Timing is Everything

You might remember back in February when I was really stressed out, and then we had a stroke of good luck, which resulted in a new apartment and a new job. I can now say with certainty that God has a sense of humor.

If you know me, you know I'm not naturally a sit-back-and-see-what-happens kind of person. I'm a go-getter; if I want something to happen, then I make it happen. However, you also know that I try to combat my tendency to take this personality trait to the extreme--and sometimes life (God) has a way of keeping me in check.

I've been totally on top of this whole wedding business. I mean, seriously, check out my to-do list, and tell me that you're not impressed. I've even had time this week to spend extra time at the gym, watch some Netflix, and take my baby D for plenty of walks. I can credit my organization to my need to feel in control. I love things (like my wedding) that I can control. I can stay relaxed, knowing that I've done everything I need to do in plenty of time, and I don't need to worry.

What bugs me is when there's something I can't control (i.e. an airplane, the weather, my immune system, and A JOB SEARCH). However, as all of us searching for employment in this crazy economy know, it's just not that simple.

Recently, I'd been feeling pretty down about the whole job situation. "Don't take it personally," a co-worker kept telling me. But it's hard not to take it personally. I knew it wasn't too late to be hired for next year, and I knew I had other opportunities to fall back on, but I wanted what I wanted when I wanted it--which was NOW. A good friend of mine signed a contract with an area school district a couple of weeks ago, and I immediately started kicking myself. Why didn't I apply with that district? What had I said in my interviews I'd had so far that had turned the interviewers off? Was it because I had stumbled over the reading instruction question? Dang it, I had a better answer to that.... Maybe I could email that interviewer and tell him what I meant to say...


Another co-worker kept reminding me, "You have so many wonderful things going on in your life right now. Concentrate on those things. You're living such a blessed life." Yeah, yeah, yeah. That wasn't working.


I finally came to a point where I had accepted reality--for the most part. This week, I've been focusing on the wedding and my upcoming marriage, packing for Hawaii, and looking forward to seeing all of my extended family come together this weekend. I had almost forgotten about the job search (almost). Then, on Monday, I got a call for an interview. Not another screening interview, but a real interview for a real teaching position with a real principal at a real school.


To be honest, my first thought was, This week??? Really??? But I quickly re-adjusted my priorities and spent my ample free time (haha) updating my portfolio, and formulating strong responses for those questions I knew they'd ask. I'd hardly even mentioned my interview to anyone because I didn't want to jinx myself.


And this is the part where God says, "I told you I'd take care of it." Yesterday, I aced my interview, and by the end of the work day, HR had called and offered me the position. I literally could hardly believe it. B was, of course, at the gym. After calling my mom, my aunt, and my best friend, I paced the apartment like Scrooge waiting for Bob Cratchit the day after Christmas. As soon as D whined at the window (my never-failing alarm that B has pulled into the parking lot), I flew down the stairs of our building.


I got the job, I got the job!!

He Loves Me, He Loves Me Not

You know the story of how we met.

And you know the story of our first date.

And you know the story of our proposal... oh, wait, I actually haven't told you that one yet, but no worries, it's coming.

But I haven't told you the in-between. And a lot happens between a first date and a proposal. Well, a lot happened for us between a first date and a proposal, anyway. If you're like my parents, who were engaged within six weeks, or some friends of ours, who were engaged within three months, maybe that part of your story isn't as long. But for us it was.

I'd like to tell you that everything was smooth-sailing between May 23, 2007 (our first date) and December 23, 2009 (our engagement), but that would be a lie. We didn't have any ground-breaking fights or do any of that back-and-forth "we're together, now we're not" stuff. But we did have our differences. If it weren't for the advice of my older cousin Jenny, who told me that "All guys have quirks," I'm not sure we'd still be together.


After the big Shrek the Third night, B didn't call for three days. On day one, I figured he was living by the old adage of waiting at least 24 hours. On day two, I started to get a little disappointed. By day three, I was convinced I was never going to hear from him again. And, actually, this continued for the rest of the summer. Each time I'd reach the point when I was sure he'd lost interest and moved on, my phone would ring. Why didn't I call him myself? You'll remember I was living by a new philosophy; I was trying to prove to B (and to myself) that I could be a GWTFEG (go-with-the-flow-easy-going) kind of gal. And in my mind, waiting for his call was part of that game.

