Excuse my onomatopoeia

Yay for seeing Joshua’s parents!  We got to go with them to a Ranger’s game, and it was so much fun getting to catch up with them post-wedding and then getting to go to breakfast with them the next morning. 

In case you didn’t know, Cracker Barrel has, literally, the greatest breakfast ever.  They came up with this new granola-pancake mix, and it tastes like you’ve died and entered into breakfast heaven.  If you want to make your life wonderful, go to Cracker Barrel for breakfast.  And buy a stuffed onion that’s crying because he cut himself.  

Joshua’s goofy faces are definitely NOT hereditary

We matched a little too much.  But I love him anyway.  

Fireworks are the best thing the Chinese ever invented.  Arguably better than Orange Chicken at Panda Express.

Joshua playing with a flying pig at Cracker Barrel.  It never grows old. 

Joshua playing the spoons.  It’s like I married the Kurt Cobain of spoons

Edgar!  He was so cute I just had to take him home.  He’s crying because he hurt himself. He’s an onion.

An intense game of checkers that ended in a bloodbath.  Edgar was the victim.

I love Sunday mornings, and two weeks ago I got to spend one at home with my newly-claimed husband and my sisters!  

Rachel wore a massive flower on her head. 

And Cara channeled her inner Asian.  She’s either going to marry one or become one.  

And he’s just handsome.  

We made it past the two week-iversary, I hear those first two weeks are the hardest so I think we’ll make it ;-).  

Since I’m currently job hunting (and I think I’ve filled out 746 applications in the past week) I have free time during the day that I’ve never had before!  Even though it’s only been a week it feels like I’m being lazy, so I have invented things to make life more interesting for myself.  

1. Plan a massive living room tent using sheets, chairs, books (to weigh down the sheet) and other heavy objects.  It’s going to be epic. 

2. Re-creating recipes that are featured on the food channel.  I’m basically doing my own cooking show in my kitchen.  Talking to the “camera” helps pass the time. 

3. Writing thank you notes to EVERYONE.  I’m thinking of writing a thank you note to my neighbor for being pleasant most of the time.  And to the lady who let me in her lane during rush hour traffic.  

4. Creating a pinterest.  I’m not going to admit to how much time I spend on that website.  But it could or could not be more or less than 30 minutes out of not every 45 minutes most but not all of the day.  

5. Decorating!  Joshua gets to come home to a new apartment every day. 

6. And last, but most importantly, I get to ride Hombre around College Station every day!  College station is so bike-friendly, I’m convinced this is it’s best feature. 

Now that we’ve been married almost two whole weeks, I feel as if I have some advice to give those newly married kids out there.  I may even write a book on my expertise.

1. Make sure you make your new husband some ‘getting home after work’ treats that he’ll enjoy.  I made mine ‘protein popsicles.’ Make sure to cater to his unique needs.

2. He probably doesn’t want to decorate.  Even if you get him to help, he’ll just suggest things you don’t like, and ignore anyway.  This proves to be a whole new problem.  Let him watch the game instead.

3. He really likes it when you bring him treats at work.

4. Hugs and words of encouragement are always a good idea.

5. When inventing new recipes, make sure not to mix up salt and sugar.  It’s a bad, bad business.

So there you have it, the advice of a seasoned veteran in the marriage department.  I can only imagine how many new pearls of wisdom I’ll be able to give at 4.5 weeks, I hear that’s a big mile marker in the marriage world.

p.s.  I love my new husband.

Things I’ve done instead of finishing my wedding prep: 

1. Watch Harry Potter (this is happening now). 

2. Read Jane Eyre.  On my new Kindle.  (Joshua truly loves me)

3. Re-read all my birthday cards and random sweet notes from the past 11 years of my life. 

4. Whiten my teeth (obviously I can’t do anything while my white strips are in, it’s hazardous)

5. Plan my next road trip, which will include hitting every restaurant ever features on “diners, drive-ins and dives.” 

6. Read every article featured on ‘yahoo news’

7. Go to Central Market and spend hours sampling the delectable treats they insist on putting at every corner.  I mean, homemade garlic and herb butter, is there anything else this world needs? 

