There's this thing I do. In real life, I watch people, and I listen and observe. If I go to their house, I like to look at their things (not just books and art, but stacks of paper and little knick knacks, etc). When I'm online, I read lots and lots of blogs, and I have no idea who most of these people are. Every once in awhile, I find a blog that I can so relate to, but I can't really relate to it because I'm not really that interesting and not nearly that good of a writer.
Anyway, here she is, my latest infatuation. I found her blog today because she mentioned it on one of her photos on flickr. I really like her photos, too.
I wish I could be a professional snooper. I love reading blogs that are so devastatingly personal that I feel like I'm sifting through the contents of someone's purse. At the same time, if someone actually handed me their purse and told me to look through it, I would feel weird.
Maybe there's something about snooping in secret and admiring something or someone from a distance but never really revealing that to the person. Or maybe it's just because I find other people so interesting (and myself so boring), and I love to see who they are reflected through their writing and their photos and whatever else they put up for the world to see.
Eh, I don't know. Truthfully, I didn't sleep well again last night, and I have been sitting at my desk all day doing absolutely nothing, so my brain is a bit fried at the moment. I realize I do sound kind of stalker-ish.
What do you think? Do you like to snoop? Do you develop internet infatuations?
Thursday, July 31, 2008
The Best Things in Life
Thank you all for your thoughtful, supportive, and loving comments on my last post. I really needed them.
I have this theory. When you write something down, it makes it real (or more real). I have been avoiding the topic of TTC in most of my interactions with people. I didn't want it to become the center of my universe or the thing that people started asking me about all the time. I thought I could keep it a secret until I actually got pregnant. (It wasn't a total secret. There are a few people who have known what we've been up to.)
As it turns out, I couldn't. Our secret is out. It's real. But I refuse to let it define me. So what if we haven't conceived yet? It doesn't mean that I won't be a good mother when that day finally comes. It doesn't mean that women who get pregnant easily are somehow more meant to be mothers or will be better at it than those of us who have had to wait awhile. It's just random. It's a crapshoot.
Anyway, the whole point of this post is not to rehash my feelings concerning TTC. I've said what I need to say for now. I'm glad that I have opened the doors of communication concerning this, because as we continue down this road, there will be times when I will need to vent and express my feelings, whatever they may be.
And so we've decided to tell our families (only parents and siblings). We are going to need them. I thought we could do this alone, but the fact that I've leaned so heavily on my close friends through this shows that we can't. We need people to get us through. And you guys are those people, too. Thank you so much for your support. It means more than you will ever know.
To those of you who have been there for me from the start of all this, I love you so very much and cannot thank you enough for putting up with the insanity. It has been a crazy ride, but it has been bearable because of you.
I have this theory. When you write something down, it makes it real (or more real). I have been avoiding the topic of TTC in most of my interactions with people. I didn't want it to become the center of my universe or the thing that people started asking me about all the time. I thought I could keep it a secret until I actually got pregnant. (It wasn't a total secret. There are a few people who have known what we've been up to.)
As it turns out, I couldn't. Our secret is out. It's real. But I refuse to let it define me. So what if we haven't conceived yet? It doesn't mean that I won't be a good mother when that day finally comes. It doesn't mean that women who get pregnant easily are somehow more meant to be mothers or will be better at it than those of us who have had to wait awhile. It's just random. It's a crapshoot.
Anyway, the whole point of this post is not to rehash my feelings concerning TTC. I've said what I need to say for now. I'm glad that I have opened the doors of communication concerning this, because as we continue down this road, there will be times when I will need to vent and express my feelings, whatever they may be.
And so we've decided to tell our families (only parents and siblings). We are going to need them. I thought we could do this alone, but the fact that I've leaned so heavily on my close friends through this shows that we can't. We need people to get us through. And you guys are those people, too. Thank you so much for your support. It means more than you will ever know.
To those of you who have been there for me from the start of all this, I love you so very much and cannot thank you enough for putting up with the insanity. It has been a crazy ride, but it has been bearable because of you.
