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I hope you are all WELL. It has been so long!

I will go back and do a post about the wedding, I promise. To summarize, it was MAGICAL. We are now 9 months into being married, and honestly we couldn't be happier. Here's a photo to tide you over. And K totally wore a pink gingham pocket square.

We like donuts. (Laura Harris Photography-call her, she's seriously awesome.)

But let's talk about how I quit my job on Thursday.

And how I was laid off from my OTHER job 5 months ago.

And how I accepted two job offers in between.

I'm exhausted just thinking about it.

OK. In February, we had a suspicion that our office would be closing. We were the smallest satellite office, and... business. We received a mysterious invite to a meeting with "HR", and we pretty much knew it was happening. The night before the meeting, I asked my sister what you wear when you know you're getting fired. We went for black.

I joke, but it was truly devastating. It was my favorite job of all the jobs, I'd been there for 4 years, (remember THIS post, when I finally decided to make the leap to Job #2?) Anyways, I was crushed. And terrified. And I've never lost a job before.

K has been SUPER super supportive. And we basically decided if we had to eat ramen for a year while I looked, we would.

After many rejection letters (one actually came in the MAIL.) I was lucky enough to land another job about a block from Job #2. I was incredibly thankful, but the truth was, I had had my eye on a different job--my DREAM job for five years. Since before Job #2.

This place is the stuff dreams are made of. Designy, comprised of amazing people, and has a kegerator. Also there are jerseys hanging on the wall in memory of fonts that shall no longer be used, such as Comic Sans. Which I'm sure this blog will be published in. They do design for BREWERIES and RESORTS and they have the most wonderful reputation in the design industry. I cold called them five years ago to inquire whether they had a position, and then again when the layoff happened. No dice.

But the coincidences were too much to ignore. 1) My sister-in-law worked with them at a previous job. 2) The beer poster we have above our fireplace was designed by them. 3) I can walk to my sister's house from the office. 4) I ran into them at a cocktails with creatives event a few months ago, and fangirled because we all connected so well. We followed each other on social media, and just tried to keep in touch. It was basically like being married and having an affair with your true love.

I started Job #3, and pined from afar, but resolved to let it go and move forward.

But about three weeks in, my dream job serendipitously reached out to me with an open position. It was less pay than Job #3, but K and I did some quick math and decided my happiness was intangible. I had to do something I'm super uncomfortable doing and quit a job I just started, but in my heart, I KNEW it was the right thing for me.

So I start in AUGUST.

I am honestly still in shock that I was able to land safely after being laid off. It was incredibly challenging and humbling, and I wouldn't recommend it to my worst enemy. But looking back now, I could not be happier. I just landed my dream job, I get to design things for BREWERIES and RESORTS and basically, if a job were a pile of kittens that I could roll around in, this would be it. Things happen for a reason, people.

No mas boyfriend

We are swimming in a sea of to-dos... reserve rooms, buy a tux, taste some cake. On top of actual work, it's another job in itself.

But it's nothing like I thought it would be.

It's so much better.

We cancelled our cable to save money for the wedding. But it's not a big deal, we do more talking now. We watch Netflix or Hulu, and drink beer, and talk about what color the napkins should be.

We're not taking anything too seriously. Sure, there have been hiccups. Hard decisions, fear of hurting feelings. But through it all, though it's only been a month, we have been experiencing a magical experience. Every now and again, in the middle of some discussion about whether to have heather grey or black suits for the groomsmen, one of us just stops and looks at the other. And we both light up with the realization that this is really happening.

I think for me, seeing him so happy is an incredibly happy surprise. And I guess for the last few years, I've felt a bit like I was in this alone. But I know now that that was never true. We may have been on different pages at points, but we were both equally excited to marry each other.

That's clear to me now.

The biggest surprise of this whole experience has been how he lights up when we talk about getting married. He's ready, like, right now. The venue we've chosen (yes, the contract is signed!) had a few dates available in 2015. And his response to me was, okay, let's do it! I don't care if it's June, July, August... let's do it! (It's October, I'm not THAT crazy.)

His enthusiasm has made this whole journey so much more than I thought it would be. We're in it together. Going to wedding meetings with vendors, even signing contracts... all of it doesn't feel like so much work when we're together. He's making this so much FUN for me.

I think about how long I've waited for this... how long WE'VE waited. And you know, I wouldn't take any of it back. It is so worth it to see the smile on his face when I told him I think I might have found the dress last night. :)

Floor cake and frozen wallets

Being engaged feels different than I thought it would. For the first week, K and I were so over-the-moon, Christmas-morning excited that we kept doing weird stuff. Sleep was heavy and dreamless, food didn't taste like anything, and K accidentally put his wallet in the freezer. I was constantly clammy and a volcano of exuberant emotions. I cry at the Kay commercials.

