Not Another Abandoned Blog

This may be more for me than it is for you, but I just have to make something clear: this is not an abandoned blog.

I understand what happens when blogs aren't written in enough, when the writer walks away never to look back, or gives up because he or she can't keep up. But this girl is not going to abandon this blog.

Recent readers may have come across this blog and find that it hasn't been written in for awhile and never return. That "follow" button may go unclicked because the content is neither interesting nor frequent, but I'm working on it. Readers will return, or there will be new ones, or I'll just go on to make a new blog (the link of which will be posted on here for anyone who may somehow be interested).

Writers write because the words eat their way out eventually. The need for expression through words is a weight that cannot be bore for long before it becomes crippling. Sometimes so crippling that the words all come out at once and can't be sorted to make logical sense.

So, as I do school and try to work despite the copious number of homework assignments, as I try to balance classes with cooking and cleaning and making money so that my dear husband is not the sole provider, I promise this semester, this year, to make time to write something that is not a required assignment.

As the creator and author of this blog, I will breath new life into it and do my best to make it something that may bring hope, inspiration, and at least entertainment to you. Whoever you are.

Just wait and see.

Making Sense of Purpose

We often have goals for where we want to be in the next five years (lately, I've heard a lot about the "5-yr plan" wondering, "where's mine?"), but we can never really know where we will be in the next five years. I know that you know this, so stick with me here.

Lately, I have struggled to understand exactly what I am supposed to be doing with my life. I don't mean in five years, I mean right now. Anyone with me on this? I feel like an alien in the world I'm currently living, just waiting to feel acclimated to this life. I have so many questions like, am I where I am supposed to be in life right now? What's next? Where will I be in the next five years (or two, even)?

I know I'm not the only one who feels this way, but here on campus it seems everyone is just on their one-track paths booking it toward the finish line, and here I am wandering aimlessly without a distinctive path. It's just dried-up desert land. If I scream, will I be heard?

I take comfort, I have to take comfort, in knowing that even my thoughts are heard, and that when I cry out, it doesn't fall on deaf ears, or even merely soil. I am heard, and even though I don't know where I'm going right now, there is a  plan set just for me, and I can't make the wrong decision.

I have this theory that even when we make the "wrong" decision, it's the right one. Sometimes taking the wrong path at first helps us see what we are really supposed to be doing in the long-run. When we experience failure, we learn what doesn't work, and in turn, what does. When we live in uncertainty, we learn to depend on God, and more deeply understand that we as humans know nothing and have no control over the long-term plans.

All we can do is continue to put one foot in front of the other, even if we are teetering like toddlers. If we fall, we'll get back up. If we go the wrong way, we'll find arms reaching out, waving us in another direction.

Here's a parallel for life from that example: Toddlers have very little, often no sense of danger. Parents are often seen running behind them, bent over with their arms out to guard them. When the little one comes to the top of a stairway, they have no clue that one misstep could send them toppling down the stairs, so they don't understand when their parents turn them in another direction. Like learning toddlers, we have no idea what danger the next step could bring. When we are turned in a different direction it's frustrating. But we have to recognize that we don't know what dangers the next step could have brought, and have faith that we're better off going whichever way we have been pointed, until the next re-direction.

This is how we can know our purpose. To continue taking everything in stride, working faithfully toward what we believe we are supposed to work for. If we are wrong, it will be made known in time, because our Father will always turn us back in the direction He wants us.

Keep working at what you're doing, and do it faithfully. It may seem insignificant now, it may be testing your patience, but stick with it and you will see the purpose of it all. It may take years, but if you're doing it, you have purpose.

Keep going. I will, too.

2000 Page Views!

Well hello there. After weeks of learning how to juggle life (and dropping things many times), I have some (at least to me) exciting news. My blog has had 2000 page views... as of today! It's also been somewhere around a year now since I started this blog. How lucky was I to log on and see this perfect number.