Quirk #2 was a little problem that B seemed to have with time. It wasn't rare for him to say he'd "stop by after work," (which, to me, meant 5:30 or 6:00pm), then not show up until 8 or 9pm. Looking back, I'm honestly surprised I put up with that. Anyone who knows me is probably pretty surprised themselves. Maybe it was because of my GWTFEG strategy, maybe it was all the build-up of dating Blockbuster Boy, or maybe I was just allowing myself to be a doormat--but either way, I'm glad I stuck it out.


As we neared the fateful day in August, when I'd be moving back to Kirksville for another year of school, and he'd remain in KC, I knew we were going to have to have The Conversation. Somehow, we'd gone the whole summer without ever actually defining our relationship. Oh, believe me, I wanted to. I wanted to baaaaaad. But, GWTFEG girls don't worry about that sort of thing, so I pretended I wasn't worried either.

However, another wise woman I know helped me to realize that this wasn't really fair to myself. "You have a right to know," she said. "You have a right to lay down some ground rules and establish some guidelines. It's only fair, and it's only safe." 


It finally came down to three days before I was moving. Just as we were parting after an evening spent watching Dave Chappelle's stand-up comedy (B's choice, not mine), I decided I needed to brave the topic. It went something like this:


Me: "So, you know I'm leaving for Kirksville in three days."
B: "Yeah, I know. I'm really going to miss you."
Me: "So, what do you wanna do when I leave?"
B: "Well, I'll see you whenever you come home."
Me: "Okay."
B: "I really like you, I just don't want you to miss out on anything at school." (Sounds like a line from He's Just Not That Into You, right?)
Me: "Okay."


B left that night, and I went upstairs to get ready for bed, a little upset, but not really all that surprised. For some reason, this was my luck with guys. I never seemed to have a shortage of guys wanting to hang out, go on dates, etc., but when it came time to actually commit? Not interested.


I was brushing my teeth, wallowing in my despair at losing Blockbuster Boy, when my cell phone rang.


B: "Can I take it back?"
Me: "What?"
B: "Can I take it back?"
Me: "Okay."
B: "I don't know what I was thinking. I really like you."
Me: "I really like you, too."
B: "But if we're going to do this, we have to really do it. We both have to be in it 100%. I just don't want to mess around."
Me: "Me either."
B: "So, we're going to do this?"
Me: "Sounds like it."

At this point, we hung up the phone, and I tore down the stairs, toothbrush still in hand. "We're staying together!!!!" I shrieked as I felt into my parents' room.

After that phone call, it was honestly like a switch was flipped. B resolved both Quirk #1 and Quirk #2 without me even having to ask. It was like dating a whole new guy--Mr. Committed. (Not that he doesn't have quirks now. It's still true that all guys have quirks. It's all about whether or not those quirks are dealbreakers.)

Two Cooks in the Kitchen

One thing B and I love to do is try a new recipe. When I was living in Kirksville and he'd drive up to visit for a weekend, we'd almost always try a new recipe. That's how we discovered one of our all time faves--a de-calorified version of Chicken Pot Pie from Hungry Girl (P.S. If you try this one, I use canned chicken to make it even easier). Hungry Girl is an old standby recipe source, but recently we've been turning to the Taste of Home Comfort Food Diet cookbook. My best friend gave it to me for Christmas, swearing that I'd love it, and she's right. So far, we've tried seven or eight of the recipes and they've all been a huge hit. The new Family Classics Collection is definitely on my wish list, as well.

We've had less opportunities to cook for ourselves recently, as I'm living with my parents (and if my mom's going to cook, we might as well eat her food!), and B stocks his fridge like any 26-year-old bachelor (the last time I opened his fridge he had beer, bagels, and barbecue sauce). But last Sunday night, my parents were eating with friends, and the weather was 75-degrees, so we treated ourselves to a new recipe enjoyed on the screened-in porch.

The meal was Roasted Vegetable Linguine with Torn Fresh Basil from Vegetarian Times magazine (no, neither of us are vegetarians, but we love lots of veggies, so I scope their website for recipes!). It calls for white wine, and since Rachel Ray says she would never cook with a wine she wouldn't drink, we enjoyed opening a bottle and sipping a glass while we roasted the veggies.

One thing that I've come to learn about myself is that I definitely have some difficulty surrendering control. But, B has convinced me that he is capable of helping me in the kitchen. And, although I like to give him a hard time about how long it takes him to do simple cooking tasks, I not only have learned to appreciate the help, but I really enjoy the time we spend cooking together. Plus, it meshes with my resolution of being GWTFEG.

