winter cleaning

Today I am cleaning out my closet. Goodbye elongated maternity shirts. Goodbye elastic banded pants. Farewell big bellied dresses.

Hello old clothes. How I missed them, piled high on the top shelf of the nursery closet. I missed my jeans and my cute sweaters. The husband missed his favorite top.

This may seem horribly materialistic and not at all inspiring - I haven't even started exercising yet, so there was no real struggle to reclaim some semblance of my earlier figure - but by golly, the husband lifted me up in the air the other night. It's little things like this that make sleep deprivation and sore breasts worth it.

Not including the reason that they exist in the first place. Helloooo baby!

and then there were three

Walter Theodore Olmstead joined our family Sunday morning at 3:47 after 30 (never-ending, totally worth it) hours of people telling me to breath and the husband proving how all-star he is at back rubbing. Sorry for the delay in this announcement, but I've been a bit busy. There was also a catastrophic epidural that ended with five holes in my back the size of number 2 pencils. I can't see them, so we'll have to take the husband's word. There were other things that went wrong, and if you want to hear about how I developed separation anxiety within 5 minutes of my child's life, just ask. Otherwise, back to the positive.

He is the new great love of our life. And if you've read The Baby Whisperer, then you know how awesome it is when I say that he's an angel baby. Which just makes him easier to love.

In fact, I love him so much, I call him Stud.

In the last week, he has developed a pacifier addiction, applied for Future Thumbsuckers of America, dirtied every long-sleeved onesie in his closet, peed on his face, developed an appreciation for Bach's cello concertos, and punched the husband in the nose.

We couldn't be prouder.

the verdict is in

It's okay folks. You don't need to break the news to me. My mother very kindly told me this afternoon that my new favorite song did, in fact, sound too dirty to like.

Things have taken an energetic downturn in the Olmstead household this week due to the husband's timely case of H1N1. He has been a very sick man. A very sick man who is mysteriously around all the time. I've been a little weirded out by his constant presence as I attempt to keep my routine, but he fixed that problem by getting me sick with some kind of throat thing. So now I just don't have the energy to care.

I do not do sick well.

gently people

This morning I was reading on c jane's Guide to Provo blog - a personal favorite quick stop that has led to the most important discovery in my husband's eating life: the Rice King - and I was reminded that Down East Outfitters is Provo based. This got me to clicking. Oh, how I love to click out of curiosity!

And in all of this clicking, it dawned on me, does the rest of the world not have Down East Basics in their malls? Have I truly taken for granted the cute, modest, affordable clothing store with three locations all within reach of me? You know, the only woman's clothing store that my husband doesn't complain about going into with me. Not that I am a big clothing purchaser, but I am a huge window shopper and nothing makes me more happy than perusing a store with a happy husband in tow pointing out all of the things he thinks would emphasize my attractiveness, so the idea that not all women of the world enjoy this cheap date night made me suddenly very sad. (The twenty pounds of helloooo baby tell me I am allowed spontaneous emotions for the next three weeks.)

Why is this not a national epidemic? Or is it? Am I overreacting? If I am, tell me gently. (Remember, helloooo baby.)




P.S. Also, is it wrong that I've developed an unexplainable love for Ciara's Love Sex Magic, regardless of the husband saying "Dirrrrrty" everytime he hears it?

once upon eight years ago

Last night I ran into a blast from the past - my first boyfriend - at Target in the bodywash isle. I felt trapped and morbidly pregnant next to his wife. The whole experience was tense and ridiculously uncharacteristic of my usual self as I attempted to melt into the husband's back and then randomly abandoned him. Thankfully the husband is horrible with physical cues and extremely serious about his bodywash selection. I held my tongue about the whole thing until the husband and I were driving home.

Oh teenage years, how you haunt me in the most unexpected ways.

all the things I should be doing...

I'm supposed to be allowing the husband to live vicariously through me this morning. His request, before walking out the door to work, was a warm bath and another two hours of sleep.

I should be doing that.

There are clothes in the dryer that need to be folded and put away. Dishes from breakfast in the sink. Folded clothes on the couch that have been dying to be put away. Floors that haven't been vacuumed in a month. Dust on every available surface.

I should be taking care of that stuff too.


I am ignoring the child in my uterus having a tumbling hayday and letting The Killers sing me sweet lies. This feels like a fair trade.

if I could have anything in the world...

I'd like my landlord to turn the pipes back on for our swamp cooler. And a large greek salad. With maybe some stuffed grape leaves.

