Untitled and In Progress

I'm at home alone tonight, a rare occasion now that Blake and I live together, and I had a "Eureka" moment.

I'm so lucky.

I'm so very loved, in love, taken care of, needed.  I have a roof over my head.  I have my best friend and soul mate by my side.

The last 6 months or so everything has gone by in such a blur.  I haven't felt like myself-I didn't want to sing, to be outspoken, to be creative-I just was existing.

Tonight, I'm belting out Air Supply, Jason Mraz, and Martina McBride (thanks largely in part to an excellent Pinot Grigio) and wondering where the hell I've been.  Where's the feisty, bull-headed, whimsical, loveable me that all who love me...well, know and love?

Well, she's been bogged down (as usual) with things WAY beyond her control and focusing too much on what she can't do and not enough on what she can.

So watch out.  I'm back.

Once Upon A Time...

I was single, lonely, lost, and convinced that I would remain so for the rest of my life.  Then, one day, there was Blake.

And after surviving nearly two years of my constant stressing, overscheduling, nagging, and the general mayhem that is my life,  Blake proposed.

And I accepted.

Which is a really nice way of saying he shocked me into silence for one of the few times of my life, I cried, and managed to squeak out a "YES!" before running around to every person I could find screaming "I'm engaged!!!!!"

And for those of you who haven't already heard, here's how it happened:

Since last year we had been planning a vacation with my parents to Hawaii (yes, I'm a very lucky girl, and yes, I have tried endlessly to thank them).  Since Blake had taken me ring shopping in February, I suspected that a proposal might be in the works, but Blake kept insisting that the ring wasn't ready and Hawaii just wasn't the right time or place.  Blake is, generally speaking, a terrible liar and if Christmas is anything to judge him by, he has a hard time holding on to presents and not just throwing them at me once he's gotten them.  The girls at work kept telling me, "Oh, come on.  Hawaii is the perfect place for a proposal."  But I knew Blake, and I knew it wasn't happening.

Blake had made one request on the vacation, and that was for us to have one evening all to ourselves.  He planned the whole thing-oceanside dining for two with a private waiter and a 7 course meal during sunset.  When the waiter brought out dessert, a selection of sorbets, I saw perched on top a Ring Pop, and I started laughing.  I had always joked with Blake that I didn't really need a diamond, he could propose to me with a Ring Pop and I would say yes-I just wanted to marry him!!  Well, that served me right.  Blake took my hand and said, "I really wanted to propose here in Hawaii, but the ring just wasn't ready.  I promise that I will upgrade that Ring Pop soon."  I laughed (only a little disappointed) and kissed him, telling him of course I knew he would and I didn't care, as long as he wanted to marry me.  He smiled at me and we talked a little more as we ate our dessert.  When we were as full as we could be the talk turned again to marriage and Blake looked at me and said, "You know, I don't think I can wait."  He got up and walked around our table, pulling something out of his pocket.  "I think I need to upgrade that ring right now."  Then he fell to one knee and proposed...

and I said nothing!!  For once I was completely shocked into silence, tears streaming down my face.  He slid the ring on my finger as I nodded vigorously, and then finally managed to squeak out a surprised "YES!"

Well of course the rest is engagement history.  We celebrated that night and haven't really stopped celebrating since.  Here's the best part-he really did completely fool me!  He took my parents out MONTHS ago for dinner to ask their blessing, and arranged the whole proposal with my dad.  My father, who has as big a mouth as I do, managed not to tell me or my mother what was going on (although he did manage to tell just about everyone at the convention were with in Hawaii).  He had faked emails to our insurance person about the ring in case I saw anything, and the ring was in the fireproof safe under our bed for quite some time.  He even got it to Hawaii in his carry-on...the one we had stashed all our food in!  The day of the proposal he accidentally showed me a picture of the ring on his iPhone as we were flipping through shots of Hawaii-but I was so convinced that the ring was still at the store that I just wrote it off as the picture he took when we went shopping in February.

