In vagabondary and stability

Our vows didn't actually say anything about vagabondary and, as a bit of a grammarian, I have to admit that it's not a word (vagabondage is, though...), but I have packed and unpacked various amounts and contents of our belongings 10 times in our just-shy-of-two-years marriage. Tonight starts lucky number 11.  Eleven out of at least 14 by the time June rolls around

And that means that right about now, six and two half-boxes in, there's only one box I'm really thinking about: the box of wine on top of the fridge.

But, as much as this task ahead of me is making me feel a little desperate and overwhelmed - and I do - tonight I choose to be thankful: that we have a home and belongings that make our lives comfortable, that I have a wonderful, intelligent husband who excels at his studies and business ventures, that we are blessed beyond all measure in so many things.

Oh, and thankful for some hot chili (mom's recipe)

And thankful for both of our sweet moms, who are headed down to help me pack this week while Jacob works on finals.

Help on packing? Now that's love.

Pain in the neck

Well, we made it through a 12+ hour day of driving, riding and flying (sort of) at Cedar Point yesterday and the first thing I'll say is, HALLELUJAH, a day free of rain. I don't know if it was truly miracle weather and the clouds parted for family day or if it's just that we escaped the pocket of persistent cloudy raininess that hangs over the Fairlawn/Akron area. WHO CARES. Sun, الحمدلله!


It's a good thing we enjoyed it, though, because it's back to rainy with a neckache here. All those fantastic rides (and we did all of them - all the good ones anyway - twice) took me back to summers with the Sabatino family, our couple-day mini-vacations to theme parks and the family dares to do the next biggest ride or stunt or thrill. They took me back to being a kid in a way - and reminded me how much of an adult I am. 


Like I said, rainy with a neckache...we woke up this morning and looked at each other and said a collective, "ow." Ow for the neckache and backache, and bruised quads and cracking knees and sore feet. 


Oh, well. It was worth it. 

Time Machine

Tonight some of Jacob's siblings and cousins will arrive in (still-dreary) Northern Ohio on a trek toward fun and nostalgia. They're bedding down at our place, probably taking up just about every bit of floorspace in our tiny apartment in a squeeze reminiscent of camp time so that we can all trek further up north to glorious Sandusky in pursuit of amusement park time.

This kind of pilgrimage was yearly for me and the Sabatino clan as dad and I - and sometimes Michael - rode wild and mom waited patiently and we devoured horrible food, spun sugar and gallons of water. We haven't gone in years. There have been moves and marriages and time crunches.

But tomorrow, it's going to be time machine time. I'm putting on some shorts (rarely wear them) and chacos, slapping on the sunscreen and packing a small bag with zippers so I'm ready to ride...

Love and Basketball

It's no secret I bleed blue. Go Blue, Big Blue, Blue Nation. But my blue game has always been horse, not cat. Of course, I've supported the hometown team, and I've even been to several games, but now that I'm officially married into a Kentucky family, basketball is officially mixing with love.

But that's ok, it's actually pretty fun. And it's a nice salve on the end of glorious football seasons that always leave me feeling so hollow. Plus, this year's been a banner year for the C-A-T-S Cats, Cats Cats!

Congrats to the SEC Champs and here's to you looking forward to this year's trip to my own hometown: Indy! PS-Blue is a great color to wear up there.

Trying on a Life

Nearly three months ago, we made our big return - to our friends, family, lives - in a way. But, however you feel about the statement "you can't go home," (is it metaphorical or literal?) when you try, it's always different. 

So, I find myself tonight trying on a life (and blogging about it - because even though I don't think my day to day is that interesting, the last couple of weeks have brought requests for revival) even though I'm home.

There are some things to which return and they are blissfully the same - my iTunes library (recently re-discovered), The Bachelor wine nights with my best girlfriends in Lex (and, puzzlingly, the bachelorettes - same drama), the fact that I love driving around with the windows down, and working.

