** 106 Days

YAY! We have our first Guest Blogger of 2011! Read along and provide your input. But most of all- enjoy! And if you'd like to submit your own guest blog, email us at nomzaran@yahoo.com. -Sazaran and Nomz

So, can I just take a second to gush about married life? Because I love it. Adore it. Would MARRY married life, it's that good.

Even though I'm still effing up my signature, making the "i" and "t" in my last name nearly the same height; and the first time I verbally introduced myself with my married last name, I literally had to stop for a second to think about what my last name was— there's not much to complain about.

You'd think after dating 11 years and living in sin for more than half of that, not a lot would change post-I-do's, but I swear to the stars—there's this completely different glow to everything, like it's all been made new because we're married now. We're legitimately our own little family, writing the newest chapter of our lives with every red-light kiss and mid-week date night, and the mornings we send each other off to work with, "Love you, husband!" "Love you, my wife!"

Our life is this— we burned a CD full of Simon & Garfunkel ("Song for the Aski," "The Only Living Boy in New York," "The Boxer," "America") as our soundtrack to a winter-lit weekend afternoon in Colorado; and our fridge is topped with Fruity Pebbles, a basket full of tea, the lidded glass jar that holds treats for the Faces (our cats), and the empty alcohol bottle from my husband’s bachelor party with the colorful owl print on the back.

The mornings start with iPod serenades, and he randomly calls me in the middle of the day at work just to tell me a story about a customer, or how—Wednesday, actually—he had 200°F+ oil shoot out at him from a truck he was working on, and (I quote) I missed him "screaming like a little girl, then turning around and running face-first into the tire of a truck on the lift next to me. Yeah. I fell. And then screamed some more."

Yesterday morning, he bit my neck, and as I watched the telltale red mark appear in the mirror, he waved it away with, "If anyone asks? Just tell them I went all Team Edward on you."

It's just—married life is comfortable, in the best and truest sense.
It fits us so well. It's pure, and beautiful and exciting, and I'm fully loving every second of it.

106 days I've been married, and since the moment I began to take on the world as a Mrs., I've been asked, "So, how's the married life?" about as many times as there have been days of it.
& every time, I get my glow on, happily replying with some variation of, "It's amazing, I love it!"—only to get a knowing chuckle or Look in response, followed by, "I'll ask you again in a year!"

Is that really the magic, unspoken timeline? A year?

Does this newlywed glow—the sparkle I feel when I see my Facebook relationship status as “Married to,” or the cozy feeling of looking at my husband (!!!) snuggled next to me and the Faces tucked in between us, thinking, "This is our family"—does it come with an expiration date?

Are we doomed, 365 pages in, to shed our happiness & joy in favor of matrimonial monotony?

I hear "I'll ask you again in a year," and wonder why it's such a feat to imagine that, a year from now or even 50, we—not to mention any other pair of newly-minted newlyweds—won't still be just as thrilled to be married.

Why would be any less in love, just because "that's what happens," or because it happened to someone else?

I look at these people who ask about my marriage (which, for the record? makes me feel oddly adult to say; "my marriage")—these people nearly always being well-meaning, long-married people—and in the space between The Question and their humorless chuckles that follow, I wonder what their marriage is like; what makes them assume I'm just cresting the top of this mountain in my life, admiring the view, so blinded by the glow of my sparkler that I fail to notice a bottomless pit of despair around the next bend?

I saw the same thing when I was planning our wedding, and even now when I talk to newly-sparkled friends; it's so rare to find a former bride who doesn't immediately default to, "GOD, it was so stressful; I'm just glad it's over," when dispensing advice about wedding planning.
On the opposite end, there's me, this radiating ball of joy that wants to know all about people's wedding colors & invitation designs, asking about how the bride-to-be's feeling (because seriously? no one does this—it's always, "How's the planning going?", never, "How are you doing?") and what style of dress she's dreaming about.

To each their own; I just never understand why, rather than chiming in with something positive, people always go straight for the dark & twisty.

