1/4 of a Century

Yesterday was Tyler Douglas Earley, III's birthday. He has seen a quarter of a century pass by him. He has seen wars and rumors of wars (but wait...we don't ever argue). He has seen times of famine (I cook sometimes, okay??) and times of sickness (proof that I do cook sometimes). He has seen relationships fall apart (it was a sad day when he said goodbye to Plants vs. Zombies because he felt like it just wasn't going anywhere once he had gotten to a certain level), has felt the coldness of a life gone too quickly (and then cut their heart out, literally), has recovered from a near heart-attack (after eating his week's worth of calories in one sitting at Five Guys) and has survived the biggest trial anyone could ever muster up in this seemingly god-forsaken world: Marriage to me.

Despite a life full of hardship and trials, however, Tyler Douglas Earley, III has managed to pull through a true hero. He still walks, he still breaths, and he still finds joy in the simple things -- just yesterday he discovered he loves cleaning the house. I nominate him for the Nobel Peace Prize.

But enough about his past. Let's talk about his present (as in the time, and not the gift), because to celebrate 25 long and fruitful years, we ventured into a land unknown for food which would prove to not only sustain us for the long winter as we hibernated in our little cave in Lebanon, but would lead us to stake a claim in the ever-growing obesity epidemic in America.

Yesterday, after I got done working, I arrived home to find my Nobel laureate sweeping the floor. I couldn't help but sweep him up and tell him that this was the best gift he could ever give me on his birthday. I then stepped back and officially declared the winter holiday season open. We were on vacation, baby! We loaded up our many, many suitcases into the little Acura, dropped off the plate of cookies someone had given to us the day before (but that we didn't have time to eat) to our downstairs neighbors (Happy Holidays) and headed up to Portland to seek out a highly recommended Italian gem.

An hour and a half later we arrived in the ghetto of Hillsboro. We hoped the food would be worth us risking our lives (and our trunk full of presents for all our fabulous readers). Nevertheless, we entered Nonna Emilia. The place was packed, and there were dancing babies on the padded booth benches. I'm not exaggerating. There was a creepy, bearded man in a Santa hat playing his accordion to these children's delight, and he must've delighted them for 25 minutes as we waited for our table. We looked at one another and read each other's thoughts: We hoped he would not come bring that delight to our table.

Luckily, we were soon whisked away to our table and given our menus. It was a gold star sticker day and there on the menu was Tyler's most favorite food an ingenious Italian had ever created -- the mozzarella stick! So we ordered that, as well as our entrees. Tyler got the chicken parmesan  and I got the whole wheat spaghetti with a side of two meatballs. We were starving. Soon our appetizer arrived with 12 beautiful  golden mozzarella sticks and marinara sauce. I quickly ate four. Tyler ate eight. Then our salads and garlic bread and antipasto made an appearance. By this time, I was already feeling just a little less hungry. Nevertheless, we ate our salads and our bread and our meats and cheeses (and yes, even sliced pickles and a baby carrot). Forty-five minutes later, we were feeling pretty loaded up. The only problem was that we kept on seeing people around us get their food, and the plates looked poised to feed a football team full of growth-spurtting middle school boys. We waited in fear.

Meanwhile, the creepy accordion man had made his way up to the area where our table was located. He approached the tables one by one, blasting his annoying instrument into the ears of people trying to peacefully down their prehistoric sized meatballs. Conveniently located on top of his accordion was a clip with money on it. So that was his  motive...riches and fame. We were so not going to contribute to this charade. Tyler scooted really close to me, and told me that if we looked like we were having an intense conversation, or a really romantic moment, maybe he wouldn't come bother us. I told him to just stay still and to not make eye contact. We could feel the bearded man's eyeballs burning into the backs of our heads. Yet we stayed strong. And we emerged victorious.

When the waitress brought our food, Tyler's chicken arrived on a plate the size of of my femur bone (with a side of ravioli) and my plate arrived as a mountain of noodles and sauce to the height of Mt. Kilimanjaro  My meatballs were as big as my head. We looked at each other in sheer amazement. To make a long story short, I think I ate three bites and could no longer move. Tyler might have eaten a couple more bites than that, even if he did eat twice as many mozzarella sticks as me. We had the waitress box up our barely dented pasta, paid the bill, and waddled out of there into the ghetto-fabulous night sky. It was a horrible feeling to be so full, but at the same time, it brought great peace and joy to our hearts, knowing we would not have to feed ourselves for the next five days. We imagined all the things we could do with that extra time and money -- go on a cruise, see the pyramids of Egypt, or sleep.