Other weird things we did:

- flipped half of our engagement cake upside down on the floor

- stepped on Linus' tail

- watched the Bachelor (and K liked it)

My sister told me it would feel different, and I didn't think it would. Neither did K. But something has just shifted between us. We're so much closer than we've ever been, and just so thankful for everything we have. We're CRAZY emotional (both of us!) and cry at the drop of a hat. 

I don't want to leave him in the morning. It's excruciating. And I'm more fearful when he leaves for work; he's carrying precious cargo now. My fiance! We feel like FAMILY. Actual family. And it's the most wonderful thing I've ever felt in my whole life. 

Being proposed to felt like all of the dreams I've ever had since I was little are coming true. To be asked to be someone's WIFE... what an incredible honor. I didn't think I'd really feel that much different. But I really do. Life has a color to it that it didn't before. And more than anything, I feel so so incredibly grateful for this season of our lives. 

But I'll ALSO be so happy when we get back to our normal world, where we sit on the couch and binge watch House of Cards with our mews. Because that's just always where I want to be. 

The Path of Life (An Engagement Story!)

My stomach just flip-flopped when I looked at the ring again. It's still so surreal. And you can see why, based on how I was feeling 12 days ago. 

But it's a beautiful place that I was able to get myself to, BEFORE the ring, and the overwhelming happiness. I'm proud of that place, because I did it for ME. 

And it made what came on Saturday so much more beautiful. 

The day started around 9am when we woke up. K made me a delicious breakfast sandwich, I gave him his valentine, and we read the police blotter aloud to each other. (It's a family tradition.) 

We cleaned up cat puke, put on snow pants, and packed up the growlers for the long drive to Windsor VT, where we were headed to #thelongthaw party at Harpoon Brewery. 

K had originally told me we were going to do a nice dinner somewhere, and then changed his mind once he found the event. I told him an outdoor beer garden was more up my alley anyways. 

On the drive, we talked about how we wanted our friends to be happy, how beautiful the scenery was, and I yelled at him again about how he had used a door that said "please use other door" the night before at Price Chopper. I told him he needed to learn to follow the rules. 

We arrived, grabbed a few Long Thaws and I kicked K's ass in baggo. (Or "cornhole", depending on where you're from.) We played some slightly-larger-Jenga, won a Harpoon scarf, and stood by the bonfire for a few hours. 

Then, Karl noticed they did sleigh rides through the beautiful Path of Life Garden adjacent to the brewery. Neither one of us had any idea just how beautiful it was. 

We saddled up next to a bunch of sweet L&D nurses from Boston into the sleigh, and it drew us away from the brewery through this garden. 

The garden itself (http://greatriveroutfitters.com/garden-story) is 14 acres, and the man who built it has been working on it for 16 years. The horse-drawn sleigh pulled through the tunnel into the garden, and we huddled under blankets as we viewed the sculptures representing the various stages of life. 

A few minutes in, K turned to me and said, "we should go snowshoeing back through here when we get done." To which I replied: "that sounds like a lot of physical labor. I would rather drink beer by the bonfire." But he insisted, so once we were done with the sleigh ride, we compromised (I put on my snow boots instead of snow shoes) and we walked back into the garden the same way we had just come on the sleigh. 

He told me there was a distillery next door where we could get vodka after, and I said that was the carrot on the end of my stick, motivating me to walk through the snow.

I then insisted we take a selfie at the entrance to the tunnel, which would turn out to be the last photo we have on record of being boyfriend and girlfriend. 

As we entered the garden, K walked ahead of me, gripping my mitten as he steered me towards the first stage of life, "Birth". It was a huge hedge maze, a little overgrown since it was winter, and it led to the next stage, which is "Adventure". 

I stopped him at the entrance and said we were going to get lost in there. And since nobody else was around, I was frightened that we would be found in the spring, thirsty skeletons in the center of the maze. 

He turned around near the entrance, surrounded on all sides by hedges, pulled me into a hug, and held me close for a few seconds. Then, he said to me: "Honey, I feel like your strengths are my weaknesses, and my strengths are your weaknesses." Then he pulled back from me, looked me in the eyes and dropped to one knee. 

I held my mittens over my face and sobbed uncontrollably while he held out the ring. Then, I didn't know what else to do, so I dropped to my own knees and hugged him back for a solid two minutes. It was very Monica and Chandler. (Whose engagement, ironically enough, was what my sister and brother-in-law were watching at that very moment.) 

Finally, facing me with tears in his eyes, he said "well, is that a yes?" And of course I said... "YES!" He said, "okay, do you want to take off your Bear Paws so I can put this ring on?" 

