Dog Gone It

Day One of living with a boy.
And his dog.
Which, he hates, and I absolutely love.  The dog, I mean, not living together. I love that, too, but, he finds the dog completely annoying and needy.  I see these traits as loyal and trustworthy.  He screwed up when he got a Lab, because I am a sucker for those.  Need we look at the four labs I grew up with? I think not.

Anyway. This Dumb Dog is now sitting outside, scratching at the patio door.  Why, you might ask?  It is because this dumb stupid thing of an animal chewed up my sandal.  Okay that's a lie-it wasn't my sandal, which makes it even worse.  I borrowed the damn things, and what do I do now?  It's not like I can give the pair back saying that this was how I took them in the first place.  Not at all. 

It's much like a child, when he does good things, he's my kid.  When he's a rotten, spoiled, irritating, obnoxious thing of a being- he's totally Steve's.  I can just picture him coming home from work, with I in heels and pearls around my neck vaccuming in a total June Cleaver way,
'Do you know what your son did today?!'
'How come when he's bad, he's my son?'
'Because, I say so, and I'm an absolute angel and I know my son wouldn't do something like that, so he must have gotten it from your influence.'
and Steve'll be all, '...yes, dear.'
That's right.

I know I'll end up forgiving him in about ten minutes, but right now I'm angry.  I know that he will stand by me (the dog, not my boyfriend) when no one else will, because after all, they're all about loyalty and being your best friend.

Right now, though?
He's still a dumbass dog.

I live with a boy?!

I'm living with a boy. I'm choosing to live with a smelly, messy boy. This is MY choice?!
It's my choice to have to do our laundry. Not because he asks me to, but because I take the initiative?
I HATE Laundry!
It's my choice to always clean the kitchen, with dishes piled up in the sink and the dishwasher empty.

It's my choice to sit across from him and read a book while he plays video games?
It's My choice.
To cook for two?
My choice.
Yet, amid all these negative things about living with a boy, I can't help but seem to look at the good. Like the little moments. Where he falls asleep after a day of work right next to me, curled up under our new green, cream and chocolate comforter. Or the moments where he chooses me over going to dinner with a friend. I can't forget about the little nuances that make him MY boyfriend.
The face I wake up to every morning. The face I fall asleep to, the one I cry to, the one I vent to. The person I jump on when I'm excited about good news. He is mine, I am his, and I am living with him.

The next step.
The next level.

Let's just hope I can remember all of those good things when he forgets to put the toilet seat down (which he hasn't forgotten yet!).
 

Hypothetically speaking, of course...

This all happened because I was wondering how much a trip to Angel Falls would cost.
Yea....my boyfriend and I? We're fun...hypothetically speaking.

It costs just as much to fly to Venezuela as it does to go to Disney World for the two of us.

 Holy cow, why does it cost so much?

Well for starters, it's an international flight, babe.

Pfft, we'll take a bike.(meaning motorcycle).

Um, no thanks...I don't want to drive through Mexico (where I'll probably die), Guatemala, Honduras, Costa Rica (although ziplining through the jungle would be awesome!), Nicoragua, Panama, Columbia (where I'll also probably die) just to get into Venezuela, where we then have to drive through half of that country to get to the falls!

Well now you're just being negative.

What?! You just called ME negative?!

Yup. That just happened!

You know what? Let's do it. Totally. Gas has to be cheaper in Southern America. However if I die on this trip/ride, I'm blaming you.

How're you going to blame me for something if you're dead?

Well, first of all, I won't get past a border-town in Mexico so I'll be kidnapped, so I can blame you as that's happening...and then, once they realize that the US doesn't negotiate with terrorists and they can't get ransom for me, I'll be shot. I'll come back and haunt your ass. You, however, will get off scott free being as how you're partially Mexican, and they'll welcome you with open arms.

*claps*. You figured out my plan. well played, Kristy...well played.

I mean, this is all hypothetically speaking, though.

Oh...right...I'm so funny.

Here's To...

Here's to Best Friends.
Here's to the heartache
the hurt
the joy
the tears
the break-ups
the make-ups
the fights
the laughter
the pillow fights
and dance classes.

Here's to the obnoxiousness
the 'I love you's'
the 'I'll always be there's'
the 'I'm moving-across-the-country'.
the goofiness
the support
the parties
the meaningful moments.
Here's to the shocks,
the twists
and turns,
the missing of important dates,
the being there for the meaningless ones,
the secrets,
the successes,
the failures,
the sharing of everything.