There are lots of things, however, that are incredibly, disturbingly, wonderfully different. My best friend has a baby! Not just any baby - a miracle baby who I adore. Lots of buds have babies, actually. I could have a baby (no, we aren't even trying, but it's that whole marriage thing - I could! Whoa...) I don't have a steady job, so I'm doing marketing and pr consulting work as well as freelancing (too bad for Obama my entrepreneurial efforts don't count for the jobs numbers) - which I have discovered I love (lots of freedom, but also allows me to be self-motivated). My fab husband and I are homeless homeowners (the house is rented, remember), so we live in my in-laws basement (remember?), which brings me to trying on a life today...

My sweet mother in law (yep, actually really love her) is on a vacation with a friend - for 10 days! There is no one in the world who deserves this more, and I'm so happy she could take this break and we can be here to help support the family in the mean time, but that leaves me the sole female in a house with my father- and brothers-in-law as well as my husband. So I've just sent the hubbie to BSF, the in-laws to boyscouts and I'm left with the dishes.

Don't cry for me, though, I only cooked a frozen casserole pre-prepared by said genius MIL and I'm also left with a miraculously quiet house (except the blaring iTunes!) and a glass of wine as I tidy up and wonder about the future...

Just a little fun sample from a new discovery (the hipstamatic app for iPhone - LOVE IT! Must for medium format photography lovers/owners/wishers):

Ashland, The Henry Clay Estate

FAQ - Again

thehardyheyday.blogspot.com

Most of you all know that we've made the move back to the states, but there are still questions that pop up everywhere, so here are the answers and updates.

First of all, let's clarify this question, "What does a move mean to you?"
For us right now, a move constitutes a timeframe longer than a month that includes the transportation of necessary posessions, which include for us - clothes, books and toiletries sufficient for a long trip. It may or may not include permanent housing, jobs or private toilets.

Where are you?
We are basing our little operation in Lexington, Ky., since that's been the most recent professional home for both of us and also includes a lot of contacts and enough family to help us out with things in the near-term. We are making frequent trips to Indianapolis, of course, especially until February when football season lamentably ends.

So...where do you live?
Why? You know a place? Just kidding (sort of).

We bumped around from family spot to family spot during the holidays, then a quick stint as house- and dog-sitters for our buds, the Browns. This week we officially make home in the basement of Jacob's parents.

Every time I tell people this, they give me a look that is dubious and questioning and sympathetic, then say something along the lines of, "Oh. And how is that?" The answer is, there are two younger brothers and a mother and father living full time in the house, plus two other sisters who come and go a bunch, plus us - the newest addition to this boiling stew of madness. It's nearly always buzzing in that place and there are enough people milling through to take up every room in the house if they so chose to divide in such a manner. But that comes with a lot of really fun stuff like impromptu movie afternoons with roaring fires and lots of people stuffed onto couches together, family dinners, and lots of opportunity to catch a member of my new family for a little chat. Plus, need I say it? Toilets that flush. Toilets. That. FLUSH. Like, without a bucket. Woohoo!

Where are you going next?
Ha. If I knew, I'd let you know (as soon as I packed...again). Places on the dockett include returning to the middle east as well as European locales, but the closer we inch to the summer, the longer of a shot those spots are. More likely destinations include Lexington, South Carolina, Florida, California, Nebraska, Arizona, Washington and, basically, anywhere in the United States.

We move to South Carolina in August for Jacob's final two semesters of graduate school and will stay there through graduation in May of 2011.

What are you doing right now?
Why? You want to hang out? Just kidding (sort of).

Jacob continues in the internship search, so he is following up on a lot of applications and resume submissions and is interviewing for positions. He is searching for work in operations and/or product management. He needs three months of experience before we start school again in August.

I am working on self-busyness and improvement by enrolling in Bible Study Fellowship and begining freelance work, the first article coming in Business Lexington last week (yay!) See it here. I'm also doing all the things I always thought about doing when I was working full time and thinking about all the people parading by my window. Those things include cooking, organizing (whatever I have unpacked, that is), socializing and volunteering.

How long have you been married?
Yay! Fun question. Just over a year!