Just as he placed the ring on my finger, we both stood up to embrace. And just like magic, the sky burst with a whitewash of big fat snowflakes that didn't stop until we got home that night. 

We called my sister immediately after and told only she and my brother-in-law. Then, we decided to save the rest of the phone calls for tomorrow. We walked over to the Silo, a distillery located next to the garden, and had our first gin/vodka tasting as fiance and fiancee. (I still can't figure out how to type those weird thingies on top of the 'e's.) 

After an insane journey through the last few years, many ups and downs, and lots of very difficult conversations between the two of us, I wouldn't take any of it back. It made us stronger, it taught us that we can stay together through hard times and support and love each other through it, and it has made me the most THANKFUL bride-to-be there ever, ever was. 

Friends and family reading this, I just want to thank you for staying by us and supporting us through the last years. We could not have done it without you, and we will continue to need your support through our engagement and marriage. After all, what good is your happiness if you can't share it with the people you love? 

PS: Browse this blog with caution, some of it is raunchy and curs-y. But it's all me, and I can't say sorry for that. Stay tuned for more enchanting stories of seating charts and cat vomit. 

Thirty-one

(I wrote this on February 10th, but waited to post it. It's an important lead up to how I'm feeling today.)

This is what thirty-one looks like. 

It's happy. It's incredibly grateful. It's being surrounded by family and friends that really, truly care about me. (And knowing when to say goodbye to the ones who don't.) It's having a best friend post VERY OLD pictures from college. And my little brother calling me on my way to work to wish me happy birthday. 

It's calm. And centered. And focused. It's knowing who I am, and who I want to be. Strong, brave, kind. Direct. Honest. Compassionate. Supportive. Protective. 

It's having the biggest smile on my face on my way to work this morning, and knowing it's not because there's a ring on my finger or a baby in my belly. (Though I'll be INCREDIBLY thankful when the time is right for both of these.) But this happiness is mine. I'm giving it to myself. 

I spent much of last year feeling down and trying to control things that are simply out of my hands. I became bitter, anxious, ungrateful. I wasn't able to be happy for my friends, and I wasn't able to appreciate what was in front of me. 

But thanks to the help of my boyfriend and my family, I pulled myself up. And decided that I was tired of waiting to be happy. 

Thirty-one feels like a new person. Like an enormous weight has been lifted off of my shoulders. I'm living in the moment, happy for whatever life brings me. And most importantly, I'm happy for my friends again. And supremely thankful for all of the wonderful people in my life. 

Call Adnan

I've got an IV of Serial crack-cocaine connected to my arm just like the rest of the world. I can't get enough. Adnan, Jay, and Sarah are the only shining light in my hour-long commute home every day.

But a funny thing happened with the last few episodes. Half way through the podcasts, my car stopped playing and started dialing my PHONE.

Three times this happened, and thrice I swore and pounded the steering wheel with the rage of a withdrawling addict.

... WHO are you calling, Siri?

It wasn't until I realized that the voice recognition in my car thought Adnan was someone in my phone book, and was TRYING TO CALL HIM.

Not cool, car. I want to free Adnan as much as the next guy, but I don't particularly want a Global Tel-Link collect call.

Frowning Popes

I'm going to take a little break here from the pity party I've been throwing myself to regale you with a tale of an epic battle for women's rights. 

A few months ago, K joined a pool league at the local Knights of Columbus. Our neighbor is running it, and we thought it would be a fun Thursday night activity with cheap beer. The place looks like my childhood home's finished basement, carpeted poles and all. Also, there are lots of pictures of popes on the walls.

I am one of two women who show up to this sausage fest; the other is a wife of one of the other players. We give each other the quintessential vagina nod when we see each other. Hey, you have one, TOO! 

Last Thursday, K's team was short two players. They all take this league pretty seriously, so they were pissed that they were going to have to forfeit. Naturally, I raised my hand and offered to sub. 

Suddenly, the room started moving in slow motion as each man's eyes lit up with fear. They glanced at me in horror, then back to each other. Arms were crossed, feet shuffled. I slowly lowered my hand and glanced around the room. Did someone just walk in with a gun? 

One man spoke up: "oh, I don't know. This is a MEN'S league. We don't allow women to play."

Good thing I'd had a few beers and no fucks left to give. I put my hair up in a ponytail and turned to the guy to my right, a jolly guy who would be my first opponent. "Did you know we can even VOTE now, too?" He laughed nervously, then turned away. I could not believe what was transpiring. Was the alternative of forfeitting the game really a better option than letting a GIRL play? 

