On Things Remembered

June 30, 2018: My mom ordering bubbles at I do I do Bridal. The smell of the bridal salon. Brunch at my Aunt Kathy's. The looks on everyone's faces when I walked out wearing The Dress. The catch in my throat when Mary, my dress consultant, asked what I thought. Everyone--my mom, Wicked, Aunt Jeanette, Aunt Kathy, Aunt Pat, and Aunt Diane--crying. Me crying when Mary asked me if this was the dress I saw myself getting married in. Feeling so excited and beautiful. Feeling the surreal sensation of "oh my God, we're wedding planning!" for a wedding I couldn't yet "see" but knew was coming.

August 2018: Walking through Burden Gardens with Case and realizing this was where we would celebrate our wedding. Finally starting to "see" the wedding. Our wedding. The butterflies in my stomach feeling as we signed on the line and wrote the check for our date: October 19, 2019.

December 2018: Our 2-hour Skype call with our amazing photographers. Realizing we'd found "our people" to photograph our wedding. The relief. 

April 2019: The excitement of finding out Aunt Jeanette was moving to Baton Rouge to help with the wedding. The feeling of relief that we didn't have to worry about the flowers anymore. The panic of realizing that we really, really needed to make a plan now and get things going.

August 30-September 1, 2019: The nervousness of my New Jersey bridal shower weekend. Being completely in the dark about what Sam had planned. Feeling overwhelmed by the outpouring of love. Feeling surreal that this was really happening. It was really my time for my bridal shower. Seeing that Sam made a shower that was basically my reception vision in shower form. Having a pancake bar. The Lush bachelorette party.

September 28, 2019: My TARDIS & Doctor Who-themed Louisiana bridal shower. So completely different from my NJ weekend. So very lovely in its own right. Feeling excited and ready for the wedding. Feeling calm. Feeling like it needed to be wedding time already.

October 2019: The roller coaster. Setting a very strict schedule and workout routine for myself. Throwing myself into run group and the low FODMAP diet my functional wellness doctor prescribed me. Feeling amazing. Feeling stressed, increasingly. Starting a strict regimen of Holy Basil, CBD, and other stress-reducing herbal treatments.

October 11-13, 2019: My bachelorette party weekend in NOLA. Utter perfection. A Mac n Cheese festival. A "bad bitches of history" ghost tour. A Mardi Gras museum with a costume room. All the alcohol. A charming hotel. Brunch at Red Dog Diner. Absolutely perfect weather. Finished the weekend utterly calm and ready for the wedding.

October 14 & 15, 2019: The most stressful and emotional days leading into the wedding. Terrible weather forecast for the upcoming weekend. Non-stop rain through the morning of the 16th. Lots of time at the gym and trying to eat clean to keep my body under control and inflammation at bay.

October 16, 2019: The day I gave it up to God and the universe and decided what will be will be re: the wedding and my to-do lists. Finally feeling like my feet were underneath me for the schedule. My to-do lists were finished and now I just needed to, well, to-do them.

October 17, 2019: A perfect day. A fantastic run. Lunch gathering at my mom's where we got to visit with family, dinner with our dear friends from NAU. Then I partied with my brother, Alex and Macaela well into the wee hours, and I managed to end the night (morning) with a panic attack about not being ready for the wedding and doing it all wrong after too much partying and not enough sleep, and I had to wake up Case and have him talk me through it, wrap me up in a blanket, and cuddle with me until I fell asleep.

October 18, 2019: All the bliss from the day before was replaced with utter panic about getting everything done in time. Tired from only 4 hours of sleep. Hungover from partying. Very, very, VERY emotional about the fact that, holy shit. This was it. This was rehearsal day and nails day and WE WERE GETTING MARRIED TOMORROW! Went for a too-short run that definitely helped with the nerves. Kept chipping away at the to-do list. Got pampered at the salon with my ladies. Mini-napped in the massage chair. Raced home to change before the rehearsal, to discover that Alex, Macaela, Charlie, and Dan had been tirelessly working to clean the house and get everything ready for the Big Day. Feeling overwhelmed. Saw Case in his fancy rehearsal clothes and decided "screw it, I'm wearing the dress I planned on wearing even though I have no time for makeup right now." (SO glad I did.) Drove to the church, got yelled at by crossing guards for going too fast (we were). Still feeling panicky. Still tired.

