Our Love Story, Part IV

(I'm pretty sure I'm enjoying this more than y'all are!).

[Part 1, 2, and 3.]


~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The day after my harried exit, Meg and Tim were married during a beautiful Nuptial Mass.

It was during the wedding reception that my crush on My Miriam's Brother started developing into genuine admiration. Solicitous of his mother, he made sure her glass was never empty and her plate remained full. With grace and charm he was lighting up the dance floor with his sisters. Most endearing of all, however, was how the children flocked to him and how sweetly he danced with the toddlers and little girls. Oh, what an amazing father he would be!

I was trying to refrain from staring at him. I was sitting with many dear friends and genuinely wanted to visit with them, and also did not want to be obvious about my dance floor surveillance. But I casually glanced up long enough to see that he was headed straight towards our table!

Of course I would have to refuse him. The mere sight of him made my knees weak; there's no way I could stand long enough to dance with him! In the twenty seconds it took for him to reach our table, I had hurriedly crafted four excuses.

On principle: "Oh my, thank you, what an honor, but I don't dance." By a common complaint:  "Thank you so much, but I'm so sorry, my feet are really sore." The simple approach: "I'm so flattered, but no thank you." And the delicate feminine excuse: "Oh, thank you so much, but my shoes are too tight for dancing."

I wasn't sure which one I was going to use but I had to pick quickly, he was here and extending his hand!!

I opened my mouth to speak, picking the airtight "on principle" excuse... my heart was galloping and the color was rising in my cheeks. In an instant I had to cover my mouth and fake a yawn to conceal my gasping squawk. He had asked my friend "Diana," who was sitting next to me, to dance!!

BURN!!! SHUN!! SMACK!

I was both fuming and relieved at the same moment. I'd be ready for him when he returned with Diana and asked me to dance. All civility aside, a cold and flat, shunned woman: "No thanks," would do.

But I never had a chance to score the sting; he returned to the table escorting Diana and then walked away. That evening he didn't ask me to dance at all.

To be continued...

Our Love Story, Part III

In case you missed them, you should catch up on Part 1 and Part 2.



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It was almost four years since I'd last seen Miriam's older brother. I hadn't dated anyone else because, frankly, I wasn't interested in boys. I knew if I were to marry, it would have to be a man.

I'd grown a lot in the past four years. I'd spent a semester living abroad and had traveled widely over Western (and some Eastern) Europe, I'd taken a keen interest in Philosophy and was (GPA wise) at the top of the department in my graduating class, I'd been accepted straight from a Bachelor's degree into a Ph.D. program on a full fellowship with a stipend. I was happy, accomplished, surrounded by friends, confident, liked by my professors (the brownie bribes helped), and I had a deeper sense of who I was and who I wanted to be. I was going to live in a big city, be a renowned and published Philosophy professor, and I was going to set the world on fire.

Meg and I were bosom buddies, and her roommate Miriam and I had grown to be good friends, too. So it came as a shock when Meg told me, out of the blue, that she was going to graduate a semester early and marry Miriam's brother. No, not my Miriam's brother... another Miriam brother.

I mean, I knew she'd been talking to him on the phone since she had visited Miriam that Summer, I knew they liked each other, but I'd been wrapped up in my ivory tower and hadn't noticed that it had gotten that serious. My best friend was leaving and going off to marry a man I had never met.

It was at that moment, however, after I'd stopped gaping and started the heart-felt congratulations, that the thought crossed my mind, "Hm... I guess that means I'll be seeing Miriam's other brother at the wedding. I wonder what he's up to now..." It surprised me that the idea didn't meet me with fear. I was no longer the dewy-eyed freshman talking to an unapproachable Master's student. I felt as though now I could meet him as an equal.

That Christmas came, and four days later I flew up to the NE to attend Meg and "Tim's" wedding.

The family was eating when I arrived, but instantly I saw My Miriam's Brother and did a double take. I'm dying if I'm lying; he had gotten more handsome. Working on the farm the last four years, he had gotten noticeably stronger and was darkly tanned. I immediately averted my eyes for fear of gawking and blushing.

"You want some pepperjack?" Tim asked me, cordially.

"Sure, I never turn down a good hunk of cheese."

