So. I'm sorry? I made some lists...

I haven't written in almost a MONTH. a month. Sheesh. (But I was kinda busy. Not an excuse, I know. But I'm going to try and parlay it for one. 'Kay? Good.)

Also, my camera is on the fritz. Circling the drain. Headed south. That is, I've no pictures of our new abode as of yet. And I don't think you would want to see anyway because there's still boxes everywhere and pictures leaning against walls and a general disarray that lends no beauty to photographs. Unless it's like hipster messy. You know, like when artists are featured on a blog and they are trying to come across as so cool they don't even care if their bed is unmade? Yeah. It's not even like that.

Since the earlier part of May, aka the alleged date of my last post, we've done a lot of things. Even things before then that I didn't blog about. Like go see Noah graduate and get commissioned as an officer in the Navy. That was at the end of April. I didn't even tell you! Shoot. It was awesome. I loved America before, but boy do I love her now. Brought a tear to my eye. And I'm so proud of my big brother. So proud.

And then we moved. A week-long logistical extravaganza, you might say, that ended in sunny Charleston, SC. Since that day, Andrew has set a date for his master's defense and his start date at WMI. I've started full time at the hospital. (Hooray!) We've joined and plugged in to St. Andrew's City Church (total awesomeness). I helped throw a supercute (if I do say so myself) baby shower for Summer in Hendersonville. We celebrated two years of marriage (woot!). We're on the waiting list for a puppy (be. still. my. heart.) We've been to the beach, grilled out, gone for long walks, watched movies, hung out with friends, and generally enjoyed summertime and togetherness. It's been so good. This is the life.  One evening after dinner we were just chatting and cleaning up and really came to the realization of how good we have it. We have it so good. Thank you, Jesus. Thank you and Amen.

So now. Here's the goal over the next few weeks.
1. Finish the house. Maybe not like tooootally finish, but hang the rest of the pictures and get organized. You know. A house that's a home is never really finished, right?
2. Go to the beach 100 million times. This one's priority.
3. Paint some furniture. Pretty excited about this one.
4. Rest and enjoy life with my love.

It's a pretty good list. Not too lofty, but a few goals that need motivation and motion behind them. I've got a few other goals for the summer though, including but not limited to:
1. Purchasing a beach cruiser.
2. Obtaining some new furniture. I've got a list. It's a long one. Probably won't get it all this summer, but maybe a few pieces.
3. Couch to 5k.
4. Fishing
5. Make one of the more complicated homemade ice cream recipes with our ice cream maker.
6. Sew new throw pillows with some leftover fabric. Recycling. Ah.
7. Read books that make me smarter. But also that I enjoy.
8. Write a new song. Haven't done this in a while, but I think I'd like to give it a shot.
9. Beg, borrow, steal or buy a new camera. Hopefully not steal. That would be trouble.
10. Make more trips to GoodWill. Simplify is a good word to think on.
11. Keep up with blogging! YES!

Like I said, not limited to. And since I'm the editor of this list I can, of course, edit things out. Or in. :) I like being editor.

So there you have it. A small summary, but hopefully has y'all up to speed. Two things before I go:
1. I'm obsessed with Pinterest.
2. Congratulations and best wishes to Zach and Cristin on their engagement!!! Love you guys and can't wait to celebrate with y'all!

Arrivederci!

Cheers!

It's official. We're headed South at the beginning of May. Well, South-er. To the Lowcountry, the glorious Lowcountry. Andrew accepted an engineering job at WaterMissions International where he will lend his hand and heart in saving thousands of lives annually by providing potable water to many of our great globe's poorest of poor and to those in the midst of disaster. I am so. incredibly. proud. I couldn't be prouder.

This weekend we made like Elmer Fudd and went "hunting wabbit", so to speak, only our wabbit has a door and four walls and a 12 month lease. We were quite successful, if I do say so myself, and ended our huntin' day with a sizable catch: a little brick row house in the Old Village. We are so excited! We can walk to the Pitt Street bridge, ride our bikes to Sullivan's Island, brunch at the Village Bakery...ah. I can't wait!

