Life's a Peach

Not So Breaking News Flash

2011-10-13T16:53:00.011-05:00

September 2011, I received some news. Two lines on an early pregnancy test I took at 5 a.m. (That equals PREGNANT, for those wondering.)

We had been trying since April. During that time, I had dreamed of the elaborate, sentimental, meaningful way I might reveal a positive pregnancy to Tanner. Some kind of greeting card to Dad. A father and child figurine or bronze. A fortune inserted in a fortune cookie. An interpretive dance to "The Circle of Life" from the Lion King.

But when those two pink lines materialized, that all went out the window. Boom! Bathroom door flew open. Light flooded our bed and pierced Tanner's previously peacefully slumbering eyeballs.

"Tanner! I'm pregnant."

Not the romantic scene I had envisioned, but, still, memorable. Anyways, a lot has happened since then. I'm 15 wks, or 4 months, pregnant. A lot of the expectations I had for my pregnancy -- just like expectations for life in general and for this blog, for example -- went out the window when an insane work schedule and overwhelming morning sickness simultaneously took over my life. The journaling, pregnancy-book reading, prenatal yoga-ing and all the other plans I had imagined for my ultimate, total, PERFECT (that's reasonable) pregnancy experience sort of melted into a puddle of... well, you can imagine.

Now, things have started to slow down at work, and as I've entered my second trimester (weeks 15-27 or months 4-6), I've found myself with some extra time and energy to do so many of the things I had hoped I would do during my first pregnancy.

Exercise. A four-mile walk seems like the ideal first pregnancy workout after weeks of vomitting and laying immobile on the couch/bed/floor/back of my truck, right? I had a great walk with the dogs, but was amazed at how out of shape I felt! It's amazing that just months earlier I could run three times that distance without stopping! This time, I had to pack a backpack of snacks and water and stop at every since bench on the trail to rest. I felt embarrassingly sore the next day. OK, I'm still sore four days later.

Journal. Over Christmas, my mom brought the baby book and keepsake box she kept during her pregnancy with me. I remember loving to go through these things when I was little – flipping through pages of Mom's belly photos, news paper clippings (Splash was the top movie the day I was born!) and notes and pulling out the envelopes with my first tooth and lock of hair. I still love reading all she wrote in her beautiful cursive handwriting. It reminded me that, not only am I a writer and crave writing about my memories, feelings, thoughts, and experiences, but also what a treasure it will be for our child to someday read these things. I also received a pregnancy journal from out neighbor that helped jump start my own writing. I'm not going to waste any time feeling guilty about all the weeks of writing I missed out on. Instead, it's full steam ahead from here. Bring on the belly photos and documentation of every burp, baby movement and emotional meltdown!

Reading. An extended vacation between Christmas and New Years gave me some treasured time to catch up on my pregnancy-related reading – much if it I did camped out by our neighbor's pond with the dogs exploring nearby. (As the distant, non-stop whine of Tanner's tin cutter lulled the neighborhood into a dream sleep/roaring headache.)

Despite being slow to the trigger on lots of my preggo plans, there was ONE dream I held true to. A few days after I found out I was pregnant, I wrote a letter to Baby Haynes. I happened to write it on here and save it. And this is that letter:

Dear Baby,

I am so thankful to be writing to you right now. I want to say that I can't believe it. But I do believe. I believe God is greater than I can imagine. I believe He blesses me beyond measure. I believe He never forsakes me. And I believe He heard my prayers, my prayers for you! Baby, I have been praying for you for months. Before you were born, before you were even conceived, I loved you with all my heart. And I can tell you right now, before I've even met you, before you've taken shape, I will love you forever. There is nothing you can do to stop me from loving you.

Right now, you're only the size of a poppy seed. This will be hard to imagine once you are here and in our arms. Even now, as you're just a tiny ball of cells, God has numbered your days. He has a plan and a purpose for you. For that reason, I can carry you and embark on this pregnancy without fear or worry. My God has this all under control. He will work all things to bring glory to Himself and to be for my good, because He loves me. I pray that you will receive Him in all His grace and love, and seek His will for your life. I will always pray this for you.

Your Dad and I have been trying to get pregnant since about April. At that time, God helped us to realize some important truths in a deeper way. First, not one day is promised, and second, while we're here on earth, life is all about relationships, and some of the most treasured are with our family. We realized that we had enjoyed a year and a half of marriage together, a season for ourselves to spend time together loving life as husband and wife, but we were ready to live for more than just ourselves. We were ready and eager to start a family, to experience that blessing and enjoy that one-of-a-kind relationship. We were ready to pour our lives and our love into a child. We had no more fear of, "What will life be like? Can we handle the change? Will we be able to do the things we used to enjoy with a child in tow? Are we ready?" Instead, our hearts and minds changed and we were ready for you! And now you're on your way. I love you so much already.

For several months, we tried to conceive. At first, this was a very enjoyable process, especially for Dad. (Someday you will be old enough to think this is TMI and superly, seriously gross.) Five months passed, and we did not conceive, but people all around me were getting pregnant like rabbits. I started to to feel frustrated. God reached out to me through prayer time on my long runs (I was training for a half-marathon). I realized that God's will was my true desire. Looking at other people and longing to experience what they were experiencing was NOT my calling. That was God's will for their life, not mine. I realized that I craved His plan for my own life. I would never be fulfilled seeking a plan other than God's. Although I still had moments of struggle, He gave me a great peace, a peace like I have never experienced before. And then, after I turned over my plans to Him and trusted Him, He gave me you!

My mom and dad came up to visit last weekend to help us work on the house and to (belatedly) celebrate our 2-year wedding anniversary. I took an early pregnancy test before they got here, and it was negative. We had a great weekend walking the dogs (your "brothers," Happy and Digger), running errands around town, going out to lunch at Yesterday's in Weatherford and dinner at Eddie V's in downtown Fort Worth, going to church and getting supplies and getting started on the wood planks for the ceiling. I talked with Mom about how I was not able to get pregnant yet, and she told me that she and Dianne had been praying for me. Mom and Dad left on Monday morning, and Wednesday morning, on a whim, I took another test. It was positive! I was so used to seeing that one line, that when I saw the second one developing, I started shaking. I burst from the bathroom, throwing an unwelcome beam of light on your Dad's face, and told him, "Tanner, I'm pregnant!" He said simply (and groggily), "Are you really?" And it went from there. All the way on the way to work, I thanked God for you. My prayers were answered.

I told a couple best friends, also mothers, who are already lifting you up and helping me by giving my pregnancy information. I'm not supposed to eat lunch meat?? Weird. Next, we will tell your Grandma and Grandpa Haynes and Sullivan and Mindy and Tye and Kathleen. I know you will be a blessing to our whole family. Your very existence will bring so much joy. Baby, you are already surrounded by such love.

For now, we are going to keep working away on our fixer-upper home. Getting it ready for your arrival in June of next year! We have a lot to do. New floors, new ceiling, new bathroom, kitchen, everything! But the thing that truly makes a house a home is already there -- love. For now, I'm feeling different. I don't know if it's the power of suggestion, or what, but I feel VERY tired. The baby website Jenna told me to check out says you are the size of a poppy seed, well I feel like Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz after she ran through the field of poppies. (Kathleen will make sure you know this reference very well).

Just remember, Baby, the depth of love your Dad and I have for you, as strong as it is, it pales in comparison to the love of God. We can love you only because He first loved us. And He loves you, His precious creation, so much!

Love,

Your Mom!

Say What?

2011-09-09T22:40:00.006-05:00

This blog has not quite been what I've imagined it would be. I thought I would keep my family and friends posted on our wildly exciting and entertaining lives as newlyweds (and possibly entertain hapless strangers who stumble upon this website) at least on a weekly basis, maybe even more frequently. I also thought it would serve as a digital diary for us and our future clan of 2-8 children (that is either two-point-eight or two-to-eight, depending on who you ask).

Instead, it's been a proverbial catch-all bib (you know, the rubber ones with the little pocket scoop on the bottom) for my random life-update, recipe-detailing, run-documenting, story-telling and opinion-sharing vomit. The word-spewage has been much like a stomach bug -- unpredictable, My posts have ranged in frequency from once every four months to several within a few days' time. The blog is far less painful and unpleasant than a stomach bug, although it has felt like an unwelcome burden at times. It is, albeit, a burden I signed up for. But it's kind of like that yellow curry that at the time sounded like it would be great followed by chocolate ice cream and and wine and the Boy Scout brand cheesey popcorn... not so much.

Really, I like blogging, but I'm infrequent. There have been lots of adventures over the past two years I'd have liked to chronicle, old stories I'd like to tell, delicious recipes, home improvement projects and running progress I'd like to share and deep thoughts I'd like to bestow. I have lots of great ideas, but I simply lack time. Blogging goes to the bottom of the to-do list after a full day of writing for my magazine at work.

I vacillate between backtracking and logging all the vacations, dates, milestones and STUFF (possibly in private posts, to spare you the horror) or just starting fresh and doing better from this point on. But I've recently reached a LONG OVERDUE epiphany that needs to be sorted out before I can commit to anything, or even move off of this couch, really. Good thing I poured a very full glass of wine

My epiphany is: I cannot be a full-time journalist, ride horses, train for a marathon, keep an organic vegetable garden, maintain a blog, landscape our house, make a quilt, cook new recipes, do yoga, clean house like a German maniac, train a gun dog and remodel our house all a the same time. I canNOT do it all, and I feel like the little girl who's meanie-butt parents are forcing her to choose EITHER ballet or horseback riding, but NOT both. How rude!

As I ponder my life's course through a minefield of hobbies, I leave you with some profound images.

Yes, that is a fever blister that looks like a soul patch.

About to get creamed in dodge ball.

My Periodic Table of Elements shirt, signed by Bill Nye the Science Guy.
Radioactive elements glow in the dark. Duh.

Eldorado: The Place to Be!

2011-08-17T13:52:00.000-05:00

I would like to tell you more about the West Texas town of Eldorado, where Tanner was born and raised.

Let’s start with the facts. Eldorado is the county seat of Schleicher County. Eldorado is the only town in Schleicher County. Eldorado is the best town in Schleicher County! Boo-ya!

The town sits at the top of the Edwards plateau (Welcome to Eldorado: Top of the Divide Elevation 2,439!), and it’s surrounded by plenty of beautiful West Texas landscape -- and deer, lots of 'em. The proof is in the bar ditch, on the side of the road, in the middle of the road and on grill guards, in bits and pieces. The proof is also in the hunters who flock there during deer season.

About 1,800 people live in Eldorado. For comparison, my high school in Katy, Texas, has about 1,100 students in each graduating class. But size is not everything. It’s about personality! Or maybe I should say it's about THE personalities. A large part of what makes Eldorado great are the people.

Tanner (left) with Matt, Ross and Andrew

Most of Tanner's childhood friends are still his closest and most loyal friends today. Built on a foundation of shared experiences, faith, heart-to-hearts and plenty of mudding, hunting, bbq-ing, road trips and farting competitions, those friendships that have survived going off to different colleges, getting married, having babies and settling down in various big cities and small towns are priceless. Relationships like those are one of life's greatest treasures, and for Tanner, those treasures began and grew in his home town.

Eldorado Eagles - Class of 2002!

Eldorado was small and safe, so boys could be wild, adventurous and out on their own without parents worrying. It was remote and and surrounded by rugged, beautiful country, so it was the perfect place for hunting, off-road excursions, swimming-hole trips, and camping. It was tight-knit, a real community, so that your friends' parents simply became your second parents, letting you sleepover and raid their pantry, carting you around and cheering you on at games (or complimenting the "interesting" things you made in welding class, in Tanner's and Jason's cases).

Scott (left), Andrew and Tanner head off on a road trip

Growing up in Eldorado was like growing up surrounded by your extended family. It's an extended family that celebrates with you or takes care of you when your struggling. It's a family that follows you even when you leave Eldorado. It's a family welcomes your wives, husbands and children with open arms.

One big family

I love Eldorado because it had a huge part in making Tanner who he is, and I love who he is! Outdoorsy, country, adventurous, fearless, mechanical, tough, fiercely loyal, loving, hard working and with a great sense of humor and passion for life!

I love Eldorado because Tanner's friends became such an important part of my life. My best friend, Summer, introduced me to Tanner after she began dating Andrew, one of Tanner's best Eldo buds. Summer and Andrew got married two years before us, are expecting a baby, and despite the fact that they live in Colorado and we don't see them as often as we'd like, Tanner and I could probably say there are few people on earth we feel closer to. Andrew's mom, Liz, also helped me plan my wedding, and his dad, Andy, married me and Tanner.

Tanner and I with Andrew and Summer

And that's just the tip of the iceberg. It doesn't end there or anywhere near it! Tanner lived with Andrew, Jason, Thomas and Scott all through college. The stories of Jason and Tanner together as little boys are hilarious, and those two are so alike, it's scary. Jason and Tanner have inhaled welding fumes side-by-side for years, and now they work side-by-side in the oilfield at the same company! Jason and his wife, Susannah, are two of our go-to people in Weatherford for everything from a fun night out to "Can you please feed the horses?" And we know we even could on Jason's parent's, who live close by, for a favor anytime if needed to.

Then

And now

Although Thomas passed away in 2005, I feel like he is with us both everyday. I can't imagine my life without his family, the Ballew family, in it, and I love popping over to see Ray and Debbie -- and which ever kiddo happens to be in town -- most every time we go to Eldo.

Andrea, Tanner and Thomas in college

With Debbie and Ray at my bridal shower, hosted by the First Presbyterian Church

I could go on an on. From Wesley and Matt meeting us out at the River House whenever we're in New Braunfels to catching up with Jeff and his beautiful new wife, Lori, at Summer's baby shower in Katy to random visits from Tana or facebook-ing with Hallie, the people of this lil' West Texas town have become such a part of my heart.

But that's all from my perspective. And this is supposed to be a newlywed blog. Contrary to how it may appear at times, I am in fact not married to myself. Ha! I have heard COUNTLESS Eldo memories, recollections, tall tales and highly entertaining stories from Tanner over the six years we have been together. On a recent road trip to none other than Eldorado, I got Tanner started on the subject of home sweet home, then pulled out my laptop and transcribed as he talked. I've done it a few time since then, and I'm putting together a nice compilation of Eldorado stories and childhood memories that I plan to share on my our blog.

Be prepared! And keep an eye out for Ye Old Eldorado Stories, because they're good... and the pictures, they're even better!

Wild Night

2011-08-12T15:33:00.005-05:00

It all began innocently enough. I was taking a casserole and some other things over to a friend's house. The casserole was Mexican Lasagna 2.0. Mexican Lasagna 1.0, an aberration in my carefully balanced ecosystem of procrastination, was sitting happily in the refrigerator back in Eldorado, which I only realized once I was on the road and about two hours outside of Eldorado.

"No problem!" my laid-back, level-headed, don't-sweat-the-small-stuff, keeping-it-all-in-perspective self cheerfully thought -– right after I broke into dramatic, heaving sobs and called Tanner on his cell phone to break the awful news of my terrible predicament.

Anyway, who cares how I got there. The important part is I eventually arrived at, "No problem!" and continued my trip home. I would simply make another casserole that evening and deliver it promptly at 8:30 p.m. as planned.

The rest of the drive home was uneventful, except for the unwelcome onslaught of PPP -- premature pee problem. Why is it that the body decides it reeeeeally need to go to the bathroom about 30 minutes from your destination? You're sooo close. Close enough so that going to the bathroom seems like an epic pain in the butt, a pesky pimple rearing its ugly head 30 minutes before it's time to leave for prom. But you're also far enough away from home to where there is a legitimate threat of going in your pants. To further complicate matters, I have such a guilty conscious that I can't use a convenience store restroom without purchasing something, and at 30 minutes from my stocked, albeit mouse-infested (a story for another day), pantry at home, buying anything seems like a waste of money.

Aaaanyway, lest I digress, I made it to my office in the late afternoon without wetting myself, rushed to the grocery store after work, skiddadled home, made the casserole, and headed out to deliver. After forcing my friend to stay on the phone for ten minutes and give me inch-by-inch directions, I arrived with my goods. I filled my arms and headed into the house, expecting to drop everything off, chat for a bit and then hit the road. After all, I had to get back home and pack for my work trip to Oklahoma the next morning. Well, we got into some great conversation, time flew, and it was after 10 p.m. before I made it back to the truck. I grabbed my phone from the console and saw a text message from Tanner, who was back in Eldorado and asking about medication for the dogs.

"Oh, I'll just give him a ring!" I thought. "I miss him; I want to hear his voice; and my clumsy nubs can't tpye on my iPhone, aywnay."

Ring. Ring. The call connects.

Tanner: "WHERE THE HECK HAVE YOU BEEN? WHAT HAVE YOU BEEN DOING? WHERE ARE YOU? WHAT'S GOING ON? WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN? WHAT!!!!???"

Erin: "Uhhhhh. Hello?"

Turns out, while I was in lala land without my cellphone, an armed burglary occurred across the pasture from our house. Helicopters with search lights were swooping and criss-crossing over our little country road and the pastures around our house and our neighbors' houses. Our neighbors and close friends, Molly and Rob, had called Tanner. Rob's dad, Glen, is our town's constable. He lives next to Molly and Rob and two places down from us. They had heard on the scanner that the suspect was armed, dangerous and on the run. They knew I was home alone, but saw that my truck was gone and all the lights were out.

Long story short, an epic phone chain ensued. Molly called me several times. No luck. Then Molly called Tanner, who called me 2 million times and couldn't get a hold of me. Tanner called a guy to get the number of the friend I was visiting. That guy didn't have the number, but he had the number of a girl who did. Tanner called that girl. She gave him the number and then she also tried to call me a few times. Tanner called the friend I was visiting, but my friend didn't recognize the number. I saw him pick at his ringing phone several times with a puzzled look, then put it down. Tanner left him a couple frantic voicemails, then waited it out.

After two hours of this, I had 4 million missed calls, 3.5 million text messages and a very worried husband. Oops. Well the suspect was still on the run by the time I finally returned to earth, so I decided to go stay with Molly and Rob, who offered me a room for the night. But of course, I needed my toiletries from my house. I had to get up bright and early and catch a ride with Molly to Fort Worth in order to pick up my company truck. No time to dilly dally the next morning. But of course I left my back door unlocked and all my lights off when I went on my errand. Which meant, of course, the constable and his deputy had to search the house before Molly and I went over, just in case the robber had holed up there. Of course, I had left the kitchen dirty and the BRAVO channel on TV and was irrationally paranoid that something horrific like the Real Housewives of Orange County would be blaring at full volume. (For the record, that is NOT what I was watching when I left the house.)

The house, hay shed and Tanner's shop all got a legit search with flashlights and guns drawn as Molly and I waited in the truck. When I heard the deputy report over the scanner that they were searching the house of "lady on such and such Lane who left her door unlocked," I felt an odd mixture of embarrassment for taking up the police's time, gratitude for having the constable as a friend and neighbor, amazement that I was in a police SUV and relief that he didn't mention anything about the dirty pans on the stove, trashy TV blaring in the living room and mice infestation in the pantry.

Despite the hectic chain of events, I got my belongings from my house, and everything ended peacefully around midnight with me settling down to sleep in the borrowed bedroom of Molly's and Rob's 5-year-old son. As I dozed off in a shrine to Thomas the Train, I found myself thinking how nice it was to realize how much Tanner cares about me. Next time, though, I'll orchestrate an easier situation through which he can show his affection.

Sweet Stace

2011-05-12T13:30:00.009-05:00

I am so blessed to have not only a great mother who birthed me and raised me and filled me up with so much love it spewed out my ears, but also a wonderful mother-in-law who did all those things for my husband and welcomed me into her family like one of her own.

Me and Stacy at my bridal shower

On Mother's Day weekend, Tanner and I went to Eldorado to spend Mother’s Day with Tanner’s mom, Stacy, as well as his dad, Mike, sister, Mindy, and her husband, Tye. Let me tell you something about Eldorado: There is not much to do there. Let me tell you why that is awesome. We end up doing things like piling in bed with Stacy and just talking. We paint each other’s nails, talk about decorating and fashion and do hair (girls only!). We clean gutters, rebuild porch swings and trim trees together (boys only!). We make an event out of going to church. We sit on the porch and chat and pet the cat.

That is, until Tanner gets the cat so riled up that it’s attacking everyone. Nothing makes me laugh and fill with fear at the same time like that crazy look cats get – when they flatten their ears to the side and bug their eyes – right before they jump and wrap their front legs around your tender foot and bite the heck out of your big toe.

Now let me tell you something about Stacy. She’s one heck of a woman. Tanner and his Eldorado crew lovingly dubbed her “Sweet Stace” back in the day. She’s tender and nurturing. She smiles, all the time. She takes time to compliment everyone. She writes thoughtful notes. She sends gift cards and pocket money for no special occasion, just because. She calls for no special reason, just to catch up. She asks thoughtful questions. She listens. She cares – about everyone. She never speaks a bad word about anyone.

Tanner and Stacy at our wedding

She’s also one tough cookie. She brought two children into this world – with no medication! – and is there for them every moment of every day. She faithfully supported and carried her family through trials and struggles without complaint. She made a small house, in the early years, a home, and guided four people to peacefully coexist while all sharing one bathroom. A-ma-zing. She works full time, then in her spare time, she helps with the bible study at the church, volunteers with Lions Club and helps several people manage their rental properties, businesses and finances. Despite this busy schedule, every person she runs across feels like they have her undivided attention.

Stacys also got faith, and God gave her an extra helping. No matter the circumstance, she does not worry or doubt. She is a rock, but a tender one. During the passing of family members, Stacy is the one who comforts everyone. When someone is sick, Stacy cares for them, and she takes care of the things no one else can. She prays for her family, reads her Bible and lives out her faith in ways great and small. She will be the first one to tell you she’s not perfect. No one is; we all know that. But she’s about as close as it gets!

Every day for Stacy should be Mother’s Day. Unfortunately, we don’t always take the time to tell her how much we love her, so that weekend was a great opportunity to do just that! And we loved every minute of it.

