Boudoir.

According to the Merriam-Webster dictionary...

bou·doir

noun \ˈbü-ˌdwär, ˈbu̇-, ˌbü-ˈ, ˌbu̇-ˈ\

: a woman's dressing room, bedroom, or private sitting room

French, from bouder to pout

First Known Use: 1781

I've taken a special liking to the word. The way it so easily rolls off the tongue. Boudoir. Boudoiiiir. Don't mind me, I'm just going to take leave to my boudoir...so that I can pout, because apparently that's just what us ladies do! So fancy. And French. So you see, by default, I already like the word because I pretty much like anything French. French words and French mints. I happened upon the most amazing, unique, ginormous grocery store which consisted of little street-style sections of authentic foreign treats.  So this my friends, is how I got my pretty little hands on some rose flavored mints. Only in France, I tell you, would they make candy pieces scented like flowers. Love, love, love.

Now, off you go to your boudoir!

Coinkydink.

I almost always think of the best blog posts while laying in my bed, computer-less. My sincere apologies because this inevitably means that only about 1/3 of my most creative thoughts ever make it to my blog. This night... well, morning really, I was possessed with the desire to get up and actually type.

In bed, my thought process goes a little something like this...

They should totally bring back trains. Right?! But they can be more like the high speed rail trains that they have in Asia. I bet people would pay a premium for a swanky sleeping car. It could be cruise ship worthy interior. Or better. With bars. I would totally ride a train just for the nostalgia of it all. Add to my bucket list: Ride in swanky train. What other cool things should they bring back? Oh, I know! The erasable Facebook wall. Does anyone else remember it? Remember, you could actually modify other people's comments on someone elses wall, like a whiteboard. That was legit. I kind of forget what it looked like though. Damn. I wish I had a screenshot. I remember getting into a wall WAR with an ex-girlfriend of my I-don't-believe-in-titles boyfriend. Too bad I can't see that on my timeline. Where does all of that information shared go once a person shuts down their account? Oh, and remember that time....

(Enter the actual blog post)

I don't believe in coincidence. Or chance. I've probably pointed that out by now more than a few times. 

There was an incident in college when I got caught up waiting on an apartment sixth floor stairway. I can't even recall why, or what my I-don't-believe-in-titles "boyfriend" was doing at the time to hold me up, but I remember standing there for that split second. I happened to idly gaze down at the cement floor. And just as I did so, something tiny caught my eye. Something that looked like it didn't belong amongst the dirt pile in the corner. I knelt down for a closer look and was astonished to find an earring. My earring! My missing earring from a few weeks ago! The teeniest, tiniest of stud earrings that to this day, I would be afraid to put in my ear for fear that it would slip right through the hole. And here it was, lying in a pile of dirt on the sixth floor of my boyfriend's apartment. The coincidence is not the location in which it was found, because honestly, how often did we venture up and down those steps? But the fact that I found it?! That I just so happened to gaze down, on that exact spot, at the exact moment I was mid apartment exit from the eighth floor. What are the chances? It was almost like a sign to notice. And I'm not entirely sure why, but I've always kept that little earring hidden away in a tiny compartment of my jewelry box. I can't bare to part ways with it. It was just too "random" of a coincidence. Just like this past weekend, on the anniversary of my father-in-laws death, when hubs and I were arguing in the car. It got so heated that he pulled into a parking lot and parked the car so that we could hash out our differences. For real. It wasn't until we noticed all of the people getting out of their cars and heading toward the building behind us that we turned around and realized that we had pulled into a church parking lot, at the very moment when service was about to begin. I mean, what are the chances of that?

I won't bore you with other examples. You get the point.

I think there are signs all of the time, for everyone. Do you want to see them? To believe them? If not, you'll likely miss them without a thought as to their existence.

But maybe it's time you started noticing the signs.

.
.
.

End post: 4:34 am.

Daydreams.

Lost in a daydream of boats, blue waters and mint mojitos...

St. John, circa 2011

The unexpected cuddle.

I never before believed in soul mates. And why should I? Never having a specific type, I dated a variety of boys. My rational mind told me that I could have ended up marrying any one of them. Sure, the outcome might be different. It's true. I may have been happier with some more than with others, but if my heart had been into it and theirs too, we could have made it work. But funny how it should happen, it didn't.

And then I met my husband. Intoxicated and intoxicating, first thing in the morning at a football tailgate, wondering why he was even bothering to talk to me. Hair a frizzy mess, beer-in-hand, checking my reflection in a car side door mirror. That, followed by a very interesting conversation while he peed on a car tire. No joke. These are my memories of that day. It was tailgating at Penn State, in the cow fields, and in the pouring, cold April rain. But I was 20 years old, and that's just how some love stories began back then.

I found out later, much later, after we were married even, that he had walked away that day thinking, "I'm going to marry her." It still catches my heart off guard every time he tells me the story. And I wish I could tell you that our love story fell into perfect place afterwards but life isn't always a bed of roses. There were some twists and turns before we finally came together.

And so our love story continues to unfold every moment of every day. I've begun to think this wasn't an accident. That this was intentional and that we are here, together, to learn something bigger than ourselves. We're all put on this earth for a purpose. Mine with his and his with mine. And I was reminded in the wee hours of this morning, when I woke to both of us wrapped in an uncharacteristic cuddle, neither of us wanting anything more than to stay where we were, of just how much I love him. 



III