Firsts For Everything

It's so strange to have firsts again.  After five years together you tend to get pretty used to somebody and when that includes 4+ years of living together, moving together a couple of times and planning a wedding together... you maybe start to think all your firsts are gone.

All you people who have been married for decades can just quit your damn laughing right now, I'm trying to be sincere over here.

Seriously though - we had our first kiss before we started dating (whoops.)  Our first date was so long ago we don't always agree on what movie we saw anymore (Fracture.)  We moved in together... four and a half years ago.  We got over the whole 'we have bodily functions' thing quite a while ago.  We've moved together... four times now?  There are a lot of great things about knowing someone that well.  You have jokes that only two people in the world get.  You can have pretend fights over a car arm rest and know what it means.  You have a nook to fall asleep in.  You can be called Puddles and not find it offensive.  You can listen to the man you love tell you that he's going to go drop a deuce and really not even flinch at it.  You can exist in the knowledge that he's going to be so pissed at you for writing that sentence on your blog.  But that he'll get over it.  (Right, hunny?)  You can know that buying a new couch is probably going to involve sitting on every couch in the metro area.  You can rest assured that unless you find something totally awesome and/or funny - you'll never have to have anything heart-shaped in your house.  You can really make the other person super angry in no time flat on purpose.  Just a few well placed words, a couple of dishes here and there, hell a towel left in the right place and you can have your partner fuming.  And sometimes you want that.  It's super fucking weird - but you do.  You want to pick a fight.  And you don't want to pick it with anyone else.  You've come to the bizarre decision that having a huge fight with the person you live with, the person you love, the person who means the world to you, that you cannot live without; is the best possible decision you can make at the time.  Truly it probably is the best decision you can make because you also know how to make them forgive you in no time flat.  With a word, a look, flowers bought for the first time in years, a note left in just the right place.  With that special kind of torture that only redheads know how to do.

Knowing someone well enough to marry them has it's perks, it really does.  Well beyond joint taxes and lower car insurance rates.

And yet... My husband and I went on our first walk as a married couple the other day.  We held hands and walked down the street to the park by our house.

We pointed at puppies and pretty flowers together.

We stopped as I took pictures.

We hip checked each other as we walked down the path in the woods.

We made fun of one another.  Because we're both dorks, and really like pointing that out to one another.

We've probably gone on a thousand walks together.  We've done all those things before.  We've probably spent weeks of our lives holding hands.  We now have a running count (if you knew how I mistyped that, you'd be laughing) of who has pointed out more trains to the other, let alone the most puppies or flowers.  He is a man who has probably lost count of the number of hobbies he tolerates in me, thus I doubt he hardly notices stopping for pictures anymore.  And to try to even describe how used we are to making fun of one another is just impossible.  I can't separate it from our normal conversations, from our day-to-day interactions, from our passing one another while we're getting dressed in the morning.  It is so ingrained into our relationship that it would be weird if he weren't making fun of me.

But this walk, this one in one thousand, this was special.  Because I can't help but know that it's the first time that we took a walk as husband and wife.  For as little as that dumb, pointless piece of paper means to us at the end of the day it's still this giant deal.  He still has to do a tremendous amount of paperwork if he wants to leave me now.  I still can't help but notice that holding his hand feels a little different with a wedding ring on it.  And I can't help but want to walk on his left side - so that I can notice it.  I can't help but look at him and know that we'll go on thousands and thousands of more walks and he'll hold my hand.  And we'll stop as I take pictures, and we'll point out puppies and pretty flowers (and trains) to one another.  And we'll hip check each other as we walk in the woods or along the sidewalk.  And we'll make fun of each other.  Because we're giant dorks.  And we really like pointing that out to one another.

And for all those thousands and thousands of times he'll be my husband.  That sentence makes me happier than I can say.  It warms my grinchy heart and all those good things.  But this walk was special.  It was like a first date, really.  Only better.  Because I know all those other things already.  Like where my nook is, and how to make him angry, and that Puddles is actually very cute, and that we both poo and that's okay, and that redheads are the best (obviously), and what movie we saw on our first date, and that we're going to have to sit on all of them before we buy a couch.  He's my Steve.  And that's greatest.

But just after that is that we just got married.  So we do still have a few good firsts left in us yet.

Call It A Countdown You Mustn't - Day 3 - Geek Girl Edition

One of the things I like best about myself (stick with me here, I'm pretty sure this turns out way better than it sounds) is that I'm just a gigantic nerd.  Seriously.  Big.  Fat.  Nerd.

