He Said, "Will You?" and I Said, "Yes."...

Somehow, in the last seven months, my dreams have begun to come true.  Not my nighty-night sleep-tight dreams, but my hopes and dreams.  First, a friend of mine became more than a friend.  Second, we fell in love with each other.

And now, we are getting married.

You read correctly-- GETTING MARRIED!!!!!

Somehow God saw fit for this man

To love this woman

For the rest of our lives.  :)

I can hardly believe it!  It seems unreal, like a nighty-night sleep-tight dream!  After all the planning for others, watching most of my friends pair off in wedded bliss, it is now my turn, and I can hardly fathom it!

"The story!" you say?  Of course I'll oblige.

I'll start by admitting, I was very surprised.  I had thought it might happen this summer, perhaps when BF (wait... he's now fiance, but I'd rather not call him "F."  haha.  I'll have to think on this one-- any suggestions?) would come to visit Chicago.  With that being said, I had a few sneaking suspicions. 

1.  He said he had a skype appointment yesterday... I thought perhaps he was asking my parents for permission to marry me... but surely he wouldn't ask yet.

2.  He said he had bought me something I couldn't have yet while he was in Las Vegas.  But surely he wouldn't give me a ring yet.

3.  He did some mysterious texting that I thought could have been giving some select people heads' up, but I thought, not yet, not when he's leaving tomorrow!

But he still surprised me.  I love this story, because it's pretty funny to me.  I think things didn't go as he planned, and he panicked a little when he actually proposed, which is so cute.  We were at the driving range, practicing golf swings (let's just say I made him look really talented).  He had planned to "tie his shoe" and kneel and propose, but there were too many people around.  He said that as the bucket of golf balls dwindled, he began to panic!  We ended up in his car, ready to go to Rita's for some frozen custard (mmmm), when he handed me his glove and said, "You need one of these-- try this on so I can see what size to get you."  There was something lumpy in it.  I pulled out a red die with white dots and looked at him quizzically.  He said it was something from Las Vegas.  I said, "really?"  And he said, "no."  I was puzzled, but whatever.  He's been known to do/say stranger things. 

I peered over at whatever he was texting, and he insisted that I show him my texts.  I gave him my phone and he snatched it and stuck it in his pocket.  When I asked for it back, he rummaged around in his pocket, mumbling something about, "it will take a second," and I legitimately thought my phone was stuck in his pocket until he said:

"Oh, I forgot to tell you, I got you something else when I was in Las Vegas..." and he pulled out a ring and held it up.  That's right, sitting in the front seat of his Trans Am, he pulled out a ring.  I stared.  I mean really, I just stared for several seconds, then squeaked out, "really?!" a couple times.  I think I couldn't believe it was actually happening, and I was surprised at the way he did it-- though not displeased.

You need to know that when he is nervous, he literally loses the ability to speak how he would normally speak, like when he asked me out and there were lots of long pauses.  So he finally eeked out, "Will you?" just before I almost said, "Is there something you want to ask me?"  Of course I said yes. 

I was shaking.  I couldn't believe it, as I put that ring on my finger, that this was real, that this was my life!  We headed over to Rita's, and despite the fact that I was no longer hungry, I wolfed down my cone as we chatted, still reeling over what had just happened.

It turns out, he'd had a plan, but when it didn't work out, it threw him off, hence his "will you".  So when he relaxed a bit, he told me why he wants to marry me (for the record, he thinks I'm wonderful, and I don't think he's too bad himself), and back at my place he got down on one knee and said, "will you marry me," just to make sure I got to experience that.  It's hard to get down on one knee in the front seat of a Trans Am.  But I wouldn't have changed a thing.  It also turns out that the die is in reference to a comment a friend made at a wedding last week after I didn't catch the bouquet (on purpose, because I hate that).  She said, "I'm sorry, but the die is cast."  She knew I'd be next, and she was right!

So we set a tentative date in January.  He picked that so I could have one last Christmas with my family, which I thought was very caring, but every time I mention that, someone thinks it sounds like they're going to die or something.  That's nice.  Then began the phone calls.  I called my mom, then all my bridesmaids, then every one of the families in my extended family, then texted a select group of other friends. 

