Stay at home... fiancee?

And now, for something completely different, unemployment! Not sure how I'll handle this, as I've been working pretty much steadily since I was 17. Everybody keeps asking me if I will teach in England, and my answer is no, not right away. I want to spend about a year just getting used to the culture and learning my way around before I throw myself into a room of children with lingo completely different from the lingo I'm familiar with. That would just be professional suicide. So, I think I'll get a job waiting tables once I'm able to start working after Mick and I are married, then, next year, we'll see.
Promotion was good yesterday. The girls looked like they were going to prom and some of the boys even wore suits. They all looked so cute and cried like they'd never see each other again. Some of my students asked to have their picture taken with me and said they'd miss me, which was very sweet.
At the staff luncheon my Language Arts partner spoke some words about me that made me want to cry and the school gave me a nice set of desert greeting cards with really pretty pictures so I don't forget where I come from. I packed the last bit of stuff in my car, turned in my keys and ended my two years at Centennial. I learned a lot at that place.
Yesterday afternoon was a whirlwind of cleaning and packing- I just have to finish this load of laundry and decide what I want to take of that, clean out my desk and throw away the last bit of trash and I'm done. Thank goodness! I never want to move ever again!
My brother and his wife got into town last night. My sister in law brought cupcakes, I had a strawberry milkshake one and it was fantastic. We didn't do much last night, just sat around and talked and I crashed probably at 9:30. Not sure what's on the agenda today, except for some time in the pool, finishing up my room, and probably lunch at Buffalo Wild Wings.
Hope everyone has a great start to summer vacation!

Another year gone...

This has been a really tough year as a teacher. Even though I taught last year, it was a small intervention classroom and this year I taught full blown 8th grade Language Arts, so really it was like my first year all over again.
I cannot count the amount of times I felt like banging my head against the wall, throwing students out of my class, pulling my hair, crying, kicking inanimate objects, and just plain giving up. I felt, so often, that because of how rowdy my kids were, that I wasn't making a difference. Any students who wanted to learn were not getting the best teaching out of me because I was so busy setting up roadblocks and wishing for a stun gun in order to perform damage control with the rest of the class. For the past few weeks, I've been feeling a mixture of excitement and disappointment. Excited because, duh, it's the end of the year and disappointment because I'm just not happy with how the school year went. I didn't get to teach like I wanted to. But today I was proved wrong by one single student.
Remember, as a kid, you had that one teacher and you looked forward to that class all day? They made you laugh, and unlike the other teachers, they just seemed like a regular person? Well, teachers think that about certain students, too. I met the particular student I'm about to tell you about at the end of last year. I had to stand in for a 7th grade teacher one day when she had to run home to grab something. I started talking to this little girl and learned all about how much she loves to dance. I remember thinking "wow, I hope I have that girl in my class next year." And sure enough, I did. This girl was that student I looked forward to seeing every day. I wouldn't say she was my favorite because, first of all, teachers aren't supposed to have favorites and two, I had lots of favorites! But this girl and I just "got" each other. I enjoyed having her in my class every single day and looked forward to her bright smile. I attended two of her dance recitals this year and hope to attend the last one I'll ever get to see tomorrow night.
Earlier this week, I wrote my email address on my whiteboard for any students who wanted to keep it and stay in touch with me. The majority of them are very excited for me to move to England and want to hear all about my wedding and what it's like to live in England. Today, as I left the front office, this girl came up to me with tears in her eyes and gave me a hug. She asked me to sign her yearbook and I made her promise she would email me. On my drive home I thought about how much I really hoped she did, because I want to hear all about her future as a dancer.
When I got home, I noticed I had an email from an unfamiliar address.

Hey Miss Muldoon,
I know tomorrow is going to be a crazy, exciting and sad day but I was never able to tell you how much I enjoyed being in your class learning from you. You were the best teacher this year and I will never forget you naming my hairdo :) Keep in touch with me when you're in England and I want to see pictures too.
Love you always,
*name*

All that crap I dealt with this year? Totally worth it after reading that email. If I made a difference to one child, I'm happy.

