From the Marriage Chronicles...

2 weeks ago Husband and I celebrated 8 years of legal togetherness. 

It's funny how time flies. 

It seems like only yesterday we looked like this...

 Now we look like this...

Well actually we look more like this...

We're mature. Really mature. 

(At least I didn't post the picture of me using the camera to see if there was anything in my teeth...)

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Sunday night we attended a wedding for one of my dear co-workers.
The reverend is giving the couple some advice and says, "Most importantly never go to bed mad."
Husband and I look at each other and roll our eyes.
Sometimes you need to go to bed to get some perspective.
And avoid murder charges.

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Last night we were driving around when Husband saw a church billboard that said something along the lines of respecting the one who drives out the demons. The following conversation happens...

Him: "Do they mean Sam & Dean? or Constantine?"

Me: "Or do they mean on occasion Doctor Who?"

We both collapse into a pile of (very mature) laughter...

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Me: "Guess what? I made it 5 whole days without getting any Starbucks before work.."

Him: "That's great dear... let's go get some Starbucks."

Me: "Ok!"

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It's the little things in life...

Inked.

Last night I got another tattoo.

I like tattoos.

Not everyone does. I get that. Heck I married that guy. However, he sits by patiently while I get my tattoos done and even manages to say nice things about them afterward.  I kinda like him.

I have 3 tattoos. 

I got my first one when I was 20.

 

This is it in all of its tiny glory.

In retrospect I wish someone would have told me how much tattooing your ankle sucks.

Talk about pain.

I got it in a small tribute to a band that helped me through some rough times and helped me to embrace my inner freak.

No I won't tell you what band. 

Let's just say that no matter how lame they became... the music they made during this time was and always will be extremely important to me.

 I got this tattoo when I was 26 and on vacation in San Jose California.

I love frogs. 

I mean I have an unhealthy obsession with them.

My house is overflowing with frog things.

It all started when I was 14.

In particular I love poison dart frogs. 

So it seemed only natural to me that I declared my love in tattoo.

After my first tattoo I decided I didn't really like color. 

Mostly because, frog tattoos in particular, can look very cheesy in color.

I love this tattoo. 

I get compliments on it all the time.

 This one I got last night.

(For the record, I'm 29)

Yes, I got a tattoo on Friday the 13th.

I get how ominous that is.

This tattoo, as you can see, is of one of my dogs actual paw prints. 

This dog is my soul mate.

There are no words for the love I have for this dog. 

It may seem silly.

It may seem like a waste of money.

It doesn't matter though because when I decide to mark my body forever with something I don't make the decision lightly.

Sleep stories

Last night Husband and I are settling into bed when the following conversations takes place.
Him: "Can I spoon you?"
Me: "As long as you don't try to choke me out again."
He laughs.
(I will esplain in a minute)
Me: "For someone who was falling asleep on the couch 5 minutes ago I sure am wide awake now"
Him: "Me too"
5 minutes later...
He's snoring like a chainsaw while I debate the various merits of the new Starbucks remodel.
(I love insomnia)


2 nights ago....
Husband is spooning me and I'm just starting to finally drift off...
The next thing I know I'm jerked awake because Husband has just twitched violently in his sleep and has his arm wrapped around my neck.
(Apparently this phenomenon is called a myoclonic twitch, who knew)
I attempt to roll over but his grip isn't loosening...
Him: "I'm sorry"
Me: "Get off me"
Him: "I'm sorry"
Me: "Just get off me"
He finally rolls away
Him: "I'm sorry"
A few seconds of silence while I rearrange...
Him: "I'm sorry"

He, naturally, remembers nothing about this.
However, he was apparently very sorry about the whole thing.

Sleeping can be very perilous sometimes.

A classic from a few years ago...
Laying in bed trying to fall asleep (do you see a pattern here?)
Out of the blue Husband hums a tune in his sleep.
I swear.
I try not to wake him up but because I'm shaking so violently from trying to not laugh at him the whole bed is shaking and the following conversation takes place:
Him: "What's so funny?"
Me: *snort* "You were humming in your sleep!" *snort*
Him: "Stop being so weird."

