Out with the old and in with the...old?

Do you really want to read about all things wedding planning for weeks and weeks and weeks? I didn't think so. I'll think about it and pick out the craziest stories from our wedding planning adventure. Until then, we're going back to the same old updates and my witty banter of the past. Well, something like that, anyway.

Oh, quit complaining. You're just going to have to deal with it. I promise I'll try to keep things as interesting as possible (I have always enjoyed a good challenge).

So - here's a recap of the past few weeks:

Thanksgiving

Because we had a four day weekend, David and I decided to head home for the Thanksgiving weekend. I mean, really, who can resist four days of delicious food? I know I can't.

My family was first on the list and, as always, they never disappoint.

I also had a chance to run over to Mom and Chuck's store. I hadn't seen it since they decorated for Christmas, and let me tell you, it is BE-A-UTIFUL! If you have a chance to run over to Chestnut to do some Christmas shopping, make sure you take it.

Finally.

Apologies. I feel like life has been crazy with Thanksgiving and some new work developments. So crazy, in fact, I just haven't had the time to finish up this last entry. I know you all were waiting with breathless anticipation.

Ok, maybe not. Whatever.

Anyway. Flash forward five years. Scoop and I have settled into our routine as a couple and are, decidedly, perfect for each other. Still, I was fairly certain Scoop was waiting for hell to freeze over before asking me that very important question. I mean, we were both close to graduating and taking jobs and moving to Tanzania. Okay, maybe not Tanzania. But, it might as well be that far away -  there was no telling where each of us might end up if we didn't make a decision to go somewhere together.

Needless to say, I was pretty anxious (and honestly, if you haven't figured that out by now, you should go to a different Web site).

What I didn't know is that Scoop was busy scheming. He had been talking to my friends about rings and had even asked my sister and mom if he could marry me. But, Annie Oakely, the ever observant, didn't know about any of this.

Then, one night he upped my anxiousness by doing his best to throw me off the trail. We sat on the couch in his basement and argued for an hour about what we were going do. I made the case for getting married - there was no reason to be apart, right?

But Scoop, trying to be sensible, thought it would be a much better idea to wait five or six years - at least until the two of us had good jobs and had made enough money to live comfortably.

But what if we settled into jobs 3000 miles apart, I asked?

Of course, he had an answer for that. We could just live together. That way we wouldn't have twice the expenses.

Didn't he remember I was an old-fashioned girl that came from an old-fashioned family? There was no way that Grandma Shirley was going to go for that idea. Forget Grandma Shirley - there was no way The General (my mom) was going to go for that idea.

Scoop said we just shouldn't worry about it. He wanted to make sure we had the best start to our lives together as possible and was just positive that waiting a few years before getting engaged was a better idea.

I was just sure he was wrong, but there was nothing more I could do. Well, nothing more I could do short of dumping the guy - and that would just be stupid. I decided I would just have to get used to the fact that Scoop was moving at his own pace and his pace was a snail's pace. There was nothing I could do.

What I didn't know was there was a beautiful, princess-cut diamond engagement ring sitting in his dad's sock drawer one floor up. Told you he was sneaky.

The following weekend, Scoop's mother had scheduled family pictures. Of course, Scoop wanted me to be a part of said pictures, but again, I protested. Being an old-fashioned girl, I reminded Scoop I couldn't be in any family pictures until I was actually a part of the family (or at least had a ring on my finger and would soon be a member of the family).

After a lot of whining and pleading wtih me to join the family pictures, Scoop finally accepted my answer of "No," but asked that I come home for the weekend anyway. All of his sisters would be home and it would be nice for everyone to be together.

I couldn't argue with that, so, that Friday, I pointed my car West and hit the road.

Friday night, I arrived in our hometown and met Scoop at his mom's office. Scoop had made plans for the two of us, my cousin and my sister to meet at the local Mexican restaurant for supper. Even though it was surprising (because Scoop didn't like Mexican food), I didn't think much of it.

Finally, at the appointed hour, Scoop dialed my cousin to make sure he was ready to go and on his way to the restaurant. Despite Scoop's careful planning (at least that's what I thought), Boots had just gotten out of the shower and wasn't quite ready to go.

"No problem," Scoop said. Instead, he offered to drive over to my family's car dealership while we waited. We often "cruised the lot" to look at new cars, so - again - I didn't think anything of it. Besides, there was a silver Monte Carlo I really wanted to check out.

We got to the dealership and started down the first aisle. Scoop stopped at the silver Monte Carlo because he said he wanted to get out and look at it (of course, this was fine by me). I hopped out of the car with him, checked out the interior of the Monte and turned to go back to Scoop's car. Hey - it was October and I was cold.

And that's when it happened.

"Hey - wait a minute. I have a question of you."

I wheeled around to find out Scoop wanted to know. By the time I got myself turned around, there was Scoop, facing me, with that beautiful, princess-cut diamond ring in his outstretched hand.

The only thing I could get to escape my lips was exceedingly eloquent: "Ohhh my GOD. OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD! Wait, are you serious?"

"Yes."

"Of course. OF COURSE I'M GOING TO MARRY YOU!"

He didn't even get the question out. He handed the ring to me and, in my excitement, I dropped it on the ground. After quickly bending down and grabbing the ring, we were back in the car and headed back to Scoop's house.

Of course, dinner at the Mexican restaurant had been one big story to get me out to the dealership. Instead, we were headed back to his house to attend the engagment party that his family had planned for us.

And, the next day, I made my first appearance in Scoop's family pictures.

And, I was happy. Well, that is until the wedding planning started.

Letting Go (Again) and Hanging On.

Truth be told, I probably started "waiting" for that very important question a few months after Scoop and I started dating. I was head over heels and it certainly didn't take me five years to figure that out.

But, because we were (well, probably "are" - but only under certain circumstances) both sensible people, we spent lots of quality time together to make sure it was right.

I spent time with Scoop at basketball games and family events, and he even came out to my house to help with chores - or even help out at my many horse shows.

In fact, not too long after we started dating, Scoop met up with me at the 4-H fairgrounds. I was showing in my very last 4-H horse show, so Scoop came out to watch me.

It just so happens that I was running late for my showmanship class. And, even with my two aunts back at the trailer to help get me ready, I was till running behind. So, I threw my horse's lead at Scoop and said, "Here - hang on to him."

"But, I don't know anything about horses."

"Don't worry about it. I've just got to black his feet before this class. All you have to do is hold the lead. He's not going to go anywhere - he wouldn't even hurt a fly."

Famous last words.

The next thing I know, my horse has two feet off the ground and Scoop is still desperately trying to hang on to the lead. Upon his return to the ground, my horse connected - connected one of his feet with Scoop's forehead, that is.

I couldn't believe it. This was totally uncharacteristic for this horse - and it certainly couldn't be good for my relationship with Scoop. After looking at the hoofprint just above his eye, he assured me that he would be just fine...after he went to the concession stand and got some ice.

That was it. I knew he would be done with this crazy farm girl. And, if he wasn't, his mother certainly would be. She hadn't nursed her little boy back to health when he was a baby just to see some crazy farm girl use her livestock to beat up on him. It was over, I was sure of it.

After the show was over, I headed back to Scoop's house and apologized - for at least three hours - for my horse's ridiculous behavior and for almost killing this guy that I was totally crazy about. And, if Scoop's mom was angry, she hid it well.