Ten Reasons I'm Stoked to Move to England

Bognor Regis Beach, West Sussex, England

Yesterday I wrote about what I'll miss in the Southwest. I also promised in that post that I'd write about what I'm looking forward to about living in England. So here goes.

1. Living by the beach. We won't always live on the coast, but Mick's home is currently in a seaside town on the very Southern tip of England. Last summer, I loved waking up to the open window and hearing the gulls crying as they drifted over the back yard. And even though the water is cold in the summer and the beach is rocky, it's still nice to know it's there. And the paths that run parallel to the shore make a great place to jog, which I'm going to force myself to do a LOT of!

2. History. For those of you who know me, you won't be surprised when I admit to you that I'm a bit of a nerd. I love history, and so I'm really excited to live in a place where so many historically significant things happened and historically significant people lived. Henry VIII's reformation of the church, the magna carta, the Inquisition, Bloody Mary, Elizabeth I, Shakespeare, countless battles-- the list goes on and on. All this fascinating stuff, and I get to live there.

A darling cottage in Wrotham, Kent, England

3. Architecture. I have lived my whole live on the West Coast (or near to it) and one thing this half of the country sorely lacks is architecture. Everything is built so quickly and thrown up so fast just to produce another neighborhood for all the yuppies that builders really leave out one thing vital to my soul's happiness- character. I love buildings with scallops and quirky windows, wood paneling, painted doors, thatched roofs, antique fixtures, secret passageways, stone work, bricks, exposed beams, archways, flying buttresses and so on. Everywhere you look in England, you see these things.

4. Rain. Oh my flippin' heck! RAIN! I grew up on the coast of California and while it doesn't rain ridiculous amounts, you get a fair bit. The town I grew up in had an annual average of 13 inches, and where I'm moving has an average of 28 inches. Where I live now? Yeah, annual average of 2.94 inches! I love rain. I love the taste, smell, the feel. The way it looks on the road and the sound of tires splashing through it. Nothing makes me happier than waking up to a cloudy and drippy sky. I am sick and tired of being in a place that is dry as a bone.

Arundel, West Sussex, England

5. What does all that rain result in? Green! I cannot wait to look out my window every morning and see verdant green. Trees, hills, grass. And for those of you who have never seen it, it's really hard to describe. England Green is a different green. There's California Green, which is really kind of a drab green. England Green is bright and almost sparkles for you. This photo isn't really the best example for how green it can get, but I love the photo anyway.

6. Kind of sticking with the weather trend I've set up here, I'm really happy to be moving somewhere that's not over 100F over 100 days a year. I've done my sweat time in the desert, and I'm ready to be finished. Thank you, moving on!

Photo from geograph.org.uk

7. Pubs. I. Love. Pubs. So many of my favorite moments in England have taken place in the pub setting. Great meals (even though Brits claim pub food is awful, I love it) and conversation and a homey, rustic setting. Some of my favorite moments include drinking a pint of Hobgoblin Ale in the Hobgoblin Pub in Canterbury. Also, after a long, misty trek in December through Hampstead Heath which left my hair fully wet (and not because I was sweating!), crawling and puffing up to a pub called The Spaniard where I gorged myself on Cottage Pie. My soon-to-be sister-in-law's birthday where she and I downed nearly two bottles of wine in The Bull Pub in Wrotham, Kent... which made for a very interesting and wobbly walk up the hill home. The Lobster Pot pub on the Isle of Wight, where we sat and had lunch while football fans screamed at the television when Germany stole the game from England in the World Cup last summer. The Moat, in Wrotham Heath, where Mick's mum bought me a Pimm's Cup which left me feeling very giggly and overly affectionate. I plan to clock many, many hours in pubs. Also, the names are just hilarious!

