Sunday, January 31, 2016
A Love Story, Part 5
This is turning into an Epic Mini-Series. I am so overly verbose!! Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4
Rob emailed me as soon as he returned home. And he was perfectly clear about how HE felt the weekend went (so much easier to write it rather than say it!!)
"I just want to reiterate how wonderful a time I had with you!!!! I just pray you feel remotely the same. I've never been with a female I have so much in common with. We make pretty good pals, don't ya think?"
He signed it "Miss you already...."
So there it was. We were still on, still a go. We'd survived the first meeting, and it didn't freak us both out. Back to emails, back to phone calls. Back to sending pictures, mix-tapes, and letters through snail mail. He sent me chocolates, I sent him grandma's homemade jam. There were nights that we'd talk for five, six, seven, even EIGHT HOURS at a time. It astounds me now, what all we had to say. Seriously??? Eight HOURS??? That seems inconceivable to me. But we were "real" now, not just "virtual". And it was starting to feel more real.
On June 13, 1997, on what one year later (spoiler alert) would be our WEDDING DAY, Rob signed his email "LOVE, Robbie" for the first time. I'm just realizing that right now for the first time. And we planned for my first trip to the Upper Peninsula over 4th of July weekend. He was referring to me as "his girl", and making hints about "his girlfriend". I liked the sound of that.
The puddle jumper out to the U.P. was more than my delicate stomach could handle, and I threw up on landing. That made for an interesting hello kiss when Rob met me at the airport. He took me canoeing on the Escanaba river, and I was just entranced by the waterfalls, and the green, and the lush beauty. And astounded by the mosquitos. I had never seen so many, or such big mosquitos in my whole life. They blanketed the inside of the cab of his truck. It was while camping that Rob told me he loved me for the first time. Said he had wanted to tell me for awhile, but just was too afraid to say the words. He didn't really have to tell me at that point. I knew.
After a night camping in the woods, we headed towards Houghton to meet his family. We cleaned up in the locker room at the Student Development Complex at Michigan Tech University - his alma mater - before heading to his parents' house. Al and Laverne were friendly and inviting (no Ted Bundy comments from them). Rob took me to meet his Aunt Dorothy and Uncle Carl, and I remember aunt Dorothy grabbing my hand and saying "You must be very special to our Robbie." I loved her instantly.
Rob wanted to show me his family farm, and the water supply of Chassell, which was an open pond. He grabbed his Dad's four wheeler, threw me on the back, and we headed out along a converted train track. Little did we know that a policeman noticed that we weren't wearing helmets, and followed us for MILES, trying to catch up with us. When we finally stopped, the cop pulled up behind us with his lights spinning. Uh-oh.
He was going to give Rob a ticket, unless he could produce helmets immediately. Rob talked quickly, and told the cop that he'd have to ride BACK to the farm without a helmet, in order to get a helmet, and that would be breaking the law yet again. This police officer was ridiculously nice, and offered to give us a ride to the farm, so that we could safely retrieve helmets to continue our ride. He never did give us a ticket. So off we went, down the dirt road to his grandmother's old farmhouse, in the back of a police car. Along the way, though, the we saw an injured deer on the side of the road. The cop stopped his car, jumped out, pulled out his gun, and shot the thing point blank right in front of us. I had never witnessed such a thing in my life, suburban girl that I was. Holy cow. He calmly returned to the car, and continued on to the farm, where - as luck would have it - Rob's sister, her husband, and their two boys just happened to be out in the front yard.
I met my future sister-in-law for the first time stepping out of the back of a police car. Talk about good first impressions. Or not.
We spent the last evening of my trip back in Escanaba, where Rob lived at the time. Our last night, I remember we caught a glimpse of ourselves together in a mirror, Rob's arm around me, and he said "Look! We look good together."
I remember turning to him and saying "Yes. We do. But if that's all this is, if it's just going to be you flying to see me, and me flying to see you, and emailing and talking on the phone, then I don't want it. It's too hard. If this is all it is, it's not enough."
He looked at me, and said "This is not all it is. I love you."
***********************************************************
The email waiting for me when I got home is one of my most treasured.
"I just got back, and this place sure feels empty. I sat in the truck and watched your flight take off, and ultimately disappear into a cloud. I can't really describe how it felt, watching you be lifted up away and beyond my grasp. My composure was fairly good until I got out on the highway and passed a sign that said 'Love isn't love unless you give it away'. That hit home. Tears welled up. Right now the pain of you leaving is starting to turn into complete joy at the simple prospect of us sharing the rest of our lives together. I can't wait to start building them. I love and miss you. Robbie."
It was all rainbows and unicorns for me at this point, people. I was gone. Totally, head over heels. Something about meeting his family, seeing him in HIS place... I believed it all. He was for real. And he loved me. I loved him. Two thousand miles??? Big whoop. We'd find a way. I was in deep.
Rob emailed me as soon as he returned home. And he was perfectly clear about how HE felt the weekend went (so much easier to write it rather than say it!!)
"I just want to reiterate how wonderful a time I had with you!!!! I just pray you feel remotely the same. I've never been with a female I have so much in common with. We make pretty good pals, don't ya think?"
He signed it "Miss you already...."
So there it was. We were still on, still a go. We'd survived the first meeting, and it didn't freak us both out. Back to emails, back to phone calls. Back to sending pictures, mix-tapes, and letters through snail mail. He sent me chocolates, I sent him grandma's homemade jam. There were nights that we'd talk for five, six, seven, even EIGHT HOURS at a time. It astounds me now, what all we had to say. Seriously??? Eight HOURS??? That seems inconceivable to me. But we were "real" now, not just "virtual". And it was starting to feel more real.
On June 13, 1997, on what one year later (spoiler alert) would be our WEDDING DAY, Rob signed his email "LOVE, Robbie" for the first time. I'm just realizing that right now for the first time. And we planned for my first trip to the Upper Peninsula over 4th of July weekend. He was referring to me as "his girl", and making hints about "his girlfriend". I liked the sound of that.
The puddle jumper out to the U.P. was more than my delicate stomach could handle, and I threw up on landing. That made for an interesting hello kiss when Rob met me at the airport. He took me canoeing on the Escanaba river, and I was just entranced by the waterfalls, and the green, and the lush beauty. And astounded by the mosquitos. I had never seen so many, or such big mosquitos in my whole life. They blanketed the inside of the cab of his truck. It was while camping that Rob told me he loved me for the first time. Said he had wanted to tell me for awhile, but just was too afraid to say the words. He didn't really have to tell me at that point. I knew.
