Twenty-Seven

Tanner and I each turned 27 recently. The kids I babysit inform me that this is "wow, really old."

I use anti-wrinkle cream. And eye cream. Twice a day.

I regularly use denture cleaning tablets (for my mouth guard).

I drink Sleepy Time tea.

I fall asleep almost every night on the couch between 9:30 pm-10 pm. For Tanner, 8:30 pm and 9:00 pm.

I go on bird watching tours.

I wear socks with Crocs.

I wear Crocs.

Anyways. We are both a year older. That is great, and I am very thankful for all the blessings and the struggles we received in our 27th year on this earth. They brought joy, thankfulness, refinement and growth.

I lost my job. I found a new job. We celebrated a year of marriage. We found a church in Weatherford to attend. We made new friends and watched others drift away. I lost my cat, Striker. We both worked long, hard hours and many weekends. Tanner's Grandpa, Bud Haynes, passed away. We enjoyed Christmas celebrations at both of our parents' homes. We bought a house.

Through it all, God was faithful to us and worked in His perfect will, through valleys and mountains, to continue us on a path of loving Him, each other and the people around us.

To the test the integrity of our ever-degrading, nearly middle-aged teeth before we're forced to wear dentures or gum stewed prunes, Tanner and I each chose to celebrate our birthdays with impressive carnivorous displays.

For Tanner's 27th in January, we, along with some good friends, went to Texas De Brazil in Forth Worth. It's a Brazilian-style churrascaria where they bring meat (beef, pork, lamb) to your table and shave off portions for you. They also have a killer salad bar, which was my favorite part.

At Texas De Brazil

Carter and Brandon

Jenni and Ryan

Adam and Tanner

After dinner, we went dancing in the Stockyards. Jenni and Ryan drove up from Beeville and stayed with us at the Hyatt Place in the "historic Fort Worth Stockyards." It was a great time, with added atmosphere due to the FW Stock Show and Rodeo going on.

Out on the town

For my birthday, this weekend, Tanner and I went to downtown FW to enjoy one of my FAVORITE fares, boiled crawfish! We got 2 lbs a piece, nice and spicy, and all the boiled taters and corn that come with it. We also had some delicious crawfish fondue and bread, all courtesy of Razzoos Cajun Cafe. I loooove when it's crawfish season.

At Razzoo's

Sunday night, Tanner made me dinner! He whipped up some huge ribeyes, mac and cheese, wedge salad and french bread, and got me a nice bottle of wine, too.

By the time the weekend wrapped up, I was full of thankfulness.

And protein.

And birthday donuts.

And brownies.

And I ran 12 miles.

Really, I did.

The end.

Naked and Bears

There is nudity in our living room.

In record time (which for me constitutes Jan. 2), I stripped away all the Christmas decorations in the house except for the tree itself, which now stands naked in the living room. For the last few weeks, it was always there welcoming me as I rounded the kaliche road to the house. Thanks to the miracle of the $9.99 timer I bought at Bed Bath & Beyond, our front window was aglow each evening with the twinkling of colored lights. I couldn’t wait to get in the house and get cozy by the tree with a glass of wine or a mug of tea.

Then Tanner would come home and ruin it all by changing the TV channel to Rambo III and making me watch guts spill all over the screen.

Now, I feel kind of bad for the tree. Maybe it reminds me too much of what my face will be like in a few years – dry, discolored, plain. I’m already using line-smoothing under eye concealer for goodness sake!

Really, I think I just remember how jolly and beautiful the tree looked just days ago. I imagine the tree feels a little sad now. Which is stupid, because it has no feelings. However, until I was married, I had to arrange the discarded stuffed animals from my bed comfortably on a pillow on the floor because I didn’t want them to lay all askew and disjointed on the floor through the night – that might hurt them. Now I just have one stuffed animal. I might or might not sleep with him.

I could easily draw all kinds of deep symbolism from my dejected tree about post-holiday sadness or how all earthly things lose their beauty and fade away. If that’s what you’re thinking, awesome. Elaborate in your mind and discover new hidden meanings. Critical thinking, self-examination and cultural analysis are so important.

I, however, am going to tell you about some of my favorite Christmas ornaments. I snapped pictures while I packing up.