It's a funny thing, going home. Although I will be moving back to my hometown, my mind understands that it really will never be the home of my childhood, even if my heart is still lagging behind a bit. Because when you get dropped off at college, it doesn't really register that it's the end. The end of childhood, the end of things being as they once were. The end of free and easy as you know it. And it's a good thing. It really is. Children are supposed to grow up and become independent, mature adults. They are supposed to move out, get married, move away, and start families of their own. But sometimes, I wish I could close my eyes and go back. Back to Christmas morning with just the five of us and Muffin, too. Back to the sound of the clanging triangle signaling time to come home. Back to pizza toast and grape Kool-aid and a treat before choir practice. Back to Cove Creek and Red Eye, Manhunt, Dodgeball and Red Rover. Just for a second.

But. [And there is always a but.] I know that I can't. I can only reminisce and thank the Lord for my parents and siblings and what a fantastic childhood I had. I am in love with the man of my mother's prayers and thank goodness and praise the Lord he agreed to marry me. I went to an amazing university (Go Tigers!) and fulfilled my 14 year-old dream of becoming a nurse. I don't want to go back, because if I did, I would be missing all of this. The goodness of what is happening right now at this time, in this moment in my life. And it is good, so good. And who knows what comes next?! Only God knows, ain't that the Truth. So here's to the future--the exciting, scary, delicious, romantic, rocky, hilarious, hectic, wonderful, adventurous, unknown future--here's to it.

Here's to a brick-front townhouse off of Center Street, a new job, another season of life. Breathe in, breathe out, say a thankful prayer and move forward.

Shocking, I know.

Two posts a day apart??? Keep breathing, Reader. Boredom begets many a blog post.

Have I introduced you to this cat?

I didn't think I had....here he is, sunning on our stoop. He lives around our little duplex, and belongs to someone, but we don't know who. (I think he has an owner--Andrew thinks he's feral). But he loves me. I mean, seriously. Cat will be waiting in the driveway when I come home to Chapel Hill after a work week. (Andrew says he loves everyone, but I'm convinced. It's me.)

I don't know his name--sometimes I call him Basil, (with a short 'a', like the Brits), sometimes I call him Marbles. But mostly I just call him Buddy Boy or Sugar Pie or Honey Bear or Muffin Pants or some such endearment. I really don't even know if he is, in fact, a he. But what I do know is that this cat meows and meows and meows and rubs and rubs and rubs until you pet him and sit down and let him climb up and make himself comfortable in your lap. How could a cat this sweet be feral??? And how could he not want to run away and live with us for the rest of his nine lives? I think he wants to.

Now, before you go callin' me Cat Lady and buying me long denim jumpers for Christmas, let it be known that I love this cat because he is nice. Lots of felines are not nice. Not nice at all, i.e. you unwittingly reach out to pet them and subsequently pull back a bloody nub. But this kitty is a nice kitty.

So what if he faintly smells of dirt and dead animal. (It's true. Gross. I know. But hey, cat's gotta survive in the wild, right? King of the Jungle and all that. And vigorous hand washing after petting.)

I'm thinking he probably won't be coming with us when we move. Andrew already said I couldn't steal him. Durn.

What ha' happened was...

Andrew got me flowers for Valentine's Day. {Awwwwww!}

Dane asked Meghan to be his Lawfully Wedded Wife! {Awwwww, a second time!}

At some point I made Ree's Meatloaf for dinner.

And took pictures of it. All whilst my husband sat salivating by. How cruel.

Andrew and I went to "Science Day" at a local elementary school to help four classes of 3rd graders "swab" the environment and inoculate agar plates. Except you can't use words like "inoculate" and "agar". You have to say "smear the q-tip on the jello".

He wears his Toms every day of the week. And I like it.

Little bird, little bird--brush your gray wings on my head...{tweet, tweet!}

Spring, come on down!

I know I have previously confessed to you my fatal flaw of willing the next season to hurry up and get here...well, let me just sheepishly raise my hand and mutter, "guuuiiiiiilty", because Spring has sprung, whether or not it's reflected in the calendar date or the weatherman's forecast. Spring officially begins March 20th. But who wants to wait for twenty.more.days? Not I, said the fly.

For some reason, with every first bloom of the Bradford Pear trees, I am compelled to paint my finger and toe nails a bright, sunny shade of something deliciously girly and happy. This year it's the old cheeky standby, Cajun Shrimp. My good man.

Of course, I have more selfish reasons to encourage the coming of Spring--only eight more weeks-ish of driving back and forth, back and forth. I am ready to be a full time wife again. I miss my hubby every day that I'm not with him. It's time to reunite for good. Period. End of story. Thanksverymuch. Take a bow. The End. Fin. I can hardly believe that we have been doing this for six months already. Time flies when you're on the highway two days a week. (That's not how the saying goes, but...still. Time flies.)

