My Two Words for the Year

I like to select my One Word around my birthday. September always feels like the start of a new year because of my birthday and "back to school" time. My daughter doesn't go to school yet, but I've never really shaken the rhythm of the school year/summer vacation. Last year I selected one word as a woman and a different word as a mother, because being a mom doesn't define every part of my life and yet all parts of my life are interdependent. 

Last year's words were Execute and Playful and I feel a satusfied sense of accomplishment in both areas. I executed my weight loss goals, my desire to have regular date nights with Luis, and my resolve to be productive and effective at work. I also had a lot of intentional play time with Emily. Being playful doesn't necessarily come naturally to me, so I knew I needed to focus on this. Baby play time is really baby learning time, and I take my role as Emily's teacher very seriously. I love to watch her develop as her play time leads to fine and gross motor development, problem solving, and spatial orientation. That's super nerdy to say, but it's also super me.

My words for this year are Moderation and Modeling. 

Moderation is absolutely dismal for me and I really feel like the missing key to my weight loss success will be moderation. I HAVE to master this. Or at least budge it a little. I'll be honest that I have no idea how to even start, but this is really necessary and something I truly need to do. 

I see Emily watching Luis and me, and picking up all kinds of mannerisms. She pretends to put toothpaste on a toothbrush, she spits in her hand and pretends it's lotion (so gross), and  even knows her own nickname. I am more aware than ever that she will learn a lot from me, simply because the most important influence on a person is the parent of the same gender. That is an amazing amount of pressure and a bit overwhelming, but also an honor and really, really cool.

Gretchen Rubin says not to let perfection be the enemy of the good. Marla Cilly says to aim for progress, not perfection. Here's to just doing SOMETHING.

Baby Valiente

Did you know that I’m pregnant?  I am, and very excited about it too. We announced this on Facebook after our 8 week ultrasound and I’ve talked about being pregnant about 100 times on FB, but I haven’t put anything here. It’s been a busy summer and a busy September and I just haven’t written about it here. Can we pretend this is actually a few months of posts, instead of just one? I’ve started this post about 20 times and nothing I write ever seems to convey how excited I am.

This week, on Thursday, I will be 22 weeks. I found out I was pregnant at 5 weeks. We had done everything right that month so I just took a test on the day I was due to start. Sure enough, I got a nice little plus sign that morning. I climbed into bed with the Yankee and work him, then whispered, “I’m pregnant” into his ear. He woke up very quickly after that. As you do, I took three more tests over the next week.

 

I felt the baby move at 17 weeks, which was pretty cool. I don’t feel the baby every day, but I do feel movement, kicks, and pressure most days, especially at night.

 

We found out at 20 weeks that the baby is a Girl. We are going to name her Emily Louise. I had a feeling for a long time that it was a girl. I found all these little “test” you can do to figure out the gender. My favorite test was this one: apparently if you pee on baking soda and it fizzes, it’s a boy. If it’s flat, it’s a girl.

 

My pregnancy has been smooth and uneventful. I didn’t have morning sickness and most days I have felt like myself. A tired and hungry version of myself.  I get heartburn a lot these days and I normally take about 6 tums throughout the day, which manages it. I do have a very hard time sleeping most nights. I am a back sleeper, which most doctors recommend you avoid. I hate sleeping on my side and having a huge belly makes it even more uncomfortable. We’re going to buy a recliner tonight to see if that helps me find a better position.

 

I haven't decided if I'll be posting any photos here. Probably not.

Un-Relocation Part 1

We're Home, Y'all! Last week was very hectic and busy and stressful and I am so glad it's done. We only have a few more hurdles to tackle before we're settled and I am really ready to knock those out soon. 

Stress 1, 2, and 3 were completing all the packing, working with the movers and cleaning, and then getting to the hotel in NY. Packing is rotten no matter what, so we just had to power through that. We had really great movers that were very fast, polite, and friendly. I'm not sure why but having the movers take care of our stuff gave me a lot of anxiety. I kept expecting them to say they could accept a box or for the bottom to fall out of one. We were treated very well and I'd recommend  that local moving company to anyone in the city. Getting to the hotel required moving all our suitcases and I could write five whole paragraphs about why that was complicated. I'll spare you the details; if you'd really like to hear about it, text me.

