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I told my mother about the house on my ride home from work tonight (read: I just got home--nice, huh?). She gave positive feedback: Oh, that's nice. Oh, it's good to look. Yes, it's a buyer's market. You're right to collect all your information and look. But she's very cautious about rewarding me with 100% positive feedback on something so new (our search for a house). It was strange to tell her about it because it seems like such a grown up thing to do.

For those of you who don't know, bub is older than me and owns our place now. So this is my first home-buying experience (we're not buying yet, don't worry), so for me, I don't know much, but I've learned tons from going through the looking process with bub for the place we live at now. I went through all the motions with him: make an offer, counter the offer, purchase and sale, home inspection, PAINT, MORE PAINTING, CLEANING, RUGS CLEANING, and the closing. Well, the closing happened earlier than the painting and cleaning. And my name doesn't appear on the deed or whatever because we weren't married--not even engaged--but I still feel like I'm full owner here since bub is so nice to have included me in as his painting buddy and cleaner : )

Anyway, enough house talk. I'm sipping some chianti reserva and remembering Italy and I don't want to write any more about the future. I want to dwell on now.

Folks, I'm dying here. My job isn't miserable. It's just dry as hell. I have started breaking my golden rule which is, I've been looking--quickly--at job boards while at work. I fear that someone will email me any day now and tell me to pack my things and leave. My boss spoke to our HR rep behind closed doors the other day (I know this because I'm the only one in my department with a cube and can hear for miles) but couldn't quite hear their conversation and I fear my boss is getting ready to give me the boot.

Thing is, I don't care. Sad, huh? I'm ready for the NBT. (Next BIG Thing). I capitalize "big" because it needs to be. I'm 26 years old and it's about time I had a plan. I followed the college plan, then the "get a job" plan. And here I am. I've had a job. I've had 3 since college, including this one. And #4 needs to appear. And soon. So I'm ready. I'm energetic, creative, and fun. Bring it on; sign me up. Until then, I'll be wishing for water in my dry cube.

House

Dear Friends,

I write this as I sit at my desk at work because the House consumes my thoughts and because you all know how work has been going lately...so I'll try to keep this quick for fear I'll feel guilty about not working and writing this instead.

First, I like the TV show House and cannot wait for the new season to start.

Second, I had a dream last night that I was still at work with only 1/2 hour left to go before I was to be at the church getting married to bub. Go figure. Phew; at least I had my priorities in order in real life--I had already been off for 3 days before the wedding even took place.

Anyway, yesterday we went to see a house. It wasn't an open house since we weren't around last weekend and won't be around this weekend. Bub found it on the trusty MLS site and seeing as how, in a prior life, he was in real estate and seeing as how his best man and best friend, is our broker, I knew that some day he'd find something truly wonderful to get excited about.

So. He found it.

I'm not sure it's the "it" or it's the "one" or whatever. I don't want to get myself all worked up, but I know it's too late because I am. First, it scares the bejesus out of me because I knew we wouldn't stay in bub's 1-bed condo forever, but because this finding a house thingy is sort of happening quickly.

So last week bub sends me an MLS listing with pictures to said house. It looks nice, but they tend to take pictures of the good stuff only: shiny floors, bright windows, plush lawns, cute detached garage with flower box, screened in porch with tiny patio perfect for grilling. No photos were shown of the bathrooms (!), the kitchen (!!), or all the bedrooms (!!!)--so lots can be left to the imagination.

So we did a drive by. We drove by it slowly once. We backed up and drove by it again. We started to head back home when I said that I didn't get a good look since bub had been closer to it from where he was in the car than I was and I wanted to go back. So we went back.

He was excited about the thought of owning this house. He was excited about the classic look and style of it.

I was the negative nilly. It could be a craphole inside, I flatly announced. The kitchen could be a hole. The bathroom could be scary. The rooms could be tiny. The closets could be non-existant.

We drove home and I told him, let's make an appointment to see it since we can't go to the open house. And last night, I almost fell in love.

More after work if I can.

competition

I never really considered myself to be competitive. But I think I am.

I always wanted to be the one who did a better job, got the higher grade, received the most compliments, wore the prettier outfit...

But I feel like it's the personalities of others who bring out the competitive demon in me. For example, the wedding. It was our day, a most magical day, reflective of our tastes, personal characteristics (yes, we chose to have a Catholic wedding--mass and all), and everything about it was us. But you'd attend a friend's wedding just before and see that she had a photo montage playing all through dinner, an ice sculpture (she didn't, but this is just an example), and a tribute to deceased relatives. And I wondered, should we be doing this? Because we're not doing this, is that okay?

How silly does that sound?

I think part of the competitiveness stems from insecurity that what I do personally will not reflect my true character, my personality, me. And I think that by proving that I'm a worthy person, much more than a lavish wedding, someone who wants to feel like she's got style--I want to be thought of as more than that. I'm sure we all do. But lately I don't feel that I've given off that vibe.

People can suck you into being someone you're not. I don't blame anyone imparticular for feeling especially materialistic; the wedding industry thrives on it. But I like to think that my life isn't about competing. And it certainly shouldn't be about that when it comes to who I'm friends with.

I make a damn good pineapple upside down cake.

Happy Birthday to my husband!

I congratulated myself on Friday for at least two things.

First being that I told my boss I had jury duty (and I did) but made no mention that if I wasn't picked to serve that I would attempt to make it into the office.

When they released us at 11:00am that morning, I felt guilty for one moment after I heard someone who had also been in my jury pool call who I believe to be a colleague and say that they'll be able to make that conference call after all.

I felt guilty.

But then I snapped out of it. I mean, after all, this was my first jury duty experience and I needed to reflect on it the rest of the day.

