52 New Things -- Week 24 -- Our First Anniversary

I think we could pass for 32. 34? Fine. We were 37!

We got started kind of late in life. When I told someone recently that we were celebrating our first anniversary, her response was, "Oh, is this your second marriage?" Nope. Just took us a while to find each other.

Our first anniversary was pretty low-key. Kevin hates the pressure of having to buy "the perfect gift" for holidays and special occasions. He flat out begged me to tell him what to get me for our anniversary, so I said, "A hot air balloon ride." I mean, that would be awesome right? I've been wanting to go on a hot air balloon ride for years. I was kind of hoping some guy would take me on a hot air balloon ride during my 50 Dates in 50 States adventure, but no such luck.

My hubby is so cute and sweet that he tried to make it happen. He called from work one day and asked what time we'd be back home on our anniversary after my class reunion the night before. He wanted to make dinner reservations, he said.

When he came home that night, I could see disappointment on his face. He'd been using the dinner reservations as a cover up -- he'd been about to book a hot air balloon ride for the night of our anniversary . . . but in the time it took to call me and see if we could make it on time, they sold the night's flight to someone else.

"There's another company that can do it for $650. The one I was going to book was $450," he explained. "Do you want to do the $650 one?"

"Holy crap!" I replied in disbelief. I had no idea hot air balloon rides where so pricey! I love this man and wanted to celebrate our first anniversary in a memorable way, but geez . . . that's three times what I paid for my wedding dress. No thanks!

A test of how well you know me: guess which one I got.

We had a quiet dinner in a funky little place in downtown Iowa City instead, and Kevin had flowers delivered to the restaurant before we got there. He's a keeper. We ordered one of each entree and tried each other's food . . . and anyone who knows my germ issues will see how much I've grown, being married. A few years ago, if anyone tried to eat off my plate, I would have stabbed them with my fork. Marriage has been good for me in more ways than one!

When we got home, we ate our little first anniversary cake. The bakery that made our wedding cake bakes fresh little one-year cakes for their couples, which is awesome. I like the tradition of eating your top layer on your first anniversary, but not the idea of it taking up space in my freezer for a year.

Cake and roses. What more does a girl need?

We kicked back on the couch with cake and milk and watched our wedding video for the first time ever. It was taken from the balcony up front and shows our faces, but it also captures the entire congregation!! If you laughed during the ceremony, we saw it! You yawners? Busted!! It was fun to watch and to remember . . . we each have different memories of the best parts of the day, but we agree that it was beautiful and we loved being surrounded by friends and family.

So . . . onto another year of bliss!! I joke around a lot, and poor Kevin has to endure my over-sharing on his behalf sometimes, but I really do love this man. We laugh together so much, and I think that's what makes us click. We're two big dorks, and when you find someone as dorky as you are, you best just hold on for the ride. He really is a gift from God. I often wish God would have given him some stronger gifts in the cleaning-up-after-yourself department before gifting him to me, but hey, I've got quirks that sometimes make me hard to live with, too. As long as we keep laughing, I think we'll be okay.

52 New Things -- Week 23 -- Twenty-Year Reunion

First off, the big question: how on earth can it be possible that I've been out of high school for twenty years? I mean, back when I was 18, I never thought about things like a twenty-year reunion or how my classmates might look twenty years after graduation. Oh, the ignorance of youth.

I've seen plenty of movies about reunions, all of which generally have the same theme: looking good is the best revenge (or something like that). Two things though: one, I had a pretty great high school experience and don't feel the need for revenge, and two, I've never quite grasped that whole "looking good" trend, so I wouldn't even know how to use it if I wanted to.

Nevertheless, I stopped by the mall on Friday, the day before the class reunion. It was on my way home from the library. I can't remember the last time I stepped into a mall -- probably because I generally hang out at places like the library instead -- but I popped into Dillard's and was taken aback by what I saw. There seemed to be just two options: 1) clothes for older ladies (I picked up one shirt and honestly said to myself, "Eldona Hornor (my high school BFF's mom) would just love this!" and 2) clothes for strippers. (The sign over that section said, "Juniors," but I didn't see a single shirt that wasn't see-through, so you tell me. You poor parents of teenagers.) 

Which of those two sections are thirty-eight-year-olds supposed to shop in? We're stuck between a rock and a hard place -- too young for elastic waistbands but too old to be strippers. I didn't even bother trying anything on. Leaving the mall, I remembered that people also freak out about their weight before reunions, but since I wasn't going to wear a see-through stripper shirt, I wasn't too worried. The only part of me I'm semi-ashamed of are my starting-to-look-like-bat-wings upper arms. I thought about doing some sort of tricep exercises, but I didn't figure they'd make much of a difference twenty-four hours before the event, so I didn't bother.

I'd say we look pretty darn good for as old as we are!

So anyway . . . the reunion itself was really fun! We toured our old school and relived happy memories. I'd forgotten the power of collective memory -- we instantly rebonded, sharing stories of what happened in this classroom or that one: a stapler flying through a window, paint thinner flicked into a teacher's coffee mug, a student running away from the teacher and out to the playground. Fourteen years together, from preschool through twelfth grade, gives you lots of options for reminiscing.

I heard a story about me being part of a three-person prank that I have absolutely no recollection of. Supposedly we snuck into the teacher's lounge and opened the door of the old-fashioned glass-bottle pop machine, popped the lid off a bottle, drained the contents, jimmied the cap back on, then closed the door and left an empty bottle to surprise the next teacher who came along and paid for a pop but got nothing but an empty bottle. How would I not remember being a part of that? I insisted it must have been someone else, but Bryant and Carrie both insisted I was bandit number three. Maybe I've wiped any wrong-doing from my memory in preparation for a career in politics someday?