In celebration, I will go out to dinner this weekend.

Actually, I was already going to do that. This weekend is in fact Mr. Wonderful's birthday. Really, I'm so excited I could poo. (Name that quote in the comments below! Feel awesome for a day.)

I am finally getting into a rhythm being back in school, and thank the good Lord above, because I really felt like I was sinking. Drowning, actually, in paperback textbooks and guided reading assignments. Oh, and the poetry, Lord help me with the poetry!

I used to love writing poems. Really, I did. Until I found out that I suck at it. Does it matter how the "conventions" are if people legitimately like it already? Seriously... my self confidence has really taken a hit in my poetry class. And to be honest, I don't even like some of the "professional writer" poems that we read in class. They're dry. They're boring. They don't mean anything more to me than the stuff I write matters to my professor.

There are some really good poets, with poems so cleverly designed I can probably only dream of ever writing like them. When I try, oh boy... let's just say when a wanna-be poet sees a "C" on her first poem for poetry class, the emotion that gushes forth isn't pretty. I mean, come on, think poet here. Emotion... yeah. You'd think a good poem would come of that, but no, just goober and snot, and angry words on a page. Nobody wants to read your anger. Frustration, maybe, injustice, for sure. Angry words written to a college professor, nope!

Not to make you think poetry class is my life or anything. Poetry doesn't even take up a corner of my life, it's like 10%. Probably less, even. It's just the one that has broken me the most, maybe. The other classes are much more time-consuming and technical, and I won't burden you with the load of information I cram into my poor brain's throat every day. (Brains don't eat, I know this, but I'm a writing major, not biology, and just take in that visual, okay? Now you're getting it.)


I'm hoping sometime soon, I'll be able to clean my apartment and invite some friends over. Seriously, I haven't cleaned at all since we moved in (not that we've been home to make a mess), and I also haven't spent time with any of my dear ladies in over a month!

Oh, except for my dear German who was visiting last month! I'm so glad I could have her stay with me the last week. It was so much fun comparing how the school systems here and in Germany are so different. I so wish I would have had less work to do while she was staying with me.

Something must change about that. Soon. Very soon, things will be different. My apartment will be clean and the laughter of beautiful women and the smell of cheesy garlic bread and spaghetti will fill it.

So, as I have a battle of wills with God and my husband, who both tell me to do things contrary to what I would like to be doing (i.e. not suffering through schoolwork), I wish you all the best in your many endeavors. May you feel perfectly and pleasantly whelmed, nothing more, nothing less.

Here's to the next year of blogging.

So Much Life, So Little Time

After so many weeks of quiet from my end of the internet, I finally have a moment to write (and not for a class). Yes, I chose to do it here.

The beginning of school came too early for me this year, honestly. I was working every night at the MN State Fair, and the day after class started Mr. Wonderful and I had to move. We both started the semester really strong... behind in every class. We are actually caught up by now, but other areas of life have suffered. For instance, most of our belongings are still in boxes (especially kitchen things), and I haven't cooked a single meal in over two weeks (you're killing me, smalls!). The area of life that has suffered the most, though, is my time with my dear husband.

I know, wa, wa, wa, cry me a river, right? Well, not for me. I need that time; I crave it! My love language is quality time, and without it, there is little thought or feeling of love received from my end. I feel so alone. If life had a pause button, I would certainly be pushing it the next time my spouse and I are home together.

So, as I look at what comes up on the horizon, all I see are piles of homework and work shifts that begin after (or during) dinner and drag on until midnight. Maybe someday we'll have the chance to sit at home together and enjoy our new place, unpack boxes, and feel relaxed and at home. Not this week, though.

Okay, so there's my outlet for complaining. I'm having a hard time seeing the upside to life right now. Pray for me?

On the other hand, Mr. Wonderful and I are both gainfully employed, and I am back in school (even if it might be the death of me). Also, our new apartment is more affordable, and somehow we have more space! It's quite wonderful. I'm excited to make it home.