After a night camping in the woods, we headed towards Houghton to meet his family. We cleaned up in the locker room at the Student Development Complex at Michigan Tech University - his alma mater - before heading to his parents' house. Al and Laverne were friendly and inviting (no Ted Bundy comments from them). Rob took me to meet his Aunt Dorothy and Uncle Carl, and I remember aunt Dorothy grabbing my hand and saying "You must be very special to our Robbie." I loved her instantly.
Rob wanted to show me his family farm, and the water supply of Chassell, which was an open pond. He grabbed his Dad's four wheeler, threw me on the back, and we headed out along a converted train track. Little did we know that a policeman noticed that we weren't wearing helmets, and followed us for MILES, trying to catch up with us. When we finally stopped, the cop pulled up behind us with his lights spinning. Uh-oh.
He was going to give Rob a ticket, unless he could produce helmets immediately. Rob talked quickly, and told the cop that he'd have to ride BACK to the farm without a helmet, in order to get a helmet, and that would be breaking the law yet again. This police officer was ridiculously nice, and offered to give us a ride to the farm, so that we could safely retrieve helmets to continue our ride. He never did give us a ticket. So off we went, down the dirt road to his grandmother's old farmhouse, in the back of a police car. Along the way, though, the we saw an injured deer on the side of the road. The cop stopped his car, jumped out, pulled out his gun, and shot the thing point blank right in front of us. I had never witnessed such a thing in my life, suburban girl that I was. Holy cow. He calmly returned to the car, and continued on to the farm, where - as luck would have it - Rob's sister, her husband, and their two boys just happened to be out in the front yard.
I met my future sister-in-law for the first time stepping out of the back of a police car. Talk about good first impressions. Or not.
We spent the last evening of my trip back in Escanaba, where Rob lived at the time. Our last night, I remember we caught a glimpse of ourselves together in a mirror, Rob's arm around me, and he said "Look! We look good together."
I remember turning to him and saying "Yes. We do. But if that's all this is, if it's just going to be you flying to see me, and me flying to see you, and emailing and talking on the phone, then I don't want it. It's too hard. If this is all it is, it's not enough."
He looked at me, and said "This is not all it is. I love you."
***********************************************************
The email waiting for me when I got home is one of my most treasured.
"I just got back, and this place sure feels empty. I sat in the truck and watched your flight take off, and ultimately disappear into a cloud. I can't really describe how it felt, watching you be lifted up away and beyond my grasp. My composure was fairly good until I got out on the highway and passed a sign that said 'Love isn't love unless you give it away'. That hit home. Tears welled up. Right now the pain of you leaving is starting to turn into complete joy at the simple prospect of us sharing the rest of our lives together. I can't wait to start building them. I love and miss you. Robbie."
It was all rainbows and unicorns for me at this point, people. I was gone. Totally, head over heels. Something about meeting his family, seeing him in HIS place... I believed it all. He was for real. And he loved me. I loved him. Two thousand miles??? Big whoop. We'd find a way. I was in deep.
Saturday, January 30, 2016
Skiing The Porkies
Who would have thought that we would EVER see 40 degrees in January??? Let alone the actual sun?? Couldn't ask for better weather for a day of skiing, and an evening hike through the woods. Just absolutely breathtaking.
A Love Story Part 4
Catch up with Part 1, Part 2, Part 3
Maybe this IS a longer story than I originally let on. I don't care. You all can skim as you choose, I'm documenting it all for posterity.
On April Fool's Day, Rob emailed me to say that he had talked to his parents, and secured a frequent flyer ticket to come visit Spokane. He did admit that he hadn't exactly told them about me. There may have been some vague talk about looking for work out west, which wasn't entirely untrue. He had set up visits with some consultants. But at this point, no mention of any girl. I, on the other hand, had spilled the beans to my highly skeptical parents. Now that I'm a parent, I can totally understand their response. I get it. I was a grown-up 24 year old, so they didn't really have any SAY in the matter, but they are not ones to hold back their opinions. But I got it. I really did. And Rob, for his part, insisted on meeting my parents right off the bat, to put their concerns at ease. Which spoke VOLUMES for the kind of guy he was (is). And put me at ease as well.
May 14th, and the count-down to actual face-time was on. "Well, I'm getting pretty excited to meet you there, Monica. I don't feel the least bit nervous or anxious right now. I feel like I know you so well that getting together is more like just a long overdue reunion."
Well, he might not have been nervous, but I was. Excited, but nervous. All of this was so out of character for me!! What would I do when we first met? Would he recognize me from the pictures? Would it be a scene out of "Sleepless in Seattle?" Would we just fall into each other's arms, and just know??? ARGGGGHHHHH!!!
Rob didn't want to pay for a hotel room, which meant we'd be maximizing our togetherness at my apartment. My parents were MORE THAN HAPPY to get me an extra bed for the guest bedroom. But there would be no time to break away and process. Just solid time together. It was all a little overwhelming, but it was happening, baby. Oh boy. Here we go.
*******************************************************************************
I brought flowers and met him at the airport. That was a little weird. There was an awkward hug. His face was more angular than it had seemed in the pictures. He wore a green rain coat, and brown leather shoes with his blue jeans. He smiled a lot and smelled an odd mix of beer and toothpaste. His bangs were cut straight across his forehead. My first impression was that he was familiar, but new. His mannerisms were new, the way he moved. I had built up this version in my head, and then here was a reality that didn't QUITE match. Close. But not quite. I was reserved, taking everything in. It certainly wasn't the "reunion" we had anticipated. It was very much a FIRST DATE. But in a weird way, the fact that he wasn't so suave and slick put me more at ease. He was a little nerdy, just like me. And that was a good thing. Something I could relate to, even if it was a little unexpected.
Our first stop was out to dinner at a local restaurant, where our waiter just happened to be the gay brother of a friend of mine. So much for anonymity. Then we attempted some live music, but were both rather underwhelmed with that, so decided to head back to my apartment to get ready for a trip to Idaho the next day.
First things first, though. Meeting my parents. We met at Applebee's, and as Rob reached out a hand to shake my mother's for the first time, she looked him square in the eye and said "You're name isn't Ted Bundy, is it?" Rob didn't quite know how to take that, but I laughed it off. HAHA, Mom. Awkward silence. Uneasy conversation. OK then. That was done. Moving on....