Still, I felt terrible about it for weeks. And, even though Scoop liked to give me a good ribbing about it, he forgave me and went on with his sweet, thoughtful ideas and actions to make me even more attached to him.

And, boy was he good at it. By the time we were juniors in college, Scoop and I were attending school three hours away from each other. But, that didn't stop him from driving over to my sorority in the middle of the week to surprise me after I had just gotten back from two weeks in Europe.

He had a knack for giving excellent gifts and surprised me with CDs of songs that made him think of me. Everything was going well, but one thing always nagged at me.

Car Guy.

Things ended badly. And, while I didn't feel like it was even close to a quarter my fault, I still felt bad.

Then, one day I got a surprising email. It was from Car Guy. He sent it to Scoop, too, and just wanted to say that  he was sorry for everything that had happened. He knew he acted badly and wanted to make amends. In fact, he had started dating a girl that he really liked - and he was really happy.

I sent him an email back to let him know that I was sorry, too, and that I was happy he had found a girl that suited him better than I ever could have.

And, with that, it was finally over. And, I could finally let go, for good, and start hanging on to the one thing that I knew I wanted:

That very important question.

Just when you thought it was over...

Contrary to popular belief, that last post was not the end to our story. C'mon, people, I haven't even gotten to the marriage proposal yet.

In all honesty, the first few weeks of our relationship are, arguably, the most eventful. At least in terms of the amount of drama we had to deal with.

After dating only a few weeks, I found myself back on the road. As a state officer, one of my duties was to travel from school to school with the section officers and talk to high school ag classes about agriculture education and FFA. One night, after a long day of visits, my cell phone rang.

Car Guy called every so often just to chat. Looking back now, I think he probably was keeping tabs, but I didn't realize it at the time.

"So, how are you? How's the FFA thing?"

"It's fine. I'm on the road right now - but, it's still a lot of fun. How's school?"

"It's okay." Then, he couldn't wait any longer... "So, you seeing anyone?"

"Um, yeah. Scoop and I have been out on a few dates."

"Oh. That's good. I've been kind of seeing this girl here at school."

(I know, we have a real gift for eloquence and flowery language.)

After a few more random questions, we ended our conversation and I felt relieved. Obviously, if Car Guy had moved on and was seeing someone at school, he was over it and I was in the clear (not that I would have cared, seeing as how I thought we had ended things a month ago when I said I didn't want to get back together after school. But, that's beside the point).

A few weeks later, Scoop and I were both home again for the weekend. It just happened to be a big weekend for our small town - the weekend the town holds a HUGE festival - so, it seemed everyone we went to school with was back home, too.

While I was walking around and visiting my high school FFA chapter's food tent, I got a call from Scoop. To make a long, shocking conversation short, he informed me that Car Guy was home, had found out that we were dating, as was out for blood.

Yes, you read that right. He "found out" that we were dating - even though I had told him two weeks earlier. Apparently, he didn't believe me the first time. Either that, or I was speaking German. I suppose we'll never know.

Anyway, Car Guy was ready for a fight. Luckily for me, I never saw Car Guy that weekend. But, I was fortunate enough to hear what he was only to happy to pass along to anyone that would listen.

Apparently, I was a terrible, horrible woman that cheated on him with one of his good friends. Uh-huh. And, Scoop was an awful person, too, because he had stolen Car Guy's girlfriend. Yep.

Needless to say, this is when the, ahem, excuse me, shit hit the fan.

Friends took sides. And, people that heard all of this through the grapevine couldn't get to me fast enough to tell me about everything that was circulating.

Now, if you know me - or Scoop, for that matter - you know that drama is the last thing either one of us are interested in. We're both laid back, easy-going people who would rather sit on our couch and watch TV together than go out on dates or socialize with big groups of people.

Still, this matter needed to be dealt with. I was not about to be labeled a cheater - or even take the fall for this one. Perhaps I should have laid it all out in plain English a little better, but I wasn't the only one with indescretions, let's say.

Finally, after I had let myself cool down for about a week, I picked up the phone and called Car Guy to lay this to rest once and for all.

"Hello?"

"It's me. We need to talk."

**Click**

Well, obviously, this was going to go well. I waited a few minutes to see if he would get over himself and call me back. Sure enough...

"Sorry. I dropped the phone."

"I bet you did."

"I'm sorry. I'm just really angry."

"You're angry? You've been telling everyone that I cheated on you. I told you that David and I had gone out. If anyone get's to be angry, it's me. I didn't say anything to anyone about what happened while we were dating. You lied to me." I'm paraphrasing here. A very select few know what happened, and beyond that, no one else needs to know the exact details of what happened.

"I didn't lie to you, I just didn't tell you." (Let me tell you, of all the things people have ever said to me, regardless of whether it was a friend, acquaintance or boyfriend, this is my most favorite statement ever. Ever. EVER.).

"Ok. Whatever. It doesn't matter. This just needs to stop. I'm tired of hearing about all this - it's over. You're dating someone else and so am I."

After that conversation, I didn't speak to Car Guy for a good three years. Obviously, things hadn't ended as smoothly as I had originally thought they would and I was in no mood to negotiate or pour salt on old wounds.

And, letting go must have worked, because (minus a few disagreements here and there) Scoop and rolled right through the next five years of our relationship. In the blink of an eye, Scoop had transferred to a new school, I was attending college a few hours away, and we were seniors ready to graduate.

And, I was desperately waiting for Scoop to pop a very big question.

Dive-bombing butterflies and red-hot cheeks. Again.

Does it count as a date if you don't show up together? I don't think it matters.

I drove home from Springfield the next weekend to meet Scoop at the football game. Before I headed to the game, I stopped at home to drop off my stuff (okay, yes, it was my laundry for my mom) and grab some warm clothes to guard against the chilly fall night.

Just as I was ready to walk out the door, my mom said, "Didn't you just get home? Where are you headed to now?"

"Well, I'm going to the football game. I'm going to meet Scoop there and then go back to his house afterward."

My mom was used to me going to games with Scoop, but wasn't used to me going to his house afterward. Plus, she knew that Car Guy and I had officially ended things months ago.

"So, is this football game just a football game, or is it more of a date?"

"Well, I guess it's more of a date. I mean, several of my friends will be there, too, but I'm going specifically to meet Scoop."

"And, why would you decide to make a date with someone when you're going to be gone and traveling nearly all year?"

I knew she had a good point. But, I also knew that something just felt different about Scoop. He and I were already such good friends. And, it wasn't like I planned for this to happen.

"Mom - I know, but he asked me and said he would do everything he could to see me when we're both home. It's not like I decided I wanted to start another relationship right away - this just happened."

And, before she could say anything else to dampen my mood, I high-tailed it out the door (yep - I just said "high-tailed". I'm impressive).

The closer I got to town, the more nervous I got. I didn't remember being this nervous when Scoop asked me out. Heck, I didn't even remember being this nervous when I ran for a state office. Luckily for me, the first person I saw at the game was my best friend, Betsy (and, no, I'm not sure why she's the only person in this story without a nickname).

After the usual pleasantries, I dropped the bomb.

"So, I'm kind of here with someone."

"WHAT? WHO?"

"Well, Scoop asked me out last week. We've been talking all week and I'm really excited about this..."

