The Story of Us: Part 3

This is the third part of a series called The Story of Us. Follow the link to find all of the posts in the series.

So, last time I left you in my story, I was about to become seriously, depressingly, heart-and-bank-breakingly underemployed. But it was only going to last for a couple of weeks.

Ten Months. Ten months is how long I had to work at just above minimum wage and not make my bills.

The first week that I started at the news stand, Mr. Thor trained me one night.

He was training me how to close the store, and we almost didn’t get out on time – because we talked so much. We talked about astronomy, computer programming, grilled cheese, and everything in between. I never once felt nervous or judged, I never second guessed any word that came out of my mouth.

That night, I google stalked Mr. Thor and realized that he had graduated from Cornell with a degree in Mechanical Engineering.

He was a real dork. Brilliant! Not just one of those guys I always seemed to meet in Ithaca who seemed freakishly intelligent but have approximately 5 minutes of intelligent conversation saved up. I swore that very night that Mr. Thor would remain in my life. This guy was seriously cool. Great to talk to. Funny and kind. I desperately wanted, no – needed, to be this man’s friend.

Over the next few weeks, I realized what a nerd Mr. Thor truly was. He walked 20 minutes across town to work, and he carried a duffel bag filled with books and notebooks so that he could read and take notes during the lulls in the night shift. He read books on physics and language and astronomy. He ate PB&Js and drank coffee.

Over the course of November and December, Mr. Thor and I started to develop what felt like a real friendship. We talked about movies and books and asked each other how our days off were going. We went out to coffee. He came over for dinner. Near the middle of December, we went to a concert together.

By the way, I consider the concert our first official date – he paid and I left my glasses in the car and was blind all evening so that my brown eyes could steal his heart.

The night of the concert, I drove him home. We had just enjoyed the type of wonderfully weird evening that only Ithaca can provide. As I idled on the street outside his house while we said goodbye, I had no idea that something magical was about to happen – something that would change the course of my life forever.

Right after he hugged me? Mr. Thor asked me for my e-mail address.

Mr. Thor is full of win.

I got a promotion this week, and here are my congratulations flowers, delivered today while I was out to lunch. I am not the kind of girl who needs to get flowers sent to work all the time, but I gotta tell you – this was well-timed indeed.  🙂

P.S. – The awesome photo in the background is from my friend Jax at Imagination Overload!

The Story of Us: Part 2

Find Part 1 here. This is part of a series called The Story of Us.

I think that the story of us actually needs a bit of  a lead-in – just a sliver of the story of me and how I came into the picture.

Although I have spent most of my life in New York state, I did call Nashville my home for a few brief and amazing years. I went to concerts, parties, more concerts, more parties, still more parties, more concerts… I was surrounded by music and fun people. I thought I was home for good.

And then I started to miss my family.

I sat alone on Thanksgiving morning 2005 and cried while I watched the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade and ate a Nutri-grain bar.  Although I loved Nashville, I decided that day that I had to move home.

About a year and a half later, I got laid off. I was not upset to receive the news – this was my chance and I was going home! In August of 2007, I moved in with a friend who lived in the hills outside of Ithaca. I had started putting out resumes and had secured a couple of promising phone interviews before I moved back. I assumed that, although I had a paltry severance package (6 weeks of pay), that momentum would keep right on rolling until it developed into a full-time job, and I would be working again in NO time.

Six weeks came and went.

In October, I still didn’t have a job.

My paltry severance package was running out and, at this point, the only communication I was receiving from potential employers was coming fast and furious in the form of boilerplate rejection letters wishing me the best of luck with my continued job search.

Then, one day, my phone rang. It was not a call to tell me how great my resume was and that I would be interviewing at Cornell the next week. It was PJ, the manager at a local magazine and tobacco store in Ithaca. I used to work at another branch of that magazine store – it was my first job right out of high school. PJ wanted to know why I hadn’t called her yet. I had completely forgotten that I reconnected with her when I was in Nashville – just in case nothing else came along.  Well, what luck. Nothing else had come along, and she had a full-time position open.

You can imagine that I was thrilled at the possibility of going back there. Thrilled at the prospect of slinging “dirty” magazines, tobacco, lotto, and coffee. Overjoyed at making close to minimum wage.

Still, low income was better for me than no income, and I took that job. My first day was in late October, 2007. It was temporary, you know?

