fall...

Somehow, months have slipped by since my last post, and the summer I mentioned last time? Totally gone, out of the picture. The temperatures are inching downward, I have officially worn a sweater twice, and I had my first pumpkin spice latte last week. Even if it hits 80 degrees again (I'm talking to you, Forecast for 9/18/07) it just doesn't feel like summer anymore. Next week will be the 4th week of school - which means that unbelievably, I'm (slacking off on) studying for midterm exams in my quad classes.

Life has not been all that lovely lately. I am balancing school and work and a sudden onslaught of babysitting jobs with full-time wifelihood (wifeness?) along with the upcoming stresses of writing advising and studying for NCLEX. Joshua started a full-time MBA program - he only has class twice a week, but he has hours upon hours of homework. Our weekends are full of studying and for me, shifts at the hospital. I knew it would happen, I was prepared for the structure and routine of fall. I was even excited about new binders and new pens (purple! to scribble all over my endless powerpoint handouts). But the actual day to day living of it is harder than I expected - I realized this when we sat down with the calendar and we had no unplanned days until the end of October. Sometimes I forget that the time between August and Christmas happens at twice the speed of the rest of the year.

I think that would be enough to fulfill my need for a crazy overwhelming lifestyle, but instead our activities are probably the least intense thing we are involved in right now. We both have friendships that are changing, and people who are coming in and out of our lives for purposes we don't really understand. I am feeling the effects of being "off-time", a little concept I picked up in Psychology 101 that has really become a light bulb experience for me . I've always done things at a different age than my peers - I didn't go to college right away, but I got engaged when I was 19. I worked full-time, then went to college, then got married at 21, and now I'm still in school while my friends graduated a year and a half ago. I don't know many other married people my age, and the ones I do know haven't celebrated their 1 year anniversaries yet. We will be married 3 years this spring. The idea behind being "off-time" is that no matter how positive your life events are, they are inherently stressful if you are not experiencing them at the same time as the people around you.

So I would just like to throw this out there - I Am Stressed.

Stressed emotionally, physically, spiritually. I have been feeling that intense, constant prodding in my spirit that always accompanies major changes in my life. I have been spending more time praying and reading scripture and suddenly I realize how much of a hassle and inconvenience it is to serve a living, breathing God. Just when we are feeling comfortable in our little lives, He shakes us out of that cocoon and asks us to do things that are difficult and painful. Just when life gets crazy, He asks us to deal with hard truths in our relationships and face things we don't like about ourselves. I have been avoiding this kind of growth for these exact reasons, but somehow the time has come and all my silly excuses have been swept away. God's timing is perfect, and I'm trusting that if He is saying NOW, then I do the hard slogging work NOW.

Hopefully I will post again before Christmas!

I'm blogging twice in a week. A new record! Also known as, my days off from work bore me to tears and I'm driven to write after spending hours stalking the blogs of people I barely know, or who are in fact complete strangers.

Today has been glorious in that I slept in past nine (a new record!) and then woke up to my friend Amy texting to say that she needs to iron a shirt for her first day at work, and could she use mine, and she would be bringing coffee! Luckily she has her own keys to our apartment so I did not even have to peel myself out of the sheets (these fabulous sheets) and I was able to start the day with a latte without ever leaving bed. I don't think life gets much more spoiled than that, and that is why I firmly believe in a) working the PM shift, b) giving friends your keys, and c) owning things that other people need and are willing to bargain Starbucks for. I am hoping she never purchases her own iron.

Tonight is round two of Adult Jazz, which I am very excited about now that the cramping and pain from last week has just barely passed. We went running last night (TWO miles! If you had asked me six months ago if I could run two miles straight without begging for death, I would have laughed uproariously and then asked YOU to please bring me Starbucks in bed, that is more my style thankyouverymuch) and I think the run finally worked out my Hamstring Issue. I gave myself a Quad Issue yesterday running on concrete, so I am thrilled to see what new muscle spasms and injuries I can acquire this week. Joshua is working on a heel problem, which he likes to call a stress fracture. Our newfound athleticism is both wonderful and frightening apparently.