Betsy quickly released me to go find my date and Scoop and I spent the rest of the evening talking with friends and watching the game. Then, we headed back to his house.

This was the moment of truth, the point of no return. If he kissed me tonight - and there was no spark - or, worse, later on down the road we just decided we weren't right for each other, it would be certain death for our friendship. I mean, really, when a relationship ends, people say they want to stay friends, but it never works that way (a lesson I was about to learn the hard way).

Was I ready to put that on the line? I loved hanging out with Scoop. We had spent so much time together during our senior year in high school and if things went south, that would all be gone.

But, before I could even complete that thought, we were sitting very close to each other on the couch and watching a movie. Too late now.

We watched movies. We talked. Then, he walked me to my car and we said goodnight - without a goodnight kiss.

Perhaps Scoop was worried about the same thing I was. Would our shot at a relationship ruin a perfectly good friendship?

He must have decided it wasn't worth worrying about by our third date, though, because during our exciting night of more moving watching, he laid one on me.

Whoa. There go those dive-bombing butterflies again. And those red cheeks. You would think - as a dark-complected, dark-haired woman, red cheeks wouldn't be so apparent. You would think that, but you would be wrong. Oh well, I've gotten used to it. Because, I still get dive-bombing butterflies and red-hot cheeks every time Scoop gives me a peck on the cheek.

I was a total goner. I still am.

And, that's it. The end. We lived happilly ever after and all of our friends were so happy for us, they sang and threw rose petals.

Ok, not so much.

Starting rumors...again.

One night, while Scoop and I were having our usual instant message conversation, Scoop guided me into a familiar topic.

(Scoop - I know you're going to read this and you'll have to forgive me. I'm sure I don't have this conversation verbatim. And, even though we have this saved somewhere, I can't find it. Sorry.)

"So, I just got off the phone with Car Guy. He wanted to know if I think we'll get back together after school."

"And?"

"I told him no. He got really upset because I guess he thought we would always get back together. But, I feel so much better after telling him "no" and ending it completely. I feel bad, too, but after we broke up, I realized I didn't want to be with him anymore."

Scoop and I always joked around with each other. And, since we had started a rumor that we were dating in high school, I felt like the next most logical follow-up was this:

"So, when are you going to get me that ring?"

"Oh, I'll get one eventually. Actually, I have a picture of you on my bulletin board. I hope you don't mind - I keep telling everyone that you're my wife."

(If there was a place for foreshadowing music, this would be the place.)

"Go for it. We could start another rumor."

"Would you like that?"

"Huh? Like what?" Suddenly, I knew exactly where this was going. I felt like I had been hit by a Mack Truck, but in a good way.

"Well, it wouldn't have to be a rumor."

"What do you mean?"

"What if we were dating?"

*******SILENCE***********

"You're never going to see me. I'm going to be gone all the time. Are you sure you want to do that?"

"I'll come home on the weekends and we can see each other then. And, I can drive to Springfield to see you. We'll make it work."

How could I say no to a guy that was already committed to making things work? We were living three hours apart, and before I could even say yes, he was telling me that he would make it work.

"I would like that." Whoa. Dive-bombing butterflies were attacking my stomach. I stared at the computer screen in disbelief as to what had just happened. And, I was desperately wishing I had a couple of bags of frozen peas to help tone down the red, burning hot cheeks that were taking over my face.

"Wow. You don't know how much better I feel to have that off my chest. I didn't think you would say 'yes'."

And, then he spilled. Boots had been right. Scoop had wanted to take me on a date for a long time. He had wanted to ask me out the night we went out for pizza, but he just couldn't bring himself to do it because he thought my answer would be "no."

He had spilled everything about me to his new roommate, too, and the only reason that he asked me out this time was because of his roommate. Apparently, his roommate threatened to hijack Scoop's computer and ask me out for himself if Scoop didn't get his butt in gear and do it.

In fact, it seemed like everyone and their dog knew that Scoop had a thing for me - everyone except for me. Hey, I can't say that I've ever been too observant. Even Scoop's best friend said, "Finally. It's about time."

We talked for a long time that night. We talked about Car Guy - and some of the things that I found out about after our relationship ended - and we talked about our respective moments when we realized that we might just make a good couple.

Finally, before we signed off and went to bed, we compared calendars and realized we would both be home the next weekend. We decided to meet up at a football game at our high school for our very first date.

A seed is planted...

After hours of speeches in front of thousands of people, I was finally elected to a state FFA office. I was so excited to have the opportunity to spend the next year of my life traveling to school across the state.

And, even though it was a little bittersweet to leave the 'comfort' of a relationship, my FFA adventure gave me a chance to leave Car Guy and strike out on my own. Well, aside from the four boys that had also become state officers and, subsequently, my new big brothers.

Despite my busy travel schedule, I still tried to find time to go home. As a state officer, I lived in a hotel. I missed my bed at home, the horses and the smell of the farm. Every weekend I could, I went home to spend time with my family and friends.

Then, one weekend shortly after I was elected, I got a message from Scoop. The summer was almost over and he was getting ready to head to school. This would be his last weekend home and he wanted to know if I wanted to go out for pizza and watch a movie at his house.

Since most of my friends had already moved to school - or were busy getting ready to - I was game for a night out with a friend.

When I got home, my cousin, Boots, was there helping with chores (I know what you're thinking, "Wow. Just when I thought her nicknames couldn't get any worse..." Truth is, this is his real nickname). My dad had died just a few months earlier, so our house had become a regular Grand Central Station with people coming over to help with any manner of work that needed to be done. Despite his lack of experience with horses, Boots had become a regular fixture at our house during chore time. And, I loved it. Boots and I were in the same class, so we spent a lot of time together and were - well, still are really - very close friends.

I parked my car and headed toward the fenceline to help Boots feed the horses.

"Hey, Rach. What are you up to tonight? Want to grab a bite to eat?"

"Sorry - I can't. Scoop asked me to go out for pizza with him. It's his last weekend at home before he moves to school, so we figured we would live it up." (Oh yeah, growing up in a small, rural town made all of us kids really exciting.)

"Ahhhhh. Sure."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Seriously? C'mon. You know he likes you."

"You have got to be kidding. He does not - we're just good friends."

"Um, no. He's liked you since the beginning of senior year. I know it."

"You're wrong."

In order to keep your boredom at bay, I'll stop here and just tell you this went on for a while. I continued to deny it, and Boots just kept telling me it was true.

I didn't really believe it, but you know how these things go: Boots had planted the seed and now I couldn't get it out of my head. Did Scoop really have a thing for me? Surely not. Why would he be interested in me, anyway? There was nothing remarkable about me and it certainly wasn't because of convenience. I was traveling all year and he was going to school three hours away.

I headed out for Scoop's house with all of these crazy thoughts swimming in my head. Needless to say, the evening was a little awkward - something that neither of us was very accustomed to. In all of the time that we had been friends, it had never been awkward. Or, maybe I just felt awkward knowing what Boots had told me.

Still, we went out for pizza and enjoyed each other's company. We spent a long time chatting in the booth - about everything going on. About what my new job as State FFA Reporter meant. What he was going to study in school. What we were going to miss about high school - okay, that list was pretty short, but whatever.

After we finished up our pizza, we decided to head back to Scoop's house to watch a movie. During our many conversations, he learned that I had never seen several of the classics - including Animal House.