We went over to Bestie's house and Bestie Jr. and her husband came too.  We toasted to January, and to us, and we laughed and squealed and giggled... and that was just BF!  JK, the guys pretended to stab themselves with kitchen knives.

After skyping with my parents and brother, we had some alone time to just sit and soak in this big change.  It's really exciting, and so fun to bring such joy to others.  But part of me is still nervous, knowing that marriage is a huge commitment and a big responsibility, and it's for life.  I wouldn't want to spend my life with anyone else, but it's very overwhelming.

And telling my students was fun.  I had them play hangman and when they figured it out, their faces lit up.  I had students ask to be my ring bearers and flower girls, but my favorite was when a student ran into the hall shouting, "She got bling!"

I did.  But even more than the bling, I got HIM.  And my dreams are coming true.

Absence Makes the Heart Grow Fonder and Fonder and Fonder...

See this guy above?  I love him.  He just graduated from college {have I mentioned I'm a cougar? :)} and his "real life" is starting.  And I get to be a part of that.

He is now Uncle Mike, with the birth of his niece.  He doesn't really know how to handle newborns.  I mean, he hasn't dropped her on her head, but when she made a gassy face and pooped in her diaper, he freaked right out.  But he still holds her.  And what's cuter than a handsome, bearish, tough guy holding a little girl?  Nothing, I tell you-- nothing. :)

The funny thing is, hipsters might take this picture for real.  But BF was just being a ham sandwich and making me laugh, and my hipster photography editing skills made it look like he was really "in the moment."

So this is BF.  He's away for a while, and we will see each other for only about 3 days from last Wednesday until June 26. :(  But I miss him and love him, and these were just a few reasons why.

Celibacy in the Suburbs...

{thanks, Blogger, for losing my post on the one day I happen to update my blog in over a month, and for making BF go looking for it for me, the tech-genius he is.  And by "thank you" I mean "Grrrr."}

Trying to find blog direction these days is difficult. With that being said, I've been meaning to use this post title for a very long time. It's been waiting patiently in the recesses of my mind, and today I'm finally employing it:


According to the world, hereafter personified as "World," I've done things wrong-- all wrong. World must look at me with a cocked eyebrow and say, "Ooooookayyyyy??"

Let's start with my choice of education and career:

World suggests you get into the very best institution you can for the purpose of doing as well as you can so you will make as much money as you can. Ivy League is preferred; state institutions are acceptable. Even some high-profile private Christian universities are sometimes nothing to sneeze at.... Hey World, how do you feel about a tuition-paid Bible Institute that's not accredited? That's what I thought. Even my high school guidance counselor advised against it. I went to a Christian high school.

With a high college GPA, World might believe that I should have pursued a career that would rake in the Benjamins, that would fill my sweaty little palms with cold, hard, cash. Legal, medical, business, design-- all are acceptable career paths. Let me ask you, World, do you think I should get a degree in elementary education and become a teacher at a tiny Christian school, making half of what a public school teacher makes? Yikes, World, you don't have to yell.

Or take my location. I grew up just outside a hub. Not just a U.S. hub, but a world hub-- Chicago. World would say that the networking, culture, and high life are all at my feet in that city. But what would you say, World, if I told you I wanted to move to a coastal town in central Florida? Listen, I know we differ in opinions, but you don't have to be rude about it.

Now let's get down to the nitty gritty, as my friend Nacho Libre likes to say.

While World nods its head in silent agreement with Sex in the City, I am living celibacy in the suburbs. World says to date as many men as possible to determine if one of them is "the One." Break a few hearts-- it's empowering! Get your heart broken once or twice-- it gives you wise life experience! Date for fun-- see what you can get out of it! Hey World, you need to know that I have turned down a couple people for dates. Not because the sight of them made me nauseated, or because they lived in their parents' basement as hermits, or because of body odor, but because I knew they weren't marriage material. That's right, I said marriage. I was friends with guys instead, and knew before I even started dating that I could potentially marry that man. There is wisdom in not getting my heart broken, and not breaking the hearts of others, and dating is not about what I can get out of it, but what I can do to love him and honor Him.