It was a good day, all and all. Tyler completed his 25th year trying to evade the sounds of a creepy Santa, and we enjoyed some good quality time together eating our next year's worth of fruitful harvest.
May his 25th year be full of fewer wars, less famine, less sickness, fewer heart attacks and dead bodies, and more full of cleaning the house.

Tyler Douglas Earley, III.....Happy Birthday. I love you.

One for the bucket list...

After our corn maze/farm adventure last Friday, Tyler and I added a life goal to our bucket list:

HAVE A PUMPKIN PATCH

We are determined to have a pumpkin patch big enough to supply the whole neighborhood with fabulous porch decorations. We'll serve hot apple cider from a small little stand. It will be grand.

We're gonna win a HOG!

UPDATE!!!:Before I begin, I should apologize for leaving those two people who read this blog hanging in regards to the murder next door. For all you know, we could've been dead, too. But, alas, we are not. And there is no dead body. Life has returned to its previous murder-less state. Apparently the peeps next door got evicted and left a bunch of *stuff* in their apartment, which attracted the flies. Let's just say that I am still not entirely convinced. I think this is the biggest cover up in this apartment complex's history. But each to their own.

Back to happier things...

Tyler and I set a goal to go on a date one night a week. This next week he jumps back into the thick of things, so he will be home a whole lot less, and we'll begin our, for the majority of the time, single lives again. So these date nights will be vital, as they will be the only time we will really be able to talk, or remember what each other looks like.

This last Friday I was itching to get out in the beautiful Fall weather. It is, after all, my favorite season, and has been 75 degrees with a slight breeze. Can it get any better? So I did what any Fall-loving girl would do in my situation -- I googled a local farm with a corn maze. And we went...

We were given punch cards, and if we found all six hidden scarecrows in the maze, we would be entered to win half of a HOGGGGGG! We were SO determined to win.

Tyler was a fearless map reader and route planner.

This is him singing, "We are the champions, my friend..." as he punched the holes in our third scarecrow. We were THAT hardcore.

I wanna live where the green grass grows. Watch my corn pop up in rows...

Who needs dinner, when you're surrounded by corn!

  We'll let ya'll know if we win that hog.

The Murder Next Door

I think there is a dead body next door.

In the building next to us, in the apartment that parallels ours, there lives a very loud, scary family. The mom routinely screams the F-Bomb to who I think is her husband/boyfriend/ex-husband/boyfriend/(insert here) over the phone for hours into the wee hours of the night. Her bedroom window is right next to our bedroom window. And then they smoke out on the balcony, allowing it to all blow lovingly into our apartment through our back door. It can go unsaid that we did not visit them on a regular basis to borrow a cup of sugar.

Well, the other day I was toodling around in our house, and I looked outside our living room window, which looks into their living room window. Their blinds were closed, but their window was open, with a screen. To my horror, I realized there were hundreds of flies swarming on the inside of the window, either directly on the blinds or between the screen and the window. They were undoubtedly inside the house, as well. I had never seen anything like it. I began to think about it, and realized I had not had heard any noise from that apartment for at least a week. I thought maybe they moved out, but I saw that the windows still had pictures taped to them. I waited for them to come home, because my first thought when I saw those flies was, "A DEAD BODY."

School has now started, and we have still not heard anything from the apartment. They had school-aged kids, so we assumed they would be back by now. But they are not.

At church today I was talking with the missionaries. They were knocking doors in our apartment complex and told us that they went up some stairs and there was a trail of blood going up them. I stopped, cold. Which building was it, I asked them. They said they thought it was the one right next to us, up to the top floor. My jaw dropped, and I told them about the flies. They started freaking out a little bit, as did I. I was now more convinced than ever that there was a dead body in there. Either that, or they killed a deer and dragged it up to their apartment to make beef jerky.

So here I sit, not sure of what to do. We may just send an email to management to tell them about the fly building, hoping that they look into it. Tyler suggested we say, "Dear management, there is a trail of blood up our neighbor's stairs, and their window is infested with flies. Please look into it. Thank you." I may just note the flies....

But we will keep you posted on this ongoing murder mystery. Because I am, after all, sure that that is what it is.

The crime scene is inside.

Our Story, Stage 1: The Beginning

I've gotten a lot of flack because I have never written anything on here much about our story of how we met, our engagement, wedding, etc. The reason really boils down to it simply being so much, that the idea of writing it is really quite overwhelming. But I'm going to try to write it in stages. So here is Stage 1 of Our Story: The Beginning.

