on being married to a good man

I am so blessed.

That just hit me tonight.

I know that I know it everyday, but some days I know it more than others. I opened the mailbox today and saw an "official document" addressed to Tyler Hansen. So I open it, because that's what any wife would do.

It's a diploma.

Not the kind designed on Microsoft Word and handed to the student of the month. Nope. A real one. Signed by Kim B. Clark and Thomas S. Monson. With one of those fancy little emblem imprints. On official cardstock, nonetheless. A Bachelor's Degree with husband's name on it. Tears welled up in my eyes for a second as I thought about all the nights I watched him do his homework at the kitchen table. The furrowed eyebrows, hand under his chin, nails chewed down to stubs, his diligent but handsome looking face on. He worked for every calligraphic letter printed on the certificate, and then some.

I hurried and took a picture of it to send to everyone I know.

Ty texts me back, "It feels so good to have  this part of my education done."

I think, "it feels good?" How about freakin' awesome, amazing, fantastic, this-is-what-you've-slaved-for-for-the-last-four-years good?! You bet your buns that's what kind of good it should feel.

Humility, that man, he's got it. Never heard him toot his own horn, not even once.

Then, he tells me later that he worked 14 hours today. Mostly he shoveled dirt. But it felt good. It was a good day. I suddenly felt kind of guilty that I took a nap, read a book, watched tv, and possibly even shopped a little bit today. Meanwhile, he was shoveling dirt and feeling good about life.

 I think it's true what they say about marriage...whatever one person lacks, the other person makes up for and vice versa. I'm not sure what that man lacks, other than the ability to navigate his candy wrappers to the garbage can, but I feel pretty darn lucky to have found him. Sometimes that scary thought crosses my mind of what life would be like without him. As quickly as it comes, I dismiss it, knowing that I don't even want to know what I would do without my best friend.

And I know that good isn't a  very strong word in today's world, but he is so good. I could list a lot of adjectives to describe him, but I think that does it. I have myself an inside, outside, all-around good man.

xo

summer bucket list

(pinterest.com)

Ahhh summer....you and your neighborhood strolls, sticky watermelon fingers, bbq dinners, sun-tanned toes and carefree days have arrived again. I couldn't be happier to see you!

This summer will be an adventurous one for us, to say the least. The sun is out and we've got the itch to experience the world. Besides simply lying outside and soaking up the heat, we have some other things planned, too.We like to think of this as the last summer before we actually have to be grown up. {Because even after you graduate, you still get that one last summer to play, right?} Just a few things we have planned for the months in the sun:

1. Graduate college. That one also gets crossed off of "life goals" bucket list, too. Woo-hoo!
2. Visit the Grand Canyon. And Havasu Falls...see that picture? Ah-mazing.
3. Soak up the sun on a beach. Any beach. Get this girl to the ocean!
4. Visit the San Diego zoo.
5. Read lots of books.
6. Perfect my "I'm-not-scared-of-you-even-though-you're-in-a-gang" face before teaching high schoolers this fall.
7. Find a few mom&pop icecream shops for the husband. He is a tad stressed about the Arizona heat.
8. Finally get the tent out that we received for our wedding.
9. Improve my golf game enough so that Tyboy will take me out in public.
10. Run a 5k. Or at least finish one. We'll see how that goes.

Anyone else have a summer bucket list?

quite possibly the most awkward twenty minutes of my life

Anyone who has lived in an apartment knows the joys of assigned parking stalls, three flights of stairs to carry splitting grocery bags up, and strange and uncomfortable sounds through shared neighborhood walls. You know the drill. My favorite though? Oh, it has to be when the maintenance men come to unplug your toilet while husband is away.

Disclaimer: the toilet was already plugged when I got home from a trip last weekend. So either some creep has been in here clogging up the pipes while I am gone, or the cheap plumbing of mass-produced buildings has failed me. Let's go with the latter.

Anyway, I planned not to be here when he came. I really did. I was gone most of the day, but of course, the odds were not in my favor. The maintenance man showed up at the door, and I--mildly horrified that I kind of knew him--showed him to the bathroom. I sat awkwardly on the couch texting Tyler:

"he's here."
"omg this is so embarrassing."
"kill me now."
"please?"

No response. Men. Always there when you need 'em, eh?

The maintenance man did what he needed to for about twenty minutes before deciding this was a two man job. He called in the professional. So, there I sat. Again. Oh-so-awkwardly. This time though, I pretended to attend to some important business on my laptop. Very convincingly, I might add.

They consulted each other on the woes of toilet-declogging, meanwhile I am dying inside a little bit. I hear a "geez, this is bad" come from the lavatory. I am cursing Tyboy for being far away--thinking that even if he couldn't unclog the commode, he could at least make this situation a lot less awkward, on account of he and maintenance man are fishing buddies.

I hear a flush, then they leave.

They tell me don't worry, EVERYONE in the building is having toilet clogging issues today. It's the plumbing system, they say. It's not just you. Your neighbors have it too.

Maintenance man could have started with that. Really really could have, should have started with that.