World, I know you think I should sleep with my boyfriend because it's just "the thing to do," and "everyone does it," and "it's fun," and "what if he's bad in bed?" Guess what, World-- I'm waiting until I'm married to do that. Pick your jaw up off the floor-- that's unbecoming. While you revel in titilating stories of conquest and walks of shame, I have chosen abstinence. Not because I delight in depriving myself or making life difficult, though difficult it may be, but because God told me that's how it should be, and because of His faithfulness, I trust and obey that. Plus, World, bonus: I'm disease and pregnancy free, so take that with your outbreak of herpes!

And World, when the time comes for me to get married and start a family, you would say that I need to find a fulfilling career away from my family, or I'll "lose myself." Well let me tell you, being a wife and mother will be my dream job. And while I won't be a prisoner in my home, I will revel in my marriage and motherhood because that is fulfilling.

Please don't mistake this post as a self-righteous soap box. It's just a reminder that as a believer, I need to not be conformed to the world but transformed, and that World's view of life is not God's view of life and therefore not my view of life.

So while World might sit around a diner table with its girlfriends and talk about things that might make my grandmother's eyes cross, I think I'll opt for sitting around a Panera table with my girlfriends and talking about things that makes my God smile.

The Anti-Hipster...

My generation is a generation of hipsters.  For those of you over the age of forty, under the age of five, living under a rock or maybe in Oklahoma: a hipster is, as defined by the urban dictionary,  "a subculture of men and women typically in their 20's and 30's that value independent thinking, counter-culture, progressive politics, an appreciation of art and indie-rock, creativity, intelligence, and witty banter."

I have come to the {happy} realization that, despite the pressures of today's culture and my age bracket, I am not dating a hipster.  While I myself may or may not possess some hipster tastes, BF does not.  Am I alone here?  In a sea of hipster men {weird amalgamations of nerd and metrosexual}, does your man stand out as anti-hipster, and dare I say, more stereotypically manly?  Hipster men, don't get me wrong: you're OK in my book.  I just don't want to date you {or anyone besides BF for that matter, but you know what I mean}.

You know your man is anti-hipster if:

• He sports neither man-bangs nor some other such Florence Henderson-type 'do.
• His pants would never be mistaken for jeggings.
• He believes cardigans are for Mr. Rogers (though I kind of dig cardis.  See what I mean?).
• Vintage paraphernalia, in his opinion, is dead people's stuff.
• The artsy-fartsy type annoys the crap out of him.
• He doesn't know what an "etsy" or an "urban outfitters" is.
• His glasses are functional, nothing more.
• His shoes have laces.
• You immediately know he's male; he's not even a little androgynous.
• He likes what he likes, even if it's mainstream.
• He doesn't need his iPod surgically removed from his ears.
• He doesn't have/want/read a blog.
• He has not had a philosophical phrase/symbol tattooed anywhere on his person.
• He doesn't even wear a scarf if it's cold.
• He thinks bicycles are toys.
• The only time he uses the word "progressive" is in relation to sanctification.
• His only hat is a beat up baseball cap.
• He weighs more than 100 pounds.

{I must note, however, that BF has had an ironic mustache, wears witty t-shirts, and displays public nerdiness (though his is genuine)}

These hipsters are the more educated and less apathetic hippies of my parents' generation, and while they have their charms, I am glad I'm not dating one.  Mostly because of the whole androgynous haircut and jeggings thing.  So don't hate-- celebrate-- if you too are one of the few and proud to not be dating a hipster.  Which maybe is a hipster mindset in and of itself...? 

{image found here}

Stay tuned for my opinion of this generation's d-bag style.

A Birthday With Sisters...

