But all the while you hear the creature creeping up behind.

I decided to dress up as Your Friendly Neighborhood Bookseller.

As my button says, "This IS my costume".

Our apartment complex gave out breakfast this morning.

It's the most important meal of the day, especially on a day when

all you'll be eating is candycandycandy.

Mateo wanted to go as the Cutest Cat Ever...

 I had other ideas.

He's excited to be the #1 Ohio State Fan.

No, really. He is.

Mateo deems our candy fit for children (but not for kitties).

We had fun Kit Kats!

(...that we may or may not have saved for ourselves.)

Our camp couch was set up and we were ready for trick or treaters!

Sometimes there was a lull between beggars

and we had to keep ourselves entertained...

I'm the treat!

(And Mateo investigates the haunted world outside.)

Giving my punkin a farewell hug.

Mateo says this holiday is o-ver.

Happy Halloween! 



Pityville. Population: Me.

As I laid on my bed just now, feeling sorry for myself and missing my husband, a song one of my friends mentioned the other day, popped into my head. "Just keep swimming. Just keep swimming. Just keep swimming swimming swimming..." Sure, it's from a Disney movie. And sung by a fish. And, okay, not really much of a song at all. It gets the point across, though. "When life gets you down, you know whatcha gotta do?" You know, sometimes I'm like Nemo's dad. I don't want to know "whatcha gotta do". I want to wallow in my self-pity. It's like a temper tantrum. It doesn't bring about a resolution to the current problem, but it does make one feel better. Just a bit of yelling or crying or stomping of one's feet can do wonders for the mood. I'm generally a happy person who doesn't let life get her down, but when it does, it does. And that's okay. If I didn't let myself feel sad or lonely or upset, I wouldn't be honest with my feelings. So I'm letting myself be mad that my husband isn't home with me tonight. I'm letting myself be sad we didn't have dinner together. I'm letting myself miss the trip to Costco we surely would have taken so he could walk up and down every.single.aisle and spend more money than necessary. And I'm missing the part where we would have come home, popped some popcorn and watched a movie snuggled on the couch. Because instead? I'm eating a salad and watching the news. Ho. Hum. And I have about a million (give or take a few thousand) more nights of this.

*sigh* What do we gotta do, Dory?  

  

Keep Calm and Carry On.

My parents (by way of the Bible) raised me to treat others the way I would want to be treated. "Do to others as you would have them do to you." (Luke 6:31) Seems pretty simple, right? You don't want to be treated like a child when its been yeeeears since you've been one? Great. Me either. You don't want to have a loud disagreement in a public place? I'd like to avoid that, too. You don't want to be belittled to the point where you have to walk away for fear of being fired over something you might say and then having to email your deployed husband and telling him to add more money to the "My Husband Is Deployed and I Need Money" Emergency Fund because you've lost your job? Yeah. That would be bad. Clearly, we're on a page...but maybe not the same page of the Bible where that verse is found? (Or maybe you just need to read it again? And then maybe? Again.)

You would think by now, after having worked in retail for over eleven years, I would be used to the way customers act. I would be used to their sarcasm (a language in which I am well-versed), their pettiness, their condescending attitudes, and their general all-around surliness. I'm not. I will never understand how they find it acceptable to treat complete strangers in such a derogatory way. It makes one wonder how they treat their own family and friends if this is how they treat someone they've NEVER MET IN THEIR ENTIRE LIFE. Or maybe it's easier to disrespect someone they don't know (or even care to know) as opposed to someone they love? Not to mention the fact that they're being rude to the one person who can get them what they want. You need to find the book you just mumbled the title of and I had to ask you to repeat yourself? Stop spelling every.single.word. back at me like I'm five and learning to spell. Repeat it calmly and politely and I'll look it up right away. The coffee you just ordered is too hot? Don't yell at me, "Aren't you trained how to make coffee?!" Just say it's too hot and you would like a few ice cubes.