Tanner and Mindy with Stacy on Mother's Day 2011!

This last weekend, Tanner and I had another chance to celebrate another woman who’s conquered the world and more, my mom! We visited my parents, enjoyed the River Haus and had another Mother’s Day! More to come...

Runner's Knee

2011-04-15T14:05:00.005-05:00

Last Sunday, Tanner dropped my off at the trail head in Weatherford. I was nervous. First of all, because I had decided to wear only a sports bra -- no tank top or T-shirt -- and was worried about my ~~hate~~ love handles bouncin' around and acting a fool. And they did. I watched them as my shadow ran in front of me.

The second reason I was nervous was because I had eaten chicken wings and drank a beer the night before with Andrew and Jenna at Buffalo Wild Wings. My stomach does not like chicken wings and beer. My love handles, however, they need them to survive.

The third reason was because after Tanner dropped me off, I was committed to the task before me: running 10.6 miles of wooded trail from Weatherford to Garner. Get a chicken-wing-induced, three alarm stomach flip flop? Too bad. Get attacked by a wild turkey? So sad. Break both your legs, fracture your arms, get a nosebleed and pop your eyeballs out? Oh well. No cell phone. Deal with it. Finish strong!

Well, I did finish. The first four miles of the trail were fairly busy, much to my chagrin. My overly excited love handles, just happy to be out and about, were wigglin' and jigglin' and waving "Hi, y'all!" to everyone they passed. After Mile 4, the crowd started to thin out.

I had my earphones in and my audiobook playing. It was a beautiful, sunny day. (I have the sports bra tan to prove it!) Reaching Mile 5 was a little bit of a bonk moment, only because it hit me that I was less than half way to my destination. But I knew in reality I could make it at least 8 miles, so I got over it.

At about mile 8, I was lectured by a cute, old cyclist man that Tanner and I have seen frequently on the trail about how I should have brought water with me. He pretty much insisted/forced me to drink some of his water, which ended up really being a nice treat for me because I was super thirsty. He then raced off to Garner and gave Tanner, who was waiting for me at the trail head there, the same lecture.

By Mile 10 my knees were killing me, but I still felt cardiovascularly great. When I saw Tanner waiting for me at the trail head in Garner, I even found a reserve to sprint gloriously to finish. When I was done showing off, I sat down and couldn't get up. Just kidding. Sort of.

I felt great, but I haven't run since then. The pain in my left knee lingered through out the week, and after some research, I'm almost 100 percent positive that I've developed runner's knee. No, this is not a cool, sexy, svelt knee that only the elite running crowd develop. Grossly oversimplified, it's chronic pain resulting from the knee cap not tracking correctly in its groove. There are lots of potential causes listed online that could weaken support around the knee cap or cause it to travel an irregular path, and they read like a checklist of all the reasons I should not be a runner: over-pronation (my feet roll in because they have no arch), wide hips (thanks, German heritage), and poor conformation of the groove the knee cap moves in (should look like a "V", mine looks like an "L" and my kneecap has dislocated three times).

So I took this week off, and hit the trail again this evening for a 6-miler. The knee started out creeky, but didn't give me too much trouble. I'm looking into options to manage/prevent the pain as I go back up in my mileage. Because I'd like run far. Far, far away. From my love handles.

Around the Dinner Table

2011-04-12T09:30:00.005-05:00

I am a perfectionist, a neat freak, and control freak.

I know, I know. You're thinking, "Maaaaann, I wish I'd married her. Sounds like a charming, pleasant, laid back kind of gal."

Too bad. You missed your chance.

The upside is I get all our bills paid on time, my editor doesn't have to correct much when I turn in my stories, and you could eat dinner off our kitchen floor.

The downsides, oh, they are like numbering the stars. Or like numbering the June bugs Happy has eaten in the last two day: a lot.

What?

Just one of the downsides is I haven't wanted to have people over to our house until it's finished, just so, perfect. Like, after I scrape all the popcorn off the ceiling, repaint, tear up the 1980's carpet and lay down wood floors, replace the rotting trim, install crown molding, pull up all the weeds outside, hang stuff on the walls and replace all the generic pictures that came in the frames with pictures of our own, fabulous selves.

A week or so ago, our friends Andrew and Jenna invited us over to their house for dinner. It was so sweet, so thoughtful and so old-fashioned hospitable of them! We had such a great time. Jenna made tacos and smores bars, we sat around and chatted and looked at the adorable wardrobe accumulating for soon-to-be-born Baby Borne, and the boys went outside and made fires.

I left thinking, "We have to do this again!" You know, at their cute house. The one with decorations and pictures of people who actually live there in the frames. How many times could we eat there before they would start to wonder if we lived in a van or had 18 cats or really were the couple they thought they recognized on Hoarders.

Then I got to thinking. What we loved about that night with the Bornes was the fellowship, the sharing stories, the laughter, working together, whether in the kitchen or out in the shop. Jenna's home is precious, and she should be proud of it. The comfy surroundings added to the joy of the night, but it wasn't what made it. What truly made it was just being able to be loved on by our friends and enjoy time together. It was the act of Jenna and Andrew welcoming us into their home that warmed our hearts, the fact that the home was adorned so nicely and kept so well by Jenna was just a bonus. Besides, there are probably imperfections Jenna sees in her home that her guests would never notice. (Or, it just makes me feel better to think that.)

So I decided funky carpet, popcorn, junk room and all, I wanted to welcome the Bornes to our home and hopefully give them the same joy they gave us. So, last night, they joined us at the Haynes house for dinner.

Don't get me wrong, I went into manic mode and cleaned the house from top to bottom the day before they came. Tanner caught a dose of my crazy too. But it was nice to know I was cleaning it not so I could get a gold star on my OCD chart, but to make it welcoming for our friends. Life is to be shared after all! Faults and all, we're proud of our home. I'm proud of how hard Tanner has worked and how fiscally wise he's been so that we could afford this home. Mostly, I'm grateful for God blessing us with this house and such wonderful friends to welcome to it.

We made cheesy tortellini casserole (Tanner's favorite), Jenna brought a delicious spinach salad, and the boys grilled up some monster steaks. Butterscotch cookies warm out of the oven were enjoyed with fresh roasted coffee - Jenna roasted the raw beans that day! Us girls chatted around the dining room table and the boys played outside with Andrew's potato gun. From what I could tell, everyone was comfortable and happy, and no one noticed the creaky floorboard where we hide our collection of embalmed medical specimens.

JUST KIDDING!

Sweet Dreams and Beauty Cream

2011-03-28T16:29:00.005-05:00

Recently, Tanner has made several comments about my nighttime routine. They go something like this: “What the HECK are you DOING in there?”

The first few times, I answered him literally.
“Well, I’m currently staring at myself in the mirror and sucking in and flexing my “abs” and rearranging my belly and hip pudge so I can get an idea of what I could potentially look like if I stopped eating a pecan praline, four Girl Scout cookies and one square of dark chocolate a day.”

Then I realized he was trying to make a point. I hate it when they do that.

The point being, what could anyone possibly be doing in the bathroom that would take 15-plus minutes?

Eek. Don’t answer that.

What non-toilet-related things could anyone possibly do doing every night that would take that long?

So I got to wondering if my nighttime routine is excessive, or if it is only excessive compared to Tanner’s:

-Take off clothes. (optional)
-Put on shorts. (no comment)
-Turn off lights and pull back sheets. (optional)
-Collapse on bed. (mandatory)

Mine goes something like this:

-Brush teeth (BORING, and does anyone else have such trouble keeping the toothpaste foam from coming out all over their lips?)
-Wash face
-Cringe while removing a cotton pad from the bag – egads! I hate cotton balls and cotton pads and Q-tips – then apply toner
-Apply wrinkle cream to forehead, neck and chest
-Apply eye cream
-Stare into the endless, black abyss of my pores
-Do the blubber rearranging thing

If I remember:
-Put cellulite cream onto unnamed areas. And no, I do not do this while eating a praline.
I wait until I’m done.
-Floss (BORING)
-Use mouthwash (BURNS and BORING)
-Take vitamins and probiotics

-Put on PJs
-Check every door in house 3 times to make sure it’s really locked and click the remote lock on truck keys until the truck horn can be heard CLEARLY three times
-Put the dogs to bed and give Happy pills if he needs them. Lay on Happy’s bed with him and speak unspeakable, sappy, ridiculous, humiliatingly corny baby talk to him.
-Get in bed.
-Put lotion on legs.
-Put lotion on feet.
-Put on chapstick.
-Put in mouth guard and, if the fan is on, my satin eye cover, beauty sleep thing (because I swear I sleep with my eyes half open and the fan dries them out).
-Snuggle into bed.
-Realize I have to go to the bathroom.

That pretty much sums it up.

You?

P.S. Sweet Dreams and Butt Cream was my original post title.

Run, baby, run

2011-03-21T08:51:00.002-05:00

When I was young, I called all athletic shoes "tenni-shoes," as in tennis shoes. Then, when I was about 12, I moved to Canada, donned a toque, ate ketchup chips, subsequently becoming brainwashed and started calling athletic shoes "runners" because that's what all my friends were saying.

I also called my dear ol' mama, "mum." It was a dark time.

Now, I call them tenni-shoes or "sneakers," for some bizarre reason. I don't know where I picked that up.

A couple of weeks ago, I got a new pair of watchamacalits at Fort Worth Running Co. They put me on a treadmill, video recorded my gait, and played it back for me as they explained why kind of running shoe I needed. I have no arches and over-pronate, so I needed support. My new Brooks have seen a lot of miles in the last couple of weeks, more than my old tenni-runner-sneaks saw in a whole month.

For the last couple of weeks, I've consistently been running six miles on the Mineral Wells Trailway in Weatherford. My great aunt Alene always tells me she was, is and always will be a two-drink gal. Well, I was a four-mile gal for a long time. Then, something inspired me, or my brain shorted, and I upped to six miles.

I love running, and it's the only athletic endeavor I've ever been even remotely talented at. I'm not fast, at all, and I don't have anything near perfect form. But I have endurance and guts and a sickening addiction to finish no matter what. It's one of the things in life I always see to the end, no matter how ugly that end may be.

I remember when, as a 8th grader, I was running in the 800 meter race (two times around the track) at the city track meet in Edmonton, Alberta. The gun sounded and we were off. The rest of the field was pacing pacing themselves, but since speed have never been my strong suit, I knew I'd never had a chance if I waiting to battle it out in a sprint to the finish. So, I took a chance and pushed out ahead of the pack. At that age, I was usually painfully aware whenever eyes were on me and not too fond of it for a host of reasons including but not limited to acne, sweaty armpits, a bad Jennifer Aniston turned Hanson brothers haircut and overarching, all-encompassing insecurity and self-loathing. But in that moment, it didn't matter. My pounding of my feet on the track, my legs swinging powerfully, the air pushing in and out of my lungs, I felt confident and alone, in a good way. Everything else was a muted blur.

Everyone caught up to me toward the finish. I remember pushing my body so hard and realizing that no matter how much you try, sometimes, there's just nothing left. My dad had once told me that if you pump your arms faster, your legs will follow suit. So, on the home video, you can see me in my Vernon Barford Blues track uniform with my face red as a cherry, my long arms pumping furiously like pistons in an engine, and my gangly legs struggling in a disproportionally slower lope, like a gazelle in slow motion. I was all limbs, then. Still am. I'm the torso-less wonder. Still, I finished third and earned a spot on that podium.

I'm still not fast. I'm an undisclosed amount of pounds heavier. I've dislocated my knee twice. I've broken my sacrum (the back of my pelvis). But I've still got guts, carnsarnit!

This Saturday, I was headed down the trail on the back half of my six miles when a runner came from behind. He was slowly gaining on me. It didn't help that I had to stop periodically to tell Happy it was OK to slide under a fence and get a drink from a creek/pond/puddle/stagnant swamp. I can't really tell if Happy enjoys running with me. After the first couple miles during which he frantically and desperately chases squirrels, rabbits and apparitions of grandeur, he spends the rest of the time frantically and desperately searching for any body of water he can plunge in to.

Anyway, the mystery runner kept closing, which gave me a renewed inspiration to push myself more than I had in a long time. I felt like I was back on the jr. high track. Minus the acne. Well, sort of. As I could hear the closer's footsteps getting louder, I opened up my gait and really let myself fly in the last half-mile stretch. I probably opened up to early because I was audibly weezing and gasping as I gallumped past several other trail-goers. But I did it! I surged ahead and finished a good 200 meters ahead of mystery man.

After I vomited, I thanked the other runner for pushing me and assured him I didn't think he was trying to run me down and attack me. I asked him how far he had run, and he said 8 miles.

8 miles. Hmm. That got me thinking.

So yesterday, I gave it a try, telling myself that if worse came to worse, I could start walking on the way back at what would have been six miles. I headed out, and I'm actually really proud to say, I did it! And, the extra two miles were much easier than I thought they would be. Granted I was running anywhere from a 10-15 minute mile at times and was there half the day, I didn't tire cardiovascularly and only had to momentarily stop twice, once when Happy caused a biker with a dog on a leash to crash and once to balance the universe by personally returning some water to the earth in light of all that Happy had removed.

It's the ciirrrrcle of liiife, and it moves us aaaallll.

Sometimes very inconveniently with no toilet paper available. And poison plants abounding. Nuf said.

What did make it difficult toward the end were my ankles and knees. But I did it. I ran 8 miles, and I think I'll try again this weekend.

Twenty-Seven

2011-03-07T10:01:00.007-06:00

Tanner and I each turned 27 recently. The kids I babysit inform me that this is "wow, really old."

I use anti-wrinkle cream. And eye cream. Twice a day.

I regularly use denture cleaning tablets (for my mouth guard).

I drink Sleepy Time tea.

I fall asleep almost every night on the couch between 9:30 pm-10 pm. For Tanner, 8:30 pm and 9:00 pm.

I go on bird watching tours.

I wear socks with Crocs.

I wear Crocs.

Anyways. We are both a year older. That is great, and I am very thankful for all the blessings and the struggles we received in our 27th year on this earth. They brought joy, thankfulness, refinement and growth.

I lost my job. I found a new job. We celebrated a year of marriage. We found a church in Weatherford to attend. We made new friends and watched others drift away. I lost my cat, Striker. We both worked long, hard hours and many weekends. Tanner's Grandpa, Bud Haynes, passed away. We enjoyed Christmas celebrations at both of our parents' homes. We bought a house.

Through it all, God was faithful to us and worked in His perfect will, through valleys and mountains, to continue us on a path of loving Him, each other and the people around us.

To the test the integrity of our ever-degrading, nearly middle-aged teeth before we're forced to wear dentures or gum stewed prunes, Tanner and I each chose to celebrate our birthdays with impressive carnivorous displays.

For Tanner's 27th in January, we, along with some good friends, went to Texas De Brazil in Forth Worth. It's a Brazilian-style churrascaria where they bring meat (beef, pork, lamb) to your table and shave off portions for you. They also have a killer salad bar, which was my favorite part.

At Texas De Brazil

Carter and Brandon

Jenni and Ryan

Adam and Tanner

After dinner, we went dancing in the Stockyards. Jenni and Ryan drove up from Beeville and stayed with us at the Hyatt Place in the "historic Fort Worth Stockyards." It was a great time, with added atmosphere due to the FW Stock Show and Rodeo going on.

Out on the town

For my birthday, this weekend, Tanner and I went to downtown FW to enjoy one of my FAVORITE fares, boiled crawfish! We got 2 lbs a piece, nice and spicy, and all the boiled taters and corn that come with it. We also had some delicious crawfish fondue and bread, all courtesy of Razzoos Cajun Cafe. I loooove when it's crawfish season.

At Razzoo's

Sunday night, Tanner made me dinner! He whipped up some huge ribeyes, mac and cheese, wedge salad and french bread, and got me a nice bottle of wine, too.

By the time the weekend wrapped up, I was full of thankfulness.

And protein.

And birthday donuts.

And brownies.

And I ran 12 miles.

Really, I did.

The end.

Birthday Makeover

2011-03-03T10:54:00.003-06:00

Babysitting last night was awesome, as expected.

We started out by playing duck-duck-goose on the trampoline. I couldn't catch anyone. Our circle was so small that by the time I got up from the seated position, the goose was already around the loop and sitting down again. When I playfully asked, "Why can't I catch anyone?" I knew the logistics of our small circle were to blame, but the girls also informed me, "Because you're old!"

When I told them that this Sunday is my birthday ("27!? That's so old!"), they decided they needed to host a birthday party for me. I picked out outfits for everyone and did their makeup. Then, while two of the girls "decorated" the living room (draped scarves over the TV, hung an open, upside-down umbrella from the chandelier, set stuffed animals up on the couch), I got a makeover for the party. It was epic.

Five applications of lipgloss, most of which ended up INSIDE my mouth. Glitter stick all over my face and neck and chest. Red and blue hair mascara. Neon pick blush on my cheeks and jaw. Perfume. And "eyeliner." When they were done the first time, the verdict was, "Oh my word, that does NOT look good. You're a mess."

A case of Wet Wipes and three do-overs later, I was presentable for the party.

I was treated to a Miley Cirus dance party ("Party in the USA" on loop), then half of the guests left early to go play Barbies, then the remaining guests performed a 20-minute ballet to Kelly Clarkson's "Breakaway."

Best birthday ever.

Check out that eyeliner!

Making Tracks

2011-03-02T14:50:00.009-06:00

I love doing things with the dogs. About this time last year, I made it my special-day birthday request to Tanner that he come with me and the pups on a long walk down the Mineral Wells State Trailway. My 27th birthday isn't until this weekend, and I'll probably see if I can make the trek a tradition this year, but last weekend we also took the dogs to this trail. The weather was just too nice to resist on Sunday, and Tanner knew he'd be stuck inside the shop (at work) setting up jobs for the rest of the afternoon.

Birthday walk, March 2010

Birthday walk, March 2010: Digger against the world

The trail begins in Weatherford (because I'm egocentric) and runs 20 miles westward through the countryside and Lake Mineral Wells State Park before ending in downtown Mineral Wells. We haven't made it that far, but we continue to explore the trail, which used to be WMW & NW railway. In it's heyday, the tracks took thousands of passengers to Mineral Wells to experience the town's mineral springs. That all hit the fan in the early 1900s, and the railway was purchased by Texas & Pacific, then merged with the Missouri Pacific and eventually the Union Pacific. Around 1990, it was purchased by Mineral Wells and then abandoned. In 1998, it was opened as the trailway it is today!

On the trail

And it's an awesome trailway. (Really, it is. I just need to take some pictures during the spring/summer!) It starts in Weatherford at Cartwright Park and goes through 10 miles of cattle and horse pastures, hay patches and ponds before it reaches the cute little town of Garner. My dad, Tanner and I have biked this portion of the trail, and I often drive to the trail head in Garner to walk the dogs because the Garner-eastward portion of the trail is on of my favorite. There is also a cute cafe/general store in Garner where you can get something to eat or buy 4 jugs of Gatorade, like Tanner does after we're done walking.

The trailhead in Weatherford

Last weekend, we walked a portion of the trail we'd never traveled before. We started in Garner and headed west. This portion of the trail hugged Maddux Road, which you could see from the trail most of the time. That ended up not being a big deal because it was a rural road with little traffic and lots of ranchland.

The first adventure along the was was a shanty house on the right where we heard 5 large dogs barking from about 40 feet away. That was a little freaky until we realized they were behind a wire panel that, thankfully, held, despite them all five of them jumping on it at once.

The second adventure what a black and white spotted pit bull that started following us at the trailhead and walked with us all 2 1/2 miles out and 2 1/2 miles back. We saw him for the first little while but didn't realize he was still with us until about mile 1 1/2, which kind of spooked us. Most of the time he trailed far behind and would pop into sight every once and awhile. It kind of reminded me of the movie The Hills Have Eyes. He was pretty cute, and I didn't mind him being there until on the way back, he tried to, ahem, do doggy business with Digger, who is getting a little old and stiff and who at that point, was so tuckered out that all he could do was growl and kinda sorta try to turn behind to bite the other dog. Flexibility, agility and speed are not his strongest suits at this point, which diverted a dog fight. But still, I was very offended for him and felt for his wounded pride. Tanner scared the other dog off, and for Digger's sake, we all agreed we'd never speak of it again.

Third adventure was three additional big dogs running through a field lookin' like they were up to no good. They never ended up bothering us, but after our luck with bears, we erred on the safe side and started gathering the largest sticks we could find. I ended up using mine as a walking stick, which got Tanner thinking about fashioning a walking stick with a spear mounted on the end.

That's safe.

The main adventure was "Dry Creek," which ended up not being totally dry. There was a cliff-encircled pond fed by the creek, which ran through a dry gap of rocks and puddles, which we were able to hop across between pond and the creek upstream.

It was a great day, and we were happy to discover that this portion of the trail was less traveled. Aside from the burgeoning dog population, we only saw one couple bicycling. We're not antisocial. It's just nice to let the dogs run loose and not have to worry about people freaking out. They're nice, but they're just so big that they scare people. Oh, and Happy likes to bark at kids. I missed that part of his human socialization. Oops. The dogs had a great time, and as cheesy as it sounds, it's a great feelings to be able to watch dogs experience pure, unrestrained joy... Minus the humping.

I run a lot on various portions of this trail, but Tanner and I have about 8 miles yet to explore, and my neighbor has invited me to go trail riding (horseback) in Mineral Wells State Park itself.

Here's a pretty cool video on the park and trail with a troooo Takes-sus park RAYger, David Owens. Oh, and the signs on the trail say NO going faster than a walk on horseback. If I ever get in trouble for running my horses, I'll site this video.

Side note on the now abandoned, infamous (for its supposed hauntings) Baker Hotel (mentioned in the video), which was a famous resort spa centered around the mineral baths: During the early 1930s, it drew celebrities like Lawrence Welk, Clark Gable, Greta Garbo, JFK, Marilyn Monroe and supposedly Bonnie and Clyde to the dinky lil' town of Mineral Wells .