So the point is...I'm getting married ya'll!!!  Bring on the wedding plans, the dresses, the stresses, and the I Do's-I'm ready for my happily ever after =)

The Peanut Butter Jar Debate

I knew that moving in together would present new hurdles for me and Blake.  We both have been single and living alone for so long...how could we not develop some habits that would seem downright silly to each other?  For instance, I tend to leave half empty glasses wherever they are.  For days at a time.  When I finally realize they need cleaned they usually look like a science experiment, but I just dump it down the disposal, throw it in the dishwasher, and hope for the best.  Blake seems to find this unusual and disguting to say the least (so do I, but I guess not enough to change the habit).  And apparently I never eat restaraunt leftovers, which I didn't realize until Blake started eating them.  "Hey, I was saving that!"  "Really?  Because it's been in here for a month."  I guess you could say that's one of his quirks-he'll eat anything.  He thinks he's impervious to any food generated illness.

Blake, on the other hand, is of the opinion that if you use it everyday it doesn't need to go in the cupboard or pantry.  So at his apartment nothing was in the cabinets, and I think milk only made it in the fridge because he likes it cold.  Needless to say I nipped this one in the bud as soon as we moved in.  I took over unpacking and organizing the kitchen immediately and got it all in the cabinets before he could claim counter-space for say...peanut butter.

Fast forward a few weeks.

Blake has been wonderful about trying to keep up with my constant rearranging of the kitchen, since we keep finding more kitchen stuff as we unpack.  Most of his things end up back in the cupboard they belong in when he's done.  There was just one teeny tiny little thing that was driving me a little crazy...

We have two peanut butter jars.  A very large fat-free version and a small regular version.   Blake uses the fat-free PB on his morning toast every morning.  Every morning he would stack the very large jar back in the pantry on top of the much smaller regular jar.  Every morning after he left and I started to fix my breakfast I would inevitably knock into the stack and send both jars flying (thank God for plastic).  I would restack them with the large peanut butter on bottom and go about my day.  The next morning, there it would be again-the large PB jar taunting me from the top of the little one.

Finally one morning I opened the pantry and saw the jars, stacked big jar on top of little, and turned to face Blake.

"Why do you stack the big peanut butter jar on top of the little peanut butter jar?"  (*I had already had my morning coffee and this was said with some actual decency and more than a little curiousity)

"BECAAAUUUSE!  It's REALLY HARD to put everything AWAY when I use it EVERY SINGLE DAY and I'm not LEAVING IT ON THE COUNTER and then I have to MOVE THE OTHER JARS OUT OF THE WAY and I'M TRYING REALLY HARD HERE!!!!"

I'm probably a really terrible girlfriend, but I laughed.

And then I moved the little peanut butter jar to the bottom shelf, out of sight and away so that he had one less thing to have to remember.  Because he is trying so very hard to put up with my constantly changing demands and kitchen organization.  Because he is more than patient with my mercurial nature and unpredictable whims.  And because even though I don't want the peanut butter jar on my counter, I don't want him to have to change who he is completely for me or anyone (and I still don't want the peanut butter jar on my counter).

Epilogue

Two days later...

I open the pantry door to retrieve something for dinner and see, once again, that oversized PB jar on top of the ridiculously small one.  I turn, hands on hips, to face Blake, who says, "What?!"

I reach into the pantry and remove the large jar, a million variations of "Haven't we already discussed this..." running through my head and ready to burst out of my mouth.  As I lift the jar, I see a small sticky note attached to the jar below:

I love you :$

(that's the emoticon Blake gave me...he says I have a million dollar smile and that's why he fell in love me.  I know, it's disgusting isn't it?  I love it!)

I think when I turned around my face must have frozen somewhere between "I can't believe you stacked these jars like this AGAIN after I MOVED that little one for you!" and "I can't believe I'm such a jerk to complain about stupid peanut butter jars".  Blake nearly fell over laughing, and then wrapped me in his arms and said with a big grin on his face, "I've been waiting two days for you to find that."

