Happy Halloween!

Fuming

On Monday, Oct. 13, I dropped my car off at the body shop. The man who did my appraisal told me the car would be finished on Friday, Oct. 17. "You'll have my car done on Friday? Really?" He nodded. Sweet.

So Thursday afternoon, I called so I'd know what time I should pick up my car. Of course it wasn't ready. The same man told me it would be ready "the tail end of next week." (Oct. 23 or 24)

Late afternoon on Wednesday, Oct. 22, I called to see find out if things were still on track. Of course not! The receptionist told me it would be put together on Thursday, then painted on Friday. It would be ready for me on Tuesday afternoon (Oct. 28).

So I called Monday afternoon to make sure things were still set for Tuesday. No surprise -- it still wasn't ready. The receptionist told me my car would be going to the paint shop on Tuesday, so it would be ready Wednesday or Thursday. "I thought it was supposed to get painted on Friday," I said. The receptionist answered that that was just what she'd been told.

Well, since today is Wednesday, I called the body shop to see if I'd need to pick up my car today. The man who'd done my appraisal had answered the phone. "Didn't you speak to Liz on Monday?" he asked me in an icy tone.

Are you serious?! I was being polite, and this guy is giving me an attitude because I'm calling to find out if my car will be ready because he originally told me it would be done a week and a half ago!

I said, "I don't mean to bug you guys with phone calls, but it's just that I have to return the rental car clean and full of gas, so I'll take care of those things right before I drop it off. I just want to know when that will be beforehand so I can tell my boss."

The man told me my car might be ready tomorrow. That's what he's "shooting for."

After we got off the phone, I called my dad to vent. I was frustrated that I kept hearing dates, only to find out when those dates arrived that they needed more time still. And the man at the shop is getting fussy with me for calling?!

My dad that in the 34 years he's been driving, when he's had a car in the shop for body work, they've always just called him when it was ready to be picked up.

I reminded my dad that the boneheads at the shop (I used a more colorful word this morning) had told me my car would be ready almost two weeks ago. "What am I supposed to do? Sit around and hope they haven't stolen my car, sold it or closed up shop?"

So now I'm even more frustrated. I'm angry that my car isn't ready yet, I'm tired of driving a rental car, and I'm worried that I've made the stupid shop people angry so they'll do a shoddy job on my car (if they ever finish it).

I miss my car. I just want it back! Sometime this year, please!

Homecoming: not just for old people

So I'm a little behind in writing about it (it involves pictures), but two weekends ago, I went up to Norman for homecoming. The last four drum majors of the Pr!de of Ok.lahoma marching band made it their mission to make alumni band more appealing to the ... um ... more recent alumni.

ER and I took the bait. And I'm glad we did. It wound up being a nice little reunion with several friends we hadn't seen in the last few years. (And we learned it had been eight years -- 8 !!! years !!! -- since we were freshman in the Pride!)

College bar chandeliers are awesome!
















We got to practice in the indoor practice facility, which was built while we were in college. It was pretty cool to be back in there again. It's definitely a part of Sooner football that not many get to see.
















































After our little rehearsal, we made sure to get some pictures alongside some of our favorite parts of the university. Also, unlike when we were in band, we got to watch the homecoming parade!

As ER and I walked across campus, I could not believe how insanely happy I was to just be in Norman, doing the game day thing, and kind of reliving our band days. The only thing that could've pushed it over the edge into pure, utter perfection is if K had been there -- but, as I told ER, if K had been there that day, I might have exploded from excitement. (Yes, I'm aware I'm a dork, but don't make me remind you how ridiculous of a fan I am!)

ER and I alongside Boomer or Sooner (they look the same). They're the awesome horses who drive the Sooner Sch.ooner each time OU scores.





























































As we waited for pregame to start, ER and I got to see the awesome new scoreboard on the south end zone. We marched pregame and halftime, which was neat to do again (but a little nerve wracking, considering our "alumni" uniforms left us pretty easy to pick out on the field). Like many games in our college history, we saw Toby Ke!th (he's a Sooner fan!). We won the game (yay!), and afterward, a group of us went out for pizza and beer on campus corner.
















































































I'm thinkin' it's safe to say ER and I will be doing alumni band again next year.