However, our healthy lifestyle is not getting out of hand. We are going camping next weekend in Wisconsin with our friends - not so much the commune with nature type of camping, but the float-down-a-river-on-a-tube-with-beer-in-both-hands-sort of camping . I'm pretty sure the only thing that those two types of camping share is the fact that you sleep in a tent. We were planning the grocery list at lunch today (eating Chinese takeout at the picnic table behind Joshua's office) and it involved copious amounts of condiments and processed meat and cheese and like I mentioned, beer. So chances are good that we will return from the (not so) wilds of Wisconsin unable to ever run again. Which will give me more time to spend reveling in the glory of my bamboo sheets!

I think to sum up, this is my last summer as a bona fide college student (part-time job? check. staying up late? check. wasting away again in margaritaville? check check.) It is fabulous and I love it but I'm trying to find that balance between enjoying it immensely and wishing it was over so that school could start again and I could just hurry up and GRADUATE already. I can't believe that July is here and will be gone before I know it in a whirlwind of camping, working, going to Cali for a wedding, hopefully having my brothers and Amanda visit, and then going home at some undetermined point to see my parents.

Well, when I just typed that all out, I can see that the summer is practically over now, and I just better enjoy the weather and the grilling and the gorgeousness while it lasts! And also the free time - I'm taking a nap to save up my energy for Adult Jazz!

Oh Right...I Have A Blog?!

Well I think the past few months just go to show how consistency is obviously what I strive for, and so often achieve in my writing career...

um, no.

I have not actually forgotten about this blog, contrary to everything that is obvious and straightforward in this life. In fact, I have felt very guilty about the lack of posting, but then things became kind of a downer for awhile (more family cancer, although we're jazzing it up with the thyroid instead of the breast, my dad is still unemployed, joshua was working 14 hour days and weekends for a while there). Sometimes writing things down is therapeutic and cathartic and then sometimes merely experiencing a difficult situation is enough and to commit it to words just makes it even more raw and jarring.

Still, the 10 week hiatus was a bit much. After all, it is the SUMMER, I'm employed and working a crazy flexible, glorious schedule that allows me time to sun myself, keep up a demanding running schedule, and waste the days away slowly killing brain cells on the InterNet (please see Yahoo! Music Videos and the hilarity that isWill Ferrell).

However, during my blogging break, I have achieved one of my major goals - which is to get my ever-widening tush back in a dance studio before the cellulite starts creeping up my back and into my hair or something equally repulsive. This Thursday, I found myself surrounded by all sorts of dancing goodies, looking for a pair of jazz shoes to purchase for my new Adult Jazz class (please note - i used to make fun of Adult Jazz back when I was underage and flexible and could throw my leg behind my head for fun and then do double pirouettes en pointe) I might be a measly 23 years old, but that is past the typical prime of a professional dancer's life, and I've spent the last 5 years drinking my weight in lattes and cooking pasta. Right now Adult Jazz seems pretty intimidating and I would like to smack my 18-year-old condescending size 6 self in the face.

So, Thursday morning I bought these (in basic black):


and Thursday night I found myself wearing lycra and leather (please also note - not as sexy as it sounds) and attempting to perform all the steps that I once knew in my sleep...tendu, rond de jambe, battement, chassee, chassee, pas de bouree...I did not do anythng embarrassing like fall down or start crying after discovering my complete inability to even jazz walk, but I think the experience can be summed up by saying that it is now Saturday and I am still sore enough to dread things like, I don't know, changing clothes? However, I am also thrilled to pieces that I successfully did most of the combinations, and I have been torturing both Joshua and all my neighbors by practicing my pirouettes in our dining room. I have also convinced roughly half my friends to sign up for dance classes by promising them flat abs and killer calves.

I did not mention that they would also need to stock up on Icy Hot and any product ever marketed to the arthritic geriatric population, because while it is 100% true, I think it's probably a turn-off.

I'm back and stiffer than ever.

I ate ice cream for breakfast.