Which pretty well ended the peanut butter jar debate.

Turning Two...and Other Milestones

My nephew Jackson turned two last week!  I honestly can't believe how much time has flown...I remember getting the phone call (as I was speeding through OK to try and make it for the birth) that Jackson James had entered the world.  That news changed the course of my life.  Up to that point I had been seriously considering (and even planning) to move back to New York City to try and make a career as an actress.  The moment I laid eyes on that beautiful little boy I knew I could never again make the choice to be away from my family.  It was always hard when I was on tour to be missing important family events (birthdays, weddings, holidays), but I could always justify it with the thought that everyone knew and understood that my job had different demands than the average 9-5 gig.  But when I started to think ahead (and BINGO-that was milestone #1 for me, actually thinking further ahead than the next 6 months), and I started to imagine explaining to little Jack why I missed Christmas...or his birthday...or his graduation...

It just wasn't worth it.

And that was the day I decided my life was going to be different.  I decided that what was most important to me was the kind of LIFE I had, not the kind of JOB I had.  My father has always told me that whatever I decide to do, I should do it with passion.  I am passionate about my family.  I complain about them, whine about them, give them a hard time, but at the end of the day I would rather have had a life full of family than anything else.  I want to be cool Aunt Nikki, weird Aunt Nikki, fun Aunt Nikki-not absent Aunt Nikki.

My life turned around completely in a matter of 24 hours.  The Monday morning Jack was born, I was merely Nikki, undecided.  Monday evening I was Aunt Nikki, smitten and galvanized.  I wonder if my nephew will ever know or understand what a wonderful birthday gift he was, and that if I spoil him rotten it is not just because that's my job but because he gave me such a wonderful gift.  He gave me the life I always wanted by showing me the possibilities of family.

In the two years that have passed, Jack has grown from a fussy infant to a clever toddler.  I suppose the same could probably be said for me.  We've both done a lot of growing up over these last 24 months.

Happy birthday, Jack.  And thank you :D

A Barrage of Bullets

Since it's chaos around my house, this will be less of a post and more of a random bulleted update.  Enjoy!

• I have turned over the keys to my apartment and I now live full time in the house!  This has taken a considerable load off my shoulders.  Blake will be completely moved in as of this weekend, and then we have no where else to go...
• Which means we better start unpacking since currently the only clean spot in the house is the kitchen (suprisingly-only because Blake is a saint and does the dishes.  Though I love him for many reasons, I have to say this one is in the top 3.)  It is not very easy to take two complete households and cram them into one.  Especially since we're both packrats and, let's face it, lazy.  I would much rather do things like install my wine fridge or plant a garden than go through yet another box.
• So I did.  I planted our garden out back (with considerable help from Saint Blake, who somehow got a shovel full of dirt in the face for his troubles.  Things like this tend to happen around me.  Sigh.)  I have rose bushes, rosemary, and several other things intended to attract butterflies and hummingbirds.  So far all I have are ants and a really bad sunburn.
• New rules have been instituted in our household to try and keep some sanity.  Blake has only given me one rule.  If we are in separate rooms and I happen to drop/kick/break/bump into something or otherwise make a loud crashing noise followed by an expletive, I am required to immediately yell "I'm okay!" assuming, of course, that I am okay.  Apparently he thinks it's possible I could mortally wound myself during normal cleaning/unpacking activities and needs to know quickly whether to call 911 or just chalk it up to Nikki being Nikki.
• My rules tend to be more numerous and specific.  Like don't drape your work pants on my chair in the living room when you get home.  Don't drape them on the couch either.  I don't care if it's your couch.  Yes, I do follow my own rules.  My clothes are in a pile on the bedroom floor, NOT on the couch or chair.  No, I don't want you to follow my example and start your own pile.  Because I said so.  Because I'm crazy and I think you're insane for wanting to stay with me when I am this crazy.  Thank you for staying with me when I'm a nut.  And thank you for not putting your pants on my chair or your couch.
• Blake thought I would forget about ring shopping after we closed on the house, but really it's all I think about.  I can't wait to marry him someday (if he still wants to marry me after all the grief I give him-life with me will be an adventure to say the least).  I just wanted to put it out there that I still want to marry him.  Not just because I want to plan a wedding (and boy do I want to plan a wedding) but because I love him more than anything in the world.  Because he is my best friend.  Because I can't imagine a world without him.

