@gmail.com

or

give them a call at 323-460-4030 begin_of_the_skype_highlighting            323-460-4030      end_of_the_skype_highlighting Ext. 699 
or           323-460-4030 begin_of_the_skype_highlighting            323-460-4030      end_of_the_skype_highlighting       Ext. 706 

You may also contact CBS and Chris Columbus (producer)  directly:  

CBS Headquarters

51 W. 52nd Street

New York, NY 10019-6188

1-212-975-4321 begin_of_the_skype_highlighting            1-212-975-4321      end_of_the_skype_highlighting

Let them know what you think about their show, their incessant emails to widows and military spouses. 

I'm not usually a call-to-action type of girl, but I'm fed up.


P.S. Taylor from Our Military Home has a great post up with a sample letter to email, as well as a sample tweet with hashtag to send to everyone!

All That I Don't Know

(my dad holding a newborn me)

I spent this entire afternoon looking through photos of my childhood. I'm a bit ashamed to say it wasn't to go over sweet, old memories. I spent all of the time zooming into backgrounds of houses I lived in, studying furniture and kitchen appliances and what my brothers and I were wearing. I analyzed and over-anazlyed everything. I was looking for clues.

But then I read this post by Michelle. Then this one by Gina. And this one by Dani. They all struck me so hard, but especially that line from Dani's post- "That's not your story."

The people I compare myself to the most? My parents. I cannot tell you how many times I've ended up upset and even in tears because I've felt like my life isn't living up to the way they lived theirs. I think, "By such-and-such age, Dad had a good job as a firefighter. At this point, they bought a house. They were never on Medicaid. They had more education. They were happier." And on, and on, and on, and on...

I don't know what it is about comparison and why I do so much of it. I didn't pay this much attention to it all even in high school, where so much of life tends to be about who is popular and what they had. So maybe I'm not going to be the girl posting house renovation pictures on Facebook- maybe not in 10 years, and maybe never. And maybe I won't have the designer clothes, or the cars, and yes- even the college diploma.

But this is my thought tonight, after a day spent reflecting on those other posts, and the place my mind has been lately- I have no idea if most of what we owned was hand-me-downs, or if they paid for all of our Christmas gifts with credit cards, or if even Dad's job paid enough to pay the bills without worry. I don't know if they got along well for the most part, or if there were lots of disagreements or nights full of the silent treatment after I was tucked into bed. I have no clue what they thought about the other couples they knew or my friends' parents, and if they compared themselves to other people. I don't know so much about that time, and quite truthfully, it's not really any of my business anyway.

(my mom and I- and no, that was not our wallpaper)

I have no idea if any of my grandparents went to college, or how they spent most of their lives either earning money or caring for their homes. Maybe they took nice vacations. Maybe they had bill collectors calling. It's all irrelevant in the end, though- whatever it was, they got through it, raised good families, and because of that, I exist. Millie exists. The things in their houses have long been passed down or thrown out as they all passed away and left this earth, but their actions are what remain. Their memory is not in possessions, or at what age they were or were not able to check something off the list (getting married, having a baby, owning a home).

The problem with me is simple- I focus on what I don't know. Why am I trying to add something up when I don't even know what I'm adding? It wouldn't make sense mathematically, and it doesn't make sense in life. I think I would be so much happier with the life I have if I could just, for one second, pause. If I could remember that those stories aren't mine, and that the only one who knows my entire story is God. Would I have written it this way? Absolutely not. But God is a much better writer than me. And when I think about what I would have missed out on- most obviously, my daughter- I cannot imagine what it would look like if I had scripted it 'perfectly'.

I don't know the ending to my story, other than there will eventually be an end. I won't be thinking, "If only I was able to buy that pair of jeans. If only we were able to buy that property. If only I had done _______ before everyone else my age." It won't matter if I'm in a mansion or in a tiny, studio apartment. It will only matter who is there with me, and the legacy of my actions.