Can you believe I've posted here again... twice in one week?!  What can I say; when BF is away, Amanda will play on her blog.  Can you blame me if I'd rather spend time with BF than blog?  I don't think you can. :)

But I needed to document my belated bday celebration with my sisters.  We have a very unique relationship, I feel.  Each of us is unique in her own way, but when we come together, we have that sister/friend thing going on that is inexplicable.  I try to explain to BF how two girls who don't share my parents are actually my sisters, but there are really no words.  Closing in on a decade of shared experiences, common faith, and real love for each other will do that.

My sisters know me well.  They took me to my favorite part of town: Hyde Park.  There's a little park with a fountain and tall trees in the midst of cute shops that are much too expensive for my blood, but not too expensive for my taste (mmmm.... Anthropologie...).  It reminds me a bit of Chicago, but not quite.  And I like it because it's not Chicago.  It's a little slice of city somewhere else, a little retreat from suburbia that is right here at home.  Beyond the shops of this little section of town are gorgeous, well-kept homes that look like they popped off the pages of a "Better Homes and Gardens" magazine.  Victorians to make your spine tingle.  Bungalows to make your knees buckle.  It's all too much yet not enough for my little heart.

But my sisters know that.  They took me there and we did what we do best: photo shoots, laughter, and exuberance.  In the glow of the sun I opened their cards, more precious than any material gift.  And then we shopped, and I came out of my favorite store, happily laden with bags.  And then we tried something new, thanks to Bestie's new toy (her beloved iPhone): Amelie's, the most fun little French bakery I may have ever eaten in this side of the Atlantic.  A chocolate croissant later, we were on our way to dinner...

...Where we got a free sundae because the waiter felt bad about my hoarse voice.  Guess there is still compassion in this world.  Either that or he was hoping for a huge tip or a phone number.

Then we three headed home: they to their husbands, me to my empty apartment ready to get a call from BF, the international traveler extraordinaire.

And it was nice just knowing that I have sisters who know me well and love me, in that inexplicable sister/friend sort of way.

A Bit of Birthday...

 

Here are my delightful parents, fresh in from snowy Chicago, enjoying the Florida sunshine. :)

So... I've neglected my blog.  I'm sorry (that is, if anyone even reads this anymore).  But life has a way of getting crazy.  I have some deeper thoughts to share, but those will come later.  Here is a picture tour of my birthday weekend, in all its glory:

 

And this is BF and me.  He asks, "Do I need to have a real smile?"  And then does this.  Maybe it's Opposite Day, and if I say, "no, you need to grimace," he would smile normally.  He tries. :)

We went to Tarpon Springs on my birthday for some fantastic Greek food.  I mean really, this place is tops.  Saganaki (flaming cheese) may very well be the food they serve in heaven.  Here I was surrounded by my favorite Floridians. :)

This picture makes me laugh so hard.  BF looks more awkward than I ever intended to make him feel while taking pictures.  I love it.  PS, my birthday cake was the best baklava I've ever had, but with only one candle, because twenty-seven is a fire hazard.  Twenty-seven!!!  YIKES!  Late twenties?!?!

 

It WAS at the sponge docks, after all.

We had a bit of a photo shoot, much to BF's chagrin.

I took the group one on a timer, set atop a newspaper thingy.  Haha, success!!

And one of my favorite items of the weekend is the above purchase: two vintage dishes.  We went to an antique fair in my little town, and I got these for a song.  I mean, not literally.  No one would give me anything for singing, I'm that bad.  But $25 for the pair is pretty good.  And I picture them on a Thanksgiving spread someday in my own house, on my big dining room table, passed by family members. :)

 

But the most special item of the weekend was this treasure, given to me by BF.  Relax, it's on my RIGHT hand.  It's another claddagh ring, this time white gold with my birthstone (aquamarine), and it's special for a couple of reasons.  First, Mike remembered that my parents gave me mine fifteen years ago, on my birthday.  Secondly, it's a promise from him, that someday he'll give me another ring. :)

Classic V-Day...