Are you crazy?
Still yes. :)

How's married life?
Still good, humdul'allah! We have a whole new set of things to adjust to right now like both of us being between work, having lots of available friends and things to do, living with family and, hello, being in the United States of America, but everything is good. In the words of my mom, "I'm so glad you still like each other even after the last year." Then Jacob, "We even still LOVE each other." Ahhh...and I do. Love that guy.

Are you abroad-sick? Do you miss things from back there?
Of course! We miss lots of things from overseas, like our friends (both expat and local), being in the midst of a culture that requires constant learning and flexibility and the 70-degree weather we just left (though I'm LOVING the snow!). Not to mention all the Indian food we are used to eating!

What are some of the best things about being home?
Of course family and friends, my dog; plus driving on my own and SNOW (did I mention it's been snowing here?), seeing Mia (check her progress here) and Britt, my hair guru (check her out, too - and if you're in Lex, you should just go).

Where did you go, again?
Morocco for two months, including stops in Fez, Meknes, Volubulis and Marrakech. We also hit up Italy (Rome and Florence) and then made the move to Oman, during which time we traveled to Sohar and Muscat and also Dubai and Abu Dhabi in the Emirates. We went to Jordan in the spring and then the US and on our way back we spent a week in France, with our final stop before home in Egypt. Most of the photos have made it to facebook via the blog or albums. Check them out!

Any other questions? Just let me know.

Off the Grid

After the slightly grueling 16-hour flight from Abu Dhabi to Chicago (enough to make you a child-hating-tetris-addicted-hypochondriac-alcoholic), and a mercifully uneventful pass through customs, we made it home for the holidays.

Not surprisingly, we have spent the better part of our time in the last couple of weeks with family - celebrating Christmas and catching up - and we've even snuck in some time with our besties along the way. Regardless, we've been off the grid since we got back. No blog posts, limited facebook, email and even phone or text time.

The time has been pretty eventful, though, including Christmas with both sides of our families, a new baby for some close friends and celebrations of the New Year.

Christmas Morning with my sweet in-laws

New Year's Eve with old time friends

Hanging with Grant and Kendall (Team O) on New Year's Eve afternoon

And what a difference a day makes! Daddy Grant with baby Calloway (12-31-09, 7lbs-4oz!) and Jacob.

Getting in on the traditional Hardy New Year's Day bowling event.

 

And more of the ladies on bowling day...(back to front, left to right) Momma Hardy, Momma Sab, Aunt Mary, Momma Suff and Aunt Jaqui.

Falling for...

Have I mentioned it before? The fact that it's hot here? The fact that there seems to be a distinct lack of seasons here? As much as the heat bothered me during the worst of summer, I haven't mind it too much. I'm a warmer-weather person anyway and, compared to coldest-rainiest-winter-in-35-years Morocco, March in Oman and the UAE were a total blessing.

But, hey, March is the time where the weather had better be shaping up anyway, where I come from. So, even though it's been in an extreme way, March through September should be hot. I know I mentioned just the other day how I'd miss my fall walks and trees, but my own memory combined with facebook, blogger and, yes, even Williams-Sonoma, are all collaborating to make me really miss the seasons.

I got an email a couple of weeks ago about Esther's potential Halloween outfits for her pup, everyone and her brother seems to be posting status updates about apple cider and carving pumpkins, my sister-in-law and her roomies are baking up gorgeous squash pizzas in my old house and now, even one of my little internet pleasures - searching Williams-Sonoma - has turned up heartache.

But so what if this year we won't be carving pumpkins and camping and apple-orcharding and roasting perfect turkeys while football blares on in the background...this year we will live in the memories of times past and make a few that we'll keep around during the times when things are "normal" (if there ever again will be such a time!).

Like when Esther (who lived with me for years) would celebrate fall by purchasing tiny gourds to decorate our dinner table come fall.

Or the year in college I had such a ridiculous Halloween costume that people still remember it (oh, the follies of youth).

Long walks in the 'hood with Vitale, MA, Jess and lots of other friends who stopped in.

Mulled cider on the stovetop.

