It's been 10 years . . . already?!

So apparently it took me 10 years after high school, to perfect how to act like a high schooler. And from what I can tell, I wasn't missing much. Being the squeaky clean Miss Goody Two Shoes did have its low moments, however at least I stayed out of trouble--for the most part.

I mean, there was that time on Senior Ditch Day I did leave class; however it was after asking for permission from Mr. McDermott first and promising to be back before class was over. Megan, Jeanette, and I rode off in Megan's mom's convertible and we drove down Colorado Boulevard with Ricky Martin's "Livin' la Vida Loca" blaring from the stereo, our hands in the air as if we were in the front car of a rollercoaster and wind blowing through our hair with reckless abandon as if we were Thelma and Louise (and Kim), the trio version. We were real rebels.

And then there was that other time, much earlier in my high school career where Tiffany, Laura, Paula, and I all would write and pass notes to each other through the dividing wall between Mrs. Watson's English and Mr. Gielas' Geography classes in the "fishbowl" room. We did get caught at least once, I recall, although I don't remember much more than a stern look and verbal scolding. (Our teachers knew it didn't require much more for us good kids to feel guilty and return to obedient compliance.)

I think that might have been it for my mischevious moments . . . (Yes, I know--only two!  I really was Miss Goody Two Shoes!)  Raleigh, on the other hand, has great stories of blowing up part of our science lab (as he concocted an explosive "apple pie"), gluing together the desk drawers of the band teacher, and publically urinating before the Parade of Lights in his marching band uniform . . . with the lights still on.  Certainly not the saintly one . . .

As for other high school memories, I have many. Here are a few:

• Sitting in the library during off-class hours with Tiffany, making comic strips which starred ourselves as incredibly realistic-looking stick figures. (Tiffany always had poms in her hands, that's how you could tell our figures apart.)
• Feeling oh so special when the hot blonde senior in my photography class wrote in my freshman yearbook--"Hi sexy" and "Never change"--wasn't it obvious he had a crush on me he just couldn't hide any longer?!
• NOVA videos in Mr. Kimmel's class.
• Making all 3 outs in a single inning in my first high school softball game (sophomore year), including one double-play.
• WAFL my junior year and Great Books, Great Ideas my senior year.
• Classes in the trailers.
• Auditioning for a part in the school musical, "The King and I" my junior year. (To this day I maintain that I was so terrible that I helped my audition partner Nicole get in.)
• Selling lip-shaped lollipops during February in order to raise money for our Spanish Honor Society.
• Similarly, creating--and participating--in all day Spanish immersion to bring awareness of our club to the school. Teachers and fellow students alike quickly became annoyed when I'd raise my hand to speak and would do so in Spanish before giving the rest of the class the English translation.
• Sitting in the auditorium, seeing my name flash on the screen as one of the nominees for a senior favorite ("Most Scholarly") and hearing a girl a few rows in front of me lean over to her friend and say--"Yeah, vote for Kim--she's REALLY smart!". I didn't realize that out of a class of 500+ I was recognizable to the those outside of my circle of friends--I was a "somebody!" Finally!
• Auditioning to be one of the 3 class speakers at our graduation ceremony. (No, I wasn't chosen as one of the speakers, but DID get to turn the tassels and receive my diploma first!)

So Megan and I dragged our men to our ten year reunion (Raleigh would rather leave high school where he left it back in 2000) and had a blast being with each other, reminiscing of where we were back then, and delighting in where we've come since.

Yup, it's been ten years. In some ways it feels like forever and in other ways, just a few moments ago. Oh how much I've grown. Thank goodness.

Marriage is like a car . . .

Marriage is like a car. Well, sort of. (Don't judge yet--hear me out.)

A car is something that usually (at least at the beginning, when it is brand new), is sparkly and clean and so pristine you can almost see your reflection in it. It has perfect body lines with no flaws, paint that shines well in the sun, is rust-free and doesn't have a single scratch or chip to be seen.

Still (here's where the analogy comes in), to keep something like a car looking new (and more importantly, feeling new), you have to take care of it. You have to keep it clean and polish it up every now and then. If you let it go for a long time, it will take more work to get the illustrious shine you saw the first time you experienced it. If you wash it every now and then however, periodically give it a good scrub, break out the wax from time to time, it's likely that you won't have to put as much elbow grease in to get the sparkle of the new car back.

I guess what I'm saying is maintenance is key. And it's my opinion that for marriage, that fact holds true as well.

