Obsessions of a Pinkaholic Rotating Header Image

I love him…

I don’t know what it is. I don’t understand the logic. Quite frankly, the underlying stubborn streak of it all, annoys me. But there is something in me that really rails against anything along the lines of What You Should Feel. Because what if I don’t want to feel that way? Hmm, WHAT THEN? Maybe you shouldn’t tell me how I should feel or what I should think about the matter. Maybe what I am feeling is on the entirely opposite end of the spectrum. Maybe I really am just dead inside and I’m feeling nothing at all! Or maybe I just need a minute to get to that feeling. I take a while to organize my thoughts into any kind of semblance of something that would create a reaction or feeling…and all that. I think, at the heart of it all though, I get all riled up because those feelings that I don’t want to be expected to feel? I feel them. So, very, deeply.

So when we were approaching that One Year Mark. You know, the One Year Anniversary. The one that is apparently a Very! Big! Deal! I felt annoyed. I’m a rebel. What can I say? But yes, I felt annoyed. I tried to convince myself that the hype was all just romantic fluff and nonsense. A year is nothing! A year is no sort of accomplishment in the grande scheme of Married Life. A year marks twelve measly little months. You show me TWENTY years and then we’ll talk about A Big Deal.

And then I realized that my thoughts were taking on a bitter note. And I made myself stop and attempt to figure out why. Why did I want to think that a year was not what everyone said it was? A year was not really that long at all! A year couldn’t possibly be worth celebrating. And then I realized…I didn’t want a year to be a big deal. My frustration toward the romantic fluff was nothing more than a pitiful wall of defense that I’d built around myself. For the very reason that it is a big deal. I didn’t want to approach this date, September 27, a full year after I committed my life to my best friend, because every single feeling that that evoked included tremendous amounts of failure, in my eyes, when all I wanted to feel was celebration! We’ve had a year. 365 days. 8,760 hours. 525,600 minutes. Almost all of them spent together. And I’ve failed. I’ve failed as a wife. I’ve failed to give my husband what he needs as a man. Every single one of those minutes that perilously ticked by? I failed him.

I realized that every single part of my perspective regarding this looming anniversary was drooping with the weight of defeat.

The day that this realization clicked in to place, I made it home from work and half way into our yoga workout before I crumpled into a pile of sweaty tears. One minute, I was in a deep, awkward lunge attempting to “clear my mind” and the next thing I know, a rush of anger – anger so intense that I scared myself that it could be directed at our anniversary…our marriage – dropped me to my knees. And all I could do was cry. And Dorian dropped down right beside me and reassured me, like the incredibly patient, selfless man that he is, that I do not have to worry. And that we will get through this. And that the success of our marriage is not based on the success of our physical intimacy. He held me and let me cry and then he wiped my tears. And he reminded me, in that moment, of the 18 frillion (and counting) reasons I married him.

And in the few weeks since then, God has used Dorian – his words, his actions, his wisdom, his patience, his strength – to remind me that there IS a plan in this. That plan has nothing to do with my understanding or my will or my timing. The situation that we are is in God’s hands. And rather than focus on all the things about it that frustrate me and confuse me and leave me feeling very lost…I can realize that there are so many blessings that have come out of this. Dorian and I have learned levels of communication that I don’t know that we would have otherwise…we certainly wouldn’t have been able to learn them in only one year of marriage. We’ve also learned levels of vulnerability with each other that have opened up the door to a deeper emotional intimacy than I would have ever expected. Dorian has seen every side of me, this past year. And I do mean, every side. The good, the bad, the ugly. I’ve experienced moments of weakness with him that I would have been humiliated to share with anyone else. And somehow, I look into his eyes and see more love than I did even on our wedding day.

Through all of this, rather than being upset and requiring something of me that I couldn’t give, he’s been patient and understanding and incredibly selfless. He has truly been a mirror image of God’s love. A comfort and strength in the midst of the storm. When I blamed God, he gently reminded me that the Lord will not give us anything more than we can handle. He reminded me that God’s plan is far better than mine. He reminded me that prayers begging God to just “make it better” cannot be fulfilled without  faithful perseverance and belief that He will heal…even if it’s not how I think He should.