After all, I am on summer vacation and we've been eating relatively healthy lately (grilled portabellas last night? grilled salmon two nights ago? did I mention we got a grill?)Also, the ice cream I ate for breakfast was the ice cream that we (ok, Joshua) made last night in our ice cream maker. Unlike my yellow soppy mess that never thickened and was ultimately tossed down the drain, HIS mint chocolate chip ice cream was smooth and creamy and flecked with pieces of chocolate and specks of mint leaves. (As far as edible plants go, we have basil and mint growing and thriving on our windowsills. Also we have a fish visiting us who is currently living next to the basil, but we are not planning on turning him into ice cream). I was so full from dinner that I only had a few bites of ice cream, but this morning it was even richer and yummier than I remembered. Soothing an empty stomach with chocolate and full-fat dairy...we will see if that's really a good idea.

All of these ridiculous summer pleasures - ice cream, grilling out, shucking corn, being outside in the sun and turning all shades of pink and brown - remind me of my childhood. We had a big backyard that was perfect for running and tag as kids, and then for laying out on beach towels when I got older. I remember sitting on the concrete steps that led to our back door and shucking corn into big paper shopping bags, hoping that no one would forget I was there and body slam the door open carrying a big plate of chicken or hamburgers to the grill (this was not an unwarranted fear. It happened all the time).

On Tuesday, my mom called me and asked where I was. This is her fun, stomach-sinking way of alerting me to the fact that she's calling with bad news - given the past few months, my mind was racing ahead to figure out who possibly could have cancer now. But instead she told me that my father had lost his job.

When your father is 50 years old and has struggled for all of his adult life to get ahead of the curves life has thrown at him (and there have been so, so many), I think that the news that he is unemployed is devastating. My dad takes his role as provider incredibly seriously, and on Monday he was called into his boss's office and told that he had two weeks - TWO WEEKS! it's insulting - until he was done there. They are closing his branch of the office, where he is the only salesman. My parents still have a 16 year old at home but as of June 1, neither of them has a job. And it's just so overwhelming and huge and the prospect of job hunting involuntarily at age 50 is demoralizing and frustrating. And here I am in Chicago, with my new grill and my ice cream maker, surrounded by material comfort and all the benefits that a two-income lifestyle afford. Sick to my stomach, because isn't it supposed to be the other way around?

On Monday night, while we were eating our grilled salmon and talking about our memories of childhood summers, I didn't know that my parents were sitting on their couch mourning the loss of what they do. I assumed they'd be flipping chicken on the grill and possibly knocking my brother off the steps because he's the only one left to get stuck shucking corn, and there's still no place to sit.

I know this post is so discombobulated. I wasn't sure if I wanted to write about my parents at all, even though they don't know I have this blog. But I think that it's the only thing on my mind, even though I've tried to block it out with ice cream breakfasts today, and books and movies yesterday. I'm avoiding it, but it won't let me go.

Today, in honor of our second wedding anniversary, I decided to make a special dessert - sweet basil scrambled eggs.

Let's be honest, I was aiming for basil ice cream, but somewhere in the process of heating 8 egg yolks and 4 cups of milk (in my defense - to a precise 175 degrees! and never did it boil!)I made scrambled eggs instead. In one of the greatest displays of optimism I have ever attempted, I then threw it in the ice cream maker anyways. So far, it's still chugging away and the whole thing is disconcertingly yellow (it should be green) and liquid (it should be solidifying). It just goes to prove my suspicions that I am not ready for epicurious. However, I can taste the potential lurking beyond the egg-ness of it all - when my poor hardworking window-ledge basil plant regroups from this tragedy and springs forth new leaves, I'll try basil ice cream again. I will not double the recipe. Or scramble the yolks. Or skip an important "cool-down" step in the recipe that Joshua helpfully pointed out to me after it was all in the ice-cream maker.

The Great Basil Egg Ice Cream Debacle is something that I kind of regret happening on our anniversary. Besides one absolutely horrendous Moroccan eggplant dish I cooked for Joshua the summer we got married, I have surprised myself with a love of cooking and a knack for it. For someone who never wanted to domesticate, finding myself at 23 with a husband and a Kitchen-Aid mixer is sometimes overwhelming, usually surprising, and in all ways a blessing. Until I met Joshua, I had literally never thought about getting married. I was planning on moving to New York City to live in a studio apartment and write the Great American Novel, and maybe get a cat and possibly adopt a baby later in life. By myself. And for those of you who know me now, this sounds absolutely ridiculous - I am clearly fulfilled by my roles as wife, soon-to-be nurse, and future baby mama. I also hate cats and studio apartments, so it wouldn't have worked out anyways. Sorry, NYC.