Wednesday, July 30, 2008
If This Uterus Could Talk
Last night we all gathered in support of Z and her husband, who had found out earlier in the day that Z's pregnancy was not viable. Z was right around eleven weeks pregnant, I think, but the baby never really developed at all. Z will have to undergo a D&C tomorrow. I have never been through this, and I can only imagine it is similar to what hell is like.
I found out about Z's pregnancy about six weeks ago. I didn't know it then, but her story has become inexplicably wound up with and connected to my own story.
And so, this is her story. And this is my story, too. And maybe, just maybe, it's your story as well.
***
I have made a solid effort to keep baby talk out of my blog. I wrote this post and then decided that I wouldn't talk about the issue any further until I had a pregnancy to report. The blogosphere is full of blogs devoted to trying to conceive, infertility, pregnancy loss, and just babies in general. While I don't look down upon those blogs at all (I actually really enjoy reading them), I didn't want my blog to become one of them.
The reason for this is because I wanted to keep my private life private. Despite some very personal posts that I've written, I don't reveal everything about my life, my past, or my feelings. This is the internet, and I don't always feel safe to let it all hang out.
Another reason I have chosen not to discuss certain things is because I don't want to obsess about them. Having a place like this blog, a place where I can pick and choose what I want to talk about, is therapeutic for me. It gives me a break from reality, which lately has seemed very grim. And in a sense it gives me a chance to paint my life in a way that is positive, which always helps when I'm not feeling so great about it.
I transferred these preferences for keeping my private life to myself to the rest of my life as well. If I posted on any online message boards, my signature didn't indicate anything about my sex life or when I could expect to ovulate or how many cycles I'd been trying or what I'd been diagnosed with. If people that I didn't feel especially close to asked me if we were trying to conceive, I would say no. (If you were one of those people, sorry about that. It's nothing personal, I swear.)
So why all the secrecy? Well, frankly the contents of my uterus are no one else's business, unless I choose to make it their business. However, enough time has passed that I feel like sharing (some of) my business with the rest of the world.
My uterus is very, very empty. And she needs a public forum.
***
Back in October, I went off the pill. In November, I charted my first cycle. During that first charted cycle, we had a small oops moment that resulted in about a minute of panic and about ten days' worth of "Wouldn't it be cool if I was actually pregnant?" We both knew then that our excited reaction pointed to something that we never could have anticipated so soon: we were ready to expand our family. We were ready for a baby. Those feelings came out in this post, although I was trying like hell to not reveal the reason behind them.
There is no way I can describe the hope and promise that one feels at the beginning of the journey of making a baby. It was a time when I looked at Roy (and myself) in utter amazement, not believing that we had finally made it to this point. After so many years of fumbling with condoms, late periods/possible pregnancy scares, and trying to avoid getting knocked up, I was ready to embark on the journey of parenthood. The level of commitment that it brought to our marriage made me love Roy so much more.
Of course, I wasn't pregnant, but we began actively trying in December, over half a year earlier than we originally intended. My theory: it could take us awhile to actually conceive, so starting early was actually a good thing.
As it turns out, I was right. Nine months later, I am still not pregnant.
***
In the nine months that we've been trying, here's what's happened (in no particular order):
Mandy and Paul got engaged and married.
I got two SLR cameras and started thinking seriously about photography.
I shot two engagement sessions.
I went to the OBGYN to talk about my long cycles (and they later got shorter).
Roy got a new job.
Roy took his comps (and passed).
Roy graduated.
I planned and hosted Mandy's bridal shower.
Roy and I got our asses kicked in school.
I completed my internship.
Roy completed his internship.
I taught for the first time.
My dog was put to sleep.
All of my melanoma blog people have died.
Myra moved away.
Beans moved away.
My uncle got sick (and is now on the mend).
We went to Vegas.
We stayed at the Morey Mansion.
I had my mole removed.
We found out our wedding videographer is no longer in business.
I learned Photoshop Elements, Lightroom, etc.
I deleted my knot/nest account.
