Jingle Bells and RINGS!

Photo taken by Bethany of BethanyBelle Photography

 

The holidays are upon us which means one thing- ENGAGEMENTS!  And with engagements comes doe-eyed brides suddenly tasked with planning an event of such grand proportions that they find themselves asking, “What did I DO?”  And then…  they start pinning.

 

It wasn’t long ago that my love, down on one knee, asked me to share in his life.  The ring went on, calls were made, and I gleefully began planning.  All conversations transitioned to talks of linens, flowers, and cake.  I planned, (for over a year), drove my mom and friends crazy and nearly lost my mind over which shade of white the men’s shirts should be.  (Yes, there are various shades of white!)  Then the day came, the tornado warnings were announced, our photographer went to the wrong wedding, and our coordinator was nowhere to be found… and we were married.

 It’s been almost two years since we said, “I do” and he exclaimed “Gotcha!” I’ve had plenty of time to reflect on the months of planning that went in to that stormy day and here’s what I learned:

 At the end of the day, you are married before God, family, and friends.

And that is the only detail of the day that matters.

 

I know I can't keep you from planning, pinning, or dreaming, but I hope that as the stress builds and the temptation to lose your temper rises you will remember that.  May you be blessed with years of happiness, loves. 

 

Making Strides

The rain had come in the night before, leaving the ground with puddles; an unusual sight in southern California.  The air was crisp, the streets quiet, and the sun still waiting to rise offered a peaceful beginning to a Sunday morning.  I stood for a moment taking in the white tents and the people scurrying about with flashlights making last minute preparations.  Soon, the park would be painted pink as 25,000 people gathered to walk in honor of those they’ve lost and give hope to the ones still battling.  For some, they would walk for both. 

My team would soon be arriving with bellies full and loaded with caffeine, compliments of the P Family.  It made me grin, thinking of the accomplishments we had made as a team as I checked my phone one last time for our total.  With 12 members on our team, we had raised over $1,400; a significant donation in the fight against breast cancer. 

With blue ribbons, it was easy to spot our team taking cover under a tree as the rain began again.  With husbands, dogs, and tykes in tow, I tried not to cry.  Today was personal.  We were gathered as friends, new and old, to fight something each of us had been touched by in one way or another.  As they marched off to the starting line, I lingered for a moment.  I watched K’s son, bobbing on his dad’s shoulders, and I imagined him at my age and a world with no more breast cancer.  Crazy?  Perhaps.  Hopeful?  Absolutely. 

*This year I made a personal choice to fight breast cancer- for my family, my friends, and for my future.  This event would be the first of two I would participate in with the hope of bringing awareness to the community and raising funds for a cure.  I will be writing a piece on the second part of my journey at a later date.

Flying High

My husband is sweeter than honey - truly.  Each day my life with him is a blessing.  Most girls grow up imagining a life in which they marry their prince charming, few are so lucky.  Of those few, even fewer continue to find themselves being “swept off their feet”.   Since 2008, he’s done just that.  Recently, he literally swept me off my feet and had me “floating” on air.

  

Since arriving in southern California, I’ve made more than one comment on the hot air balloons I see taking off and how wonderful it would be to see both the coast and mountains from the sky at sunset.  We’d chat about it for a minute or two, but I never gave it another thought.  To me, it was like saying I wanted to visit Maine or own an Audi convertible.  Something I would like to do, but never expect to do.  My husband, always wanting to share new experiences with me, tucked my comments away.

Slightly excited about taking off!

Earlier this fall, he surprised me with an afternoon ride up the coast.  We arrived at a small store where I quickly learned we would be taking off after a champagne toast for a tour over the horse farms and orchards of SoCal.  It was an experience of a lifetime; one that will never be forgotten.

As we drifted over southern California’s coastline, I thought about how lucky I was to have him.  I looked at our life and thought… some people really do live happily ever after. 

I've got a bucket, but no list...

Bucket lists are popping up everywhere these days. They're hanging on refrigerators, stuffed in purses, and checked off on blogs. It seems as though everyone has one and if they don't, they've at least considered it. But why?

I started thinking about bucket lists, what they mean and the value they hold, and I couldn't help but wonder if we're so consumed in the ending that we forget to live. Perhaps that's why the bucket list fascinates so many people; knowing the end will eventually come, you prepare by making expansive lists of things you'd like to do, places you'd like to see.

Perhaps it's just me, but lists make me cringe. (Maybe because I'm thinking of the one hanging on my fridge at the moment, detailing everything I must do before this house can be placed on the market.) They're like this evil force, staring me in the face, begging to be marked off and completed. When I think about my dying days, the last thing I'd want to think of is my incomplete list or the far-fetched, lofty ideas I never had a chance to chase. (That trip to Greece, probably never happening.)

