WG and I went to Denver this past weekend.
We frolicked in the snow, visited the Denver Museum of Nature and Science, ate wonderful food at two fabulous Denver restaurants (Duo and Vesta). After much driving around, we finally happened upon the famous Tattered Cover.
I can't find quite the words to describe the perfection of this weekend.
We were completely in sync the entire weekend. While, he drove around in our tiny little rental car on Denver's snowy, messy streets, I navigated using WG's brand-spanking new tom-tom GPS. I made decisions only when necessary and let WG plan by the seat of his pants, using yelp via his iPhone to find the best places to eat, drink and relax. I haven't been this happy and relaxed in, well, a very long time.
So, it was the perfect weekend for WG to surprise me with a fancy hotel on our third night in Denver.
It was the perfect weekend for him to guide me up to a room with a long foyer and a living room strewn with rose petals.
It was the perfect weekend for him to have secretly obtained two orders of Denver's best tiramisu and have it already waiting for us in the hotel room.
It was the perfect weekend for us to look out the window at a serene night scene.
It was the perfect weekend to look at the gently falling snow and listen to the silence and feel like the only two people in the world.
It was the perfect weekend for him to take me in his arms, look me in the eyes and tell me how much he loves me.
It was the perfect weekend for him to very slowly get down on one knee and ask me to marry him.
It was the perfect weekend for me to say "Yes!"
It was the perfect weekend.
Saturday, January 31, 2009
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
In Which I Attempt to Keep Myself Educated
In the midst of everything else, I started a Classic Fiction Book Club! Join us!
Saturday, January 17, 2009
And So We Laughed
The day after my fourteenth birthday, my dad and I drove up to Sacramento to take a look at a dog advertised as a "purebred" beagle.
The former owner opened up the garage, and I squatted down close to the ground as a snuggly, warm, soft little dog with a Beagle's black face mask and velvety soft ears came running out, streaming warm pee all along the way.
She ran with her head down and came right to me, tucking her entire body underneath my legs, something she would do for the rest of her life (minus the pee, luckily). I tried to separate myself, though I was already fully in love with this dog. I knew that my dad wouldn't like the nervous peeing habit.
I pet the dog. She licked my face. I looked into her one brown eye and her one blue eye. She was tiny, but the owner told us she was about five months old. Have I mentioned that I was already in love with this puppy?
The owner gave us a few moments to discuss it. My dad said she was too expensive. I cried and offered to pay a tiny part of the $100 asking price, $10. What can I say, I was fourteen and making $2 a week in allowance...$10 was a lot for me - five weeks salary!
My dad, seeing my tear streamed face and the dog's helpless eyes, agreed.
We drove home with the new dog asleep on my lap. I stroked her head and rubbed my fingers along her velvety ears.
We introduced her to my mom, who discovered that the poor dog was completely flea-ridden. My dad washed her about ten times that night, until she was finally clean and dressed in a hooded doggy sweatshirt (the first and only time she would wear it).
Then we named her. We took turns looking at her and holding her all through the evening until we decided on a name.
We settled on Jessica Jody, and for short, JJ.
For ever after, she would be known as JJ, though she would always respond when I called to her in a sing song voice, "Jessica Jody, Jessica Jody."
She was never the most beautiful of dogs, though her eyes always astonished people. She had a line running across her head, dividing up the color on the front of her face and the rest of her body. As her weight climbed above forty pounds, and she adopted the solid gait of a pit bull, we realized we had no pure-pred Beagle on our hands.
She was always so happy to see me. Her tail -- her long, heavy, thick tail -- would pound with joy, she would lift up her head, and I would bend down to let her kiss my face. She made happy little shouts of joy whenever anyone went outside to see her. When she got to walk -- on her purple leash - always purple -- she would shriek in a high pitched tone and then yank us out the gate.
JJ loved to go down slides, played fetch for hours on end and had no teeth.
She came to us with some nervous habits, one of which was chewing. She chewed through street hockey balls, chewed on wooden decks, made wreck out of her doghouse. And so, those teeth were worn down doing something she loved.
