Valentine's Day

I had the best Valentine's day. Ever.

In fact, it probably made #1 favorite day with my husband since we've been married. Maybe since we started dating. Maybe ever. It didn't go any better than the average date, which for whatever reason usually involves an event or list of events that evoke a stressful mood, which promotes irritability, threatens the presence of fun and romance, and ruins the chance of perfection 100% of the time.

I suppose it's "Murphy's Law". Still, I always hope that for once something is going to go as exactly as planned (and that I could punch Edward A. Murphy in the face). No obstacles. Just for one evening. For once I want to do my makeup and not poke myself in the eye with a mascara wand; I want to not hit so much traffic that we wonder why we ever left the house; or I want to be on time for a movie instead of the usual 20 minutes late, which seems positively unavoidable...

Just once.

More than any other date, I wanted this one to be perfect. I had purchased tickets for the opera four months in advance. We would see Romeo and Juliet and then exchange gifts at my new favorite restaurant. I guess you could say I had the night envisioned in my head. (Yes, I realize this sounds high-strung. No, I don't know how my husband does it.) I'm probably being unreasonable, especially since I am almost positive that these frustrations are not shared by my husband... though he is so passive, I suppose no one will ever know.

Long story short: We hit traffic, missed half the Opera, got a parking ticket, and underestimated the distance to the restaurant so drastically that our stomachs were eating themselves by the time we got there. Normally I would have let all of these things get to me, but I was determined to have an amazing night and make sure that my husband and I both had a good time.

And we did. The Opera was great (I'm secretly glad we missed so much of it: we got there just in time for all of the good parts, and I can only take so much Opera), seeing the business district of Dallas was fun, my husband liked the restaurant I had chosen, and well, he was so sweet. He is so sweet. I can't help feeling unbelievably blessed to have this awesome, handsome person who keeps telling me I'm beautiful and is not only in it for the long run but who wants to love me, provide for me, and give me Fossil watches along the way.

It doesn't take long to get caught up in a daily grind. But once in a while there is something --- such as a date that could have gone horribly wrong, but was more than rescued by the simple fact of just being glad to be together --- that reminds you of what you've got. Those are the days I wonder if my husband knows I got the better end of the deal. And, even though he spent way too much money on me and doesn't even like the candy I got him, you can't convince me that I'm not the luckiest person in the whole world. I almost wish this page in our life would never turn.

Long stemmed red roses = my favorite.

As my husband puts it, he is "not a card person". In the past, this referred to both giving and receiving. Which is why I was so pleasantly surprised when he gave me a beautiful card that had the sweetest things written inside. ♥ Extra bonus points were given because it matched the paper my roses came with almost identically.

New Year's Resolutions: Better late then never. No, really!

Now that every other blogger has moved on from the topic of holidays, it is probably time I formally acknowledge the new year and that stupid, worn out "R" word: resolutions.

In a country where delayed gratification does not exist and discipline is neither a word spoken nor a thing used, it makes sense that the words "New Years' resolutions" are not taken seriously, and lose our interest about as fast as the oldest and dumbest knock-knock joke. We've all done it: proclaimed with excitement "this year I'm going to do such and suchhh!!" ... but by the end of the month, "such and such" has been a thing of the past for 26 days.

"Maybe next year."

Yeah I think we all just dislike the "R" word. But to that word's credit, a resolution in itself is not a bad idea. Rather, our choice of timing plays a large role in its reputation lacking of credibility.

A couple of days before the new year I had asked my dear sibling (I will not mention which one... ok, the only one... but last I checked he doesn't read this anyway) to go on a run with me. He adamantly refused, with the justification that it was his "new year's resolution... I have to wait till the 1st!", or something rather comical and close to those lines. Obviously it was an excuse; he just didn't want to go. I contemplated reminding him that I once gained over 30lbs with that mentality, but figured it'd do no good and resigned to taking my run solo.

However that is a very dangerous mentality. I personally think that establishing resolutions on the first day of the year is the best way to ensure defeat of determination. You know what I'm talking about. The enthusiasm lasts till about the third, and the second you slip up -- whenever that may be -- well, now it's "all ruined". You dirtied the slate. Of course it's purely psychological -- subconscious, even -- and the funniest part is the fact that January 1st is just another day, isn't it?