I am a geek girl.  (I watched a video a few weeks ago about calling yourself a geek woman rather than girl and, wow, it made totally awesome, valid points that I totally agreed with.  Geek girl just rolls off the tongue so much better though.)

And that kicks ass.  Like I said, probably the coolest thing about me.  Super big nerd.  It's where a lot of my humor comes from and I'm also kinda smart so that's cool too.  Pretty sweet package overall, the nerdiness.

Settle in for a long-ass story - because there's bonus Christmas nonsense today!  (Man I hope that's incentive.)

Awhile back Steve and I were in the car on the way home from somewhere and - searching for something we hadn't talked about already that day - I said:

"I was reading Wil Wheaton's Blog the other day and -"

"Whoa, wait," he interrupted, "you were reading Wil Wheaton's blog?"

"Yeah."

"You were?"

"Yeeeees." (This seemed pretty obvious to me, as I had just said so.)

"Why?"

"Because it's funny?"  (Again, these are the things that seem obvious to me.)

"But you don't like Wil Wheaton."

"Why wouldn't I like Whil Wheaton?!" (Seriously, we kept saying his full name.  What's up with that?)

"You've never watched Star Trek.  You're not into that.  What reason would you have to be a fan of Wil Wheaton?"

"Stand by Me."

"Are you kidding?"

"And Toy Soldiers."  (Seriously - Toy Soldiers was, and remains, part of my reasoning.)

"... I... what... that doesn't even make sense, Hun."

"Sure it does.  He's the kid from Stand by Me.  Which I love.  So I love him.  Then he was in Toy Soldiers.  Which I also love.  For some reason.  So I keep loving him.  Now he has a really funny blog which I read and love.  And he guest stars on stuff I usually watch and enjoy.  So I love him."

"But he's best known for a role on Star Trek, which you don't and never have watched."

"So?"

"So that's why people know him."

"But that's not why I know him."

"But that's not why everyone else knows him."

"I don't see how that's a reason why I shouldn't read his blog."

"... I guess.  Go on."

I proceeded to tell him whatever I'd read on Wil Wheaton's blog that had made me giggle and, as we were getting out of the car a few minutes later Steve said to me:

"Seriously, Hun, you should just watch Star Trek already.  You're so close to you're black belt in nerd, Hun, just go for it already."

...And that was hilarious.

A few days later I sent him an email that said:
"So I've been meaning to ask:  If I do watch Star Trek, do I get an actual black belt?  And if so, what does a black belt in nerd look like exactly?  Does it have decals?  (I personally think it should have decals.)  Does it come with a holster for a light saber?  It seems like any sort of belt for a nerd should come with holsters for various weapons - swords, stakes, phasers, light sabers, etc.  Is there a ceremony of some kind involved?  Like a crowning, but with a belt instead of a crown?  A belting, if you will?

Also, inquiring minds want to know (okay, well one inquiring mind wants to know): does nerdery follow the standard levels of belting:  i.e. white, yellow, orange, green, purple, red, brown, black?  What does one have to do to attain the various lever?  Am I really a brown belt nerd?  I know I'm nerdy, I like my nerdiness, still."

His response was:  "ummm... sure?  I don't know, Hun, it was just a joke.  But I this this conversation proves your a nerd already."

And because I'm unwilling to let things go:
"Well I'm not denying that I'm a nerd, sweetie.  I think that's been pretty blatantly obvious for quite some time now.  But... it was a good joke, and now I want a black belt in nerd.  I could do it, if I train hard enough... I can do the crane like Daniel-Son!  Sweep the leg!  Wait, no.  That was Johnny, dammit.  Wouldn't it be cool?  My black belt in nerd with like a little Nintendo controller on it, and - I don't know, like a Lego brick or something, and... a little TARDIS! and it could have a little holster for my blaster (cause hokey religions and ancient weapons are no match for a good blaster at your side and all.)  It would be my nerdy badge of honor."

... And then Steve stopped talking to me about this topic.  That was probably the right plan of action for his sanity.  But we don't value sanity that much in our house.

I'm sharing all of this because tonight the super huge geek girl inside me had a very exciting night.  Why?

See that?

And that?

I made those.

HEEHEE!

I made paper snowflakes that look like Yoda and Boba Fett!  Hee!

I have more that look like Darth Vader, C3PO, a Storm Trooper and a Clone Trooper.  (When I showed them to Steve he said to me "You know it's seriously hot that you know the difference, on sight, between a storm trooper and a clone trooper, right?"  Which made me laugh.  Because, yeah, I kinda do know that.)