Maybe a few weeks or a month. Just until I found another job.

The Story of Us: Part 1

I went to a cousin’s wedding last weekend. I sat with another cousin (I have several cousins, believe me. I have been to 5 cousin weddings in the past couple of years. Plus, my own wedding, which I will count, since I am a cousin.) and she was asking me about the story of me and Mr. Thor.  You see, we didn’t have a cousin wedding, where cousins could sit with other cousins and talk about still more cousins. We – SHH! – we eloped.

And it was awesome.

You may think that now, every awesome wedding I attend makes me regret not having a wedding. For example, at my most recent cousin’s wedding, the bridal party entered the reception to Star Wars music, and the groomsmen had light sabres.

But, see, I wouldn’t have thought of that. So there is no need for me to feel bad because I didn’t have a wedding. Instead, I feel good. Good about the man I married, good about the day I got married, and good about the dinner I ate that night. It was so fun, and so low-key, and so US – and isn’t that what the wedding is actually about, anyway?

So, some people don’t know the story of how two socially awkward weirdos who have never dated or been in relationships before met each other and fell in love and got married 4 or so years later.  We don’t have a particularly riveting story, but it’s ours… and I really, really like it.

So, I think that’s how I will start filling up my blog this November. I will write about the story of us.

 

happy monday.

Good Monday to ye.

This morning, I feel like I wound up on the wrong side of a steamroller. My lungs feel tired. It seems, somehow, I may have pulled a throat muscle.

That’s why Mr. Thor shouldn’t go away. Me being alone more often = me singing (and I mean, singing, like you shouldn’t even sing in the shower) more often = pulled throat muscle and possible tuberculosis.

What? I flunked out of math during the last two years of high school. And in college. Equations were never my strong suit.

I am bone tired. Dog tired. Dead tired. So tired, in fact, that not even the following euphoria-inducing news can induce any euphoria:

Mr. Thor comes home tonight!

Ok, I admit. I did feel the slightest bit of euphoria as I typed that.

Being alone for this week has reminded me what it was like when I was single. I specifically remember one really hard and frustrating day. I had just tried to get an oil change and couldn’t get in, and this happened after a few really other frustrating, crappy things like that. I pulled my car over in a parking lot and just sat there, asking my future husband where in tarnation he was, what was taking him so long, and could he please hurry because on a day like today? I really needed him.

I was always fine on my own. I got things done that needed to get done. I took care of business. But that doesn’t mean that I liked it. I always had that nagging sense that life would be more fun with a partner, especially if he was a partner-in-crime. And especially if he was 6 feet tall, hot, and blonde.

Come on, I’m human. And I was right! Mr. Thor kicks all kinds of butt. He is fun and funny and encouraging and so many other annoyingly gooey adjectives that I would lose readers of this blog if I typed them all out. He is truly my best friend, though. And he makes everything from eating dinner to getting the oil changed to grocery shopping a LOT more fun. Especially the part where he carries in the groceries and puts them away. I love that part!

So, happy Monday. I get my man back today! And, believe it or not, typing about all of that made me feel much better. More awake and happy. Almost euphoric, even.

Progress

Mr. Thor is away on business. Well, as business as one can be while at CES. I am sure he will be Mr. Business, since he is in Vegas for 8 days without his better half.

I don’t worry about Mr. Thor. He does his thing, and his thing is being awesome and amazing. That’s good enough for me.

I worry about me. I don’t like the dark. I don’t like being alone at night. I don’t like walking up the stairs with a dark house behind me.

I know, I know. These are the problems of a five-year-old, and no matter how hard I try to not be afraid of the dark, I just… still am. At least a little.

Mr. Thor actually stands in the dining room and leaves the light on until I get halfway up the stairs. Then he turns the light off and follows me up the stairs, so that I know I am safe with him behind me.

I can hear you throwing up from here, you know. He is  really that sweet. Even when I tell him not to wait for me, he does.

That was not supposed to be the point here today. The point, my lovelies, is that tonight, when I walked out to my car at 5:30pm in January? I was greeted by this:

It doesn’t look like much, I’ll grant you that. But to me it is hope. It is the beginning of the light at the end of the tunnel. The beginning of the end of having my headlights on at 5:30pm. The beginning of the end of a completely dark and cold one hour car ride home.

It’s not dark. It’s just… dim.