Amazed and Thankful!

2011-02-26T20:38:00.003-06:00

This morning I worked more on removing the rock mulch. I got about half of the rocks removed – 8'x2' worth. I filled the wheelbarrow, which deflated the tire and ran it off the rim when I tried to move it. Oops. Tanner loved that.

Then, I took pictures and posted the rocks for free on Craigslist. I was very skeptical that anyone would want the stupid rocks that I was trying so desperately to get rid of!

At the last minute, I also joined the Weatherford Freecycle group on Yahoo groups and posted the rocks on there.

I was SHOCKED at the number of responses I got. I received about four responses from Craigslist and 7 from Freecyle. I actually started to feel bad, knowing that only one person would get the rocks. I started to wish I had more rocks to go around, then realized that what I REALLY wished was I never had rocks to begin with.

Anyway, Tanner walked me through the agonizing, guilt-stricken process of deciding who to respond to and how long to wait to hear back from them before moving on, etc. The long and short of it is, someone came that day to get the rocks, and they are coming back tomorrow to get the second load that I plan to have done by the afternoon.

Awesome! While I got responses from Craigslist, I thought Freecyle was really cool, and I liked it better. The people were all extremely local, as in they lived in Weatherford, as opposed to Craiglists which goes to the whole DFW area. Also, because it is a Yahoo group, most subscribing group members get the postings delivered immediately to their inbox so you get responses much sooner. The other main difference between the two, is everything posted on Freecyle has to be FREE, duh. Craiglist is usually used for selling things. I wonder if people would have paid for my stupid rocks?

Now, for the other side of Freecycle, the side where you look for free stuff, I'm one who hates getting emails sent to my inbox from anywhere about anything because I already feel overwhelmed by the number of emails I get. Thankfully, joining didn't mean I have to be bombarded with emails about free Sony Walkmans and nonfunctioning toilets. I was able to adjust my personal settings on the group so that I have to log into Yahoo Groups to see the free-stuff posts. They don't come to my inbox. However, the direct messages people sent in response to my rock posting were sent right to my email inbox. Handy.

All in all, Freecyle rocks. You should look into it to see if there's a group for your area.

I'm hoping there will also be be people interested in the larger 3"-5" rocks from the planters that are surrounding our whole house! Who knew rocks were in such demand.

http://www.freecycle.org/

Justin Bieber's Girlfriends

2011-02-24T11:54:00.004-06:00

I babysit on Wednesday nights for a group of absolutely sweet, hilarious, rambunctious and CREATIVE kids! No matter how tired I am from the day, I so look forward to our play times. Each child is so beautifully unique and each Wednesday evening they gather together under one roof like a colorful patchwork quilt.

Did I mention there are usually 7 kids? So it's a pretty substantial quilt. Queen/King size, at least. But last night, because of the flu, only 4 kids were there.

R, K and J are siblings, and we all get together at their house. R is the oldest, 7. She's a beautiful brunette who's kind and considerate. She has a beautiful voice. She is creative and confident; she is "in charge" of all the other girls. She decides what games they're playing and, ultimately, what is and is NOT cool that given day. She's sweet and cheerful. She is also very sensitive.

K is 5. She is a gorgeous blond, and she's a bundle of energy – so easily excitable. She's sincere and cuddly, and falls in love immediately with almost everyone. She is very theatrical and loves to dance and act and pose and do anything that puts her in the spotlight.

J is two and he is the most cheerful, happy, smiley little boy I've ever known! And I can not understand a SINGLE word that he says!

T, who is 6 or 7, usually comes with her brother, C. T is a tiny thing, freckle-faced and cute as a button. She's athletic and nimble and amazed me the other day by doing a back flip in the living room. She is what I would call incredibly "agreeable" – she's always up for anything, goes with the flow and has yet to get in an argument with anyone. She's amazingly selfless for a little girl. Needless to say, she's everyone's best friend.

Wednesday night is always entertaining, whether we're putting on a fashion show, playing hide-and-go-seek in the dark or having a dance-off on the trampoline. But this week, this week it was particularly hi-lar-ious.

The girls decided to put on a concert. They rallied in R's and K's room for at least a half an hour to decide on their band name, outfits and makeup. They presented themselves as the newly signed artists, Justin Bieber's Girlfriends. The band was comprised of Taylor Swift (K), Selena Gomez (T) and Hannah Montana (R).

Next, I was forced to decide who should be the lead singer. The each made "ah ah ah, ah ah ah" sounds. Kind of like a mix between Mariah Carey and the Little Mermaid. I picked R, only on the premise that everyone would subsequently get a chance to be a lead singer. Everyone got pouty-faced, but R explained that "first is the worst, second is the best, third is the one with the treasure chest." Phew.

Then, they sat down and each wrote out songs to perform. K needed help writing. Her song went something like this:
We are the best of the rock stars. We like to sing together always, with my brother and my sister. I love my sister and my brother. I like to sing with my mom and dad and also my nana and papa. Because I like to sing with you. I like to sing always because it is fuuuunnnn."

T's song was significantly shorter:
We may be young, but we can still sing. We are the Justin Bieber girls. Our names are Taylor and Selena and Hannah.

R just wrote out all the lyrics by memory to "Love Story" by Taylor Swift. They R decided she wanted to go last – as the grand finale – and had to, after much objection from the chorus, re-explain that "third is the worst and the rest are the best."

I wish you could see how serious and intense they were when they read/sang their lyrics under the spotlight of a hand-held flashlight.

I didn't get each of their solos, but I did catch two encore performances. The first is K singing and original/made up on the spot/rambling song while the other girls play instruments. The second is K singing a solo of "Soul Sister," or is it "Scone Sister"?

J spent the night trying to make eat his shoe with a huge pelican from a pop-up picture show and pointing at the refrigerator and babbling out instructions. I can tell you in hindsight that it wasn't macaroni and cheese that he wanted, oops, and I think it might have been strawberry yogurt.

YOU Can Make the World a Better Place

2011-02-21T16:01:00.009-06:00

Forget global warming.

Forget world peace.

If you really want to do something to make a difference for future generations,

If you really want to make the world a better place for your children,

Or, at the very least, if you want to avoid the SCORN of your children and keep future generations from CURSING your very name and BURNING an effigy of you in the streets,

Then good people of the Earth, DO NOT, I say DO NOT, use ROCKS as MULCH!!!

Rocks belong along riverbeds and lake shores. How lovely. You can skip them across the peaceful water, feel their cool smoothness in your hand, or accidentally hit your dog right in the noggin when you're aiming for a tree stump. (The fact that the dog is two feet in front of you and the intended tree stump is across the river is of no consequence.)

Rocks do not belong in your yard, and they certainly do not belong in a PLANT BED that was obviously, undeniable constructed for the exact and specific purpose of digging holes in the ground for in which to place plants.

I mean, hello, farmers curse the ground that is full of rocks. It breaks their plowshares and stubs their wittle toesies. Rocks + planting x cultivating = I'm very angry.

As you can see, the previous owners of our new home did not have someone as wise as myself to warn them of the curse they were casting on the innocents to come behind them.

Sunday was supposed to be spent planting my flower bulbs and some dewberries Susannah gave me. The harmless little layer of pebbles on the plant bed ended up being a malicious shield of pebbles at least several layers of the earth deep. I swear I got at least to the outer core.

I spent the better part of Sunday afternoon trying to remove the pebbles. I started out with a hand trowel, a kitchen sieve and a little bucket. Then, I realized that I pretty much wanted to shoot myself in eye. Then, I complained to Tanner, lamenting approximately 23 different ways about how stupid the previous owners were, how helpless I was and how my planter was doomed to a rocky death. Then, I wrote a short, sad ballad and played it for the dogs on the recorder I still have from my kindergarten music class at William B. Travis Elementary. Then I played Hot Cross Buns.

Then, I figured out a better solution. I took two wheelbarrows and set them side by side. Over one, I placed a metal grate that used to be on Tanner's utility vehicle. I took shovels full of dirt and dumped it on the grate, then, once I got a good pile, moved the rocks and dirt around until the dirt was sifted through. Then, I dumped the rocks into the other wheelbarrow and started all over again.

I was also battling a wild, killer onion with roots like spaghetti noodles that had taken over the planter.

Oh yeah, and for some reason, someone had buried plants in terracotta pots. In the ground. They put the plant in the pot, then buried the pot. So far, I've found four.

I spend several hours shoveling and sifting for rocks. It was kind of like sifting for gold, but more like the time when I was a child and swallowed a marble and had to poop in a bucket and someone had to sift through... never mind.

I made about 5 feet of progress that Sunday afternoon sifting for rocks.

The planter, which is along our shop, is 20 feet long.

There is a cumulative 113 feet surrounding the house that is also "mulched" with rocks.

I'd say I have a nice little project on my hands. (The rocks around the house are larger than the rocks around the shop, which are more like pebbles.)

And we have no clue what do with the rocks.

Any suggestions?

I don't know where the previous owners live, or else... never mind.

A Boy's Dream

2011-01-09T19:48:00.002-06:00

Tonight, one of Tanner's dreams came true.

For $1, at a Redbox outside Walmart, he rented a movie.

He took that movie home, and placed it in the DVD player.

The cast included Sylvester Stallone, Bruce Willis, Arnold Schwarzenegger, Jet Li, Randy Couture (UFC fighter), and Stone Cold Steve Austin.

In the first two minutes, as I was cooking dinner, I heard him gleefully exclaim from the living room,

"They already blew a guy in half! This is going to be good!"

Sounds like a gem.

We Bought a House Today

2011-01-04T20:23:00.005-06:00

It's true. After work, Tanner and I went downtown to sign the papers and close on our first home!

Our first night in our first home

About four months ago, we started looking for a house in the Weatherford area. We wanted something with acreage for the horses, a yard for the dogs, and a decent house. Oh, and in a specific side of town and at an affordable price! It turns out that getting all of those stars to align is not aeasy. I was getting to the point where I was ready to sell the horses and all our possessions and move to a shanty in Maui.

Then, the perfect deal presented itself with all the criteria we were looking for. A brick home on 2 acres at the end of a quiet dead end road in the right rural area – and a bargain price. It took about a month for all the wheeling and dealing to go through. Offers, counter offers, inspections, repairs, approvals – it's all enough to make me want to puke. Tanner handled most of everything, for which I am sincerely and abundantly grateful. He is much more calm, confident and willing to relinquish control than I am.

Now that the process is finished, I'm a little shocked and so thankful that we have our first home! I am very humbled by how God has worked things for our good. Early in 2010, I lost a great job when the company relocated to Colorado. It was my first job, and my firs time to lose a job, which can be a little scary. I received a severance package though and was paid extra to stay on as a contractor until my replacement was hired. We were able to put all that money away and use it as the down payment on this home. I was blessed to find a new job with only a week layover in between and Tanner has been securely holding a really wonderful job in the natural gas industry here in Weatherford. With the down payment ready and the insanely low interest rate Tanner was able to secure, we were able to close and secure a monthly mortgage payment on a 15 year loan at only $18 more than we were paying each month in our rental.

And that's not even the best part. Most wonderful of all, we don't have to move. We bought the house that Tanner first rented in November of 2008 when he moved to Weatherford. We've been living in it as a married couple for the last year. We knew exactly what we were getting, good and bad, as buyers. We don't have to pack. We don't have to move. We don't have to unpack.

Our home (take during the fall)

The only thing left to do was celebrate. We hit up Montana's for fried pickles, chicken fried chicken, fried porkchop, mashed and baked taters, Texas toast and salad.

I'm not kidding.

At the restaurant, I asked Tanner if he would carry me over the threshold of our new home. He conveniently forgot and is passed out on the couch with Gladiator and spilled guts running soothingly on the TV.

It may be our first night in our "new" home, but some things will never change.

Naked and Bears

2011-01-03T17:07:00.004-06:00

There is nudity in our living room.

In record time (which for me constitutes Jan. 2), I stripped away all the Christmas decorations in the house except for the tree itself, which now stands naked in the living room. For the last few weeks, it was always there welcoming me as I rounded the kaliche road to the house. Thanks to the miracle of the $9.99 timer I bought at Bed Bath & Beyond, our front window was aglow each evening with the twinkling of colored lights. I couldn’t wait to get in the house and get cozy by the tree with a glass of wine or a mug of tea.

Then Tanner would come home and ruin it all by changing the TV channel to Rambo III and making me watch guts spill all over the screen.

Now, I feel kind of bad for the tree. Maybe it reminds me too much of what my face will be like in a few years – dry, discolored, plain. I’m already using line-smoothing under eye concealer for goodness sake!

Really, I think I just remember how jolly and beautiful the tree looked just days ago. I imagine the tree feels a little sad now. Which is stupid, because it has no feelings. However, until I was married, I had to arrange the discarded stuffed animals from my bed comfortably on a pillow on the floor because I didn’t want them to lay all askew and disjointed on the floor through the night – that might hurt them. Now I just have one stuffed animal. I might or might not sleep with him.

I could easily draw all kinds of deep symbolism from my dejected tree about post-holiday sadness or how all earthly things lose their beauty and fade away. If that’s what you’re thinking, awesome. Elaborate in your mind and discover new hidden meanings. Critical thinking, self-examination and cultural analysis are so important.

I, however, am going to tell you about some of my favorite Christmas ornaments. I snapped pictures while I packing up.

This bear represents the fact that I am bear bait. When I lived in Canada, my family took the visiting Keaton family to the Canadian Rockies. We went on lil hike from the roadside to get a view of a lake. We walked out onto a foot bridge, took some pictures, then turned around to see a huge 800 lb grizzly bear blocking our way.

I was about 12 and I cussed in front of my parents. I either said the s-word or the f-word, I can’t remember. I tried to run away, but my dad told me to bring back the camera. The men started stomping and clapping, which is ill advised. I imagine the bear rolled his eyes as he started walking away. Then my dad whistled, and that pissed Griz off. He started coming back. My dad instructed me to run, also ill advised. I ran so freakin fast, there are no words to describe it. I found a horse corral, a truck and a shed at the top of a hill. I tried to hide under the truck, but there was a disgusting marmot or some kind of large rodent under there. So, I hid behind the shed for what felt like hours, then walked back down the hill expecting to find my family mauled and eaten.

But everyone was fine and my mom was mad because she couldn’t find me. I was hidden pretty well.

Last year, Tanner and I took a trip back to Canada. I showed Tanner where I used to live (Edmonton, Alberta) and then took him to the Rockies. (I should/might blog about this trip someday…) One evening, we decided to go for a late hike. It was sometime around 7:30 or 8 p.m. It wasn’t getting dark until around 9:30 p.m., but these dusk hikes are not safe. As I found out upon later research, they are somewhat ill advised.

The hike started on the side of the road then wound up through a thickly wooded trail. We parked in the parking lot of a horse stable across the street. I had bought some bear spray in town before we went for the hike, because my original bear encounter had left me ridiculously freaked out and afraid of bears/hiking/the Rockies/Canada/life/etc. The guide who sold us the spray told us a story of how he and some friends were attacked by a bear as they were bike riding in a similar area to where we were heading… but that was just because the parks dept. had scented the area and hung up lines to catch hair samples. Oh.

Tanner and I were creeped the whole time. The man’s story story, dusk, heavy forestation and an active imagination let to a severely freaked out state. The whole time during our ascent through the woods, I was thinking of how scared I was and how I wished we hadn’t gone on this hike. But, not wanting to ruin it for Tanner, I tried to act brave and pretend I was having fun. Some comments to the effect of “this looks like a perfect place for a bear” were made him or myself, but that was about it. Finally we made it to a beautiful clearing that overlooked a bog. We watched for a while, hoping to spot a moose, the turned back around to head back to the car. On the way back, we both felt really uncomfortable and it was obvious. We had a weird, scared feeling and I was clapping my hands and singing bear deterrent songs. I have a really scary voice.

As we were getting fairly close to the road, we rounded a blind corner. Sure enough, there was a dang bear. I got a nice profile view of it walking across the path. I looked at it for about only a split second before cussing (apparently I need to work on this), turning around and hissing at Tanner, but I was pretty sure I saw the distinct hump of a Grizzly. It looked like a yearling bear, which immediately made me think of “mama” somewhere nearby. (It might have been an adult cinnamon Black Bear but I’m really not sure and Grizzlies are more dramatic, so shut up.) Apparently, my little outburst alerted the bear to our arrival, because after I had made an about-face and given Tanner a clear view of the bugger, it was standing on its back legs and looking straight at us.

We were on a trail, surrounded by trees, in dimming light at 8-something p.m., with no one around and a bear blocking our way back to the car. Tanner whipped out that bear spray, and we started walking back the way we came. I was by this time praying out loud very fervently and somewhat incoherently. At least I had matured spiritually from cussing to praying. I saw the error of my ways. And I was afraid I was going to die.

We found a break in the path and a fork that looked like it would take us back toward the car. The fork ran parallel to the path the bear was on and although you couldn’t see one path from the other, they didn’t fee too far away. 50 yards, maybe? Walking back toward the road and knowing how close that stupid bear could be at any moment was one of the most terrifying experiences of my life. It was a moment of serious elation when we finally hid the road and saw the parking lot.

Of course, there was a car driving by at the exact moment Tanner and I busted mad-eyed from the woods and stumbled and ran to the parking lot. They were probably confused.

This turned out to be a long story.

One ornament is apparently enough for today.

Last night...

2010-12-15T15:57:00.003-06:00

I was feeling a little guilty because Happy (the hyper dog) hadn't been walked in a couple days. He was starting to get that "look" in his eye – the manic look, not the sweet one. I was also feeling a lot bit lazy, and since I had run some errands after work, I was a lot starving. So, I took the easy/quick way out and decided to fire up the four-wheeler (after an over-the-phone refresher course with Tanner on how to start it – something he's shown me at least 10 times).

We hauled off down the road, and Happy and Digger ran along, sniffing and pooping and frolicking and pooping and running and pooping. We recently discovered they eat dropped horse grain from the pasture all day – I have no idea if this is dangerous, but do know it produces a lot of poop.

Halfway through the walk, at approximately the "white-dog house" (a landmark I'm SURE you're all familiar with...), Digger's mind shutoff. It happens a lot when we're walking. He just stops. He's not tired, because if you turn around and head towards the house, he'll start sprinting like his tail's on fire. If we're walking, I usually carry a leash and force him to finish the rest of the walk, or get annoyed and leave him sitting on the side of the road looking pitiful and insecure until Happy and I return on the back swing. But, since it was dark, and I had my handy, dandy four-wheeler, I lugged his 80 lb butt up onto the back where he awkwardly sat all stiff legged.

We carried on, although the four-wheeler was being a little weird and jerky and temperamental. (FYI, everything we have is "temperamental", which means second hand/ barely running/ in need of constant tinkering). At first Happy was very distressed and kept trying to suicide bomb the four-wheeler, but pretty soon he returned to galloping along with his tongue lolling out and slapping around. Digger got more comfortable too – a little too comfortable, because he started to slip. I was in third gear, driving with one hand in the dark on the side of the road and trying to keep Digger from going overboard.

Of course, the four-wheeler died. Of course, I was clueless on how to get it started again. Of course, Tanner was out to dinner with his boss and couldn't talk. I tried all the tricks and in a few seconds exhausted the limits of my knowledge on the craptraption. Soon, I resorted to just turning the key, and hence the headlights, on and off. Which, of course, flagged down a man in a Terminix truck. I didn't have my pink pepper spray and it was dark, so I was feeling particularly vulnerable. And even though I was on my safe little street and Tanner always says "nothing bad happens in the country," there WAS that home invasion just a few weeks earlier several miles away IN THE COUNTRY where a homeowner was SHOT and in turn SHOT THE INTRUDER. And there WAS that HELICOPTER circling my neighbor's field incessantly the other day AND I'M GOING TO BE ABDUCTED AND TORTURED!!!

While I vehemently shook my head "no" to everything the bug man said and avoided eye contact, the he kept asking me what I was doing out here in the middle of the road, what happened, what was wrong, did I need help, had I called Tanner.

Wait. What. Tanner? Finally I said (frantically), "WHO ARE YOU?"

Actually, it was our neighbor down the road. He got a job as an exterminator. I didn't know. Now I know. He went home and got his brother while I sat and waited, then got bored and started pushing the four wheeler uphill, then got tired and waited again. They came back with their mule (not the animal, but the ATV thing) and towed me away back to house. I got to sit on the four-wheeler and steer while they towed.

It was fun. And I saw a shooting star. So it ended up being a great night.

Oh. And the four-wheeler was out of gas.

Singing in Public

2010-12-13T20:34:00.006-06:00

Have you ever been to a piano bar? I have. Twice. And that was all the experience I needed to realize that they are very fun and also potentially very embarrassing. If you are shy and hate people looking at you, let alone laughing at you, do not go. You will spend the whole time shivering in a corner, hoping and praying to the real God that the piano gods do not ensnare you in their terrible plots heartless cruelty.

Actually, you should be safe as long as your "friends" do not conspire to drag you to the front and make you fodder for a piano-wielding comic.

Luckily, I am not shy and I do not have annoying "friends." So, I was able to enjoy my piano bar experience just the way I like to - singing loud and obnoxiously from the "privacy" of my own table.

A while ago, Tanner and I met up with one of my best friends Jenni and her husband, Dr. Ryan Daniels. They were in town because Ryan had a veterinary conference to attend. Also, Jenni and her sister, Michelle, and her mom, Mrs. Dickson, all have their birthdays close to the same time. It was a mass-celebration thing, with a little hamster anatomy and canine dentistry thrown.

We met up with the Dicksons/Daniels to crash their birthday dinner and ended up getting roped into going to Pete's Piano Bar in downtown Fort Worth. It took all of 13 seconds to persuade us. Getting to stay in a swanky downtown hotel with Jenni and Ryan sealed the deal.