I need to start living my life with that knowledge.

The Annoyed Army Wife Visits Chambana

The day started with the alarm ringing on my phone. I shut it off groggily, and then remembered- today's the day I'm meeting The Annoyed Army Wife! I bit my nails and thought about what to wear. It felt vaguely like a first date.

It got worse when I opened my closet doors. I found myself thinking, "What would chambanachik wear?" "Oh Lord," I said out loud to myself. After rolling my eyes at myself, I pulled out a sweater and got ready for the day.

I heard a knock at the door, and there she was! It was funny seeing someone who had been a picture and words on a screen turn into someone in 'real life'. My dad had picked Millie up earlier, so A.A.W. and I decided to head out for lunch.

We picked a great Mexican place in town that she used to frequent- she just happened to live here for a couple years during school, in case you didn't know! We walked in and saw a long table full of soldiers. It seemed fitting.

After that, we headed downtown to a place called the Walnut Street Tea Company- a tiny shop full of hundreds of teas, chocolates, and coffee. Because she's lived here, she knew a lot of the fun spots to visit, so I didn't even have to play tour guide. Walnut Street just so happens to be one of my favorite shops in the world.

We wandered around the area, snapping a few pictures, and then walked through campus and the quad. A couple older ladies tried desperately to convert us to something, but they were relived to hear we both believed in God. We ended the walk at the Alma Mater, where I get a couple more photos.

After we got back to the apartment, A.A.W. was able to meet Millie and and play for a few minutes. I think Millie was grateful to have another person reading to her!

As I told her, I don't really leave the house to do anything other than grocery shop anymore. It was so nice to hang out with someone my own age! There isn't a lot of introduction to be done, because, as bloggers, we tend to know more about each other than many of our 'real life' friends. Plus, it's The Annoyed Army Wife- it doesn't get better than that!

(P.S. Read her post about the day here.)

At the Mexican restaurant!

Shopping for tea

I won't share all the photos from the day, but isn't she sickeningly photogenic?

In downtown Champaign

On the U of I Quad

The Alma Mater

Millie's pretty excited!

A quick story

Rebecca's Blog

Just a note for all of you who have been following Rebecca's story. 

She has a new blog URL, 

so if you would like to keep reading about her journey, 

it can now be found here. 

One of her latest posts contains pictures from Michael's birth. 

She continues to blog and is such an inspiration to me.

Thank you all again for all the comments you left on her blog, 

and for all of you who sent her notes and cards. 

She's very grateful, and I'm so proud to have you guys as my friends.

Michael

I don't know if my heart has ever been so broken for someone else. My friend Rebecca, who I wrote about in this post, gave birth to her son Michael early this afternoon.

In her own words, "He is so beautiful and is now dancing in heaven with his heavenly Father." 
She went on to say, "I love you son. You are the greatest gift I could of ever asked for. Love, Mommy"

She carried her sweet baby boy for 9 months, knowing that the outcome would likely be this one. Between this, and the utmost grace and maturity she has shown throughout her pregnancy and throughout today, I have the deepest admiration for her.

My heart aches for her- while I don't know what it is like to be in her shoes at all, I know exactly what it's like to be a mother- and really, that tells me everything. And she has been the best mother that Michael could has possibly had, even though he wasn't here on this earth very long. She focused on her health, and did everything she could to prepare for this day.

This is Rebecca's blog, where she has been updating everyone on her pregnancy and her life in general. I selfishly ask that you flood her page with comments and prayers, and that you keep her in your thoughts in the next several hours and next several months. She is fighting a battle most of us would be too weak to fight, and she deserves to be surrounded with nothing but love and support.

When the World Gets Bigger

I was not going to blog tonight, or anytime soon. Apart from the post I'd already typed up for Millie's birthday, I felt completely out of words, empty and incapable of saying anything worthwhile.

Like always, though, I am humbled when I remember that there is a big world outside of this apartment in this little town. Tonight, I was reminded of that in such a forceful way, my breath hasn't quite returned.

