Fortune Cookies

***Warning: Sappy Post****

I got home after a not-so-fun therapy session and Mr. Bond suggested we go out to dinner! I got to choose where, so of course my choice involved something that provided fortune cookies at the end of the meal. Fortune cookies are kind of a big deal for us. We have a long and extensive history with them. If it wasn't so late and I weren't so tired I would go into detail, but that will have to wait for another post. Most notably, Mr. Bond proposed using a giant fortune cookie (it was amazing, and I still have a small part of it). Tonight, he opened his before I did and promptly handed it over saying he had clearly gotten mine. He was right, but I think the second fortune was for both of us.

Fortune cookie is right on both counts tonight :).

Garden Time!

Mr. Bond and I decided that we wanted to plant a garden. Mr. Bond, firefighter extraordinaire, started by strapping a giant blow-torch type contraption to his back with which he incinerated all unwanted weedage from the yard. He enjoyed this so much that he now roams the neighborhood "volunteering" to burn any tumbleweeds that have dared blow in. We then spent an entire day digging up the giant boulders which seemed to spontaneously reproduce. We mixed in two flats worth of organic mulches, and finally planted our cold weather plants.

They all seem to be doing well except the lettuce. We are hoping that will perk up soon, but in the meantime, the invading rabbit which snacked on some cabbage had a good laugh. The trees, which are in pots in the garage until all chance of frost has passed, have started to bud. One of the apple trees even has it's first blossom.

My peony bulbs are inside, though. They are in a pot by the back door, and on nice days I carry them outside for fresh air and sunshine. On bad days they get moved around the house to catch any bit of sun coming in through the windows. I play Strauss for them while I am at work, and read them a bedtime story every night (well, maybe I am not quite that crazy. But close, very close.) My grandparents had peony's in their yard, and they have been my favorite flower since I was little. I can't bring all of my favorite parts of Kansas into the desert with me, but I am hoping to have this small bit of the Midwest. One bulb is thriving and already has a bud, and the other broke through the soil two days ago (turns out, it took so long because I planted it upside down). Persistent little thing, huh? I credit our regular bedtime reading of "The Little Engine That Could".

*One last note, Mr. Bond is at work tonight and I had a list of things I was going to get done around the house in order to suprise him. I have accomplised NONE of it because of this blog and my determination to upload pictures to this post. It's been a difficult thing to figure out. If there aren't pictures then I just gave up and went to bed. I need a blogger tutor.

"Honeymoon Phase"

Mr Bond and I have been married for 3 months and 3 days. I thought I had a pretty realistic idea of what marriage would be like, after all:

1. Both of my parents are on their third marriage.
2. Some of my uncles have been married (many) more times than that.
3. My career has brought me into close contact with every type of functional and dysfunctional family imaginable.

HOWEVER:

Marriage is so much better than I ever imagined!

Maybe we are still in our "honeymoon phase" as some people think; perhaps it's because Mr. Bond is regularly on 24, 48, and 72 hour shifts--which equates to missing each other for 24, 48, and 72 hours at a time--; or perhaps (as I believe) it's because we almost lost each other (twice) and so we are not taking a single moment for granted. The usual irritants...toothpaste, toilet seats, dirty socks, and body odors...just don't seem to matter when compared to what we had to overcome to get to this place.

This place: in which I get warm fuzzies when he tells me he loves me, or texts me randomly during the day, or vacuums the living room when I'm at work, or we lay in bed at night and talk for an hour about whatever is on our minds. I pray it's not just a "honeymoon phase", because this place is the happiest I have ever been.

Blind Faith

I was on my way to see a new client yesterday, their address plugged into my faithful GPS system. My first clue that something was wrong should have been when I turned off the pavement and onto a dirt road. But no, I kept going. After 20 minutes of bouncing along the washboard texture I was deep into the uninhabited desert. Did I turn around? Oh no! My GPS seemed too sure of itself! That's when I hit the deep ruts gouged out of the road from the rain. A brief glimmer of reason flashed when I stopped, pulled out my phone and called my client. I left her a message, let her know that I MIGHT be lost in the desert and left my last known coordinates in case they needed to launch a rescue operation. Still I kept going, ignoring the small bit of reason telling me that no one could possibly live out here. Of course, that small bit was shaken loose by the deep ruts my little non-4 wheel drive vehicle was bravely navigating, which is the only explanation for what I did next. I got to the top of a hill, looked down, and saw that the bottom was a soft sand pit. I could see myself getting stuck in the and if I didn't go fast enough, which is why, instead of turning around, I hit the gas and flew down the hill and across the sand. Past the sand trap I noticed that I had less than a quarter of a tank of gas. I kept going until I got to a point of the road with a large trench dug out. A few feet ahead was a large compound surrounded by a 20 foot log barricade and dotted with signs warning trespassers of dire endings. Still I kept going, around the trench and past the fortress; down several more rutted roads until my GPS declared that I had arrived. There was no house, no trailer, no shack.

Only cacti.

About the time I was getting back to the sand trap, my client called me and assured me that she did not live in a cactus, or an underground bunker, or next to the Mexican Militia. All ended well as her husband guided me back to civilization with a flare and batman signal. I'd like to say I learned some profound lesson about trusting common sense over technology, but really, I've just learned that I should update my GPS more than every 3 years; and next time I want to go off-roading in the desert I'll take my husband's Jeep instead of my little Caliber.