A newsy update and some pregnancy photos

Exciting things happening this summer!
And it's not even summer yet. Well, not officially anyway. It's beginning to feel a lot like it here though.

First off, my sister Georgia is coming to town. She'll be staying with us for awhile, about 6 weeks I think. It will be great to have her and have all kinds of adventures together. The best part, is I think it will really make these last couple months of pregnancy fly by. (That's a good thing right?)

Speaking of pregnancy, here's a little update on that. For folks like my family who may actually be interested:
I am (I think.) 29 weeks along. I think that's somewhere around seven months, but these days it's really hard to translate weeks into months and still know what the heck you're doing. Because 40 weeks is clearly LONGER than 9 months. And what baby comes on his due date anyway?

Here's a pikch:

And quite possibly the thing I'm most psyched about! (Except of course, about Georgia coming, of course.)
*drum roll*

I'm making a wedding cake!!!

Are you as thrilled as I am? No? Oh well!

Boy am I excited. I love making wedding cakes. It's such a glorious undertaking. It's just one of those amazing challenges that when you've accomplished the task you settle back and feel good.

And eat cake. And receive a lot of compliments.

And eat more cake.

This will be my fourth wedding cake. And this time, it's not for me or for someone to whom I'm related, so I feel like I'm really advancing in this career! My average so far has been a wedding cake every two years. So as you can see, this "career" is really hurdling a long!

Anyway, I feel my creativity bounding and springing in all sorts of new directions. Inspiration is flowing and the ideas are swarming. This most certainly will be my most amazing cake yet.

Have I mentioned that I love cake?

I also have some plans to learn to surf this summer. Ever seen a hugely pregnant lady on a surf board? Neither me, it should be funny. Though some might debate that I look "hugely pregnant." A lady told me I looked "a month pregnant" a couple days ago. Sheesh.

A month ago I looked like this:

Eh, about the same I guess.

That's about it. For the next few weeks I may not get around to posting simply because sisters and cakes are serious business. Plus it's summer and that's the time to be outside!

I need to go practice some cake meditation.... "Nommmm" (said like om, get it?)

Nevah mind....

Twenty five for twenty five, a birthday post

April 21st was my birthday. I turned 25 this year. I'm wicked excited to reach this number. Finally, a grown up sounding age!

Enjoying sunshine and flowers on my 25th birthday

There's a lot of preconceptions about age. Some people reach a milestone like...25 or 30, or 40, and groan (I've even heard a few lame-o's groan at 22 or 23, like that's "old" or something.). They worry and fret about "growing old." Not me, I love it. Every year God gives me on this earth is a blessing. Every full rotation I make around the sun is an achievement. Another year to learn, grow, experience.

But I'm still kind of surprised by my age. I think back to when I was just a sprout, eleven or twelve, when I met people who were "twenty five" they were so grown up. I know that when kids meet me, when they call me "Mrs." (To which I still haven't gotten the hang of responding) I know they see me as an adult. I am so grown up to them. I'm married. I'm pregnant. I live on my own in state far away from my family. Even teenagers probably view me as a full fledged adult.

So why do I still feel so...Young? I thought I would know a lot more at twenty-five. Maybe even be a different person all together. But I'm still me. I still have the same experiences and memories I had at 18, just a few more now. And the few more aren't enough to make me feel "Grown up."

Is it always like this? Every year? I thought I'd feel grown up at 22, honestly. When it didn't happen, nor the years after, it's starting to make me think... Maybe I'll always feel sort of "young" and inexperienced. Maybe I'll always just be Me, but with a new number attached.

I kinda like it.

But enough of philosophical rambles! Let's celebrate!

Because I love lists and I'm incredibly vain, here's 25 facts about me. (I remember thinking of doing this when it was floating around Facebook, but since I cringe at doing what everyone else is doing I refrained. Now I'll give in to that desire because after all, it is my birthday).

1. Purple is my favourite colour. Followed closely by green and then orange. I love these colours separately and paired. I wear them when I can, but purple tends to make me look pale. According to quite a few people, I look really good in orange and green though.

2. I think about what I'm going to wear often. Picking out unusual clothing combinations is my favourite. I love breaking "fashion" rules; mismatching my earrings, mixing patterns, skirts over pants, contrasting colours. I love when people tell me I have an interesting style. I probably seek this type of attention more often than is good for me.

3. I think about food even more than I think about clothes. Food blogs are my most frequent time-consumers. I love cooking, for myself because I LOVE food, but also for other people. I crave people's compliments on my food. I like making interesting and different food. I enjoy pairing unusual flavors in desserts. Like rose cupcakes with sea salt and black pepper frosting. Or lavender chocolate scones, or dandelion icecream.

4. I imagine posting to this blog 100 times more often than it actually happens. You'd know all these facts by now if I actually posted some of the stuff I think of or plan to post.

5. I have several albums worth of photos that I took specifically for use on this blog, that have never been seen by human eyes. (Uhm, except mine.)

6. I don't use shampoo. No, I don't use baking soda either (though I used to.) No, my hair isn't disgusting. In fact, its more perfect, beautiful and shiny than it's ever been. I used to have a major greasy hair problem. No longer! (Should I do a post on this?)

7.  I make my own deodorant. It's very effective, too.

8. I make my own laundry detergent.

 9. I make my own mayonnaise (and ketchup and sauerkraut too, now!)

 10. I make my own bread, and have done so for more than 3 years.

11. I make my own clothes frequently. Usually refashioned out of some premade thrifted garment. And except for a swimsuit, I haven't bought a new item of clothing in more than five years.

12. If it occurs to me that I can make something from scratch, instead of buying it, I will not rest until I figure out how. Then I decide if it was worth the time, effort or cost of base ingredients to continue doing so. In the case of the above, it most certainly has been. Sometimes its not, like home made tortillas, those things are hard work, man!

13. I hate consumerism. Can you tell?

14. In every pattern, print, blob, wrinkly curtain or bedspread, ceiling design, grains of wood, bundle of sticks or leafy bush there is a picture, a face, a figure. I will find it, I will find multiple ones. I will look at it from different angles to see how it changes. I will imagine stories about this animal or person. I will draw them. They will become mine. *cackle*

15. I want a house with a huge plot of land. I want to plant an herb garden just outside my kitchen door, and a vegetable garden in the back yard. I want lots of chickens that I can move around in a little chicken train to fertilize land as I need and eat their scrumptious healthy eggs. I want goats and cows and to drink their good milk and make cheese and yogurt every day. I want bees and orchards and berry patches. I want to be as self-sustained in my little farm as much as possible. My own homestead kingdom. This is quite possibly my number one desire in life. It is, no doubt, an idol that I should cast aside so I can focus on God again.

16. If I could choose any time period to visit, it would be early colonial America. Back when Americans were hardcore, rugged and awesome.

17. If I don't go outside in a day, especially if the weather is sunny and breezy, I get seriously depressed.

18. I'm a researcher and a looker-up-er. If I plan to embark on something I thoroughly search out all the facts, read the guides and pore through the information. Sometimes I'll do this multiple times before I do or decide.

