Iowa is Home

What makes a house a home? Is it the location? Size? Number of bedrooms? A dog? A family? I am not sure there really is a correct answer. Many have their theories and I have a few of my own. I've lived in a number of homes throughout my 24 years and all of them hold a special place in my heart. However, our current dwelling is making a strong effort to pull into first place next to my childhood home, and this is what is making life so difficult.

Jordan and I moved to Ankeny, Iowa on February 21, 2011. It was cold, it was damp and the house was empty. I spent the first night in our new home on a blow-up mattress alone. No television. No internet. No Jordan. The next morning the movers came and unloaded what was left of our college furniture into the house. My possessions totaled 3 items. A bed, acoustic guitar and a severely outdated television. I didn't exactly know how to feel about our new accommodations. We had only been engaged for a week when we moved here and it was so COLD outside. We were now a 16 hour drive away from family. We knew not a soul in this entire State. I was anxious to begin a new life and a bit excited about the possibilities, but I won't lie and admit that a part of me was worried.

I had seen the movie "Field of Dreams" and heard the rumors about this place. Three things were commonly said about the State of Iowa: it was FLAT, COLD, and had nothing but CORN. Civilization? In Iowa? Forget about it. There was agriculture, a college somewhere in the middle, and ghosts who played baseball in a cornfield turned baseball diamond. You can judge me for not immediately being excited about the idea of moving, I won't deny it. Nonetheless, Jordan was offered his dream job and I knew happiness awaited him here. How could I ever keep him from that? Besides, I had always known that no matter where we ended up, as long as we were together, I would be happy.

So we moved. We settled in. We thawed out. I fell in love.


I can't really explain what happened. I just plain fell in love with this place. People are always so surprised to hear me say this, but it's true. I love it here. We recently had the choice to leave Iowa and spend an extra two weeks in Texas for the holidays, but I turned it down. I told Jordan I didn't want to leave and it was true. I'd rather be here. My neighbor mentioned the other day that "Iowa grows on you." And she is right. It definitely grew on me. I love this town, the peacefulness that encompasses the neighborhood, the simplicity of life, and the four full seasons of weather we get to experience. This is happiness. This is our life. This is home.

I don't want to leave.

The world works in mysterious ways, and so does the Lord, but sometimes I wish those mysteries would never surface. That the road would always be straight and clearly marked. That happiness wasn't always a tentative state and in constant jeopardy of being uprooted, because that is what we are currently facing right now. A possibility that we may be uprooted.

Our lovely home in the neighborhood I fell in love with is a rental and privately owned. The owner has defaulted on his mortgage and the house is entering foreclosure. I spent hours on the computer last night researching the laws that protect tenants in this situation. They are great laws, but nothing that will truly help us in this situation. Each law states that we can not be forcibly removed from the property until our lease ends. GREAT!

But our lease ends in February.

And we can't renew.

So, unless the successor of the household will allow us to continue to rent out this property in the future, Jordan and I are facing the strong possibility that we will have to move.

This makes me want to cry. I don't want to leave here. I like it here. This is our home. My heart aches at the thought of this. Moving away from my childhood house was hard, but in the end I wanted to leave. Moving away from College Station was difficult for the fact that we were going to an area of unknowns, but it turned out to be a dream. I am not ready to leave this place, this neighborhood. I want to stay damnit.

So I don't know what makes a house a home. I am positive it has a lot to do with the people inside it and around it. If that's true then we have hit the motherlode. I am sure any building can become a home to us at anytime because I still hold onto the truth that no matter where we are, as long as Jordan and me are together, I'm happy.

I just hope our happiness can remain here at 1111 for a while longer.

Sports'Aholic

Hello. My name is Shirley Anne Stevenson (or Dees, whatever) and I have a problem.

I love sports.

Many may find this a bit odd, seeing as I am of the xx chromosome type. What kind of girl loves sports that much? This one does. And no, I am not one of those females that watch baseball games because of the tight pants (although that is an additional benefit) and don't really have a general understanding of the game. Quite the opposite. In most sports, I know the rules and how the game is played.

And I love every single bit of it.

Every down, every pitch, every second. Love. I am a fan of Texas teams and during the Olympics I root for the Red, White and Blue. Although you may not have heard me preach much about the state of the Houston diAstros Astros or the Dallas Cowboys, you can bet I tune in and cheer for the good guys. Most notably though, I love to watch college sports, and no other NCAA team gets as much attention and adoration from me than my lovely Fightin' Texas Aggies.

What can I say? I bleed maroon and white. I hold such a passion for my Alma Mater, nothing compares. When it comes to A&M sports, I can get a little crazy and emotional. REAL emotional. I yell, scream, jump up and down, and have even shed tears of joy in Kyle Stadium. Laugh all you want, I don't care. I love my Texas Aggies and always will. There is no atmosphere quite like Aggieland.

 I fell in love with this school when I was eight years old and my eldest brother chose to attend Texas A&M. I remember walking around the campus, learning about the traditions, and dreamed of attending there myself one day. I learned what it meant to be an Aggie at a young age and the core values the University instills in it's students. Leadership, Respect, Integrity, Honor, and more. I fell in love and adopted myself as part of the Aggie family before I even reached double figures in age.