Arrived at the church. Dad made a joke about getting him yelled at by a crossing guard. Saw our minister, who was quintessential Nathan and talked me off the ledge (again). Met our coordinator's assistant, who was standing in for her due to a last-minute event emergency switch-around. Going to Nathan's office to sign the marriage license while we waited for everyone to arrive late. Realizing this was it, this was me and Case signing our marriage license. So much laughter in his office with Charlie, Mamie, and Sam. Jokes abounding. Going through the run-through of getting lined up. Standing with my dad, looking at him, and crying before we walked down the aisle. Crying again as we practiced walking down the aisle. The utterly surreal feeling of standing on our chancel with Case, holding his hands, and having Nathan talk through the different steps. The frustration of ~some~ people being difficult. My grandpa trying to trip everyone walking down the aisle on our exit. Feeling emotional as my brother walked my mom up. Being sure to watch closely as everyone went up the aisle during practice, because I had a feeling I would miss it tomorrow (I was right).

Headed back home to put makeup on and breathe for a second before the rehearsal dinner. Commotion. Alex and Macaela still cleaning. Me getting emotional. Charlie and Dan looking dapper in their rehearsal dinner suits. Putting my makeup on. Case loading up all our presents for our loved ones. Case looking so handsome. Me, Wicked, and Sam(? Or Katie?) unpacking my dress at some point and hanging it up, building a dog-proof fortress around it. Me packing up his present in my purse. The call: Cocha thought our reservation was for 6, not 5. But it's all good! We can be ready for you! Finally ready to go, still didn't get to photograph the tables to send to Randi--it's okay, she's a professional. She said she doesn't need them until tomorrow anyway, breathe, breathe. Arriving at the restaurant and feeling like a celebrity. The owners greeted us, our waiter made sure we wanted for nothing. The room slowly filling up with everyone we loved--my parents, Case's parents, our siblings, Dan, Katie, Uncle Mike & Aunt Diane, Christina, Sam & Chris, my grandpa and Sally, Olivia & Juliana, Aunt Kathy, and Luke & Tristan. Everyone but Case and I getting delightfully toasted on yummy drinks. My grandpa buying a round of drinks for everyone. Case and I drinking delicious mocktails and tea all night because there was no way in hell I was going to be puffy for my wedding. The Food. Everyone opening their presents. Katie sobbing. Wicked sobbing. Mom sobbing. Dad crying. Me crying. Feeling so overwhelmed with love and happiness. Finally relaxing. Finally enjoying myself. Still tired.

Finishing dinner and heading to our drinks in the lobby event with out-of-town guests. Getting to see SO MANY PEOPLE we haven't seen in forever. Seeing Aunt Janice & Uncle Denis! Loading up on water. Going to Case's room with him to help him check in and set up. Opening my present from him: A wristwatch, engraved with "Every moment, I love you more. C & R 10.19.19" Him opening my present: Cuff links, one with the coordinates of the building we met in and the other with coordinates of the building we'd be married in, and engraved with "10.19.19" on the back. Crying a little together. Practicing our first dance in his room before we went downstairs to join the party. Finally hitting The Wall and needing to go home. Going upstairs so Case and I could say goodbye and I could pick up my present, which I left up there. Talking for a few minutes about how we couldn't wait to get married. My mom saying she was heading home and me feeling shakey and asking if she'd come over first.