19. The above fact is probably why I have such strong convictions about what I believe.

20. But it doesn't necessarily mean I'll follow the rules, (directions, recipe, or whatever.) In fact, I'm very bad at following directions, even if I've read them over a few times. I pretty much can't follow a recipe without changing at least one or two things, if not more.

21. I have 8 siblings; six sisters and two brothers. I'm number four. I enjoyed baby sitting. (No, really, I did.)

22. I was homebirthed, breastfed, homeschooled and catechized. I plan to do the same with my children.

23. I'm very passionate about foraging and herbalism, though I'm still quite an amateur in the area. I would love to advance in my foraging so well that I can live off the land without planting a seed. Except I would plant a lot of seeds if I had room to. (see fact 15)

24. My husband, John, is my best friend. I love him more than anyone in the world. I can't imagine a more amazing man to spend my life with.

25. I can't imagine a life more beautiful than the one I currently have. (With the exception of my life added to fact 15.)

This is what happens when you put me in charge of the s'mores...

John and I and a group of friends planned a cook out for this last weekend; a bonfire on the beach with hot dogs and tin-foil wrapped potatoes smothered in the coals. And of course, s'mores. As far as I'm concerned, s'mores are essential to any fire-centered party being successful. Well, since I'm so adamant about marshmallows and chocolate melted between two slabs of sweet cinnamon-and-honey-crackery goodness, I found myself being placed in charge of the s'more round up.

I took my role very seriously. These would be the best danged s'mores of all time.

It started when I made marshmallows...

Last year I had learned to make the whipped sugary gelatin confections. They were scrum-diddly-umptious, bouncy and fluffy. More yummy than any store bought marshmallow could even imagine tasting. You don't even need corn syrup to make them.

 And the best part? You can flavour them. Any flavour you can imagine!!! ... Well, almost. I have a really vivid imagination when it comes to flavours and some pretty clever means of bringing them into existence...(though, I do say so myself. *cough*)

Of last year's production

Last year they were Earl Grey flavoured marshmallows. This year, inspired by pine edibilities, I made them...of course, Pine flavoured. But in case my very normal friends thought this to be too outrageous for their taste buds I made an alternate Vanilla Orange flavoured batch.

The result?
Oh heavenly goodness. How could such lovely perfection be wasted with nasty, grody, waxy, fake "chocolate" as those hershey "smore sized" bars? No no! I would have GOOD chocolate with my marshmallows and that was that.

But the prices. Oooohhhhhhhh the prices. A bar of silky, cocoa-y, marvelous Ghiradelli chocolate was ever so expensive. They were being priced at more than NINE DOLLARS A POUND. Even the yucky Hershey chocolate was more expensive than I imagined it could be.

So you know what I did?

I went to the BAKING section! Ah ha! Two 12oz bags of Ghiradelli semi-sweet chocolate chips for $5! That's under four dollars a pound! (I think...) Who needs Ghiradelli to put their chocolate in bar shaped slabs for an extra five bucks a pound? I could do that myself!

And while I was at it I would sprinkle sea salt on them babies.

Noms.

Now that's chocolate. Better than any sub-par Hershey chocolate could ever imagine tasting.

Well, that settled it. If I was going to go "cheap" and gourmet at the same time (funny how those two coincide more often than many people might imagine) I'd simply have to make my own graham crackers too.

Yeah, I've done that before too. And they were fantastic. More delicious than any stale store graham cracker could even imagine tasting. So I did it again and they were the perfect top and bottom to my marvelous marshmallow masterpieces and my clever chocolaty concoction.

The cookout was amazing. Fire + food + frisbees = forever fun.. (I'm fond of alliterating, you know.) How could it go wrong? Okay, well it was on a New Hampshire beach in April, so yeah, it was cold too. But that just added to the adventure.

 And the s'mores?

 Yeah, you know it.

Absolutely amazing. Better than any combination of jet-puffed marshmallow, waxy Hershey chocolate and Nabisco graham crackers could have ever even imagined tasting. As far as I'm concerned, this is the only way to have s'mores.

Wish I had a photo of the final product, but my camera is not beach friendly.

Even my normal taste-budded friends were impressed. Please excuse me while I go and be smug.

Considering life without a car

The state of New Hampshire requires yearly car inspections. If your car doesn't pass the inspection, you can't drive it legally. I think this is the case in most states, but I'm from Florida where the folk are blissfully allowed to drive their cars into the ground no matter what the car's condition. The first time I had even heard inspections was sometime after I met John. Now I have to deal with this every year in April, when I need to renew my registration etc.

Meet my car:

96 Honda Accord, nice n' snowed on.

(Well, not the greatest photo to show the actual car, but who cares? Cars is cars, they all look basically the same. Snow is prettier anyway.)

Her name is Lady Lethe, and she is a super duper, great, great car! I bought her five years ago, used, for $3,000. And if I did not need to spend $30 on getting her inspected every year and then spend upwards of $400 on getting all the little things fixed in order for her to pass inspection, then I probably wouldn't have spent another cent on her other than gas and a few oil changes. None of these "fixes" for her to pass inspection were things that affected me while driving. I don't care if she makes a ruckus because there's a hole in her muffler, and I didn't care that the electric window couldn't roll down (despite lack of A/C) and I'm definitely not worried about the steering rack breaking on me suddenly while I drive! (I'm very reformed.)

But the state of NH does. Or so the mechanic says.

This morning I was told that the fixes needed to get dear Lethe to pass inspection will be more on the side of a thousand (more, if I bother getting break pads replaced). Since I spent four hundred on her last year and eight hundred on her the year before.... Well, John and I just don't think it's a good idea to spend so much on a car that will very very likely not pass inspection next year for some other random expensive broken part. She is a very old car, after all.

This leaves us to figure out somethings. Buy a new car? Absolutely not. We want a house, not a car.  Buy a used car? Possibly. Go without a car? Hmm....

I remember when I bought my first car. I felt like I had just bought myself a whole new world of freedom. That car lasted about a month before it broke down. And so began my experiences with cars and the multitude of troubles they bring with their so-called convenience. Now I feel like not having a car would be freeing.

Considering that we already walk to church instead of drive. It's about a 12 minute walk. When we drive, we're so close that time goes backward. We only drive if we're really gonna be late. As in, church starts at 10:30 and it's 10:35...

I walk to my weekly bible studies (the ones that aren't at my house) and I generally walk to my friend's pottery studio when I'm going to hang with her. To go to her house would be a quick bike ride too.  I generally don't walk to the library, because I'm not fond of carrying so many books back and forth and it's a bit more of a time and energy investment than I want to put into a quick book refreshing trip, but I could. It takes me about 30 minutes one way.

Basically, if I have time and it's relatively close, I walk. I'd much rather walk than drive, when I have the option.

So when do we use our car?

Of the two of us, I use our car much more regularly, since John's work provides him with a truck that he uses all day long. I use our car, on average, about seven or eight times a month. I drive to the grocery store, because it would take me a good hour to walk there, and then back with groceries.... ergh, not gonna happen. I drive to a friend's house occasionally to help her out in her garden and herb studio. She lives pretty far, about a 20 minute drive. I drive to our local spring to refill our water jugs. The spring is not far; I could bike there in 15 minutes. The tricky part would be transporting six gallons of water home on a bicycle.