The one time she was allowed to sleep by the side of my bed, the next morning we found her sound asleep in the wreckage of Abu the monkey.
She loved the water. The first time we took her to the beach, she couldn't handle the sand. She took a step, sunk down and wanted to go back to the parking lot, but she trusted us. She trusted me, most of all (even to her last week, she would take her daily pills only from my hand...anyone else had to shove the pills down her throat). She let us walk her down the steep, sandy hill, and once she discovered the ocean, it was all worth it. She ran and snapped at the waves, trying to catch them in her teeth. JJ would swim out as far as possible, until we realized that, unless she was in our favorite, quiet cove, we would have to keep a close watch on her, so she didn't get carried away by the rip-tide. She was full of joy everyday, but I think she was at her happiest on the beach.
As my mom said, she was the perfect dog, she came into our lives and was just what we needed in a dog.
On the day after my fourteenth birthday, I was still a scared, shy girl, and she was a scared, shy puppy. We were kindred spirits who needed to find each other.
Over the past few months, our fourteen year-old dog, the dog who has given us all she has to give for half of my life, faced a rapidly failing body. Still, everytime she saw me, she greeted me with a wagging tail and an upturned face, eager for her kisses. She tried her best for us, and last night, we finally did something for her.
We let her go.
I cried, knowing that I'll miss her velvety ears and her soft, warm kisses. I'll miss her stopping on each and every walk to sniff and grunt like a truffle pig. I'll miss her crazy blue eye. I'll miss the happy, loving spirit of a dog named JJ.
But I'm not sad. JJ had an incredible full, long and happy life. And she shared all of that happiness with us.
When the vet came in to ask if we were ready, my mom, my dad, WG and I were laughing, remembering funny things about JJ.
My mom went out to the lobby, and WG went to wait with her.
The vet finally opened the door with the medicine, poor JJ made such a variety of noises she sounded like a train engine. The vet said, "Is that her making those noises?" We laughed and comforted JJ, petting her ears, kissing the top of her head, telling her she would be with her Bailey soon.
She went quickly. She rested her head on her paws, with her tongue sticking out of her mouth.
Ths time, we giggled, and my dad struggled to get it back in. Never graceful, but always loving, our JJ. We closed her eyes, pet her, told her we loved her, hugged her and said goodbye.
The four of us left the vet wiping away tears but laughing all the way.
The former owner opened up the garage, and I squatted down close to the ground as a snuggly, warm, soft little dog with a Beagle's black face mask and velvety soft ears came running out, streaming warm pee all along the way.
She ran with her head down and came right to me, tucking her entire body underneath my legs, something she would do for the rest of her life (minus the pee, luckily). I tried to separate myself, though I was already fully in love with this dog. I knew that my dad wouldn't like the nervous peeing habit.
I pet the dog. She licked my face. I looked into her one brown eye and her one blue eye. She was tiny, but the owner told us she was about five months old. Have I mentioned that I was already in love with this puppy?
The owner gave us a few moments to discuss it. My dad said she was too expensive. I cried and offered to pay a tiny part of the $100 asking price, $10. What can I say, I was fourteen and making $2 a week in allowance...$10 was a lot for me - five weeks salary!
My dad, seeing my tear streamed face and the dog's helpless eyes, agreed.
We drove home with the new dog asleep on my lap. I stroked her head and rubbed my fingers along her velvety ears.
We introduced her to my mom, who discovered that the poor dog was completely flea-ridden. My dad washed her about ten times that night, until she was finally clean and dressed in a hooded doggy sweatshirt (the first and only time she would wear it). Then we named her. We took turns looking at her and holding her all through the evening until we decided on a name.
We settled on Jessica Jody, and for short, JJ.
For ever after, she would be known as JJ, though she would always respond when I called to her in a sing song voice, "Jessica Jody, Jessica Jody."
