7 Stories Day 7: Bridget from Tales of Me and the Husband

Today I give you the last but certainly not least of 7 stories, the author of which is my dear friend Bridget over at Tales of Me and the Husband.

 

Bridget’s blog was among the first I found when I got serious about blogging, and she has been inspiring and entertaining me ever since!  Now she’s preggo with a precious little one (picture at the bottom of her post), and she is, seriously, one adorable mama.

 

I promise you’ll enjoy her story today.  So I’ll shut up now.

 

* * * * *

 

hey ya'll. 

i'm posting on jenni's blog and she's from austin so ya'll fits. 

anyway, corny intro, moving on. 

 

i'm bridget from tales of me and the husband.

if we've not yet "met" then nice to "meet you."

 

while jenni is off exploring south america (suck it jenni & matthew)

i'm here in mostly cloudy boston guest bloggin' for her.

it's what friends do.

and while jenni and i have not yet become real-life friends, it'll happen. -----------

 

so, i've got a story for you. 

and if you follow me on twitter you've already heard a 140-character version of it.

but sometimes bloggers need to recycle their stories. 

especially the funny stories.

cause when, some days, i don't even get out of my pajamas,

the good material i do get is precious.

 

the other day i was sitting at my computer doing my thang (reading blogs, reading email, reading blogs, reading email, reading blogs, reading email... you get the jist) and there was a knock at the door.  i head to answer it.  it's the trugreen chemlawn man.  i do the normal hello-how-can-i-help-you greeting. 

 

"is your father home?"

 

my father?!??  seriously?  can a 26-year old (26 and a HALF actually! annnd i just became a 4 year old.) not be a homeowner?  do i not look 26?  WHAT IS THE WORLD COMING TO?

 

i quickly corrected him with, "my husband" (knowing my husband had called trugreen to have them come out the day before).  he hardly looked phased so i can only assume he was high on something.  perhaps fertilizer being that he was, after all, the trugreen man.

 

it's particularly confusing that he wouldn't think me the homeowner slash ask for my father since this is what i'm looking like these days.  yeah, all sorts of knocked up with child.  

 

 

so then i wonder, was he under the assumption that i was the pregnant teen living in her parent's basement?  eating their cheetos, mooching off their cars, cable tv, and internet all the while chipping away ever-so-slowly at her college degree?  is that what we assume these days?  again, i ask, WHAT IS THE WORLD COMING TO?

 

ok, probably looking too much into this.  but, nevertheless, "is your father home?!"

 

we're firing trugreen.

 

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                                        Now go do yourself a favor and check out Bridget’s blog.

 

                                                                   Happy Wednesday!!

 

 

7 Stories Day 6: Katie from Running on Happiness!

I’m not gonna lie, when I first stumbled into this next guest blogger’s blog, I think the first words out of my mouth were something along the lines of “hot DAMN!”

 

Katie from Running on Happiness is seriously gorgeous, but what’s even cooler is that she is genuinely NICE.  Supermodel good looks AND sweet as can be?  Well, that just doesn’t make it easy to hate her, now does it.  ;)

 

Enjoy Katie’s story! I know I did!

 

* * * * *

Me Over the Weekend Taking Time to Stop and Smell the Flowers

 

View From Our Hotel Room

God's Beauty

Husband and I have a "spot" where we like to go to unwind.  It is located in Tucson, Arizona and is nestled in a mountain, surrounded by sky and saguaros.  It is a destination where we have spent several weekends lounging by the pool, gazing at the stars, listening to thunderstorms, dancing to music, and laughing like it's nobody's business.  This special spot is literally our home away from home, and this past weekend while we were staying there, for a moment - I wished it was.  I'm always excited to go and sad to leave. 

This past Saturday was the perfect day at our "spot."  The sun was warm and a there was a sweet breeze that whispered through the air and played with my hair.  While we were lazily soaking up the day at the pool, I looked at Husband and said, "Husband, we are living the life!  It doesn't get much better than this!"  He looked at me through his dark sunglasses and stated, "We are chillaxin to the maximum."

And in an instant, my brain magically scrabbled some words together and the most awesome thing I have ever said rolled off of my lips.  I don't know how I did it.  Maybe the clouds had aligned in the sky.  Maybe I drank too much chlorine.  Or maybe, it was just the state of being.  Whatever it was,  I replied with one word to sum everything up, and that word was "Chillaximum."  I repeated, "We are so chilaximum right now." 

