While many believe that Ray Stevens is the only person who could make "The Streak" famous, I was recently privy to witnessing someone attempt their own claim to fame in this area. While I believe their attempt was not successful (but who am I to judge?), it became very apparent to me that this would not be an evening I would soon forget.
Grandpa Sheldon and I were at the nursing home trying to swindle some ladies out of their retirements... er, trying to win a few games of Dominoes. The ladies we were playing with were making sure that we were earning each point and victory, and trust me when I say they were not making it easy for Grandpa to play. There was also another man in the large meeting room talking on the phone. He had an injured hand (it looked like he used a scar kit from Halloween) and was waiting for the nurse to re-bandage it.
That's when I heard it: The man's breathing changed and his voice rose several decibels. "No, I uh, I gotta go. Right now, I gotta go. Yeah yeah I'll call you back, I gotta go!" In the next breath, with barely a pause, "STREEEEEEAKER!!!!"
Heads spun around, and that's when I saw a sight I will never forget. A woman was walking through the room in nothing but her Depends. The Depends were, as one of the Domino women put it, "not the freshest pair a person could wear and looked ready for a change." Also, please understand that when I say "walk," what I really mean is "push her walker inch by inch through the room at the pace only a turtle would find comfortable." Never fear, though, as this pace allowed the image to be permanently imprinted into my mind.
To make matters worse, I looked around in shock to see the reactions of those around me. The women were laughing and fanning themselves, Grandpa Sheldon was craning his neck to see around me, smiling bigger than I've seen in a long time, and the other gentleman... Well... Every time I looked over at him, he put his hand near his mouth and pretended to eat from his wound.
I was speechless, stunned even. The ladies allowed Grandpa a few moments to appreciate and stare, and then resumed the game as though nothing had happened. They did inform me, however, that this is a regular occurrence and I should visit more often.
Next time I do, I'll make sure to bring a change of Depends should I inadvertantly become an extra in the re-enactment of a Ray Stevens video again. :)
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
"Is that my pen?"
As I have been preparing for the licensure exam, I have spent quite a few hours wondering what the last two years of my life have meant. I left a job where I was active in the community helping those afflicted by a stigma not of their choosing. In fact, I absolutely loved the work I did, day in and day out. I was given a caseload of children who were having difficulty functioning appropriately and acceptably in their own social world and families, and given the task of figuring out how to help them learn the social mores that they were somehow lacking. In addition, there was a challenge added through a variety of diagnoses that affected the way they learned. In all, I solved puzzles all day long every day and helped give families hope that there were better things in store.
Last year, I was placed at an agency where the children were often invisible. 1/4 of the kids I worked with were homeless at any given time, and in addition to the challenge of diagnoses, I was given the obstacles of poverty, addiction, and unstable environments and families to overcome. This year, the children I work with come from every socioeconomic background, and their problems stem from mild behavioral and severe emotional to those involved in the court system and previously incarcerated.
Despite this, I love every second of my days and every hand that I hold.
In all, my chosen path is not particularly rewarding in terms of money, status, or glamour, but instead is rewarding in terms of minute steps, tears, hugs, and smiles. Why, then, oh why did I choose this path? I am repeatedly asked by some why I have chosen to continue into something that provides long hours and little compensation.
I would like to leave you today with what I believe is the answer; it is my creed for why I do what I do.
A Prayer for the Children
We pray for the children who put chocolate fingers on everything, who love to be tickled, who stomp in puddles and ruin their new pants, who eat candy before supper and who can never find their shoes in the morning.
And we also pray for those who stare at photographers from behind barbed wire, who have never bounded down the street in a new pair of shoes, who have never played "one potato, two potatoes," and who are born in places that we would not be caught dead in and that they will be.
We pray for the children who give us sticky kisses and fistfuls of dandelions, who sleep with their dog and who bury their goldfish, who hug us so tightly and who forget their lunch money, who squeeze toothpaste all over the sink, who watch their fathers shave, and who slurp their soup.
And we also pray for those who will never get dessert, who have no favorite blanket to drag around behind them, who watch their fathers suffer, who cannot find any bread to steal, who do not have any rooms to clean up, whose pictures are on milk cartons instead of on dressers, and whose monsters are real.
