Another Anniversary!

Dear Boyfriend,

Today marks six years. SIX YEARS. Let’s take a look back…

One year:

Fall 2006 009ball 016

to…

Six years:

IMG_2311IMG_20120829_183614

Some things certainly haven’t changed.

(And thankfully, some things have. No, that hair color was NOT just for a Halloween costume…)

Happy Anniversary, E! I love you!

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If Wishes Were Horses…

I’d have a rodeo (or a lot of dog food, as one of my friends helpfully pointed out).

But, first things first, I officially have a job (!!) although it’s only temporary, somewhat miserable, slightly humiliating, and a little depressing. I’m a dietary aide at a local nursing home (thanks to my mother, who’s been an RN and administrator there for 20 years–nepotism really does seem to make the world go round, even for a job like this) but at least it’s a source of income, and hey, gives me something to write about, for all you l-u-c-k-y readers of mine.

NOW back to the important news of the week: The Royal Wedding!

I was obsessed with the royal wedding coverage, obsessed with the story, dismissing all critics and “who cares?” or “she’s just a social social-climber” or any of that such nonsense (I’m clearly neutral on this matter).

I loved every moment of it (except for the excessive formality, but it is a royal wedding in Britain, after all) and teared up every five seconds. I obsessively searched for tidbits of news on the internet, as well as the latest photos. I watched my favorite bits several times throughout the day (it was on all day where I work, in my partial defense) and discussed it at length with anyone willing.

Perhaps this makes me a bit of a romantic fool (okay, I admit it, there’s no “a bit” in that sentence–my boyfriend claims I’m romantic due to the fact that I was raised on Disney movies, and my sister did say the royal wedding was like a “Disney movie come to life”) but part of the reason I loved it was the sheer happiness of the occasion.

In a year of devastating catastrophes, like tsunamis and tornadoes, civil wars and violent protests, and a lifetime (for all of us) often filled with heartbreak, loss, terrible miseries and the occasional harsh realities, a giant event that inspires the world to unite, and has even the generally scandal-hungry media raving about the love and beauty, well that is an event that I am going to watch.

Even though it did mean I had to wake up at 4 a.m., but hey, I had to get up at 4:30 for work, anyway, so what’s an extra half an hour? (Yes, I now work that early occasionally, and in the past 3 days I’ve worked 30 hours. A rude awakening indeed!)

I now work at a nursing home, giving me a glimpse into the way many of our lives may actually end up. There are many sweet, fairly lucid residents, but also many who can’t feed themselves much less walk. One particular case breaks my heart: every day at lunch, a resident is joined by her husband. He can still get around by himself, but could no longer take care of her on this own. But, every day without fail, he comes in to help feed her, and interact with the other residents. It’s sad, sweet, and humbling.

So, a wedding like this is just what I, and I suspect the other 2 billion watchers (and pretty much everybody else, if you ask me) needed. A reminder that life, no matter how short, no matter where you end up, is full of wonderful, fun, beautiful, happy things as well.

Sure, maybe while I was asking (yelling–it is a nursing home) if the residents in the dining room wanted cranberry or grape, dessert or fruit, I made several wishes that I was the woman, on the flat screen behind me, about to become a duchess, glowing through her fancy veil at the world, marrying her handsome prince. However, I also take hope in the fact that at 23, my life is, hopefully, just hittin’ it’s stride. After all, this said duchess is 29! A lot can happen in six (okay, five-and-a-half…I guess the lying about my age has officially begun) years!

Not that I’m in any rush: my weekend plans are super exciting. They involve sleep, leftover Easter candy, and my Neti pot. (Yes, the week I get a job is also the week I get a nasty cold, even though I haven’t been sick for a day since my search for a job started…go figure).

For now, here’s to happy endings, beginnings, and everything in between!