Flashback Friday--Revisiting Wichita


This weekend I'm off to Wichita to visit my friend Hilda. We've been friends for... oh, FOREVER. Okay not really, but seriously since freshman year of high school. I was in Spanish class, and this girl kept raising her hand and knowing all the answers, and I was like, "Who is this girl?" 

It was Hilda, and we soon became fast friends. She lives in Wichita now, and the last time I was there it was October 2010, and it was for two reasons: 

A) visiting Hilda
B) running my first half marathon (I wrote about it in detail in this post, fyi.)

I ran with two friends, Audra and Cori. Although we didn't actually run together at all. We split up almost immediately, in fact. But we reconnected at the end...at the free massage table, obviously. Where else would you go after finishing your first half marathon?

See? It's me + Audra!

Cori was there too, but we preferred to take pictures later. When Cori was chewing blue gum.
And when I could really stick my neck veins out. Classic.

Good times, were they. 
This October, I will be running another half marathon. This time in Kansas City, MO. And Audra and I will be actually running together this time. 

Linking up with Lauren for this week's Flashback!
Hooray for Friday!

{p.s. Remember when I said I wanted to try to blog every day in August? Well, don't hold me to that. I may or may not still do it, but thinking about it was starting to stress me out, and certain people (ahem, Audra and Jordan) said that maybe I was being too ambitious. They may or may not be right (or they may or may not also be stupid), but regardless, blogging isn't supposed to stress me out. It's supposed to be fun. So just don't hold me to the blogging-every-day-in-August thing. Thank you and good day.}

Ode to an Unphotogenic Hat


First, I have an announcement. (Some people might call this a disclaimer. You know who you are.)

I realize the following lines look eerily similar to a poem, but before you start judging me for my terrible poem-writing abilities, don't. I just felt like spacing it like this. It's not supposed to be a poem. Thank you.

Okay, moving on.

My dear Jordan...

I love you, and
I think you're really cute.
But that hat.
That Hat. 
It's not photogenic.
It's too...
straight or something.
It makes your head look...
wide or something.
And it's red.
It makes me look red,
and I already do enough of that on my own.

I'm not sure what the point of this is.
Except to say that that's a quite
unphotogenic hat.

You're ruining my

So really,
I guess I'm saying that I'm shallow
and conceited
and burnt.

So yes, I'm blaming my sunburn
on your hat. 

...I'm very glad we could have this talk.


(Embracing the camera with Emily! Link up if you want to too!)

Bonhoeffer--A Book Review


Last night, I did it. I finally finished Bonhoeffer

When I use the word finally, I don't mean to sound scary. But I have a job where I sometimes have to read an entire book in one day, so when a books takes me two and a half months to finish, I feel it's appropriate to say finally. 

I'm not going to beat around the bush; this book is dense. It's important you know this, because if you do choose to read it, you need to be aware of what you're getting into. That being said, it's been a while since I've felt so accomplished upon finishing a book. 

In case you didn't know, Dietrich Bonhoeffer is an historical figure from the WWII era. He was a German, a pastor, a theologian, and, ultimately, a martyr, killed for his role in the plot to assassinate Hitler. Though I'd heard of the man himself and knew about him from my religion classes in college, I soon realized I didn't really know much at all. 

I expected this book to be about the man, Bonhoeffer. And it was, for the most part. But what I loved about this book--what, in a word, surprised me the most--was that it wasn't just about this one person. Bonhoeffer taught me about Germany and showed the rise of Hilter through the eyes of the German people. It was truly fascinating. For one thing, I didn't know that many of the top German officials didn't like Hitler, that it was actually the men who got close enough to see the real Fuhrer who hatched a plot to bring him down. 

Germans in general have a bad rap, but the real story is more complicated. It involves feelings of humiliation and anger over the treatment of their beloved country after WWI and an intense patriotism for their homeland. Bonhoeffer had an uncanny, almost prophetic, glimpse of a future Germany under a man like Adolf Hitler, and he was one of the first and only to speak out against him, attempting to convince others of what he was already so sure. They eventually started listening, but it was already too late.

Another thing I loved about this book is that it was beautifully written. The language, the style, and the word choices all came together, and even when I was tired and felt a bit bogged down by the amount of material contained in each paragraph, I still loved reading it because of how it was written. 