Now before we get too crazy I didn't just make these up.  I made them from templates.  Which I originally read about on EPBOT (which I love to pieces) but the TARDIS one looked way too complicated for me to attempt.  Then I saw them again, specifically the Star Wars ones, on Geeks are Sexy, which I check several times a day and may be the site I look at more than any other actually.  It's awesome sauce.  Plus - completely accurate title.  The Star Wars designs got me much more interested and once Boba Fett got into the mix (via Anthony Herrera Designs, which is also included in the GaS article) I was hooked.  It was tricky, especially Yoda.  There are some really teeny cuts in there.  But so, so cool.

When I finished Yoda, I said to Steve "Hunny, you have to come and look at this.  It's so cool!"  I'm not kidding, I was literally bouncing.

Steve loves the Fett.  So I knew I could get him on board with this.

I had decided earlier today to post a picture of our Yoda tree ornament tonight:

Because of course we have a Yoda Christmas tree ornament.  It may not be the first thing that occurs to you, but once you start thinking about it - you don't want to live in a world where we don't.  I don't want to live in a world where we don't anyway.  I mean seriously.  Yoda ornaments should be the new pickles (you know? the Christmas pickle tradition?) - and that's as someone who totally loves pickles too.

That reminds me - I have a pretty great story about standing up for the awesomeness of Yoda as a, like, 8-year-old that I'm not sure I've ever actually told anyone.  Once upon a time I joined some friends who were playing in the school yard by our house.  They were talking about Star Wars, which I had recently seen for the first time, and which characters were their favorites.  They asked me who I liked best and I told them - Yoda.  Because Yoda was, and is, the shit.  What I didn't know or particularly understand at the time was that they weren't necessarily talking about who was the best character (Yoda) they were talking about who was the cutest.  This was the Han Vs. Luke conversation.  (The answer is Han, by the way.)  So their response to me was a fairly incredulous "Yoda?  Ew.  He has ear hair."  No joke, this was like 20 years ago and I remember specifically that they pointed out ear hair.  I gotta tell you they teased me pretty hard for probably 10, 15 minutes or so and the whole time I was like "Whatever, Yoda is way better than Luke." (Which is totally true, by the way.)  And they kind of made me feel like crap.  It's not really their fault either, I didn't get what that conversation was really about until I reflected on it many years later.  And not even that I wasn't aware of boys being cute at that point or anything - I just wasn't there for the beginning.  Anyway - the point of the story:  Even at 8 years old, Yoda was freaking awesome.  And even now, faced with the question "Who's better: Han or Luke?"  I'm probably just as likely to say Yoda as I was then.  Because Yoda's still the best character.

Damn The Man, Save The Empire!

So my workplace has this really unfortunate habit of basically falling apart on Fridays.  It's like everyone's just trying to hold it together for the whole week and just run out of steam at the end of the day Thursday and take it out on everyone else the next day.  Seriously about three weeks in a row Friday has been just terrible, crazy-ass days at work.  Today was no exception.  It became apparent around 8:12 am that today was going to be... well, a day.  And by that I mean "a day" and in "oh my freaking god, why is today so terrible?  Why won't it end?  Is this punishment for something I did in a past life?  Did I think about committing a crime in the future and this is me serving my sentence after Tom Cruise arrested me?  Why am I thinking about Minority Report?  What the hell is going on?"

That kind of day.

So around 9 am a friend of mine at work and I were talking (and walking back and forth around the office, trying to remember where we left out brains and such) and talking about how today was just... a day.  It had already been a day.  And there was so much left.

And then we decided to call an unofficial Rex Manning Day in the office.

Because seriously?  What the fuck is with today today?

There weren't really a whole lot of shenanigans involved and I'm fairly certain no one had intercourse of any kind near the copier.  Though someone did ask me if there's a policy about inter-company relationships, so who knows.  A few of us did have a contest of sorts to see who could find the most today-appropriate demotivational poster.  And we did at one point have a discussion about which 19th century industrialist/super rich person we would have liked to be.  (We're a strange bunch.)

Unfortunately - calling it Rex Manning Day didn't really do much to make the day go any better.  So I'm going to show you a couple of pretty pictures, watch the Twins game, knit a little bit and go to bed.  Also going to eat the burger Steve's making me for dinner.  He makes really good burgers.

On to the pictures!

This is the top of the faceplate of the doorknob (if there's an actual word for that, please let me know because I really feel like I'm just rambling) at the Lutheran church whose lamps were featured yesterday. How freakin' badass is that?  (I apologize for calling anything involved with a church "badass" it strikes me now that that's probably irreverent and offensive.  I'm sorry.  I'm not taking it back, but I am sorry.)  I'm pretty sure I would really love to have doorknob faceplate thingy (seriously there has to be a word for that) like this on my house someday.  That's probably going to have to be the house I get after I somehow become a super rich 19th century industrialist, because I don't think it would fit in very well on, you know, a regular house.  It would look really silly on my apartment door, I can say that for sure.