See? I let him cut vegetables.

And what a fine job he did! Don't you just love the look of fresh vegetables? All those bright colors. What a great summery dish :-)

 I loved our Sunday night dinner. And it was the perfect way to spend an evening together before B's business trip.

Shrek the Third

"If you think there are no new frontiers, watch a boy ring the front doorbell on his first date."

- Olin Miller

I left you hanging. Did it work? Was it suspenseful?

Do you have any idea what I'm talking about?

A few weeks ago, I wrote an absolute heart-stopping cliffhanger. Remember now?

a REAL cliffhanger!

Okay, maybe I'm giving myself a little too much credit. But I did promise you the story of my first date with B, and I'm here to deliver.

We left off with B asking me out at the Blockbuster cash register. It was a couple of days later, but I still remember the moment when he called me. I'd had quite the day--my car had broken down on the side of the road, and I had spent the better part of a half-hour pushing with all my might while dressed in white capris with 4-in. wedge sandals. But by this point in my day, my car had been towed, and I was actually pouncing around on my parents' bed, making hissing and growling noises trying to rile up the cat. I'm certain my face turned beet red when I answered the phone and Blockbuster Boy was on the other end. I was sure that, through phone osmosis, he knew the activity he had interrupted, would quickly make an excuse about having the wrong number, and I would never heard from him again. 

Luckily, though, I managed to hold up my end up a decent (but brief) conversation, during which he asked me to a movie a few days later. When he asked where he should pick me up, I resisted the urge of telling him I knew exactly where he lived (whoa, stalker...), therefore knew where he'd be coming from (plus, little did I know that his family had actually moved just two weeks prior!). Again, I kept my cool and refrained from shrieking with excitement until I had safely flipped shut my phone.


The next few days flew by in a haze. I daydreamed (daydreamt?) about what we'd talk about, what I'd wear, what he'd wear, what kind of car he'd drive (I'm not going to lie--an old Ford Focus with moldy seats and a missing gas cap never popped into my mind). My dad, chiming in with his opinion, said, "Gosh, I hope this guy doesn't turn out to be a dud!" He and mom had, of course, witnessed the entire Blockbuster Boy journey. I think they were as invested as I was.

But, amid all the girly thoughts and hopeful ideas, I had to admit that I kept things in perspective.


I think the downfall of my previous relationships (besides the fact that I was 18, naive, inexperienced, unfocused, etc.) was that I always went in with high expectations. Okay, not just high expectations, like, astronomical expectations. I wanted labels, I wanted commitments, I wanted follow-through. Basically, I wanted perfection. I made a conscious decision before my first day with B that this time, I was going to play a role. I was going to take on the character of a go-with-the-flow, easy-going sort of gal. I say "take on the character" because, if you know me, you know that is not me. I am a plan-it-out worrier. Now, I know what you're thinking. People always say you should "be yourself" on a date. And I was myself. I wasn't trying to put up a front, I was adjusting my own perspective on the situation.

My new dating philosophy influenced a lot of decisions (more about that later). But first, it steered my choice in an outfit. After much deliberation, I decided to go against my usual short skirt/tank top first date uniform. Instead, I opted for my favorite jeans and a simple fitted pink T-shirt. I accessorized with a pair of fun earrings, but I left it pretty plain. My goal was, again, GWTFEG (go-with-the-flow-easy-going).


Taking the risk of sounding overly-cheesy, I can clearly picture the moment when B picked me up that evening. I was watching for him out the garage door, and as I walked out, he got out of his car and stood by the driver's door (sort of in a "should I go greet her? stay here? open her door?" kind of way). He was wearing khaki shorts and a button-up short-sleeved plaid shirt. I could tell he had taken the time to put gel in his hair (something that I know now he saves for special occasions). 

I don't remember much about what we talked about that evening, although I do remember B whipping out his cell phone to show me pictures of his basset hound (which now does not surprise me in the least). I couldn't tell you the plot of the movie (Shrek the Third)--not because we were doing anything inappropriate, but because my mind was occupied with that awkward sharing-the-armrest position, when you know you're about to hold hands, but both people are too shy to make the first move. By the end of the movie, though, we'd bridged that gap. 

He didn't kiss me that night, but I laid in bed that night with my head in the clouds. I had just been on a date with Blockbuster Boy. And, although I stuck with my GWTFEG philosophy, I knew. Really. I just knew.