We celebrated our first wedding anniversary.
We went to Minneapolis.
Z and her husband got pregnant and then lost the baby.
Two of my friends have been diagnosed with infertility.
I finished my thesis proposal, and it got rejected by the graduate committee, thus delaying my graduation date.
And so on and so forth.
You see, it's not so much that nine months is a long time to try to conceive (it's actually considered average). It's that so much has happened that it feels like we've lived a whole lifetime in these nine months. So much has changed, highlighting the fact that the state of my uterus has not.
***
Six weeks ago, when I went over to Z's house and saw her chart indicating her pregnancy, I experienced my first true blow related to TTC (trying to conceive). Z and her husband conceived their first month trying, and they had started trying about seven months after us. Once I was able to actually make sense of what I was seeing on Z's chart, I excused myself to the bathroom. I was shaking. I just couldn't believe it. I was now in a position that I never wanted to be in, and it was the first time that I truly began to consider that something might be keeping us from conceiving easily.
I got a taste of my own bitterness that day. I could hear it in my voice when I told Z's husband how lucky they were to get it on the first shot because it sucks to have to try for awhile. I heard that and couldn't believe it was me. But it was. And I immediately felt like such an asshole for letting my own baggage interfere with their good news. Later, I sent Z an email and apologized. And then I cried and cried and cried. It was one of the worst nights ever. I felt so torn. I was happy for them, but I was so sad for us. And I was so angry at the randomness of the universe and at myself for letting that "Bitter Betty" moment slip through.
It took me about a week and a half until I felt like I had accepted Z's pregnancy. I had several days where I just cried in my office at work, feeling like a complete and utter loser for not being able to be so overwhelmingly and joyfully happy for Z and her husband. My sorrow was never really about Z; it was about me and my failure to get pregnant and my desire to join that exclusive pregnancy club. And yet I was almost immediately invested in Z's pregnancy, wanting to know if she was feeling symptoms, when her next appointment was, etc. Despite my own frustration with our situation, I already loved the baby that Z and her husband had created.
***
And now, Z's baby is gone (for no apparent reason), and Z and her husband are reeling, and my heart just hurts for them. I didn't sleep much last night. I got up and watched an episode of 90210 around 3 AM. Ironically, it's the episode where Kelly's mom finds out she's pregnant and experiences a big moral dilemma about whether she should keep the baby.
Why can't we all be so lucky to have that choice? Some of us have no choice in what happens with our bodies or with our babies. Infertility is on the rise, and so are miscarriages. Everywhere I hear stories about women who have lost babies or who can't get pregnant without medical intervention, and it is all so heartbreaking. It makes me want to stop now because right now, with the loss of Z's baby, I don't know if I can take anymore.
I love Z and her husband so very much and am wishing them the best with their physical and emotional recovery from this tragedy.
***
Where does this leave us?
We have been trying for less than a year (but not much less), and many people think that you shouldn't seek medical attention until you've been trying for at least a year. I used to think that way, too. And then I realized that enough time has passed and that we want some answers. We are both 29 years old and would like to have at least two children before we are 35. It's time to start ruling some things out. We have absolutely nothing to lose, and we are tired of being in the dark. If the tests come back clear, then we will be able to breathe a sigh of relief, knowing that nothing is obviously wrong and that it's probably just a matter of time until we get pregnant on our own. If the tests indicate that something is wrong, it's better that we find out sooner rather than later.
I am terrified, sad, and angry that we are headed down this road. But part of me has always known that it wouldn't be easy to get pregnant. (I am basing this on some very wild years that I had - I really should have ended up pregnant, but I didn't. This is not a very scientific reason, and I am aware of that. Let's call it a hunch.)
Despite my less-than-stellar feelings concerning our TTC journey, I don't want to be one of those people who constantly posts things on their blog about what is and what isn't appropriate to say when someone is trying to conceive or has issues with infertility. I don't want to be the girl who's been trying for sixteen months and jumps down the throat of the person who is upset because they have been trying for six months without success. Trying to conceive month after month without success is hard, and you can't quantify the pain related to it, and you can't treat TTC/infertility like it's some kind of contest. And you certainly can't control the ignorant and insensitive things that people are going to say to you. All you can control is your reaction to it.