Returning home. Staging all the photos. Feeling beyond tired but also super anxious. Taking the photos. Christina bringing over ALL the stress tea. Sam leaving "early" so she could get sleep. Taking Benedryl. Talking myself off the stress ledge again. Olivia and Juliana settling in for the night. Finishing the photos and literally swooning from exhaustion. Showing Juliana my dress and accessories, and watching her cry a little. Putting on my face mask. My mom sitting on the couch with me next to her. All of us sitting around and talking. Realizing that, other than texting the photos, it was all done. Taking the sheet off the dress. We were all ready. Everything was set. All the hard work was about to pay off. Saying goodbye to everyone, taking off my mask. Getting Olivia and Juliana settled in for the night. Laying down in bed, writing in my journal. Waking up in the middle of the night FIVE TIMES. Sweating through my clothes--a thing I do when I'm stressed and sleeping.

October 19, 2019: Waking up at 6:45 instead of 6, so I could get a little more sleep. The house was quiet and dark, the girls still asleep. Putting on my running clothes and sneaking to my car. Driving to the City Park. Running the Lakes at sunrise. Stopping to breathe in the moment. It was the perfect sunrise. Perfect weather. Getting home at 7:40 to Olivia getting out of the shower. Jumping in the shower myself. Getting out just in time to hear someone arrive--our one hair stylist was early. Walking out in my towel, figuring out where to set everything up. Removing the dog fortress around the dress. Our other hair stylist showing up, and then our make-up artist showing up, all before I was fully dressed. Me realizing THIS IS IT, HERE WE GO! but also SHIT, SEND THE TEXTS!! The breakfast I had set-up getting delivered (bagels, pastries, and coffee because that's how this Jersey girl rolls). Again not fully dressed. Still no one else at the house except my girls and our artists. The artists getting set up. People starting to arrive. Holy shit, it's only 8:00 am and the day is already this busy. Me feeling overwhelmed, realizing I forgot to remind my mom and dad to figure out vendor tips. Me turning to my amazing hair stylist and saying, "I know you need to set my hair first before you start working on anyone else, but can you give me five minutes?" then locking myself in my bedroom and--I kid you not--doing a quick core workout. Changing into what I wanted to wear all morning. Okay. I've got this.

On Wedding Planning

Wedding planning is a trip, y'all.

Seven months in, with 11 months to go, and so far we have a venue, my dress, and a slew of insecurities rising up every time we try to make a decision. Questions of who we're close with, honest looks at decaying friendships, and what we want our day--and by extension our lives--to be about make planning feel like two steps forward, three steps back some days. Today's meltdown was over the guest list and taking a hard look at who we really no longer have in our friend circles, and why. Old wounds get re-injured. Emotions we don't know exist surface.

I don't know if other people go through this kind of work, or if it's common to process through these kinds of things. Maybe I'm supposed to just taste-test some cake and not worry about the rest. This process has taught me that wedding planning is just one more societal thing that only shows its underbelly once you're in the middle of doing it yourself; people don't like talking about how fucking overwhelming planning one little party can be. I don't even like talking about any of it, lest I become one of ~those girls~ who won't shut up already about color schemes and centerpieces.

Today wasn't all bad, either. We settled on fully embracing our bookish ways and moved full-steam ahead with our literary theme. We found a designer that customizes cake toppers, so we can have Stormy and Stella incorporated into our day's details. I looked at pretty hairstyles, and C. wound up laughing his way through a Goth/Metal wedding blog. We had fun with it.

But because I think transparency and honesty are important, I decided to pop onto here and talk about the tough stuff. The underbelly. The hard questions and tough answers and insecurities. And the love, the constant and calming and persistent love, that pushes us forward like a current pushes a toy boat.

Like the wind carries a paper airplane.

Like our blood carries oxygen.

On Moving Forward

4.16.18

I knew--I thought I knew--what you were up to

When you asked me to walk together,

Hand in nervous hand

Along the sunset.

I knew--I thought I knew--what you were going to do

When you asked for a favor,

But I took your water bottle

Because it was all I could do.

I knew--I thought I knew--exactly what I'd say

When you asked me the question

I've wanted to answer since 

Your face first met mine.

I don't know where we will go,

Or if my life will be long,

But I knew--I know--I have always known

I want to spend it with you.

Time, time, time, time...

Anybody got an extra 24 hours for their day they've got laying around? I sure could use them.