Because of the craziness that Boots had planted in my head, I went to Scoop's house sure that he was planning on asking me out - and I had no idea what I was going to answer to that if he actually did. It didn't seem to make sense to start a relationship out long distance. But, I figured, I'll cross that bridge when I get to it - he still hadn't asked me.

We got to Scoop's house, put in Animal House, plopped down on the couch and spent the rest of our evening watching laughing at John Belushi. "Toga! Toga! Toga!" (Sorry, I had to). Just before the movie was over, Scoop's mom came home and chatted with us. We watched some TV and, before I knew it, it was time to go home.

Scoop walked me to my car and promised to talk to me online and email me to keep in touch. I hopped in my Dad's old Buick Park Avenue and headed home - without any kind of future date in the works.

Obviously, Boots had been totally wrong. Scoop had no romantic interest in me whatsoever - I mean, he hadn't made a move. And, I thought to myself, that was probably a good thing since we wouldn't ever be able to see each other anyway. Right?

Scoop stayed true to his word and emailed and sent instant messages to me on a regular basis. He told me about his roommate and his classes and about how much he hated the school he was attending. I told him about the crazy boys on my officer team and about how much fun I was having two months into my time as a state officer.

Then, one night, Scoop asked me a familiar question - one that he had asked me before.

Annie Oakley and Scoop Jackson: Best Friends?

Hey, stop thinking what you're thinking. Car Guy and I were still an item and I'm no cheater.

Still, Scoop and I spent a lot of time together near the end of our senior year. He was a sports writer for the local paper, so he was always at the area high school games. And, since we both enjoyed sports, we enjoyed each other's company.

Together, with the larger group of friends we had in common, we always met up at basketball games to cheer on the home team - or at least heckle the referees. We even went to a few away games together - I would sit in the stands and watch the game while Scoop took notes and pictures for the paper.

After one of our high school's away games, Scoop and I stopped at Steak N Shake for a little bit of dinner. Shortly after we sat down and ordered, our high school's fan bus stopped at the same Steak N Shake for a bite to eat.

Scoop and I sat in our own little booth with several of our high school friends and acquaintances surrounding us in the restaurant. Being that we got there first, we finished our meals first and got ready to head out the door. Then, Scoop had an idea.

"Hey. You want to try a little experiment?"

"Sure. What do you have in mind?"

"Let's just see if we can start a rumor at school tomorrow. I'll get up and pay for dinner - you just stay here at the booth."

"Um, okay....." At this point, I had no idea what kind of experiement we were working on.

"Seriously. Then, I'll come back to the booth, put a tip down on the table and we can leave. You get up first and I'll escort you out the door. Then, tomorrow, we'll just see how many people want to know if we're dating."

I was still dating Car Guy, but since we were all friends, I knew he would be okay with it. Plus, I would have a chance to let him in on our little experiment during our nightly ritual of talking on the phone.

Sure enough, the next day at school everyone was buzzing about how I was out to dinner with Scoop and not Car Guy. As I was sitting in the commons before the first bell rang (Scoop, Car Guy and I - and several of our friends - always chewed the fat of a morning before the first bell rang. What can I say, I grew up in a farming town and that's what people do), a girl I knew ran up to me and said, "Hey...um, so, are you and Car Guy still together?"

"Well, sure. Why?" I had to giggle.

"Well, we were just curious. We saw you last night with Scoop."

"Yeah. I know. We're friends and we went to the same basketball game you did. Then, we were hungry."

Scoop was right. We had started a rumor. And, luckily for me, both Scoop and Car Guy thought it was exceedingly funny.

And, that's how it went. Scoop and I were the best of friends and I continued to date Car Guy - even though I knew the end of the school year would require some tough decisions be made.

And, I wasn't wrong. I had spent my senior year as the Section 16 FFA President - and, after having made it through the selection process, I had plans of running for a state FFA office. If things went as I hoped they would, I would get elected and spend the next year of my life not in college, but traveling the state with the other four state officers, teaching high school kids about FFA and agriculture.

On the other hand, Car Guy had plans of his own. He was headed to Indianapolis for school. I knew we would never see each other. I would be on the road constantly and he would be hours away in a big city.

The time had come.

We talked it over and came to a mutual agreement: it was time to end things. Much to my surprise, we ended things amicably. He knew that we would both be meeting new people and doing new things and it would just be easier for both of us if we made a clean break.

We continued to spend time together right up until I was elected to a state FFA office in June. In fact, Car Guy even came to the elections to support me.

So did Scoop.

Taking the long way home.

Thinking about it now, it's easy to see that Car Guy and I didn't have a whole lot in common. He liked horsepower and I liked the originals with four legs. He grew up in town and cruised the square, while I grew up on the farm, cruised the fence line in my old pickup, and wasn't allowed to go to basketball or football games until the horses were fed. But, then again, Car Guy didn't like basketball or football anyway.

Still, he was my first real boyfriend. I just couldn't get over the fact that Car Guy - or any guy, for that matter - would be interested in me. 

Despite the fact that we didn't have anything in common, our relationship moved along smoothly for the first few months of freshman year. Then, like any good high school romance, we broke up. The funny thing is, I can't remember why we broke up, or who did the breaking, but we did. I found a date for the upcoming Sweetheart Dance and we stayed away from each other for a few months.

Then the talking started again. The crazy thing is, I don't ever remember having that much to say.

Still, the talking started again. Talking lead to hanging out at lunch. And, hanging out at lunch lead to dating. Again.

So, there we were, a couple again at the beginning of sophomore year. And, for the most part, the next few years weren't too eventful in the relationship of Annie Oakley and Car Guy. We went out to eat, went to dances and we made out on the couch. And, we made out on the couch. And, well you get the picture.

Give me a break, it was a high school romance.

As we rolled into senior year of high school, however, things became more complicated. Car Guy started blowing me off on a regular basis (I assumed he had some four-wheeled romance on the side and I later found out I was right, except for the fact that it had two legs instead of four wheels) and I was left finding new ways to entertain myself. Still, I enjoyed my time with Car Guy and, every so often, entertained thoughts of us being together forever.

Then, Car Guy lowered the boom. Just before our senior homecoming, he ended our four-year courtship. Of course, I was devastated. Not only did my boyfriend of so many years dump me for no reason, but I also didn't have a date for the rapidly approaching homecoming dance.

Noticing a pattern here? I really have a problem with dances. Probably, because I'm a tomboy and don't like wearing dresses unless I'm wearing them for someone specific. Whatever.

********************************************************************************************************************

Little did I know, Scoop had just broken up with his flame, too. Car Guy and I saw Scoop on a regular basis at school - and sometimes, we even drove out to Scoop's house for movies and his mom's famous cheeseburgers. But, we weren't close enough for me to be in the loop concerning his love life. 

I also didn't know that Scoop was entertaining the idea of asking me to the homecoming dance. He had known that Car Guy was planning to fly the coop and, being the gentleman that he is, thought about rescuing me.

Unfortunately for Scoop - and me - he had already agreed to go to homecoming with his most recent ex-girlfriend. And, Car Guy had decided to pity me and take me to homecoming, "because he promised to before we broke up."

(I know, this stuff is deep.)

