Our City

This is Will and I in our most favorite of cities. It was one of those perfect in-between-spring-and-summer days. We went for a leisurely stroll down King Street, almost as annoyingly slow as all of the tourists. We didn't have any money and didn't care. The city was all ours for the day, and it was free. We had our fill. Those were the very best of days.

We will be back there one day very soon.

Peter Pan at Heart

By far, Peter Pan was my most favorite Disney movie as a child. I was never too keen on the flying, especially now, but the characters and their world fascinated me. I loved Tinkerbell and wanted to be her. And when I had outgrown fairies and sparkly leotards, I wanted to be Wendy. I loved the Lost Boys and their little world. And, they lived in a tree and that was the best part of all.

For some unexplained reason, I had an obsession with tree-dwellers. There were the Bernstein Bears, whose books I devoured at a rapid rate, who lived happily in a hollow tree trunk complete with a little stoop and dormer windows. And then there were the gnomes on Nickelodeon. They stood no bigger than your thumb and also made their home in the trunk of a tree. And finally, there was Winnie the Pooh, who I never really cared much for except that he lived in a tree, too! I was ready to carve out a tree trunk and play Susy homemaker by the time I was six.

But, living in a tree is not the point here. As a child, the concept of Peter Pan and the Lost Boys never growing up was unimportant and over my head. I was forever young and immortal as far as I was concerned. Never growing up was just a given. Now, however, at the ripe old age of 22 (totally kidding, but then again, maybe not) I am finding it more and more difficult to look forward to next year. I still tell people I am 21 without even thinking about it. And, when a girlfriend would point out a cute boy (for herself of course!) on the street and then remark, "He's too young. I bet he's just 18." It never registered that 18 maybe was a bit too young for a 22 year old. Then, I would remember that my brother is 18, and my heart would sort of flutter in panic until I could assure myself that those 4 years from age 18 to 22 had felt like ages. When really, it hardly seemed possible that 4 years had passed already. "Wasn't I just 19 last year?" I would think, my breath catching in my lungs. I would quickly do the math in my head. "NO! I'm 22 now, which means 3 years ago I was 18. O God."

And then I think about Will and how I never want him to die, ever. It breaks my heart to consider a world without him in it. And, I don't mean my world without him in it. Thinking about me being dead is no biggie. But Will, dead?? No way. He has to live forever. I know these are selfish thoughts, but I don't want him to get old either. I don't want him to lose his 20-15 sight and have to use a cane and worry about his heart. I don't want him to suffer in any way and I never want him to stop being, to stop living. He is life, my life.

I know as a Christian that there is something far better for us after life--that God is waiting to welcome us to the best part, when humanity no longer threatens us with pain and death. But right now, its hard to keep that in perspective and imagine riches that are not of this world, when Will and I have just begun something so beautiful as a part of it. It isn't death that scares me, really, its the process of aging and the wearing out of the body and mind that I can't handle. You start dying the second you take your first breath, and that's ok. I just don't ever want to be unable.

I don't want to be old. And, I don't want to grow up.

Blasphemous? Perhaps. Selfish? Most definitely. Crazy? I don't think so. If I found the Fountain of Youth tomorrow, I would drink from it and bring some back for Will. I don't want to live forever, though, which kind of defeats the purpose, right? I've read Tuck Everlasting enough to realize that eternal life would not be fun. It would be lonely, very lonely, and mentally, very wearing. All good things must come to an end and for good reason. It makes you appreciate the journey so much more.

That is why I resolve to never grow up. Don't you remember as a child how long it took the clock to go from hour to hour? I want that back. I want to look at the clock and say, "Wow! I can't believe it's only been 10 minutes!" I want to wallow in this life. I want to take my time. No more shortcuts. No more easy ways out. I'm in it for the long haul. I'm not trying to hurry up and be anyone or do anything other than who I am and what I am doing right now at this very moment. No more hurrying, no more rushing, no more impatience. Everything will happen, so I'm just going to let it. And, if that means waiting, then I will wait, and I will not watch the clock.

Glee-ful

Mine and Will's new favorite show is Glee. Its funny; its clever; its entertaining. Its stuck in my head. "So, put your hands up!"

I know that its lame to blog about tv. But, after a long day of sitting in a freezing cold library with newspapers literally flying in front of your face, or in Will's case, running around doing everyone else's job in a freezing cold OR, it is the best feeling in the world to snuggle up on our comfy couch and indulge in some primetime television.