This point in the semester is always rough, because there's SO MUCH TO DO, and everyone starts getting SO TIRED, so it's really hard to keep everyone motivated in class when I don't even want to be working anymore.

Add to that my part-time foster coordinator gig and my planning & hiring meetings for my summer camp director gig, and I literally haven't had time to do *anything.*

But priorities are important. And so, even in the busiest season of the year, here are my small victories:

1. I've painted my new bulletin board. (Yes, even finding an hour to paint is a victory.)

2. I'm sticking to my half-marathon AND 10k training schedules. More or less. But even "less" counts!

3. I've been strength training three days a week. I only get about 20 minutes of training, and I only get to do one round of workouts, BUT. I'm getting it done, which is the important part.

4. I haven't gained any weight this last month, and I've actually been able to lose about a pound. Even with stress eating! Even with sleep deprivation! Even with meetings!

5. Other than being horrifically behind on grading, I've been staying on top of work, and I'm getting more and more efficient at my FOTA fostering gig (I think, anyway).

6. I'm able to pay my credit card down now.

7. I've been sticking to my "No booze" practice for the last three weeks, and I feel so much better.

8. I'm still making time to take care of myself, like going to church and taking a few minutes in the morning to stretch. And praying! And stretching! Again, taking little cuts of time is better than taking no time at all.

So yeah, that's about it--small victories, for sure, but victories none-the-less. I can't wait for Spring Break next week.

Happy running.

Bad Dreams, Sad Dreams

Hi there, old friend. It's been awhile. How quickly a year passes. How much changes.

I'm not sure what's compelling me to write after all this time; perhaps it's just that writing makes my old wrist and finger injuries hurt, so typing is just easier. Perhaps I've just missed this space. Perhaps.

To summarize the last 362 days: Life is good--better now, in fact, than it ever has been before. Case and I moved into a lovely, charming old house. We have TWENTY-FIVE windows!! Work is amazing and challenging, and I'm teaching a YA lit class right now that's hands-down the best, most entertaining, most enriching class I've ever taught. I've also got a dog-sitting side business, and I'm the new Friends of the Animals Foster & Volunteer Coordinator. On top of all that, the summer camp I worked for last summer offered me a site director position for this coming summer, which is a huge promotion and amazing opportunity. Since we last met, I've ran two half-marathons, three (four?) 5ks, one 15k, and the Louisiana Marathon. I also joined an *incredible* running group filled with wonderful people. With them, I've pushed boundaries I didn't know I even had with my running. And, through it all, Case and I are worlds better than we were this time last year, and Stormy--bless her--is still Stormy.

In short: I'm good. REALLY good.

And yet. I've been having these dreams.

The other night, I dreamt that Stormy died. Not just dream-died, but really, physically, viscerally died. She took her last breaths in my arms, and the dream continued into the after-death period, where I had to prepare her body for cremation and begin the mourning process. A night later, I dreamt that I took a new job offer in Virginia, despite not wanting to actually leave here. And "here" wasn't just Baton Rouge; it was a hybrid of Baton Rouge and Flagstaff, but a Flagstaff where many friends who have since moved away were all back. In other words, I was moving away from everyone I've learned to care about in the last seven years. A dear friend who now lives in Washington state was there, and we got to sit and talk like we used to. I got to give her an in-person hug. There were the mountains, but also the delicious Louisiana humidity. Accents abounded. Flagstaff Thai food was consumed. And, because there was Flagstaff, the same shit that's *always* wrapped up with Flagstaff--the ex-boyfriend and ex-friends and friends who I should've made exes but loved too much--was there. That dream hurt so, so bad. And THEN, just recently I dreamt I got to see all my old NYC friends, but we were frozen in time in our early- and mid-20s. Kids, really. Back when we were all really close. Back before I left them in real life and never quite retained the level of closeness. And it was a beautiful dream, it really was, but it was so desperately bittersweet because I can't get that back. We all grew up and out of our youth, and anymore, I feel like I'm watching old friendships through Instagram filters and Facebook statuses rather than actual, quality communication. And I know I'm largely to blame because I'm the one who left. I'm always the one to leave.