Walking to work at Preston-Osborne or Smiley Pete and collecting leaves or kicking over piles of them.

Saturday mornings at Magees with warming coffee and chitchat.

Halloween parties - and the first year I owned my house and had tricker-treaters.

Thanksgiving with my family - and last year, when I had the privelege of two Thanksgivings.




What are your favorite memories?

Dependent Independence

I remember the morning I left for college. It was a rainy August morning and Sarah, along with her mom and her little brother, had come to see me off. After a few hugs, I climbed into the loaded Expedition with mom and dad and wedged myself in between all the boxes I'd carefully packed and labeled with index cards that detailed each item contained within.

I was a little tearful looking back at Sarah and recognizing our first major break. I was a bit conflicted when mom and dad finally stepped out of the dorm room and left me with my new community. But I was also electrified by my newfound independence. I couldn't help but be excited for this new life, this new place. At 17, I was getting my first taste of being grown up. It sounds harsh, in a way, insensitive, that I was so excited to get on to the next thing and leave so much behind, but I guess when the next thing is coming anyway, one might as well embrace it. And, while I didn't ever see myself going back to Indy long-term, I knew I'd never entirely leave my family, Sarah, or that place - nor would they leave me.

Leaving Lexington was different and still the same. This time I packed up not a room, but a life. I didn't graduate from school, I had to leave a job. I didn't stumble out looking for my direction and basking in independence, I set a course and united myself with another person's life and dreams.

Three days after our wedding and still glowing, we left the airport with our four bags in tow and the rest of our things packed up at various family homes. As much as I've loved Lexington and my life there, once we left it began to immortalize itself in my heart. It's been challenging to think about going back. I think it's mostly because Lexington, as Indy, was so perfect for what it was and the time it was in my life and I don't think it can ever be the same, or I don't want to expect it to be and be disappointed.

When you go somewhere new it's not fraught with expectations of rebuilding relationships or hopes of familiarity or fears of the unknown - because everything is unknown. Everything is open to interpretation and shaping.

But going home recently, as a married woman, sharing with our friends (from Indy, Lexington and beyond) in engagements, babies, jobs, lives...it made me question for the first time what I was so scared of. People will change, places will change, but the key in both of my moves has been the relationships that stick. And those are the things I come back for - and will keep coming back for.

Because I need to be a part of the Taylor family life, my brother's and mom's, my girlfriends', my entire family's and new family's lives - and I need them to be a part of mine.

Tour de Force

Ever since my wedding, there's been this rumor going around that I get things done by, well, forceful measures. Something during the MOH speech about me coercing people to be friends with me by depriving them of house and home...

So, yes, it's true, I threw Sarah's house keys out the window of a school bus after one day in second grade so that she would have to come to my house instead of heading to hers. But it's not like I threw them into a cornfield or a creek! I threw them into my front yard, obviously. And, hey, it worked. Credit where credit is due, thankyouverymuch.

Because here it is some 20-odd years later and we're still the closest of friends (although I'll credit her ability to persist with me through attitude as much as I insisted with her through lack thereof). It's been many moons (as my mother would say) we've seen through all the elementary school recitations, icing fights, carwashes, choir rehearsals, beaded-button rings, goofie movies, catchphrases, college apps and acceptance, marriages, moves and, now, babies (she had just let me get all caught up and then there she goes, moving ahead again).

I've linked to Sarah and Travis' blog before, wherein they've chronicled the 2+ year journey of adoption, but now the process is complete, the family is together and Mia is home.

The absolute and undisputed highlight of the trip home for me was seeing my best friend and her wonderful husband become parents (you can see it, too, on their blog). We had two whole days to drop in and visit and share dinners (and Mia's first cereal) and laughs and hugs before Jacob and I got back on a plane. Praise God for this little family and that I got to see them all together! Below are a few shots of their arrival from Ethiopia with their darling baby girl.

After abandoning my husband and the car at an airport dropoff, I ran through the terminal and up an escalator - pushing people out of my way - to get my first glimpse of this baby. Isn't she gorgeous?

