And the Winner Is....

First things first...I just realized that my veil is going to hide my back cleavage in my wedding dress. Bring on the cookies and Halloween candy!

*******

There are a lot of things to look forward to in the next two months. I'm having a really hard time deciding what I'm most excited for! It's very rare that I have soooo many things to look forward to in such a short amount of time...I just don't know what to do with myself!! (Kind of like The White Stripes song, but with a happy twist.) So...for now I just have an overwhelming sense of excitement for everything that is about to happen :)

1) James is coming home! Just in case a terrorist in Afghanistan is a secret follower of my blog, I have to be careful about saying dates. The way James and I talk about it is by saying "Our anniversary plus X number of days," but since I'm sure none of you know when our anniversary is I won't bother telling you what the X is. Let's just say it's coming up! Woo!

2) Thanksgiving!! Aaaaaah, Thanksgiving. Everything that I love about fall wrapped into one perfect day. Family, chilly weather, warm sweaters, the Cowboys on TV, pumpkin pie, yummy smelling candles and food, snuggling on the couch with my man. It's going to be amazing.

3) Christmas gift exchange game at Thanksgiving. Since all the kiddos (me, Joni, and Lucas) are going to be with our in-laws (I'm going to have IN-LAWS!) for Christmas, we are celebrating early together. Joni had the brilliant idea to play the gift exchange game as opposed to everyone buying everyone else gifts...that can get expensive and is exhausting, especially since there are a few people in our family for whom I personally find it difficult to shop. It's going to be fun...and since it will be after Thanksgiving day, hopefully my mom will be willing to play some Christmas tunes :)

4)Wedding day!! On December 4th James and I are tying the knot!! I am so, so, so, soooooooooooooooooo excited for that day!! But, the feeling of excitement is also mixed with a lot of other feelings...mostly stress that things won't go like I plan...and fear that no one will come or they will think the wedding is lame. I know that the most important part of the day is that James and I will married...but it's hard not to also think about those other little things. On top of the stress and fear, I'm also finding it difficult to see the wedding as real. I mean...I'm so used to James being gone now that it's like my brain can hardly wrap around the fact that he's going to be home let alone that he's going to be my husband. I know it's going to happen and I am so ready for it, but it still doesn't quite feel like it's going to happen this December! Am I making sense??

5) Honeymoon! hehehe

6) Christmas in Virginia and possibly some time spent in NYC. I love, love, love James' family and can't wait to spend a whole week with them! They are all so warm and loving, and to top it off, this year his brother and sister-in-law and their three kids will be there, whom at this point I have never met. Should be fun!

7) Life settling down...getting back to normal...and just being able to enjoy James being home and being married to my best friend. It's going to be good. Really good.

I guess there is one common element in everything that I'm excited about...James! It's true, I'm obsessed. What can I say?? I'm in love!

Delayed Party

Today James taught me some more Navy/Military lingo. With all the acronyms and abbreviations flying around, it's a never ending education. When I'm hanging out with James and his friends or with Navy wives I'm usually either the annoying one asking what in the world they are talking about every five seconds, or I'm just completely lost. It varies depending on how much effort I want to put into improving my military jargon skills...and occasionally on how curious I am about whether they are talking about a deployment or just some sort of meeting that is happening in a few weeks. I'm not joking...it's really hard to tell sometimes!

When the battalion returns from Afghanistan they will be coming on two flights about a week apart. I have learned over the last few weeks to only refer to these as the "first flight" and "second flight" if I want to give myself away as a Navy wife/fiance rookie. The correct terminology is "AP" for first flight and "DP" for second flight. I've known for weeks what to call them, but I never knew why I was calling them that. I tried googling it and only came up with information on Acquisition Policies and Defense Procurement. Somehow I didn't think those were quite right. I finally remembered to ask James this morning what AP and DP mean and it's pretty simple: Advanced Party and Delayed Party. Guess which one James is on... :(

Here's the story on the DP situation (do I sound cool when I say DP instead of second fight? yessssss). James was originally scheduled to be on AP. Yay! I was so excited when he told me!! Unfortunately, a few days later he told me he had been moved to DP. In this case, DP also stands for Depressed Person (me). At first I attributed it the female brain of the military (always changing it's mind!)...but then James informed me that he had volunteered to be moved. Whyyyyyyy oh whyyyyyyy would my man who is dying to come home and who knows that I miss him like crazy and that I'm about to jump off my balcony and onto a sprinkler if I don't see him soon do this?? He either doesn't care about me, or he is nuts.