Now that being said, our marriage is far from complete disrepair (or in need of any repair, even). Heck, we've only been married for 2 months! It's certainly new enough, we have very few scratches on the paint and no major dents in the fender. Still, Raleigh and I both know that to keep our relationship in this lovely state of joy and spirited challenge and intense passion and (seriously) overall happiness that we are experiencing now, it's going to take some work. We can't neglect each other or our marriage and expect everything to stay the same; we have to be prepared to complete regular "maintenance" on it, and spend time with the polish every now and then. (We've learned that relationships take work outside of marriage, too, so this isn't anything new to either of us.)

So, in our quest to make our strong, albeit young, marriage even stronger, and to support ourselves in getting our marriage off to a great start, further building the firm foundation upon which our family will grow, Raleigh and I decided that we would like to attend a Worldwide Marriage Encounter (WME) weekend sometime this fall. We talked about it before getting married even, and were excited to learn that one of the weekends later this year is going to be held up at St. Malo, where we exchanged our vows.

We figured even if there wasn't a lot of material that applied to us (for being such newlyweds), that it would be good to spend a weekend together simply being with each other, engaging each other, up in the beautiful Colorado mountains where we wed. We currently are not experiencing any issues that is our driving force to attend a weekend, just a desire to set ourselves up for the best possible marriage, by learning new (or practicing old) communication techniques, opening dialogue that perhaps we haven't thought to have just yet (or that now will take on new meaning), and staying involved with others of our faith committed to the same ideals. And as lame as that might sound to some, we were both really excited about this!

When we shared our plans with my parents (who were once heavily involved in WME, as one of the lead couples during the weekends when my brother and I were much younger), we were told that the weekend may not really helpful to us at all, since it's gauged for couples that have been married for a few years, "with kids in tow". This surprised me as it's not quite what I remembered. So, I wrote the representative couple for the WME organization in our area and asked for their feedback. They wrote back a rather vague response, basically telling us that although we'd probably get something out of the class, that it'd probably mean more to us if we did it after we've been married a few years and have experienced "difficulties, disillusionment and healing" and would therefore be able to "relate to the concepts of the weekend more fully."

Upon reading the answer, both of us had the same response . . . Who's to say that during our courtship (4 years' worth at the time of our marriage in April) we didn't already experience many of those things? Lord knows we've been through a lot. In some ways, I believe we may have already experienced more than most couples do during their first year (or more!) of marriage together.

I think what was more disappointing than anything in the response was the judgment placed on our relationship, based on how long we've been married. That somehow, because we've been only been married for two months, that our relationship is more superficial, that it doesn't hold enough depth with which to work, and that because of this, we wouldn't benefit by such an opportunity of exploration and growth.

Who's to judge the quality our marriage based on the quantity of months we've shared the same last name?!

Earlier this month we had talked to Fr. Matt about this who encouraged us to go, even if just to spend time with each other focused on each other, away from the routine we're slowly settling into. And after further discussion, I think Raleigh and I agree. Although maybe WME isn't the right venue for this at this moment in time and it's quite possible we will look elsewhere for our opportunity for marital and spiritual growth during our first year. There are tons of options out there, I know.

One thing's for sure, though--we intend to keep the sparkle in our marriage for a long time to come. And both of us are committed to do whatever is needed to keep the shine.

I'm craving . . . attention.

God, that sounds so clingy. So dependent. So whiny. So NOT me.

(Sigh)

Ok so I'm going to do my best to be completely honest, without turning into a grumbling blob of complaints and ickyness, as I feel that despite my best intentions, that's exactly where this could go, should I allow it. (Deep breath)

The earthquake on January 12th really kicked things into high gear for me at work. Don't get me wrong--I was VERY busy before January 12th--however after January 12th, it seemed as if someone had pushed the hyperspeed button and I was buried in more work than I could ever imagine, with deadlines that passed before I had a chance to know what hit me. I spent countless hours at work (really--I was there over the weekend and stayed until 10p on some nights), I worked from home, and for one stretch of time (about 3 days) I was on the phone so much throughout the night that I don't think I got more than 3-4 consecutive hours of sleep. And I did it for all the children of Haiti who had adoptive families here anxiously waiting to bring them home. It was all worth it; that is (and always has been) very clear.

Saturday I got to see some of those families with their children, at a luncheon celebration we held at CCAI. It was so awesome to see them there, together, nearly 4 full months after their world was shaken apart by the earthquake.

I worked SO hard . . .

