Chin Down....Lean this way...Now, put your arm around him....

For anyone who has read my blog, it’s no surprise that I will be getting married (in less than 11 months)! To say that I am excited is quite the understatement. I essentially have the entire wedding planned already…..yay for having a Type A personality! Call it whatever you will, anal retentive…I’ll buy that…obsessive compulsive..sure, why not! Regardless, I am having the time of my life planning our wedding and fortunately have an amazing fiancé who simply smiles and nods when I ask him if he likes something.

That, however, took some training.

After visiting my DREAM reception venue I was ready to book and Andrew asks me, “Shouldn’t we look at other places?” EXCUSE ME?? What? I don’t understand, what do you mean other places? There are no other places! Shortly after that “mini” episode he quickly recanted and agreed that it was the best place out there and the perfect choice for us! Good boy, you get a treat now ;)

I received some great advice, from my boss as odd as it may be, about wedding planning. He said “Nicole, you are only as stressed as you want to be. Don’t waste your time worrying, just enjoy it.” Thank you boss!! I have done just that! I think stressing over a wedding mostly comes in the form of caring about everyone but the two most important people, the bride and the groom. I don’t apologize for my next statement, but I really just don’t care about anyone else. There I said it! I don’t care about anyone other than myself and Andrew! We are having the wedding of OUR dreams, no one else’s :) . That said, we are both pretty fortunate to have great parents that believe that very thing, this is about us, not them. So I really couldn’t ask for a better beginning to what will be a wonderful future.

Andrew and I had a great experience with our photographer at Giraffe Photography. The day we were taking out engagement pictures started off with a crazy Midwest spring storm…figures. My hair does not, I repeat…DOES NOT do well in a wet atmosphere. It begins to frizz and curl and before you know it, I have my own personal atmosphere around my head…annoying. Regardless, I was going to cancel and then, as if Jesus himself were looking down on me, the clouds parted and “out came the sun and dried up all the rain."

I raced home to prepare for the pictures! I broke out the liquid eyeliner (yes ladies, I mean business) and began the process of becoming beautiful. As a side note, I love being a girl. It is the most amazing feeling to look in the mirror and borderline scare yourself with a reflection and then BOOM 20 minutes later a Goddess is looking back at you….oh make up…my one true love…besides Andrew that is! Ok, make up done. Now on to my hair!

I have discovered the wonders of the curling wand. It’s a little tricky to get used to, but oh. My. Gosh it is amazing. I recommend it to anyone and everyone because it just gives the most natural looking perfectly placed curls every!

Once my hair was done, it was onto my outfit selection. Naturally, I went with a dark jean that looks great on pretty much everyone! Then for the top…what to do? I want to look cute and modern, but I don’t want to look back at these pictures in 20 years and be like “Cripes, Nicole! What were you thinking?” I went with a basic green (because I love green and look awesome in it! Yes I am that vain) button up shirt and a pale yellow cami underneath. There was however, a secret weapon involved that I will share with everyone loud and clear…SPANX! OK, I am by no means “large”, at least I don’t think I am, but I will admit that my mid section could use some…let’s say “toning.” Well ladies, Spanx will do the trick. I wanted to make sure that I didn’t have a miscellaneous roll hanging out in any picture, so Spanx to the rescue!

I was done in only 75 short minutes. Andrew got ready in 5…..

We headed down to a beautiful area to take pictures and had an interesting 20 minutes of photo taking. I always watched America’s Next Top Model and thought to myself “please, I can do that.” Ummmm, NO! It was extremely awkward and fast paced. “Move your chin to the side.. no the other side. Put your arm around him…don’t squint…look at Andrew….don’t look at Andrew….. turn this way… put your foot under there.” Geeez the whole “look natural but I am posing you” thing was a lot to grasp. Sure enough however, 20 minutes came and went and we left thinking “well those are going to look weird.” While Andrew and I clearly looked amazing that day (just stroking my ego a little) we weren’t quite sure how all the pictures were going to turn out.

Two weeks later, we went to view our pictures. WOW!! A-Freaking-MAZING!! This guy knows what he is going! I pretty much loved every single picture and could not have asked for a better photographer. Everyone who has seen the pictures loves them and I just love everything about them!! I have attached a few for everyone to take a look!

Wait.....What?!?!

Hello, blog readers!! It’s been a while since I have graced you with a post, so I figured I would fill you in on one BIG update!!

So, Andrew and I have been dating for two years now and let’s just say I was ready to make a certain commitment that involves a ring. It was a topic of conversation that quite often ended up with me upset because he wasn’t ready and made it pretty clear that he wasn’t going to be ready for some time.

