From February

Right now my husband is downstairs packing. Every time he is not in the room with me I feel a sense of panic as if we are wasting precious time. I want to look at him constantly. I want to be able to reach out and always have him there to hold my hand. If he isn't there I worry it is time lost that we will never get back.
But all of this panic is silent, within me. I want to make this last week happy. I want to act completely normal. I am constantly praying for strength to make it through all of this. For peace of mind. I pray to find the joy in what seems like the end of my world.
Bryce is always reminding me that women do this all the time, that they've been doing it for years and years. That at least this is only a year. At least he is going somewhere safe. I read testimonials all the time of wives giving birth while their husbands are away. Of fathers meeting their baby when they are months old.
But nothing makes it easier. I fight myself away from thinking how unfair this is. How unfair it is that he will most likely miss his daughter's birth. That I won't have him as support all those sleepless nights. That I won't have him as a partner in this journey of new parenthood. How unfair it is that he will miss her first giggles, the first time she rolls over, the first time she crawls, her first christmas.

Thoughts on deployment

The good thing about your child being a baby during your husband's deployment is she doesn't notice when you break down crying in the middle of playing with her. In fact she continues to gurgle and coo and laugh which helps to dry the tears more quickly.

Today is a perfect day. The real life perfect kind of day. I wish you were here. It's a beautiful day outside. Finally not sweltering hot, and not chilly like it has been earlier in the week. It's perfect. I have the windows open, letting in the light and the breeze. The music is playing and I've been dancing around the kitchen.
Finally. Finally able to move about without pain. Finally have the energy to twirl around the apartment. I wish you were here to dance with me.
My belly is perfectly round today. Our little one's kicking can finally be detected from the outside. Although, our tricky little girl always stops moving as soon as a hand is placed on my belly. Perhaps she likes the extra warmth? I wish you were here to feel her today, to talk to her and coax her to respond.
I slipped my moccasins on for the first time in a year. I love those moccasins, a staple from college. I have a feeling they will again become a staple over the next few months. I am already having difficulty bending to put my shoes on, and you won't be here to slip on and force off my beautiful boots. Those will have to be saved for next year.
As I walked out to take the trash out (I'm cleaning you know, on my perfect day, I clean) I felt an urge to take a walk. But I wouldn't know where to go. I haven't been able to explore our new home, so tired, so much pain, since we moved in. You have. You told me once about a trail nearby you want to take me on. But not where. I wish you were here to take me on the trail.
The endless pavement around me makes me ache for Vermont. In Vermont you do not need to drive anywhere to go for a walk. You just walk out your door, and there you are, immersed in nature.
I am so thankful that Ellie and I will be able to spend the summer there. That she will be able to lay with me on the grass, soak in the mild sun, and enjoy the laughter of the trees. I wish you could be there to watch the stars with us.

I am happy today. I feel fulfilled. I have crocheted many rows on little Ellie's blanket. I've baked Pumpkin Bread to bring to your uncle's house. I've danced and I've sang and I've laughed at the gentle nudges in my belly.
It is a perfect day. But you are not here. Oh how I wish you were here.

Blackberries.

I wiped the blackberry juice off on my bare leg and watched it leave a deep purple mark. It reminded me of home. Blackberry stained and scratched as I stumbled through a thorny patch to get the biggest, juiciest fruit. The prize fruit the bears won't even venture toward for fear of the brambles. But I don't care. I know how good they taste. I emerge grinning with blackberry teeth and arms trickling with blood. Victorious.

What a memory. I memory that cannot be placed in any time. A memory that encompasses my childhood. A memory that could be placed in the summer I was twenty one just as soon as it could be from my fifth summer. It is a memory that goes along with bare, blackened, calloused feet. With brambles caught up in my ever tangled hair. With climbing through hay lofts and dropping down through trap doors into a burly old pony's stall. It slides through my memory hand in hand with dusty dirt roads and dandelion puffs and playing hide and seek in the piles of white, wrapped hay bales.

It is a memory of home, happiness, childhood, and innocence. It is a memory of summer.

But it is not summer. I am not home. I wipe my stained fingers onto my tanned, exposed legs on a March evening in Texas.

On an evening I'm missing home.

A letter from Pilot

Eight months ago I wrote this letter to a man I had just met. Two months later I showed the man the letter as we were curled up together on his couch. I was nervous. Nervous to show him that just a couple weeks after we met I was head over heels. Nervous to introduce him to Believe You Me because it was opening a door to my past. But I wanted him to know all of me.
A week later he surprised me with a letter of his own.... (If you haven't read the letter I wrote, go and do that first, otherwise some of the things he says won't make sense!)