********************************************************************************************************************

The night of the homecoming dance finally rolled around and Car Guy drove out to the boonies (also known as my house) to pick me up. Seeing as he had recently broken my heart, I was in no mood for talking or showing any kindness toward the former object of my affections. But, Car Guy showed up at the door with a bouquet of flowers and some ridiculous apology.

It worked. I was happy and my dad took pictures.

We headed back to the high school as a couple and finished our senior year that way. But, like many high school romances, things were never the same. I started to notice the little ways that we didn't work as a couple. And, when my dad died just before we graduated, Car Guy showed up to comfort me. However, when I saw him walk through the emergency room doors, I ended up more annoyed and angry at his presence than anything else.

Still, we stayed together until the end of our senior year. We still spent time together, but we also spent time apart. He had a new four-wheeled love interest and I decided that I would exercise my love of sports by attending all of the high school basketball games without Car Guy in tow.

You know who also loved sports? That's right.

Annie Oakley meets Scoop Jackson - for real.

We had met before. He was, after all, in my chorus class - remember?

But, those early meetings were just glances across the room from the soprano section (which totally didn't fit me at all) to the alto section. Several glances, in fact. C'mon, I had to see what Chicago Bulls t-shirt he had in store for me each day.

Anyway, my best friend, Betsy, and I arrived at our destination fashionably late (okay, there was nothing fashionable about me, but that's beside the point) and met up with her date - we'll call him Car Guy - for the evening. Each time a slow song would come on, I would mingle with friends or take my designated seat on the "no date to dance with" bleachers.

Near the end of the evening, I had joined Betsy and Car Guy on the dance floor during one of the faster songs. We were probably talking about cars - because, as his namesake would imply, Car Guy really liked cars - when another slow song came on.

Great. I started to make my way back to the bleachers when Car Guy grabbed my arm and shoved me toward one of his friends. I mean, who doesn't like being pitied?

And there was Scoop. He didn't have anyone to dance with either, so Car Guy thought it would be nice for us to dance together. And, it was nice to have someone to dance with - even if he was quite a bit shorter than I was.

Since our last encounter in chorus a year ago, his bowl hair cut had been replaced with a much more up-to-date hair cut and his normal, Chicago Bulls t-shirts had been replaced with a shirt and tie. Nice.

In fact, he was nice all around. Nice to talk to. Nicely dressed. And, nice to me.

So, we danced. At least, we considered it dancing even though we barely had the guts to touch each other and we stood far enough away that the former President Harry Truman could have dropped another atomic bomb - this time between us - and it wouldn't have harmed a hair on our cute little junior high heads.

I would like to say that I was sold right then and there, but I wasn't. It's not that I didn't like him, it's just that we only talked the length of a slow song - the very last slow song, as fate would have it - and that's all the farther things went.

Betsy and I left the dance with her resigned that she would not date Car Guy with and me resigned that boys were short, stupid and I would never go to another dance again - unless I had a date.

The next dance in my junior high career just happened to be the eighth grade graduation dance and it turns out I would have a date - but, it wasn't Scoop. My date turned out to be Car Guy.

After Betsy decided that Car Guy wasn't the guy for her, we spent quite a bit of time together. He needed to talk to someone about how much he liked my best friend and I - well who knows what I wanted. As I look back at it all now, I think I was just flattered that a boy wanted to talk to cowboy-boots-clad, horse-t-shirt-wearing me.

Either way, we ended up going to a dance together. He was just as tall as I was. He talked about cars - which didn't bother me since I grew up at my family's car dealership (I'm sure that little tid bit didn't bother him, either) and I talked about...well, who the hell knows.

We ended up talking on the phone most of the subsequent summer months. And, we ended up dating beginning our freshman year of high school. In fact, we ended up dating the next four years of high school. There were fights and there were break-ups. We got back together and went to dances. We were best couple our senior year, for Heaven's sake. But, more on that later.

Anyway, seeing that Scoop and Car Guy (I know - I really have a knack for coming up with creative, fake names) were friends, I also saw a lot of Scoop the next four years of my life. More on that later, too.

Annie Oakley

Oh God, oh God, oh God....What was I thinking?

No, wait - what was my Mom thinking? I'm blaming her for this catastrophe.

I hated junior high. And, not in the, "Man, I wish I didn't have to go to school today" kind of way. It was more like, if I could have gotten away with faking sick every day for three years, I would have.

Seriously.

In grade school, there are popular kids, but they haven't reached that cosmic level of being too good to speak to the other kids yet. We still went to the same parties, talked to the same people and played the same games in recess.

Then, in the three short months of summer vacation between fifth grade and sixth grade, the popular kids acquired this magical quality of superiority and the not-so-popular kids - of which I was a card-carrying member - somehow became even less cool.

Of course, cowboy boots and horse t-shirts have that magical "I'm totally lame" quality about them, I suppose.

Now, I'm not saying that everyone that ran in the popular crowd was a terrible, mean-spirited person because that's just not true. But, there were a select few that really enjoyed cracking jokes at my expense.

Anyway, the point I'm getting at is this: with my membership in the way-too-lame-to-function-club paid in full for three years, by the time I thought I might like to hang out or go to a dance with a boy, it just wasn't going to happen.

I did go to a few junior high dances, but most of the time I went stag with my other girlfriends and when the slow songs came on, I did what any logical, junior high girl would do: I sat on the bleachers by myself.

Then, near the end of my eighth grade year, I went to a dance with my best friend. A boy we both knew casually really wanted to date her (you know, hold hands in the hallways and pass notes in class - that kind of dating), and he was going to be there.

Not being one to pass up my fair share of awkwardness, '90s music (C'mon ride the train...) and bad hair, I signed on as her reluctant wingman - or woman. I put on my favorite and most un-lame dress that I owned and headed off, not knowing that this would be my second encounter with Scoop.

Until next time...

Scoop Jackson

Today, two weeks from my first wedding anniversary and more than six years after we first got together, this man of mine never ceases to amaze me. I love his humor and the way he does things. I love how he constantly wants to take care of me, lightens the mood and how he has this incredible way of putting me in my place.

You see, I tend to think of myself as a fairly intelligent person. Now, David doesn't make me feel stupid, but when I have those moments where I'm totally and absolutely not using my brain (it actually happens to me a lot for how intelligent I think I am), he brings me back to earth.

For example, last night as I was writing my first entry for this little saga, I yelled to David, "Hey - name a famous sports writer."

"Me."

"Um, someone more famous than that."

I proceeded to Google "famous sports writers" and Google did not dissappoint. I was able to find a nice little list of sports writers. Again, I called out my redheaded man.

"Hey. Come in here and look at this list. Pick a name out."

"Why?"

"Just do it!" Yes, I was getting exhasperated. Sometimes I swear that boy likes to push my buttons just because he knows where they are and how hard to push.

"Ummmm. Ok. Well, Woody Paige is pretty well-known. So is Bill Plaschke and Scoop Jackson."

Scoop Jackson. I liked that one. It's a fun name - and if he's well-known, then I can make the connection easily that David is a sports writer. Great.

I went on with my writing and finished my entry for the evening. After I got done, David took his place at the computer and read my post (because I told him I had this fun idea for the blog, but wouldn't tell him what it was). Then, later that night after crawling into bed, I rolled over and said, "Hey, Scoop - love you."

To which David replied, "Yeah, why did you pick that one?"

"Because that's one of the names you listed off...." Duh.

"Yeah, but he's a big black guy."