We love Antiques Roadshow. Its interesting, informative and homework. I am honing my skills for picking out the next $50,000 trinket at some yard sale that I bartered for and got for little more than a dollar. Just waiting on the jackpot!

Tuesday night is Biggest Loser. It blows my mind. I cry. I cheer. I sometimes yell. I just love it, especially with a big plate of homemade chocolate chip cookies and a tall glass of milk. Ironic?

Wednesday is Glee and what a gleeful time it is. The show cracks me up. It makes me want to dance and usually leaves me singing in the shower the next morning.

We still haven't figured out Thursday night. Maybe this Flash Forward show will be good. Will seems interested. We missed it tonight, though. We had family dinner at Mar and Lar's. TuTu's homemade lasagna was on the menu and it was mind-blowing, as usual. Lar's garlic bread is still tasting pretty good!

O and to totally change the subject, I want to give a little update on me and my employment situation of which I have whined about so much. I just quit Groucho's today. Ha. Didn't even know that I had started, did you? Well, it was short-lived, so you didn't miss much. I started 3 weeks ago just doing 2 days a week. And, boy, am I glad its over. I will talk more about it later, once I've healed.... Now, I get to keep Little G!! I am still working with Historic Columbia Foundation. I am an independent researcher, currently researching two buildings on Main Street and preparing a National Register Nomination Form for one of them. AND, I'M GETTING PAID! I am also interning for the Greater Columbia Civil War Alliance as the events coordinator for their annual event, Columbia's Longest Days. It is a Civil War commemorative event of General Sherman's March to the Sea and his burning of the city. Its hard work, but I am so thankful for the experience and the moolah I will receive when the job's done in February. I am also doing some side work as a rental assistant for Historic Columbia, which basically means that I babysit their 2 rental properties during events. Easy!

Will is still working his behind off. He is laying next to me on the couch with a scratchy throat and heavy drainage. Pobrecito. He left work early though and has been laying around all day. Luuuucky! Just kidding. He's the hard worker. And, I love him for it.

So, here's to random blogs!

Great Morning

Every morning, Will snuggles up to me between the warning beeps of his 4:45am alarm and his final 5am alarm. I am usually unconcious and oblivious to his embrace. But some mornings, like this morning, I lay there, pretending to sleep, and contentedly sink deeper into the warm bed, his arms and in love with him. Normally, if I am awakened by his alarm or last minute snuggles, I am usually fast asleep again by the time he is making his way into the kitchen and the shower, but this morning, the high-pitched screech of the coffee grinder jarred my conciousness and left me half-awake.

On those mornings, when I am aware of his movements in the kitchen, I worry that he might not come and say goodbye. I mean, why should he? I am usually dead to the world and make no response to his gentle back rubs, soft kisses and whispered goodbyes, but he does it regardless, every morning. Sometimes, the noises from the kitchen sound like a departure, and I lay there, worrying, wondering if he was running late and had to leave immediately. One morning, I actually got up, hungover from sleep, and stumbled into the kitchen, nearly in tears, because I thought that he had left without a goodbye. I was wrong. He was standing there at the counter, making his coffee. He just looked at me, surprised. "What you doing, baby?" he asked. "I thought you left," I said, a quiver in my voice. "No, babe. I haven't said goodbye." "I know," I said, "I thought you had left without saying goodbye." "No, baby, I wouldn't do that. Go back to bed. I'm coming." I crawled back into bed, buried myself under the covers and waited.

This morning was the same. Just when I thought I had heard the jingle of keys and the gentle shutting of the door, he came into the room and sat on the edge of the bed. I pretended to be asleep as he rubbed my back, covered me in kisses, told me he loved me and said goodbye. My usual response with eyes closed tight, "love you-(yawn)-too; drive safe-(stretch)-ly."

He Speaks

Hello, all, 'tis I, the groom. It's always somewhat difficult to pull words out of your brain when you're being pressured to quickly blog. Hurry, hurry! But I'll try and do my best.

Right now my RLS is really acting up (you know, that condition where restlessness manifests itself in your legs in numerous ways, but never falls short of driving you insane) and my cool, dark bedroom is yelling my name. Holy crap, I'm such an old man. Next to me on the couch is my gorgeous bride. She's flailing around some feathered stick-toy in a feeble attempt to drain our leopard cat of all her energy. Good luck, babe. Jay Leno is on our massive 36" TV, and I'm happier than I've ever been. Married life is wonderful so far. It's actually more than wonderful. I get to be with the love of my life every hour of every day. When I come home, I come home to her. When I wake up in the morning, I wake up to her. Things are truly dandy in the Jackson cottage.