Just what I needed to hear

One of the reasons I could laugh about my little car accident so quickly -- aside from the fact it was completely my fault for being such a ridiculous fan that I forgot to drive my car -- is because it was so minor. Considering we were traveling at least 55 mph, it definitely could have been much, much worse.

The truth is, I had had this feeling that something bad was going to happen. I don't know what it was that brought it on, but it had been there in the back of my mind for a little while.

The very day before the car wreck, a coworker sent me a link to a site with a ticker for all these different statistics. It showed the number of births and deaths all over the world. It had a ticker for people diagnosed with HIV, people involved in car accidents, and deaths from serious illnesses, suicide, war ... I reset the counter, and the numbers instantly started over from that moment. It was crazy how fast some of them grew. It felt like I could jinx myself just by watching some of those numbers climb.

I quickly closed out of the site before the ticker reached 1 for deaths due to war. I didn't want to know how often that ticker updated.

That something's-going-to-happen feeling had been in the back of my mind since before I saw the ticker. Seeing that site, though, just seemed to reinforce the feeling. Which is a huge reason that little fender bender was almost a relief. I told myself that the wreck had filled the bad-thing quota/"premonition," so everything else will be OK. It worked for the most part, but things are obviously going to be stressful no matter what as long as K is deployed.

Then, last week was pretty rough at work. We had a big company meeti.ng announcing that almost 20% of em.ployees would be la!d off. It would all be done by the end of the week. (Try concentrating after news like that!)

I began thinking about what I'd do if I were in that almost 20%. It might be hard to find a job at first, so I could take whatever job I could find until I found another "real" job. I realized that as long as I had K, everything would be OK.

Luckily, I found out fairly early that my job was safe. But the realization that I can get through anything as long as I have K made me a little uneasy, given where he is right now.

This morning at church, the sermon touched on the economy and all the problems people are having with their jobs, including layoffs. I couldn't believe how perfect the timing was with everything we'd gone through at work last week.

In his sermon, the pastor pointed us to a few Bible verses that can help us in times like these. As he spoke, I thought about the verses, K and the events of the previous week.

But the final words of the pastor's sermon grabbed my full attention:

"It is never naive to trust in God's plan."

I was shocked at how comforting those words were.

Screw you, Express!

Remember The Coat I blogged about a few weeks ago? The one I really, really liked but didn't want to spend $168 on?

Well, it's been on my mind ever since I got the card in the mail with the picture of The Coat on it. I've looked for it online repeatedly, but it was never there. I made two (2!) trips to Express last week to see if The Coat was in stock, hoping to try it on. Maybe I'd see that it wasn't really cute in person, or maybe it just wouldn't be flattering on me. That way, I could quit thinking about it and quit debating about spending $168 on a stupid coat (even if it was really really cute).






















On my first trip to Express last week, I saw that a friend of mine from college was managing the store. I talked to her for a while, and I mentioned to her that I was in there to see if they had The Coat. "Oh, you mean the one everyone's been calling about?" she asked.

Great. (I had really kind of hoped I was the only one who had seen a picture of The Coat.)

My friend told me they had a black and white version of The Coat in stock, but they hadn't gotten the white one yet. She took me over to it. It was cute, but it was $198. I figured it was more expensive because of the pattern. Either way, $198 was definitely out of the question. Even if it was also really cute.






















On my second trip to the store, I thought maybe I'd try on the black and white coat just to see how that style would fit me. I managed to catch a glimpse of the price tag again, and I immediately high-tailed it out of the store.

Yesterday, The Coat (in white) was finally online. It was listed at $198. I thought maybe I'd read the price wrong on the mailout I'd gotten a few weeks ago, so I checked it when I got home. It definitely said $168.

I called one of the stores nearby and spoke to a manager. I told him about the price discrepancy between the mailout and the online store. The manager actually told me that the company had originally sold The Coat for $168, but because there was so much demand for it, they'd raised the price to $198. I couldn't believe it!

