in case you were wondering what handsome looks like...

My sweet hubs turned 29 about a week ago, friends. 

While he was working on a big paper, I quietly sneaked around the living room, decorating, wrapping his presents, and getting his birthday cheesecake ready. 

 Sweet candles, right? (They better be-- they were like $5 a piece...)

When I called Gid into the room, he looked like a kid who'd just discovered it was Christmas. So darling. He still gives me butterflies. Look at that smile. I love him when he's scruffy. That's how you know gid is stressed: check his scruff...

This birthday feels a little more significant than the others we've celebrated together. For one, its Gid's last year in his twenties. Isn't that nuts? I'm going to be married to a thirty year old! Stranger still- I'm right behind him. The other night we watched that Jennifer Garner film, "Thirteen Going on Thirty". Gid is very selective of which films (especiiaaallly girly films) he'll watch with me, but he really enjoyed it. Good flick, even by Gid standards.

Anyway, I think Gid will make such a handsome thirty something. When men get older, its not necessarily a bad thing. When I notice a wrinkle, I cringe a bit. When I see a wrinkle on Gid, all I can think is that he looks more sophisticated than ever. He should be the mayor of handsomville. 

Why does this birthday feel so different? Is it our thirties sneaking up behind us, preparing to give us a wedgie (as part of a welcome to our post twenties)? Maybe. 

I've also started to (finally) realize that this is our last year in graduate school. Maybe our last year in the education system forever (depending on what you identify as "the education system"). Next time we celebrate either of our birthdays we'll have graduated. I know it sounds silly, but it seems significant. Who knows what will be going on a year from now when gid blows out his birthday candles? I wonder where we'll live? What jobs we'll have? (Will we even HAVE jobs?!) So much to find out in this next year. 

Anyway, here's lookin' at you, kid. 

Like I said-- what a hunk. 

Good luck next week friends,

dear september,

I've missed you. The summertime is always sweet to me; I love the warm evenings and the sparkling fireworks. I love the smell-- a combination of sunblock, the ocean and coconut (is that just me or do you agree?). I love the food: the berries, the snow cones, and the light salads. Oh, and the hot dogs. I love hot dogs. Mmmm, and potato salad. And chips. I love the classic summer activities: the beach, the camping, the evening strolls, and the movies out on the lawn accompanied by popcorn, soda and licorice. 

Summer is great. 

This summer, however, wasn't the best one I've had. Actually, this summer was easily the worst one I've had in a long time. Too much on the schedule. Too much stress.Too little sleep. Too little time with family. I felt like a different person. Grouchier. Busier. More frustrated, and grayer (hair and otherwise). My relationships, both social and personal suffered. I lost motivation. Desire. Anything that took more energy than I already had to use.

Last week when the academic year started and I got back to the grind of graduate school, I actually felt like a major weight had been lifted off of my shoulders. The weight of summer. Summer. Isn't that supposed to be the most carefree part of the year? I'm so relieved its over (though the work load is still hovering dangerously over my head). 

And the smell. It smells like dew this morning. It smells like clouds coming over the ocean. It smells like change. Even though the leaves haven't darkened, and pumpkins don't line the doorsteps (yet). 

It smells like change. For the better I'm thinking. 

When I woke up this morning, September, I noticed your soft glow seeping out of my curtains, instead of summer's piercing obnoxious beams that used to force me to wake up like a military sergeant with a megaphone. 

There's a moistness about your air, like the clouds are trying to decide what's better: rain, or almost rain. (Touch decision for me too...) 

I've always liked you, september. You feel like new school supplies and scarves with leather boots (and wool socks). Gideon's birthday on the 13th, our anniversary on the 18th. You're a special month in our family. But this year, I feel an even more special pull to you. You released me from this year's summer.

Here comes hot cocoa and pumpkins,

(and thesis concert...)