 Dear Annie,
Thanks to you I can put into words how I feel about you. When I say your name my stomach somersaults. When someone asks me if I've met anyone here I immediately think of you and smile. I plan events around you and don't want to go anywhere without you. I have a list of things I want to do with you, and trips to take with you. You were so far beyond the bar I set that I never even considered you anything but perfect. I want to be the best person I can be around you and I AM a better person with you in my life.
     Annie, I like you because you are independent and adventurous. I like you because despite your independence you desire someone, some man, by your side. I like you because of your deep passion for learning and teaching. I like your love of children. But most of all, I like you because I LOVE YOU ANNIE, all of you!
   I too let my imagination run and think too far ahead, but suddenly it doesn't scare me. I am comfortable looking past tonight's events, in telling the guys I actually have plans this weekend, in telling people I am going up north for the holidays. Time will only tell if it is true that I am meant for you, you were meant for me, and we are meant for each other. However, you are not just a girl; you are THE GIRL. You flirt just the right amount. You don't scare me away; you make me want to be closer to you. I can't tell you if you're not ready to meet the man you're meant to be with, but I can tell you that I am that man then you seem more than ready, and I am ready. The life you lived before has made you who you are now, and who you are now is the girl I love. I only hope that I can live up to the man you built me up to be. You are not just a girl from Vermont; you are THE GIRL, the woman, from Vermont. 
  Annie, I want to take you flying off into the sunset! I can't put down my phone because I want to text you every corny joke I think of and I wait for your next text; I want to call you every time something good happens. I think of you when I need a happy thought, and when I'm already happy I still think of you. I don't know if they are butterflies, but the way I feel when I hear your voice is indescribable. You are the first girl I have truly been excited for my family and friends to meet. I want to take you to Italy, kiss you under the Eiffel Tower, get lost with you in Big Bend, be uncomfortable on 12 hour flights in coach class with you, and fill scrap books of pictures with us on our many adventures. 
  I may ask you how you have done this to me, the boy with so many walls, with insecurities, with a desire for freedom that gets in the way of relationships, but you made it so easy for me to realize the priorities that truly make a man a MAN. It's not the money, or the job, or the car. No, it's the way you love, the way you care for the people, the person, the woman that loves you that truly matters. Don't be nervous, don't be quiet, don't move slowly, but don't move too fast. Most of all don't worry because I have fallen for you. I hope the affect I have on you is one you love and I hope it doesn't stop. 


I'm yours, head over heels and absolutely not confused, forever,


The Pilot


Last Sunday he asked me to marry him.
We are going to Italy for our honeymoon.

This is only the beginning

Waiting for Pilot to get home is absolutely agonizing. And this is only the beginning. 
I don't know how many times I've exclaimed "I hate the army!" And this is only the beginning.
The uncertainty, the never being able to make solid plans. The "let's buy these tickets and if I'm not here, you can take a friend." plans. And this is only the beginning. 

But it is the waiting that gets me. The day of. The he has been gone all week, for three weeks, for months. And today he will come home. Maybe. But maybe not. Maybe it will rain. Maybe the helicopter will need maintenance. Maybe someone will call and say he's needed just one week more.
And this is only the beginning.

Six months ago I looked at the life ahead of me and I had to make a decision. Do I let myself fall in love with this handsome, kind, goofy, faith filled gentleman who could leave at a moment's notice and be gone for months? Everything about him is so perfect for me, we match up as if we were made for each other. Except, there was this one detail. One tiny detail. One enormous detail.

He is a soldier.

There was the question, could I be a soldier's wife? Could I be an Army Wife?

I struggled with the question for months. But every day I fell more in love. Every day it became more apparent, more obvious; I could never live without him. Even if, at times, I could only have him through email and the occasional phone call, he needed to be in my life. Forever. And this is only the beginning.

It is not going to be easy. I know it will not be easy. These six months have not been easy. The last few weeks I have whispered, I feel like I'm always missing you. And to my mother I've let myself cry, I'm going to be missing him our whole lives. And this is only the beginning


The ever loving, never wanting me to suffer mother asks, Are you sure? Is this really what you want? Can you really handle this?


But I know. I have no choice. He is my love. He will always be my love. I have known it from the day we met. We were always meant to be.  And this is only the beginning.


And so I will wait. Wait forever if I have to. I will get up, make my coffee, scramble some eggs, do my laundry, clean the house. And hope. And pray. Pray that the helicopter will fly. That the phone will not ring. Pray that he will be home before dinner.

Because This is only the beginning.

The Pilot was rushing through the streets as I meandered along. His hand extended behind him as he attempted to pull me forward, faster.
"Why are you rushing? We have all night." I demanded exasperated; finally annoyed with being jerked along.
"But I had planned to be here hours ago, you have to see everything."
"I am trying to see everything but you keep pulling me past! I've never been here before and I'm sure we'll be here many times again so lets just walk and see what we can see. I don't care about seeing everything in the city I just want to enjoy my time with you, so stop rushing ahead!"
As I heard myself utter that last sentence I stopped and laughed at myself. I better take my own advice. Enjoy our time together, stop rushing ahead.

I'm not very good at living in the present. If life is pear shaped and dreary I think back to the summer I was eight. No student loans to pay off, no cars breaking down right before rent is due, no crazy stalker boyfriend hovering around the edges of my life. Just hay bales and dandelions and finally getting to perform in the Children's Theater down the road.
When life is full of butterflies and daisies and a handsome boyfriend who may someday be my husband all I can think of is the future. I daydream about baby names and picket fences. Everything I see is either perfect for my wedding or makes me think of a new idea for our new home. Neighborhoods are no longer just houses and people, they are communities, school districts. In my head I am calculating the distance between our jobs and our potential new home.
The Pilot gets frustrated with me often. Why can't I just live in the moment? Why can't I appreciate the beginning? Why am I in a rush to the end?

