My Favorite Story

I talk about The Boy a lot.  Like, a lot.  I did it here, and here, and here, and a bunch of other times.  He’s my best friend, and I love him a lot.  We’ve only been together 7ish years (married 2ish) and so we’re still in that new love/honeymoon phase and I am not ashamed.  I love it.

Anyhow, I wrote him a poem, like I sometimes do, and I really like it, so I figured I’d make a post out of it since I haven’t known what to say for a while.  It’s sappy and adorable and if you know me, you know that I love books.  All of them.  I’ve had a dream about owning a bookstore, but, I’m afraid I wouldn’t want to sell any of the books.

So, here it is, my love poem to The Boy:



My Favorite Story

You have all the best qualities of great literature:

an adventurous spirit,

a heart of gold,

a passion for justice and honesty,

and just enough darkness to achieve realism.

Despite the cracked spine and worn pages from hours of study,

there is still something new to be found in each reading.

It is to you I go for an escape,

for an adventure to a new world

for a way of seeing myself differently.

Your familiar story, comforting scent, and the weight of your words

provide me with a peaceful solace

unmatched by any other.

You are my favorite story,

and I will always read you again and again.


The TV Version of The Boy

So, I watch way too much TV, despite my decision not to watch it at all.  In my defense, I am human and I have no friends at the moment, so I watch a lot of Netflix to help me get by.  When we first moved out here, The Boy and I would watch Game of Thrones like it was going out of style.  Now that we’re done with that entire series, we’ve moved onto Vikings.

I hope you watch it, despite the historical and cultural inaccuracies.  I’m kind of disappointed since this is made by the History Channel and therefore should be more historically accurate, but take what you get.  At least they get the names right.  But, the real reason I watch the show?  Ragnar.



For the record, this is entirely acceptable, because Ragnar totally reminds me of The Boy.  Not just in his stubborn nature, but look:

He's the one on the right, with the hair on his chin, in case you weren't sure.

He’s the one on the right, with the hair on his chin, in case you weren’t sure.


Here they are again:




The Boy (apologies - I can't take him anywhere)

The Boy (apologies – I can’t take him anywhere)


So, the story is fun, Ragnar is hot, and I’m loving the show.  The Boy hasn’t watched as far as I have, so, when I watch it and get annoyed with Ragnar for whatever reason (I won’t disclose the specifics to avoid spoilers) I tell The Boy that TV The Boy is pissing me off.  It’s now a thing, and I rarely refer to him as Ragnar any more, as he is now “TV The Boy” because they are annoyingly similar.

Let me again just drive that point home:

OMG, those eyes!

OMG, those eyes! (Yes, I know they’re likely digitally enhanced)






The Boy

The Boy


Ragnar, Again

Ragnar, Again

The Boy Again (His eyes are not digitally enhanced, but still beautiful.)

The Boy Again (His eyes are not digitally enhanced, but still beautiful.)

So, there you have it, I have a TV Husband.  Anyone else watch a show and get creeped out by how similar a character on TV is to someone you know?


Super Hot

Super Hot







The Love Doctor (again, NOT a Doctor Who reference – promise)

In the spirit of Valentine’s Day, I’m going to help others.  I was checking my Google searches and I found this one:

“What does it mean when you tell a crush you are a hot mess and his response is ‘how can I help?’?”

So, I decided to help this poor girl (or boy*) out.  And here’s the answer that comes from being alive for nearly 30 years, practically surviving adolescence and loads of crushes in my time:

I have no fucking idea what that means.

However, I do know that young love, though fleeting, is amazing.  Trust your gut, if you like him, go for it.  If he says no, it will hurt.  A lot, and even if kids are mean and tease you for liking him, know that confidence and acceptance whether he likes you or not will cause them to get bored with teasing you and move on.  Plus, if he is into you, you totally get the bonus of that precious rush of emotions that is young love.

Embrace it.  Do what I was always too insecure to do at that age, and risk it, because it’s totally worth it.

*If he’s gay and not out of the closet, it’s really best that you not make a move until you know for certain.  Young love is beautiful, regardless of gender, but openly loving a boy who is not certain or comfortable that he loves boys is a can of worms you should not open.  Trust me, find out for sure first.  High school is hard enough.

Happy Valentine’s Day. No, really, HAPPY Valentine’s Day

I love Valentine’s day, and not just because everything is glittery and pink and no one can judge you for it.  I genuinely love Valentine’s day and celebrate any opportunity I have to show The Boy just how much he means to me.  And trust me, that’s a lot.  You see, I’m broken.  That’s not something I advertise, actually, just the opposite.  I pretend to be thick-skinned, apathetic, and generally devoid of any and all emotion despite the fact that I am not like that at all.  I’m vulnerable, emotional, passionate, romantic, and, though I don’t admit to this in public, depressed.