One such conversation happened Monday February 7, 2011.

It started off as a normal day chatting on our work communicator with no major topics being brought up. For some reason or another, the “proposal” conversation reared its ugly head…..again! The convo began pretty casual but soon turned into an emotional disturbance for me. In asking my typical questions to pick his brain about what he was thinking, I was getting answers that were really throwing me for a loop. “So, Andrew, people are asking me when we are getting engaged and are telling me it’s going to happen soon….thoughts?” Andrew’s response “Who is saying that, cripes, I don’t even know when I am going to be ready to do that, we have only been dating two years, Nicole.” Wrong answer, my friend……wrong answer. “What do you mean we have only been dating two year, how long do you think we have to date before we get engaged?” I asked….enthusiastically. “I don’t know, I am just not ready for that right now.” As usual, the conversation fizzled with me accepting the fact that we were probably going to be middle aged before he was “ready.”

The topic didn’t come much the rest of the week and into the next, but our planned trip to Galena, IL (where we, for the most part, met and began dating) was fast approaching and I became more and more excited for the romantic weekend that I planned for our two year anniversary. Yes…..that I planned! I pride myself in knowing Andrew very well, and this was just too cliché for him. Although everyone I knew was telling me it would happen that weekend, I knew better. I convinced myself that there was no way he would propose, so much so, that I didn’t wear my waterproof mascara, which I had been wearing (despite its inability to lengthen and volumize my lashes) for the last two months “just in case” I had a reason to cry out of pure joy.

Shortly after we arrived in Galena, we were off to dinner at a delicious and reasonably priced Italian restaurant, Vinny Vennuchi’s (strongly recommended)! They had one of my favorite wines, Lambrusco, so naturally I had to get a glass!! After dinner we walked to a cute bar in downtown Galena. It was so nice outside, slightly chilly, but not too cold. I clutched onto Andrew’s arm and he awkwardly began to hold it out. “What are you doing?” I asked. “Oh, nothing thought you wanted to grab my arm.” I just kind of laughed and said “Well I can clutch onto your arm without you holding it out!” He kind of laughed it off and opened the door of the bar for me.

A few drinks later, Andrew was ready to go, so we paid our tab and were on our way. By this point in the night I has consumed three alcoholic beverages, so to say I was chatty was an understatement. I was just talking about whatever my little heart desired and only taking breaks to get more breath to continue my talking! Andrew was pretty quiet, but that’s not unusual when I drink because like I said…. I like to talk!

When Andrew finally got a word in a started talking, I piped down and kept walking, giving him a chance to participate in the conversation. To be honest, I can’t remember much of what he said, but I know that it was sweet and romantic. As the words began to sink into my brain and I figured out what might be happening, I stopped DEAD in my tracks turned around and pretty sure I said “What?!?!”

This is the bridge we were on!!

As I turned around, he was getting down on his knee and pulling out the most beautiful ring I have ever seen from his front jacket pocket (explaining the awkward arm holding).

Doesn't even do it justice!!!

My eyes got tears in their eyes instantly and I managed to push out an “Of course” when he asked me to marry him. A few seconds passed and as we hugged on the bridge over the Galena River my next question shocked him. “Is my mascara running?” “Is that what you are really worried about right now, Nicole?” He replied. I then explained to him my wearing of waterproof mascara so I could remain “beautiful” when this happened and how I just knew it wasn’t going to happen this weekend. He then explained to me how he blatantly lied to throw me off his scent and told me he purchased the ring a month ago!!

The next day we celebrated our engagement the best way we knew how…..eating a Flav’s Fried Chicken in Clinton, IA. Only in Iowa can you get an old, deadbeat rapper’s chicken that was surprisingly delicious!

Ahhhh Skeet, Skeet.

Ladies and gents, I want to formally introduce you to Skeeter. He is a five and a half year old orange tabby with a HUGE personality. When I say he is a character, I mean it. I objected at first, but he begged me to allow him the opportunity to create his own blog (I am a real softy when it comes to him)! So, without further ado I give you, SKEETER!!

As you can see, I can be a little shy from time to time, but I am so excited to write my first blog. It won’t be too long, because not having thumbs makes it pretty difficult to type. Mom says I have a pretty big personality, but it’s really because she doesn’t pay enough attention to me. I don’t think she realizes how important I am. I try to get her attention by weaving between her legs and constantly meowing, but it seems to piss her off when I do that. I don’t get it; it’s called love, MOM!!