Oh the joys of apartment living.  We only dream of the day when we have a house (and a toilet) of our very own.

conquer the world

One of my favorite ladies told me something the other day that has stuck with me throughout this week. As we were talking about all the places life has taken us and will take us, we got to thinking about the perceptions people often have of another person's goals. It's kind of sad to realize that not everyone loves or supports the fragile and precious dreams of others. In fact, many find criticism and judgment to fill the place where support is so badly needed. However, that shouldn't keep us from trying. She reminded me that it's OK to want to conquer the world.  And that right there summed up everything I have been feeling.

Tyboy and I will probably not conquer the world anytime soon, but that doesn't keep us from wanting to. Yet sometimes all the things we are "supposed" to want keep us from doing the things we really should do--those things we have talked and prayed and worried and laughed about together. In all reality, it's not the whole world we want to conquer, just our little corner of it. It's funny how monumental a realization like that can be--those "ah-ha!" moments we all know and love. Reminds me of a quote I have come across a few times lately:

"If your dreams don't scare you, they're not big enough."

I think we can both agree that we are sufficiently frightened, but even more excited to conquer our little piece of the universe.

Worry Less

I think I shall print this out and hang it on my wall. Next to it though, I think it needs a "But go easy on yourself." 'Cause sometimes doing all of these things simultaneously is just exhausting. And even more exhausting is the way you feel after your criticize yourself for not doing what you should when you should. I think we are all our own worst critics, most of the time.

Surprisingly, there has been quite a lot of eating healthy, exercising, working, and staying strong going on in this house. Not surprisingly, there has also been a lot of worrying. There's a little bit of crying and whining that goes on when that favorite man of yours is so far away working. Yet, it's amazing how wonderful it can feel to just call the mother and cry it out.

I often say a lot of nonsensical things to her like, "this isn't fair," "I'm lonely even though there are lots of people who care," "no one cares though," stuff like that. Stuff that isn't true, usually. She gently reminds me that it is fair because it's work, and a lot of people don't have that. And that everyone cares, but they have their worries, too. It's easy to roll my eyes at her sentiments and think easy for you to say, you who gets to see your husband every week. Except then she tells me about when she was a young wife. And how she stood on the front porch--toddler clinging to her leg, baby on her hip--and fell apart inside as she watched my father drive away to work for weeks at a time. No cell phones, no Skype, no communication. She was so strong.

Hearing stories like that makes me think that it probably isn't so hard to be me, after all. Thanks to the wonderful world of technology, I at least get to talk to Tyler everyday. Sometimes, when I'm lucky, he even gets charming and texts things like "let's dream about each other tonight, k? somewhere on a beach."

So this week, I vow to worry less. Instead, I think I will appreciate more. I have a handsome husband who is working hard for our future. (Might I interject, I do worry some that he lives with my dad in a camp trailer. Who even knows what embarrassing stories of my childhood could arise in such a confined space.) I also have a mother full of wisdom and love. And I'm especially grateful for her as we celebrate these women gave us life.

This week, those two things are more than enough for me.

places

It's true what they say, home is where your heart is. But what if your home is all over the place leaving your heart a bit panicky and fragile? What then?
Lately, I have been here...the place that will always be my home.

Tyboy has been here.

Which actually looks like...

The boys so lovingly call it the buttcrack of America. Charming, eh?
In two short months we are headed here:

And then after four months of that, who knows really. So our hearts are all over the place. You can see how this presents a small dilemma for a hometown type of girl. The more I think about all of our upcoming adventures, the more excited I become for all the places this life will take us. It worries me some that we don't have a home though. The one and only place we call our own. Where are our hearts, then?

Tyler has expressed this worry to me before being that he grew up in Utah, moved to Indiana, lived in Mexico for two years, then in Rexburg, meanwhile his family moved to Missouri...you see how things can get a little confusing? And then there's me--on the opposite end of the spectrum--who lived in the same quaint little neighborhood for 18 years of my life.

We hope to find a home someday--some place to truly call our own. But for now, I think we are content in knowing that we can make home wherever we happen to be. That whole "home is where the heart is" phrase has really struck a chord with me lately. There are two ways to interpret that, really. Of course, your heart is at home--in which case mine would be in little old Salmon, Idaho. The place where I can almost smell the tangy spices of salsa being concocted by my mother and placed oh-so-carefully into individual jars throughout the fall. The place where I have laughed, cried, and grown. Where I learned to work, and work hard. The place where my heart is cared about and dealt with tenderly, where my feelings and dreams are appreciated and understood. The place I know I can always go to and be and a little girl for a minute or two. My heart will always be there in some ways.

The other interpretation--and the one I am particularly fond of at the moment--is that you can make your home wherever your heart happens to be. Wherever your body takes that pounding muscle of yours...that can be home. It just takes a little effort to make it feel that way. So, for now, while Tyboy and I are 1,000 miles apart and oh-so-lonely at times, it's good to know we are both at home, in a way. He can find comfort in the tiny camp trailer he and my dad call home, while I keep myself busy in our third-floor one-bedroom apartment. Both of our hearts are where they need to be until we discover that place we will someday call our own.