I'd like to take this opportunity to cry.

I'm sitting at my desk in my office, drinking Diet Coke, snacking on Sixlets (mostly just the orange ones) and Hot Tamales which I began eating at 9:00am, and listening to Jimmy Eat World's "Last Christmas" on repeat. My eyes are puffy from crying for almost 10 straight hours yesterday and I'm so tired.

Last night I had a dream that a gal pal of mine was over at my parent's house visiting with me and my mom who happened to be in just her underwear. We realized we'd left the front door open and a man named Paul Bunyan, who looked eerily similar to Santa Clause, slipped in the front door while his wife who was almost 7 feet tall like her husband waited on the porch. I refused to believe that he was Paul Bunyan and I ran upstairs to call 911 on my cell phone. After a few attempts, because I couldn't remember the number, I finally got through to the dispatcher— Donny Osmand. He told me to believe in this man; if he said he was Paul Bunyan, he probably was. Then he closed the conversation with an inspiring line that I don't remember exactly. It was something like, "Chase your dreams. Which I recognized in my dream as the title of his just-released biography. I hung up on Donny, angry. I marched downstairs to find Paul Bunyan had made friends with my family. I was angry and kicked him out. He then lifted our house off the ground and set it back down on its side to prove to me he was, indeed, Paul Bunyan. I felt horrible for not believing him and ran after him as he was leaving to beg his forgiveness... he immediately transformed into Santa Clause and told me to be a good girl this year.

That's about how my brain is functioning these days. I am a zombie. My whole life is changing. Everything I know and have known for years will be different. I am completely in love with T.M.I.G.T.M. and couldn't ever imagine being with anyone else or trying to live without him. But marriage is hard, and scary. I never wanted to be married until I met T.M.I.G.T.M. Never. This is a huge paradigm shift, and it came rather quickly. My logical brain isn't sure what to do with all this change and these emotions. It's really hard. And I cry a lot, which I never have before. I know how to be single, I'm good at it. I don't know how to be married— trying new things makes me uneasy. My brain is mush and I feel like I can't completely be my normal self until I've settled into this transition. I so badly want normal life. And normal dreams, for that matter.

Here's to the wedding being over and hoping for a speedy mental recovery from all of the change!

The First Real Date

For those of you who have been following my story, I want to apologize for the delay and excite you for the next installment... about my first date with T.M.I.G.T.M. If you have no idea what I'm talking about, you should probably call in sick to work and invest a few good hours in reading the following posts. Then we can talk.

The Meeting

The Friendship (Phase the First)

The Friendship (Phase the Second)

The Evolution

Also, if you're wondering what on earth T.M.I.G.T.M. stands for, I can clear that up as well:

The man I'm going to marry.

I'm avoiding using his name in an effort to preserve some privacy in my life. Not that sharing every intimate detail about my life on this public blog helps my case much. But it's like eating a slice of wheat bread for every five slices of white bread- it at least makes me feel like I'm trying.

And now, to begin today's story, "The First Real Date." May the spirit of Dean Martin's music assist me as I tell my story.

The night T.M.I.G.T.M. came to pick me up for our first date, I was so nervous. I had been all sorts of confused for so long about what I was feeling for him, though I knew I was feeling something. I was so excited to be going on a date, but was trying to remain level-headed in case it was just a friend date. I had been on one too many of those in my single lifetime. He picked me up and we went to dinner at a local hot spot, Mexican restaurant. I was a little apprehensive about chowing down on the chips and salsa like I really wanted to— I was nervous. I never got nervous around T.M.I.G.T.M.!! We had our usual pleasant conversations before and during dinner, but it just seemed so surreal that I was on a date with my friend of all these years. I wasn't sure where to place my thoughts and feelings. Then we went to his place where he said he had a surprise. My mind was racing. I was hoping that he wasn't going to do something over-ambitious like so many other boys had done in the past— something too big that assumes a relationship, when I wasn't sure what I was thinking/feeling. But I was also hoping that it was something telling; something to let me know he had interesting in dating me.

We walked into his back yard as he carried a number of pillows and blankets. My mind was everywhere from, "Geeze, this is awfully bold of him to do something involving pillows and blankets on our first date," to, "I hope whatever this is will give me an opportunity to be close to him and test the waters with flirting." He laid out the blankets and set the pillows down. He was grinning from ear to ear and kept checking his watch. He reassured me that it should be happening any time now. I half expected his roommates to crawl out of the bushes in costumes or something. But, alas, after a few minutes, I heard a loud boom that shook the earth and saw any number of colors bursting in the sky. He turned to me and said, "This is to make up for the fireworks we didn't get to watch together on the 4th of July."( In case you forgot, that was the night he left me to sit with another girl.)