And so you see, it's no tragedy or coincidence that I am doing this entry on a random number of days after the new year. Because as always, there's no better time than the present. Whatever random day of a random month the present happens to be.

Without further adieu, my resolutions for 2011.

- Whenever I'm checking out at a grocery store I want to make it a habit to look and see if the person behind me has a considerably less number of items and if so offer them to go ahead. People have done this for me on several occasions, however it was just the other day that I was next in line with my usual half-cart full of groceries when the cashier asked if I would let the elderly gentleman with two items go ahead of me. I felt like smacking myself in the forehead. Why didn't I think of that?

- I used to frown upon the motto of "no regrets"; to me it implied irresponsibility, and was often promoted by the same people with a "what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas" type of attitude. But I would like to adopt my own rendition of the term. I'm quite the perfectionist, and with this trait comes a memory of everything I've ever done wrong. There's absolutely nothing I can do about those things. You'd laugh at them, that's how silly and petty most of them are. Anyway I'm so over them. No regrets!

- I'd also like to use more cash. Research shows that the use of cash reduces impulse spending. Not that I do that of course! :)

- I want to give those stupid pan-handlers the time of day. Sure more than 95% of them are scam artists, but what about the one dude that's actually hard up? I still won't give them money, but since they claim to always be out of gas I might carry a gas can in my trunk, so that if they're legit I can lend them a hand.

-Oh, and if I lost ten pounds it wouldn't be the end of the world! (Come on, what would a list of resolutions be without it?)

Santamas time. I mean Christmas time.

I'm currently sitting at my parent's kitchen table, far, far from our own apartment in Texas, soaking in Christmas and this moment before the holiday passes and my husband and I have to reload our little truck and trek halfway across the country back to where we came from to resume our daily lives. This is the first Christmas that I've lived away from home, and I'm so thankful to spend it with our family. At the same time the length of a round-trip between Texas and Florida and the efforts and expenses involved have brought home the reality of over 1,100 miles. The realization of the distance is put somewhat of a damper on my happy time. At this point you're probably inclined to encourage me to enjoy my stay and not think about it. But it's hard to do when I look around this cozy little house I know so well and can't help but tell myself "soak it in because you have no clue when you'll be back".

At the same time, living far away has made the holidays mean much more. Which in turn has made me want to go in to Walmart and tear the wrapping paper off of every check out aisle number, shred every cardboard Santa Claus, and punch a few panhandlers in the parking lot who grow in numbers around the holidays to take advantage of the season of generosity. Never in my life have I felt so disgusted by this facade of Christmas spirit. They throw prayer out of schools with no problem (and with little protest from us, to boot) but if Jesus' birthday can make money then everyone is all the sudden interested. How did it go from a celebration of God incarnate to dragging a dead tree into our living room, saying it's beautiful, and telling our children to sit on the lap of an overweight elderly man in pajamas? I'd like to know! The answer is that no one cares what it's really about. They don't even seem to care that secondly, it's about family. There's nothing in the world that I need or want, but if there was the excitement of its acquisition could not possibly compare to that of being at home with my family doing simple traditions.

One of my favorite things to do this time of year is to take a Christmas song we've all heard thousands of times and really listen to the lyrics. It's easy not to, because we know the song so well before we're even old enough to understand it. So the next time you hear a super old Christmas jingle, stop and think of it's meaning. Pay attention to the words...

O holy night! The stars are brightly shining,
It is the night of our dear Saviour's birth.
Long lay the world in sin and error pining,
Till He appeared and the soul felt its worth.
A thrill of hope the weary world rejoices,
For yonder breaks a new and glorious morn.

Fall on your knees! O hear the angels' voices!
O night divine, O night when Christ was born;
O night divine, O night, O night Divine.

Led by the light of faith serenely beaming,
With glowing hearts by His cradle we stand.
So led by light of a star sweetly gleaming,
Here come the wise men from Orient land.
The King of Kings lay thus in lowly manger;
In all our trials born to be our friend.