With Travis' dad - proud grandfather!

Momma and baby getting used to being home.

Daddy and Mia, sharing dinnertime.

Cutest nursery EVER!

When it rains, it pours

Sunday's time of worship at our home church, TCPC, was such a bright and blessed time. Though we're fortunate to have a church to attend in Al Ain, it is, as they say, "just not the same as home." We got to reunite with lots of friends and friends of family and friends of friends. We got to take communion with our own congregation and see lots of people who had wished us well and seen us off from the church steps seven months ago.

In addition to church, Jacob and I also had a date night at Lexington's annual Ballet Under the Stars at Woodland Park complete with wine and picnic. What was once a plentiful resource is now a limited commodity: alone time. I mean, let's be honest, if you count sleeping, most days we are together about 18-20 hours a day. Here, we are learning the art of operating as a married couple in a socially demanding situation. People keep asking us if it's harder to be married abroad, but my answer has usually been, "No, not really." (even though we spend tons of time together and hadn't experienced the flip side). Now, after a little experience, it's an "Absolutely not!" Despite the challenges, though, we are having a ball with everyone.

Today I woke up early to get breakfast with a friend and was greeted with something I miss tremendously: the pale, diffused, misty blue light of a Kentucky morning. A thunderstorm, which has now fully blossomed, was on the sunset's horizon, creating gorgeous bright colors of morning. So, now Jacob and I are sitting with the family enjoying the beautifully dreary weather in the way that only happens during storms and snows.

We head to Indy later today for a concert with mom and Michael, followed by hiking in my childhood haunt of Brown County State Park. Then off to TN for more hiking, cookouts, lazy days and card games. Doesn't get much better than this.

PS

How did I possibly forget to include a stop to Graeter's in all that planning? Thankfully, my in-laws were prepared for just such a slip-up because they had a shwea (little) stash of the stuff in their freezer, from which I just filched a spoonful, Jacob-style, standing in front of the fridge.

Mmmmmm....black raspberry chip french-pot, full-cream ice cream.

My Old Kentucky Home

Correction: Arabic word of the day should really be "hell-u" (sweet) instead of "hell-uah" (sweetie) despite my affinity for all things and people found at home.

Update: We've moved southward for the week to Jacob's true, my adopted, hometown of Lexington. Just as with Indy, the best thing is seeing people and we've been thrilled to get to spend so much time with Jacob's family with whom we're staying (even though one sister-in-law, who shall remain nameless but who also married an Italian, hasn't made an appearance yet).

I'm loving the weather (rainy and 70s!) and (no surprise here) the food. Nearly every day has been populated by all things Haramicana, particularly pork and alcohol.

The first afternoon I dropped Jacob off in Louisville to do a bit of work with his dad at their furniture store, The Craftsman Collection, and I made my way down to meet up with a girlfriend for lunch at an old haunt, Stella's Kentucky Deli, where I thoroughly enjoyed the signature fried green tomato B.L.T. with homemade coleslaw. From there, I ran errands (in my own car, all by myself, listening to the local NPR station, with the sunroof open - paradise!) and chatted up random friends at offices and coffee shops. I had a blissful wine-and-coffee-laced salon appointment at Brittin Tate (a fab friend and stylist, who I last saw on our wedding day while she was perfecting my coif) during which I cut off and donated 10 inches of my hair (no, not drink-induced). Company joined me during the slashing, including one sister-in-law and one good friend. I stopped by to see another friend and one thing led to another led to Mexican food, of course. It was delicious to catch up on fresh guac, taco salad and a bit of social news.

Within that paragraph is one other hidden thing that I've missed while being away: a schedule! Being busy! Having "things to do and people to see," as my mom used to say.

Other highlights include Harry's signature chopped salad (ham and fritos, hello what a combination!), a stop by the old office, Smiley Pete, and a double date over at my 'hood sushi spot, Tomo (first sushi in 7 months!), as well as after-dinner drinks at Buddy's.