Rob had wanted us to visit the mountains that we both loved so much. But hello. It was MAY. There's still snow in the mountains in May in the Pacific Northwest, a fact that neither of us truly understood, until we got out in the middle of nowhere, and my Jimmy got stuck. I wanted to walk to the nearest campground and call for help, but Rob insisted that he could engineer his way out of the mud we had sunk into. And he did get us unstuck, but it wasn't quite the idyllic trip we'd hoped for.
We spent a chilly, uncomfortable night in a tent out in the woods, smoking cigars amongst the mud, snow and trees, and cooking shish-kabobs over an open flame. The next day we headed back to Spokane, where we visited Riverfront Park, played some mini golf, and then went to Jurassic Park 2. The entire time, Rob didn't so much as hold my hand. No contact whatsoever, until that last day, when he shyly put an arm around my shoulder as we sat on a bench at the park and watched an autistic guy ride the tilt-a-whirl over and over and over.
What was Rob thinking??? Was he disappointed in all this? Was he having fun? Did this live up to his expectations?? I just really couldn't tell. Conversation was so much easier via email or on the phone. We were so hesitant with each other, like we had to get used to each other physically, when we'd been so comfortable with each other intellectually and emotionally.
After he left on the plane back to the U.P., I just didn't know if this thing had legs, or what I felt, or if all of the effort and expense of trying to date someone long distance was worth it. Maybe I was expecting this magical, puzzle-piece, kindred spirit connection instantly, like my long lost other half. And it wasn't that, our "first date" weekend. It was actually kinda awkward. I liked him, but... I just didn't know.
TO BE CONTINUED
Maybe this IS a longer story than I originally let on. I don't care. You all can skim as you choose, I'm documenting it all for posterity.
On April Fool's Day, Rob emailed me to say that he had talked to his parents, and secured a frequent flyer ticket to come visit Spokane. He did admit that he hadn't exactly told them about me. There may have been some vague talk about looking for work out west, which wasn't entirely untrue. He had set up visits with some consultants. But at this point, no mention of any girl. I, on the other hand, had spilled the beans to my highly skeptical parents. Now that I'm a parent, I can totally understand their response. I get it. I was a grown-up 24 year old, so they didn't really have any SAY in the matter, but they are not ones to hold back their opinions. But I got it. I really did. And Rob, for his part, insisted on meeting my parents right off the bat, to put their concerns at ease. Which spoke VOLUMES for the kind of guy he was (is). And put me at ease as well.
May 14th, and the count-down to actual face-time was on. "Well, I'm getting pretty excited to meet you there, Monica. I don't feel the least bit nervous or anxious right now. I feel like I know you so well that getting together is more like just a long overdue reunion."
Well, he might not have been nervous, but I was. Excited, but nervous. All of this was so out of character for me!! What would I do when we first met? Would he recognize me from the pictures? Would it be a scene out of "Sleepless in Seattle?" Would we just fall into each other's arms, and just know??? ARGGGGHHHHH!!!
Rob didn't want to pay for a hotel room, which meant we'd be maximizing our togetherness at my apartment. My parents were MORE THAN HAPPY to get me an extra bed for the guest bedroom. But there would be no time to break away and process. Just solid time together. It was all a little overwhelming, but it was happening, baby. Oh boy. Here we go.
*******************************************************************************
I brought flowers and met him at the airport. That was a little weird. There was an awkward hug. His face was more angular than it had seemed in the pictures. He wore a green rain coat, and brown leather shoes with his blue jeans. He smiled a lot and smelled an odd mix of beer and toothpaste. His bangs were cut straight across his forehead. My first impression was that he was familiar, but new. His mannerisms were new, the way he moved. I had built up this version in my head, and then here was a reality that didn't QUITE match. Close. But not quite. I was reserved, taking everything in. It certainly wasn't the "reunion" we had anticipated. It was very much a FIRST DATE. But in a weird way, the fact that he wasn't so suave and slick put me more at ease. He was a little nerdy, just like me. And that was a good thing. Something I could relate to, even if it was a little unexpected.
Our first stop was out to dinner at a local restaurant, where our waiter just happened to be the gay brother of a friend of mine. So much for anonymity. Then we attempted some live music, but were both rather underwhelmed with that, so decided to head back to my apartment to get ready for a trip to Idaho the next day.
First things first, though. Meeting my parents. We met at Applebee's, and as Rob reached out a hand to shake my mother's for the first time, she looked him square in the eye and said "You're name isn't Ted Bundy, is it?" Rob didn't quite know how to take that, but I laughed it off. HAHA, Mom. Awkward silence. Uneasy conversation. OK then. That was done. Moving on....
Rob had wanted us to visit the mountains that we both loved so much. But hello. It was MAY. There's still snow in the mountains in May in the Pacific Northwest, a fact that neither of us truly understood, until we got out in the middle of nowhere, and my Jimmy got stuck. I wanted to walk to the nearest campground and call for help, but Rob insisted that he could engineer his way out of the mud we had sunk into. And he did get us unstuck, but it wasn't quite the idyllic trip we'd hoped for.
We spent a chilly, uncomfortable night in a tent out in the woods, smoking cigars amongst the mud, snow and trees, and cooking shish-kabobs over an open flame. The next day we headed back to Spokane, where we visited Riverfront Park, played some mini golf, and then went to Jurassic Park 2. The entire time, Rob didn't so much as hold my hand. No contact whatsoever, until that last day, when he shyly put an arm around my shoulder as we sat on a bench at the park and watched an autistic guy ride the tilt-a-whirl over and over and over.
What was Rob thinking??? Was he disappointed in all this? Was he having fun? Did this live up to his expectations?? I just really couldn't tell. Conversation was so much easier via email or on the phone. We were so hesitant with each other, like we had to get used to each other physically, when we'd been so comfortable with each other intellectually and emotionally.
After he left on the plane back to the U.P., I just didn't know if this thing had legs, or what I felt, or if all of the effort and expense of trying to date someone long distance was worth it. Maybe I was expecting this magical, puzzle-piece, kindred spirit connection instantly, like my long lost other half. And it wasn't that, our "first date" weekend. It was actually kinda awkward. I liked him, but... I just didn't know.
TO BE CONTINUED
Friday, January 29, 2016
A Love Story Part 3
if you're just joining us, read Part 1 here and Part 2 here.
February 25th was his birthday. Happy 27th. I had applied for and gotten a job back in my hometown by this point. I would be moving soon. He wrote "you sound more like the female version of myself every time I hear from you!" We both enjoyed pinochle, and the same music, and had the same opinions on family and social issues and and and. It was time to exchange pictures. Via snail-mail. How does that age us??? This was the DAWN of the information age, children. You couldn't just scan a picture in, or take one on your iPhone and send it whiz-bang through the air like that. You took a picture with a camera on film, had it developed over several days, put it in an envelope, and mailed it across the country. The process of sending a picture could take literally more than a week. The stone ages.