He knows our need, to our weakness is no stranger,
Behold your King! Before Him lowly bend!
Behold your King, Before Him lowly bend!

Truly He taught us to love one another;
His law is love and His gospel is peace.
Chains shall He break for the slave is our brother;
And in His name all oppression shall cease.
Sweet hymns of joy in grateful chorus raise we,
Let all within us praise His holy name.

Christ is the Lord! O praise His Name forever,
His power and glory evermore proclaim.
His power and glory evermore proclaim.

Catching Up

It has been brought to my attention... that I've completely mentioned nothing about Thanksgiving. And since it was what I've been referring to as my "first Thanksgiving", that's somewhat of a problem.

I call it my first because although my husband and I have been married over a year now, we spent every holiday as newlyweds apart last year while he was in bootcamp. Also because we did not travel halfway across the country to go home for Thanksgiving but rather spent it by ourselves, leaving me with the responsibility of making my first Thanksgiving dinner... and lastly because I finally did my first ever 5k in my first ever Turkey Trot.

There were a lot of "firsts" in that paragraph; hence, "first Thanksgiving".

The Turkey Trot was a lot of fun and I recommend it to anyone who has never participated. Though I must admit--it wasn't exactly how I expected.

I've been a runner for years, and perhaps I was naive but when I'm told "three mile run" I think of running for three miles. However other non-runners translated it as "three miles--just get there." I spent weeks preceding the day running 3-5 miles to prepare for what I apparently thought would be the equivalent to a Tour de France only on foot and well, in Texas. I found it funny, even during the race, that I paid $23 to wake up early on a day with things to do and run in a temperature that was so cold I couldn't get my fingers to operate the safety pins they give you to attach your number to your shirt. But I was there to do my best and go home. And so it kind of blows my mind that there were people who just walked it. I'm not even talking about a speed-walk, I'm talking about a I'm-walking-to-the-kitchen-because-the-oven-is-beeping walk. Runners were the absolute minority. The difficulty of dodging the massive, slow-moving crowd was by far the greatest challenge: greater than running three miles, being thirsty, and freezing because my chihuahua regurgitated on my husband's sweatshirt and I gave him mine so he wouldn't be standing in the cold. Sorry, but I trained for this! I made the finish line in 40.5 minutes after an approximate six minute bathroom break at 711, so you do the math.

What I probably loved most about the entire experience was (definitely my new tshirt and) the feel of the day. For the first time since I moved to Florida six years ago, it was Thanksgiving and it actually felt like November. The sky was overcast with occasional drops of ice cold rain. Countless leaves on the ground that swirl at your feet and hit the windshield while you're driving in the car. And the cold! It was colder than Florida in January. The course of the run went through a residential area, so while we were running we could smell the aromas of Thanksgiving dinners in the making throughout downtown.

When we got home my husband built a fire that he kept going all day, while I turned on some jazz, lit candles around the house (both things that I have been obsessed with this fall), and began preparing my first, 13.5lb turkey. Which, by the way, there was absolutely nothing to. A couple minutes of preparation (and the time it took for me and my husband to laugh at the dead, naked bird as we bounced it up and down in the sink singing "IMA TURKEY") and five hours in the oven yielded a golden, thoroughly cooked, juicy turkey with a slightly crusty skin. It was basically the easiest thing I've ever done in my life, though the dramatization of that statement was most likely influenced by the unforeseeable nonexistent obstacles and lack of expected difficulties associated with the task.

In one word, cinch.



And of course I also made mashed potatoes with gravy, baked ham, corn, stuffing, green bean casserole, dinner rolls, and homemade pecan pie. If that sounds like a lot of food for two people... it's only because it was.

Then my husband and I watched ThanksKilling, which was a tasteless low budget "horror" about a 500 year old turkey who kills white people. I don't recommend it unless you're one of those people who love the occasional tacky, low budget horror (such as myself).

Andddd the next day we took these pictures! =)

I am thankful for... ABSOLUTELY EVERYTHING!!! But mainly my husband, our puppy, my brother and parents, and the GLORIOUS fact that we are only in Texas for three years and not longer! =)