In the midst of all this, Jacob's family is also returning to a newly-remodeled home after the housefire that moved them out (just one week after Jacob and I got engaged last September), so we're not the only ones living out of a suitcase! As I type, in fact, a parade of boxes is passing by. Maybe I should go help now...

Still on the docket: homemade bean soup (w/pork), beer and euchre with Jacob's family tonight, more lunches (probably to catch up at frequently-dined-at spots Wines on Vine and Bourbon n' Toulouse), girls' champagne-game night, Crosby Stills & Nash Concert, Cabin Getaway in TN...how does it get any better?

Ok, well, it does get better because the true highlight of yesterday was getting a text from BFF Sarah at about 11:30 a.m. yesterday confirming that she and her husband Travis had passed court in Ethiopia and have been approved officially to adopt their daughter and travel to pick her up. After more than two years of applications, prayers, beauracracy, patience, love and hope, Mia is getting a homecoming date. We praise the Lord for his graciousness in expanding the Taylor family and bringing their daughter one step closer to their arms. Read all about it at their blog.

Home Hell-uah Home

Arabic word of the day: Hell-uah
Meaning: Sweet

After 36 hours of travel literally around the world we made it home. From Buraimi to Dubai, Dubai to Amsterdam, Amsterdam to Detroit and Detroit to Indy, we had only one small hitch and a few extra hours, but still, we made it back!

In addition to my mom, brother and BFF being nearby, some of Jacob's family came up the next afternoon to join my family and our friends in celebrating our return and the day of mom's "double nickle" (55th Bday).

So, here's the quick update on all things Haramicana (my new name for things that are typically American and that might also be shameful - haram - or otherwise unavailable in the Middle East) so far:

Day 1- Mom, Dog, Pizza (with pepperoni, ham, sausage - all porky).
Day 2- More family, lots of friends, Bratwust (read: pork), and BEER and WINE (also, cruising in our '68 GTO to pick up ice cream cake that didn't melt!).
Day 3- Egg casserole with real, porky sausage, various outdoor activities with the families to take full advantage of the 70-some degree weather (whee! outdoor activities!)

Still on the docket:
Hair cut and style - yay, more family to be visited, lots of friends, outings, foods, drinks, sights, relaxations and otherwise fabulous times!

Another 48 Hours...

Just another 48 hours and we'll be headed to DBX to wing our way home to the states.

I won't be sad to spend my time blogging about seeing family and friends, soaking in backyard cookouts, hiking, live music, driving (yay!), oh, and France for my birthday! Could life be any sweeter?

I guess the cultural comments this time will be more to do with what it feels like to be home with everyone and being introduced as a married couple for the first time!

Until then...

PS-My old mobile number will be reactivated on Friday. Give me a call if you want to hang out. Vmail isn't set up yet, so text if you miss me!

Goodnight, Moon

Daily Report
Sunny, 120

I love to consult a crescent moon, but for different reasons than for those the lunar sliver is regarded here. To Muslims, the moon is more than a calendar, its a signal of the sacred. Holy times, such as the end of Ramadan, are determined by when the moon makes its appearance. They wait to see the sign of the moon to tell them something new about their seasons of fasting, prayer, celebration.

For me, the crescent moon has always held answers to ponderings on the world. I love the crescent moon, especially the one that is so fine that the sunlight illuminating it's profile reaches all the way around to form a faint but perfect orb. I imagine, as I see the rays reflecting on the moon, the days that are going on elsewhere in the world while I sit and ponder the night.

The light of someone else's day lights our night every time the moon is shown. I used to watch it, dreaming and wondering about what that day was like, where it was that for my moonlight, someone else was seeing day break.

Now I watch the moon, my crescent moon, and I think about the days I know are happening on the other side of the world. It's now my life, my family, my friends, whose day brightens my night. It's wonderful and at the same time wrenching to gaze up at the sky right after dinner and just before bedtime and bid my life, my people, my moon...goodnight.

A Mother Never Forgets...