This bear represents the fact that I am bear bait. When I lived in Canada, my family took the visiting Keaton family to the Canadian Rockies. We went on lil hike from the roadside to get a view of a lake. We walked out onto a foot bridge, took some pictures, then turned around to see a huge 800 lb grizzly bear blocking our way.

I was about 12 and I cussed in front of my parents. I either said the s-word or the f-word, I can’t remember. I tried to run away, but my dad told me to bring back the camera. The men started stomping and clapping, which is ill advised. I imagine the bear rolled his eyes as he started walking away. Then my dad whistled, and that pissed Griz off. He started coming back. My dad instructed me to run, also ill advised. I ran so freakin fast, there are no words to describe it. I found a horse corral, a truck and a shed at the top of a hill. I tried to hide under the truck, but there was a disgusting marmot or some kind of large rodent under there. So, I hid behind the shed for what felt like hours, then walked back down the hill expecting to find my family mauled and eaten.

But everyone was fine and my mom was mad because she couldn’t find me. I was hidden pretty well.

Last year, Tanner and I took a trip back to Canada. I showed Tanner where I used to live (Edmonton, Alberta) and then took him to the Rockies. (I should/might blog about this trip someday…) One evening, we decided to go for a late hike. It was sometime around 7:30 or 8 p.m. It wasn’t getting dark until around 9:30 p.m., but these dusk hikes are not safe. As I found out upon later research, they are somewhat ill advised.

The hike started on the side of the road then wound up through a thickly wooded trail. We parked in the parking lot of a horse stable across the street. I had bought some bear spray in town before we went for the hike, because my original bear encounter had left me ridiculously freaked out and afraid of bears/hiking/the Rockies/Canada/life/etc. The guide who sold us the spray told us a story of how he and some friends were attacked by a bear as they were bike riding in a similar area to where we were heading… but that was just because the parks dept. had scented the area and hung up lines to catch hair samples. Oh.

Tanner and I were creeped the whole time. The man’s story story, dusk, heavy forestation and an active imagination let to a severely freaked out state. The whole time during our ascent through the woods, I was thinking of how scared I was and how I wished we hadn’t gone on this hike. But, not wanting to ruin it for Tanner, I tried to act brave and pretend I was having fun. Some comments to the effect of “this looks like a perfect place for a bear” were made him or myself, but that was about it. Finally we made it to a beautiful clearing that overlooked a bog. We watched for a while, hoping to spot a moose, the turned back around to head back to the car. On the way back, we both felt really uncomfortable and it was obvious. We had a weird, scared feeling and I was clapping my hands and singing bear deterrent songs. I have a really scary voice.

As we were getting fairly close to the road, we rounded a blind corner. Sure enough, there was a dang bear. I got a nice profile view of it walking across the path. I looked at it for about only a split second before cussing (apparently I need to work on this), turning around and hissing at Tanner, but I was pretty sure I saw the distinct hump of a Grizzly. It looked like a yearling bear, which immediately made me think of “mama” somewhere nearby. (It might have been an adult cinnamon Black Bear but I’m really not sure and Grizzlies are more dramatic, so shut up.) Apparently, my little outburst alerted the bear to our arrival, because after I had made an about-face and given Tanner a clear view of the bugger, it was standing on its back legs and looking straight at us.

We were on a trail, surrounded by trees, in dimming light at 8-something p.m., with no one around and a bear blocking our way back to the car. Tanner whipped out that bear spray, and we started walking back the way we came. I was by this time praying out loud very fervently and somewhat incoherently. At least I had matured spiritually from cussing to praying. I saw the error of my ways. And I was afraid I was going to die.

We found a break in the path and a fork that looked like it would take us back toward the car. The fork ran parallel to the path the bear was on and although you couldn’t see one path from the other, they didn’t fee too far away. 50 yards, maybe? Walking back toward the road and knowing how close that stupid bear could be at any moment was one of the most terrifying experiences of my life. It was a moment of serious elation when we finally hid the road and saw the parking lot.

Of course, there was a car driving by at the exact moment Tanner and I busted mad-eyed from the woods and stumbled and ran to the parking lot. They were probably confused.

This turned out to be a long story.

One ornament is apparently enough for today.