Five hours later, I left Albert City, Iowa, feeling grateful. I know a lot of people can't imagine having a graduating class of just twenty-five people, but those guys were like brothers and sisters to me. You couldn't keep a secret from anyone, but you always had someone to talk to. We fought like siblings sometimes, but someone always had your back. For all I've seen in the world, it's pretty clear that our upbringing was unique. I wouldn't be who I am without that foundation. I wouldn't trade it for anything.

Oh, and guess what? I didn't look at anyone's arms to see if they were bat-wingy or not. I don't know if anyone looked at mine. And really? It wouldn't matter if they did. I was blessed to have been raised up in a place that made me feel good about who I was, even when I didn't feel good about how I looked. I don't know how you ever repay that. How do you thank every teacher who encouraged you? How do you thank every towns-person who cheered at your game? How do you show gratitude to a community that has changed so much in twenty years that folks you used to know have moved away and you don't recognize many of those who took their place?

Volleyball, school play, and drill team...with all-purpose bangs.

I guess you just go with the "pay it forward" concept. Those people who lived in Albert City twenty years ago may not have any idea how it made my heart swell to hear them clap during our school musical, but I know, and I can be the loudest clapper in the auditorium next time I go to a school play. Some of my old teachers may not know if I'm successful or living under a bridge, but I can make a kid today feel great about herself. And if someday I'm on the wrong end of a high school prank, I'll remember that I was a kid once, too . . . even if I don't exactly remember the details of it.

52 New Things -- Week 22 -- Tiffin!!

Eh, fine. It's not all that exciting, but I didn't really have time to go out and do something new and exciting with all the boxes to unpack, so here are some fun facts about our move:

Our U-Haul had a Viking ship on it, which made it way fun for Kevin-the-wannabe-Viking to drive. 


We had help unloading the U-Haul this time, which means Kevin did not get dirty looks the entire time we were moving in. Yay!

 
We now have a washer and dryer in our unit, which means no more walking outside and around the building and down to the creepy basement every time I want to do laundry. Double yay!

Bowchickawowow

 
Before starting his new job, Kevin shaved the beard he'd been working on during his time off between jobs . . . but not before having a little fun with it. He's gonna kill me for sharing this, but I find it so incredibly funny . . . 

 
We're living in Tiffin, which is just one syllable off from Tiffany, and forty-five minutes down the highway is Malcolm. Coincidence? I think not.

 
Iowa City is only about eight miles away, and they've got fun things to do -- we went to a big street festival/arts fair kinda thing this weekend. They had a photo booth with a Viking helmet. Kevin was in heaven.


 
And finally, Clear Creek Amana High School, the school in our town, is Ashton Kutcher's alma mater, so I'm sure I'll run into him at the gas station next time he's home for a visit.


Yep, that's all I got. Sorry. I'll try to do something more fun and exciting next week . . . 

52 New Things -- Week 21 -- Open Mic Night

Of all the new things I've tried in the past five months, this was the scariest . . . scarier than facing a room full of kindergarteners . . . scarier than finding a tick near my girlie parts . . . scarier than having my eyebrow hairs ripped out en mass . . .

I sang at open mic night.

If you're one of my old camp friends or church friends, you're probably thinking it's no big deal, but I haven't really played guitar since I left my job at Ascension back in 2010. Ditto with public singing.

But I saw my trivia buddy Nick playing guitar in a picture on his Facebook page, and I said we should do a guitar trio (including the Delecta Daddy, too) at a local coffee shop's open mic night sometime. Nick was all over it and started sending me song suggestions almost immediately. Kevin? Not so into the idea. He's pretty darn good on guitar, but it turns out he's not so fond of playing in front of people. Bummer.

The show must go on, so Nick and I decided on a song and practiced for a whopping half hour the night before.

We got there half an hour early to sign up. We took slot number four, not wanting to be first but not wanting to be nervous for too long.

The first guy up was a wanna-be comedian. Second? A girl who I'm guessing was just learning to play her guitar. Going after either of those two would have been awesome. But the third act to go up had three people playing guitar, mandolin, and accordian. Crap! They were going to be awesome and we were going to be boring comparatively.

Turns out they were not awesome, just okay, and barely audible. Yay for us! So up we went with my nervous stomach and shaking knees . . . Nick appeared to be calm, cool, and collected! I figured it didn't really matter if I screwed up royally because we were packing the U-Haul and leaving town the next day . . . I could drive my embarrassed self away and never look back!

Our friend and fellow Roaring Cheetah trivia teammate A.J. put together an awesome video (either she's amazingly skilled or has too much time on her hands, I'm not sure), but I cannot for the life of me get this blog to show it. You can go watch it on my Facebook page or cut and paste this link into your browser:

https://www.facebook.com/video/embed?video_id=10100258964570179

I know you're probably disappointed that I didn't royally screw it up -- I can see how many people read my blog posts each week, and I get way more hits on the ones where I write about hurting or embarrassing myself! I bet you all watch America's Funniest Home Videos and Wipeout, too, don't you? You just looooove laughing at the misfortune of others! ;)  Don't worry -- I get it. I'm a fan of laughing, too. I'll try to find something funny to write about soon. 'Til then, rock on, friends.