Finally, a progressive jokester and my new personal confidant, Jeff, spoke up with a courtesy laugh at my bold joke: "Listen to that! Can you hear the roof shaking?" We shared a giggle, and I turned to him with grateful eyes, thankful to have someone else recognize the ridiculousness of this situation. 

Grudgingly, I was allowed to play. The room stopped and stared as I got up from the bar to start my first game. Some people were curious, some were downright angry. The popes frowned in fury. 

In the end, I lost two games, but won the last--I have never been prouder. 

As an interesting afternote: the legitimacy of this game is still being debated by the elders. This is not a joke. They are in the process of determining whether or not to count my game... because I have a vagina. STUNNING. I bravely returned last night mostly out of curiousity. (Plus, the cheap beers.) It really is amazing who cares and who doesn't. And to be fair, there are a handful of the guys who totally back me and think it's funny, too. I like to think of them as the Frederick Douglasses to my Elizabeth Cady Stanton.

On the walk home, I turned to K. 

"Ow!" I said, rubbing my head. 

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"I think I hurt my head when I jumped through that glass ceiling."

Game Genie

Apparently, people go to Walmart for two things: to punch each other over $30 TVs, and to heal relationships. My experience was, thankfully, the latter. 

We had just loaded the car with many bags of goodies for Thanksgiving dinner, which we host with both of our families each year. Happy to have made it out alive and with minimal injuries, we were driving home. I'm not even really sure how the conversation started, but we started talking about getting married/having babies, and K turned to me and said: I just have seen a change in you lately. You seem so sad and it seems like a bitterness has just settled inside of you. It's not like you to not be able to be happy for your friends. He said, I need you to know that I am ready for all of these things, marriage, babies, everything. But I'm afraid it's not going to fill the hole inside of you. I'm afraid you'll get all of those things and it won't be enough, because someone else will always have something more. He said, I want you to be happy with our life now, before we're engaged, and to be happy for our friends. Because that's what life is all about. In true nerd fashion, he likened our engagement to a video game. "It's like when you're trying to get to beat Mario 3 and you can't get past that damn warship. You try and try, so frustrated, and when you finally plug that Game Genie in and beat it, you just feel like... FINALLY. Not like... YAY!" 

I froze in my seat, unable to speak. Never in my life had someone besides my sister been able to so acutely recognize what was going on inside of me. I felt astonishment over everything else, that he was able to see what was happening to me. And everything he said was with love, not out of frustration or anger. It was with a kindness and an ability to view my heart and circumstances existentially, without bringing in his personal feelings. Which I can't imagine is an easy thing to do, when the two things I want most in this world directly involve him. 

I just looked at him, tears welling in my eyes. And for the first time I realized how my feelings have been affecting other people. It felt like someone had shined a light into my heart and exposed all of the awful feelings in there. But it was like a release occurred, and I was suddenly able to see the situation from the outside a little bit. 

We talked in depth for a few hours, and even though my face was puffy from crying, I felt hope for the first time in awhile. Not for getting married, or achieving any of these things that I've pinned my future happiness to, but for choosing the right partner who is able to see me, and help me out of this hole I've dug myself into. Which I'm sure will happen many more times for each other over the course of our lives together. And over this weekend, with both of our families in our house, I had several moments where I stopped talking and just felt a wave of overwhelming affection for everyone... and I started to feel like the old me again. I still have work to do, for sure. I see many yoga classes in my future. But I think this is a very good start. Maybe I just needed someone to recognize what I was going through, and validate it. Maybe it was just that I needed HIM to recognize and validate me. But whatever the case, I know more certainly than ever now, that I've chosen the right person for me. 

Exclamation Points and Smiley Faces

It's hard to put into words; sometimes it just creeps up on me. I realized it this week when I downloaded that TimeHop app. It's supposed to be fun! And show you all of the interesting things you did three years ago! But instead, it made me realize how many more exclamation points and smiley faces I used to use in my status updates, which started me thinking about how long I've really been feeling down for. Which is about three years, if I'm being honest.

I'm not going to call it depression. Because there are people who have experience this on a debilitating level and can't get out of bed in the morning. It's not that bad.

I'd call it more of a cloud that follows me around most days. Like that Skittles commercial, where that old lady gets random candy showers on an hourly basis. Only way less fun and delicious.

I'm not fully sure why I feel the way I do, but the reason I'm sharing it is in hopes that someone else has felt the same way. Maybe by verbalizing it, I can let it go a little bit.

I turned 30 in February, and it was honestly the worst birthday. Not the birthday celebration itself, just the sudden existentialist hurricane it threw me into. I'm not married or pregnant. I don't have a fun new important job with a VP title, and I'm not running any marathons. But it seems like everyone around me IS.