I couldn't help but think about the hours upon painstaking hours it must have taken Eric Metaxas to compile this information. I appreciated that he not only wrote about Bonhoeffer, but he included snippets of Bonhoeffer's sermons, parts of letters written both to and from Bonhoeffer, and quotes from those who knew him personally, such as his twin sister, Sabine, or his fiance, Maria.

(This same style was used in the last book I read, Unbroken, which I also greatly enjoyed and reviewed in this post. Apparently I've gotten myself on a WWII kick.)

I found myself wondering what it would have been like if Bonhoeffer had survived. (Don't worry, this isn't a spoiler. The author mentions his death in the prologue. And also, hello, it says martyr on the cover.) What would this man have thought of the sermons being preached in 2011? What would it have been like to hear him preach? I honestly don't know, but the beauty of the thing (as least for me as an editor) is how much I cared about Bonhoeffer, enough to think about him as a real person and wonder what it would be like if he stood in front of me.

Earlier in this post, I said that after I closed the final pages, I felt accomplished. This is in part due to the size (almost 550 pages), but also because this was not a book I expected to like. Yet when I finished and started thinking about what I wanted to write in my review, I realized that this book, cheesy as it may sound, enriched my life. I learned about a period of time that's been widely discussed and written about, but this time I felt as though I was on the inside, viewing it not from across an ocean but from the same room. 

In closing, it seems fitting that I copy a few quotes from the book itself. I hope you enjoy, and maybe if you have a month or two, pick up a copy of Bonhoeffer. It's not a quick read, and it most likely won't make you gasp or burst into laughter, but I promise you won't be sorry you did.

[383] "Yet the Lord makes no mistakes. Whomever God calls home is someone God has loved." (Bonhoeffer, in a letter referencing the death of a few close friends)

 [446] "'Who stands fast?' he asked. 'Only the man whose final standard is not his reason, his principles, his conscience, his freedom, or his virtue, but who is ready to sacrifice all this when he is called to obedient and responsible action in faith and in exclusive allegiance to God--the responsible man, who tries to make his whole life and answer to the question and call of God.'"

[473] "It will be with me for a long time now--the memory of having the four people who are nearest and dearest to me with me for a brief moment...I found myself repeating over and over again, 'This is really great!' I always hesitate to use the word indescribable about anything, because if you take enough trouble to make a thing clear, I think there is very little that is really 'indescribable'--but at the moment that is just what this morning seems to me."

(I loved this passage not for it's theological wisdom but because it shows a bit of his humor and also his literary mind.)

And finally, part of a sermon he preached while a pastor in London

[531] "Whether we are young or old makes no difference. What are twenty or thirty or fifty years in the sight of God? And which of us knows how near he or she may already be to the goal? That life only really begins when it ends here on earth, that all that is here is only the prologue before the curtain goes up--that is for young and old alike to think about. Why are we so afraid when we think about death?... Death is only dreadful for those who live in dread and fear of it. Death is not wild and terrible, if only we can be still and hold fast to God's Word. Death is not bitter, if we have not become bitter ourselves. Death is grace, the greatest gift of grace that God gives to people who believe in him...Death is hell and night and cold, if it is not transformed by our faith. But that is just what is so marvelous, that we can transform death."

And so, it sits no longer on my nightstand but back on the bookshelf, waiting for Jordan, I think

On Getting Hit On


If you're keeping track, this afternoon I was hit on for the second time in two weeks. Other girls might be used to these sorts of happenings and think that number really isn't anything to write home (or on your blog) about.

But for me, someone who is A) married, B) shy around unfamiliar men, and C) a conservative dresser, this is weird.

The first occasion happened while I was playing tennis, and a guy I'd just met that night came up behind me while during a water break and pinched my bicep! Seriously? Why he thought this would be a good idea is unclear; believe me, there's nothing to pinch.

Anyway, so today I went to hang out at the pool with a few friends. As I was walking back to my apartment, a guy in a red Ford drove up (NOT someone my age, I should add), rolled down his window, and said, "Is your name Helen?"

"Is your name Helen?"
"No...?" I said. Then I stupidly continued to stand there, waiting for him to explain why he needed to know. Was he looking for Helen?

[At this point, some of you may know where this is going; but I, being naive and generally clueless, was just confused.]

"Well," he said, breaking into a wide grin, "you've got a face that could launch a thousand ships."

It took a second for the joke/pick-up line/creepy sentence/whatever it was to register, but when it did I was torn between a pity laugh (he was, after all, obviously joking); a look of horror (he was, after all, not my age); or no response at all besides a quick dash into the safety of my apartment.