Rationally, it all boils down to the fact that people only can speak to their particular experience, but it begs the question— is everyone really in such a lackluster state that they can't share any enthusiasm, rather than passive-aggressive caution, about being forever entwined with their one, only and always?

It's these people—the ones who tell me, "I'll ask you again in a year," that I honestly do hope we run into again in the next 365— because a year from now, I know I'm going to have even more of a glow when I tell them how amazing it is that marriage just keeps getting better.
I know now, just like I did at 14, when people "knew" we'd break up as soon as we got to high school; just like I did at 18, when my sociology teacher informed me that "there's no way we could last after graduation, no matter how happy we were," because he & I were just "too different"; just like I did at 22, when everyone "knew" we could never work things out— I know that our love isn't their love.

They don't know what it's like to live this life of ours; one we've built of barefoot kitchen dances, big dreams about Southern porches & sprawling garages, and the intricacies of having literally grown up together.

One we've peppered with our own vocabulary of words that don't make sense to anyone but us, and spun through with "Wish You Were Here," lakeside ice cream, dusty roads in the middle of summer and I-love-you's every night.

So, yes— ask me again in a year.

♥Observations.

Ever notice how absolutely surrounded (pun intended) by boundaries we are? They're everywhere: lines on the road, stop signs, speed limits, gates and fences, aisles, laws. All put in place to remind us of our place. I hated boundaries for a while and I did everything I could to intentionally step over them; proving that no one could control me. Know what I've learned? Boundaries are not a bad thing. They're actually meant to help us and keep us from danger. They're meant to guide us and keep us from regret. Boundaries don't have to be fun, but they will facilitate more fun than violating them will.

I've noticed a few of my own different heart-changes here and there. God has been really working on me (& that whole black and white thing I bragged about) recently. Not that my heart was wrong, but it wasn't right either. I'm totally okay with this kind of change. Anything that works in me a softer heart, bent toward loving others (in Truth) is something I'll surrender to.

Speaking of... I believe with everything that is in me that if someone is seeking Truth (capital T) they will find it. Others? The truth (little t) they're seeking is actually just a new version of comfort- something that will fit their schedule, their opinion, their preference. Truth doesn't make you comfortable; it draws you out of your over-stuffed Lazy-Boy and requires that you use more than just your logic to believe it. It doesn't conform to YOU, YOU conform to it. Which is why it's superior to opinion or preference.

Brokenness is not a gentle sort of thing. It requires a violent dying to self and a desperate thirst for an in-pouring of the Holy Spirit which can only be quenched by unutterable groanings and hours of weeping at the feet of Jesus. Brokenness is kin to suffering and sorrow; one cannot be obtained without the other. Yet, it is a thing of glory. For in it we take on the image of Christ and are able to be made whole… from brokenness.

God cannot be contained in a box. He just can't be. And anyone who tries to put him in a six-sided encasement is ignorant and is probably trying to stuff an idol in there, not the Creator of the Universe. Just sayin'.

The thing from before that I thought was Love? It wasn't really Love. It was self-serving and perverted. Love doesn't seek its own benefit; it doesn't use others to satisfy itself. So then what is the opposite of Love? Some would say Hate and I'd have to agree on that, but I also think that Self is Hate's counterpart and therefore also the opposite of Love. Self's sacrifice is an illusion meant to look, feel and sound like Love. But Self and Love are two entirely different creatures that are easily confused. The things is: when you finally find and act out true Love, you know the difference immediately.

♥I am woman.

I'm the woman that has all the other women wrapped up into one:

The business woman with her goals screwed on straight. Who isn't intimidated by outside forces beyond her control. The woman who grabs life by the you-know-whats and doesn't let go until she gets what she wants. <-- I'm 2% her.

I want to be the homemaker that takes pride in her clean living-room and doesn't mind wearing those new heels while vacuuming the halls. The woman that sees the feminist and pities her for her lack of domestic desire. Her entire world is her family and she lives to feed and dress them well. <--- I'm 10% her.