The world is telling me to slow down, to calm down, to relax. A fortune cookie while having lunch with my love, a lunch in which I complained that I couldn't wait any longer to start, simply stated: Rome was not built in a day. Be patient. A few weeks later my horoscope, something I never actually read, told me to calm down and take my time.

The beginning of a relationship is always so exciting, so charged with energy. The first few months after you fall in love, you are on a cloud. But I am trying to fly this cloud like a jet and get to the sunset. I need to stop and enjoy the butterflies, the impromptu slow dancing in the kitchen. I need to appreciate his small gestures and the warm looks I receive when I'm doing something silly. Because if I stop and just focus on the now, ingrain these memories into our lives, maybe these small perfect things will never stop.

I found Happiness

The other day the Pilot plucked an eyelash off my cheek, holding it out so that I could make a wish and blow it away. A silly notion, to wish upon a piece of eyelash. Eyelashes fall all the time, what makes it special? And yet, I went in for the wish. But then, I hesitated.

My go-to wish for birthday candles, shooting stars, and eyelashes had, for most of my adult life, been for happiness. Eyes squeezed tight, fists balled, thinking with all my might, I wish I could be happy again. I was finished with depressed, unwilling to be simply content. I wanted euphoria. I wanted to wake up every morning excited about the day ahead. I wanted to go to sleep with a smile on my face. I did not want to have to push myself through each moment of each day. And so, I wished for happiness.

I sat on the couch staring at the lash on his calloused finger. My wish on the tip of my brain. But another thought floated in. Why wish for something you already have? I was surrounded by happiness. I was sitting across from my love who was patiently waiting for me to relieve him of the eyelash. Sitting cozy in the apartment of a dear friend who after only a few short weeks knew all my hopes and dreams, laughing with a girl who just a few hours earlier had begged me to never leave Texas. I was drinking wine, telling stories and giggling. Staring at that simple eyelash I realized how happy I had become.

In high school I had moments of fleeting happiness. Mostly it was dramatic and heartbreaking filled with backstabbing and fair weather friends.

In college I was miserable from start to finish.

Then I found London. I was in a constant state of euphoria. I made amazing,lasting friends. I didn't think it was possible to ever be happier.

When I moved to Copenhagen I immediately realized I didn't fit. The leftover high of London quickly wore off as I struggled to make friends and find my niche. I gave up. I went home.

At home I took a look at the past five years. I had picked up and moved seven times. Seven times. It thrilled me yet terrified me. Why couldn't I stay put? Would I ever be able to settle down for a moment?

Three months ago I moved to Austin. It was a whim, a fancy, a "hey, I have nothing better to do and I hate the cold, so why not?!" 

My mother was cautious and nervous but supportive. "Just, please don't meet a Texas boy and never come back. Promise you'll come back!"

B3 warned me of the difficulties of starting over in a new city , wary of me venturing off on my own without a plan. "It will be exciting and terrifying and hard as hell and you'll want to give up. Don't give up."

Everyone simultaneously applauded my bravery and begged me not to go.

I prayed about it. I was slowly arriving to the point where I would give up on traveling around. I began to yearn for a permanent place. A home all my own. Friends who would last longer than a few months. I wanted solid relationships and the comfort of a city I knew like the back of my hand. I never settled long enough to discover secret hideaways and hole in the wall perfections.

I prayed that I would find my place. I prayed that if Austin wasn't my place I would find out soon, before I left, so I wouldn't have to continue moving all over the country, just searching for happiness.

I prayed for happiness and strength to get me through the difficult times; strength to keep myself from doubting my abilities. The first couple months (and still, yes, still) I prayed for the right kind of friendships, I prayed for friends who would make me a better person. I prayed for holy and beautiful friendships.

Now here I am. Three months in, absolutely in love with everything. In love with Austin, in love with my incredible group of friends, and head over heels in love with the Pilot. I am in awe of my own happiness, in awe of God’s blessings, in awe of life. I haven’t been able to write a single word lately because I am finding it impossible to put into words my elation and thanksgiving. I want to scream from the mountaintops (if Austin had mountains…) about how beautiful my life is. Sometimes I feel a little embarrassed, but I’m not sorry I’m happy! I’ve been waiting for this day. Searching for this day. Searching for the moment where my heart could rest, could let out a sigh of relief and just bask.

I’m so happy it almost hurts.

I squeezed my eyes shut, balled my fists and instead of wishing simply said thank you as I blew the lash to where wishes go.

I am from...

I am from green, rolling hills and dipping valleys, from plastic kites on top of breezy knolls.

I am from the maple trees and dripping sap, from the tangy scent of fresh cut grass.

I am from the dandelion speckled fields, from the red clover and daisies. I am from the wildflowers.