I chose option #1 because, well, I'm nice, I guess.
But really, who says that?

Someone who pinches the biceps of girls he's just met, that's who.

If someone's going to hit on me, why can't it be someone who's not a creepster? I mean, is that too much to ask?

Apparently so. 

Flashback Friday--My Death-Defying Jump


On July 25, 2010, almost one year ago today, in celebration of our July birthdays (and to cross something off our bucket lists), a friend and I suited up like this: 

Climbed in this: 

And did this:

Then we pulled our chutes and slowly went down, down, down: 

That's the short version. Read the whole story about how we almost didn't get to go and then how I could hardly breathe on the way down here.

* * *

Flashing back with Lauren! Link up and visit other blogs to see more flashbacks. It's fun! Do it.

Date Night at PF Chang's


Last night, Jordan and I went on a date. The first since we've been married, in fact.
Reason? I had a gift card and didn't feel like cooking.

We had previously planned dates but kept getting foiled.
I blame life.

But anyway, after a 20 minute-wait (I mean really, people? Who goes out to eat on a Wednesday night?), I somehow talked Jordan into getting lettuce wraps for an appetizer. I had to explain how to eat them, but after that it was mostly just an issue of making sure he didn't eat all of it before I got seconds.

Then, onto the main course: an assortment of beef and/or chicken with veggies, sauteed in a delicious sauce concoction. 

I'm officially here to tell you that PF Chang's is every bit as good as they say. "They" being the PF Chang's representatives, of course.

Now for some pictures, because my day isn't complete unless I've annoyed and/or embarrassed Jordan by taking a picture somewhere. 

Proof that Jordan eats lettuce wraps:

Love me some leftovers:

AND--this is the best part--MINI DESSERTS! Seriously, check these out. Cutest dessert ever, no? (Don't mind my weird half-closed right eye. It was the lighting.)

The dark one was called The Great Wall (aka 6 layers of chocolate! Booya.)
The red/white one was Creamy Cheesecake. And creamy it was.

Wordless Wednesday--My Only Completed Wedding Scrapbook Page


As promised, here is my one completed spread. It's the only thing I have to show after 7+ hours of work. I know what you're thinking: it doesn't look like it should have taken that long. But creativity (and cutting tiny paper squares) cannot be rushed.

(Plus, Friday Night Lights [the TV show] was on in the background, and I kept stopping to watch it.)

Here are the pages individually:

A List for the Near or Extended Future


In the near and/or extended future, I want to...

...run a marathon (stipulation: I must find a legit running partner; I have no intentions of training for a marathon by myself)
...buy a nice camera and learn to take great photographs (I recently learned that my brother [featured in my latest Flashback Friday post] bought a nice camera and is currently practicing the art of taking great photographs. I am trying not to be jealous.)
...travel to England
...write a novel


1. I've been on a major crafty kick lately. This weekend I may or may not have started on my wedding scrapbook. And I may or may not have worked on it for a long time [read: 7 hours] without accomplishing much.
And when I say without accomplishing much, I mean I completed one spread. 

I would feel like a total nerd and lament the loss of my Saturday afternoon, but I love scrapbooking and therefore feel okay about it. I plan to post a picture of the aforementioned spread at some point. First, though, I need to buy photo stickies that actually stick. Apparently they begin to lose their stickiness after months of non use.

[p.s. I feel pressure, put on by myself, because this is my wedding scrapbook, and it has to look good. I mean really good. And it will.]

2. After I finish Bonhoeffer (and post a review on this blog so you can decide for yourself if it's worth your time), I'm going to read Monsters of Florence. After that, I have decided the time has come to read the Harry Potter series. I have, however, also decided that I would like to give George R.R. Martin's Game of Thrones series a go, just to see what all the talk is about. So at some point in the near future, I will be starting a series of some sort. Which series is TBD, though from what I've heard about George R.R. Martin, I would do well to read HP first, because those books are a much quicker read.

3. In August, I am toying with the idea of trying a blog-type experiment where I blog every day for the entire month. I might have a topic in mind, or maybe I'll just post a photo, but I want to challenge myself to blog daily and see where that takes me.

4. Pending an unforeseen emergency-type event, where it would be necessary for me to rapidly deplete my savings, I will have my car paid off in full by December 2011. Hopefully before, but I'm starting with (what I consider at this point to be) a conservative estimate. 