Here's another shot that, I don't know, I just really like that picture.  I didn't think that much of it while I was taking it but when I got home and actually looked at my pictures this became one of my favorite shots of the day (more than 100 involved in that pool).  I just really like the shape and texture of it.  There's something almost... calm about it.  I like it!

Alright I'm out.  I only have one more thing to say to today - Stop calling me Warren!  My name isn't fucking Warren!

Avenue Q

Okay... so I can't really promise that this week has been super, fantastic fun.  It has not, in fact, been more fun than a barrel of monkeys.  Well I don't think it was anyway.  I haven't ever experienced a barrel of monkeys, so I don't know maybe it's less fun that people say.  (Speaking of - I sent a news story about an escaped monkey wreaking havoc in a suburb somewhere to a group of some of the people I would classify as most likely to utter "I want a monkey" this week and it was an epic fail.  It was the fail sauce.  It was very sad.)  However, I was instructed by my father to have a better week this week.  I do try to make my daddy proud whenever possible so here I am, if nothing else, having a better week than last week.

One of my co-workers walked up to my desk on Monday morning and said "is it going to be a better week for Caitlyn?"  I responded by saying "Well, it kind of has to be or I'm toast."

For one thing - my alarm clock has not had to go off at 4:30 am at any point this week.  That has to make a week better right?  Right.  So to make this as much the antithesis of my last post as possible (because apparently lists of things that suck offend my mom and I try to make her proud too - hi, Mom!) here is a list of things that are pretty cool.

q)  I'm starting my lists with point q now.  It's pretty cool.  I'm not telling you why.  But I know someone just laughed out loud at me.  So there.

2) I get to wear jeans to work tomorrow.  My life has sadly gotten to a point where that is pretty cool if you're me.

3)  I made some pretty awesome gnocchi for dinner tonight.  It tasted gooooood.

4)  I exercised twice this week after being lazy for, like three weeks strait.  It's pretty cool but, oh my gosh, my body hurts.

5)  Laughing out load at your personal email at work - because you know some awesome, hilarious people who send you email. 

6)  Finding news stories about monkeys.  Even if I know a bunch of people who don't appreciate them.  (I'm looking at you, Josh.  Okay I'm not.  I'm looking at my laptop.  Which is nowhere near you and I'm not even sure if it's pointing in your general direction.  Still.)

7)  I've gotten no fewer than three separate and independent compliments on my shoes this week.  Two of which were from fully grown men who, by all accounts, have never noticed that people wear shoes, let alone badass shoes.  (Yes I was told I was wearing some badass shoes yesterday.  It was awesome.)

8)  I totally complimented my boss yesterday because I told her about this really bad dream I had on Tuesday where she quit her job and life at work just spiraled into this just terrible place to be and everyone was acting crazy - even the people who normally act mostly sane.

9)  Bubble Tea.  A large, cold, black tea with passion fruit and raspberry and pearls.  Oh my god that was fantastic.  I'm actually hoping that I dream about it tonight.  That's how good it was.

10)  Joe Mauer got his 1,000th hit on Tuesday.  Super Awesome.

11)  It's officially fall in Minnesota and I get to wear scarves without looking ridiculous again.  Fantastico.  (That is not a word, but I bet you know what I mean.)

12) I'm knitting myself a new scarf with some just stunning yarn.  I plan to take some pictures and throw them up here, so I'm not going to say too much more about it.  But I think I might be in love with some yarn.  I have a feeling this will be a complicated relationship.

 Right so this is where the antithesis thing ends.  Because last time I had a list of things that suck and pictures of things that don't.  I'm going to stick with the pictures of things that don't suck.  Because I don't like to take pictures of things that suck.  And I generally think things that suck are situations, which are tough to capture on film without people noticing.

So here are some more lamps that I shot while I was out on my walk a few weeks ago.  (I'm not even going to tell you about the typo I just fixed.  I need to talk about these photos and go to bed.)

These first two were flanking the doors to an Episcopalian church near Grand Avenue.  There was tons of carving and intricacy around the door and all along the facade so I really like the relative simplicity of these.

I especially liked this shot with orangey-yellow stonework behind it.

This set was on either side of the doors of a Lutheran church on Dale Avenue just south of I94.  I want to say it's Grace Lutheran church, but I might be making that up.  You know, it's not like I drive past it every day on my way home or anything.