Recently, I heard that bitterness is a choice. This came from a very wise someone who posts on a message board that is full of the most bitter and angry women I've ever seen. Granted, we have no known infertility problems right now, and I don't really know what these women are going through. At the same time, it does no good to play the infertility card constantly like these women do. I understand the feelings of anger and sadness that can come from not being able to join the pregnancy club, truly. But I don't understand the need to drag everyone down as well.
I am terrified of becoming this way. And so I keep reminding myself that it is what it is. Whatever "it" is, I know I can handle it - no matter how big or scary.
***
I feel quite sure that Z is probably terrified too. Because being a woman is terrifying. It's about subjecting your body to the dangers (and the rewards) of housing a fetus. It's about early miscarriage, blighted ova, late losses, stillbirth, and infertility. It's about giving birth, breastfeeding, parenting, working, loving, giving, creating, and living. (And don't get me wrong - I feel that women who are childless by choice are great and don't mean to exclude them in any way with my description above. In a world that is overpopulated and yet is so geared towards keeping women as incubators and housewives, I respect the choice to not have children. It's just not my choice.)
Life is overwhelmingly tragic sometimes. It's scary and sad. It's filled with moments of doubt and anger. And it doesn't make a whole lot of sense a lot of the time.
But life is beautiful, too. I believe that. I believe that Z and her husband will get through this and have beautiful children. I believe that Roy and I will get pregnant and that we will also have our own beautiful children. I believe that everyone else I know that is struggling with reproductive issues will receive the gift of a child. Until then, I wish all of us the serenity and grace to wait patiently. I am happy to wait if that's what it takes.
***
There. My uterus has spoken. And for the moment, she is satisfied.
I found out about Z's pregnancy about six weeks ago. I didn't know it then, but her story has become inexplicably wound up with and connected to my own story.
And so, this is her story. And this is my story, too. And maybe, just maybe, it's your story as well.
***
I have made a solid effort to keep baby talk out of my blog. I wrote this post and then decided that I wouldn't talk about the issue any further until I had a pregnancy to report. The blogosphere is full of blogs devoted to trying to conceive, infertility, pregnancy loss, and just babies in general. While I don't look down upon those blogs at all (I actually really enjoy reading them), I didn't want my blog to become one of them.
The reason for this is because I wanted to keep my private life private. Despite some very personal posts that I've written, I don't reveal everything about my life, my past, or my feelings. This is the internet, and I don't always feel safe to let it all hang out.
Another reason I have chosen not to discuss certain things is because I don't want to obsess about them. Having a place like this blog, a place where I can pick and choose what I want to talk about, is therapeutic for me. It gives me a break from reality, which lately has seemed very grim. And in a sense it gives me a chance to paint my life in a way that is positive, which always helps when I'm not feeling so great about it.
I transferred these preferences for keeping my private life to myself to the rest of my life as well. If I posted on any online message boards, my signature didn't indicate anything about my sex life or when I could expect to ovulate or how many cycles I'd been trying or what I'd been diagnosed with. If people that I didn't feel especially close to asked me if we were trying to conceive, I would say no. (If you were one of those people, sorry about that. It's nothing personal, I swear.)
So why all the secrecy? Well, frankly the contents of my uterus are no one else's business, unless I choose to make it their business. However, enough time has passed that I feel like sharing (some of) my business with the rest of the world.
My uterus is very, very empty. And she needs a public forum.
***
Back in October, I went off the pill. In November, I charted my first cycle. During that first charted cycle, we had a small oops moment that resulted in about a minute of panic and about ten days' worth of "Wouldn't it be cool if I was actually pregnant?" We both knew then that our excited reaction pointed to something that we never could have anticipated so soon: we were ready to expand our family. We were ready for a baby. Those feelings came out in this post, although I was trying like hell to not reveal the reason behind them.
