if only.

This summer I've been attending a Bible study at my church in Tuscaloosa on Tuesday mornings. 

(you might could guess that I saw 'Beth Moore' in the bulletin and signed up without a second thought)

On Tuesday mornings, I'm the youngest in the class by a decade or more. As my classmates discuss their husbands and children, I sit back and listen and drink in a little wisdom here and there, but I'm hardly silent. As the youngest member of our Tuesday morning tribe, there has been a great deal of interest in me from this little group of mothers in which I have found myself. The maternal instincts ooze as each one asks me what I'm doing, how long I've been here, what I plan to do, and-- without fail-- am I single?

It almost always comes up that I graduated from Auburn... which is no coincidence or anything as I'm willing to tell anyone who will listen. But the next question is obvious: so... how'd you end up here?

I would love to say that grad school brought me here, but that's not really true. In fact, that's far from the truth as my beloved Auburn has a school counseling program and a very good one to boot-- one that caters to my age group rather than the returning teachers to which UA appeals. So that's not a really great explanation. Inevitably, I sigh loudly, roll my eyes, and deliver a line that makes me cringe for being *that* girl: I followed a boy. 

Usually my delivery indicates the result, but occasionally someone will ask if we're still together. No, I say... no, we're not. But here I am!

And the really caring, motherly types-- like the kind ladies in my Bible study-- always press on: oh dear, that must've been so hard. Are you doing okay?

And because I'm an oversharer, I launch into my whole schpill... yes, there was quite a bit of weeping and gnashing of teeth; yes, it was enormously, gut-wrenchingly heartbreaking, but you live and learn; and yes, I've questioned God more times than I can count (or care to admit) why on Earth I am here and how in the world can this possibly be part of His will for my life? If only He had stepped in, intervened somehow... If only I had known how it would turn out... If only I had not been a stupid girl following a stupid boy ("stupid" is really the nicer of the applicable adjectives).

It's at this point in the story that the ladies nod sympathetic heads and offer quiet noises of compassion. I allow this because I genuinely appreciate their concern, but I love when I get to my favorite part of the story. The part where it all starts to make sense. The part where all the pieces fell together. The "Ah-ha!" moment-- even if it took a very, very long time to come around, an amount of time that is even laughable at this point because it's so outrageous... the Lord might just make a patient woman out of me yet.

Assured that I'm happy and whole, my new mommies were ready to jump into our third session of Beth Moore's "Inheritance" study (note: you need this in your life). That Beth, always up to something... wouldn't you know this week she launched into trusting God in the broken times, allowing the Lord to teach us through our trials, and thanking Him for the outcomes. Now, we all know how I adore Beth, but she wouldn't want the credit for this and I'm not going to give it to her. Some things are just beyond even a saint like Beth (Catholics, please consider: Saint Beth. You won't be sorry). Some things are so clearly from God that it gives your goosebumps their own goosebumps. 

It was the kind of sermon/lesson where you find yourself nodding constantly and offering up multiple "Yesses" and "Amens" without really realizing that you're talking out loud... and, in my case, without realizing that I've suddenly morphed into a 40-something who says things like "Yes" and "Amen" during a sermon.

The lines have fallen for me in pleasant places;

indeed, I have a beautiful inheritance.

Psalm 16:6

It may not be pleasant when the lines are drawn. Sometimes the lines, it seems, are forcibly cracked into place, painfully etched far outside our comfort zones. The journey may not have been beautiful; in fact, it may have been downright ugly...

But as a Child of God, when the pieces starting falling into place, you'll look around and realize that those lines that once felt more like scars have indeed fallen in pleasant places-- places right in the center of God's will-- and your inheritance-- the Lord Himself and all His abundance!-- is truly, incomprehensibly beautiful. And all those If only's will appear blessedly unfulfilled.

ketchup.

Oh my goodness, where has the summer gone? I feel like just yesterday I was ringing in the New Year in the mountains of North Carolina... and at the same time, that seems like a lifetime ago. Since then, I've found community in a church in Tuscaloosa, made a multitude of new (best) friends, met and hooked a new man, hopped over to South America and Europe, beach bummed twice, attended multiple wedding showers and weddings (a trend that is sure to continue)... and all of that has brought us here, halfway to Christmas. I start my second summer class today, and I have less than a month left in Tuscaloosa.

Wow. Wow. Wow.