It's Been a Good Year

Last month, Tanner and I celebrated our first year anniversary. A week before our actual anniversary, Sept. 19, we headed to New Braunfels and San Antonio to celebrate.

Any time we get a chance, we head to my family's River House in New Braunfels, which has been in the Sullivan family since my dad was born – so, about 45 years ;) It's the place I feel most at home in this big ol' world.

This little guy greeted us. I thought he was very cute. One time, in college, my sister accidentally shut a huge toad in her door and it was still alive. Then she realized she had locked herself out of the house, and the toad was trapped. Waiting for the Pop-A-Lock guy was a very traumatic experience.

We love taking the dogs down to the water. They are so happy, and the scenery is so beautiful.

One of those moments of pure majesty.

Like I said, pure majesty.
(I forgot my swimsuit. So no pictures of me in my Walmart sports bra and booty shorts.)

After a day a the river, we headed into San Antonio for something a little different.

We checked out the Alamo...



and the Riverwalk.

Then we headed to Boudro's on the Riverwalk, where the table side guacamole and the fire-roasted salsa are AMAZING...

and the view is breathtakingly beautiful.

I mean, breathtakingly beautiful.

More sightseeing after dinner...


Then a little surprise I orchestrated for my hubs back at our B&B, The River Vista Hotel (AMAZING place, FYI).

The next day, we were overdosed on champagne and romance, so we invited my parents up to the River House with us. That's how we roll.

Irrelevant. He just melts my heart.

Mom and Dad took us out to dinner,

and gave us a gift certificate to Country Custom Pine in Weatherford for a new dining room table.

It was a great way to celebrate one year of being married. After it all, there's nothing we enjoy more than simply spending time together.

I love you, Tanner.

The Truth Lies Somewhere in the Middle

The Story of My Birthday, Version 1
In the yellow tint of the bathroom light, she leaned familiarly toward the mirror and drew a steady line of charcoal black along the soft edge of her eyelid, pausing only to take additional care while navigating over the small, wrinkly bump of a chicken pock scar.

"You look beautiful," he said, cupping a warm hand on each side of her hips while leaning on her back and over her shoulder to look at their joined reflection in the mirror. "Imperfections and all," she read in his eyes.

The warm hum of conversation and the bubble of laughter welcomed them in from the cool and quiet of the small town square. She loved them both--the cafe and its patrons like a group of old friends, a shared joke, a heartfelt toast at the end of a night warm with too many beers; and the empty town square lit with street lamps, sweet and simple like a quiet, anointed moment of solitude and peace.

Walking over the worn wood floors to their table, his hand on her back guiding her and her upper body leaning slightly into the solidness of his side, she closed her eyes for just a moment and breathed deep. She felt as if she were floating over those soft, scuffed, love-worn floors.

He turned his head to her and smiled, "Happy birthday."


The Story of My Birthday, Version 2
"Why the heck won't my eyeliner EVER go oooon straaaaight," she complained, dragging out the last two works as she pressed her hands to her cheeks and dragged them down to her jaw in exasperation.

"What are you even talking about?" he asked, poking his head in the doorway. "It looks nice."

"This stupid chicken pock scar, it makes the line all wobbly and it looks dumb."

"No it doesn't. It looks good. I'm going to start the truck."

In a final act of frustration, she contorted her face in the mirror, mocking herself, and went into the bedroom to change.

The outfit was so much more "to-die-for" in her mind. Standing before the mirror, she realized the dress was lower cut than she had remembered, two sizes too small, and clingy in all the WRONG areas. She swapped her granny panties for underwear covering less acreage, but even the skimpy number left tell-tale signs of too many evenings with a spoon and a pint carton of pistachio ice cream. The strings on the underwear cut into the blubber on her hips, dividing each one into a jiggly mountain separated by a deep chasm. She decided to ditch the dress.

He walked in to find her standing in her underwear and socks in the middle of the room with her mind blanked by deep thought.

"You're not ready?" he asked.

"Just gimme a second."

He retreated to the living room, and she, defeated, squirmed back into the dress. She considered ditching the underwear all together, but grabbed a long cardigan instead. "That'd just be weird," she murmured.

"Do these boots look strange?" she asked as she met him in the living room. "Should I push them down or pull them up? Do they look too clunky? Or maybe they're too casual? Is it hot in here? What's the heater set on? I'm burning up."