I learned the War Hymn, attended baseball games and immersed myself in the game time traditions, taught myself to "pass it back" and hump it" and yell as loud as I could on every down the Aggie football defense played. I remember attending and witnessing my first (and last) on campus bonfire.

And I remember when it fell.

And the Aggie family grew ever closer in such a dark time.

I remember the day I learned I was accepted (Thanksgiving Day 2007!), the day I earned my Aggie Ring.

And the day I graduated.

I am and will always be an Aggie.

So, mixing my love for Texas A&M and all things sports, when I watch my teams compete I get a little passionate. I throw my arms up in victory and down in anger and defeat. I curse, I laugh, I cheer. Sometimes, I may even throw things (only on rare occassions, I swear.) All for the love of the game.

Most do not understand this about me. Even my own  husband. He still has no idea how I became so engrossed in sports. The answer is so plainly obvious. 

I got it from my mother.

Yes, this is all Joyce's fault. How many Saturday's were we taken to Robertson Stadium to tailgate before college football games, to root on the Cougars? Countless number of times I sat next to her in the stands at many sporting events, listening to her yell and scream in support of her team, asking her questions and learning about the game. On one occasion, I have the distinct memory of her grabbing me up in her arms and throwing me around in excitement, because her beloved Cougars had just won a conference championship.

I am totally blaming this on my mother. And I have no problem with that.

So sure, my frustrations with the current state of the Aggie football team are most likely temporary. I'll always love my team and hope for better outcomes and days in the future, along with the Astros and dear I say it, The Dallas Cowboys. Why do I carry such a passion for something that can let you down so easily and so often?

Because of moments like these:



Gig'em.

- Shirley

An Ode to A Day in the Life

I finally decided I needed a way to motivate/force myself to blog more often. So, I googled "daily blog prompts" and my first hit led me to this website http://mindbump.com/

The first prompt showing was this: “Remember limericks? Cuplets? Sonnets? Haiku? Choose a form of poetry and write a poem in that form about the day's events.”

Here goes nothing.

Life on 1111
As the sun rose and I awoke
I listened to the beautiful morning sounds
not of birds, nor of falling rain
but of the dumptruck making it's weekly rounds

I gazed lazily out of my window 
and pondered the days events
and remembered what I had left out overnight
one dozen freshly baked pigs in the blankets


The morning was slow
as well was my nap
I spent most of the day
with the computer in my lap 


As the afternoon wore on
I fed the dog and mowed the lawn
Actually, not really
But I had been watching the neighbors mow theirs since dawn.

It was barely 5 o'clock
and Jordan came home early
this caught me by surprise
so I made myself look busy

Now it is a cool fall evening
and the sun has finally set
im sure tomorrow will be busy
but that I have not decided yet.

Ok, so this was pretty boring. I guess I could have just told you what happened today....

But, the original Halloween movie just came on AMC, and since this is the first decent scary movie AMC has played during their "Fright Fest", I'm going to tune in.

Let's hope tomorrow's prompt is a little more inspiring.

- Shirley

Well, crap.

Hi. I would totally blog right now, but I (we) are currently drowning in a house full of crap. All good crap though. So then maybe it isn't "crap" but "stuff" so to say. Ok, we're totally drowning in a house full of wonderful blessings. No, I am not a fan of that cheesy comment. It's more like wonderful crap.

I'll come back when all this is cleared out and I manage to find space in our kitchen for all of our wonderful crap. I do have something to blog about, for once! And thanks to everyone for sending us stuff! We really do love everything. Just not the paper and crap. And I forgot our wedding cake in Houston... Crap.

Where Has All the Rain Gone?

Scarce amounts of grasshoppers spring across the yard as I drag the water hose from one tree to the next. The unforgiving heat radiates across my face, and the mercury hovers slightly above 101 degrees...in the shade. I protect my eyes from the hot, bright sun with a pair of cheap designer knock off sunglasses, but my arms and legs are left to fend for themselves. Every step I take my feet land on yet another patch of dry and arid land, and as I bare my weight down on each leg I can hear the tiny blades of grass crying out for water. Just a touch of water.

But not today. Their cries would go unnoticed and the prayers of all civilians in Texas would be ignored as they had been for the past eight months. No, only the trees will be blessed with a saturation of H2O today. I laid the hose nozzle next to the young olive tree and wiped the sweat from my brow. I took a second to peer out on the surrounding countryside. There is brown as far as the eye can see, and what used to be green rolling hills in the distance now only lay as a backdrop for the heat waves to stream across.

The cattle move across the desert-like pastures, kicking up dust with every step of the hoof. Searching, searching, searching for something, anything to eat. Hay rings lay empty and creeks and ponds appear cracked and dry. Scorched from the unending days of sweltering heat and no rain. I count the ribs in the livestock, their skinny bodies desperate for nourishment. The bunnies scurry out from under the porch, their hunger driving them out to hunt at an earlier time than usual.

No corn or hay has grown this season. No profits have been made. I endure the stories of my uncles telling how they lost five calves the week before and can only expect more to succumb to the drought. As I gaze upon my ancestor's homeland, I think about how long it has been since a drop of rain has fallen and how much it will take to reverse the damage. If that is even possible. I stare upon the yard of the farmhouse where I used to play in my childhood and become saddened at the state of the desolate, non existent turf. All that remains to hold the memories is dirt, and with each gust of the warm August breeze, blows those memories away.