There is no way I can describe the hope and promise that one feels at the beginning of the journey of making a baby. It was a time when I looked at Roy (and myself) in utter amazement, not believing that we had finally made it to this point. After so many years of fumbling with condoms, late periods/possible pregnancy scares, and trying to avoid getting knocked up, I was ready to embark on the journey of parenthood. The level of commitment that it brought to our marriage made me love Roy so much more.
Of course, I wasn't pregnant, but we began actively trying in December, over half a year earlier than we originally intended. My theory: it could take us awhile to actually conceive, so starting early was actually a good thing.
As it turns out, I was right. Nine months later, I am still not pregnant.
***
In the nine months that we've been trying, here's what's happened (in no particular order):
Mandy and Paul got engaged and married.
I got two SLR cameras and started thinking seriously about photography.
I shot two engagement sessions.
I went to the OBGYN to talk about my long cycles (and they later got shorter).
Roy got a new job.
Roy took his comps (and passed).
Roy graduated.
I planned and hosted Mandy's bridal shower.
Roy and I got our asses kicked in school.
I completed my internship.
Roy completed his internship.
I taught for the first time.
My dog was put to sleep.
All of my melanoma blog people have died.
Myra moved away.
Beans moved away.
My uncle got sick (and is now on the mend).
We went to Vegas.
We stayed at the Morey Mansion.
I had my mole removed.
We found out our wedding videographer is no longer in business.
I learned Photoshop Elements, Lightroom, etc.
I deleted my knot/nest account.
We celebrated our first wedding anniversary.
We went to Minneapolis.
Z and her husband got pregnant and then lost the baby.
Two of my friends have been diagnosed with infertility.
I finished my thesis proposal, and it got rejected by the graduate committee, thus delaying my graduation date.
And so on and so forth.
You see, it's not so much that nine months is a long time to try to conceive (it's actually considered average). It's that so much has happened that it feels like we've lived a whole lifetime in these nine months. So much has changed, highlighting the fact that the state of my uterus has not.
***
Six weeks ago, when I went over to Z's house and saw her chart indicating her pregnancy, I experienced my first true blow related to TTC (trying to conceive). Z and her husband conceived their first month trying, and they had started trying about seven months after us. Once I was able to actually make sense of what I was seeing on Z's chart, I excused myself to the bathroom. I was shaking. I just couldn't believe it. I was now in a position that I never wanted to be in, and it was the first time that I truly began to consider that something might be keeping us from conceiving easily.
I got a taste of my own bitterness that day. I could hear it in my voice when I told Z's husband how lucky they were to get it on the first shot because it sucks to have to try for awhile. I heard that and couldn't believe it was me. But it was. And I immediately felt like such an asshole for letting my own baggage interfere with their good news. Later, I sent Z an email and apologized. And then I cried and cried and cried. It was one of the worst nights ever. I felt so torn. I was happy for them, but I was so sad for us. And I was so angry at the randomness of the universe and at myself for letting that "Bitter Betty" moment slip through.
It took me about a week and a half until I felt like I had accepted Z's pregnancy. I had several days where I just cried in my office at work, feeling like a complete and utter loser for not being able to be so overwhelmingly and joyfully happy for Z and her husband. My sorrow was never really about Z; it was about me and my failure to get pregnant and my desire to join that exclusive pregnancy club. And yet I was almost immediately invested in Z's pregnancy, wanting to know if she was feeling symptoms, when her next appointment was, etc. Despite my own frustration with our situation, I already loved the baby that Z and her husband had created.
***
And now, Z's baby is gone (for no apparent reason), and Z and her husband are reeling, and my heart just hurts for them. I didn't sleep much last night. I got up and watched an episode of 90210 around 3 AM. Ironically, it's the episode where Kelly's mom finds out she's pregnant and experiences a big moral dilemma about whether she should keep the baby.
Why can't we all be so lucky to have that choice? Some of us have no choice in what happens with our bodies or with our babies. Infertility is on the rise, and so are miscarriages. Everywhere I hear stories about women who have lost babies or who can't get pregnant without medical intervention, and it is all so heartbreaking. It makes me want to stop now because right now, with the loss of Z's baby, I don't know if I can take anymore.