Stress 4 was the actual flight which was uneventful except for getting to the airport too early, having a long layover, and then a delay. Flying and being in an airport all day isn't exciting but when I consider the miracle of sitting in a tube and flying through the air, I normally don't complain too much.

Stress 5 was buying a new car. When we left SA, we knew that if we ever came back we would have to consider the cost of a new car. I really really hate buying cars. I always feel a bit swindled and unsure if I have haggled enough or if I should have looked at three dealerships or ten. I know I brag a lot but I can't even tell you what a comfort it was to have Yankee with me and know I am not alone in this kind if thing. He is so smart and makes so many choices with the welfare if our family in mind. As I did before, I'll spare you the details of buying the car unless you really want to hear them. We found a very nice Camry and I am so glad to have this stressor out of my mind.

Next up, we will be apartment shopping and waiting for our goods to be delivered. The we will have to unpack and settle in. I really feel like we have reached the peak of the stress and we are on the downswing. I do hope so.

Next time, I'll tell y'all my ideas about living life and why I am tired of counting down for the Next Big Thing. I am really looking forward to seeing our friends and getting reconnected. We just need a few days to tackle these milestones and then I'll be calling everyone for coffee and/or meals.

Work and The Bigger Picture

I have not written a blog post in months. What have I been doing, you ask? Living in Crazy Town, that's what. In January, my role at work changes focus to include more data reporting. At that time, we started ramping up for a merger, then did a layoff, followed by the sale of a business unit. All of that requires my department to calculate costs a variety of ways, compile letters,and manage the process from start to end. My new role included doing various parts of that - and a daily ticket to Crazy Town.

 

Since January ended, there have been a string of very stressful things happening at work. In times of stress and chaos, it may be tempting to drive your focus to only that one thing. Eliminate everything else, ignore things at home, stop seeing people, and buckle down and work. Sometimes this is helpful (finals, rehearsing, giving birth, etc); other times this idea just amplifies the stress because you've eliminated everything fun and put yourself into a sensory deprivation tank. I tend to do this a lot and I have since I was in college.

 

January was such a crazy month. I worked 60-70 hours a week and worked evenings and weekends from home. I genuinely needed to work all that time because there were so many new things coming my way that is took me a long time to grasp it all. That kind of focus and intense energy is not sustainable, however. In my case, the hair around my temples started to fall out, which happens when I am under great stress. When that starts to grow out in three months, I am going to have baby wings coming off my head. FML.

 

I keep hearing at work that I don't understand The Bigger Picture. This makes me batshit crazy. Sometimes I hear this phrased as though I am ignoring The Bigger Picture. The problem with being at this point in my career is that I know enough to work with a large degree of autonomy but I don't know what I don't know- and I don't know that I didn't know it until I find out I should have known it. How do you know to ask a question if you don't know there is a question that needs asking in the first place. This is my plight lately. I don't know how to grasp The Bigger Picture when I can't see the picture itself- ya know? Is that too much imagery? Maybe...

 

This sort of piling stress makes me feel like all I do is work; thankfully, there have been some nice breaks here and there. My family came to visit, which is a chaotic kind of fun itself. I have one brother who is married with four kids. They came, along with my parents, for a week. We also went to a Yankee game and we have enjoyed some thoroughly lazy weekends while the trains in our neighborhood stopped running for four weekends in a row. There are few things as nice as just being home with my guy, being pig-lazy and in love. 

 

I don't know exactly what the summer will hold as my company prepares for ths merger. Discussing matters of work on a blog is tricky because many companies have policies saying you can't do that, as mine does. I have been really stressed this whole year and I feel like I am going to buckle if one more thing comes along. I have a tendency to enjoy being The Girl Who Can Be Counted On until one day I have a freak out and become The Girl Who Doesn't Have Her Shit Together. This morning I decided that I'd rather just have my shit together and be helpful and add value here at work. I'd rather not  be the freak out lady. For the record, I normally make this decision on a quarterly basis, usually after The Yankee and I discuss my personal appearance, which I have neglected because I am too stressed.  

