on love and marriage, part 2

I use this blog for many self-serving purposes. To post photos of the boys for our family in other parts of the country. To motivate me to do crafty things. To write, even if it's just about what's coming up in my garden.

But I also see this blog as a way to document our little family's history. So my sons can visit it when they are adults, perhaps even through a printed version, and reminisce, remember and visualize their childhood, or even see their parents (me and the huz) as young adults.

And so to continue with my ride on the wayback machine in honor of our upcoming wedding anniversary, I am visiting the second critical moment in our romantic history: how we decided to marry (with pictures of the actual event).

Sometime in February 2000, I had a particularly hard and tiring day at work where I managed a furniture and accessory import company in Sarasota, Florida. Oh, did I mention that I moved with future husband to Florida? After two years of living in sin in Phoenix, I agreed to follow him to the east coast when he decided to go back to art school.

We lived in the cutest (and perhaps smallest) studio apartment just blocks from the beach. I worked, while he studied and worked part time. His parents live in nearby Bradenton and were in the midst of planning a family reunion when my future mother-in-law not-so-casually mentioned that if a wedding were in our future, a good time to have it would be when all the family were going to be together for a reunion, say, in April.

So, after this particularly exhausting day at work, I came home to a completely empty fridge and an equally tired husband who was equally unmotivated to make anything for dinner. (We may have had some condiments in there, but I wasn't feeling like having mustard on crackers that night.) Fortuitously enough, I had a $100 gift card to a fancy seafood joint on the bay that was burning a hole in my wallet. I had just earned it from my employer after being employee of the month. The kismet is just beginning. Keep reading!

So I get slightly dolled up, and future husband puts on some pants and we head out to the bay for a romantic meal. We sit down and one of the first things we talk about is this upcoming family reunion and whether or not it's a good time for us to get married. At this point, realizing we have a lot of talking to do and some serious decision making, we decide to go above and beyond the $100 on the gift card to make the most of this discussion. The wine begins to flow. We order oysters Rockefeller. We splurge on steaks and lobster. We even order dessert.

In between delicious and indulgent bites, we are discussing the logistics of getting married with only a few months to plan. We are talking in hushed but excited voices about who we should invite. All of future husband's family will be in Florida, but will my family fly out to Florida? (There's only four of us, could be doable.) We talk about venue. The beach would be beautiful, and probably cheap since we are paying for almost everything ourselves. Would we register for wedding gifts? We have been living together for a few years, but our toaster could stand to be replaced. I imagine my dress, elegant and pretty but simple to accommodate a breezy beach. I picture my future husband in white linen. Casual and handsome.

The restaurant is busy, but is starting to empty at this point. It's the middle of the week and we are too deep in details to pay much attention to our surroundings except for occasionally glancing out the large window which overlooks the bay and the tranquil boats which sway in the moonlight.

It's the end of the meal and we are holding hands across the table and while I want to make out, this is a fine dining establishment and would probably be frowned upon. It's at this point we are ready for our bill. I am expecting the damage to be at least $100 more than the gift card when I consider the wine, the appetizer, the dessert, a generous tip. The waiter approaches and I've got the gift card out on the table. Instead of handing us the bill he leans forward with a strange expression on his face and we lean in as if we are about to hear they have found salmonella in the oysters.

Instead he says this, 'I hope you enjoyed your meal. Your bill has been taken care of.'

Say what?

I think I may have literally said that. Or perhaps I held my composure and said 'What do you mean, our bill was paid for?'

To which he replied, 'During your dinner, there was an elderly couple who sat nearby and asked to pay for your bill.'

Still dumbfounded, I asked why, why would a complete stranger do such a thing?

And the waiter, being ever patient, and perhaps a little surprised himself said, 'The couple overheard your conversation. They thought the two of you reminded them of themselves when they were younger. So they decided to treat you to this meal.'

Amazing.

I ask the waiter if we can pay the tip. He says they already took care of that too. And generously so.

I let this stew for a bit. Complete strangers. Shelled out at least $200 for complete strangers. I ask the waiter if I can get a name, perhaps send a thank you card. He says no, that's not possible, they wished to remain anonymous, though they are regular customers.

I thank him. We are befuddled and yet beaming.

It's decided. Or rather this incredible circumstance decided it for us.

This couple obviously recognized something of themselves in our love for each other and felt nostalgic enough to do something extraordinarily generous. But we also took it as a sign. Serendipity.

