Through a Glass, Darkly

Moments ago, a nice man came up to the reference desk and asked for a book on “caring for . . . a shrubbery.”

Unfortunately, no dramatic chord played, and I completely missed my chance to say, “Agh! No! Never! We have no shrubberies here.”

I’ve got to be quicker on my feet.

I remember an episode of Mad About You (some research tells me that it was in the first season, but I can’t find any applicable quotes) in which one of the characters (I am pretty sure it was Paul) had a dream about watching the Weather Channel. In the dream, they were sitting at home at night in their pajamas watching the Weather Channel talk about weather that wasn’t even theirs. Paul was afraid this meant that they had become boring. At the end of the episode, though, they were doing just what he had dreamed - eating potato chips in their pajamas and watching the Weather Channel, and he realized that he was happy just being with Jamie no matter what they were doing.

This morning, Mike went to his men’s meeting for the first time in over a month. We’ve been living in a whirlwind this summer - two weddings, a trip to the beach, a quick weekend in Atlanta, Mike getting ready to register for classes and finishing up his job . . . we’ve both been pretty exhausted. But suddenly the busy-ness is lifting, and things are settling back into normalcy. This week I’ve gotten good sleep for the first time in a while, and Mike was able to go to his meeting. Our routine is starting to feel less hectic; we can see the light at the end of his work tunnel. And last night we ate pasta in our pajamas and watched a rerun of the Gilmore Girls and the first half of Last Comic Standing. It sounds boring, but it wasn’t. It was just nice. I was happy to be relaxing with Mike, no matter what we were doing.

“You know how to hold my hand,
You know how to make me mad,
You know everything about me . . .” -Fleming and John

Mike and I spent the weekend with some of our friends in Atlanta. We hadn’t been to Atlanta since we went to a World Series game in 1999 (we both had work/class the next day, so we drove back through the night. I got the 2-4 shift, but we made it back barely awake with time to spare) and we didn’t get to do much touring that day. This time, though, we got to do a few touristy things with our friends . . . well, mostly just the Coke museum.

When we were at the Coke museum, I thought a lot about our shorthand. Mike and I have been together almost six years. I can read a joke in the twinkle of an eye, frustration in the muscles around his mouth, and fatigue in his shoulders. He knows when I’m going to give him a horrified glance when someone says something that could be construed as “dirty.” We know what will set each other off, what silly Hallmark-esque things will make the other tear up, and what will make us laugh until we cry. I know when to turn the radio up and when to change the CD because it’s not worth the disagreement in our musical tastes. He can tell me why I react a certain way to some people, even when I don’t know myself why I responded the way I did. He knows how I’m feeling by what books I am reading, and I know how he’s feeling by what CDs he’s listening to. I know that there is never ever a time when he won’t want a Diet Coke.

I take a lot of this for granted, since it’s my daily life. But when I go places with him, and someone says something and I can see by the twinkle in his eye that he knows I’m going to whisper, “Dirty!” it reminds me to appreciate what we have. Sometimes I need him to caution me with his eyes not to say what I’m thinking, or to give me sympathy with a glance. Our fourth wedding anniversary is fast approaching, and I am thankful for the history we have and how it translates into that safe and comfortable knowing. I think how much more we know each now than we did four years ago, and it makes me excited for the years to come.

Last week at the beach, our small group had a discussion about pet peeves. Apparently I am the most annoying person on the planet, because I do practically all of the things that annoy my friends.

Mike hates ice crunching. Who loves to crunch ice? Me.

Emily hates using spoons to eat things like cake and ice cream. She doesn’t like how you use a spoon and there’s still a trail left on it. Okay, I admit that I didn’t create the spoon, so I can’t be blamed for that one. But one of her other peeves is when she goes to the movies and people want to talk about the movie right away. As in, “Oh, I loved the part where they got married!” Or, “Did you like it?” She says that everyone in the theater saw the same movie, so she doesn’t want to discuss it until she’s at least in her car.

Y’all . . . I am just about the worst at doing that. One of my really bad tendencies is my need for input. I have to know what other people are thinking. So of course I ask my friends if they liked the movie, because I want to see how my opinion measures up to theirs. And I do it as soon as the credits start rolling.

*sigh*

Marshall also hates the movie discussing thing, so there’s one strike against me there. And he hates it when people finish his sentences. I know I finish Mike’s sentences sometimes, but I’m not sure if I do it to other people. (I have been on guard against it since then, though, that’s for sure.)

There are only 8 people in our small group, and I am well on my way to alienating half of them.

The funny thing was, I couldn’t really think of any peeves I have like that. I hate it when people don’t use their turn signals (in fact, I wrote an essay about it one time that I’ll have to dig up and post on here sometime) but I couldn’t think of anything else. I have major annoyances or I let it go (although letting it go doesn’t necessarily sound like me). Maybe I’m an all-or-nothing kind of girl?