Take our old apartment: We moved from there after 15 months because I was losing my damn mind living in that space. And, because of a technicality and a misogynistic prick of a landlord, we lost our security deposit in the process. We did *everything* we were told to do. We did everything asked of us. And still, we were screwed in the end. And still, I'm so. boiling. mad. over it. What makes my anger worse is that, because of said misogynistic prick of a landlord, it has nowhere to go. The man literally won't answer my calls. He could never make eye contact with me or shake my hand, either. The warning signs were there; I saw them. I just hoped against hope that my gut was wrong.

Spoilers: My gut has never been wrong. So in that process of necessary leaving, we lost a lot of money.

This is not to say I regret moving out of that apartment when we did. I love my house. I love everything about this house. I love it so much that I spent hours doing yard work and mopping today, to take care of it. To nurture it as a thanks for its nurturing.

I loved another house once, in a former life. That house was about a third the size of my current home, and it had a garden and clothesline in the backyard. The kitchen featured dwarf versions of a stove and fridge. The only interior door separated the tiny bathroom from the only bedroom. And yet, for as small as it was, that little stone house could wrap a dozen friends and family with its walls and music. I had to say goodbye to it a week after my ex split my lip, bruised my face, and sprained my left wrist and two fingers. I couldn't eat solid food for that week. In the end though, I cleaned that house from top to bottom, and on the last night it was still mine, I stayed up until the pre-dawn, drinking beer, listening to music, and whispering my goodbyes into its walls and hardwood floor.

I didn't think I'd ever love another person or another house after that goodbye.

And yet.

Here I am, nearly four years later, in a better, brighter house with a better, brighter love, and sad, sad, such sad dreams.

A friend suggested the dreams could be me moving to a new phase of my life and struggling to let go of the past; another friend agreed. And I can see that. Spring so often signifies struggle for me--struggle to end that bad relationship, struggle to find work after grad school, struggle to find work after Case's grad school and my first contract, struggle to adapt to this strange new place they call Louisiana...

For the first time in a long time, this spring is good.  And not just good--REALLY good.

I'm not quite sure what I have to let go of. The deep, bitter anger I have about that security deposit, for sure. The deeper, bitterer anger I will always have about that night and that old house and who I shared it with, absolutely. But perhaps there's something even deeper, and maybe not bitter at all. Maybe something a little sweet and a little sad. Something about who I used to know. Something about who I think I still know, but don't, really. Something about the necessity of growing apart in order to really grow up. Something about who I once was, who helped me become the current version of myself, who I can't--and shouldn't ever--get back.

Maybe it's just that I'm older than I've ever been and younger than I'll ever be, and sometimes that just sits a little heavier on the shoulders.

No, I'm not quite sure what I need to let go of. And I'm not quite sure how to let go of the stuff I've got.

But do I know that I have twenty-five windows I get to clean; and active, thriving friendships scattered across the country; so many memories--how do you handle all the memories?--and even if it means I will have sad, sad dreams sometimes, that's okay.

Because I'm good.

REALLY good.

On Limitations

Hello, lovely blog world, and happy March.

Also, happy pi day! My students weren't nearly as excited about pi day as I was, but oh well. A lack of sense of humor just may be one of their limitations, although I'd like to think we all have a sense of humor about something; it's just different for each person.

Anyway, I've been thinking a lot about limitations lately, because my body has been serving me up a healthy serving of them lately.

*cue flashback to that time my ex wrote "bitch, you broke it" in response to some things not going as planned in my life a few years back.*

*cue me acknowledging that flashback, then letting it go.*

Despite my ambitions lately, my body does not seem to want to cooperate with me, and I've been getting really frustrated with it.

First, I tore my meniscus last spring and then exacerbated the injury with moving and not resting it. Luckily, physical therapy helped quite a bit, but I've been feeling the familiar twinges as the temperature and humidity rise and everything swells up.

Then, Stormy dog ran full steam into my bad knee last September, and I tore...something...in my hip where my IT band meets my joint. Again, physical therapy cleared that one up, and--knock on wood--I have been pain-free in that hip for a few months now.

