May 10, 2002

The Day We Got Engaged
Originally uploaded by mosaiclife.

I was going through old pictures tonight, and I found this picture. It was taken on the beach in Destin literally minutes after we got engaged. I had a tan then, and it was one of the few times in my life that I've been able to acquire one, thanks to the cancer machine (tanning bed).

At the time I had no idea what I was getting into. I was moving to California, where I had no job and no friends, save the one I was engaged to. My dad was scared I wouldn't make it in California. I'm so glad I took that chance.

Although I may not finish college at the same time as most of my friends, or buy a house as soon as they do, or start a family or a career any time soon, I'm truly happy. My husband is amazing, I love my life and I trust God to lead us in the right direction. Sometimes it's nice to be reminded of that.

I should have mentioned this months ago. If you're considering buying an ipod nano, be sure to get a good case for it, because it scratches if you so much as breathe on it. Or at least mine does. I'm not sure if the black nanos are more fragile than the white, but mine is black, so there you go.

Either way, when it comes to your nano, use protection. It's the right thing to do.

(Wow at the commas in this blog. See, Tom? You're not the only bad writer.)

While Brandon's sister Briana was here, she and her husband Jeff had a little difficulty keeping their 3 1/2 year old and one year old entertained. Jeff had to make up games out of items in the hotel, which led to the "tickle knife."

The tickle knife is plastic, and it's used for tickling (hence the name). Not knowing about this new game, I was a little surprised when the 3 1/2 year old ran up to her mother and began running the knife vertically down her tummy (did I mention Briana is almost 9 months pregnant?). I wondered if our niece was tired of mommy being pregnant and thought a c-section was necessary. I'm just hoping she sticks with plastic knives for this game. Because, you know, it's all fun and games until someone gets a knife wound.

The dust has finally started to settle. The memorial was Friday, and it went well. It was family only (with small exceptions). We spent that evening with family, and had a small birthday party for our nephew Joshua, who turned one that day.

There are still things to be done, but hopefully the hardest part is over. Thank you so much for your thoughts and prayers. And even if you didn't know exactly what to say to me or Brandon, we appreciated the kind words. Sometimes "I'm really sorry about your loss. I don't know what to say" says a lot more than that. So thank you.

Brandon's dad passed away around 5:30 pm yesterday. He was surrounded by his children, plus me, but he'd always made me feel like a daughter. It was very peaceful. He was deeply loved, and even though he has been in pain for years, it seemed too soon.

Now the family has to plan his memorial and go through his things. I think going through his stuff in the garage will be the hardest. Brandon, Sean and I spent so many nights just standing around in the garage, talking to his dad and playing with his tools. Sometimes we'd be there pretty late, too. It was fun just to hang out and joke around. Brandon's dad had a great sense of humor. When he had his foot amputated, he joked that he could say he was attacked by a shark while surfing. And he said he'd thought about shoe shopping in the future, that he would just switch out one shoe so that he had two right shoes.

He always drove Brandon and me to the airport whenever we flew to Alabama, even this last trip. He went out of his way to help us out, and for that we are truly grateful. He was a kind, patient and loving father, and he will be missed greatly.

Brandon blogged this on his site today:

For those of you that pray, I would appreciate prayer for my father who is on life support. He has had various health problems this past year, and we brought him into the hospital on Saturday night for congestive heart failure. He was doing better, but then things took a turn for the worse. Now, as I said, he's on life support and in a comatose state. Please pray that God would heal him and bring him back to us. He's only 50 and far too young to be like this. My dad is genuinely the kindest and selfless man I know; I admire him more than anybody else.

I can't imagine what he must be going through right now, along with the rest of his family. This is very difficult, and all that anyone can do now is pray.

Yesterday was my first official day of class. I spent about an hour beforehand standing in line at the bookstore, lugging my new math and lit books (which probably weighed 20 pounds easily) slowly to the front of the line.

Afterward I searched for my American Lit classroom. It was in this obscured building that I've never had a class in at Saddleback, despite how embarrassingly long I've been going there. I chatted with a girl before class who commented that the classroom smelled like an old Volvo. Though I haven't been in many old Volvos, I'm guessing she's right.