Yesterday was not my first Valentine's Day.  And yet, it was my first Valentine's Day.  Know what I'm saying?  It was the first year I'd ever actually had an honest-to-goodness valentine.  I have always loved the day, for whatever reason.  Don't lecture me about Hallmark-- I know, I know.  I know it's all ridiculous, but I love it.  I don't think I love it for its romance though; I might love it more for the pink and purple hearts everywhere. 

But this year I got to experience the quintessential Valentine's Day.  I'm the kind of girl who would be happy pulling on sweats, making grilled cheese, and popping in a new movie on Valentine's Day, but BF likes to pamper me.  It began on Sunday.  I had ruined his plan because I decided to have a five-day fever that meant I might or might not be at work on Monday.  So just in case, he brought over my first gifts that were intended for my desk Monday morning: a dozen long-stemmed red roses and a box of candy (let's get this straight: not waxy chocolate bon-bons with finger indentations to see if it's a toffee or a nasty eggnog cream... Lindt Lindor truffles, only the best chocolate ever).  As classic as hot dogs at a Sox game, evergreens on Christmas, and Lady Gaga having some sort of weird relationship with a food product/animal/shape/color.

Then on V-Day itself, he stopped in on my free period at work and brought me a teddy bear.  Not just any teddy bear, a Vermont teddy bear resplendent in Captain James T. Kirk's uniform.  That's right.  I don't know if you know this, but BF is a Trekkie (but a cute one, not a creepy one).  I loved it.  So... while a teddy bear is classic Valentine's Day, his garb is decidedly... "us."  After work, he came by my place and gave me one more gift: a framed DIY ancient-looking print of my favorite Psalm, in Hebrew.  That's right folks: DIY.  It was shocked and awed, in the best possible way.  He then informed me that we were getting high-class carry out, and he proceded to pull a tablecloth, placemats, and candles from his backpack.  This was BF's version of "cooking" for me; what girl doesn't love that?

As if that wasn't wonderful enough, he then cut up strawberries and put together little strawberry shortcake dessert, paired perfectly with our sparkling white grape juice.  We finished our evening of classic V-Day activities by heading to the beach.  Surprisingly, we were alone; two cold masses huddled in the sand, staring up at the impossibly bright moon and stars.  I flung sand in his face unintentionally and later crunched sand in my teeth, but that's the price one pays for romance, isn't it?

And thus was my very first Valentine's Day.  It didn't disappoint.  But as I wrote, even grilled cheese and my sweats wouldn't disappoint, as long as I was with my valentine.

Reinventing the Blog...

Before I post Resolved, Part 2... which will be a "year-in-pictures" if I ever get around to it (and let's hope I get around to it this weekend, when I'll finally have time to clean my apartment, do my finances, organize my life, plan my quarter, and... breathe), I thought I'd ask for some advice.

For many years I was single.  Maybe not as many as some, but for a girl like me, it felt like forever.  Over those years, the Lord used my singleness to teach me many things, and to grow my walk with Him.  I wrote about it, not only as an outlet but as a way to preach to myself, and remind myself of what I knew to be true, with the hopes that it would in turn encourage and remind other single women of the truth.

I loved that.  I felt it was my niche, of sorts. 

And now, I'm not single anymore.  Well, technically I am because I'm not married, but I'm spoken for.  I'm obviously thrilled about that, but the struggles of single Amanda really aren't there anymore.  Instead there are now struggles of Amanda-in-relationship, on which I could write epic blogs but don't really feel that telling the world about my relationship is entirely appropriate (no offense, oversharers).  At least not not all the time, anyway.

Over pizza at the little shop where I once often frequented (and wrote a blog about one of the Italians there, who, I might add, can't hold a candle to my Italian), I talked to BF about the fact that I feel I need to reinvent my blog.  But how?

Here are my concerns:

1.  I don't want to become out-of-touch with the single women who may read my blog, and the single women still in my life.  This is actually a large burden on my heart at the moment, and here's why: I remember when, as a single woman, attached/engaged/married women would talk to me about how they were single and then waited, and now they have their man.  And I (admittedly with the wrong attitude) would think, That's all well and good, but see, you are in a relationship, and I still am not.  So thanks but no thanks to your unsolicited advice.  I feel that I still have valuable lessons to convey, but I don't want my single friends to think like I did about me, to think Oh great, another one bites the dust.  What else is new? BF reminded me that I can't control their response to my advice, and he's right.  But that doesn't take away the burden on my heart that I may be estranging my friends/readers without even trying.  I'm just being honest here.