As you can imagine he didn't remember a thing the next morning...

I love marriage.

A foray into DIY

I made reusable dryer sheets.

I think I'm officially a hippie.

(and yes, the fabric has frogs, hearts and the word peace on there several times) 

(as if that surprises you) 

Idea taken from here 

I procured my baby wipes container from a friend.

The flannel I found on sale and it cost me a staggering $1.50

I grabbed a bottle of Ecover fabric softener. (because again, I'm a hippie)

Goggled the amounts needed (because even basic math is puzzling to me) and then fudged the numbers anyway. 

I'm happy to report that it has been deemed a success. 

It was a very exciting day. 

Especially because now a bottle of fabric softener will last me until the end of time. 

Hooray!

Joy

Pure joy is gathering up veggies from your garden for juicing...


I'm just saying...

Looking back

Yes, the one screaming her head off is yours truly.

11 long years have passed since that photo was snapped and I got the hell out of dodge.

(I may have been a little excited about the prospect.)

This past weekend Husband and I went back to my hometown for my mom's birthday. 

I like to joke that it's our annual pilgrimage to the place that spawned me. 

(He really should pay his respects to the town that shaped me into the bundle of crazy he fell in love with, I mean really.)

During our visit I pulled out my senior yearbook because I wanted to locate someone who claimed to have known me in high school. (That is a very long and awkward story) (Because I seem to forget people) (Apparently) After completing my tasks (and easing my guilt over not knowing someone who was a freshmen when I graduated) I started reading back over the things people wrote to me in the aforementioned yearbook.

That's when things got weird. 

I had no clue who most of the people were. These people who wrote long paragraphs about how wonderful I was and how much they'd miss me. The people who had scribbled their phone numbers and begged me to keep in touch.

"Growing up is hard on a friendship. There's no revelation in that." - Ann Brashares (Sisterhood Everlasting)

Until Facebook was invented I had absolutely no idea what my long lost former best friends were up to. (Well apart from what my mom would tell me when she ran into their mothers) (small towns are stifling like that) I'm not one of those people who looks back wistfully on their teen years so it never occurred to me that I should miss these people. I didn't attend my 10 year reunion because I had no desire. (Husband on the other hand was pissed that his class didn't have a reunion) Time is funny like that. The people who meant the world to me and I couldn't imagine not being in my life have faded into vague memories. Or have faded completely.

It's weird. This thing they call growing up.

Take it or leave it.

A few days ago one of my nearest and dearest friends and I were talking about the arrival of my birthday present.

I was gifted a set of mala beads from Two Golden Frogs on Etsy by this particular friend.
My whole fascination/interest was sparked by this blog.

The whole scenario lead to an interesting conversation about our individual personalities.

My friend has an "all or nothing" personality type which I admire because her devotion to a subject or interest is so intense that she becomes an expert. Her example, "I couldn't just be a christian, no, I had to be a missionary!"
Me? I'm the complete opposite. I think, for better or worse, my interest or devotion to a subject is limited to what I find useful or interesting and I tend to leave the rest. Some may call it flighty, I call it realistic. This is probably why I never did well with church. I use to feel bad about it but in recent years there's been a shift in my thinking.

Ever since I stumbled across Kris Carr I've started adapting my way of thinking about life, religion, health, & wellness. Her "take what works and leave the rest" approach has had me on friendlier terms with myself then ever.  Sometimes I think you just have to have someone else validate what you've known works for you all along.

For the time being I like to think of my birthday present as more of worry beads then prayer beads because that's what works for me, right now. It gives me a place to put my anxiety/fear/frustration and let go. Ideally I'd like to incorporate them into a regular meditation practice but first they have a greater purpose.

Or as I told my friend, "Rules smules... things only have what value you place in them. And besides they are pretty necklaces if nothing else."