Over the past few weeks, Dorian Eugene has led me back to a place in my faith that I am embarrassed to admit I’d blocked my heart from because of my bitterness. I am so thankful for that man. And now I can honestly say that I am thankful…truly, very thankful…for this struggle that we’ve had this year. It has shown me things about Dorian and brought us to a place in our marriage that we might not have seen otherwise. And I can now say that I am approaching our anniversary with a heart FULL of celebration. God has given me such an incredible gift in Dorian. I do not deserve him. But I am so, so glad to be able to spend every day, for as long as we both shall live, with him.

You Is A Tubbo

I have been getting ungodly amounts of spam lately. Just sick, torrential downpours of spam…straight into my inbox. A friend sent me a couple potential solutions to the Spam Problem the last time I complained about it…but, as I tend to be completely computer illiterate, I was intimidated by anything out of my realm of Things I Already Know How To Do. I think I may need to find his suggestions and try them though. Because seriously. So! Much! Spam!

I’ve been getting quite a few comments on my NyQuil post and I’m wondering if it’s because it’s a brand name? Their Spammy Filters are drawn to it? Spam Bots really like NyQuil? They are all insomniacs and have a weird fettish with anything and everything that would induce sleep?  I don’t know.

What I DO know, is that one of the comments informed me that I needed to do more exercises. Really? More exercises, huh? Aside from really wanting to throw that particular comment (er?) the finger, I just sit here kind of stumped. Do even the Spam Bots know how to get at the heart of your insecurity?

The first thing I note when I see these stupid spam comments, aside from the atrocious grammar, and the fact that they are getting really obnoxious, is that a real, thinking human being couldn’t possibly be sending these. They’ve got to have some kind of something (seriously, know nothing about computers or networks or internet or filters or search engines…not a thing) that finds a trigger word or phrase and then pulls a combination of words from their vat of idiotic comments labeled, How to Drive a Blogger to the Insane Assylum.

I know that these comments are utterly ridiculous. Completely assinine. I know that. I also know that a real person is probably not even sending them. And even if they are, they do not know me. They’ve never seen me. They couldn’t possibly have any kind of logic or reason to base that comment on. So seriously, why? Why once my very logical thought process of assuming the comment means NOTHING…why do the worries roll in? My brain sounds something like this:

Pfffft, wrong. Have you even seen how much I workout? More exercises, please. I’ll show you exercises. I’ll go all P90X all OVER your sorry behind…*a few seconds tick by*…Well, I guess maybe I could go for a run or something in the evenings a few nights a week. I could probably do that. I guess P90X isn’t really that intense, now that I think about it. Hmm, I could probably push myself harder if I can honestly get to the point that I feel like P90X isn’t intense. I should be pushing myself harder, shouldn’t I? Higher weight. Probably more reps too. I probably shouldn’t be able to walk after a workout. Crap. Now all of my workouts don’t count because I haven’t even been DOING them as well as I could. Maybe I will start running after work. Yeah, that sounds good. I’ll do P90X in the morning and then run after work. Yes, good. OK….

And on, and on, and on…

Stupid, stupid spam. I definitely need to figure out how to block that nonsense.

 

*Edit*
Ha! As I posted this, I received another comment on the NyQuil post.

Love/Hate Relationship

Do you want to know what makes for an explosively cranky evening? There’s quite an exact recipe, really. Let me share it with you:

You take – One part Husband, combined with a handful of crass bar-mates, add three or four big-screen TV’s all turned to the same game, 3-5 beers per bar stool, and shared appetizers all around. Finally, add one football team everyone loves to hate, and an underdog football team (that aforementioned Husband would readily cuddle with given the opportunity) who just can’t seem to pull off a win (no matter what it would do for you in the bedroom later). Mix aggravatedly and pour out, allowing it to take a massive dump on your evening.

I guarantee you, that that recipe can kill any fun said-evening previously contained.