Yet for a SECOND time after everything unfolded, as our "upper management" gave public recognition to those who made a contribution to bring the children home, my name was left out. It probably wouldn't have been so bad had there been many folks acknowledged for their part in things (it's easy to leave one name out of a long list), however I was left out of a long list of 3. My two coworkers were recognized (several times over, even) in the speeches that were given that afternoon, however my name--one of only TWO staffers who work full-time on our Haiti program--was never mentioned. Not by any of them, anyways (one family clearly saw the exclusion and shouted "Kim rocks!" from his seat, only for the main speaker to continue talking without so much as a hiccup).

So why is it that I am craving such recognition right now, for this? Why is it so important (or seemingly so important) to me to hear my name? I know the children are here with their families (the ultimate goal of our work was successfully realized!). I know the families are aware of my contribution and have expressed great gratitude at various times throughout the process. I know that I CHOSE to work as hard as I did, so truly I have no one to hold responsible for my contribution other than myself. I work in social services . . . my work is supposed to be selfless and noble, not selfish and dramatic.

I have programs . . .

All that being said a good friend tonight suggested that I let it all go, for the main fact that the One whom I really want to please the most has indeed noticed my contribution, and will reward me accordingly in some way when the time is right. This is so true, so true. Why do I care what worldly recognition I receive (great or small), when I know that the rewards from my Father in heaven will be even more than I can imagine? Why am I feeling less than, simply because humans (totally capable of error) have chosen not to utter my name; I know my self worth is not tied to an atta girl or a public applause . . . why not believe in and embrace my greatness now, as it so exists?

Hmph. I know all this yet I'm still craving it--attention.

Perhaps the lesson is in what isn't said about me, rather than what is . . .

Oh let me count the ways . . .

