ladies and gentlement, I'm getting married!

Well, it's official. As of about 40 hours ago John and I are engaged! We both knew this was going to happen, but he was very tricky and sprung it on me on a Tuesday evening when I least expected it! It was a perfect evening with my man, and after he proposed we went to Mozart's to sit by the water while we called our families and close friends to tell them the good news.

Now the fun begins... guest lists, booking venues, and all the other little details you never hear about until you have to plan one of these things (such as wedding insurance. Who knew?). We have 5 months to do this all, and since our parents all live out of state and John will be finishing his thesis, I am going to be one busy, busy bride.

HA! "Bride"! Me! Hard to believe, but here I am. Happier than ever :)

Here is our wedding website if you want to take a look:
http://www.theknot.com/ourwedding/RuthA.&JohnM.

156 days to go! Let the count-down commence!

writing exercise of the day

I feel strongly that the glass of water in your hand shouldn't be there.

No, instead you should hold a goblet that gleams, filled to its brim with golden sunlight.

And in partaking of the richest juices that the sun has to offer I am sure you would begin to glitter.

Sunlight would filter through your veins and give your rosy skin a luminous quality possessed or rivaled by none other.

You'd be amazing.

And when the darkness of the evening threatens with its nightmares and hidden evils

the people would turn to you, in all your iridescent glory, and let you light the way.

They would follow you silently over hill and through shadow,

crawl over bones and ridged mountain peaks;

follow you anywhere, you see.

When all else is ensconced in blackness we would follow even the tiniest pin-prick of light.

That light would be to us a beacon in the distance and you,

you with your radiant hands and face and feet,

would be as a lighthouse.

They need a lighthouse. They need a light.

So put away that water glass.

The son has been poured out, and you need only swallow what has been handed to you.

Love.... Don't Love...

Love... May! And counting down to my Birthday (only 9 more days)!

Don't love... people thinking I am several years older than I am.

Love... watching John ride the cart down the aisle at the grocery store.

Don't love... the refrigerated sections of the store, which make me shiver with cold.

Love... dreaming about the future.

Don't love... waiting for things to happen that I have no control over.

Love... my job on a "normal" week when I am not too busy or overextended.

Don't love... being stuck playing receptionist when my job title is "Support Specialist".

Love... breathing cold air in bed at night.

Don't love... the cost of breathing cold air in bed at night.

Love... Austin.

Don't love... Texas.

Love... All things Google. Especially Google Reader.

Don't love... all things Microsoft. Especially Internet Explorer.

Love... Blogging!

Don't love... trying to come up with something new and interesting to blog about.

Love... painting.

Don't love... trying to find a subject for a painting.

Love... hot showers.

Don't love... sharing a water-heater with anyone else.

Love... John!

Don't love... having a headache when I am hanging out with John.

Love... reading books for fun.

Don't love... being too tired at night to read before bed.

Love... writing this list!

Don't love... trying to figure out a good point to end it on ;)

Lately

My grandfather was an artist. He painted and he had more than a little talent. He passed away almost two years ago. A year later when I moved to Austin my grandmother began giving me his art supplies. I have always been the artistic grandchild, and I was thrilled to receive such a wealth of paintbrushes and paints, an easel, as well as several pallets and canvases.

I love knowing that he once held these brushes. I love seeing the remnants of his paints on the pallet and remembering what it was like to watch him paint. My one regret is that we never had the chance to paint together. It's funny how life works out. Sometimes I wonder if I would have even taken up painting if he had lived longer.

Not all that long ago I had a bit of an internal crisis over what to do with my life. I would think of these jobs and nothing felt wonderful. In the year or so since then I have come to the realization, with the help of a specific man in my life (who probably doesn't even know it), that a job is not who you are, but one thing that you do. In response to my asking half-jokingly what I should do with the rest of my life, he said this: "Social Worker, Wife, Mother, Guitarist, Novelist, Weekend Painter, Bookshop owner, Travel Junkie. I'm in for any of those."

There will always be jobs. There will probably always be seasons of discontent sprinkled in with happy days and achievements and living life. One job or hobby or task or title does not make up who I am. It's the sum of the parts that make up the whole woman. I am many things. And lately, one of those things is a painter.


Followup Notes:
1. All photos courtesy of my John. Clicking on them will take you to his Flickr site. All content of photos (brushes, paints, painting) is by me.
2. For my birthday (in only 15 days!) my parents are paying for me to take an art class at the local Art Museum. I am very much looking forward to cultivating what natural talent I seem to have.