Daily Report
Sunny, 107

You know all those things your mom says about you, the stories she tells, that you secretly (or aloud) groan about and try to dismiss? I remember shrugging them off, complaining as she opined and told tales. As I marched off, she and my friend Sarah would tilt their heads in whispering and giggling about how right she was before Sarah eventually came after me. The truth is they're are all true and they'll probably all haunt you...the things she remembers and the things she'll predict.

When I was younger, the thing I hated most in the world was to be told I was like my dad. We fought so much, both hardheaded, stubborn, always right. Two wrongs may never make a right but it seems like our two rights almost always made a wrong. And, my poor mother, the peacemaker - so sweet - was always caught in the middle of two people fighting "like Rhett and Scarlett," she used to say. Both fighting whatever side we were assigned for the day like brash, showy trial lawyers. Fighting more for the win than for anything else. It's laughable now...or at least, it's laughable since we (I, really) outgrew it. For years now, blessedly, that comment, "She's just like her father," the one I dreaded, has been the highest compliment. I see it all the time now, when I'm like him and I love it...instead of scoffing at it as I did when I was younger. It imposed on me when I was young and trying to find myself, but now it makes me part of who I am.

One of the things, in addition to the determindness I inherited (and to which my wonderful new husband can attest!), is the wanderlust. I even once asked my mom, who'd been born and lived always in Indiana, if it bothered her that she had only lived in one place. She smiled, tolerantly, down on me and said no. I said, quite impertinently, that it would bother me. I, then, as now just always had to have a smart comment.

You can bet your bottom dollar that was a story that was relayed time over time once Jacob and I were engaged and the itinerary was set for a year abroad, to start three days after our wedding. Everyone smiled, laughed knowingly. It's a smash hit as a toast at a rehearsal dinner.

I've enjoyed, as I've gotten older, seeing the ways my parents were right, and the ways I'm like them. It's like the ultimate maturity in a way. But then again, maybe I'm just extremely fortunate to have a family like that. Nevermind, it's not a maybe, it's certain. I guess I still just have to wonder...what else is waiting to come out? What else will she be right about?

Lucky Number (2)7

I think I owe an explanation for the whole "27" thing. At least, why exactly I always knew 27 was going to be my year and why I, like George McFly about Lorriane, felt: "It was my density that brought me to you." I did put the whole 27 thing in the header, after all.

The credit for this particular quirk of mine, and the story behind it really belongs to my mom who coined it and without whom, I'm sure, I wouldn't even remember it. So, for this as many things: thanks mom.

The story goes that, as a child, I was always talking (in full sentences, with proper grammar and vocabulary)...and generally to adults. Those who know me are not surprised at this particular revelation (some things never change, folks), so I'll thank you all very much to just listen to the story and reserve your comments for the comments section (Aha! But it's my blog, so you have to! This is great! I could just go on for as long as I want about any old thing and you'd have to...ahem, I digress).

These unsuspecting adults upon whom my verbal outpourings were bestowed would invariably glance up, perplexed, at my mother and ask, "How old is she?" My mother (sometimes with pride, sometimes with a roll of the eyes, I'd imagine) would say, "Oh, she's three going on 27", "Seven going on 27", "12 going on 27" and so on. You can imagine how, as the years progressed, this age, this magical time, became the source of much yearning and expectation. Its mystery occupied my mind than the more common ages and their obvious trappings: 13, 16, 18, 21. I had no idea what 27 would bring, but I always knew it would be great. I had no idea.

The years ticked on, many with multiple landmarks. All the standards, plus college graduation and first career job at 21, purchase of first home at 23 and, even more, scads of wonderful friends, great memories and deepening familial relationships along the way. The waning of momentum in certain times seemed only to uniquely prepare me for the next acceleration. In some ways, 25 and 26 were tough uphill struggles, with the engine of my little rollercoaster train click-click-clicking up the last few feet of track before a big plunge.