Also, it's 9/11 today, so I don't plan to only focus on myself. I never write too much about this day, because honestly, it's overdone. I don't feel that I was close enough to the incident to really make any calls on it. I have no gushing poem, no emotional essay, no exhaustive account of "where I was that day." Just this:

I am so grateful to those who were willing to risk their lives to save others. I am thankful to live in a nation that can be shaken to its core and still rise from the ashes fighting. I am proud to live in a country blessed by people who continue to try, even when it seems everything has been taken away from them; and for people who help heal and protect those who have lost everything. Thank you to our soldiers, the firefighters, cops, and police enforcement officers who train hard and risk their lives on a daily basis, and who are willing to risk their lives in a tragedy like the one that took place eleven years ago. You are uncommon people to come by. May God bless you and your families, and also those who were close to the tragedy that day.

Note to self: School will make me a better, more prepared writer for life's future endeavors. Be thankful for life's opportunities, others are frequently robbed of them.

Note to readers: Thanks for reading. Those tiny little spikes on my reader stats poll keep me going some days. It's nice to see that somehow, this might all be worth it someday.

Grown-up Raspberry Lemonade

If you know me well, you know I love making up on-the-spot recipes with whatever I have laying around. I love it with the intensity of one thousand burning suns.

Okay, maybe not that much. But who doesn't enjoy the feeling of creating? Making new things, broadening horizons, expanding the palette?

Well, this one doesn't exactly "expand the palette", but it did have me beaming. It also turned my husband into a drink-stealing ninja.

Grown-up Raspberry Lemonade

Hubs really wanted pop yesterday (Minnesotans say, "pop"), so we went and got some 25 cent drink at Rainbow. Oh, cheap but close-to-the-real-thing sodas, how I equally love and loath your existence! 

Being not much of a pop drinker, I was grateful for his buying me one, but also had to figure out what to do with it to make it, well, something I actually wanted to consume. This, this lovely, delicious, sweet, mouth-watering treat of a drink, was the result.

Surely this will be in heaven. Minus the cheapie soda.

Friends, I tell you. If you're an enjoyer of the occasional alcoholic beverage, you must try this drink. Especially if you like lemonades! You owe yourself this favor. And this lemonade... it's all grown up.

And the recipe is:

Grown-up Raspberry Lemonade

1 can of carbonated lemon-lime drink (sprite, 7-up, Sierra Mist, what have you)

1/2 packet Crystal Light raspberry lemonade

1/2 tbsp rum

Combine and stir.

Add a slice of lemon and you've got yourself your own little party for one!

I'll be honest, here. I didn't use the whole can of pop. The whole contents wouldn't fit in the glass, and I just couldn't leave one sip in there all by its lonesome. It probably wouldn't make a difference to add the rest, though.

Happy weekend! Please drink responsibly.

Real Conversations I've had with My Husband 8/11/12

 Ok, friends, I know you love these, so here you go. It's hard to keep track of our ridiculous conversations word-for-word, but when I get the chance I put them down as quickly as I can so I don't forget them. So here are more "Real Conversations I've had with My Husband". I hope you have a good laugh -- we sure did.

Mr. "Wonderful' wasn't listening while I was talking one night, so when he tried to reiterate what I had said he got it totally wrong, and realized he was caught. He made a face, so I laughed and asked him, "Why are you so weird?" as I crawled into his chair to cuddle with him while picking on him.

"Because I'm weird," was his reply.

"You're weird because you're weird?" I asked.

"Yup!" he yelled and hugged me closer, nuzzling the side of my face.

I made some happy gurgle-type noises, and he said, "Oh good, happy gibberish!" and snuggled me again.

I know I just don't say this enough, but this is what I live with, people! We really do have fun.