The day his letter came to me, the first part of March, I was at work at my new job in Spokane. I had picked up my mail at my new apartment, and then drove to a home visit. There it was, the unopened envelope staring at me from the passenger's seat, and I was nervous. What would I find in there??? I had planned on waiting until after work, because I was running late as it was. But I have very little self control where curiosity is concerned. I HAD to know. HAD TO KNOW.
So, while driving - in the stone-aged version of "texting at the wheel"- I opened the envelope.
There was his pointed, tortured spider scrawl with the left handed slant. He had mentioned the complaints he got about his handwriting. Yadda yadda yadda. Where were the pictures. THE PICTURES, dang it!!!!!!
I one-hand ruffled through the pages, until I landed on this:
OH MY GOODNESS. I nearly got in a wreck while driving. I hadn't known that I'd been emailing a hunk! Seriously good thing I hadn't known that, or I would have self-detonated this budding "whatever it was" with my insecurities long before this. My hands began to sweat, and I got physically flustered. Good grief. He was so cute! How could I not have known he was so cute???? I got so flutterpated that I locked my keys in my brand new SUV at the home visit, and had to have some guy use a hanger to bust my vehicle open afterwards - which left a permanent scratch, and a reminder of how distracted I was by a few simple pictures.
The next day on the phone, March, 2nd, nearly a month after "first contact", he brought up the fact that we really needed to meet in person. He suggested we find a half-way spot - neutral territory - and do it there. Like Las Vegas. UHHHHHH. NO. Flutterpated or not, I knew better than to meet a complete stranger in Las Vegas. I wasn't that kind of girl. We'd have to figure something else out. The idea was put on the back burner.
By this time, we were talking more and more frequently on the phone. This was back in the days of the per-minute long distance rate, and I SHUDDER to think of the phone bills we racked up. I remember we always called after 8 pm, when rates decreased, and we often watched "Seinfeld" together, as it was broadcasted at the same time, despite our three hour time zone difference.
By the middle of March, I was on my way to Hawaii with my sister and the Montana Air National Guard engineering corp. Just a little get-away between jobs for me, and some quality time with my sister, while my brother in law and his engineering group worked. While there, as the only single girl amongst LOTS of single men in paradise, I may have got hit on a time or two. But for some reason, I just couldn't reciprocate. It felt like I'd be cheating on a guy I'd never even met. Which was weird, right? But something was there. And I couldn't jeopardize it. Even in Hawaii. Per his request, I sent Rob a picture from Oahu....
It was after my Hawaii trip, that Rob decided to definitively lay a few things out on the table. Here's an excerpt of his letter from March 26th:
"First off, I just wanted to say I've never quite met a girl like you, where I've connected so completely on so many things. For some reason, this is very important to me, and in my experience a really rare thing. I have to meet you, fairly soon. I initially proposed Las Vegas. In hindsight, though, one of the things that attracts me to you is your 'respectful lady' persona, and so I can appreciate a concern you might have flying to Vegas and meeting a semi-stranger. So I propose flying to Spokane the first weekend in May. I think you're a pretty special girl. I know the whole idea of how we 'met' and how we would actually meet is rather unconventional and maybe crazy, but I'm willing to risk it. So give it some thought. I hope the idea flies favorably."
Meet. In person?? Things were getting real. If we met, it would have to mean that I was in, dang it. IN. But was I that brave????
TO BE CONTINUED.
February 25th was his birthday. Happy 27th. I had applied for and gotten a job back in my hometown by this point. I would be moving soon. He wrote "you sound more like the female version of myself every time I hear from you!" We both enjoyed pinochle, and the same music, and had the same opinions on family and social issues and and and. It was time to exchange pictures. Via snail-mail. How does that age us??? This was the DAWN of the information age, children. You couldn't just scan a picture in, or take one on your iPhone and send it whiz-bang through the air like that. You took a picture with a camera on film, had it developed over several days, put it in an envelope, and mailed it across the country. The process of sending a picture could take literally more than a week. The stone ages.
The day his letter came to me, the first part of March, I was at work at my new job in Spokane. I had picked up my mail at my new apartment, and then drove to a home visit. There it was, the unopened envelope staring at me from the passenger's seat, and I was nervous. What would I find in there??? I had planned on waiting until after work, because I was running late as it was. But I have very little self control where curiosity is concerned. I HAD to know. HAD TO KNOW.
So, while driving - in the stone-aged version of "texting at the wheel"- I opened the envelope.
There was his pointed, tortured spider scrawl with the left handed slant. He had mentioned the complaints he got about his handwriting. Yadda yadda yadda. Where were the pictures. THE PICTURES, dang it!!!!!!
I one-hand ruffled through the pages, until I landed on this:
OH MY GOODNESS. I nearly got in a wreck while driving. I hadn't known that I'd been emailing a hunk! Seriously good thing I hadn't known that, or I would have self-detonated this budding "whatever it was" with my insecurities long before this. My hands began to sweat, and I got physically flustered. Good grief. He was so cute! How could I not have known he was so cute???? I got so flutterpated that I locked my keys in my brand new SUV at the home visit, and had to have some guy use a hanger to bust my vehicle open afterwards - which left a permanent scratch, and a reminder of how distracted I was by a few simple pictures.
The next day on the phone, March, 2nd, nearly a month after "first contact", he brought up the fact that we really needed to meet in person. He suggested we find a half-way spot - neutral territory - and do it there. Like Las Vegas. UHHHHHH. NO. Flutterpated or not, I knew better than to meet a complete stranger in Las Vegas. I wasn't that kind of girl. We'd have to figure something else out. The idea was put on the back burner.
By this time, we were talking more and more frequently on the phone. This was back in the days of the per-minute long distance rate, and I SHUDDER to think of the phone bills we racked up. I remember we always called after 8 pm, when rates decreased, and we often watched "Seinfeld" together, as it was broadcasted at the same time, despite our three hour time zone difference.
By the middle of March, I was on my way to Hawaii with my sister and the Montana Air National Guard engineering corp. Just a little get-away between jobs for me, and some quality time with my sister, while my brother in law and his engineering group worked. While there, as the only single girl amongst LOTS of single men in paradise, I may have got hit on a time or two. But for some reason, I just couldn't reciprocate. It felt like I'd be cheating on a guy I'd never even met. Which was weird, right? But something was there. And I couldn't jeopardize it. Even in Hawaii. Per his request, I sent Rob a picture from Oahu....