Michelle with her beautiful little boy, Hayden, at dinner

At a dueling piano bar, two really good pianists, who were destined to be rockstars but mistakenly ended up at Pete's, take all kinds of requests and wage in mock competitions with a correspondingly illogical running point tallies. It sounds dumb, but it's actually really fun. People write all kinds of song requests on little slips of paper. Some are just awesome, or really bad, song requests, while some are song requests that involve a person in attendance - usually a bachelorette or bachelor or birthday girl or unsuspecting and confused older, tipsy aunt who thought she was going to a country Western bar. The poor smuck has to go up to the front and sit on a stool and be sung about, or sing along or do any number of other silly things. It's very funny for the people watching. And most of the people up front don't seem to mind either. It doesn't hurt that they have cocktails. So how do you get your song selected from all the other requests? There is cash money attached to the song requests. DUH.

At Pete's

The best part of piano bars is that awesomely good and bad, new and old, are played and its totally accepted to sing along as loud as possible at the top of your lungs, even though SOME people, ahem, singing along have no talent/are tone deaf/sing like Cameron Diaz in My Best Friend's Wedding but without the cute, blonde, skinny factor.

I've decided that despite not having any musical talent and being arguably the worst singer in the world, I am going to become a piano bar performer. At one point, the bar got into a University of Texas, Texas A&M, Texas Tech (they were included for pity) battle with fans of all the schools vying to get their fight songs played. The cash was literally cascading over the pianos.

At Pete's, one "Girls Just Wanna Have Fun" and one "Build Me Up Buttercup" later

So, you can find me Friday nights playing the in the waiting area at the Applebees in Weatherford.

It's Been a Good Year

2010-11-22T21:18:00.009-06:00

Last month, Tanner and I celebrated our first year anniversary. A week before our actual anniversary, Sept. 19, we headed to New Braunfels and San Antonio to celebrate.

Any time we get a chance, we head to my family's River House in New Braunfels, which has been in the Sullivan family since my dad was born – so, about 45 years ;) It's the place I feel most at home in this big ol' world.

This little guy greeted us. I thought he was very cute. One time, in college, my sister accidentally shut a huge toad in her door and it was still alive. Then she realized she had locked herself out of the house, and the toad was trapped. Waiting for the Pop-A-Lock guy was a very traumatic experience.

We love taking the dogs down to the water. They are so happy, and the scenery is so beautiful.

One of those moments of pure majesty.

Like I said, pure majesty.
(I forgot my swimsuit. So no pictures of me in my Walmart sports bra and booty shorts.)

After a day a the river, we headed into San Antonio for something a little different.

We checked out the Alamo...

and the Riverwalk.

Then we headed to Boudro's on the Riverwalk, where the table side guacamole and the fire-roasted salsa are AMAZING...

and the view is breathtakingly beautiful.

I mean, breathtakingly beautiful.

More sightseeing after dinner...

Then a little surprise I orchestrated for my hubs back at our B&B, The River Vista Hotel (AMAZING place, FYI).

The next day, we were overdosed on champagne and romance, so we invited my parents up to the River House with us. That's how we roll.

Irrelevant. He just melts my heart.

Mom and Dad took us out to dinner,

and gave us a gift certificate to Country Custom Pine in Weatherford for a new dining room table.

It was a great way to celebrate one year of being married. After it all, there's nothing we enjoy more than simply spending time together.

I love you, Tanner.

These are the words I would say

2010-11-11T11:03:00.005-06:00

I used to think it was really super-duper mega-mondo dorky to listen to Christian radio. Even though I was a Christian (FYI, I still am), I thought the songs were really, well, bad. Musically speaking that is. I remember being shocked to hear the Houston Christian radio station playing in the apartment of my former youth leader and cool music connoisseur, Kirsten. ("Kir" rhymes with "ear," not "err" – this is important to avoiding Kirsten's wrath. You will find out why avoiding her wrath is very important in just a couple sentences.) If you know Kirsten or have visited her blog, you know she's anything but dorky. Hello, she plays roller derby. Case and a point.

This morning, one of my close friends, Jennifer-the-huntress (I like to befriend with girls who do things like bodycheck people on roller skates or shoot fish with a bow and arrows), text messaged me to check in and see what's up. Then I got a text from my mom about Thanksgiving with my Grandma. (Apparently, people don't like the sound of my voice.) That and some other things that have happened recently – such as a phone call from my best friend since high school, a visit with an old friend from college, a bossy message from my sister, and a Facebook post by Debbie Ballew, someone from Tanner's hometown who we love very much – got me thinking of all the friends and family in my life who I don't get to see very much now that I live in Siberia (aka North Texas). I miss them. I love them.

I don't know if the music has gotten better, if I've gotten more dorky or if I've gotten over that pretentious music-snob phase people sometimes go through – Oh my gosh, you don't know who ::insert obscure band name here:: is? But now I enjoy listening to Christen radio. The lyrics inspire, convict and encourage me, and a song, "The Words I Would Say," that I've been hearing on the DFW Christian station lately seem not dorky at all, but just right for how I've been feeling today.

Three in the morning,
And I'm still awake,
So I picked up a pen and a page,
And I started writing,
Just what I'd say,
If we were face to face,
I'd tell you just what you mean to me,
I'd tell you these simple truths,

Be strong in the Lord and,
Never give up hope,
You're going to do great things,
I already know,
God's got His hand on you so,
Don't live life in fear,
Forgive and forget,
But don't forget why you're here,
Take your time and pray,
These are the words I would say,

Sidewalk Prophets

A Tribute to My Cat

2010-11-02T13:12:00.017-05:00

Our wonderful cat, Striker, has been missing for a week, and sadly, I don't think he's coming back. I've been holding out hope that he's stuck up in a tree or just wandered too far from home, and I suppose that is still possible, but it's probably unlikely. Striker loved, and I mean LOVED, his food and his cozy cat naps in the house. We let him outside each night to do whatever it is cats do all night, and he always returned in the morning like clockwork, meowing to be let in for breakfast. He loved going outside, and the times I tried to make him an indoor cat were miserable for both him and me. But no matter how much fun he's had out in the great outdoors, he's never been gone for more than a day.

Baby Striker (and his spotted belly) with his best friend, baby Bella

I really, really loved my cat. For those of you who don't like cats, and I realize there are many of you, that may be hard to relate to. I understand. I used to not like cats. I grew up (as in I felt this was until I was 22) thinking my friends' cats were scary and always waiting to ambush my ankles from under the bed or jump off a dresser onto my head. Then I got Striker, and I realized how unique, clever, entertaining and even sweet a cat can be. Even in their aloof independence and self-indulgence, they have an attractive quality – they're nobody's fool. And when a cat deems to bless you with his affection, it's a special gesture you are always excited to receive.

The sweetest, cuddly sleeper. Striker used to sleep on my chest when he was little.
When he got too big, we resorted to spooning.

This loss has been really hard for me to handle, especially in the mornings and evenings. I've found myself bursting into tears when I go to the back door in the morning to let the dogs out, caught off guard that Striker's not perched on top of the grill waiting to be let in. Same thing in the evening when I come home from work, I'm used to him being right there at the door waiting for me. It's a meowing, calf-rubbing, gray and black welcome wagon I've been accustomed to being greeted by everyday for the last four years. As dramatic as this sounds, until today I didn't know how I was going to get over it and "move on" so to speak. I can't expect everyone to understand how I feel. A lot of people just aren't "animal people" or "cat people," and some who are also happen to be better dealing with the inevitable loss of a pet.

Places Striker loved to curl up over the years: under the Christmas tree, in the bathroom sink,
in a wicker basket on the sewing table or in the storage shelf, on the wicker patio sofa, on the
sofa arm, on stacks of paper, on wet clothes I've laid out to dry on the bed, on the hood of the truck ...

...and on the new dog beds -- pictures taken the night he disappeared. :(
Can you tell who was the king of the house?

As Tanner said the other day, I just have a lot of "heart" when it comes to animals. I love animals. I love being with animals, working with animals, writing about animals, etc. I love loving animals. I get more joy than many people probably do from their pets, and I also have a lot of sorrow when they're gone. I struggle with letting go of the sadness. Of course, time helps to heal. But today I found myself with a new perspective that I'd never considered before. One that helped heal me.

I was reading in Genesis this morning. I'm trying, for the bizzillionth time, to read through the Bible in one year, which involves reading a few passages each day. I was reading about how, just like man, God created all the animals from the ground (or the dirt of earth) and breathed life into them. God brought them to man to name them all, and God charged man to rule over every bird, fish, and beast of the land. When God was looking for a suitable helper for man, he turned first to look through the animals he had created before deciding on woman (lucky us, *wink ). From the beginning of time, we've had an intimate relationship with animals, and God has blessed us by giving us charge over his creations.

It doesn't mean I don't care my cat is gone, but after reading that this morning, I had a conversation with God that helped me to feel a great peace. If it makes you laugh a little that I had such an intimate and heartfelt conversation about a cat with the Creator of the Universe and Savior of Mankind, that's OK. But that's one of the things I love most about God. I can turn to him for anything, no matter what it involves, a great mountain that needs moving or a tiny little cat that I loved.

Dear God,

You created everything. You worked in all your wonder and power to make all things. You deserve all the glory and all the honor and all the praise.

Thank you for creating Striker. Thank you for creating him with his spotted belly and gray and black stripes and big eyes. Thank you for making him unique and for giving him a personality of his own. Thank you for giving him the instincts, agility, speed and athleticism that make cats amazing. Thank you for bring him into my life.

Thank you for allowing me to be a steward of the animals you've so masterfully created. I'm grateful for the gift and responsibility of caring for them. It brings me great joy. I thank you for gifting me with the patience and compassion to do a good job of it, and I ask for more of each.

Even though it hurts to lose something I loved, Striker, I give you thanks and praise in my sadness. You give and you take away. You remind me that no matter how wonderful something is on this earth, no matter how great a joy Striker brought me, nothing is greater than the gift of knowing you. I treasure my pets, and I thank you for bringing them into my life. The relationship I have with each of them, no matter how sweet, can't last forever. But I can forever count on you to be there for me in good times and bad. My relationship with you is forever, on this earth and after this life.

I'm so glad I can come to you to thank you for this little creation. How wise and wonderful you were when you made the earth and everything in it, including my sweet Striker.

Amen

Things I will remember about Striker:
Coming out of nowhere like a bat out of hell, scaring the crap out of me, running up a tree like a crazy banshee, turning around and running up and down several more trees, then jumping on the roof.

Coming out of the wood work from where ever he was hiding whenever I tapped a wet cat food can with a spoon.

Meowing constantly for his food, but getting lazy and just opening his mouth without making a sound.

Climbing up on my belly, kneading my belly pudge with his claws, and curling up for a nap. (Always made me feel fat.) :)

Sitting on my chest and purring so loud and so deep it reverberated through my whole body.

The stage where he would get in the shower every time after I got out to drink the water and get his paws wet.

The time he got sprayed by a skunk, I gave him a bath, and he was so angry.

Playing with Tater's or Happy's wagging tail like it was a cat a cat toy.

Epic wrestling matches with Bella.

How he loved his Greenie cat treats.

How he loved to lay in the sun shining through the windows.

The time I lived in an apartment and took him for a walk with a harness and leash on -- he ran up a tree and I had to tug him down with the leash.

How he used to kill baby moles, snakes, and lizards and bring them to me.

How we always had to raise all the blinds in the house enough for him to get on the windowsill and look outside during the day -- if you didn't, he destroyed the blinds in protest.

How he LOVED to give kisses on my nose and lips -- he'd lick me with his scratchy little tongue.

How if you scratched his belly, he'd get all hyper and attack your hand.

How if you scratched his booty, he'd bite you cuz if felt so good.

How he'd wriggle and wiggle on the floor and pull himself along the carpet with his claws when he was hyper.

How he'd temp and tease Digger by randomly licking him, biting him, or clawing him.

How he was so darn cute and funny, very cuddly and loveable, and very bad ass and independent.

I will miss him a lot. More than I can say. I'm so glad to have had him.

Routine Failure

2010-10-27T12:24:00.009-05:00

Obviously, regular blog posting is a routine or habit that I just haven't gotten the hang of. With my last post dated June 6, I'd venture so far as to say I stink at it.

The odd thing is, I absolutely love routines and habits (good ones, not "bad" ones like biting your nails or drinking a fifth of gin before work each day).

Anyways, routines can be all comforting and cozy, like having a glass of Sleepy Time herbal tea each night before bed; healthy, like working out three-five days a week, doing a self breast exam each month or taking your vitamins each day; spiritual, like getting up early every morning to read your Bible and pray; creative, like sewing five quilt squares a week; efficient, like cleaning one small area of the house (such as dusting the ceiling fans) each night instead of saving the whole house all for the weekend; beautifying, like applying Jergens gradual tan lotion, anti-cellulite cream, anti-wrinkle cream and anti-fugly cream each night.

I love routines! I love the idea of them, the security and regularity of them. I love adopting them, and I apparently love FAILING at them. In case you haven't figured it out, the preceding paragraph is just the teeniest tiniest itty-bittyiest sampling of a list of habits that I have at one time (and some, many times) tried to implement and failed at. Some are more important than others, obviously. And, it's apparent blogging once a week (who thought it'd be so hard?) should be tacked onto the list. I envy people who are very routine-oriented. It's so, well, all of the adjectives listed above. Who knows why I'm so awful at regularity (those who know me well, too well, realized this applies to me in more ways than one). I'd like to blame my parents or drinking water with fluoride in it, but the truth is it's probably just because I'm not perfect. I'm a fallen wreck who just happens to pull it together sometimes, and that's OK. I've come to terms with it. (Fluoride did cause this little brown spot on my front tooth though.)

While I'm OK with my routine failure, I get over it and keep unsuccessfully trying, it does disappoint me often. I created this blog as a way to keep our friends and family updated on Tanner's and my goings-on and as a way to have a creative writing outlet. In that sense, I've failed both my family and myself. I am sincerely going to try to be more regular, but if history repeats itself... let's just say, be patient with me.

I do need to take one small moment to brag. There are a few healthy habits I've been able to form, and I'm ready to give myself, rather me and Tanner, a pat on the back. We say "I love you" every day, and we mean it. And, we look for ways each day (well, most every day) to show that we mean it. The reward? We celebrated our first wedding anniversary on Sept. 19 of this year.

Our 1st Anniversary on the San Antonio River Walk

Here's to a great year with my wonderful husband. It wasn't perfect, and it wasn't perfectly documented in bloggy land as I'd planned. But it was full of love, laughter, learning and lots of happiness. Marrying Tanner was by far the best thing I've ever done (besides being born, but I don't remember that so well), and something I plan to see through until the day I die. I can't think of any other way I'd rather spend my life. When I look back on all that I've experienced this past year – how I've grown in wisdom, humility, love and joy; how I've been blessed with hours upon hours of quality time with a man I love more than I can express; how God's stirred in my heart and walked alongside me – I realize there are a lot more important things in life than remembering to embalm yourself in beauty products each night.

Amen.

Hear Yee, Hair Me!

2010-06-04T15:18:00.008-05:00

Important alert: I love my new hair cut! If you don't love going to the salon and getting your hair done, then something is seriously wrong with you. Seriously. We can't be friends.

I mean, Hello! You get a head massage, really fancy and special-smelling shampoo and conditioner, and you hair is magically softer and cleaner than it ever is at home. It's miraculous.

I went to a new salon today, which can be scary sometimes. But I knew I was in good hands today because TJ has cut and styled the hair of my friends.

I already had long, brown hair, and I still do after the cut. So what's the big fuss? Now my hair is a richer, darker color; has fun layers and movement; and lots of depth with awesome highlights. (Yes I realize this is the most conceited, silly, and globally unimportant post ever, but shut it, because I'm really excited about my dern hair.)

If you live in the Fort Worth area, you'd be insane not to check out Magnolia Avenue Salon and ask for TJ.

Layers! ( And big ol' pimple.)

Highlights! (And head-tilt to conceal big ol' pimple)

As an added bonus, I was also able to catch lunch with Brandi, who happens to be TJ's girlfriend and the sister of one of my best friends and bridesmaids, Colby. In addition to her fabulous connections, Brandi is a super cool girl in her own right, and I'm hoping we'll be able to hang out some more since we're sorta in the same area. I'm also hoping Brandi is reading this so she can see how I'm creepily planning our future relationship, in public, on the internet...

Before and After

2010-06-03T17:47:00.011-05:00

Shrubberies

Is it just me, or did this bush by our side door look like one of those Komondor dogs?

Ya know, one of these:

Anyways, here's what it looked like after I got to it with some hedgers that Tanner
got me:

So our grass is dying in spots, but the bush looks a lot better! We also trimmed
the tree, but need to get back in there and get rid of all that new growth at the bottom.

Here are some more shaggy bushes. These were in the front:

Don't even get me started on where the Dish people decided to place the satellite:
right smack dab in the front of our yard. I wasn't there that day, needless to say.

Here's how it looked after I got done trimming:

I might have went a little bit overboard. But the goal was to give them a shape,
and then let them grow out to a more natural look.

Garden

Remember our wee garden?

Well here it is now:

It's out of control! Those are the cucumber plants that are growing
out of bounds. And that ridiculously tall weed looking thing on the left,
that's dill. I'm thinking I should trim it back, but not sure. We've got more
squash and zucchini than we know that to do with.
(Gosh, Happy, flip your ear over for goodness sake.)

Patio

Before, we were just a little country:

Now? We're those neighbors:

Bye Bye's

2010-06-02T23:15:00.005-05:00

If you're interested, you can click over and read the last post I made on the "On Staff" blog at my former place of employment, Horse & Rider magazine. Wow...it hasn't really sunk in yet that I don't work there anymore.

Hope I don't accidentally drive the ol', familiar 74 miles to Denton Monday morning instead of the 31 miles to Fort Worth.

YEAH RIGHT!

http://onstaff.blogs.equisearch.com/2010/06/see-ya-later.html

She's baaack...

2010-06-01T15:19:00.005-05:00

Boi-oi-oing

This is me sitting in a coffee shop in Dallas with my laptop. I am officially BACK and better than ever.

And by "back," I mean back to bloggy world. And by "better than ever," I mean 8 pounds heavier, less one job, plus a new job, and suffering a breakout on my chin related to the use of oil-laden (as opposed to oil-free) sunscreen.

The Friday before Memorial Day was my last day at the magazine Horse & Rider, where I've worked for the past 2 years. Next Monday is the first day of my new job at the magazine Quarter Horse News. This Tuesday through Friday is the first and last week of my current job: taking time to do whatever the HECK I want to!

On today's agenda: venturing away from my newlywed sanctuary, Weatherford, and traveling deep into the Eastern hemisphere,a.k.a, Dallas. My wedding rings needed their 6-month checkup and cleaning (which is more frequent than I clean my ears) at Diamond Doctor in the Dallas Galleria. My girly-gab tank needed filling by a lunch with Tara. And my city-girl soul needed satiating by sushi and a movie with Jessica. And, despite the fun I've had today and the fun planned for the rest of the day, my inner pessimist needs to tell you:

3 Reasons Why I Hate Dallas:
1. I can not park my truck. My truck was not meant for European-luxury-car-sized parking spaces or streets crowded with ding-dongs trying to parallel-park while wearing 5-inch wedges and pencil skirts on their lunch break from behind the counter at Nordstroms. My truck is very angry and wants crush every other car insight.
2. My ideal bee-bopping around town outfit does not consist of pearls, a Ralph Lauren button down, pastel-colored chino shorts, and boat shoes. Therefore, I am an outcast. I also have no Greek letters on the back of my car, on my purse, on my flip flops, or tattooed across my forehead. = double outcast.
3. I only ordered ONE )gasp) medium-sized drink at the coffee shot I have spent 1 1/2 hours at on the computer, ("And you're total is a whopping $3.75," I was informed), and I can't suffer the hateful glares any longer.

New Life

2010-04-12T14:17:00.010-05:00

I am proud to announce that on Saturday, April 10th at 5:15PM Tanner and I were blessed with new life! Nope, I am not pregnant. I just like to blog in ways that give ~~everyone~~ our moms the opportunity to think that we might be pregnant. I need attention. Besides, how creepy would that be if I announced the exact date and time of the conception of our child. "Ohhh, that's why she didn't answer my phone call." TMI.

Nope, the new life was in fact a bundle of plants and seeds that have become our NEW (lywed) garden. It was similar to a birth, though, in that planting the garden involved the woman doing all the work while the man stood by watching and offering "helpful" suggestions.

Plants and herbs for our garden.

Too be fair, Tanner wasn't able to help, because of his sprained ankle. But he hopped on his redneck power skooter (the four-wheeler he's been using to get around the yard), grabbed a beverage, and cheered me on from the sidelines. While the above doesn't look like much, it quickly filled what we thought was a generous-sized garden. Turns out plants are all demanding and antisocial and want to be 12 to 24 inches away from each other. That eats up a lot of space. So, our eyes were bigger than our garden, oh well. The plants were really inexpensive at our local store, Dillards, ($1 per vegetable plant, $1.75 per herb plant) so it was OK with us that a couple plants didn't make the cut.

Of course, Tanner tilled up the garden last weekend, which was a lot of hard work. I was mysteriously absent for that part. I think I was inside the house doing all our laundry by hand and making homemade cultured buttermilk. Or I was watching L.A. Ink on DVR. I can't remember which. This Saturday, Tanner and I planned out the arrangement of the garden together, (naturally, Tanner had the best vantage point to determine the layout, as he was perched atop his hillbilly wheelchair throne), then I dug holes and planted, fertilized, and watered. We ended up with (starting from the back and working our way forward) eight tomato plants (eight plants bearing a vegetable that makes me gag), carrots (these were seeds), banana peppers, jalapenos, some kind of mild green pepper that looks like a jalapeno, cucumbers, zucchini squash, and yellow squash. Zucchini is the diva of the garden. She can NOT be within 6 feet of another zucchini. Pah-leeze.

For the wee herb garden, I got some dill, oregano, basil, cilantro, thyme, and rosemary. Unfortunately, I left the rosemary at Dillards, and ever since then I have been scheming some non-confrontational way to go back and get it. A normal person might be honest. Ya know, walk in and explain how you paid for your rosemary but accidentally left it at the store. But since I'm irrationally afraid they won't believe me and will force me to fork over another whopping $1.75, the temporary plan is to steal a plant from the sidewalk. But it's not really stealing, I paid for it!