I'm not the only one fluent in gibberish, though. Another day, after watching a favorite television show, I turned to him, snuggled up close, and gave him a loving smile. It was a pretty sappy moment, and he started dramatically exclaiming, "Oh, Bre. Oh, Bre. Oh, Bre, oh Bre!" and then he made a noise that was sort of like, "RoaaAaaaugh!"

I looked at him, laughing, and asked, "What?!" to which his reply was, "Gremlin."

Then he said, "For my next impression: pterodactyl." And putting his hand in his mouth, made a noise close to "Roararargh!" Which made us both laugh.

"And for my next," he said, trying not to laugh, "Jaguar velociraptor! Aaaaar *gag*" And we laughed even harder.

And lastly, he ended with one more noise, which sounded very much like all the others, "aaaaaauraugh!" When I asked him what that one was, he added very simply, "Baby." We laughed our hardest after this one in particular.

When this was all done, I opened up the computer, and he knew without asking that all this ridiculousness was going on my blog, so he left the room in a huff. But in a kind of humorous huff. He's not mad, though maybe a tad embarrassed. As he should be.

He is so goofy and I love him for it. So much.

Our Story: A Ring and a Dream

Two days ago my husband and I completely neglected to acknowledge the anniversary of a pretty important day in our life history - our engagement. We're married now, so who really cares anyway, but still. I have to admit I felt like a bum of a wife, but what about that husband of mine? It's not like he remembered to bring it up, either. In fact, he worked until midnight that day. Yeah, that's right. Hardly even saw him. Just proving once again that we're not the types to use any excuse to celebrate. But we do celebrate when we feel the occasion. Mostly, we like it when it's just us, together.

It's okay, though. I got to hang out with a pretty cool former roommate of mine after she got off work at the STATE CAPITOL! That's right, we're growing up. I have a friend who works for the Republican party of the state of Minnesota. Okay, she doesn't get paid, but she's a recent grad and politicians don't technically have to pay their help. It's called an internship. But she does get to go to ritzy parties and schmooze with the higher-ups. Pretty cool.

Point is, I wasn't lonely, it was still a good time. However, I did miss the opportunity to update this on time to keep current events, well, *current*. To push it even further back, the next day, Mr. Wonderful and I said, "to heck with the world and responsibility!" and spent a day hanging out together, just being friends. So we did technically celebrate the day he gave me a pretty ring that he actually shouldn't have been able to afford.

Enough presentation. Here's the story you've all been waiting for:

Next week Garth and I are going to family camp with his family. We seriously gave up our date for the month, and our trip north to go to Sonshine Festival just so we could go. I know, most people don't give up their romantic dates for time with their in-laws; but this place is really important to him, and in turn, has become quite important to me.

The first year Garth's family went to Camp Okoboji, Garth was an infant. So, his second year there he was only one year old, and so on and so forth. He and his family have been going there every summer for his entire life. It's not a part of the summer he's willing to give up. I have been going with them since year two of our relationship, because we met in high school, and the first summer we were dating my dad said there was "absolutely no way" I would be going camping with my boyfriend. So, this will be my fourth year going to camp.

The second year I went to camp with Garth and his family, Garth had a surprise for me.

This is hard to admit, but the first year we were dating, Garth took a very strong position on his desire to marry me. I didn't want to talk about it for fear of being foolish and naive, so it hardly ever came up; but eventually we did start to discuss the possibility. As we got to know each other more, we talked about what we wanted to do when we grew up; what kind of house we each wanted to live in, number of future kids we expected to have, when we wanted to get married, and how we'd take it all in stride in God's timing. Except for my condition that I needed at least six months to plan a wedding, which I guess would have been negotiable, because things always are with God, but I was pretty stubborn about it. When he discovered that I wanted a winter wedding, he thought it was a cool idea, and I suppose he kind of just kept that in mind.

A few days before camp I had made plans to hang out with Garth after I got done babysitting. He told me he had to work during the time I would be babysitting, and that he would call me when he got done. I was oh so unsuspecting.