It makes me wonder what the next six months might hold, as none of the past six months' events could have possibly been predicted or even hoped for. We'll play this game again come Christmas.

Thoughts & things

This week marks #3 for the Lunch Club. Every Tuesday, I've been getting together with a couple of friends from Guntersville that are in Tuscaloosa for the summer. We started out at Newk's, then went to Buffalo Phil's, and today I insisted on Hooligan's. Honestly, you can't leave Tuscaloosa without a cheeseburger at Hooligan's (although Laura stubbornly ordered the swiss mushroom chicken... but it looked awesome, I'm going to look over it). Next week, for a our final lunchtime venture, we'll be convening at F.I.G., which is technically in Northport, but that is oh-so-convenient as my Tuesday morning Bible study is in Northport as well.

It looks like it's going to storm at any minute. It's been threatening all day but has held out, save for a few misguided droplets on my walk to the gym this morning, until now. I'm sure the clouds are conspiring to save the big show for when I make the mile-long trek from my car to campus this afternoon. That's just how my luck goes. C'est la vie.

Tomorrow night, Alex and I are going to see David Mayfield Parade at WorkPlay. They were the opening band when we saw the Avett Brothers at Samford, and we've been planning to see them since then (that's pretty long-term planning considering that concert was our second date... but, hey, we made it!). I'm pretty pumped about it. One, I love live music. Two, the band was exceptionally fun to watch. Imagine Zach Galifinakis (I'm CERTAIN I just butchered his last name, but you know who I'm talking about) playing folk music. And dancing. And joking. Very entertaining stuff.

This weekend Boyfriend returns home with me to go to THE wedding of the year in Guntersville. I'm just glad I'm not getting married anytime soon after this wedding. I'll report more on that later. Let's just say it's the place to be this weekend.

Class #2 starts next week. A mini-mester of Statistics. Now, I didn't like Stats my first go-around as an undergraduate, so I don't expect to love graduate level Statistics... especially not condensed into a 4-week span of time. My head spins just thinking about it. This is honestly one of the only classes in my graduate career that I've genuinely worried about.

The moving-home process starts this weekend. The bedroom furniture in my room at home currently is the same bedroom furniture that my parents had when the first married, and it must be moved to make room for the bedroom suit that has accompanied me in my two college towns. So this weekend, I'll be packing up boxes and (hopefully) purging some things that have been hoarded over the past few years in an attempt to simplify my life and start getting organized for moving back in with dear old Mom and Dad-- an event that is scheduled for the end of July. Once I'm moved in and reorganized, I can devote my attention to my last two semesters of grad school: internships and substitute teaching (the subbing part isn't actually part of grad school, but it's the perfect career for the graduate student and I hope to be doing a lot of it in the fall).

The wind is beginning to whistle outside, and the downpour will surely follow... which means I need to get cracking on some reading for class before I inevitably fall asleep to the sound of the rain. I'll miss these nap times one day...

It's on like Donkey Kong.

To whom it may concern:

Well, really, this is an open letter to one Alex M. Ruggles.

It appears that war has been declared. Cyber wars. Blog wars... or, as it's been christened, "blog battles." Clever alliteration, dear. I'm sure your posts will be equally witty. That is, if you look over the multitude of your and you're mix-ups. In fact, I might just edit it and send you revisions.

We've been keeping score since Day 1-- and, simply as a reminder, I'm up 8-6-- so competition is nothing new to our relationship. Really, it was just a matter of time til it saturated this facet of my life. And here we are now... with a line drawn in the sand, fingers poised above our respective blogs.

In a few days, when your weeping and gnashing of teeth is at its peak, don't come crawling back and wishing for a truce. You started this. And I am much obliged to finish it.

So go ahead, Stretch: make my day.

All-American Saturday

Everyone in the condo woke up nice and early yesterday morning. We convened on the porch for breakfast and some Bible talk, and before I knew it, everyone was slathering on the sunscreen and packing up their beach bags. We were on the lava-hot sand around 10 am. Not bad for a group of 20-somethings.

The waves were incredible. What's more incredible is that we all fought the waves to the point of exhaustion while they broke with ease at Boyfriend's chest. I took more than one tumble under the water; I could still taste the salt water by dinner. The boys entertained themselves with frisbee and volleyball while we ladies laid in such a way for maximum sun exposure. Eventually, we moved to the water's edge where we made sand castles-- I focused on making a sand knee brace for Alex-- until the sand filled our bathing suits to the point of discomfort. Don't act like it's never happened to you.