I have to remind myself to keep the faith and believe it will rain again. I find the rain gauge thrown upon the porch, tossed away in its uselessness. I hold it in my hands and pray that one day it will be filled to the brim with rain drops, and then filled again the next day and 50 times after that.

I finish watering the trees and roll up the hose in time to see the sunset. As the golden sky darkens on yet another suffering Texas day, I can only wonder.

Where has all the rain gone?

Happy Birthday...

Mom. I miss you.

I am a kitchen goddess....in training.

Many know that when a person has a problem, the first step to recovery is admission. The time has come for me to face my demise and admit I have a problem.

I am a terrible housewife.

Most notably when it comes to the art of cooking...well I just plain suck. When I was in college and taking 15 hour semesters and working full time, I loved to claim to be lazy and just pop something in the microwave and have dinner ready in just 2 easy minutes. I was really good at this. I knew microwaves inside and out. Directions? Please! When my Smart One directed me to cook my "pasta primavera" on high for 3 minutes, I knew that really meant 2 minutes and 30 seconds. It was an art form. I could boil water like no one's business. I thought I was the queen of Spaghetti Sundays. I was fooled into thinking I was actually good at preparing meals, given I had the time.

And then I graduated, got a fiance and became a stay-at-home, unemployed, shitty cook.

Reality sucks.

However, I was optimistic. I had loads of time to cook full meals every day of the week so...what should be stopping me from doing such a thing? I looked up recipes and went to the store to buy all the essentials. Oils, whole chickens, steaks, peppers, fancy cheeses, cooking wines, spices, steaks, etc. You name it, I bought it. I was focused and determined to cook gourmet meals for my soon-to-be hubby. I couldn't wait for him to brag about my cooking to others, to look forward to coming home from work and smell the luscious scents of simmering beef and chicken on the stove. Jordan was going to be so happy he asked me to marry him.

Reality sucks.

On the first day of my "I am a goddess in the kitchen" week, all hell broke loose. I wanted to make chicken tetrazzini. Only, I didn't have a pot big enough to boil a whole chicken. Thus commencing a 2 hour long and stressful process to which I don't want to relive by writing out the details. Then I forgot to get some ingredients, and only half of the others.

I had failed miserably.

No worries! Jordan's birthday was coming up and I could heal all wounds by baking him a creamy and luxurious chocolate cake. You know, one of those add eggs and water and the powder from the box and just stir and bake ones? Ya, how could I mess that up? I was determined once more to regain my goddess status.

Except I didn't know there was a difference between vegetable oil and olive oil when it comes to baking cakes...and all I had was olive oil.

No one ate the birthday cake.

And then I even forgot to give him his card.

I hope he's still happy he asked me to marry him.

My daily meals went from aspirations of delectable dishes to stress inducers. I now keep a bottle of whiskey right next to the stove, for it seems I can only get through boiling water without a bit of American Honey and Sprite (one of my new favorite mixed drinks).

Dreams of Jordan coming home from work to a kitchen filled with the lovely smells of his dinner cuisine quickly became him coming home to a stressed fiance and sentences such as, "I burned shit on the stove again."

After a couple more disasters in the kitchen it dawned on me that I would never be a goddess at the tender age of 23. Cooking was not a gift. Cooking is an art form one has to master over the years.

So here I am admitting I have a problem. It tears my heart up that I have reverted back to my college days of cooking skills. That most of our dinners require me to heat something on a skillet and let simmer for 8 minutes. But I won't let it get me down. I still have my whiskey and coke and a loving man who enjoys food no matter how it is prepared. So I have decided to take things slow. Do a major dish that requires an actual recipe (and not just directions on a box) only every so often.

I got brave and decided to tackle chicken tetrazzini once again last week.


And it was a success!


Perhaps I won't have to give my ring back afterall :)

Children Not Required

It's July! And it's hot! Well, relatively hot because up here it's only 84 degrees....

And I love it. So yes, I am going to rub this in your face. I'm sure it will get a bit warmer from here on out. Like, maybe in August it will get to 90 for a few weeks. But then September will roll around and we'll drop down into the 80s and 70s again.

In your face.

Remind me about this post, though, when December rolls around will you? I am sure by then I'll be hating life and making a promise to God that I will donate $5 million dollars to the homeless shelter if I never have to go outside and brave the arctic chill ever again. While you guys down South will still be wearing bikinis and getting a tan.

Let's call it a fair trade, all right?

I am coming to you today to talk about absolutely nothing. Let's face it, I am unemployed and boring. Today I scrubbed three toilets. THREE. How exciting. Thank goodness I don't have to do this crap everyday.

Oh wait, yes I do.

Laundry, dishes, cooking, dusting, organizing, picking up Jordan's clothes, vacuuming, wedding planning, mopping, and grocery shopping. But my most favorite thing to do? Walking across the street to our mailbox to check the mail. When shit hits the fan and I am just having a terrible day, checking the mail always saves me.

Except those days when we don't get crap in the mailbox but a measly Khol's promotional slip. On those days I slip into a mild form of depression.

I'm kidding.

But I really do like checking the mail.