I am from Sunday lunches after church and summers on the stage, from painted faces and lullabies by the fire.

I am from the glacial gap and a million stars. I am from the fireflies and s’mores. I am from old red barns and hiding in the hay loft. I am from burning red foliage and jumping in piles of leaves.

I am from love and laughter and plump figures. I am from “you can do anything” and “reach past the stars.” I am from a gaggle of brothers and superman figurines. I am from forts in the woods, a house in a silo. I am from the land of make believe.

I am from a church of love and forgiveness. I am from a cross around your neck and above your bed. I am from multi-colored rosary beads and a mother blessing her children with holy water. I am from a deep faith that sometimes falters but never falls away.  

I am from a farmhouse and a picket fence, from welcoming arms and helpful hands. I am from dirt roads and swimming holes, from iced tea and chocolate chip cookies at 3 pm.

I am from strawberry rhubarb pies and corn mazes, from sorrel lining the hiking path. I am from hay bale hide and go seek.

I am from hot chocolate and racing toboggans. I am from the best sledding hill in town. I am from snowmen villages and snowball fights. I am from frost bitten toes and red cheeks.

I am from home videos and boxes of pictures that document thirty years. I am from a slideshow on a white wall. I am from mistakes made and lessons learned. I am from memories that will last a lifetime.

I am from laughing into the night and pancakes in the morning. I am from a cup of tea and a good book. I am from cuddles and friendly wrestling.

I am from Irish eyes, romantic hearts, and knocked knees. I am from adventure. 

"The Evil" has subsided. It hasn't stopped, but it has calmed. It's on the back burner, simmering. It's enough to ignore. Enough that I have stopped crying at the very thought. Tears no longer stain my pillows each night. And so, to a point, we feel we may have grown stronger. We know it isn't over. We know we're far from being "in the clear." But we are out of the storm cloud. And now we wait. We wait to see if everything is ok or if everything is completely ruined.
I could break down. I could go mad. I cried to my mother that I wish I was there and that everything could be fixed. She told me to breath, to keep on living the beautiful life I've been given and to be thankful that I wasn't around. So I did what she said. I tried to forget and I rallied on.
And now, I am home. Not for moral support, not to try and  carry the burden. I am home to celebrate a life. To celebrate a new, beautiful, little girl as she enters the church. We are all here. Every brother and sister and wife. And although this has nothing to do with "the evil" and we have all agreed not to talk about "the evil," that this would be a "happy weekend," we all experienced a sense of relief as we gathered around our dinner table. We are all here. We all love each other incredibly. "The evil" had become so big, so horrid that we thought it would ruin our entire family, end our livelihood. And like anything that threatens a family's life, it brought us together. We say more "I love you"s and hug a bit tighter. It warms our heart and gives us comfort to know we are here for each other. We support each other. We will fight for each other. And no matter what falls apart, this family isn't going anywhere.

Leave of absence

Some terrible things have happened to my family recently that will be taking up all my extra time. I will be taking a leave of absence, the duration is undetermined.
If I could, I ask for your prayers and understanding and hope to see you all here when I return.

Dear Sister,

My Sweet Bear,

I’ve been having difficulty starting this. How can I presume to have knowledge enough to advise you? But as your sister, as your sponsor, as one who loves you so incredibly much, I want to try.

Sometimes I cannot believe you are sixteen. It thrills me and terrifies me at the same time. I am thrilled to see the woman you are becoming – you are beautiful, smart, a leader. Every day I amazed at your poise, your demeanor, your ability to carry on with a smile despite your illness.

But I am terrified. Terrified of what the world may have in store for you. I am scared because I remember when I was sixteen. I remember the trials, obstacles and heartbreak. High school was full of pressure and temptation. I made mistakes and had many regrets. IF I could spare you from these mistakes and just provide you with the lessons I would. But you may not make the same mistakes. No, you won’t. You are smarter than that. You have seen what it did to me. Unfortunately, you will make your own mistakes. You will cry. You will hurt. But you will learn.

Of course there will be millions of wonderful experiences as well. You will discover new things, you will live new experience, and you will find love.

You will find love in true friendships, love in a boy who makes your belly erupt with butterflies. Love in a mother who is always there no matter what you do, who seems to understand your deepest fears, your deepest desires; love in a your father who you will begin to understand as you grow older, who at the perfect moment will show his love and support though he may falter in his understanding of the vast emotions you are experiencing. Love in your brothers who will always strive to protect you, who will always support you but expect you to try your hardest and do your best. Love in your sisters who have been there from the beginning, who no matter how much you change, will always be the same. They – we – will be the constants in your life.

Most important, you will find the love of God. It is the most complex, most difficult love to understand and occasionally, to accept. But it is the most rewarding love, the most fulfilling. This love fills you, guides you, comforts you. This love makes you; it makes all the other loves in your life. All of these loves carry you through the difficult times, the wonderful times, even the plain-old, nothing special times.

Remember that love.

So, my pretty little sister, what advice can I give you?

1.       Always be yourself. Do not be embarrassed by who you are. Do not change to please others – you will regret it later and it will cause lasting damage. This is not uncommon, especially as you near college. So hold on to yourself. Love who you are. (I do!)