Thus ends the bullets.  For now.  Pictures are coming, I swear!  And, I think it's safe to assume, there will be plenty more "We're Living Together-NOW WHAT?!" stories-there's no turning back now!

Moving Day...Again...Part 2

I love my family.  I love Blake's family.

I do not love moving.

You know how they say "Man plans, God laughs"?  Well, God was roaring all day Saturday.  I had the whole move planned.  I knew what furniture I wanted moved and where I wanted it moved to.  I knew what I wanted packed, and where I wanted those boxes.  I knew what order we should hit our apartments in, and I knew what I wanted unloaded and where.

What I didn't plan on was 4 very opinionated, very enthusiastic men steamrolling over my pretty little plan with their dollies and packing tape.  One little girl, even a very loud, very stubborn, very frustrated, and foot-stamping little girl, could hardly be noticed by the all-mighty quadrangle of alpha males that found themselves bonding in my living room and garage.

It mattered not that I mentioned (yelled, even) that I only wanted my furniture moved out of my apartment since I didn't have to be out for another week.  Blake, Albert (his brother-in-law), Pat (Blake's dad), and my dad swept in like a tornado and grabbed whatever was within reach to toss in the truck.

Once at the house I managed to get the majority of the boxes and furniture in the rooms I meant to, and the guys (seeing my red face and sensing a breakdown of Mount Vesuvius proportions) actually listened to me.  There was the small incident where they tried to hook up my washer and found the hoses had corroded onto the taps (and leaked to boot).  My dad may have gotten a bit vigorous with his wrench and slightly bent the pipe out of the wall (plumber fixed it in about an hour yesterday).  There was also the hour spent putting together the new bed frame-no headboard or footboard, just a frame-a project I started that was quickly taken over by-I mean assisted by-Pat and dad.  There was a lot of measuring and hammering and debating and Corona (for me) involved.

My mother says it was fun for the two families, a real bonding experience.  I think they all bonded over my exploding head.

In any case, we're moved in (mostly) and beginning to unpack (a collaborative process that may take another year to complete).  My temper has mostly subdued (due to the fact that I got Blake to agree to hiring movers the next time no matter what-as much as I love volunteers, I'd rather save our relationship and spend money on people I can force to listen to me).  Now if I could just find a clear bit of couch to sit on, it might actually start to feel like home.

Moving Day...Again

Here we go again!  Once more I'm moving...leaving my tiny apartment and moving in with Blake into our own home.  It really is becoming a home already, even if we aren't living in it yet.  The main rooms are painted, repairs have been made, some old features stripped down, and some new things installed.  I, of course, have grand plans to continue renovating (a kitchen/wet bar backsplash is on the horizon...), but this week the majority of the work has stopped so we could clean up.  Here's a rundown of what we've accomplished in the last month and half:

• repaired the back fence (due to a "privacy issue" with our neighbor, this was high priority)
• painted the bathroom, bedroom, kitchen, laundry room, and living room, including the 20+ foot wall (which I painted because Blake is afraid of heights-actually he's afraid of falling, and he could have done it but it would have taken a week to get the first coat of paint on because he can't look down when he's on the ladder...)
• stripped the large mirror doors off the master closet (I may not have informed Blake before doing this...)
• removed the tacky shower doors from the master bath (I DEFINITELY did not inform Blake before starting this project, but got the point of no return and then asked for help.  I was determined to get rid of those things.)
• painted almost all the ceilings
• installed a double curved shower rod in the master bath (it's AWESOME)
• installed shelves in the garage
• BUILT shelves in the garage (my father bought me a saw and let me use it.  I can't wait to start another project with it!!!)
• tiled our kitchen floor (I can't take any credit for this other than I asked Blake to do it.  It took the better part of a month of weekends, but he ripped up the old linoleum, cleaned the cement, cut and laid and grouted the tiles.  It looks amazing, and he still wants to live with me, so I guess it wasn't that atrocious of a request...although I probably won't be asking any favors any time soon...)

