kayla aimee: only slightly neurotic

Good Tidings To All

2009-12-25T13:28:27-05:00

Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord.

This is our Christmas card for this year. I sincerely wish I could have sent it to all of you that read this blog, but the cost of stamps would have bankrupted me! Seriously, stamps are expensive y'all! But if you'd like to have the bookmark, you can print it using this link: View this photo

Merry Christmas!

Merry and Joy

2009-12-24T10:23:48-05:00

Loving this song this season. You can listen to it free here. Merry, Merry.

Empty manger, perfect stranger, about to be born
Into darkness, sadness, desperate madness, creation so torn
We were so lost on earth, no peace, no worth, no way to escape
In fear, no faith, no hope, no grace, and no light
But that was the night before Christmas

Warm hay, cold sweat, a mother, not yet, praying Godspeed the dawn
She looks to her man, holding her hand, they wonder how long
And the shepherds, wise men come to find them, and bow to a king
One star above shining on love, so bright it lit up the night before Christmas

And the world didn’t know mercy was meek and so mild
And the world didn’t know that truth was as pure as a child
And the world didn’t know, redemption was sweet and so strong
And the world didn’t know salvation was writing a song
The night before Christmas

A little game I like to call Red Light, Green Light...Crazy

2009-12-23T00:05:00-05:00

I'm sitting at a stoplight, frusterated* because I'm running late for work, when I remember that I have the CD Cherany sent me in my purse. I dig it out and push it into the CD player, thinking that Christmas music will cheer me up. Especially because this Christmas music is being sung by the Celtic Women and nothing cheers me up more than seeing that spritely blonde chick jig around the stage while playing her violin. So obviously the CD is the next best thing.

The problem is, my car is old. And finicky. And when it gets cold outside it likes to take the CD for a moment and then spit it back out at me at a surprisingly high speed. That's right. My car randomly launches CDs at me. Occasionally I can trick it into taking the CD if I blow hot air on the CD first and then hit the dashboard a few times while I'm pressing play. I tried that a few times to no avail.

It was during my sixth attempt that I noticed the gentleman in the car next to me.

I realize that it was probably quite a shock to him, pulling up next to a little young lady only to find me bashing the heckfire out of my dashboard while yelling "Take it! TAKE IT!" at my center console. Unfortunately for him, this is a pretty small town and until I get knocked up that crazy could be lurking anywhere. Like at the stoplight. Or Publix.

* I know that's not how you spell frustrated but that is how I say it and I think that is how it should spelled. If I had any pull at all with Merriam or Webster, this would have been changed years ago.

Home Before and After: Dining Room Set Part One

2009-12-22T09:29:17-05:00

I've been spending nearly every evening for the past few weeks refinishing my late grandmother's dining room set. I've still got six chairs to go so please remember me and my sanity in your prayers. I did finish the hutch.

Isn't it so pretty? Sorry for the grainy picture, but there is no good light in our dining room and I'm the only scrapbooker in the world who still uses a point and shoot.

I am so excited with the way it came out. I love that we have a piece of my family's history in our home that blends with our style. I spent a lot of Thanksgiving and Christmas dinners with this dining room set, so it makes me so happy to have it finished and ready to use for Christmas at our house this year.

In other happy news, today is my 3 year anniversary! With my husband I mean, not with the hutch. That would be awkward.

I love you, Jeff.

Got Milk?

2009-12-21T13:13:00-05:00

I'm either PMSing or pregnant and either way it means a load of stress for my poor husband. I'm pretty sure it's PMS seeing as how last night I strung together a list of pseduo curse words a mile long and slammed the front door before I sped off in the car, leaving a baffled Jeff standing in the kitchen holding a half empty carton of milk. I'm not quite sure what what set me off.

One minute I was sitting on the couch reading a Sookie Stackhouse novel and the next I'm in an utter rage over the fact that we don't have enough milk to make potato soup. And if you thought my husband was shocked at my outburst, you should have seen the unlucky people who decided that last night was a good night to patronize the Publix in my town. I marched towards the dairy section in a snit and then got distracted by the fresh cooked chicken. Which I bought and then ate WHILE I was walking through the store, mumbling incoherently about never having enough milk.

That's when I noticed that the dairy section was looking quite bare because I live in Georgia and when the weatherman hints of snow in this state, everyone runs to the store and buys up all the milk and bread. In case of a blizzard. IN GEORGIA. I know. So I see from afar that there is only one gallon of milk left. A single, solitary gallon of milk left in the entire store. And someone else is headed straight for it.

And let me tell you something, I did not put down my novel and get out in the cold weather for no good reason to have someone else beat me to the last gallon of milk. I kicked it into high gear, walking as quickly as I could without full out running. I can only imagine what I must have looked like, half sprinting towards the milk while frantically trying to finish my fried chicken so that I'd have a hand free to grab said milk. The whole thing would have been easier if I'd had a partner really, but for some unkown reason Jeff refuses to go to the grocery store with me.