How'd we do it?? Well my first answer is I HAVE NO IDEA. But upon ruminatin' a little more, I would say, 1. iChat, 2. Free Audiobooks app on our iPod, 3. Prayer and compromise. (Number three's a two-fer, but four is just an awkward number for a list, don't y'all think?) iChat kept us sane--seeing someone while you're talking with them makes a huge difference. Free Audiobooks have improved my vocabulary and my education instead of allowing me to follow my compulsion to mash "scan" over and over again until I know the song on the radio. And prayer and compromise...well you can probably guess that being apart the majority of the time is tough cookies. Like old leather tough. You get selfish with your time--and when I say you, Reader, I mean I. All of those, and knowing it's not forever has helped me keep my head on straight. As opposed to it spinning off into orbit. We've come close, but--so far-- still attached.

Anyway, Happy Early Spring to you and yours. Regardless of the calendar, my attitude is of Springtime, my heart says it is so. So it must be. :)

Bonne Saint Valentin!

To my one and only Valentine,

I love you to the moon and back, forever and a day. You're the syrup to my waffles, the creamer to my coffee, the jelly to my toast.

You just make everything sweeter!

Happy Valentine's Day, everyone! On a day all about love, don't forget to tell the ones you love the most how much they mean to you. Hallmark may be making a killing, but Love wins in the end.

Mary had a baby, yes, Lord!

If you squint, screw your face up the right way and look closely at the snow-covered house, you will see a lady beckoning at the door for the sleigh riders to hurry on to the house. Likely for cider, hot chocolate or some such delightful confection. In another dimension, that's me.

In this dimension, this is me. Leggings, hoodie, amazing knit socks from Loose Lucy's or Granny's Goodies (can't remember which), and of course a Christmas apron if there's baking to be done. And there's always baking to be done.

When I went home this weekend to Andrew, Christmas came with me, wrapped around my shoulders and tied around my heart. I finished up decorating the apartment, (also known as getting our Christmas tree), mandated (nicely) that Christmas music be the only music played, and made PW's blackberry cobbler for dessert one night. I would have taken pictures, but I've realized by now that if you're at all savvy at this whole blogging/internet thing, you've probably met The Pioneer Woman.

On Friday night Andrew and I went to the Varsity theater on Franklin Street in Chapel Hill, (kind of like the Astro (may she rest in peace) for all you Tiger fans), bought Salted Caramel Hot Chocolates from Starbucks, (recommendation, YES), and took in It's a Wonderful Life on the big screen in good old fashioned black and white. I loved every minute of it.

On Saturday, we got up bright at early at the frigid crack of nine thirty and made it over to Rob and Ann's house in Raleigh. They had graciously retrieved our Christmas tree from the mountains of North Carolina for us and we were just going to pick up our adopted baby tree and bring him to his new home. As we were heading out to the car Ann shouted, "look!", and sure enough: snow. It snowed on Saturday from about two o'clock onward, enough that our neighbors made a really big, sad, dirty snowman. College kids. Can't live with 'em (germs), can't keep 'em from playing bad electric guitar at all hours. By Sunday afternoon, the snow had burned off, but the cold dug in his icy heels and had decided to extend his stay.

And now this. We had requested a "table-top" tree from Rob and Ann, and a table-top tree is what we got. Short. Little. Table-top. Perfect. Only problem is, our table top that we were going to put our table-topper on was apparently too tall for our table-top tree. So our tree ended up on the floor like a regular, read: tall, tree and is more like a Christmas bush than a tree. "Oh, Christmas bush, oh, Christmas bush, how hearty your diameter..."

I'm almost 5'3" but I was wearing probably two inch clogs in this picture. So, I'm about 5'5" in this pic. (OOooOO, go me!) However, if you forget that little (get it) detail, and look at this photograph long enough, I kind of look like a giant. Kind of.

Never have I ever felt closer to the heavens. "Angels from the realms of glory, wing your flight o'er all the earth...!" Whew! I'm out of breath. You know, lack of oxygen at these high altitudes... :)

In no particular order.

The kitchen sink area. Yes, that is a miniature "The David" sculpture. 

Fridge and washer. And trashcan. Ew, sorry. Note, nut wreath of awesomeness from last year.

Stove and coffee area looking into the hallway.

On top of the fridge--fruit bowl, winery, greenhouse, and mixer.

