A Decade Recap

This will be the last of my self-serving posts for a while. I've settled on a blog space restructuring that will be implemented tomorrow. No more attempts at humor and pseudo-insights. This is a space for serious business.
But more on that later.
Accompanying this post are slightly out of focus photos from our Christmas Sunday Dinner.

Due to the time of year of course, I was thinking back to how the decade started and I realized that I started the decade by dropping out of college to travel and be wild and free and unburdened, and I'm ending the decade with a husband and a mortgage and a business. So I reckon my outlook changed a bit.

High and Low lights for Big Lu:
2010 - dropped out of college / started my travel fixation / Met Lukas
2011 - reluctantly reenrolled in college / started at Boone Hall (life altering new outlook) / good trips
2012 - had the best time in Greece / beginning of very laborious breakup / heat stroke / lots wallowing in aimlessness
2013 - graduated college / develop mild anxiety / not enjoying odd jobs / very grumpy / always tested by fake boyfriend
2014 - quit all jobs / drove across country / reluctantly came home / met Brett / started at Duvall
2015 - finale of laborious breakup (mostly) / started at Bloom / develop panic attacks / not sure where life is going
2016 - Brett moved away / quit Bloom and started Lux / felt a great sense of loss and worry
2017 - Brett came home / big trip with Ellen / learned about business / developed debilitating anxiety / Found Pippa
2018 - Found greatest little house / lost family / Brett proposed / happiest summer on record / married the Big Guy
2019 - lots of small-adventures / made a home / heaps of babies / steadiness / significant decrease in anxiety

In-between all of these major markers are the worthwhile and meaty bits. The lazy days and family dinners and outings with friends and great books you read and songs you hear and warm sun on your nose and birthday cakes and road trips. There's also a lot of introspection and doubt and feeling blue. Life can seem uneventful until enough time goes by that you can look backwards and inwards.
Up there, that was my tumultuous twenties. Everyone says that your twenties are messy so naturally I became determined that mine would not be - because I'm not a drinking, partying type that kicks up trouble. I'm polite and frightened. What could be messy about that? Turns out it's your innards. My 20's were messy.
Everyone says your 30's are great and calm and young feeling. I'm actively excited, and that's new.
What will my High and Low lights list look like in December of 2029?

One Last Photo Update

I'm thinking I need to do some blog restructuring. I think it's lost it's pizazz. For what it's worth, I frequently blame Brett for smothering out my creativity because I'm a night person and do my best creating then, but Brett goes to bed early and I haven't yet gotten over the good, cozy fun of sacking out next to your person. Maybe in a few years when he's old news I can accept separate bedtimes.
So maybe I'll sit and give the blog a good think so I won't continue such a pithy effort. What sort of things do you want to read about? Surely it's nothing I can provide you with.

In the meantime, here's the December hodge-podge of photos.

The crew gathers for Chelsea's Christmas themed birthday party.

Brett practices songs he won't sing for anyone.

Boone Hall needed some extra hands for their Wine festival this year, so I got to spend a week out with my fellas. I just loved it. The best part was talking to some of the fellas that have learned English since I last saw them. All those years of playing charades ... I finally got to hear their voices.

Owen and Ethan came over for their first bonfire. 

EisenEars and I have been taking the dogs on new explorations.

A happy October bride sent me this in the mail. I'm oddly thrilled by it.

Another exploration day.

 Big Lu works on big Lux schemes for 2020. And boy is it cringeworthy.

A Follow Up Post

In an effort to procrastinate my end of year invoicing, I read back through this blog to the start of this year and I realized that I tease you with little bits that I never acknowledge again, leaving you to wonder about the outcome of assorted events. So, if you didn't care back then, you certainly won't want to read the rest of this post.

In February, I told you that Mom started an exercise regime and that Brett and Dad built a deck on the back of the house. Now you may recall that Mom promptly tore her ACL on day three of her exercise plan and was laid up for weeks, recovering and gloating. I'm proud to tell you that both knees are doing great and she has no plans to exercise in the near future.
The back deck is still just the greatest thing ever, although I haven't been starting my days out there since the summer morning temperatures went south for winter. While the deck was completed in February, we had to let the wood dry out for 6 months before we could paint it. So it has not been painted or sanded and Brett thinks it may need a pressure washing. We did purchase the paint and stain needed for the project back in July when Sherwin Williams had a Summer Blowout sale. I almost attempted to get started on this but I took a nap instead.