2.       Do not give in to pressure. This may be the most difficult piece of advice to follow because you may not notice the pressure. It could come in the form of friends talking, your friends beginning to change, beginning to have new experiences. You may feel left out, you may feel embarrassed for not joining them. But again, be true to who you are. Hold out. I promise you, looking back you’ll never think you were old enough.

3.       Take advantage of opportunities. Travel, be spontaneous, love. Take chances.

4.       Volunteer – give back, immerse yourself in a life you have never experienced and make it better.

5.       Do not worry about what others expect you. Do not worry about following the social norm.

6.       Make sure you are happy. Do not settle with simply content.

7.       Live life completely. Laugh often. Sing and dance every day, even if it is just in the kitchen.

8.       Work hard, commit to your dreams and fulfill them.

9.       Exercise. Seriously, it’s good for the body and the soul.

10.   No matter what – this is so important that I am saying it again – know that God loves you. He does. He needs you and you need him. Catholicism may be difficult at times, you may doubt, you may fall away. But you must never turn away from God. Without him life is empty. I have turned away and this is a lesson I do not want you to have to experience to learn from. It was the most difficult, empty time in my life. You need God, Bear. His miracles are always surrounding us. His love showers us. Love him.

There is my little bit of knowledge. It’s not nearly enough but it is all I have. Together we will learn more. You are a beautiful person Bear, you have a beautiful soul, and I am so blessed to be your sister. I love you a ridiculous amount.

With faith and love,

Annie

Dear Crush,

Dear Pilot,

I am trying to put into words how I feel about you. When I say your name my stomach somersaults. When someone from home asks if I’ve met anyone here I immediately think of you and smile. Before I realized it I was planning my activities around you. Where you would be I would go. I will go. I find myself looking forward to each time I will see you and thinking of new opportunities for us to interact.

When asked what it was about you that I liked all I could say was you were flying high above the bar I had set. And that bar is pretty high. I like you because you make me want to be the best version of me possible. I like you because you have a southern drawl that makes me melt. I like you because when something goes wrong you go right to work trying to figure out how to fix it. I like you because you are kind, you have a great sense of humor, you can entertain an entire room with your thrilling stories. I like you because you sing at church without opening the hymnal. I like you because you make sly comments under your breath that make me giggle. But most of all, I like you because the first time I heard your voice I looked up at you and haven’t been able to look away since.

Sometimes when I allow myself to think too far ahead and let my imagination run wild I think perhaps you are the reason for Texas. You were the draw, the reason why God helped me to make my way down here without a plan. You are why every prayer was answered and nothing got in my way. I was meant to meet you, you were meant to meet me.

But that thought terrifies me. Because, what if it is not true? What if I have fallen head over heels in this short time and to you I’m just a girl. What if I flirt too much or too little? What if I scare you away? What if I’m not ready to meet the man who I’m meant to be with? What if the life I lived before doesn’t fit with the life you live now? What if I’m not meant for you but I’ve built you up so much no one will ever live up to you? What if I’m never more than that girl from Vermont to you?

Pilot, I want to be more than that girl. I want to be The Girl. The One. I want you to take me flying in the sunset. I want you to call me when you’ve had a good day and text me when you think of something funny. I want you to think of me when you need a happy thought. I want you to get butterflies when you hear my voice. I want your face to light up when you see me. I want to be the girl you take home to your parents, the girl you introduce to your childhood friends. I want to be the girl you take to Italy, the girl you want next to you on all your adventures.

How have you done this to me? To the girl who put up walls. The girl who goes on two dates and gets bored. How have you made such an impression on me that I have thrown out all of my tried and true ways to catch a man’s attention? Instead I’m nervous. I’m quieter than usual. I tiptoe. I want to build a friendship and mutual respect. I want to take this slowly and not mess anything up. Yet I’m impatient. I want you to call me now.  I want you to ask me out now. I want you to fall for me as I’ve fallen for you right now. Why do you have this affect on me? What will make it stop?

Yours, head over heels and completely confused, forever,

Annie

Annie, The Doppelganger

Have you ever seen How I Met Your Mother? It’s one of my favorite shows and recently I’ve gotten Madic into watching. Every once in awhile I sit on our floor with him and catch a few episodes on the computer. The latest one we watched was Doppelgangers. In the last scene Ted tells Robin that eventually we all become our own doppelganger; we are completely different people who just happen to look like us. Ted makes a comparison of their characters five years earlier. Maybe it was the sangria thinking, or maybe it was the nostalgia from an earlier conversation with my mother, but I started to think about how I was my own doppelganger.

Five years ago I had just graduated from high school. I was dating a boy I was convinced was the love of my life and just months from an engagement. I had decided to defer my college acceptance for a year to work a little and travel to the Dominican Republic to volunteer. I had my life completely planned out in front of me. Although I cannot remember my exact plans, I know they never involved me moving to Austin with Madic, signing a one year lease on an apartment we couldn’t afford to furnish. But here I am; sitting on the floor of an empty living room drinking gifted sangria and watching How I Met Your Mother with my best friend.

