Ordinary Days

Sunday Robbie and I hit 3 months of marriage. Can you believe it? 

We've learned so much about each other and ourselves, and have loved every minute of it!

Our biggest adventure as of late has been living with only one car that just so happened to break down two days ago. After over $1000 of repairs, we're up and running again...like I said, an adventure.

In the meantime, before we venture into the world of people-who-own-two-cars, we survive with carefully coordinated schedules and bus passes. 

Bus culture is something else. I've ridden the bus for years--6am through SLC, 3 hours to get from college to visit home for a holiday weekend, a summer of New York rides, and now an hour and a half to and from work every day. I'd say I've had my share of experiences on public transportation. 

Just the other day I wound up as the only passenger for a 30 minute ride. I hear the entire life story of my driver. 

This one was a new one though. I overheard the bus driver inform someone that he'd gotten a complaint from a rider... a complaint that he was too good looking. Ha! Gotta love riding the bus.

Oh, and it's football season. Four months until I see my husband again...

Dang, I love that man.

Peanut Butter Side Up

So...marriage.

There are so many things that I can say about my mere month and a half in this new world of two-becoming-oneness.

Surprisingly, while I am learning more and more about Robbie through our marriage (like how he has to have a turkey and ham sandwich with the ham on the mustard side and the turkey on the mayo side with a piece of cheese in the middle; or how he'll only eat his PB&Js peanut butter side up; or how he manages to not only steal all the blankets during the night, but also finds a way to steal my pillow in his sleep as well), honestly, he is who I've always known him to be--he is all the reasons for which I married him (I love him so much). But really, I feel as though I'm rediscovering myself more than I'm discovering him.

During all of the stresses in my life over the past year, including planning a wedding!!, I got so caught up in trying to "figure out" how every day would play out and if I would survive, I forgot some of the things that make me who I am--the things that make me happy.

As organization, peace, and happiness settle deeply into my daily life, I'm slowly digging up old treasures of thoughts, dreams, talents, and goals.

I found this quote on a blog today and it struck the cord my heart has been searching for--like a tune stuck in your head, but you don't even realize you're humming it until the words suddenly rush out of your mouth.

It also seemed an appropriate story to wed the topics of marriage and my rediscovery of my love of the written word.

oh, and ps. In my process of redefining myself as Anna Bullough, I'm looking to freshen up the blog. Ideas welcome. Should I change my URL and everything???


Date a Girl Who Reads by Rosemarie Urquico


Date a girl who reads. Date a girl who spends her money on books instead of clothes. She has problems with closet space because she has too many books. Date a girl who has a list of books she wants to read, who has had a library card since she was twelve.


Find a girl who reads. You’ll know that she does because she will always have an unread book in her bag. She’s the one lovingly looking over the shelves in the bookstore, the one who quietly cries out when she finds the book she wants. You see the weird chick sniffing the pages of an old book in a second hand book shop? That’s the reader. They can never resist smelling the pages, especially when they are yellow.


She’s the girl reading while waiting in that coffee shop down the street. If you take a peek at her mug, the non-dairy creamer is floating on top because she’s kind of engrossed already. Lost in a world of the author’s making. Sit down. She might give you a glare, as most girls who read do not like to be interrupted. Ask her if she likes the book.


Buy her another cup of coffee.


Let her know what you really think of Murakami. See if she got through the first chapter of Fellowship. Understand that if she says she understood James Joyce’s Ulysses she’s just saying that to sound intelligent. Ask her if she loves Alice or she would like to be Alice.


It’s easy to date a girl who reads. Give her books for her birthday, for Christmas, and for anniversaries. Give her the gift of words, in poetry, in song. Give her Neruda, Pound, Sexton, Cummings. Let her know that you understand that words are love. Understand that she knows the difference between books and reality but by God, she’s going to try to make her life a little like her favorite book. It will never be your fault if she does.


She has to give it a shot somehow.


Lie to her. If she understands syntax, she will understand your need to lie. Behind words are other things: motivation, value, nuance, dialogue. It will not be the end of the world.


Fail her. Because a girl who reads knows that failure always leads up to the climax. Because girls who understand that all things will come to end. That you can always write a sequel. That you can begin again and again and still be the hero. That life is meant to have a villain or two.


Why be frightened of everything that you are not? Girls who read understand that people, like characters, develop. Except in the Twilight series.


If you find a girl who reads, keep her close. When you find her up at 2 AM clutching a book to her chest and weeping, make her a cup of tea and hold her. You may lose her for a couple of hours but she will always come back to you. She’ll talk as if the characters in the book are real, because for a while, they always are.