Since we are the new in the neighborhood and meeting all the neighbors, everyone loves to ask me if I have a job. When I tell them no, I seem to get a lot of responses like this: "oh my! You're going to get bored! You better start having babies!" It's like these people believe my life will be a waste of time unless I pop out 12 babies.

We disagree.

Anyway, Jordan used to ask me the same question, until he worked from home one day and saw me in action. He was surprised to learn that I don't watch t.v. and that I actually have a lot of stuff to do. What he didn't realize was this:

Jordan hates wearing his work clothes any longer than he has to, and I don't blame him. As soon as he steps foot in the doorway he trades his slacks and collared Polo's for his basketball shorts and cotton undershirt. And where do the work clothes go? On the couch, on the floor, on the random ass t.v. sitting in the middle of our bedroom floor serving no purpose at all (except as a place for Jordan to strewn his crap), in the kitchen, in the living room, and everywhere. Part of my daily tasks is to pick these random articles of clothing from multiple locations throughout the house.

Men. I will never understand them.

Being unemployed is not all that bad. I get to sleep til 9am everyday and travel to anywhere I want at anytime. I don't have to worry about taking time off of work and pissing off co-workers. If I want to go to Texas, I pack up the car and go. Of course, I have plenty of daily obligations as well. For instance, making sure the dog is fed and healthy, paying bills, watching our expenses and taking care of Jordan. but I also have a lot of freedoms too. I have the ability to do whatever I want in life - whether that's getting a full time job at a company, going back to school, writing a book, or raising 12 babies - I have the chance to live out my dream.

And if I end up having 12 babies...actually, let's not talk about that nightmare.

I have a feeling I'll get a job eventually. What type of job I have no idea, but hopefully something that is fulfilling and enjoyable. I have a few ideas of what I want, but getting them will be the challenge.

As for now I am content with wedding planning, traveling, and taking care of the house. I still suck at cooking, but I did manage to cook chicken tetrazzini the other day without it being a complete disaster. Hooray for me!

Jordan seems to like having a housewife as well. As long as he doesn't get lazy, it doesn't bother me to be domestic.

But dear god, I do hope something comes along soon because I am seriously not going to have 12 babies.

- Shirley

If I saw you in Heaven

I know I am supposed to write a post about being unemployed, and I am sure I will get to it eventually. I've got a lot of ideas running through my noggin about that one so it won't be long. However, the other night I had a very weird/awesome/sad dream. It was about my mother and it has stuck with me the past few days. Plus, I just turned on the one playlist in my Itunes that is full of nothing but melodramatic music.

Bare with me on this one.

I am not too sure I will have a point with this post. Usually, when things stick with me like this dream has, it makes me feel better to write it down and put it out there. Funny enough, I haven't even told Jordan about it, and I ALWAYS tell Jordan about my weird stuff. Like, just last night I woke him up because I had a dream that we were running from some weird bomb thing that I was sure was going to kill us, but just ended up being some kind of freaky firecracker thing....

Anyway, back to the mom dream.

Sometimes I dream about my mother and sometimes I don't. I blogged about this a long time ago in my post I Do. Actually, that was only my second post ever. Back in 2008 when I had a job and was still two years out from finishing up my degree...my how time flies.

Goodness, I digress. Carrying on.

This August, it will be 9 years since my mother passed away. It is a very odd feeling because I remember it as if it were yesterday and the pain still hurts that way too sometimes, but then I think back and realize how much has changed and how much I have grown since I last had a conversation with my mom. I was 14 that month. Now, I am 23 and getting married just a week shy of my 24th birthday.

My how time flies.

A lot has changed. I was so young and innocent then. My life was simple when my mother was around. I hadn't yet started High School, hit puberty, or dated any boys. I was playing sports and tag out in the street with the neighbors. I was ignorant. I was blissfully happy. Not to say I am not happy now. I am soooo happy now. But I know things would be different if she were still here. Sometimes I wonder how different.

Through all the years she has been gone, I have had just two wishes:

1.) That I could have one conversation with her each time I grow a decade older. There is so much I want to share with her now that I couldn't 9 years ago. And I am sure I will have a lot more when I am 34 and 44 and 54 and etc. Just one conversation. That is all.

2.) That Jordan could meet her.

I believe I have wished for these things so much that they have seeped into my subconscious and have come to life in my sleep. I believe my mother is making these dreams come true as best as she could.

Because it actually happened.


A few days ago I had a dream, and I think it is safe to say this is one of the most powerful nocturnal visions I have ever had.

My mother was "back" and me and a few of my sisters were sitting with her at our old kitchen table in our old house in Houston. I had the sensation of knowing she was back but knew she wouldn't be here with us for long. She was only here to talk with us for a short period so I only got a certain amount of time to ask her anything I wanted. I really and truly felt like this was real, while it was happening and long after I woke up. I had never felt that way before. I knew when I was talking to her, I was really talking to her and she was really talking back. My mind was racing with all the things I wanted to tell her and ask her about. I felt rushed because I knew I might wake up soon and it would all be over. Yet, I felt so calm and chose my words wisely. And this is what transpired:

Me: "Mom, do I have to tell you everything, or can you see us all the time and already know?"
Mom: "I see everything and am with all of you all the time."
Me: "Ok, so you know about Jordan...but I don't get it, how did you get here?"
Mom: "The way to get here is a very spiritual and complicated process."
Me: "So you can't stay long...can I ask you something without you getting mad? I don't know the rules."
Mom: "Why would I get mad? You can ask me anything."
Me: "Where did you come from? Where were you before you came here?"
Mom: "I was in the most wonderfully beautiful place a person could ever be. But, I am also with you whenever you want me to be."