Immediately, I called Express Customer Service. I told him exactly the same thing as I'd told the manager. To my surprise, he gave me the exact same reason for the discrepancy as the manager. He said they'd actually sold out of The Coat three times, so they raised the price to $198 to cut demand. "If people really want The Coat, they'll pay that price," he said to me.

"No," I said. "I won't. Not $198. That's completely unethical! And false advertising!"

He actually agreed with me. He told me they'd gotten lots of calls about the discrepancy that day. He gave me the Express Custumer Relations number, so I called them this morning. The woman I talked to there told me The Coat had been mispriced in their system -- it was supposed to be $198 from the beginning. They had fixed the problem before The Coat was out, and they sent out a correction card last week. I told her what the store manager and customer service rep had told me, and she responded that she was sorry I had been misinformed.

But how could two people give me the exact same story, completely unprovoked? It still seems a little fishy to me.

So even though I still think it's really really cute, I'm pretty sure I'm not buying The Coat anymore out of principle alone.

Well, that and the fact that it sounds like everyone else will have it.

The last week of R&R

I already wrote about the majority of Day 12 of K's R&R. After we finished the balloon ride, we headed to OK to see my family. We got to my hometown that Tuesday night, and we spent Wednesday hanging out with my dad. He and K went golfing, and I went with them to walk the course.

K taught me how to swing a club while we were there. The closest to a real game of golf I'd ever come was miniature golf -- not quite the same. Swinging the club felt a bit unnatural, and I have no idea who decided all the rules and developed the proper technique to do it, but I did pretty well for my first shot! The ball went straight, which my brother made sound like is tough to do on your first swing when I talked to him later that afternoon.

That night, my dad cooked us the same dinner he has to make every time I go to Oklahoma. He's a butcher, so it's his job to know meat. This means he grills pretty much the best steak you'll ever eat in your life. We had that, salad and baked potatoes, and after we were all completely stuffed, we spent the evening sitting outside talking under the stars -- nice and relaxing.

We headed back to Dallas early the next afternoon. Over the next few days, we did quite a bit of wedding planning. We met with our photographer and our reception coordinator, and we interviewed two DJs. We spent pver 3 hours choosing place settings, kitchen appliances, and pots and pans. Luckily, almost everything we chose was a mutual decision (I compromised on his choice for our everyday dinnerware).

One night, we met up with AJ, Heather and B, and Elle for Mexican food and a silly night at our favorite piano bar. Oh my gosh, we had so much fun!

We girls danced and sang, exhausted ourselves, rested, and danced and sang some more. In one of the pictures below, I'm pretty sure I'm yawning while dancing. I was pretty hot from breakin' it down (ha!), so Elle took the liberty of cooling me off by putting her ice cold beer bottle against my neck -- and spilling her beer in the process. I love that it's all captured on film!

We also got a nice, long laugh when a girl at the table next to us actually passed out on K's shoulder. A minute or so later, she sat up, looked at K and said, "Your shoulder is really comfortable," and went back to sleep. We were all rolling over that one.







































































































































































































Those last few days, we spent a lot of time to ourselves. That Saturday night, we went for Italian ice in a cute little shopping center. We sat outside enjoying our ice cream and just talking and laughing about different things from our day. It was so relaxed, simple and just so us that as I look back, it's one of my favorite moments from the entire R&R.

We went to church on Sunday, and the pastor actually had K stand up so he could tell the congregation he was home from Iraq. It was sweet.

That Monday was our anniversary. In between DJ interviews, K and I went by the running store I'd been wanting to visit for a while. We both got fitted for shoes, and K bought mine for me. That should give me some good motivation to get out and run -- and one more reason to kick butt at the hal.f-marathon I'm running on Nov. 2.

Before I compromised on K's choice for our everyday dinnerware, we had gone to several home stores to try to find dishes that both of us really liked. At one of the stores, I managed to find a set of dishes that I absolutely loved. I knew they weren't K's style, so I didn't suggest that we get them, but it was like someone had made these dishes with me in mind. I loved them!