I love Z and her husband so very much and am wishing them the best with their physical and emotional recovery from this tragedy.
***
Where does this leave us?
We have been trying for less than a year (but not much less), and many people think that you shouldn't seek medical attention until you've been trying for at least a year. I used to think that way, too. And then I realized that enough time has passed and that we want some answers. We are both 29 years old and would like to have at least two children before we are 35. It's time to start ruling some things out. We have absolutely nothing to lose, and we are tired of being in the dark. If the tests come back clear, then we will be able to breathe a sigh of relief, knowing that nothing is obviously wrong and that it's probably just a matter of time until we get pregnant on our own. If the tests indicate that something is wrong, it's better that we find out sooner rather than later.
I am terrified, sad, and angry that we are headed down this road. But part of me has always known that it wouldn't be easy to get pregnant. (I am basing this on some very wild years that I had - I really should have ended up pregnant, but I didn't. This is not a very scientific reason, and I am aware of that. Let's call it a hunch.)
Despite my less-than-stellar feelings concerning our TTC journey, I don't want to be one of those people who constantly posts things on their blog about what is and what isn't appropriate to say when someone is trying to conceive or has issues with infertility. I don't want to be the girl who's been trying for sixteen months and jumps down the throat of the person who is upset because they have been trying for six months without success. Trying to conceive month after month without success is hard, and you can't quantify the pain related to it, and you can't treat TTC/infertility like it's some kind of contest. And you certainly can't control the ignorant and insensitive things that people are going to say to you. All you can control is your reaction to it.
Recently, I heard that bitterness is a choice. This came from a very wise someone who posts on a message board that is full of the most bitter and angry women I've ever seen. Granted, we have no known infertility problems right now, and I don't really know what these women are going through. At the same time, it does no good to play the infertility card constantly like these women do. I understand the feelings of anger and sadness that can come from not being able to join the pregnancy club, truly. But I don't understand the need to drag everyone down as well.
I am terrified of becoming this way. And so I keep reminding myself that it is what it is. Whatever "it" is, I know I can handle it - no matter how big or scary.
***
I feel quite sure that Z is probably terrified too. Because being a woman is terrifying. It's about subjecting your body to the dangers (and the rewards) of housing a fetus. It's about early miscarriage, blighted ova, late losses, stillbirth, and infertility. It's about giving birth, breastfeeding, parenting, working, loving, giving, creating, and living. (And don't get me wrong - I feel that women who are childless by choice are great and don't mean to exclude them in any way with my description above. In a world that is overpopulated and yet is so geared towards keeping women as incubators and housewives, I respect the choice to not have children. It's just not my choice.)
Life is overwhelmingly tragic sometimes. It's scary and sad. It's filled with moments of doubt and anger. And it doesn't make a whole lot of sense a lot of the time.
But life is beautiful, too. I believe that. I believe that Z and her husband will get through this and have beautiful children. I believe that Roy and I will get pregnant and that we will also have our own beautiful children. I believe that everyone else I know that is struggling with reproductive issues will receive the gift of a child. Until then, I wish all of us the serenity and grace to wait patiently. I am happy to wait if that's what it takes.
***
There. My uterus has spoken. And for the moment, she is satisfied.
Monday, July 28, 2008
Jenn + Dave = Awesome Guinea Pigs!
Awhile back, Jenn asked me to take some engagement pictures of her and her fiance, Dave. We met up Saturday morning in downtown Redlands and spent an hour and a half shooting at various locations in the area. 400+ pictures later, we called it a day and went our separate ways.
Jenn and Dave, thanks for being my most excellent guinea pigs! I had a lot of fun with you guys. I hope you enjoy your teasers. Thanks for the opportunity to practice on living, breathing subjects!
It's nice to know that I have improved since my first round of engagement pictures.