 

I hope all is well where you are and thank you for reading.

The One Thing I Regret

My mother tells me, from time to time, not to get too crazy with purging because I may really, really regret getting rid of something. The one and only thing I have regretted purging over the last 5 years has been my Topsy Turvy. I am not even kidding- I really, really wished I hadn't gotten rid of this- but not until it had been gone for about 7 years. Luckily, I found a new one at Target last week for $5.99 and didn't think twice about buying it. Since then, I have turved my topsy three times. It makes my pony tail and unwashed-for-three-days hair feel classy and glamorous. Dressy, even.

 

So, minimalism. I go back and forth about this idea. It seems so charming and elusive. And by that I mean I'm afraid someone will judge me if I tell them I am a minimalist and still own Snoopy Figurines. I'm obviously not comfortable labelling myself as such.

 

I found a new-to-me blog called Becoming Minimalist and I've been reading through the archives. The writer is a pretty down-to-earth guy, which I prefer to the confrontational-minimalist that I normally picture. Reading the archives gave me a bit of motivation to look around my home and purge, just a little. The Yankee is laid up with a cold and a good cold front came through on Saturday night, so it was a low-key weekend- perfect for a lil' cleaning and a lil' purging. When I purge, I always ALWAYS remind myself of the golden rule for minimalizing successfully when your partner is not a minimalist: do not purge your partner's items. Don't do it- seriously, don't. It's not nice and won't be  appreciated. I won't be doing anything but pissing off my husband by getting rid of his stuff.

 

Here are the items leaving my home tomorrow:

• The textbook I used in my high school French Class
• The workbook and CD's I used in my college French Class
• The prayer journal with five entries in it
• Three magazines
• Three cook books
• Five elementary-level chapter books
• A box of Emergen-C that my cousin left when she moved in for a month
• Five coasters
• One wobbly, chipped, scratched side-table-ish thing
• A large mound of recyclable paper
• One red shirt that I have owned for over 4 years and literally never worn

 

I can write and write and write about my quest to declutter, unclutter, purge, clean, organize, and get the crap out of my home, but I'm not sure anyone would stay tuned long enough- it would definitely be longer than four paragraphs. I wonder if, when I am pregnant, I will have reverse nesting and really REALLY start throwing things way and be left with six articles of clothing.

 

A Very Valiente Excursion

This holiday weekend, the Yankee and I drove to Philadelphia for a quick weekend trip. Philadelphia is a very pretty city in the tourist parts with lots of one-way streets (score!) and independently-owned businesses. They also cater nicely to tourists with money to spend.

We planned to leave right after work, but there was an emergency that the Yankee had to tend to, so we didn't leave until midnight. A late start meant late rising on Saturday, so we didn't embark on our exploration until mid-afternoon. We took a bus tour of the city, which was pretty great. There was some random stuff on the tour that we didn't care about, like a museum where you can touch everything, but we also saw Betsy Ross' house and the Rocky Steps. We also saw the Liberty Bell and all the places that Nicholas Cage ran around and dismantled in "National Treasure."

We had a number of lessons-learned on our trip. I consider myself a fairly great budget maker and we are somewhat great budget-stick-to-ers. We were able to pay for the trip entirely in cash (thanks Dave Ramsey!) and stay at a really wonderful hotel. There were a few things that I had not considered when laying out the projected cost of our trip:

1. Tolls. Effing Tolls. Effing New Jersey and tolls. We paid about $50 in tolls that I had absolutely not even thought about.

2. Parking. The Gross family always tended to travel economy-style, which meant staying in hotels without a lot of "extras." These kinds of hotels tend to be located on the out-skirts of the places we visted, which means there is normally a nice parking lot. The Valiente family has tended to select the most baller hotel we can afford, but these kinds of hotels are normally smack-dab in the middle of the action, built vertically and not hortizontally, and happy to park your car for you. We spent over $70 in parking.