That 50's housewife gets old. Fast. I want to have the fire, the passion, to burn my bra and proudly walk the streets with squared shoulders and an "I can do anything you can do." attitude. Her strength is envious; her independence is unmatched. <--- I am 8% her.

Then there's Mother Theresa (minus the celibacy). Her focus, her journey, her end result is Christ and reaching out to those who need His love most. The desperate, destitute, and dreary world sees this light shining from her because her source is the Light. Sacrifice and toil are her closest companions. Her ministry is her life is her ministry. <--- I want to be 30% her.

What about the princess? The one who squeals at dirt and dreams of being swept away by a destined knight on a white horse. She replaces every damsel in distress (even the Disney ones) with herself as she imagines being needed and desired enough to be pursued in the right way. <--- I'm 20% her.

I want to be my mother. I want her strengths and her achievements. Her knowledge and her talent are surely to be mine, right? They're in my blood. She is an example unto herself of a woman that I strive to be. She is a real woman with weaknesses that she has to fight against and goals that seems daunting to her at times. Yet she still climbs toward them. She cares for her children and prays for her friends. She has a listening ear and an a compassion that warms the soul. <--- I am 15% her.

Wonder Woman, by my definition, has a week-long meal planned out. Her children's faces are never crusty or dirt-smeared. Her house has an air that draws company and keeps them. Her husband adores her cooking and her friends call to ask for her opinion of household decor. She seems like the 50's housewife... but in all actuality, she's just totally creative and has time to be so. <-- I'm 5% her.

This free spirit doesn't care if her kid's face is dirty, bare feet help him feel the earth, artistic character is developed best in chaos. Every day is an adventure and every discovery is a lesson learned- be it messy or on the edge of danger. Her kisses are untapped and her understanding transcends culture or social skill. She employs abandon and encourages running free. <--- I am 10% her.

“Women are strange and incomprehensible, a device invented by Providence to keep the wit of man well sharpened by constant employment” -Arnold Bennett

“Oh, woman, woman! When to ill thy mind is bent, all Hell contains no fouler fiend” -Homer

“I will never be the woman with the perfect hair, who can wear white and not spill on it.” -Sex and the City quote

“How can a woman be expected to be happy with a man who insists on treating her as if she were a perfectly normal human being.” -Oscar Wilde

“You don't love a woman because she is beautiful, but she is beautiful because you love her”

stuff you may or may not be interested in.

conflict makes me feel sick.
it takes forever for me to make a decision, but when I do I'm confident enough to stick with it.
i'd totally be a barista again.
i love my dad but can't wait to move out of his house. or there might be a death in the family (of the animal sort).
of all the things i'm most grateful, it's for being allowed to be a mother.
i'm in love.
my pointer finger is double-joined and looks like it has been broken in half.
i wish dream interpreting books actually made sense.
i'm total girl and i frequently over-dress for an occasion.
the "snooze" button must be hit at least four times before i can drag myself out of bed.
"it is so happy to love." <---- first tattoo. for sure.
harry potter > twilight. there, i said it.
in life, i've gone from never speaking my mind to speaking my mind too much to knowing when to speak and what to say. iz good.
it frustrates me when people ask for help and then turn down every offer provided to them.
a recent lesson: God is not a cookie-cutter. He works in everyone according to their own person... and His will of course. but, what He has done for you or has told them is not the same for me.
my baby boy is growing and it astounds me how much he's starting to learn. it also makes me a little sad.
it's going to be an AWESOME year.
when you know... you know.
i'm not going to blog about this love, just yet. give us a little private time to revel in its newness and then you'll hear all about it. i promise. <3
‎"when I question something... i just buy a new outfit." <-- not originally me, still awesome.
my prime thinking time is when i brush my teeth.
i absolutely LOVE being a listening ear for my friends.
talking on the phone is not my thing, but i'll talk to him for hourrrrs.
God wants me to live in washington state, i just know it.