I am a pretty curious guy; I like to know what’s going on around me.

This jack hole had his light blaring in our window when I was trying to sleep. What the heck is that about jerk! I stuck my head out and gave him quite the look. He quickly turned off his lights. I am the man of the house; I have to take care of all its occupants.

I can also be pretty goofy.

I found this ribbon in our apartment. I was having blast playing with it until I tangled myself up and couldn’t move. Mom was a real jerk that day. When she found me she just took pictures and laughed. I could have died! I could have strangled myself or something, I mean I didn’t, but I could have dang it. And all she did was laugh and take pictures. Real sweet lady!

There was this one day that mom and I were pretending we were on a roller coaster.

OK, she told me to say that. We weren’t on a roller coaster dang it. She was forcing me to take pictures and I objected. I have tried to let her know I don’t like these photo shoots, but she doesn’t get it. When I try and bite her to let her know I don’t want my picture taken I get popped in the head. You heard that right, I GET POPPED IN THE HEAD. How does that work? You are forcing me against my will to do something. I am just protecting myself. Pick on someone your own size!!

I would consider myself a real gentleman most days.

Mom passed out giving blood on this day. I crawled right into that nook and just stayed with her until she felt better. I will admit it’s nice to have her home during the day (but don’t tell her I said that). When mom isn’t feeling well, I am right there to make it all go away!

Even with all this fur, I tend to get a little chilly in the apartment.

I like to cuddle up in the blankets in the fall and winter. There’s nothing like a warm blanket and a nap on a cold winter day!

Well I guess that’s it for now. My life if pretty exciting, and I am sure there will be more to come soon! I am going to North Carolina to see my girlfriend Hermione over Christmas. She is one hot babe and our secret romance was almost exposed the last time we were together. I love when mom comes home from a visit to North Carolina. I can smell Hermione’s sweet pheromones all over her suitcase…..love, sweet love!!

Well there you have it folks, that’s Skeeter. One crazy guy!!

When I was young…

Most of you might be able to tell at this point, that I like to tell stories and I might exaggerate SLIGHTLY on some details. OK, OK, I exaggerate a lot, but that is what good story telling is!

Well my story telling and exaggerating days began when I was very young! At one point, I stole my Mom’s high school class ring, lost it, and convinced my sister that she somehow was to blame. Unfortunately for me, when she went to confess, my mom revealed that she already knew it was me that lost the ring, so I was caught red handed in my story! There is one story that I created that I am going to tell you all now. I will note a few things before I get started 1) for all those who know me as Nicole, I also go by Nikki 2) the below story did not harm anyone, other than egos… and 3) five year old girls in pig tails are too cute to not believe!

In kindergarten, I had the mom that would come to everything! She dropped me off at the classroom door in the morning; she was waiting outside that door to pick me up in the afternoon. If there was a field trip or volunteers needed, she was the first to sign up. She was actively involved and I was the baby of the family, so it was her last chance to go through the steps (well, at least until grandchildren came around). The day this story began, my mom was out of down (I think some sort of retreat, but that’s pretty irrelevant). This meant that my sweet daddy would be in charge for the week.

Now, I am and have always been the stereotypical “daddy’s girl.” One bat of my eyes and he turns into butter right in front of me! I look, walk, talk, write, joke, everything like my papa bear! BUT, at five years old and prissy as they come, daddy was not the ideal candidate to get me ready in the morning. Perhaps this story was revenge for my mother leaving for the week and letting dad pick out my outfits and do my hair. Needless to say, I was the definition of a hot mess that week. My ponytail had bumps in it, my clothes didn’t match (newsflash daddy, neon orange and baby pink just don’t work together), and my lunch never had a note on the napkin with a heart saying I love you. It was just a disaster! He wouldn’t even walk me to class, just dropped me off and let the safety patrol escort me.

The week started on a good note. I had a good friend in the class and one day, in typical kindergarten fashion, he had an accident. Well, he didn’t have any spare clothes, so I gave him my pink pants with bows (I was a giving kid, what can I say). He really liked them, so I told him he could keep them. I told my teacher “the story” and all the wheels were set in motion!

Mom got back on Thursday night and took over her duties Friday morning, thank gosh!! As we went to school (pink dress, white tights, mary-janes, neatly pulled pack pig tails with pink and white ribbons), I felt whole again! I matched and look as cute as a button! As we pull into the parking lot, mom parks and walks me to my class room. As she peaks her head in the door all is revealed.