3. Breaksfast. The kinds of hotels with parking lots are often the kind with continental breakfasts. Radissons and Hiltons also have breakfasts and are happy to bring them to your room with little bottles of ketchup and itty-bitty salt and pepper shakers. Over $30 on one breakfast. Thank goodness we slept through breakfast on Saturday!

The Northeast tends to kinda hates letting you park or drive anywhere without paying for it. I consider this to be complete and total crap. I work in New Jersey, which means I pay taxes there. Why in the world do I have to PAY to drive on a highway if I've already given the state taxes? In Texas, they pay no taxes and there are hardly any toll roads, except in major cities. Northeast region, I call BS on you.

We ate some pretty fantastic food and enjoyed a gluten-free bakery that was okay. We also got a lot of rest and time to relax. We came home on Sunday afternoon with a list of fun things to do next time we go to Philadelphia- which I hope is soon. I also came home with a bit of sticker shock and will most definitely consider this when we plan our next trip (to Boston in the Spring).

A Very Valiente Commentary on Contentment

Last night over dinner the Yankee said he read the last entry on our my our blog and asked if everything was okay. We had a short conversation processing my views about contentment, which led us down a path of other conversation topics.

In August of 2010, the author of Unclutterer quoted Colin Beavan’s No Impact Man:

Even modern replacements for priests, rabbis, and Zen masters — the positive psychologists — have something to say on this point. That new breed of shrinks has discovered that happy people spend a lot of time being grateful for what they have and savoring their experience. They don’t rush through “now” to get to later. They don’t make taking care of themselves or taking care of their families something they have to get over with so they can get to the good stuff. Instead, they insist that this moment, whatever it is, is the good stuff.

 All my life, I've been in perpetual wait mode. Life consisted of my dad's next deployment, our next move, finishing a grade, finishing college semesters, etc. Then it was waiting to graduate, to get married, then to move to New York. So now we are here. We have some major life goals on the far horizon, but mostly we're just living life. We don't have any real deadlines for our goals, other than the fact that eventually my body won't be suitable for carrying children. It's hard to get out of wait mode, even if I have nothing that I am waiting for.

Please allow me to backtrack a tad and state that I am not unhappy. I have a joyful life that I love. I am, however, restless. I'm generally more comfortable in motion; I don't care to spend a "lazy day" on the couch, watching TV. I prefer to take an alternate route if I can avoid traffic, and I'll call it a short cut. I want to enjoy my life, here and now.

A Very Valiente Change of Direction

Last last year I decided that My One Word for 2012 was going to be LESS. I laways give my years a theme. Here's a list of themes:
2011: PROACTIVE
2010: Getting over the Boogey Man God
2009: The year of getting my s--- together
2008: Survival, plain and simple
2007: The year of getting rid of things
2006: The year everything changed
2005: The year of trying new things
2004: The year of finding a place for everything
2003: This is a complicated year to talk about, so I'll skip this one

So last year was PROACTIVE and this year would be less. Except that in 2007 I decided to stop arguing with God about the direction of my life, so when He pressed upon me that this had better would in fact be a year of searching for CONTENTMENT, I not-as-quickly-as-I-should-have changed my theme.

When I moved to Savannah in 2003, I was so very angry at God with assigning my life to that city. I moved with a rotten attitude and there was nothing that would have changed my mind. This was the beginning of a downward spiral I call my "Horse's Ass Phase." Because I was, indeed, a horse's ass during that time. When I moved to El Paso in 2006, I decided that I would and could be content anywhere that I could praise the Lord and pay my bills (I've added "love my husband" to that). So now that I am living in New York with fewer local friends than I can name on one hand, I am struggling to find contentment here.

It's tempting to say I was content in San Antonio, because I was for the most part. It's also tempting to compare life here to life there and think that I'll never be content here. But that won't work. Not at all. That's a sure-fire way to end up right back where I was: a horse's ass.