It took me a little while to realize that there was a third possible reason for why he had made this decision...and that reason is that he is awesome. James is in charge of a crew of men and women who are all on DP for whatever reason. James felt it was only right to stay with his men and take the later flight. I mean really...what kind of leader leaves his men behind? Even if only for a week. Certainly not my man!

On top of this, James also gave up his position on AP to a specific person...a man who had been on several recent deployments and was scheduled to be on DP. Since this is James' first (and only, hopefully) deployment he wanted to do something to show his appreciation to this man who had given up so much of his time to serve over the last few years. Nice, right?

From what I hear from James and all his friends who are over there, they just can't wait to get out and to be home. Even though I'm sad that I have to wait an extra week (possibly 2...uggggggggh) to see James, I am just so, so proud of him for being such a stand up guy and a great leader. His strength of character astounds me and I'm pretty sure I could never be as selfless as he is. What an amazing man I have! I am a lucky, lucky girl :)

This photo made me smile today

I'm Creepy

James has been laughing at me lately because I've been on a baby kick. I guess I should be thankful that he's laughing and not running away as fast as he can. It's not that I want a child right this minute...it's just exciting to think about my future with James and the family we will hopefully have together some day. I definitely have baby fever. They're everywhere!

Examples:

1) Blogs. Soooo many blogs filled with gorgeous and adorable children

2) My nieces. I love them so much! I want one of my own!

3) Saturday night when I went out with the Navy wives, one of them brought her adorable little baby and I got to hold her, yay!

4) After dinner, we all went to see a movie. It happened to be Life as We Knew It which is a story about a man and a woman who don't like each other getting custody of a little baby and having to raise her together. Of course the baby is the cutest thing ever and the man and woman fall in love and it was just wonderful...ahhh.

5) Sunday after church a baby smiled and waved at me. I melted.

6) One of my favorite shows is Private Practice...which happens to be about a baby doctor clinic. Lots of cute babies.

7) I can't get enough of this Gerber Commercial:



8) Everyone and their mother is pregnant right now including my sister and sister-in-law and I am super jealous.

So far I've only been obsessed and not creepy...So here's the creepy part:



I would say don't judge me...but I clearly deserve judgment on this one. What's happening to me???

Weekend Blues

I used to liiiive for weekends...I mean what working person doesn't? It's the time when you can finally relax...stay up late...get all the errands that have been piling up taken care of...did I mention relaxing? I love relaxing. If there were such a thing I would definitely pursue becoming a professional because I am highly qualified. This is not to be mistaken for laziness...I admit, I do have a bit of laziness in me...but what needs to get done gets done. So I'm going to stick with calling it "relaxing". I really just enjoy having no obligations...being able to kick back...chill out...do whatever I want and not worry about getting my work done. Well, I used to anyway. Things have changed over the last few months.

Since James has left, my weeks have gone by decently fast...but it's the weekends that crawl by now. Those two special days when I used to spend every possible second with my man are suddenly empty and seemingly unending. While I am at work I can at least sometimes pretend that things are normal and I can focus on things other than being lonely...but at home...in my apartment...alone...my mind is left to wander...and there is nothing more satisfying when you're alone and missing someone than just letting it take you over...to just feel sorry for yourself...to wallow. I wasn't relaxing anymore. I was wallowing and things were not looking good.

It didn't take me long to realize that I needed to fill my weekends up with things to do...loooots of things to do. Whereas before I would prefer not to make any weekend plans so as to not end up breaking commitments when I would inevitably decide to stay home and veg, I suddenly realized that my sanity was dependent on going, going, going, and doing, doing, doing.

