Best Birthday Breakfast… ever.

Alrighty, you avid readers (all 3 of you) … I will make my best attempts to convey our engagement in blog-like form. I have to warn you though, there is simply no possible way that my words can do it any sort of justice. I would have to hire a real writer for that. So as for now, you get me. Slight disclaimer: I have been to Atlanta and back in 48 hours, my mind is still in Jr. High mode, and I am running on minimal sleep. Give me a little grace. :)

Kyle flew down here last Saturday to spend the week in Winston. Saturday was a blur–he had woken up at 3am to fly to Greensboro, therefore he was pretty much out of sorts the rest of the day. Sunday was busy, he met lots of people and we called the night early and said our goodbyes. We had planned on going to Duke that Monday, which we did… very satisfying for both Kyle and myself. We snuck into Cameron Indoor Stadium–which I must admit was a bit of a milestone in our relationship. Kyle was a little hesitant to go in because it said “closed practice” and the lights were turned off, but CLEARLY no one was practicing and honestly… what harm could it do? What were they going to do, arrest us? No. So we braved it and walked around the stadium long enough for Kyle to feel complete. We are basically bad to the bone.


Tuesday came and went, pretty normal day. I went to work and Kyle read/played basketball/hung out by himself. He met some more people that night–such a trooper. We stopped by Food Lion on our way home from a friend’s house to get breakfast supplies for my Birthday breakfast. We had planned on making breakfast and LuAnn & Wayne’s (where he was staying for the week), and so I went to grab a six eggs (how many eggs can two people eat?) and he grabbed the carton full of twenty eggs. He said we could leave the rest for LuAnn & Wayne. Hmm. Weird… I dismissed it and laughed it off as Kyle being Kyle.

Wednesday morning, I arrived at LuAnn & Wayne’s on time (a victory for me), and Kyle came to the door in complete disarray, appearing as though his eyes were crusted shut and said, “Hey, sorry, I just woke up… I will go get ready. Start making breakfast. I love you, I’m so sorry. Oh… and… don’t go upstairs, your present isn’t wrapped yet. Oh yes, and Happy Birthday.” Trying not to show my aggravation, I smiled sweetly and chuckled on the inside knowing that somehow Kyle always seemed to wake-up late on days that matter. Minutes later, Kyle waltzed into the kitchen, asked me to close my eyes and hold out my hands. After receiving instruction, I opened my eyes and he was on one knee and gently said, “Anne, will you marry me?” I whispered yes without hesitation, and before I could say anything else, Kyle interrupted with, “Hold on, your other present is upstairs. Come follow me.” What? Two presents?

I followed him upstairs, feeling a little unnerved about this whole second present thing… I’m not good with surprises–my quota was about up for one day. He opened the door and there sat three familiar, smiling faces–Caitlin, Laura, and Stephanie–three of my closest friends from high school and college. I screamed as though I had just won Deal or No Deal, and then walked in two of our other friends from college–Jared and Josh. WHAT IN THE WORLD?! They proceeded to tell me that they drove through the night, arrived at 6am, and were here just for my birthday/engagement. Kyle had arranged it all. Every question I had, he had already taken care of… what about this? What about the plane ticket? What about work today? What about the photoshoot? Took care of it. He knew that I would want my friends around to show their support, so he brought them to me.

So, there you have it. I really am such a lucky girl… er, woman.



Songbird

A couple of weeks ago, my friend Cait came to visit me down in sunny, southern North Carolina. Except… it wasn’t sunny, and really, Winston-Salem isn’t ALL that Southern. Anyway, we were driving around the city and discovered that Maya Angelou lives in Winston and is an adjunct professor at Wake Forest University. WHAT!? Maya…Angelou… as in THE Maya Angelou? Yes. You really would think people would wear this fact on their sleeve, like, “Hello, welcome to Winston-Salem, the home of Maya Angelou.” I know that’s what I would be saying.

A few days later, I came across this quote of hers that rings quite loudly in my own life recently, “A bird doesn’t sing because it has an answer, it sings because it has a song.” Hmm. I got to thinking about that… analyzing it, wondering what sparked that thought for Maya. After running through a plethora of possibilities, I began to internalize it. I don’t speak because I think I have the answers; I don’t write because I know the solutions to the world’s problems. I speak, sing, write, cry, laugh, scream… all because I have a song. A story. And the story goes like this: I have been rescued by a God that captured my soul and heart, and to Him, I owe my life.

I guess that I hope that the stories we tell, sing, or write are not for the pure sake of knowing answers. I think all of us would agree that it is much easier to pay attention or listen to anyone that actually believes the story they’re telling. When it’s from the heart, suddenly no one cares about cliches, lame jokes, or even repeats. I certainly long to be heard–not because I found the truth, but because the Truth found me. THAT, my friends, is a song worth singing.

Warning: Perfectionist gone mediocre.

I have this … quirk. Actually, I’m not really sure what to call it. I think it’s a quirk, but it could very well be a huge problem that haunts the majority of my daily tasks. We’ll call it perfectionism. I have recently been re-learning the concept that one’s weakness is also their strength, and in my case, that cliche certainly rings true. Welcome to my world–the world of re-thinking, over-analyzing, re-writing, procrastinating, then worrying about the procrastinating until finally I have worried myself into a headache in which I then decide to actually accomplish what I first set out to accomplish. Exhausting, right?

The good thing about being a perfectionist is that I demand success from myself. Mediocrity is a four-letter word, and I continually ask myself, “How could I do this better?” Of course, the drawback is that I also frequently set myself up for failure. If I am going to do something halfway–I shy away and say eh, another day, another time… then which I procrastinate and the entire process recycles.

This has been my experience with blogging. When I looked up “blog” in the dictionary (conveniently stored in my Widgets, thank you Steve Jobs), it said, “A website on which an individual or group of users produces an ongoing narrative.” Hmm… ongoing narrative, sounds both riveting and excruciatingly boring. At any rate, I have made up my mind to stop being such a perfectionist loser and to instead create a blog–one in which I believe it has been deemed acceptable by those in charge of Blog Land to make grammatical errors, write about pointless everyday events/things, and even misspell a few words. Sometimes I may have something revelatory to say (which is highly doubtful), and other times… I will be a bunch of mumbo jumbo. No matter what the product comes out to, I will make use of this little blog for exactly the purpose in which it started… to be a bunch of mumbo jumbo, that somebody, somewhere will stumble upon, glean from, laugh at, and then move onto another site in Internet world. (Props to Al Gore… you didn’t know? He invented the net.)

All that to say, welcome. You may laugh at me, cry with me, or grow so bored you fall asleep. Either way, I’m starting over in my “blogging experience.” I make no promises.