So I am re-emabarking on my journey for 2012, in search of CONTENTment. Not sure how I'll find it or make it, but I'll pursue it and lay it (and my prayers) before the Lord and wait expectantly as David described in Psalm 5:3. Perhaps I won't be content by the end of this year, but I find that proactively pursuing a goal is infinitely more fruitful than passively succombing to mediocrity.

Stay tuned and keep reading, won't you?

A Very Valiente Collection of Crap

Minimalism is so fascinating to me; I admire and desire it, and yet it has eluded me for the 9 years I have lived outside of my parents’ home. A lifestyle of living with less and enjoying more- seems so delightful to me- sort of serene and easy-to-breathe. A loved one of mine confessed that she almost, kinda, just-a-lil-bit was jealous of the people who lost everything in Katrina- that sometimes she wished she could pare down to almost nothing, lose all her possessions, and be left with nothing but the barest of necessities. Not the “possibly going to die” part, or the disease or anything- she didn’t make light of the situation, I think she was just overwhelmed with the stuff in her life.

So my One Word this year is LESS. We’ve moved into a home with exponentially less space and I constantly feel overwhelmed by the amount of “things” that are just hanging around, taking up real estate. There was a time when I lived in complete excess, engaging in retail therapy instead of addressing how unhappy I was with my life. But that’s another blog. So I have been in constant declutter/purge/throw-my-crap-the-F-out mode since 2007. In 2006, I moved to El Paso with a 25-foot truck; when I left in 2008, I had a 14-foot truck (but that's another blog). And yet, I still feel crowded and cluttered and stuffy.

So the Yankee reins me in and prevents me from making a pile and lighting it on fire. He also saves his precious mementos from me and my junk box. I tend to go a bit crazy when I get into the mood to organize, and he knows it about me. My mother cautions me about getting rid of something and wishing I had it later. To be perfectly honest, the only item I’ve gotten rid of that I now miss is my Topsy Turvy, because I could make my ponytails look cuter- but I could also recreate this with a popsicle stick and a piece of string.

Like most people, I struggle with the thought that I’ll get rid of something and either want it or need it later. And I’ll be broke or stuck in the middle of the Zombie Apocalypse and won’t be able to get it again. But it’s been occurring to me lately that just because I enjoyed collecting and owning something at one time doesn’t mean I cannot just get over it. I am a huge fan of Charlie Brown and the Yankee really like Snoopy. But does that mean I can’t just downgrade my loving to liking and boot the knick knacks? I also really like Cow Parade cows, but do I have to keep my collection? I don’t think so… and yet I’m not quite ready to get rid of them yet.

I like to give my items away to people that I think might like them, or find them useful. My friend who shall be referred to here as “B like a Sharpie,” always delights in getting my crap- and somehow, my stuff looks better in her house. But just because I offer, doesn’t mean any person is ever obligated to take it- I won’t take it personally and it won’t hurt my feelings. I mean, I don’t want the stuff either! So if you get a message in one form or another from me, offering you some stuff, please don’t be surprised. And if you’ve given me an item and you show up and it’s no longer in my home, please just know that I have sufficiently loved it and consequently let it go.

A Very Valiente Holiday Season

A very Merry Christmas to my readers; I hope you had a great day and a joyful holiday season. This is my first Christmas in New York, the first one away from my family since I was living in Savannah in 2004. I've been missing my family and friends in San Antonio a lot lately, and the holiday season made the ache just a bit stronger.

I absolutely LOVE traditions, I think probably because I like repetition and steps (because I love efficiency). Since the Yankee and I became a couple, I've been thinking up all kinds of traditions we could have, for everything from birthdays to holidays. I love having inside jokes, wearing matching clothes, and having things that we "always" do. This year I tried recreating the always delicious hashbrown casserole from the Cracker Barre, in an attempt to stake out a Christmas Tradition. It's supposed to look like this:

Instead mine looked like this:

I couldn't find GF Cream of ANYTHING soup at my grocery store, so I tried to improvise by making a pot of gravy. I also couldn't find frozen hashbrowns so I shredded my own potatoes. It turned into a grey, pasty faily. Only the cheesy parts tasted good. I might try it again sometime, if I can find all of the ingredients. The Yankee suggested just keeping it simple with eggs, bacon, and pancakes. He has good ideas like that.