I love football. Love, love, love…’til my Daddy takes the T-Bird away…but after last night? I may be avoiding All Things Monday Night Football Related. Or really, just all Bills games. I may also make sure that I am not within a five mile radius of when that boy checks the scores of whatever game they’ve just slaughtered. Tom Brady would be wise to drop and play dead if Dorian were ever given the opportunity to meet him in person. I can’t blame Dorian for his distaste for him (and assorted other teammates) though. I’d totally punch him in the face too. I think I’d enjoy a good crack at Randy Moss’ jaw more though. He’s such a cocky jerk. I hope he takes a random knee-to-the-junk in a Tackle Gone Horribly Wrong…But Oh So Wonderfully Right, kind of way.

The random high-light of last night though – There was a guy at Applebees that totally made Dorian look like an itty-bitty peanut. When the Bills scored their second teasing facade of a touch-down, Dorian ran around the bar (Picture: kid running down the stairs on Christmas morning, kind of excitement, here) high-fiving everyone. And this guy, sitting in his seat, was bigger (and taller) than Dorian. I almost snorted my drink through my nose it made me laugh so hard.

Anyways, I like the Bills (in the, I like cheering for the same team as my husband, kind of way), but I may be avoiding them for a while. They break your heart, every time.

Thinking…

Ok, listen to this…on September 1, I had the grand intention of writing every single day! in this here blog. My intentions have flopped dramatically, it would seem. I made it all the way to September 2, felt really down in the dumps about something on September 3, intended to share those thoughts and feelings when I knew I could be more level-headed about my sharing, but still felt defeated about them on September 4…and then left on my merry way for a Holiday, extended weekend and lookie-here! It’s September 9th already! And that’s really all I have to say about tha-at.

It’s been a quiet day, here on Walton Mountain. No, just kidding. Here at work, it’s been quiet. Quite a few people took advantage of an extended, extended holiday weekend by taking the day off. And quite a few other people have been holed up in conference rooms all day on Deployment calls. So I’ve been minding my own business all day long, and it occurred to me- I think I may have spoken about fifty words out loud today. Talk about keeping to yourself!

My first thought was that this is just completely out of character for me. But then, I realized that that is not out of character at all. In fact, not speaking once I’ve settled myself in Cubeville is really, really normal for me. I think there are multiple reasons for that: First and foremost being that everything here. And I do mean, every. little. thing. is done on such a hush-hush level that I feel like, the second I open my mouth is the second that I’ve let far too much information slip. Regardless of the topic. Riding on the heels is the close Second of the fact that there are some extremely nosy people in this office and they listen to everything going on. So you seriously cannot open your mouth about anything to anyone within their earshot because they will welcome themselves right into the conversation. And if they don’t do that, they bring up the topic later as if they have license to do so. I’ll give them a license.  License to kiss my butt because there’s no way I’m opening my yapper enough to give them that opportunity to know any details that they may find necessary to bring up in the future.

But the most thought-provoking reason, Third, is that I think I am just an extremely guarded, analytical person. Ex-treme-ly. I think if you know me…if you really know me, you’ll nod your head right along with that. I think about things until they’ve turned to mush in my head, had time to harden back up, been chewed into a drooly pile of spittle, had time to harden back up again, and then been chewed up and spit out. I agonize and I worry and I think think think until you’d think I couldn’t think anymore…but then WAIT! what about THIS?! I haven’t even begun to think about this angle! I want to know that the decision being made is the right decision. The best decision possible. The decision that will contain the least amount of potential regret and the highest amount of positive repercussions. I want to make sure that the people that get to hear my thoughts, my musings, my worries, my fears, my angles…I want to make sure that they will take whatever is coming out of my mouth as seriously as I do. Because you can be certain that if it’s coming out of my mouth, it’s only because I’ve been thinking about it for five days straight and I can’t contain my logic any longer!

And poor Dorian. Poor, poor Dorian. He is currently trying to do something incredibly sweet and wonderful and romantic and generous and fantastic for us for our anniversary. And I can’t stop worrying about it. And I want to turn my brain off. I really just want to make this ever churning, ever sucking Think cycle turn off. I want to be able to go with the flow and trust his judgment and let him do this wonderful thing. But my brain won’t stop. My worries won’t cease. I want us to do the right thing. And I’m worried that big, blow-out romance may not be the most Right Thing, right now.

I just want to stop thinking. *Sigh* Just this once. Be impulsive. Not care about the end result. Just go. Just…let…go.