Combined, those two setbacks cost me three months of running and two months in the gym.

Then, slowly, slowly, I climbed back from the injuries. I upped my cross training game. I ran a 10k last month. I was invincible again.

...yeah, except for the part where I was never invincible to begin with, which my body really wants to remind me of as often as possible.

*cue the pain I've been in for the last two weeks straight*

It started, I think, with my hip. Out of nowhere, the other side of my hips started pinging some pain at me, in a completely random part--not quite hip, not quite lower back. Kind of as though my love handles decided to wreak havoc. It's worth noting that I am SUPER packing in the hip department, so there's a lot of surface area to identify, but wherever the pain started, it's now radiated up and down my left side. On good days, I just feel a stabbing pain in the original spot; on bad days, my ribs ache to the touch.

Fast forward to two weeks ago, and my hubris got the better of me. I ran hard. Really, really hard--way too fast for way too long. And by the end of that run, I felt the pain in my right ankle; I had pissed off a tendon in a big way.

Having just used up all my physical therapy allotment on the OTHER treatment, I'm kind of SOL here other than trying to self-diagnose. So it's been a lot of little runs instead of big ones, a lot of RICEing and resting, and a lot of trying to exercise patience and feel out what is okay pain and what is not okay pain.

A month ago, I had a plan for the rest of spring: Run the Crescent City Classic in March and the Magnolia Meltdown in May. A month ago, I was on track with training and felt great.

But that's not today. So today, I'm setting a new limit: no Crescent City Classic. Luckily, I never officially registered, so I won't lose any money, but it's definitely a bummer. I'm trying to remember that limitations don't mean weakness, and I sat down with my priorities in order to decide how to move forward. The most important thing to me is to finish a half marathon before my birthday, so that's what I'm turning my sights to: an 8-week training plan that will allow me to go up incrementally and hopefully not push my limits too hard.

I also started Fit Girl Boot Camp today, which I'm hoping will take my mind off of my disappointment and give me new strength training goals. Strength is *so* important. With strength comes the ability to push those limitations out.

But for now, pi.

On Focus

Last night, C. and I went to Yoga on Tap, where we practiced some particularly intense yoga (problematically intense, honestly) that ended with the instructor guiding us to set a goal for the rest of the week.

My goal: More focus.

I get so distracted so easily, and it's very frustrating at times. Teaching is a good career for me, because there's always a bunch of stuff I need to do, so I can jump around. But sometimes that jumping around just gets out of hand, and I wind up getting nothing accomplished.

Cue: this semester.

So this week I'm working on focusing. Focusing my mind, my money, my energies on tasks that are both necessary and fulfilling. Focus my thoughts and quieting my mind so I can continue my focus.

Step one: paying bills and setting up recurring payments so I can stop having to juggle 1,000 due dates in my head.

Step two: sit at my desk and actually get work done in my home office. So often I sit at my home desk and just flit around without accomplishing anything. But it's the best seat in the house, and I need to make it a focused, productive space rather than just a pretty corner of our spare room.

Step three: focus on my relationship and nurture my dynamic with C. We've been struggling through some stuff lately, and I really need to work on being a better partner. There's a line from The Perks of Being a Wallflower that really resonates with me: "We accept the love we think we deserve." It's so, so true, and I've realized that I need to work on giving my partner the best love I can, because he deserves good love. And I need to continue to believe I deserve a happy, healthy relationship and not just settle for okay. We're not okay, we're awesome. I just need to work on maintaining that awesomeness more. Relationships are a lot of work, y'all.

Step four: focus. on. my. job. Get the grades done, get the classes caught up. Get my shit together. Stop procrastinating on the parts of my job I don't like, so I'll have more time to do the parts I do like.

Step five: finish planning my next round of Fit Girl so I can end my 20s in the best shape of my life. Fit Girl Boot Camp, here I come!

There it is! My map for the remainder of my week; with any luck, I'll be able to focus and conquer my steps.

And, speaking of focus, now I must get back to grading. One step at a time, one paper at a time.