It was late, and I was tired, but still had a car full of my life's belongings waiting for me to unload from my car. I reluctantly pulled up to my new apartment that late August night, and began carrying things up the stairs, one by one, probably vowing to never move again, maybe uttering a few curse words under my breath. My roommates weren't there yet, so I was left to the awful task of unloading on my own. Suddenly, out of nowhere, like Batman and Robin emerging form the dark of the night, two young men showed up next to my car and without hesitation, offered to carry up my framed Argentina pictures. I thankfully accepted the offer, and the two superheros began their accent up the stairs. One of them noticed my picture and asked about it. I told him that I served a mission in Argentina. His eyes lit up, and this sparked a 30 minute conversation about everything Argentine. He talked nonstop. The other one remained mostly mute. He probably said a word or two out of politeness. After the one quit talking, they introduced themselves as the ward's two elder's quorum presidents. I thanked them, and they left.

As the semester began, I found myself immersed in my last year of undergraduate work. I was busy. I was also best friends with my roommates, so I really didn't branch out that far to try to make new friends in our ward. Every now and then I saw the two guys who helped me move in that night. The talkative one, was of course, never without something to say to me. Having both served in Buenos Aires, he usually had something to say about Argentines or empanadas or whatever it might be that day. I spoke with the other much less frequently. He was quiet, reserved, and somewhat guarded it seemed. Every and now and then, at ward activities, we would end up next to each other. Out of politeness, I usually asked him how school was going (not knowing anything else about it him enough to go beyond that) and he would proceed to tell me about his research he was doing. Having only asked out of politeness, and having the information go a little over my head, I usually did my best to bring my roommate, Katie, into the conversation, hoping that the two of them could continue, and I could sneak off home to eat a cookie or something. This quiet boy would later claim that I once literally said, "Here! Talk to my my roommate Katie!" and then quickly left, after beginning a conversation with him. I would beg to differ, but one cannot be too sure. After so many times of this guy talking with my roommate, I just naturally assumed they would be perfect for each other and thought no more of it. Our conversations never went beyond these encounters.

In December, a week before finals were to begin, I was out cleaning our front door. We had been hit with the awful news that cleaning checks would be that week, and we were forced to clean our apartment from head to toe. I won't deny that it badly, BADLY, needed it, but that still didn't make it any fun. I was in grunge clothes and probably had a bad attitude when the quiet, science nerd showed up at my door with a plate of food. He was in a dinner group with one of my roommates and had brought her share since she was unable to go. We exchanged hellos, and he left. It was the weirdest thing, but I had this strange inkling that he was maybe going to ask me out. 

Later that night, my phone rang, and it was him. He asked me how I was doing, and then got down to business. He was straightforward and said, "I want to ask you out on a date with me. Will you go?" Having previously made the rule that I would never turn down a first date, I said yes, even though I just didn't see any potential in a relationship, not because he was a bad guy, but because we just didn't seem to have any previous connection. He told me it was going to be a double date with his roommate. 

That Friday night, he picked me up to drive up to Salt Lake City. I remember being so nervous getting ready, since it had been awhile since I had been on a date. I was wearing my smelly, SMELLY flats and my roommate had tried to suppress the smell with a maxipad in the soles of the shoes. I don't remember a whole lot about the drive up to SLC, but I remember that he was very polite, and asked me a lot of questions. He seemed genuinely interested in me, and that was both flattering and refreshing. Oh, and he got lost multiple times on the trip, but I didn't hold it against him.We did end up making it to the Cheesecake Factory. Apparently we were coming here for a full on dinner and cheesecake experience, followed by the Forgotten Carols with Michael McLean. I must say that I was a little blown away with how much of his wallet he put into this date, having never gone on a date with me before (later I would find out that he was too busy with school to date much that semester, so I chalk it up to a surplus of date money!) Dinner was pleasant, and I've always loved the Forgotten Carols. I don't remember all the details, but I remember as we were walking to our seat, he put his hand on the small of my back to sort of guide me up the stairs, and I was impressed by how much of a gentleman he was. 

When he dropped me off at my apartment after our date, I decided that I had had a good time, and that this guy was nice, but that we still just didn't have a connection. We were so different. I didn't have anything negative to say about the date or him, but I also wasn't about to gush about our amazing chemistry or our wedding date to my roommates. In my mind, life was going to continue on as normal. It was just another date. When I went into my room that night, however, I was about to throw away the program to the concert, when I got this distinct feeling that I should hold onto it. Everything logic in me said to just toss it, but I remember putting it in the drawer, nevertheless. 