If you were going to be in a book club, what book(s) would you like to discuss?

I have to work within the confines of having enough copies of the book, but don’t worry about that when you make your suggestions.

Every year on my mom’s birthday, my grandma tells her what the weather was like on the day she was born. “It was a cold rainy November day . . .” and so on and so forth. Mom says it doesn’t feel like a real birthday until she hears it. This past year, we were all having dinner at Grandma’s for Mom’s birthday, and Grandma told the story over dinner. Mom and I glanced at each other, then looked away quickly so that we didn’t laugh. We aren’t sure if Grandma just likes telling the story or if she doesn’t remember that she tells it every year. Either way, it’s an important part of the day.

Yesterday I was talking to Grandma, and she mentioned that she can’t come to my upcoming birthday party. “You’re going to be 25?” she said. “I remember the day you were born . . .” At this point, I am getting my hopes up that I have finally reached the age where I get a story, too, but no. She just mentioned that I was a sweet baby and that I’m still a sweet girl (ha! I’ve got Grandma fooled!) and left it at that.

After watching an episode from Season 1 of the Gilmore Girls where Lorelai wakes Rory up at 4:03 to tell her the story of her birth, Mike and I decided that we’d like to have fun birthday traditions like that for our future kids. One of my friends says she got to use the special plate, which was reserved for things like birthdays and other big events. I remember that I could choose what we had for dinner on my birthday (I often chose chili, which is a weird meal for July. My dad complained every year - “It’s too hot to eat chili”). Mike says that birthdays were a huge event in his house, but, being a man, he doesn’t remember all the details. hehe. What are some of your birthday traditions that we can steal - *ahem* I meant incorporate into our household? A certain kind of cake? Always going somewhere? A scary clown?

I haven’t done an entry on reading in a while. This is mostly because I haven’t been reading as much as usual lately, what with all the traveling and now my car being in the shop (not to mention my *ahem* current obsession taking up a lot of my reading time). (Side note: Mike never reads my blog, so I thought I was safe referring to my new interest. Of course not. He happened to read it last night. Of all the times for him to read it. I am so busted. hehe.)

Geof asked me how I liked the Keillor that he and Trey recommended. The honest truth is that I haven’t had time to read it. I returned it yesterday. Luckily, I work at a library, so it’ll be here when I do have time. I hate that I had to take it back, but I promise it didn’t mean I didn’t appreciate the suggestion. Three of the books I placed on hold came in at the same time, and I’ve been trying to read those since some of them have long waiting lists. I read Queen Bees and Wannabees last week, I’m about 2/3 done with My Name is Asher Lev, and next up is The Rule of Four. (Side note: My dad likes to listen to books on tape, so I got him The Rule of Four on tape for Father’s Day, so we could “read” it together.)

So, how did I like Queen Bees and Wannabees? It was good, very insightful, but I did feel like something was lacking. She characterized girls in certain ways, but there was never really a mention of the goody-two-shoes youth group girl. She is probably a hybrid of some of the other characterizations, but . . . I guess I felt like religion was completely left out of the picture, and it’s such a huge part of life here in the South that it seemed like a glaring omission to me. I am not completely sure how to phrase this, but I think that youth group and church (and, of course, God) were a huge factor in helping me make good decisions during my teen years. Those influences gave me a better perspective on the issues I was facing, which is crucial to girls that age who have a very hard time keeping things in perspective. Both this book and Reviving Ophelia had little to no discussion of the positive aspects of religion. It was interesting to me to see how different my take on things would have been. Overall, I would still recommend it to anyone who has a daughter or who works with girls that age. I have even found it helpful in conversations with friends - one of my friends broke up with her boyfriend, and she was telling me all about it over coffee, and I kept thinking, “The book said not to say X or Y when there’s been a breakup . . .” It has definitely challenged me to be more thoughtful in some of my responses to my friends, and I could see how it would be very helpful when negotiating a relationship with a teenage girl.

Ack! There was a very scary-looking bug on my computer! I looked away to find something to smack it with and now it’s gone!

[a few minutes later . . .]

I looked up for the bug and noticed a GIGANTIC SPIDER in the window, so I had to go get help. My fearless coworker killed him for me, thank goodness. Spiders cause me to be paralyzed with fear.

Last night at small group I was showing my friends my pictures from the wedding. One of my small group friends was also a bridesmaid, and she was bemoaning her tan lines in some of the pictures (our dresses were strapless). I told her that hers weren’t noticeable, and mentioned that I had put foundation (borrowed from Shelby) over mine so they would blend in better. She looked at me with surprise when I said that. To me, that was something normal (a tip from my mom), but to her, it was a clever idea.