At the same time as the big deck installation Brett wanted to put lights on our gate so we can find our house at night. As of two weeks ago, this project is officially complete. Want to know why it took 10 months? Because when Brett went to run the electrical lines on the back of the gate posts, he discovered that the wood was rotten inside. So those had to be replaced: dug out the old ones, buried the new ones, cemented around them for stability, probably a few other extra precautions and steps because Brett is very thorough, and then sanded so that the gates would hang right. That took a month or two. Then he had to dig and bury those electrical lines, run them to the house, find an outlet to hook them to, found out it wasn't grounded, yada yada yada. He got those a-blazin' just recently and we crappin' love them!

My other February follow up is that both houses in our backyard have sold and we now feel very exposed  and have to keep waving at people back there because it seems rude to pretend we're having any privacy. Also, delivery trucks drive back there and get jammed up and have to spin around and it makes Pippa and Grace bark way too much. I hate it. We've yet to meet the newest neighbor but Brett kicked a ball into his yard and had to have the guy throw it back and Brett said it made him feel "juvenile."
March began our subscription to the New Yorker which was fun only momentarily and then became a high-stress game of musical chairs. A weekly magazine is too much. Brett quit reading them first but maintained that he was going to get around to reading them. I frantically read issues mostly cover to cover. I realized it felt an awful lot like the assigned summer reading they'd give you in school so I started to read only articles I was interested in and this cut my turnover rate in half. I offered the latest issue to Brett anytime he was floundering around for something to do, but they never enticed him and I suggested we cancel our subscription. "You're not reading them and I'm only reading them to outweigh the costs."
"It's a dollar an issue." he replied.
"That's 52 bucks a year, Bubba!" his tightwad wife retorted. Brett was being stubborn about the magazine so I read and read. I skimmed. I skipped. And then I started taking them from the mailbox straight on into the stack. By July I was at wits end. We no longer have a subscription to the New Yorker.

In April we found that propane tank in our yard and have yet to come back to that project. To refresh your memory, we were digging up an old flower bed to get some level land and grass. It's looked like this since May...

Still don't know why Brett put a pallet over it.

 ... which is around the time Brett completed the town's largest compost bin. We're not sure were doing it right.

This is "the bin" before he put the front on it. He made a neat little system where you can slide planks in place depending on how high you want the front to be. I can't take an updated picture because it was also around this time that Brett's parents moved into a house down the street from us and now their boat lives in our yard directly in front of Bin. Someday, I'll thrill you with a photo.

Just two days before my birthday, Ellen found out about Olivia and I had to hold in that secret for ages! She has since grown a big round belly. Brett tried to sympathize.

While Ellen and Lee were in Europe, I broke into their house and painted a tiny mural and turned their guest room into Olivia's nursery.

In July I mentioned a burst of Instagram success. It has since plateaued and I've gone back to mentally laboring over it while also participating in it less and less.
In August I stopped drinking coffee and I feel notably better. Who knew you weren't supposed to feel queasy and frightened all day everyday?

The pups got into their first violent fight in August. In September we took them to a dog trainer for a consultation. We were quoted $5500.00 to have them properly trained so that "fighting would be a back burner concept to them" and I nearly choked on my good manners. I would like to add that during this consultation a cockroach danced around above the dog trainer and occasionally fell from the wall it was climbing and scrambled towards us. Grace and Pip and I could not take our eyes off of the roach while Brett became increasingly frustrated that the three of us had lost focus entirely and were misbehaving. I flinched once when the roach fell and it startled the dog trainer. He causally glanced at the roach and then continued speaking. Pippa squirmed in my arms trying to catch it while Grace drooled with delight. For 30 minutes this roach tormented us and the guy never once thought to remove it from the situation. Later, I watched it crawl up his pant leg and finally it settled in his flip-flop, just under his bare, bouncing heel.
We did not choose to move forward and instead elected to consult with a few more behaviorists but we've never done that. Instead, we've been intervening in the majority of Grace and Pippa's interaction time and we don't let anything get too exciting. They have yet to fight since we laid down the law. I'll keep you posted.
Pippa continues to delight me.