She was never the most beautiful of dogs, though her eyes always astonished people. She had a line running across her head, dividing up the color on the front of her face and the rest of her body. As her weight climbed above forty pounds, and she adopted the solid gait of a pit bull, we realized we had no pure-pred Beagle on our hands.
She was always so happy to see me. Her tail -- her long, heavy, thick tail -- would pound with joy, she would lift up her head, and I would bend down to let her kiss my face. She made happy little shouts of joy whenever anyone went outside to see her. When she got to walk -- on her purple leash - always purple -- she would shriek in a high pitched tone and then yank us out the gate.
JJ loved to go down slides, played fetch for hours on end and had no teeth.
She came to us with some nervous habits, one of which was chewing. She chewed through street hockey balls, chewed on wooden decks, made wreck out of her doghouse. And so, those teeth were worn down doing something she loved.
The one time she was allowed to sleep by the side of my bed, the next morning we found her sound asleep in the wreckage of Abu the monkey.
She loved the water. The first time we took her to the beach, she couldn't handle the sand. She took a step, sunk down and wanted to go back to the parking lot, but she trusted us. She trusted me, most of all (even to her last week, she would take her daily pills only from my hand...anyone else had to shove the pills down her throat). She let us walk her down the steep, sandy hill, and once she discovered the ocean, it was all worth it. She ran and snapped at the waves, trying to catch them in her teeth. JJ would swim out as far as possible, until we realized that, unless she was in our favorite, quiet cove, we would have to keep a close watch on her, so she didn't get carried away by the rip-tide. She was full of joy everyday, but I think she was at her happiest on the beach.
As my mom said, she was the perfect dog, she came into our lives and was just what we needed in a dog.
On the day after my fourteenth birthday, I was still a scared, shy girl, and she was a scared, shy puppy. We were kindred spirits who needed to find each other.
Over the past few months, our fourteen year-old dog, the dog who has given us all she has to give for half of my life, faced a rapidly failing body. Still, everytime she saw me, she greeted me with a wagging tail and an upturned face, eager for her kisses. She tried her best for us, and last night, we finally did something for her.
We let her go.
I cried, knowing that I'll miss her velvety ears and her soft, warm kisses. I'll miss her stopping on each and every walk to sniff and grunt like a truffle pig. I'll miss her crazy blue eye. I'll miss the happy, loving spirit of a dog named JJ.
But I'm not sad. JJ had an incredible full, long and happy life. And she shared all of that happiness with us.
When the vet came in to ask if we were ready, my mom, my dad, WG and I were laughing, remembering funny things about JJ.
My mom went out to the lobby, and WG went to wait with her.
The vet finally opened the door with the medicine, poor JJ made such a variety of noises she sounded like a train engine. The vet said, "Is that her making those noises?" We laughed and comforted JJ, petting her ears, kissing the top of her head, telling her she would be with her Bailey soon.
She went quickly. She rested her head on her paws, with her tongue sticking out of her mouth.
Ths time, we giggled, and my dad struggled to get it back in. Never graceful, but always loving, our JJ. We closed her eyes, pet her, told her we loved her, hugged her and said goodbye.
The four of us left the vet wiping away tears but laughing all the way.
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
This is the Least Stress I Will EVER Experience
I had a wee little melt-down on Sunday in front of WG (not the first time, ha!).
I let loose a detailed list of everything that's making me feel stressed right now (luckily, it had nothing to do with WG, so he was much more willing to sit and listen, since I wasn't railing against him).
As I was burbling and crying and just trying to get it all out to make myself feel better, he was saying things that made sense. I don't need sense!
Ah well, four days later, I can understand the sense, and I have to admit that he's right. This is the least amount of stress we will likely face in our entire adult lives. Right now, though not a married couple, we are, technically DINKS (double-income, no kids). Our main expenses are meals at nice restaurants. I mean, come on, what do I have to complain about?
It's a question I've been asking myself for years.
In light of my inability to handle stress and considering my 2009 resolution to be good to myself, I must force myself to deal with the stress, to approach it head-on.