I quit Facebook for awhile; that seemed to help. I just couldn't take the status updates anymore. It was all brag brag brag, and nobody else seems to be dealing with any type of hardships. Just smiling faces and engagement rings and kissing brides and blossoming bellies.

This year, we had "bring your child to work day." I worked from home. It just made me so sad to be around them. I actually cried that morning, which was the first time I realized I felt so empty. I'm not always that sad around babies, but I am sometimes. It varies from day to day.

Don't get me wrong, I know babies aren't bandaids. And we don't even NEED a bandaid. My relationship with K is great, save for the turtle-like pace he's been keeping with putting a ring on my finger. We've talked about it openly a few times since the Montana trip, and I know we're heading there. We've even talked about how we're getting ready to have kids in the next few years. All good stuff. Tonight he's sewing my Halloween costume for our party this weekend. Our day-to-day is good.

So I don't mean to put this on him as if the reason for my melancholy is solely tied to his reluctance to engage. Also, I'd like to think of myself as the kind of person who takes charge of her own happiness and doesn't put it in someone else's hands. Anyone's hands, including that of my future children. It's up to me to make myself happy.

Not all days are bad. Some are exceptionally good. I just feel like I don't smile as bright as I used to these days. And I'd like to fix that. So I think I'll go back to yoga, and read more. And hope that by putting my feelings into words and sending them out into cyberspace, I'll be able to let it go a little bit.

The good news is turning forty should be a BREEZE.

Free Porn

There I was, hiding from my neighbor behind the oranges in the grocery store. That sonofabitch was right in front of the tofu, but I had to leave it behind for the sake of my pride. 

Be careful in a small town, they said. Don't piss off your neighbors, they said.

Rewind three weeks earlier to the town-wide yard sale, where K and I were unabashedly selling our belongings on the front lawn: purses, dishes, and X-Box games included. We decided to make a day of it and drank beer while we were doing it. 

Neighbors came and went, huffing at three dollars for unused aerobic stairs. After a few hours, we marked almost everything "FREE" and were resigned to leaving it at the curb. So we were more than thrilled when the minister, his wife, and their five children stopped by, exuberant over the video games. They wanted one each, and K generously offered for them to only pay for one and take the others. 

After all, it pays to be kind to your neighbors. 

Fifteen minutes later, we were swigging down the last of our beers and dragging the rest of the unsold items to the curb, when we saw the minister's wife coming across the lawn, game in hand. 

Immediately, I had a bad feeling. 

"We got a bonus disc!" She remarked amusedly. I couldn't read her expression. 

"Oh no." I exclaimed in disbelief. "Bad? Or good? What is it?" 

She proudly handed over a Hustler DVD that I had never seen before. My face blanched. Now, I am no prude--to each their own in the boudoir. But this disc was new to me. I was rendered speechless. I looked over at K, who looked as shocked as I felt. In the five years that we've been together, I've NEVER once seen him embarrassed. He is generally cool as a cucumber, calm in every situation, dryly sarcastic. But there was nothing funny about this situation.

"My son popped in the disc to play the game, and luckily we caught it in time!" She said, in good humor. "Kids these days, you never know what they know about! Did you know there's even a thing called PONY PORN?" 

Still speechless, I pushed my glass of beer behind the box of unsold books, in an effort to appear somewhat responsible. I shook my head silently. 

"Well I just had to come over and tell you guys--good thing it was US, and not somebody else!" She walked away, laughing, and we did our best to join in her amusement. When she was gone, we just looked at each other. I asked K where it had come from, and he said he had no idea. Which I believe, because if we had known we'd had it, we would have watched it. I mean... it was from the 80s! Fun for the whole family. But alas, K had snapped the disk in half in a show of defiance and pride. 

Which lead me to my current position in the produce aisle, in the ONE grocery store in town, hiding behind the navel oranges, gazing longingly for the tofu that would have to wait for another shopping trip. I'm sure he saw me, but I couldn't even bring myself to give a courtesy wave. 

I guess what they say is true... be careful what you do in a small town. There's no escape, everyone knows everyone and everyTHING. We've been working SO hard for the last four years to gain some street cred in a town where people have lived their entire lives. I guess we gained more than we anticipated. 

I may have to invest in a nose-and-glasses disguise. 

Rotting Eggs

I sat on the table this morning, paper rustling beneath me, awaiting the doctor with my hands clasped in my lap. My hands were clammy, and my heart was beating quickly. 

It was time I faced what I had been fearing so intently for the past year. The reason my eyes well up when I realize that I'm turning 30 in five months: I'm afraid that I'm running out of time to have children. 

I didn't even know I wanted them, to be honest. It wasn't until I realized that all of my friends are getting married and having babies that I really started to look at my own life and think about what I wanted. 

