Marriage

We're Home!

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We had a fantastic time on Paradise Island–so much fun! The island was beautiful, the accommodations were lovely and the rest and relaxation was much needed. We walked along the beach, built sand castles, laid out in the sun, ate and drank lots (too much, actually) and just enjoyed being together.

The resort we stayed at, Club Med, is a French company. All the signs and announcements were both in French and English. It was great!

I’d write more–but very swamped at work.

More later!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY NICOLE S AND MICHELLE B!

Only 19 hours…

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Until FK and I are boarding a plane to sunny Paradise Island! HURRAH!! I’m quite excited–I have been checking out the Club Med website and found that the resort is a series of old historic homes and mansions that were turned into a very cool Club Med village. I can’t wait to be sitting on the beach, enjoying the sunshine and relaxing with Frank!! YAY!

Preparing for our trip, we had a few last minute things to pick up. After work, Frank picked me up and we went to the mall. We wandered aimlessly, picked up a few items, ate dinner in the food court and just enjoyed the people watching.

Which brings me to the 15 yr old with her pants down to her knees wearing a thong. Okay, I exaggerate. She was wearing fashionable low rise jeans. And a white thong. I know this because about 4 inches of her thong were exposed. I guess this is the norm.

But then there was the girl that just cut to the chase and wore her red underwear OVER her jeans. That was pretty cunning.

All of this really just means that we are not going to have kids for at least one more year now. On top of how long we were going to wait anyway. Hrmph!

On another note.

Last night Frank was in desperate search for his beloved sandles. He was searching high and low throughout the entire apartment, absolutely focused on finding the old brown birks. Well, after some time, I hear him grumble, “Well, this is what stinks about being married.” My ears perked up.

“Excuse me?” I asked. “What did you just say about being married?”

“Well, see,” he said, “When I was single, I could always find stuff because it was right where I left it. Now, who knows where you put it*.”

“Whatever,” I said dismissively. Then after about 2 seconds of thought, I added, “Check your car.”

Frank’s car is a notorious final resting place for many things. Tupperware. Clothing. Documents of any variety. Which is why I wasn’t surprised to see Frank come back into the house ten minutes later with his arms full of clothing and, of course, his birks. He sheepishly looked at me, holding out 3 pairs of dockers, a dress shirt and two well-loved birks.

“What do you say, Frank?” I demanded (smiling, of course).

“You were right,” he admitted.

Which is how it always is, isn’t it?

That’s what I thought. 🙂

*Portions of the conversation may have been slightly altered. But you get the idea…

92% Done with 2003

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So with 8% of the year remaining and a new year just a few weeks away, it seems like now is as good of a time as any to have Thanksgiving.

I know, my stamp of approval was needed to affirm a national holiday.

It just seems like a wise idea to kick off the busiest month with a holiday that gives time to pause and reflect. And energize for crazed “Green Friday” shopping. Of course, I doubt the Pilgrims were chomping down on their splendid dinner thinking, “Great, I’ll fuel up now and I’ll be able to hit all of the sales from 6am till 9pm. Can’t wait!!” Anyway, ’tis the season to rush, rush, rush!

A girl my senior year in high school once asked the class of ’98 why we were counting down the best days of our lives. Why were we so eager to hurry through this carefree time? But no one cared. Besides, her question came too late–the last day of school our senior year. Rah! Freedom!!!

But I think she was a little right. Maybe even a lot. What was the rush?

So this year, I am going to savor every minute of frantic holiday shopping. I think I’m going to make cookies. I am going to let every day drip by as slowly as I can. Because what is the rush? Where are we going so fast? As an old woman (23), I don’t have a Barbie I am anxiously waiting to open on Christmas Day. There is no post-present high on Christmas morning. And that is just fine by me.

I get to start and finish this holiday season with weddings–one of my dearest friends, Erin B, is getting married on 12/6 and my cousin Dave M is getting married on 12/27. There is a lot to celebrate this December. Our first Thanksgiving kicks it off. Our first Christmas. Our first New Year.

There is so much to be said for a fantastic husband, a wonderful family and terrific friends. I can’t wait to spend time with everyone this holiday season!

