50th Post!

I guess I like blogging. 
HA! Ok, I love it a whole-lotta-bunch and really love the opportunity to "be heard" (or read,  glanced, even stumbled upon).  I mean, I love the attention! (even if it's all in my head) 

Way back in high school I wanted nothing more than to be a writer, whatever that meant.  I turned to my journal to blab about everything and dramatize my woes.  I absolutely loved a good book (with many exceptions, mostly having to do with required reading for classes) and even scored a 5 out of 6 on our stupid standardized writing tests.  My first desired "major" in college was creative writing.  (However I never made it into UT's college of communication and then ended up transferring back home to FSU, where I majored in Elem. Ed.)  My love of writing even helped me BS my way through many college essays.  I still profess that I want to write kiddie lit, and will get around to it one day.

Since this blog's intended use is wedding planning, I shall try to stick to that.  It's just soooo much fun to talk about myself.
Instead, in this monumental 50th post I shall divulge how & when I knew Mike was "The One."

Mike and I only dated about 4 months before my teaching internship required me to move a whole 4 hours away, during my last semester of college.  Not only was this the most demanding semester of my entire undergraduate career, but also the semester I allowed for the most distractions.  Those distractions were all Mike's fault.  *smile*  (Disclosure: I maintained an A and did a great job in my internship and walked away learning a lot, still).

During our "long distance" jaunt, we saw each other every other weekend, at least.  The first time I realized we were in-it-to-win-it happened during one of our routine visits, with a not-so-routine twist.  Around that time I started having intense migraines.  I'm talking PAIN, here.  Pain so bad that in one instance my mother had to drive me to the Emergency Room because the discomfort was not only causing me to puke my guts out, but interrupted my speech patterns.  I couldn't talk coherently or form sentences because of the extreme badness of it all.  (At one point I told my mom something about chickens when trying to convey that I wanted an ambulance, and we were already at the hospital).

After a long day on the job, I started loosing my vision and knew a migraine was coming.  Mike, en-route to Orlando, knew my head hurt and promised a quiet evening.  He arrived to find me writhing in pain, in the pitch-dark bathroom, begging him not to talk so loudly and call my doctor immediately.  Nothing stayed in me, and I needed pain meds, or some relief, STAT.  Mike called my doc, who had no choice but to prescribe me the only option for relief.  Mike, being the amazing boyfriend he was (now fiancee), drove to the pharmacy and proudly comes back, glorious medicine in hand.   He then proclaimed (softly), "Good news! It's a suppository!"  WHOLE-LOTTA Sarcasm.

I'll spare you the details, but I managed to treat myself from there, and recover.  I know many men who shy away from even buying tampons at the store, let alone receive tips from the pharmacist from how to administer dosages, and then relay said instructions to their lady.

I knew from his dedication, concern, and desire to help that he would make a wonderful husband, and I wanted him to be exactly that.

Soon after that, when Mike put the idea of moving to DC on the table, I knew yet again that he was the man for me.  I'm no idiot girl who is going to throw away her life and follow some dude to some other place where she might as well drown her sorrows in Lifetime TV.  When Mike talked about moving to DC, I knew I was going with him for the next adventure in our lives together.    The ring came later, but that's just logistics.  I knew back in '05 that my man was named Mike S.