Then, in my mind I felt myself starting to wake up and I could feel myself being pulled away. Things became fuzzy and I fought to try and stay in the moment but I knew it was useless. I had used up my time. I watched her smile and I spoke through my heart, telling her how I missed her and loved her always...and just like that she was gone and I laid awake in my bed in Iowa. All I could think about at that point was just one thing....

My mother is alive. She is alive and she is with us because she is in Heaven. Heaven exists and I am no longer scared of death.

And let me tell you the biggest feeling of peace washed over me.

And I drifted back to sleep.

You can call me crazy. You can call me senile and desperate, but I truly believe my mother came to me in my sleep and secretly told me not to worry. There is a heaven and it is everything we believe and no matter how lonely we feel she is always watching us and stays with us. I had always believed this before, but now I had definite proof. I had heard it straight from her. It was the single most powerful and comforting thing to ever happen to me.



And she was the most beautiful Angel.




(ok, now that I am sodden with tears I must go and regroup. Don't worry, I promise to get that Unemployment post up soon!)

Oh...hello there

As you can tell, I am pretty good about blogging only once a month. Problem is, I did not blog at all in May. My bad guys, my bad. I left May 4th from Waterloo, Iowa to head to Texas. I just got back from the Lone Star State on Memorial Day. You would think that throughout the three and a half weeks I was in the South I would have at least something to talk about.

Ok, this is what I have to say about my time in Texas.

It was hot. There was a lot of alcohol. Scorpions are mischievous and scary little creatures.

All in all I had a blast. It almost felt like I had moved back home. It was nice seeing a bunch of people I had not seen in a while, and spending time with my family is always a hoot. Numerous individuals had commented on my blog and quoted on how much they enjoyed reading it. I was ordered by a few to "keep it up! Don't stop!" I thanked them and appreciated their generous comments, and assured them that I do not plan on stopping. Let's face it, this is practically my job now...which is part time...and unpaid....

There is only one problem with all of this. You see, I am unemployed. I stay at home and I don't have any kids (and for the next 4 months I won't have a dog either).

I have NOTHING to talk about.

My sister Elaine told me I needed to write about stuff that people can relate to. Okay, that's an excellent idea. Thanks sis. So I started thinking...what is it that I do that I can talk about that other people can also relate to?

....

Here are my options:

1.) How to suck at being a housewife
2.) How to burn Hamburger Helper
3.) The benefits of vacuuming and what it can and cannot do to help your figure.
4.) How to sleep until 9:30am every morning yet tell your fiance that you "got up early and got stuff done!"
5.) How to let your yard become overridden with weeds and thus become the laughing stock of the neighborhood.
6.) How to Swiffer Sweep linoleum flooring.
7.) How to identify which daytime tv programs are complete crap and which are award winning. (Spike TV's Jail is awesome!)
8.) How to constantly buy your significant other the wrong type of underwear three times in a row.
9.) How to make a list of shit your significant other needs to do even though he works all day 5 days a week and you do not.
10.) How to spend money without earning any back.

Or I could just talk about being unemployed.


Ok...let's go with that.



Next post.



Which won't be in a month.



I promise.



Swear.



Do you believe me?



Please?



You can trust me!



Alright, I'm going to watch "Jail." (Don't judge! It's a marathon and I already folded the laundry.)

- Shirley

Humans are not meant to be alone. Also, I have problems.

My 12 day stint of solitary confinement in Iowa is almost over. By this time tomorrow, I will be on my way to the Des Moines International Airport to pick up my fiance who will be returning from his trip in Memphis. Let me tell you, John Deere had excellent timing on sending Jordan to the South. He had to endure three long nights of numerous storm warnings and tornado sirens. I was constantly checking the radar on the internet and watching "The Weather Channel" religiously, almost certain that a tornado was going to blow over his hotel at any moment. I would wake up every morning and frantically send him a text message to see if he was still alive. I usually got the response "huh, I didn't even know it rained last night."

Jordan is never scared of anything. I wish I had his courage. Or ignorance. Or whatever it is that lets him sleep peacefully at night. I clearly don't have it. The past eleven nights have been torturous for me. I could handle myself pretty well during the day. Sure it was boring, and sure my contact with fellow human beings was extremely limited, but I was comforted in the fact that creeps NEVER break into homes during the daylight hours. Never. Which we all know isn't true. Bad things can happen at anytime, but I had to feel good about something. So that's what I picked.

Nighttime was a different story. I would gaze out my window watching the light grow dimmer, and slowly inch my blanket closer to my face in fear. I was constantly under the impression that someone was stalking me and knew my fiance was out of town. They knew I was alone in that house. They knew I was afraid. They knew I only attained the fighting skills of an 8 month old baby. They were FOR SURE coming for me at any moment. I learned many things during these nights alone.