These, conversely were very intricate - Particularly at their tops on what was really a fairly simple facade.  This second one was more weathered than the first and, though one of the glass panes is broken, was really, really cool looking.

I almost didn't include this one.  It's a pretty standard lamp and all that.  But the shadow convinced me.  (The Shadow knows!)  I love how you can see the shadow of that swirled part of the lamp that you can't see on the lamp itself from this angle. 

I loved, loved, LOVED the glass in this lamp.  The structure itself is cool too, but that glass just makes it.  That is just so cool.

Okay - no births to announce today and, as mentioned, this kid needs to get to bed in a big old way.  So I'm off.  I only have one more thing to add to my list of things that are pretty cool.
r) (still not telling) Earlier this week a guy at work was trying to describe how one of my co-workers and I are pretty good friends.  He expressed this by saying "you know, you two are downtown Julie Browns and all."  Yep.  Downtown Julie Brown.  That's me.

Sometimes... Things Just Suck.

So here's a list of things that suck.

1) Work.
2) Driving more than 20 damn miles to get to work well before 7 in the morning.
3) Mornings.
4) EARLY mornings.
5) Absolutely every fucking thing that happened yesterday.  (Except for the steak Steve made me for dinner, that was awesome and so is he.)
6) Finally deciding what movie you want to watch when you go to bed and then realizing you can't watch it in the bedroom (this one may be specific to me.)
7) The Great Black Tablecloth Debacle of 2010, Parts 1 and 2.  (Pretty much going to have to trust me.)
8) Microsoft Exchange.
9) Every damn day this week.
10) Yesterday's Vikings game.
11) Today's Twins game
12) The fact that both of those teams have confusing esses at the end of their names that make me not believe I have apostrophes correctly placed.
13) Attempting to grill chicken in the dark while it's raining.  (though the results were still tasty)
14) Headaches.
15) Being blamed for not knowing something that literally NO ONE actually knows.
16) Having to be the bigger person when you are so not the asshole in the situation.

You've probably caught on but it's been a pretty crappy couple of days.  The primary cause of this, I won't lie, is work.  It would have been an exceptionally hard week this week even if we had all five days.  It was no doubt at least 7 days worth of work this week packed into 4 and I'm pretty sure I'm going to have to do a fair deal work this weekend.  It's all a lot of stressful stuff that, even when I have gotten done working for the night, I continue to think about, worry about and, indeed, dream about.  This makes me crabby which makes me write lists of things that suck.

There is one thing that completely and totally does not suck in any way whatsoever.

Hurray!  Congratulations to the parents (you guys rock) and welcome to the world, Jackson!  I totally dig that your first birthday is going to be 09/10/11.  That's super cool.  I will totally get you a present.  I'm very excited to meet you and I hope you don't think I'm scary.  And just because you decided to make your appearance today I'm going to put aside my crabbiness for a bit and show you a couple things that don't totally suck about the world.  Pay attention, I might test you later.  ... When you've grown and learned to do things like sit up, and talk and read.  So you've got some prep time anyway.

There are only two things that suck about that.  One is that is was taken from the parking lot at my work.  Really that doesn't suck, it's just kind of sad.  The other is that it was taken around 6:15 am.  That sucks. Big time.

Gotta tell you, though, it's awfully hard to remember the parts that suck when you're looking at that picture.  

Some day a long, long time from now I'll tell you all about whiskey sours with two cherries.  Because, believe me there is absolutely nothing about those that sucks.  

Stillwater At Night*

Going backward in time a bit - Steve and I spent most of the 4th of July out at his aunt and uncle's house enjoying the (incredibly) hot weather, great food, and some 4 square (the game you played at recess when you were 8.)

Later in the evening we headed in to Stillwater to watch the fireworks.  We've done this before so we knew it was going to be ridiculously crowded.  To try to avoid some of that hassle, we parked on the Wisconsin side of the river and walked down from there.  We found a pretty sweet spot right on the Stillwater lift bridge that ended up being near enough to where they were setting off fireworks that they were exploding almost directly above us.  It was awesome.

We also got a really cool view of Stillwater at sunset, that just happened to be a really dramatic sunset that day.

*This is not a Bob Dylan lyric

A Day At The Races. No, Seriously.

I swear to God, I didn't know this was going to happen.  See, I started writing my Pygmalion post in my head on the day we had our little party.  (That would be the 7th of August, for those of you playing at home.)  I totally knew what I wanted to name it because well, I enjoy attempting to be clever and I knew at least my mom would get the joke.  (And I know she's one of my limited readers so I may as well play to the crowd I have.)

