So, to begin, what's going on? After months of reading my (lovely and much more articulate than I) sister-in-law's blog, I decided I could use a medium by which to express my jumbled up thoughts, emotions, and experiences. Why you should care...ya got me? But after watching Julie & Julia, and envying my sister-in-law's wit...Rachel, I suppose you could say that I have decided to follow in your shoes.
Warning: If you have read Rachel's "Following in my Shoes", I can no promise (and I mean "no" not "not" because I like it when Ricky Gervais says "I can no promise..." or "I can no do...") the same consistency in humor, timeliness, or spelling. I am a wretched speller. I laud the day Internet Explorer provided the "new tab" option by which I am able to look up elementary words I should have remembered from 3rd grade without having to navigate away from my current project. I blame it on my German degree. You may blame it on whatever you'd like...just be kind when you see choice spellings, such as "neccessary". I mean, how am I supposed to work 8 hours a day, attempt to not live in squaller by occasionally picking up a broom, exercise for maybe 20 minutes so as to pretend I'm not slowly gaining weight after getting married, and also remember that "necessary" does not have a double "c" but does have a double "s". IMPOSSIBLE, I say!
So now that you've been properly warned...here we go:
I believe I am approaching this blog as a means of catharsis. I need to know if I'm crazy, or if I'm a fairly normal newly-wed, who has been removed from the city and transplanted in Bryan/College Station. A new community, a new career, new friends, a new church....and perhaps most baffling of all...I live with a boy!?! A boy I love dearly, but a boy nonetheless. A type B boy. Do you know that I am type A! I live with a boy...okay...he's a 34-year-old man...who leaves his dirty work clothes at the back door the minute he walks in the house, owns and plays a mouth harp, and likes to run around the house in his boxers performing his "Brandon Dance" (the feint of heart should never witness the Brandon Dance). This is surely enough to make one type A city-dweller crazy, right? I think I just answered my own question.
I live in perpetual pursuit of "The Plan". You know...God's amazing, grand plan for my life. In the mean time, it's often easy for me to miss the small miracles He places in my life daily. Miracles like: a gentle, kind, strong, hysterical, and most of all Godly husband, who loves me dearly and always does his best to take care of me. A mother, who has taught me the principles of being a Godly woman, and who has always been closer than a friend. A father, who works endlessly to provide for his family and would do just about anything at the drop of a hat. A brother and two sisters, who always make me laugh. The best in-laws I could have ever asked for. And, of course, a little puff-ball cavachon (Cavalier King Charles Spaniel x Bichon Frise) named Bella Bawk Ba Gawk (I'll explain later...but you know a certain "Brandon Dancer" was involved in the choosing of this name).
I would like to take the opportunity to focus more upon the daily blessings and less upon The Plan...whilst still complaining about not knowing what the heck The Plan is. Look, you can't expect me to be cured instantaneously (I spelled that one correctly!).
Preview of topics to come: *How to be an unpredictably insane wife and frighten your husband into silence: My first six months living with Brandon W. Lacy *Am I really nesting, or am I just antisocial? *You want me to advise you? Alright, here we go... *Do I want a Master's or a House? : Guess a girl can't have it all *How come watching my husband develop his culinary expertise while I sit in front of the TV does not make me feel like a "modern, independent woman"?: how to gain weight during the first six months of marriage. And many many more topics to come.
(Because Heide Klum has reserved "Auf Wiedersehen")