Here's what I didn't know: Garth did not have to work. In fact, that morning, he called his dad and found that he was not seeing patients, picked up his father, and took him out of town. They went to a local jewelery store in Rochester, MN, and bought a ring.

I should mention something here. Wait, swallow whatever you're drinking. This one's a doozy... Garth was still eighteen. He had just about two months earlier graduated from high school. Don't ask me what we were thinking. That we could love each other forever, I suppose. So far, we haven't been wrong.

Back to the story. You want me to finish this one, trust me.

So we hung out that night. He had the ring in his pocket, "just in case." I never even knew. So there we were, sitting on the couch of friends whose house I was staying in while they were on vacation - him buzzing with an excitement, a secret, that I wasn't even aware of.

"I'm excited for camp." He announced, then added, decisively, "We're going to go on lots of walks."

"Oh are we?" I looked at him, wondering where he was coming from. It was going to be my second year there, I knew the grounds.

"Yup. I want to take you on the trails."

I didn't remember any trails, but not knowing him to be a liar, I figured I just missed out the year before. "Okay, so should I bring my camera? Oh! And a dress, so we can take cool pictures? I need some new, good pictures of me."

"Yeah, oh yes, bring a camera, and a dress." His face just shined.

A few days later, when we got to camp and got our schedules, he sat me down and wanted to decide when we would go on our walk. We decided to go the next morning, as it was supposed to rain later in the week. He acted a lot like it was a very big decision, but I thought maybe he was just happy to be at camp. I also still thought there must be some pretty cool trails that he was excited to finally show me.

The next morning I put on my dress, grabbed my camera, and we headed toward the door. I stopped, realizing I forgot something, "I forgot to put on my rings!" I said, feeling a little bare without the two rings my mom had given me as gifts. My sisters both had rings that matched. "You don't need them right now," was Garth's reply. Then he grabbed my hand and said, "let's go to the beach!"

Yeah, I should have seen it there, but I still wasn't getting it.

When we got to the beach, we went straight to the shore, at the base of the cross that stands there. I took a few pictures, because it was a bright, beautiful morning and the sun was just perfection on the beachy scene. I wanted to go out to the dock, but there were people there, so I started walking back in the direction of camp.

Garth gave my hand a squeeze, then bumped me onto a bench. We had our backs to the beach at this point, but he was being snugly, so I didn't mind. He put his arm around me and told me that he loved me. I put my head on his shoulder and said that I loved him, too.

"I brought you something." He said, looking a little smug, and a little nervous. I watched him reach into his pocket.

"You brought me something?" I mimicked.

He got down on one knee, and I saw a little white box in his hand. He looked up and nervously licked his lips as he opened the box. "Bre, will you marry me?"

And that was it. No speech, no confession of his undying love. Only an eighteen year old boy with a ring and a dream; and a big heart for following God. I knew that if he was asking me this question now, he had been praying hard about it for some time.

The little diamond ring was far more than I expected. Tears came to my eyes as I thought of this tender vision before me, a side of him that had been hinted to but never seen. "Yeah." I replied. Then, feeling a bit foolish, I said, "I mean, 'yes'. Yes!"

We both sat there for a moment. Me staring at the ring, him watching me. "Take it." he said, bringing the box a little closer to me.

I just stared at it, bewildered. I put out my hand, then stopped. "I can't!" I laughed a little. He took it out of the box and put it on my finger, then came to sit beside me again.

After I was almost over the shock, I took out my camera and snapped a few pictures of the two of us, and of the ring. (One of those pictures is the one you find at the top of my blog page.)

We enjoyed the time together, being the only ones who knew, before going back to make calls, change our Facebook relationship status to make it "Facebook official", and announce our engagement to his astonished family.

Thanks to Facebook, by the way, when we got home from camp at the end of the week there was scarcely a soul who had to be told of our engagement. Everyone knew. Everyone was so excited. But no one rejoiced more than Garth and I.