It rained Saturday night, essentially Sunday, and Monday, too.
Today it was like this:
So, of course I worked all day.
Such is the life of those who need money. I work all day again tomorrow, too! I will bet you money tomorrow is also beautiful.
Monday morning was Jason's birthday; he is 26 years old and Officially Two Years Older Than Me, at least until March comes 'round and I catch up by a year again.
On my husband's birthday, he gave me a present.
I did not work on Monday; I went to bed sometime around 3 AM Monday night. I haven't been feeling great for the last few days. Friday not 'not feeling great' hit me like a ton of bricks and while the actual really sick part only lasted about a day or so, the 'getting-over-it' part is taking much longer than I anticipated.
In any case, when I woke up a little before 11 AM on Monday, I got up, walked into the living room, sat down at my computer, and discovered a present.
(I took these pictures this afternoon when the light was pretty nice, not yesterday, obviously)
This is the present.
It is a chronicle, in pictures and words, of the second year of our marriage (no such chronicle exists for year one, but I am thinking about trying to find what (relatively few) pictures I took in the first year and making one).
We bought a digital camera last year, which I began to use around January-ish, but of course I was always a big picture-taker. It's died down a bit, but we still have a ton of photos to work with, and of course we are drowning in digital photos now.
On one side are his narrations of our year, in a sort of rough chronological order, and on the other side are pictures taken over the course of that year.
I am a big fan of self-portraits; within my family I'm somewhat famous for every roll of film having had at least one or two self-portraits. This is a family trait; we've got photos of Christina and Bryan doing it, too.
Once Jason and I began dating, I began to insert him into these portraits. He is in a lot of them now.
I sat there yesterday morning, flipping page by page in this thick little album, crying happy tears I tried to keep quiet so as not to wake him up. I was a little melty Katie-puddle.
Pictures of our cat; resting, bringing us her 'kills' (her stuffed animal toys and this fuzzy-thing-on-a-stick).
The good and the bad, the quick and the slow, everything important and sometimes the less-important. Landscapes and food, happiness and frustration overwhelmed by how much we are halves of this whole.
The moments we were there for, mentioning some of the ones we weren't. The most important parts of this summer came in two extreme opposites; going back to McLean for my grandmother's funeral, coming a month later for the Fourth of July and seeing so much of my family; my parents and my sister and brother... and my niece Delainey, this incredible little girl that grows in such leaps and bounds between each time I see her.
At the tail end of our second year, this move halfway across the country back to the city Jason grew up in. Jessi, Jen, and I in a car driving into the mountains once and for all, the way my cat started out curled in her carrier, unwilling to accept the trip at first, ending up curled up on the floor for more than half the drive almost without moving.
We made it here, we unpacked our things, this house is a home.
I love you, too.
I am responsible for year three's book; I already know some of what it will contain. The new apartment, my in-laws, sitting in Justin's apartment cooking lots of food and doing geeky things, jobs and of course still the cat and all kinds of things.
I want us to live to be 104 and be flipping through a giant pile of these books remembering all these moments with each other.
Wrinkly little old people looking at self-portraits of ourselves when we were 24 and 26, respectively, going "Man, look at our HAIR."
Okay, maybe I'll be the only one doing that.
I will now conclude this sappy blog entry...
so that I can go flip through the book again.