K and I have talked about getting married and having kids, quite seriously actually. But we're not ready YET. 

But here I was, having to ask the question that I feared getting the answer to: how long do I have left? 

She answered me with a straight face, while I fidgeted and avoided eye contact. Many women are having children from 35 into their forties these days, she told me. You have plenty of time. And while 35 is considered a high risk pregnancy, it basically just means you have to go in for more tests than younger women.

My shoulders sank as I breathed a huge sigh of relief. All of the fears that I had built up over the past year left my body, as I realized that I still could have everything that I wanted: my career, a wedding, and to plan my family with K when WE are ready, not based on some biological clock race. Because eff that shiz. We have plenty of time to embrace growing up, but today? Today is Friday, and I have a 12-pack of Shipyard Pumpkinhead to drink while we watch the series finale of Boston Legal on Netflix.

Keg Kicker

We kicked the keg in a day and a half. Drinking out of solo cups in sweatshirts and rain-soaked shoes. We played Cards Against Humanity until 1am and got a nice visit from the (very cute) forest ranger, who politely asked us to quiet down. 

We got 5 complaints from neighboring campsites, sang Mariah Carey songs at the top of our lungs, and found out the sex of our soon-to-be godchildren (twins!) 

It was the best weekend ever. And it reminded me that I've been taking everything WAY too seriously lately. I may be almost thirty, but we can still have fun. And act like high school kids. And eat s'mores for breakfast.

The Conversation

We went on vacation to Montana last week, for the wedding of one of my best friends. It was the last wedding we have in the lineup for awhile, which, to be honest is a bit of a relief. 

The wedding was incredibly beautiful; we had such an awesome time with all of my high school friends. Then we drove up to Glacier for the remainder of the week, just the two of us. It was incredibly therapeutic taking an entire week for just the two of us. We didn't turn on the radio once for the 3.5 hour drive up to Glacier. Just took photos out the window, talked about life, and absorbed the amazing scenery. 

On our last night, we had a serious talk. It involved many beers and some crying, unsurprisingly. I've been afraid to talk, in all honesty. I thought by being honest about my feelings on marriage and the timeline I have in my head, I'd freak him out. I was afraid to put extra pressure on him and make him stress out. But it turns out, we're not so far off base as I thought. And he is just as excited as I am to get married. Possibly more so, because it seems he already has the shoes for the groomsmen picked out. Really, it comes down to money. We just need to save for a wedding, now. Because 1) we live in New York where everything is "spendy". And 2) we're old, and are planning on paying for the entire thing ourselves.

But it reminded me how important it is to have honest conversations. And how much it reconnects you. I was so terrified to bring up anything wedding-related, and I wound up driving myself into a depression over assumptions. That he wasn't ready. That he was scared. That he felt pressured. That I would be too old to have babies, by the time we got married. Turns out, I was wrong. And I really should have just asked in the first place. I guess I was just scared. Terrified, really.

On our first day back to work after vacation, I was gathering my multiple bags, lunch, and coffee and struggling to close the door on my way to the car. K grabbed my laptop bag and asked what else he could take. He said he sees me every day trying to take everything at once, and just wanted to help. He was already running late, just as I was, which made the gesture all the more special. I think, in the midst of my downward spiral, I forgot to be thankful for everything I have. God, I love that guy. 

Now excuse me while I continue to post on my secret wedding Pinterest board...

Salon Date

Going to the salon is about more than just getting your nails and hair done. It's paying for an hour to spend with a stranger who asks you about YOU. They know you, and your life story, if you go often enough. And sometimes, you feel like they really care. 

And so, on Tuesday, after getting the news that my regular stylist had quit, I found myself in the black leather spinning chair in front of a stranger. Cape tied around my neck, hair parted in the middle and dripping wet, I stared at my blind date--the one wielding the scissors--and tried to read her. She was young, a few years younger than me, a long, thick braid down her back. We started with banal, meaningless conversation, but quickly diverted into serious life-talk. We have similar life situations. I've been with K for 4 years now, she's been with her boyfriend for 3. Both of us want to get married. Both of us want kids, (she has a 14 month old, but advised me to wait until we were really, REALLY ready. Which I took very seriously, since the girl clearly knows what she's talking about.) I opened up about my third-life crisis, and found myself pouring my heart out to the stranger cutting my hair. It felt like a real connection. And when I left, I found myself as excited to make this new friend as I would have been in my dating days to meet a new boyfriend. We were kindred spirits, she and I.