Basically at this point I feel like no matter what it looks like we’re going to be married at the end of it all anyways.  Wedding hysteria can kiss my tush.  (side note: I’m really excited to BE married.  8 more days! )

The lonely Kansas roads.  They weep the sorrowful, salty tears of isolation.  Miles of rolling hills and corn fields, friendly, waving windmills, and billboards peddling the trades of small towns with unique stops for weary travelers.  Quilting shops, local craft stores, burger joints and mom and pop diners litter interstate 70, giving promises of hope and variety to the man or woman behind the wheel.  These billboards birth excitement after long hours of apparent nothingness.  

Prairie dog town, exit 103 off interstate 70.  Come and see the wondrous village with Kansas native breeds.  The anticipation brightens the previously droopy eyelids.  No side road attraction has ever built this much optimism in a soul.  As the sun begins to settle into bed across the West, the exit looms.  Eternal significance, the promised land.  

Today has been hard.  Most days aren’t hard for me.  I don’t ever wake up depressed, I don’t usually feel useless, and I can count on one hand the number of times that I was at the gym, working out and sweating like a man, and felt like crying.  My sadness is rare, but today I feel a weight on me that I can’t shake.  

Living in a culture where life is centered around ‘the next big thing’ can be exhausting.  Everything around us screams for us to be always anticipating something else.  We go shop and buy clothes for our next big event, we plan to lose weight, we grocery shop intending to be super healthy that week, we buy things for big projects, we hungrily read a new book we’ve been waiting for.  Those things, in and of themselves, aren’t wrong.  However, the attitude behind them often is.  We can’t live our whole lives waiting to spend more money on more things that don’t have any intrinsic happiness in them.  

The pastor at the Village, Matt Chandler, has often said ‘more of what you already have won’t make you any happier.’  

Even though I know this, (and sometimes practice it), I still am completely consumed by preparing for the next big thing.  When I don’t have anything to prepare for, or to work on, or to keep me busy, I totally flounder.  I feel like a waste of Jesus’ space.  I’m not doing anything to bring Him glory.  In fact, I’m probably doing the opposite by showing the world that, even though I’m a Christian, I’m just like everybody else.  My priorities are the same, hollow priorities that everybody else has.  

Jesus calls us to live a radical faith.  Jesus meant it exactly how He said it.  ”Take up your cross, and follow me.” Not “maybe think about me a few times a week and attend church on Sunday.”  That’s where I stand.  That’s also where Jesus stands.  I’m feeling a little inadequate.  

Sometimes I just have to do things to remind me that the important things in life are the things that make us laugh, not the things that make us big and rich.  For instance, I went dumpster diving very successfully today, and I ran home carrying a huge stack of books.  Running.  With books in my arms.  For at least a mile.  It was liberating, looking like an idiot.  I plan to do it again soon.  

Getting married can make you so materialistic.  Magazines, books, shows on TV, and basically most humans tell you, or insinuate that a wedding is meant to be impressive.  It’s a way to show other people how happy and perfect your life is.  In my humble experience, it’s just bollox.  If we were all healthy and blissfully amazing all the time people, well then no one would have any reason to down a tub chocolate pudding with melty peanut butter drizzled in.  Marriage is real life, and can be incredible, romantic, and beautiful when God is the center of the marriage that everything else revolves around.  But it’s also real, not a Disney movie where Belle lives in a castle happily ever after with the most handsome creature in the whole world.  

I would rather dumpster dive with Joshua than use our wedding to impress people.  Hopefully I won’t need reminding of that before the 4 months is up.  

We just spent the day in college station, which coincidentally got its name because a train used to stop here, and they called it thus because the college students would wait here to be picked up by the train to go back to their respective homes.  I love knowing the reasoning behind names of places. 

Anyways, we were there because my exceedingly talented sister can move her body in ways that only spineless jellyfish can.  She dances in a hip hop group, and makes us giggle with delight because she not only has rhythm, but can shake the derriere (a French ballet term, which I only know because I went to a fancy Caucasian ballet conservatory for about 3 months) like she was born in an African American family.  Sometimes I wonder if they switched her at birth, or if my mom had an affair with a tall, dark stranger.  But seeing as that we look about 80% identical it’s probably neither. 