Now, don't mistake that last comment for some kind of racial remark or put-down. This comment really stems more from the fact that my 130-pound, redheaded and white-as-a-ghost husband looks nothing like said Scoop Jackson.

Here I come - back to earth. My intelligence officially plumeting back to the planet with me. Ouch. Oh well - I still like the reference.

Anyway, Scoop and I grew up in the same town, and while we didn't attend the same grade schools, we did attend the same junior high and high school because all of the area grade schools dumped all of the kids together once we got to junior high.

My first real memories of David come from our junior high chorus class. Okay, okay - pick yourself up off the floor and stop laughing. Yes, we were both in chorus. In junior high, elective choices were extremely limited: shop, home economics, band and chorus.

I had no desire to build bird houses and tool boxes, and my mom used to teach high school home economics, and wouldn't let me take the junior high home economics under any circumstances. Since I couldn't read music, chorus was my last option. I'm not sure why David chose chorus...

Of course, the big move from grade school to junior high gave grandparents and parents automatic license to ask all kinds of probing questions about your classes and your friends.

"Chorus, huh? Who is in your class?"

I was obligated to list name after name after name. Then, I stumbled on to David's name.

"Oh, that little Torbert boy? How is he now? Is he feeling better? He was awfully sick, wasn't he? Can you tell that he was in the hospital? Is he nice? He's not still having problems, is he?"

I had no idea what they were talking about. We didn't go to the same grade school, so all I knew was there was a 90-pound, redheaded boy with a bowl hair cut in my class and he had a big scar on his neck. And, he had a Chicago Bulls t-shirt for every day of the week.

At that point in time, I wasn't remotely interested in boys - and I certainly wasn't interested in one that I outweighed by 50 pounds. Besides, as a big, tall girl (and, when I say tall, I mean I played middle blocker on my junior high volleyball team because I was the only one that didn't have to jump to make my hands clear the top of the net and I was taller than all of the boys in my class - or three classes, really) who wore cowboy boots and horse t-shirts to school, I didn't have many options anyway.

Funny how things change, isn't it?

Spicing things up.

I'm well aware that my blog has not been too exciting as of late. In fact, it has been downright boring. Travel plans and pictures of cakes aren't exactly topics that make you wiggle with anticipation.

So, I have decided that things need a little spicing up. The next question becomes, "How can I make things spicier?"

Then I remembered, my anniversary is right around the corner. And, while many of you know the abridged version of Annie Oakley meets Scoop Jackson (also known as the Rachel and David chronicles), I thought it might still be fun to do a little series about how we got together. Not only will this allow me to update more than once a month, but it should also work as an excellent service for all of you who have trouble sleeping - this might actually knock you out cold.

In all seriousness, though, sometimes we forget to remember the fun little things that "hooked" us at the very beginning of a relationship. Even though David and I have only been married a year, we've been together significantly longer and I don't want to forget those things that happened at the very start of our story. Honestly, I'm mere weeks away from marking my quarter-century point in life and I'm pretty convinced that, after this birthday, it's all downhill from here. In fact, I could be days away from dementia, so it's vitally important that I write this down.

But, before I begin, I owe all of you (okay, all five people that actually read this) a disclaimer:

This is not some tragic love story. Our story doesn't invovle fairytale love on the heels of some horrible event. And, it most certainly does not involve a giant, hulk of a man on a beautiful white horse sweeping some petite little princess off her feet. Shoot, my husband won't hardly touch a horse, let alone ride one. And, let's be honest, I'm the farthest thing from "petite" there is.

Still, we have a story. And, parts of it are funny.

More on that later....

I'm *cough* still *cough* here...*cough cough cough*

Ok - this time, I have a legitimate excuse for not updating. That's right - the flu finally caught up with me.

I'm not sure if it was regular flu, or of the H1N1 variety, but I was definitely out of commission either way. Last Wednesday, I came home from work coughing and feeling very, very cold. So, I decided to climb into to bed and watch TV for the rest of the evening, hoping to kick whatever it was that was brewing.

Unfortunately for me, that is not what happened. I woke up a few hours later, absolutely freezing and harboring a fever of 101.6. Thursday and Friday mornings, it was more of the same, so I called in sick to work both days to spare my coworkers from this nasty thing.

Of course, I did my best to pick a good time to be sick: David was gone and I was all by myself at home. That certainly makes it hard to run to the store for soup, jello and Diet Sprite.

I do have to say, though, this has been the strangest sickness I've dealt with in a long time. In fact, I can't remember the last time I had any kind of flu - it has been at least eight years, I'm sure. I had a fever, cough, my body ached and I was incredibly tired, but I was never sick to my stomach. Now that my fever has finally gone, I still have a terrible cough and congestion. Oh yeah - super fun.

My fever broke three days later - just in time for David's parents to stop by our place for a visit on their way back home from Denver. It was Denise's birthday on Sunday, so I made a big breakfast for John, Denise, David and I. I also made a big chocolate birthday cake.

This weekend, David and I are looking forward to a Halloween party at my coworker's house. For those of you that know us well, you'll enjoy our costume choice:

Eric and Donna from That '70s Show. Don't worry - I'll post pictures. We have yet to find the perfect wigs, but I think we're going to venture out tonight to see if we can find a long, red wig for me and a shaggy, brown wig for David.

After that, it's on to the next big weekend: Matt and Rachel's wedding on Nov. 7. David is heading home on Thursday afternoon and I'm going to head home on Friday. Then, depending schedules, I may be flying from home down to Oklahoma City for the AQHA World Show for work.

It's going to be a busy couple of weeks - I just hope my immune system can keep up!

Ideas, please.

Did you know that David and I have been married nearly a year? I can't hardly believe it myself. It seems like just yesterday that we were celebrating at our reception.

Just thinking about our anniversary makes me happy. Happy that David hasn't gotten bored with me. Happy to be so content with our life together. And, happy to be secure in the thought that there will be many more anniversaries.

However, the thought of our first anniversary also makes me a little sick. Yes - sick. I didn't stutter. Here's why:

David is an incredible gift giver. He's always been able to come up with amazing gifts for every occasion. He's always so thoughtful - and always gives gifts that I don't expect. It would be easy for him to ask me point blank and get whatever I suggest. Instead, he goes to the trouble of finding something amazing - and totally off my radar.

Not a problem, you say? Oh, trust me, it is.

It's a problem because I'm a TERRIBLE gift giver in every sense of the word. If I can think of anything at all, it is most likely completely ordinary and it is most definitely not exciting. Any gift I give David will be something that he's mentioned he might like to have a few times, and I can guarantee it won't be anything that he wasn't expecting.

In fact, David says he's already bought a gift for me (yes, several weeks ahead of time) and that one gift, specifically, is "wayyyyy cool" in his words.

How can I compete with that? I've tried to come up with things, but anything that happens to be exciting or unexpected that crosses my mind also happens to be close to a million dollars. Well, maybe not quite that much, but still relatively expensive.

So. That's it. I'm screwed.

Any good ideas for me?

Why do I have to come up with a headline anyway?

Sorry. One of the perils of working in public relations is that you have to come up with headlines on a daily basis. This wouldn't be so bad if I was good at it. Sadly, however, I'm not.

Thus, the headline for this post.

Anyway, I'll quit stalling - on with tonight's topics.