I'm pretty happy with the results so far of our first garden. Tanner's friend Scott will be adopting two jalapeno plants who didn't quite fit. I hope he gives them a good home. And we'll be planting some okra in a large pot. That will be a crap shoot. The spinach and spaghetti squash seeds didn't fit, so we'll plant them in late summer or early fall. I was a little disappointed when, after all my hard work, the plants hadn't sprouted any vegetables by Sunday morning. But, I guess I'll give them a little more time to prove themselves. I'm just glad we didn't plant all seeds, like Tanner's other friend Jason, who says he has ONE sprout to show as of yet for all his troubles.

Another plant related thing (the last for a while, I promise), here are some of the Indian Paintbrushes growing on our street and some of the bluebonnets around our River Haus. It's wildflower time in Texas!

What's Growin' On

2010-04-09T11:51:00.010-05:00

Here's a few little things that have been growing at our place lately:

Dahlia Starsister
I got this at Lowe's, and I have not killed it yet. I've got 5 blooms going so far, and
4-5 more buds. I hope it attracts some hummingbirds. Note, in looking up care
for this flower on the Web, I read something ridiculous on some state Extension
site about preparing the soil by putting it in the oven or a pressure cooker...does
anyone really do that kind of thing???

"Rhythm and Blues" Petunia
Another bright flower to attract hummingbirds. This, I got at Home Depot. I'm
trying to spread the wealth. Actually, I'm much rather buy local ("Shop Weatherford
First" is a new motto I've seen around town), but haven't had a chance yet to scope
out the local nurseries. This is in a hanging planter on the front porch.

Italian Flat-Leaf Parsley
This little guy doesn't have much room to grow. But if he takes off (AKA, if I don't
kill him) I'll transplant him to the garden. Wait, "what garden?" you say. (Please,
just play along. I'm fragile. Feign interest. Please.) Well, inquiring minds, this garden...

Southern view.

Western view.
(Honestly I'm amazed that I can determine the directions without a compass.
Well, really I don't even know how to use a compass. I just know that our satellite
points west. Cuz even that "sun rises in the east, sets in the west" thing usually
doesn't work for me, cuz I get them switch-swapped.)

Tanner and his dad tilled and fenced this area of our horse pasture over Easter weekend for our new garden. It was chocked full of delicious horse poopy. Apparently plants like that kind of thing. We've also got some lovely years-old decayed hay mixed with poopy that we will be adding to this before we plant this weekend. Man, makes you want to eat some veggies doesn't it! Doesn't it? Bring on the poopy! I mean vegetables!

On the agenda this weekend is heading over to our local feed and seed store, Dillards, in downtown Weatherford. I'm hoping we can also incorporate a lunch at the Weatherford Downtown Cafe, which I've been wanting to check out. All of these well-laid plans might be slightly impeded by this:

Tanner's sprained and swollen ankle.

Tanner's explanation for this injury, and his two previous serious ankle sprains: "I have skinny ankles, and I'm always doing something stupid."

I appreciated his sister's response, "Well, it's hard to argue with that!"

Too Many Puppies Jumping on the Bed

2010-03-29T10:35:00.003-05:00

With Tanner gone last weekend, I decided to replace him with some new bed mates. Don't worry, these bed mates were furry, four-legged, and wet-nosed. (If that's not specific enough for you, they were our DOGS. OK?)

Just like humans, some dogs are better bed buddies than others. My dog, Happy, (who is only called my dog when he's being good; when he's bad, he's our dog), is used to sleeping in a human bed. Back when I was single, and Happy was young and small-ish (for a Lab,) he slept in bed with me almost every night. As he got older and larger, I let him up a little less frequently. But that dog knows not to let go of a good thing, and the nights I put him to sleep (yes, I put him to sleep, like a baby) on his own doggie bed, he usually ended up crawling onto my bed in the middle of the night, somehow without waking me. Sneaky. I didn't really mind though (except for that brief period of my life when I had a white bed spread), because Happy is a sweet bed buddy. He curls up at bottom of the bed OR lays on his side, stretched out with his head on the pillow. When he does the latter, it's no different than sharing your bed with another person. Except the spooning is hairier.

Yes, I'm creepy.

Digger, on the other hand, has little experience sleeping in a human bed. He only got to hop (well, more like pitifully crawl with assistance) in bed with Tanner when the planets aligned: meaning Digger had received a bath that day, and Tanner planned on laundering the sheets and taking a shower the next morning. Remember, this is the guy who has a whole ritual of pillow-case flipping. He doesn't like dirty sheets.

Because of his lack of experience, Digger registered an ultimate FAIL this past weekend, when I graciously invited the dogs onto the bed in Tanner's absence. (To be respectful to Tanner, I bathed them both, and laundered the sheets the next day.) Happy assumed his snuggly spot on my right. Digger, on the other hand, in his ignorance, seemed to mistakenly understand that "sharing the bed" means you have to share the EXACT same spot on the bed. After pretending he couldn't make the jump, I hauled his pitiful butt up onto the bed. He circled a few times, curled up, and plopped down on the comfy spot know as my left hip bone.

He weighs 78 lbs.

I scooted over. He scooted over. I turned on my side, he wedged himself against my back. I burrowed underneath the covers and hid out at the bottom of the bed, he tunneled in after me with a head lamp. He was everywhere. I'm talking about MAJOR bed hogging. Clingy, suffocating, manic bed hogging. Finally, I gave up my diversion tactics, and straight-up tried to SHOVE him off of me. Then, I remembered another thing about Digger. Instead of moving away from pressure, he leans into it like his very survival depends on it. Try to push him off you, and he pushes back with a crushing force, bracing his legs and digging in with his claws, doing whatever it takes to move in the opposite direction you are trying to nudge him in.

Finally, at 2 AM, after fits of epic shoving fights and a relentless battle of the wills, Digger gave into fatigue and probably bruised ego, and retreated back to his dog bed.

Really?

OK, so maybe I laid on my stomach, put my hands on the wall and my feet on Digger's bottom, and pushed and grunted with all my might until Digger awkwardly tumbled off the bed, landed with a thump on his rear, and sulked in rejection to his bed.

I felt bad.

But then I fell asleep.

The Truth Lies Somewhere in the Middle

2010-03-24T10:04:00.007-05:00

The Story of My Birthday, Version 1
In the yellow tint of the bathroom light, she leaned familiarly toward the mirror and drew a steady line of charcoal black along the soft edge of her eyelid, pausing only to take additional care while navigating over the small, wrinkly bump of a chicken pock scar.

"You look beautiful," he said, cupping a warm hand on each side of her hips while leaning on her back and over her shoulder to look at their joined reflection in the mirror. "Imperfections and all," she read in his eyes.

The warm hum of conversation and the bubble of laughter welcomed them in from the cool and quiet of the small town square. She loved them both--the cafe and its patrons like a group of old friends, a shared joke, a heartfelt toast at the end of a night warm with too many beers; and the empty town square lit with street lamps, sweet and simple like a quiet, anointed moment of solitude and peace.

Walking over the worn wood floors to their table, his hand on her back guiding her and her upper body leaning slightly into the solidness of his side, she closed her eyes for just a moment and breathed deep. She felt as if she were floating over those soft, scuffed, love-worn floors.

He turned his head to her and smiled, "Happy birthday."

The Story of My Birthday, Version 2
"Why the heck won't my eyeliner EVER go oooon straaaaight," she complained, dragging out the last two works as she pressed her hands to her cheeks and dragged them down to her jaw in exasperation.

"What are you even talking about?" he asked, poking his head in the doorway. "It looks nice."

"This stupid chicken pock scar, it makes the line all wobbly and it looks dumb."

"No it doesn't. It looks good. I'm going to start the truck."

In a final act of frustration, she contorted her face in the mirror, mocking herself, and went into the bedroom to change.

The outfit was so much more "to-die-for" in her mind. Standing before the mirror, she realized the dress was lower cut than she had remembered, two sizes too small, and clingy in all the WRONG areas. She swapped her granny panties for underwear covering less acreage, but even the skimpy number left tell-tale signs of too many evenings with a spoon and a pint carton of pistachio ice cream. The strings on the underwear cut into the blubber on her hips, dividing each one into a jiggly mountain separated by a deep chasm. She decided to ditch the dress.

He walked in to find her standing in her underwear and socks in the middle of the room with her mind blanked by deep thought.

"You're not ready?" he asked.

"Just gimme a second."

He retreated to the living room, and she, defeated, squirmed back into the dress. She considered ditching the underwear all together, but grabbed a long cardigan instead. "That'd just be weird," she murmured.

"Do these boots look strange?" she asked as she met him in the living room. "Should I push them down or pull them up? Do they look too clunky? Or maybe they're too casual? Is it hot in here? What's the heater set on? I'm burning up."

"I think they look good both ways," he answered, getting up, kissing her, and putting his arm around her as he guided her toward the door. "You really do look really nice."

The restaurant was full of people talking and laughing, and the atmosphere was bright and cheerful. As they waited for the the hostess to gather their menus, she began anticipating the rich, satisfying food she'd soon be eating. "I'm going to get an appetizer AND desert," she thought. "And wine. Lots of wine."

They started through the bar toward the back section of the restaurant. She walked in front of her husband, the chunky wooden heels of her boots softly thunking on the wood floors of the restaurant. The bar and restaurant were separated by a stone wall with a wood framed opening as a walk-through. From the bar into the restaurant, the wood floors sloped slightly downward. And apparently, some one had polished the $*!# out 'em. Because, as she walked through the opening and took a sharp left toward their table, her polished wooden heels slid across the polished wood floors like a greased whale on a Slip 'N' Slide.

It happened fast and hard. Her legs flew out and up to the right, and the entire surface area of her massive left thigh slammed into the ground with an ugly, reverberating THUD. Tables rattled, ice clinked in glasses, and pictures trembled on the wall as if a freight train bearing straight for hell had flown by just feet from thin walls of the quaint, unsuspecting cafe. Quicker than she could ever have imagined possible, propelled by the powerful and inspiring force of shame and humiliation, she sprang back to her feet in an awkward, tactless, and unladylike convulsion of splayed legs, grunting, and sheer panic.

"Don't say anything, please. Let this moment pass," she whispered in denial as she jerked away from her husband and the hostess and attempted to elegantly resume her original course to their table.

"Oh my GAWWWD, are you oKAY?????????" the waifer-esque hostess screeched, pressing her bony hand against her chest.

"Umm, yes. I'm fine. Just a little embarrassed," she answered, the pain shooting through her quivering thigh. A colossal, knotty, eggplant of a bruise was already rising.

"Oh don't WORRY. No one saw you FALL like that," the hostess blurted loudly as the party wound its way through the tables packed with gawking patrons.

"Thanks," she replied curtly. She grabbed her menu and plopped in her seat, wincing.

The bobble-head smiled and bounced away, leaving them at their table. She looked at him for the first time since her Richter-scale rocking collision with the earth. His eyes were warm and understanding. "Are you OK?" he asked softly and with a smile.

"Yeah," she replied with closed eyes and a succinct nod of her head. "Thank God I wore underwear."

He smiled, "Happy birthday."

Erin Haynes. Twenty-six on March 6, 2010, and still a fool.

I'm Not Rich, Thin, or Blonde. But I am Semi-Homemade.

2010-03-18T08:52:00.006-05:00

I've been pretty proud of myself in the kitchen lately. Not because I've been crafting from-scratch artisan meals in my kitchen hearth. I don't have a hearth. I have a space heater. It doesn't make anything edible. I guess I could make beef jerky with it.

No, I'm proud because I've been resourceful. I've been tired lately, mentally and physically. I've been getting home later than usual. I have a lot on my mind. At times, I have sinned: I've bought "food" that comes in a box, because it's quick and easy. You add water, and sometimes some variety of meat, and cook it in a skillet. You can do it with your eyes closed. Which is handy for me because of the whole tired thing. But that stuff ain't good for ya. Just ask my belly jelly.

But lately, instead of falling for the idea that dinner has to be either an elaborate recipe or, the other extreme, straight from a box, I've been combining the two concepts to meet somewhere in the middle. (Not like this is a new idea. Her name is Sandra Lee. Her show is called Semi-Homemade Cooking. And she is rich. And thin. And blonde. Ugh.) The longer you've cooked, the more recipes you've tried, the more techniques you've mastered, and the better you get at coming up with stuff on your own and adapting things your remember.

Here's an dinner example of this philosophy from our kitchen from the night before last:

1. Italian Chicken breast: I had thawed 2 chicken breasts, the kind that come frozen in a big bag. I simply seasoned them and cooked 'em in my FABULOUS non-stick Calphalon non-stick pans (thank you, Nevues). For seasoning, I used a bread-dipping seasoning we received in an Italian-themed Christmas gift basket (thank you, Berrys). It comes in a tin, and you're supposed to mix it with olive oil and balsamic vinegar and dip your bread in it. It'a yumyums that way, but it was awesome as a seasoning too. It has all kinds of crushed herbs and dried garlic and onions. I heated the skillet to high to get a nice golden sear on the chicken and a crust of sorts from the herb rub, then cooked in on low with the lid on.

2. Fake Risotto: This was left over from the weekend, but it is another great semi-homemade concoction. My mom simply cooked regular white rice in chicken broth with chopped onion (and maybe garlic? Mom?). Then she topped it with flakes of fresh parmesan. You could also add toasted pine nuts or almonds if you wanted to. Or whatever nut you have on hand. The idea is for you NOT to run to the store for special ingredients.

3. Artichoke Gratin: I had half a can of artichoke hearts left over from a fish dish from the other night. So, I pulled out my handy Better Homes and Garden Cookbook and looked up 'artichokes' in the index. There was a gratin recipe that I didn't quite have all the ingredients for, so I improvised. I sauteed some canned mushrooms (I love fresh, but ALWAYS keep canned on hand because the're so handy) and turkey bacon, and made a white sauce with butter, flour, and milk in the pan. I put the chopped artichokes in a mini casserole dish, poured the sauce over top, and topped the whole thing with breadcrumbs and cheese. Then, I baked it.

The whole dinner only took about a half an hour to make, and was so much better than box food. And while it wasn't nuts and granola, I felt it was healthy. I also felt proud, cuz I made it up allll my by self. I've come along way since the beginning.

Rub a Dub Dub

2010-03-16T10:11:00.004-05:00

I just had to re-post this Natalie Dee comic, because it reminds me of Tanner so much that it's scary! My hubs is by no way psychotic in his cleanliness (well, most of the time), but he is very big on personal hygiene and has all these fascinating cleaning rituals that are ingrained into his daily routine.

Honestly, it made me a little self-conscious, especially at the beginning of our marriage, as we discovered each others habits and it was revealed that I only wash my hair (and occasionally, gasp, only shower) ever other day; I don't sleep on my pillow case, then flip it, then turn it inside out, then flip it again, and then launder it; and I don't care if my spouse uses my bath towel. But obviously it didn't make me feel that bad about myself, as evidenced by the second-day hair I'm sporting as I type.

If you're the less-clean spouse who enjoys poking fun at your OCD spouse (because it makes you feel less ashamed about your own filth) you'll enjoy this:

"do you want conditioner flowing all over your face like some animal?"

nataliedee.com

(warning if you plan to click through to see more comics, Nataliedee.com contains some comics with "adult language.")

What is Love?

2010-03-15T21:16:00.012-05:00

What is love?

If your first response isn't to bob your head and sing to yourself, "Baby don't hurt me," then you obviously weren't a teenager during the late nineties munching on Twizzlers and Sour Patch Kids while slurping a Diet Dr. Pepper and watching Night at the Roxbury.

Love is, however, something more than a bad club song immortalized in an equally bad Saturday Night Live skit movie spinoff.

Love is this:

I, Tanner, choose you, Erin, to be my wife.
I promise to treasure you and take care of you,
to remain faithful to you no matter the circumstances,
to guide and protect you,
to be trustworthy and honest,
and to show you unwavering love and patient forgiveness as Christ has shown me.
All that I am and all that I have is yours, because in God’s eyes we are one until death.

I love Valentine's Day. (I told you I had some back-blogging to do, and I meant it, dern it.) It will forever be a reminder of the love I share with my husband. It will be a day that small gifts, like

roses,

foot cream (and foot rubs), chocolates, cards,

and quiet nights cozied on the couch with a glass of wine,

will remind me of BIG gifts like

the night I was told that I was a one-and-only, a treasure, a woman to be desired; and all the days and nights that came and are to come as a result of a declaration, a question, a ring, and a promise.

Valentine's Day gets a bad wrap: "It's a ploy by greeting card companies and chocolate manufacturers to suck the ever-living daylight out of your emaciated pocket book." Yeah, they (the Man) have found ways to capitalize off of Valentine's Day, but the holiday has its roots in something beautiful and pure: L-O-V-E. Not the cheap kind of mass-produced love that you can buy, but real love. One popular explanation behind the origin of Valentine's is that a third-century priest gave his life to protect and honor the covenant of marriage. That's beautiful. And while we're supposed to show love all year round, I treasure the chance to spend a day purposefully being reminded of all the ways I've been loved, and all the opportunities I have to love others.

Even if you didn't get engaged on Valentine's Day like I did, why not make it a day to remind you and your spouse of how great it is to be given the gift of love. You can do this in many ways: gifts, a romantic night out, or simply a kind word of appreciation. Whatever gives you a moment of shared joy, laughter, appreciation, and happiness.

For Tanner and I, what makes us happy and romantic is apparently breaking the tails off of mud-sucking shellfish, eating their tail flesh, and then sucking their heads.

Like I said, whatever floats your boat.

I'm linking up with Tuesday's Unwrapped @ Chatting at the Sky (a place for your soul to breath).

Bein' Soggy Ain't Too Shabby

2010-03-07T12:44:00.004-06:00

Oh, how I've missed my ol' blog. The good news is, life is still a peach. The bad news, I haven't been able to find/make the time to share about it in the recent weeks.

Our little family has been going through some changes. NO, I'm not pregnant. Which was the question my good friend asked when I called her out of the blue to chat. She's been displaced to Georgia where she works with horses. So, I just assumed she'd been kicked upside the head that day.

Anyway, the changes are not baby-related. But still, Tanner and I have had lots of thinking and discussing and those sort of things to do lately, and we'll be experiencing some changes in out little life soon, which I'll be sure to blog about. My mind has been elsewhere, and I've been staying later at work lately (that full-time office job + the 73-mile one-way commute kind of gets in the way some times), so I let my blog go unattended. It has grown some weeds. But, I'm back! Ready to dig in and resume sharing. Because, like I said, I've really missed it!

But, during the last few weeks, our lives have gone on. We've grown, thrived, experienced, laughed, and sometimes, fallen flat on our ass. I meant that last one literally. It was really embarrassing. When my pride heals, I'll revisit that moment. So, while I've been living life away from cyberspace, I've also been wielding my trusty point-and-shoot camera and making notes about things I want to share with my family, friends, and fellow bloggers through my humble little blog. So, I'll be doing some back-blogging. It's my blog, I can be tardy if I want to. I've been tardy to the blog, BUT, I'm never tardy for the party.

This is the proclamation I'm shouting into the Internet stratosphere: I will blog again! I have returned triumphant.

Here's a little something from my day, something small, easy and unimposing to ease myself back into the blog routine (unlike the epic recaps of the last few weeks I have looming in my noggin). I'd like to share something my husband taught me. He taught me this before we were married. When he was still my boooooyyyyfriend.

He taught me that bein' soggy can be good. Very good.

You see, growing up, I would never put syrup on my pancakes. Really, I didn't. I would only top them with butter or powered sugar. One or the other. Syrup, I was convinced, would make them too mushy. Syrup was OK for waffles, because waffles were more sturdy, more crispy. They could hold their own against soggy woggy syrup.

But Tanner, he puts syrup on his flap jaks. Lots of it. AND he puts butter. With the syrup. I was certain I would not like it. "Look how soggy his pancakes are. They practically fall apart. My pancakes are sturdy. I can pick them up and eat them."

Then, I tried it. And it was delicious. And I learned my lesson.

Today I was reminded of that simple, life-changing lesson. Tanner made me pancakes for my 26th birthday breakfast yesterday. And because I'm a new woman, so much older and wiser, I joined him in slathering them with butter and syrup. They were yummy. Today, there was one lone pancake left, so I sprinkled it with powered sugar, just to test things out and make sure I had walked down the right path years ago. It was good. But, not that good. Not as good as my new soggy friends. But don't worry powered sugar, you still have a place in my world. See: funnel cake, donuts, french toast, homemade marshmallows, etc.

Woe is Tanner

2010-02-17T12:08:00.005-06:00

Before I met my now-husband, I had only known one other "Tanner." He was the little brother of my high-school (and current) best friend, Summer. (On second thought, don't click that link. She's way more stylish and cooler than me. And she actually takes the time to work on her house.) Anywhoo, all of us high school kids thought it was quite high-larious to make all kind of clever connections between the names "Summer" and "Tanner." As in, "When it's SUMMER time, do you get TANNER??????" hahahahahahahahHA

Since meeting and marrying my Tanner, I haven't met any others. There were two Tanners on the last season of The Bachelorette, (the one with the giggly Canadian, Gillian) but one of the Tanners was boring and forgettable, and the other had a creepy fet footish. I mean foot fetish, of course, but when I accidentally typed "fet footish," I laughed so hard I had to leave it up there. Anyway, MY Tanner is neither boring, forgettable, nor foot-obsessed. So, there.

Having a unique name that sounds part rugged leather-worker, part California surfer dude is indeed a blessing. You're one of a kind. The down side? You live a sad childhood void of touristy knick knacks with your name printed on them. Can you imagine your life without magnets, key chains, coffee mugs, shot glasses, and mini-license plates bearing your name? Sad, isn't it? Knowing how Tanner longed for these trinkets, I always kept a keen eye out for that hidden gem. I knew it had to be out there. Somewhere there was a rack of personalized items that had not left my Tanner out in the cold.