After lunch, I took my usual nap while the others went back out, this time poolside. I know my skin well enough to know that I had pushed it to the limit, and I saw no reason to tempt fate and sweat it out for another hour or two while my skin scorched in the afternoon sun. And wouldn't you know, I'm one of the few that didn't get burnt.

We headed to my favorite restaurant for dinner-- Shipp's Harbour Grille. Take my advice: try it. It's incredible. Really. I take my food very seriously; I would not lead you astray. The special was coconut-crusted grouper served with a coconut sauce and crabmeat, smoked gouda mashed potatoes, and sauteed green beans. Obviously, that's what I got. The rest of the crew went for sushi, mahi mahi, seared tuna, and so on. There wasn't a disappointed palette in the house.

After dinner, we headed straight to Adventure Island for a round of laser tag. Things were pretty competitive: Erin changed completely into gym shorts and tennis shoes for maximum mobility, Sam staked out a crow's nest to snipe from, and Alex resorted to simply holding me by the target vest and shooting me. I guess when you're the biggest target, you have to stoop the lowest.

And after dinner-- drum roll, please-- we were off to the tattoo parlor. I didn't get inked-- Boyfriend and parents made their feelings pretty clear-- but two of our group did. Sam, a Taiwanese import since like Day 2, got 'Made In Taiwan' tattooed on his rib cage, while Erin got 'joy' tattooed on her ankle. Both were pretty pumped; I was just glad to not be the one under the needle. Meanwhile, Alex literally had to go sit on the stoop to get away from the tattoo artists' samples on the walls-- mostly "sexy" demon girls and angry skulls.

In between signing up for the tattoos and actually getting them, we filled our time with ice cream at Scoops. Katherine spotted a frog on the window on the patio, insisted on capturing it, and immediately flicked first onto Erin then onto me. Luckily, our ice cream was spared, but we gave our neighbors a decidedly non-dairy treat with our screams.

So our night was pretty much picture perfect. And really, that's just kind of how life is lately.

To my dad, with love.

On the beach today, Katherine told us about a guy she had a crush on in college. I was the only one who didn't know him, but the others seemed to think this was a strange match for her and wondered why she had liked him.

He reminded me of my dad, she told us.

That's kind of weird, my insightful boyfriend countered.

Guys don't get that, I guess. A guy hears that and his thoughts jump to some Freudian craziness. A girl hears an explanation like that, and she thinks, "Exactly."

See, the thing is, there just won't ever be a man in your life that you'll love like your daddy. Especially if your dad is incredible, like mine.

Happy Father's Day to my dad, who taught me how to swing a golf club when the club was taller than me, who read Greek mythology to me and fed me a healthy diet of Cary Grant and Rock Hudson movies, whose fear of heights didn't stop him from accompanying me to the top of the Empire State Building, and, most importantly, who taught me what a man after God's own heart truly looks like.

xx- Lindsey

Good things.

- Road trip chats about boyfriends, break-ups, and big plans... occasionally in a different accent, just to spice up the convo.

- Kat's "Beach Bound" CD she burned us for the trip. Uh-mazing.

- A late night hot tub party followed by a pajama party and the hilarious movie, Just Friends. And obviously there was a lot of playing with each others' hair and snacking on chocolate oatmeal cookies.

- Four girlfriends on the deck with their Bibles at breakfast.

- Being overcome with giddiness when the waves are the perfect temperature and your friends are the perfect companions.

- Chilled grapes and chick-lit with my toes in the sand.

- Flipping in the pool until my ears were so full of water that I couldn't hear. For an hour.

- That satisfying fatigue that hits you after a day in the sun... and the afternoon nap that inevitably follows.

- Waking up from my afternoon lap with Kat in my face, grinning like a maniac.

- Long kitchen talks with Shannon over fresh peaches and good music.

- A Say Yes to the Dress marathon with the girls while the shrimp steams and the veggies roast.

- A magnificent beach sunset that reminds me that all these blessings are gifts from the Father, lavished on His daughters.

It's a good, good life.

Weekend Update.

Well, wedding season is officially in full swing.

Thursday, I headed home for a friend's lingerie shower. Over margaritas with obscene-shaped straws and red velvet cupcakes, we giggled over all of Jordan's new honeymoon gear and talked about how crazy it was that she was about to be someone's wife. Forever.