And Kenny Chesney serenading me wherever I go.

Is that really so much to ask?

oh baby

Yesterday, baby bee and I ventured into Orem for our unexpected ultra sound appointment. With slight trepidation, I waddled my way to the OBGYN area of the clinic and read the pregnancy mags like every other woman. (Interesting fact: If you sing a familiar song to a child during vaccinations or circumcision, their stress levels go down.) At ten past four, the ultra sound tech beckoned me back to her room, commenting on how small I looked for someone in my 33rd week. I already knew this. This is why baby bee and I were here. To make sure he was okay. Doctor's orders.

I am a magician.

I can measure small with a baby that is too big for his due date. That's right folks. Too big. Baby can come as early as next week if he so pleases and be completely fine. Preferably, he'll spend a little more time bruising my innards, but the truth is this:

Our lives are in the hands of a fetus.

awe....wait for it....some

The husband and I love Neil Patrick Harris.

Any one who takes the time to get to know us, knows that the husband and I don't have that much in common, big picture wise. Which is to be expected when an IT guy from a small, farming community in Utah marries an Art History major from a capitol in the deep south. Oh, sure, we both share a deep love for the music of Michael Jackson and cooking, but I still get excited when we stumble upon another shared interest to add to our little list.

This is done by exposure. Slow and gradual exposure to all of the random things in our lives that the other has not tried. We have some hits - farmer's markets; we have a lot of misses - guns, cars, museums - but in general we're both tolerant and loving enough to accept each other for our own little quirks. (It also helps that we're ridiculously in love with one another.)

Which is why when the husband took so fondly to How I Met Your Mother, I was delighted. We don't own a T.V. The husband grew up without a T.V. So when I say that he loves Neil Patrick Harris, it's not because of Doogie Howser, M.D. - a show that had to be carefully explained to him over the course of several evenings. It's not because of his work on Broadway. It is not even because of Dr. Horrible's Sing-a-long Blog. His love for Neil Patrick Harris is solely due to the character of Barney Stinson on CBS's How I Met Your Mother. That womanizer of womanizers, suit wearing champ. And as another Tuesday descends upon us, allowing us to upload last night's episode, I just want to give a small nod to a hilarious (and equally frivolous) part of our lives.

Neil Patrick Harris, here's to you. Please keep us laughing.

i get all the news i need on the weather report

I woke up this morning and it was cold. The kind of cold that necessitated putting on the thick wool socks my father just bought for me and stretching a sweater over my swollen belly.

These sudden changes in temperature always amaze me. It's as if Mother Nature experiences the same hormonal mood swings that all women do. The thought alone makes me ache for all of the women in my life. The closer this child comes, the closer I want them. I want to pioneer technology and bring my grandmothers back to life to sit by my side. I want my mother and sister next to them. I want every woman who helped rear me to magically habitat my little street. I am a horribly selfish person.

When the husband came home from class, he rubbed his cold nose against my cheek and wrapped his arms around my middle. He put his head on my shoulder and whispered, "I missed the two of you." The gesture made me want to keep him too. Luckily, that's exactly the arrangement we made, so I don't feel as selfish in that respect.

there's no place like home

We're home!

Except home is kind of like being in the hospital, minus the nurses with their attention to cleanliness and regularly scheduled meal times.

And I've had time to figure this out because we've technically been home for the last 24 hours.

ali is in the hospital...again

About a month and a half ago, our little Olmstead clan took a day trip to Orem Community's Labor and Delivery ward. There's a long story with smoke inhalation and poor kick count scores that I will not bore you with, but the plus side is that we got ourselves all pre-registered for that time when (in the eternally wise words of Juno) "Thundercats are go!" We were in, we were out, it was a blissful way to spend an afternoon.

Unfortunately,the second go round has not been so smooth. I spent all of Monday night vomiting anything that came in contact with my system, so JL called my mother who said that we should call our doctor. We called Dr. Young, he said, "Labor and Delivery. Go there." I thought, well, I thought nothing. I just let JL get me dressed in comfy clothes and put me in the car. We arrived, they hydrated me, I spent the entire day attempting to sleep, Momma O showed up and actually got me to sleep, and when I woke up I thought, 'Mkay. That was fun. I should go home now.' Right at the brink of freedom....a fever. A fever and a pregnant lady is a whole different ball game.

Swine flu and pregnant ladies are whole nother ball game.