Photo from used-buses.net

8. Public transportation. I really love the fact that you can still have a life in England even if you don't have a car. Bus stops are located on nearly every corner, and nearly every town has a train station. And because everything is so close together in England, you are always within walking distance of said train station. And if you're not? Hope on the aforementioned bus and it will take you to said train station. Rock on! 

9. All the awesome things to do. We will be living less than two hours from London, and hopefully in a few months only 40 minutes away, and hopefully within the year, in London. It really is an amazing city and you can't really be bored there. Amazing restaurants, gorgeous parks, interesting museums (which are all free, by the way), concerts, markets, castles, cathedrals. It will be really nice to live in a place where I don't have to drive 3 whole hours to be somewhere interesting.

10. Getting started. For the past year and a half, everything has been up in the air. I didn't know where I'd be living, if Mick and I would make it, where our life would start, or even when it would start. It is so comforting to know that in two weeks we will be getting our life to some pattern of normalcy, arranging our wedding and not worrying who will fly where next. I am so glad the past chapter is finally ending, even though it's had its perks.

Ten Things I'll Miss About the Southwest

I called home during my lunch break like I do every day to speak with Mick. He's still asleep when I leave for work, so it's always nice to hear his voice before I get home. "We're leaving for England in fifteen days!" he told me. Whaaat? So, with time quickly running out, I decided to make a list of ten things I will miss about living in the Southwest.

Photo from http://www.hoalian.com

1. Mexican food.   I am never more than a mile away from an amazing taco stand or restaurant where I can get amazing food. Fish tacos, bean burritos, tortas, tacos, enchiladas, tamales, chimichangas, carne asada, ceviche, so many amazing flavors and spices. The other day my future sister in law posted on her facebook status "just ate my first burrito!" Are you kidding me right now?
2. Big cars. Big cars do exist in England, but it's not very practical when you consider how itty-bitty most of the roads are, apart from the major motorways. I like having a car big enough to move small furniture, and I don't have to worry about having enough space for people's luggage if I pick them up from the airport, etc.

Photo from http://www.minkler-photo-gallery.com

3. Mountains. While England is a very hilly country, there aren't a whole lot of craggy mountains. And when you do find them, they don't go more than about 2,000 ft. I have always loved driving in the mountains and just looking out my window and seeing them. 
4. The color brown. A lot of people probably think that's a boring color, but it really isn't. It's a warm, welcoming color. The sand, the mountains, the dunes, the brush. I love green, but I will miss brown.
5. The beach. Okay, you're probably thinking "but England is an island! Its entire circumference is a beach!" True, but it's not the same as the beaches of California. They're mostly rocky, windy, and cold most of the year. And even though I'm not exactly a beach bunny, I will miss the option of soft sand, salty lips and feet covered in tar.

Photo from http://www.ca-blog.com

6. The sky. I haven't really noticed it, but when Mick first came to Arizona, he couldn't stop talking about how big the sky is. I guess because everything is so spread out and it's always so blue here? Maybe? I don't know. But there is an openness I feel here that I don't feel in England when I look up. I love grey, cottony skies, but there is something about that deep blue that will always stick with me.
7. Diversity. California is an amazing state because you can be anywhere if you drive three or four hours. The desert, the beach, redwood forests, lakes, valleys, mountains, hot springs, rivers, rolling hills or echoing canyons. It's all so close.
8. My family. Need I say more?
9. The sunsets. I have seen more breathtaking sunsets in the desert than I can possibly recall.

Photo from http://www.fuelyourphotography.com

10. Running into people I know. I have lived in this town for nearly 15 years, and it's not uncommon to run into two people or more on a night out. It's going to be strange and feel a bit isolated to never see anyone I know. I suppose it's kind of funny to think about, but I suppose it's the little things we take comfort in, right?

I'll be sure to post what I'm looking forward to about living in England either tonight or tomorrow.

The Itchy and Scratchy Shoooooow!