It was after my Hawaii trip, that Rob decided to definitively lay a few things out on the table. Here's an excerpt of his letter from March 26th:
"First off, I just wanted to say I've never quite met a girl like you, where I've connected so completely on so many things. For some reason, this is very important to me, and in my experience a really rare thing. I have to meet you, fairly soon. I initially proposed Las Vegas. In hindsight, though, one of the things that attracts me to you is your 'respectful lady' persona, and so I can appreciate a concern you might have flying to Vegas and meeting a semi-stranger. So I propose flying to Spokane the first weekend in May. I think you're a pretty special girl. I know the whole idea of how we 'met' and how we would actually meet is rather unconventional and maybe crazy, but I'm willing to risk it. So give it some thought. I hope the idea flies favorably."
Meet. In person?? Things were getting real. If we met, it would have to mean that I was in, dang it. IN. But was I that brave????
TO BE CONTINUED.
Thursday, January 28, 2016
Bring Your Puppy To School Day
Our Little Miss Reagan is persistent. No. Scratch that. PERSISTENT. With all-caps. Because once she gets something in her head, she talks about, begs, asks, and focuses on nothing else until it becomes a reality. Tenacity, yes. She's got some. Really good at wearing down the adults in her life.
Thus, Thursday became "take your puppy to school day", because she had asked her teacher and her mom every.single.day if she could bring Gunner to school since the day he entered our lives. And both Mrs. Gilles and I finally cracked. FINE already. Let's bring the dog to school.
Gunner was a hit, by the way. And very well behaved, for which I'm thankful. He did not leave any stains on the carpet, and we are not being sued by any first grade parents for bite marks. Success!!!
Thus, Thursday became "take your puppy to school day", because she had asked her teacher and her mom every.single.day if she could bring Gunner to school since the day he entered our lives. And both Mrs. Gilles and I finally cracked. FINE already. Let's bring the dog to school.
Gunner was a hit, by the way. And very well behaved, for which I'm thankful. He did not leave any stains on the carpet, and we are not being sued by any first grade parents for bite marks. Success!!!
A Love Story Part 2
Missed Part 1? Catch up here.
It took FOREVER to get an email back. Or so it seemed. Really, it was just the next day, but not in the morning. Not until 8pm Pacific Time did I get a response. I went to work, and kind of put the whole thing out of my mind. But on the second time EVER of logging into the internet... there it was. An email.
I must've admitted my ignorance of the U.P. in my first letter to him, because that's what he wrote me back about. About the water, and the trees. How beautiful it was, and how much the outdoors meant to him. But then he mentioned that the mountains east of Spokane were the most beautiful he'd ever seen (he'd gone on a fishing trip and had always wanted to move there). He apparently had even applied to grad-school at WSU (my alma mater) to be closer to those mountains. No way. The mountains east of Spokane were MY favorite place on the planet, too!! Our first connection - a love of North Idaho. And he signed his real name, so I first knew of it on February 6, 1997. Rob. And there it was.
HMMMMMM. He still sounded nice. He still didn't sound like a socially-awkward, stalker psycho dude you might meet on the internet. In fact, he sounded remarkably like.... an engineer. "I'm in the midst of completing a work proposal for the city of Menominee, remediating and developing an old industrial site on Lake Michigan." You can't fake engineer-speak, folks. You just can't. He HAD to be legit.
When the email came through, I was just on my way out the door with my best friend Rene to go see a movie. Star Wars, in fact. Logging on to the internet was making us late. And anyone who knows me, knows that I don't take being late to Star Wars lightly. I remember this distinctly. She kept bugging me. "COME ON!!!"
"NO!" I replied. "I have to write this guy back!"
"WHY??? We're going to miss the previews!"
"I don't know why I have to write him back. But I do. I have to."
I did have to. There was something that just wouldn't let me NOT write back to this guy half a country away.
So I did. And I don't regret missing the previews one.little.bit.
*****************************************************************************
It was three whole days before I heard back from him. Three days of hearing that whirring/squeaking sound of the dial-up, and then being disappointed with an empty inbox. Maybe it wasn't meant to be. Maybe it was just a fluke thing. I went snowmobiling with Rene and my parents, which was fun, but... I was wondering about this Rob character. It seemed like something was there. Maybe not. Who knows.
When the email did finally come, he explained why I hadn't heard from him. He was using his work's laptop, and someone else needed it over the weekend. He talked about how jealous he was that I got to go snowmobiling in the mountains, and how he had subscribed to the Spokane and Coeur D'Alene newspapers looking for jobs out of college. He talked about canoeing, and fishing, and loving the water in Michigan, even though he missed backpacking in the peaks.
After that, the emails came daily. Sometimes more than daily. We talked about our jobs, our families. We talked about how, after a long day at work, the first thing we both wanted to do was write about it to each other. And he asked if I still was a practicing Catholic - how his faith was an important part of his life, and he respected others whose faith was an integral part of theirs. We got to know each other on a level that was not superficial, was not awkward. We could be open with each other quickly. We had yet to see a picture of each other, or speak on the phone. Just letters. But I felt like I was getting to KNOW this guy, in all the ways that mattered.
On Valentine's day, he wrote the following:
"I was pondering how nice it would have been if you lived a little closer and I could have taken you out for dinner for the first time. Happy Valentine's Day!"
A few days later, he answered a question I had posed. If he could 'have it all' in 10 years, what would that look like? Here's his response:
"1. Be as happily and loving married as my folks (if that is indeed possible).
2. Father a minimum of 3 kids (as I last mentioned, hopefully a daughter in there somewhere).
3. Live within 3 hours of complete wilderness desolation for weekend excursions.
4. Own an actual home. Wood interior/exterior construction and 40 acres a bonus.
5. Become an integral part of a church, both in worship and involvement in managing church functions.
6. Become active in local charities, like Habitat for Humanity."
I KNOW, RIGHT????? It was like he was sending up a prayer, and God was checking things off the list, one by one. Within 10 years, every last one of those had come true, down to EXACTLY 40 acres (well, #6 is a little shaky, but we've still got time!!)
*****************************************************************
The first time we talked on the phone was February 20th, 1997. Fifteen days after our first email contact.