Hurrah for six-month goals! 
Who says you can only set goals for yourself at New Years? 

Okay, so maybe no one says that. But if anyone did say it, they would be wrong.

And the Next July Birthday Goes to...


... Jordan!

It appears he's so excited to open his presents that he can't find his neck.
So here's to you, my strange, neckless husband. Happy 26th.

Flashback Friday--Unpredictable Craziness


I promised last week that I would showcase my brother Austin. It appears that I have unintentionally included my brother Daniel in more flashbacks, and it was recently pointed out to me by a friend that Austin needs some Friday love as well. 

My nineteen-year-old brother Austin is, in a word, unpredictable. At any given time he could be wearing anything, doing anything, asking anything, saying anything, and in general being anywhere. 

{The following examples are for your reference}

(Lauren, this HAS to count as a chin photo. It's horribly terrible.)

He was also in my wedding (two months ago yesterday!), and the dude could NOT stop laughing.

What a weirdo. 
Love that guy.

If you don't have a brother, get one immediately. They're pretty great.

Linking up with Lauren for today's Flashback Friday!

It's Time Again for My Favorite Award Show!


Yes, it's here. My favorite award show is airing live TONIGHT at 8pm CST (9pm EST) which includes hours of my favorite thing: 

...an inspirational sports montage

That's right. I'm talking about the ESPYs. 

If you think I'm kidding, I can promise you I'm not. Nothing gives me goose bumps quite like a sports montage set to an inspirational song. I seriously love it. 

Watch this video from last year's ESPYs--the award for Best Moment--and tell me you didn't get goose bumps.

I want someone to make an inspirational montage of my life. This is the part where I wish I were a professional tennis player. But I'm not, so I suppose ice cream is in order. 

Good day.

In the Event of a Fire


Yesterday there was a grass fire close to my apartment complex. So close, in fact, that the power went out, and a man came through knocking on doors, telling residents they should be prepared to evacuate "if it comes to that."

This was, understandably, a bit frightening, especially since my building faced away from the fire, so if it came close, I wouldn't know right away.

Still, it got me thinking about my stuff and what I would be sad to lose. Obviously being alive and healthy is worth more than anything I own. I have renter's insurance, and I doubt I would truly miss any material possessions should a fire come and burn down everything I have.

But there are things I do consider invaluable, and, if I did have time to grab a few items before fleeing to safety, here's what I would take: 

[In no particular order]

--My violin. This was a Christmas gift when I was a freshman in high school. Sure, I could buy a new one, but this gift stands out in my mind as one of the best, and I would be devastated to part with it.

--My wedding guestbook. On each picture-filled page are signatures and well wishes from those who were there to celebrate our special day, and I don't think it could be recreated.

--My wedding scrapbook. On the morning of my wedding day, my mom presented me with a scrapbook that contained pages made by my closest friends and family. She had secretly mailed and/or given pages to my bridesmaids, my high school friends, my Oklahoma friends, my cousin, my aunt, and my sister, and my mom had done a few as well. It included photos from every era of my life thus far as well as bridal shower pages and events leading up to the wedding. I teared up as I opened it and looked through the unique, creative pages, and this is something I would definitely grab as I ran out the door.

--My engagement ring (if I wasn't already wearing it). The diamond itself holds special significance to us and would be horrible to lose.

--Finally, I would put on my purple Pumas (featured in this post), the book I'm currently reading (Bonhoeffer [so I have something to do while I'm watching my apartment burn down]), and head out. 

{note: I used to be one of those people who, when asked this question, said, "First, I'd grab my Bible!" But let's be honest. In the event of a fire, where I could only hold a few precious items, I really don't think I would. I can always buy another Bible, though I'd have to start over with my underlinings and notes in the margins.}

Oh, and if he wasn't already ready to go, I guess I'd get my husband too. I suppose I consider him pretty irreplaceable. 

Who can resist this face?

Or... this one? 

That's what I thought. Irresistable. 
You know you'd grab him too...in the event of a fire.

P.S. So, I posted this, and then I was reading it back over, looking for typos and such, and realized that most of my irreplaceable things are wedding related. For some reason I find this interesting. I think Jordan has more items of sentimental value than I do--knives he's gotten from his grandpa and such. I do have a scrapbook from my college years that I would be sad to lose, but it's currently sitting at the bottom of my closet, buried in a box underneath another box, which is underneath another box. So I didn't really consider that an option. 

