Our "Us" Story: Part 1

{Daniel and I just celebrated our 2nd anniversary, and I've never posted anything about the who/what/when/where/why/how of what we're all about. And to think that I call myself a blogger, for the shame! Because two years goes by so fast, and someday we'll be saying, "wow, 62 years goes by so fast. dang kids, and their rap music...can you pass me my prune juice?" I thought it finally time to document while the memory is still somewhat fresh. Also, future baby beans of ours who might read this: your dad and I were once cool and listened to plenty of rap music. Look, I have a nose ring.}

...

For years, I was convinced that I would attend my 10 year class reunion with a cat in my purse and at least three more scratching the couch back in my apartment. 

I had destined myself to a summation of those epitomised words, crazy. cat. lady.

Think Sandra Bullock in "While You Were Sleeping."

Dunking my oreos in the kitten's milk bowl and dreaming of Florence, Italy while I spend my days collecting fare for the Chicago transit system. 

Trust me,
it's a lot more romantic then it sounds. 
and of course, crazy hijinks would ensue.

Don't get me wrong.

I liked boys. Boys liked me. 

But they held power in their potential.
All relationships do. 
The potential to hurt or fail or end. 
A history of loss had gripped tightly around my stubborn heart, closing off the flow with pride and fear.
Trickling into all areas of my being was this philosophy of controlled living. 
I mean, all areas. 
Must.Win.All.The.Things.

{There was a particular game of "Spoons" during this period of my life, where I infamously stabbed someone. with a spoon.
Like I was in The Hunger Games or something.
maybe stabbed isn't the right word, and maybe it was with my teeth.
I'll plead the "it was all a blur."}

My Florence dreams were still itching at me, begging to meet and say hello. 
To go, and do, and be. 
The plan was to start small and float up and up and up. 
All the while, never getting too close for anyone to catch me.


So I packed up my belongings, hopes, and spoons and tiptoed away.

...


xoxo

{Bon Bon} 

Don't Go Chasing...

 {Multnomah Falls}

Don't let my "confident" hand-on-hipped head-to-toe-nike-sports-attired self fool ya. 

{this same outfit can often be worn for a day of nothing but baby bean snuggles and a trip to target for laundry detergent that ends with a receipt full of anything but laundry detergent}

By switchback #9 up the trail, I was alternately feeling the burn and praying someone had finally built one of those motorized staircase chair lifts. 

Only a watery roar of the cascading multnomah could inspire me to surge onward and upward...  

that, and ice cream, of course. 

xoxo

{Bon Bon}