I love how you move my hair away from my eyes and then kiss me. I love how you don't just hold my hand, but instead move your thumb over the inside of my palm to make sure I know you're still there. I love how you wear your wedding ring even while you sleep, and say you feel "naked" when you have to leave it at home to go to work. I love it when you kiss my forehead or the tip of my nose, and when you rub the kisses I blow towards you into your cheeks so they don't float past your face. I love the gentle touch of your fingers on my back, tracing my spine. I love how you think I'm beautiful even when I'm in jeans and a t-shirt. I love how you sneak a kiss at random moments and stick your hands into my back pants pockets when holding me. I love how you let me sleep on your chest and snuggle into your arms at night, even if it's a million degrees in the house and we're both already sweaty. I love how you call me at random points during the day not to say anything specific, but just to hear the sound of my voice. I love how you sometimes refer to me as "Gorgeous" or "Beautiful" or "Sweetheart" or "Hottie McHotterson" instead of my name. I love it when we sit outside on the porch together, in the quiet of the evening, completely barefoot, sharing dinner and conversation, and caring about nothing outside of that particular moment. I love how you text me with little love notes at indiscriminate moments throughout the day or night, confirming that you think of me as often as I think of you. I love the way your eyes sparkle in the moonlight and how you pull me close to your face just to stare into mine. I love how you purr into my ear to make me giggle; how we have words and phrases copyright protected (with a kiss as the only acceptable method of payment for infractions), and purposely say those words and phrases to increase our payable debt. I love how you put your arms around my waist and give me hugs when I'm least expecting it. How you get near my neck and proceed to tell me that I smell awesome. I love how you keep every little love note I've ever given you, reaffirming my numerous random acts of affection are most appreciated. I love the way you want the best for me--and are sure to show me that you're willing to do whatever it takes to make sure I get nothing less than exactly that. I love how you tell your friends about me, and don't attempt to play our relationship "cool" when it comes to telling the how it is--you allow your passion for us to shine through. I love how you always want "just one more" kiss. I love how you run your fingers through my hair, when it's wet or dry, and how you gently tug on it when kissing me. I love it when you allow my hair to cascade down around your face and I can stare at you through the shadows, watching your bright blue eyes dance in the brightness made by the light above me. I love the way you listen to me--allowing me to vent when I want to, cry when I want to, celebrate and laugh when I want to. I love it when you drive near flowing sprinklers when my window is down, just to get me wet and make me giggle. I love your Eskimo nose rubs and the many gentle kisses that follow. I love how you place my love notes to you out in the open where you--and everybody--can see them on a regular basis. You think I look cute moonwalking out of my socks and stuffing tissue paper up my nostrils and every other dorky thing I do simply because that's me. I love how you hold my hand to guide me through a crowd when we're out together. I love the random note or email message I find from time to time, telling me just how much you think about and love me. I love how you lay out some goofy moves on the dance floor just to be silly. I love how you cuddle, being sure to pull and keep me right next to you. I love how you get along well with all of my friends, and have made an effort to get to know them outside of me. I love how you let me eat off your fork or drink out of your glass without even thinking twice about it. How you make funny faces just to see me smile, and how you raise your left eyebrow and smirk when you can see I'm thinking about something that most likely involves you. I love how you gently stroke the back of my neck with your fingers because you know it drives me crazy and you love to see me smile and squirm. I love how you do casual things with me just to be near me, like paying bills, going for a walk, or simply sitting on a bench outside. I love how you let me show you constellations in the starry sky at night, and how you pull me close to keep me warm when it's chilly outside. I love the way you scrunch your face when attempting to make fishy kisses . . . and how you play along with me when I pucker up with fishy lips to you. I love it when you take me on a motorcycle ride, and you carefully bundle me up in all your gear (even if slightly too big) just to make sure I'm as safe as possible; especially the way you look at me when you hook the strap on my helmet. I love how you take care of me when I'm not feeling well, expressing to me in both word and action that you love me and want me to feel my best. I love how you encourage me to eat protein or drink orange juice, even if I don't want to, just because you want me to remain healthy and strong. How you decorate the walls with hubcaps and other car parts, and yet work hard to create space that is clearly ours, slowly transforming a house into our home. I love how you make it a point to contact me even when you're gone on a long trip with family you care very much about, as when you do, I know you care very much about me too. I love how you're friends with my family and how you continually include them in our lives, showing me you're committed to supporting me in nurturing the relationships I find most important. I love how you look into my eyes when there's really nothing to be said because I know what you're most likely thinking. I love how you talk to me as you're falling asleep (often making bets and all) . . . and have no recollection of our conversation in the morning. I love how you hold my hand or rub my leg under the table when we're out with friends, showing me that despite what's going on, you are still attentive to me. I love how you hold me and cuddle in the mornings, keeping your arms tight around me so I know you're there and awake, just wanting to be nearby. I love your bright blue eyes, and the look I see in them when we have a "staredown" in which both of us emerge victorious--even the loser. I love how you make me laugh like no one else can. How we can lie in bed for hours on end and talk about love, life, and everything in between with no real agenda other than being with each other. I love how we can sleep the day away . . . together. I love how you play with my hair, pulling it tight from time to time to coerce my face in one direction or another. I love your passion for pickles and your ingenuity in the kitchen. I love the sound of your snoring, as I know you're as comfortable in my presence when asleep as I am in yours. I love your distinctive handwriting--especially when it comes to reading your name, my name, or "I love you". I love how you didn't want to erase the first magic mirror love note . . . and that you said you were "heartbroken" when you accidentally began to. I love your flat left thumbnail and your "abnormally high ass crack". And how you use your air compressor as a cleaning tool. I love how you stick out your tongue during swing dancing, and how you giggle with me (not at me) when I step out of place or twirl out of control. I love how we can talk about anything . . . anytime. I love how you encourage others to see and acknowledge their greatness. The way you walk . . . especially when your jeans are slipping down. I love your sarcastic comebacks to my sarcastic comments. I love the sound of your voice, in both a normal tone and a whisper that tickles my ear. High-pitched squeals and sexy office tones are great too. I love how you massage my lower back or upper arm when sitting next to me, holding me close even when in public. I love your courageousness and willingness to share your heart with me--especially when it's not easy. I love the look on your face when I show up to where you are, unannounced, and your committment to never leave the house without a kiss and hug. I love how you hold me tight when lying next to me, reassuring me that you love me and don't plan on going anywhere anytime soon. I love cooking dinner with you in the kitchen, making love to you in the bedroom, and teasing you everywhere in between. I love the "xoxoxoxoxo" closing in your emails and the freckle on your face under your right eye. I love the way you tickle me with your facial hair. I love the way you trust me and hold me capable to do the things I know how to do. The way you allow me to be me and expect nothing more, nothing less. More than that, I love that you allow me to give you the same. Raleigh, I love you.
You have my heart, K

All I need to know I learned in Barbados...

Ok, so I didn't learn EVERYthing I need to know in Barbados, however I did learn a lot. And some of the lessons I was privileged to learn I did so only because I was in Barbados, yet others I think would have come from my first week as a married woman, no matter where we were geographically on the globe. Regardless, here they are, in no particular order:

* Close all doors and windows to keep lizards, crabs, cats, and monkeys outside; otherwise you might find yourself sleeping with any one (or all) of them.