Joshua and I celebrated four years of togetherness in March, and now we have been married almost as long as we've been a couple. We have had mostly bliss and hilarity - but also sheer exhaustion at the effort it takes to make a marriage and a family and a life together work. We are both fiercely independent people, and compromise does not come easily to us. God has broken our pride through the challenges of marriage, and has softened us both into more compassionate and gracious people. We still manage to do our fair share of whining (me) and complaining (me) and taking our relationship for granted (me again!) but we have also grown so much that sometimes I cannot believe I am still the same girl who walked down the aisle to Etta James singing "At Last". That girl had no idea what a privilege it would be to fall asleep every night next to a loving husband, and also no idea how annoying it would be when that man rolled over and pulled off all her covers. EVERY NIGHT!

To Joshua, the man who pulls off my covers, laughs at my jokes, eats the food that I make (and some that I ruin), supports me, doesn't pull the plug on my Starbucks addiction, gives me space and pulls me close, prays for me and loves me and tries every day to be just a little bit better...

you are my everything and i love you more today than I ever thought possible two years ago...


Sorry about the basil eggs...maybe next year.

Things I Have Learned: Finals Week Edition

- Finals week is incredibly, mind-numbingly, fingernailsonachalkboard agonizingly slow. I am usually in a daze over how quickly Monday through Friday passes. Instead I am in a tizzy over the fact that it is STILL.THURSDAY.

- During the week one needs to study most, one will suddenly lose all motivation, persistence,and drive to succeed.

- However, one will discover a newfound joy in reading celebrity gossip, going to Starbucks to "stay awake", inviting people over for dinner (wha?!) and going to bed early in order to "get up early and study", which really means "get up early and go to Starbucks in order to 'stay awake'". It's a vicious cycle.

- The situation is dire when one decides that instead of grocery shopping and planning for said dinner, one will go to Bath and Body Works to take advantage of the 4 for $10 sale involving antibacterial soap and an overwhelming choice of scents. (in "one's" defense, dinner was excellent and everyone's hands smelled fantastic).

- If the flip top to one's keychain hand sanitizer has become stuck, DO NOT attempt to use your teeth to unstick it. It WILL end up in your mouth, it WILL burn ferociously, and you WILL feel like a complete idiot as you sticks your tongue under the faucet to rinse it off. I think this will remain true even after finals week.

- It is still possible to purchase appropriate cards and presents for two mothers and one grandmother, wrap and mail them on time, and do this on the same day as the Bath and Body Works sale, the grocery shopping, the dinner, and a previously unmentioned employee physical at one's brand spanking new summer job. It is NOT, however, possible to study on this particular day.

- If one has forgotten to wear their Target brand premium plus white strips during the day (due to excessive activities involving other people), an excellent way to multitask is to wear them to bed, set an alarm for 30 minutes later, and then get up, remove the strips, and brush one's teeth. This is really wonderful because one will probably not remember this activity very well the next morning. (Disclaimer!*one's spouse might not find this time saver all that amusing*)

- The craziness and the lack of sleep and the excess caffeine and the scrambling from one activity to the next and the studying and the maladjusted coping are really all worth it when you consider...

I will be done with my junior year in two hours...
I'm 75% done with college as a whole...
by this time next year I'll have a job and a degree...

and there is a bottle of red wine, a long-suffering husband, and Grey's Anatomy waiting to celebrate with me tonight!

Just now, I jumped into bed, grabbed my laptop and textbook and was about to start writing a paper that was due last week and needs to be handed in at 6:45am, after I wake up at 5:45am (yes, it's 10:13 and I'm just starting)...and I'm feeling like something is kind of wrong with the situation...

And it is, because I still have my toothbrush in my mouth. Where I put in 15 minutes before and then proceeded to not brush my teeth but rather just clench it in my jaws of death (and forgetfulness).

This sort of sums up why I have not been blogging lately.

But school is out next week...and I have a job lined up for summer...and a lot more free time...and I will be trying to claw my way back into being a personal favorite of Tricia's.