On settling.

Moving into our own apartment has been one little exciting thing after another. We're still in the process of vacating our old apartment, dealing with the unprofessionalism of that management company, but knowing I get to come home to our own little corner makes the whole day wipe away as soon as I turn my key in the door.

Mike's been out of town a couple of days this week going to Yankee games and generally soaking up the rest of his summer vacation before his new job starts, so I've had a chance to get some alone time in our very own space. It's so lovely and quiet here. I loved being right in the heart of Inman--ice cream, pizza, post office, coffee shop, bus stop all within reach!--but there's something to be said about going a little off the beaten path where there are actual neighbors instead of bars and convenience stores. Our neighbors have a grapevine and peach trees that hang over the fence between us. I'm figuring out ways to befriend them so our end of summer can be cobbler and muffin scented.

What I love most.

I have this feeling like we could be anywhere, any time of day, and even if I've slammed my finger in the window, you will find a way to make me smile.

Guest Post: What I Need

Today I'm working from home, enjoying more rainy days and baking birthday goodies in the background. I can't believe that this will be the second birthday of Mike's that I get to celebrate with him. I remember, right before I met him, saying to myself, "I'm so glad I'm single right now. I have all the time in the world!" Then, BAM, there he was. Things started without my fully understanding what was happening and before I knew it, I was in the throes of the real deal. Through it all, Cyndi's been one of my sounding boards. I've come to her with my insecurities and she has soothed me (or empathized) with me through them. These days Cyndi has a beau of her own, and it seems the lessons just keep on coming. Without further ado, I'm excited to present my first guest post from one of my oldest, bestest friends. 

I’m perhaps in my first adult relationship. There’s no “perhaps,” who am I kidding? I am in my first adult relationship, and I’m bad at it. I’m comically, tragically, stars aligned but I twist and turn them until they’re misaligned, bad at it. I’m a bad communicator, and vulnerability makes me squeal and squirm like I’m about to be waterboarded, and those are not excellent qualities in a sustained romantic endeavor.

But along the way, because so far I haven’t ended it or run away, and for me that’s all the stars in the galaxy gigantic, I’ve learned about what I need in a partner. I’ve learned a lot about what I need in a partner. And to each partner her own needs, but I thought I’d share mine, put them out there raw and vulnerable-like, as though putting it down in words will make them okay, smash Hulk style the fear and shame I associate with them.

I need a partner who is attentive--intensely and passionately attentive but not needy. Someone who wants to be around me, talk to me, see me, touch me, be with me so often we’re a cocoon of gross love falling but who doesn’t need that. Just wants it.

I need a partner who is patient, who sees my problems with vulnerability and raises me patience – because ultimately, eventually, I will talk about what’s bothering me. In fact, I can’t sleep, focus, do anything until I finally talk. It just takes me a while, sometimes a great, long, infinity while, to get up the nerve to say, “I feel vulnerable and here’s why.” 

I need a partner who is silly, who is completely and utterly unafraid to laugh and giggle and joke and tease and tickle and play and frolic and smile and run with wild abandon to the swings on a playground meant for small people 1/5 our age and just be silly. I’m joyous and fun-loving at my best, and I need a partner who likes that, embraces that and shares it. 

I need a partner who likes to do things, active things, sedentary things (in my living room wine tastings, for example), all things. I need a partner who is adventurous. If given the space and freedom, I will plan 22 dates on top of each other, all one right after the next, a series of big and small and outdoor and indoor and new and silly and adventurous and romantical dates that have been piling in my head, a mountainous to-do list for which the only remaining ingredient has been the perfect partner in crime.

I need a partner who makes me feel more secure than maybe seems normal, that maybe is what women say they need right before being misappropriated as “crazy.” I need a partner who reaffirms his affections, physically and with words and with actions and with deed. I’m finding a minefield of insecurities as I stumble through this relationship thing, insecurities I buried or wasn’t self-aware enough to recognize as insecurities in my younger relationships, and while the impetus is on me to address them (and I’m working on it, oh I am!), I need someone who is going to look me in the eye and say, “I’m not running.” Because it makes me a little less scared to stay.