Days after we'd been to the store, I was still thinking the dishes, so I decided I was going to go back and get them. K even helped me justify the purchase: "You'll probably want a nice, different set of dishes if you have the girls over or something." Well, K wound up buying me the dishes as an anniversary present. Now I love them even more.

















That night, we tried to figure out where we wanted to go to dinner to celebrate our anniversary. We looked at several very nice restaurants in the area. Honestly, though, hardly anything on the menus sounded appetizing to me -- if I even knew what any of it was. K felt the same way. We talked about just going to Ol!ve Garden or something (at least we both know we like that place!). Still, we wanted to do something a little different.

I remembered a restaurant I'd randomly found a couple years ago with ER, her mom and her aunt. It was a random, hole-in-the-wall restaurant that didn't look that special from the parking lot. Inside, though, is romantic and authentically Italian. And the food is delicious. I had intended to take K there at some point, but I'd just forgotten about it. We decided to go there for dinner for our anniversary, and I'm so glad we did! K loved it. There was a rose on each table, and the restaurant was quiet and almost empty on a Monday night. The food was obviously homemade, and it was delicious. We'll definitely be going there again!

The next day, we went to Spr!nkles for the first time. Man, do they have some yummy cupcakes! Since we'd stuffed ourselves so much over K's trip, we decided to stay in for a healthier dinner that night. We marinated some chicken and cooked rice and broccoli. We used my pretty new dishes, and the flowers K had gotten me as an anniversary present made a nice little centerpiece as well (yes, I have a dining room table, but I hate it -- it was free -- and I hardly ever use it).
















































It was good to spend our last night to ourselves. Too quickly, it was Wednesday, and K was on his way back to Iraq.

The first two weeks (believe it or not, since it took me so long to get these posts up) d r a g g e d b y. After that, I was finally readjusted to the routine that had gotten me through the 9+ months of the deployment that had passed before R&R.

At least now we're just a week away from 11 months, and we're only a little over 3 months away from K being home for good. And if that time goes by as quickly as K's R&R, then he'll be home safe and sound before we know it.

Sticking with my plan

Today is my mom's 48th birthday. I told this to Jeremy as we worked out at the gym before 6:00 this morning.

Jeremy knows a good portion of the history with my mom. I've given him a few abbreviated run-downs* as we've worked out, but that's about it. Still, though, he has shaken his head in disbelief as I've told him about my mom's actions.

When I told him it was her birthday today, he asked, "Did you get her anything?"

"Nope."

"Are you gonna call her?"

"Nope."

Jeremy asked me if I ever paid attention in church. He said that as Christians, we're supposed to forgive and forget.

But what I want to know: Even as Christians, how many times do we have to forgive and forget before it's OK to just cut off contact, especially if it seems to be in the best interest of everyone involved?

*Yes, I can give abbreviated run-downs. When it comes to my mom, though, I always try to give as much detail as possible in this blog in the hopes that if I am being an unreasonable bitch, you'll tell me. :)

These clouds definitely have a silver lining!

I was able to talk to K Friday night to tell him about my little accident the day before. When he heard which road it happened on, he couldn't believe how lucky we were that the wreck was so minor (people fly down that road like they're on a NASCAR track). He wasn't mad, but he seemed worried and concerned -- possibly even in shock that it had been such a minor ordeal. We definitely had someone watching out for us on that one. (Seriously, we were going 60 mph next to a concrete barrier.)

Saturday, I went to a watch party at ER's house. It was a combination fundraiser for the 3-Day Komen Walk, since she and her sister are walking with and in honor of their mother, who was diagnosed with breast cancer in January. The party was really fun, and it was a neat little reunion for so many of us who hadn't seen each other in such a long time. AJ & Jeremy came with me too.

Our spirits were high, the food was delicious, and we had a great time -- until the third quarter. The game was stressful, but it was a really good one, as far as football games go. It was definitely a nail-biter. Unfortunately, our defense didn't do very well, and we lost by 10.

The party kind of died down after that, as you can imagine. I was pretty bummed out about it. Surprisingly bummed out. I had an errand to run after the game was over, and I found myself just moping along inside the store. I probably looked like someone had just taken my dog or something.