Simple courtesy, my dear readers. It's not that difficult. And it works both ways, absolutely. It's not always the customers. I've definitely heard a few booksellers say things that have made me cringe and wonder how the customer didn't smack that bookseller upside the head. Being polite isn't always easy and I know how frustrating it can be when you can't get exactly what you want exactly when you want it. It's just about being rational and understanding. It's about putting yourself in someone else's shoes. Jesus didn't command us to "love thy neighbor...when they're being friendly and without snarkiness". Love thy neighbor. Period.  

(Was my last customer of the day a nasty woman who complained about the books being alphabetized and was so self-centered she couldn't understand why we didn't have a section based on her child's specific school district's specific reading list? Yes. Yes, it was. I understand, lady, that you "would have spent hundreds of dollars here" and now you "will never shop here again"! That's fine. Feel free to shop at the other booksto...Oh, right. Okay. I'll see you the next time your kid needs a book for school. And you know what? I'll STILL be nice to you...and not just because I'm paid to be.) 

Well, well, well. Look who decided to blog.

I apologize for my absence. I have no excuse. Well, no good one anyway. Life has been pretty typical the last two weeks- going to work, visiting Disneyland, watching movies on Netflix, reading on my nook, cuddling with my awesome cat. I'm not really sure I have much to say for this post, but I felt like I needed to check in. (Also, the husband pesters me every day there isn't a new blog post.) I still love my little creative spot on the interwebs. I promise not to forget about it entirely. Sometimes I just need to push myself back into it, whether I want to or not. I can always think of something to say so I will certainly not wait another two weeks to update. Pinkie swear. For now, I think I'll just give you a few small highlights of what's currently on my mind. Ready? Let's go.

Still loving my days with the Mouse.

*The troops are being pulled from Iraq and all should be home by the New Year. (Hooray!) I had several friends text/email/facebook me about it. It was just another reminder of how many people are out there, thinking about us and supporting us and wanting my husband to come home just as much as I do. Unfortunately, this withdrawal does NOT affect my husband and he will be staying in Afghanistan for the duration. I suppose, by some Obama miracle (Is that an oxymoron?), his deployment could be cut short, but I'm not holding my breath. At all. As with anything related to this military life, I'll believe it when I hear it, see it, and have a signed document stating so.

*Tomorrow starts the craziness that is to come this holiday season at the ol' bookstore. As the Lead of All That is Kids, I have a lot to organize, sort, and setup this week. I will have my fill of every book that plays "Joy to the World", has a chortling Santa, or claims to have an elf watch every move your child makes. (The Elf on the Shelf. It's real...and it's real creepy. Also, super popular. I will get a hundred phone calls a day from people DYING to own it. It's weird. And did I mention, creepy?) The holidays seem to arrive earlier every year and this one is no exception. It's not even Halloween yet and I'm pretty sure Christmas is just around the corner. And that I'm over it already.

*My roommate will be moving into her new place at the end of November. It's strange to think of her leaving already and how it actually makes me a little sad. It's been great having another person around to keep me company and watch a million episodes of House Hunters International with me. (Seriously. Have you seen this show? It's awesome. What I've learned: Never buy a house in Bulgaria. It may be cheap, but it's cheap for a reason. Secondly, European homes have small bathrooms and never seem to be too fond of shower curtains. Or shower stalls. Or anything resembling a shower other than a shower head sticking out of a wall.) I was a little reluctant about having a roommate, but now I'm very grateful I did. I'm hoping to have lots of visitors after she leaves so I won't feel quite so alone. (Hear that, family members? Friends? VISIT. I live in Southern California, for crying out loud. My weather is most assuredly better than yours. Guaranteed.)

I mean, really. Who wouldn't want to see us?

*I miss my husband. Yes, still. And always. It never really goes away. It's been over two months now and we'll hit three months as of November 13. This isn't the longest we've gone without seeing each other, but it's definitely been the hardest. When he deployed the other two times, I still lived at home and was surrounded by friends and family on a daily basis. Plus, I was used to not seeing him every day since he lived in a different state than me. It's been difficult to go from being married and spending every waking (and not so waking) moment together to absolutely nothing. Barely even a phone call. (Okay, yes. He called the other day and I didn't answer my phone. But I had just woken up! I was still half-asleep! It said the call was from Maryland! Excuses, excuses, excuses.) I am lucky, though, that I get emails every day. I guess that's the bonus to having a geek (aka Communications Officer) husband! Nevertheless, a phone call does not a hug make. Here's hoping the next eight months go just as quickly as the first two.