I haven't had a free weekend in a while. The last few months have been filled with trips to Modesto, Monterey, San Diego, and Las Vegas as well as visits from my parents and weekends filled with wedding related meetings. Occasionally I think back to my days of relaxing on the weekends with longing...but the truth is, relaxing alone just isn't the same. Sure it's nice now and then, but I really just prefer to relax with James right by my side. That's when relaxing isn't just for relaxations sake...it's for fun. It's for quality time, which apparently is a love language so it has to be important right?

This past weekend I didn't have any significant plans. Saturday night I forced myself to get off the couch and meet some Navy Wives for dinner and a movie and Sunday I met them again for church and afterwards ran a few errands...but this was the first weekend in a while where I didn't have something to fill up my entire day and to make time fly...it was the first long lonely weekend I've had in a while.

I am going to Modesto on the 29th for my dress fitting (woo!) but this upcoming weekend is another empty one...anyone want to take me in?

Don't let this be me, people:

10 Years Ago...

Last night I decided to clean my room. I'm 24 years old and I still have to clean my room?? Shouldn't I have matured by now and learned to be a clean and tidy person? Apparently I missed that part in the maturing process. Oh well, there's still time I suppose. Anyway, as I was gathering piles of clothes off of my floor, I uncovered a box of random things that my mom had brought up for me a few months ago. When I lived in Modesto, it was where I had put all the miscellaneous things that I didn't want to throw away but at the same time didn't quite know what to do with. I decided to go through it last night to see what items I could toss out. I didn't make it very far...after looking through some old photos of our family trip to Yellowstone I came across my diary from my freshman year of high school...the years 2000 and 2001. Wowza, it was a trip! It was both embarrassing and hilarious to read what had been going through my mind all those years ago...for the most part it was about boys of course. Lots of boys. I was only 14 at the time...2 years until I could date according to my parents' rules so of course the adoring men were plentiful...Here are some highlights (Names have been changed to protect the douchey):

2/26/01
Last night in my big convo with dad, he said, "Don't you think if he liked you, he would call you?" That really hurts.

3/1/01
Something is weird though. It seems like when he talks to me he's just being a goofball or something and doesn't really know what he's saying. It's weird!

3/4/01
I'm so relieved that he finally called. Some of the high points of the convo were him saying me and him should meet at the mall and him saying that he liked talking to me.

3/5/01
Then when I got home from vball there were 5 hang ups on the machine and Dad told me some guy called.

3/12/01
Dave wants to know how I feel. How does he think I feel?! Betrayed is how I feel!

3 days later...Well Dave is officially my boyfriend.

5/12/01
[Mom and Dad] think that going out with someone and having a boyfriend are different. Whatever!

5/24/01
Oh, Jake wrote me a letter today. It said he had something to tell me and he wanted to talk to me alone. So I avoided him all day because I did not want to have to reject him.

Oooooooooooo how I don't miss the days of being a teenager, hahaha. Not that it was that long ago, but I would much rather be where I am today!! I found the perfect man for me and I don't have to go through any more inner turmoil over who likes me and who I like. It's all crystal clear now!! I love you, James Smith!!!!!!!!!!!

Passive Aggressive

You know that dinosaur from Toy Story? Do you remember when he says, "I don't like confrontation!"? For some reason that line has sort of become a family joke...or maybe I'm the only one who remembers that we used to say it from time to time when making tough decisions...but even so, it's still pretty relevant to my family. For the most part we are a passive aggressive bunch. Instead of confronting each other about issues that we may have, we lean towards the tried and true methods of sending a strongly worded email or making a rude comment under our breath as we walk out of the room. It works for the most part...we get our point across and without an awkward fight. I have become a pro at these techniques, and while this may not be a good thing, I just can't help myself.

The latest manifestation of my passive aggressiveness has been posting reviews online of people, places, or products that have irked me. Here are a few examples.