My teacher turns white as a ghost and runs over to the door to give my mom a hug. Naturally mom was a little taken back but hugged her anyway. My teacher (we’ll call her Mrs. H) says, “Oh Norma, I am so glad you guys are alright, we are going to help however we can!” At this point my mom is a little confused, “Mrs. H, what are you talking about, of course we are alright.”

Now I am getting nervous. When I told the story, I never realized that mom would find out! I try to give Mrs. H that “cut it out” look, but she didn’t pay much attention to me. Mom sees my friend that I gave my pink pants to (he is wearing them again) and she asks “Nikki, what is he doing with your pants?” Phew, she is changing the topic, all is good. “Oh I just let him have them, mom. He really likes them” I replied. I run to go play, grateful that the crisis was averted; I just figured they would go on and not continue to talk. I was wrong.

“Well, Norma, we are starting a clothes and food drive next week, it will be in the news letter going out Monday.” says Mrs. H. Again, my mom was always the one to help so she replies “Great, I would love to help just let me know what I can do, who is the drive for?” At this point, I think Mrs. H knows something is up “well, it’s for you and your family. Nikki told us all about it.” Crap!!!! I am done for! Mom looks over at me and I hear it “Nikki told you about what?” This isn’t good; I can feel both of them gazing at me. Mrs. H tells mom “she told us about the fire. She says your house burnt down.” Those of you that know me well, know, not only the next words that came out of my mother’s mouth, but also the tone in which they came out. “Niiiiicoooooolllee Luuuuuuuuuuzzzz White!” Uh oh…….

I come over, tail between my legs, and just look up. My mom then explains “Mrs. H, first, we live in an apartment, so our house did not burn down. Second, Terry (that’s my papa bear) caught the stove on fire but he put it out with no damage. I am not sure where she got all this from, but I can assure you, we and our apartment are fine.” Mrs. H just looks down at me, but what can she do “well don’t I feel stupid now, but no one dropped her off or picked her up in the morning and she was just a mess every day, so I just assumed something happened.” I am pretty worried at this point; I think a whipping is going to be in order for this one. To my surprise, they started laughing. Yeah, Laughing. Like I mentioned before, no one was hurt, and the “drive” didn’t start, so nothing really came of this, except this story. Well that and for the rest of the year Mrs. H didn’t believe a word I said. So much for trying to convince her mom was pregnant so I could get an elephant sticker…DANG!!

I am SO Proud… No, listen to me! Listen to me! I am SO PROUD……

I am going to take it back again to the weekend Andrew met my parents for the first time.

I currently reside in the State of Iowa to work for that big old green and yellow tractor company. Andrew was born and raised in the great corn state and attended Iowa State University. For all of you that have never met anyone that attended Iowa State, let me give you a peek into their lives, they are all OBSESSED with Iowa State Athletics. I am not sure if my judgment is skewed by the company that my wonderful boyfriend keeps, but I am no longer shocked by their extreme loyalty and fan hood.

Anyhow, the weekend we scheduled to visit the wonderful North Carolina was strategically planned around Iowa State football. The Cyclones (ISU) were playing the Nebraska Cornhuskers at Nebraska. This is a pretty big game apparently in the “former” big 12, so fortunately for Andrew, it was televised in NC. To give you a little history about this rivalry, ISU has not beaten Nebraska at Nebraska in like 30 something years (Andrew is probably cringing right now that I don’t know the exact date and time of the last time this occurred, but let’s be honest, you get the point…. It’s been a while).

So we didn’t realize the game was televised in NC until the 4th quarter, and once we turned the game on, there was no turning back. (Correction: I didn’t realize the game was on, apparently Andrew knew the whole time, but wanted to be polite and not unleash the football freak too early in his relationship with my parents). I would like to add that at this moment, my parents have known Andrew for about one hour! The game is a real nail biter. It’s late in the 4th quarter, less than 3 minutes left in the game. Zac Lee (quarterback for Nebraska) goes for the pass, INTERCEPTION!!! Holy crap! “ Did Iowa State just do something good?” That was my initial reaction.

Now there is less than 2 minutes left in the game of a lifetime. One minute, 30 seconds, 10, 9, 8, ok you get it. Iowa State WINS! I am immediately shocked by this and don’t know what to think. I look over at Andrew to see how I should react and I see a ghost. I don’t think he has realized what just happened. Then I see what looks like a single tear followed by an uproar of “Oh my God!” and jumping around like a 5 year old school girl. My one year old nephew looks at him and back at me, him, then me, one more time, him then me. “Yes, little man, this is what you have to look forward to one day!” I tell him. My niece, who is almost four, thinks Andrew is dancing and joins the celebration that doesn’t seem to stop. My mom looks at me, and asks “Is he always like this?” I simply respond with one word, “yep!”