Friday, I met Erika in Birmingham for some shoe shopping. Like I mentioned before, dating a giant calls for a few adjustments in my footwear. There's a fine line between shoes that give me a boost and shoes that look like they've just waltzed around a pole, and I'm learning to walk that line. Slowly. And preferably with an elbow or a railing to hold onto. Afterward, I went with Alex to our friends' wedding rehearsal. Alex led off the groomsmen, and I captured it all on film for the bride's mom. They rewarded us with an excellent dinner at The Bright Star Restaurant in Bessemer. We capped off the night on the patio of The Blue Monkey Lounge, toasting to Abby and Joseph's new life together and enjoying the reunion of Alex and his college friends.

Saturday, Alex headed off to take pictures with the bridal party and I hung back with his roommate and other non-members of the bridal party. We had a super chic lunch at Chick-Fil-A then headed to the afternoon nuptials. The ceremony went off without a hitch, save for a minor issue with the power going off. But the bride and groom took it in stride, and after a beautiful homily we were off to the reception. The reception was very, very cute. It was in the loft of a floral shop with an open beam ceiling and antique doors and windows lining the walls. And of course, a dance floor. Oh, you should see me dance with my gentle giant. His long limbs flail and swing about, and I do my best to match him... which results mostly in my jumping up and down to Shout! and a number of other MoTown hits. Very entertaining indeed.

Sunday, Alex and I went to the mothership of the PCA denomination: Briarwood. The campus-- yes, this church merits the use of "campus"-- was beautiful and perfectly manicured, and the church building itself was grand despite my immediate feeling of walking into a hospital lobby upon entrance. The preacher was really good-- he taught on Joseph and the Egyptians, and he provided a great balance of history and application. I'm still getting used to this whole reformed thing; the PCA worship service is a little more structured than what this Southern Baptist is used to, but otherwise the theology and mission feels quite familiar.

After church, we met up with my old friend Josh Perkins for brunch at Jackson's. Perkins and I love to catch up on who's dating who and who's moved where; when we get together, we somehow morph into seventy year olds and might as well be in our rocking chairs on the front porch. Alex sat through the small-town banter like a champ and tuned in only to hear Josh and I discuss education theory and exchange war stories of being on the front lines in the school system.

Sunday night, we ate with a few of Alex's friends-- his friend Brian is a truly impressive host: before dinner, he laid out bread with seasoned olive oil and hummus with cucumbers, pitas, and olives. And then we headed to a sports bar to watch the second half of the basketball game. I've deemed myself a Mavs fan this year, so I was pretty pleased with the outcome.

And now... it's back to reality. Back to homework and reading assignments, class and cleaning, working out and doing laundry. At least until next weekend.

We reached for the same fry.

You know how I know that Alex and I are on the same page?

We reached for the same fry. It was scary in sync, and we both froze for a split second with our hands over the same greasy fry. And I thought, look at us... we have arrived. And he said, we're the same person. And I thought, here we go.

Because at some point, you have to let go. Eventually, it doesn't matter where you've been or who you once were or what's happened to you before this moment. It doesn't matter how many times you've thought you found The One or how many times "The One" has broken your heart. Sometimes you just have to be thrilled that there's a guy in front of you that likes you... in a way that is new and different and one-hundred percent unrelated to any relationship you've ever been in or crush you've ever had. And in that, you just have to hope for a result that is likewise just as different.

The truth is... I've always wanted someone that was obnoxiously tall. It's not really fair, you know. As short as I am, I could date a short guy and leave the tall guys to the more statuesque girls that find themselves in a more limited dating pool. Call me selfish, but those girls will just have to deal.

And he's a Christian. And not in a, oh-sure-I'm-a-Christian-because-we're-all-Christians-here-in-the-South kind of way. But in an actively-seeking-Christ kind of way. In a talks-to-me-about-his-faith kind of way. In a let's-keep-Christ-the-center-of-our-relationship kind of way. And that's kind of the best way, I think.

And he's funny. And smart. Like my dad. Sometimes he's so quick that he leaves me speechless, and that's a really impressive thing to do.

So I can't decide if I'm thrilled or terrified, but I guess I'll settle for smitten. It's like when you're so pumped to get on the roller coaster, but as soon as they strap you in you wonder what on Earth you were thinking... and right as you reach the top of the first hill, you think you might actually throw up... but somewhere along the way, the adrenaline kicks in and you find yourself throwing your hands in the air.

It's a rush.

