Another anniversary come and gone

Hi folks!

So it's been awhile (as usual), and it's been a crazy whirlwind of busy-ness. The new job is great--apart from putting in 60+ hours a week, and I'm going to FINALLY graduate next month.

Tristan is 8 months old, crawling, babbling, standing by furniture, and getting into everything! He's nothing short of amazing.

Yesterday was our anniversary. We went to dinner at olive garden per usual, and rented The Vow, which was pretty decent.

The night was wonderful, but I couldn't help feeling like maybe he'd propose to me. I kind of thought he would...I guess I was wrong. Maybe one day.

Until then--

I have been BAD.

1) I haven't blogged in forever. So long, resolution!

2) I am updating this at work.

3) see #1.

I really have been SO busy though. Maybe I'll write later about it. Or in a few months, you know, whatevs.

Drowning

I read once in an article that what people imagine someone drowning looks like and what it actually looks like are quite different. We imagine someone shouting, flailing their arms, and splashing wildly. This is false.

When someone is drowning, their movement restricts to conserve energy. Their eyes glass over, and the turn their face to the sky in silence, bobbing at the surface of oblivion.

This is how I feel. I hope someone saves me, because being a superhero is exhausting. Save me?

Did I miss a day?

I totally missed a day! Yesterday I had my first assignment for the quarter to do. These last few classes are TOUGH! I'm glad I can spot the light at the end of the tunnel though.

Today I put in my two week notice at work. My last day is the 20th. I can't believe I worked there for 5 years! That's mad longevity.

Today we got the first snow of the season. Yeah, mid January. It wasn't much though, and it will probably melt in a couple days. Still have my fingers crossed for no snow winter!!

Beyonce's baby...

Super short blog again today, because its a) almost midnight, and b) I'm exhausted.  So here it is:

Blue Ivy??  Really?  Yes, I've heard the meaning behind it, but Blue Ivy??  Is there some rule when you become a celebrity that you have to give your kids ridiculous names or they kick you out or something?

Oops

Missed my midnight deadline again! I need to set an alarm or something.

Started Tristan on solids today. He LOVED it! Just rice cereal for now. My baby is growing up so fast. Wahh!

The Lake

There is no place quite as amazing or intriguing as the lake at night.  In the summer of sophomore year, the only important thing was to pull in experience and to touch, taste, feel, and be alive.  Lake Alvin was a mucky lake if you waited too long in the summer to visit.  During the high noon hour an annoyed, sweaty college student sat at the entrance of our Midwest paradise, demanding money for entrance.  This left daytime lake visits to Wall Lake, more populous and at a different end of town.  When the burning sun sank below the horizon and traded shifts with the gleaming lunar orb, the rules were changed in our youthful perception.  Lake Alvin warped into a secret retreat, more difficult to find in the black cloak of nightfall.  The lake-keeper had left, and the shore deserted enough to frolic in the cool sand and even cooler water.  The moon-lit diamonds glittered across the lake on the crystal clear nights.

We lived the most those nights--like when we lay close to shore half in the water, spouting out philosophy and salting the lake with tears, and bringing it to life with laughter.  There were no battles ahead, no worries behind, but only a drunk happiness life can gift wrap for you.  For one summer, love would live freely, not in the name of romance and unruly boys, but within the girls who understood your feminine confusion.  The end of those nights brought about storm weather and clouds--a looming dark forecast of a change in the weather.  We knew it wouldn't live in the cold dead winter, and eventually it died of old age.  If that was happiness tasted, it was certainly sweet.  But all else aside I'm dying to live the lake life we had with each other.  But the memory is a tangerine, as I know I'll never taste it again, an intangible moment.