We’ve been down to Athens. Up to Cleveland. Back to Columbus. And now Benjamin and I are prepping to take off for Chicago. Then after Chicago it’s back to Cleveland for a wedding on New Year’s Eve.
I should be doing something cool like leaving a bread crumb trail across Ohio and the Midwest, but instead I’m just taking a lot of pictures. Like this one of Mom’s new house.
And a few from inside
See more here.
John and I survived our first holidays together, but not without some growing pains.
Our relationship is moving into another territory. I go back and forth between being completely freaked out by the idea of commitment to completely embracing of whatever the future brings. We were talking about it one night, about 2010 and what comes next when I felt completely cold, frozen in fear.
The fear is of myself, of my own misjudgment in the past. The fear that I’ll change my mind or wake up one day wanting something else. I’m sure these are all defense mechinisms, finely tuned beyond the point of recognition – protecting me from truly feeling and experiencing love.
I was washing the dishes and wishing I could be one of the plates. Clean now. Ready for another meal. Completely unaware of what happened in the past. Then John said, “I know I’m a big, hairy Irish guy but come on? I’m not that bad, am I?”
No, baby, I thought as I hugged him – you’re not that bad at all, you’re absolutely perfect.
Marriage and the thought of marriage sends chills down my spine. I’ve been there before and it was a nightmare. And even though John and my ex couldn’t be more different, they have one thing in common – me. And I am not a plate.
But the more milestones we survive, the more he surprises me with his ability to calm me down, to walk me back from that cliff I become convinced that he may just be the best damn dishwasher I’ve ever met.