Daddy's Girl

For as long as I can remember, I've been a Daddy's Girl. Yes, my mother and I are unspeakably close, but there's something very special about a girl's bond with her dad. I have a favorite picture of me as a toddler standing on the kitchen counter and leaning over to kiss my daddy, and I'm no different than any girl that dreams of her daddy walking her down the aisle. Dad and I share a common bond over laughter, and Mom, good sport that she is, is often the butt of out "bonding." But few things crack me up like catching my dad's eye from across the room and knowing that we're both racing for the perfect punch line.

With this in mind, a lyric in a hymn caught my attention at church this Sunday:

When we stand as God's great family, And we meet the Father's gaze,
And we share in His eternal joy, As we join in ceaseless praise.


I found this imagery particularly comforting and exciting, the idea of catching the Father's eye across the throne room... of being perfectly in sync with the Father, sharing in His eternal joy.

See what kind of love the Father has given to us, that we should be called children of God; and so we are.
1 John 3:1

Thoughts and things.

Today I have... made a hair appointment for tomorrow morning, done my quiet time, and written a paper. Still on tap: going to the gym, the pharmacy, the bank, and class, and packing to go home tomorrow afternoon.

Tomorrow I will... get much needed damage-control on my rebellious bangs and outrageous roots (spoiler alert: I haven't been this naturally blonde since I entered double digits), have the regular Thursday lunch at Newk's with Cousin Laura and John Davis, pick up a little something-something for Jordan's lingerie shower tomorrow night, and then begin the perilous journey home through Interstate construction and Blount County back roads. After dinner with Mom and Dad, I'll head up to Grant to celebrate with Jordan and the girls and hopefully put it in a workout before bed-- sometimes those work outs just fall right off the priority list, though...

Friday I'm going to do a little shoe shopping with Erika-- it's no surprise that a 6'5 boyfriend calls for a new heel collection-- before heading off to watch Joseph, Abby, and the bridal party rehearse the next day's nuptials. Ooooh, I love me some weddings. I literally can't imagine what it's like to be Abby right now, just days before she changes her last name. I seriously think this through every time I have a wedding on my calendar: what's it like to be HER this week?

Saturday I'll go with Boyfriend to the wedding. Wedding season at this stage in life is difficult because, not only is there a wedding every weekend, there are multiple weddings every weekend. Since Alex has already attended one engagement shower with me and has one wedding to attend with me at the end of the month, I figure I owe him this one. I just hope my lingerie offering to Jordan will be enough to make up for my absence at her wedding.

Maybe it's a result of my atypical productivity today, but I've been thinking about vacations a lot. Go ahead, roll those eyes. I know, I log a of travel hours... but I love it. I'm addicted to it. It could be worse, I could be an alcoholic. Working a poll somewhere. Sniffing cocaine off a public bathroom seat a la my namesake, Lindsay Lohan. But no, my addiction is merely one of cultural enhancement, of horizon broadening, if you will. After hours and hours of planning and one too many run-ins with an unhelpful concierge in regard to best traveling practices, I have decided that I want my next trip to be a little lower maintenance... something where all the hassles are taken care of for you. For instance, Disney World. From the moment you check your baggage, your cares disappear. Magical Disney World fairies have your bags waiting for you in your room when you step off the Disney World airport shuttle. Delightful monorails trolley you from park to park or hotel to park. And a plethora of smiling characters from childhood greets you at every corner. Another great idea, a cruise. It's tropical, it's hassle-free, it's expeditions optional, it's all-inclusive... it's perfection. (Read: Mom take me on a cruise).

And now, without further ado, another check must be made on my to-do list. It's off to the gym for me.

In the summertime, the song sings itself.

Summer has officially arrived. When I arrived home from Italy in mid-May, I was met by blustery 50 degree weather in Huntsville, an odd start to a Southern summer. But no worry, summer has come back with a vengeance. I don't recall a gradual rise from 50 to 100; rather, the weather just seemed to spike 50 degrees overnight. Now, the walk from my second story apartment to my car just down the sidewalk causes my hair to stick to my neck and an annoying drop of sweat to roll down my spine. This basically means that every good hair day is ruined and every cute summery outfit is soiled by a streak of sweat.