We pray for the children who spend all of their allowance by Tuesday, who pick at their food, who love ghost stories, who shove dirty clothes under the bed and who never rinse the bathtub, who love visits from the Tooth Fairy, even after they find out who it really is, who do not like to be kissed in front of the school bus, and who squirm during services.
And we also pray for those children whose nightmares occur in the daytime, who will eat anything, who will never see a dentist, who are not spoiled by anyone, who go to bed hungry, who live and move and have no address.
We pray for those children who like to be carried and for those children who have to be carried, for those who give up and for those who never give up, for those who will grab the hand of anyone kind enough to offer it and for those who find no hand to grab.
Ina J. Hughes
Amen.
Last year, I was placed at an agency where the children were often invisible. 1/4 of the kids I worked with were homeless at any given time, and in addition to the challenge of diagnoses, I was given the obstacles of poverty, addiction, and unstable environments and families to overcome. This year, the children I work with come from every socioeconomic background, and their problems stem from mild behavioral and severe emotional to those involved in the court system and previously incarcerated.
Despite this, I love every second of my days and every hand that I hold.
In all, my chosen path is not particularly rewarding in terms of money, status, or glamour, but instead is rewarding in terms of minute steps, tears, hugs, and smiles. Why, then, oh why did I choose this path? I am repeatedly asked by some why I have chosen to continue into something that provides long hours and little compensation.
I would like to leave you today with what I believe is the answer; it is my creed for why I do what I do.
A Prayer for the Children
We pray for the children who put chocolate fingers on everything, who love to be tickled, who stomp in puddles and ruin their new pants, who eat candy before supper and who can never find their shoes in the morning.
And we also pray for those who stare at photographers from behind barbed wire, who have never bounded down the street in a new pair of shoes, who have never played "one potato, two potatoes," and who are born in places that we would not be caught dead in and that they will be.
We pray for the children who give us sticky kisses and fistfuls of dandelions, who sleep with their dog and who bury their goldfish, who hug us so tightly and who forget their lunch money, who squeeze toothpaste all over the sink, who watch their fathers shave, and who slurp their soup.
And we also pray for those who will never get dessert, who have no favorite blanket to drag around behind them, who watch their fathers suffer, who cannot find any bread to steal, who do not have any rooms to clean up, whose pictures are on milk cartons instead of on dressers, and whose monsters are real.
We pray for the children who spend all of their allowance by Tuesday, who pick at their food, who love ghost stories, who shove dirty clothes under the bed and who never rinse the bathtub, who love visits from the Tooth Fairy, even after they find out who it really is, who do not like to be kissed in front of the school bus, and who squirm during services.
And we also pray for those children whose nightmares occur in the daytime, who will eat anything, who will never see a dentist, who are not spoiled by anyone, who go to bed hungry, who live and move and have no address.
We pray for those children who like to be carried and for those children who have to be carried, for those who give up and for those who never give up, for those who will grab the hand of anyone kind enough to offer it and for those who find no hand to grab.
Ina J. Hughes
Amen.
Sunday, March 15, 2009
Spring Fever!
First, I'd like you all to know that this is how I'm currently feeling. (Click on the word "this" and watch the video)
In the immortal words of the Muppets, I've got a type of cabin fever... I'm just not on a ship. Our apartment is very similar, however, if you consider the cramped quarters, constant rumbles of noise, and never-ending cycle of practicum, studying, and not enough sleep.
Therefore, please understand the need to change something, ANYTHING, in my life right now. Because I don't really have enough money to go on an extended vacay, can't really afford to switch out my entire wardrobe, and kind of HAVE to study to graduate and get licensed, so instead I decided to operate within smaller realms within my control. I have been playing with the hair straightener. :)
I'd also like to point out that the hair straigthener officially made me a girl. This picture was taken on Sunday right before we went to the grocery store. The conversation went something like this: "Honey, I'd like to go to the store. Wanna come?" "Yeah! Just give me 1/2 an hour..." After an hour and a half, I was ready to go. I've heard this is typically what girls do, and Jeff, God bless him, did not say one word about the time difference. :)
I also got to take a mini-vacay this weekend to meet my folks at the VA in Wichita. Dad had to have some check ups done and had appointments on Friday and Monday, so I made the journey down to be with them. Although the trip wasn't as long as I'd hoped it to be (they ended up leaving earlier than intended), it was still great to see them and get away from studying for a bit!