John and I drive when we visit his parents, they're about a 40 minute drive away. We drive to the airport to pick up friends and family (when that happens). We drive to the beach transporting a surf board. We occasionally drive to other friends' houses if they've invited us for dinner. And we enjoy having the option to drive to John's family's lake house for summer frolics.  We also frequently volunteer to give church folk rides and if my friend needed me to help her in teaching her pottery class again, I wouldn't be able to get there on my own steam (the school at which she teaches is a 45 minute drive).

If we were to give up the car, we'd work out groceries and water fairly easily, by simply having John pick up what we need on his way home from work. When John is on call, one week out of three, his company prefers him to drive his truck so he'll be free to use it any time on those weeks.  Those would be the weeks when we could visit friends or family, or take a trip to the lake house, but there's also be the threat of him being called out, since that's why he's allowed to use the truck anyway.

Trips to the beach to surf would be right out unless John's surfing buddies were also going and willing to give us a ride (a distinct possibility.)  I definitely won't be helping my friend in her garden this year, unless she wants to pick me up and take me home (not very likely). We'd also be in the "needs a ride" group rather than the "can give rides" of our church, which I wouldn't be too frazzled about.

My final thought on this for the time being is that we could live without a car, but it would limit us a lot. It would take some adjusting to simply not have the option of hopping in the car and going somewhere any time I liked.  And while I hate driving and prefer walking whenever possible, the loss of that optional ease does scare me a bit. But I also like the idea. Cars can really be a hassle. Plus, it would be nice to feel like I'm doing more of a part in being environmentally friendly (even though I hardly drive the one I have now.) For emergencies, we really could use John's work truck, though his company might not like it much.

I also think it would be a lot more difficult to live without a car when our baby comes along. But we have till late summer to figure that out. And that's just as well; going without a car in the winter would also be trickier, since bicycling would no longer be an option with snow on the ground. We walk to church all year long anyway.

The verdict on the car isn't totally out yet. We're checking with some other mechanics to see if it will actually cost as much as the first guys said. We'll also look into how much used cars are running in our area. We might go without a car for a few months and see how it feels, and if the perfect car comes along we'll buy it.

Could you go without a car if you had to? Anyone local who can replace steering racks?

How John and I came to Be Together, Part Three

This is the third and final post in mine and John's love story. See here for part one, and here for part two.

Despite the fact that we weren't calling it "dating" what  happened after that was more or less, us dating. We had a mutual fondness for each other and now that it was out it was a little hard to be strictly friends. We were still very good friends, but now we were more...sort of.. During his stay in the Keys, my family decided to take their vacation early because of an impending hurricane. Abby and I were to stay home because we had college classes to attend. To avoid appearance of evil, my dad arranged for John to stay at the church at night, but all during each day we spent blissful time together. John and I went out for companionable walks, he came with me to my college classes (the ones that weren't cancelled due to the hurricane) we went to the beach together and did some star-gazing together.

On one occasion, we had the evening to ourselves because Abby went on a date with Terence. We made dinner together and dressed up a little and ate. After dinner John suggested we dance. I put on some Celtic music which we both enjoyed and we did some merry jigs together, feeling a little giggly and silly. The evening was growing late and John needed to be going soon. We decided on one more dance. It was a slower song, so we commenced to waltz. I remember we entwined fingers for that dance and as it went on, we got closer and closer. As the song ended and the next track came on, John and I fell into an embrace. We had taken to hugging each other before he left for the night, but this hug went past the normal duration of hugs. It lasted the entire second song. Then John quickly broke it off, he hastily placed something in my hand and closed my fingers over it before he said goodbye and quit the house in a flushed hurry. I watched him go with my heart pounding and then opened my hand to see what he gave me. It was a ring he had always worn. I was stunned, and that was when I knew I was wildly and madly in love with him

Funny how after that we continued as we had before, but now our evening goodbye hugs lasted longer and I found myself wanting to look at him a whole lot more.  One night as we looked at the bright stars together, John asked if he could put his arm around me; I readily agreed. And on the walk home, he asked me if he could hold my hand, to which I also agreed. After that, we always held hands when we walked.

He did eventually have to go home, though. He had relatives in NC that were expecting him to stay with them on a particular date. They like things to be just so, so he couldn't extend his stay any further. He had already called his uncle and asked if it was okay if he showed up a few days late once, so he figured he'd better not push his luck. Since he wanted a place to stay on the way up.

After he left but before my family returned, my house was so quiet. Abby was almost always gone because she had things to do with Terence and so I frequently was alone in the house. I had a lot of time to reminisce and think. I was happy that John and I had established a relationship of sorts, but I was also very sad and pensive about how long it would be before I saw him again. We did not have a "next time" planned, or figured out. Abby and Terence's wedding was coming up, and he had been invited, so he hoped to come to that, if finances allowed, but it was quite a few months in the future.

We continued our long distance communication, staying up late chatting on the phone or internet. It seemed that we never ran out of things to talk about. Our conversations never got very sappy or romantic, but they were always so wonderful and encouraging.  Sometimes, however, it was very difficult to be 1,800 miles away from the person you like the best. I think John felt it the most since it was mainly up to him to figure out how to get us together. In the mean time, I was busy with college and making semi indefinite plans to move to Tampa and helping Abby plan her wedding.

Abby's and Terence's wedding got moved up in the calender, they wanted to get married before Abby's college semester ended so that they'd be settled for her first summer off. John didn't quite have the funds to make another trip to Florida so soon. He missed it and I missed him. I decided I would go to him, since he had come to me last. I got a job and bought a car and saved up for a road trip to New Hampshire with my younger sister, Julie. Unfortunately, my car was not the most reliable and it broke down a month after I bought it. Road trip being no longer possible, I decided to fly. We went that summer and stayed somewhere between two and three weeks with John and his family. It was one of the most delightful summers of my life.

We didn't get a lot of time to ourselves, but any time spent together was precious. We hiked Mt. Washington and picked blueberries, canoed on his family's lake, did some archery and spent a lot of time exploring the woods behind his house. All these things included Julie and John's younger brother. Then one day we managed to convince Julie that John and I needed to be alone (she didn't seem to understand that we were in love) and we went on a wild round about trip to the beach. The night before we packed a picnic, then early, early, we rode with John's dad to his work in some north east part of Massachusetts. While he worked, John and I borrowed the car to find a magical beach in Maine called Ft. Foster. John had been there several times in his childhood but never drove himself. We took quite a few wrong turns and went in circles a few times before finding it. But when we arrived, it was wonderful.

We had our picnic and frolicked in the waves and sat on a rock over looking the ocean. The wild New England coast is so different than the tropical waters of the Keys. While exploring a little stone turret and looking at the sea John took my hand and asked me if he could kiss me. I thought about it awhile. I had kissed Tod way back when, once and regretted it ever since. I didn't want to throw away kisses on every boy who asked me, even if I was sure I was going to marry him. I said no, and told him why. He understood and respected that. But the rest of the trip and especially after Julie and I went back to FL, I wished I had said yes.