This video was posted on a blog tonight. The blog belongs to a girl, Rebecca, whose family has long been friends with mine- in fact, I babysat for her and her younger sisters many times. Rebecca is currently pregnant with a baby boy who has Trisonomy 13, which is more severe than the Trisonomy 18 baby Eliot has in the video. Every time she posts, my heart breaks for her, but she consistently blows me away by her unshakable faith and her perseverance. I know for a fact that I could not have the grace she shows.

The video requires a whole Kleenax box to watch, so be prepared. And if you would, go read Rebecca's story, and show her some love.

Bloggers in My House

"The ornament of a house is the friends who frequent it."
— Ralph Waldo Emerson

One of my favorite things about blogging is that it can spill into real life. We can be friends, you and I. And one of my friends, Beka from 'Hold On, Love...', painted a picture just for me! All she asked was what styles I liked based on some of her other paintings, and my favorite quote by e. e. cummings. She wrote a little about it, and I gushed about it, but now it's finally up on my wall. And every morning, I get to look up and see a bit of this world wide web as something beautiful and personal. (P.S. Go check out her paintings on Etsy!)

Her sweet note

Opening the box and loving the smell of the coffee she so sweetly included 

I love it!

Hanging proudly in my living room

I also won a couple things this week (strange because I am known for my horrible luck in contests)! 

I won this handmade print from Miss Alana's Miscellany. Isn't it lovely? The blue even matches my painting. I'm glad something other than green is overtaking my house- I can't handle any more green around here.

And I won this locket necklace from the saucy No Model Lady. She made this from a vintage brooch. I have to admit, seeing this caption on her blog made me laugh. A cameo has never been so sexy.

And finally, a blogging item that stays in blogworld. I was given this award from J at Life as a Secret Squirrel's Other Half. Thanks, J! The instructions are to share 7 things about me and to pass it on to a favorite blogger:


1. I just wrote an article for Homefront United Network, and cried all the way through it. I know it's normal to cry sometimes when you read things, but is it okay to cry when you're the one doing the writing? Hmm.
2. I'm wondering if "versatile blogger" is code for "I haphazardly post whatever strikes my fancy at that moment and tend to have no cohesive themes or niches." If so, I deserve this award.
3. I got a Target giftcard for Mother's Day (from my mama), and happen to also have a coupon for this brand- I have been debating this dress. What do you think? Is it too old for me? I have no clue what kind of shoes I'd wear, either. I've also drooled over this shirt and this tank top for a while. Have I mentioned how in love I am with Target?
4. I like 'kid candy'. Everyone else my age seems to have moved on to sophisticated things like chocolate, but I still prefer Fun Dip, candy buttons, Skittles, gummy bears, etc.
5. There are still a few years before I turn 30, but I already think about it a lot. 30 sounds like something that parents do. Yes, I know I'm a parent. That's not the point. I'm too young for 30.
6. While Sky was still in Afghanistan, I talked to both a National Guard and an active Army recruiter. I was serious enough to completely fill out the Guard application. But Sky got home, and I never turned it back in. I can't even imagine what life would be like now if I had gone through with it.
7. I sometimes wish Millie's clothes came in my size. Not because I want to be all mother-daughter-matchy about it, but because I tend to like her outfits much better than my own.

I think that's it! There are ever so many blogs I could pass this award on to, but that would probably bore you, so I'll keep it to a few for the sake of time:

-Obviously, miss Beka from Hold On, Love..., Alana from Miss Alana's Miscellany, and the lovely No Model Lady. Thank you for all my beautiful things, ladies!
-Moewenackie and Consider the Lilies- two awesome fellow National Guard wives.
-Vintch, who is a beautiful writer.
-Nicole from Being a Marine Wife. I feel like I've gotten to know her a little through blogging.
-Deanna from Everything and Nothing from Essex. She can't write a bad blog post!
-My grade school friend Amber, from Life Not Finished. I'll be guest blogging for her very, very soon!
-My high school friend Alice, from Reading Rambo...partially because she writes about good books, but definitely because she cracks me up in a way no one else can.
- I also would have nominated Charla from Heart Like Mine, but she just got this award! Oh well- you get it again!