I have encountered that a few times recently - things I think are “normal” but that other people are like, “Wow, that’s a great idea!” Like spraypainting my shoes for the wedding (I had white shoes I never wore, but no silver shoes . . . so I spraypainted the white ones and . . . voila!) and a girly thing that I shouldn’t mention here. I go along in my life thinking that I am pretty average, so it’s nice to think I come up with good ideas now and then (or steal good ideas from my mom, whatever the case may be).

When I get interested in something, I like to read and find out as much as I can about it. (This may be why I enjoy being a librarian - so much information at my disposal.) It could be a new book series or an author or a TV show or a band or a historical figure . . . anything, really. Past obsessions include Dorothy Sayers, Caedmon’s Call, and Christy (the TV show starring Kellie Martin - I read a lot of fanfic after it went off the air). Lately I have had a new obsession. I have been very careful not to mention this latest obsession publicly, so don’t even try to guess what it is. I’m not going to tell you. My point is that I spend lots of time reading websites and looking up information about this particular topic. I read in secret, so Mike doesn’t make fun of me. I don’t think of myself as obsessive, but I can get really involved and lose all track of time when I am reading. It’s nothing dirty (although, reading this, it kind of sounds that way, hehe), just kind of silly. I do feel a little guilty about the time I have been wasting, so I am trying to cut back. Anyway, I know I can’t be the only one with secret information obsessions. I need support. Anyone?

Yesterday I had some car trouble. I feel like I handled it pretty well overall, although I did have a few moments where I was incredibly frustrated. I had wanted to get home before Mike and fix dinner and finish some household chores. Instead, I got home an hour after him, three hours later than I expected. Like many of my friends, I struggle with feeling “good enough” as a wife when the house isn’t perfectly straight. And ours right now is still recovering from vacation, so it is definitely not perfectly straight.

Because of my car trouble, I’m driving my grandpa’s pickup truck today. I love driving pickup trucks. It makes me feel liberated. I like driving my car, too - it makes me feel cute and girly. Driving Mike’s car (he has a Saturn) makes me feel like a regular driver. Bo-ring! hehe.

This morning I was thinking - one of my secret dreams is to become so famous that I can guest star on Sesame Street and teach kids about letters and numbers. How fun would that be, to meet Kermit and Oscar and Big Bird? I need to have kids so I have a legitimate reason to watch Sesame Street. We watched it a few times last week with some of the kids. It was really just me and one of the dads watching and cracking up while the kids played.

They’re making a lot more things with Splenda now. We bought some Diet Cheerwine made with Splenda. The thing about drinks with Splenda is that they’re actually kind of weird. They are really bubbly at first, and they seem to go flat rather quickly. And the taste is a bit odd after it goes flat. Not bad, just odd. I don’t think I can finish the one on my desk.

Sorry for the randomness of this entry. It’s Monday morning, and I feel a little . . . off. Not grumpy, exactly, just a little sad for some reason. I suppose it could have something to do with all the summer’s excitement pretty much being over. And this is my first grownup summer where I actually have to work full-time, so that’s a big adjustment. I will try to be more cheerful tomorrow.

When I was growing up, my family took some pictures, but after my mom’s nice camera was stolen (in the great break-in of 1990), our picture-taking was considerably lessened. When I was finishing high school - or maybe even when I started college - my mom sent off a bunch of film to be developed, and we found pictures from vacations we took when I was 12 or 13. We just didn’t do the picture thing very much.

That partly explains my obsession with pictures. I want to have a better record of things than I do of my childhood. Mike and I didn’t take a lot of pictures when we were first together, but then I started scrapbooking. When Mike saw that scrapbooking was going to be a serious hobby, he got me a nice camera, and we started getting our pictures developed at Wolf Camera instead of at CVS. That’s the real reason we don’t have a digital camera - I use my pictures for scrapbooking, mostly, so I need physical copies of them. Of course it’s possible to get copies of digital pictures, but most people don’t. Scrapbooking has really changed my picture-taking - I tend to think about what pictures I would need to complete a page, so I do take better pictures, but I also take a lot more than I used to. I have a friend who takes a lot of pictures, and she is very bold about moving to where she wants and taking candid shots and things like that. I am never quite that bold, so I often miss shots that I see but am afraid to take. I will never be a great photographer, but I do love photography.

I have to go pick up three rolls of film from the wedding and our vacation in just a while. I am always a little apprehensive about that - will they turn out like I hoped? If I want to be in the pictures, I have to get someone else to take them, so I have no idea how close they got or what they will look like. Did Mike smile his fake picture smile, or did we get a good one of him? Did I blink? It’s pretty scary and exciting.