* Based on results, saltwater from the ocean (namely, the Caribbean Sea) does indeed compromise the effectiveness of the SPF in sunscreen.

* "Old married folk" now has a sense of realism to it that rivals images of our parents' "early" bedtimes. Once the wedding rings were placed on our fingers, we've had a terrible time keeping our eyes open past 9p. Besides the wedding night and our days/nights of travel to and from Barbados it's been like clockwork: the clock strikes 8:30p and one of us begins the yawning ceremonies which inevitably lead us to bed within the next hour.
(Sidebar: this lesson hasn't been true this week as I've had to go to bed without my husband by my side since he's working--I'm so unmotivated to climb into a big bed without him, even if I'm completely exhausted. Tonight Sleepytime Tea is supporting me in aiming for bed earlier than 2a . . .)

* There is something so intimately sweet and spiritually invigorating to see a man proudly wear (and show off) his wedding ring. When Raleigh so carefully slides it on his finger (or when I catch him happily "checking it out" on his hand), I can't help but smile . . .

* Jellyfish sting. Even the little ones.

* There is something so satisfying in achieving a goal, it cannot be expressed in words. Seeing the sunset from the very water from which the sun will fall behind, sea kayaking, getting another stamp in the passport . . . priceless.

* For some people, naked is a viable wardrobe option.

* For the Barbadians, the posted occupancy limit on a public bus is only a suggested minimum. In fact, it appears such limit only encourages the driver to at least double what is written on the sign.

* Rain is indeed "liquid sunshine" and brightens all that is visible when the clouds aren't releasing their store. It is as much a gift from God as the sunshine.

* It's not real until it's real. I've been practicing writing "Kimberly Elstun" for well over a year, yet I still sometimes forget to sign that way. I guess I'll just have to keep practicing . . . :)

* One of the first times my husband had to "rescue" me was in Half Moon Fort, St. Lucy; and there, we learned that he is great at gecko-herding.

* Although extremely attractive all the time, I think Raleigh is most handsome when he is sleeping, or in that very sleepy, only half-awake state. And I secretly hope that if I feel this way about him, he feels the same about me and uncurled hair and no make-up.

* The "Reggae Bus" with its blaring music, wild drive patterns, and co-pilot pouring shots for all the passengers is just not for us. Guess we're not as "hip" and as "cool" as the young Barbadians.

* I STILL love how he holds my hand, caresses my arm, or gently pulls the hair away from my face with his hand. And although nothing is physically different in those actions since April 10th, something is different. And I hope it never gets old.

Mr. and Mrs. and Now What?!

Ok so the big day has come and gone. Months of planning and figuring and organizing and more planning and more figuring and organizing . . . aaaaand we're done. Mr. and Mrs. Elstun at last; we're married! :)

It feels soooooooo great, I am not able to adequately explain it. To finally have my best friend as my husband, my partner for life, my one and only forever--announced before man and blessed by God--is AWESOME. I keep attempting to sort the feelings running through my heart and the thoughts running through my head in order to put them together in a way that can give some semblance of how exactly to describe the experience of being Mrs. Kimberly Elstun (and more so, what that means to me), however I keep coming up short. Instead, I'll share some of my biggest thoughts and memories of my wedding day; perhaps that will at least give a peek into the joyful exuberance I am feeling . . .

All in all, it was perfect. There were plenty of speed bumps to cross, don't get me wrong, however with the support system Raleigh and I had in place, those speed bumps were barely felt and even the larger obstacles that popped up during the day didn't dampen our spirit. I can only imagine that April 10, 2010 was exactly as God had orchestrated, as it was everything we'd hoped it would be and more.

The sky was beautifully blue, and the sun was shining bright. Roads remained dry, so travel into the snow-capped mountains was pleasant and peaceful. I felt the most beautiful I have ever felt, and was totally loved and cared for by the amazing women who surrounded me and cared for me that day. I was late for my ceremony (yes, I know--ME, the planner and always-early-one!) but it didn't matter as the wedding didn't get started until I showed up anyways, and the music that was resonating within the walls of the church kept all smiling through to the start (and beyond) anyways. :)