About 5 minutes later, the squealing stops and the phone calls begin. Andrew was completely unavailable for the next 45 minutes as he had to talk to everyone he knew about the victory that just took place. It was essentially the exact same conversation with every person and each time the excitement somehow continued to increase. Eventually, he calmed down and we were able to enjoy the weekend with an Iowa State Victory on our side.

This event, however, is not what the story is about. It is what happened later, in the Iowa State locker room that now haunts my everyday life. In case some of you have not heard of the famous speech given by coach Paul Rhoads himself, I have attached the link to share.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oAcKiMy0Gp4&feature=related

To give you a summary, Rhoads is proud, and he expresses this thoroughly! Yes, this was enough to make ESPN Sports Center.

Ever since that mild October day in North Carolina, I can no longer say the word proud. Even if I catch myself saying it, if the first hint of the word “prou” comes out of my mouth the avalanche starts. “I am so proud, no, I am so proud, listen to me, listen to me, I am so proud to be your football coach!” Says Andrew “proudly.” Every freaking time! Every time! As if that isn’t enough, if I happen to say the word in his apartment, not only to I get to hear him recite the speech, but it gets pulled up on youtube so I can hear the actual Paul Rhoads say it!

I want to end this by thanking Paul Rhoades for creating a monster that I am “proud” to date.

On the prowl….

In Iowa it gets cold. REALLY cold! Wait, really FREAKING cold!! I am from North Carolina and cold to me used to be 27 degree Fahrenheit, well friends, cold to me is now -15 degrees Fahrenheit. You read that right!! Don’t fool yourself, its freezing!

When winter hits in Iowa (usually around mid October), everything goes into hibernation. The sun doesn’t come up until 8:30 or 9 in the morning and it starts to go down at 4 in the afternoon. Fortunately for me, I am working during that time, so I don’t get to see the sun until March (Jealous? You should be, I am so lucky! Hope you are starting to pick up on the sarcasm here)! The birds leave, the bugs leave, the bunnies stick around, which is a nice sighting every so often, but you get the point, EVERYTHING leaves. Except Spartacus…..

I call the creature you are about to hear about Spartacus because he is a true warrior, a fierce competitor and came to an unfortunate, yet deserving demise. You might be asking yourself “what creature could she be referring too? A lion, a tiger, a bear??” NO! This creature has no fur; he is nimble, quick, and as spirited as they come. He is determined to outlast the brutal Iowan winter in my apartment. He is but a small cricket, also referred to as the nightmare off 2009.

It was snowy night in December and I am cuddled up in a blanket with my beloved feline, Skeeter. We are warm and toasty, fresh cup of hot chocolate in hand. There is something very peaceful about the snow in Iowa, so pure and quiet; you could hear a pin drop if you tried. But that’s not what I heard that night. It was an unmistakable sound. One that usually only comes at night in the summer. I strained my ear to ensure I wasn’t dreaming. There it was again. Crick Crick. Crick Crick. Crick Crick. That is my best attempt at the incredible annoying sound of a cricket.

I stand up and move around the apartment to try and identify the source of the sound. It’s as if the cricket is playing a game with me. I get close and he stops. Then moments later, he is across the apartment. I chase after him. Once I have lapped the apartment 4 times, I decide to rest and hope that he is only a visitor for the evening and will soon leave.

I was wrong. He doesn’t sleep. He doesn’t leave. I have no idea how he has survived so long, but it has been three weeks and Spartacus is still here! I am losing sleep and patience! One night I reach a breaking point. It’s close to 1:30 am, still wide awake from his cricking, Skeeter and I decide to declare war. I will not sleep until he has been defeated!

We start in the bedroom. Skeeter is there beside me, alert and ready to pounce on command. “All clear, Skeet. Let’s move to the living room” I command him as seems to nod in agreement. Once we have left the bedroom, I seal it off in hopes no one will enter.

The above process continues throughout the apartment until finally, we have him cornered in the bathroom. I lock the three of us in there; Myself, Skeeter, and Spartacus, an unforeseen trio. “You’re going down, you monster!” I yell in a Braveheart type battle cry.