I'm working my life away at the hospital while Bri impresses people all over the city of Columbia. I make the money, she makes the connections. This is all one well-choreographed dance so that she can land a job in WV using her connections down here while I go from working my life away to studying my life away. The next 10 years look pretty grim for me. Thankfully I've got an incredibly understanding wifey who knows that all that work is what I truly love, and in the end, she'll be showered with huge diamonds. Lots and lots of diamonds. But seriously, we're figuring out how to sacrifice for eachother. On July 25th things stopped being about "me" and started being about "us". If we keep this in mind at all times, it will make this whole road-to-surgeondom that much easier to navigate.

Thanks to everyone who follows this blog. We really do want to keep up with all of you now and especially once we finally make it to the hills of West Virginny. Thanks and goodnight!

My Favorites

Here's just a few of my favorite things:





William Carrington Jackson








The Beach. In all seasons, but especially late summer.





Publix. I love their produce. I love their flowers. And right now, because it is the best time of year, Fall, they have pumpkins in any size, shape and color that you could ever imagine. Need a gourd for a centerpeice? Take your pick from the short, squatty, moss green one with the sharp stem. Or, the butter yellow, tall and skinny one with the fat, brown stem. And the pumpkins, don't get me started. I mean, seriously, just go and get one of the dwarfed albino pumpkins. They are so freaking cute! See, these were my choices. Who needs a pumpkin patch anyways?








Sweet success after hours of research. I am no stranger to challenges (HINT: my husband). And in fact, I love them (HINT: my husband). I love the hunt, the incessant searching for that needle in all of those haystacks. Its thrilling; its frustrating; its mindnumbing; its rewarding (some of the time). It is a conquest of unchartered territory. You feel utterly alone and yet significant, because you could be the first explorer and your research could be the definition of what is true and false. Maybe a bit extreme, but I just spent 30 hours of my life in a library staring at microfilm that spanned a decade of Columbia newspapers from the 1920s. And, I was right all along! Success!





Thanksgiving. Not too hot. Not too cold. Always too much food (I love fried turkey--can't help it). And, it means that Christmas is right around the corner.






Thick Books. Usually the ones by English authors about London, Whales, Scotland, especially with hols in the country or Cornwall!





Bike Rides.





Being Right. I'll admit it.





Chocolate. At all times. In all places. During every circumstance.





REALITY TV. Biggest Loser. ANTM. Top Chef. Project Runway. AFV. Does Antiques Roadshow count? Don't hate.





Shorts. Which is why I love Fall in the South. You're good for shorts until at least the first week of November, right?





Fashion Mags. Do you read yours backwards, too? Pay attention next time you pick up your favorite periodical. I bet you start flipping from the back. Just saying!





Homecooked Meals. With and for my baby.





Cosmos. Got to love any bar with a special on those.





Baby Talk with the Nef. Nothing is better than Griffin and Aunt Beezy time. We like to smile at one another.





Sleep. And not because I have any desire to sleep my life away. But, is there really any better feeling than rolling over in a soft, warm bed, stretching until you smile, knowing that you just got a full 8 hours and are rested and ready for the day?





My Favorite Time of Day: Baby's Home.








Tonight, I am am going to tie Will to the couch and make him post an entry. Promise!

Yada, yada, yada.

I have been dreading a new blog post for the longest time, putting it off with the lamest of excuses. "I'm too tired," or "I should be cleaning the kitchen," "doing research," "something productive." O yeah, or "making money." I think that the reason for my excuses is that I put way too much pressure on my next blog entry. I always promise to write about one thing or another in my next post and usually, I don't want to. So, like a bad habit, I put it off, and squash my creative genius. Just kidding. But, really, this post will be my release. Let's call it a purge post. So, get ready. Who knows what the next paragraph will hold.

Will and I are finally settled in our new place, but then again, not really. We are currently showering at Mar and Lar's (his sister and brother-in-law's), since our shower has a full wall of tiles minus the grout and a few tiles as well. This bathroom has proved to be quite the hassle. We are currently allowing it to lie dormant in order to dry so that it can be re-grouted for the third time! I'm tempted to get a big metal tub and bathe in the middle of the kitchen like my grandmother did as a child. I have two huge dutch ovens perfect for heating large quantities of water. Who needs a tiled shower anyways?