A number of things have changed since July 2006. The Boy and I went through a tumultuous breakup the likes I could have never imagined. I never finished college. I lived in London and Denmark. I fell in love with a frat boy from Maryland and then chose my own life path instead of following him. I moved back in with my parents. I picked up and moved to Texas without any plan, without any job… just following a dream.

Ted tells Robin that five years ago she was great, but her “doppelganger”, the Robin of now, was the greatest friend and most amazing person he’d ever met. How do I feel about my doppelganger? I am overflowing with pride. Sure, my life hasn’t turned out anything like I planned when I was eighteen. Of course I wanted to get a degree. Of course I had dreamed of marrying The Boy and starting a family. But I am so proud of where I am now. I’ve taken chances, I’ve gone on adventure after adventure, I have lived. And I’m nowhere close to being finished.

Maybe I’m a little nervous and occasionally frustrated about my job hunt and not really knowing anyone other than Madic. Maybe every once in awhile I question my decision and miss home, my family, my friends. But I love this city. I’m excited about my job prospects. I have been blessed in finding an amazing community of young, Catholic professionals. I am meeting new friends every day. I have also grown a considerable amount in the last five years. I am stronger, more independent, more mature, more grounded. I have had my heart broken, I’ve made compromises and mistakes, I’ve had regrets. But I have learned from it all.

This doppelganger, this version of Annie five years later, she is the girl – the woman – I’ve always wanted to be. I just had to grow up to figure it out. And you know what? I’m excited to find out who Annie will be five years from now, but I will not be at all surprised if she is nothing like me.

Crossing it off the List!

Today I was looking at my Eleventy before 30 list and realized I had checked a few things off without realizing it. I must say I felt a great sense of accomplishment and allowed myself a little gloat because it is the only thing I have accomplished in the last three weeks. So I'm celebrating. But just in my head, because I'm too broke to celebrate outwardly. Oh hey! Guess what! Rent's due today... So that's fun.
But really, looking over my list I'm happy. I have completed seven out of the 39 items on my list, and will soon complete at least two more, joining a book club and meeting a fellow blogger in real life (yay Brittany!) (and maybe three, if I get that job I really want to get - prayers and crossed fingers are accepted!). Which means in half a year I have (or will soon) completed nine tasks, putting me way ahead my goal. Of course the tasks I have accomplished have been the easier tasks (except, hey there friends, losing two dress sizes is anything but easy!), but maybe the momentum behind these will thrust me into completing the others.
Perhaps.
Let's recap. Since starting my journey to Texas I have crossed off:
Psychic reading - This was a very silly endeavor in which I stumbled down Bourbon Street and caught a glimpse of a man setting up shop on the sidewalk. Palm Readings?? Yes, please! And so I plopped down as the chubby fellow with long hair and soft hands examined my left palm. I had a long life line, I would marry well and we would only separate upon his death. I would meet my husband in a learning environment and we will be blessed with three children. My career would have something to do with education or health. I have had three past lives (something I don't believe in at all). In two I was a stay at home mom, and in my last life I was a kindly gentleman. I giggled through most of it because really, how much can you believe of a man reading palms on the side of Bourbon Street? But I keep thinking about it and wondering when on earth I'll meet my husband.

Attend a music festival - Madic and I attended the Keep Austin Weird Festival last weekend. I loved the bands, got a terrible sunburn and free sunglasses from Google.com.

Visit New Orleans - it was a silly time.

Sing Karaoke - This was a big deal for me. As outgoing as I am, as much as I really don't care how bad my singing voice is, I always, always chicken out. In the past month I have had three opportunities to sing karaoke and while all my friends stepped up to the mic, I stayed on the floor in front of the stage cheering them on. But finally, in New Orleans, where anything goes apparently I stepped up to the mic, not once, but twice. And it was horrible. Dreadful. I cannot sing. I think I scared some patrons out of the bar. Good news however, now I can say I have done it and I never have to do it again. Hurray.

Lose two dress sizes - this happened almost by accident. It came from being broke, so not snacking ever and eating very small portions. Also, I am unemployed so have to do something to fill my day and find myself at the gym every day, so much that it has started to become an obsession, and luckily, is paying off.


I am so excited to continue checking things off, starting next week at my first book club meeting (we read The Help) and when Brittany finally moves to Austin, and hopefully starting a nine to five job!

Tell me, do you have a list? Have you checked anything off lately?

I'm Their Favorite Celiac-ac-ac-ac-ac!

My amazing brother and sister-in-law (B3 and SIL) wrote this song for me on a long drive last summer. Going through old emails I found it, chuckled, and just had to share!



To the melody of "Movin Out" by Mr. Billy Joel

Annie's at work down the road at the Inn, saving her pennies for Denmark.
She traveled to London and soon decided, "I need to get out of this country".
Ah, but even when she's gone she's the best celiac- ac-ac-ac-ac-ac!
She doesn't eat gluten.
She will pass on the it-al-ian bread
Gluten Free keeps her so skinny!

