Those beads right there? Smacked me in the face during a Mardis Gras parade. If you were following along on IG then you already knew that, and if you weren’t, then you missed out!
Because I also met the Pen Pals! Ryan and I shouted “Saga!” as they went by on their float (it’s an inside thing, so you’ll have to just listen to the show). Then we ended up having a drink and chatting with them and it was truly a magical night. Only surpassed by the magic of the first live episode. This felt like a once in a lifetime experience – we were there! I’m still grinning.
More social media stuff: I’ve turned off the notifications for all my apps and let me tell you – it’s been at once both liberating and illuminating. Even without notifications going off I’m still super addicted to checking my phone. Hello, time suck. I’m truly hoping to get better at that (while also still being engaged and growing my audience so that’s a fun catch 22). Does anyone else did with this? How do you combat the siren call of the screen when you’ve got work to do on these platforms?
Even though Seth and I have only been married for 1 month (OMG), we’ve been bombarded with questions (and suggestions…) about when we’re having kids. This article from Julie pretty much sums up how I feel about that. Thank you, next.
Finally started reading “An Absolutely Remarkable Thing” and I’m in love. I haven’t been this engrossed by a book in ages.
This weekend I’ll be officially moving in with Seth! About time, right? After all of the moving I’ve done in the last three years (including three moves in less than a year), I had kind of been dreading uprooting my happy home but I know that we’re going to be creating a happier home. So everything will be ok.
He agreed to stick with me through good times and bad, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health.
I don’t think he realized it wasn’t just my sickness or my health. It was also Edgar’s.
Earlier last week we took Edgar to the vet to get his vaccines updated and to get a little check-up. We hadn’t been to the vet since last summer when he jumped out of a first story window…and then a second story one…and then ate an entire batch of oatmeal raisin cookies. We’d racked up enough frequent flyer miles for the year. And aside from a having a dog whisper visit the house, he hadn’t required much follow-up care.
While we were there, we asked the vet to examine what we thought to be a hernia. I was told the little nickel-sized protrusion on the center of his ribs was just that when I adopted Edgar. “Happens all the time. Lots of dogs get them. If it doesn’t grow and doesn’t get hard, don’t worry about it.” For two years, it neither grew nor hardened. All was well with his undercarriage.
Then, while Seth and I were away on our mini-moon and my mom watched Edgar, it got a little bigger and a little darker. Not too much cause for concern, but if we were going to be at the vet, we may as well get it checked out. So, she drew fluid. And informed us it wasn’t a hernia but, was in fact a xiphoid cyst. And still absolutely nothing to worry about. It was simply bigger and darker because he’d bruised it. Ok, cool.
My best friend, Mandy, took some of these lovely photos.
And some of the not-so-lovely ones. (Real life, what’re ya gonna do?)
My husband’s (gosh, that’s fun to say!) friend, Josh, took some too.
We are slowly but surely setting up our new life together. That includes packing up everything Edgar and I own and moving it down to the Lake to be with Seth. It’s going to take time. And patience. And lots of boxes. But, as with everything else that’s been happening around here – it’ll get done. (To offer a very quick update: in a matter of eight weeks I have started a new job, planned the wedding with Seth, then had the wedding, only to then move to Seth’s, and finally travel to Europe.) And it’ll be wonderful. Just like our wedding day.
You held my hand. You didn’t have to. I’d been swimming for two decades, gone to this lake during summers growing up. There was no reason to be scared. But I was.
Scared and excited. And with you.
I shook and smiled. It was too dark to see the bottom. Your hand was warm. Warmer than I thought it would be.
We jumped. Feet pushing off the dock, metal leaving indentations in our skin.
The water was warm. Warmer than I thought it would be.
And, unfortunately for you, shallower than you thought it would be. How is your ankle? Still sore?
We got acclimated to the water, the waves, the seaweed, the sand. Swimming. It had been one year for me. Two for you.
I dove under, came up for air. You swam out further, bobbed and buoyed. Floating apart and coming back together, over and over. Talking, playing, loving.
You held me, supported my back as I floated, your arms still in the moving water, palms flat on my back. I was nervous, unskilled. I’d never mastered this part in swim lessons. I didn’t want to sink. You steadied me, spun me. Slowly. We kissed. You didn’t let go until I was ready, certain.
I was free. For the first time in weeks. Happy to hear the sound of my own breath beneath the water. In, out. In, out.
I don’t know what it’s like to love someone with depression, I’m sorry you’ve had to learn.
The clouds came, your eyes turning grey with the sky. But it never opened up, never rained. You explained why. Why that lake saved us from so many storms. You were detailed, descriptive. Talking with your hands, you lifted your arms, opening up. My heart followed suit. Swallows swooped overhead, catching a late dinner.
I knew then what you had asked my dad. I knew what you were going to ask me. I knew what I was going to say.