So–it’s cold. I moan a lot about that. But after I’m done whining, I’m going to heat up some soup, make a sandwich, curl up on the couch and watch time slide by…

ahhhh…

Picture Perfect

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We got our pictures back from the photographer and they are AWESOME!! YAY! I love them. We didn’t have time to do a lot of the pictures that we wanted, but what we got is incredible–rah!!

It’s amazing that I am now looking back on my wedding. It felt like the day would never come and then, woosh, there it went! It truly flies by.

How’s Married Life Treatin’ Ya??

That is the question of the ages. My response is a resounding, “Great!” But what does that “Great!” mean?

Only two months into it, and I can tell you that being married is the greatest thing. Frank and I have a fantastic time together, laughing and generally enjoying eachother’s company. And Frank is a fantastic husband! The other day I came home and he was vacuuming and running the washer and dryer. He makes the bed nearly every day. He eats the food I make him with little to no hesitation (brave man). He tells me that I’m cute in the morning, even if my mascara has run all over my face and my hair has developed new and interesting cowlicks.

It’s also one of the toughest things, too. There is life before marriage and life after marriage. The priorities I had before marriage are definitely different from the priorities since marriage. You realize that you are your own little family and you have your own little family problems and traditions and quirks. You realize that it’s not as easy as signing a marriage license and throwing a little party.

And this brings me back to the night Frank proposed. For a long time I have been trying to put into words the feelings that came over me that night. I felt incredible joy that we were going to take our relationship the next step. I felt delighted and giddy and excited and nervous and surprised and content. This is how things were meant to be.

But there was another feeling, a feeling of awe. It was as though I walked into an ancient church with bright, ornate stained glassed windows lining either side and pews, uniformly assembled, solemn contemplative rows in front of a lavish alter. And the ceiling is several stories overhead and old, tender light filters in from every perfect crack and crevice. But even more awesome than beauty of the old space is the overwhelming sense of history in the room. How many lives were announced, merged, celebrated and mourned here? What words could you possibly use to sum up the experience of standing in this church? And it’s such an experience that it must be experienced with another person, if not for the reason that when you walk out of the church and you lack words to describe it, you can look at that person and know that they understand.

After he proposed, Frank examined my ring on my finger for along time. Then he said to me that it was amazing to think of what that ring will have seen 50 years from now. It will see children, homes, pets, people coming, people going, grand children. Maybe even great grandchildren. Who knows? And maybe in 50 years the ring will be given to a grandson. And maybe he will ask a young woman to marry him. And who knows–maybe she will be filled with the same sense of awe and wonderment.

What a very great thing, indeed.

Wooo wooo!

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Ladies and Gentlemen! The Fast Train is now boarding!! First stop–Party Town USA!!!

Well, this weekend is going to be one party after another–starting today! My office has become Halloween central–every floor is decorated and there is Candy Galore. At 3pm there is a party and a Haunted Trail. It’s like being in first grade all over again!

Tomorrow Frank’s office is having a party at his boss’s house. There will be more food, more drinking and lots of fun!! WOOWOO!! I don’t know what I’m going to be for Halloween–perhaps my darling husband will kindly pick out an outfit for me??

Saturday some of Frank’s friends are getting married. They are actually getting married at the same church that Frank and I were married at–but they are getting married in the garden chapel area. It will be beautiful! After that we are going to the reception.

Sunday we are going to church and then after I am going to the Pastor’s brunch because I am going to join Christ Church and become a member. YAY!

So thats the weekend in a nutshell!

~Jaze & KP-Izzle~

The plans are coming together–rah! Jaze–do you want to put together an evite or would you like me to? And what days are good for you guys? Also, I can’t do the weekend of the 15th because I am booked solid (except Friday the 14th which I still need to clear with my darling husband–hereafter referred to as DH).

Why I love my Husband.

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And why I will never call him Hubby. Frank is cooking dinner tonight (can I get an “awww!”??) and I just think that is the best thing in the whole world. I can’t wait! He’s just too phenomenal!!

As for Hubby. Hubby is a word that makes me think of Jenny Jones. Jenny Jones and any sort of yuppy-ish 1980’s sitcom. Jenny, Jerry and Ricki all use the word Hubby in show titles such as in: Hubby is sleeping with the Nanny who’s name is Tom. And: What to do when your Hubby is a Slacker. I’ve also heard the term hubby used on sitcoms, but I just don’t know which ones. But I’m sure it has. And so for those two reasons, it became trashy in my mind. It makes me cringe, actually.