On Thursday, I got my nails done (I'm not usually this diligent about my salon visits, but we're heading to a wedding next weekend). And though I had met this girl before, my visit felt different. Again, we started with nonsense conversation, and gradually diverged into life stories, her painful divorce, dealing with being far from parents, and having to call your partner "boyfriend" at 44 and 29, respectively, though it feels like an inadequate term. We sat talking long after my session ended (I was her last client of the day). When I finally got up to leave, I felt such a high from an honest human connection that I could have cried. 

There is just something to be said about being able to sit across from someone and talk about your life in an open, honest way. It makes you feel like everything in your life is meant to be, and that you're not alone, no matter what it is you're going through. I guess I've just been in dire need to spill my heart out to someone, and though I was paying these two ladies for services, I came away feeling like I had attended a therapy session. 

Going to the salon is about more than beauty treatments. It's about human connection. And sometimes, when you're feeling sad or lonely, just having someone pay attention to you can mean the world. It's all starting to piece back together for me, bit by bit. I can feel myself coming back to life. 

Beer pong to baby bottles

On Saturday, I stood in the middle of the backyard, watching my friends chase tiny humans around the swingset, down the slide. Five years ago, this same group of people and I played rowdy games of beer pong, discussed drama, and drank until we couldn't stand up. 

Now, at my favorite little 4-year-old cousin's birthday party, I smiled as I realized how surreal it was to instead see all of these former keg stand champions with tiny versions of themselves, holding baby bottles instead of beer bottles. 

As painful as it is sometimes for me to be around babies, I can't seem to get enough lately. Five years ago, I would have rather been playing flip cup. Saturday, I delighted in feeding my new little buddy baby Cheetos (that tasted alarmingly like grown-up Cheetos) and marveling over his tiny polo shirt. 

Standing around the buffet, I gracefully dodged inquiries as to why I did not as of yet have a ring on my left finger, with abstract jokes and forced laughter. It's getting harder to joke about. 

I responsibly drank Coke instead of beer, so I could drive, and helped put tiny water guns into gift bags for the kids to take home. 

And as I knelt on the floor of my cousin's bedroom and helped my favorite little 4-year-old into her purple princess bathing suit, I smiled and mulled over how crazy life can be. How you slowly but surely find yourself growing up and getting used to the idea of marriage and babies. One day you're sloshing beer around a frat party, and the next, you're watching your friends chase tiny versions of themselves around. How funny, beautiful, sometimes painful, and seemingly natural this evolution of life can be.

The 30 Panic

To elaborate a little more on yesterday's post, I didn't expect 30 to hit me quite as hard as it has. And it was a sudden panic, not a slow transition. 

I can't remember exactly what it was that set me off, but I think just being at that age where I'm surrounded by marriage and babies has pushed me into it. I mean, there was one day a few weeks ago where THREE different people on my newsfeed got married.

Another really tough part of this panic is the pressure I feel like I'm putting on K. With my brother and sister both getting married within one year, we've gotten many friendly jabs from friends and family about being "next". Which I can totally handle, in small doses. But the cumulative total of jabs started to wear on me after awhile. Because, doesn't everyone understand--I want these things, too! We both do. But we both have to be READY and do it on our own time. Key word: BOTH. Two lives here, not just one.

The crazy thing about this 30-panic is that I'm SO genuinely happy for my friends who are getting married and having babies. I really am. Like, drop-to-my-knees-sobbing, happy. My friends are my favorite people in the whole world, and I'm SO happy they're getting what they've always wanted. 

I felt a lot of guilt for a long time, thinking this made me a bad person. How can you be happy for someone and sad for yourself at the same time? It took me a few months to be able to separate that this sadness doesn't mean I DON'T want them to have these things, I just want them too. 

And truth be told, I'm not even sure I'm READY for any of it. I just know that I want it, and I think I'm readier the closer I get to 30. 

I have good days and bad days, and I'm trying to just embrace the good and recognize that the bad days are just a good opportunity to reflect on my life. 

And what I really wish I could say out loud in an actual spoken conversation K, what I want to tell him is that even though marriage and babies definitely INVOLVE him, I'm not blaming him for this sadness. This is a personal challenge that I need to face myself. And come to terms with the fact that I'm happy with my life as-is, I'm just in a bit of a quarter-life crisis. Or third-life. Sweet jeebus. There's that panic again.

Dark Grey

God, I needed this today. This post (http://momastery.com/blog/2013/07/09/g-how-are-you/?utm_source=feedburner&utm_medium=email&utm_campaign=Feed%3A+Momastery+%28Momastery%29) from Glennon over at Momastery brought tears to my eyes this morning. For the umpteenth time this week. Because I am dark-grey, lately, too. 

I haven't been blogging. Not because I've been lazy. Or uninspired. Because I've been feeling dark grey for the past few months. Like, cry-in-the-car-on-the-way-home-every-day, dark grey. 