As you can see, the weather was beautiful and the days were sunny. I also got to see my parents, which made the weekend all that much better. :) When I got back, because I got back a little earlier than we'd planned on me being home, I was planning to play a prank on Jeff. I planned to call when I was near home to see if he was at the apartment or not. If not, I was going to turn on lights, TV, and start a load of laundry (after which I would promptly leave and walk around the mall for a few hours). Alas, though, he pulled into the parking lot right after me, and my hilarious plot was foiled. All in all, it was still a good weekend, even if I didn't get an opportunity to try to convince Jeff our apartment was haunted. :)
In the immortal words of the Muppets, I've got a type of cabin fever... I'm just not on a ship. Our apartment is very similar, however, if you consider the cramped quarters, constant rumbles of noise, and never-ending cycle of practicum, studying, and not enough sleep.
Therefore, please understand the need to change something, ANYTHING, in my life right now. Because I don't really have enough money to go on an extended vacay, can't really afford to switch out my entire wardrobe, and kind of HAVE to study to graduate and get licensed, so instead I decided to operate within smaller realms within my control. I have been playing with the hair straightener. :)
I'd also like to point out that the hair straigthener officially made me a girl. This picture was taken on Sunday right before we went to the grocery store. The conversation went something like this: "Honey, I'd like to go to the store. Wanna come?" "Yeah! Just give me 1/2 an hour..." After an hour and a half, I was ready to go. I've heard this is typically what girls do, and Jeff, God bless him, did not say one word about the time difference. :)
I also got to take a mini-vacay this weekend to meet my folks at the VA in Wichita. Dad had to have some check ups done and had appointments on Friday and Monday, so I made the journey down to be with them. Although the trip wasn't as long as I'd hoped it to be (they ended up leaving earlier than intended), it was still great to see them and get away from studying for a bit!
As you can see, the weather was beautiful and the days were sunny. I also got to see my parents, which made the weekend all that much better. :) When I got back, because I got back a little earlier than we'd planned on me being home, I was planning to play a prank on Jeff. I planned to call when I was near home to see if he was at the apartment or not. If not, I was going to turn on lights, TV, and start a load of laundry (after which I would promptly leave and walk around the mall for a few hours). Alas, though, he pulled into the parking lot right after me, and my hilarious plot was foiled. All in all, it was still a good weekend, even if I didn't get an opportunity to try to convince Jeff our apartment was haunted. :)
Big Week
So this week my life has been full of big and exciting changes. First, I bought a hair straightener and have been playing with my look (pictures to follow in next week's blog). Secondly, I bought a bunch of new clothes (some of which I could afford and some I could not) to continue to experiment with this new look. I have a bubble gum pink top that I am not quite sold on, but that Jeff loves, so we'll give it a try. He just keeps reminding me that I am female, and this is one of the ways our society chooses to express this.
The next few big changes have to do with school. Are you ready? I am THISCLOSE to having my application ready to send in (just waiting on my professional references to get their sections back to me). Also, I am now a part of KU Greek life. I know, this may come as a shock to those who know me and my opinion of sororities/frats, but this seems to be a lesser evil due to Sigma Alpha Lambda being an honor sorority. Finally, the blog I wrote on Veteran's Day thanking Vets, their families, and workers in that population was published in the Prairie Sentinel, Fort Dodge's newspaper (on page 3 between the Donations list and Recipe of the Month).
Hooray for all the exciting changes happening and those coming up! Hope all is well with you and yours!!! :)
The next few big changes have to do with school. Are you ready? I am THISCLOSE to having my application ready to send in (just waiting on my professional references to get their sections back to me). Also, I am now a part of KU Greek life. I know, this may come as a shock to those who know me and my opinion of sororities/frats, but this seems to be a lesser evil due to Sigma Alpha Lambda being an honor sorority. Finally, the blog I wrote on Veteran's Day thanking Vets, their families, and workers in that population was published in the Prairie Sentinel, Fort Dodge's newspaper (on page 3 between the Donations list and Recipe of the Month).
Hooray for all the exciting changes happening and those coming up! Hope all is well with you and yours!!! :)
Tuesday, March 3, 2009
Road Trips
I love road trips. Let me clarify, by "road trip" I mean anywhere we have to drive that involves being behind the wheel for more than an hour one way. The longer the trip, the more I love being in the car. There is just something about the freedom of being on the open road, a destination (or not) in mind, and the ability to be somewhere other than where you started at the end that really makes road trips fun for me.