I'm not entirely sure what's going on here, but I'm breaking out in hives randomly. It started last Friday, I woke up with some bumps on my chest, but I just thought it was a spider bite. Living most of my life in Arizona, I'm used to that and it didn't really worry me. But then when I got to work that morning, the palm of my hand swelled up, turned red and got really itchy. So I took a Benadryl and I was fine.
Over the weekend, nothing was wrong. I had kind of forgotten about it. But today I woke up and was covered in welts and red blotches. My thighs, stomach, arms, chest. It itched really badly and was driving me crazy. I was able to make an appointment with my doctor midday so took the day off to take care of that. I went and the doctor said he just thinks it's an allergy and gave me the names of medications. The rash went down after an hour or so, and now it's starting to come back again. I am going crazy with itching. I just took another Benadryl so I'm hoping it all calms down. I need to go get that other medicine tonight. I'm wondering if it's from the stress of the huge transition I'm about to make... But according to medicinenet, stress cannot cause hives. Apparently it can just be caused by nothing sometimes. Cosmic...
Worked on my room most of the weekend. Closet is 99% done, under the bed is 50% done. Just need to do bathroom, bookshelf and under the window seat. It's been hard to do any work today because I'm about to jump out of my skin.

The weekend was great! I spent the day with my mom on Saturday, kind of a last Mother Daughter day.  We went to see Bridesmaids and laughed the entire way through. Then we had lunch at Mimi's and did a bit of shopping. I bought some fantastic shoes that I cannot wait to wear at the Engagement party. They are made by Antonio Melani. They're surprisingly comfortable. Brittany came over in the evening, had dinner with us and helped motivate me to work on my room. Sunday we had a lazy morning and then spent the afternoon with Brittany and some of her friends and their babies. We gorged ourselves on pizza and chatted away. Then we got some stuff I need for moving at Wal-Mart and headed back to the house. My absolute favorite part of the weekend, though, was when we got in the pool and played and splashed and had a grand old time. It's the first time we've used the pool since Mick has been here. We always have so much fun. I'm so excited that I'm marrying my best friend!
Time to relax a bit before bed. Hope you all had a nice, hive free start to your week!

Bits and bobs

This is getting ridiculous. I am leaving Yuma a week from this coming Monday. Not forever, but in the sense that I'm moving. Moving. And how much have I done to prepare for that. Hah. Not much, really. I did do a bit of work last night, but, as I said, ridiculous. I have no motivation to go through 14 years of Stuff. So much Stuff. And it doesn't help that when I get home, mentally psyched up to get in there and do some work, Mick's always like "oh I want to go do this and this and this." Duuuude. So I've recruited a very strict friend to come over tonight and force me to do it while Mick watches her child. I'm hoping to finish under my bed and the window seat. And that just leaves the dreaded closet for tomorrow. My room is a disaster, though. I've always hated that, you know? That in-between stage when you are honestly cleaning, but there are stacks of Keep, Trash, and Donate and big black garbage bags. And so it looks dirtier than when you started. But I'm not embarrassed to have people over, because I have a good excuse for my mess.
Moving on. I'm so glad it's the weekend. Work is quickly just becoming a fight for survival at this point. Trying to keep the kids from going completely bonkers is quite a task. Next week is full of activities, though- we're finally going to watch The Diary of Anne Frank, which we finished reading a few weeks ago. There's an 8th grade pool party and BBQ, and then promotion is on Friday, as well as an end of the year luncheon. Then my brother and his wife are coming for the weekend, and Mick and I leave for the Grand Canyon and Vegas the following Monday. So there's lots going on, and this is why I need to get my butt in gear with the packing thing!
Today is mother daughter day. I'm really feeling the time limitations when I think of how I want to spend time with people before I go. So mom and I are going to go see Bridesmaids and have lunch and do some shopping. It's really weird and it occurred to me last night. You always start getting closer/getting along with people better when one of you is leaving. I also noticed this when I was 10 and moved from California to Arizona. I made so many new friends in the few months before I left, which made it harder to leave. Lately, my mom has been making me really laugh, and I'm noticing things in my dad that I'm really going to miss. Even my sister, who is ten years older than me, and I are finding all sorts of things that we have in common. I'm trying not to let this make me sad, though. I'm trying to think of it as a good thing, something that will help us all stay close when I'm living far, far away. But everything family related is really getting to me. I was picking out a Father's Day card yesterday at Target and just about every one of them made me want to burst into tears.
It's also happening with friends. Last night I went out with Brittany and Jake and some friends of theirs. I haven't seen them in possibly months, and of course all our best memories and laughs resurfaced. So, yeah, I'm basically in a mad scramble to spend as much time with everyone as possible.