I remember seeing all the faces of family and dear friends, smiling back at me as I made my way into the church, so happy to share this wonderful celebration with us. I remember the look in Raleigh's eyes as I walked down the aisle towards him, and how everything else around us seemed to blur away into a foggy mist. I remember the kiss from my father as he handed me to my future husband, the warmth from his lips resonating on my cheek just long enough to produce a tear (or two). I remember so clearly how Raleigh worked through his tears to say his vows (I totally picked up on the inflection of his voice when he said, "I will love you . . ."), and how he so lovingly handed me back my once-dry-but-now-snot-filled hankie after I handed it to him to dry his eyes. I remember how the sun would shine through the stained glass windows in the church at various times throughout the ceremony, producing a beautiful rainbow affect in the rays of light that shone into the room. I remember signing my name--Kimberly N. Elstun--for the first time on our marriage license placed on the altar, and how electric our first kiss as husband and wife was, tingling our lips with an icy heat that I look forward to recreate everyday. I remember how Alex, Andy, and Gerry jumped into the refrain of Matthew West's "More" with a contagious enthusiasm that bounced in our hearts as we joyfully walked down the aisle arm in arm as Mr. and Mrs. Elstun. ("I love you more . . .")

Fr. Matt did an AWESOME job officiating. The homily was one that spoke directly to both Raleigh and I, and we will most certainly forever remember the words that touched our hearts so deeply. He spoke of the "rocks" upon which we have chosen to build our lives (we were engaged on a rock at the Grand Canyon, were married at the Chapel on the Rock, and are building our family on the "rock" of our faith in Christ and His church), and so beautifully incorporated the gospel reading of the wise man. It's true we want the strongest foundation possible, found only in our Lord.

All these wonderful memories make me smile, even now, and by far outweigh the less-than-great things that snuck into our day, not even worth mentioning now. Point is, it was all wonderful and the day turned out exactly as it should. And we're married now, Raleigh and I. Husband and wife, partners in life, now and forever. Our relationship has definitely changed, as there is now a holy spirit that intertwines us both, divinely raising us up to a higher, more sacred union. Not that he (Raleigh) loved me any less before we were married, but it's different now. And I like it. A lot.

And now, as we begin our married lives together, I think, how much more wonderful can this get? Now what?!

The most exciting part is, I know He has much in store, and it's only the beginning . . .

Seven Days and Counting

So one week from today, Raleigh and I will be getting married! Hooray!

It's so hard to believe that the time has finally arrived. I mean, we've been engaged since forever (18 months) and just the thought of ME finally getting married seems so surreal. I've been to dozens of weddings throughout my 27 years, have thought about my big day since childhood, have been planning for and talking about this day for months and months . . . All of this for so long and yet in seven short days from today, it will be my time.

It will be ME getting fussed over by my girls, ME slipping into the beautiful white dress, ME walking down the aisle to joyful music, ME being the center of attention (with Raleigh of course) and the lone draw for the event. It's crazy to think that it is my time. I think back to just before I reconnected with Raleigh, and laugh at how sure I was this day would never happen. Weddings almost made me sad back then--they were a reminder that I didn't have anyone I loved that much, in that way; that I was so far "behind" all my friends and cousins that were of the same age and madly in love; that my conviction to my faith and my values over the years before may have cost me something greater than I could explain (at least that was my fear). And yet, one day it happened--I fell in love with the person I least expected to--and now am getting married. It's true--time really does fly! If I could go back in time and tell myself anything, I'd say "Be patient, and continue on. It WILL happen. Keep faith. And most importantly, DO NOT SETTLE--because sweetie, a really awesome man is on his way to you and you have to be ready to welcome him into your heart . . . " Not that my advice to myself would change anything (I did exactly as I would have suggested), however encouragement (and a little bit of renewed confidence in those affirmations) in low times would have been nice. Oh well, right?! I'm seven days away from saying "yes" to forever with the man of my dreams, and it all seems so right.

Ok so push the forward button, and at this time next week, he'll probably be still in bed (SO not unusual). I'll have already had breakfast with my best friend and will be at the hair salon, watching my girls get their hair done and chatting about the day's events. We'll be within hours of me walking down the aisle, becoming Mrs. Kimberly Elstun, and then celebrating with friends and family from both near and far.

I'm most excited I think for the quiet moments . . . how blue the sky will be and how pretty the sun will sparkle off the mountain snow, how my surprise flowers look against my dress, how my sweet cousin will toss the flower petals as she walks, how Raleigh's face will look like as I begin my walk to the altar, how his eyes will sparkle as he blinks back tears and says his vows (I'm not expecting a dry ceremony on either of our parts), that first car ride together as husband and wife as we're driven from the church to the reception, the fun behind our first dance and ice cream cake, and then finally closing the door behind us in the hotel at the end of the night . . .

Seven days and counting; it's nearly our time!