Growing up, my friends and I used to take road trips to Hays, KS. In that hour and a half we would sing along to the radio, create hundreds of unforgettable moments, and laugh our way through the countryside. Most often we would use the excuse that Hays held the nearest Fashion Bug, but in truth we were seeking that freedom that accomapnies a gassed up car and the open road.
Now, I'm sure you can tell that there was not much in the way of entertainment growing up in good ol' Spearville. In fact, this is where my favorite part of road trips comes in. Because there were no movie theaters, malls, or anything else that teenagers might find interesting, our entertainment often came from *other* venues. I can clearly remember when the Sobers' house burned down; I joined in with many of the other townsfolk in putting lawn chairs near the curb and sitting to watch the show. This also carried over the my adult life, where for my 21st birthday and college graduation the local police raided my next door neighbor's home. I had a PERFECT view from the front porch and couch in the living room (it started to get cold).
That said, I like to watch our heroes in action during road trips. No, I don't like to see accidents where people are legitimately hurt, but give me police handing out speeding tickets, sheriffs handing out tickets, high patrol persons handing out tickets, and fender benders. Maybe I should follow Elvis Alonzo Barrett, better known as Number 3 here. Actually, I think the first one would also be fun to follow. :)
This weekend, where we went to James and Melissa's, I had the perfect opportunity to gawk and watch as people were getting pulled over left and right all the way down and back. Oh, and Jeff and I had some good conversation and stuff.
We have been traveling to Wichita over the past few months to help with finishing various parts of James and Melissa's basement. This weekend we were to help move furniture downstairs... like many other times when we arrive, James had gotten bored and done the work himself before we got there. Their basement is BEAUTIFUL! It's hard to believe the difference between before it was started and now. Needless to say, all that was left was to laugh, catch up, play video games, and sleep. That's what I call a great weekend! :)
Hope all is well with you and yours!
Update on Neighbor Feud:
1. A young man I worked with suggested taking a case of beer up to them as a peace offering and bribing them into silence. I surveyed them, and judged their age to be about 19. If things go down, I won't be held responsible for buying them liquor and don't want to share any beer that may come to our apartment.
2. Our complex reported there is a section of the local police department that specialize in noise complaints. Jeff and I have discussed it and do not feel as though it is that severe yet. Also, noise complaints do not cover "blood dripping through the floor," so sorry Jamie (but we are keeping that in our back pocket for if things do not work out otherwise).
3. Finally, a girl at work suggested this. Now that I am equipped, let's really get this game started......... :)
Growing up, my friends and I used to take road trips to Hays, KS. In that hour and a half we would sing along to the radio, create hundreds of unforgettable moments, and laugh our way through the countryside. Most often we would use the excuse that Hays held the nearest Fashion Bug, but in truth we were seeking that freedom that accomapnies a gassed up car and the open road.
Now, I'm sure you can tell that there was not much in the way of entertainment growing up in good ol' Spearville. In fact, this is where my favorite part of road trips comes in. Because there were no movie theaters, malls, or anything else that teenagers might find interesting, our entertainment often came from *other* venues. I can clearly remember when the Sobers' house burned down; I joined in with many of the other townsfolk in putting lawn chairs near the curb and sitting to watch the show. This also carried over the my adult life, where for my 21st birthday and college graduation the local police raided my next door neighbor's home. I had a PERFECT view from the front porch and couch in the living room (it started to get cold).
That said, I like to watch our heroes in action during road trips. No, I don't like to see accidents where people are legitimately hurt, but give me police handing out speeding tickets, sheriffs handing out tickets, high patrol persons handing out tickets, and fender benders. Maybe I should follow Elvis Alonzo Barrett, better known as Number 3 here. Actually, I think the first one would also be fun to follow. :)
This weekend, where we went to James and Melissa's, I had the perfect opportunity to gawk and watch as people were getting pulled over left and right all the way down and back. Oh, and Jeff and I had some good conversation and stuff.