2.  I don't know what I want my blog to be.  I could post lessons I learn from the Word, and probably always will do that no matter how I reinvent this blog, because that's the biggest part of me.  I could make it a photo journal.  I could make it a DIY blog.  I just don't know.  And the fact that I just don't know kind of sums up the overwhelmed sensation I am feeling these days.

So, readers and friends, what do you think?  How should I reinvent my blog?  About what should I write?  Please think about that and respond; meanwhile I'll be working on my "year-in-pictures" blog... so stay tuned.

Snapshots of Thankfulness...

I love Thanksgiving.  That's no secret.  But I hate change (also no secret).  So how does this Thanksgiving-loving-change-hating girl fare when her favorite holiday must be spent in an entirely different place?  I think I'm faring just fine, thanks. :)  This is the first year I haven't spent Thanksgiving with my family in Chicago.  My mom makes the best Thanksgiving dinner I've ever tasted, and we have such rich traditions that ooze comfort and warm fuzzies.  Yet this year, thanks to the greed of commercial airlines, I stay in Florida, with my other "family."  I miss my family and the warm fuzzies, but I'm not complaining.  In fact, I thought I'd be a lot more homesick, but I think the combination of a sunny, 84 degree day and the palm trees outside my window have made it just different enough from my traditional Thanksgiving that I'm somehow comfortable making new memories.

And so I got up early, baked an apple pie while watching Miracle on 34th Street (everyone knows that's the movie that kicks off the Christmas season), and I am now watching the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade as I type.  Today I will have Thanksgiving dinner with BF's family (gulp), and later scour the ads with my "family" as we graze on leftovers.

And this departure from tradition is just fine with me, mostly because God has helped me have an attitude that's in keeping with the day: thankful.  I have a lot to be thankful for.  Here are a few snapshots of what I'm thankful for this year:

A God who is sovereign: I didn't want to spend my week off on the couch in respiratory distress.  But somehow God planned it that way, perhaps so I could remember my dependence upon him, or maybe so those in my life could remind me why I'm thankful for them.  I don't know why, but it reminded me of God's sovereign hand in every part of my life.  I'm thankful that he is in control of everything, and therefore I don't need to worry about anything.

BF: Picture this-- I had not slept the night before.  I had been coughing so much and so violently that I puked.  I could only croak, and my hair was in the fuzziest, nastiest bun.  My face was flushed and I was in a post-fever sweat.  There's a knock at the door, and standing there is BF, holding a big bouquet of bright flowers and two bags of get-well-food.  And after seeing me like that, he still wants me to come to Thanksgiving dinner today.  Enough said, right?

Friends: Picture this-- I was walking up the stairs to my apartment when I got a giddy, loopy phone call from my sisters.  Was I home, they wanted to know, and could they come over?  Moments later they're standing at my door, with goofy grins.  They pop inside and simultaneously shout, "We're pregnant!"  I simply stared at them in disbelief-- I didn't believe they were, and I also couldn't believe they'd think I'd believe them.  They laughed, and no they're NOT pregnant.  Then they produced a "friendship ring."  The three of us now have matching metal flower rings that must be worn AT ALL TIMES (oops, guess I'm a bad friend).  We then reclined in the living room and cackled together as all sisters should. 

Those are just three brief snapshots of what I'm thankful for, but that's just the tip of the iceberg.  My family, my job, and the youth ministry are also things for which I'm very thankful. 

So however you're spending Thanksgiving this year-- whether you're with family or friends or are alone; whether you're enjoying old traditions or making new ones; whether you're healthy or ill, rich or poor, tired or rested; I pray you will find your own snapshots of what you're thankful for this year. 

Happy Thanksgiving. :)