We got married that April. When all the family was in town. It was on the beach at sunset.

Onlookers there to watch the sun set over the waves at Lido Beach received an added bonus of witnessing our vows. A little part of me suspected the elderly couple from the restaurant were standing among them.

Even if just in spirit, they anonymously blessed our wedding day.

on love and marriage, part 1

Next month the huz and I will be celebrating our twelth anniversary. It's worth a mention that we were living in sin together for nearly four years before we got married, living like a married couple, joint checking account and all. So, aside from the formality of a wedding and a notarized document, we have been together for sixteen years.

Dang girl.

And so, with my wedding anniversary just around the corner I have decided to take a ride in the wayback machine and visit two critical moments in our fine romance.

First: how we met and fell in love...

I was a junior at ASU, on a full-ride scholarship that was getting wasted on my inability to commit to a major. To pay for incidentals, I decided to get a part time job so I applied at the various places where I thought a discount would be beneficial and in no way eat up my entire paycheck. (HA!) Urban Outfitters, Buffalo Exchange, ZGallerie, Gap and J. Crew were just a few. I'm pretty sure the hipster with the nose ring at Urban Outfitters laughed her ass off at my job application when I left, having never worked retail in my life and asking for $9/hour to start. But I did end up landing a job at J. Crew. And for only slightly less than what I wanted to start at.

I don't remember the exact day we met, but I do remember one staff meeting during which I couldn't stop looking at this boy across the room who was so unlike the preppy boys I was usually interested in. I remember he was wearing gauge earrings, wide leg frayed jeans and a fitted tee shirt, a boy who didn't fit the image of a stereotypical J. Crew employee, but who had some swagger nonetheless. My heart skipped a beat whenever he glanced in my direction and I would feel a warmth spread over my body whenever we came into close proximity while folding classic crewneck tees.

To complicate things, I had a boyfriend of over a year at the time. I never have, and never would have cheated on any of my boyfriends. But I will admit we were in the midst of a rough patch, having broken up and gotten back together just a few months before I started my new job. (He broke up with me, just so ya know.) So when my future husband called me out of the blue to ask me out I made sure to explain my boyfriend situation. There was no way we could go out, I was just not that kind of girl and my boyfriend did not deserve to be treated like that. But after I hung up the phone, I looked at my roommate and told her that I could feel a crush was developing.... he had asked me out, and I had to say no!

I racked my brain. My boyfriend called to see if I could go to a party that night at his friend's house. I told him I was getting together with someone from work. I didn't tell him it was this boy. This boy with the gauge earrings and the undefinable swagger. So I called future husband back after this not-the-whole-truth I had just told my boyfriend and said we could get something to eat, but it was in NO WAY A DATE. I was explicitly and abundantly, maybe over-the-top, clear in my expressing that we could just chat as friends and eat some food and that would be all. Due to the boyfriend situation and all.

So that night, we met at Pita Jungle for some food. And some talking. And then whaddya know we ran into a couple of boyfriend's friends. So I introduced them to future husband and explained that we worked together. Although I was forthright with boyfriend about my plans that evening, those friends saw him at the party later that night, and mentioned seeing me with the work friend. And the next day he came over and we had a really long, awkward, heart-wrenching, horrible conversation. I felt awful. For a really long time. And I was sad for a really long time because I was also really good friends with boyfriend, but you just can't repair that kind of wound.

I called out sick from work. When I did show up for work I had a hard time doing my job. When my boss called me out for not doing a good job, I started sobbing and she sent me home for the shift. A week or more went by and then I called future husband. I had grieved, and felt awful, but deep down I knew this was meant to be. I couldn't stop thinking about him and I thought there was a good chance it was mutual.

And I was right. I could hear an audible sigh of relief when I called him. He thought I wanted nothing to do with him since I hadn't called or talked to him since that night at Pita Jungle. I told him what happened with boyfriend, now ex-boyfriend. I could tell he felt badly, but we made plans to go on an official date. I think I may have even been the one to ask him out. All I remember is being emotional, hormonal, and in the beginning stage of falling in love. On that first official date we ate at the old Pizzeria Bianco when it was in Town and Country mall. Everything was a little fuzzy due to the cloud I was floating on. At some point during the date, he kissed me when we stopped at a gas station. Through the passenger side window of his tan Volkswagon Golf. In public. I mean people walking around us and everything. Swagger. (Swoon.)