1) My apartment complex. Unfortunately my apartment complex is the only reasonably priced complex in the area for units with a washer and dryer, so I have stayed for over two years. However, I repeatedly have parking issues and other miscellaneous problems with the incompetent management staff. It's been frustrating to say the least. My lease ends in February and I will be out of there for good!!



2) My new jeans. It's true, I could have just returned the jeans, but I felt it was my duty to inform the Old Navy shoppers of the world about this faulty product. See below.



3) I had intended to write a review about my first wedding venue, however James talked me out of it. Writing an awful review about the venue owners who totally screwed us would probably feel really satisfying...however it is just feeding the rage. James suggested another method...just forgetting about and moving on...and even though I reaaaally want to hurt those jerks, I think he's right. So this is the last time I will talk about them or how they treated us...hopefully. It's kind of hard to let something like that go, but I'm going to try.

I guess there comes a point when warning other people to stay away from the product/person/place where you experienced trouble is not just to help others avoid the same problems, but instead is just an outlet for your own anger and resentment. While I am not necessarily convinced that this is a bad thing, I'm going to think twice next time and possibly try out some new methods...like aggressive aggressiveness. That sounds like it could be satisfying :)

Monday Mope Day

In the words of Billy Currington, "A woman is a mystery a man just can't understand." How true those words are. In all honesty, I often don't understand myself so I pity my fiance for having to attempt to figure me out.

Anyone who knows me semi-well knows that I have been an emotional wreck ever since James left in April. My mom is used to receiving late night phone calls from her sobbing daughter and tries her best to understand the tearful, pillow-muffled mumbles that pour from my mouth on lonely nights...my family gets disappointed at my last minute decision to skip the family camping trip in favor of remaining isolated during my times of emotional instability so as not to scare anyone with my depressed outlook on the remaining months until James returns...the man at Subway looks at my with pity and judgment in his eyes when I start crying in between saying "turkey" and "avocado" and have to leave in the middle of my order to take cover in my car, lest anyone else should see me in my moment of vulnerability (granted, this one actually happened before James left...he happened to tell me he was deploying right before we went into Subway...big mistake!) Yes, that's me...the psycho-woman who breaks into tears without any noticeable provocation and scares family, coworkers, and passersby. How did it all come to this?? I used to be a rational human being!! At least I think I did...whereas now I am just a ball of absurd emotions ready to burst forth at any moment. Meh.

It is a very, very, veeeeeeery lucky thing that I have my own office with a door, and a lock if need be. Mondays tend to be my most emotional days for some reason...maybe it's the combination of missing James and realizing that another week has arrived that I have to make it through in order to get closer to James coming home that does it. Whatever the reason...it's been a distinct pattern over the last six months, although that's not to say that I don't also freak out on other days of the week as well. About a month ago I was at work...stressing about wedding stuff but trying to make it through the day without outwardly showing how freaked out I was. That all went down the drain when my boss's wife/office bookkeeper/receptionist came into my office to ask how my weekend had been. It had been great in fact, but instead all I could do to answer her was to turn my head away from the door and tell her I couldn't talk at the moment. That of course didn't work and even though I clearly wanted to be left alone so as to focus on my work rather than my wedding stress she poked and prodded about what was bothering me until I just exploded. That's right, I started bawling in my office...my door wide open...my office surrounded by the offices of three grown men who could hear my every screechy word as I attempted to speak clearly while simultaneously sobbing. Anyone who has ever tried to have a conversation while also crying knows that it is not easy...nor is it pretty. This was the one instance where the door didn't get closed, making it all the more embarrassing for me. Not surprisingly all the men in the office completely avoided me for the rest of that day and a few days afterward ...Pierre who is in the office right past mine would slink quickly past my door so as not to set off the psycho girl who might attack or combust at any moment. I'm sure the men were probably just cursing the day two years ago that they mistakenly thought it would be a good idea to hire a 22 year old girl rather than a 50 year old emotionally stunted man. I am just trying to forget that day happened and hope that the rest of my office forgets too. At least today I managed to close the door before erupting...I wonder how much they can hear through my door...Luckily at least one of them is hard of hearing.