P.P.S. I'm not sure why/how the above is relevant. I suppose just my lame attempt at another disclaimer (sorry, Audra), though it's unclear even to me what I'm disclaiming. So never mind.

The First Day of Year 25


Twenty-five years ago today, at 1:18 a.m., I was born. My poor mother pushed out a 10.5-pound baby, and there I was--looking like a two-month-old in the newborn nursery. 

I love birthdays. Besides the gifts and barrage of friendly texts and phone calls, it's the one day a year I can pull out four magic words--But it's my birthday--and get anything I want (within reason, of course).

So what did I do today, you ask? Well, after church, Jordan and I drove South to meet up with my parents, brother, and sister, who drove North to meet in a small town almost exactly in the middle for fried pies. Since Jordan's birthday is next week, my mom brought gifts for both of us, and we celebrated by opening our presents and eating deliciously bad-for-you fried pies. 

Then Jordan and I drove home and put together the bed frame and nightstands we'd bought yesterday.  

Ah yes, crusty fried pie filling, presents, and not having to use a Bed, Bath & Beyond box as a nightstand anymore.

Happy 25th to me!

Jordan got a few shirts, and I got a dress and purple sweater.

Where I write about running, birthdays, and weddings


I just finished a five-mile run. I honestly don't consider myself a runner by any means. I'm not fast, and I except for the two times I've trained for a half marathon, I have never scheduled a run into my day. Mostly I just decide to go running; then I immediately put on my short, sports bra, shoes, grab my ipod and my watch, and head out before the inspiration leaves.

I'd say running is my best stress reliever. No matter how long or far I go, the majority of the time I end feeling accomplished. I love the burning feeling in my lungs, and it makes me feel happy to be doing something good for my body.

All that to say, today was a good run day. I do have bad runs, where after five minutes I'm wheezing and wishing I were dead. Or when, twentyish minutes into a scheduled nine-mile run, I have to go to the bathroom so bad I'm forced to take cover lest I have an embarrassing accident. But today, I got to mile three and thought, I think I'll run another. Then mile four came and went, and I decided I was closer to five than four and might as well keep going. As I said, it was a good run day.

Then I got home and checked the mail, where I found a card from a good friend. I was momentarily confused when I pulled a Chili's gift card out of the envelope, but then I remembered that tomorrow is my birthday!!!!!! (That's six exclamation points worth of excited, people!)

If nothing else, twenty-five is a good number to be at because my car insurance went down $70 this month! They know what's up. Before, when I was a young twenty-four-year-old, I was reckless and stupid on the road.

Now, at the ripe age of twenty-five, I'm sophisticated and smart. Seventy dollars worth of smart, apparently.

That's been my day so far--sleeping in, running, and my first birthday gift of 2011. I'd call it a good day. Tonight Jordan is taking me somewhere. It apparently could take anywhere from one to six hours, it does not involve eating, and it's something he's described as "not a clever idea" and "something you may not like." I'd say he's done a good job getting me to set a low expectation, so we'll see how it goes.

So, I started this post with the intention of posting some pictures from Erin's July 2 wedding. Clearly my thoughts are elsewhere; however, I still do want to post a few. I honestly can't think of a good transition between running, birthdays, and weddings, so I guess I'll just jump right in. I apologize for any awkwardness or transitional confusion.

Last weekend I was in Illinois for my dear friend Erin's wedding. After four years, Alan finally proposed, and they got married! Yay! This was my first time being a bridesmaid, and I will say that though I absolutely loved being part of their special day, it's more fun being the bride--I think because you get to boss everyone around.

But I was happy to be bossed around by Erin and happy to do what I could to make her day perfect. It was a fun weekend, and I had a blast with all my girls. 

Erin and I on Thursday, June 30. Yes, we are wearing "bride" and "maid" shirts.
The girls went out to lunch after we got our nails done.

Erin with her mom

Got the veil on!

Justine (my maid of honor and friend who sent the Chili's card) and I at the reception
Tossing the bouquet!
Me with Erin and Alan!

Flashback Friday--Digging Holes


This is one of my favorite pictures of my brother Daniel and I. Other than this other awesome picture of us, this one is at the top. I must be in kindergarten, because after that year I grew out my bangs and have never gone back.

