I Stole All of Matt's Photos so This Post Would Be More Interesting (dot-gov)

Dear, dear, dear Matt Smith,


You are very dear today. I am not sure why. I can only attest to a single "dear," but my fingers seem to have gotten into their little finger-systems to type the three "dears" you see above. Perhaps you are so dear because it has been so long since I have written. Perhaps you are so dear because "the iPhone is better than nature." Perhaps you do not recall either of the previous things and simply put, you're dear because you're dear...

Time will tell.

Matt and I have been exploring our new nation (um... yes... the Great Nation of Texas joke lives ON, much like "your mom" jokes) lately. We take a weekend here or there and drive off into the sunset. Or more than usual, we drive off around 10:30 on a Saturday morning, cursing ourselves for not getting ready sooner so we can make it to McDonald's for a EggaMooby Muffin breakfast. This past weekend we went to Austin (which is only an hour away), and two weekends ago we went to Houston.

Houston is like Rock to Temple's Scissors in the beer department. To the casual viewer, it may have seemed that Matt and I went to Houston simply to find delicious beers. This is not the case, although we came away with more than a case.

We drove to Houston to visit landmarks (Rothko Chapel = most boring artsy-fartsy landmark in Texas, even perhaps, the world) and to visit my friend, Kate (in town from Chicago), who will be designing and putting together my wedding dress. Move over, Hank Azaria. This girl knows what's UP. And now she also knows what's down and around and the length and width of most of my everythings. (Apparently I'm symmetrical. And this is a good thing. I think.)

The best part about Kate is, she's not afraid to be weird. Like so many of the people I love in this world, she sees most things as being possible. For instance, when we had to meet Kate and her husband (also named Matt) at a coffee shop in Houston instead of one of our respective hotels. Kate was not afraid -- nor ashamed -- to break out the measuring tape and run to the ladies room with me. Not weird. Totally normal.

Note: Kate - I'm sorry I didn't ask permission to use your photo up here. I really like the look on your face in the picture... like, "What's it to YOU? I gots some measurin' tape, sucka!" Er... maybe not EXACTLY like that. But you get the idea.


A couple of weeks ago we took another short drive up to Waco, TX. Before I moved to Texas, the only thing I could tell you about Waco was some shoddy information about David Koresh. I probably couldn't have even spelled "Koresh," but I could have sung for you a kitschy little Christmas number about him. I learned it in the third grade. (And who says public education isn't the best?)

It turns out, Waco, TX is the home of Dr Pepper. Matt and I went to the Dr Pepper Museum and that's where I learned that there is no "dot" after Dr in "Dr Pepper." There's a creepy wax man in the museum that talks when you push a button, and Matt took pictures of him. He'll probably write something about it, though, so I'm not about to steal his thunder. I will, however, steal a picture that Matt took of the outside of the museum. It's not much to look
at, but the inside of this place taught me more about soda than I
ever cared to learn.


Also in Waco, we went to the THEE-AY-TER, which is how they say it down here. No lie. I teach THEE-AY-TER ARTS. Drives me nuts. I want to bonk people on the head when they say THEE-AY-TER, almost as much as I want to bonk people on the head when they say "bonk." (Except Emily. She can say "bonk" all she wants.) That was pretty cool, too. Turns out that the lead guy in the show went to school up with us Yankees -- at Boston University.




I think the whole highlight of the past few weeks, though, was realizing that when you live in Texas, gas gets cheaper. We've been having a rather quiet, yet ongoing celebration in our heads every time gas goes down by a few cents. Our largest celebration to date was on the trip to Waco, when gas dropped under $2 a gallon. And who says we're headed for another Great Depression? Don't be fooled by the hat, folks. This is pure happiness.

Those hats really make the recession look attractive.
Until next time...

Not So ASAP Updates

Dear Matt Smith,

As promised, here are the updates from Texas:

1. Yes, the wet bar IS still awesome. We now have Matt's "Private Bar" sign up on the bar, various liquors, some glassware, and a huge plastic tub of Pub Mix, one of the most delicious snacks that has graced our home to date. (Matt says, "No doubt.")

2. Me, Too is quickly learning the benefits of something called The Cat Door. It is relatively clear plastic, and it swings to and fro as he walks in and out -- much like his kitty man-breasts. He spends a lot of time outdoors now in our fenced backyard, terrorizing dead leaves and licking toads.