In October, after much laborious studying, Brett took his licensing exam and last week we found out that he did not pass. My confidence in The Big Guy kept me from ever considering that he wouldn't pass, so it also never occurred to me to keep the number of people I inform about Brett's big test to a minimum, for the sake of his pride, I mean. Brett's such a great fella, he got that bad news, allowed himself a moment of disappointment and then set his plans to try again in the Spring. Despite his good attitude, he'd probably prefer I not publish his "failure" but I just can't let that happen. Pretending not to be human never helped anyone. The head engineer in Brett's office didn't pass the first time. These tests are designed to trip you up. He'll take it again. And I'm overconfident he'll pass. Because he can do anything. ("except pass the P.E.!" - Brett)

Lastly, and most importantly, Google no longer thinks I'm fat.

A Not So Near Death Experience

We had to wake up at 4:00am to get to the airport for our flight home. The six of us met in the lobby. Melody and Joe were catching a flight later in the day. Sometime between waking up and getting in the cab, Dad got a call from Melody saying that Joe had gotten very sick with a bad fever and couldn't get out of bed. Dad offered to stay behind with them but there was a snow storm coming so Aunt Mel told him to go on and fly out before the airport started to cancel flights. So we carried on, shuffled through security, and waited at our gate. Dad had a few more phone calls with Melody while the rest of us munched on breakfast items and as we walked the gangway and stepped onto the plane, Melody said she was taking Joe to the hospital. Brett and I took our seats in the back of the plane and it started to rain a little. While all the passengers were settling in, Ellen sent a text that said, "Dad's getting off the plane." I leaned my head into the aisle and saw Dad pull on his backpack and disappear around the corner. While I understood (and had secretly hoped) he felt like he should stay to help Melody, it feels a little wrong or icky or something for a family member to get off of a plane and stay behind while you fly away.

Within moments, my atrocious brain pointed out that Dad getting off of the plane most definitely meant that we were on an ill-fated flight. Because how else can the whole family die leaving that one person to say, "I should have been on that flight."? That's how it happens in the movie you know. A simple phone call pulls one guy off the plane and BAM! He escaped death.
I hated that I thought this but then I thought about the fact that we were flying into the beginnings of a snow storm so this preposterous Lifetime movie plot didn't seem all that unlikely. I thought about Dad living alone in his big house with no family and I couldn't imagine him happy so I thought maybe I should get off the plane too. In recent years I've become increasingly uncomfortable flying for no real reason other than I don't want to die that way. I'm not so uncomfortable with the idea that I won't do it but I'm uneasy enough that I need real motivation to book a flight and have to mentally prepare to then get on it.
Now, I knew that if I told Brett was I was thinking about, he would laugh at me and maybe even be a bit put-off that I had concocted these thoughts. But my concern was growing.
"Brett?"
"Hmm."
"Don't laugh. You know how there's always the one person that didn't show up to work the day the building exploded and then he's left there to think about that forever?"
"Yeah."
"Dad got off the plane." Brett looked up at me. "We're goners."
"Lu, no. We're going to be fine. Don't think about those things." I looked up at him without smiling which is so rare that Brett knew I wasn't just being silly for the sake of it.
"Think about it... the rain, the snow storm..." I said.

As Brett prepared a response, the captain came walking up the aisle. He was a dignified looking man with a kind face. He was passing wing pins out to the children and as he did this he said the following:
"Listen folks, I wish I could tell you that this is going to be a smooth flight..."
That's all I heard when my survival instincts kicked in and I kind of blacked out a little while also bolting into action undoing my seatbelt and preparing to run. Brett put his hand on my shoulder and listened. "... pretty bumpy... flying through a storm..."
I heard things but I couldn't listen. I had concocted a tale of doom and it was being confirmed by a professional (who, in my extensive flight history, has never left the cockpit to warn people about flight conditions). And then it happened, a wave of heat rolled up my spine and my eyes filled with tears.
"We have to get off the plane." I felt desperate. And embarrassed. And why wasn't anyone else reacting to this news?
"Lu, it's going to be ok. Just a few bumps." So I sat in my seat like a child and cried wimpy, little tears that I wiped away before they could ever roll down my prideful face. Brett was not terribly reassuring but maybe I could not be consoled. My flight fears were coming true and it was a matter of being frightened and nauseous until it happened. As a proud non-cryer, the fact that my body had decided to cry without my consent only alarmed me further.
It knew I was in real danger.