I need a partner who uses words and shares words with me, who is not necessarily a poet emeritus (because who reads poetry anyway?) but who says to me, and says to me often, what I do to him, what I make him feel, what he likes about me, what turns him on, what turns him off, a partner that basks in words because words, simply words, is how I love and how I relate (except when I feel scared or vulnerable, in which case words get caught in the vast throbbing, hurting place between my chest and my throat, and I just can’t until I can).

I need a partner who lets me be me, which is simple and cliché, but it’s not and it’s not. It’s hard to find, and it’s the ultimate. It’s freeing, and it trumps all my fears and insecurities and tells them to lay dormant because I can be me, and I can embrace all that I am, and that is enough and he will like me because of it all. And that’s the biggest need of all. And the biggest thing I can give in return.

And I need a partner who shares with me his needs because I want to meet them and be there for him and give him the space and freedom to be all that he is and wants to be.

In this new adult relationship thing, I’ve adjusted my expectations and I’ve watched myself grow, and I’ve forced myself to communicate, just a little at a time (I’m a firm believer in baby steps), and because of that, I am okay at this and forgiving myself for not being a natural and getting better, a little better, every day. And he accepts that and me and is patient and is kind and is silly and lets me plan things and goes on adventures with me as simple as laughing in the rain.

And I like that. And I like him.

The give and take of adulthood.

Some days I just feel like the biggest dummy at work. Turns out, being an adult just means being able to lick your own wounds, all while you lift up that chin, tell yourself you're good enough, and move forward. Luckily, it also means eating cereal for dinner and ice cream for breakfast.

So today, I'm making some decisions. Today I won't feel bad for asking too many questions, for curiosity and a growing capacity for knowledge. Today I won't say no to a second cup of coffee, to a long, tight hug, to a second read of an old letter. Today, I'll take a slow and meandering walk without headphones, without cameras, without agenda.

This woman reminded me that I am too hard on myself sometimes. And, sometimes, what we think of ourselves can color the ways we think of others. So, today, I'm choosing to see myself happy, content, smart, and exactly as I should be, right here, right now.

Boyfriend loot.

Monday night I got a text from Mike that said, "Do you need another loaf pan? I found two at Sal's (his pet name for Salvation Army), a yellow and a clear Pyrex one." Two hours later I got a series of texts that revealed his loot: four Mason jars (with glass hinge lids!), both loaf pans (he does love my banana bread), and this bright and sunny orange daisy Pyrex mixing bowl. We've been storing stuff we buy for now since our current apartment is a little stuffed at the moment, but our first day in our new apartment I'm making us waffles in that bowl. Well, the batter anyway.

Today is a beautiful windy day in the 60s. Last night's walk to the bus stop after work was balmy; it felt like the first days of fall rather than the last days of winter. And even though there's overnight snow predicted, I'm soaking up today for what it is, whether that's a fluke or an omen.

Have you heard this song? I keep listening to it.

Everything we say we'll do.

Last night was Valentine's Day II: dinner at Koreana (Korean BBQ is amazing), candlepin bowling and beer at Sacco's Bowl Haven, then homemade peanut butter cup ice cream at home and cuddling on the couch. It was fun giving Mike his scratch tickets with each new clue and seeing his face light up when he realized what each new thing was. We've been saying we wanted to go to Koreana for a while now--same for Sacco's--and last night was as good an excuse as any. Funny story about Koreana's BBQ: the servers cook the food for you. However, I was under the impression that we were in charge of the cooking. So there was an uncomfy moment when I was moving the meat around and the server walked up. I took the hint and put the tongs down, which she promptly picked up and, you know, did her job. (I'd even sent a text to Jenna asking what we were supposed to do, or not do, but she didn't respond in time.) I was only embarrassed until I took the first bite; there's no embarrassment in heaven. 

Candlepin bowling is not easy, but it is fun. And nothing beats looking ridiculous with your boot socks sticking out of bowling shoes. This morning I slept in until 7 and decided to take the later bus to work (the 8:26 instead of the 8:06) so I could make some oatmeal and coffee and have some quiet moments before the day started. Mike and I stopped at the library last night before the festivities and I picked up Congenial Spirits: The Selected Letters of Virginia Woolf. Lately I just want to read and write letters, and I always mean to pick up a book of letters from a great female writer. I guess these days I'm finally getting around to all those things I always said I'd do. What's next? Europe? 