Because of this affinity and natural inclination for movin and groovin, I have decided that she has something that I have dubbed the “shake-it gene.”  Now while most traits in the family are quite dominant, which has left the three sisters with remarkable similar physical characteristics, this one appears to be passive, and to have skipped at least 9 generations.  I’ve concluded that great^9 Grandmother Posey and great^11 Grandfather Zellmer expressed this particular gene.  This phenotypical expression was probably not as widely accepted back in those days, particularly in the straight-laced German society (where the Zellmers are from).  I can just picture my ancestors, possessing the gene and the desire to share their dancing with the world, only to be stifled by their rigid, conservative society. 

When another member of the family came forth with the obvious talent given by the shake-it gene, we didn’t know quite what to do.  Rachel was enrolled in years of dance lessons, ballet, tap, jazz, modern, and polka.  Ok I made polka up, but the point is she could’ve done it.  Not until college did she realize that the world of high-falutin’ dance was not her true calling.  She was born to dance to the well-known classics I’m so hood, Gangster’s Paradise, Thug life, and the lesser known I still wear my pants below my knees, and Snoop Dog for King.  The way her body moves in perfect time to the voice of Trey Songz and Eminem is indicative of what she really enjoys.  So this is for her.  This is why she’s hot, and I wish she could teach me how to dougie. 

Everyone knows that hair has a oil carrying capacity, much like the biocommunity has a carrying capacity for its population. I have become the master of oil control, partially because washing my hair on a daily basis seems like an inoordinate amount of effort to look attractive, and partially because I don’t believe that one should shower unless prompted by a difficult workout.  Our forefathers didn’t shower everyday, and if George Washington didn’t need to, neither do I.  
 Thusly, I have begun a system of oil control that lets the implementer of the system stay hair-washing free for up to 10 days, more if you’re brave and don’t care what society thinks of you.   Day 1: Congratulations, your hair is clean.  If you blow it dry, it looks clean longer (just from personal experience). Day 2: Hair is still bouncy and looking fine, use a curling iron and tousle it a little. Day 3: Mild grease appears, now is the time to put it halfway up, grease is less noticeable if it looks like you meant for it to help hold a style. Day 4: Grease thickens, but is not yet bad enough to disgust people.  Put it in a braid.  This is a very flexible step, because braids can be done in a variety of styles.  Side braids (a personal favorite), down the back braids, french braids, half braids, multiple braids, black people braids (which look ridiculous on almost all white people, which makes me jealous).  Day 5: The grease is worsening.  Don’t lost heart, there is always the ballerina bun.  The ballerinas are geniuses with hair.  Hairpray the mess out of it and nobody will be able to tell the difference between grease and hairspray.  Day 6:  This is the turning point.  Now is the time to bring in my favorite team player: Baby powder.  It masks all appearance of grease, and unless you have black hair, doesn’t really alter the color.  If you have black hair, I’m sorry, but you’re going to look like a premature grandmother.  But a hot one. Day 7: The baby powder should soak in a little, leaving your hair closer to its natural color.  Curl the hair and put it in a nice ponytail.  Not too greasy, but just greasy enough to need it slicked back a little.  Day 8: Use more baby powder.  He is the MVP of the greasy hair games.  Using colorful barettes and headbands will help hide any discoloration around the crown of the head and the hairline.  I suggest a thick, patterned fabric headband.  The hippies knew what they were doing. Day 9:  You’re almost done!  Go for the slicked back look (mastered by Trinity in the Matrix movies).  You’ll look like a sexy, wet, and confident model.Day 10: Most people will know by now that you haven’t washed your hair for a while (but nobody will suspect that its been 10 days, you’re too slick for that).  Opt for a hat, a head kerchief, or brown paper sack.  A stylish pageboy or bucket hat will actually lead people to believe that you care about what they think. Day 11: You did it!  Hats off to you! (just don’t take the hat off in public).  I recommend Dove ‘Simply Clean’ for the bimonthly wash.