He called me at a pre-arranged time. And maybe it was a little different. Maybe not quite as comfortable as emailing, because it was something new and unfamiliar, to hear this guy's voice for the first time. He asked me who I voted for in the last election - I remember that. And I told him I abstained, because I wasn't about to vote for Bill Clinton, but Bob Dole just didn't seem right to me, either. And I remember we talked about Dolly, the first cloned sheep. He told me about her, and I said (in all my medical-field wisdom) that I'm sure cloning would be possible in the distant future, but we were nowhere near cloning an entire animal, to which he replied "it happened yesterday". OH. He obviously was much more up on current events than I was.
But it didn't ruin things. It was all still okay. Just to make sure of that, he sent me an email afteres. "Just wanted to tell you again how much I enjoyed talking with you tonight. You seem like a really nice girl. Have a good weekend, and I'll talk to you soon!".
******************************************************************************
It took FOREVER to get an email back. Or so it seemed. Really, it was just the next day, but not in the morning. Not until 8pm Pacific Time did I get a response. I went to work, and kind of put the whole thing out of my mind. But on the second time EVER of logging into the internet... there it was. An email.
I must've admitted my ignorance of the U.P. in my first letter to him, because that's what he wrote me back about. About the water, and the trees. How beautiful it was, and how much the outdoors meant to him. But then he mentioned that the mountains east of Spokane were the most beautiful he'd ever seen (he'd gone on a fishing trip and had always wanted to move there). He apparently had even applied to grad-school at WSU (my alma mater) to be closer to those mountains. No way. The mountains east of Spokane were MY favorite place on the planet, too!! Our first connection - a love of North Idaho. And he signed his real name, so I first knew of it on February 6, 1997. Rob. And there it was.
HMMMMMM. He still sounded nice. He still didn't sound like a socially-awkward, stalker psycho dude you might meet on the internet. In fact, he sounded remarkably like.... an engineer. "I'm in the midst of completing a work proposal for the city of Menominee, remediating and developing an old industrial site on Lake Michigan." You can't fake engineer-speak, folks. You just can't. He HAD to be legit.
When the email came through, I was just on my way out the door with my best friend Rene to go see a movie. Star Wars, in fact. Logging on to the internet was making us late. And anyone who knows me, knows that I don't take being late to Star Wars lightly. I remember this distinctly. She kept bugging me. "COME ON!!!"
"NO!" I replied. "I have to write this guy back!"
"WHY??? We're going to miss the previews!"
"I don't know why I have to write him back. But I do. I have to."
I did have to. There was something that just wouldn't let me NOT write back to this guy half a country away.
So I did. And I don't regret missing the previews one.little.bit.
*****************************************************************************
It was three whole days before I heard back from him. Three days of hearing that whirring/squeaking sound of the dial-up, and then being disappointed with an empty inbox. Maybe it wasn't meant to be. Maybe it was just a fluke thing. I went snowmobiling with Rene and my parents, which was fun, but... I was wondering about this Rob character. It seemed like something was there. Maybe not. Who knows.
When the email did finally come, he explained why I hadn't heard from him. He was using his work's laptop, and someone else needed it over the weekend. He talked about how jealous he was that I got to go snowmobiling in the mountains, and how he had subscribed to the Spokane and Coeur D'Alene newspapers looking for jobs out of college. He talked about canoeing, and fishing, and loving the water in Michigan, even though he missed backpacking in the peaks.
After that, the emails came daily. Sometimes more than daily. We talked about our jobs, our families. We talked about how, after a long day at work, the first thing we both wanted to do was write about it to each other. And he asked if I still was a practicing Catholic - how his faith was an important part of his life, and he respected others whose faith was an integral part of theirs. We got to know each other on a level that was not superficial, was not awkward. We could be open with each other quickly. We had yet to see a picture of each other, or speak on the phone. Just letters. But I felt like I was getting to KNOW this guy, in all the ways that mattered.
On Valentine's day, he wrote the following:
"I was pondering how nice it would have been if you lived a little closer and I could have taken you out for dinner for the first time. Happy Valentine's Day!"
A few days later, he answered a question I had posed. If he could 'have it all' in 10 years, what would that look like? Here's his response:
"1. Be as happily and loving married as my folks (if that is indeed possible).
2. Father a minimum of 3 kids (as I last mentioned, hopefully a daughter in there somewhere).
3. Live within 3 hours of complete wilderness desolation for weekend excursions.
4. Own an actual home. Wood interior/exterior construction and 40 acres a bonus.
5. Become an integral part of a church, both in worship and involvement in managing church functions.
6. Become active in local charities, like Habitat for Humanity."
I KNOW, RIGHT????? It was like he was sending up a prayer, and God was checking things off the list, one by one. Within 10 years, every last one of those had come true, down to EXACTLY 40 acres (well, #6 is a little shaky, but we've still got time!!)
*****************************************************************
The first time we talked on the phone was February 20th, 1997. Fifteen days after our first email contact.
He called me at a pre-arranged time. And maybe it was a little different. Maybe not quite as comfortable as emailing, because it was something new and unfamiliar, to hear this guy's voice for the first time. He asked me who I voted for in the last election - I remember that. And I told him I abstained, because I wasn't about to vote for Bill Clinton, but Bob Dole just didn't seem right to me, either. And I remember we talked about Dolly, the first cloned sheep. He told me about her, and I said (in all my medical-field wisdom) that I'm sure cloning would be possible in the distant future, but we were nowhere near cloning an entire animal, to which he replied "it happened yesterday". OH. He obviously was much more up on current events than I was.
But it didn't ruin things. It was all still okay. Just to make sure of that, he sent me an email afteres. "Just wanted to tell you again how much I enjoyed talking with you tonight. You seem like a really nice girl. Have a good weekend, and I'll talk to you soon!".
******************************************************************************
Tuesday, January 26, 2016
For the Record Book....
Little Pup's first well-puppy visit today. He got his first pedicure, his second set of shots, and his first official weigh-in. At 9 weeks old, Gunner weighs a whopping 5 pounds 10 ounces. He is hernia, heart-worm, and undescended testicle-free. Healthy little boy!! And made quite the splash at the vet's office. It was like walking in to the room with Brad Pitt or something. He was taken out of my arms as soon as I walked in the door, and passed around from person to person for the first full 10 minutes of the appointment.
He is cute. I'll give him that.
He is cute. I'll give him that.