Growing up, we always got a visit from Santa, gifts from Mom and Dad, gifts from various extended family members. We didn't go to church on Christmas Eve, unless we were visiting someone who did. The Yankee grew up celebrating no holidays whatsoever, as his family members are Jehovah's Witnesses. When we started dating, we had many long talks about how to compromise and create our own traditions.

We settled on no Santa (or Easter Bunny, Tooth Fairy, or any other mythical creature- but that's another blog), one Christmas tree with religious and family-themed ornaments, and exchanging three gifts (because Jesus got three gifts). This year I confess that I broke that three gift rule- I think perhaps because I am always trying to make up for the 20+ years that the Yankee didn't celebrate anything.

We don't really have many traditions started yet. We still have plenty of time yet, and no real deadline. It's been a great day.

A Very Valiente Take on Church, no Christmas, no Church at Christmas time

A few confessions before we get started and then I promise only 4 paragraphs of writing.

The Yankee and I are not good at going to bed "on time" or even at a reasonable hour, even if we have something important the next day.

I love love love Christmas and I love going to church.

I get migraines, which I find to be completely BS.

The Yankee and I share a love of dry, cynical, offensive, and crude humor. We do this in the privacy of our own home 99% of the time, with occasional leaks around the edges. This may or may not be a recurring theme in future blogs.

Church

We have not gone to church regularly since we moved to New York since 2009. We've had bursts when we went every Sunday and stretches when we didn't go at all. However, we were involved in a small group since April of 2010 and we've just joined one here. There is something about the communcal experience of eating together and having regularly scheduled human interaction that - and the Yankee put this best- really feels more like how the Corinthians did "church." For them, it was a community and a life style- not something that occurred once a week. It was certainly this way in San Antonio, and we hope that it will be here in New York.

Going to Church in December

I've had a migraine for 10 days now. The kind that gets sharp for a few hours, dulls down a bit, then feels gone- only to reemerge when I get out of bed or stand up. So we've been planning to go to church for a few weeks now and haven't- last week because of this migraine and this week because of this migraine+the Yankee is sick. My favorite time to go to church is during Christmas and Lent, because I love hearing sermons that remind me of the "uglies" of Christmas and Easter. It's so easy to remember the high points of the story, without remembering how badly a young Jewish woman would have been treated if she's been engaged, gotten pregnant, and said it was God in her womb. 

The thing is that I really WANT to go to church right now. And then my alarm goes off and I struggle with wanting to go, but not wanting to get up, get dressed, go to church, etc. And then I stand up and my head feels like a fiery knife is slicing through my brain stem and it's too easy to decide not to go. I want to go see people and hear a sermon. I've missed being actively engaged in the word of God, pondering and seeking, and learning. Even though I am terribly introverted and it takes a lot of work to talk to people, I want to meet the body of our church and recognize faces and stories. But I am in my pajamas, struggling with whether or not I really could have made it to church this morning (which started about 3 minutes ago).

Christmas and Life

So NY is in full-swing Christmas hustle and bustle. We just got our tickets to see the Rockettes, shopping is almost done, and we have a nicely-scented beast of a tree in our living room. I miss my parents so badly this time of year, as well as our Care Group in San Antonio. This group was my "people." When good things or bad things happened, when something funny happened- honestly, when life happened, we couldn't wait to share it with our Care Group. Christmas is my mother's favorite time of year and my father's favorite time to complain. He grouses about putting up lights, and then spends the day making it all perfect (he's sweet to my mom like that). My mom does an over-the-top Christmas that I just love. I miss these two groups a lot.

The End- these four sentences does not count as a paragrah.

So we're in a new group and do want to go to church, but haven't. We're in the middle of Christmas, missing our people. The Yankee is sick and I am migraining. Stay tuned for my next post; I shall be writing about how the Valiente Family does Christmas and later doing a retroactive post in which I compare and contrast how the Yankee and I behave at parties.