It only occured to me late-August of this year just what was approaching. I'd been so comfortably and excitedly wrapped up in Jacob and our romance that I'd forgotten the pending landmark until it presented itself in the form of a fortune from a favorite Thai restaurant. Jacob was home for a weekend visit from South Carolina and when I cracked the cookie, I was pleased with a fortune that stated, "You will have much to be thankful for in the coming year." "Well, that's nice," I thought. "How pleasant." And then I turned it over and my lucky number was 27. Now, I am not a person who reads into talismans, fortunes or horoscopes. In fact, that fortune could apply to any of a hundred thousand people who walked into that restaurant. But it did have the lucky number 27 on the back, and I'll tell you something: I do believe in divine intervention and a master plan by a wonderfully loving God. I still have the fortune if you want to see it sometime. It's packed away in a memory box in my mom's attic.

From then on, it was my thought and renewed conviction. "This is going to be my year," I'd think and say. "27 is going to be so great." Jacob, having hatched a plot not only to get me to marry him, but also accompany him abroad, would agree , smiling and shaking his head. "Yep, 27 is going to be your year," he'd say. "You have no idea."

Being the individualistic and determinedly independent person I had become accustomed to being, it never occured to me that 27 would involve anyone's density but my own. I was wrong.

So, on September 13, he proposed, I accepted and we began the glorious task of finding a date which, as some of you know, happened to be December...that's right...27. One month ago today, I married the man of my dreams and began the crazy adventures of marriage, moving and a new life--at the perfectly ripe age of 27.

The truth is, I don't really believe in fortunes and, while density is fun, I'm not sure it finds contribution from a cookie. I am certain that I was supposed to end up where I am right now, with the person I married, and that it's a part of a plan that was set in place before I was even born by the One who created me.

Maybe the 27 part was just for fun.

Wedded Bliss

A few of the favorite shots from our wedding. From top left, getting ready, through ceremony, reception, friends, family and, at bottom left, the work of the lovely and talented Michelle Young, professional photographer, former roommate, fishing buddy and traveling companion. Click on the collage to see an album.

The beginning of the end

It's hard to say exactly where it started. That is, neither Jacob nor I could tell you definitively the first time we met. I have vague recollections of a glancing moment at a social event or Sunday school class, he remembers me from my cafeteria-lady-day at the Tates Creek Presbyterian Church 4th of July picnic (who knew that donning plastic gloves and a ponytail to serve fried chicken could be such a winning endeavor?). One thing we did know back then, just about a year and a half ago, we could never date. We decided this on a hot afternoon while suiting up for our first skydives--a spontaneous Sunday afternoon had taken us, along with another friend, out to a Kentucky drop zone (left) to pursue the first of what would be many adventures together.

Months later, Jacob seemed the perfect solution for my partner problem. A dancing partner, I mean. Having just started a new job as the editor of Lexington's Chevy Chaser and Southsider magazines the first of January, 2008, I found myself browsing through community calendar listings and came across an entry for an Argentine Tango class at Artsplace. Jacob had two distinct qualifications: he had moves and he had no moves. That is to say, he had ballroom experience and he'd never tried to ask me out. It was the perfectly platonic scenario, or so I thought.

After six weeks of class and extended evenings, Jacob finally made that move. Somehow it still surprised me when he told me just what was on his mind and I found myself unprepared (as I would many times throughout our short courtship), but made the decision that started in motion the beginning of the end. Knowing that he was leaving for graduate school in South Carolina and, eventually, an 18-month educational jaunt abroad, I'm not sure I knew what I was getting into. Then again, I'm not sure he knew what he was getting into, either.

May 31 marked both the wedding day of my now-sister-and-brother-in-law, Caris and Rick, and Jacob's and my first date. From there, it was literally a whirlwind of dates and decisions as we began our relationship and Jacob left for graduate school in South Carolina at the end of June. By mid-September we were engaged and by Jacob's Christmas break from school, we were immersed in last-minute details of a wedding, a home sale, an overseas move and a job transition.

If someone had asked me a year ago if I would be married right now, not to mention overseas, I'd have laughed out loud. If someone had told me how it would happen, who it would be and how quickly it would go, I wouldn't have believed it. If someone had told me I'd willingly leave a job I loved, a home I'd made for myself and my dog, well, I'd be slightly indignant.

But you know what? I wouldn't have it any other way.