"I think they look good both ways," he answered, getting up, kissing her, and putting his arm around her as he guided her toward the door. "You really do look really nice."

The restaurant was full of people talking and laughing, and the atmosphere was bright and cheerful. As they waited for the the hostess to gather their menus, she began anticipating the rich, satisfying food she'd soon be eating. "I'm going to get an appetizer AND desert," she thought. "And wine. Lots of wine."

They started through the bar toward the back section of the restaurant. She walked in front of her husband, the chunky wooden heels of her boots softly thunking on the wood floors of the restaurant. The bar and restaurant were separated by a stone wall with a wood framed opening as a walk-through. From the bar into the restaurant, the wood floors sloped slightly downward. And apparently, some one had polished the $*!# out 'em. Because, as she walked through the opening and took a sharp left toward their table, her polished wooden heels slid across the polished wood floors like a greased whale on a Slip 'N' Slide.

It happened fast and hard. Her legs flew out and up to the right, and the entire surface area of her massive left thigh slammed into the ground with an ugly, reverberating THUD. Tables rattled, ice clinked in glasses, and pictures trembled on the wall as if a freight train bearing straight for hell had flown by just feet from thin walls of the quaint, unsuspecting cafe. Quicker than she could ever have imagined possible, propelled by the powerful and inspiring force of shame and humiliation, she sprang back to her feet in an awkward, tactless, and unladylike convulsion of splayed legs, grunting, and sheer panic.

"Don't say anything, please. Let this moment pass," she whispered in denial as she jerked away from her husband and the hostess and attempted to elegantly resume her original course to their table.

"Oh my GAWWWD, are you oKAY?????????" the waifer-esque hostess screeched, pressing her bony hand against her chest.

"Umm, yes. I'm fine. Just a little embarrassed," she answered, the pain shooting through her quivering thigh. A colossal, knotty, eggplant of a bruise was already rising.

"Oh don't WORRY. No one saw you FALL like that," the hostess blurted loudly as the party wound its way through the tables packed with gawking patrons.

"Thanks," she replied curtly. She grabbed her menu and plopped in her seat, wincing.

The bobble-head smiled and bounced away, leaving them at their table. She looked at him for the first time since her Richter-scale rocking collision with the earth. His eyes were warm and understanding. "Are you OK?" he asked softly and with a smile.

"Yeah," she replied with closed eyes and a succinct nod of her head. "Thank God I wore underwear."

He smiled, "Happy birthday."

Erin Haynes. Twenty-six on March 6, 2010, and still a fool.

What is Love?

What is love?

If your first response isn't to bob your head and sing to yourself, "Baby don't hurt me," then you obviously weren't a teenager during the late nineties munching on Twizzlers and Sour Patch Kids while slurping a Diet Dr. Pepper and watching Night at the Roxbury.

Love is, however, something more than a bad club song immortalized in an equally bad Saturday Night Live skit movie spinoff.

Love is this:

I, Tanner, choose you, Erin, to be my wife.
I promise to treasure you and take care of you,
to remain faithful to you no matter the circumstances,
to guide and protect you,
to be trustworthy and honest,
and to show you unwavering love and patient forgiveness as Christ has shown me.
All that I am and all that I have is yours, because in God’s eyes we are one until death.

I love Valentine's Day. (I told you I had some back-blogging to do, and I meant it, dern it.) It will forever be a reminder of the love I share with my husband. It will be a day that small gifts, like

roses,


foot cream (and foot rubs), chocolates, cards,



and quiet nights cozied on the couch with a glass of wine,

will remind me of BIG gifts like

the night I was told that I was a one-and-only, a treasure, a woman to be desired; and all the days and nights that came and are to come as a result of a declaration, a question, a ring, and a promise.

Valentine's Day gets a bad wrap: "It's a ploy by greeting card companies and chocolate manufacturers to suck the ever-living daylight out of your emaciated pocket book." Yeah, they (the Man) have found ways to capitalize off of Valentine's Day, but the holiday has its roots in something beautiful and pure: L-O-V-E. Not the cheap kind of mass-produced love that you can buy, but real love. One popular explanation behind the origin of Valentine's is that a third-century priest gave his life to protect and honor the covenant of marriage. That's beautiful. And while we're supposed to show love all year round, I treasure the chance to spend a day purposefully being reminded of all the ways I've been loved, and all the opportunities I have to love others.