The second item I congratulated myself on was appreciating the finer things. This all boils down--currently--to my career and the turn that it took a little over a year ago. To sum it up quickly and as painlessly as possible, it lacks creativity and moisture. So in turn that means it's on the boring side and it's dry. Yes, I know. A bad analogy, but give me a break, especially since we're a mere few hours away from the Monday morning blues.

So as I walked down Congress Street towards my husband's office (boy, do I sound grown up or what?? Husband!), and before I ran into him randomly as he stepped out to go to the bank, I took in the fact that I miss "the energy". Actually, when describing this feeling of excitement, sadness (I used to work in the greater Boston area), and yearning to work in the hustle and bustle of the city, it was my friend who said that she knew what I meant. That the city has this energy. And she nailed it dead on.

So I congratulated myself for taking in all the simple items of the city that I once took for granted for a mere 7 months: the especially windy air, the random people who chant "Let's go Red Sox" when you're not even near Fenway. The charged business people who are psyched that it's the weekend and gather in clusters to grab lunch, cure their hangovers, or maybe even start happy hour early. I visited H&M and DSW because at my job you can't walk to anything except for a Dunkin Donuts which happens to lie on a 2-lane highway nearby.

And the question in my head still persists: How come I can't work in Boston? How come I can't start my own thing? How come I'm at a job I'm not enjoying completely?

Lately, I feel like I've been in great spirits. I just married my best friend, I just had a most fantastic honeymoon, it's still summer and I don't dislike the fall, but will miss the warm temps, I'm starting over in a way with a new name, with new goals as a married 26-year old woman. Then there's the big BUT...and many goals to follow. One is that I make too many excuses as to why I do not accomplish things. This could be from exercising to cleaning to calling up my aunt who always calls me first. But I'm not sure I have a good excuse for not doing my own "thing"...whatever that is, I guess I should start to figure out. Because right now, I have no other plan B. I have no excuse.

Very honey moon

So...Italy.

I neglected to post about it earlier.

It was perfect.

I was nervous. Bub and I get grouchy when we travel to foreign countries overnight and then have to trek to the hotel only to learn that our room isn't ready and why don't we explore on our own for a bit until the proper check in time? Well it was different with Italy because after the 6:45pm flight which landed us in Munich at 8:45am the next morning and then the flight to Naples which got us there in the late morning/early afternoon, there was the hour or so train ride to Sorrento (our second city destination of the trip, although we wished we were "there by now") and then a good 45 minute bus ride to Positano. It's around 3pm at this time. And we aren't grouchy. And although no couple is perfect, I felt like our honeymoon was.

Lots of sunshine and heat made up for the overcast and drizzley day which was the weather for our wedding (we barely concerned ourselves with it). The swimming was the best of our lives so far. The winery tour in Florence, the private cooking class, the romantic evenings overlooking the scenic Amalfi coast really captured what this trip was.

Not a vacation. Not a European trip. Not time off. Our honeymoon. One and only.

We ate like there was no tomorrow. We drank and were merry--we only had one real drunken night because we wanted to appreciate everything--from the celebratory champagne to the house red wine to the sparkling light beer.

We saw David, the famous statue who made me an official art appreciator, if there is such a term. We saw famous paintings and learned about Da Vinci--and not because of the bestselling book.

I was withdrawn and melancholy with bittersweet feelings on our ride to Italy. Time on the plane does that to you. But it wasn't until we finally put our clothes in drawers at the first hotel we stayed at that Peter realized that I was bothered by our big day--our mere few hours in the limelight dressed up for all our family and friends was now a new memory; I needed to hear something positive. I needed some cheer.

Bub said: Look out the window. And I did. I saw out for miles, to the right and left, little terra cotta rooftops, rock, cliff, a blue-green sea you wonder about when you see it in a brochure for vacations. It really is that color. I felt the breeze on my cheeks, it playing into my hair slightly. I felt the warm sun on my scalp and heard children splashing in the ocean many feet steeply below. I turned to him and he said: Look. Just look. Don't miss out on this. We're married.

Yes we are.

Mrs.

I've tried to post the aftermath of the wedding here and my honeymoon too.

But for some reason, I can't get out what I want to say.

So for now, I'll simply type this:

Our day, our very special day was not ruined by raindrops, large fluffy things in the sky, or that I wore my blusher veil during the reception instead of the other one, as planned.

Our day was worth the stress, tears, energy, effort, endless planning and I wouldn't change one thing about it. Nothing is ever perfect, but I sure feel like my husband is.

But I want to take this post to thank some special people in my life: my family and friends.

I thought I would have been more emotional when I danced with my father.

Dad, I love you and we're so deeply connected by something I can't explain with a computer, not even with a pencil.

Mom, although we don't see things the same way--sometimes it feels like we never do--you only want the best for me and I for you. For a lack of a better sentiment, you were my rock.

Certainly not least, to my sister: I know this must have been an odd event for you; you're the eldest daughter, the one who should go before me in everything. And you have--but don't give up finding that one special person for you. You will. You were my other rock during this crazy time.

To all the rest of you out there--the ever important friends--you are a foundation I hope we have all the days of our lives. A best friend reminded me that she found letters we wrote one another during the summer when the Internet wasn't yet up and running so email wasn't around. She has the words I wrote to her when we graduated middle school, then high school, then college. They remind me how far we've come in our friendship.

I think there's so much more to come in life. A wedding is what it is--one day--most important to the two people who found love in one another. But it's the people who surround and shower you with life, they open your eyes on that day and make you realize who really cares, who has been listening, and that feeling is one of the best ones you can hold in your heart.

Thank you.
-Mrs. Ripe