I recounted the scenario to him after I triumphantly waltzed into the kitchen holding the milk. "So I'm pretty sure that since I just went a little crazy there, I'm probably not pregnant. It's probably just the PMS." Jeff eyed me for a moment while he patiently continued making dinner. "Or it's just the crazy" he said. I rolled my eyes and flounced off to the bedroom to try on all the bras that only fit me once a month, the ones that aren't training bras.

The Barbie Tree

2009-12-20T00:05:00-05:00

I met Jody in 2006 and if you've read here for any length of time then you probably already know that I've come to love her dearly. I'm sure that I've posted this story before but it touches my heart every year and I hope that you'll read it and pass it on to someone who could use some encouragement. And then maybe add a Barbie to your shopping list this year, one you could donate in Teagan's memory. Especially because today is Jody's birthday :)

(True story: this year I totally wanted to get the Fashionista Barbie because I met Jody when we were both Fashionistas at Scrap In Style TV but I couldn't bring myself to do it because they only had this one in stock at the time and I am so against Barbie being dressed in such a revealing outfit! We went with Ballerina Barbie instead.)

Dusting off the old journals

2009-12-19T13:43:53-05:00

While I was going through my old journals in order to accurately tell our story, I discovered many interesting things about myself as follows:

In junior high I was afraid that someone would find my journal and distribute it throughout the school. So I used code names for everyone. Very logical of me. No one reading my journal would have ever guessed that I hated Amanda Lee for saying I looked like an inmate in my new striped GAP sweater because I used a code name for her. Unless that is, the person reading my journal flipped to the back, where I kept a list of everyone and their code names.

In sixth grade I discovered that girls were mean and boys were cruel and started praying for God to change my face into a pretty one at night while I slept. Apparently, I had God confused with Dr. 90210.

I also found the fake journal that I kept in ninth grade, the year I discovered that my mother snooped around my room. In the fake journal, I was a really good kid who's only worry was her schoolwork and the occasional rambling about boys to keep it realistic. In the real journal, I worried endlessly about when I was going to be able to fill out my bra. Actually, that journal is pretty similar to the one I keep now...

In fourth grade I thought that if I had a little girl I'd name her Ashleigha. In fifth grade I thought I'd name her Jaiyzah. In sixth grade I decided I'd have twin girls and name them Lark and Dove. Obviously, sixth grade was a bad year for me. In tenth grade I settled on Lainie (which I still love, but Jeff shot down.) Now there is a new name in my journal and the problem with infertility is, probably one of our friends or family will use that name before we ever even get pregnant. Lucky for them, I'm very generous. I'd totally give up Jaiyzah. You're welcome.

I also learned that I am very inquisitive. Like, for example one time Jeff brought me a present from Disney World and I used exactly 9 pages to decipher what it meant. Nine pages. Front and back.

And I used to not only date the pages in my journal, but wrote down the time as well. The nine pages about my Disney World gift? I wrote that 1:14am. I have no idea where my car keys are but if you need to know how I was feeling at 7:28pm on the day I tripped in front of the cutest boy in school during gym class? Oh, I can tell you.

To give is better than to receive. But receiving is real nice too.

2009-12-18T12:18:49-05:00

Thank you for all the sweet words on our love story. It was a really emotional experience for me, searching through memories and old journals to get the details just right. Thank you for sharing it with me.

I love Christmas. I can hear the church bells playing Oh Come All Ye Faithful right now (Another great thing about living in the country? Church bells.)
I love giving gifts. I love letting other people give me gifts, especially when those gifts are the riding boots I've been eyeing (<-not so subtle hint, dad).

Details after the jump

1) I am in love with these re-purposed china clocks from Faire House. There's one in the mail to someone on my Christmas list as we speak.
2) Jeff doesn't understand why I want a non-functioning chandelier but that is because he is a boy and doesn't understand my need for sparkle.
3) This print is soft and pretty and clever. I'm pretty sure I need it.
4) When did IKEA become out of my price range? Because our guest room/office won't be complete until I have this bookcase. My Twilight series needs a home you know. I can't just sit those books on the floor.
5) I seem to have taken a liking to mercury glass. I used to like milk glass. I don't think they go together. This is a dilemna. Someone call HGTV.
6) It's the perfect scrapbooking stocking stuffer. I hope Jeff reads this blog.

So, in addition to peace on earth and goodwill towards men- what's on your list this year?

Girl Meets Boy: Finally

2009-12-17T12:25:00-05:00

(Thank you for reminiscing with me. The rest of the story is here)

The house looked like a story book, garlands draped from the porch, red and green lights twinkling and oversized candy canes dotting the sidewalk. I drove past slowly and then made a u-turn. I didn't want to look at Christmas lights alone. I wanted to look at them with Jeff. I made my way back to his house, thinking about our conversation.