I don’t like to talk about it, and it’s likely that if you ask me about it, I will shrug it off as something everyone deals with, but I know there’s a lot more to it for me, I just don’t want to face it.  But, The Boy has faced it and come out generally unscathed. (I said, generally).

A lot of people talk about how it’s probably a genetic condition, or caused by misfiring neurons, or unbalanced wizards hording all the seratonin from your brain, and in no way am I disputing that.  I fully believe and accept the science behind what happens in my brain, but I think it’s missing some of the more personal elements.  The elements that make it different for each person.  I think that some of us are predisposed by the afore mentioned genetical wizards to function differently (I will try to avoid the word broken, despite that being the way I feel so much of the time).

Each of us has a different experience in life.  That is why we have triggers, things that can bring on an episode, things that we will recognize as a potential episode causing event, and therefore, things that we will avoid.  This could be something like social interactions, or Nicholas Sparks novels (though I avoid the latter for an entirely different reason).  It doesn’t matter, but these things strike that match and the horrible consuming flame of mental disorder (whatever you may have) is burning and it can get out of control, and you don’t know what to do, and meds aren’t working, so you cope, you find something that will let you cope.  Maybe it’s a tick or compulsion that levels the situation and gives you control and a sense of security and normalness, or, maybe it’s a taller wall with better battlements to keep all the bad stuff out.

So, you learn from that.  You now have a new comfort tool like turning a locked door to ensure it’s locked even though you can clearly see it it locked and bolted, but you know that you just won’t be able to get any sleep unless you physically shake it.  Twice.  Because if you don’t, you’ll be upstairs, having anxiety attacks trying desperately to convince yourself not to be dumb, of course it’s locked, you locked it yourself.  But, you doubt yourself and start rerunning all the episodes of Criminal Minds and Law and Order: SVU that you’ve ever seen in your entire life until you go downstairs and jiggle the damn lock.  Twice.

Or, you put a brick in your wall.  My wall is mostly built of “don’t let them know you love them bricks”.  I had a really horrible experience with my first real love, another one with my first boyfriend, and an absolutely horrible time in middle school.  All of those moments created a brick.  This one to keep him from making me feel ugly, that one to prevent being embarrassed by my peers, and this one, for having the weakness of my love for him exploited maliciously.

So, you hide behind your wall, which makes you weird, and therefore you have more reasons to thicken and strengthen the wall and put archers at the top to really keep people away.  But, despite your best efforts, people come up to the wall.  They try to communicate to you through the wall, and some get through, and others don’t.  Sometimes, you really want someone to get through, so you work with them, build a ladder, or something, but it turns out, you aren’t speaking the same language.  And that hurts, because you wanted that person to be the person on the other side of the wall with you.  But, please remember, it’s ok, that that person wasn’t, because someone out there is.

Sometimes, the people speak your language, and they help you, and you love it when they come visit your wall.  Those are often the people you surround yourself with.  Friends, family, colleagues.  The people who know your wall, and love you anyhow.  Most importantly, the people who respect your wall and let you invite them over at your pace and when you need them.

But, then there’s that person.  The one who acts like your wall isn’t there.  Like he can’t even see it because it doesn’t matter.  The one who walks right through it and sits down on the other side and talks to you in your language and acts like nothing’s a big deal.  The person who treats you like you’re normal, even when you’re having an anxiety attack in Target.  The person who makes you feel like you’re normal, even when you’re having an anxiety attack in Target.

That, to me, is love.  The person who doesn’t even realize you have a wall, or doesn’t care, and is willing to hang out with you on the other side no matter what.  Don’t mistake this for romantic love.  Yes, for me, personally, the most powerful of this is with The Boy, who is my hero, my partner, my life-long companion (not a Doctor Who reference, I promise), but I also have this relationship with my parents, so it’s not all romance.  It may be your brother, best friend, boyfriend, lover, next door neighbor, or even your dog, who reminds you every time he looks up at you with those sweet brown eyes, that there is someone on this planet who needs you, who is alive because you are alive, who loves you, no matter what.

So, this Valentine’s Day, go to that person.  I guarantee that everyone has that person, sometimes, when we feel so broken that we think the sun has gone out, we have trouble recognizing it, but I promise, everyone has that person.  Go to him or her and tell him you love him.  As a matter of fact, say this:

“Thank you for thinking my wall was nothing, I wanted you to know, that I love you, and cherish you, and that I am better because of you.  I know that may be hard to believe because of all those times I yelled at you for no reason or because you forgot to switch the laundry over and now it smells bad, but it’s true.