You will propose on a hot air balloon. Or during a rock concert. Or very casually next time she’s sick. Over Skype.


You will smile so hard you will wonder why your heart hasn’t burst and bled out all over your chest yet. You will write the story of your lives, have kids with strange names and even stranger tastes. She will introduce your children to the Cat in the Hat and Aslan, maybe in the same day. You will walk the winters of your old age together and she will recite Keats under her breath while you shake the snow off your boots.


Date a girl who reads because you deserve it. You deserve a girl who can give you the most colorful life imaginable. If you can only give her monotony, and stale hours and half-baked proposals, then you’re better off alone. If you want the world and the worlds beyond it, date a girl who reads.


Or better yet, date a girl who writes.

I'M BACK!!!!!!!!! ...and married. :)

Hello!!!

I feel as though it's been ages since I've even sat down to a computer for anything other than work. I don't know how many people will even ever look at this blog again thanks to my prolonged absence. But I suppose I can send this update out to the blogosphere anyway.

Wanna see some wedding pics?

Even better pics to come!

-Anna Louise Bullough

Playing House

My mother told Robbie the other day that I have wanted to "play house" since I was younger.

Really, what little girl doesn't play house at least once in their childhood? Even little boys occasionally get "roped in" (they like it) to being the "Daddy" or in my brothers' case, playing the Ken doll.

But it's true. I do very much so have a homemaker streak right through the middle of me. I always said I wanted to be a mommy when I grew up. And while I'm not even close to the mommy part yet (I hope that's  a few years away!), I am more than tickled to start with the house part.

Robbie and I went furniture shopping the other day. It was so fun to jump from couch to couch and think which set will be a part of many memories to come. Robbie's really funny about picking the couch too, he says it's just as important as picking a good bed since it may be his bed when I'm not happy. Really, Robbie wont be able to put that on me though, he's always sleeping on the couch now without a wife sending him there. It will probably end up being his bed most of the time because that's where he'll fall asleep and I'll either have to squish on with him, or just cover him with a blanket.

Just before our two hours at the furniture store, we spent two hours cleaning out the last 30 years of dirty from the window sills of our house-to-be. Hopefully it wont take two hours to clean five windows next time!

We also spent about an hour, after officially putting the utilities in our name, touring the little area around our house. I am SO EXCITED. There is this cute little antique store around the corner, a cemetery up the street, a dance studio down the street, and the old fashion diner just around the corner. Robbie's excited to get our first utility bill so we can take it in and get library cards. :)

We're pretty sappy right now, but I can't help that I'm so happy. It's official, I think I've made it to cloud nine.

Wedding plans are coming along. 64 MORE DAYS!

I'm So Much More Mature Today

In anticipation for moving into my new house with Robbie (YIPPY!), I've been picking through my piles of junk and "stuff." 

After hearing about the load of boxes with which I've already filled our kitchen-to-be, Robbie has carefully asked me to try and not "collect 'stuff.'" 

This is a weakness of mine. I am acknowledging this now. I do like "stuff," but I love the memories associated with things of my past. I'm tickled every time I pull out a random trinket from "that one time," or a poem I wrote so long ago. My hand hesitates over the garbage can. What to do?

We learn so much from our past. Have you ever looked back on your life a year, several years ago and thought, "I've grown up so much since then"? Well, I do this all the time. And I know my flippant feelings of being so much more mature now will only fade tomorrow when I look down my nose at the me of yesterday. 

Sometimes I think the things I worried and carried so much about were silly and insignificant. I suppose this is a signal that I'm growing up. I would be more concerned if I were interested in the same things now as my 15-year-old self. However, in my piles of papers I spent the evening sifting through, I found a half sheet of paper with the title "goals for 2008." Granted, it's only been three years, but I was quite taken aback to see that I had the exact same goals this year as I had three years ago. Many people don't believe in New Year's Resolutions, I know Robbie doesn't. And I almost didn't make any this year. But I'm glad I did. 

I love seeing progression in my life--sometimes harder to detect than the list of goals that has hung over my head for years. 

Speaking of growth, I've been picking through pics for a video Robbie and I are putting together for our reception. Here's my new favorite picture of Robbie. I'm obsessed.

I'm Engaged!

I'm pretty sure that everyone who actually reads my blog already knows this, but I wanted to post it anyway. I love saying "I'm Engaged!" as many times as possible, so you'll have to indulge me for a moment.

I am so happy. This is so right. And I am so excited!

My road with Robbie has been a bumpy one, and it has taken us a long time to come to this decision and to find this happiness. But I am very grateful for every bump and twist in the path that lead us to the strong relationship we have now.