While in NH and staying with John's fabulous family, I invited them to come down and stay with my family some time. To my delight John's dad seemed to think it was a great idea and actually started to consider it. The time between visits was frequently difficult. I was happy to know I had a dedicated guy, but I longed to be with him. Money was the main obstacle that kept us from closing the distance more often, but sometimes, I wondered if my family was suspicious or disapproving of how often we attempted to see each other. I still hadn't told my parents because I didn't think they would take our relationship seriously. So when John's dad decided he wanted to see the Florida Keys, it was a real boon to John and I.

Right before I moved to Tampa, early in the December after Julie's and my trip to NH, John's family came down to the Keys. Our relationship was still fairly secret, since it wasn't official in any way. John and I took every chance we had to sneak off on romantic walks and time alone. It was on one of these walks, while looking at the stars on the same abandoned bridge that he told me I was the only one for him, that we kissed for the first time.

I can't even say who initiated it; we had our heads together and we weren't actually paying very much attention to the stars. But somehow our lips found each other and that was that. I remember thinking, when I realized how close our faces were and sweet his breath smelled that if he kissed me, I wouldn't pull back. It could have been on my decision alone that allowed it to happen, but it was perfect. The most romantic first kiss a couple could have dreamed of. It was John's first kiss of all time, and I heartily wish it were mine as well.

It might seem strange to some how we moved along in the physical aspect of our relationship. I said no to John's first offer of a kiss because I wasn't quite sure or comfortable enough to allow that to happen. But between that summer and that winter, our love and relationship progressed to where I was one hundred percent sure of John. We didn't have many chances to kiss after our first one, on that visit, but each one was special and romantic. And by now we had a plan for being together forever....

As I mentioned before, I intended to move to Tampa. The time came for me to make that definite move and January the following move was the time. The same year, John made plans to move his self to Tampa.
He visited me once before he planned to move. In April, for my birthday. It was a sweet short visit, and we knew that the next time we were together, we would never have to really be apart again.

 While I established myself there, living with my sister and her husband, working at a health food store and going to the community college, John saved up his money and prepared to make his move. He had originally planned to move down with a friend who was interested in a particular school in Tampa, but then his friend found a girlfriend and decided he'd rather stay in NH. So John forged ahead on his own. And the plans all came together. The time between visits grew shorter every time. We went from a year and a half between meeting and seeing each other again, to eight months, to five months, to four months. Two months more and we'd be together forever. 

One of John's cousins were getting married in North Carolina in June. John's family drove there, and I flew in. They picked me up and we booked two rooms at a hotel. John's mom and I stayed in one room and John and his dad and brother stayed in another. We went to the rehearsal dinner and party where John and I sneaked off to a corner in the garden to make out and spend some time together. We had a jolly time on that trip with his family, stopping in Virginia on the way home to see some sites.

Back in New Hampshire I helped John pack and we loaded up his Subaru. Not long after that we set out to drive to Tampa, Florida.  Once there, John applied for a job at the same health food store I worked at and was hired on the spot (I had a good reputation). Then we went to the library and internet searched and craig-listed for apartments. My brother-in-law was unwilling to allow John to stay in his house for even a night, even though he never actually said "He's not welcome," he made it fairly obvious. Neither John nor I even bothered to ask. John slept in his car for three nights before he found a well-priced and reasonably close apartment. When I think of it now I realize how brave it was of John to simply pack up and drive down here with only a shadow of a promise for a job and no prospects of an abode. I felt terrible leaving him at the Wal-mart parking lot at night where he parked his car and slept, but it was certainly a sure way of him to convince me how much he loved me.

And then he found a place. It was the most perfect apartment in the world. Situated directly on my way to work. I picked John up on my way to work and we spent nearly every waking minute together. Bliss. I left only at night to sleep at my sister's house.

The rest from there is fairly obvious.  We dated in real life like normal people for about two more months, then John proposed at the beach during sunset. It was romantic and beautiful. I burst into laughter and said yes. I actually was taken by surprise by his timing, but it was perfect. Sometime just before John moved to Tampa, I told my parents that John and I were dating. My dad gave me very similar advice to when I was considering Bert, strangely.  Despite the fact that I had told them how serious we were, they still seemed very surprised - shocked, even- when we announced our engagement. Nevertheless, we were engaged in September and the following spring; the first day of spring, in fact, March 21st, 2008, we were married.We had known each other for five years and more or less dated for two.

And we've been living happily ever after!

A sign I painted for our house

So there you have the incredibly long and fairly romantic story of John and Christiana and all the hardships they had to endure between blissful visits with each other. If you've read this whole thing, I salute you.

How John and I came to Be Together, Part Two

This is the second part of how John and I met, fell in love and got married. For part one, go here.

According to John, the night of the day he left the Keys he called his dad. "I met the most awesome girl in the world, Dad. She was so cool." He said. John's dad asked him if he was going to start a relationship with me. He was 15. He hardly knew me and he lived 1,800 or so miles from me. Some how, a long distance dating relationship did not seemed entirely too daunting to him. He settled with keeping in touch with me via email and AIM.

Now I have to mention all the other relationships I had to deal with. At that time in my young newly turned 16 year old life, I was semi "dating" a guy I had had a crush on. He was a few years older than me but apparently didn't know any better. He lived in a different state, somewhere.... We'll call him Tod because that's totally not his real name and if he's some sort of stalker he'll still know I'm talking about him and be offended by my using an ugly name to call him. (Sorry if your name is Tod in real life.)

Tod and I had had a mutual crushes on each other back when he lived in the Keys with his brother and he came to our church. As far as I was concerned I was going to marry him. But then he got tired of the no-where job he had at Kmart and how mostly boring the Keys can be when you don't have an interest in water sports, so he up and moved back to where he came from.

I figured, well, I'd just have to date him long distance. I wasn't going to be of marrying age for a good 3 to 5 years anyway. Well, we kind of dated and we kind of didn't. He was a jerk and never responded to my emails or real life letters. He occasionally called me and then didn't say much. He wasn't a very good conversationalist. My journal at the time is filled with tearful entries of how confused I was that this guy with whom I was "totally in love" simply wouldn't communicate with me.

Shortly before the New Hampshire Boys came in to our lives, a pastor from way north Florida, who was good friends with my family, thought that it was time my sister, Abby, at 19 was in a relationship. There aren't many eligible guys in the Keys and that's just that. How any of us expected to find husbands is beyond me. So our pastor friend sent down a very nice young man, we'll call him Bert, to meet Abby and see if they would fall in love and get married. They didn't.

Instead what happened was he fell in love with me. Well, sort of. He remained friends with our family despite the fact that he and Abby were obviously not in love and visited us occasionally. While we were still friends but not in love was when we met Seth, Sam, Rob and John. I remember telling him about them over AIM.