Will and I finally got our tv, a wonderful gift from an even more wonderful lady that works at the hospital with Will. Those women just love him. They have given and offered us so much. The tv is great even if we only get 16 channels. Better than nothing, right? Yep. But the size of the thing is incredible. It took two grown men, grunting and sweating all the while to get it and its circa-1998 girth into the house and then onto the stand. It is a gigantic black box that has turned our tiny living room into a cinema. I refuse to put a picture of it up; I am that emabarrassed.

I did post pictures of the cottage on facebook. Please, look at them there. I really hate uploading pictures on the blog. It takes forever. The quality is significantly diminished. And, it is a pain in my neck trying to organize them all onto the same axis and in the same dimensions. I'd rather not have a nervous breakdown from blogging. [But, please, check them out and if you can't, let me know. I will send you a link!]

For our one month anniversiary, Will and I spent a quiet evening at home. We didn't even cook, as leftovers were on the menu, and it never tasted so good. We have been going nonstop after the move-in, so it was nice to have a peaceful night of softly playing music, John Mayer and his "Clarity," Bob Marley for always and whatever else the shuffle chose for our entertainment. Will picked out a bouquet of green roses, daisies and these odd little flowers the most perfect shade of green that were laying on the table when I walked in; he even arranged them himself in our new vase. They looked smashing, as he is a man of many talents.

So far, marriage has been a blast. Its nice to have someone to come home to. Perhaps, I am being a bit nostalgic, but no, being nostalgic never can be a good thing. Remembering a time that never existed, or, in which you never existed and how things never quite were is not good at all. I think old-fashioned would be a better word. So, yes, I am being a bit old-fashioned when I say that its nice to belong to someone. He is home, and I humbly hang my proverbial hat in his heart every night. And, it feels good, really good.

He has taken a lot of call to make up for my unemployment, and he has unusually been called in a lot, a whole lot. I am learning to deal with these unexpected interruptions into our day, but don't think that I ever will get used to them. And, for that matter, I never want to get used to them. They are an intrusion and I will always see them as a theft, but I will in time come to relish even more the time that we have together in the then and the now. As I sit here on the couch, I'm listening to the rain tap-tap-tapping on the roof and the tick-tocking of our new clock, waiting for him to come home, eat his nightly snack of cereal and then warm up my side of the bed before I enter our meatlocker of a bedroom and dive under the quilt. Hurry home!!

And now, for the sake of lightening the load a little further off of my back, I will fulfill a blog promise and tell of the day that followed the night I first met Will. That next morning, I saw him in church, sitting two rows ahead of me. I nearly hit the floor so shocked was I. And, as horrible as it is to admit, I don't think that I heard a word of Buster's sermon that day, but I could probably tell you every detail of the most incredible daydream, complete with wedding bells and a long white dress. Pathetic? Perhaps at the time, but who's laughing now?

I know that at the end of several posts, I have mentioned getting Will on here to say a few words. I really want that to happen as soon as possible. Maybe, he can lend a little coherence to my otherwise useless and chaotic babbling. Have I made any sense on here at all?? I feel like such a fraud. I know that wild tales of the West Virginia wilderness would be much more entertaining than our year as Sandlappers, but thankfully, I am not to blame for that one. But, then again, maybe I am, since I jumped the gun and joined the blog bandwagon a little too soon. Guilty as charged. And, another thing, what is it with this medium that induces from me the most cliche of utterances? I would be hurled bodily from any creative writing course for committing such a crime within the literary bounds of workshop, since for all of you non-creative writers, cliches are strictly forbidden. So much for that degree.

Where to next? Hmm.. since I am no longer pressuring myself from blog entry to blog entry, I will be sure to leave this one open-ended. Why do I feel like I have to promise something for next time anyways? Talk about pressure.

But, bugs. I will talk about bugs and how much I hate them. They seem to love me though and have found every entry not visible to human eyes through which to penetrate into my house. If I find one more roach belly-up on the floor during my 3am trek to the toilet, I might just do something about it. Like buy the powder that everyone keeps telling us about to get rid of them. Yeah, that's a logical response to bug infestation and a threat, so watch it bugs. Too bad any action has yet to be taken. I certainly don't mind leaving them to our ferocious panther, named Lottie. She usually deals with them in a timely manner. Although, the random cricket legs and sqashed spiders, her spoils of war, are not that pleasant to pick off the floor with your morning coffee.

Next time, a spontaneous and just as random post will be delivered, totally unplanned, minus all the pressure, but full of newlyweds. Enjoy!