The other reason I have been thinking about pictures today is that I dropped off the film about 7:15 on Friday night. They told me it wouldn’t be ready until Saturday. It was, of course, the one-hour photo. I understand being backed up sometimes, but I have never ever gotten my photos there in one hour. The pictures are higher quality, yes, but the customer service (or lack thereof) leaves a lot to be desired. So I just wanted to rant about the deceptive signs and not fulfilling their commitments and the lines and the lack of motivation by the staff and all that, because I will never be brave enough to complain about it in person (and even if I got up the nerve, Mike wouldn’t let me complain).

So as to not end this on such a negative note . . . there is one picture in particular I am really interested to see. The aforementioned phtographer friend took one of me and Mike sitting on a low tree limb in Hilton Head. I am sure that one will be cute, but what I really want to see is the one she took right before that, when Mike was lifting me up onto the branch. I am hoping it will be a good one - I think it was even black and white film. I get nervous and excited just thinking about it.

Since I mentioned before that I was having visions of falling down during the wedding, it’s only appropriate to mention that I did not in fact fall down. I did have a bit of an ordeal, though, which I would like to share.

Friday night after the rehearsal and the rehearsal dinner, I went to Shelby’s house. When we finally went to bed around 1:00 or so, I quickly fell asleep. I then woke up sometime during the 5:00 hour with incredibly horribly crippling stomach pain. I get myself to the bathroom, expecting to get sick in some way, but all that happens is that I lie on the nice cool bathroom floor for a while. I think about what I had for dinner. There was a roast. It was kind of red. I remember someone saying, “Is it okay to eat it if it looks this red?” That innocent question cycles through my brain for the next hour. I finally fall back to sleep with visions of the entire wedding party being incapacitated by food poisoning.

I woke up at a much more normal hour feeling perfectly fine. I guess it wasn’t food poisoning after all. I don’t think I was overreacting, though - what else is one supposed to do during the 5:00 hour?

The only problem was that I had been so sick that I wasn’t really hungry the rest of the day. And during the wedding, I completely zoned out during the homily, since the heat and my fatigue and my just general not-quite-feeling-with-it-ness made me a little dizzy. I put all my energy into not passing out. I succeeded, but just barely. Everyone said it was a very nice homily, and I’m sure they were right. I just didn’t hear it. And, for the rest of the day, I had a vicious headache. It didn’t prevent me from having fun, but I couldn’t get it to go away.

However, this makes it sound as if I didn’t have a good time, which is completely untrue. I had a marvelous time. Except for that hour on the floor of Shelby’s bathroom. hehe.

One of the worst things about coming back from vacation is the fact that there is absolutely no food in the house. Last night we ate pizza rolls and chicken nuggets for dinner. Healthy, no? And of course we were too lazy to go to the grocery store.

Quick sum up of the past week: The wedding was a huge success, and the beach trip was a nice relaxing time. As we (read: Mike) drove home last night, I thought about some of the things I have learned over the past week.

I can handle a change of plans better than I used to, but I still might need a good cry first. There were a lot of ways (best not aired publicly, methinks) my expectations weren’t met over the past week, but I tried to be flexible and adjust. I just seem to be one of those people who cries when things are stressful, and changing plans can (at times) be a stressful thing. Usually, though, after a cry and a good night’s sleep, I can roll with the punches as much as anyone else.

Eight adults and four children under the age of one can live successfully in a house without killing one another. We went to the beach with three other couples who all have children. We honestly weren’t sure what it would be like, since we aren’t used to living with kids. We had a good time, but it was nice to get back to our regular (child-free) life last night.

Dumb card games can inspire a lot of soul-searching. On Wednesday night, we played a game called Nerts, and I sucked at it. Big time. I got pretty frustrated about that, which led to a big discussion. Mike says that when most people play games in a group setting, their goals are something normal, like having fun or winning. He says that my goal is usually just to not look stupid, but that no one is looking at my poor Nerts skills and thinking that I am stupid. I realize that it’s very egocentric of me to think that everyone is looking at me all the time. I think I can be pretty paranoid about not knowing how to do things, or not having information that other people have. I know why I feel that way (I suppose everyone feels that way to some extent), but it was definitely causing me to overreact. It’s funny – I am a competitive person, but, for once, I wasn’t upset about losing. I didn’t expect to win this game the first time I played it. I just felt a lot of unreasonable shame about being the only person with a negative score. As a side note, I learned that I like different games than a lot of my friends. Nerts is very fast-paced, and I get overwhelmed with that kind of game. But a lot of my friends were not down with the idea of playing Trivial Pursuit, which is my favorite game.