A Very Valiente Crap Alert

We are here in New York! This is an exciting place to be. Currently I am sitting at my desk, looking out across a park, and feeling a breeze that is gettng colder and colder and as cold front moves across the Tri-State Area.

So the move went pretty well. Sort of. Actually no, the moving part itself was pretty much crap. It rained, we took too much stuff on the plane, some of our items got destroyed by the movers- it was a rough couple of days. In my next few posts, I will relay some of our adventures and lessons.

I always overestimate the amount of allowable space and have and under estimate the weight of items. I cut wrapping paper too small, I grab a hand basket at the grocery store and end up struggling under the weight of 25 items when I should gotten a cart. We knew we could both check 2 50-pound bags and carry on one small bag at Southwest. We also knew our items would take awhile to get there, so we had a pile mountain of stuff that we were taking with us. I didn't want to pay to ship a box, but as we started packing our stuicases, we realized it was inevitable.

We had planned to take blankets, sheets, towels, and air mattress, and clothes for a few weeks with us. We had an apartment and didn't want to stay in a hotel, so we were trying to bring "essentials." By essentials I mean 25 hangers, a coffee press, every.single.piece of clothing we own, and a few other things for fun.

We bought some space bags so we could fit everything into four bags. We bought a 4 piece luggage set. We made stacks. FAIL. Everything DID fit, but zippers broke and when we plunked the items on the scale at the airport. three of our bags were overweight. This left me doing a scramble to re-allocate items into bags and left the Yankee and I carrying a LOT of crap onto the plane.

We landed in NYC to a lot of rain and an hour-long line to get a cab. The Yankee waited with out TEN BAGS while I waited in line. We finally got a cab, got home, and were in bed by 3 am. We borrowed an air mattress from my parents, and it turns out we took the twin mattress, not the queen.

Because I'm somewhat of a Crazy Girl sometimes, I scheduled an interview at 10 am the next day. That interview led to a referral to another agency and a trip down to Wall Street. Stay tuned: this referral paid off BIG TIME.

So that's adventure number one. We now have to PAY to send two suitcases and an air mattress back to my parents. Stay tuned for the story of the Arrow Mayflower movers and why you should never ever use them.

A Very Valiente Relocation

La Familia de Valiente is moving to New York City! The Yankee and I are moving in September so that he can pursue his dream of being a hot shot attorney (which, by way, he will be fantastic at).

It’s been the Yankee’s dream to move to New York for many years. In fact, the night we met, he told me he was moving to NY about four minutes after we met (and about 3 minutes and 49 seconds after he forgot my name). It’s something everyone who knows him, knows about him. So this spring, we put the plan in motion and started job searching.

In July I started interviewing with a company for a really fantastic job that I was simply not qualified for. That was the only really big “hit” we’d gotten and we accepted that our not living in NY was hurting our job opportunities. My employer graciously offered me an opportunity to continue my work remotely; at that time, we decided it was time for Phase II: find a home! So we booked our tickets and a hotel and set off to find an apartment (which we did).

So now the cat is out of the bag at work for both of us. The Yankee has put in his notice and I have been working with my manager (who, by the way, is fabulous) to transition me out of my current role and into my new one. Our apartment is a cardboard city and we’re trying to pare down our pantry items.

So we depart the Lone Star State for the Big Apple in about 2 ½ weeks. Our apartment is fantastic- a huge kitchen and hardwood floors! I had been seeing apartments with teeny-tiny kitchens that were simply scary to me. Will my various food sensitivities, the thought of not cooking my own food is like contemplating a career as an extreme skateboarder or fighting a zombie war.

So moving to New York is kind of like moving to another country. Here are some major differences:

1. Public transportation: riding the bus in San Antonio takes three hours to get anywhere. In NY, it’s just what you do. Owning a car is not only unnecessary, but also a tremendous pain.

2. Air Conditioning: not once in my life have I not had air conditioning. In NY, we have to buy window units. This hurts my heart.

3. Language: walking down the streets of NY humanizes the phrase “melting pot.” You hear snippets of Spanish, Russian, Yiddish, and English with various accents.