Here's the problem...as I've been working to de-stress, I have essentially combed my life of a lot of potentially difficult situations. This means that when something stressful does come along, I'm shocked. Yeah, that's not going to work out in the long-run.
Yep, I've got stress.
Yep, there are a lot of boxes to check off before I can submit an application to a credential program.
But this is life, pure and simple, and it's time I woke up and realized that.
I let loose a detailed list of everything that's making me feel stressed right now (luckily, it had nothing to do with WG, so he was much more willing to sit and listen, since I wasn't railing against him).
As I was burbling and crying and just trying to get it all out to make myself feel better, he was saying things that made sense. I don't need sense!
Ah well, four days later, I can understand the sense, and I have to admit that he's right. This is the least amount of stress we will likely face in our entire adult lives. Right now, though not a married couple, we are, technically DINKS (double-income, no kids). Our main expenses are meals at nice restaurants. I mean, come on, what do I have to complain about?
It's a question I've been asking myself for years.
In light of my inability to handle stress and considering my 2009 resolution to be good to myself, I must force myself to deal with the stress, to approach it head-on.
Here's the problem...as I've been working to de-stress, I have essentially combed my life of a lot of potentially difficult situations. This means that when something stressful does come along, I'm shocked. Yeah, that's not going to work out in the long-run.
Yep, I've got stress.
Yep, there are a lot of boxes to check off before I can submit an application to a credential program.
But this is life, pure and simple, and it's time I woke up and realized that.
Monday, January 05, 2009
What I Need to (Re)Learn
When I took the GRE way back in 2001, there were plenty of things I didn't know. I had forgotten most of my math and had to spend several weeks building my math skills once again.
Now, as I prepare to take the CBEST in three short weeks, I find myself in much the same position as eight years ago. (sidenote: how on earth was I a college junior, preparing for grad school, eight whole years ago??).
I began studying a few weeks ago, but it's only been in this past week that I've begun to realize just how MUCH I've forgotten. And, as it was eight years ago, it's the math that gets me each and every time.
Well, the math and that whole "reading too fast so that I miss key parts of the question" part...but that's been a problem all my life.
I go too fast for my own good. I skim questions like I push through books and then, on the other side, I'm not able to answer basic questions.
So, it's not so much that I need to relearn math (though I do) as that I need to go back to avoiding my lifelong problem of moving blindly and quickly.
Hmm...perhaps I can apply that to the rest of my life, as well.
Who knew I would learn so much by studying for a standardized test?
Now, as I prepare to take the CBEST in three short weeks, I find myself in much the same position as eight years ago. (sidenote: how on earth was I a college junior, preparing for grad school, eight whole years ago??).
I began studying a few weeks ago, but it's only been in this past week that I've begun to realize just how MUCH I've forgotten. And, as it was eight years ago, it's the math that gets me each and every time.
Well, the math and that whole "reading too fast so that I miss key parts of the question" part...but that's been a problem all my life.
I go too fast for my own good. I skim questions like I push through books and then, on the other side, I'm not able to answer basic questions.
So, it's not so much that I need to relearn math (though I do) as that I need to go back to avoiding my lifelong problem of moving blindly and quickly.
Hmm...perhaps I can apply that to the rest of my life, as well.
Who knew I would learn so much by studying for a standardized test?
Saturday, January 03, 2009
2009, The Year of Zen
or, at least, the year of avoiding stress pimples, whenever possible.
In 2006, I wanted to start dating again and get an apartment. Whoo. Mission accomplished :).
In 2007, I specifically resolved to calm down, and with the help of Irene decided to "clam the hell down" (I love when typos make life soooo much more fun, because, honestly, what would you rather yell at your friend when she's going into a panic spiral "calm down!" or "clam down!". I think the answer is obvious).
When 2008 rolled around, I was a heck of a lot closer to actually accomplishing that whole calming down thing and was ready to branch out a bit. I vowed to be more creative. Did I do that this year? You betcha. I wrote a book (wahoo!). I made a lot of my Christmas presents (including hand painted plates and an apron for my mom made out of fabric I designed and got printed through spoonflower). Yep, I am satisfied with the 2008 resolution.