Shelby and I know entirely too much about 90210. I stayed with Shelby last Friday night, and we stayed up late talking and watching What Not to Wear and While You Were Out. Then on Saturday, Shelby did my hair and we watched 90210. We remember an embarrassing amount of information about Dylan and Brenda and Brandon and Kelly.

I am a sap at weddings. I kept crying at random times during the wedding festivities. One of my friends says that her “trademark” is that she always cries at the very end when the bride and groom leave. I think my trademark might be that I always cry when the bride and groom enter the reception and everyone cheers for them. It makes me think back to my own wedding – I remember coming into the fellowship hall and seeing everyone standing and cheering for us. That was my favorite moment from my wedding, and I get excited for my friends to be able to cheer for them, but I also get a little emotional. I also usually cry when the groom sees the bride for the first time, because the look on his face is always a beautiful sight to behold. My other crying moment was a little more shameful. I was speaking to the mother of the groom, telling her that I had a lot of fun watching her enjoy the wedding, and I started bawling. Mike looked at me like I had just grown another head or a third eye or something, because I had been fine and then turned into a puddle of emotion on the floor. Mike’s parents didn’t come to our wedding, which was a big part of why I started crying, but it was also the end of a long, hot day. I am a little embarrassed, though, about my freak-out. I am sure the mother of the groom now thinks that her new daughter-in-law has very odd friends. hehe.

That’s most of what stands out to me about the past week. I still have a lot to process, but I am glad to be back to normal life.

All day I tried to write a blog entry about the wedding I am in this weekend and how I am so excited for my friend but also nervous because there’s this one person who intimidates me who I will have to spend time with and I know I shouldn’t be intimidated but I am because she’s tall and glamorous and I am short and dumpy in comparison and instead of actually dealing with those feelings and facing my insecurities I pack my cutest clothes in the hopes that I will look good and not fall down a lot, even though I know I probably will fall down or do something to embarass myself and why am I focusing so much on myself when it’s my friend’s wedding?

*gasp*

Sorry about the run-on. We’ve still been watching a lot of the Gilmore Girls; I think their way of talking is rubbing off. hehe. Anyway, I tried all day to get those thoughts into coherent, meaningful sentences, but it didn’t work. So you get one run-on sentence instead, because I have to leave and head for the wedding weekend in the next 15 minutes. And after that, we’ll be at the beach, so don’t expect any updates until late next week!

I hope the fact that I am in a wedding this Saturday will excuse all the ramblings I have had on marriage this week. Between my almost-married friend asking me for advice, my redecorations causing me to reminisce, and my parents’ anniversary, I have had weddings and marriage on the brain quite a lot.

Alisa’s post earlier this week also had me thinking . . . she was talking about how a married person “knows” that his or her spouse is “the one.” I would have said something similar to what Rich Mullins’ quote said: I simply knew that I didn’t want to live without Mike. I couldn’t conceive of a future without his involvement. I don’t remember a moment where I felt as if the world stopped and a beam of light shone down on Mike as the clouds rearranged themselves to spell out the words, “Kari, Mike is the one. Sincerely, God.” It wasn’t anything so plain (and when is it, really?) but the end result is the same. Whether I feel that it was spelled out in the clouds or I decry the idea of a soulmate altogether, I still must conciously choose every day to honor the vows that I have made. For me lately, that’s been choosing not to make sarcastic remarks and to keep my mouth shut when I’d much rather go in for the kill. It’s tempting to say deliberately hurtful things out of your own fears and pain, but I’ve been trying not to. Honestly, it’s left me feeling pretty defenseless, although I have to admit that’s not a bad thing (just scary).

I was thinking about these things today, because when Mike and I were reading on the couch the other night, I had already gotten ready for bed and taken off my rings. I don’t usually get very tan, but I have been out in the sun a little more than usual this year, and I could see the shadow of where my rings usually are. We are coming up on our fourth anniversary, but I haven’t had a ring tan before. For some reason, looking at it made me think of Song of Solomon:

Place me like a seal over your heart, like a seal on your arm; for love is as strong as death, its jealousy unyielding as the grave. It burns like blazing fire, like a mighty flame. Many waters cannot quench love; rivers cannot wash it away. If one were to give all the wealth of his house for love, it would be utterly scorned.

I don’t claim to be an expert on marriage, but I do know that I am being refined.

Today is my parents’ 30th wedding anniversary. I called to wish them a happy anniversary, but they didn’t answer. hehe. When I was younger, I didn’t realize how unusual it was that my parents would hug and kiss and snuggle. They are always like that; isn’t it normal? At my 6th or 7th birthday party, one of my friends saw my mom sitting in my dad’s lap and said, “Your parents are weird.” I remember thinking, “They do that all the time! Is that weird?” When Mike first met them, he said, “Your parents touch all the time. It makes me uncomfortable. I don’t know where to look.” I told him to ignore them - that’s what Joseph and I do. For as long as I can remember, we’d walk into the kitchen and see them kissing, and say, “Children in the room, children in the room!” It seems silly, but in this age of divorce it is so amazing to KNOW how much my parents love each other.