When I say we built shelves in the garage, I mean my father heard me say we were looking at hanging shelves for a portion of the garage and he returned from Home Depot with wood, nails, screws, braces, and a saw and decided that right then and there I would have garage shelves.  Were shelves on my to do list that day?  Nope.  But my daddy took the day off to help his little girl in her new house, and who was I to argue with whatever he wanted to do?  Besides, they would have been on the "to do" list at some point.  And, I might add, we did not argue once while building them.  It may have had something to do with the saw I was wielding...but I think I'd rather chalk it up to our healthy father-daughter relationship.

I have taken numerous "before" photos, but wouldn't you know I haven't had a moment at home to upload them to the computer?  Plus, I have to start taking the "after" photos tonight before we move in all our furniture...which will drastically change the way the place looks too.  I'm so excited about having a place that's ours, and I'm determined to make it everything I/we want (within reason.  I'm still nixing the Superman mural in the "gameroom" I promised Blake he could have.)

I also have some wonderful "what I've learned in my first month as a homeowner" stories, like how our postal delivery man is actually afraid of the dog next door (I had to distract the poor blind dog while the postman snuck behind him to deliver the mail), but those definitely deserve their own blog post.  In the meantime, keep me, Blake, and our families in your thoughts and prayers this weekend as we once again move mountains...I mean apartments...

Takin' A Break

I don't know how I can make this any clearer:

Being a grown-up is HARD.

Why was I in such a hurry to move out of my parent's house, where I lived rent free and my dad filled the beer fridge weekly?  Why did I think it was so important to get a "real" job when, as an actress, I was required to only work 5 hours a day and go to amazing parties afterwards?  Why oh why did I think buying a house with my boyfriend would far outweigh living in separate apartments when buying the house meant that we would be managing three households, two families, one dog, and a partridge in a pear tree?

I might be exaggerating a bit.  We don't actually have a partridge.

I know it sounds like I'm complaining, but I've already had a glass of wine and I'm well into my second.  I'm just mildly cranky.  I absolutely love our new house.  I do.  I love working on it and dreaming about it and spending every weekend there.  I don't love coming home to a small disaster of an apartment.  I've completed neglected my actual living space, so there is a trail of laundry piling up from the front door to the bedroom.  Dirty dishes were piled mile high in my sink until Blake took pity on me and did my dishes last night.  Random knick knacks are strewn across the floor wherever they happened to last fall, since these days I generally am only home long enough to strip off my paint covered clothes and fall into bed (my parents are reading this right now and thinking, so what's new?).

It's all completely worth it.  I'm going to be living with the only man who could possibly put up with me in a house we are quickly making our own.  That's the light at the end of the tunnel.

But DAMN, why's it gotta be so hard?

(Insert cliches about how working hard for the things that matter blah blah blah.  Pour more wine, talk less cliches.)

The OTHER Man In My Life

This weekend Blake and I drove up to Kansas to spend a little time with my nephew, who will be 2 years old soon!  It's so wonderful and strange to watch him as he grows.  I imagine my awe will triple when I have my own children, but it is nice that I have this remarkable little man to observe and love on.  Actually, nice doesn't even begin to describe it.  Blow my mind is more like it.

