Eventful? We don't do subtle

It's as if we don't understand the meaning of the word. Calm? Plain? Neutral? We scoff at ordinary. We don't even like the word extraordinary around here because it really makes us think of the words extra ordinary. (Seriously? Who was the thinker on this word? I have never understood it). 

First of all, it's coming on fall. Oh beauty let me behold you. And let me watch You've Got Mail until I have to replace the movie because I've watched it too many times. Again. For the fourth time. WHAT?! It's really great. Kathleen Kelley is my family. Like her, I like to begin my sentences as if we are already in the middle of a conversation. 

Like her I love bookstores. Like her I love Pride and Prejudice. I too get lost in the language. Thither is where you'll find me. Watching this movie. Again. Oh felicity. 

Anyway. My job? Great. Better than great. I love it. I'm full. Of gratitude and tasks, but hey. Full is full. Always better than empty. Which is actually how I felt tonight when I talked to my husband. We said our "love yous". We chatted about business. I may have even spouted a catchy verse of I miss you I miss you, I really wanna kiss you". Then I had the feeling that I had something else to tell him, but instead, I suddenly declared "nope. That's it. I'm empty." And I meant it. Where the knowledge of these words which I type is coming from I know not. See? Empty. 

But it's because my brain is taking ion just. So. Much. 

New jobs take a while to settle into. New co-workers. New bosses. New expectations. New room. New students. New paperwork. New routines and schedules and people needing you. New. 

I'm getting there. I'm not the furthest behind, so I will say I am winning. Except that it's 9:40 pee em and I'm falling asleep while I type and wishing one of my  kids would get out of bed and turn off my bedroom light and brush my teeth. And since they are here, brush and floss my teeth. 

Did I mention we are house hunting? That's simple. No emotion. Not at all time consuming. 

I lied. In that last paragraph. Sorry about that. 

We are in fact house hunting. But the rest is just false. 

So completely off. 

It's consuming. I don't want it to be. But I think I'm a junkie. How can I not be when all of my house is packed and we are just waiting for the words "we accept your offer and we would LOVE to pay your closing costs." My movies? Packed. 

Ok. Not You've Got Mail. What are you, nuts? 

New job. New house. New neighbors. Go big or don't stand near me. 

"TALL. DECAF. CAPPUCCINO." 

*these pictures have zilcho to do with this post. We do baseball. Thought you'd like to know. 

18 and Counting

No. Not kids. I'll leave that craziness to those Duggars. 

I'm counting years of marriage to this guy. 

We've been together for 20 years. I almost can't fathom that. We have been together longer in our lives than we have been apart. We met when I was 17, and he was dating my best friend. A few answers:

No, she and I are no longer friends (my bad)

Yes, he was totally worth it

And, yes he is still a handsome beast. He's better actually, because now he's more than just a pretty face. 

We went out on the town these last couple days. We packed every minute full of something; my Firefighter doesn't appreciate down time, yet. I'm confident he will come to love naps as much a I do soon. 

But after 18 years I realized a few things. Dates aren't always wild times on the town. I mean, who are we kidding here? There's nothing overly wild about me next to my hairs. I'm a good girl, I am. So it made sense that we began our date with a meeting with the lender. We are trying to buy a house, and it made sense that we should meet. I mean, we had the sitter. Then we got a smog check, went to the bank, went and registered our car and tent trailer, and finally made it to the hotel where I asked if I could take a nap. Mr. No Downtime was against it. I powered through and got into my cute clothes. 

I was a little worried for us. I'm amazed that I still get butterflies about that guy. I think it's actually a plus that I get excited when I hear him pull his jeep into my driveway. And sometimes, even though you know me as the wittiest conversationalist this side of New Hampshire, sometimes I have to think of things to talk about with this guy. I still don't know what he's thinking in there, behind those quiet eyes. 

We talk kids, work, plans, and we reminisce. And then it gets quiet. Not uncomfortable. Just quiet. Maybe we are rubbing off on each other: I will learn that there can be pauses in conversation and he can learn to nap. 

Any way you recap this midweek getaway, it was great. I remember how much I love and want and need this guy. And he takes time to hold my door and hold my hand and sit in the freezing cold so I can watch baseball. 

He's my lobster (Phebe from Friends). We used to be so different. Different families. Different values. Different goals. But we are the same now. 

If you're a bird I'm a bird, mister. Happy anniversary, Husband.