And that's where we are this weekend. Hope everyone is having a great start to summer activities!

The Story of Us

I know I said I'd tell the story of me and Mick. It's pretty personal and pretty gushy in parts, but you're going to have to bear with me, here. I'm the bride-to-be, and so I'm allowed to get emotional and detailed when I tell this story. Sorry, Mick, if this chronicle of our love embarrasses you. You're going to be a married man soon, get used to it :)

I have known Mick since I was 17 years old. We met in a forum on deviantart.com. I had questions about music, and being a musician, he had answers. I’m not entirely sure how it all started, can’t remember, but we began talking on MSN all the time. I’d stay up super late, until he woke up, to catch him. I immediately began saving money to go visit him. But we were 17, it never happened. We always did our best to stay in contact, remained good friends. When we were 20, I bought a ticket to go see him. We’d become very dedicated to one another, speaking all day online during the summer. It was just so much fun to talk to him and joke with him, fall for him. We were so excited.

But then, things started to change. He had gone off to university and didn’t have internet in his flat which totally decimated our ability to talk. Then he became more and more unavailable to talk on the phone. I could feel the chasm deepening- as if a continent and an ocean wasn’t enough for us. I’d call and he’d eventually text me, hours later, saying he just “wasn’t able to talk at the time.” I was angry. I felt that he should make time. And then I didn’t hear from him at all for nearly a week. I had to call his mom, who I’d spoken to a couple of times, to make sure he was ok. Of course he was. We finally spoke after she told him he needed to contact me. The minute he answered I knew something was wrong. I will never, ever forget the feeling, the almost audible snap of my heart breaking into pieces. “Do you think a two week visit is too long? What if we don’t get along.” He went down a road I had always hoped and prayed he’d never go down. He said it was going to be too hard, two people our age being in a long distance relationship He didn’t want to be in a relationship with someone he’d only see once or twice a year for a few years. Of course, he was right, but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt very much. We had some pretty ugly fights and didn’t talk for quite some time.

Over the next three years we were involved with different people, he had the same girlfriend for most of that time. I was never in a serious relationship with anybody, I liked a few guys and went out a couple times with some. But I’d sit across the table from the nameless few and stare at them. I’d feel a pit in my stomach and find myself thinking about Mick. Why did I feel such a strong connection with a boy I’d never met, and yet this guy looking at me made me feel nothing.