I was right.

After 4 years of looking, I found him.

You didn't even know they still made Beanie Babies, did you? Well, they do. And I would like to salute the TY corporation (or whoever made this knock off) for kindly remembering my man, with such a manly, multicolored, fuzzy wuzzy tribute.

Marriage, It's Not About You

2010-02-09T12:33:00.007-06:00

We've been really blessed when it comes to timely marital advice. Almost immediately after we got engaged, our church did a sermon series on marriage. Now, as we're reaching our 5-month mark, our church is embarking on another mini sermon series on marriage. The theme is restoration (Or is it repairing? Or rebuilding? Shows how well I listen in church. They're all synonyms anyway, so get over it.)

We haven't been married that long, so thankfully we haven't done too much damage to our marriage yet. Excluding a few wet bottoms and frightening revelations, things have been pretty peachy. But, the series is still a great way to remain proactive in building, nurturing, protecting, and daily restoring our relationship with each other. Plus, as our pastor said, there's always room for improvement, no matter how good things are.

From my experience, marriage and relationships are an interesting mix of nature and nurture. Here's what I mean. On one hand, things between the husband and I seem to just "work out." Part of the reason I married him is because being happy and enjoying myself around him just comes naturally. Because of who he is -- his personality, temperament, values, life experiences, attitude, good looks -- it's relatively easy for me to love him, get along with him, and make our relationship work. We fit together. It's just how it is.

On the other hand, our relationship also takes, and deserves, nurture -- intentional and deliberate work. I don't want to make marriage sound like a passionless, emotional contract, but sometimes it involves research and homework. I look at marriage as not just an organic experience, but as something I put work into. Marriage is something I try to study, learn about, and practice. I read books and magazine articles on marriage, listen to marriage sermons, and ask advice from people who've been doing the marriage thing successfully for some time. I'd take the same approach to a new career, trying to equip and prepare myself to do my best, so why not do the same for marriage?

I know that I can't prepare myself for all circumstances, and a lot of marriage is about enjoying the ride and learning as you go. Most of the time (at least so far) things have been relatively easy. But when the road gets bumpy, as it's bound to do, I'm thankful that I'll have some wisdom and relationship tools in my back pocket.

With all that being said, back to the topic that prompted the title of this blog post, which was the sermon we heard this Sunday. Which, when compared to the rambling babbles of the previous three paragraphs, is a relatively direct and to-the-point message. (I considered titling this post "Rambling Babbles About Marriage," but decided it lacked a certain je ne sais quoi.)

One of the messages from the sermon that really stuck out to me was that submitting to and serving our spouses is not about us or about them, but about God. We don't submit to our spouses' needs or serve them because they deserve it -- because they are sooo nice, because they are good looking, because they work hard, or because take care of the kids (or dogs, in our case). Because there will be times when they'll inevitably hurt us, disappoint us, or not fulfill "their end of the bargain." Serving our spouses doesn't have to be conditional upon their behavior.

Instead, we can love our spouses because of the love God has shown us, the love that we don't deserve, the love that we receive from Him even when we are at our very worst. We can serve our spouses and show them love because God has chosen us to show them how much He loves them. Wow. That really hit me. God has chosen me to show Tanner how much He loves him. What a responsibility, but what an honor. That's something I would like to spend the rest of my life doing. I know at times I'll fail, but I can't think of a greater gift than to be given than the opportunity to show this great man how much his God loves him.

I'm linking up with Tuesday's Unwrapped, to talk about the "sacred gifts of the everyday."

My Husband, The Revolutionary

2010-02-02T13:37:00.006-06:00

There's nothing that says, "Hey girl, you're really in truly married! Can you believe it?!" like stumbling into the bathroom at 3 am (because you have a bladder the size of a olive) and dunking your bottom in a nice, cold bowl of toilet water.

Because he won't put the lid down.

He refuses to put the lid down.

Even at night, when you're tired, and confused, and don't want to turn the lights on...

he won't close the lid.

Because he's making a stand. A stand for all men who have suffered under the toilet tyranny of women for decades. Because he has logic on his side. "If I have to lift the lid, you should have to lower the lid."

He's right. But it's cold. The water is cold... and wet. And it's 3am. And in my sweet, innocent sleepiness, I forgot for a moment that I was married to a boy. A boy that lives with me and uses my toilet and is spearheading a grassroots resistance that will sweep through bathrooms across the country (watch out!). And I have drowsy, disoriented, cold-bottomed anger. And his bath towel is hanging just a little bit closer than mine.

It's so tempting. Ha! He'll never know there's toilet water on his bath towel. Then he'll go to dry his hair and he'll have toilet water hair! Hahahaha!

But I like to run my fingers through his hair. And I don't want toilet water hands, in addition to my toilet water bottom. So, I resist the temptation. And live to fight again another day.

(I promise, I will not overshare in this manner in the future.)

Bury Me with My Remote

2010-02-01T19:52:00.010-06:00

What is it with boys and remotes???

This day should have gone something like this:
I promise to love you, cherish you, honor you.

And with this ring, I vow to watch UFC, Nitro Circus, and all other shows
during which people voluntarily maim, injure, and humiliate themselves
for sport or entertainment.

I also faithfully promise to watch any Burt Reynolds movies, and all modern Adam Sandler remakes of Burt Reynold movies.

And with this kiss, I promise to selflessly DVR all episodes of
Project Runway, Law & Order, and The Barefoot Contessa,

and watch them only when you are out of town.

Amen!

About Marriage

2010-01-26T12:41:00.003-06:00

I have been married for a little more than four months. Every day is not perfect. Sometimes, our new life is not as exciting, or adventurous, or inspiring as I imagined each day would be.

But I have discovered some things in four short months. Some new and special things. Some little things about marriage that make me laugh, smile, embrace the day, and look forward to the next one.

Marriage is almost always about sharing.
Even if you don't realize you're sharing until you kiss your husband and smell your (expensive) organic vanilla conditioner in his beard.

Marriage is sometimes about compromise.
"I can't stand Jay Leno. He's so cheeezy."
"Well I can't stand Conan, he's so nerdy."
"Fine then, we'll watch Letterman."

Marriage is about spending quality time enjoying activities together.
Sometimes that activity is you struggling to jog your ample "pear" bottom uphill, while your husband drives alongside you on a ATV, drinking a cup of coffee.

Sometimes the gifts are small. Sometimes they come wrapped in funky paper. Sometimes, they're wrapped so discreetly, your might not recognize they're gifts at all. But I love unwrapping them. And on every day of this newlywed journey, God has not failed to leave one on my doorstep.

I'm linking up with Tuesdays Unwrapped at

"A place that encourages reflection and discovery of meaning in the midst of the mundane."

The Food We Eat When We're Alone

2010-01-22T14:41:00.006-06:00

What would you do if your husband left you, for the third weekend in a row, to go to his hunting lease?

The first weekend, you might go visit your dear friend who just had a baby and help her around the house. The second weekend you might put up Christmas decorations. The third weekend, you might begin by cleaning the house, and then through you hands up in the air and say, "SPICY THAI PEANUT CURRY!!!"

Well, that's what I did. With Tanner gone, I decided to treat myself to one of my favorite recipes that Tanner just so happens to strongly dislike. We won't even get into how he has never actually tasted it or really even seen it. He just decided that he hated it when I described it to him. And, well, that was that.

But guess what? Tanner wasn't home last weekend, so I made my all-time favorite peanut curry. And you better believe I ate it for 6 straight lunch and dinner meals. (I had to take a break for breakfast.) After 6 meals of curry, I ingested a bottle of charcoal pills and gained 40 lbs, but that's beside the point.

I first made this when recipe when I lived alone in my temporary apartment in ~~hell on earth~~ Amarillo. It was my respite from constant hurricane-force winds and the lingering smell of cow manure. Most people wouldn't think of curry as a comfort food, but I do. And it was my litle single-life reunion for the weekend since the rest of my lease-widow weekends were decidedly domestic.

What do you eat when your husband's out of town? Pick up some sushi? (Another one of my favorites.) Down nothing but popcorn and coke? If you don't have a go-to yet, and you love peanut butter, try this:

Spicy Thai Peanut and Chicken Curry
2 Tbsp peanut oil
3 Tbsp red curry paste
1 Tbsp sambal oelek (chili paste, looks like this)
1.5 lbs chicken breast cut into chunks (I used leftover turkey last weekend)
2 cups coconut milk or light coconut milk
2 Tbsp fish sauce
3 Tbsp brown sugar
4 Tbsp cream peanut butter
3-6 cups cooked white rice (depends how much rice you like with your curry)
crushed peanuts
lime
cilantro, green onion, cucumber slivers, bean sprouts (whatever green you have on hand)

1. Saute peanut oil, curry paste, and sambal over medium heat for a few minutes.
2. Add the chicken chunks and cook through.
3. Add the coconut milk, fish sauce, brown sugar, and peanut butter.
4. Simmer for about ten minutes, stirring every once and a while.
5. Serve over white rice, and top with crushed peanuts, lime juice, and cilantro, green onion, cucumber slivers, bean sprouts or whatever green things you have around the house.

You can adjust the curry, sambal, fish, sauce, brown sugar, and peanut butter up or down about a tablespoon or two until you find the combination spiciness, savoriness, and peanutbuterygoodness that suits you. I like it extra peanutbuttery and medium spicy.

I had no crushed peanuts, but trust me, they make it sooo much better.
>

This recipe was adapted from HeidiSue's

How NOT to Spend Your First Married New Year's Eve

2010-01-21T14:20:00.006-06:00

How NOT to Spend New Years Eve

Alone.
Taking self portraits with your dog.

And drinking champagne with your imaginary husband.

JUST LIKE YOU DID WHEN YOU WERE SINGLE.

How TO Spend the First Moments of the New Year

Shake your sleeping husband at midnight, force him to kiss you, and make him take a self portrait -- with a flash. Enjoy punishing him.

Drink more champagne.

And then some more.

Untwil you decides to go outshide in your bur feet and take pitchers of the moon.

Become convinced your dog is turning into a werewolf. And discuss with him how dog -> werewolf transformations are less impressive than human -> werewolf ones.

(As you can see, I'm a little behind with downloading my pictures from my camera. I won't even try to do a Christmas review post. That's soo 2009.)

My "Baby's" Belated Birthday

2010-01-20T13:14:00.015-06:00

So, this is a little belated, mostly because I haven't quite gotten in the swing of regular and timely blogging. But, last Thursday was Tanner's 26th birthday. I'll save the post for how the reality of turning 26 cripples me for my own birthday, in March.

Tanner's birthday is really important to me, and I'm pretty sure I care more about it than he does. But for me, it is a heartfelt celebration of a man that I love so deeply. It's a celebration of one of the greatest men to ever live (second, obviously to Jesus and tied with my Dad and all that). January 14, 1984 was one of the most important days of my life, and I wasn't even born yet (I was, however two months from being born, 9-some-odd pounds, and kicking the $&!* out of my mom). I would live 21 years before I even knew this man, who would change my life, existed.

So, I love January 14th. Despite some of the grand things I've planned for Tanner in the past, this year we kept it pretty low-key (to save $ for our early anticipated Canadian vacation). I made him breakfast and his favorite "Tanner Cake," called him 234234 times through out the day, refused to call him anything but "birthday boy," gave him presents, and took him out to dinner at a great place in Weatherford -- my treat.

The things boys want for their birthday...

My favorite part of the night was when Tanner and I sat down and looked at some of his childhood pictures. The first time his mom shared these pictures with me when Tanner and I were engaged was a life-changing moment for me, and permanently altered the way I see Tanner. To see his childhood pictures took me to a new level of loving Tanner that I could never have imagined possible, and can't exactly explain. But, I'll do my best.

Seeing that twinkle in his eye as a baby when he mischievously rummaged through Mom's cabinets; that big toothy smile he flashed before he was self conscious enough to realize he didn't like his smile; that overwhelming expression of excitement over dad's knife collection laid out on the floor or his new GI Joe; that radiance of pride in his baseball uniform; that tender hug with Grandma; that glow of independence atop a horse all alone -- seeing all those things in the pictures gave me the chance to know Tanner and appreciate him more deeply than I could have before. Through those pictures, I was able to understand who Tanner is at heart in a new way, and not only celebrate those past moments, but in a way experience them, which makes me feel almost impossibly close with him in mind and spirit.

The pictures show me that Tanner still is that boy, playful and sweet and vulnerable. But, they also remind me of how much he's grown and changed into this man I know now, responsible and honorable and strong. In 26 years, he's evolved from a child into a man who loves and protects me, provides for our family, plans our future, and strives to do right. And he's managed to maintain a childlike joy and carefree spirit, while also developing integrity and selflessness. OK, my cheeks are all soggy, so I'll just share some pics with you and tell you how I desperately hope I have a little boy someday who looks just like this one.

Random Thoughts

2010-01-13T12:56:00.004-06:00

OFFICER -- "Watch your speed. It's a holiday weekend so there are a lot more cops out."
ME -- Why didn't you tell me that before you pulled me over? Like, maybe with your bullhorn?

ME -- (Fighting back tears.) "Tanner, I got a speeding ticket. It's such a stupid waste of money. I'm so sorry." (Sniffle.)
TANNER -- (Laughing amicably.) "Oh, don't worry about it! It's OK. No big deal. I've done it too, and gotten my fair share of tickets. It happens to everyone."
ME -- Huh!? Why didn't you tell me that when I backed into the closed driveway gate with my truck, destroying our rental property?
TANNER -- Because I've NEVER done that.

Eggcellent Way to Say, 'I Love You'

2010-01-07T11:21:00.010-06:00

Tanner and I don't often get to enjoy the mornings together, because (when I'm on time) I leave for work a good hour before he does. Which is a shame, because we are both morning people, and really enjoy piddling and puttering around the kitchen and TV room together in the morning.

This morning was an exception, because I went in late to work, and I was able to "make" us some Williams-Sonoma croissants (which means I just put them in the oven). We ate together while we chatted about world news, financial planning, literary criticisms, and apple butter vs. raspberry jelly (he's all butter, and I'm all jelly, which sounds like it should be a Beyonce song).

In the past, on normal mornings, I've made my decaf, eaten a bowl of cereal, and left Tanner to fend for himself. Lately, however, I've really been trying to serve Tanner in little ways -- doin sweet little things just to show him I care. I especially like doing things for him in the morning, since he's still snoring away as I leave at the bootie crack of dawn, and we don't have much interaction. Even though we can't enjoy quality time together most mornings, I still want him to start his day off knowing I care. SO, I've been setting his coffee pot each morning so it's brewed at the time he would be getting ready to head out the door, and leaving him something to eat for breakfast.

Lots of times, though, Tanner takes his breakfast with him in the car, because he's running late or because he's not quite hungry yet. So, I leave out a croissant or a toaster pastry or muffins.

Today however, I found some Hungry Girl recipes in my inbox. They're for mini egg casseroles that seem like a super-quick and easy way to prepare a savory breakfast that's just as easy to take on-the-go. It's all in the microwave, which means no pots and pans to clean, and when you're done, you can grab the mug of yummy, warm eggness and head out the door. I'm thinking I can do most of the work, and then leave Tanner a note to microwave for the final 45-60 seconds to set the eggs. Plus, it's a super easy way to make breakfast for two if you and your spouse don't like all the same fixin's in your eggs.

Here are the recipes, below. I'm also curious to know if any of you marrieds have morning routines, and how if they developed and changed over time?

Chicken Fajita Scramble Mug
PER SERVING (entire recipe): 163 calories, 0.75g fat, 583mg sodium, 12g
carbs, 1.25g fiber, 5.5g sugars, 26g protein

Ingredients:
1/4 cup chopped red bell pepper
1/4 cup chopped onion
1 oz. cooked skinless lean chicken breast, chopped
1 tsp. dry fajita seasoning mix
1/2 cup fat-free liquid egg substitute (like Egg Beaters Original)
2 tbsp. shredded fat-free cheddar cheese
1 tbsp. fat-free sour cream

Directions:
Spray a large microwave-safe mug with nonstick spray. Add veggies,
chicken, and fajita seasoning. Stir well to evenly distribute seasoning.
Microwave for 1 - 2 minutes, until veggies have softened.

Add egg substitute and microwave for 1 minute.

Add cheese and gently stir. Microwave for an additional 45 - 60 seconds, until
scramble is just set.

Allow to cool slightly. Top with sour cream.

Denver Omelette in a Mug
PER SERVING (entire recipe): 122 calories, 0.75g fat, 702mg sodium, 6g
carbs, 0.5g fiber, 2.5g sugars, 21.5g protein

Ingredients:
1/4 cup chopped green bell pepper
2 tbsp. chopped onion
1/2 cup fat-free liquid egg substitute (like Egg Beaters Original)
1 oz. (about 2 slices) 97 - 98% fat-free ham, chopped
2 tbsp. shredded fat-free cheddar cheese

Directions:
Spray a large microwave-safe mug with nonstick spray. Add veggies and
microwave for 1 - 2 minutes, until softened.

Blot any excess liquid from veggies. Add egg substitute and microwave for 1
minute.

Add ham and cheese and lightly stir. Microwave for an additional 45 - 60
seconds, until scramble is just set.

Veggie Eggs-plosion Mug
PER SERVING (entire recipe): 130 calories, 2.25g fat, 495mg sodium, 10g
carbs, 2g fiber, 5.5g sugars, 17g protein

Ingredients:
1/2 cup sliced mushrooms
1/4 cup thinly sliced onion
1/4 cup chopped asparagus
1/4 cup diced tomato
1/2 cup fat-free liquid egg substitute (like Egg Beaters Original)
1 wedge The Laughing Cow Light Original Swiss cheese
Optional seasonings: black pepper, garlic powder

Directions:
Spray a large microwave-safe mug with nonstick spray. Add all veggies and
microwave for 1 - 2 minutes.

Thoroughly blot excess moisture from the veggies. Add egg substitute and
microwave for 1 minute.

Add the cheese wedge, breaking it into pieces. Stir gently, and then
microwave for an additional 45 - 60 seconds, until scramble is just set.

Allow to cool slightly. If you like, season to taste with black pepper and garlic
powder.

These recipes are all courtesy of Hungry Girl. You can find additional egg mug recipes here and here. And, you can sign up for her newsletter, here.

From the Date Night Archives: Horseback Picnic, Part Two

2010-01-05T12:32:00.016-06:00

If you missed Part One of this enchanting tail (haha, like a horse's tail, get it? cheeseball), you can read it here. Or, ya know, just scroll down a lil bit.

This whole idea for a romantic horseback picnic originated with a wicker picnic basket I received at my bridal shower in Katy. So, really, this whole resulting mess of a date can entirely be blamed on the Gwaltneys. It's one of those old-fashioned looking wicker baskets, lined with fabric and closed with a metal clasp. For some reason, I always imagined a perfect picnic would include homemade fried chicken, potato salad, and pie, all wrapped in wax paper and tucked away in such a daahhling basket as the one I was now a proud owner of. But, then again, I think my brain is all a muck with cliches because my mental picnic also involves a parasol and Laurie putting combs in my hair before I tell him I'm going to marry Fred Vaughn. Anyways... none of the above manifested in the reality of this date. And because the picnic basket came already packed with assorted cheeses, crackers, wine, and other goodies, that was gonna work juuuussst fine. Sorry, Laurie. Next time, chicken fry.

Tanner and I (well, mostly I) had been talking about this picnic for a while, but actually decided to do it on the spur of the moment one boring evening when we realized that it would be winter pretty soon and picnics are not so fun when it's 38 degrees. We were hoping to time the actual picnic for sunset, cuz duh that's soooo romantic, so we rushed outside to get the horses ready. Things seemed destined for perfection, because instead of running around the pasture in a infuriating game of "catch me if you can," the horses waited patiently while we haltered them and tacked up. I stuffed my saddle bag full of multiple blanket choices and an assortment of gloves, sweater, vest, and jacket options; ya know, in case the plates shifted and we were thrown into alternating hemispheres at random. I rolled up a pallet, mounted up, had Tanner tie on the picnic basket, and we headed off down the road.

That, is when I realized that with every step Stetson took, that precious (and surprisingly heavy) picnic basket was going to whack me not so gently in the leg. That is when I began wondering if wicker crosshatch motifs imprinted in the skin might come in fashion. That is when I realized Stetson and I could go no faster than a walk, to prevent my shin from breaking in half. And, that is when I realized that Pepper and Tanner were doing everything BUT walking at a leisurely pace.

You see, the last time Tanner rode Pepper, Britney Spears was dating Justin Timberlake. Despite the fact that Pepper has thrown us both, breaking my pelvis and nearly dislocating Tanner's shoulder, Tanner just kinds hops on him with that ~~foolish~~ fearless male attitude and heads off down the kaliche road. Did I mention it's a road made of hard, jaggedy little rocks? Did I also mention that Pepper seemed to not recall how to steer or maintain a consistent speed? Hand holding as we piddled down lovers lane was apparently not an option. Instead, as we headed down the road toward our neighbor's pasture, I was left in a cloud of kaliche dust, as Tanner and Pepper waged an epic battle of man vs. animal. They zigged, and zagged, and circled, and gallopped, and backed, and side stepped, and all the while, Tanner artfully painted the dimming sky with his colorful expressions -- none of which I will repeat here. I sensed the romance dwindling as Tanner's face, red with frustration, led our mismatched party through the pasture like a beacon. Me plunking along on my antisocial, Eeyore of a horse, who was trying repeatedly to yank the reins out of my hands so he could snatch grass, and Tanner and Pepper rapidly burning a trail trail straight to.... well, ya know.

So we trespassed down to our neighbor's pond (well, they told us about a year ago that we were welcome to ride there, and we decided to belatedly take them up on it), because I thought that would be a romantic spot. We all made it there in one piece, unpacked out gear, and hobbled the horses (which involves tying their front two legs together so they can only take tiny little steps).