Pumpkin Spice Lattes make my world go ’round

Oh, Fall. How I have missed you…

I made a decision this past weekend. I decided that rather than begrudge this chilly weather for robbing me of my summer weekends, I would enjoy it. I’d take advantage of every single drop in temperature, every gust of wind, every cloud-filled rainy day. I absolutely love fall…and if this past “summer” was any indication, winter will savagely sweep it’s way into our lives soon enough to make us feel as though we’ve been cheated from fall too.

So, even though it was August, I hauled out my big hoodie sweatshirt, decided upon a few recipes that belonged in this column of the calendar months, and busied myself with some baking in the kitchen. I made my Always Delicious Pumpkin Lump Cookies. They’ve been a hit amongst all who have been able to enjoy them. You know, me and Dorian. Because, seriously, they are so good. And we are selfish people. And do not want to share. Because we are five. And love our new shiny, red truck. And NO YOU CANNOT DRIVE IT! IT’S MINE! MOMMYYYYYY! Ahem. What? We just love our pumpkin cookies, is all I’m saying.

And – I just felt a gust of excitement, well up within my chest, because of what I am about to share with you – What I am about to tell you is very possibly one of the most important, most exciting, deliciously intoxicating pieces of information that you will hear all day. No, ALL WEEK. No, ALL MONTH! Are you ready for this? (Incidentally, almost every single time I type the word “ready”, I forget the ‘y’ at the end. Seriously, every post for the last month, I believe, I’ve had to go back into five minutes after posting to edit and add a ‘y’ – and now that you know that, I have no doubt that you will find, like, multiple grammar errors per post that I neglected to correct because I was TOO EXCITED ABOUT MY NEWS! What news? You ask. OH YEAH, I HAVEN’T EVEN TOLD YOU YET!) Ok, are you ready? Good. Because I don’t know if I can contain myself for ONE MORE SECOND!

Starbucks. Guess what they brought back for the season, as of today. Go on, guess. PUMPKIN SPICE LATTES! If you’re not doing a bit of a happy dance because of that, then I just don’t even want to know you.

A few weeks ago, on our way to Kentucky, we stopped for a potty break. At a Starbucks. Because really, why even stop if you can’t get some coffee? Good point, I know. And I got to chatting with the barista. Oh, shut up, of course I got to chatting with the barista. It’s what I doooo. And she told me that they would be rolling out the fall drinks in a few weeks. And I nearly climbed over the counter to give her a full frontal HUG. And then, this morning, my favorite Alisa Marie texted me to confirm the joyous news. She was at that very moment, getting a Pumpkin Spice Latte. And tears welled up in my eyes. And all was right with the world again. I knew that by lunchtime today, I would join the Starbucks Pumpkin Spice Latte Lovers of the world, and drink from what may as well be our Fountain of Youth.

Yes, as a matter of fact, I am drinking one right now. Why do you ask?

While I was at Starbucks, anxiously awaiting my drink - I may or may not have been bouncing along with the music. I admit to nothing. Dorian! Shut up! – I noticed that everything around me was shimmering with happiness and butterflies. Ok, whatever. Maybe that’s a bit far-fetched. But seriously, I could not stop smiling. I loved everything around me. That song that someone was dancing to? LOVE. The fact that there were college students sitting there doing homework already? LOVE (AND AM JEALOUS). That sunshine raining down glorious beams of light and warmth? I JUST WANT TO RUN OUTSIDE AND SQUEEZE IT! The air that is just barely kissed with that incredible crisp flavor of fall? I CANNOT GET ENOUGH!

So, I mean, hi. It is a good day. No, it’s an absolutely glorious, marvelous, magnificent, wonderful day. Fully enhanced and doubled in it’s greatness by my scrumptious Pumpkin Spice Latte. The End.