According to the dictionary of moi, chillaximum is the state of chilling and relaxing to the maximum.  That's three kinda cool words combining to make one awesome word.  It saves you time and makes you sound cool.  Two birds, one stone, people.  Anyways, I'm very well aware that I'm probably not the first person to think of this word, but hey, a girl can live in her own reality right!  (Ok, I know, as long as that reality doesn't border on crazy.  Which I may or may not be.  I don't want to incriminate myself here.)  

Do you have a favorite spot or get-a-way where you can unwind and be totally chillaximum?   

* * * * *

For me, it’s South America.  Muahahaha (sorry to rub that in).

Anyway, don’t walk, RUN to Katie’s blog and join the fun going on over there!

Thanks Katie!

7 Stories Day 5: Angie from Living Aloha!

Happy Monday friends!!

One of the things I love about blogging is that it brings people together who might not otherwise have been drawn to one another. 

The wonderful lady you’re about to hear from, Angie from Living Aloha, has become one of my very favorite blogging friends, even though we are different in many ways.

But don’t let her fool you.  She is beautiful and incredibly talented and truly an amazing writer.  Here is her story for us today…

* * * * *

Aloha! I'm Angie, from Living Aloha.

When Jenni asked me to guest post for her while she is away, initially, I was honored, but shortly thereafter, panic set in. Why? Because there is immense pressure as to what I can offer you - her friends and readers - who are more than likely drawn to Jenni's blog for her exquisite beauty, impeccable style and fashion sense as well as her Martha Stewart-esque qualities in the home and kitchen. And believe you me, these are NOT what I am about.

For one, I am far from girly-girl and totally inept when it comes to clothes. For me, shopping is intimidating and I tend to gravitate towards all things cotton, dark in color and apparently unflattering, including but not limited to: cotton gauchos, which my husband loathes and refers to as: "...clothing that makes you look like you just rolled out of bed and gave up on life". (True story. His words, not mine).

And two, I lack the interior design and Barefoot Contessa genes. That's not to say that we live in squalor or that I don't know my way around the kitchen; The Hubs and I, we just live a different and simpler lifestyle, free from all the bells and whistles that would bring us critical acclaim here on the blogosphere. But it works for us. So while our home has nothing on Pottery Barn or Ballard Designs, it's unassuming, (relatively) clutter-free, and very much "us".

So after much deliberation (and trepidation), I decided that I would simply offer Jenni and you lovely readers, the real me. I am sharing with you all, what I know best: a lesson in My Life, and what I Love.

My husband and I have been together for a very long time. Prior to meeting him, I led a sheltered, structured and very predictable life. When we became a couple, we often joked about his ability to bring "color" into my life; he was an outdoors-y person, whereas I preferred to be indoors with my nose buried in a book. He was drawn to high-adrenaline sports, while I opted to stick with what I felt comfortable with: running. He was all about Seizing the Day while I white-knuckled my way through life and preferred not to rock the boat. He was the Yin to my Yang.

And it's funny, that thing called "Love". It makes you do crazy things. My husband, patient, generous and encouraging, opened my eyes and my heart to a colorful side of life that I would not have been inclined to discover had it not been for him. I hate the cold like it's my job, but he brought me to Lake Tahoe and got me hooked on snowboarding:

 

When he bought a tournament ski-boat, he introduced me to the world of camping and the sport of wakeboarding. And a handful of years ago, when we planned a trip to the Bahamas, I pictured an all-inclusive trip through a resort, but we wound up booking one of twelve private villas that was only accessible by our own boat. And it was freaking awesome. AND, while there, he convinced me to sit on the back of a scooter with him - which I swore I would never do - while he zipped us around the island at rates of speed only boys would love (obviously, we survived. And my smile is totally fake):

And because videos are always good:

Now that we've planted new roots here on Maui, I have inevitably followed his lead; I've learned to surf, stand-up paddle and kite-surf. And while I wouldn't go so far as to consider myself good at any of these, I can hold my own. These are sports I never thought I'd ever try, let alone be interested in, but so much has changed. And I have my husband to thank for it. Staying active keeps you young in years, but more importantly, it keeps you young at heart.