And onto 2009. I have already promised to let myself off the hook.
Building on my birthday resolution, I'm going to say that in addition to letting myself off the hook, I'm genuinely going to be good to myself this year.
Being good to myself doesn't just mean treating myself to a Jamba Juice smoothie or a delectable Starbucks green tea frappucino. No, it also means getting to the gym, getting to bed on time, giving myself facials and otherwise taking care of my body so that I can be healthy and happy.
There will most likely be big changes ahead in 2009. WG should be getting a new gig. I may be making that major leap into another degree and a new field (still have to get those tests taken and applications filed, and, of course, there's that whole needing to get accepted bit...). That said, I also have to point out that this is the first time I have actually been prepared to handle huge changes with grace and in stride.
While in Oklahoma last week, my skin looked the best it has in at least two years. What was different? While I was dilligent about applying my facial meds and about getting enough sleep, the biggest difference was the lack of feeling utterly and completely overwhelmed with stress.
Being good to myself means not leaping to conclusions, not rushing to have an argument and never, ever being afraid to stand up for myself.
Being good to myself also means being honest with myself.
And on that note, here's a little blurb I stole from an e-mail I wrote to Irene after she shared this helpful little article:
I'm beginning to really see that not that much will change between WG and me when we get married. We'll live together (which will be awesome), but there's no magic wand that will get waved over us to make us not have to work anymore.
(and this realization takes our relationship one step closer to actually being ready for an engagement and a marriage...).
So, here's to 2009, in all its honesty and goodness...what are you doing this year?
In 2006, I wanted to start dating again and get an apartment. Whoo. Mission accomplished :).
In 2007, I specifically resolved to calm down, and with the help of Irene decided to "clam the hell down" (I love when typos make life soooo much more fun, because, honestly, what would you rather yell at your friend when she's going into a panic spiral "calm down!" or "clam down!". I think the answer is obvious).
When 2008 rolled around, I was a heck of a lot closer to actually accomplishing that whole calming down thing and was ready to branch out a bit. I vowed to be more creative. Did I do that this year? You betcha. I wrote a book (wahoo!). I made a lot of my Christmas presents (including hand painted plates and an apron for my mom made out of fabric I designed and got printed through spoonflower). Yep, I am satisfied with the 2008 resolution.
And onto 2009. I have already promised to let myself off the hook.
Building on my birthday resolution, I'm going to say that in addition to letting myself off the hook, I'm genuinely going to be good to myself this year.
Being good to myself doesn't just mean treating myself to a Jamba Juice smoothie or a delectable Starbucks green tea frappucino. No, it also means getting to the gym, getting to bed on time, giving myself facials and otherwise taking care of my body so that I can be healthy and happy.
There will most likely be big changes ahead in 2009. WG should be getting a new gig. I may be making that major leap into another degree and a new field (still have to get those tests taken and applications filed, and, of course, there's that whole needing to get accepted bit...). That said, I also have to point out that this is the first time I have actually been prepared to handle huge changes with grace and in stride.
While in Oklahoma last week, my skin looked the best it has in at least two years. What was different? While I was dilligent about applying my facial meds and about getting enough sleep, the biggest difference was the lack of feeling utterly and completely overwhelmed with stress.
Being good to myself means not leaping to conclusions, not rushing to have an argument and never, ever being afraid to stand up for myself.
Being good to myself also means being honest with myself.
And on that note, here's a little blurb I stole from an e-mail I wrote to Irene after she shared this helpful little article:
I'm beginning to really see that not that much will change between WG and me when we get married. We'll live together (which will be awesome), but there's no magic wand that will get waved over us to make us not have to work anymore.
(and this realization takes our relationship one step closer to actually being ready for an engagement and a marriage...).
So, here's to 2009, in all its honesty and goodness...what are you doing this year?
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