Jaze

Whassup, Jamie-babe? I was so excited to see all of your updates, although I wasn’t too pleased about the spider scenario from the other morning. NOT cool. EW EW EW. ANd to think of how your platform sandals must have suffered!

KP

Hi! Thanks for coming out with us on Friday–even if it was kinda lame! You’re babe-licious!

Jaze and KP:

Girls night? And is there anyone else who’s up for it????

Monday, Monday

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You know, reading the word Monday just now made me think of several things. First of all, if it was French, it would be Lundi. But it’s not, it’s American. But if the first 1/2 of the American word were based on French, then Mon would mean “my” and then day would just be day. And then today would be my day. Which it is clearly not since here I am, living it up at work.

Also, when I studied the word Monday as one would study art, I thought, “Monday doesn’t look foreboding and sad and like a rude buzz kill in the midst of one fine party.” Instead Monday looks sweet yet succinct. If you roll the word around on your tongue, it seems soft and rounded, not harsh and painful. Monnnnnnnday. Mmmmmmmmmmmmooonnnnnnnnnnnnnnndaaaaaaaaaaaaayyyyyyyy. It’s actually quite a pleasure to say. mmmmmmmmmmmmm. oooooooooooooooonnnnnnnnnnnnn. daaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay. Good stuff.

But here is the truth about Monday. She is all dressed up, looking cute on paper. The reality? She zaps you of any good time you might be having and kicks your butt when the alarm goes off at 5:30 am.

Friday, alternately, makes me think of fried foods. Friday should be a day where everything (cats, too) should be dumped into a vat of oil and fried like no one’s business. Yet Mardi Gras (fat Tuesday)–the day where you fry everything and eat crap is–as the name suggests–typically celebrated on a Tuesday. Tuesday is a day that really sounds rough. If you are going to receive a severe beating, migraine, bad news, etc–that should occur on a Tuesday. Tooooz day. Tooooooozzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz daaaaaaaay. It’s a day that looks short but drags on forever. And Wednesday. People should get married on Wednesdays. First because “Wed” is in the word. Second because it’s a long long word (well, by day of the week standards). Marriage should also be long. And Wednesday is a day that makes you wonder if there is ever any end to the week. I think people who have been married for a long time wonder if there is ever any end to the monotony of marriage. Also, if your marriage follows Tuesday, the day of badness, then Wednesday is BOUND to be the happiest day of your life. Or at least of your week so far.

Thursday. Thuuuuuuuuuuuuurrrrrzzzzzzzzzday. Sounds drunk. All good weekends begin on Thursday and end with the awful, sock in the mouth Monday morning–further prooving that Monday sounds much nicer than it really is. Thursday sounsd like Slursday. Which is what you do when drinking too much, but having a good time.

Saturday. No complaints on that day. On Saturday, if you’re lucky, you can say you sat around. Sat-your-day. Or at least had the option to do that. Perhaps you Sat-your-day in a bar. Or maybe you Sat-your-day at a college football game. Who knows. Who cares? It’s your day! rah!

Sunday. Sonday. This is the day typically reserved for the Son of God. And God. It is also a day that reminds you that while you’re in church, at a family function or sleeping in–you are probably missing the sun. Unless you are at a football game or something fun. Sunday. The only thing that could ruin a Sunday is Monday. How appropriate. You have God’s day. Then your day (Monday–if you follow my half English/half French translation.) And that brings me to Monday. Which is where I am.

Welcome to Monday.

Friday I went to Lincoln Park with Frank, Stacie D and Kate A. Good times. Then Saturday I had lunch with Jennie W and then dinner with Laura P. And Sunday we went to church, lunch with Frank’s parents and then we slept for a very long time.

Rah. Is it time for a nap yet??

TGIF–or is it??