Here is a little relief from all the seriousness of mopey Monday. This goes out to some friends of mine who have recently shared similarly embarrassing office sob stories.

Mo

A few things that I like about visiting Modesto:

Spending time with my mom. This trip we put all the wedding invitations together :)


As soon as I wake up in the morning my dad makes me a latte!


I'm not normally big into watching sports, but I love watching them with my dad.


My mom's candy dish filled with peanut butter M&Ms. Yummmm :)


I'm finally on the Wall of Love!

My Butt

I follow a lot of blogs. Well...more like I secretly stalk a lot of blogs. Blogs my friends recommend...blogs of my sister's friends that I don't even know...famous blogs like Postsecret...How I ever get any work done is really a mystery. Anyway, all these blogs leave me concerned. Probably 90% of the blogs I read are about moms and their kids...and...well...I definitely don't have any of those. I'm childless and extremely happy to be that way at the moment...but I worry that my blog will just be boring to those people who like to read blogs for advice on how to potty train and other tips about things NOT to do to your kids. On the other hand, maybe a blog like mine is just what this world needs...a blog about something other than children! Obviously I like kids and moms or else I wouldn't read their blogs, but I refuse to consider myself less of a person because I haven't reached that point in my life yet. And thus...a blog about my backside.

I've always been rather fond of my rear. It's small enough so as not to be mistaken for shelf space, yet perky enough that it doesn't simply look like I have an extremely long back. Rumor is that as a baby I had "saddlebag buns", however, I am determined to believe that if I had worn jeans as a newborn I would have had a nice little tush. Throw in some heels and I would have been the knockout of the nursery.

I have had two memorable booty moments in my life...both which occurred during my college years and both on opposite ends of the how-I-feel-about-my-body-today spectrum. They may seem insignificant to you, but to me they were monumental. I spent my sophomore year of college in Argentina where I consumed meat, cheese, ice cream (it's on every corner! I couldn't help myself), and cerveza (let's hope mom doesn't know what that means) on a nearly daily basis. Life was good...I was young, having fun with friends, and learning a new language and culture. One thing I quickly learned about the Argentine culture is that women value looks veeeery highly, and as far as different aspects of beauty go, weight and body image were at the top of the list. Therefore, every single female (aside from us "normal" sized students and tourists) was stick thin. This then lead to clothing stores carrying only size zero and below. Well, not really...but if I were to purchase denim in Argentina I probably would have had to ask someone to sew two pairs of jeans together in order for them to fit. So I just didn't buy any jeans. I remember thinking one day as I sat down Man, my crack is totally showing in these jeans! Did the laundromat shrink them? It seriously took me a few days to realize that no, the laundromat did not shrink my jeans (although they did leave bleach marks on many of my shirts, grrr), but rather, my butt was growing. One can only live on a cheese and beer diet without any exercise for so long without seeing a change in their muffins...or in this case crackage. When I finally realized what the deal was I felt like I had just had the epiphany of a lifetime. I was devastated to see that I wasn't as resilient to weight gain as I had previously believed. And that was the moment that I really started being conscious of my weight and the size of my clothes...and it will probably never end. Arrg!



The next butt moment occurred soon after my return from Argentina. After nine months of bulging out of my jeans I was ready for a change...and since I had an entire summer in Malibu with free gyms and running trails at my fingertips, I took advantage. Luckily for me, my roommate was in favor of a hardcore summer of workouts and dieting as well, so from the moment I got back we motivated each other to keep up the good work...and although the motivation was often more of a competition which consisted of making sure I worked out longer than she did, or her telling me she ate a cookie so that I wouldn't feel guilty eating one and then later laughing that I fell for such an obvious trick...it worked. That summer we both lost a ton of weight and our clothes started not fitting. This lead to a trip to 3rd Street Promenade in Santa Monica where we promptly tried on everything in American Eagle and Gap. It was here that my butt moment happened. As I tried on pair after pair of jeans, excited that I could fit into such a small size (small for me at least...no sewing of additional denim necessary), I soon became disappointed. I no longer had a butt! At all! I was just flat and curveless. Although muffins weren't exactly the curves I wanted, at least I had had soooomething to make me look feminine before!! Arrrrrg, I just can't win.