I went home to Oregon for Christmas and he stayed to spend Christmas at home with his family in Utah, as well as work. I didn't think I would necessarily hear from him again, but he began texting me over the break, and sending me Facebook messages asking how things were going there. He was obviously interested at this point, and I began wondering if I could be, too. I spent a good while scouring his Facebook page, of course. And somehow we began sharing funny stories from our vacations over Facebook, me in Spanish to him, and him in Italian to me, both us using Google Translate to interpret. My mom (as all moms seem to know) knew that he was interested in me, and was very encouraging of the whole idea. I think at this point she had begun to worry about me....On New Year's Eve, he texted me at 11pm PST, "Happy New Year from the future..." since he was an hour ahead in Utah. I read this to my mom, to which she responded, "Is he saying he wants to spend New Years with you in the future?????" "Of course not, MOM," I quickly replied. 

At some point over the break, he asked if I needed a ride home from the airport. I really did need a ride, so I told him I did. He agreed to pick me up. Keep in mind that we had only had one date at this point, and before that, our conversations have consisted of me pushing my roommate onto him. I bought him an Oregon Duck's hat and T-shirt set as a gift for picking me up, and when I got off the plane, he was at baggage claim waiting for me. We kind of did a (VERY) awkward sideways hug, the type you do when you feel like the situation requires it but you don't really know each other. And then as we were waiting for my bags, I pulled out the gift and quickly said, "Oh. This is for you." He didn't really know how to respond, and ended up responding with another (VERY) awkward sideways hug. And then we just stood there in silence, waiting for my suitcase to roll around. Thus began my relationship with Tyler Earley. My husband.

An Unlikely Pairing...

It's almost officially Fall -- and I'm loving it! Although I'm sitting here scratching my head, trying to figure out where summer went. It went by fast. Usually this is reason for outcry and protest, but today I'm not too disappointed. Cooler weather will be quite the relief after a summer of living in an un-airconditioned apartment with chain smokers performing their habit outside of our open windows. And I had to work all summer anyway, so it's not like I'm mourning the loss of my killer vacation tan, either. We did, after all, go to the South Pole during our one opportunity to get one. Call us crazy.

Meanwhile, our life has stayed busy with school, work, and family events. "Family events" is a new concept to me, since I have spent the majority of the last seven years away during these times, mourning and moping, simply wishing I could be there. I even a remember a picture or two being texted to me during various family get togethers, with the intention to get me to drop out of school and move home, I am sure. Luckily I resisted. But it was tempting.

Now, living only 30 min. away from the closest family, summer has brought many opportunities to get together with the crazies! Recently, we went down to Roseburg to can peaches and pears for Labor Day Weekend. We also went to a elementary/middle/high school friend's wedding. I was the designated driver for the bachelorette party. Wine tasting is becoming quite the thing to do in the Umpqua Valley. It's what people do when they're not shooting deer. Naturally. My cousin was baptized yesterday, so the family, once again, convened for more cookies and cake than humans can possibly consume without keeling over dead.

Tyler is a teaching assistant for his anatomy course, which means that when they take the tests, he's already "been there, done that!" He gets to be home  a lot more, which we love, but then it also kind of freaks him out because he feels like he should "be doing something more." I'll admit. That is one of the worst things about being a student -- there is always something you technically can be studying. He's trying to still enjoy this lull, though, since mid-October he'll be thrown back into the thick of things for the head/neck portion of anatomy. And then there begins my widow-hood, once again. Luckily he still has his skeletal friend, Earl, at home to keep me company...

In other news, my dad and I went to Portland last Tuesday to see Missy Higgins in concert! I took him for his birthday, and I'll be honest, given the fact that he had no idea who she was, it was more for me than him. Happy birthday to me! But it was still fun to go up there with him. My aunt and uncle live up by the University of Portland and got to go see their house and then go to this awesome BBQ place in the super trendy neighborhood where the concert was. The concert was in the Wonder Ballroom. If it weren't for having to stand for the whole concert, it would have been epic. But it was still pretty close to epic. AMAZING music. I love Portland. Keeping it weird.

Kind of blurry, but you can see how the majority of the people got to the concert that night.

As of Late

Tyler and I went to the Benton County Fair and watched a little hometown action.

Naturally.

Not the most exhilarating exhibit...

This was our view for the Sara Evans concert at the fair. ...and they cannot lie!

Someone got an empty doctor's bag for all of those housecalls he's going to make at 2am, riding his buggy through the pot-hole filled cow pastures.

Western University of Health Sciences White Coat Ceremony 2012

Tyler prepares...

And he scoreeeeeeeeeeees!

Oh yeah, baby.

Pomp and Circumstance

What this picture doesn't show, is that 85% of the class had a hard time getting them open.

Me and the Dewey waiting outside the Timpanogos temple for Bethany to come out on her wedding day!

And here they come!

Our quick weekend trip to Utah proved fruitful, when we caught up with my  mission companion Manny, and rode her horses with two Argentine girls. Tyler was a natural.

Flor and her friend!

The Argentina girls!