We're back to Nebraska again after another trip home. David and I decided this past weekend would be a good time to head home because....

Well, we didn't really have a good reason, we just wanted to go home. Kyle, David's best friend, was home for the weekend. David hadn't seen him since the wedding, so he wanted to make sure to see Kyle while he was in the area.

I was just along for the ride. Well, actually, I wanted to get home and see Grandpa. For those of you that don't know (I know I've made a few vague references here, but haven't posted anything detailed as of yet), doctors found a couple of tumors in my Grandpa Don a few weeks ago. The tumors were in his bladder and one of his kidneys.

After they found the first tumor, he had surgery so doctors could try to find out how aggressive the cancer was. The doctors don't seem to think it's too aggressive (and they completely removed the tumor in his bladder), but are waiting on tests to confirm a diagnosis and to decide whether to remove the rest of the tumor from his kidney or to just remove the entire kidney.

The last time I was home, the doctors had just discovered the tumor in his kidney, but hadn't operated yet, so it was nice to be able to go home (post-op) to see how Grandpa was doing.

Since many of you come from farms or farming families, I'm sure you'll understand that while the news from the doctors was somewhat positive, Grandpa is still a little down in the dumps. To prevent him from getting sick before another surgery, he's been staying at home, staring at the same four walls every day. For someone who is used to getting up and working outside every day, a TV screen and four walls have become pretty boring.

It's hard to see Grandpa depressed because I don't think I've ever seen it before - at least like this. I'll never forget the day my dad died. Grandpa met us at the hospital - he told us it was bad - and then he started crying. He was sad then, but it was a different kind of sad.

Don't get me wrong; I'm not saying that he's completely shut down to the world. But, it seems strange because it's so different from the "normal" Grandpa. Nearly all of my memories of Grandpa are of him smiling, teasing me or my sister, working outside, at the fair or busy in the kitchen. In fact, I can't think of one instance where Grandpa was sitting in a chair, watching TV for hours on end. He's always been so energetic and happy - and, at times, almost like a second father.

And, I'm sure that's why this seems to have been extremely hard for me, too. I know it's hard for everyone else - and maybe I'm selfish for not paying more attention or asking to see how the rest of the family is doing - but, I can't help it.

David keeps telling me everything will work out, and I'm going to stick to that thought, but I sure would appreciate your prayers anyway.

Being eight hours away from home - and not seeing your family on a daily basis - means that we couldn't just spend our entire weekend at Grandma and Grandpa's. We did spend some time with Kyle and his girlfriend, Katie. David also got to see his friend, Matt, while I spent some time at home checking out Mom and Chuck's new store and taking some pictures (big surprise, right?).

Mom and Chuck finally opened their store the last weekend in September, and while I was there on Saturday, they had several customers. For now, they're only open on the weekends, but after their open house on November 20, they'll be open during the week and on the weekends (yes, that was my shameless plug for their store - if you're ever in Clinton, drive the 15 minutes out to Chestnut to stop in).

Don't worry - I didn't limit my picture taking to the antique shop. You know I took pictures at the farm, too. This year's babies are growing up so fast - it really makes me wish I had more time to spend at home, riding.

All in all, it turned out to be a nice weekend, even though we weren't able to make the rounds to see everyone. But, Thanksgiving is right around the corner and we'll be home for a few extra days. Hopefully, we'll be able to squeeze everyone in!

Busy, busy, busy.

My apologies. I know it has been a few days since my last post, but it just seems like the last week or week and a half have been so busy. David and I were both on the road last week and when we finally got home, the only thing both of us wanted to do was sleep.

David had been on the road for the past two weeks, so he was just ready to be home. I was in Colorado picking up some stories for work, and it was cold and rainy the whole time I was there, so I came home sick. By the time we both got home, it seemed like we spent our weekend like dogs: eating and sleeping.

I was hoping to take some pictures while in Colorado - I mean, seriously, the state was meant for pictures. But, as I said, the weather turned out to be so nasty while I was there it just wasn't conducive to pictures.

Anyway, we made sort of a last minute decision to go home for the weekend, so David and I are both counting down the days until Friday.

David's best friend, Kyle, is going to be home and David hasn't seen him since the wedding. So, Kyle was reason No. 1 for going home. Then, of course, with everything that has been going on with my family in the past month, I decided it would be good for me to go home, too.

It will be another short weekend trip, but I'm looking forward to seeing everyone, checking out mom and Chuck's new shop and, of course, taking some new pictures. I'm hoping tht fall is finally in full swing at home so I can get some pretty shots.

And, speaking of pictures....the results are in. About a month ago, I decided that I was going to enter a photo contest put on by the Illinois Farm Bureau. It's for amateur photographers, so I should fit in nicely (seeing as none of my shots are anything too professional). There are three categories and a person may enter one photo per category - and the photos must have been taken in Illinois.

I don't have anything that I can enter for the "Kids and Critters" category (that is, unless I get something this weekend), but I do have pictures to enter in the "The Back 40" and "All in a Day's Work" categories. After asking around to see what pictures everyone else thought I should enter, the results were nearly the same:

The Back 40

All in a Day's Work

Of course, if you have a different opinion, let me know. Nearly any picture that would be eligible I have most likely posted on one of my blog entries.

So, that's the deal. I'm going to win.

Well, I suppose that's it for now. I had hoped something really interesting or some great insight would come to me while writing, but apparently, I'm empty for today. To be fair, the last two posts have been pretty insightful (yeah, I know - really humble, right?), so I think I'm entitled to a relatively mundane one this time.

Hope you all have a wonderful week!

What do I owe you for that?

You know, that little piece of advice you offered?

I feel like I need to ask my husband this question when he gets home tomorrow. David has been gone all week for work, and like usual, I've missed him something awful.

Obviously, I miss him in the normal, everyday routine. I don't enjoy fixing supper and eating it by myself, having no one to fight over the remote with or crawling into bed to go to sleep, only to remember that the left side is empty.

But, this week has been especially tough for me, which makes his absence even harder to swallow. Still, even from 400 miles away, he has a way of putting things in perspective when I can't.

Before I tell you why, I first need to launch into this:

I'm a pretty indepent person. I've always gone where I wanted to and done my own thing. Traveling doesn't bother me and I enjoy experiencing new things.

Nebraska has been a new thing.

Most of the time, I enjoy living in a new state and getting to do new things (and, sometimes, I even enjoy the distance), but not this week. This week, the only thing I've wanted to do is go home.

Because of a few things going on at home (for right now, I'll just say some unexpected medical issues with family - most of you that read my blog probably know anyway), I've had this overwhelming urge to just get in my car and drive. It doesn't matter that, as I sit here, the clock reads 10:08 p.m. I would still rather be in my car, driving.

I just need to be home helping with chores and running errands. I hate feeling helpless. And depressed. More than anything, I hate not knowing what's coming next. I think that started to happen after Dad died - it's one of those side effects that you just don't expect to have and it usually creeps up at the worst time.

But, as I mentioned before, David is able to put things back into perspective. And, I still don't know how. His week hasn't been great. In fact, it has been downright crappy. He has driven all over the place, forgotten the camera battery back here in Lincoln, survived a fight with a hotel desk clerk that said he didn't have a hotel reservation tonight (at the hotel that he was supposed to have a reservation at) and hasn't been able to use the internet all week.