It was looking like things might calm down. Tanner had exercised the limits of his vocabulary, and was starting to cool off. So we plopped down at our spot and opened up our treasure trove of goodies. After taking turns screaming at the dogs, begging them to stay out of the pond, and then after they didn't listen, employing mixed martial arts techniques to keep them from tracking muck all over our blanket, we uncorked the wine and started eating.

That's when I realized that we were not the only lovers who found this particular picnic spot enticing. We were joined by hoards of mosquito lovers, and apparently all of their resulting offspring. While biting into an olive, I notice a dingy halo hovering above Tanner's head.
"Ummm.... Tanner. Is that a thought cloud?"
"What?"
"Are there a bunch of mosquitos circling my head?"
"No."
"Well.... there's like a whole mosquito situation thing going on above your head."
"Hrmp."

Although he claimed he was not being bitten, the little bug cloud stayed perched above his head, and only his head, for the rest of the evening.

As it turned out. We perfectly timed unpacking the picnic basket with the sun setting. It was a beautiful sunset. Magestic. Awe-inspiring.

And it lasted about 2 minutes.

Then, it was pretty much dark. I mean, we could see, but barely. I could see just enough to witness Pepper's head pop up in the air, ears alert, eyes buggin', nostrils flared, etc. Who knows what he saw, or thought he saw, or might have heard. But he was gone in a flash. Stirrups flapping at his side and tail in the air, he took off like, well, like he always does. This time, though, he was three-legged.

If you've never seen a horse run with hobbles on, it's a morbid combination of hilarious and terrifying. Their two front legs become one, and they paw forward in an awkward plop, with the hind following behind. And since horses carry most of their weight on their front end, when you give them one leg to balance on as they run, it's a lumbering, frightful spectacle to say the least. And Pepper wasn't just hopping along, I mean he was booking it, clodding up and down uneven terrain in the dark, teetering on the verge of falling and breaking his neck. And of course, Stetson had no choice but to follow suit. I'm not sure why, but Tanner retrieved the horses, brought them back closer to our picnic site, and sat back down, hoping to continue our picnic in the dark. Of course, they thundered off again a few minutes later, running even deeper into the farthest corners of our neighbors' property.

So, in the dark, we stuffed our faces with the last of the hummus, gathered up all our junk in our arms (including my wardrobe options), and trekked through the hay looking for our trustworthy mounts.

On the way home, Pepper exerted the last of his engery, again going about a million miles a minute down the trail. There was a fleeting moment, between Tanner running Pepper in circles, when we crossed paths and shared a kiss. And maybe that's why, after it all, when we had returned home and I had ungrafted the seat of my pants from my skin, I started planning our next horseback picnic.

I'm NOT Dead

2010-01-04T10:45:00.004-06:00

Dear ~~millions of people who read my blog~~ Mom,

I am not dead. I was not electrocuted through my laptop while blogging during one of the North Texas thunderstorms I am convinced will produce a twista (said like Hickory in The Wizard of Oz) in our backyard. I did not suffer a heart attack during the resulting panic attack that ensued, when I realized we do not have an interior closet large enough to hold myself, my husband, the dogs, the cat, and the horses. I did not slip on my greasy kitchen floor and knock myself unconscious while making an oversized batch of snickerdoodles to calm my nerves after the terrifying ordeal.

Nope, I'm still alive. And I promise I have a very funny Part 2 to the equally HILARIOUS post dated December 14. That was weeks ago. Weeks before I tried to prove to the world that one person can single handedly produce a Christmas dinner from scratch in a kitchen the size of a pill box. Ooops. I have a lot of catching up to do.

And I promise, I will delight your minds and entertain your... yeah, minds again, (humor me), this very night, when I post the eagerly anticipated, "From the Date Night Archives: Horseback Picnic, Part Two."

If I don't post tonight, someone please come to my house to check on me. Because any of the above tragedies definitely may have have ensued.

From the Date Night Archives: Horseback Picnic, Part One

2009-12-14T07:20:00.010-06:00

Tanner and I have two horses, Stetson and Pepper. They live on the 2 or so acres that surround our rental home.

This is Stetson. He spends most of his time eating, chasing Pepper away from his food (Stetson considers all food to be his food), rolling in the dirt, ignoring the curious neighboring horses who hang their heads over the fence, sticking his head through the gate into our back yard to eat our lawn, coughing up phlegm and spiting it on my shoes (he's allergic to dust, pollen, bugs, other horses, air, exercise, and happiness), grumbling and neighing at me every time I come out of the house (day or night) to try and get me to feed him, and figuring out how to open gates and jump over barriers to get into the feed room.
He grumpy. He's cantankerous. He's middle-aged. But he's also incredibly smart. He's the kind of grumbly old guy who you shake your head at, and pretend to be mad at -- but secretly, you kind of like that he's an ole grouch.

Photo by Alana Harrison

This is Pepper. He spends most of his time trying to eat Stetson's left over scraps, chewing with his mouth open and spewing grain in a 10 foot radius, sniffing and nibbling your clothes, trying to play over the fence with the curious neighbor horses, sticking his head through the gate to try and sniff and nibble the dogs, running away from us when we come out of the barn on a cold night with his blanket, coming up to the fence for a pat every time I come out of the house (day or night), and figuring out the most circuitous route to his hay in avoidance of Stetson.
He's sweet, curious, and jumpy. He's a silly teenager. He spends a lot of time trying to decide, "Am I afraid of that? Or interested in it?" He makes me laugh as one minute he's snuggling, and the next he's running away kicking up dust.

Every once and while, we'll interrupt the glamorous every day lives of these horses, and put a saddle on them. That was our plan when we dreamed-up a romantic horseback ride and picnic. I was pretty excited. I mean, MAN, this was going to be roMANtic! I was already story-boarding in my head the Harlequin romance I was going to pen based on our sunset ride and horderves. The original plot involved the aforementioned sunset, a leisurely horseback stroll during which Tanner and I intertwined fingers and blew kisses, cheese and crackers and other goodies fed to each other on a cozy blanket as our horses munched grass and our dogs gazed at butterflies looping through the air, and a bunch of other mooshy "chocolate-bearing-cowboy take me away" scenarios.

The finialized, post-reality-edited story line... yeah, a leetle different.

More to come.

Deep, Dark Confessions

2009-12-12T23:45:00.006-06:00

You date someone for four years, and you think you know them well. And then, you get married, and then, then, they reveal things about themselves you could have never imagined. Things, that if you had known before you got married, would have changed it all.

Today Tanner told me one of those things. One of those truths that makes you question everything.

"Sometimes, when mom would buy Oreos, but we would run out of milk, I would dunk them in water."

Water.

You think you know someone, but you really don't.

Things Girls Do: Pillow Talk

2009-12-03T15:56:00.007-06:00

Girls like pillows. And lots of 'em. I'm no exception. I love a bed full of plush pillows. I'll stack those suckers half-way down the length of the bed. Why? HELLO! They look pretty. Even though I only get to enjoy their beauty for the 5-10 minutes I spend standing in my room while I change clothes before bed, that's reason enough. And, the few times I have the luxury of extra time to read for pleasure (GASP!), or on the rare occasion when Tanner refuses to forfeit the living room TV (cuz they only play Waterworld every 5 hours), those pillows are the perfect cushion and back-prop while reading or vegging-- how I love cuddling in a cocoon of pillows.

I finally got the European-sized pillows to go inside the remaining shams, fulfilling our darling decorative pillow family that came with our comforter set.The morning after Pillowpalooza 2009, something shocking happened. I discovered it when I came home from work. Tanner, who gets up after I've already left the house, had made the bed, excessive pillows and all. He didn't even make a comment about the new additions to the family. And then......

it never happened again.

Those pillows, as light and fluffy as they are, quickly broke his will to bed-make. I'm obsessive about a made bed -- if makes me feel at peace and complete. I don't like getting into an unmade bed. So, I politely informed Tanner, "It would mean a lot to me if you would make the bed before you left. I'll start feeding the horses in the morning (a chore he doesn't like) if it would help." [Tanner:] "Ummm, how about I just get up and out of bed before you leave so you can make the bed. I'll keep feeding the horses." [Me:] "But you'd have to get up, like, a hour earlier than you do now!" [Tanner:] "Yeahhh, that's fine."

Pillows? Yea, well, now Tanner thinks they're kinda dumb, "We just take them off every night." Sigh.

Should We Lie To Our Spouse?

2009-12-03T11:23:00.004-06:00

Should you manipulate the truth for the "betterment" of your marriage?

Semi-recently, a newsletter from one of the newlywed forums I'm a member of (The Nest) send me an interesting article (sometimes it takes me a while to read all those newletters, but for some reason I save them OCD-style in little folders until I find the time). This article from The Wall Street Journal suggests that "fibs and feints and little white lies that serve as a social salve and help a relationship run smoothly" might help the survival of our marriage.

So you can get an idea of the types of lies considered "helpful," here are the fibs mentioned in the article:

A wife who brings newly-bought clothes into the house in a dry cleaner's garment bag
A wife who dumps take-out into pots on the stove before the hubby arrives home
A wife who pockets the $ her hubby gives her for a house cleaner and cleans the house herself
A wife who dropped a diamond earring her hubby gave her down the drain, but said the earrings just hurt her ears to much too wear
A hubby who promised he wouldn't trim the trees, did anyway, and colored over the white stump with a brown marker
A wife who hid her husband's unsightly t-shirts with cut-off sleeves
Hubbies who fibbed about how much they drank at a party, how fast they drive, whether they find their wife's female friends attractive, how much they like their significant other's cooking or outfits, etc.

So why lie? The main reasons mentioned in the article are (1) to avoid conflict and (2) to protect your spouse/be kind. Other reasons include to save face and to gain approval.

(1) My wife asked if I would walk the dogs but I played X-Box all day instead so to avoid an argument, I'll cover the dogs legs in mud and give them a tranquilizer so they look tired.
(2) My wife's lima bean stir fry makes me throw up in my mouth, but I'll tell her it's the best thing I've ever eaten because I don't want to hurt her feelings.
(1&2) I hate the way my husband dresses, so instead of telling him and arguing about it and hurting his feelings, I'll hide all his clothing in a hole in the backyard.

Maybe I'm naive because I'm so early into the game, but I'm not sure I see the benefit of the above white lies, or ones like them. Many may act as quick conflict diffusers and are even amusing at times, but from my perspective (duh, this is my blog), they can also mask a deeper issue at hand. I don't like fighting or sharing difficult truths, but I'm under the impression that addressing conflicts big and small, and being honest in love and with good intentions will do more good for the survival of my marriage. Also, I'm horrible at lying, even when I'm trying to do it as a joke, so if my marriage's survival depends on it, then I'm dead and buried.

Instead of dumping take-out in pots, deceiving my husband into believing I cooked it in order to gain his approval, I'd like to be in a relationship where I can be secure enough to tell my husband I suck at cooking. Sometimes I won't feel like doing it, so we'll eat TV dinners. I'll also try my best to get better at it -- hey, lets cook together to make it more fun, even if it turns out tasting like a glucosamine dog tablet (I recently tasted one of these by accident, so I know how disgusting they are). If my husband makes me feel insignificant because I'm not good at something, or if I'm insecure and feel the need to earn his love by impressing him, or if we have spousal role expectations that we don't see eye to eye on, those are issues that I'm not sure a white lie band aid will heal very well.

And the whole lying so you don't hurt someone's feelings thing, the flag that's always flown to prove that sometimes it's OK to lie, not sure I can solute those shorts. "I can't tell my wife she looks fat in those jeans, so I just say she looks nice." Hey wife, instead of trapping your husband in an akward situation, why don't you get to what's really on your mind. You feel insecure because you've gained weight. You're not happy with your body. You're not sure if your husband is still attracted to you. You husband doesn't complement you as much as you'd like. You are looking for significance in the wrong places.

If so, work out and eat healthy, pray, tell your spouse you need him to show you affection more often, whatever. But don't force him into a situation where he has to lie to you so you can get a temporary band aid on a deeper issue. What if you don't have alterior motives, and you're really sincerely asking your husband how you look in a certain outfit, because it matters to you -- then, I'm guessing you want an honest answer! Upon my asking, Tanner's honestly told me before that skinny jeans and flats isn't his favorite look, but that I always look beautiful to him, no matter what I'm wearing. And you know what, I believed him on both accounts. And, I still wear my skinny jeans anyways, because I like them. But now I tuck them into boots, because honestly, he was right, they look better that way.

I guess my point is, there's usually a deeper issue at hand requiring a lie. And often times, it's because we're being selfish or prideful in some way, because we have unhealthy insecurities, or because we're ashamed. And besides, getting in the habit of being untruthful in small ways, sounds like a gateway drug to bigger lies (I've been watching too much of the TV show Intervention).

Obviously, I'm sinner with the best of them and far from perfect. One time, when we were dating, I told Tanner that I had cut my dad's hair before, because I really wanted to cut Tanner's hair, and was afraid he wouldn't let me if I confessed I'd never done it. He let me, and luckily it turned out well. I confessed, a year or so later. Even though I'm terrible at it, I still catch myself lying at times. Usually pulling the "Nope, nothing," when Tanner asks if something's wrong. I've learned, at least for us, that it's better to just answer truthfully. And I think it's made our marriage better.

I'm curious to know you're thoughts, even if you disagree with me -- don't you lie and tell me I'm right so you won't hurt my feelings now.

Thanksgiving Eats

2009-11-25T14:43:00.009-06:00

In honor of our new (lywed) Thanksgiving, I decided to try out some new recipes to test on the in-laws. (I really should use my own parents as guinea pigs, since they have to love me no matter what, even if I poison them with un-tested recipes. Maybe I'll just tell the Haynes that Tanner made anything I bring to their house... that way they'll pretend to like them even if they're seriously janked up...) Anyways, these particular recipes were a hit. The cake was moist and had a delicious spice to it -- the very essence of the holidays. And the spinach was cheesy and rich. Mmmmmm... I love Thanksgiving left overs!

Best-Ever Pumpkin Cake
(original recipe from Kirsten, posted here on her awesome parenting blog)

1 (15 ounce) can solid pack pumpkin [Erin's note: Yeah, I accidentally used 30oz pumpkin pie mix, added the sugar and oil, and had a slippery, sugary, slop that I put in the refrigerator after I realized what I had done... I have hopes of resurrecting the sacrificial pie slop into something edible when I get back from Eldorado.]
2 cups granulated sugar
1 cup vegetable oil
4 eggs, lightly beaten
2 cups all-purpose flour
2 teaspoons baking soda
1 teaspoon cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon nutmeg
1/2 teaspoon ginger
1/4 teaspoon cloves
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 bag semi-sweet chocolate chips

Preheat oven to 350 degrees F. In a mixing bowl, beat pumpkin, sugar and oil. Add eggs; mix well. Combine flour, baking soda, cinnamon, spices and salt; add to pumpkin mixture and beat until well blended. Stir in the chocolate chips. Pour into two round pans. Bake for 25 to 30 minutes or until cake tests done. [Erin's note: I had to bake the cakes longer to get them to set in the middle. I took them out of the cake pans so they wouldn't burn on the edges, wrapped them in foil except for the middle, and cooked an additional 10 minutes.]

Frosting
3 ounces cream cheese, softened
5 tablespoons butter or margarine, softened
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1 3/4 cups confectioners' sugar
3 to 4 teaspoons milk
Chocolate shavings

Beat cream cheese, butter and vanilla extract in a mixing bowl until smooth. Gradually add sugar; mix well. Add milk until frosting reaches desired spreading consistency. Frost cake. Sprinkle with chocolate shavings. Eat until you're sick.

Spinach Madeline

Ingredients
2 packages frozen chopped spinach
4 Tbl. butter
2 Tbl. flour
2 Tbl. chopped onion
1/2 cup reserved spinach liquid
1/2 cup evaporated milk
1/2 tsp. black pepper
Red pepper and salt to taste
6 oz. Jalapeno jack cheese, cubed
1 tsp. Worcestershire sauce

Directions
Preheat oven to 350 degrees.

Cook the spinach according to package directions. Squeeze and drain the spinach, and reserve 1/2 cup of the liquid. In a heavy saucepan, melt butter over low heat. Add flour, stirring until blended and smooth (but not brown). Add onion and cook until soft, 4-5 minutes. Slowly add reserved liquid and evaporated milk, stirring constantly to avoid lumps. Cook until smooth and thick. Add the seasonings and cheese. Stir until cheese has completely melted. Combine with cooked spinach and stir until blended.

With a plastic spatula, scrape the spinach mixture into a large baking dish. Optional: Top with breadcrumbs. Bake in a 350-degree oven until lightly browned on top and bubbling around the edges.

A New(lywed) Spin on Thanksgiving

2009-11-25T09:59:00.004-06:00

This will be the first Thanksgiving in 25 years that I have not spent with my family. I'm sad. And, I'm excited. Can you be both?

I knew this was coming. When you get married, you have two sets of parents, both who want to see you over the holidays. You and your spouse are the chew toy that two lock-jawed pit bulls are fighting over. Well, not really, our parents are more like harmless Lab puppies lazily playing with a toy, with one happily giving up when he rolls over and discovers an equally interesting dust bunny.

Both our parents invited us to Thanksgiving festivities. We tried thinking of a way to see both, and make both family celebrations work -- I was not quite ready to give up on the idea of seeing my parents on Thanksgiving, as I had for my entire life. But, after realizing that the amount of driving and time wasted in the car just didn't make sense, we decided to visit the Haynes family, since the Sullivans are coming to visit our house for Christmas. My parents lovingly understood, bellied up, and started playing with the other dust bunny, my sister.

So, we are headed today to Eldorado for my first Thanksgiving with Tanner's family and our first real holiday as a married couple (no offense, Halloween and Veteran's Day). Like I said, I'll be missing my family, but I am also very excited and looking forward to my first experience as a "real" Haynes at a real Haynes family holiday get together. I'm not just the girlfriend tagging along, I'm a real part of the family. I think it will make the fact that I'm a married woman seem even more real (I know, this should have sunken in by now). The food will be different, the traditions, the house, the faces I see, but I know the feeling will be the same as the one I've always felt: warmth, love, thankfulness, and happiness. And Tanner and I have a LOT to be thankful for -- each other, our new marriage which has changed and blessed our lives, and the loving and selfless families we've each been adopted into.

For you married folks, I'd love to hear how you handled holidays as newlyweds, and what the experience was like for you. I know this is going to be the first of many wonderful Thanksgiving with the Haynes. I'm looking forward to the new experience, and willing to take with it all it brings -- the happiness and the longing. I think it will make me appreciate my new AND old family more than I have before.

Date Night! Newlyweds Leave the Nest.

2009-11-23T10:24:00.008-06:00

The thing about my office is, there's only three of us there. Because it's an intimate group, the work environment is pretty laid back. For example, we bring our dogs to the office. The casual circumstances also mean I don't dress up for work -- AT ALL. My daily attire usually consists of jeans, a top, sweatshirt, Crocs/flip flops, and a ponytail.

For some reason, after returning from my single-life reunion the other weekend, I woke up Monday and got all dressed up. I had purchased some new sweaters at Kohls before I left for the weekend in College Station, and I'm one of those people who wants to wear the new clothes I buy the very next day. So, I got all gussied up: new belted sweater, skinny jeans tucked into some black boots, and my nice black wool winter coat. I even straightened my hair and wore it down. I had no reason to look decent, just felt like it. (Maybe I was inspired by all the single girls in College Station, who still take the time to make themselves look presentable!) I even thought as I was going out the door, "Man, why am I wasting this cute outfit today? I should have saved it for a day when I had a doctor appointment, or something, so at least someone would see it!"

As it turned out, the outfit was not wasted. Tanner called me at work, and told me he had been missing me. We were both gone all weekend, and the week before he had been working until 9 or 10 each night. My sweet guy then asked me if I'd like to go out to dinner at one of our favorite local Italian joints in Weatherford, Pastafina. I was so happy. 1) It's always good to feel like you've been missed, and to know someone thinks about you when you're not there. 2) It's great to have something special to look forward to during the work day. 3) My cute outfit would be appreciated. 4) I love carbs.

The thoughtfulness didn't end there. When I got home, Tanner surprised me with flowers! What a guy. We had a great night, just chatting and eating and being together. Who says the romance has to die when you get married?

A happy newlywed, glowing over flowers and a dinner date!

Mr. Thoughful himself.

Single-Life Reunion

2009-11-20T09:28:00.015-06:00

Sometimes I miss old seasons in my life. "Miss" might not be the right word, or maybe it is. I don't miss old times because I'm not happy where I currently am in life, or not looking forward to my future. I miss them because they were special and memorable. It's just a sense of nostalgia, a fondness for a time in my life that was wonderful. For instance, I had an amazing childhood. All of my creativity was born during my little girl days playing "imagination" in my childhood home -- a historic house on Arlington Street in the Heights of Houston, a place that felt more a fairy land than a regular old house in a regular old neighbourhood. Sometimes, I wish I could go back to that season of my life, be a little girl again just for a moment, to relive the innocence, the laughter, the magic, and feeling that anything's possible.

I also miss my single-life days in College Station. Particularly when I was working on my masters degree. I was living by myself for the first time, had my own horse in my own backyard, and had a wide-open schedule (as you often do in college) to do the things I wanted -- I just had to fit in my school work here and there. I was working as a barn sitter at a place that became my escape from the hustle and bustle, and also working at a lakeside bar where I raked in tons of money and spent my evenings watching the sunset while I made drinks and chatted with people. I made wonderful new friendships working at that bar, The Hook. I met one of my closest friends, Colby, and worked with another one of my best friends, Jennifer. I was blessed with many other friendships as well, and had way too much fun singing, dancing, and blowing fire behind the bar with Colby, Jennifer, and Sarah.

Last weekend, Tanner headed to the deer lease with his best buddy Scott, and instead of resigning myself to the lonely life of a deer widow, I decided to have a little single-life reunion while attending Chris and Leslie's wedding. Chris was my boss at the Hook, and I knew there'd be a great collection of old friends celebrating his marriage. So, I packed up my stuff, shacked-up in Colby's apartment (she's also living by herself for the first time -- it's such a fun adventure), and pretended to be a single college girl again (well, minus the flirting with and dating other guys).