Summer easily has it perks though. For instance, today I went out on the lake with Kat, Shannon, and some of Kat's friends from work. On the lake, time and space melt away beneath the summer sun. 11 am slid seamlessly into 2 pm as we floated in the water and laid out on the back of the pontoon boat, completely disconnected from our cell phones, Facebook, and the rest of the world. The whir of boat engines and jet skis is the lullaby of summer: it never fails to sing me to sleep as we course through the water. Just when you think it's a bit too hot to be out, another boat's wake hits the pontoon just in time to mercifully mist you with cool lake water. With that and the gentle rocking that comes with it, along with the warm sun on your skin and the soft breeze on your face, you fall right back into your afternoon nap thinking of just how blessed you are. And what better way to fall asleep?

I hope this summer is full of days just like this: surrounded by best friends and laughter, sunkissed cheeks and tan lines, blazing grills and ice-cold drinks. Not to mention weekend after weekend of summer weddings, a beach trip here and there, the Fourth of July... Yes, bring it, Summer. Bring your heat and your sweat; if that's the charge for long lake days and hot summer nights, I'll take it.

Once Upon a Time...

Once upon a time, in a land not so far away, there lived a very single princess and her new bestie the Fairy GodKat...

So I'm at dinner with my friends Kat and Shannon one night. We had gone out too spend way too much on a nice dinner before meeting up with some of their college friends that were in Tuscaloosa for the Avett Bros concert. At some point during dinner, someone named "Ruggles" came up. Both Kat and Shannon continually talked about how incredible he was; specifically, how funny he was. Bingo. So finally, I interrupted their little lovefest to say, "Okay, so who is this guy? Is he single? Is he good looking?" They assured me he was single but warned me that he was very, very tall... little did they know, they were singing my song-- if you know me, you're surely aware of my Tall Men Fetish.

After something like five Shirley Temples, I excused myself to go to the restroom (you may have read my blog that reviewed the public restroom-- this is then). When I came back, I could almost literally see the lightbulbs above each of their heads. Apparently, they had taken advantage of my absence to discuss the pros and cons of a Hays-Ruggles union. Evidently, the pros outweighed the cons because they were in full matchmaking mode by the time I had sad back down and requested another Shirley Temple. After multiple harassing text messages to this mystery man, we met and chatted in a booth upstairs at the Grey Lady. Later that night, when we had all gone our separate ways, Katherine decided to play Cupid: Alex and I have since pieced together that she was totally playing both of us, telling each of us "She/he thinks you're totally cute" when neither of us had in fact come out and said anything about the other. Hence, the Fairy GodKat.

Two weekends later, UA had their annual A-Day celebration, and, like any good alum, Alex and his friends came back to Tuscaloosa to tailgate and cheer on the Tide, or whatever you do at an A-Day game. And wouldn't you know, he invited me to his tailgate. By now, the jig was up. Quite a few people-- myself included, Alex notably excluded-- were onto Kat's matchmaking ideas, and Alex and I were watched by many amused and excited friends. Honestly, I've never felt so much on trial. He is dearly loved by his friends, and I was clearly auditioning for a highly lauded position in this little friend circle I had found myself in. I was even more awkward than normal, if you can imagine, knowing I was being watched and all. Meanwhile, Alex played right into the hands of his scheming friends as he was time and again placed next to me at dinner, after dinner, and so on. I blushed and avoided eye contact and fiddled with my hands and whatnot. In what I now know is just typical Alex style, he moved through the weekend totally oblivious.

Sunday I got a Facebook message from Alex giving me his number. Just call him Rico Suave. 

That week he called me on a Wednesday night to ask me to come celebrate his birthday with he and his friends. What should have been a five-minute conversation quickly turned into laying in my floor attached to my phone charger until 1 am. 

On Easter Sunday, I got a text message from him asking if I wanted to have dinner on my way back to Tuscaloosa that night-- Prince Charming strikes again. Despite his less-than-romantic approach-- he has been properly scorned now, obviously-- I agreed to dinner and met him at The Purple Onion in Birmingham. Once again, a would-be quick dinner on the road turned into a 4-hour chatfest over Greek food. Now, this all seemed very promising until Alex dropped this closing line on me, "Welp, let me know if you're ever in Birmingham again." Say what??

Obviously, I called Kat in a tizzy, desperately trying to put the pieces together of what on Earth had just happened to me. 