So what am I getting at here? I suppose the gist of it all is this:

Try something new. Be open to experiences that challenge you to step outside your comfort-zone and GROW. Push yourself. Be tenacious. Relax. And trust your teacher, especially if you're lucky enough to have him be your husband.

Most of all? Carpe Diem, ladies. Life is too short. Have fun and Live Big.

* * * Jenni, thanks so much for having me here! xoxo!

* * * * *

Thank YOU Angie!!!

Now go check out her blog, lovahs.  This chick’s the real deal.

7 Stories Day 4: Megan from Across the Pond!

I’ve got another treat for you today.  This time, in the form of Megan from Across the Pond. 

 

This awesome chick lives over in London, though she’s really a California girl.

 

Most importantly, she’s hilarious and smart and has a little story for us today.  So without further ado, here’s the lovely lady herself!

 

* * * * *

 

Hi there story of my lifers!

I am Megan,

from Across The Pond,

literally and bloggingly.

(blogginly replaced metaphorically)

in case you missed that.

 

 

I am just your average former fashion industry girl from Los Angeles

turned neuroscientist in England

who sometimes forgets to button my pants

and over doses on Cheetos.

 

this is the beginning my story:

 

I woke up one morning to the rapid beating of my heart

the smell of longing

and the bitter taste of rejection.

 

I was no longer me.

But a shell of a person consumed with the vanities of an industry void of moral conduct.

 

I had been thinking about what my friend had told me..

it rang in my ear like a resounding gong..

for months i tried to pretend that this is where I was supposed to be..

and yet the unsettling feeling in the pit of my stomach stayed.

I went to my computer.

As I usually did first thing upon waking up.

Eager to check my myspace for a hint of an existing future.

An ‘out’ of this reality that had sucked away my lust and love for all things pretty.

 

He had replied.

My psycho babble did not scare him off.

Most likely saved by the post produced photoshopped default image.

 

Our brothers were best friends.

and better yet, He did not live in LA nor did he desire to be an Actor.

Thank.You.God.

A modern day miracle.

And 6 months later instead of hopping on a plane to another country (that apparently was meant to come later)

I packed up my car and moved an hour south to Orange County.

Suburb hopping if you will.

Except this suburb didn’t have a downtown.

Just miles upon miles of beige and strategically planned landscaping.

My little studio attached to a little yellow house, two blocks from The Boyfriend’s (he wasn’t The Husband yet) was a perfect way to start fresh..

and then I realized I had to get a real job... crap.

 

to find out more about me,

my eventual move to England,

and now my current life living, studying, and loving abroad,

visit me Across The Pond!

* * * * *

Now would be a good time to go make friends with Megan.

Just do it.  You can thank me later.

7 Stories Day 3: Alex from The Saga of a Twenty-Something!

Our story-teller for today is a blogger very near and dear to my heart—Alex from The Saga of a Twenty-Something. 

This chick is hysterically funny, and she just never ceases to brighten my day.  Enjoy her wonderful story, and then go make friends with her!  You won’t regret it.

* * * * *

Hey everyone! I'm Alex from over here at The Saga of a Twenty-Something, and I am so incredibly grateful that our friend Jenni asked me to guest post today. She's pretty fantastical, and she pretty much makes me world go round. Oh, she makes yours go round too? Let's be friends.

So my story for you today is about second chances. I used to be adamantly against second chances. I thought they were a waste of time and people didn't deserve them. I was a very bitter and angry child of divorce, and that whole ordeal left such a sour taste in my mouth. If things went south in a friendship or relationship, that was it. Done. Not another chance. It was very black and white.

But if I hadn't learned to give out second chances, then I wouldn't be with the boyfriend. I wouldn't be living in our fabulous (suburban) Boston apartment. And I wouldn't be the blogger I am today.

I met the boyfriend in our History of American Journalism class in spring 2008. He swears we must have met before, but I don't think so. Regardless, he sat down next to me. And we worked on a project about the Challenger explosion. And I liked him. But he had a girlfriend, so I settled myself down and just kept him as a friend. Then he was elected to be the sports editor of our school newspaper. And I was his copy editor.