Because My Opinion Really Should be Law

I vote that once every 3-5 years (or so), we should be allowed to have a gigantic, wedding-style party that is all about you. Where you get to wear a gorgeous dress (if you so choose) and have wonderful food and fun dancing and be surrounded by all of your favorite people….and get presents. Because you’re an absolute liar if you tell me that being showered with gifts that you would have had no other means of bestowing upon yourself ALL AT THE SAME TIME, wasn’t one of the more fun aspects of your wedding…

Wouldn’t that be wonderful?! It is my humble opinion that weddings in general are just far too much fun to have to be done with once your group of friends have all married off. I’ve got about 3 more weddings to look forward to and then I’ll have to stop, cold turkey. And I do not agree with that logic, at all. Plus, I really really want to be able to wear another gorgeous gown. I have always been the girl who loves getting done up every once in a while. Now, almost a year out from our wedding, I look wistfully at the pictures and have the most depressing thought process ever – I will never look that pretty, ever again. And just, HARUMPH! on that unfortunate piece of information.

Plus! I think knowing that there are other glorious parties to be had in your honor would totally take the maddening pressure off of the Wedding Day for Brides around the world! It’s like, you get many, many do-overs and can either a.) go more low key with each one because you know you’ve got another chance coming up or b.) have the opportunity to do the 18 frillion different theme ideas that you had a desperately difficult time deciding between in the first place. See?! There are really only up-sides to my idea. Now, how to go about implementing it…?

Oh, oh! I also vote that you be able to aquire “maternity leave” for reasons other than just having a baby. I found myself, staring jealously at Facebook profiles of women with new babies or women who were pregnant because they are on and/or GET maternity leave. I wanted to be pregnant, just so that I would have a leave of absence to look forward to at work. Sounds like someone is in frantic need of a vacation. Because, you know, instead of logically just wishing for a longer period of vacation time accrual, I wished….to be…PREGNANT. Seems like you should probably want to and/or be ready to be a parent when you’re hoping to be pregnant!

So, somehow, the world is going to need to adjust according to my whim. 1.) We need more blow-out parties, and 2.) We need more ridiculous lengths of vacation time. Please and Thank you.

Being Obsessed is an Expensive Habit!

Because, I mean….holy cow. With the expenses…of being obsessed…with something. Anything!

I love to run. Really, actually love it. But I need new running shoes. A good pair is right up there around $100. Easy. I like a specific kind of outfit when I run. The shorts need to have liners, the shirts need to absorb sweat rather quickly without feeling like they are soaking wet and the bras need to be on the better side of supportive. When I run, I like my awareness of my flopping lady bits to be as minimal as possible. Oh! And I like a very specific kind of sock. And then, as if the cost of the comfort level weren’t enough, I am the kind of person who works best with a very specific goal in mind. Say, a race. And for the races that I’ve run so far, the minimum entry fee was around $20. That was for a 5K. Don’t even get me started on marathon entry fees. If I didn’t love All Things Disney so much, I’d tell them right where they could stick their outrageous marathon fees.

And the kicker about all of that is? Running is one of the more inexpensive sports!

To be able to really excel at anything, you’ve got to be prepared. And it takes specific equipment to be prepared…pretty much, no matter what you’re looking to be prepared for.

So lately, I’ve really really wanted to be able to pursue cooking. I’ve been averaging two new recipes a week, this past month. Like I said the other day, I’ve been researching recipes religiously, lately. And it kills me. It kills me, dead, to see all of these gadgets and things that we do not have that I either a.) Have to have in order to even be able to make the recipe or b.) Having said gadget would make life that much easier in accomplishing the making of the recipe. This past week alone, these are the things that I have made mental notes to start looking out for at discounted prices (seriously, wish I’d known all of this when it came around to registering for the wedding. Knowledge is power my friend, and I was armed with less than ZERO knowledge when we went about that whole registry process):

  • Kitchen Aid Mixer
  • Set of knives (we only have butter knives, a pairing knife, a bread knife and one chopping knife. Like I said, we technically have what we need…but a true set of cooking knives could very possibly send Dorian into a state of ecstasy)
  • Pastry Blender
  • Scraper thingy for scraping pastry off the counter
  • Rolling pin
  • Citrus zester
  • Cheese grater
  • Pizza Stone
  • And then don’t even get me started on the constantly-evolving grocery list!

See, this is why it pays to be an under-achiever. If you don’t lend your affections to anything even erring toward the side of passion, you don’t have to feel grave disappointment every time you realize, ope! can’t do that either! no money to fund the obsession!