Spartacus remains silent thinking that he will fool us. He doesn’t. We sit and we wait. Then it comes, “crick, crick!” It’s a challenge. Skeeter perks up and I let him take the lead. He looks behind the toilet. No luck. The bathtub. No luck. Then, he gets a scent. I see him crouch into position like Mufasa, the lion king, eyeing his prey. There’s a shuffle and I see Spartacus for the first time, no bigger than a Tylenol gel cap, he jumps into the air, and Skeeter swats him down. Then, as if he was begging for mercy, one final “crick” and he is gone. I pick him up and give him a royal burial at sea. “Goodbye, Spartacus. You put up a good fight, but you didn’t have a chance! Good boy, Skeeter” I say as I pick up the victor and give him a good pat on the head.

I lay back down, Skeeter gets in the perfect nook he forms in my arms, and we have our first peaceful night sleep in what feels like an eternity.

The Countdown.....

It all started the morning of June 30th, 2010. I get to work, excited that there are only three more days until the extended 4th of July weekend my gracious employer gives us, and my first thought is “I need to go shopping to get Andrew and I matching outfits for the cookout on Sunday!” Immediately after that, I thought “Good God, when did I become my mother?” It’s a scary thing to wake up one morning and realize that you are three steps away from making matching iron-on sweatshirts with glitter to make them “fancy.” Once I was able to come back to reality after that astonishing epiphany, I did the normal morning routine, checked email and looked at the calendar. NICE! I get to give blood today!

Apparently, I have a pretty rare blood type (and therefore get calls once a week from the blood drive place asking to donate). Anyway, we have blood drives here at work, and it’s just an easy convenient way to help out society. So I am about to head down to donate and Andrew (the boyfriend) Instant Messages me (yes, we have IM at work). The message reads “65 days.” I didn’t have time to ask “65 days until what?” So I went down stairs to give blood.

The first part of my donation was standard, answer questions, get my blood bag, and wait until they are ready to stick me. As I am waiting my mind begins to ponder, “65 days, 65 days, 65 days?” Hmmm, what could be in 65 days? I don’t have a calendar readily available, but maybe it is an anniversary of some sort, maybe he is going to surprise me with something special??

Now, it’s time for the stick. The sweet old lady asks me which arm I would like to give from “the Right and I will warn you, I am a fast bleeder! I have been known to fill the bag in lighting time!” I joke with her, but that is a fact! On a normal basis I can fill the bag in less than 5 minutes. I prepare for the stick and there it is. Ahhhh, that’s over. I look at the sweet old lady and she has a very concerned look on her face. I quickly check to make sure my arm is still attached. Phew, it is. The sweet old lady calls another nurse over “will you take a look at this, I think it happened again” she says. “What happened again?” I reply looking confused. The other nurse comes and examines “Yep, you clotted to fast.” Excuse me? You literally stuck me 30 seconds ago. I clotted too fast.

So the old lady (note I dropped sweet) begins to move the needle around “does that hurt at all?” She asks. “Nope, I am good” but really I am thinking “Cripes lady you are prodding a sharp object around in my arm, what do you think?” So they decide to take the needle out and start again on the other arm. Luckily the clotting drama allowed me to forget about the 65 days comment.

As she sticks the other needle, it’s a success, kind of. It takes me 30 minutes to fill the bag! Ridiculous. As I wait to fill the blood bag, I find out the old lady had this happen 5 times today. Clearly, she needs to be removed from the needle prick and stick to asking the questions!

At this point, it’s been almost an hour and half since the elusive “65 days” comment. I mean who does that? Why would you just dangle a carrot like that and not follow through? Ugh. I am finally done with the blood drive and head back upstairs to share my story with all who will listen, including Andrew. I was so intense in my storytelling about my blood giving adventure, that it wasn’t until 45 minutes later that I ask with intense excitement “so what is in 65 days?”

I want to take a moment for everyone to guess what it could be. It would just be too easy to tell you flat out and not allow you to experience the intense anxiety that I had as I prepared for his reply.

I see the words “Andrew is typing….” on the instant message dialog box. My eyes light up and my muscles tense. Then I get the answer “65 days until college football starts.” WOW! That’s what my anticipation was for, college football? “That’s literally over 2 months away!” I reply. “I know, I am getting so excited already, I can’t wait, it’s so close!” he says with excitement coming out of every part of him. As a side note, I can’t remember the last time I was excited for something 2 months prior to it happening.

Since that moment, I have gotten weekly, and now daily updates on the countdown to college football. Now, I like football just as much as the other above average females in the world, but dating a diagnosed sports addict has truly increased my awareness on the craziness that is college football.

For all of those interested, 17 days……