So, instead of a bucket list, I'm contemplating just a bucket (and a few sticky notes). As I complete various tasks, visit different places, and enjoy new experiences, I could drop a sticky note in the bucket. At the end, at best, it would be full of things I probably never imagined doing (fixing my leaking toilet on my own -YES!). I could continue to live and as unexpected opportunities take place, log them, and then drop them in the bucket. There's no limitations and no scary list daring me to complete it.

Yes, I think I'll take that bucket... and that sticky note. I just made homemade key lime pie ice cream. Who saw that coming?

Pity Party Parking Only

Today, I felt sorry for myself.  It doesn’t happen often, but when it does, my husband knows the only thing that will pick me up is ice cream, a chick flick, an old hoodie and one of his “come here, sweetheart” hugs.  Luckily, when he came home and saw me in my hoodie, he already knew.  True to form, he came over for one of his amazing hugs, offered to pick up some froyo, and let me continue watching “Say Yes to the Dress”.  After hours at a dealership, finding an issue unresolved, and being overcharged, I was exhausted and decided a “woe is me” attitude was more than fitting for the evening. I hunkered down on the couch, found a chick flick, and suggested he find a buddy or two to have a beer with.  He definitely did not complain.

Tonight’s movie choice- Mrs. Doubtfire.  Actually, it wasn’t much of a choice since it was the only one on tv tonight and it certainly wasn’t the pick-me-up I was hoping for this evening.  It brought up some pretty painful memories and a few tears.  This movie (if I’m not showing my age by now) was first released when I was just a little girl.  I remember seeing it at the drive-in with my sister and father during a summer she and I spent with him in Pennsylvania.  I watched the movie that night lying on one of my grandmother’s quilts, fighting back tears, wondering if my own father ever felt like “Mrs. Doubtfire”; wanting to take back the mistakes he made and whether he’d go as far as “Mrs. Doubtfire” to spend time with us.  Would my dad ever take ownership for his actions, work to repair a broken relationship, and yet always keep us at the center of his life?  I spent that summer and many others, wondering if he’d ever become our own Mrs. Doubtfire.

(The pity party is picking up…)

Shortly after one of the most heart wrenching scenes, I decided to change the channel.  My life, though often like a movie, is not one.  As quickly as I turned off the tv, I changed my attitude.  I can turn on the pity party. I mean, I can really turn it on, but I can also turn it off.  No one decides my attitude other than myself.  So, I can choose to be upset over events I truly have no control over or I can put on my big girl pants, pick myself up off the couch, and realize that my life really isn’t all that bad.  In fact, it’s spectacular.

I sat for hours at a dealership because I am fortunate enough to have my own car.  I was overcharged, but had the means in which to pay the unforeseen bill.  Was I happy about either? Of course not.  But was it really worth an entire evening of pitying myself and missing an evening with my love?  Absolutely not. 

This pity party has officially ended.  Besides, I've run out of ice cream.

Boo, October is Over!

Did you catch Target’s attempt to have us all bypass Halloween and jump straight in to Christmas? I’ll admit it; I have never truly enjoyed Halloween and found the idea tempting to say the least.  I consider digging out the inner guts of a pumpkin to be less than pleasing, dressing up to be exhausting, and the continuous ringing of the doorbell annoying.  Don’t even get me started on pumpkin spice, pumpkin pie, or pumpkin lattes.  I am the official Grinch of Halloween.  That is until I stumbled upon the TomKat studio’s post about Halloween, which spoke to my inner Christmas child. 

My favorite part of Christmas is giving.  And so, when I read Kim’s post on being booed, I knew I could begin looking at Halloween with a heart now three sizes bigger.    I immediately went to work on my own boo projects.

After returning to Target (ironically), I scavenged the dollar section and found these cute pumpkins, whoopee cushions, candy, miniature pumpkins, and a decorating kit.  After putting them together, I printed Kim’s free Boo Printables, and then dropped them off at two unsuspecting neighbors’ homes. Sadly and surprisingly, it didn’t catch on.  Frustrated, I returned to Target, created two more baskets and booed my co-workers.  This caught like wildfire in a rainless summer.  Every morning I walked in to work, heard the office buzzing about the recent “booing” and silently snickered as they tried to pin the person who started it all.  I loved every minute.

So, now that November’s here and Christmas is quickly approaching, I’m definitely in the holiday spirit!  I'll never look at October the same.  Maybe next year, you’ll be booed or start it yourself!