A ball game that got me isolated with nothing to do but bore cyberspace with the news that I, Ali Olmstead, was stupid enough to get swine flu three weeks before my OB got the vaccine.

all the pretty little ponies

Bumblebee and I had our 29 week check up today and officially started the fun of bi-monthly appointments. To kick the party off, we embarked on the strange physical adventure of a blood sugar test. It was just us, an orange drink similar to orange soda but four times as potent, and the clock slowly ticking down the hour until some semblance of normal food could be ingested to help combat the dizziness, headache, and nausea that one tiny container of orange drink had delivered.

Our good friends - Guy and Ali - believe that baby gives me some kind of superhuman abilities. Abilities that never choose to show themselves at appropriate times like getting out of bed in the morning, bending to pick things up, etc. and tend to favor times involving Yahtzee! or Settlers of Catan. So I suppose it was my own sense of disillusionment that led me to believe that today was The Day. Today my unborn child and I were going to coexist in (my) one body no matter what natural forces pressed down upon us.

Today was not the day. Today was a day. A day of many things. Not a day of harmony. But. Things. So I was pleasantly surprised to see an e-mail from the man that made all of these things possible, sharing a happy memory that makes a pretty picture that I thought might make one of you smile. 'Cause it sure worked its charm on me.

sleep is good. naps are better.

Recently I took up the hobby of napping as a solution to my constant exhaustion.  However, I am a horrible napper. Truly awful. I waddle around all morning long pretending to be productive - which is a polite way to say craving everything that is not my apartment and then cleaning in frustration - and by the time I finally fall asleep on my quest for a little R&R, it's after 4. As I said three seconds ago, I am a horrible napper, so I usually stay passed out until JL comes home from work or class, but only if he's in the mood to wake me up.  The other day I woke up around 6:30 and he was just calmly sitting in front of his computer working on school stuff.

My mother is a professional napper. That woman can get 'er done. In bed, napped, and back on her feet in under an hour every day. A precision napper. I marvel daily over her ability to tune out the world at her choosing. I yearn to learn how to be productively unproductive. 

Any advice?

admission

I may have rolled out of bed this morning to eat the leftover Taco Tuesday tacos in our fridge before JL got home from class. Only, the guilt kicked in and I only ate two of the six.

In other words, don't judge me. I really am a good person.

now I can go back to sleep

JL woke up this morning at 3:30 to head out the door to Tucson with his father. I am alone, with the random bugs, and my mexican.

 

Rewind.

Last night, in a true display of crazy pregnant lady, JL supplied me with authentic Anglo Mexicanese cuisine for dinner and so, for the last few hours, I have been happily nibbling away on Cafe Rio leftovers. (I ate all of my sweet and sour pork last night. In case you're curious, it was heaven.) There may also have been a display of emotional clingy me. JL was supposed to leave for Spring City last night and then get up early with his dad and vamoose. We got him packed, I may have cried just a smidge, he got out the door, he got in the car, he called his father, and he came back inside. I'd be ashamed, but I kind of love the man, so I'm not.

I am, however, ashamed by the dream I had the other night in which I was an assassin (that's right, someone who kills people for money) with a new baby trying to lose the last few pounds of baby weight. I must admit that in my dream I was more concerned with the weight loss than the moral implications of my job. And I have seen Grosse Pointe Blank, so I should know better. I mean, really, did John Cusack teach me nothing?

*sigh*

I miss my husband.  

feeling a little overwhelmed

Today it dawned on me that in four weeks we will be out of the second trimester and firmly rooted in the last three months of preparation time.  JL starts classes in a few weeks and before I know it we will be leaving the hospital with a little baby boy to make the chaos of life worthwhile. 

Now, all we need to do before November is: pick up the crib in Iowa, stain the crib, move all of the stuff JL keeps piling in the nursery out of the nursery, find a chest of drawers, get a car seat, stroller, and the list goes on and on.

Oh how the time flies

Big changes are afoot in the Olmstead household...We're moving! Our new apartment is finally (almost) ready. Jorgen is slapping new paint on the walls and having the carpets cleaned and when that process is done, new apartment! JL and I are both thrilled to be moving to a bigger place. Bigger bedrooms, bigger closets, bigger bathroom, bigger family room, and...wait for it...smaller kitchen. That is our only complaint, so I guess we've got it pretty good.