And I just haven't been able to put my finger on why. 

Maybe it's because I find myself breathing into a paper bag over turning 30 in six months. I'm watching my friends get married, have babies, make career changes, buy houses... and I am doing none of that. 

I'm the oldest of 3, and the last to get married. And I'm not even sure if I'm READY for marriage. But I want it. And I feel like I should live up to some invisible standard of being married by 30. Which is clearly not going to happen.

And I'm definitely not ready for kids. I am too damn selfish, and I like my alone time, and date night, and beer too much right now. But every now and again, I pick up one of my friends' babies, and something inside of me breaks a little. In that biological-I should be a mother, kind of way. 

And I feel myself moving around in this fog every day, going through the motions of my life. And most days I can make it through. But I find myself crying a lot of the time, and I felt really alone until I read Glennon's post and realized I'm not. 

I'm not sure how to fix what's happening inside my head and heart right now, but I'm trying like hell. And I'm just going to show up, and get through each day the best way I can. I have so much to be grateful for, I just need to be reminded of that sometimes. 

Impromptu Day Drunk

On Saturday, I went to breakfast with my sister while we waited for K to get out of a work meeting. We decided it would be a good day for a breakfast beer, and so the first went down at noon.

Around 1pm, I sent him a text asking how the meeting was.

Good, he said, about a half hour more. So we paid our bill and left the restaurant.

I got another text that said "just ordered another pitcher; might be a bit longer."

Great. What now? we had time to kill. Seestar and I wandered over to a nearby bar, partly scoping out locations for her bachelorette party which is coming up at the end of April.

We sat down at the bar and ordered two beers.

Suddenly... the Michigan State game came on. Game over.

Six hours later, we had some hugs, lots of laughs, some drunken slurring and some much needed quality sister time in the midst of her wedding planning craziness.

K emerged from his meeting around 5pm. The three of us looked at each other. we had errands to run and grown up things to do, but none of that mattered anymore. We left our cars in the parking garage, prayed we didn't get tickets (K even called the police station to responsibly inquire whether we might. They said no.) and caught a cab back to Seestar's apartment, where her loving and unsuspecting fiancee welcomed us with open arms and a case of beer.

We drank for 11 straight hours that day, and had the time of our lives. I can't remember the last time we threw caution to the wind, relaxed and just enjoyed ourselves. Let's just say that when I woke up the next morning, I had gone on an iTunes binge and purchased "Born to Make You Happy" by Britney, among others.

MOTHER

I'm not a mother. Not yet, anyways. Unless you count chasing three cats around the house. But when I AM a mother, you can count on me not posting obnoxious photos of my offspring on Facebook.

Yesterday, I was on the FB, perusing the goings on of people I haven't spoken to in ten years, when I came across a photo post of a friend's newly potty trained daughter... in front of a toilet.

Really? Call me a bitch, but is that totally necessary? It's cool to be proud of your kids and brag about them and post thousands of pieces of photographic evidence that you can, indeed, reproduce. But the toilet backdrop? A little much.

I think we get the jist of your parental capstones without the visuals.

I'm 29. I guess my maternal instinct should kick in at some point. But I would really like to think I'll have better sense than to post photos of my kids in the bathroom.

Okay, I said I'd LIKE TO THINK. I'm not making any promises.

The time we got drunk and pierced my sister's belly button

In honor of Valentine's Day, I'd like to tell you about the time we got drunk and re-pierced my sister's belly button.

No sappy V-day crap here. (Although I did wake up to flowers and the cutest note ever. But nobody wants to hear about that. Give the people what they want!)

It was an otherwise ordinary night: stuffing our faces with snacks, guzzling orange dream martinis, snorting cocaine off of prostitutes..

Those orange dream martinis must have gotten the best of us, because my sister started showing off her newly toned midriff like a pre-teen Britney Spears. We were all super proud of her, because she's worked super hard and lost a TON of weight for her upcoming nuptials, so we were cheering like boys at a strip club.

I happened to mention how sad it was that she allowed her belly button piercing to close up after high school, and that she would be proud of it now.

She must have concurred, because before I knew it, I was racing upstairs to select a BB ring and slamming cupboards in search of rubbing alcohol. (Totally legit, this piercing operation.)

Suddenly, we were standing in the kitchen; she with her top raised like Spring Break '98 and me with my serious surgeon face on.

And then... it was done. And she had a piercing again! I know I must have been drunk, because I didn't throw up watching it. Now, we are pierced twinsies again.

And so, kiddies, what did we learn on this most auspicious occasion of love day? Don't get drunk and open up a piercing shop in your kitchen like white trash hillbillies.