For instance:

1.) Houses make weird noises for no reason whatsoever. You will never hear them when you have company in the house, but as soon as it is empty and you're the sole being in the building, these noises suddenly appear. They are LOUD and they are CREEPY. Simple noises like the heater (yes, because we are still having to run the heater up here in the north) starting up send you into a freak panic mode. The creak of the stairs makes you stumble blindly to the loaded shotgun sitting in the corner of your room, for you are definitely sure there is someone outside your bedroom door this time. Your dog farts at 3am and you pee a little.

2.) When you're alone in a new home, every time you walk into a room you can immediately point random objects out and know exactly how to use them as a weapon. Let me show you.

Windex =



Mace.

Spoons =



eyeball gougers.

And a dog bone =



machete.

Granted, I really DO have a loaded shotgun sitting in the corner of my bedroom. Why that doesn't bring me peace of mind, I have no idea. I just know I have problems.

My favorite part of being alone is the pep talks I give myself every night. When I finally feel that I might be tired enough to fall asleep around 1am and turn the light off, I lay in bed, eyes wide open, listening to all the creepy Iowan noises. I turn on a giant box fan to block out some of the creaks and squeaks of the night, but I somehow still hear something. I remind myself over and over that I'm just clinically insane, and that I should never have watched that movie on Lifetime about the woman who was assaulted in her basement by a drunk homeless man. "It's ok, Shirley. Really it's ok! Just go to sleep, everything is fine. 'No one wants you,' as Jordan would say, and he's probably right (I mean, how does the phrase 'no one wants you' uttered by your fiance, a man who supposedly loves you enough to spend the rest of his life with you, bring you comfort? I really do have problems). So just shut up and go to sleep."

When the fan, knowledge of the gun being only two feet away, and my dramatic pep talk fail, I stumble to the bathroom and load up on Benadryl. That usually does the trick.

So yes, I am so happy that Jordan is coming home tomorrow. Ya ya ya, I missed him and whatever. But, I am always 100% more happy and feel so incredibly safe when he is here with me. I only have to get through one more torturous night, 9 hours of pep talks and Benadryl dosages, and then I'll be as anxious as ever to drive over to that airport and see that wonderful smile once more.

:)

Megastores, spiders, friendly neighbors, and Tornadoes.

In just a few short days, Jordan and I will have been residents of the State of Iowa for two full months. It seems like its been longer, but with constant business trips for Jordan and multiple 16 hour drives to Texas for me, time seems to be moving a bit slower for us at the moment. Plus, by peeking into our house, glancing at my driver's license, and noting the plates on a majority of our vehicles, you would be guessing we had just recently moved here from Texas. Nah, we're just lazy...at least I am.

Nonetheless, throughout the past 60 days, I have noticed little differences between the corn lavished fields of Iowa and the vast expanse of farming land in Texas. Because both states hold an importance on farming, they share many qualities. For instance, Iowans are just as polite and Friendly as Texans, however they are a bit more private. Our first few weeks here, the snow was still falling and the temperatures were far below freezing. No one ventured outside of the house during these times, and I don't blame them. In Texas, when new neighbors move in, it is very customary for the fellow residents on the street to come out and greet the newcomers. But, when it's 10 degrees outside and northern winds are gusting above 20mph, I'm with my fellow Iowans and agree to stay in the house and greet them once Spring comes.

Once the warmer weather arrived and the sun came out, our neighborhood came to life. I had no idea there were this many families residing in our little suburb! Hundreds of elementary aged children, young couples, and plenty of pets. Kids here seem to live the type of childhood I had growing up. Running around barefoot with the bare essentials, water guns, bikes, etc. while the parents sit in their fold-able chairs on the lawn drinking ice cold beer or tea. Jordan I went on a walk one beautiful Saturday afternoon and were constantly greeted with smiles and young children running up to admire Jake. It was nice and pleasant, and I can't wait for more of those days.

The grass here is very different, and I quickly learned what "de-thatching" meant.



Apparently, in the north, you have to remove all the dead grass from the lawn, like as if you're combing the yard with a special brush, and then re-fertilize it. Some have even hired a company and treated their lawns with a special nitrogen spray. We did not. Thus, our grass is still brown and gross while the rest of the neighborhood is covered in a luscious green hue. I hope these Iowans know Texans are not used to pampering our grass. Jordan finally gave in and we headed out to Menard's (which is basically a Lowe's on speed, this place is awesome) and got some yard care essentials. The past two days have greeted us with a nice steady rainfall, so hopefully this does the trick.

Furthermore, upon moving to Iowa, I was relieved to think I would not have to deal with the numerous and big scary insects of the south (ahem...roaches). Less humidity and heat = less scary insects thriving in the home = happy Shirley. In the end though, my dreams were squashed. I should have known better than to assume this, because every region has their own pests. Iowa is no exception. For here, in the lovely corn state, apparently we have problems with Wolf Spiders. An insect that has the name "wolf" in it does not sound pleasant. Not. At. All. Not a single thing about hearing this type of spider made me feel comfortable, so why should I Google and freak myself out more? I don't know why, but I did.

I regretted it immediately.



These things are scary. They are big and hairy and THEY CHASE YOU. They don't spin webs, so these arachnids hunt for their food. And yes, that means us humans too. If they are hiding in your cupboard, or pantry, and you open the door to grab a cup or bag of chips and see this 8 legged creature staring back at you...run! But it is most likely too late, because in that instance, instead of the animal getting frightened and running from the light (like most normal insects of the devil), wolf spiders will JUMP AT YOU AND ATTACK!