Jenn and Dave, thanks for being my most excellent guinea pigs! I had a lot of fun with you guys. I hope you enjoy your teasers. Thanks for the opportunity to practice on living, breathing subjects!
It's nice to know that I have improved since my first round of engagement pictures.
Sunday, July 27, 2008
things that make me happy
I'm in real need of counting my blessings. Without going into a ton of detail, things have been quite hard for quite awhile now. I had a really nice weekend, though, and here are the things that are making me happy right now.
1) a baby shower for a very special Spaniard - My friend and co-worker is pregnant with her first child (due in September). We had a shower for her on Friday during lunch, and it was a really good time for all of us. My favorite part was when she teared up when she saw that we had all pitched in and gotten her the stroller she wanted.
2) my hot pink toenails
3) revisiting the coffee shop where Roy and I used to meet when we first began dating
4) finding new places to eat that are pretty
4) visiting a new, unexplored museum
5) noticing things that normally go unnoticed
6) cookies
7) a new pretty thing to hang on our wall
8) seeing The Pierces live at Hotel Cafe - This video is not from the performance we saw, but they did open with this song. They are really wonderful performers with a strong stage presence and extremely powerful voices.
9) taking engagement pictures for Jenn and Dave - Watch for the "official" teaser coming tomorrow!
1) a baby shower for a very special Spaniard - My friend and co-worker is pregnant with her first child (due in September). We had a shower for her on Friday during lunch, and it was a really good time for all of us. My favorite part was when she teared up when she saw that we had all pitched in and gotten her the stroller she wanted.
2) my hot pink toenails
3) revisiting the coffee shop where Roy and I used to meet when we first began dating
4) finding new places to eat that are pretty
4) visiting a new, unexplored museum
5) noticing things that normally go unnoticed
6) cookies
7) a new pretty thing to hang on our wall
8) seeing The Pierces live at Hotel Cafe - This video is not from the performance we saw, but they did open with this song. They are really wonderful performers with a strong stage presence and extremely powerful voices.
9) taking engagement pictures for Jenn and Dave - Watch for the "official" teaser coming tomorrow!
Church vs. State vs. the Dark Knight vs. the Joker: Day Six of Our Anniversary Trip
We spent the majority of our last day in Minneapolis with Stacy (Wade's girlfriend) while Wade worked. Our first stop was Stacy's ultra-cool apartment, where we had the extreme pleasure of meeting Flash the bulldog and Lydia the hairless rat.
Stacy drove us out to Minnehaha Falls, and we walked around for awhile. It was so gorgeous there!
After lunch at Sea Salt, we drove out to St. Paul. Stacy was convinced that we needed to see the capitol building, as well as St. Paul's Cathedral. I'm very grateful for her convictions, as both were well worth the time.
Since Charles Schultz was a St. Paul native, there are Peanuts statues all over the city. We saw this one in a park near the capitol building.
The capitol building was awesome! We decided to head out on our own instead of joining a group for a tour. We almost immediately ran into a very sweet old man who was carrying the same camera I was hauling around. We got to talking a bit, and then I asked him if I could take his picture. (I'm not going to post it here, though, because it's not a very good picture.)
Anyway, here are a few highlights from the capitol building.
We joined a tour group just in time to go to the roof of the building.
(There's nothing like gold horse asses, is there?)
Then we went to the bottom floor of the building. I really liked looking at the portraits of all the Minnesota governors.
Stacy made a friend!
Our next stop was the Cathedral of St. Paul. What a truly amazing place. Since I was raised Catholic, I felt a special sort of affinity for it, even though I am not practicing anymore. It's hard to describe, but let's just say that I can appreciate the beauty and history in such a sacred place and even experience a sense of awe at being in such a place. I just have no desire to return to Catholicism - ever.
This is St. Patrick. He was my favorite out of all the statues there.
We were exhausted by the time we were done at the Cathedral, but we made one last stop: the shoe tree. As you can see, this is a tree with tons of shoes hanging from its branches. I'm not sure what the history of this is, but it's pretty cool to look at.