I am very thankful for the healthy relationship my parents modeled for me and my brother. I have never seen them fight - I know they did fight (I mean, my dad and I are wired pretty much the same - of course they fought), but they always presented a united front to us. We couldn’t play one against the other. When they disagreed, they worked it out out of our hearing. They were consistent, and we knew that if we broke a rule, we’d face the consequences.

They were our biggest fans - always encouraging and believing in us, always inspiring us to do our best. My brother and I both did very well in school, and Mom and Dad were proud of that, but we wouldn’t have been punished for bad grades (like some of my friends were) as long as we were trying our best. Their priority was our character more than our accomplishments. They were strict, but they would listen to us. They tried to be fair, but in our house, the rule was, “Fairness is not that everyone gets treated the same. Fairness is when everyone gets what everyone needs.” My brother had a lot of attention problems, and the rules were different for him than for me, but they told us we shouldn’t expect to be treated the same - that’s not how life works. I think most people think those lessons are too difficult for little kids, but I remember being the only one of my friends who didn’t think my younger sibling got away with too much. He had a lot to deal with, too. My parents were good about teaching us those lessons and giving us perspective.

Another really crucial thing about my parents is that they refused to lie to us. This meant that I was never told about Santa Claus or the Easter Bunny or the Tooth Fairy. It wasn’t about those things detracting from God or wanting to be super-spiritual parents. It was just that they didn’t want to lie to us about anything, and in all my life, I only know of one time that I wasn’t told the truth . . . and they explicitly apologized to me for that. They have shown me and my brother an amazing example of integrity. It’s easy for parents to just tell their kids something to get them to be quiet or to change the subject, but they chose to take the hard road instead. Now when I hear parents lying to their kids, it makes me uncomfortable.

When I was in high school, my parents gave me a lot of freedom. I never snuck around behind their backs, because they trusted me to make good decisions. I wanted to live up to their expectations, which meant that I didn’t make a lot of decisions I regret. I am thankful that they gave me more freedom when I was still living at home, because I never felt the need to go wild and try things out. There was a rule that we could ask any question and they would do their best to answer it, even if it was uncomfortable. I tested that rule many times, and always felt safe asking them questions, knowing that I wouldn’t be judged. They would explain to me their view, and explain why they felt that way (often sharing scripture and their own experiences), and let me make my own decisions. I would come home from school and eat chips and salsa with my mom for hours, talking about my day and my high school problems. If there was a real problem, I always knew they would stand up for me, and they did, many times, but they also let me work my own stuff out when appropriate.

And we had so much fun! I don’t want it to sound as if we didn’t. We had game nights, and my dad would tell corny jokes, and we watched TV together, and they taught me how to play basketball. They not only provided me with stability and a safe environment - they also taught me how to enjoy the simple things of life, like spending time with family and playing Uno or Clue or Trouble.

I hope to one day be as good of a parent as my parents were. As a spouse, I see so many of my own shortcomings, and I know that I can ask my Mom and Dad for help (when appropriate - they are also good about giving me space and not being nosy) when I don’t know what to do. I am thankful for the parents that the Lord gave me. I couldn’t imagine better parents, and I couldn’t be more grateful for their wisdom, their example, and their presence in my life. There is so much more I could say about them; this is just a taste. Because of them, I have hope for my own marriage. My heart is full thinking of all the blessings they have given me.

Happy 30th anniversary, Mom and Dad!

“I have seen them as they walked this world together, and I believe . . . I believe.” -Emmylou Harris

Mike and I had a really nice day yesterday. We went to church and then came home and did some housework. He got tired of waiting for me to finish decorating our house, so he started putting pictures and candles out. Of course, he put them in all the wrong places, so I had to rearrange. But his evil plan worked - we finally have pictures on our mantle, and more up in our kitchen. We still need to hang up pictures in the house, but it’s really getting to be more homey.

In the afternoon, I made the invitations for my birthday party, and he helped me with some of the measuring and cutting and that kind of thing. We had another couple over for dinner last night, and played Scattergories (I won!) and ate brownies and had a fun time with them. After that, Mike and I read a few chapters together in The Wedding (we are almost done). We had a very companionable day, no fighting or bickering or anything. And our house is clean! We both had last Thursday off, and it was a great day as well, running lots of errands and getting stuff done. It used to be that when we had a whole day together, we would often bicker a bit in the afternoon, but we haven’t lately. We haven’t had a whole lot of time together in the past few weeks, so that might be part of it. But things have been . . . good. It’s weird to say that, but they have.