Also, I went in yesterday for my latest OB checkup. The baby is doing splendidly, but gave me and Dr. Young a short scare since the baby moved up about six inches in a week! It was a long three minutes trying to find that heart beat, but when we did, I suddenly understood the final change:

I have a baby belly. Five days ago I woke up and it was there! I've officially had to make the switch to maternity pants at only 14 weeks. My mother kept reminding me that I was short so I would show sooner, but I didn't expect to be confined to blue banded pants this early on! I was thinking that I'd pop somewhere in between four and five months. However, this complaint stated, I have miraculously still not gained the weight I lost when JL and I were sick with the flu at the beginning of this adventure, so I guess I should count my blessings.

peanuts and bumblebees and ERs

This morning I was very sweetly woken up by JL with a kiss on the forehead and, "Sweetie, Rich and Caity are coming over. Your father is in the ER getting stitches." And I was awake. My worry button had been pushed. I had been jolted. Baby Bee had been jolted. But before I could roll myself out of bed JL started to brush my hair away from my face and continued his story. I caught bits and pieces of what he was saying while he lulled me back to a happy place full of sleep and sunshine and fairies bouncing on clouds. It went a bit like this: "Crib...accidently....fine....Caity....hadn't eaten....monitered too...need food...be here when released."

So I put my coherent husband to work. He pulled me out of bed. He pulled the sausage out of the freezer. He started the shower. He kissed me good morning. He helped me in the shower. And twenty seconds later I was right there with him in the land of coherent thoughts.

Ten minutes later I was opening my front door, hearing my father (rather enthusiastically) blurt out, "We're all okay!" I have never been so relieved to see my father chipper and alert in his jogging shorts before in my life. The hot pink bandages were just an added boost of happy.

Uh huh. Yup.

I dropped my Contemporary class like a hot potato. I feel a little lazy about it, but making a baby is hard work. I try not to compare myself to the gazillion other people that I know who are prego right now, working and going about their usual lives as if nothing abnormal has occurred to suck away their energy levels. I remind myself everyday that there are certain things that make this process a bit harder on me than I imagined as a little girl. The headaches, the FM, the arthritis.

But man alive, I'd drop a class any day to be able to carry this little person around with me for another six months. Totally worth it.

Sidebar: JL heard the baby's heartbeat for the first time this morning. His face was, to say the least, adorable!

Oh Wingers....

Today JL and I had a lunch date to Winger's, mainly because I had a fierce craving for these beauties, otherwise known as Sticky Fingers. Oh the spicy! Oh the sweet! I know people shouldn't find comfort in food, but for 45 minutes today I was the happiest prego person on the planet. *sigh*

I am now going to take a nap and (hopefully) dream about the wonderful food I just ate.

our little bumblebee

We're having a baby!!!

Today was our first doctor's appointment and Baby Bee is doing great! Everything measured spot on to our calculations, so sometime around November 28, JL and I will be adding a member to our little family.

a bit of a philosophically induced admission

While most people are taking finals and throwing in the towel after another semester accomplished, I am jumping feet first into Spring term here at the good ole Y. Midterms are next week (already?!) and JL so sweetly drives me up to campus four days a week so I can immerse myself in American History and Contemporary Art.  Which brings me to my point:

Today in Contemporary, Mark brought up the work of Giacometti, one of my favorite sculptors of all time.  As a child I remember being introduced to one of his elongated figures and since then I've always been a bit mesmerized by the man behind the art.  

Now, to me, the miserable thing about Contemporary is that everything is based on theories and ideals, usually written by philosophers and critics in the field. But today as we ripped apart a commentary by Sartre, a quote from Giacometti about his fears of the infinite struck me: "In space, there is too much." 

I started to think to myself, 'What am I terrified of? What horrifies me?' There are dozens of little silly things, like our living room in the middle of the night.  I, like any decent human being, shudder at images of genocide that appear in my daily newspaper. I have a paralyzing fear of Hilary Clinton. No joke. 

The dread that I carry around with me everyday, however, is nothing as easily forgotten as selfish politicians. I am petrified with concern that the physical pain that I experience everyday will come to reign over my life: my relationship with JL, the interactions that I have with friends and neighbors. It is so much easier to play the victim than to push past pain.  