At that point in time I had absolutely no idea that roughly a week later (and indeed, before I actually WROTE my Pygmalion post - even for the first time) Steve would turn to me and say something along the lines of "hey, you know what would be fun for my birthday?  Going to Canterbury and seeing the horses." I had to agree with him, that would be fun for his birthday.  And thus, last Sunday, we spent the day at the races.

We are not what you'd call "educated betters."  We tend to bet on the horse we feel has the coolest name.  We were once at Canterbury for the day and were totally psyched to bet on a horse named "Freckles O'Brian" only to lose him to a late scratch.  My favorite on Sunday was a horse named "Case in Point."  How do you not bet on a horse named Case in Point?  I mean, come on.  (He won us some money too, so that was pretty cool.)  Steve's parents, who joined us for the day, were a bit more scientific with their bets.  Tracking jockeys and following the odds and all kinds of stuff that's way less fun than picking the best name.  Of course, Steve's mom won in something like 6 of 8 races and his dad hit a trifecta in one race so theirs was probably a better plan.

Come to think of it, that kind of makes me feel like:

Get it?  That's a little horse humor for you there.  You have to admit though, as far as horses asses go, this one is awfully pretty.

Read More:

Pygmalion

I don't know if I've made this abundantly clear (it's hard when you're frequently gushing about how pretty flowers are and stuff) but I'm not very good at being a lady.  By that I mean polished and proper are not adjectives frequently found near my name.  I don't gussy very well.  I like clothes, very much.  I LOVES me some shoes, especially in the high-heeled variety and nail polish is a good friend of mine.  But my hair does exactly two styles when I'm in charge of it - air-dried and ponytail.  Though I like makeup I don't know how to use it very well and usually forget things like lipstick until I'm well out of the house.  I like dresses and skirts pretty well, but I veer more toward simple, clean lines than frilly and poofy.  Bows make me nervous.  On any day, at any given time, you are around 304 times more likely to find me in green, blue or gray than pink or purple.

This is all a very long-winded (sorry 'bout that) way of saying, I'm not very girly.

I'm bad at being a girl.

Whoops.

So anyway, this post is kind of about that, but not really.

A week after Steve and I got back from vacation (you know?  The one when we got engaged?) Steve's mom threw us an engagement party.  Now that is a lady who knows how to throw a party and make it look coordinated and elegant and lovely (also adjectives that are not commonly found near me.)  It was a beautiful party and a lot of fun.

And in the week leading up to it I kept thinking about my closet and ending on something like this: “ummm, I think I have an issue.”  See I have dresses that are appropriate for work and dresses that are appropriate for a wedding.  I have two prom dresses in my closet and a dress that I wore to a homecoming dance when I was a sophomore in high school (yeah....).  I have dresses that are appropriate to wear to the beach and dresses that really aren’t appropriate to wear anywhere at all.  Not a lot that says “I’m a lady, I’m an adult, it should make sense to you that I am engaged, I look like I belong at a garden/cocktail party.”  See there’s a little bit of this whole engagement thing that’s throwing me for loop.  Essentially that I think you kind of need to be a grown up to be engaged.  I’m no grown up.  I’m a very old teenager who’s just pretending to be a grown up because there are cooler shoes involved.

Here I’ll put it to you in math form (because everybody likes math, right?):

Classy /= Me.  Me = Klassy.  (See, math is fun!)

Sooo I bought a new dress.  I went out on my lunch break one day (there are advantages to working about 10 minutes away from one of the largest malls in the world – they are identical to the disadvantages, but still) and found almost exactly what I was looking for (and on sale!).  Thusly armed with a dress I felt would help me pretend to be lady for the day I really threw myself into the gussying process.  Makeup, grooming, etc.  I even, at that point, decided to just go ahead and rock the pearls with the ensemble because really, at that point, why not?

Oh hey, look at me.  I’ve been babbling for quite some time on this here “photo blog” with very little photographic evidence of anything.  The fully gussied Cait:

Steve clearly did whatever the man equivalent of gussying is.  What can I say?  The man can rock a vest like nobody's business.


I got so into this whole girly thing that I both blow-dried my hair and attempted a third hairstyle.  (Not a particularly hard style, but believe me there are points for effort in this arena.)  The party finally got started and I stopped stressing so much about the whole ladylike thing.  Steve and I returned (with 80% less crazy-eyes!) to our post-engagement googly-eyedness.

We had a lovely time.  The dress was a big hit – lots of compliments; which made me believe I was pulling off the ladylike look fairly well.  Which was reassuring and calming.  And embarrassing, but that’s a whole different psychosis I’ll bore you with another time. 