Fuel station.

Kitchen sink again.

El Bano. Eez tiny. So tiny that there is no good angle to show much of anything. Obviously, that's the back of the bog.

Page from a book taped to the glass of an old frame. And a shell. :)

Yup. Blue sink. Blue tub. Black and white checked floor. Awesome.

Blue tub.

Our kitchen table--used to be an old library table, so we stuck with that theme and added a vintage desk lamp, a stack of cookbooks, a photograph of a kid looking at a globe at school (that my dad took, btw),  and a wall map (shower curtain in the kids' section at Target!)

The living room of Christmastimes. The plate of ornaments is just waiting for the tree.

Kitchen table again. (Hence the "no particular order" title.)

Coffee table decor.

Couch times complete with a Christmas tartan.

The view from the front door--you can see straight back to the bedroom. The little tear drop door hanging will eventually have mistletoe. Right now it's just pine cones and ribbon.

Our amazingly comfy and warm bed! We didn't have a headboard and some of the walls in our apartment are not nail friendly, so we kind of had to work around that to get a little Christmas in our bedroom.

I'm pretty sure I will keep these lights up forever. The Noel pillow was a birthday gift from my sister--and I LOVE IT!

LOVES.

Looking from the bedroom towards the front.

I added a little Christmas to the lampshade by hanging my Grandmother's crocheted snowflakes to the rim. Perfect touch, methinks!

Is this real life? 

I didn't have to pee in the woods. But I would have if it came down to it.

My life is straight-up bananas right now. So sorry if my lack of blogging has messed up your morning routine. But I'm not going to tell you a sob story about how busy I am. 'Cuz I don't have time for that.

So. Andrew and I both grew up camping every summer and sometimes fall. Ironically enough, my family went from the beach to the mountains, just minutes from Andrew's parents' house and Andrew's family went from the mountains to the beach, a few hours north of my parents' house. We probably passed each other on the highway. Good thing we didn't meet back then though. I was pretty squirrely. Like I'm not now. Right.

Anyway, Andrew and I decided to take our first fledgling camper steps as newlyweds last weekend, at a state park only a half hour from our apartment. We kept it simple--tent, stove, sleeping bags--got everything in the car and headed out Friday afternoon to spend the night in the woods. (Which has always been kind of been an enigma to me. But whatever.)

Plastic bins always get the job done.

We got to the campground just as the sun was setting--we tried and tried to get there before dark, but Ranger Rick and his Girlscout assistant gave us a site that already had someone in it so we had to go back to their little hut and switch sites. We ended up pitching our tent and starting the fire during the wee twilight hours of the evening. (This has nothing to do with vampires, for those of you who's hearts just skipped a beat).

I built the fire, Andrew pitched the tent. Contraptions are not my thing.

We decided to be super low maintenance in the grub department: hot dogs, baked beans, and s'mores for dinner and coffee and biscuits on a stick for breakfast, granola bars while we were ABSOLUTELY DYING for our biscuits to get done. Easy peasy lemon squeesy. I can't say much for the nutritional value of these meals, but who counts calories while they're camping? You look like a swamp creature anyway, (remember you forsook your nice warm bed to sleep on a leaky air mattress in the middle of the woods that happens to be less than two miles from the highway. And BONUS, it's frickin' freezing Mr. Bigglesworth.), so who cares if you feel a bit squidgy around the middle, too. Right? Right. I love camping.

I know what you must be asking yourself: what on earth is a biscuit on a stick??? Well, Reader, they are only the most delightful, if just a hair troublesome, camping breakfast foodstuff that will ever cross your lips in the pale blush hours of the morning.

What you need:

Biscuits
Sticks
Fire
Critical Thinking Skills

Acute hunger makes men do crazy things.

YUM!

We filled ours with grape jelly, but you could use honey, butter, strawberry jam, chocolate...oh, the possibilities!

Our first solo camping trip was a great success--we enjoyed ourselves immensely and might even do it again sometime. Heh, heh. Although if I had to choose camping or Christmas, I'd choose Christmas.

Speaking of Christmas!...I started decorating this weekend. I KNOW! My obsession is out of control. But I just love it. Pictures will follow forthwith!

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times...

Except this ain't Paris.