On our big nights out, she shoots tequila to the boys bud lites;
and if it's pasta night than she's...eating rice, she's eating rice, no wheat.

Annie is my favorite celiac-ac-ac-ac-ac-ac!
She doesn't eat gluten.

It costs more for Annie to watch your kids
but she's definitely worth that much money.
BUT Annie's booked on Friday night...
She shoots tequila to the boys bud lites
and if it's pasta night than she's eating rice... she's eating rice... not wheat.

Annie is my favorite celiac-ac-ac-ac-ac-ac-ac!
She doesn't eat gluten.

Give Annie Jose and a fat wedge of lime,
she is her own bartender.
She wears cute British hats
and walks drunk down the street-
on a drunken tequila type bender.
I'll make her meat and cheese cause she's
my favorite celiac-ac-ac-ac-ac-ac
She doesn't eat gluten...

repeat chorus 3x


And here is the actual "Moving Out" song, in case you don't know the melody!

Sweaty is the new Black

I have never sweat so much in my life. I didn’t even sweat this much when I lived in the Dominican and was forced to wear capris and heavy weight cotton crew neck t-shirts. So yeah, it’s a bit hot in Texas. Who would have thunk it?

Right now I can hear B4 shouting (all the way from Vermont – calm down! We all hear you!) “I told you you didn’t realize how hot it would be!” But I did realize. What I didn’t realize was people would continue to dress just the same way we dressed up in Vermont where it’s a balmy fifty degrees. I mean jeans? You’re wearing jeans??? Yeah, I’m pretty sure my jeans would melt to my body and never come off again. Oh the horror.

Also, apparently it isn’t appropriate to go around naked, or even half naked. Apparently you are supposed to wear real clothes, bra and underwear do not suffice. Which means we have a problem. In the beginning, I tried to comply. I mean, I’m pretty sure no one would hire me if I went to an interview with a lightweight (see also: slutty) skirt and bikini. *But you never know.* So I put on a nice, conservative skirt, a pretty blouse, and was on my way. It didn’t take five minutes before I had completely soaked through my shirt and there was sweat dripping, nay, pouring down my legs. Disgusting.

My only solution? Apply online a lot while sitting in my bedroom under the blasting ac wearing only my bathing suit. Once applications are all sent out, live in the pool. Hang around in bathing suit all day. Drink lots of water and occasionally pour an entire glass over your head. Try to only put real clothes on when absolutely necessary. Like when you really need a glass of wine and do not have any in your house so you quickly skip over to Wal-Mart and buy a bottle for $2.77.

Holy air mattress, I’m classy.

But for real, can we make an announcement that dressing slutty is ok during the long summer months as long as we’re doing it to keep cool? No objections, right? And wearing your bathing suit to the office is not only ok, it’s expected? Ok, great. That would be lovely.

Now I’m off to the pool.

Stress

It's happening already. I thought I'd at least have a couple weeks before my life felt like it was crumbling around me. I had prepared for this after all. But with application after application without not even a "we reviewed your application" back, life is getting stressful. And when life gets stressful I find myself wanting to cry about everything.  For instance, today while I was on the elliptical in the gym watching E! (cause I'm cool like that) they were talking about Harry Potter and how this last movie was the end. Not something new, yet I teared up. What the heck Annie, pull it together! I don't really have an explanation, but maybe it was because Harry Potter ending represented my childhood ending, since the books began when I was ten and I've been obsessed with them from the very beginning. But, come on now, don't cry!

Then of course my mother called, full of information that my niece has a fever and my sister, who is visiting her, now has a fever as well and they are all sick and Annie, you sound sad, what's the matter? And all I can do is try to hold it together (because at this point I was in the public computer room in my apartment complex) and try to tell her I'm ok, just tired and stressed, then hurry off the phone.

It's probably because I haven't been eating well, and all I want is a gosh darn piece of chocolate cake already. Or the obvious, I've gotten over the excitement of moving to Austin and am now hitting the reality that no one actually wants to pay me to sit around and smile and eat chocolate cake. Shame.


For the moment I am avoiding anything even the least bit sad or gooshy (a blog post about a girl in love made me want to crawl up in my air mattress and cry my eyes out because I'm alone and probably always will be), trying to eat a bit more, and finishing up praying my novena to St. Joseph, hoping that by day 9 something miraculous will happen.

And today, to de-stress, I am going to put down my computer, stop checking my phone every two minutes, and go relax by the pool.

My House

I didn't have time to say goodbye. It had been the longest I had been home since I graduated high school, it had become familiar again, routine. It had become my life.
I had planned to do all of my "lasts." One last dinner at the restaurant, one last breakfast at the inn, one last sleep in my bed, one last fun day with my sisters, one last tea with my mom. But it all came on so fast. I was too busy to think about my lasts, to plan them. I don't remember my last breakfast or my last dinner because I didn't think it would be the last. My sisters were too busy and never home the week before. My mom was working every day while I was packing. The night before I left I was too occupied with what I may have forgotten and what I still needed to pack to appreciate my last sleep in my bed.
But did it really matter? The bed part I mean, things with my family I still ache for. But the bed I have slept in for the last six months wasn't "my" bed. It was the guest bed, in the guest room, where I had set up shop temporarily. My bed, if you can call it that since I only had it for two years before I moved out when I was 18, was now Bear's. My room was now Bear's. My room doesn't look anything like it did when I was in high school. It's a different color, rearranged just a bit differently, and covered in Bear's personality. And yet I still ache for it.
It's silly. I haven't lived in that house in five years. It was only my home for eight years, we had lived in two others (that I remember) before that. I have returned and left countless times. Yet this time, this time I have a special ache. A sad homesick - and I've only been gone a week - wishing I had made my rounds and said my proper goodbyes. Because this time, there will be no going back.