Gah.

Pretty sure I killed one of these already earlier this week while I was digging up the dead plants in our garden. Good news is, even though they jump at and chase humans around, they still have a weakness against shoes.

Phew.

So, living here as been pretty great so far. Sure, Iowa has its downfalls. Such as...oh I don't know...little things, like: tornadoes, wolf spiders, blizzards, high maintenance grass, poorly paved roads, windy days, and did I mention tornadoes? Just to name a few. Nonetheless, it has great benefits. Jordan loves his job to death. He travels a lot and will be making numerous trips overseas this summer, but in the end it's ok. It brings us closer and forces us to make more out of our time together. The lifestyles and personalities of the residents are very similar to Texan values, which is awesome. The pretty days in Iowa are about 100x more beautiful than the prettiest days in the south. I can't even begin to describe the freshness of the air up here. Plus, the low humidity makes for great hair days. However, I know this will never be Texas because there is no place like home. I know I've said we'll make our way back to the Lone Star State, and we will eventually, but in the meantime I am enjoying life experiencing something new.

Before I go, I'll leave you with a few more tidbits about life here in Ankeny:
- there is no traffic...literally. Rush hour? Please....



- No one knows what "tanks" are, other than them thinking of the military vehicle. Everything is either a lake or a pond. We seriously baffled our sponsor couple when we kept referring to the body of water on Jordan's land as a "tank" instead of a pond. T'was quite comical.
- Ducks have the right of way.
- Geese are loud.
- They have a store here that's like a Cabela's and an Academy combined. A super awesome place to kill a few hours.
- Contrary to previous opinion, Ankeny is pet friendly.
- They LOVE spending times outdoors here.
- Tornado sirens never sound awesome. They will forever be eerie.
- Drivers here are soooooooo much better than Texan drivers. Like, a light-year of a difference. It is definitely gonna take some time to get used to driving like a responsible, safe driver who minds the other vehicles on the freeway as opposed to the "everyone for themselves" 80mph mentality.

Til next time,

Shirley

Team ReJoyce

On March 12, 2010, the Stevenson 8 and hundreds of family and friends came together for the 3rd Annual Team ReJoyce Washer Tournament in an effort to raise money for the American Cancer Society.



We all know that cancer affects everyone, directly or indirectly, and many choose to find a way to combat the evil that this disease inflicts upon the millions of American families each year. My family decided to do our part three years ago and became involved with our county's local Relay For Life event. For a more personal and in depth look at why we chose to seek our revenge, see my post Cancer Can Never Win.

All in all, we decided to hold our annual tournament to remember all the loved ones we have lost or those who have suffered the battle against cancer. Most namely, for our mother, Joyce Darilek Stevenson,



and other loved ones in our lives who have been either afflicted or affected.

In our third year, we planned to raise our monetary goal to $10,000. A whopping $5,000 more than we had ever previously managed to raise. We were confident, we were dedicated...

We were blown away.

You see, the reason I love this charitable event is not the excuse to hang out with family, drink a few beers and raise a few bucks in the process. No, the real reason I love this day more than any other is because I can see the true power and love reflected in everyone. The generosity of hundreds pouring together in a giant effort to rid the world of evil. To remember. To honor. And to never forget.

I will never forget these days.

Every year I am constantly overwhelmed by the large support. My heart explodes in happiness and I just don't know how to truly say "thank you" to each and every person.




Words just aren't enough sometimes.

So I hope to convey to all those people who came, who donated, who fought back, Team ReJoyce is so thankful for everything you have done. I know the heavens are singing in praise for the hundreds who showed up.

And for the $15,000 we raised on that day :)


Thank you.

(Photo rights belong to Barbara Stevenson and Valerie Nowak. Thanks for letting me steal these off Facebook!)

Texas Lullaby

When you were singing,
I got that feeling
deep down inside.
And for the first time
in a long time
I wish'd you hadn't said goodbye.

Almost ten years
since I've shed tears,
and heard you sing the song.
I still keep you close to my heart,
so it doesn't hurt so long.

Because you are my Texas,
my sweet Texas,
my Texas lullaby.
And this way, I can keep you
and never have to say goodbye.

Hello there, my name is...

Jake.



This was me when I was only 3 days old. I look a little bit like a rat, but don't worry, I grew out of this stage fairly quickly and became quite the looker.



When I was born I was supposed to one day become a narcotic detection dog, along with my litter mates.



So my original handler believed I would outgrow my laziness in time.



But, by the time I was 3 months old, it was beginning to look like a career in Vice was not going to unfold for me. But hey, I was still doggone cute.




By 5 months, my laziness proved that it would never go away. So, Jordan and Shirley decided to keep me as their pet instead of allowing me to go to another home.



Because as it turns out, although I am not an awesome drug-sniffing pooch, I am a pretty "special" labrador retriever.



I like to do odd things. Most of which are not typical "dog" characteristics. For instance, I hate to fetch, go for walks, or lick the peanut butter out of jars. In fact, those things straight up frighten me. The only things I want out of life are to sleep, be fed, and loved on 24/7.

Sp, if I am not sleeping in odd positions:



you can bet I am by your side, holding my paw out and staring at you with my big emotion filled puppy dog eyes, begging for you to pet me.