To prove it, I bought you this dancing dog with a light up heart that says, “I lub you” when you squeeze his toes and this box of chocolates.  Please ignore that I ate all the peanut butter ones – I’m depressed and chocolate makes me feel better.  Stop looking at me like that.

Now, let’s celebrate our love and our walls by watching Firefly on Netflix and drinking red wine out of our hand-painted Tardis wine glasses.  No, we can’t watch Doctor Who, Moffat writes that and I’m trying to feel better, not sadder, come on, get with it.”

On second thought, feel free to ad lib, but none the less, find that person who loves you despite all the crazy shit you do and tell him or her.  Valentine’s Day is about love, so go love.

Oh. By The Way…

I live in Colorado now.  Officially.  It’s exciting.  And cold.  But, I love the snow, and the mountains, and adore the culture out here.


The only problem I have is that I can’t figure out how to bake at this atltitude.  Seriously, nothing is working for me. I’ve failed several times at several baked goods, including a box mix of brownies, and still nothing has been successful.


Thankfully, I married a non-specific bottomless pit, and The Boy ate the disasters without complaint.


For example, I made this fantastic skillet cake and it was delicious.  Except. Sigh. It was simultaneously over cooked and undercooked.  The outside edge was over cooked and crunchy like a rock, and the middle wasn’t cooked at all.  It was like mush.



Hopefully soon I’ll figure out how to bake out here because I love baking and Valentine’s day is coming up.  I’ll definitely want to make more Stud Muffins!

When C3P0 Married Han Solo


I have a huge crush on Harrison Ford.  I’ve always had a crush on Han Solo (but, really who hasn’t?*)


Hello, Dashing.

Hello, Dashing.


but just this week, we bought the box set of the Indiana Jones movies and I realized it’s not just Han that I love.


Ruggedly Handsome...

Ruggedly Handsome…


And brilliant.  I have a thing for men in glasses.

And brilliant. I have a thing for men in glasses.

Harrison Ford in general is quite dreamy.

Silver - Fucking - Fox

Silver – Fucking – Fox

It just so happens, however, that I have married a man who is just like Han Solo.  Adorable, clever, even tempered, and often an ass.  His Millenium Falcon just happens to be a redneck truck, but overall, the similarities are ridiculous.  I’m a lucky lady.  Also, he finds my crush on Harrison Ford bemusing, so what more can a geeky girl ask for?


Watching The Star Wars (original, of course) has alerted me to another alarming similarity.  I am not Princess Leah as I always like to think I am.  I am totally C3P0 and I don’t know what to make of that.  I’m the annoying, nagging, overly-logical and practical one who knows just enough random facts to be obnoxious.  I truly hope that I am as endearing as C3Po at least.

If I have to be as annoying as him, why can't I also be as skinny?

If I have to be as annoying as him, why can’t I also be as skinny?

*If you say you prefer Luke, we are no longer friends.  Luke is a whiny baby, Han is awesome.  I always wished that Leah had been the “chosen one” because she was so much more bad ass than Luke.  But, I think that would have been too radical for the time.




Now that I have thoroughly alienated all normal people, I’m going to go back to watching the end of The Empire Strikes Back.  No judgement, please.

The Great Adventure

I have been a bit quiet about my life lately. Well, I know I’ve been quiet about everything lately, but that’s mostly because my life has been filled only with work and the impending move that is the topic of this post.

The Boy and I are moving to Denver, CO. Which is a big deal since we currently live in Virginia. But, to complicate matters, I have never lived outside of the Hampton Roads area of Virginia. EVER. Even when I went to college, I was between 45 minutes and an hour away from my home. So, I’m terrified. This is utterly and entirely new for me. It’s not at all new for The Boy, he enlisted in the Navy when he was 18 and was relocated from Texas to Virginia and went on several deployments including a year in Iraq, so this is easy for him.

But, it’s not for me. My entire family is here, my parents, aunts, uncles, cousins, and grandma, all within driving distance. We know absolutely no one in Colorado. Also, the cost of living is a lot higher out there. I have a new job with a substantial raise to help pay for it, but we will be paying rent that is more than 50% higher than our current cost just to have a place in a decent neighborhood.

To make matters worse, I just said goodbye to my mom. Don’t scoff. My mom’s my best friend and I don’t know how long it will be until I get to see her again. This is the first time I’ve had to do that in my entire life. I love my parents. We are going to see my dad tomorrow when he comes to load the last of our furniture in the truck, but tonight I said goodbye to my mom. And then I cried. And then I panicked. And now I’m just trying not to do both at the same time.

Wish me luck on my great adventure. The next update will be photos from Denver. Since we aren’t taking a lot of stuff with us, I figured I’d start posting on some of the projects I do to make cheap furniture awesome. That will give me projects to work on to keep me occupied while I adjust to life so far away.