John's and my relationship was limited to friendly, funny emails and the occasional AIM chat. My relationship with Bert remained friendly as well, but I found myself seriously having a crush on him as my relationship with Tod spun wildly out of existence.

A lot of things were happening in my life at this time, my family moved from living above the church to a new, beautiful house of our own. I started attending the community college in Key West and continued with finishing my highschool. I considered more seriously moving to Tampa to live with my sister and I also seriously wondered if any of these guys would be the one I would marry.  I was growing up and figured I needed to sort things out.

One day, around the age of 17 I decided Tod really wasn't the one for me. I liked Bert and he had told me that he liked me too. I wasn't sure if I wanted to be in a "Serious" relationship, as in courting or dating with intention to marry, I still felt I was a little young for that, but Bert was adamant that he was willing to wait for me if I needed time. (He was finishing college and moving to a real life big time job around this time.) I broke it off with Tod and wondered why I had taken so long to get around to it.

My sisters' and my friendship with the NH boys remained fairly steady despite long lapses between conversations. Though while I was staying up til 3 AM talking to Bert over AIM, my correspondence with John became much slower. And once, Julie, chatting with John on AIM told him that I was in love with someone else. "They're practically dating." She had said. And looking back I think that may have been around the time when my correspondence with John had ceased completely, for a good three or four months. I hardly noticed, I'm sad to say. At this time I went to France for three weeks with Abby, our older sister, Bett, and her husband.

 Then one day, a couple of the famous NH Boys, Sam and Seth, came down with a few new friends, and we met more "New Hampshire Boy" gang. I remember being sad that John didn't come down too. Sam and Seth thought we ought to come to NH for a visit and see some snow and learn to snowboard. So that next winter, we did. Well, Julie and I did. Abby was forming a relationship with a fine man in town and was not interested in leaving him at the time.

I'll never forget the night after we arrived in New Hampshire. We headed over to Seth's apartment and I remember asking Sam (at whose grandparents house we were staying, and who was driving) if there was a possibility of us seeing John. As we pulled into Seth's driveway I saw through the window Seth talking to a very handsome guy, whom I did not recognize. "Hey, John is here." Sam mentioned to me. I wondered how he knew because there were no other cars in the driveway.

We entered the house and Seth grinned and hugged us, then I turned to the handsome stranger. My jaw musta' dropped. It was John. The same John I had met two and a half years before, but now his hair was short and while it was still a little wild, it was very dashing. His face was more chiseled than the 15-year-old boyish face I had remembered, but still freckled. I think my heart must have done a little flip flop when he gave me a smile and a nod and called me Lady Christiana.  Then we cut with the formal stuff and gave each other a brief and friendly hug. And even though I was "practically dating" another guy and fully expected to marry that other guy, I more than enjoyed every moment I had with John on that trip.

Like times before, when John and I were in a group together, we were side by side and generally in our own bubble. It felt like we hadn't spoken in aeons since we hadn't really emailed in awhile. We had a lot to catch up on. Just as easy to talk with as before but now he was handsome and dashing too. And chivalrous. On one occasion I had left my notebook in his brother's car and we had already taken off our shoes. He ran outside, barefoot, in the snow to grab it for me. When he got in, I remembered my pen was still out there. He ran out again. I thought I would burst with the romance of it all.

Then, sadly, the trip ended. This time, however, John and I renewed our correspondence commitment, and we even exchanged real addresses for snail-mail. My life suddenly seemed a lot less bright and amazing when I had left John's side. Pair that with the reality of my relationship with Bert and I began to realize some very important things. Shortly after seeing John, I had a visit with Bert. I stayed with him and his family for a few days and while on the trip I noticed something about myself.  And that was, that myself with Bert was very different than myself with John, or any of my other friends. I realized that due to the difference in age and stage of life we were in, I acted a lot more serious and grown up around Bert. Not that it was a bad thing, I think, I still had good times with him and we joked around together, but I found that I liked the way I was with John so much more than I liked the way I was with Bert.  The insight gave me some serious things to think about.

I was a few months from turning 18. I knew when I did that Bert would pressure me a little more about "officializing" our relationship. He would want us to formally enter a courtship stage and move on from there. I began to get panicky. I talked to my dad (a great idea). He told me I was still young, even though I would soon be of age for a great many things. He encouraged me to hold off on any serious relationships if I wasn't sure about them. Grateful for not only the good advice (which I kind of already felt, but it was nice to have it affirmed) but also the good excuse of "My dad doesn't think I'm ready." I told Bert. Tearfully; for we had had a rather nice relationship and he was a great guy and was always very honourable by me (unlike that scuddy Tod). I was mostly sad to break his heart, the idea of being free of any kind of serious relationship was a great relief to me, though. I told him I was interested in finishing college before I wanted to look into marriage. I told him I could not guarantee that I would still be attracted to him at the end of it (honestly, I was already pretty much over him, but I did still really like him). I told him not to wait for me. He, though saddened by it, agreed to this and we separated ways. Our relationship had not been a very strong friendship before it became more, and so we didn't have much in common any more once we broke up. But he said a funny thing in one of his last letters to me. "Whoever you end up with (and I have a feeling it will be that John fellow) will be a very blessed and lucky guy." I guess I must have talked about John quite a bit back then...

Meanwhile, John's and my correspondence, both real letters, emails and AIM continued strong. He even called me occasionally. Then one day, perhaps a week after I had broken up with Bert, I was checking the mail again for my family, not expecting anything, for John had just sent me a letter a day or two before. There was another letter from him to me in our mailbox. My heart thundered. What could it be about?

I remember I immediately went and hid behind my parents hot-tub and read it, the rest of the mail in a pile beside me on the ground. It was a proposal of courtship. I nearly fainted. I wanted to write him that same day with a "YES! I would LOVE to date you and marry you!!!!!" But then my sensible self chimed in. "Hello? You just broke it off with Bert with the excuse that you wanted to finish college before you had a serious relationship. If word gets around he'll think you just use that as a convenient excuse to date John." Oh yeah. I couldn't really do that, now could I? Bert had asked if there was anyone else I was more interested in at the time of my breaking up with him. I said (and honestly) no. Because while I was very fond of John, he had never made any romantic advances towards me. Our relationship had been only friendly.

I wanted to cry as I wrote the letter saying I was honoured by his request but not interested in any serious relationships until I was done with college. I remember writing, with hope, that if his interest in me remained the same at the end of 4 years, I would be more than happy to date him then. We both agreed that even though he had asked me to date him and that I had refused, we could easily still be friends. And we did. But now it was slightly different. I now knew that he did in fact like me in a romantic way, and I returned the feeling secretly. We let the scenario pass after one complete conversation about it and remained friends just as before.

Somewhere around this time I finished highschool. Proud of myself and feeling the need to celebrate, I decided to invite John to stay for a few weeks with me and my family. I asked him if he wanted to take me on Promenade. My sister Abby had had Sam take her on Prom and nothing romantic ever came of it, so I figured it wouldn't be very forward of me to ask. Whether it was or wasn't, John happily agreed and came down that September.  For our promenade, we dressed in Medieval clothes and booked a short sail on a historical tall ship that did a pretty sunset sail in waters of Key West. My sister, Abby and her then fiance, Terence, offered to make a "magical" dinner for us. They set up Terence's patio like a medieval tavern and
 pretended to be inn keepers and served us shepherds pie and walnut salad. It was fun and romantic, even though John and I did not in fact, hold hands or exchange words of romance to each other. We were still strictly friends at this point.