3. Good beer. Let's talk about that. There's a lack of good beer in this part of Texas. In the grocery store, we walk past what seems like millions of cases of Budweiser, Miller Lite (someone should tell them that that's not how "light" is spelled, and it's not going to be me), Keystone Light, Natural Light, and other el crappo beers that Texans drink. And if we're lucky, we'll eventually get to something nice... like a delicious IPA or porter or stout. Maybe the same someone who talks to Miller Lite about their spelling inadequacies wouldn't mind sitting down with the Great Nation of Texas and talking with them about their beer selection. Most of Texas needs to stay after class... but the cities of Austin, Dallas, and Shiner are free to go.

4. Boring Professional Development workshops. In fact, I'm not sure why I even capitalized "professional development." It's not worthy of being a proper nouny type thing. I sat for a good while in one of these this afternoon, actually. Ironically, it was a session about blogging. I just chose that particular session because someone said there'd be candy.

5. Hurricane Ike. Maybe you've already heard of it? Not sure, but I think it hit somewhere around Texas. This city called Houston? I think Houston is still there. I'm not trying to make light of the situation by any means, but it missed us completely after all the high wind advisories and tornado warnings -- so we were lucky -- and now I'm able to do things like say, "I'm not trying to make light of the situation."

I think that's about it, really. I've been using this new laptop that my job provided for me, and I think it's slowly draining my ability to be amusing. Or maybe I'm just now noticing that I'm not that amusing. Whatever the reason, it's time now to stop this typing and go back to eating these FlipSides Pretzel Crackers. They're delicious. I highly recommend you drop whatever you're doing and go out and get yourself a box of these things. Simply. Amazing. You want pretzels? You want crackers, too? No more buying one of each thing. These things are the real deal. They're a pretzel AND a cracker. In one. Those elves really know what we want out here. I can tell you that.

Reporting to you live from a relatively new MacBook,

Meredith

TEXAS SHOULD BE IN ALL-CAPS BECAUSE IT'S SO BIG.

Hoop-de-doo, Matt Smith. I's found me a job.

(And apparently a southern drawl? I'm not sure what that's about.) I'm going to be teaching theatre at a high school in Texas. This is going to be fun, because I can't say which school, and I'm actually going to have to take my last name off of this ENTIRE BLOG, which pretty much means I'm in for the night. My social calendar is SHOT because I have to delete, delete, delete. And also avoid using my last name in THIS post, and I ESPECIALLY don't want it to be one of these words in the middle of the sentence that I keep putting in ALL CAPS. (I'm a big fan of the all caps. BIG.)

What does this mean for this blog? Well, it means that I'll be moving it to Texas. We'll have to get it some WetNaps for all the ribs it'll be eating, and perhaps a pair of slightly dingy, yet still fashionable cowboy-typey boots. Also, it needs to get a sensible haircut to get all the shag out of its eyes, because it's certainly hot down there.

What does this mean for me? Good question. Well, it means I'm making another leap. A leap in order to do what I've wanted to do for quite some time, to do what I do best, to teach. A leap that will take me away from many friends and family, but closer to others. A leap that will require many plane trips to see folks -- which I hate -- but perhaps a leap that will get people to come out and visit, just maybe, even though it IS Texas. (There's some cool stuff there. Really. I've been. Ask me. I'll tell you.) And a leap across the country.

Well, not really a leap. We'll probably take a U-Haul. Or something. And my cat's just not down with the leaping. Oh, he leaps. Don't get me wrong. But he leaps where he wants to leap. Like onto my desk, or more likely, my bed. For a nap.

So it looks like it's goodbye Starbucks. At least for now.

Goodbye Starbucks. And goodbye Boston. And goodbye all of times I've mentioned my last name in this blog.

Goodnight Moon,
Meredith

Bedknobs & Broomsticks (& Bedsheets).

Dear Kate,

You get a post! For reals! Actually, it's just the email that I sent you today (I thought it was blog-worthy, didn't you?) only reposted here in this font. I hope you think it's as great as I think it is. Right? Right.

I should probably mention at the start that Kate -- that's you -- has agreed to make my wedding gown. And I'm stoked. Enough to use the word 'stoked' without blushing. So now, this post will make COMPLETE sense. Sweet. I'm stoked again.