Comms are up. Good to go.

We're gonna be a-okay. 

I-Dubba-U!

Before I went to THE Ohio State University (Let's not talk about football right now, okay?), I attended Indiana Wesleyan University in beautiful (*cough*) Marion, Indiana. It was a small, private Christian university about an hour away from Indianapolis. We used to describe it as a Christian bubble in the middle of a ghetto. It seemed like the perfect place to begin my first foray into college life- far enough away from home that I could live in the dorms (but close enough to still visit home somewhat regularly), small enough campus that I wouldn't feel completely overwhelmed, faith-based learning, and even a curfew to appease my parents. Yes, a curfew. Not to mention, a "no drinking, swearing, dancing, kissing of the opposite sex for longer than five seconds, R-rated movie watching" pledge all students were required to sign before attending. Did I sign? Of course. Did I follow every rule? Not so much. (Just ask my resident director who had to have The Talk with me about watching "Working Girl" in my dorm room. Even worse, I watched it with a freshman when I was a "should've known better and set a good example" sophomore. For shame!) I never felt an appropriate amount of guilt for that, nor for any of the other times I broke the rules. While I respect the intention of those rules, I never felt God disapproved of me watching a cheesy R-rated movie with a friend or for dancing at a wedding.  

Quite a few people have horror stories of their freshman year of college and the crazy roommates they endured. Not me. I had the Quad Squad: four Christian girls living in a decent-sized dorm room with our very own bathroom. I had the top bunk, my own desk, 1/4 of a walk-in closet, and one drawer in a dresser. Not a bad deal. We knew all of the girls in our hall and enjoyed getting together for nightly "Karaoke in the Quad" or a good workout session of Tae Bo.

Quad Squad ladies.

There wasn't much to do in Marion, Indiana, (other than Walmart, Goody's clothing store, or walking to the Handy Andy for a Mountain Dew slushie), unless you had a friend with a car. If you were of the lucky few, you could drive to nearby Upland for yummy ice cream at Ivanhoe's and then driving down "Devil's Backbone" and scaring the Jesus out of your friends. (If there was ever going to be cursing, it was flying up and down those small mountains to then come to a screeching halt at the stop sign at the bottom of one of those hills. I don't want to brag, but I was GOOD at that drive.) IWU was a close-knit community where everybody knew everybody.

IWU girls all gussied up for a performance of

Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat.

For the most part, students were friendly and open. (Sure, that wasn't always the case. Believe it or not, there are some mean Christians out there. Rude, judgmental, not very fun to be around, Christians.) But we had fun and did a lot of Bible-learnin'. Chapel was every Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday morning. We had Chi Alpha, a student-led, student-attended, get together once a week and then, of course, church on Sundays. Plus, I had a Bible study group with some friends on a weekly basis. I also took Old Testament and New Testament classes. You know how they say you'll never be able to get rid of prayer in schools as long as there are tests? Imagine having your professor pray FOR you before every test? Incredible. 

So what did I take away from my two years at IWU? (I moved back home and transferred to OSU the summer before my third year of college. I missed the Christian setting, but c'mon. Football!*) I took friendships. Pick up right where we left off, long lasting, proud to still call these women my friends, friendships. One of my Quad Squad roommates got married this past weekend in South Carolina and it was a mini-IWU reunion.

Bride Alyssa with her IWU attendants.

(Michelle, Emily, Mandie, Alyssa, me, Jess, Heather)

We had a blast! Our talk may have been a little more...ahem...risque...than it was 12 years ago (What? We're married ladies now. We can dish.), but we had late night conversations and uncontrollable giggling just like before. We drank wine and danced and there may have even been the occasional four-letter word. (We decided the pledge was now null and void after all these years.)  I will never regret starting at Indiana Wesleyan University. I didn't graduate from there, but it was definitely a life-altering, life-enriching, two years of my life.