The rest is history. That first kiss was legendary. I think of that kiss and to this day my heart pounds a little harder, I get that warm feeling all over, and a few butterflies in my belly.

I love that this particular memory still does that for me.

I was madly, deeply, crazy in love almost instantly after that kiss. We saw each other as often as possible. And being so dizzy in love, I moved in with future husband three months after that kiss. A decision that shocked everyone who knew me. Practical, pragmatic me.

So there you have it. How we met and fell in love. From my perspective, of course.

Think that was romantic? Stay tuned. Next will be the story of how we got married. It's the stuff of a Nicholas Sparks novel. But it's a true story.

And for nostalgia sake, here are pics of my and the huz. Before we were married, but after the living in sin part. So, if memory serves, these were taken anywhere from 12 to 16 years ago.

Dang girl.

spring shenanigans

Over the weekend, big brother's elementary school held a spring carnival and, while we had a good time, we were all most surprised by big brother's insistance on waiting in the long line for the bungee harness.

And here's a quick photo montage of the day's activities.

poor Charlie Chewbacca

Let me tell you a little story of our Charlie Chewbacca. It goes a little something like this...

A few years ago on the very night before my 35th birthday (I think), my husband calls me at work to inform me that when I got home that night (I was working evenings then) there would be a 4 legged creature to greet me, so I should not be alarmed.

He made sure to explain further (because at this time I was not the least bit interested in being a dog owner again) that we could return this 4 legged fuzzy beast to its current owner if he wasn't a good fit for our family.

Keep in mind that I have two boys, who are very much interested in fuzzy things and easily fall in love with creatures that lick your face.

I was already groaning in agony at the fur balls that would no doubt be clogging up the vacuum in the near future. Thank goodness we have a Dyson.

And that's how we got Charlie.

His middle name is Chewbacca for the obvious likeness...

And so we fast forward our story two years later to yesterday when he was getting a routine clipper trim from the huz when *gasp* the clippers broke. Our beloved Charlie Chewbacca was left with what can only be described as a canine mullet.

Here he is looking handsome by the veg garden prior to the clipper failure.

And here he is after our friends at Wag N Wash did their best to even out the crazy half-done clipper do.

His fur is the softest it has ever been. But the poor little guy is just a shadow of his former scrappy self.

And I'm pretty sure no one can see the Chewbacca in his name. At least until it grows back in. Until then, he'll just be Charlie.

children's museum of phoenix

It's spring break. The boys are unearthing every toy and scrap in their closet and, in doing so, have driven an already partially insane mom completely mad.

So yesterday we dug ourselves out of the wreckage (which I have the immense joy of cleaning bit by bit in the next week), and went on a field trip to the Children's Museum of Phoenix.

It's a wonderful place. I have even blogged about it before. But at $11.00 a head (we don't have a membership and not sure we would get our money's worth), we don't go that often.

Yippity skippity! We had a culture pass this time, so I only had to pay for one of us.

My boys are 3 and 6 years old. And having been before, the museum is good for a few hours of learning and entertainment. We brought a packed lunch and were also able to enjoy the (currently) beautiful Phoenix weather while noshing at the picnic tables on the front lawn, which helped stretch our visit by 30 minutes or so.

Now, brace yourself, this is a picture heavy post for nostalgia sake. Enjoy!

When we entered this time, the first floor was quite crowded, so we did the museum in reverse and started on the 3rd floor and worked our way down. I would highly recommend visiting the museum this way if you arrive close to opening time. You will have the top floor nearly to yourself.

The pictures that follow are taken in a section that was new to us since the last time we visited. I loved it! the fabrics and textures really were a fun sensory experience.

I love these little quilted words. They had velcro on the back and the wall was felt. Like Mad Libs on a large scale!

And I want to make these light fixtures. Half the fun of visiting the museum for adults is to peek into all the nooks. There's clever design and construction all around.

This wall was neat. Different textures make a great tactile experience for toddlers.

Or for a six year old.

Break for lunch.

This is the amazing 3 story climber. This structure has to be gazed at for quite a while to really be appreciated.

Look closely or you might miss something.

At the end we visited the shop on the way out. This easily added another 30 minutes to our overall field trip. They do have a truly nice selection of toys that are both appealing to kids and their responsible grown ups. I gave each a budget of $5 and the boys got something small, but a hand selected item which will help them remember the fun time they had.