Well, Kate. I went to a bridal shop. But I went with my friend, Emily (also getting married), for her appointment at Priscilla's of Boston. If you check them out on the web, you'll get an idea of what this place is all about, and we -- Priscilla and I -- are not about the same things. But I digress.

PRIOR to going to Priscilla's Den of All Things Bridezilla, Emily and I scoured Saks, Lord & Taylor, and the shop of the designer that I call BCBGHankAzaria, but I think it's probably something else. I had seen this long, light blue, jersey cotton knit gown that BCBGHankAzaria had on his website. (For being a goofy actor, that Hank Azaria sure knows his stuff.) It was long, elegant, and pretty much everything I'd want in a gown, including my crazy off-the-wall idea of having a cotton wedding gown. Now, I don't think you could throw this gown in the washer -- and I might just want to do that with mine -- but it was remarkably comfortable... AS IF you could throw it in the washer. AS IF you'd want to wear it every day. Yes. You can find it here.

Now here's the big question: where do we find this fabric? IT IS AMAZING. I BELIEVE I MUST HAVE IT. That is all. I entertained the idea of buying bedsheets (I own a set in the same fabric and color; they sell them at Bed Bath & Beyond in white as well), but I don't know if that would be enough fabric? Or if you could even make a dress out of bedsheets? I'm not doubting your talent. I'm doubting the bedsheets.

Well, that's about it. There are pictures, but they haven't made their way to my inbox yet. I'll send them your way when they do.

- Meredith

In Which Meredith Uses Photos, Not Wit, To Describe Recent Events

Dear Matt Smith,

I hope this turns out to be a worthwhile post. I'm not feeling especially witty or amusing today (I got my hair cut yesterday; clearly, this is the Sampsonistic reason), and I was against blogging, but then I thought, "Well, maybe I can overuse the word 'blogging' while I'm blogging, and then it will all be okay again."

Maybe.

Lots to tell, lots to tell. Actually, just a few things, but they're big, so hold on to your pants. Or your socks. Whichever of those things you think might be knocked off when you hear such big news for the second time -- since you've already heard this news via the interweb convention of the "e-mail."

I graduated!

Yep. That's the news. Big, huh? Could've seen that one coming, though, I guess. Right? After all, I DID enroll in a two-year Masters program, so... y'know... 2006... 2008. Graduating. Getting the ol' Masters degree. I think it's about time that I go and pick up that Bachelors degree from the Duquesne registrar's office. Four years is really too long to let them hold on to that thing. Maybe I can get a big, fold-out frame for my two degrees and then set it on my desk (which I don't have) in my office (I also do not have this) and then give them names like Porgy and Bess and call them my "kids," like some women refer to their boobs.

Maybe.

Oh, okay. You got me. I'm just holding out on you with the Real Big News. Ready for it? Ready?

I got engaged! (Side note: When I called to tell my mother this, she said, "Do I know him? Or did you just pull some guy out of a hat?" I guess most people say, "So-and-so and I got engaged," but I don't. This is what I discovered about myself.)



So, yeah. So-and-so and I got engaged. (So-and-so equals Matt.) Like, two weeks ago. That photo up there? It's actually from what I like to call the "reproposal." Eventually I'll post that story here, too, or perhaps I'll just hold out until wedding events start to unfold and then tell it. I'll probably remember it still. The proposal was pretty great, and this engagement still is pretty great. And/or weird. Occasionally we'll be walking together, going someplace or other, and I think it hits us that we're about to promise to spend the rest of our lives together. But this is also pretty great. At least I know he's sticking around. Maybe this is my chance to just go nuts and dye my hair blue and tattoo myself with the Jelly Belly logo.

Maybe.

What a grand, grand return to the blogging world.

I'll probably pop back in sooner rather than later to update you, Matt Smith, my semi-constant reader, on wedding fodder (which is what I've titled the folder on my Mac's desktop that houses all the wedding crap and research) and the job hunt. Because oh! how the job hunt does continue to be a perilous journey through Not Getting a Job! And oh! how the search is never-ending! And oh! how one needs the aforementioned job in order to fund the future! Oh! Oh!

Keepin' it real. Word.
- Meredith