Even though Mick instigated the break up, it wasn’t because he didn’t care. It took me many years to figure this out.  Over time I learned that he hadn’t stopped loving me or silently, absentmindedly hoping that we’d make it somehow. He worked pretty hard at trying to keep me in his life, even when I was sure I wanted nothing to do with him. We eventually reached an understanding and were able to be civil to one another. Every time we’d start talking again, I’d get my hopes up, and I hated myself a little bit for it. It was just easier to remain at a safe distance so that I didn’t fall for him all over again. I’d be his friend, but nothing more.
Last fall, we began talking a good bit. He and his girlfriend had been apart for a while, and I was “single as a dollar bill,” as I would jokingly say at the time. Our communication was sporadic, but the most contact we’d had in years. I felt it all resurfacing, and I think he did, too. Then, in late October 2009, he sent me a letter. He had gone on vacation in Europe with his family and confessed to not really being able to think of much other than me. He sent me a bracelet and a photo of a place he’d gone, and said he really wanted to take me there. He said he was really glad he hadn’t lost me completely.
And I immediately realized what an idiot I had been. I had tried really hard to keep him out of my life, and had failed. I had tried really hard to think of him as only a friend, and as I read his letter, I realized, again, I’d failed. I couldn’t really think of him as just a friend. I wrote him back, pouring out the emotions I’d been holding in for three years. I asked him if he still felt the same, and he did.
The next few months I found myself falling in love with him all over again, as much as you can fall for someone you’ve never met. Life seemed to just fall into place, and I was so, so happy he hadn’t let me kick him out completely. In February, on Valentine’s Day, actually, I swallowed my nerve and bought my ticket. I was going to spend two weeks with him in the summer.
Meeting him in the airport was surreal and strange, but not at all awkward or uncomfortable. Sitting next to him in the car on the way back to his house was a bit like the feeling you get in grade school when the teacher makes you sit next to your crush. We got to his house, I showered the nasty travel gunk off myself and we hung out in his room, talking.  Within an hour, he hugged me, but nothing more. I could tell he was nervous, and so was I. But I was beyond caring about nerves. I had just flown across the world to meet this guy, and I was finally in his arms. I kissed him, he told me he loved me, and asked me to stay. So I did, for a while month. We fell into a gorgeous, passionate relationship that encompasses everything I’ve ever hoped love could be. He showed me ancient buildings, historical castles, and two more countries. He showed me love and passion and understanding. He showed me what it’s like to be taken care of. He showed me, and I showed him, too, just how great something can be when you wait for it, and work for it.

On July 25, 2010 I began what would be the hardest thing I have ever done. Harder than controlling a class of hormonal teenagers. Harder than being brave enough to meet a stranger. I got on a plane and left England, left Mick. We were long distance for the absolute worst 5 months of my life. It was so weird- I had spent 23 years without him, and then one month with him. In that month, I forgot how to be myself without him. I forgot how to sleep and eat and be happy. Five months. During which I very nearly broke up with him a few times just because of the sheer stress and pain of being apart. But he wouldn’t let me.
On December 19^th, I flew back to England to spend the holidays with him. I was so nervous! I didn’t know if all the anxiety I’d been through, if the time and distance would have changed what we had during the summer. What if it had only been the excitement of meeting for the first time? Maybe that would be gone. As I wandered through the arrival terminal of Gatwick International, I saw him. I didn’t feel any better. He hugged me and kissed me. I still wasn’t sure. But then in about 30 seconds I blinked and it was like the past five months had never happened. I was home, and I was safe.
Mick was able to come back to America with me after Christmas, and so we’ve been together the past 5 and a half months. We’ve learned what it’s like to be a couple together. I’ve shown him as much of America as I’ve been able to with my work schedule. It’s been great.
I love telling our story and reliving all of it. I don’t even mind thinking about the pain so much because then I realize the magic that it all took. Nothing short of the hand of God brought us together, this much I know is true. And as I look down at the ring he placed on my left hand, I can’t help but feel like the luckiest girl in the world. About a month ago, Mick asked me to marry him. I of course said yes, and now it’s only a matter of weeks until we move to England where we’re going to spend the rest of our lives.

Here’s what I want you to take from this. I am not what you would call a lucky girl. I don’t win things, I’m not a knock out, and I’m a bit overweight. Things don’t come easy to me. I don’t turn heads and guys have never beat down my door. But I am who I am and I do the best that I can with that. And for some reason, an amazing guy saw everything he wanted in that, and didn’t give up on me. We had everything against us- odds and logistics. It’s been hard and it hurt, and I know we’re not done yet, but we made it. We made it.

 In other newwws! 21 days until I move to England, and 7 more days of school!