The next day-- what we now call The Day of the Truth Bombs, a day that will live in infamy-- Alex called me on his way home from work to lay some truth on me: namely that we lived in two separate cities, had both gotten out of relationships recently, and quite frankly just didn't know each other that well, so we needed to take things slowly. I took all this in and willed myself not to freak out. It took me a few hours of analyzing before I was enormously offended, "Wait just one second, if he felt like he needed to tell me we had to go slow, did he think I wanted to go fast?" So obviously I sent him a lengthy text to tell him that if he thought for one second that I was the one pursuing this relationship, he had another thing coming... and so on. I can be quite the charmer myself when my sensibilities are affronted. He called back directly, and we talked it out... Well, it's really more accurate to say that I talked it out, as I had come up with quite a few things to send his way since our initial conversation that afternoon when he called to "set me straight."

Then the tornado hit and missed me by about 100 yards. Alex is one of the people I was talking to while I pleaded with God for my life in my shaking closet. Maybe that's when I realized that he wasn't just someone that wrote me funny text messages from time to time. I'm not really sure. I just know that there was much to smile about that afternoon other than the comic relief he sent my way.

The weekend after Cinco de Mayo, I went over to Alex's apartment on Sunday before lunch. We had lunch with some of his friends before they went somewhere-- where they went to escapes me now-- and then went back to his apartment. For eight hours-- EIGHT-- we sat on his couch and talked. No TV, no music, no movies: just eight hours of talking from end to end of the couch... sometimes about TV and music and movies, sometimes about Alabama and Auburn (although it didn't take us long to determine that's a seriously taboo subject), and, about 7 hours in when the conversation hit something of a lull at long last, he asked me for my testimony. You know, just everyday stuff. Ha.

A week or so later, I went to Italy with my mom. Italy's kind of a big deal, but it was an even bigger deal to have an email from Alex waiting for me when I got back to the hotel. I kicked myself repeatedly for being "that girl." Nobody likes or respects "that girl." Weeks later, I still don't like it. But everything he wrote made me laugh, and by the end of the trip I had to admit that I kind of missed him. That was one of those odd defining moments, a mix between excitement and, "Here we go again..." I may have mentioned before that I don't love to not be in total control of my life, and here I was on the other side of the world and this boy I had barely known for a month was having a serious impact on my feelings. Gross.

The day after I got home from Italy, I went to Alex's apartment to watch Gladiator-- something about the Coliseum lit a fire in my life to see that movie, duh. Somewhere in the night he passed me a note that said, "Will you be my girlfriend? [  ] Yes, [  ] No, [   ] Maybe. Not wanting to seem too available, I let the pen float over Maybe for a minute. Gotta keep 'em on their toes, you know.

And that's that... the story of us, or what have you. I wouldn't say this 'Once upon a time' merits a '...happily ever after,' but I think it's worth a solid, 'To be continued.'

Productivity, thy name is Lindsey.

Scratch that last post about not being productive in the daylight hours.

I have now finished ALL of my homework (which was a serious undertaking), done a load of laundry, dusted my apartment, cleaned out the litter box, and updated pictures on Facebook. Still on the list: class, work out, quiet time, vacuum.

Boom goes the dynamite.

Listing Lindsey

I'm kind of a nerd. Like, a big one. I've always loved school. Other than preschool-- apparently my preschool teacher had Alzheimer's, but that's another blog altogether. But starting with kindergarten and the fabulous Mrs. Johnson, I have loved school. Each summer, I restlessly waited for school to start back, anxiously looking forward to new reading assignments and such. At the time, I think it had to do with some insatiable desire to learn. I wish that were still the case.

But no, now school represents structure to me. I could give or take the actual learning part, but luckily I'm working on a Master's that requires classes I actually care about. So while other people have been anxiously awaiting their summer breaks, I've been looking forward to getting back to work. My life is in desperate need of a routine. After a fun-filled weekend with Boyfriend and besties, it's time to get my life back on track: eating better, regular gym time, homework, daily quiet time, etc. And hey, if the homework should take place poolside, so be it.

So last night after class-- a class that I'm already certain I'm going to love this summer-- Kat and I got reacquainted with the gym. After that, I dug in and finished some serious homework-- oh yes, after one night of class, I already have homework... and maybe a little left over from last semester, but give me a break, there was this little weather incident...-- and today I'm already feeling better about my productivity.

I don't know what it is about daytime, but it's my least productive time of the day. It probably has a lot to do with my having no reason to change out of my pajamas... but something about the natural light and shadows just makes me mopey and lazy. But when the sun goes down, my productivity goes into overdrive. So now... I'm just waiting out the sunlight with some Community re-runs... Yawn.