Germs germs go away. Come back never.



My home has become a germ factory and I have embraced my new identity of germ-a-phobe.  A ghastly stomach flu has descended upon my extended family.  A Thanksgiving weekend I'm sure we will all remember.  I'm suddenly very thankful to Jesus for the Purell dispenser located conveniently near my desk.  My sick husband has invaded the living room, of which I give him a safe 6 foot radius of control.  I forgot myself for a minute last night and took a few steps to the couch with the intention of giving him a hug... thankfully I regained my senses before reaching the couch and came to a sudden halt.  Slowly I backed away, sadly retreating to my chair against the back wall. 

My dear friend informed me the other day that she thought her phone was dying... the culprit?  A daily regimen of Clorox wipes.  Who are we kidding, it was probably a three times daily regimen.  I laughed at the time, but now I think she might be on to something neurotically brilliant.    

As we enter cold/flu/germ/sickness/gross season I am reminded to be thankful for my good health and 24/7 access to healthcare should it be required.  I sit daily at work writing about healthcare interventions in the developing world, the construction of latrines, the life-saving qualities of a mosquito net.  I am reminded to be overjoyed at the sore bruise on my arm from my flu shot.  How blessed and fortunate am I?  

Hunting trees.



We've reached the sad end of a much anticipated long weekend.  We're sad it's ending, not sad about the weekend.  Though I was pretty sad friday night when we came home from a Walk the Moon concert to discover left-over mashed potatoes had been left out.  In one word: devastated. 

Saturday we kicked off the Christmas season with a trip to the tree farm.  We hunted trees like nobody's business.  Well, others hunted, Brad and I adopted a small pre-cut noble near the front entrance... but we paid our due diligence in picking out the right tree, considering height, width, and of course character.  

Victoria: One Year



365 days.  Married.  I don't want to know how many more to come, I only hope there will be too many to count. 

I married my husband a year ago last weekend.  I love him even more today than I did then.  

It's true.  

I keep thinking back to the events that took place this time in 2011.  Bridal showers, rehearsal dinner, stuffing little take-out boxes with chocolates, spray painting miniature pumpkins, numbering and assigning little vases with colored stickers, picking out a dozen parasols from the coolest umbrella shop, driving hours between my parent's house and Brad's apartment, trying to explain to Brad that Christmas shopping could wait until after the wedding, coming home to four or five wedding presents freshly delivered to our doorstep, crying stress tears because I was afraid we would be late to our rehearsal and I was terrified of our wedding coordinator... that memory is a little less sentimental.

I am beyond thankful to my family.  To our friends.  And to my husband.  For making that day, and all the days leading up to it immensely special.    

We spent a week of near perfection here. Eating coconut rolls and drinking "lava flows" at a swim-up bar.  It's okay to be jealous of 2011 Brad and Elisa right now. I sure am.

This year, we spent a weekend in lovely Victoria.  It was less tropical, and more frigid.  But romantic just the same.  

Here's to love. Cheers. 



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