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Here I am, awaiting the verdict from the dreaded 3:30 Friday meeting. I don’t care what industry you are in, if you or your boss goes in for a meeting at 3:30 on a Friday afternoon, there is NOTHING good that can come from it. Tonight I had planned on going to a bar after work with a few friends and my darling husband (who still won’t let me get those pens–darn it!). Last time I planned on going to that same bar with nearly the same people, it was a cold March day. March14th, 2003. I planned an outing and wound up here, in this dark gray prison of a building, until 11 pm. I was tired. I was cranky. I was disgusted with life in general. And like today, I wondered: Do we live to work or work to live??

The weekend is already too short without them having to eat into it like this. BLAH! and BAH HUMBUG!

WHAT am I doing with my life?? WHAT?!

Gr.

And still, I do not have my beautious pens. Blast them all.

Pretty Pens

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Frank and I got to go on an exciting shopping trip to Costco last night. WOOHOO! I love that place. We bought only things we needed, such as pork, chicken, chai (for Frank who loves chai and has many fond memories of drinking this delectable drink), quiches (for when we have guests), Listerine mouthwash (for when we have guests), a box of 64 Always Maxi Pads with Wings (regular flow variety, just in case you were wondering), a bag of chocolate chips (for when I make cookies–a definite necessity) and this awesome spinach pasta (yum!). Our trip was going well until I spot something out of the corner of my eye. There–with a heavenly light shining upon it–was something I immediately lusted after. Glimmering in this light which was heaven-sent, next to 80lbs of paper and gallons of mayonnaise, resting on the shelf over the 14lb bag of shredded cheddar cheese–was a sleek case filled with 48 sparking gel pens. FORTY EIGHT you must be yelling right now, shocked that there could be so many beautiful, heartbreaking colors in this world. Forty-eight, I say to you. Perhaps you are in a cold sweat that I might be in possession of such glorious pens. Perhaps you are turning hunter green with envy. Perhaps you are plotting my demise so that you, too, could have such pens.

Envy no longer. I do not own such beautiful pens. I merely covet them.

Last night, as the autumn night became cooler, the sky darker and the world just a little less loving–my husband said words that stained my pure, innocent heart. He said, “No, we don’t need those pens, gosh Emily! No no no!!”

I won’t lie to you, I won’t tell tall tales. I won’t tell you I took this news well. I won’t tell you that I didn’t beg and plead. I won’t tell you that I didn’t pull aside SEVERAL Costco employees, ganging up on my husband to change his mind. “No no no” he said. “For my birthday???” I asked, my lower lip jutting out sadly, my eyes looking up to his cold, hard face.

“Em, we have to get going. Costco closes in 10 minutes,” Frank said sternly. “Sir, can’t you buy her the pens??” asked well-meaning Costco employee, Ed. Then Ed leaned over and whispered, “You should throw a tantrum. I see it all the time. Five year olds on the ground, kicking and screaming. Very effective. Unless…” He paused. “What??” I asked, desperate for any advice. “Unless he’s a walker-awayer.” A what? “A walker-awayer.” What is that? “You know, the parents that pretend that the screaming child isn’t theirs. The ones that look at the child with contempt and seem to ask the question, ‘Who is raising this child? They should be put to death!’ And before you know it, they’re over at the meat counter.” Ed shook his head, dismayed. “He looks like a walker-awayer.”

Frank, who had left me standing in the middle of the store, clutching my case of 48 amazing colors, was now on a mission to find one more much-needed item. I sullenly returned the pens to their shelf.

Maybe next year. Maybe next year.

Quick Update…

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I have to run to a meeting in a few minutes, but here is a lowdown on my weekend (just in case someone reads my blogs…) Yesterday was our 1 month anniversary!!! YAY!

Friday Frank and I saw Intolerable Cruelty with Catherine Zeta and my baby George C. After that we went to dinner at Luigi’s on Rt.59 and then back home. Lovely night.

Saturday I had brunch with Katy S at Cracker Barrel. Then I put together a few things for Frank’s career fair at SIUC for his work. After that, I went home and put together dinner and we ate around 7:30ish. Craig and Jamie invited us up to see their townhouse. IT IS AMAZING! WOW! A world of difference since Jamie moved in–very clean, new room arrangements and furniture–overall, just awesome!! WOOHOO!!

Sunday I made pancakes and Frank had to fly off to SIU C for his career fair thing with work. Then I did some shopping, washed my car, went to church and came home for the night.

That’s it!! Gotta go!