We have been traveling to Wichita over the past few months to help with finishing various parts of James and Melissa's basement. This weekend we were to help move furniture downstairs... like many other times when we arrive, James had gotten bored and done the work himself before we got there. Their basement is BEAUTIFUL! It's hard to believe the difference between before it was started and now. Needless to say, all that was left was to laugh, catch up, play video games, and sleep. That's what I call a great weekend! :)
Hope all is well with you and yours!
Update on Neighbor Feud:
1. A young man I worked with suggested taking a case of beer up to them as a peace offering and bribing them into silence. I surveyed them, and judged their age to be about 19. If things go down, I won't be held responsible for buying them liquor and don't want to share any beer that may come to our apartment.
2. Our complex reported there is a section of the local police department that specialize in noise complaints. Jeff and I have discussed it and do not feel as though it is that severe yet. Also, noise complaints do not cover "blood dripping through the floor," so sorry Jamie (but we are keeping that in our back pocket for if things do not work out otherwise).
3. Finally, a girl at work suggested this. Now that I am equipped, let's really get this game started......... :)
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
The Declaration
That's it, neighbors, we've had enough. Oh, that's right, you can act innocent all you want, but let's face it, we've been on rough terms for awhile now.
When we first moved into this complex, everything was hunky-dory. The Upstairs family (fondly referred to as "Brian Upstairs, Rebekah Upstairs, and Mirachehll Upstairs") spoiled us with their invitations to barbecues, softball games, and friendly conversation. Even though Brian Upstairs was a military man and apologized for dropping weights on the floor, Rebekah Upstairs admitted weighing over 200 lbs, had narcolepsy, and apologized for sometimes passing out walking down the hallway, and Mirachehll apologized for practicing her cheerleading moves day and night, we rarely heard anything. Andrew Nextdoor and Tristian Nextdoor would throw lavish parties (many we did not go to as we did not fit the "same sex couple" requirement). Even though there were many apologies for the crazy antics of their friends, the heated debates over how to cook, and their Rock Band obsession, not a peep escaped through that wall unless they were hanging a picture.
To the New Neighbors Nextdoor, you are exempt from this declaration. Even though your children scream loudly and often enough for us to believe you are beating them within an inch of their lives, we respect that you are having a rough time as a married couple and that you are trying to shield your children from that (sorry, the walls are thin and we can hear the arguments you hold in the bathroom next to ours).
Now, new Upstairs family, this declaration is directed toward you. There are 2 of you and a dog that clearly exceeds the 60 pound limit allowed by our complex. The first few times we heard you through the floor, I believed that you could not possibly know how the sound was carrying through. The day that you played the music for 4 hours loud enough to elicit complaints from all apartments in this building was the first time I tried to talk to you about our conflicting viewpoints. I calmly explained that I was sure you were not doing it on purpose, but that the sound carried through the floor more than you knew, and could you please keep it down (I am, after all, a graduate student in her last semester). I should have seen it coming when it took the apartment complex calling you to pay any attention to that request.
Since then, I believe it has become a game for you. Late at night, early in the morning, the noise is always there. I have attempted to go through proper channels: talking to you, calling to "verify" the quiet hour policy when you played fetch with your dog until 1145 every night (quiet hours are from 10-7, but the complex does not follow through with anything until after 12), and calling to complain when you began to drop heavy objects on the floor every morning at 530. Let's take, for instance, the day that I was at home sick, trying to sleep in our bed with earplugs in (earplugs that are suggested for use on the shooting range, btw). When I could hear you through those, I sluggishly made my way up the stairs to request more consideration on your behalf, again starting with "I know you are probably not even aware this is happening, but..." The answer to my request was made clear the instant I laid back down and heard you stomping on the floor, as if to get snow off your shoes.
The final straw, however, came this weekend, after we had a wonderful evening with friends (thanks Carrie and Joe!), and at 7:05 am I awoke to you vacuuming, rearranging your furniture, and playing a game with your dog that made him bark and growl.
This declaration is a Declaration of War. I had a list made up of all the strategies to be implemented as well as a list of where/when our strikes would happen, but then remembered something about a pledge to follow the National Association of Social Workers Code of Ethics upon admission to graduate school. I am pretty certain harm or death to 1 or more of the members of that apartment is against the NASW Code of Ethics, so I promptly crossed out the first 6 of my ideas... but that doesn't mean that we're done. I will find other ideas. I will. Now that you have decided to fight dirty (seriously, DROPPING things on the floor at 530 AM?!) and the complex will not do anything about it but send letters requesting we be curteous to our neighbors, we are going to have to take this into our own hands. Beware, Upstairs neighbors, beware . . .
