I'm reading Ree Drummond's book: The Pioneer Woman: Black Heels to Tractor Wheels--A Love Story. I've followed Ree's steamy love affair with her husband and her recipes for years. I can't put her book down. And I'm thinking, while reading it, "ooohhh to feel like that". And I woke up this morning and thought...."damn it woman, whatcha thinking? You have had it all and more!"
25 years ago today I was in Las Vegas. Eloping. Driving all night Friday after work to do "the deed" on Saturday. Our arrival coincided with Spring Break and the the motel we ended up staying in was at the far end of the strip....further down than the famous Welcome to Las Vegas sign. The Klondike. (No that wasn't the peeky bubble pool hotel). No room at the proper inns for us. The proposal, coming out of the blue, the previous Tuesday evening went like this:
Future sister-in-law: So when are you guys getting married?
Me: Drop Jaw
Future husband: I don't know. You want to get married?
Me: Playing along. Sure. Why not?
Future husband: OK - how about Saturday?
Me: Playing along. Oh - OK.
Future husband: Really, let's get married Saturday.
And so it began.
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
Saturday, March 12, 2011
Coming Home
I love (and appreciate) how when I come home from my work trips, I'm so happy to be home. Home being Brentwood. This is my home. I have a house in Utah, but for now, this is my home.When I travel to the U.S. it will be to Colorado and Utah and to visit my family, but it won't be to go home. Not now, not yet.
I arrived HOME from my work trip this week to many confirmations that this is HOME. Confirmations of my trips (yes, plural) to Italy later this year, my European health insurance card and the UK Census. Sounds pretty established, eh?
The funny thing is about my credit cards, my insurance cards, my bank cards, my visa, all carry the same end date. My "times up Teri" departure date from the UK. The date that this fantasy ends. I used to take comfort in that date, that if I hated being here or hated the job that I'm doing, that I had a target date for returning to "normalacy". Now that date is a deadline. A deadline of all the things I have to do, see, experience, eat and breathe in before I have to leave my fairy tale life in Great Britian.
I arrived HOME from my work trip this week to many confirmations that this is HOME. Confirmations of my trips (yes, plural) to Italy later this year, my European health insurance card and the UK Census. Sounds pretty established, eh?
The funny thing is about my credit cards, my insurance cards, my bank cards, my visa, all carry the same end date. My "times up Teri" departure date from the UK. The date that this fantasy ends. I used to take comfort in that date, that if I hated being here or hated the job that I'm doing, that I had a target date for returning to "normalacy". Now that date is a deadline. A deadline of all the things I have to do, see, experience, eat and breathe in before I have to leave my fairy tale life in Great Britian.
Saturday, March 05, 2011
Market Day
I love Saturdays in England! Choices. Choices. Choices!
I think it is Brentwood's market day (every other week). I thought about going to Romford as theirs is big and every week. Around here you don't have to hoard, you just have to remember which week it is and where which town you found it in and then plan to head back.
I think though I'm going to head to Billricay. I've only been during their Christmas market, but here's a fancy grocery store I'd like to peruse. If I find a Saturday market, excellent, and if not, I will be armed with a map.
I'm heading to Scotland next week for work, so I'm not in dire straits for groceries. Just trying to figure out where the the special things can be found and remember my whats and wheres.
This aspect of my life fulfills a dream I had of being able to live near the Pikes Place Market in Seattle. I wanted to be able to buy freshly picked farm grown vegetables, find fresh meat and fish, purchase nuts so soft and flavourful that you turned to look for the tree. Seattle wasn't the goal, the market was. Check.
I think it is Brentwood's market day (every other week). I thought about going to Romford as theirs is big and every week. Around here you don't have to hoard, you just have to remember which week it is and where which town you found it in and then plan to head back.
I think though I'm going to head to Billricay. I've only been during their Christmas market, but here's a fancy grocery store I'd like to peruse. If I find a Saturday market, excellent, and if not, I will be armed with a map.
I'm heading to Scotland next week for work, so I'm not in dire straits for groceries. Just trying to figure out where the the special things can be found and remember my whats and wheres.
This aspect of my life fulfills a dream I had of being able to live near the Pikes Place Market in Seattle. I wanted to be able to buy freshly picked farm grown vegetables, find fresh meat and fish, purchase nuts so soft and flavourful that you turned to look for the tree. Seattle wasn't the goal, the market was. Check.
Wednesday, March 02, 2011
Weepy Week
This week is wrought with emotion.
Robert died 11 years ago on Friday. I miss his friendship. He was always behind me. I hope that I can someday find someone who will love me like he did.
I think about the girls. How lucky I am to have them in my life. They are only my step-daughters when I have to explain that I did not shove five down MY birth canal.
I think about my girls - who were lucky enough to have a spare Dad.
I think about my extra Mom and the sister I gained through Karen.
I'm going nuts over my dream that woke me earlier this week that was about a letter I received from him....from Montana, no less. Realising the letter came from HIM (OK, that he actually wrote more than a paragraph) and that it was from all places, Montana, woke me up. I didn't get to read what it said - I have no idea what his or my possibly made up/imagined message said.
There was another "incident" this week that I would attribute to his presence. I acknowledged it at the time, but then forgot it. I can't remember it and I desperately want to.
I would have thought, like with other's passings, it would get easier. Sometimes it is. Sometimes not so much.
Robert, I loved you with all my heart. Your presence on this planet is missed by many. May your soul be at peace. May yours and my dear Mary watch over you.
Robert died 11 years ago on Friday. I miss his friendship. He was always behind me. I hope that I can someday find someone who will love me like he did.
I think about the girls. How lucky I am to have them in my life. They are only my step-daughters when I have to explain that I did not shove five down MY birth canal.
I think about my girls - who were lucky enough to have a spare Dad.
I think about my extra Mom and the sister I gained through Karen.
I'm going nuts over my dream that woke me earlier this week that was about a letter I received from him....from Montana, no less. Realising the letter came from HIM (OK, that he actually wrote more than a paragraph) and that it was from all places, Montana, woke me up. I didn't get to read what it said - I have no idea what his or my possibly made up/imagined message said.
There was another "incident" this week that I would attribute to his presence. I acknowledged it at the time, but then forgot it. I can't remember it and I desperately want to.
I would have thought, like with other's passings, it would get easier. Sometimes it is. Sometimes not so much.
Robert, I loved you with all my heart. Your presence on this planet is missed by many. May your soul be at peace. May yours and my dear Mary watch over you.