Yikes...that turned out long anyway...I should have just posted my Google Reader list!

Living Up to Promises

"A girl could never have too much jewelry or too much weaponry." 

— Laurell K. Hamilton

The odd thing about blogging-for me, anyway- is that I oftentimes send my words out into a seeming void. My blog has turned into a diary of sorts. I sometimes forget that there are people on the other end of the computer who read what I write, react to it, and occasionally remember it.

So a week or two ago, my friend Amber decided that she would make me live up to the post back in December that had me claiming I would wear large, dangling earrings instead of my usual boring studs. I had decided 2011 would be full of big jewelry.

Yikes.

We shopped through several rotating racks of earrings in every shape and size imaginable. There were some that looked like replicas of disco balls, and others that were feathers or birds or other too-wild-for-me shapes. She is more daring than I, and found a few cute pairs that suited her well.

This is what I usually wear:

But in her kindness, and after some urging to look in the mirror, she bought these for me:

Thank you, Amber. They are fabulous! Slowly but surely, I will break out of my earrings shell.
And also watch what I promise on this blog.

Thank You- Yes, YOU.

"So long as we are loved by others 

I should say that we are almost indispensable; 

and no man is useless while he has a friend." 

— Robert Louis Stevenson

Since writing my Broken Fences post, I have gotten letters, emails, comments, hugs, cards, (and chocolate even). It was completely unexpected. I guess I didn't expect any reaction, but if anything, I assumed people would only want to hear my ups and not my downs. The support and kinship I've felt with all the readers of this little blog, both online and in real life, has been nothing short of amazing.

I've realized two things in the past couple of days: the first, that marriages are rough. It sounds painfully obvious. But I always feel like everyone else has it so together and that I'm a screw up. I always wonder what they know that I don't. It meant the world to me to get so many emails from people who admitted they have had problems too. Bloggers who have such beautiful families have told me that it wasn't always that way, or that it wasn't their first marriage, and it took time to get there. I look at their photos, I see sincere smiles, and it gives me some hope that maybe I can get to that place. They've made it, or are still in the process of making it. So thank you, all of you, for your refreshingly beautiful honesty. It's good to know I am not alone.

The second thing I've learned also sounds like a given, but it's been so stunning to me recently; I have friends. Not just friends who want to get together when things are good and life is easy, but friends who care about me. If you've been around me much, you know that It's a Wonderful Life is my favorite movie (because it's the best movie of all time, naturally). I could list 50 reasons why I think it's so great, but one of the biggest is that I have been in George Bailey's shoes-most of us have. You feel like the world is ending and everything is dark and no one is there. You look down from the bridge at the icy waves below, and you wonder if being down there would be better. You think about giving up. You want to give up. But one by one, you feel arms around you until you're surrounded by love and empathy. You are cared for, which is such a invaluable feeling.

In the closing scene of the movie, George reads the inscription on the book from Clarence (the angel): "Remember George, no man is a failure who has friends."

And I'm learning I have many.
Thank you all.

"It Won't Get Greener if You Water It!"

could we have a moment?

could we have a moment?

it feels so real

i'm picking out a blossom

i pin it on the wall

it feels so real

woo!

i'm giving you a haircut

walking to the sushi bar

shopping at the goodwill

learning how to swing dance

and i sink so deep in you

-from "Sushi" on Real Blasty by Kyle Andrews

Life is good. Seriously. I was hesitant to write this post, because the only thing worse than not having a good day is hearing about how someone else's was fabulous. Hearing the sound of laughter when I've been depressed made me want to run as far away from it as possible. I guess I've just never been on the laughter side before.