I'll have you know that I died three thousand deaths on that two hour flight to Atlanta that was no more bumpy than a bus ride on a potholed highway. I've had way worse flights that were never acknowledged by the captain at any point in the journey. I spent an hour and a half waiting to be sick and scared and it was pure torture. So agonizing, that I wore myself out completely and fell asleep for the last half hour of the smooth ride. We landed in Atlanta, stepped off that plane, and I had nothing else to do but own up to my childish behavior. I told Big Mama of my in-flight distress and as I told her, we saw the Captain walking along to his next flight, happily rolling his suitcase behind him.
"YOU!!!" I wanted to scream. I imagined tackling him to the ground to explain the terror his good manners caused me. Had he stayed in his cockpit to announce the possibility of light turbulence, I'd still have years left on my life.

Now let me tell you this. Towards the end of my panic, just before I dozed off, I was thinking about our little house. I wanted to be in our home. I thought about how cozy it is in the mornings and the way the sunbeams come into the kitchen. I know it's dramatic but stay with me. I love those morning sunbeams. I couldn't wait to be home. Desperate to be there. While I thought about the pups curled in their favorite corners of each couch, I realized I was on a plane and excited to be flying home. That sounds minor and normal but it's not. During all those traveling yers in my early twenties, it was that I was desperate to extend a trip just so I didn't have to go home. The flight back to Charleston was defeat. I cried wimpy, prideful tears on those flights too, but they were because I didn't want to go back home to so much emptiness. That's all totally different now. I've never been excited to come home before and that thought felt like a present on Christmas morning.

Moreover, if you read all of this and think that I'm overdramatic or possibly insane, I'd like you to know that Mom and Ellen also admitted to thinking about us being in a fiery plane crash once Dad got off the plane. So there.

Niagara Falls - A Very Cold Family

Instead of celebrating Thanksgiving like normal Americans, the Union/Barton/Eisenhauer clan ventured to the tundra to gamble and experience weather for the first time. As a tightwad and unacknowledged bystander, I'm not sure how this trip came to be. I was simply informed one day that I needed to book flights for two adults to Buffalo, New York for the morning of November 28th so I did because you never outgrow blind obedience to your parents. Right?

Prior to leaving, I heckled each of my friends that own true winter-wear. I booked Ari's green "Omaha" coat months in advance. (Did you know Nate is from Omaha? Ari had to buy a real coat for family visits.) Sweet Jessie from Cooperstown, New York leant me gloves so pouffy and thick that you really can't hold on to anything. I laughed at such ridiculous gloves but she assured me it's not funny and tried to give me socks and a hat. I told her I had these things but she seemed concerned for me. I also bought real boots for "light rain and snow" as that was our projected forecast and I don't own any shoes that haven't acquired ventilation holes overtime. While the boots are bulky and dramatic, I had toasty feet the whole trip which was my only requirement for spending T-gives in the tundra. I don't do cold feet. Mom and Ellen borrowed boots from Georgia's Idaho Collection and Brett purchased long-johns for his long legs. Our collective fear of the cold fueled the adrenaline it took to run out of the Buffalo airport and over to the taxi stand where we threw ourselves into a minivan and spent the whole ride to the hotel talking about that three minutes we'd just spent in the cold.

Our hotel for this adventure was selected and reserved for us by Aunt Melody who inherited her mother's fondness for slot-machines and is therefore a VIP at this particular casino/hotel. A few weeks before we left for this trip Dad began hosting Casino nights at our Sunday dinner to help "prepare" us. As young, poor people neither Ellen and Lee nor Brett and I were particularly interested in gambling away our pennies. Mom also does not see the sport of it. But Dad was also helplessly bequeathed with Sadie's gambling gene and so created a life-size Craps poster that he laid across the dinner table to teach us all how to play. He also passed out informative printouts of BlackJack rules and probabilities. Admittedly, Lee and Brett became quite excited about BlackJack.

The majority of our time on this trip was spent wandering around a dark casino full of neon light clusters and dinging machines with the volume up too high. Walking through the casino on Thanksgiving morning actually made us sad. Not for ourselves mind you, but for the handful of local folks feeding their money to machines instead of having a celebratory meal with friends or family. Lee worried for the people in the casino, concerned that they would lose the money they needed to pay bills or buy food. Meanwhile Aunt Melody bounced from slot machine to slot machine winning coins, shrieking, and waving her arms with enthusiasm. That night we had a big Thanksgiving supper and were all in bed by 10:30. We were pooped.