As a result, I have added to our Rule for Happy Living:  #8 Mind over body. 

mission: almost accomplished

After returning home from our stolen vacation to our little apartment Friday night, JL and I were struck with a rather vicious stomach flu that knocked us both out for a solid 48 hours. (To be honest, longer, because JL is still queasy when he stands up and I'm still sleeping 18 hours a day and moving as little as possible.) As a result, our apartment a) smelled sickly and b) became covered in dirtiness. I'm happy to say, more for my satisfaction than anyone else, the dishes are mostly accomplished after a delicate balancing act that got all except two glasses on the drying rack.
In a complete random topic switch, I found our only plastic cup this afternoon and made frozen lemonade. Flashback, Tiki girls? It was delicious, especially after nothing but saltines and soup like substances for so many days.
You'll also note David Sedaris' book on our table. Props go out to Sedaris for keeping JL and I laughing between bouts of vomit and diarrhea. You wonderful dark and mundanely comedic man, you.

belated birthday photos

As previously stated, our camera died and we couldn't find the charger to turn the camera back on to connect it to the computer to upload pictures, but...discovered! So, birthday photos!



JL after the festival of colors. By the time he was taking these pictures, I had already turned the water in the shower hot pink, courtesy of JL dumping his bag of hot pink dye over my head!






Obscenely early the next morning, JL dragged me out of bed so that I could open my wonderful shiny box! I love you sweetie!

Best. News. EVER!

So I'm going to be posting backwards to catch up but I have to start with one of the highlights of my weekend: one of my closest friends, Chrissylove, got engaged!!!! We were celebrating our three month anniversary up in Logan (post to come shortly) when we heard my phone go off and JL went down and brought it up to me with a huge goofy grin on his face. He kind of loves Chrissy too. Yay!!! We've been looking at flights and trying to figure out how we were going to get down there all morning long, and I'm kind of sad because JL probably won't be able to come with me, but Chrissy. Wedding. Yay!!!

(I am quite possibly more excited about this than any of my siblings weddings. Does that make me a horrible sister?)

Issa Ghost!!!

Today was proof that kids just say the darndest things. At about two o'clock this afternoon, Shyra went outside to grab some things out of the car (ice chest, snacks, the usual roadtrip essentials). Upon noticing that his mother was no longer in the vicinity, Seth looked around the family room and walked up to the base of the stairs to begin what would be the best conversation of my day.

Seth: Uh oh Annon. I shink Momma's uhstairs.
Me: No Sethers, I'm pretty sure Mom is outside.
Seth: No Annon. Momma's uhstairs. Hiding.
Me: Hiding huh? Well, alright, you better go look for her.
A few minutes later Shyra walked back inside.
Me: Oh look Seth! I found Mom! She's in the office.
Seth: No. Issa ghost. Momma's uhstairs.
Shyra: Hey buddy. I'm down here.
Seth: No Momma. Yousa ghost.
Shyra: I'm a ghost?
Seth: Yeth. Yousa ghost. ... Uh oh Annon. Momma's ghost!

Bless that kid. He always keeps me on my toes.

Silliness

Oh the things we do to keep ourselves entertained around this place...

5 Things

5 things I was doing 5 years ago.
1. Trying to find an apartment
2. Switching my major to humanities
3. Figuring out what to do for the summer
4. Walking everywhere I wanted to go.
5. Getting ready to go home for a visit.

5 things I’ll do tonight.
1. Make dinner.
2. Fold clothes.
3. Do the dishes.
4. Go to sleep.
5. Um...go to sleep.

5 things I would do with a million-dollars.
1. Buy a house.
2. Furnish said house.
3. Put money aside for JL's tuition and books.
4. Take cello lessons.
5. Put the rest into savings.

5 places I have lived.
1. 615 E. Woodruff Drive., Baton Rouge, LA.
2. 129 Country Chase Dr., Wind Gap, PA
3. 512 T Hall, Provo, UT
4. Hobbit House, Provo
5. The Barn #3, Provo

5 jobs I have had.
1. Jason's Deli order taker/cashier/head delivery night person
2. Moe's line worker
3. MTC Cafeteria worker
4. BYU Chemical Engineering Dept. Secretary
5. Nanny!

5 things I want to be doing in 5 years
1. Finishing my 1001 (book) long reading list
2. Doing yoga every morning
3. Getting settled in a new place
4. Spending as much time as possible with my husband and future children
5. Silly, but I want to be capable of decorating cakes at home

a very happy birthday post

Well another General Conference weekend has come and gone, and I am ashamed to say that I slept during three of the four sessions. Oops! (JL says that I should let you all know that I was able to listen to some of it.) It's so rare that JL and I get to just sit around together that the comfort of having him close just put me right to sleep! It didn't help that we had JL's little brother Lincoln over Saturday night and we were all up until two in the morning.