After eating, we spent some time at a dark beach looking at the ocean. Then we drove back to my family's house. Funny enough, it was the next day that we established our relationship. I was still going to the community college and John accompanied me to one of my classes. Afterwards, while driving home, I encouraged him to pass my street and keep going, I wanted to show him a pretty place further up my neighbourhood. There, on an abandoned bridge over looking a pristine green canal, John told me he was not interested in having a relationship with any one else. He was still interested in me and was willing to wait as long as I needed. These dedicated words warmed my heart and encouraged me.  I told him that I returned this feeling. We weren't dating, but we were dedicated to each other, in a sense. I did not feel guilty that John was willing to wait for me the way I felt when Bert said the same thing. John and I were the same age and in the same stages of life. We were still young and in need of some establishment before any kind of marriage could happen. In the very least we needed to live in the same town. I now look back on this moment and think of it as the official start of our romantic relationship.

Okay, turns out this is way too long to do in only two parts. Come back tomorrow for part three! Concerning our dating and marriage.

Four years of marriage. Boo ya. Or How John and I came to be together Part One

On Wednesday, March 21st, John and I celebrated our four year anniversary. I intended to do a post on that day but I'm rather far behind on this blog and of course, I was too busy cleaning my house and preparing a special anniversary dinner (and *cough*, making mugs and vases for fun on my friends pottery wheel....)

Well, last year, for our anniversary I wrote a long and boring post on why I don't think marriage is hard. Or at least, that's what it was supposed to say. It was really just long and ramble-y. But this year, I think I'll write the story of how we met. It's way more interesting and pretty awesome too, although also very long. I'll split it into two parts for ya. Part one is how we met. Part two is how our teenage, long-distance acquaintance turned into a serious and beautiful relationship.

But before I begin, do you remember this?

Actually, I don't think I told you about it. And I'm not sure why I took a photo of it either, just something kind of funny to me about an egg falling off my table and breaking on my carpet, I guess... On my anniversary. Last year....
Except now it's especially weird because while I was making eggs and toast for John for breakfast on our anniversary this year, I broke another egg. Twice now, I've broken an egg on my anniversary. Good thing I don't believe in omens! Totally weird, but definitely coincidental...in as far as I believe in coincidences, which don't really exist because God is completely sovereign and has it all planned out from the tiniest detail to the big eternal picture. And this is pretty clear when you hear our story, because it's wild that a girl in Key West should marry a guy from the mountains of New Hampshire, isn't it?

In Boston

Now, to the story.

I grew up in the Florida Keys. My whole life. I traveled a little with my family, but not extensively, the Florida Keys was my world. And while I figured one day I'd grow up and move off somewhere, maybe go to college, that somewhere never really extended farther than Tampa, where my older sister lived. I was only fifteen.

Well, it was the day before my birthday, the next day I would be sixteen. It was Easter Sunday. We were in church, my dad in the front being his pastor self, and the family sitting in the backer rows of the building. Right as the 11:00 service started, four young men entered the building and sat directly behind my sisters and I. They were kind of dirty, a little smelly and their shirts were really wrinkly. They all had long hair, some of them in braids. I didn't get the greatest view of them before they sat down, so I probably took these details in afterward, since obviously, I wasn't going to crane my neck around to look at them.

 I don't remember if I wondered who they were, or if they distracted me from the service or if I intended to introduce myself to them after the service, but then, I don't remember the sermon much either (sorry, dad).  It just so happened, that after the service, Abby, my older sister, and I turned around. And there were four young men, standing there. We introduced ourselves to the visitors like model pastors daughters. Their names were Seth, Sam, Rob and John. Seth and Sam were brothers. Rob and John were brothers. This is how it happened:
Abby said "Hi, I'm Abby."
They said respectively "Hi, I'm, Seth, Sam, Rob, John"
Then I said "I'm Christy" and they said, once again, their names respectively. Except for John who said "And I'm....still...John." Which immediately endeared me to him. Because I was thinking it was very silly that they were all repeating their names when I had just heard their names.

 They were from New Hampshire, they were on a road trip. They had been driving most of the night and slept, the four of them in Seth's five seater car, on the side of the highway. When the morning came, they thought they would like to go to church, it being Sunday and all, but they also wanted some better sleep. So they headed into Key West to sleep on the beach and while driving through the lower Keys they saw our church building, and the big sign that said "Worship at 11". Which is when they decided to come to our church because the service was the latest they had seen yet and therefore they could get more sleep before going to church.

Cool how that worked out, eh?

Well, while Abby and I chatted with these boys, it turned out we had common spirits. Not a lot in common, necessarily but similar attitudes towards life. That is, we did stuff that we liked and thought was fun, and didn't care if it was considered "cool" or not. Of course, that really means we just had our own definition of cool, because no teenager can actually not care about being cool. And since Abby was the oldest of our new formed group at 19, we were all teenagers.
Seth was, had been, a snowboard instructor for the winter, Rob was an apprentice electrician, Sam and John were still in school, but the cool part was that they were homeschooled, just like us! We chatted about the merits and awesomeness of being homeschooled. We chatted about the retardation of public schools. We chatted about life in the Keys and life in New Hampshire. Then it was getting late, and no more people were in the church. They said they were going to go into town to see some sights and we invited them back to evening service, if they wanted.

And they came. Much to Abby's and my delight.

It now occurs to me how very unusual it is that four young men, on their own in a different state from their parents or anyone that they know, should come to church at all. But especially strange that they would voluntarily go to an Sunday evening service. And even more so, because their church at home didn't even have one. The first service means one thing, but I think their attending the second service might mean something else.

After evening service, we regrouped and continued to chat. Our topics of conversation were varied and sundry and at some point, my mom and dad joined the conversation, which didn't phase any of us. When it came out that they didn't actually have a place to stay in Key West and that they intended on sleeping in their car or on the beach again, my Dad offered them a couple night's stay in our church's sanctuary. They gladly accepted and asked if there was anything that needed to be done around the church premises that four strapping young men could help out with.

Turned out there was. Though it didn't really require their strapping-ness.

My dad's evangelistic ministry puts out a quarterly newsletter. Back then, it was quite the process to get out. over 1000 people received our newsletter by mail, and then we always needed extra to hand out and keep on the church's back table. These newsletters needed to be folded in half, have the insert placed in the middle, and folded again. Then mailing sticker dots put on to keep them sealed shut and address labeled after that. It's a long and arduous process made better and faster by more helping hands and some good conversation. Abby and I already had been working on newsletters most of Saturday, so we showed our new friends the work room and the six of us sat and worked and chatted. Mom and Dad went home (which back then, was upstairs of the church) and late into the night four boys and two girls talked and folded paper in the church offices.