We laid back to enjoy the show. I was careful to lay close to him, but not too close as to seem presumptuous. At one point he offered his shoulder for me to lay on. So I did, but kept my body at about a 45• angle away from his. I was not going to make a fool of myself if we were just friends! The show ended and we stayed out back to talk and check out the beautiful, clear night sky. Somehow we both ended up on our stomachs searching the sky for the little dipper, whose location we couldn't seem to agree on. He would lean in close to point out different constellations to me and I'd find myself wondering, "Is he going to kiss me?" But then he'd pull away and continue to talk... and I'd feel silly for wondering. I had decided after some time outside that it was a wonderful date, but that he was by no means going to kiss me that night. I was silly to think he might. It was, after all, the first official date he has asked me on for which I had consented to join him.

Then just a few moments later, as he pointed out another possible location for the little dipper, he leaned in close to show me, then lifted my chin and kissed me. That's right, we kissed on our first real date. And it was wonderful. But it was four years in the making, so I think it was justified. I couldn't believe that I was kissing my friend. It was strange and wonderful all at the same time. Later, T.M.I.G.T.M. would tell me that he was waiting for me to lean back and smack him, telling him that we were just friends! Now I kind of wish I would have.... :)

And that concludes my version of our first real date... or at least all what I'm going to share with you. Stay tuned for the next installment, "The Courtship (Shorter Than Most, But Long Over Due)."

Until next time, Interweb.

The More You Read, The More You Know... Sometimes.

For some reason, I feel this need to try to go against the grain of what people would expect an "average" girl my age, in my circumstances to do. I don't know why. I don't know what I feel like I've had to prove.

The Harry Potter series hit its climax while I was in college. Though it's not a "girly" series, by any means, every girl I knew was knee deep in Potter hysteria. I refused to read it— until I taught elementary school. It was a survival skill I needed to remain hip with the kiddos. And I liked the series okay, especially the third book. But I won't admit that to many people.

Then there was the whole college scene of dating and every girl acting like she wanted only to meet boys, date, and find a boyfriend. I made sure I acted like I didn't care whether or not I dated, didn't care much about the boys I dated, and didn't hurt much when things ended badly— though I always felt more than I let on.

And so this instinct of mine, to defy what people would expect of me (though I don't always want to), has stuck with me over the years. And every once in a while, there is a trend that I'm truly, honestly, okay not following. One of which would be the Twilight craze. I love to read, almost as much as I love to eat Muddy Buddies, snuggle with my nieces and nephews, or write about my droning life events on here. But I simply cannot bring myself to read that series. After growing up on books like "Babysitter's Club," and "Sweet Valley High," I made a vow to myself to only read real, enriching literature after I was finally introduced to it in my high school years.

On my quest to become well-read with the classics, I was encouraged to read Orwell's "1984" by a number of people. I was told it would give me a lot to think about and that it was almost unheard of to not have read it, if I were to claim to be a fan of the classics. So, while in a book shop in Sienna this summer, I picked it up for the long, lonely journey home. (Which didn't end up being so lonely, thanks to a drunken Patrick Swayze look-alike in denim shorts and Dr. Martens boots. That's a story for another day.) Anyhow, I eventually read the book and eventually regretted it. It was a regurgitation of the many books written after it's kind. I should have re-read "Anthem" to get the same "Down with Big Brother" ideals in a much shorter page count, and with many fewer sexual references.

Since completing that book, I haven't had much time for reading... until this last week since I've been sick. I needed a light read. Something full of hope and big words on the page (I had a head ache). I picked up a book I'd purchased from the notorious book orders when I was a teacher and decided to give it a whirl. I knew the author's other books were about princesses and girls coming of age, but I needed something to read, and decided to tell no one I was reading this girly book. But I read it, in under a 12 hour period. Don't be too impressed, the print is quite large. It was written by a local author, Shannon Hale. And it was a well-written book loosely based on a Grimms fairy tale. It was absolutely wonderful. So much so that I publicly recommend it to you:

Book of a Thousand Days

And now, before I can bring myself to return to the world of Hawthorne, Orwell, Melville, and Thoreau, I return to my beloved copy of "Emma." Because it's okay to enjoy a girly book now and then... especially if it's written by an author acclaimed for her talents in capturing human emotions, the anguish of the clash of classes, and the essence of life in her time... and not some silly romance novel based on tension between demonic icons and frivolous girls with no backbones. (I know this, for I saw the first movie... as a favor to my best friend. For which she will be forever indebted to me).

Read on, Interweb. Read on.

May you find yourself engrossed in good literature. The kind that expands your mind, teaches you new things, and makes you a little more interesting. Because, hey, who wouldn't want to be a little more interesting?

I Have This Effect on People...

And just when you think you've figured it out....

Which reminds of a similar incident in the past...

My New Favorite Song...

My day just got a whole lot better

What a crappy morning and day so far. I feel like my head is going to spin off and I have to much to do before the wedding and not enough time to do it.

BUT

Thank you Cadbury for making Christmas candies.

Thank you retail chains for stocking Christmas candies at a ridiculously early time.

Thank you Albertsons for keeping your shelves fully stocked... and for answering you phone and confirming that the shelves were stocked before I made my journey.

Thank you car for getting me to the store in a safe and timely manner.

Thank you taste buds for working so well and recognizing delicious and creamy things.

Thank you metabolism for burning through this entire bag of eggs quickly. (This won't actually happen... but a girl can dream....)