I can do lots of tricks in my "sit pretty" position.



And I know, since I am so special and not cut out for the narcotic dog life, I am very lucky to have such good owners. They make me the happiest dog in the world.

A lesson in Czech expletives

Yeshishmattia. Don't ask me what it means, or even if that is how it is spelled. You'll have to call up Celestine Darilek, my very Czech Grandmother, to ask for exact clarification on the translation. I only know that my mother uttered the Bohemian word numerous times while growing up, usually in frustration or in times of hectic going-ons. So, after the three weeks I just had, I too feel the need to speak the obligatory Czech (probable) curse word.

Yeshishmattia.

When in doubt, spell it out phonetically.

Thanks, Mom :)

So yes, things have been crazy. Amazing fun, but crazy nonetheless. We're talking about Washer Tournament amazing success stories, multiple 16 hour car trips, Texas weather, bridal dress shopping, flower and centerpiece decisions, and reconciliations with old high school classmates. Soooooo much to go into detail about...but I know no one wants to REALLY hear about all that...right?

You just want the second installment of the Boredom Chronicles, don't you? And to know WHAT HAPPENED TO KALE??????

OK, here you go! The second installment. Guess the roadtrip news will have to wait.

-------------------------------------------------

EMMA

I still remember that day as if it only happened yesterday. I can recall the look on his face, the pain in his heart, and the very clothes he was wearing. I find myself not being able to recollect a lot of memories in my life. I can barely remember most of my childhood, which is just fine by me. There is not a whole lot about those tender years that I want to keep in mind. I did okay in school. Useless information is probably the only thing I am good about remembering…except for that fateful day. I do not see it as a curse in anyway. My guess is there are just some things God does not want us to forget.

I do not regret the day I met Toben Kolar.

Now, had he never walked into my life, would things have been different? Perhaps, but it has never been part of my philosophy or fate to question the actions of our God. Things must happen for a reason. At least, that is what I keep telling myself. Why else would the events of that dreadful day have taken place?

I do not regret the day I met Toben.

I do not blame him for anything. I see him as the human being responsible for bringing Kale into my life, not the one who took him away. I understand the pain and blame he feels for what happened. If it were me, I am sure I would be the same way. I have tried to make it obvious to him that I do not believe he is at fault, but there is only so much one person can do for another. I decided to let him grieve in the way he deems fit for himself. We all handle death differently. Myself, I chose not to talk about it with anyone. Not my parents, not my school counselor, no one. There is only one person I will ever feel comfortable about discussing that day with, but he will never listen and I would never dare put him through any more pain. Toben has struggled with enough inner turmoil. I do not want to be the one to bring it all back up. I guess you could say we kept our distances for a while. I am not sure what he did to get over the tragedy, but I tried my best to let him know I didn’t blame him.

Six years ago, I was simply Emma May. Senior class president and honor roll student. I was involved with just about any organization you could think of. Cutler is not the kind of city that holds a lot of part time job positions for little ladies such as myself. So, instead of waiting tables at the local bar and grill, I decided to be an active student instead. I held almost every title a high school student could claim. Well…except perhaps homecoming queen or anything like that. Those sorts of positions never enticed me too much. I left those roles for the more pretty and sophisticated type of girls. I am more of what you could call a “hands on” female. I am not afraid to get in the knick of things and get dirty. I may have decent semi-curly brown hair and a pair or brown eyes that could melt a guys heart, but I never dawdle on those features about myself. It may sound conceited, but in the end it doesn’t bother me much to admit that I am not your typical Southern Belle. Don’t let me fool you. I’ll doll up whenever necessary and appropriate. My closet is of decent size and I have worn a pair of heels more than once. But my talents lay outside of the fashion industry. If that makes all you other ladies a little uncomfortable…well, tough.

I don’t really give a damn.

After high school, I went on to college just like any other average teenager. I graduated and came back to Cutler to help support our tiny community. During my years in higher education, I might have changed a bit. My priorities may have shifted and my eyes probably got a bit clearer to what was around me. It took about two years before Toben had the guts to approach me. We went to the same University and ran into each other one day on campus. I could tell he was still healing, and I saw the amount of aging the mourning had done to his good looks. I felt bad for Toben, but our blossoming friendship as a result of that fateful run-in on campus was not due to any kind of sympathy I felt for him. It was nice to have a familiar face around, and I’ll admit, I saw glimpses of Kale in him too. So yes, a part of it was pure selfishness, but in the end, I liked spending time with Toben. He was always so quiet, a good listener and a great escape from all the bullshit university studies stirs up.

I do not regret the day I met Toben Kolar.

I know what you really want, though. I bet you are sitting here, wishing I would open up about what happened that day. Well, I will have to apologize and say the story of what happened with Kale and Toben is not mine to tell. It has taken me a long time to get over what happened. Losing someone you love is never an easy battle to wage. Perhaps we never completely heal and that is why I can’t talk to you about it. I just want you to know that I don’t blame Toben, and neither should anyone else. Toben has always been a great friend to me, even before the tragedy struck. The day I met Toben is a day I will always remember. It is a happy memory and the one I prefer over any others.

What is that you say? You’re telling me that Toben is in love with me? You want to know if I knew this?

Well bless your heart….