Time Out

I have been up since 3:30 this morning, with the exception of a two hour nap which some would say doesn't count-but I say it does.  I woke up even more groggy and out of it than I did after getting two hours of sleep and walking into my first day as an Intern at an accredited morning radio show with Clear Channel Studios. 

I need me time.  I'm never really alone anymore, and for the past two days I've been swimming in a sea of estrogen from 5 am to 11 am, which isn't bad- but there are 15 chicks that I'm interning with (all hired by a girl), and then I come home to the boyfriend.  Which is wonderful, we've just both....been in a funk lately.  Over said internship.  Boyfriend thinks something is going to happen and I'm going to change because of this internship.  I've already made myself the intern outcast because I don't want to offend/worry him.  This show has a history of a certain sleazy producer hitting on every single girl and trying to get in her pants.  Seeing as how this said sleazy producer and I hail from the same State, and he lived out by where I went to college (NOT Texas, Give it up for the 517!!) and we're only a couple years apart, Boyfriend has it in his head that this sleazy producer wants in mis pantelones.  This means we're arguing a whole lot more lately.  Which means I'm frustrated, and wanting alone time that I'm not getting because of my hectic schedule.

He should look at the intern who looks like a certain villanious girl from Twilight who is trying the whole, 'Producer is such a sleazeball but I'm totally flirting with him in the I'm-going-to-insult-you-every-which-way-I-can hoping you all don't notice how much I want in his pants' way. 

It's disgusting.

Anyways, this all leads to how I need my me time.  I'm always around someone, and never by myself.  Which makes me work 15 hour days (internship THEN work), and me-timeless.  It's exhausting to say the least.  Oh how I hate you Starbucks for not being open at 4:30 in the morning when I leave my house. 

If I don't get some alone time that doesn't consist of me typing in the dark at 11:42 at night in my bed with the dogs at my feet and Boyfriend sleeping next to me, I just might go a wee bit insane.  Lord knows I started teh downward spiral tonight.

Team-Building Exercise

This is my carpenter boyfriend. Who doesn't let me paint, hang pictures, or do anything, because I will do it to just a centimeter off.  Which is great, except it took us four days to hang the new mirrors in our room.  Even when he had time this morning to do them, I had to hound him to do it. Finally later today, we did it 'together'.  Which means I stood there and supervised, even when he was the one who suggested we do it together anyway, because it would be a good 'team building' exercise. 

How about this?
 No, something is off.
What do you mean something is off? What is off?
I don't know, Steve, the spacing, or something...it looks too seventies.
Looks too seventies?  How?
I don't know, it just does. Try doing it the other way.
....What other way?
Put them together.  Like, Horizontal.  Here, no, like this.  Go look.
Had I known you wanted them like that, I would have just kept them all on one piece of backing instead of cutting it.
I don't know how I want it, babe.  How does it look?
Okay, I guess.
Just okay?! I don't want it to look just okay, I want it to look spectacular.  What do you think?
What if we did it like this?
Put a bit more space in there....yea, there! Stop!
Like this?
Yea, let me hold it and you look at it.
It's hard to imagine what it'll look like when you hold them all crooked and lopsided.
Those mean the same thing, babe.
*big sigh* Kristen Renae.  Do you like it like this?
Yes, hold on, let me look again...Yes, I do.
Are you sure?
Yes.
Is my baby happy with it like this?
Yes.
Okay.  If you're happy I'm happy.
I'm happy. *pause* Yes, I'm happy.


That's how that project went this morning.  You know what? I'm totally okay with that.

One month and 1/2 months in, and we're making the bedroom, 'our' bedroom. Translation? I've made it girly. We now have this bedspread, pictures, a bedskirt (which he can't even begin to understand the necessity of it), and these mirrors (they come in a pack of 4 for $5.00 at Home Depot, we bought two). Plus the candle holder with the decorative beads. Here's what I'm talking about:



Those are Sand Dollars in the bottom of the vase, what we decided to do was collect them from the Texas Coast and use those instead of the decorative beads, so we have memories of our trip!

 

Painting is next.  The room will not be complete without painting it.  I've already told him that he can have the rest of the house (in this house), I just want the bedroom.  Since we don't have a proper living room, this is where I spend most of my time, and I wanted it to look nice. 

We also need a new bed.  My back is hurting more and more from sleeping on that monstronsity he's had forever.  Our next project: our DIY headboard.  You can check out my dreamroom here, and join pintrest if you have an interest, because it's an amazingly addicitng site where I get a lot of my ideas from.  Check it out :)

Our next project? Building a headboard.