I spent much more of my time than normal (that is to say, any time at all) considering whether to cross my legs at the knee or the ankle; that was a little weird.  Especially because throughout the day I kept basing my opinion on Julie Andrews’ advice in the movie The Princess Diaries.  Though a few times ended up going with no cross at all.  Damn.

We got some other folks to share in our smileyness too.  Like Steve’s godparents:

And his grandparents:

Isn’t his grandpa the cutest thing you’ve ever seen in your life?  I love my grandpa to death and he’s quite the dapper man himself, but ever since the first time I met Steve’s grandpa I’ve been completely enamored by how completely adorable he is.

Our lovely hosts:

Many other people joined us for a little celebration.  Our friend Lyle even did his very best impression of American Gothic for every picture he was involved with. 

Though this may or may not have been intentional, I like to believe it was his tribute to my path of study and fully expect his impression of this next time:

(That was a little art history humor.  I’ll stop, I promise.)

It was really fun to celebrate with everyone and it was this really warm, loving atmosphere.

Oh yeah, did I mention the food?

Oh my God it was good.  Like I said, the lady knows how to throw a party and she sure knows how to put out a spread.

That reminds me – here’s a picture of what Steve and I look like when we smile with our mouths full.

Proper!

There was champagne too!  (every time I think, say or type the word champagne I hear Zapp Brannigan in my head – “Sham-peg-en” – classic.)  Yes, I did photoshop that to make it look all weird; I like it that way.

And holy crap this cake was good.

No seriously.  It was not as good as it looks.  It was better.  (Wow, that was terrible.  Maybe I should go back to art history humor.  That was at least clever.)

See how that frosting looks both amazing and like marshmallow fluff?  Tasted that way too – marshmallowy and amazing.

Mmmmm, strawberries.

Don’t those just look good enough to… wait… that doesn’t work as well when you’re talking about food.  It better look good enough to eat.  How about this?  Don’t those look incredibly awesome?  Yes.  Yes they do.

I slipped once or twice in my ladylike veneer throughout the day but I’m pretty sure the only person around for them was Steve.  He’s pretty used to me being unladylike at this point, and he apparently wants to marry me anyway, so I guess that’s okay.  Someday I’ll pull off the lady thing for a full twelve hours or something and he’ll spend the rest of the week completely shocked.  That’ll be fun.

It was a great day and will be a precious memory for me for a very long time to come.  It was fun to dress up and be like Eliza at the races for a day (only without the totally awesome hat).  And I got rewarded with beer afterward.  Thank you to everyone who came, everyone who was there in spirit, and all our well wishers.

Now I’m going to go put on some sweatpants.

You Talkin' To Me?

So.... yeah.  Good vacation.

That is to say, GOOD VACATION.

Okay I guess it was more like BEST. VACATION. EVER.

Why you ask?  Well... let's see... ummm.... Oh yeah, THIS HAPPENED!!!!!!

Um yeah.  I got engaged.  I'M ENGAGED!  I'm sorry I just really, really like saying that.  Even typing that is really fun.  Engaged, engaged, engaged, ENGAGED!  Me!  Woo!  (that was all in a very sing-songy voice in my head, by the way.)

So here's the story... 

We were up at the lake with my family.  My mom's family has been going to the same resort (and by resort I mean, like 12 cabins on a lake, not a spa resort or something) for, like, 60 years.  I've gone for a week every summer since I was, well, I guess about a 2 month developed fetus in my mama's belly.  I've never missed a summer.  I've even thrown in a few MEA weekends and Labor Days.  It's my favorite place ever.  When I was 17 and went to France for two weeks I came back and told my parents I just wanted to buy Paris and just have it, like, as my house.  The Lake still wins.  The Lake > Paris, okay?

Another bit of back story:  For Mother's Day Steve's mom asked for a picture of the two of us.  While looking through our photos we found we hadn't really taken a nice photo together for about a year.  So we've been trying to take more pictures when we actually do things.  

So we wanted to take a couple nice pictures together while we were at the lake.  And weeks ago Steve started saying things like "well, I think I'm going to take one of my nice shirts, maybe you could take a sundress or something and we can take our Christmas card photo" and so on.  All of this seemed more or less reasonable.  Perhaps a little overly concerned about a picture... but sometimes it seems like Steve just forgets he's already told me something so he tells me a whole bunch of times.  Regardless, I did not think much about it at all.  So on our third day there it was nice out and Steve said "let's take the boat out later, take a nice picture with the sunset."  Seemed like a good enough idea to me.  Steve got my aunt and my brother involved in convincing my nieces that ice cream would be better than a sunset cruise.  (They were sold before my brother finished saying the word "cream.")

