I am going to California.

It is a dream come true and a teeny-tiny nightmare all rolled into one. Sweet, old Kenneth is sick. Sick-sick, the kind of sick you say twice. He is the only grandparent I have left, so, maybe I am going to California to say The Most Expensive Good-bye Ever, with Sweet Heather Marie as my seat-mate. She is fabulous and lets me be five and pretend that we are merely going West to visit Good Ole' Ken, drink entirely too much coffee and maybe squeeze in some shopping.

A while ago, a co-worker and I were talking about the strange process of grieving. There are some things we never truly get over. When I was six, my sister and I found two stray cats in the parking lot of a store near our house. Much to my mother's dismay, we convinced our dad to let us take them home. Daisy and Fluffy (very creative names, I know). Daisy was white and brown and Fluffy was grey with stripes. Daisy was skinny and sick from the start. She passed away, as most all sick, skinny stray cats usually do. Fluffy, distraught by her absence ran away in the night.

Sometimes, when I am going through something truly excruciating, I find myself aching for those skinny, old cats. It is strange, but I know it is something I will never really be able to explain. I quit trying a long time ago.

I know, when I lose the only grandparent I have left, I will feel the loss of all four of them, from the start, even though there is a span of almost 20 years between losing the first three. I know it will feel like my dog has died, and the cat has run away and the accident has happened all over again.

Tim and I have been to three funerals in the short time we have been together. By now, I have memorized the blueprint. It goes something like this:

I wear my Really Great Thrift Store Shoes that end up sinking in the ground even though it hasn't rained in weeks and my movie star sunglasses make puddles of tears between my cheeks and the rims. I can't get that same old Bright Eyes song out of my head, you know the one.

“I dreamed you were carried away on the crest of a wave, baby don't go away, come here.”

So, my entire morning becomes a pattern of sob, sob, wipe, sink, hum, sniffle...a waltz I don't want to keep time to.

So much has happened since Tim and I Became One. It seems my life is a rub-ix cube that has been set on auto pilot. Shuffle, twist, shift, shuffle, twist. Occasionally, Jesus or Tim or Sweet Heather Marie or even a few kind and wild dogs will hit pause


or at least make a few of the colors match.

“Love is watching someone die.” D for C.

Here's to us.

All I know right now is that school has started, and I feel at peace, probably for the First August Ever. It must be a God thing because, honestly? I can't explain it. This year, I have The Inclusion Class which means any student with Special Needs is included in my room. It has been amazing (so far) but I thought it was going to be a disaster disguised as a job.

....Apraxia....Autism....Battens.....Cancer....Dyslexia....

The list goes on.

I used to go home and cry because I was frustrated but now I go home and cry because I am sad.

But then God constantly reminds me that "Everything I do, I do because I love you."

So I have to go to school and talk to Nick's imaginary friends and help a visually-impaired kiddo find his locker and remember that God's same promise is true for those kids, too.

Because this is my job and because this is the internet, I have to be oh-so-careful about what goes on here.

Work/Sex/Love/Marriage

I realize the older I get, the more cards I have to keep close to my chest which you and I both know I have never been very good at.

But I will tell you that the experience so far has been amazing. I feel like [these kids] are bringing me back to the real reason why I started teaching and I honestly haven't felt that way since I worked in California which leaves me thinking that maybe this is God's way of giving me a colder version of The West Coast.

Who knows, but I do hope it lasts for a long, long time.

Here's to Noel The Kind and Scarlett The Wonder Hound





Love, H.

Well, there are cobwebs where candles once stood and the coffee beans have long gone stale. Ick. There is nothing worse-worse-worse- than bad coffee.

But, summer lends itself to longer days and about an inch more of free time.

So, here I am.

And here we are...staring out the window, clickety-clacking on the keys and humming Iron & Wine.

So much has happened. Come to think of it- what HASN'T happened in the last three months?

All my news? I am getting married in about 23 days. Carmen and I are moving out of Maple Street which is sad and exciting all at the same time.

TGY and I bought a house. I never, ever, ever thought I'd want a house this soon. I wanted a tiny, cramped, historic, urban space with lots of stairs, Russian neighbors, a breakfast nook and an old crotchety land lady. You know, the kinds of places you see in movies.

This is a newly remodeled brick ranch with an old oak tree in the yard and a red front door. It is funny how God works things out. I ask for six, he gives me seven. I wanted a husband. I got a husband AND a teeny tiny dog. We wanted an apartment. He gave us a house. Yowza.

In other news, I ended up Dumpster Diving just to get moving boxes. One of those activities that leaves me thinking, "I am too pretty to be doing this." Haha...I am totally kidding. Well, kind of. :)

And now, for The Biggest Paragraph Ever

To celebrate the end of my sister's Master's program and to take one last "family" vacation before the wedding, my parents and my sister and I took a trip out to a resort in Phoenix. To anyone thinking of taking a pre-wedding-family-style-honeymoon, I highly recommend it. It turned me back into a normal person. I haven't cried in like, 8 days which is a new record since like, April...haha.

Stress.

Anyway, while I was on the plane, I just kept thinking about how much I love to travel. I looked at all the brown and green and tan patches of earth and thought to myself, "this never gets old."

And I hope marriage is a lot like that. I hope in 50 years I am still able to look at Him with awe and wonder at how we managed to build a family and a life together and make it all work. I hope I am still able to look at Him with wonder and awe at how he still manages to love me- cause I know he still will.

And, being in love with Jesus is a lot like that, too which is also kind of cool.

While I was away, I took a snack break with my mom in the room because, let's face it, it is possible to stay in the sun for too long.

Of course, we watched Oprah. There was this gorgeous girl on stage (Kris Carr) who has cancer, and she was amazing. She made a documentary called Crazy Sexy Cancer and She talked about how cancer has been her "guru." It has shown her how to live and now she spends her life trying to make peace with it- just living in "The Now."

And she blew me away.

And I started thinking about how one spring, I got hit by something fast and heavy while crossing the street and I felt like Kris Carr for a long time and then I just...stopped.

I got busy. I got engaged. and somehow I thought that all earned me the right to stop living and start complaining.

So, I bitch. I hate using that word, but there really is no other word to describe it (Carmen, Heather, my mother and Tim can all attest to that).

I have the opportunity to further my education through a Master's program- as a teacher, I- of all people should understand and appreciate the value of gaining more knowledge. It is not a right. It is a privilege. But I don't value it. I abuse it. I cry. I get stressed and I worry and I cry about the papers and the quizzes and the posts.

One day, I sat in church next to a boy who is gentle and handsome and loves Jesus and makes me laugh and one winter, he asked if he could sort of kind of love me forever and I said, "yes."

But I don't enjoy it as much as I should. I bitch. I get busy and stressed and I bitch about everything from the timing of the music to the price of linen table cloths.

My parents offer to pay part of a week-long vacation. We finalize an offer on a house and I stand the middle of my room with a half-empty suitcase and home loan paperwork and I scream at Carmen about how, "it's all too much!"

So anyway, enough of that for now. If I had a tiny leaf here, I would turn it over as a symbol of a life with a lot more living and much less grumbling.

I need to put my money where my mouth is and take my Bald and Handsome Husband to Europe. I need to spring for the teeny-tiny-back-tattoo. I need to write that book that keeps tapping my shoulder like a pesky little brother. I need to fish or cut bait.

So, here's to us. Find something you've always wanted to do, and do it.

I'll cheat and say first on the list is "Get Married." :)

"Don't complain. Just work harder." - Randy Pausch

Love, H.


PS. The walls are bare.