"I don't want you to think it's an ultimatum, I'd told him, it's not, really, it's just that I'm afraid I feel more for you and I'm not sure I want to be emotionally in a different place than you..or you know, that thing we haven't said yet, I don't want to be there alone..." I knew my words didn't make much sense. He tried to soothe my fears without giving away that he'd taken the ring back to the jewelers just that morning to have it cleaned yet again. He wanted it to be perfect. Trust me, he'd said.

"Remember the date night I'd planned in September?" he asked. I did, I'd been looking forward to dressing up for it. But in the months since the accident, we'd mostly stuck to my house. I was too anxious to leave my dad alone until he was walking again. "New Year's Eve, he said, I'll pick you up."

The room was dark except for the brilliant glow of the candles, hundreds of candles. I turned to Jeff as he took my jacket. "You know, if you ever do decide to propose to me you should definitely use candles. A+ for that." He smiled and we sat down to the dinner he had prepared. He slid a slip of paper towards me. "The movie ticket from our first date, he said, you should scrapbook it."

I asked for another piece of pie. "Um, you can't have one" he said nervously. I eyed him curiously. "Okaaay, I'm going to change out of my skirt then" I told him. The tights were itchy and I had a pair of jeans stashed in my bag. "Um, no you can't do that yet. Actually, I was going to ask you to dance with me." He pressed a button and pulled me to him, swaying gently to the music. I teared up a little as the song faded in the background. He cleared his throat. "I have a gift for you" he told me as he reached under the couch.

"I didn't get you anything! I didn't know we were doing New Year's presents. I've never given anyone a New Year's present!" I exclaimed apologetically.

He handed me a small leather book. A Bible. Tiny gold letters embossed into the cover spelled out Kayla Aimee Terrell. I stood there, trying to work out what it meant. So maybe he did think I was the one? Is that why his last name was on there? Why not tell me? He'd said he wouldn't think about proposing for over a year. So was this like, a pre-proposal? Maybe it was sort of like a promise ring, I thought. "Look at the name" he encouraged. I stared at him in confusion. "I am" I replied. "Look at the ribbon" he said.

And that's when I saw the ring, tied to a satin burgandy ribbon pressed between the pages. I looked up in astonishment only to find him down on one knee. "I love you, he said in a voice I'd never forget, will you marry me?"

He handed me a piece of paper after I said yes. He'd written me a song, he told me. My eyes fell on the date. "You knew? You've known? When did you..." He brushed my hair back. "I've always needed you, he told me, I just didn't always know it."

The doorbell chimed and Jeff's eyes sparkled as our friends came through the door with gifts and desserts and congratulations. He had them in on it, he informed me. They all knew. "We were trying to throw you off" said Christie Michelle. "FINALLY!" exclaimed Cherany.

He held my hand, tracing his finger over my ring as we all counted down the new year.

Girl Meets Boy: Patience

2009-12-16T12:37:41-05:00

(The rest of the story is here)

I stretched and rubbed the ache in my neck. I'd lost count of how many nights I'd slept on the waiting room floor of the ICU. Too many. I rolled over and touched his shoulder gently. He'd been there every night as well. He'd been sleeping at the hospital with me, leaving early in the morning to go to class and returning with dinner.

My aunt walked in as he kissed my forehead. "I think that boy loves you" she told me after he was gone. The days ran into each other, all the same. I don't remember much until the day my dad woke up. Then he was transferred to a hospital an hour away. Jeff made the trip with me. "I can miss class for a few days" he said.

On his way home he gave me a letter. I read it lying alone in a hotel bed while I waited for visiting hours to come. I was thankful that my dad was well enough for visiting hours, well enough to go home in a few weeks.

My dad answered the door in his wheelchair the night the girls came over. We were huddled on my bed upstairs when Tiffani gave us each a grain of rice. "I'm pregnant, she told us, that's how big the baby is."

I thought about Jeff that night. "I don't know if our road will end in eighty days or eighty years..." he'd written in his letter. I didn't either but I was leaning towards eighty years. I wasn't sure if I could wait to find out. I asked him the next day. "Do you see us together? You know, for eighty years?" He smiled and pulled me closer to him. Maybe, he'd told me. But he wasn't even going to think about being engaged or that serious for another year or more. I tried not to look upset by that revelation and he tried not to laugh at the fact that he had a diamond ring hidden in his closet.

He called a few days before Christmas "You are celebrating with the girls this week, right? I'm going to take your dad to dinner to celebrate being out of his wheelchair." I told the girls that maybe he was going to propose after all. Christie Michelle told me that she'd asked him. He wasn't proposing. She didn't want me to get my hopes up.

I cried that night. I loved him. I loved him and I knew I loved him and dang it if I hadn't asked God to keep me from loving him if he wasn't going to marry me. I wasn't sure if it would be good for me to love him and not know if he loved me back. I drove to his house the next night. "I think we might have to break up" I told him.