Married Life

For those of you still playing along at home: this pretty much sums it up. Let's just say when I put in the quarter, it wasn't anything I didn't already know about. On the other hand, I didn't expect to find actually being married to exceed my expectations this much.

Married Love

As our big day draws near, I seem to be honing in on all the love that's floating around. Today I met with my favorite professor, Brainy Linguistics Prof, and ended up spending two hours in his office. This is not unusual. We usually spend time talking about golf, his daughter, poetry and linguistics--in that order. Today we talked a little about his wife.

You see, I'm equally well acquainted with her, or maybe even more so, as she was my poetry mentor in graduate school. I took about six classes with her, and she's really responsible for my interest in linguistics. Most of my school friends are intimidated by her. Is it possible to be brusque and gregarious at the same time? Well, she is.

But today we talked about them more like a couple. He told me they'd recently vacationed in South America for their 20th wedding anniversary. Everyone I know seems to find it hard to imagine them married; I find it hard not to imagine them married. He's the math of language and she's the music. It fits.

In a lot of ways, they're the couple I imagine Mortgage Partner and I could become--a house full of books and good-natured jokes to feed the soul. While I certainly can't compare our career trajectories to theirs, I see the common thread we share: mutual respect of each other and ongoing curiosity of life. These things keep you together, but more importantly, they keep you engaged.

Technology Schmechnology

Today's post is brought to you by the word VPN. Yes, I know that's not a word. No, I have no idea what it stands for. All I know is that when I called my tech support guy at Corporate Behemoth, he told me the intermittent tech issues would affect my VPN. And that, in return, affects my bottom line.

See, I need this VPN-thingy in order to log into Corporate Behemoth's proprietary stuff--you know, like my e-mail, SharePoint, the things around which my work life revolves. And as I'm a contractor and get paid hourly, these tech issues mean I can't work, and therefore get no moola.

I am fortunate in that I do have another source of income (summer school), and that there are countless things to do around the house: fold the clothes that have taken over the guest bedroom, run (aka wogging) for 50 minutes on the treadmill, and chase dustbunnies around the house. However, what I want to do right now is make money to pay for our honeymoon. Cause you know, that gas we'll be needing to drive all over California/Oregon? Well, it's expensive.

And so far, blogging isn't making me money. Not that I'm complaining, because I don't do it enough to make money doing it. But, you know, any workweek hour that I'm not actively making money seems a waste to me. I've already done all the grading I can stand for one day (two papers), so I'm looking to use that other part of my brain (the one that enjoys technology and taxes).

In the meantime, I'll add some more laundry to the pile, consider downloading more music to my MP3 to making running more feasible, and slay some dustbunnies with the Swiffer.

Of Rocks and Rings

So I haven't managed to post any pictures of Florida yet because I don't have any. The ones I took on my phone look ridiculous, and I haven't figured out whether they're photoshopable. I will say though that a fun time was had by all. I look tan for me, but I don't have a tan. The weird burn lines have faded, even though I was still peeling (3 weeks later) last week.

More recently, a few good things are going on around here. My pal R. and I have been running every Saturday since I returned from Florida. I'm slow as hell and have a tendency to turn bright red and make horrible gasping noises, but at least I'm feeling the wind in my hair and the fat on my rear jiggle. She thinks we can run a half marathon, and I'm inclined to fall over laughing about that one, but I'll make an attempt at bumping up the mileage in the name of physical fitness (and swimsuit season). The downside is that the trail we run on has tiny pebbles that always seem to find their way into my shoes. Waah! Ok, not really a crisis, but I'm kind of a princess.

In other news, Mortgage Partner and I have decided to get hitched, and we're slowly spilling the beans around here to friends and family. We are getting married at home and hope to contain the festivities to the smallest possible number. The best part is we're leaving on our honeymoon the next day. Details to follow, because really, we're going to have a kickass honeymoon. We're staying in a treehouse one night! Seriously, that is so awesome. Especially since the treehouse has a toilet.

repartee redux

So...it's been a long time. I don't really deserve to have any blog devotees, considering my sporadic writing, but I sure hope I can win people back. A few people have commented about missing my posts, so I'll take that to heart and try to be more attentive to writing regularly.