A Love Story, Part 1
For years, whenever Rob or I were asked how we met, our stock reply was "it's a long story". Then we would exchange furtive glances, maybe smirk a little, and drop the subject. It's really not that long a story. At least, not any longer than anyone else's story. It's just something we've both been a little embarrassed about, because how we met was so out of character for us both. But Good Gravy, we've been married for 17 and a half stinkin' years. Who cares if people know how we met. It worked. For us, it worked. We've got three offspring as proof that this wild and crazy ride is not just a flash in the pan. We should be celebrating that from the rooftops, instead of hiding it. The really sad part about not ever telling our story is that we're starting to forget it. At least, parts of it. The little details. That's tragic. Because I think that every marriage that survives seventeen plus years in this day and age HAS to have a love story worth telling. And ours is worth telling. For our kids, for our future grandkids. We have a love story to tell, warts and all. And so, I've decided to tell it. Right here. Right now. Settle in, dearies. Grab a cuppa jo and cozy up. Here goes.
Once upon a time, there was a tax return. Shhhh. Don't interrupt. Yes. I said a tax return. Taxes can be romantic, you know. (AHEM). A tax return. Earned by a young woman working her very first job out of physical therapy school. $500 whole dollars. It was a windfall. And oh, the grand plans she had for that $500! Of all the endless possibilities, she had settled on a telescope, so that she could peruse the stars and contemplate the cosmos. Yes, that's exactly what she needed as a new grad with a student loan, living alone in an apartment in an unfamiliar small town in south central Washington state. A telescope! She shared her plans by phone with her father, who was overjoyed at her wise decision. Or NOT. Not that he was rude about it or anything. My dad is never pushy. But he strongly suggested that a computer with a new-fangled dial-up modem might be worth investing in. Because this internet thing might take off, you know. My dad, the seer of 1997. But what did I need the internet for? I'd be contemplating the cosmos! I had my old college computer, and it word-processed and played Solitaire very well, thank you very much. He was pretty persistent, though. Suggested I maybe buy a telescope with my SECOND ever tax return, but use this first one for a new computer. ((sigh)). Fine. A computer. Bleh. Boring. UGH. Fine. So I did. Because I listen to my Daddy.
So fast forward a bit, past the part where my dad came and helped me pick out a computer and set it up on the desk in my bedroom. We're at the part where I turn the thing on and get on the internet on my own computer for the very first time ever. That part. Alone in my room on the night of February 5th, 1997. The night where I look up some random thing, and click here, and click there, and don't know exactly where I am, or what I'm doing, but I'm clickety click clicking and then I see it. And I'm a curious 24 year old gal, so I just want to see. Just browsing, not buying. No - not porn. Get your mind out of the gutter. A dating site. Match.com. I wasn't searching for anything or anyone. I was just curious. Because my random clicking on links led me there, and why the heck not? Let's see what it's got. Show me your stuff, Match.com. So I perused.
For the record, I am NOT a dating site kind of girl. Honestly I'm not. A friend of mine got a free membership to an actual dating service as a gift, and found her husband that way, and I thought it was all weird weird weird. Normal people with normal social skills do not need to meet people on dating sites, or through dating companies. But the bar scene wasn't really my thing, although I would go out now and again with girlfriends. And the Catholic single scene was notoriously pitiful in my hometown - not that my mother didn't try repeatedly to find me a nice single guy from church. I worked with one other woman in an office of two. SSSSOOOOOOO.... really. Where was a nice, introverted gal supposed to meet eligible bachelors? Most people meet their spouse in college, or so I thought, but I'd graduated sans lifetime love. Around the time of the "tax return that changed my life", I'd had a few casual dates with an OB/GYN ( a friend of my cousin's), and hung out quite a bit with a guy from high school that I had a crush on, and maybe had a few male pen-pals, but nothing really went anywhere. All of this is an overly verbose, overly defensive way of saying that although I was far far far from a social butterfly, I was not DESPERATE. I repeat. Not desperate. Maybe woefully alone, but not crying myself to sleep every night. In my 1997 world-view, though, only DESPERATE people met through dating websites. So I wasn't searching, just to be clear. But I was curious.
So, back to the night of February 5th. Perusing the entries, on my very first night on the internet ever. And I see one entry in particular that catches my eye. Because he sounded like such a nice, normal guy. I don't really remember now what particularly struck me. There were no photos posted online back then, I remember that. Just a description, an age, and a screen name. So, that's what I do remember: the pseudonym "Dayooper", and the phrase "one heckuva nice smile." I pronounced the screen name "Day-Ooper" in my head. Whatever that meant. This was the description:
"Hello there. I'm a recent environmental engineering grad student now working in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan for an engineering/architectural firm where I design soil and groundwater treatment systems and love it; the only problem is I live in a town where very few single people can be found. When I get time, I enjoy outdoor activities tremendously: skiing, camping, fly-fishing. I also enjoy working out regularly and pulling for my teams, the Packers and the IU Hoosiers. I'm looking for a traditional-valued girl, someone who knows about and craves long term commitment with the right person. She must be passionate, feminine, spiritual, and fun-loving. My physical description? I have short brown hair, hazel eyes and one heckuva really nice smile. So if you think you share some of these qualities, please write me soon......"
This captivated me. Seriously. I remember thinking "No way. That sounds like someone I'd totally like to meet." Someone who had been told that he had a "heckuva nice smile." I like nice smiles. Nice smiles are usually associated with nice guys. I could stand to meet a nice guy. Admit it - you'd be totally captivated, too, reading about some nice guy like that. The world didn't have "The Bachelor" back then. A description was as good as it got, but this guy knew all the right buzz-words for me: "traditional, commitment, spiritual". I wasn't finding ANY of those on the bar scene.
So I did something completely out of character. I registered for a dating website. Because I really wanted to write to this Dayooper dude with the nice smile, but I couldn't do that unless I was a member. I felt like a total dork describing myself and coming up with a screen name (I have no recollection at all what it was. I vaguely recall maybe something to do with my cat? Or the little statuette I had on top of my computer screen? Your guess is as good as mine at this point). What I wrote is lost to cyber-history now. But what I said really didn't matter. I wasn't out to attract anyone. I just needed to be a member so I could write Dayooper. And that's what I did. In an incredibly forward way that was not characteristic of me at all (but so.much.easier. because it was on the computer and not in person) I wrote something to Dayooper. I sent into cyberspace a random letter to someone with a nice smile. Then I went to bed.
TO BE CONTINUED........................