Of course, that makes me scared. Do all these good times mean that something bad is about to happen? Is a shoe about to drop?

(If so, what does the shoe look like? I could use some new shoes.)

Another friend and I have talked about how we often expect the worst out of life. If there’s something good that could happen, we don’t get our hopes up that it will work out, so we can be pleasantly surprised if it does, but not heartbroken if it doesn’t. Guarding against disappointment. It’s not the most healthy way to live, but it can help you survive.

Even in the midst of fear and protecting my heart, I am starting to feel a little more hopeful. It’s as if I have been waiting for the sun through a long cold night . . . and the sky is just starting to turn a little pink. It’s coming, I can tell - I am not going to be able to hold out against the sun much longer. It’s coming, and so is everything that comes along with it, everything I’ve missed over the past year. Mike keeps reassuring me that he and I are going to be fine . . . and I’m starting to believe him.

Yesterday was really good. And I am glad.

There is only one thing that I know how to do well
And I’ve often been told that you only can do
What you know how to do well
And that’s be you
Be what you’re like
Be like yourself -They Might Be Giants

Last Friday, Trey and I had a little discussion about my love for They Might Be Giants. I thought this affection was common knowledge, but it is apparently not. I have been a [fairly casual] fan of theirs for a while. My cousin introduced me to their stuff back when Flood was a new album. I love Flood. It’s still the only album of theirs I own, but I have borrowed other albums from time to time and enjoyed them. (Mike is not really a fan - he thinks that TMBG sound like they might one day grow up to be the Barenaked Ladies. He would prefer I listened to the “adult” TMBG. hehehe.) Anyway, because of that discussion, I listened to Flood (an album that’s always in my car) on my way to the beach. Since then, I’ve been thinking about the above lyrics quite a lot. I do not think I am very good at being myself. As tough as I have been known to talk, I have a tendency to back down to make other people happy, so they will like me. Mike and I were discussing this yesterday - I have to be pretty secure with my companions for me to hold firm to an opinion that might affect others (ie the time for a meeting or which restaurant I would prefer). This is a pretty common girl thing - be a people pleaser, make others like you, be submissive! I am clearly a very opinionated person, but I do tend to back down if my preferences will “inconvenience” someone. I’m not talking so much here about deeply-held beliefs . . . just that I have been known to inconvenience myself or change my plans instead of telling someone that I just couldn’t meet during that time. It’s as if I am afraid - that I believe - my plans aren’t as important as theirs. I want to learn how to be able to say, “I can’t meet at that time, because my plans are important, too,” or to be free to laugh at things I think are funny instead of first checking what everyone else’s response is. I want to not hide the cover of the trashy novel I’m reading. I want to not worry so much about what I’m wearing and if it meets everyone’s approval. I want to be less self-conscious and more free. I am not sure where I am trying to fit in, but I want to stop. Like everything else I want to change about myself, it’s hard to know where to begin with that, though.

Today has been a wild-and-crazy day at the library. First there were thunderstorms all night, which I mostly slept through, but which still gave everyone a slightly groggy feeling this morning. Those thunderstorms knocked out the library’s internet during the night, though, which was awkward. And on top of that, we are trying out a new system for our public internet stations and it’s been buggy. Luckily, wild-and-crazy at the library is still pretty mild compared to some places. hehe.

These are less disgusting than this week’s earlier PSA, thankfully.

First, my fabulous friend Shelby now has a blog!

Second, as a counter to the previous disgusting candy discussion, I did want to say that the Hershey Kisses with caramel in them? Fantastic. We can’t buy them ever again, because we consume them at insane rates. But the rest of you should enjoy them. [I know I said two more PSAs, but I would also like to say that I really like the new S'mores candy bar. They captured the right texture of really soft chocolate, nice smushy marshmallows, and crunchy graham crackers. Very good. (I am aware of the possibility that I take my candy too seriously.)]

So, two good things! Get a bag of the new Hershey Kisses and read her blog. These kinds of things are best enjoyed together.

Today I went and got my license renewed. I needed to get a new one anyway since we moved, but I was waiting until closer to my birthday because no one was sure if I’d have to do it twice. The whole thing was a bit of an adventure - the DMV moved without telling us. Why would they do that? They should not move without our permission. So first we were a little frustrated, driving around trying to find it. But then, we found the nice shiny new place, and I went straight to the officer with no waiting! I was in and out in less than ten minutes! (We think no one else can find the new place, either, which is why there were no lines.)