The next day we visited the Falls. Due to cold weather and numerous previous visits, Melody and Joe stayed behind to donate to the hotel instead. The six of us put on everything we brought with us and stepped out of the hotel and walked over to Niagara Falls. I don't have many thoughts on this and I'll tell you why. It was a grey and dismal day and while Brett and I were delighted to go for a walk and breathe in something besides cigarette smoke, grey dismal days tend to make even the most inspiring feats of nature look kind of dull. I was underwhelmed by the Falls and I've decided it's because they put too many big buildings too close to it. If you want to emphasize something grandiose, you shouldn't put something larger right next to it. We also only saw the Falls from the top looking down, which everyone knows is how to take the most flattering photos because it has a slimming effect. I reckon that hopping onto a boat and sloshing your way up to the Falls would really put the scale and reality in perspective. I imagined wandering through a dense forest and emerging at the Falls and was then struck by the wonder of such a find. I wish it was still setup that way.

We then shuffled over to the visitors center where we watched a 30-minute cinematic masterpiece (that's sarcasm) depicting the history of the Falls. The reenactment started with an important Native American character (who Dad claimed was wearing white sneakers with her deerskin dress) and moved on to the industrial era when folks starting performing stunts in the vicinity. We learned that the first barrel ride over the Falls was performed by an unsuspecting cat, followed later by its owner who came up with the stunt just to gain fame and fortune. That crazy old lady was in her sixties and made the poor cat go a second time for her debut performance. We learned about the number of accidental rides over the Falls, tightrope walkers, and assorted seasonal facts. Lee slept through the bulk of the educational movie. Later that day, during a moment of silence, Brett stated that he does not approve of the treatment of cats in the area.

The return of Khaki-Man

and Lee's paparazzi photos.

From the movie we walked over to Canada to find a horrendous carnival town not unlike the casino we were staying in. It was a tourist trap strip of strange museums, costumes, flashing lights, indulgence, and the grotesque. It made Myrtle Beach look classy and we all expected more from Canada. We ate lunch at a burger restaurant that had a Reese Cup stuffed burger, if that gives you an idea of the kind of place we were in. We ordered salads and chicken sandwiches with names like "Crappy Tire" and "Son of a Beech." Mom couldn't withhold her laughter anytime our polite waitress said "Crappy Tire" with such genuine cheer. After lunch it became noticeably more cold outside. Being as bundled as I was, I hadn't noticed the cold as particularly momentous except for when the wind blew and except for my face which had lost its ability to express much. After a quick stop in a Hershey's shop for hot cocoa, the cold became too much for Lee and he ran back across the border without us. Ellen went with him for support.

Mom being tolerant.

With The Falls checked off our list, the rest of our trip was spent lounging, snacking, watching football, napping, and "gambling." Mom, Ellen, and I did not partake in any casino games except for a single moment where Mom walked right up to a Craps table, put five bucks on number sixteen, won $175, cashed out and went back to her room. Dad, Lee, and Brett gave themselves a BlackJack allowance and plopped down at a table to try their hands. Ellen and I squirmed around behind them as we watched our nest eggs go, though we did enjoy the banter with the dealers and watching Dad give knuckles to other players when they'd win. 

Little Olivia wiggled around a bunch during this trip and once kicked Ellen so hard that it startled her. Tubby Ellen is fun because she get's winded easily so you can hear her wheezing and panting even when she's laying still. Ellen also couldn't button her coat over her big belly which I found very endearing. 

Ellen was not interested in being in photos.

All unfinished meals are donated to Brett. His appetite impressed assorted waitstaff.

Bits I loved about this chilly adventure are as follows:

-invigorating temporary weather

-top-notch people watching 

-warm beverages

-lots of family members scattered about creating unplanned run-ins which are so exciting

-the biggest, warmest duvet I've ever slept under

-watching Ellen waddle around with lots of layers on (limited mobility)

-my particularly warm feet

Coming home from Buffalo proved to be an additional adventure that I'd have rather skipped and will tell you about my next post.