However, during every phone call (or email on the rare chance that he was able to snag someone's wireless), he's been more than supportive and focused on me. He's reassured me that everything will work itself out. When I become Debbie Downer, he's forced me to take a good look in the mirror and re-evaluate (and, when he is getting ready to force me to take a good, hard look in the mirror, he prepares me for it by saying first, "Not to be an ass, but...").

And, so far, he's been right.

This week has been a rollercoaster of emotions for me, but he's been able long-distance manage it.

Things are still a little rocky, but with his support, I've been able to change my attitude this week. I'm still worried about the stuff going on at home - and terrifying thoughts still cross my mind. But, it's funny how a little bit of poking, prodding and some reassuring words from a very stubborn (and strangely optimistic) husband can help.

I suppose, for this one, I'm going to owe him big time.

All that lies in a memory...

For me, writing serves as a kind of therapy. I've never been good at expressing my feelings verbally. But, when it comes to a paper and pen - or in this case, a computer screen and keyboard - it always seems like it's easy to say what I need to say.

Today is one of those days where I need to use my keyboard and computer screen to say what I need to say.

I'm sure that I won't be the only person that sits down today with the intention of writing about their memories and the thoughts surrounding the events of September 11, 2001.

At least, I certainly hope that's the case.

I was in high school when the World Trade Center towers and the Pentagon were attacked and Flight 93 crashed. I remember hearing about the first plane to hit the towers as I was driving to school in my old pick-up truck. I thought, "Seriously? Some idiot just flew a plane into the World Trade Center?"

Then, after I got to school and took my usual seat in the commons next to my friends, I watched as a plane hit the second tower.

At that moment - when we realized that this wasn't some kind of terrible accident - I think our generation went from feeling innocent, protected and free to scared, confused and pensive about the world around us.

I'm not sure about my classmates, but the rest of the day, as I went from class to class, I realized the world we knew was gone and it would never be the same. For the first time in our lives, we literally watched as history unfolded in front of our eyes. The generations that came before use had experienced wars and conflicts - but, we never had.

As the day went on, some of our teachers decided to cancel the class work for the day and watch the television coverage with us. Others left the classroom TVs on as they went on with algebra or biology lessons. Others still decided not to watch the day's events unfold at all and continued on as if nothing had happened.

But, something had happened. It changed the way we thought, acted and felt about ourselves and our country. Time had stopped.

It seemed like everyday activities were hard to focus on. I remember going out to do chores after I got home from school. Instead of feeding horses or cleaning stalls, I stood there in front of the barn, listening to the radio, and I cried. I felt helpless knowing that there was nothing I could do for all of those people that had died - and all of the people still coming to grips with the fact that their loved ones weren't ever going to come home again.

But, at the same time, I felt proud. Seconds after the attack on each building - and even after they collapsed - firefighters, police and even civilians went charging back in to search for survivors. Strangers on a plane stood together and gave their lives so that more lives wouldn't be lost. Even as a member of the younger generation - and as a person that had never felt the sting of war - I knew that was something to be proud of.

I didn't know anyone that was killed in the World Trade Center towers, the Pentagon or Flight 93, but that doesn't mean that I don't still feel a special connection to each and every one of them. The civilians that died are still in my thoughts. Their families are still in my prayers. Those that died trying to save others or protect our country in the following months - and those that still serve in the armed forces - will always receive my gratitude and respect.

I'm not a New Yorker, employee of the Pentagon or family member of a person that was on one of those planes, but I'm still directly connected to the events of September 11 because I'm an American.

After eight years, I still feel the hurt every time I think about September 11. I still feel like my heart is being ripped out every time I see video footage of those planes crashing into the World Trade Center or the Pentagon, see pictures of the people jumping out of the towers and hear the voices from the passengers and crew of Flight 93.

I think, for the most part, every American feels the same way I do - regardless of political party, religion or social station.

We have not forgotten, and I pray to God that we never do. It's our duty to remember those that perished and cherish - yes, cherish- the memory of that day. It's hard, but it's something that we must do. It's our defining moment and our greatest hour.

Where did summer go?

Are you kidding me? Labor Day weekend is officially over and that means that summer is, too. It's unbelieveable.

Luckily for us, Nebraska is still kicking out summer-like weather, so I'm going to keep pretending that summer hasn't officially ended and keep wearing my flip-flops.

Anyway, of course, since it was Labor Day weekend, David and I took full advantage of the three day weekend and headed home to visit the fam. You would think that with an extra day in the weekend we would have plenty of time to get everything done - but, you would be wrong.

Saturday, I spent the day sleeping in (okay, more like the morning). Then, I headed into town for lunch with a great friend from high school. Betsy has moved from Clinton to Chicago to San Diego to New York. She keeps getting farther and farther away from me (whether this is coincidence or on purpose I haven't decided), so I made sure to squeeze some time in for her. It was great to have lunch and catch up.

Then, Janell and I headed to Haycraft's in Wapella to do a little bit of shopping (unfortunately I didn't make it out without buying a pair of jeans - this is a post script you'll read several times in this post). Then, we headed home for some pictures (me, of course), some riding (Janell) and some chores (this took both of us).

We finished up the day by driving into David's with Brian to watch a movie - and do a little bit of birthday planning.

Sunday, Janell and I headed to Champaign for more shopping. Unfortunately, because I'm an idiot, I didn't bring my camera so I wasn't able to take any pictures of campus - which, coincidentally looked BEAUTIFUL.

But, I did get a chance to visit my old residence: 4-H House. At least I think it was my old residence! They have redone the bathrooms and basement, painted the dining room and removed some unnecessary doors since I lived there - it didn't even look like the same house.

After our quick trip to the house, Janell and I headed to Pard's because Janell wanted to look for some jeans (again, unfortunately I wasn't able to make it out of the store without a pair of jeans). I also chatted with some of the folks I used to work with - all in all, a good visit.

Finally, Janell and I finished up on the north end of town by going to Plato's Closet (nope, didn't make it out of this store either without a pair of jeans) and a few other stores. It was nice to be able to head back to my old stomping grounds and spend some time with my sister.

After a visit to Great Grandma Louise, Janell and I headed home for yet another dose of chores.

At this point, I need to offer up my disclaimer:  Hold on to whatever meal you just finished eating.

A couple of weeks ago, one of my mares got caught in the fence and cut her leg clear to the bone. Amazingly, she didn't break her leg, so mom and Chuck have been spending 40 minutes a day doctoring for two weeks. Of course, I made sure to help and this is what I saw:

Yep. Yuck. Daisy seems to be getting along okay and the vet told mom that as long as the bone stays pink to white, she'll be fine. After it heals, it won't ever be pretty, but, she'll be able to move around on it.

Anyway, after a busy day, I headed into David's and spent the night at his house. Monday morning, I headed back into town to meet mom so we could go watch Angela (a trainer that's working on our two-year-old) ride Di.

Then, it was on to finish my rounds: Lunch with Brian, congratulating Brandon on his engagement, out to Grandma and Grandpa's to chat and finally, to Ted and Cheryl's for a quick conversation.

And, just like that, the weekend was over. Bummer.

But, David and I are looking forward to this weekend: We're headed back into Illinois (this time the northern portion) for a brewery and winery tour with several friends. Seeing as how our friends have rented a bus, this should be a GREAT weekend.

You know me - I'll take pictures and post them. Well, some of them.