I don't believe in the mountaintop--valley undulation of life. I believe that there are always good things and hard things happening in a person's life at the same time. There are always things to be thankful for. And things to pray fervently for. Things to cry about. Things to laugh about. The principal drivers of this concept, however, are perspective and disposition. You can always look at the bright side, denying that any wrong ever overtook you. Or you can be Debbie Downer and latch on to the negative aspects of any situation and deem your scenario doomed from the start. I hope to be neither, but with God's grace and wisdom, praise Him for the blessings and ask for strength and perseverance during trials and tribulations. Yes, Lord and Amen.

Of course. Here I am, two weeks in to my new job and nomadic lifestyle, missing my husband and my old,  "comfortable" life terribly. I understand now, why God was so frustrated with the Israelites for wanting to go back to Egypt. They had forgotten all that He had done and all of the promises He fulfilled. Yes, three days after witnessing the miraculous parting of the Red Sea, having nothing to drink, they looked at each other in dismay and said, "What shall we drink???" I think God may have said something along the lines of, "what the...?"

Two weekends ago, (which seems like an eternity!), Andrew and I packed up our apartment and moved 15 minutes up the road to good ol' Chapel Hill. Sounds simple, right? WRONG. It's amazing how much CRAPOLA one can accumulate in a year. All occasion cards and seasonal decorations. Bills and coupons. Office supplies and camping gear. Not to mention furniture. Oy vey! It was just the two of us and because of my schedule we had basically 36 workable hours to get everything packed, moved, and unpacked to a livable state. Friday night, Saturday day and evening, Sunday morning and early afternoon. It was hellacious. There's no other word. We were both tired to begin with and we just didn't realize how much stuff we had. Plus, since we hadn't seen each other in a week we really just wanted to relax and hang out. And I had a bad attitude. Whoops? Sorry, Andrew. Anyway, we did get everything done, just in the nick of time. We even got our monstrous couch in the narrow front door by removing the screen door, the front door, the couch legs, and pushing and pulling like freakin' lumberjacks with one of those big ol' toothy saws! YEAH! A big ol' toothy saw! Ahem. We got the couch in without [really] damaging anything. Much.

The chaos. PS, Thanks, Ulta, for all the boxes. And a great summer.

So, we moved from here to there, from hither to thither. When I get off of work on Thursday, I will be going home to hopefully put our little bungalow to rights, so that we have a comfy, cozy, albeit teensy-weensy, apartment to call casita. Pray for us.

In other news, Brad and Cory got hitched this weekend in a beautiful, God-filled ceremony in Hendersonville, NC.

The newly minted Coopers!

Yay for weddings and yay for marriage! Cowabunga, dudes. I gotta go to sleep.

First things first.

So, y'know how there's that understood chain of events that happens once you meet "The One"? Like...love...really love...engaged...naivete...married...more naivete...decorating the nursery...babies...etcetera. Well, in between the "married...babies"...I've been told that certain happenings should take place in order to deem one ready for los bebes. It's called the, "Can you keep a living thing alive?" test. And it starts with houseplants.

Remember when I planted my herb garden on the porch? Yes? Basil, Rosemary, Thyme, Mint...all delicious, aromatic and lovely little organisms. Well, I also have a few other houseplants just for the decor factor, and with a few cuttings here and there as well. Here's how they're all doing:

"Devil's Ivy" or Pothos plant--thriving!

Clipping of Pothos--precious!

Philodendron--growing!

Philodendron clipping--perfect!

Herb fiesta--three out of four?

So.....if you did not notice....I'm missing an herb. Cue the funeral dirge--the Thyme died. Dead as a doornail. Or a doorknob. Or a stone. Dead and gone, as T.I. would say. We went on vacation and, alas, the Thyme was not hearty enough to withstand the hot, hot heat of a southeastern summer.

Ok, the plants and babies theory: apparently, the order is plants, fish, dog, baby. If you can keep the three previous living things alive and healthy, it's a good indication of your readiness for the responsibility of a bambino, (according to someone). Basically, if we do some simple math, I'm at approximately an 86% success rate, (I'm counting the clippings as one plant). YIKES. If I was a goldfish I would be hoarding food flakes and hiding in my plastic tank castle.

AnyHOW, regardless of Andrew's and my proximity to reproducing a squishy, pooping, screaming, delightfully cute little rugrat, we are definitely getting one of these regardless of how the whole fish thing turns out:

Oh, hello, Love! (Vizsla puppies...me wantie).

Can we all say a collective, "yes, please!" In fact, let's skip the fish and cut to the chase, ignoring my slightly brown thumb altogether: I gotta get me a puppy dog!