It was during these hours that John and I sat beside each other compared interests. We actually did have a lot in common. Both being wildly interested in fantasy literature, reading and writing it. And while I was thinking this guy is so cool, he's just like me! It's like we're the same.  John said aloud "You're just like me! We're practically the same!"

I was smitten. He was moderately good looking, with his straw coloured hair in shoulder length braids, and freckles and blue green eyes, but what really got me, I think, was how much attention he paid me. And the fact that we had so much in common. He was cool and sweet and had a very funny sense of humour. He made me laugh more than anyone I knew, and best of all, he was the first person of all time (maybe the only one?) to tell me that I had a beautiful laugh. Up until that point in my life I had been told on many occasion, that I had a "weird" and"obnoxious" laugh, that it was "too loud," "sounded like a donkey," and "sounded like a pig." And once I had been told I should "get a new laugh." And he told me it was beautiful. Beautiful. Yes, I really was smitten.

The next day was my birthday, and since our New Hampshire Boys (as we called them from then on) were staying beneath us, we saw them. They went to the gas station down the road and bought themselves a gallon of milk and some cereal, and then they had breakfast with us. Our family had cereal too, and would have gladly shared with them, but it was just as well that they bought their own, for all we had was soy milk and the healthy cereals....

Being homeschooled, and it being my birthday, I declared it an official holiday and all my siblings followed suit. We took our NH boys on a walk around our neighbourhood and showed them the quarry were we liked to swim and the bridge where we liked to jump into the water. It was a jolly time. They expressed interest in seeing my dad's evangelism technique in downtown Key West so we took them to the famous Mallory Square. More accurately, they drove themselves and myself down (since it was my birthday.) and my sister rode with my dad down. We played hacky sack and roamed Key West before going back home to have birthday cake with my family and then proceeding to the church offices once again to continue to fold newsletters. My younger sister Julie joined us then, realizing she was missing out on a lot of fun.

It now occurs to me to wonder at the trust of my parents, both in their daughters and in complete stranger guys to allow us to hang out so much without any kind of chaperoning. All I can say is that my parents are incredibly reformed and very much trust God's sovereign will.....

That night, we folded newsletters till about 3 am. When we ran out of newsletters to fold. After that, we talked a little more and then we got to playing card games and Mafia and all sorts of other stuff. It was the first and only night I ever did not sleep. The sky began to lighten. We walked down to the quarry together again and watched the sun rise and the morning bloom. It was nice.

During this whole time John stayed by my side as much as possible. While Julie and Abby grouped up with the others, John and I seemed always slightly paired off and to the side, holding our own conversations. I felt very fond of him; I appreciated his attentions and loved how much we had in common. I had never had such easy exchanges. His humor and wit were hilarious and original, I didn't even know such funny people existed! Though I did not think him particularly handsome or hot, I did find him rather cute. He was only 15 after all.

That afternoon they left, saying they had arrangements to stay with some friends in northern parts of Florida and then they had to be somewhere else soon after that. We all exchanged e-mail addresses and AIM names before parting ways. (There was no facebook back then, thankfully). I went to bed to take a nap, smiling in my sleep I'm sure.

Stay tuned for part 2!

Never give up. Or, how Nanowrimo is maybe a little bit like a relationship.

tiny note. If you came to this blog post for the pumpkin spice latte recipe, then scroll all the way down to skip the crazed ramblings of a lunatic trying to compare writing a novel in a month to being married.

She stopped her frantic typing  and dragged her hand down her face laughing dejectedly. " I have no idea what I'm doing right now...oh my gosh, this story is so lame...."

...And welcome to what is commonly called the 12 days remaining blues. Or more likely, I just made that up.

But apparently it's normal to go from thinking "I'm doing great, my story is really coming along, I'm ahead and this is going to be AWESOME!!!" to "this is crap, I can't even believe I'm still bothering to write in this loser of a novel." And yet, I keep writing. Our week three Nanowrimo pep talk came from Chris Cleave, a writer I've never heard of before. He wrote (among other things,) this, to encourage us:

The more I learn about the writing process, the more I suspect that there is no such thing as a bad day at the keyboard. Sometimes you need slow days where you work through a dozen ideas that aren’t destined to fly.

And he went on to say:

The good days are when you perform; the slow days are when you learn to perform better. The only bad days as a writer are the ones when you are too cowardly or too lazy to sit down at the keyboard and give it everything you have. 

This is why I won't give up this hacked up piece of work. I won't stop to try starting a new more miraculous story. I won't allow myself to continue on the line of thought that this story simply wasn't ready to be written and I really ought to simply delve into another work of fiction that's been stewing in my mind lately. No, no no! I will reach 50,000 words before the end of this month, I will I will I will!!!!!

Even if the only thing that this novel writing month activity produces is a better writer (as opposed to an awesome publish worthy novel) then it will have not been for naught.

I'm kind of seeing writing a novel for Nanowrimo like falling in love and getting married. You start the whole process and it's electric and exciting. It pervades your thoughts at all times. You can't wait to get back to writing. Words are flying and things are wonderful. You and your novel are soul mates!

But then you get to know it. You see it's faults and the whole not-so-great-shebang that it is. The more time you spend with your novel, the more you see that it's really just regular, no more special than any other novel you've written or read. In fact, it's probably worse. A lot worse. The characters are all flawed and some of them are doing really, really dumb things. They've taken on problems bigger than they can fix and they're kind of getting under your skin. But you can't go back, because now you're committed. It's half way through the month and to try and find a new more exciting story to write would be very foolish, and very unfair to this novel, as well. Even though that story about alternative early America does sound super awesome and success-worthy, you can't go and try it out while you're committed to this story for November. Now it's not exciting or easy or even going very well, but you can't stop, because you've made this choice. You have to stick to it. You've promised this novel and your love is no longer an option, it's a necessity. You've got to write in it every day if you want this Nanowrimo thing to work! Nanowrimo is hard work, but it's very worth it.
 (Right, isn't that what people always say about marriage?)

Okay, my illustration may be stretching it a little. Because this is really nothing like how my experience of love and marriage as been. It's quite possible that lots of people do have marriages like that - no longer a breeze,  or exciting or heart-pounding and passionate and they actually have to remind themselves of their vows because they think their spouse is so lame and not worth their time that they wonder why they haven't hit the road yet to find someone new and exicitng.... I'm sorry for them, but if they keep sticking to it even after all that, props to them, they're probably better people than I'll ever be.

Because mine is nothing like this. I don't think I could ever possibly find a guy as amazing, wonderful, and awesome as John. We no longer spend whole days making out any more (well, not usually, anyway) and yeah, maybe I'd prefer if John played less video games sometimes. But I know that if I looked for someone else, they'd have some annoying habit too. Everyone's got something wrong with them. (Because we're all sinners and no one except Jesus is perfect.) You pick the bad habits you're willing to put up with...Or rather, you pick the person whose bad habits you're willing to put up with. Like Bob Marley said "Truth is, everyone's gonna hurt you; you just gotta find the ones worth suffering for." Really, video games are a whole lot more preferable to me than some people's flaws. And I actually did know before I said my vows, that John was super duper into video games and I'm (mostly) okay with it. Even with John's video game habit, I still find him the most wonderful guy I've ever met. He's hot and super sweet and forgives a multitude of my own sins and annoying habits. (like asking him to do something he's about to do, which I HONESTLY did not realize he was about to do, but he doesn't believe me. And if he did that to me, I'd probably kill him, because that is seriously annoying.) Soooo....