Oh boy.

I've survived a Month.

It's been a month.  One month since I started living with a boy.  One month ago I said goodbye to tucked-in sheets, dishes always being put in the dishwasher instead of in the sink, and not being ragged on for wanting to watch the Bachelorette. 

I don't regret a thing.  One certain person laughed at me when I told them I was making this move.  Said I'd never make it and this was the stupidest decision I could ever have made.  That's when I was just considering it.  Well, in your face, stupid person!  I'm the happiest I have ever been, minus the being on your own and having to be an adult part. 

It's the 'I love you's' every night before bed, the surprise visits at work, the nightly walks and cooking dinner together that make it all worth-while.  It's the smiles, the laughter, the poking fun, the adventures and the companionship.  I'm very lucky to have this man in my life, let alone to know that I want this to last a very, very long time.  We're going on 8 months now, and yes, we've had our ups and our downs, but nothing major.  They've all been stepping stones, distinct growing points in our relationship.  Whether it's to make me more mature, or him more understanding, they've had their purpose and we've learned our lessons from them and I've never once questioned my feelings for him.

So, even though the dishwasher is dirty and there's still room fore dishes to be loaded into it, I'm going to go curl up next to my boyfriend.  I'm going to look at him all adorably, which even I admit is completely sickening, but I can't help it.  Maybe we're still in the Honeymoon Stage.  If so, I hope it doesn't go away.

Death

Death is a curious thing. No one knows for certain what happens, if there's a bright light at the end of the tunnel, two doors that you have to choose between, or if you're greeted at the pearly gates. No one knows,and that makes it an uncertainty, and sometimes a scary thing.

My grandmother died, at 82 years old, on Wednesday, July 6th. Grandma Pat was the keeper of the flintstones push-ups, the nasty wafer cookies in the middle drawer, the old percolating coffee maker and the rotary phone.The bringer of the olives, pickles & cherries to Thanksgiving & Christmas dinner, she had gumption, and I like to think I got mine from her. Completely honest (that woman never told a lie, I swear), a great judge of character, she told it to you how it was. She was a 1950's woman through and through. Skirts and bathrobes she was the fun Grandma, who knew what "What's up Dog" and "pulling a Britney" meant. Her collectors Barbie dolls always stood in the curio, and there was always a new one for me to oggle.

Rembering these things make me smile. Then I feel bad for smiling, because I feel like I should miss her, and at times I do. I miss her 50's radio station, I miss walking into their house and being greeted with the smell of coffee and cigarettes smoke. I miss sitting on the couch complaining about how unfair my dad was, and having her tell me "He wasn't perfect in his time, and he's a first-time parent. He's going to make mistakes just like you do." I think about how there won't be any pickles or olives or maraschino cherries at Thanksgiving or Christmas dinner anymore, then I say 'Pashaw, I'll bring them'. I remember Grandma in her rollers, nightgown & robe at night, watching her old 70's program that I thought was uber boring. I remember laying on the floor the night Jay was born, waiting for the news of my baby brother who I so badly wanted to be a girl. I remember being so annoyed that Grandma slept on the couch and kept the TV on until she was ready to go to sleep.

Then there's times that I'm happy and completely at peace, because I know. I know that there is a Heaven and I know without a doubt that my Grandma is up there. I know she's back to looking like she was in her 20's, and I know she gets to see her brothers as well as her mom and dad, and I'm happy for her. I got to have her for 23 years of my life, and I'm going to miss her deeply, but she lost her brother earlier than that, I think, and now she's seeing him again. This means that now, when I get married, she can be at my wedding. She can be overlooking it, wherever it may be, because when she was alive, she wouldn't have been able to travel. She gets to watch every single one of us now, instead of waiting for phone calls, and I'm happy for her. We get eternity together later on, and I'm okay with that.

This may be way too spiritual for some people, but certain events in my life have made me believe in God more than I ever did before, and I have complete faith in Him. I know he has my Grandma now, and I know she's happy. As sad as we may all be, Grandma lived a great life, had 4 children, eight grandchildren, and three great grandchildren. She's golden, she's safe, and she's making sure we all are as well. Grandma said to my dad before she died, "Jack, I'm not scared of death. I'm not looking forward to it happening, but I'm not scared of it. I had a strong Lutheran upbringing and I'm going to put it off as long as I can, but I'm not scared of it."

If Grandma isn't scared of it, than neither am I. I'm not excited about it, and I'm sad she's gone, but I'm at peace with it, and I still love her with everything I got.

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.