Stacy was an awesome tour guide. She even dropped us at Wade's to rest up for the evening to come. Without her, we would not have gotten to see St. Paul at all. Thank you, Stacy!
We had a few hours of downtime at Wade's house, so we rested and read. I photographed Wade's extensive book and music collection.
A little later, Roy and I took one last walk so I could get a few photos.
Once Wade was off work and Stacy came over (again), we headed over to the Bad Waitress for our final Minneapolis dinner.
Afterwards, we went to a late showing of The Dark Knight. It was awesome; the only thing that annoyed me was Christian Bale's voice (as Batman). Otherwise, it was a great flick, and I highly recommend it. It may even be my new favorite Batman film, although it's hard to top Batman Returns.
We got home around 1:30 AM and were asleep by 2 AM. And then we were awake four hours later to catch our flight home. We made it to SLC early and then had to sit in the plane for an hour, but other than that, we made it home without a hitch.
Am I happy to be home? Sure, all our stuff is here, as well as our cats and our life. But it's been hard adjusting to reality since we had such a wonderful time in Minneapolis. We have Wade and all of his group (especially Stacy) to thank for showing us a little bit of what the city has to offer. Thank you for having us, Wade. We are so grateful.
Stacy drove us out to Minnehaha Falls, and we walked around for awhile. It was so gorgeous there!
After lunch at Sea Salt, we drove out to St. Paul. Stacy was convinced that we needed to see the capitol building, as well as St. Paul's Cathedral. I'm very grateful for her convictions, as both were well worth the time.
Since Charles Schultz was a St. Paul native, there are Peanuts statues all over the city. We saw this one in a park near the capitol building.
The capitol building was awesome! We decided to head out on our own instead of joining a group for a tour. We almost immediately ran into a very sweet old man who was carrying the same camera I was hauling around. We got to talking a bit, and then I asked him if I could take his picture. (I'm not going to post it here, though, because it's not a very good picture.)
Anyway, here are a few highlights from the capitol building.
We joined a tour group just in time to go to the roof of the building.
(There's nothing like gold horse asses, is there?)
Then we went to the bottom floor of the building. I really liked looking at the portraits of all the Minnesota governors.
Stacy made a friend!
Our next stop was the Cathedral of St. Paul. What a truly amazing place. Since I was raised Catholic, I felt a special sort of affinity for it, even though I am not practicing anymore. It's hard to describe, but let's just say that I can appreciate the beauty and history in such a sacred place and even experience a sense of awe at being in such a place. I just have no desire to return to Catholicism - ever.
This is St. Patrick. He was my favorite out of all the statues there.
We were exhausted by the time we were done at the Cathedral, but we made one last stop: the shoe tree. As you can see, this is a tree with tons of shoes hanging from its branches. I'm not sure what the history of this is, but it's pretty cool to look at.
Stacy was an awesome tour guide. She even dropped us at Wade's to rest up for the evening to come. Without her, we would not have gotten to see St. Paul at all. Thank you, Stacy!
We had a few hours of downtime at Wade's house, so we rested and read. I photographed Wade's extensive book and music collection.
A little later, Roy and I took one last walk so I could get a few photos.
Once Wade was off work and Stacy came over (again), we headed over to the Bad Waitress for our final Minneapolis dinner.
Afterwards, we went to a late showing of The Dark Knight. It was awesome; the only thing that annoyed me was Christian Bale's voice (as Batman). Otherwise, it was a great flick, and I highly recommend it. It may even be my new favorite Batman film, although it's hard to top Batman Returns.
We got home around 1:30 AM and were asleep by 2 AM. And then we were awake four hours later to catch our flight home. We made it to SLC early and then had to sit in the plane for an hour, but other than that, we made it home without a hitch.
Am I happy to be home? Sure, all our stuff is here, as well as our cats and our life. But it's been hard adjusting to reality since we had such a wonderful time in Minneapolis. We have Wade and all of his group (especially Stacy) to thank for showing us a little bit of what the city has to offer. Thank you for having us, Wade. We are so grateful.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