Somehow this update on my Nanowrimo progress turned into a dissertation on marriage and how it really is nothing like writing a novel during National Novel Writing month....At least from my own perspective of falling in love and getting married. In fact, I wish my experience with this current novel were more like my own marriage, because then I'd be only slightly annoyed or less than satisfied with it some of the time rather than wanting to punch it in the metaphorical face!
Current word count: 35,010
We'll see if I can keep this average up for the next 12 days. pffftttt.

One good thing about today, at least is that I made a Pumpkin Spice latte. And it was awesome. Here are some pictures to prove it.

I kind of did my own thing to make a Pumpkin syrup and then added it to Jim's Organic Coffee Holiday blend flavour along with some heated milk and some freshly made whipped cream. It was delicious. So good in fact, that John claimed it "barely even tastes like coffee!" it was that good. I used these two recipes as guides and inspiration. (there were others, but I can no longer find them.)
Pumpkin Syrup by SaavyEat
and
Pumpkin Spice Latte by A Full Measure of Happiness (whose blog I totally love)

I put a lot of cardamom in mine and it made it taste very chai-ish. Which I loved. It made my crappy writing day a little better. Hope it makes yours a little better too. Cheers.

Is email a thing of the past?

Caution: This may get a little ranty.

So about a month ago I deactivated my facebook because I felt it was encouraging superficial and shallow relationships amongst other things. I decided that from now on, when I want to get in touch with someone I'd call them or write them a real email, one with substance and quality. And I have several friends with whom I correspond using real mail also, so that's great. But I'm not much of a phone-caller. Unless it's a to the point phone call to establish some meeting or verify information I find phone calls a little awkward and they tend to make my ears get irritated. There's a few people I make the effort for and I really ought to try more on this, but really a letter or a real life hang out are better for me.

Sometimes, though, hanging out in real life is not possible and most people I know wouldn't have the time or self discipline to really have a snail-mail correspondence, so I don't expect it of them. Instead, I'll use email. Right? It's quick to type up something and sooooo easy. Everyone checks their email every day! Some people check it multiple times, supposedly.  I mean...I probably check mine at least 3 times a week and maybe even a little more since I don't have a facebook account anymore. So this should be a great way to keep in touch, right? In the past few weeks I've thought of several people I wanted to re-establish relationships with or just thought I'd send them a nice email to stay in touch....

 And not a single one has responded...

I understand that whole "I am so happy to get an email from this person and I want to respond but I don't have time right now, so I will later..." And then forgetting until a couple days later... But this has been a few weeks now. It makes me wonder. Does anyone even check their email anymore? Maybe I've sent these emails and no one has even seen them because they only look at their facebooks... Could it be? Is email a thing of the past?

Maybe in order to actually keep in touch with people I'll need to reactivate my facebook. I shudder to think of it. Facebook is a tool that can be used properly or improperly. Unfortunately, since everyone is connected you are subjugated to everyone's views on how it should be used. If one person feels that their facebook is the place where you badmouth your friends even though you'd never say anything of the sort to their face or if they think it's where they hold their family feud, yes their family and friends see it, but so do I. And I kinda don't want to. If someone feels that facebook is where you express your dislike of all your self-portraits (you know, the kind where you obviously just snapped some random nasty photo of yourself to immediately upload  for everyone in the world to see), then I have to see that person's self-loathing too, even though I disagree.

In my personal opinion *insert pompous attitude here*, facebook should not be the place where you air your life's problems and how much you hate the world, or tell people how great your boobs look or even update everyone on the humdrum moments of every minute of your life. You wouldn't include stuff like that in a phone call or email, would you? My facebook friends pool was small. I limited it to 42 people and a large margin of that number were family. Immediate family, even. And yet, since I had to see what their friends were saying, I felt like I was being informed of everything ever, and some of it I didn't want to know. Plus, seeing strange boys outrageously flirt with my sisters and then claiming no they weren't flirting, they just wanted my sister to know she had super hot legs, was really irritating. And I also didn't want to see all those hot prima-donna photos my little sisters were posting for all kinds of weirdos to see. It's still happening, but at least I'm not seeing it. And don't even get me started about...right, nevermind. Should not be aired on the internet, right? Just, the amount of people I deleted because friends of their friends of friends and so on and so forth were just nasty and creepy.

So I feel like I'm suddenly out of the loop. I do have this blog so those of my real fans (lol) can still see what I'm up to (when I actually post.) But since no one ever comments to tell me what they think or how they've been doing...(excuse me while I stop to cry *sob, sob.*)  I don't really know what anyone else is up to. Except the people I really keep in touch with, i.e my family, whom I call occasionally, and the people I see on a regular basis. And the four people I write real-mail letters to, of course (You guys are awesome, I love you!)

So how about it everyone? Let's just go back to simple ol' email! And while you're at it, write me back!

dislcaimer: I am not targeting anyone specifically with this rant (with the exception of Priscilla. You shouldn't be posting such hot photos of your self for all kinds of weirdos to see!). If, however you get guilt-tripped into writing me an email all the better! Heck, even a comment on my blog would cheer me up.

Oh the things I've been up to.

It feels like I haven't posted in forever! Well, this past week has been pretty full of all kinds of stuff, fun and otherwise. John's been working some long days and some how that makes me tired too...Some kind of empathy link going on there.

Anyway, I've been taking tons of photos. And here are a few of what I've been up to lately...

 And what spring has been up to...

Getting excited about leaves!

 I crocheted a bit

a scarf - nearly done!

 I had a birthday on the 21st. I turned 24!

 (Hello)

Blue skies birthday

 On my birthday, I found a bead store and bought some. It's my birthday present to ME!

Beautiful beads

 Then I made some earrings with them...None like the other, two different earrings = twice as expressive. :)

Who needs matching sets?

 Had a great Easter.

Easter egg rolls. (Clever, no?)

Yum.

 Lots of rainy days = lots of green!

See those tiny green flecks? Those are called "leaves," my friend.

Ultra fashionable

I  made some earrings for my friend, whose birthday is near mine.  She also likes wearing mismatched earrings. So I made her a pair that matched to mismatch.

A "pair" of earrings

 And wrote her a 20 page letter...

Earrings and a letter

Birthday socks!

 I got some amazing socks in the mail from my sister! Thanks, Bett!

Here I model my fab socks

I also had a mega gnocchi failure and an awesome cupcake success. You win some you lose some, meh.

I plan to redeem myself and boost my gnocchi-ego tonight and try again. Stay tuned, tomorrow I'll be posting the myriads of photos of spring flowers I've been taking. And if I make any more earrings, I'll be sure to post those too!