The teacher lectured us about how we should keep this room neat and tidy, while I glanced about the room noticing the missing ceiling tiles, flood-stained carpet and chipped paint on the walls. Yes, this is a room that deserves respect, mainly because it is probably releasing chemicals and toxins that will slowly poison you or render you infertile.

At one point in class she asked us to share some information about ourselves. Our major, what year we were, the last book we read. This is where I sealed my social fate and answered honestly that the last book I (re)read was Stiff: The Curious Lives of Human Cadavers by Mary Roach. There was not enough time to defend the book to a point at which I would not look morbid, so I simply stated that learning about early anatomy, embalming, cannibalism and scientific tests cadavers have been subjected to can be fascinating, and that the author takes a candid and respectful approach to death. My fellow students raved about To Kill a Mocking Bird and anything by C.S. Lewis, so I'm sure I stood out. Which... Is good. Right?

So I heard on the news today that the oldest of the Baby Boomers will be turning 60 this year, and therefore retiring. That's supposed to cause a labor shortage. Here's the thing, though. People live to be 80 these days. That's a good 20 years of playing golf, driving dangerously, and nagging the kids to produce grandchildren. Why not work a little, too? I mean, what else are you going to do, besides moniter the weather and find new ways to put more fiber in your diet? Or perhaps decorate your house for Christmas in such a way that people say, "They must have too much time on their hands."

This does not apply to those who are forced to retire. That's sort of sad, because the people who don't want to retire are probably good workers who judge their worth by their work ethic.

My Experience with a Screaming Baby

During our visit to Florida, in the very same store where I saw Tom and Lisa, Amanda and I were looking around at clothes with her 7 week old youngin'. Amanda asked if I could watch Micah while she tried on some things, and I said sure, why not? He was sleeping and being all cute and infanty, surely watching him for a few minutes wouldn't be a big deal.

Unless you are cognitively impaired and were unable to read the title, you know what happened next. Cute little Micah turned into red-faced, half choking, screaming like I'd been pulling his fingernails off one by one Micah in a matter of seconds. So I did what I was supposed to do. I tried patting his back to get him to burp out his misery. I walked around hoping the movement would soothe him. I did everything I could think of. I even tried showing him his own reflection. Who doesn't like watching themselves in the mirror, huh? Him, that's who.

Women walked past, giving me sympathetic looks. One asked, "does he have the colic?" To which I replied, "I have no idea." I tried to joke with some, saying things like "he loves shopping!" but their expressions never changed from that look of sympathy, perhaps because my jokes weren't that funny. He somehow wiggled the spit-up cloth (or whatever it's called) onto the ground, and when a kind girl retrieved it for me, I found it ironic that it read "Thank Heavens for Little Boys."

I Uploaded Pictures!

Brandon Playing with Fire
Originally uploaded by mosaiclife.

And in a timely manner, too. That's because I'm awesome. I'm going to keep rambling, because this post will look stupid if there's nothing written on the left. I was thinking of making a nerdy remark like "this is how you really play hot potato" but I will refrain. Sort of. Happy New Year!

We're back in Californ-i-a. We arrived home around 11:30 pm, which felt like 1:30 to us due to the time change. But we had a great visit. We went to see our friends Andy and Amanda (and their 4 youngins) on the 1st and 2nd, and I happened to see Tom and Lisa when we went to Destin, which is detailed on DYL.

No, Brandon didn't get a chance to shoot anything dead on this trip, as he gave grace to many an unsuspecting doe and bobcat. Maybe next time he'll happen upon something that he can be proud to shoot. I'll upload some pictures from the trip on flickr pretty soon. So if we took pictures of you (Corrie, Erick, Melissa, Mitch, Shanna, Shanna's dog (Apple), Crumpler family, my sister, any of my unsuspecting family members - should any of the aforementioned read my site) and you don't want to be seen by the world, email/comment/message me on AIM/yell really loud in my general direction and I will refrain. I'm just that nice.