When we first moved into this complex, everything was hunky-dory. The Upstairs family (fondly referred to as "Brian Upstairs, Rebekah Upstairs, and Mirachehll Upstairs") spoiled us with their invitations to barbecues, softball games, and friendly conversation. Even though Brian Upstairs was a military man and apologized for dropping weights on the floor, Rebekah Upstairs admitted weighing over 200 lbs, had narcolepsy, and apologized for sometimes passing out walking down the hallway, and Mirachehll apologized for practicing her cheerleading moves day and night, we rarely heard anything. Andrew Nextdoor and Tristian Nextdoor would throw lavish parties (many we did not go to as we did not fit the "same sex couple" requirement). Even though there were many apologies for the crazy antics of their friends, the heated debates over how to cook, and their Rock Band obsession, not a peep escaped through that wall unless they were hanging a picture.
To the New Neighbors Nextdoor, you are exempt from this declaration. Even though your children scream loudly and often enough for us to believe you are beating them within an inch of their lives, we respect that you are having a rough time as a married couple and that you are trying to shield your children from that (sorry, the walls are thin and we can hear the arguments you hold in the bathroom next to ours).
Now, new Upstairs family, this declaration is directed toward you. There are 2 of you and a dog that clearly exceeds the 60 pound limit allowed by our complex. The first few times we heard you through the floor, I believed that you could not possibly know how the sound was carrying through. The day that you played the music for 4 hours loud enough to elicit complaints from all apartments in this building was the first time I tried to talk to you about our conflicting viewpoints. I calmly explained that I was sure you were not doing it on purpose, but that the sound carried through the floor more than you knew, and could you please keep it down (I am, after all, a graduate student in her last semester). I should have seen it coming when it took the apartment complex calling you to pay any attention to that request.
Since then, I believe it has become a game for you. Late at night, early in the morning, the noise is always there. I have attempted to go through proper channels: talking to you, calling to "verify" the quiet hour policy when you played fetch with your dog until 1145 every night (quiet hours are from 10-7, but the complex does not follow through with anything until after 12), and calling to complain when you began to drop heavy objects on the floor every morning at 530. Let's take, for instance, the day that I was at home sick, trying to sleep in our bed with earplugs in (earplugs that are suggested for use on the shooting range, btw). When I could hear you through those, I sluggishly made my way up the stairs to request more consideration on your behalf, again starting with "I know you are probably not even aware this is happening, but..." The answer to my request was made clear the instant I laid back down and heard you stomping on the floor, as if to get snow off your shoes.
The final straw, however, came this weekend, after we had a wonderful evening with friends (thanks Carrie and Joe!), and at 7:05 am I awoke to you vacuuming, rearranging your furniture, and playing a game with your dog that made him bark and growl.
This declaration is a Declaration of War. I had a list made up of all the strategies to be implemented as well as a list of where/when our strikes would happen, but then remembered something about a pledge to follow the National Association of Social Workers Code of Ethics upon admission to graduate school. I am pretty certain harm or death to 1 or more of the members of that apartment is against the NASW Code of Ethics, so I promptly crossed out the first 6 of my ideas... but that doesn't mean that we're done. I will find other ideas. I will. Now that you have decided to fight dirty (seriously, DROPPING things on the floor at 530 AM?!) and the complex will not do anything about it but send letters requesting we be curteous to our neighbors, we are going to have to take this into our own hands. Beware, Upstairs neighbors, beware . . .
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
Valentine's Day
"How Do I Love Thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of Being an ideal Grace.
I love thee to the level of everyday's
Most quiet need, by sun and candlelight.
I love thee freely, as men strive for Right;
I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise.
I love thee with the passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints,--I love thee with the Breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life!--and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death."