Now I’m just being petty and bitter because like I said…I can make due -quite successfully, if I’m being honest- with the many, many kitchen utensils, gadgets, tools and appliances that we were generously given for our wedding. I just get all snarky and snippy when it comes to all things money, these days. Which is just horribly selfish when I take a step away from my dramatic, pity-party thought process because hello? we’ve got more than enough and have been enormously blessed by multiple people in our lives.

*sigh* I really wish that logic would make me stop thinking about the Kitchen Aid Mixer…

Looks Like A Co-Co Nut

If you know me at all, you know that I love All Things Coconut. All Things. I love how it smells, I love how it tastes, I love how it feels. Seriously, how it feels. When I come within a half mile radius of anything Coconut, I can feel warm, tropical breezes whispering through the air. I feel like I’m wrapped in the thick, delicious, fragrant essence of Vacation, itself. I have different associations for different variations of Coconut. For instance, Bath and Body Works Exotic Coconut will forever and always remind me of Disney. Because the first time I used the body wash, I was on vacation at DisneyWorld with Dorian’s family. I’d come downstairs after getting ready, and Judy would be in a different room and know I was near because she smelled Coconut. One of my favorite morning memories of that trip was when I walked into the kitchen and she calls from the bathroom, “I smell Kristen!”

I’ve also been experiencing an increasing love and passion for writing. If I didn’t think that Dorian’s schooling needed to come first (whole-heartedly and without a smidge of grudging related to that!), I would be pursuing a Master’s in Journalism or some form of Copy Editing. Something, anything that would lead to a life-long career in writing. The primary avenue I indulge this passion for writing is in zealously reading blogs. I also, CLEARLY, pursue that in writing my own…but I am an avid follower of many different writers online.

And finally, I am really, really beginning to enjoy cooking and baking. A solid chunk of the time I spend online is spent researching recipes and the different methods with which to make the best version of whatever recipe I am drooling over.

So it should come as no suprise, that today, when I stumbled upon a Cooking Blog entitled ‘Coconut & Lime’, I may or may not have squealed, out loud, at my desk. Just possibly. But really, very definitely.

About Yesterday’s Post?

Hahaaaaaaa!

I am entirely, WAY TOO OPTIMISTIC AND TRUSTING.

Eff that idea. Eff it.

We’re just gonna chalk that up to a great old, I SHOULD HAVE KNOWN BETTER.

It will never cease to amaze me how quickly someone can break my heart.

You know you are an adult when…

You get excited about the accomplishment of using every last drop, bite, ounce, piece, slice, niblet, portion, etc. of whatever it is you’ve purchased. Be it soap, shampoo, bread, post-it notes, ink pens, cookies, whatever.

I realized this today when I excitedly emailed Dorian asking him if we could change what we’d planned for dinner to a meal that we’d planned to be Wednesday in order to use the last of the hamburger buns before they became stale. I mean, I was excited.

Baby! Hi! Do you mind if we have pork barbeque again instead of manicotti so that we can use the hamburger buns?! If you don’t want to, that’s totally fine. I know we just had it at the end of last week. I just would really love to use up the buns! I think it would be the first time since we’ve even started grocery shopping together that we used the very last of what was in the package! Isn’t that exciting!? So can we switch it? Please?!”

I mean, WEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! Using all the hamburger buns! WAHOOOO! We’re living the high life now! Can you even handle the thrill? CAN YOU?! This adrenaline rush is one of a kind, I tell you. ONE OF A KIND.

And as I clicked the send button on that email, I realized that that’s it. That’s the clincher. I’m a grown up. I’m all responsible and stuff. I’m fully aware of every cent spent and wasted. When I look at the two last, lonely hamburger buns sitting in their plastic casket, I no longer think that I might as well throw them away to make more room in the pantry. I see $.45 each and feel like I’m entertaining the idea of lighting a dollar on fire.

And then I realize that I’ve got the fixin’s to use them up if I just switch the dinner schedule around, and I tell ya, I may as well have just had an orgasm because that’s how excited I was. Haaa! Totally kidding.  Orgasms are way more exciting. EW, SORRY! Our parents read this! Clearly, I need to get a hold of myself. Where is my filter? I guess I’m just too caught up in all this excitement! Saving a DOLLAR?! I mean, THAT’S exciting!