So, that was a good experience. Except, my new license picture? I was wearing a black shirt, and for some reason it looks like I have an ENORMOUS body and a teeny tiny head. It’s awful. It’s worse than awful. It did not help matters that Mike kept laughing at me every time I wrote a check for the rest of the afternoon. Not so supportive. He kept asking clerks in the stores if they often saw bad license photos, or making comments to be sure they’d check out my grotesque picture.

My last license picture wasn’t great, either. My eyes were partly closed, so I looked a little sleepy. Or stoned. Or a little tipsy. Mike says this would be a good defense if I really did drive drunk - the officer wouldn’t notice! Now the officer will just be surprised to see that my head is actually proportionate to my body.

When I went to Memphis last summer to meet up with some other .netters, we all did the “compare license and student ID pictures” that people do to break the ice. What I remember is that Trey’s picture was very very large and in my picture, my head looked very small next to his. I can’t imagine how my new pinhead picture will look in comparison.

A few weeks ago I tried some of those new “sugar free” mini Reese’s cups. I thought they tasted fine. Yay for sugar free Reese’s! For the record, the serving size on the bag is five. I had three (they are mini!). I went home, had dinner with some friends, and watched a movie, during which I promptly got very disgustingly sick.

The warning on the label says that the sugar free ingredient can have a laxative effect if consumed in excessive amounts. I had THREE. Serving size: FIVE. Sound excessive? I think not.

Anyway, I swore off them, but Mike wanted to try them. The same thing happened to him after consuming a not-so-excessive amount. Last night I was talking about them with one of my coworkers (his comment? “Those things are better than Ex-Lax!”) and we decided that the effect is reminiscent of those WOW potato chips. It’s wrong. It’s against God’s plan. Don’t eat them. Eat the regular kind instead. Nothing is worth that kind of pain.

Consider yourself warned.

When we were at the beach on Saturday, my friend nudged me and pointed out that a 30-ish guy in the next cluster over was reading Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban. My friend and I both love the Harry Potter books, so a little while later when the guy and his friends moved their chairs back, we asked him how he liked it and chatted about Harry Potter for a few minutes. He said he wasn’t a reader, but he’d read the first two in three days, and was enjoying the third one so far. “Welcome to the club!” we said. He said he’d resisted them for so long, and he couldn’t believe how much fun he’d been missing.

I kind of envy him, getting to read them for the first time. The twists and turns that the books take are a big part of why the series is so enjoyable and popular. That got me thinking - what books do I wish I could approach with a blank slate and read for the first time? Here are a few that came to mind (spoilers included for many of the books discussed!):

-The Lord of the Rings. Every time I re-read LotR, I get more out of it than I did the previous time. And the movies have helped me a lot with understanding the geography of Middle Earth. But . . . I remember when Gandalf died, how shocked and sad I was as I sat in my high school media center, and how thrilling it was when he came back to life. I won’t have that moment again. I loved watching the first movie with Mike, because he couldn’t believe Gandalf’s passing, either, and it was fun to relive that moment with him. And, of course, the way the ring is destroyed at the end is another great moment in literature.

-To Kill a Mockingbird. I recently re-read this and posted my thoughts on it at the Rumor Forum. Part of my “regret” here is that I read it at such a young age that parts of it went over my head. I have enjoyed returning to it over the years to see how I see things differently, but I’ll never have that “wow” moment again where I realize exactly who the man who saved Scout and Jem is.

-Pride and Prejudice. I have already detailed my feelings about this book, so let me just say this. I did have a feeling that Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth Bennet would end up together, but I am really glad that I went into the book with a clean slate about how that would happen, because I consider my shock at the first proposal one of my all-time favorite reading moments, and one that I wish I could experience again.

-Jane Eyre. I don’t love Jane Eyre (or the Bronte sisters), but I do love the way that the story of Mr. Rochester’s mad wife unfolds. In an English class I took my freshman year of college, we read Jane Eyre. I had read it before, but I remember one of the upperclassman guys coming in, shocked about the discovery of the mad wife. I still smile to remember how excited he was. I don’t remember my own feelings upon discovering Mr Rochester’s secret, which leads me to believe that I read it at too young an age. I wish I could read it now without knowing what I know.

-The Scarlet Letter. This is another one that I had read before we read it as a class. We studied The Scarlet Letter in 10th or 11th grade, but I read it sometime in middle school. I remember watching my classmates move from indifference to actual anger as they discovered Reverend Dimmesdale’s secret, and as fun as it was to be “in the know,” I would have liked to have discovered it with them.

Of course, if I hadn’t already read these books, I would have missed thousands upon thousands of allusions to them over the years. And, there are plenty of books I haven’t read that can still surprise me. But . . . sometimes, I wish I could again be surprised by some of my favorites.

What are some books you wish you could read again for the first time?