I've always been the person who thinks the grass is always greener on the other side. Not even that I'd be dissatisfied with my life compared to someone else's, but more like the life I had. Things seemed brighter five years ago, ten years ago, etc. High school feels like it was much less painful than what I know it really was. I would sigh for simpler times, being a little kid with no worries, when in all reality there were plenty of unpleasant things. Good things in life had to whiz past me before I could appreciate them. I was never able to feel like I could live in the here and now. Until now.

I haven't felt more 'present in the present'. Small things aren't taken for granted the way they were. I still have a lot of the same troubles or things I could worry about, but it seems like such a waste of time.

So instead, I can be thrilled that my best friend lives two streets over, and that we can take roaming walks. I love that we can walk in unexpected rain, plan rides in a rowboat for the weekend, stop to look at a fountain on the entrance of campus, and go to the roof of the arts building to find a graduation ceremony. I love that moving into this place means the anonymity of going to bed at 9 or staying out until 3. I love that I can still talk to friends from grade school all the way to ones who live a state away and still feel like I could call them if I need them. I love that I can prove them wrong when they say, "You can't ever go home again," when the airport still feels the same. I love that I have a life as public or as at home as I want it. And even though I want him back more than I want to breathe, I love the hope that comes with checking my email or waiting for a video screen to appear. I love the words he sends me, the quiet laughs, and the open-mouthed look he gets when he teases me. I love that he can type for 6 hours but turn on his microphone to tell me he loves me.

I feel every single thing now, and right as it happens. I taste it all, see it all, want it all. It's just about summer now- the flowers fully blooming, the air wet, the sweaters traded for tank tops.

And the grass? So very green.

"I Get a Kick Out of You"

Tributes to the best people on the planet!

The Family-Everything is matching

My mom told me something my brother had told her about his perpetual state of indecision. He talked about my dad's quest for the perfect post-retirement job, and how the location changes with the wind. "Now I know where I get it from," Andy told her. It never occurred to me, but it couldn't be more true! It made me think of what I've pulled from them or what has pulled me.

I have hands that look like my mother's. I've inherited a love of words from her. When we giggle together over something, we have the same laugh that makes us both laugh harder until we're wiping away tears and waving a hand in front of our faces to calm down. Both my parents gave me my love of reading in different ways-both are well read when so many people are not, and always encouraged their children to have their noses in books. I also have a lot of my sense of humor from my father.  I love historical documentaries like he does, and think some of the best times being here have been watching/discussing things with him like Looking for Lincoln. To my mom's chagrin, I've discovered a like for Bob Dylan that could have only come from my dad. And even in my siblings, with all of our differences, I see some things that run through us all, and I like to think they're the better parts of us that a couple of amazing people passed on.

The Friends-Everything is a joke

There isn't much we can't turn into something completely crazy. It doesn't seem to matter where we are or what we talk about-the laughs do not end. We can exchange thoughts like trading cards with our blogs, reading them like the latest edition of The News-Gazette. Going out, anything said is turned into a catch phrase and inside joke, and some are the same as they were when we were sixteen years old. Dressing up isn't fun until it's with them. Talk of old friends and new guys is what usually starts the conversation. A random text or silly link make sense to us somehow. The comments on photos of us go on for miles, each funnier than the first. It's exactly why a list of "101 reasons why we're friends" can be written in high school and be read today. Some things never change, and thank God for it.  

The Boy-Everything is beautifully backwards

After we starting dating, I sent him my phone number. After a impromptu snapshot as if we'd known each other years, a fascination with learning more about him like discovering our shared taste for Italian food. After we talked about him moving to Champaign, we said the "L" word. After months of online banter and spending a few days without leaving each other's sight, he wrote his first email to me. And after wondering if I should go at all, I came back from Flora wishing I had taken a two week vacation just to be there.

So cheers! 

With all of this in my possession, how could it not be a wonderful life?