In which I want to move (again).

Today I am working from Jenna's home (with Jenna this time!) and trying to focus on work instead of apartment headaches. They really are like migraines: they come out of nowhere, last several hours, and make me sick to my stomach. Luckily time seems to be flying by (it's mid-February, whaaaaat?) so daydreams of a new apartment (i.e., new landlord) won't be so for too much longer.

And when I can't focus on work, I'm focusing on tonight's festivities: Valentine's Day II. It's my turn to plan the night (last night Mike cooked a delicious dinner for me, then we took a cake to his sister for her birthday). We're hitting up Koreana for some Korean BBQ (and kimchee!!), then to Sacco's for candlepin, then home for some homemade ice cream and top notch cuddling. We spend a lot of time together, but sometimes it's nice to actually put a dress on and go out on a date. Nothing like a Valentine's Day encore to get through hump day.

The feeling of a Monday morning.

1. Pioneer Valley Flea Market, got some great finds 2. Started in on my new yarn loot 3. Foamy latte to ease into Monday morning. 

No one really likes Monday mornings, being thrust back into the real world of alarm clocks and deadlines, but I have a special aversion to them because it's the day Mike heads back west for work. We spent the weekend in Ludlow and came back to Cambridge yesterday afternoon for a leisurely night looking at apartments for September, making dinner, and watching Law & Order: SVU while I sewed a curtain for one of our windows. He's up at 5:35 on Mondays and leaves before I'm even fully aware what's happened, and it always leaves me feeling like I've forgotten to do something for the rest of the day. I know it's healthy to miss someone, but I can't wait for the days when we officially live in the same zip code full-time. Until then, my heart grows fonder.

Reasons to celebrate.

I'm not going to lie; I couldn't care any less for football, the Super Bowl, TV ads, or Madonna. (OK, I have a soft spot for The Immaculate Collection, but beyond that, meh.) What I do love, however: any reason to bake, oatmeal raisin cookies (specifically, these), buffalo wings (specifically, these), and Mike, who is a giant Giants fan (you're welcome). We watched the game in a studio apartment full of Pats fans, so luckily Mike has good sportsmanship and disappeared to the bathroom to celebrate. When we got in the car to go home afterward, he apologized in advance for yelling, "GMEN! Yuppp!!" It was pretty adorable. 

When we got home he asked me to take a picture of him smiling in his Giants Snuggie. I must say, I'm warming up to this whole football thing. 

(365 Chances) #4: Right when you need it, it snows.

This weekend was exactly what I needed. Between apartment headaches (migraines, really) and the subsequent growing distaste for my living situation (despite loving my roommates), I needed a weekend away. Our first anniversary turned out to be the perfect excuse to get away. Saturday we headed up to Keene, New Hampshire, to visit friends and take advantage of Mike's dad's Holiday Inn points. We enjoyed the snowy views, went thrift store shopping, ate Thai food, had a decadent dessert at Burdick Chocolate, and played darts in Bellows Falls, VT. The next day we saw Beauty and the Beast in 3D (Mike's favorite Disney movie), then headed to Brattleboro, VT, for our second night at of Holiday Inn Express hopping, this time with a big jacuzzi right there in the room with us. That night we had dinner and bowling with friends, then settled in for a night of Don't Break the Ice, one of Mike's thrift purchases. 

If you're ever in one of these areas, I definitely recommend More Than a Thrift Store in Keene, NH; Burdick Chocolate in Walpole, NH; Fireworks, Mocha Joes, and Twice Upon a Time in downtown Brattleboro, VT; and Brattleboro Bowl in Brattleboro. 

Best of all, it was wonderful to feel just as crazy about that man as I was a year ago when he drove into Cambridge from Western Mass for our first date. And last night, as we readied ourselves for bed, it started to snow. I'm a lucky, lucky, happy, happy girl. 

PS - I'm myarbrough on Instagram!

My Day in Instagrams: Working From Home Edition

I head south of the Mason-Dixon tomorrow for the holidays, so today is spent antsy to be done with work and waiting. So excited for the days to come, for the kind of relaxation that can only happen when you are home in the company of those that share your DNA, for better or worse. I'm excited for Mike to meet my family, to have so many aspects of my personality explained, amplified. And I'm excited for my family to meet the man that has made this past year so different than all the others that came before. I'm ready, again, for the two lives I've lived to come together, if only for a while, as one, for better or worse.