Today I'm reasonably happy with how much I weigh and how my jeans fit. Since James has left I have lost a decent amount of weight, as has he. We clearly have bad eating and exercise habits when we're together...something we definitely need to work on. I find that as I prepare for our wedding day I am again trying to find the balance between my crack hanging out of my jeans and having no curves at all...I want to exercise as much as I can before the wedding so I can look my best on that day and not have to worry about my double chin or jiggling arms...but I'm working on just being happy with being the curvy girl that I am...and I must say, I look pretty darn good in my wedding dress...and a curveless girl certainly couldn't pull it off. So...like Dove commercials say...or possibly Oprah...I'm going to embrace my curves. Not to mention that James claims to be a butt man ;)

Crossover

Alright, so let me get this out of the way first. I realize that the title of my blog is Life is Just a Bowl of Smiths. And, yes, I understand that I am not yet a Smith. I am just thinking ahead! Leave me alone. And in case the title perplexes you further, "Life is just a bowl of cherries" is a famous saying...and Cherry is my last name...so it's a kind of a play on words...get it?? Yes, I know. I'm very clever.

Moving on. I have been blogging for about six or seven months now...you might be thinking where? IIIII don't see any blog posts! Alas, my friend, my old blog was a private one. It was more of a place for me to vent about James being gone and wasn't always appropriate for children...or parents...(just kidding, Mom!). It just felt private so I kept it to myself. My own little blog of misery.

However, at the behest of my two best friends, I have decided to pull an Addison Montgomery...I'm creating a crossover blog. This blog is the Private Practice to my Grey's Anatomy...slightly more mature (well...we'll see how that goes). Since James is going to be home soon (five-ish weeks) I am starting the see the light at the end of the tunnel and the need for my blog of misery seems to be disappearing. Meanwhile, the demand for a blog about the happiness in my life has been increasing exponentially as of late. I am a very, very important person and I have many, many fans (Jess, Jules...this means you).

Anyway, in order to commemorate the first posting of the crossover blog, I am going to include a little bit of the old along with the new...thus, misery and happiness combined. Here goes...

Many people have been telling me recently that being engaged is supposed to be a happy time...one of the best in my life. When I hear that, it's hard not to think that something must be wrong with me...I must be the worst fiance/bride in the world because right now I am the most miserable I have ever been. At first I thought it was just because I reaaaally hate planning things and I'm suddenly being forced to plan this entire wedding and at no point during the planning has anything gone smoothly. There have been so many bumps in the road already that I freak out at the slightest change of plans. It would be so nice if just one thing could go right.

But the more I thought about my engagement misery the more I realized that it wasn't planning the wedding that was making my life hell (not completely anyway). It just so happens that the worst time in my life --James being gone-- is overlapping with the time that is rumored to be a happy time in my life --engagement. How in the world could anyone possibly expect me to enjoy being engaged when the person I am engaged to is on the other side of the world and I only get to talk to him for about 15 minutes each day (20 on a good day)? Not possible.

James is supposed to be home sometime in mid November and I am anxiously awaiting his arrival by planning things in my head...what I'm going to wear when I pick him up...what color I'm going to paint my nails (he likes it when my nails are dark...apparently it makes me look edgy)...how I'm going to jump into his arms the moment I see him...When James gets home we will have about two weeks left of engagement before we get married. I'm glad we don't have to wait very long to tie the knot, but a part of me also wishes we would have had more time to enjoy being engaged together. The way things are going though, I'm pretty sure I will enjoy being married a whole lot more!

After James left I made a paper chain reminiscent of a ten year old counting down the days till Christmas. I rip one off every Thursday. Happy Thursday everyone!