4. Money: first, Texas does not have a state income tax; NY does. Things are exponentially more expensive in NY, but the cost of living is allocated very differently. Weather: watch the news, you know what I mean.

I have moved every 2-4 years of my life, so relocating is not one bit scary to me. It is scary to predict how removed I will feel from my good friends. Life will continue without me, and that’s hard to watch through Facebook and blogs.

I am really excited about embarking on this adventure with my very best friend, the Yankee. Worst case scenario: we are mugged and killed. Next-to-worst-case-scenario: we lose all our money and move back to San Antonio. Best case scenario (and the one I am betting on): we live happily ever after.

We are MARRIED

So The Yankee and I are finally married! We are starting the next chapter in our lives together and we are delighted and excited.

Our ceremony was held on a Saturday morning, followed by a lunch reception. We started planning the wedding last December after Luis proposed at Rockefeller Center, in front of the Christmas Tree. We aggressively attacked our known differences and those that arose as we chugged through premarital counseling- a 10 month process!

We planned and saved for our day. We passed up dates, meals out, and plenty of other fun things to ensure that we were married debt-free- all while paying off our other debts! We budgeted down to the penny, while prioritizing where we would spend and where we would save. With help from my parents, our day was beautiful and our honeymoon was exactly what we hoped.

The week of the wedding, I went to California on a business trip, leaving me only one day in the office to prepare for a week and a half off- and then I found out I’d be going back to CA the week after I came back! As I type this, I am making my way back across the country. Believe me; I am sick of the airport. By the time Thursday before the wedding arrived, I was a huge ball of nerves and tension. I wasn’t nervous about marrying The Yankee, only nervous about wrapping up the loose ends, finishing the last-minute errands, and making final arrangements. I didn’t even buy my undergarments until the day before the wedding!

Our Rehearsal Dinner was exactly as I pictured it: family and friends gathered in my mom’s kitchen eating chili and cookies. There weren’t many of us; just enough for a fun crowd. That night, my brother spent the night with me at my apartment and The Yankee stayed with his best man.

I woke up ridiculously early on my wedding day- 5:30 am! When I got up that morning, all the anxiety was gone. Plans were made, payments sent, and I couldn’t control anything but myself from that point on. I had my hair done at 7 that morning by a dear friend and former landlord. Heather, my matron of honor, and I got to the church and dressed. At 20 minutes to 11, our flowers had still not arrived and the florist got a rowdy earful from my mother. Having the ceremony that early was a great idea, because we didn’t have to spend much time waiting around for things to start.

Our ceremony was short- only about 30 minutes long, and then I kissed my beloved to seal our covenant with God. As I said my vows and started to cry, The Yankee brought out a well-placed Kleenex for me from his pocket. So like my Yankee to care for me and know I would cry, even though I swore I wouldn’t. We ran down the aisle and hid in a small room off the lobby to have a few minutes to ourselves. After the photos were done, we went to the reception where we ate, mingled, cut the cake, threw the garter and bouquet and left. It was wonderful and exactly what I’d hoped for.

After the wedding and some final photos, The Yankee and I had dinner at the Melting Pot and left at 6:25 the next day for Hawai’i. The highlight of our flight happened as three babies started to cry at the same time and a small child kept pressing the call button. A flight attendant passing by said loudly, “Tell him to stop or we’ll break his fingers off!” Hilarious.

Hawai’i was tropical, warm, relaxing and crazy expensive! The Yankee and I took tours, ate, drank, slept, snorkeled, and sunburned. We are still recovering from the 5-hour time difference jet lag.

After planning for our wedding for almost a year, the day came and went so quickly I had to remind myself to stop and encode memories. I hope I’ll always remember Brynn holding my dress while I went to the bathroom, smelling my perfume as I got the alter, the stripey lining of Tadd’s suit, The Yankee mouthing “WOW” to me as I floated down the aisle, and the feeling of my father’s jacket as I hugged him. I do so love my dear sweet Yankee more than I ever thought I would. He’s my true love and the man I always wanted.

I love you MyYankee. Always.