We got out on the lake, found a pretty spot and with a nice view...

I think it's a pretty nice view anyway.  I might be biased, but I don't really care.

Steve set up the camera on the tripod and (sneaky guy) actually put it on video (later he told me he actually didn't even know how to set the timer and the fact that he didn't ask me probably should have clued me in.)  He came back over to where I was and I started preparing for the photo and he said "well I have to get down on one knee for this one."

Ever the elegant, loquacious, lady; I replied, "What?"

He proceeded to get down on one knee and say some really very romantic things that I'm not going to share with the whole world.

My next comment - again because I am such a wordsmith - was "Are you kidding?"

I remember now having the little thought in my head "If he's messing with me, I'm going to punch him.  He's going over the side of the boat and I'm driving away without him.  This is not funny."

Reasonable assured that he was not, in fact, kidding (this had much to do with the AMAZING ring I now had possession of) I kissed him, told him I loved him, I think I officially said yes at some point, and started grinning like a crazy person that really didn't end for a long time.

After we came back in off the lake my aunt (Steve's co-conspirator) had prepared a little party for us with champagne and cheesecake and lots and lots of hugs, and explaining to a six-year-old the difference between a fiance and Beyonce, and oh my god my face hurt from smiling and I so didn't care at all.

Oh yeah, there was some kissing too.

We proceeded back to the cabin Steve and I share with my parents, there was more Champagne, I got to look at a whole booklet of stuff dedicated to my ring, more face-splitting smiles (seriously I look like a crazy person in most of the pictures.  I bring new meaning to "crazy-eyes."  Okay, not new meaning but... more... well I think I bring more crazy to "crazy-eyes.") and so on and so forth.  

At some point, thankfully, the sides of my mouth stopped trying to wrap around my ears and we calmed back into our general, all-around cuteness.

Almost entirely crazy-eye free!

I'd love to tell you that it's been that since then.  But we're back in the real world now.  I spent most of my first day back at work just reading my email.  Oh and let's see, on Sunday my brother and my nieces went home (which was expected and normal but it still blows) and both of my parents left for their new home in Dallas.  Sunday was not a good day.  Oh yeah and we have like 50 loads of laundry to do (because when you come within 20 miles of the lake makes all the clothes and towels and any other cloth-like material you may have with you immediately becomes filthy, it's one of the many charms of the lake) and still have to unpack about 5 boxes.  Joy.  Pure Joy.

Oh yeah and I have to get up in like 7 hours to go to work again.  Peace out.

Daisy, Daisy

... Give me your answer do...

Steve picked a flower for me.

I'm going to go smile for awhile now :)

Fancy Camera

Somewhat randomly Steve had a very fancy camera in his possession for about 20 hours or so early this week. Some of those hours included our walk at Como Park on Monday so we took it along and I got to play a little bit.  Big fun.  Especially as there were just tons of puppies in the park that day.

If you look closely, there's a big ol' bumblebee on that flower.

 

There is a puppy hiding in those bushes!

Looking down at a bit of the man-made waterfall.

 

Some ivy or something growing on the rocks around the waterfall.

 

Some late afternoon light shining on this absolutely beautiful lily.

Look at how deep that red is.  Just gorgeous.

  

We always seem to see something completely random when we go to Como.  An unicyclist is no guy walking around with a full-grown monkey on his shoulder (oh how I wish I'd had my camera with me last week) but it's random enough for my tastes.

A very happy puppy.  I think I saw this dog "pulled over" about four different times so he could be pet by small children who were clearly in love with him.

 

A nice view of the lake.

 

A shot of a wild rose that was blooming a little way away from the bench where we were.

 

A cool looking plant that I was fascinated by a the time.

 

I liked the way the light was hitting the leaves on this tree.

 

An adorable little puppy that was very, very happy to see every single person that passed.

A cool lakeside house.

The actual waterfall (now that I've posted pictures of the stuff around the waterfall.)

This was such a pain in the butt.  It was still as can be until I decided I wanted to take this picture.  Then the wind started blowing like mad.  It figures.

 

Some cool sort-of back lit thistles.

 

An interesting collections of greens around the edges of the lake.  (Not shown: the disgusting, SMELLY scum/algae that's still covering a good portion of the lake.)

 

A nifty Birch tree.  I always try to take cool pictures of birch bark because I think it's super cool, the pictures usually turn out lame though.

 

Some very deeply veined bark.

This tree had some weird stuff hanging from its trunk.  It kind of looked like old clothes or something.  The sun was shining right on it so it was rather hard to tell.

 

Finally, a happy cloud!

Fun with a fancy camera!  Woo!