He's such a complete little person already, at 22 months.  He has an active imagination that I only wish I could see more fully.  He understands just about everything you ask him, and even makes little jokes.  We were sitting together watching TV when I felt a tell-tale rumble from his bottom, and I said, "Jack, did you fart on me?"  He actually giggled and said in a sing-song-I-know-I'm-gonna-lie voice "Noooo...."  Maybe my favorite moment all weekend was at the mall when we rode the elevator for the millionth time and Sara finally said "Enough."  Jack insisted on riding one more time and when Sara counted to 3 he merely marched over to the button, pressed it, and turned around crossing his arms as if to say, "So what?"

We cooked imaginary meals together, read the same 3 books a million times, destroyed and put back together puzzles, looked for Tate (the dog-every five minutes Jack looks up and says "Tate?" and won't resume his activity until he has seen the dog with his own eyes), and shared pizza.  We rode swings, watched cartoons, and made up funny games chasing each other.  I became fluent in Jack-speak.  Which is why I was absolutely mortified when I climbed up the stairs Sunday morning and was greeted with Jack walking right past me to the stairs to yell, "Blaaaake!  Blaaaake!"

Actually, it's more like "Blay" which is close to his word for "play" and "bottle" ("bay" which isn't a bottle at all, it's his sippy cup), but still!  I've only been waiting his WHOLE LIFE to hear him say my name, and I get brushed aside for Blake!  I admit, I don't blame him.  Blake is a pretty awesome guy.  I just don't think Blake's heart would break into a million pieces if Jack learned MY name first.  I'm just saying.

The only thing that made me feel better and simultaneously worse was that he cried so hard when we left.  Partly it was because he really wanted to go "Ooooouuuut!!" and for a ride, but when I talked to my brother later he said Jack was pretty upset that we actually left.  I can tell already it's going to be terrible when we leave and he actually has the words to say "Don't go" or "Please can I come with you?"...

For now we'll just work on "Aunt Nikki".  And trust me, that kid will get whatever he asks for.

No One Told Me Turning 30 Meant My Body Couldn't Keep Up Anymore

Blake and I are now officially homeowners, which means...

I'm tired, sore, out of clean clothes and dishes, and completely unaware of what day of the week it is or what my real address is.  I have spent hours painting, trimming, taping, cleaning, organizing, and fixing anything and everything in our new home.  Not alone, for sure (our families have been a HUGE help), but apparently turning 30 activates something in your DNA that blocks your body from recovering as quickly as it did when you were 29 (or less).  Poor Blake has spent the same hours ripping up linoleum (at my request...I wanted a tiled kitchen floor, not knowing that it would take superhuman strength and 3 full days just to get rid of the linoleum).

We have already discovered that a toilet won't stop running, our kitchen sink leaks and molded the cabinet, our closet door sticks, the construction people who worked on the house before we moved in left both our trash cans full to the brim, and our 80-year old next door neighbor wants us to fix the backyard fence asap because "it's a privacy issue" (she also has a diabetic cat and a blind dog in case you were wondering).  We've left the back door unlocked at least once because we're too used to apartment living where you only have one entrance/exit to worry about.  We managed to change the locks on the front door (replacing the old brass handle with a spiffy silver one) but discovered that the door, now brown, had once been painted robin's egg blue-on both sides.  We know this because whoever painted it brown did not remove the handle to paint the door, and of course our new handle is not an exact match.

In other words, we are discovering the joys of being homeowners.

There are a few things that make the sore muscles and mold-induced headaches worth it.  Our bedroom is a beautiful relaxing blue color and our master bathroom is on its way to being a spa-like haven.  We found ceramic tile for 85 cents a square foot-and we should be able to lay it soon becuase the linoleum is almost gone.  Blake's parents bought us a beautiful red rosebush for our backyard (and promised me cuttings from their rosemary bush to grow my own!!!).  My parents brought us sandwiches, snacks, and beer to sustain us.  And, most importantly, in two months I will be living full time with the man of my dreams in our beautiful new home.

Mold beware.  Love is moving in soon.  There is no room for you here :)