Grace and dignity.

I try to handle every situation with grace and dignity.

I'm not always successful, but I try.

Yesterday, I went to the store. I got back around the time that the church in front of my house let out. My dog ran out the front door, and I picked her up and threw her back into the house.

In the process, my front door tried to close on its own, but luckily my big toe was there to stop it.

I might have yelled a cuss word that begins with "F" really, really loud. And, you know,  people who were just in God's house may have looked at me funny.

I failed at the whole grace and dignity thing, dropped my groceries and almost lost my dog in the process.

Oh well. There's always tomorrow.

(For what it's worth, my door scraped my toe nail polish off of that toe. It deserved a cuss word. I'm not sorry.)

And we danced.

I had the honor of watching two little goobers this morning for a few hours.

We went to the zoo, we got drinks, we ate crackers, and we played with an empty box, an alarm clock, and old newspapers.

Toys weren't a big hit today.

My favorite part of the morning, by far, was our dancing.

They both like music. I recently got my Bose out and found some old iPods. I turned the music up - way up - and we danced.

We danced like three nerds with the living room curtains closed.

We danced to fast songs, country songs and rap songs. When slow songs came on, I scooped them in my arms and "taught" them to slow dance.

I explained how to two-step, too. I gave them relationship advice and told them to not ever settle or dance with stupid boys. (They're not even 2, so I have to keep working on that advice.)

We twirled around and they smiled, giggled, tapped their feet and shook their baby booties.

We got down.

I love them.

Everyone should dance like that every once in a while.

Metaphor

It's been a hard week.

It's one of those weeks where a broken down rendering truck on the highway that runs through your town kind of describes your life.

Maybe next week will be better.

Tunes

I'm starting to unpack the final boxes in my house.

They're shoved into an upstairs room, in the corner. I found my old iPod, among other things.

It was the first iPod I ever got. I paid a ridiculous amount for it in college, and now it looks ancient.

The thing is, it still works!

I spent this evening listening to tunes and re-arranging my house.

Things are looking up. My house is starting to look like a home. 

Sometimes I have to stop myself and tell myself, silently, that I have an anxiety disorder.

It's okay if there's dust in my house. It's okay if I'm a little late once in a while.

The world will not end if things don't go my way.

Stay

I was thinking about this last night.

After my friends get married, a few months after the ceremony and reception, I always ask them how they knew they married the right person.

I'm single and prospecting, as one of my co-workers put it this morning (ha, ha). I ask my friends that question because I don't know the answer.

My oldest and best friend had my favorite answer. I remember that conversation like it happened yesterday.

We were sitting in a garage last summer, playing with dogs. I was talking about my personal life - which doesn't happen very often - and I remember specifically what she said to me on how she knew she picked the right person to marry.

"He stayed."

It's a simple answer.

All you have to do is find someone who will stay? I always thought there was some unknown magic trick to love (or something like that...).

It turns out that nope, there's no magic trick or formula.

All they have to do is stay.

Last summer, I thought that answer was bullshit. There has to be some way to know, I thought. 

I get it now. Staying is important.

One of the consequences and side effects of being human is finding a person who won't stay.

When I look at my married friends, how happy they are and how their spouses blend seamlessly into our group of friends, I have a little glimmer of hope.

Eventually, someone will stay.

Eventually.

Me too.

House!

I've been in my house for more than a month now.

I made my first mortgage payment this week. Hooray, I'm officially a grown up!

Here are some random thoughts and observations.

1. My dog doesn't like trains.

2. My dog doesn't like locusts.

3. My dog loves her backyard. It's her domain.

4. Houses are expensive.

5. When I fix something, five other things go wrong.

6. Chainsaws are kind of fun.

7. I'm pretty sure my Dad knows everything, and has a tool for everything. 

8. My Mom knows a lot, too.

9. I'm pretty sure I hit the parent lottery.