In fall 2008, we began working together. He didn't have a girlfriend anymore. We quickly went from friends to...dating? I don't know. Something more than friends, though. And I was the happiest panda in the land. But then something happened. Things were off. We didn't work out. But we kept working together at the paper.

But let me tell you, I was bitter. How dare he not date me! How dare he not be my boyfriend! We didn't talk. We exchanged emails that only contained story attachments, and we didn't speak. To say I was sad without him was an understatement. I felt like I lost half of me. He understood me. We could talk about anything. He got my battle with my eating disorder. He understood my resentment for my parents' divorce. He got it. And then he was gone.

I vowed never to talk to him again. I started dating someone else. Someone else who didn't get me. It was eh. But I couldn't shake how the (then not) boyfriend made me feel. So I thought about it for a long time, and I decided to reach out to him. Maybe we could be friends again. We made small talk. But things were still strained between us. We didn't know how to function as friends.

I broke up with that someone else in fall 2009. Shortly after, the (then not) boyfriend asked to meet up with me while he was visiting school. He had graduated in the spring, but still visited friends living at school. I said yes, unsure of what I was doing. Being friends was one thing, but a second chance at a relationship? Heck no! He had messed up the first time. That was it.

But the moment I saw him again, I knew that wasn't it. And it's cheesy. And I'll spare you the cheesy details, but he says he knew he was supposed to be with me that day. But still, I had to second guess myself. Did I really want to be in a relationship with someone who had hurt me? Giving him a second chance meant going against every fiber of my being. It meant turning my back on the mindset I had made.

After a few weeks, I made a leap of faith. I started to trust him again. And we became one unit. I've thought about us a lot. About what would have happened if I had kept my stubborn ways and not given him a second chance. Life would be sad. Life would be lonely. And life wouldn't be nearly as funny.

So I guess my lesson for you isn't necessarily to give everyone a second chance. But maybe learn how to listen to your heart. Because it knows what it's doing :)

* * * * *

Wise words, my friend, wise words.

Now all y’all better go check out Alex’s blog, mmmkay?

7 Stories Day 2: Kristen from A Kapple a Day!

Time for 7 Stories, Day 2! 

 

Wasn’t Meg fabulous yesterday? 

 

Well, I’ve got another amazing lady for you today, and her name is Kristen.  She blogs over at A Kapple a Day, and I just adore this girl.

 

Today she has a wonderful story for us, and it even has a little lesson at the end.

 

Enjoy!

 

* * * * *

 

 

Hey there Story of my Life readers! I'm feeling quite honored to be here guest posting for Miss Jenni while she is gallivanting all over South America. Story of my Life was one of the first blogs I discovered, and I've had a serious girl crush on Jenni ever since. I don't know about you, but I already can't wait to hear about her trip and see all the pretty photos. I'm only slightly jealous :)

 

Something for you to think about today: Good things come to those who wait.

I'm going to take you back a few years, to April 2008. My now husband had just been accepted into an internal medicine residency that would be moving him from Pennsylvania to the lovely state of Rhode Island, where he was born and raised. He was happy, to say the least. He had spent four long years of medical school away from his family and was ready to be back. At this point, he and I had been together for three years and engagement talks were on the horizon. The fact that I would be re-locating to Rhode Island with him was pretty much a given.

 

It was in April 2008 that we decided to begin our house hunting adventure. We figured we would be in Rhode Island for at least three years, if not longer, so why not put down some roots? Everyone told us it was the "perfect time to buy." So we searched. And searched.

 

Some problems we came across? What we thought we could afford, and what we could actually afford were two very different visions. And what we thought houses were worth, compared to the actual price tags could not have been much further off. I literally became immersed in the whole process, scheduling trips up to Rhode Island solely for house showings. Looking back now, it was crazy.

 

But you know what? As we looked at different styles of homes in different neighborhoods throughout the state, we narrowed down a list of wishes, pretty fast. There were some houses that we would pull up in front of and immediately know we didn't even want to go in. One house that we actually really liked? Was 700 square feet and the asking price was at the top of our range. Looking back now I can't imagine being crammed into that tiny little space! We probably put in about 15 offers, all of which were promptly rejected.

 

So we decided to wait.

 

We got engaged, moved to Rhode Island, and rented...all the while keeping an eye on the housing market. We attended an open house from time to time and never let our sights completely out of the hunt.