Then...

(Jess, Alyssa, me, Emily, and Michelle)

...and now.

Go Wildcats! 

*I still don't want to talk about it.      

I'm just not the same since there's rain in my head.

"...Seems it never rains in Southern California.
Seems I've often heard that kind of talk before.
It never rains in California.
But girl, don't they warn ya?
It pours, man, it pours."

And it has. All day so far. We had plans to go to Disneyland (because why wouldn't we?), but the weather had other ideas. I'll take the blame because this is a case of "be careful what you wish for because you just might get it". There are days when I yearn for rain. Day after day after day (after day) of sunshine is gorgeous and awesome and something I've never experienced before moving here. But really? I need some climate changes! Give me a chilly afternoon or a little rain shower or even a downpour with lightning to liven things up a bit. I don't want to complain (...but I will) because there are certainly places I could be living where it rains All. The. Time. and I'm sure I would despise that. (And so would my naturally curly hair on days it needs to be straight.) But sometimes too much sunshine is too much. I miss having seasons. I miss seeing the leaves change colors or the snow falling outside my window. (Just to clarify, I do not miss raking said leaves or shoveling aforementioned snow). So when it rains like this? It's like a breath of fresh air. (Or a breath of wet skies?) I didn't even recognize the sound when I first heard it. I honestly thought someone was outside, hosing down their porch. (Yes. Really.) Now that the sound has been identified as bonafide RAIN, I have the balcony door open and am snuggled up on the couch with an afghan and my laptop. (Not that the scenario would be much different if it wasn't raining, but whatever. It just feels cozier this way.) I'm ready to watch some Netflix, read a good book, drink some hot tea, and do whatever else one does on a rainy afternoon. Bring it on.

Mateo, on the other hand? A true Southern Californian kitty

who eyes the wet stuff with disdain from a safe distance.

p.s. Dear rain, I may like you today, but tomorrow I AM going to Disneyland so I will not love you like this if you're still here. 

Update: I ventured out to get the mail and noticed I was all polka-dotted out.

I <3 cute rain gear.

Mr. Sandman, bring me a dream.

My husband and I didn't live together before we got married. The only person I was used to having in my bed on a nightly basis wasn't a person at all. It was one (or both) of my mom's cats- Holly, the chubby one, or Hobbes, the neurotic one. They were good company most of the time and other times, when all they wanted to do was bat at my feet or meow in my face, I would just shut them out of my bedroom. I found that wasn't so easy to do with a husband. (Not that he ever meowed in my face. That would be weird.)

I'm pretty particular about the way I sleep. I need a flat pillow, and if the one that is available to me isn't flat enough, I'll go without one completely. I also need complete silence (Hence, the no meowing. I can't even sleep with the television on.) and complete darkness (Let's hear it for blackout curtains!). The room needs to be at a cooler temperature because I always use blankets. (Always.) Plus, I fidget. I fidget so much, my husband started calling me "Fidget". (That's a fun word to say. Try it.) But if my husband moves even a little bit while I'm asleep? Game over. I'm awake. And it takes me a long time to fall asleep. It doesn't matter how hard I worked that day or how little sleep I got the night before. Falling asleep is a process. Even more so now that my husband is gone and I have to revert back to my "old way" of sleeping.

So, here I am. It's after midnight. I've taken a Midnite (organic, non-habit forming, take anytime you want, sleep aid) and I'm...not sleeping. (Instead, I'm updating my blog via iPhone. Let's hear it for technology!) When people ask me how I'm doing, in relation to my husband being gone, I say fine. Because, at that moment, I probably am fine. I'm probably at work, surrounded by people. Or at Disneyland, surrounded by happiness. Or at home, surrounded by books and television. But at night? When it's too dark and too quiet and I'm alone in this big bed with nothing but a flat pillow and (don't judge me) one of my husband's t-shirts? I don't feel fine. It's lonely. And I would give anything for him to be by my side.

Or for, at the very least, this durn sleeping pill to do its job.