In the meantime, I'm going on vacation with my sister and her brood. At this very moment, she's headed down I-29 toward Kansas City to pick me up. Then we'll drive all night, passing through Missouri, Arkansas, Tennessee, Mississippi, and Alabama on our way to Florida. We're spending the week on the beach of the Gulf Coast.

My sister and I made a similar road trip 19 years ago after she graduated from college. Only then, I was too young to help her drive. It was just the two of us in her electric blue Chevy Cavalier. This time, we're taking the Sherpa (aka a Ford Excursion), because 5 kids don't fit very well into a two-door Cavalier.

I'm looking forward to the sand and the Gulf, hanging out with my nieces and nephews, and an opportunity to have some girl time with my big sister.

If I can, I'll post from the condo. If not, I'll be sure to share some pictures when I return.

More Than a Feelin'

Not so long ago, I found myself driving in the middle of Iowa. Ok, middle of Iowa isn't really accurate; it was more like the northwest corner of Iowa. In any case, there's nothing but Iowa all around. Doomed to either listening to gospel radio or static, I hunted around my car for a CD and came across the Indigo Girls.

Now for those of you who had your major emo moments in the late 80s and 90s, you should really know every Indigo Girl song by heart. I don't know too many girls my age who didn't hunker down with the song "Ghost" after a particularly bad breakup. As I drove, I sang along with Amy and Emily, singing with particular gusto on "Closer to Fine." Despite the fact that I made it most of the way through the CD, I realized something about myself. I'm no longer that girl. You know the one who found "solace in a bottle or possibly a friend." I spent my late teens and early twenties being that girl, hanging on every word Sarah McLachlan wrote and shaking my fist in agreement with Ani DiFranco. Every poem I wrote in college emulated these singer/songwriter types. Every relationship I had fit into the cupped hand of this uber-emo superwoman.

All of a sudden I felt old. I realized that if I had to pick a musician or band to match my mood, I would rather be Boston. WTF? Am I an aging GenXer guy trapped in a 30-something woman's body?

While I know my latest devotion to Boston might have something to do with the general need to "rock out" every once in a while, I think this says something about how I've changed. This understanding of myself was underscored last night as I talked on the phone to a former student of mine, a precocious 18-year-old in the med school here. I didn't quite feel like her mother, but I definitely felt like her much older, much wiser big sister. She doesn't especially exude angst, but I couldn't help but be grateful I'm not 18 again. Oh sure, it's fun to experience the silliness, the first loves, the anticipation of a whole lifetime of opportunity. But I realized I'd much rather be at home, MY home, with Mortgage Partner, the animals, and a dining room table covered in school papers.

I don't even know that girl I used to be. I'm pretty sure I couldn't be friends with her right now, although there are a lot of things I wouldn't mind telling her, especially with regard to boys, her body image, and career choices.

I guess what this overly emotive post is telling me (as I'm telling you blogworld) is that I'm ok with who I've become. Finally.

Helluva(n) Ikea

I know, I know. I've been quiet lately. No good reason, really. Sick of myself? Sick of school? Needing of an extreme soul makeover? Ok, I'm not really full of existential angst; I just come across that way sometimes.

I spent some quality time shopping on the IKEA web site this morning. Why oh why don't we have one here?! I spent about $400 in my head, and my house looks better already. Just wait, you big blue and yellow box, my oversized piece of heaven, purveyor of lingonberries and all things Swedish. I am coming for you.

Ok, so I know too much retail therapy will land me on Oprah and/or Dr. Phil, but it just feels so good. If only I could give myself this kind of makeover: blow a few hundred bucks, go eat some meatballs in the cafeteria, overload the car, spend several hours cursing and sweating as I put some furniture together, and presto/chango new self!

Now I know this seems like I'm crying for a spiritual awakening. Perhaps I should go read that Eckhart Tolle book that Costco has in boxloads. Except that I've never been one for New Age self-improvement. No, in my case I decided to change my blog colors, a la HGTV, to make myself feel better. A little interior decorating if you will. Maybe I'll actually rearrange the furniture one of these days and pick a new format. If Blogger HAD a template that looked like an IKEA store I'd pick it. In the meantime, I'll keep churning these muddled thoughts around in my head and try to be more diligent about sharing them.