This is what an antsy day of working from home looks like.

 A little midafternoon snack of cider donuts from Randall's Farm in Ludlow and hot coffee.

 Patiently waiting for water to boil. 

 My life these days. 

 Leftovers from a dinner party. 

 The late afternoon sun. 

The teapot and stove are still clean! A Christmas miracle!

Follow me on Instagram at myarbrough. 

'Tis the season-ish.

We did it! After spending the whole weekend with it hanging over our heads, we finally booked our plane tickets to Georgia for Christmas (well, right after Christmas for Mike). I'm glad to have that crossed off my to-do list, but I'm avoiding figuring out how long it'll take to pay off the credit charge.

So, in a little over a month I'll be headed back to Georgia to see this little munchkin:

I love the very visible digression of her patience with photos.

This weekend was wonderful. From a date night to a Saturday-long double date with Jennatron and multiple coffee shop hang out sessions, I feel refreshed and, for the first time in a while, as though the weekend was long enough. I finally finished a draft of a story and sent it out to my writing group, which is a major accomplishment these days. I haven't been making my writing the priority it ought to be, so it felt good to plant ourselves at Lyndell's and tap away at my computer with Mike's smiling face just across the table from me.

Then we went to the mall so I could buy black jeans. I love that wonderful, patient man.

I'm currently fighting off a weird cold thing that includes a scratchy throat, congestion in my chest, and waves of heat that make me want to take my temperature when I get home. 'Tis the season, I suppose. I plan to hole up in my apartment watching Mad Men and Gilmore Girls, reading submissions for tomorrow's writing group, writing my final piece for TNGG: Boston, and eating a $5 pizza from Oggi's in Harvard Square. Take that, Monday!

My kind of romance.

Friday night, Mike and I went on a date to Midwest Grill, a Brazilian BBQ place down the street. Basically, it's a hot and cold buffet -- salad, rice, vegetables, etc. Then, cooks come around with skewers of meat that they slice onto your plate. We had lamb, bacon-wrapped chicken, pork, short ribs, garlic bread, and pineapple from skewers. I can't wait to bake pineapple with cinnamon on it; it was delicious.

Anyway, we decided to go for a walk to Harvard Square after dinner to help our bodies get into the digesting mood (and to ward off any food comas). It was chilly, and we walked half the way with our hands in our pockets. I noticed at some point that Mike had pulled out a pair of gloves from his pocket, and put one onto his right hand. Then he reached over and handed me the other glove to wear on my left hand while we held hands. Movies show diamonds and flowers, chocolates and grand gestures, but I love simpler flavors of romance.

This is how I will know (if he really loves me)

Mike and I are sitting in the glow of our computer screens on our respective couches, depressed at the thought of dropping almost half a grand for plane tickets to Georgia for Christmas. So, not only does he have to venture south of the Mason-Dixon to meet my tobacco chewing, y'all saying, Southern Baptist brood, but he has to dig a little hole of debt to do so.

I think I finally found the answer to Whitney's question.

I'm so heavy, heavy in your arms.

I was a heavy heart to carry // My feet dragged across the ground // My love has concrete feet // My love is an iron bar // Wrapped around your ankles over the waterfall // I'm so heavy, heavy, heavy in your arms


I've felt like this so many times over the past nine months. I've never had to admit the deepest parts of me the way I have with Mike. For the first time, he holds me accountable for my anger, for my hurt; he asks and expects me to answer. He expects me to hold him accountable, and he notices when I am not myself.

I have this thing with ex-girlfriends. Meg and I used to jokingly sing, All my exes live in California, because as the story has gone before, they've moved out there to be with their significant exes. It's not a particularly fresh story or complaint, but it has been my experience. And being the sensitive, prone-to-tears at the slightest change of emotional temperature person that I am, it has colored my experiences with Mike. In the light of day, with puffy eyes, I come to the realization (again and again) that I am among the luckiest to be learning these lessons about myself and relationships with such a good man. He is gentle and patient, and I am learning to be articulate and calm and patient, with others as well as with myself.