When my parents first announced they were selling the house, my sisters were distraught. I, however, felt ambivalent. They were going to move to the inn, right down the road; to the place that dominated my childhood memories. The inn is, and always will be, my real home. It was where I spent every free moment, where I made most of my closest friends, where I laughed, and grew, and loved. Where I discovered my love for horses and working with children, where I saw the praise and admiration in my father's eyes. It's where everything started.
So the fact that we were selling the house did not seem to mean much to me. Until I left. I realized, although I had only spent eight years of my life in that house, they were my most formidable years. Ten to eighteen. It was where I cried out all my adolescent tears, where I giggled over my first love, where I hid from the terrors of high school. It was the house I carved my name into; in a closet in one of my rooms, to leave my mark, so I could show it to my grandchildren as an old woman.
It's where I used to day dream I'd be proposed, out in the apple orchard just outside our front door. It's where I had always imagined my wedding reception would be, the twinkling lights and me in my white dress out on the back patio.
We had built the house to be our very own. It was designed specifically for our large family. We had the hopes and dreams that it would stay for generations. That children upon grandchildren upon great grandchildren would run through its halls, build forts in each room, and explore the large yard and woods.
Life, however, had other plans. It is sad it will no longer be our little home. But thankfully we can transfer those dreams back to the inn, where my parents began. Back to the small farmhouse they first moved into 27 years ago; with three little boys and great faith that they could survive the country. Five more children, four houses later, they are returning. Back to the simple roots of our little inn. Back to where my first memories began.

And maybe, back to where new memories and dreams will begin.

'welcome home'

A peek at the road trip, and cheap wine

Last night I got drunk off a three dollar bottle of wine. Actually, it was $2.77, and I'm not proud of it. but let me explain (also, the shift key on this computer doesn't really work (and neither does the space key apparently) so I apologize for some errors).
Madic and I had decided the only way to make it safely through our moving process (2,000+ miles of driving, countless hours in a cramped car, and a broken ipod) was to treat it as a full blown road trip. Which means - go all out - spend money without thinking about it - cry later.

This meant packing our entire lives into a tiny subaru sedan - so much that we had zero visibility and very, very little leg room (my legs are still getting used to the fact that they can stretch out). This meant deciding, once we found out we had no where to stay in Pennsylvania or Maryland, to drive through the night and sleep two hours in the parking lot of a Huddle Hut somewhere in Virginia - actually I only slept an hour because I was convinced someone was going to break into the car and kill me.

Thankfully we stopped in at my aunt's house in North Carolina where she fed us, gave us a bathroom to shower in, and got us sufficiently drunk. She also provided a pool where we spent two days being extremely lazy and dreaming of moving to Charlotte rather than Austin (that may have just been me).

Then it was off again, and oh, look at that! Our path to Austin went straight through New Orleans. We stopped for two nights. And this is where things got messy. Madic and I morphed into full vacation mode. We were in New Orleans! We had to try everything - do everything. Eat craw fish to our hearts content, sample alligator, drink a Jester, drink a hand grenade, sing karaoke, ride a bull, dance in the streets. And somehow wake up and do it all over again. We had no hesitation dolling out money, sad to say a fifty dollar bill came out a couple of times. We were there to have fun.

Soon the fun was over, we crammed back into our little sedan and set off again. About halfway through that last eight hour drive, it hit us. Holy craw fish we have no money. It was a stressful drive. When we finally got into our apartment, paid our first months rent, got the batteries to blow up our air mattresses and bought a $25.00 coffee table (our one piece of furniture) off craigslist, there was little left for anything else. (Don't be concerned, this does not include the next couple months rent - I've got that covered. Food on the other hand...).
We got to work scrambling for jobs. Sending out resume after resume, stopping in to pick up applications to any establishment that would hand one out. I've been living off peanut butter and rice and salsa. Which brought me to yesterday, strolling around the Wal-Mart Superstore hoping to find a cheap loaf of gluten free bread, but instead stumbled across a display of wine for $2.77. I stared at the display for awhile, fighting with my inner wine snob. It had been five days since I had any alcohol and a week since I had wine. And I love my glass of wine a few nights a week. So I picked one up and hurried away.
I planned to have only one glass, but after the debacle of trying to open it (how did I forget my wine key???) I needed two. And that cheap bottle of wine packed a lot of punch. Drunk.

My question is, how in the world can anyone sell wine that cheap?? what is it made of?