Even if you didn't get engaged on Valentine's Day like I did, why not make it a day to remind you and your spouse of how great it is to be given the gift of love. You can do this in many ways: gifts, a romantic night out, or simply a kind word of appreciation. Whatever gives you a moment of shared joy, laughter, appreciation, and happiness.

For Tanner and I, what makes us happy and romantic is apparently breaking the tails off of mud-sucking shellfish, eating their tail flesh, and then sucking their heads.

Like I said, whatever floats your boat.

I'm linking up with Tuesday's Unwrapped @ Chatting at the Sky (a place for your soul to breath).

How NOT to Spend Your First Married New Year's Eve

How NOT to Spend New Years Eve

Alone.
Taking self portraits with your dog.

And drinking champagne with your imaginary husband.

JUST LIKE YOU DID WHEN YOU WERE SINGLE.

How TO Spend the First Moments of the New Year

Shake your sleeping husband at midnight, force him to kiss you, and make him take a self portrait -- with a flash. Enjoy punishing him.


Drink more champagne.


And then some more.


Untwil you decides to go outshide in your bur feet and take pitchers of the moon.


Become convinced your dog is turning into a werewolf. And discuss with him how dog -> werewolf transformations are less impressive than human -> werewolf ones.

(As you can see, I'm a little behind with downloading my pictures from my camera. I won't even try to do a Christmas review post. That's soo 2009.)

My "Baby's" Belated Birthday

So, this is a little belated, mostly because I haven't quite gotten in the swing of regular and timely blogging. But, last Thursday was Tanner's 26th birthday. I'll save the post for how the reality of turning 26 cripples me for my own birthday, in March.

Tanner's birthday is really important to me, and I'm pretty sure I care more about it than he does. But for me, it is a heartfelt celebration of a man that I love so deeply. It's a celebration of one of the greatest men to ever live (second, obviously to Jesus and tied with my Dad and all that). January 14, 1984 was one of the most important days of my life, and I wasn't even born yet (I was, however two months from being born, 9-some-odd pounds, and kicking the $&!* out of my mom). I would live 21 years before I even knew this man, who would change my life, existed.

So, I love January 14th. Despite some of the grand things I've planned for Tanner in the past, this year we kept it pretty low-key (to save $ for our early anticipated Canadian vacation). I made him breakfast and his favorite "Tanner Cake," called him 234234 times through out the day, refused to call him anything but "birthday boy," gave him presents, and took him out to dinner at a great place in Weatherford -- my treat.

The things boys want for their birthday...

My favorite part of the night was when Tanner and I sat down and looked at some of his childhood pictures. The first time his mom shared these pictures with me when Tanner and I were engaged was a life-changing moment for me, and permanently altered the way I see Tanner. To see his childhood pictures took me to a new level of loving Tanner that I could never have imagined possible, and can't exactly explain. But, I'll do my best.

Seeing that twinkle in his eye as a baby when he mischievously rummaged through Mom's cabinets; that big toothy smile he flashed before he was self conscious enough to realize he didn't like his smile; that overwhelming expression of excitement over dad's knife collection laid out on the floor or his new GI Joe; that radiance of pride in his baseball uniform; that tender hug with Grandma; that glow of independence atop a horse all alone -- seeing all those things in the pictures gave me the chance to know Tanner and appreciate him more deeply than I could have before. Through those pictures, I was able to understand who Tanner is at heart in a new way, and not only celebrate those past moments, but in a way experience them, which makes me feel almost impossibly close with him in mind and spirit.

The pictures show me that Tanner still is that boy, playful and sweet and vulnerable. But, they also remind me of how much he's grown and changed into this man I know now, responsible and honorable and strong. In 26 years, he's evolved from a child into a man who loves and protects me, provides for our family, plans our future, and strives to do right. And he's managed to maintain a childlike joy and carefree spirit, while also developing integrity and selflessness. OK, my cheeks are all soggy, so I'll just share some pics with you and tell you how I desperately hope I have a little boy someday who looks just like this one.