Here's to the pictures,
the memories,
the growing up
and going your own way.
Here's to the 'I always have your back.'
and 'You always have mine.'
the late-night talks,
 summer night walks,
and never taking a decent picture.

 Here's to the mistakes,
the lessons,
the lies
and the truths.
To you being you,
and me being me.
Best Friends we'll forever be.

As Luck Has It*

Ever have one of those nights where your brain just won't shut down?  You try and try, but nothing comes of your attempts?  That's what is happening to me. Right now.  There isn't even anything really on my mind...I just can't stop thinking.  Thinking about my best friend and what she's going through, thinking about money,thinking about school...
Just thinking.

I also can't stop thinking about how lucky I am.  Not just for being where I am, but for everyone in my life right now.  For Stephen and Joann, the best friends I didn't think I'd have down here.  For Crystal and Stacy. For Aunt Nette, Erynn & Jake.  For the people back home who still matter, Katie, Mike, Jenn (can't forget Hudson & Roy!), my Mom, Dad, Jack & Jay.  Oh, Lyndsi, too. 

These people have helped make me who I am today, even if they've been in my life a short time.  None of them have negative energy, and none of them want to see me fall.  They're all here to pick me up when I need it, and they'll continue to be there. 

I'm unbelievably lucky, and I hope you all have people like these in your lives who lift you up, support you (whenever/however you need it), and entertain you all the time.

Normal

I'm a pretty normal girl.  I have brown hair, green eyes, freckles, insecurities, hopes, dreams, achievements.  I'm in school, I have a job, a family that cares about me, friendships that are getting stronger by the day.  I have people that don't like me and people that love me.  Like I said, I'm normal.

Except for that pain that resides in my knees.  It alternates, and it always goes back to the origin of my problems.  Usually it's in the left knee, but occasionally it's in the right.  Sometimes it's an ache, sometimes a shooting pain.  They happen when I'm stressed, they happen because I slept on it wrong or the weather changed.  It just...happens.

So, yea, I'm normal.
Except for the fact that I take a shot every month to control pain I would otherwise be in for weeks or months at a time.

I've gone through different medicines.  Steroids, Sulfur pills, anti-inflamatory meds.  Those are only a few.
Here's my thank you to Enbrel. For letting me be a normal, active girl again, who's going to a rock concert in May, an amazing beach trip to Corpus Christi in June, and who is always active, because she remembers what it was like not being able to walk.

Yea, I'm pretty normal.

That Stupid Piece of Metal

Who would have thought a key would scare me this much? It's just a standard key, a piece of metal that fits in my hand. It's nothing cheesy like 'the key to my heart' or what-not. It opens a door, which is in a standard door jam, white, with two locks. It's a key that scares the ever-loving-crap out of me.


It's the key to his house.
This is how much he trusts me.
This is how much he's letting me in.

This is how I know I'm in trouble. The good kind of trouble. The, 'ohmylanta do I really want to be in this kind of trouble?' trouble. The kind that has me picking linens, and venues, and saying, "No, mother, I don't think a ceremony on a pier would be too much, and Yes, if you're wondering, I'd love to have the fishermen sitting there as well." trouble.

I'm screwed.
This, I am certain of.

I go to sleep with a smile on my face every night, and at the risk of seemingly completely bat-shit-insane, everytime he calls me beautiful, I actually start to believe it. So, let's go back to this key.

This is how I know I'm 95% screwed, because I can never be 100% invested in something emotionally, oh no. I always have to have my guard up, and part of me thinks I'm insane.  For what? Well-- here's 8 reasons.

1.) for planning something that we're not even a month into yet
2.) for thinking a Key means so much
3.) for taking a chance.
4.) for risking everything, once again.
5.) for re-thinking my not wanting to have children
6.) for re-thinking my not wanting to even get married
7.) for re-thinking everything I've decided I wanted for myself in the past year.
8.) for having faith.
You have to have it though, right? Without the faith that he cares that much about you, without the faith that he won't hurt you, and if I didn't have faith that this won't end up in a horrible train-wreck waiting to happen way....what the hell am I doing in it in the first place?

I have faith in that key.
I have faith in every single kiss.
I have faith in our pillows.
I have faith in us.
And that scares me more than the stupid key.