Elizabeth Barret Browning
First, I just want to let you know neither of us is hoping God chooses to love each other better after death, it just happens to be one of my favorite poems. Secondly, I want to let you know that this is the first poem I ever tried to memorize (besides the "Roses are red" gimmick). This is the first year I have been able to recite it. Thirdly, it TOTALLY beats the "love" poem I received from one of the kids I worked with three years ago: "Violets are blue, and Roses are red. I'm glad you come to see me, even though I'm a pain in the ass sometimes, and I'm glad you're not dead (most days)." Ah, he was a character. And with ringing endorsements like that, who wouldn't love working with him?! :)
Well, as you may have guessed, the day of LUUUURVE just passed us by. Many of you have been questioning us as to what we did to celebrate this holiday. It was a fun and all too short day for us, really. I had to work during the day (it's good to note in the restaurant biz that it's more typically mistresses during the day and wives at night, so plan to work your tables accordingly to get the biggest amounts of tips possible), and right after work I met up with Jaye to pick up my dress from David's Bridal. May God bless the woman who helped me try on my dress, check every bead and seam, and pull every piece of lint and fuzz from it's beauty (it took us a lot longer in David's than I had ever thought it would... I definitely feel like I had my first official [and hopefully last] Bridezilla moment).
Jeff and I finished the evening in true Valentine's Day style: We ate a delicious homecooked dinner of steak and butternut squash over a bouquet of roses (Jeff is quite the cook), drank some wine, exchanged jewelry, played some Wii, and ate Andre's chocolates. Also exchanged were cards saying mushy stuff like "Your dreams are now my dreams, fiance, they are now OUR dreams" and "When I see old people walking and holding hands, after all those years and all those experiences together, I can't wait for it to be us with a lifetime of love behind it." We also added a photo frame to our new end table with the words "When two people fall in love, the whole world can see it" (I'm assuming it's supposed to hold a picture of us... the picture of the people in the frame currently freak me out and I don't know why they are in a frame in our home).
Overall, I feel like we definitely went back into the "Bubble" we had created for ourselves over the Engaged Encounters weekend, the "Bubble" where the outside world doesn't exist and it is only us in the moment. It was absolutely, wonderously perfect in every way.
Hope you all had a great Valentine's Day!!
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of Being an ideal Grace.
I love thee to the level of everyday's
Most quiet need, by sun and candlelight.
I love thee freely, as men strive for Right;
I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise.
I love thee with the passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints,--I love thee with the Breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life!--and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death."
Elizabeth Barret Browning
First, I just want to let you know neither of us is hoping God chooses to love each other better after death, it just happens to be one of my favorite poems. Secondly, I want to let you know that this is the first poem I ever tried to memorize (besides the "Roses are red" gimmick). This is the first year I have been able to recite it. Thirdly, it TOTALLY beats the "love" poem I received from one of the kids I worked with three years ago: "Violets are blue, and Roses are red. I'm glad you come to see me, even though I'm a pain in the ass sometimes, and I'm glad you're not dead (most days)." Ah, he was a character. And with ringing endorsements like that, who wouldn't love working with him?! :)
Well, as you may have guessed, the day of LUUUURVE just passed us by. Many of you have been questioning us as to what we did to celebrate this holiday. It was a fun and all too short day for us, really. I had to work during the day (it's good to note in the restaurant biz that it's more typically mistresses during the day and wives at night, so plan to work your tables accordingly to get the biggest amounts of tips possible), and right after work I met up with Jaye to pick up my dress from David's Bridal. May God bless the woman who helped me try on my dress, check every bead and seam, and pull every piece of lint and fuzz from it's beauty (it took us a lot longer in David's than I had ever thought it would... I definitely feel like I had my first official [and hopefully last] Bridezilla moment).
Jeff and I finished the evening in true Valentine's Day style: We ate a delicious homecooked dinner of steak and butternut squash over a bouquet of roses (Jeff is quite the cook), drank some wine, exchanged jewelry, played some Wii, and ate Andre's chocolates. Also exchanged were cards saying mushy stuff like "Your dreams are now my dreams, fiance, they are now OUR dreams" and "When I see old people walking and holding hands, after all those years and all those experiences together, I can't wait for it to be us with a lifetime of love behind it." We also added a photo frame to our new end table with the words "When two people fall in love, the whole world can see it" (I'm assuming it's supposed to hold a picture of us... the picture of the people in the frame currently freak me out and I don't know why they are in a frame in our home).
Overall, I feel like we definitely went back into the "Bubble" we had created for ourselves over the Engaged Encounters weekend, the "Bubble" where the outside world doesn't exist and it is only us in the moment. It was absolutely, wonderously perfect in every way.
Hope you all had a great Valentine's Day!!
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