The decision to get married is a scary one, and requires a lot of faith and trust. In some ways, being single can be much easier than relying on and caring for someone in addition to yourself. However, I feel that with the added difficulty, comes an added measure of happiness!

I feel marriage follows after the pattern of Adam and Eve. We leave a state of child-like innocence, accepting the fact that life's difficulties and potential for pain increase, but also look forward to our ability for joy and knowledge and progression to increase and deepen and grow so beautifully.

Robbie and I will be married on May 21, 2011 in the Salt Lake Temple.

We signed on a cute, very old, little house in Lehi, where we will start our life together.

In our new {old} house.

Dear Diary

When I was younger, I tried really hard not to cover my diary pages with sappy declarations of young love. I felt I was much more mature (yeah, right.) than the average teen, who failed to remember ("unlike me") that crushes are inevitably crushed. Sure, I had them. Goodness knows, I crushed on boys all over the place! I just didn't want documentation of my ever-changing romances, so I tried to keep the diary entries on the subject to a minimum.

Fast forward.

Now, my journal is full of page after page of love declarations, the name of my crush, and my roller coaster of emotion.

And I'm perfectly okay with that.

R. B. B.

♥

Spilling the Beans (the low-down on Indiana)

I'm home from Indiana!

Went to bed at 2am, got up at 4am to catch my flight.

Luckily, I had this view out my plane window to keep me sane in spite of only 2 hours of sleep:

Now, down to what you really want to know.....how everything went.

I was quite apprehensive and somewhat pessimistic before arrival. I realized I was more nervous than I expected myself to be, but surprisingly, not nervous about meeting boy's family. I was nervous about boy. I made myself crazy with thoughts of what boy would think of my meeting his family. I tried on all of my clothes before leaving to get Camilla's (my little sister) required approval (then packed nearly everything I owned--just in case), I painted my toe nails three times (and naturally, ended up wearing socks the entire time), and I got advice from my brother Josh (who never shares his thoughts and feelings on this subject--ever) for several hours.

Upon arrival, I was so tired and worked up I felt really off emotionally. Thankfully we went right to bed when we finally got to his house at 2am.

We did all sorts of wonderful things throughout the week. In addition to Christmas at the zoo, the farm, and the Children's Museum, we also spent time at the Indianapolis Art Museum, window shopping around The Square (including the cutest cafe for lunch, the antique mall and a darling little ice cream parlor!), the entire first season of White Collar, learning to play poker, dinner theater, my first New Year's kiss, family visits, the local breakfast hotspot, the Barbie board game, dinner with his folks, football and basketball, a photo shoot, surviving an earthquake, cutting boy's hair, quiet moments together, and many, many more things.

My nerves about boy faded very quickly. I loved every moment I had with him. And not to get too mushy, but my feelings for him reached a depth I've never felt before.

As far as his family goes, they're wonderful. The first few days I noticed a lot of differences between my family and his, not a matter of "good or bad" but just differences. Then I started seeing similarities I hadn't expected to see. I loved both the differences and the similarities.

I can't report how things went from their side, although I think they'd have good things to say {at least I hope they would}.

I wish I could say everything was perfect, but sadly I have a regret. It's one of my weaknesses--a very prominent and difficult-to-overcome weakness. I shut down (or rather shut up) within situations I'm not entirely confident/comfortable. I've seen many people respond in similar fashions, so I know I'm not alone. I guess many compounding factors led to me not having much to say in most situations while there (i.e. I know nothing about sports, they already knew everything about me ((the one subject I in which thought I'd have the upper hand)), it was my first time meeting most of the people, etc.). But on the bright side, not saying as much as I'd have liked prevented me from saying something stupid.

Ultimately, his family was very nice, gracious and welcoming. My family missed me. And maybe with time his family will get to know me on a level that they will too.

Now on my reading list:

I Don't Want to Grow Up

We went to the Indianapolis Children's Museum!!!

 Where Robbie played computer games...

 and I left to Never, Never Land!
"Second star to the right, and straight on till morning."

 The dinos were awesome.

 And the ever-changing planetarium ceiling was just as fun.

...another computer game.

(He claims this is supposed to represent me...no comment.)

He definitely made out with Barbie in front of me.

Which got him a job as her secretary.

Just in time for him to play the Barbie computer game.

Where he created this Barbie outfit for me.

So I went and flirted with Ken.

No bribe I had to offer was sufficient to get boy on this Barbie runway. I tried oh so hard. But alas, he will not model or twirl...in public. 

Fireworks of blown glass!

Yup.

Supposedly, this is what we'd look like with long legs.

Indy 500, here I come!

"Forget them, Wendy. Forget them all. 

Come with me where you'll never, 

never have to worry about grown up things again."