Once upon a time, there was a tax return. Shhhh. Don't interrupt. Yes. I said a tax return. Taxes can be romantic, you know. (AHEM). A tax return. Earned by a young woman working her very first job out of physical therapy school. $500 whole dollars. It was a windfall. And oh, the grand plans she had for that $500! Of all the endless possibilities, she had settled on a telescope, so that she could peruse the stars and contemplate the cosmos. Yes, that's exactly what she needed as a new grad with a student loan, living alone in an apartment in an unfamiliar small town in south central Washington state. A telescope! She shared her plans by phone with her father, who was overjoyed at her wise decision. Or NOT. Not that he was rude about it or anything. My dad is never pushy. But he strongly suggested that a computer with a new-fangled dial-up modem might be worth investing in. Because this internet thing might take off, you know. My dad, the seer of 1997. But what did I need the internet for? I'd be contemplating the cosmos! I had my old college computer, and it word-processed and played Solitaire very well, thank you very much. He was pretty persistent, though. Suggested I maybe buy a telescope with my SECOND ever tax return, but use this first one for a new computer. ((sigh)). Fine. A computer. Bleh. Boring. UGH. Fine. So I did. Because I listen to my Daddy.
So fast forward a bit, past the part where my dad came and helped me pick out a computer and set it up on the desk in my bedroom. We're at the part where I turn the thing on and get on the internet on my own computer for the very first time ever. That part. Alone in my room on the night of February 5th, 1997. The night where I look up some random thing, and click here, and click there, and don't know exactly where I am, or what I'm doing, but I'm clickety click clicking and then I see it. And I'm a curious 24 year old gal, so I just want to see. Just browsing, not buying. No - not porn. Get your mind out of the gutter. A dating site. Match.com. I wasn't searching for anything or anyone. I was just curious. Because my random clicking on links led me there, and why the heck not? Let's see what it's got. Show me your stuff, Match.com. So I perused.
For the record, I am NOT a dating site kind of girl. Honestly I'm not. A friend of mine got a free membership to an actual dating service as a gift, and found her husband that way, and I thought it was all weird weird weird. Normal people with normal social skills do not need to meet people on dating sites, or through dating companies. But the bar scene wasn't really my thing, although I would go out now and again with girlfriends. And the Catholic single scene was notoriously pitiful in my hometown - not that my mother didn't try repeatedly to find me a nice single guy from church. I worked with one other woman in an office of two. SSSSOOOOOOO.... really. Where was a nice, introverted gal supposed to meet eligible bachelors? Most people meet their spouse in college, or so I thought, but I'd graduated sans lifetime love. Around the time of the "tax return that changed my life", I'd had a few casual dates with an OB/GYN ( a friend of my cousin's), and hung out quite a bit with a guy from high school that I had a crush on, and maybe had a few male pen-pals, but nothing really went anywhere. All of this is an overly verbose, overly defensive way of saying that although I was far far far from a social butterfly, I was not DESPERATE. I repeat. Not desperate. Maybe woefully alone, but not crying myself to sleep every night. In my 1997 world-view, though, only DESPERATE people met through dating websites. So I wasn't searching, just to be clear. But I was curious.
So, back to the night of February 5th. Perusing the entries, on my very first night on the internet ever. And I see one entry in particular that catches my eye. Because he sounded like such a nice, normal guy. I don't really remember now what particularly struck me. There were no photos posted online back then, I remember that. Just a description, an age, and a screen name. So, that's what I do remember: the pseudonym "Dayooper", and the phrase "one heckuva nice smile." I pronounced the screen name "Day-Ooper" in my head. Whatever that meant. This was the description:
"Hello there. I'm a recent environmental engineering grad student now working in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan for an engineering/architectural firm where I design soil and groundwater treatment systems and love it; the only problem is I live in a town where very few single people can be found. When I get time, I enjoy outdoor activities tremendously: skiing, camping, fly-fishing. I also enjoy working out regularly and pulling for my teams, the Packers and the IU Hoosiers. I'm looking for a traditional-valued girl, someone who knows about and craves long term commitment with the right person. She must be passionate, feminine, spiritual, and fun-loving. My physical description? I have short brown hair, hazel eyes and one heckuva really nice smile. So if you think you share some of these qualities, please write me soon......"
This captivated me. Seriously. I remember thinking "No way. That sounds like someone I'd totally like to meet." Someone who had been told that he had a "heckuva nice smile." I like nice smiles. Nice smiles are usually associated with nice guys. I could stand to meet a nice guy. Admit it - you'd be totally captivated, too, reading about some nice guy like that. The world didn't have "The Bachelor" back then. A description was as good as it got, but this guy knew all the right buzz-words for me: "traditional, commitment, spiritual". I wasn't finding ANY of those on the bar scene.
So I did something completely out of character. I registered for a dating website. Because I really wanted to write to this Dayooper dude with the nice smile, but I couldn't do that unless I was a member. I felt like a total dork describing myself and coming up with a screen name (I have no recollection at all what it was. I vaguely recall maybe something to do with my cat? Or the little statuette I had on top of my computer screen? Your guess is as good as mine at this point). What I wrote is lost to cyber-history now. But what I said really didn't matter. I wasn't out to attract anyone. I just needed to be a member so I could write Dayooper. And that's what I did. In an incredibly forward way that was not characteristic of me at all (but so.much.easier. because it was on the computer and not in person) I wrote something to Dayooper. I sent into cyberspace a random letter to someone with a nice smile. Then I went to bed.
TO BE CONTINUED........................
Saturday, January 23, 2016
Norwegian Fjord Horses
Our neighbor (who is also one of Reagan's teachers) just got two Norwegian Fjord Horses. These are funky looking things - solidly built as a draft horse, but long haired, with bi-color mohawks instead of manes. And zebra stripe s on their legs. Crazy, but beautiful. Reagan is in love. I have a feeling we'll be seeing a lot of these horses in the future!
Friday, January 22, 2016
Daddy/Offspring Ski Day
Dad is off work, kids are off school. Only the poor mama was off bringing home the bacon. The rest of them took advantage with a ski trip to the Porcupine Mountains! It was reportedly a perfect day to ski, and they had a fabulous time. I wouldn't know anything about that.
Wednesday, January 6, 2016
Take Your Puppy To Work Day(s)
The thing with puppies, as with babies in general, is that you can't really leave them unsupervised for long. Given that we're a family where both parents have jobs outside the home... that presented a quandary. Luckily, Rob works alone in an office with virtually no oversight. Thus, "Take Your Puppy To Work Week" was implemented. For now. Gunner might be a little bit of a distraction, but whatcha gonna do?
There is going to be an excessive amount of video and photo taking over the next few weeks, I predict. As quickly as children grow - puppies grow astronomically quicker. This adorable stage is extremely temporary, so we're going to document the heck out of it.
Travelling in a duffle bag. Paris Hilton carries her dog in her purse. This is the Yooper version.
So swank.
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