On a belated note, my birthday was last weekend and it was wonderful! Saturday afternoon my good friend Mellissa had me come over for some much needed story time, which was wonderful! She kept me pleasantly occupied until her boyfriend Andrew showed up and it was time to go to the Festival of Colors! We hauled my bike over from the house to our apartment and JL came out to grab the bike. Upon entering the apartment I discovered that Mellissa had tricked me and was part of a plot to distract me while JL cleaned and covered our entire apartment with rose petals! By far the most romantic thing anyone has ever done for me. But I didn't get to relish in the kindness, because we hopped in the car and headed south for the Festival of Colors, a Hindu holiday to welcome in spring. We got thoroughly covered in dye, thanks to JL more than anyone, and ran into quite a few people in the crowds. When we got home the water in the shower turned hot pink from all of the dye and I'm sorry to say that we ruined everything except the jeans we were wearing.

The next morning (my actual birthday), JL dragged me out of bed at 7 - yuck! - and started taking pictures of me right away. I would complain more, except I got to open my big present that had been taunting me for a week. The wait was worth it. Inside was a big Kitchen Aid food processor that can grate cheese faster than anything else I've seen in my entire life, among other things. There was also a slew of bath products on the table. Also great since I take at least six baths a week to help with the pain in my joints. When we got home from churchs there was a slew of phone calls that all started out with Chrissylove and didn't end until late that night. Thanks to everyone for such a great birthday!!!

as asked for:

I chopped my hair. Include it in the list of things that are slowly changing thanks to the FM, because long hair just got to be too much to handle on my hands. Although, I'm having serious flashbacks to middle school and my mother curling my hair under for me every morning. Bless A line haircuts and how easy they are to take care of.

attention all readers!

So I must pimp the most wonderful book that I just read The Thirteenth Tale by Diane Setterfield. Amazing!* We stopped at the library for a fast grab and I literally just saw it on a shelf, picked it up, and went on my merry way. For the last couple of days JL and I have just been sitting around the house reading our separate books. I have been loving the quiet, although it was frequently interrupted by JL's laughter at his choice, The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy. Dessi and Chaz were probably wondering what the heck we were doing as random intervals of JL's big booming laugh floated up into their apartment.
On that note, I'm now up for book suggestions. I prefer things that are well-written and do not at all mind young adult fiction.


*Opinions expressed are purely those of the blogger and do not necessitate the need to feel like a weirdo if you, yourself, do not like the book. : )

one of those old married people

After years of thinking that the parental unit was slightly strange for losing all normal sleeping habits when one or the other was out of time, I now understand. It's hard sleeping in an empty bed without your spouse. I kind of miss having a body to kick and poke and ask stupid questions to in the middle of the night. Hence, I'm not sleeping, which is what I told JL I would be doing while he went out with some mission friends, and am instead sitting in our bed pathetically meandering around online.

*sigh*

Oh, Guybrush Threepwood...you sexy beast

"Even with the best of maps and instruments we can never fully chart our journeys." - Gail Pool

A little over a month in and we've already hit a small bump in the road. About three weeks ago I woke up with some pain in my joints and hands and feet. The doctors have diagnosed me with fibromyalgia and what they originally thought to be viral arthritis in my hands and feet, but now are unsure since it does not appear to be leaving. As you can imagine, this has initiated a few changes in our daily life, but thanks to JL's never-ending optimism we're pushing along as best we can. (Let me insert a shameless bit about how wonderful JL is for his patience and encouragement when all I really want to do is throw my hands up in the air and quit. Really. He's an amazing man.)
To be honest, the saddest part about all of this is the sudden decrease of tomatoes in my diet. For anyone who knows me, I consume tomatoes more often than anything else. In fact, they sustained me through my entire engagement. They are without a doubt the best and most wonderful fruit on this planet and anyone who disagrees with me should just....rethink their opinion.
In completely random, other news: JL got me Escape from Monkey Island for an early birthday present. Not to be confused with the awesomeness of Curse of Monkey Island, which we both played when we were younger, Escape is the next great adventure of Guybrush Threepwood, pirate extraordinaire! Unfortunately, it's too old and won't work on our computers. A small technicality that JL is currently working on. If by some horrible incidence you have no idea what I'm talking about, you should really check it out.

Mawwiage...it's what brings us together

After a month, JL and I are finally getting settled into our apartment. Yay for slow move-ins! In honor of making it one month without accidentally killing myself or each other, finally, a blog post!
Like I said, we've just about got ourselves settled into our little one bedroom in South Provo. Now we're just down to a perpetual silent debate about one little blue decorative pillow on the couch that JL keeps throwing around and I keep placing neatly in the center. What can I say? We live an adventurous life.