My aunt snapped this one while we were hanging out at the community pool, making...holes, apparently. I have many wonderful childhood memories of going to the pool. And then later memories of high school, where I walked around wishing I were more popular and hoping a cute boy would randomly come over and talk to me. Alas, real life at the pool (mine, at least) was not quite as magical as a movie.

Still, I'm glad I have pictures like this to remind me of the good days. Days when I wore a one-piece, flower-patterned swimsuit and rocked straight bangs. Days when digging a huge hole with my brother was all I needed to feel complete. 

Linking up with Lauren for this week's Flashback! 

My Long-Term Decision about Saving


I like taking pictures. 
In fact, I'd say I'm not too bad at it.

But I don't have a good camera.

One where you need to learn about fancy things like ISO and manual settings.
I don't have one because they're expensive.

So here's what I've decided:
Instead of being jealous of other people's awesome cameras, I'm going to save up for one. 
It might take me two years, maybe three, maybe five. 
It might take me so long that the only picture I take is of my casket.
But it's gonna happen. 

Prepare yourselves.
And please hold tight with mediocre beginner shots for now.
Awesome, creative, fun, award-winning pictures will be coming soon.
[read: at least by the time I'm eighty-three]

That is all.
Thank you for your time.

Additional Screening and Wart Removal


This past Wednesday afternoon I got on a plane from the Oklahoma City airport bound for Saint Louis. In general, traveling makes me nervous. It's not that I mind the crowds or the strangers or being alone. It's just that I tend to stress myself out thinking about not making my flight, getting stranded in a strange airport, and never making it to my destination. 

Also, while I like flying and don't mind the airport itself, security always makes me sweat. Apparently I look like someone who could cause possible harm to others, because I am always without a doubt asked to step aside for "additional screening." 

On this particular Wednesday I had nothing in my pockets, my hair in a ponytail, held two carry-on bags, and was wearing flip flops, shorts, and a tank top, and yet they still nodded at me and ushered me to the side. What, I wondered, did they think I was hiding in my yellow and black Vera Bradley bag? 

I was asked by a kind-looking security guard to hold out my palms so he could swipe them with this weird stick. He then ran the swab in front of a screen.

As I sat calmly in the uncomfortable blue chair he'd forced me into, he looked over at me and said, "What did ya do to yerself?"

"What?" I asked. I assumed he had found some odd residue on the swab and wanted to know what I'd been up to earlier in the day. 

"Did ya fall or something?"
"What?" I asked again. 
"Yer wrist," he said, gesturing to my right arm. 

I looked down and saw the small, hard bump that rests permanently on the join of my right wrist.

"It's a cyst," I said. "It's filled with water."
"Oh. I thought maybe ya fell on it when you were a kid or something."
"No, I've had it for a few years now. It won't go away unless I have surgery." 
"Hmmm," he said. He nodded at my bags and told me I was free to go. Then, as I turned, away, he hit with an inspired gem of a [read: not] helpful idea. 

"Why don't cha try to freeze it, like they do with warts?"
I almost laughed. "Uh...yeah. Okay."
"OR!" he continued, oblivious to the stupidity of his suggestions. "Ya know they have that wart remover stuff. Ya might try it."

At that point I mumbled thanks and something about giving it a try. Then I walked off, shaking my head and wondering why I hadn't first considered wart removal cream to get rid of my cyst. And why they always pull me aside for additional screening. 

After all, they've got a security guard who recommended freezing a cyst off. Clearly there are bigger things to worry about than me and my Vera bags.

The Bachelor Life


So I'm back. It was a wonderful, successful weekend. Successful because my dear friends Erin and Alan got married. Successful because I didn't trip while walking down the aisle. Successful because I was a fabulous bridesmaid (if I do say so myself). Successful because I got home, and Jordan hadn't broken, burnt, or bruised anything.

"I'm glad you're home," he said as we were falling asleep last night.
Good, I thought. I should hope you would miss your wife.

"I enjoyed living the bachelor life for a while," he continued. "I liked throwing off my flip flops and leaving them in the middle of the living room. I liked not shutting the door to pee. I liked eating whatever and whenever I wanted. I liked brushing my teeth and not putting the toothpaste back in that little basket."

Then he got serious.

"But I'm glad you're home," he said again. "I'm out of cereal, and I'm starting to run out of chips. The kitchen is dirty, the bread is moldy, I don't have any clean clothes to wear to work tomorrow, and last night I skipped dinner and made myself sick eating puppy chow."

Ah yes, the bachelor life.