As wedding planning took the front reigns, and the economy started to crumble a bit, it was humorous to see how many people came back to our original offers and wanted to negotiate, months later. By that point, we were already looking ahead. I had blocked the rejections out of my mind and was no longer interested in those houses.

 

Fast forward to September 2010. We were newly wedded, I started my little blog, and we started seriously house hunting again. Everyone told us now was the "prefect time to buy." Well, we had heard that song before and were not getting our hopes up. This time around, however, we were armed with that list of wishes, and had narrowed down our search to a few choice neighborhoods in this little state.

 

All the waiting paid off.

 

In December, we looked at what was probably our 100th house, over the course of two and a half years and it was love at first sight.

 

We bought our first house, and you know what? The list of wishes was pretty much all checked off. I feel blessed and have to pinch myself daily that it's really ours. We are having a blast making it our home, good things come to those who wait.

 

* * * * *

THANK YOU KRISTEN!

Now check out A Kapple a Day, peeps!

7 Stories Day 1: Meg from the Wild and Wily Ways of a Brunette Bombshell

Hello loves!

Today I give you the first of 7 stories from 7 fabulous bloggers!  I hope you’re as excited as I am!

Story number one comes from Meg of the Wild and Wily Ways of a Brunette Bombshell—a blog I discovered not all that long ago, but fell head over heals in love with just about instantly. 

Meg is timelessly beautiful and a ridiculously talented writer, not to mention a graduate of JULIARD in NYC. 

Reading about her life in New York gives me such pangs of longing—because she writes so beautifully, and because I love that city like nothing else.

I hope you enjoy Meg’s story today—personally, I had goosebumps the whole way through! :)

* * * * *

i've been wracking my brain all week for a good story to tell.

i could write about that time in canada i found myself seated next to a half-naked man in a theatre (and not a theatre of ill-repute, mind you). he arrived fully clothed, then there was a lot of movement, and suddenly--voila--a bare chest. let's just say, i didn't see much of that first half of arms and the man.

or perhaps i should speak of those lazy spring nights in texas when i'd escape to the soccer fields with the boys and smoke cigars as dew formed on the grass. i was not a rebellious teen. i didn't drink alcohol or smoke cigarettes or kiss anyone under any bleachers. i worked hard in school. but as senior year came to an end i found myself staying out just a little bit later, falling for a boy who would go on to follow phish around the country, and puffing on cigars by the elementary school soccer fields.

but both those stories are slivers, small bits. and i want to tell the story of my life, right? or, at least, try. perhaps, though, that's all it is right now, slivers of a story. scattered pieces waiting to come together. after all, i'm just beginning (or so i hope).

and yet, i keep coming back to this: new york.

new york is my story.

beginning on 66th in a white, stone, fortress-like building and an open-air plaza filled with boys who threw frisbees, made bets, and smoked too much pot. moving on to 72nd and a pub named malachy's where many a baseball game was taken in and the man behind the counter knew all of our names. there was my first apartment at 104th and a cat we called flaubert. i dated a guy at 190th who gave me a key to his house and promised to show me the cloisters (among other things). i ended that relationship at a diner on 70th. there's central park and riverside park and fort tryon park and the countless times i've traversed each one pounding something more than pavement.

the city is a zig-zagging-connect-the-dots of my history--of my sadness and its eventual passing. of the joy that follows, the sweet bliss that sweeps in after utter destruction.

and then there's here: 181st street. in a small corner apartment--my own little castle in the sky--a corner apartment abutting the hudson and nestled against the train tracks. and i can feel this corner apartment-- this corner of manhattan working on me, pushing me past this cesura in the story. this moment between, this hanging breath in which all is possible and all is unknown. i write this now in the cafe down the street and i, more than anyone, wonder what's next--when the plot twist will arise, when new characters will be introduced, when there will be some sort of resolution.

and the thing is, i don't know. i just don't know. but i do know i'm better for all this. better for the unknown. better for the sadness. better for the bliss. better, for new york.

better, yes, but poised for the next.

so should jenni ever have be back here again, years from now, my great hope is i'll have more to tell you. more of the story to share. more space filled in and out. 

* * * * *

Meg, you’re welcome back ANY time! 

Ready, set, GO check out her blog!