Jesse & The Rippers stop by “Late Night with Jimmy Fallon” to perform a medley of their greatest hits, including the “Full House” theme.
This is perfection.
I honest to God got chills during Forever.
Sometimes when I think back, I can’t believe we got married at 22 and 24. It seems wreckless to make such a permanent decision when every other part of your life is seemingly in flux, but I’m so glad we did. The parallel efforts of trying to discover myself and discover a shared life with Joe seemed overwhelming at the time, but four years later, I’m still very much learning both of those things. We have done a great deal of growing up together. I don’t know if it was naiveté or bravery—most likely something in between—that made us think we could make it work.
And work is what it has been. It’s the good kind of work; the kind that doesn’t stop paying dividends.
The song we danced to at our wedding has a lyric that makes me nod along every time I hear it:
I’d rather be working for a paycheck
than waiting to win the lottery
It has been a big year if you count the milestones. But the times I remember feeling the most “filled up” are the simple ones: the joy of surprising Joe with a big breakfast on the first day of his job, high-fiving at mile four of the Peachtree road race, and walking with the dogs to get a late-night pizza in our new neighborhood.
I’m so grateful for the love and understanding that has continued to grow with time. I’m so grateful for the commitment and the willingness on both of our parts to forgive the human things that make us so flawed.
We’re building our solid foundation and there’s no one I’d rather be building alongside.
We had a not-so-great vet appointment with this guy yesterday that translates to an ultrasound on Friday.
We’ve been a mess over it. I cried myself into a puddle at the vet’s office and in my blubbering state tried to explain to her that while he might not look like it, Roney is my child. Thankfully, to her, it required no exlanation.
He’s my best buddy and I need him to be OK. He’s going to be OK.
- My best friend Torie gets here tonight. I’m so excited. I just can’t hide it. And I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I’ll stop.
- I finally bought a car and am feeling I-N-D-E-P-E-N-D-E-N-T again. (I still managed to avoid learning to drive a stick shift and never had to get on that motorcycle that I am using as leverage until the end of time)
- Joe, totally unexpectedly, starts a new, awesome job that he wasn’t looking for (that literally fell into his lap ((where was this a year ago?)) (((not trying to be ungrateful, but c’mon…)))) at the end of this month
- Our four year wedding anniversary is next week. That seems impossible. We have never been asked more about future children than we have in the last six months. Open letter to the general population: get out mah (empty) womb.
- I just celebrated my five year anniversary at work. People always say the time flies in your career and the milestones just pile up. I don’t know, man. I really like my job, but feels like five years to me. At least the firm got me a present.
Nothing says responsible homeowner like messing up the transition of your water and sewer so you have to pee in your backyard.
I packed our entire apartment by myself this week with Joe in LA for work. On Wednesday, my transmission died, or exploded or whatever happens to a transmission to make your car stop moving in the middle of a major intersection.
With Joe on the left coast, and the fact that I can’t drive his manual car that was sitting in our parking deck, I have been stranded this week. This led to recurring flashbacks of the time I screamed at Joe and jumped out of his still-moving car because I didn’t like his teaching style or care about ever learning to drive a stick shift.
I ran to and from Publix to get packing supplies on my “lunch break” while working at home yesterday. I managed to bum a ride with a girlfriend to see a dining room table and chairs on Craigslist that I am obsessed with and will pick up on Sunday. Things weren’t stressful yet; I was laughing then.
Now, 48 hours and seriously sore legs later, I am in the position of needing a new car, which I do not want. I love my little silver Civic, well, loved. The Honda dealership offered me so little for it that I actually laughed into the receiver and my new friend Craig laughed back.
This month, we have purchased a house, a motorcycle [do not want to talk about it], and now I need a new car. The timing is painfully comedic.
"It’s just money", is a phrase my parents use in jest to dismiss problems that can be solved by just forking over cash. I keep trying to say it in my head and shake it off but I’m kind of losing my resolve.
Cliff’s notes: If you see someone on the side of the highway picking up aluminum, it’s me. Wave “hi”.