I am prone to tears in moments of great emotion, and I am learning to stop apologizing.

Nail-biting.

Last night was rough. The tornadoes in Massachusetts touched down in the towns right next to where Mike lives. His phone battery kept dying, so I kept not being able to get in touch with him, so I stayed glued to the news on my computer as though a banner would appear saying, "It's okay, Mel, Mike's alright." Several phone calls and text messages later, I was kind of a mess. All night I built up a pressure inside of me that culminated in a weepy Mel after I hung up the phone with Mike right before bed. Luckily I woke up to the sun and news that he's packed a bunch of bags and is bringing them to the shelter in Monson, but still it was a rough night. My new roommie Meg was moving in last night, and it was such a comfort having her there while I fretted and mopped the kitchen and bathroom to keep distracted. Guh.

Today's another beautiful day, but it's dampened a bit by the knowledge that the communities I've grown to love via Mike are suffering. Schools are canceled, the National Guard was called in for search and rescue, and Governor Patrick declared it a state of emergency. I'm going to do some more cleaning tonight, and pack up some things I can donate when I visit Mike this weekend.

Meg and I tried to make the best of the night, watching the lightning and listening to music and hula hooping in the kitchen after burgers from the Druid. I set up my camera on the tripod and took a few pictures of Meg, testing out some slower shutter speeds. It's pretty expensive getting film developed (way more than it used to be!), so I'm trying to be more selective, but I can't help but want to try out all the little options on the thing. Oh well, I spent next to nothing on the actual camera, so I can invest a little bit into learning.

I want to break out my new sewing machine tonight, and do a little trial and error (probably more error than trial, I'm sure). It's just going to be a quiet night at home, enjoying the knowledge that my love is safe.

What are your plans for the almost weekend? (I can't believe it's already Thursday!)

Already Wednesday.

I cannot believe that it's already halfway through the week, let alone the day! Yesterday was a whirlwind but a fun day moving into my new big and breezy room and hanging with Mike. I am the luckiest girl. He arrived a little after four and we set up my new stand-alone closet (well, new-to-me), bookshelves, and my bed. He is so efficient and kept me focused (well, did his best anyway). We laughed through the whole process, which was my favorite part. I love falling more in love with him, even through the mundane and sometimes tedious tasks of everyday life. It's such a novelty to me, and I find myself soaking it in every chance I get (which is a lot with him)! Guh.

Today it's back to the office and back to the grind, but I'm still flying a little bit on yesterday's high. We had a romantic dinner at my favorite pizza place, City Girl Cafe. We had basilico pizza, caesar salad, white bean and sausage soup, a hefeweissen Tucher, and a Peroni. It was the perfect break from moving. Afterward we took a trip to Target where we gallivanted (according to Mike), getting a lot of things in the summer aisle for real cheap and then grabbing some underbed storage and toilet paper so we didn't feel too frivolous. I slept so soundly with the cool breeze that I didn't wake up this morning until Mike was kissing me goodbye. Then I just lay there, looking out the window at the coming day and smiling to myself. Now it's all DART reports and blogger recruiting, but what a glorious start! I'm looking forward to my lunch of leftover pizza so I can daydream back to my perfect night.

What'd you do on your Tuesday that was really Monday?

Framed.

Mike and I wrote a short story together a while ago and yesterday he gave it to me in a frame. Adorable and perfect.

Writing group tonight, and it will be the second night in a row when I drink coffee after 5 PM, usually a no-no. Spent the morning trying not to fall out of my seat as I slept on the bus and the train, so I'll have to do some reading on the commute after work.

I love the researching and writing aspects of my job. I love the feeling of sitting down to write a blog post or figure out what I'm going to write about next. Another aspect of the job that I don't love so much? Interviewing experts in IT to give my blog posts context, clarity and compelling quotes. I'm terrified of other people, apparently. Today I had my second ever phone interview, and it ended up going well. Though I spent a good forty-five minutes sweating from my palms and studying on everything that could possibly come up and jotting down possible questions, I felt relaxed. I even made a joke that made him laugh! I think I got some good stuff, so when I'm done frantically finishing some other stuff, I get to sit down, relax, and write.

Consider that blessing counted.