Leslie and Chris were married at 7 F Lodge, in College Station. It was beautiful, romantic,
quaint, and outdoor-chic. Here is the chapel and Colby posing by the reception hall. She's wearing a hot little number we bought that day at Target -- the budget-friendly but fabulous store for college girls!

The old gang (clockwise): Colby, Sarah, and I; Laurie and I; the gang with the
bride and groom; the girls dancing just like old times!

The chapel at night -- if this isn't romantic, I don't know what it! I was missing
my husband right about this time...

I capped off my weekend as a single girl by visiting my sister, Kathleen, for breakfast at her house in Snook. She cooked up a mean batch of french toast and breakfast fries, which I gobbled up while chatting with her and her boyfriend, Zach. I always love going out to her house in the country -- the quietness and space of the Brazos Valley is something Tanner and I really miss living up here in N. Texas. It's a shame I didn't take any pictures at Kathleen's, because it was really one of the highlights of my weekend.

By the time I was enjoying a scenic drive on some back roads taking me to I-35, I was ready to ready to return back to my newlywed nest. The weekend was great, and it was so fun to relive the old days. But I love my husband, and we're living a new season of our lives right now, one that we'll look back on 10 years from now with fondness and nostalgia, so I'm gonna soak up every minute and enjoy it while it lasts.

The Bed That Ate the World

2009-11-16T10:16:00.006-06:00

Our first big purchase, and I mean BIG purchase as a married couple was our new KING-size bed. It was clearly evident from the start that Tanner's bed from college was not going to be good for our marriage. As I described earlier, Tanner can cause quite a commotion at night, striking all kinds of poses at my expense. Not only was the double bed too small to provide me a buffer, it sagged in the middle, forcing me to roll towards center, funneling me directly into the line of fire.

In reality, Tanner's crazy episodes are more infrequent occurrences than regular happenings, but space was still a priority for me when it came time to consider a new bed. Despite being abnormally affectionate and wanting constant physical contact for the 17 hours I'm awake (if Tanner would carry me in a BabyBjorn, I'd be totally happy), at night, I really don't like to be touched while I'm actually sleeping... at all. Cuddling while slumbering, no thanks. A cold toe brushing my leg, please no. A good bed-time snuggle while watching TV or chatting pre-sleep is cozy and lovely, but when it's time for REM, it's time for personal space. It sounds harsh, bitter, cold-hearted, I know -- but please believe me, I make up for it with uber-cuddling and mega-hugs and kisses at all other times.

SO, after much discussion and debate and back-and-forth about whether to buy a queen or a king, we settled on a king. One of our main priorities was finding one that would alleviate some of the back pain Tanner has each morning. After looking first at memory-foam mattresses, and then realizing a king would cost the same as a small yacht, we picked a Simmons, with individually-wrapped coils and a 4-inch layer of memory foam on top.
When the delivery men brought that sucker home and plopped it in our bedroom, Tanner and I pulled out the drafting paper and pencils and began designing an elaborate layout of catwalks and bridges to navigate through the room since it had been SWALLOWED by the ~~blob~~ bed.

Spanning the great divide.

I jest. We have a large master bed room, so the thing fit in there, but it is gigantic. I've appreciated the extra sleeping space and have been getting some nights of heavy, uninterrupted slumber. But, strangely enough, the bed has actually made me a bit more of an affectionate sleeper. With all this acreage to sleep in, I'm so spatially distant from my hubby -- I look to my side, over the fence, and a mile down the road, and there he is sleeping on the other side. At times, it's made me feel a little lonely and isolated, and I've actually found myself creeping through the neutral country, into the hostile territory, just to check in and see what's up. But... just like a traveler, I find myself thinking, "This place is nice to visit, but there's no place (and no sleep) like home." It's back to my side, and my antisocial, wonderful sleep.

I'm SO Matronly

2009-11-02T11:57:00.015-06:00

I've been a bridesmaid once, at my bestfriend Summer's wedding to Tanner's bestfriend Andrew. (Because the world totally revolves around us, I'm sure this is how they introduce themselves to others, "Hi, I'm Erin's best friend and this is Erin's husband's bestfriend, who also happens to be my husband.") A couple weeks ago, I was an "attendant" in a wedding for my second time, in one of my dearest friend Jennifer's wedding.

Since I'm now a married woman, I guess I was what you would call a bridesmatron. According to various dictionaries, a matron is
(1) a married woman who is mature and staid or dignified and has an established social position
(2) a woman who has charge of the domestic affairs of a hospital, prison, or other institution
(3) a woman serving as a guard, warden, or attendant for women or girls, as in a prison
(4) a female animal kept for breeding

I would like to claim that I'm dignified and mature, but you'll have to ask Jenni if my behavior reflected that at her wedding. I did give a semi-dignified speech, but I also wore my hair in a side ponytail, boogied shamelessly on the dance floor, and suggested Jennifer wear a white, decorative bird in her hair -- so that might have counteracted any maturity points I scored. Obviously I don't work at a hospital or prison, although sometimes I think I might be admitted to either. As for the last one, let's not even go there -- there will be no breeding, human or animal, at the Haynes household anytime soon. So, all in all, I might not be so matronly. I guess I was more or less a bridesmaid who happened to be married.

Whatever I was, I had an amazing weekend, and it was so wonderful to see Jennifer and her soul mate, Ryan, become husband and wife. This lovestruck couple is two of the most devoted people I've seen -- they will be together forever, I'm sure of it.

I rode down to the wedding with Michelle, Jenni's sister, and her son Hayden.
Jenni LOVES her nephew, and I can't wait to see what a wonderful mother she'll be (someday soon??).

Christi is Ryan's sister, and was also one of Jenni's bridesmaids. She's an amazing woman and we spent tons of time together helping Jenni wrap up loose ends and just hanging out. Jenni gained another sweet sister, and I got a new friend in the deal!

THE bird.

Christi, Anna (another bridesmaid and new friend) and I, the morning of the wedding enjoying breakfast with all the girls. We look pretty good for having stayed up till 4:30 AM the night before, and waking up at 7:30 AM! Too much decorating, talking, and program-making to go to bed!

The happy could themselves! Minutes after becoming Dr. and Mrs!

Tanner and I at the reception. I have such a handsome husband! We have a new sense of appreciation for all the planning that goes into a beautiful wedding, and we were happy to just sit back and enjoy the party!

Colby, Jenni, and I all bartended together in college. Now, we're all growing up and moving away. But distance and time haven't torn us apart, it's just made us appreciate each other even more. I love both of these amazing women!

Ryan had everyone rolling on the floor laughing when it was time for him to get Jenni's garter. He's a newly practicing veterinarian, so he whipped out some shoulder-high plastic gloves before, ahem, heading under her skirts for the prized garter.

Sleepin' Like a Dog

2009-10-28T16:24:00.004-05:00

A lot of women (and some men) complain about their spouse's snoring, and how it keeps them up at night. I'm not one of those women. While my new husband DOES talk/shout/mumble in his sleep, smack me in the face when he rolls over and flops his arm down, knee me in the back when he abruptly draws his legs up into the fetal position, and shoot up to the sitting position in the middle of night and scare me senseless, he DOES NOT snore. But... his dog does.

Yeah, Digger really saws some logs. He doesn't have respiratory problems. It's just that, for some reason, he sleeps with his nose smooshed into his doggie bed -- hence, the snore factor. I've always slept with my pooch in my room -- yes, when I was single I often let him sleep with me in my bed (sorry Mom, I pretty much ignored you when you forbid Happy from sleeping in my bed in Katy). I liked him sleeping in there with me. He kept me company in my lonely apartment, and it just seemed like undeserved punishment to make him sleep out in the living room by himself.

But now, well, one of the dogs is keeping me up some nights with his snozzling. Sometimes, when it's really bad, I get up and reposition his face so he's not suffocating himself. (Like, DUH!) And well, two large dogs and their two large beds is more crowded. And if we were to cruelly banish them to the laundry room or office, they'd at least have each other! There's a part of me that wants them out, but another part that can't stomach it. They're so sweet, and all they want in life is to be near us.

What do y'all do with your dogs when it's time for beddie-bye? Where do they sleep? Will they hate me if I kick them out?

Things Boys Do: Boys & Bugs

2009-10-22T09:14:00.007-05:00

I'd say it's pretty standard that it's the husband's duty to eradicate the house of bugs -- it's one of the perks of having a guy around (ya know, that and twisting off pickle jar lids). While I'm not particularly terrified of any specific bug, I definitely do not like them, and I definitely call for Tanner to come and deal with them. There is one caveat, I insist on a short, relatively painless death, or catch and release if it's in the house. I don't like to see any creature suffer even if it is a black widow spider. (Yep, I found one of these yesterday, and had Tanner come back and smoosh it with stick after his first attempt, spraying it with wasp spray, left her wriggling and squirming for way too long to be humane.)

Well, Tanner's taken it to a new level with dealing the bugs. We've been having trouble with flies lately. Tanner says they come out after it rains, and it doesn't help that we're surrounded by livestock of all kinds on all sides of our house. (Plus Tanner says I must have been born in a barn because I dawdle around and leave the door open for hours while I go in and out of the house, let the dogs in, etc.) Flies aren't really high up there on the yikes meter, but they are annoying and gross. (I learned in junior high that they regurgitate all over your food while they're eating it.) We don't have a fly swater, so Tanner has developed his own method.

He catches the flies in his bare hand, out of mid-air or by swiping them off the table. And I'm not just talking about big, bumbling, drunk flies, I'm talking about little, darty, speedy guys. And Tanner DOES NOT miss. I think he's failed maybe twice that I've seen in the one month we've been living together. It's incredible. His hands move like lightening. Once he's got them in his fist, he gives them a quick shake to make sure he's got em (and a quick peak to me since I never believe they're really in there), and them BAAM he throws them against the floor, striking them immediately dead. It's bizarre. I mean really bizarre. I have a feeling as this cohabitation journey continues, I'm going to learn a lot more about weird things boys do.

Tanner may be the hunter, but I'm the gatherer.
Here are his victims from the other evening.

Another weird fly-related moment last night. I found one of the little guys had been trapped in the refridgerator, and presumably froze to death. I sat it on the table next to Tanner so he could see how perfectly it had been preserved. And the little bugger came back to life!

Moving On? Never!

2009-10-14T14:39:00.011-05:00

I've come to find from my own experience and from talking with other newlywed friends that while weeks after your wedding you still think of it as the highlight of the year, the latest greatest thing to happen, the coolest and most exciting thing to talk about, everyone else has MOVED ON.

It's not that your friends weren't touched by the ceremony, you in your dress, and you and your spouses love; didn't have the time of their life at the reception and enjoy celebrating your new marriage till the wee hours of the night; or aren't still incredibly happy and excited for you. They they were, they did, and they are! It's just, life goes on!

Don't get me wrong, I think this is the way it should be. You're wedding was important to everyone there and all those around you who love you, BUT it was exponentially more important and exciting to you. Duh, it was your wedding! There will never be a wedding more magical than your own. I don't care if I were to be invited to Paris Hilton's multimillion $ wedding, I'd still think mine was cooler!

So, am I sad, mad, or otherwise disappointed that there's something new to talk about around the proverbial water cooler? Nope. Perfectly fine with it. Will I move on anytime soon? Nope, sure won't. Self-centered, yep, sorry, just how it is! Don't worry, I won't be blabbering incessantly about my own wedding for years to come, but in the comfort of my new home with my new husband, I will be fondly flipping through pictures, periodically revisiting my journal entries, and always thinking, "Man, that went by too fast. It was the best night of my life. I wish I could do it again!" (Well, and I'll probably reflect periodically on it on my blog, so you might just have to give me that every once and a while.)

For those of you who want to take a couple minutes to join me in a momentary glance back, I've received the video from our photographers of my bridal portraits! It was the first time to put my dress, veil, shoes, jewelry, etc on all together. It was such a fun, special day, and Austin Imagery did an amazing job with the pictures and videos.

View it larger here.

Cooking for 2

2009-10-12T11:26:00.009-05:00

Is definitely not as simple as cooking for one.

Single-girl cooking was great. I could experiment with all kinds of funky, ethnic, vegan recipes and unknown, new ingredients and not have to entertain for a moment the worry "What if this doesn't turn out so well?" If it didn't taste so hot (which sometimes it didn't -- cue memory of tofu stir fry with lima beans -- GROSS), it was a bag of popcorn and a ~~bottle~~ glass of wine. A standard (eadible) recipe yielded enough food for me to eat several meals and then some. I would freeze extras of my favorite spicy thai peanut curry and enjoy it for up to a month!

Single-girl grocery shopping was a cinch.I knew how much food would last me how long, and usually I only had to go to the grocery store once a month! And how I loved those trips. I knew my local store like the back of my hand, and could quickly pick up all my staples, then wander around looking for deals, extras, and investigating weird Asian fruits. Ahhhh... my food life was so simple.

A week or so ago, Tanner and I made our first grocery outing as a married couple. I had shopped for groceries with Tanner many times before, but this time was different. I wasn't following him around while he picked out frozen pizzas and hot dogs while trying to persuade him to grab a banana or lettuce while he was at it. This time, we were shopping together for our household, and our bounty was supposed to feed the both of us and satisfy us (no lima bean disasters). Suddently, this confident, adventurous foodie was intimdated, big time.

The stores was arranged weird, I didn't know where anything was. Some of the staple items we needed (Santita's corn chips, hello!!) were totally unstocked. In fact, there were many gaping holes on the shelves (I'm guessing this is because we were shopping on a Sunday night?). I didn't come with a shopping list or any recipes in mind, which was no big deal for Super-Shopper-Single-Girl, but was suddenly crippling for Confused-Uncertain-Newlywed. For how many meals-for-two will this bag of frozen broccoli last? Should I get 2? How many protiens should I get? Will Tanner like tofu? Will we have any leftovers for me to take to lunch, or will hungry man eat eat all the extra servings?

Aside from being suddenly befuddled by all these new adjustments and the realization that cooking would never be the same, Tanner was inexplicably hyper that evening, which although very funny, was a little distracting to my yearning-to-figure-it-all-out-in-one-evening brain. I didn't think I'd be this way, but I think at the center of all my worrying, was this huge (unexpected) desire to please Tanner with my cooking and be viewed as a good homemaker in his eyes. I was insecure, "Will he like what I make? Will he be happy? Will I do a good job?"

So, on the verge of a nervous breakdown, instead of harboring my insecurities (I've slowly learned this is not such a great idea), I blurted my fear of marital and culinary failure to my hyper husband dancing down the canned vegetable aisle. In the grocery store and on the way home, Tanner calmed my fears. "This is supposed to be fun! We get to figure all this out by trial and error." Hmmm... I don't mind the trial part, but the error thing, I'm not so good with. I'm a perfectionist, remember! But you know what, Tanner was right (yep, he often is, funny enough). I don't need to figure all this out the first time around. AND, he assured me every meal doesn't have to be a gold-platter meal straight out of The Joy of Cooking. "I enjoy those nights too every once and a while, when you dine on chips and salsa or hot dogs and tortilla. I was a bachelor before I met you, remember???" OK, so I feel the (self-made) burden lightening.

So this perfectionista has been trying to lighten up and find the fun again in the kitchen. Tanner's not judinging me on a scale from 1-30 with 10 pts possible for use of the secret ingredient, 10 pts for plating, and 10 pts for taste. Some meals are gonna be great, and some aren't. Hey, there's always chips and salsa, and my man's OK with that.

As far as our first shopping trip, I think I did OK. I'm not sure I bought enough different vegetables, and I probably should have bought some more ready-made meals (frozen dinners or mac'n cheese) for those nights when I'm too tired to put together a major masterpiece. I should have gotten some smaller portions of different proteins for variety in addition of the bulk bag of chicken breasts. And, I'll just have to resign my self to the idea of follow-up trips in between shopping hauls for items like creamer or chips that we run out of.

If y'all have any tips for cooking for 2, or any grocery shopping strategies, let me know! In the meantime, we'll be figuring it out as we go. OH, and Tanner DOES like tofu :)

Not Just a Dog Book

2009-10-08T10:00:00.004-05:00

I just finished the audio book for A Big Little Life, by well-known author Dean Koontz. I've GOT to recommended this read (or this "listen" in my case), especially (but not just) for dog-lovers. The book is a memoir about Dean's incredibly special Golden Retriever, Trixie, who changed his personal and professional life. Dean writes that Trixie is a dog, but not just a dog. In the same way, this is NOT just another dog book, it's much more. It's heart-warming and laugh-inducing like other dog books such as Marley and Me (although Trixie is NOTHING like Marley), but it also goes further than that; it's is a philosophical look on the wonder and mystery of life, faith, and relationships. It truly inspired me to take a different approach to how I see and explain the things around me. Plus, it's a short read, so enjoy!

A side note from life with our own dogs: A couple days ago Tanner happened to arrive home while I was walking the dogs, running into us (not literally, thankfully ) in his truck as we were walking up the road -- it was a nice surprise and we were all happy to see him. Ever since then, Digger seems to be expecting Tanner to make a guest appearance on all of our walks. Every time he hears an engine running (or exhaust, or whatever it is about vehicles that makes noise when they are going!), even if it's far away on the FM road our street is off of, he gets really excited, wags his tail, and begins looking for Tanner's truck. It's really cute, and I hope someday he's rewarded again.

Nope, sorry Digger, just some random old lady in an SUV. Not EVEN close.

My Worst Nightmare

2009-10-07T09:20:00.008-05:00

My worst nightmare: nothing is organized, nothing has a "place," I can't find any of my belongings, too much stuff! OK, so I am being a little dramatic, but this picture does not even do justice to the black hole of clutter our house has become since we've unloaded all of my things and all of our new housewares. Every time I walk in the door, I hear that "duh-nuh, duh-nuh" Jaws music!

With me getting used to my lengthy commuting schedule, I haven't quite had the energy to tackle this beast (who's girth has spilled over into every room and hallway in the house) on the weeknights, so it looks we'll be walking through a maze of boxes and banging our shins into coffee table corners at least until this weekend, when Tanner and I will both be home. Since I'm one of the freaks who actually enjoys organizing, I'm really looking forward to this weekend of un-cluttering. It will be interesting to see who gets the bigger closet. Any votes? :)

The only family member who seems not to mind the clutter -- plenty of neat hiding places.

Raining Blessings

2009-10-06T11:40:00.015-05:00

On our first weekend back from our own honeymoon, Tanner and I headed back to the Hill Country to attend Tanner's cousin, Michele's, wedding to her long-time love, Brian! It seems that all everyone has been talking about for forever is how badly that area needs rain. I would be the first to agree, BUT, not on Michele's wedding day!!!

It poured all day Saturday while Tanner and I visited with my parents at the Riverhaus. As we drove to McQueeney for the wedding, even as the thunder rolled, I kept praying for a break in the downpour. It didn't seem like my prayers would be answered as we waited inside the Brian's family lake house with the rest of the guests and watched Michele's friends scurring about in the rain outside, wringing out table cloths, and rescuing table arrangements.

Then, shortly after the wedding was scheduled to start, the rain stopped, and the sun began to slowly peak out from the clouds. Seizing the moment, we all quickly filled the seats and the ceremony began! Michele was a beautiful bride, and she was beaming with happiness as she made it down the wet walkway. It was great to see these two lovebirds united, especially with the new found respect and appreciation, and new perspective I have on marriage -- being a beaming newlywed myself now. The celebration afterwards was a blast. Tanner's immediate family (my family now too!) were all there, and I also got to spend time getting to know Bob and Linda, Gene and Alona, and all of Tanner's cousins. It barely sprinkled again the whole night.

They say rain is good luck on a wedding, bringing lots of children to the couple. If it's true, Michele and Brian better get started on their nursery! Whether the luck is true or not, this weekend brought blessings and memories to all involved, as well as to the rain-hungry land! (The river was nearly up to the stair landing by the time we left Sunday.)

Stacy and Tanner before the reception. Tanner has that Meyers loook for sure!

Michele and Brian

Stacy with Mindy, the beautiful bridesmaid and cousin to the bride.

All the tough Haynes and Sellers men.

Michele and Gene, and Stacy and Mike on the dance floor.

The Haynes!

The Day that Began a Lifetime

2009-09-30T15:44:00.020-05:00

The day has come and gone, but what it signified is now locked in my heart forever and is my blessed everyday existence. Love, commitment, intimacy, oneness before God: marriage! I am Mrs. Erin Haynes and we are THE HAYNES.

Just as everyone warned would happen, the celebration seemed to fly by. The cherished moments seemed to rush too quickly past! I think it's impossible to avoid that feeling -- when you're having the best time of your life, you want everything to last forever. It truly was the most wonderful day I've experienced.

It was an wonderful, indescribable feeling to be surrounded by such love -- our love for each other as newly "crowned" husband and wife, the love from our families, and the love from our friends. We were deeply touched that so many people we care about chose to attend and shower us with support, encouragement, and sincere love. I was deeply humbled when dear friends thanked us for including them. The honor was all ours, and we were so built up and strengthened by everyone.

I know we wish we could have spent more time with each and every person who was there that day. They were too short, but every conversation was a gift and a dear blessing. It's really impossible, there's not enough words, to explain how joyful it was seeing all those faces and speaking with everyone.

I'm working on a play-by-play (with pictures) of the wedding and events leading up to it, as well as a detailed recap of our vacation (no pics of me in a coconut bra, I promise). I realized today that I desperately want to write everything down while it's still fresh on my mind, so that will probably be the focus of the next few posts. I know it's probably endlessly more interesting to us, since it was our special day. So, after the next few posts, I promise there'll be more variety!

Our ultimate goal for this blog is to share our new adventure as husband and wife with our families and friends, as well as to document for ourselves important milestones and everyday moments (there's always a self-serving factor!). We'll share our goings-on and our thoughts, and hope it will be an easy way for everyone to keep up with us, the Haynes, as we make our stand in Weatherford, the Peach Capital of Texas.