"Did ya hear that?" Tim ribbed his brother, "She says she never turns down a good hunk."

I flushed the deepest shade of crimson humanly possible, promptly forgot my "air of equality," and, no better than my awkward freshman ducking self, darted for the nearest exit.

To be continued...

Shrimp Tacos with Cilantro Lime Dressing + Dessert

To celebrate the fact that I updated the Recipes section of the website yesterday (oops, it's been 4 months), I'm highlighting two recipes from those contributed to Tasty Tuesday. I could post the recipes here, but then you probably wouldn't visit the contributor's sites, and that wouldn't be good. So share the love, and the deliciousness, and go visit Mary and Lexi!

This week I plan on making these Shrimp Tacos with Cilantro Lime Dressing (courtesy of Mary), and this Carrot Bundt Cake with Cinnamon Glaze (courtesy of Lexi).

Yum.

What are you making?

Mrs. Tractor Operator

On Saturday I had tractor lessons!

My husband needed to rake and bale hay while his brother set up irrigation in another field. Well, you can't rake and bale at the same time (different machines) and it had to be done, so he set me up on a tractor, gave me a few directions, rode around several passes with me until I started getting a little cocky in my new-found tractor skills, and then he left me!

My mock confidence plummeted. Oh, I was a nervous wreck. The tractor was huge and there must've been 30 buttons, levers, switches, clutches, brakes, throttles, gauges, pulleys, knobs, warnings, and ejector seats on that thing. No airbags or seatbelts.

My husband believed I could do it or he wouldn't have left me. Well, I prayed Hail Mary's from the top of the row to the end and then I had to do the hard part -- turn around and go up the next row. Turning is hard!

"Padre Pio, help! Get down here and turn this thing for me! NOW!!"

What do you know? It wasn't actually that bad. I was burning up fuel and moving at approximately .025 miles per hour (I saw a few snails go around me), but I was doing it! Thanks, Padre.

I had a great routine going when reality set in: my face and arms were getting sunburned, the glare was really bright, and it was all really loud.

Just when I started getting grumpy, my husband reappeared with a hat, sunglasses, long sleeve shirt and a noise reduction headphone radio, so I could be a "proper farmer."

What a darling, and what a difference!

The part that really opened my eyes, though, was that when I got home, all I wanted was someone to smile at me and have a clean house and hot meal ready. Wow.

Excuse me... I've got to go rake the back 40.

Goals, Scents, Sweet Gestures

~*-One-*~

I've walked 2 miles towards Rivendell. Just 456 miles to go. Who knew you could get blisters after just 2 miles? But oh, how glorious it is to have a goal. Walk/jog with me? Just use a pedometer and record your mileage each day.

~*-Two-*~I was lamenting to my nieces today that I had no mail, and they furiously set about doing some craft project in their break between math and vocabulary quizzes. Half an hour later I came in to two smiling girls who announced, "There's mail in your mailbox!" The little dears made me cards.

~*-Three-*~Note to self: it's wonderful to be on a whole wheat kick, but substituting whole wheat for all purpose flour in recipes is not the way to do it. Unless you're trying to discover a new type of mortar. Blech!

~*-Four-*~
It's cold outside. I love Autumn! It's the season of cardigans, shorter farm working days, apple crisp, microfiber blankets, hot chocolate, steamy soup, misty mornings, early chilly evenings, and, most importantly... my birthday. hehe

~*-Five-*~We had a lot of fun doing this easy Fall craft project highlighted on the Crafty Crow (we used watercolors).

~*-Six-*~I've only ever bought perfume once in my life. It was a teenybopper scent and I've still got it... it makes me smell like cotton candy.
A lady on a plane gave me a perfume sample for Prada Infusion d'Iris, and by only using a drop every three months, I've managed to make it last five years. It's running low and I've got a date to a musical revue (my date doesn't know yet) next week.
Now I remember why I don't buy perfume -- besides inevitably giving me a headache, the stuff costs more per ounce than gold! (But it is still a lovely scent).

~*-Seven-*~ Kansas Mom posted instructions for making caramel apples on Tasty Tuesday that includes a recipe for caramel. I think tomorrow I'm going to make another batch of Samoas, and I'll be using her homemade caramel to do it.