As I drove home, I tried to tell myself I was being ridiculous by being so bummed. After all, we'd lost to t.exas. Yes, I kind of hate them, but in a mutual-respect kind of way. They are a talented team, they were ranked #5, and they played really well. It's just one game, and it is just football (deep breath as I say that). In the grand scheme of things, it's all OK (although I still did not enjoy going into my neighborhood Wal-Mart on Sunday to see this):

















K called me late Saturday afternoon to offer his condolences. He was able to catch quite a bit of the game in Iraq, and since he considers himself a full-fledged Sooner now, he was disappointed as well, although it was nothing compared to my feelings.

We had talked about my car and the game when K said, "I think it's funny that you're more upset about the game than you are about your car."

"Wow! I hadn't thought about it like that! It's so true!"

K laughed and said, "I love you." By now, he's learned to expect this after my team loses. The first time we were together when OU lost, I think he was a little freaked out that I was so upset over a football game. Thankfully, he seems to thinks it's endearing now. :)

Speaking of my car, I dropped it off at the shop this morning. It should really be good as new on Friday. It's kind of worked out well: The only damage from the wreck was on my passenger side. The part that allows my passenger's side door to automatically lock & unlock went out about a month and a half ago. It was going to cost $150 to get it fixed. I opted to save my $150 and just manually lock & unlock the door for now (especially since my most frequent passenger is a dog). Well, the body shop is adding that to my claim, and this will automatically get fixed too, since it's in the same area that I managed to mess up on Thursday.

Also, while they've got my car, they're going to fix the spot on my bumper where some punk hit me a year ago and didn't leave a note. I'll pay out of pocket to fix that one, but I figured now's as good a time as any to get it done.

So see? In a glass-half-full kind of way, this is actually going to work out pretty nicely! (But rest assured, I definitely won't be going out of my way to get any other fans' attention anymore.)

You can't say I don't have school spirit

ER is in town for the weekend, and I had an important errand to run yesterday. She came with me, and we were headed back to my apartment, where I was working from home. We were driving along on a three-lane highway in Dallas when I noticed a truck in front of me with a car flag on each window. Both flags were a gorgeous shade of crimson, but I wasn't quite sure they were OU flags.

For those of you who haven't realized the excitement, joy, frustration and obsession that is college football, it's a pretty big week for Sooner fans. Saturday, we'll be playing our biggest rival, those awful t.exas longh.orns. I've blogged about it a few times before, so if you've been hanging around awhile (or have ever lived in Oklahoma or Texas), you know how big of a deal it is.

Well, during the week of OU/t.exas, you see quite a bit more school spirit than usual. There are more car flags, more team shirts, and more trash talking than any other time during football season. Today, on my way home from work, I passed a leather furniture store that was having a "T.exas-OU weekend sale." Even Spr!nkles is getting in on the action.

So there's this unwritten rule that everyone knows that says if you come across anyone sporting memorabilia of YOUR team, you give them the associated hand gesture. If you're a Sooner, you give them the lon.ghorns down hand sign.

So when the flags on the truck in front of us fluttered just in the way we could see they were OU flags, ER and I got excited and knew what we had to do. Unfortunately, I was behind the truck, so he couldn't see the OU memorabilia on the back of my car. We had to pull up beside him to get his attention. Only the person in the middle lane was going too slow to allow that. Bummer.

The OU truck sped up and moved into the middle lane. Sweet!

I sped up to get alongside him, and ER and I prepared to show some school spirit. Only the OU truck moved into the right lane. "No!" I shouted, and I began honking the horn to get his attention. ER was rolling down the window, ready to wave and flash the lon.ghorn down sign.

The driver was staring straight ahead. "He's not even looking!" I said. It was disappointing. I directed my full attention back to the road ahead of us ...

... only it was a teeny bit late.

We had drifted a little into the middle lane. I had just realized my mistake when I heard my car make contact with the car in the middle lane.

Shit.

In that split second, I knew I had to get us back into our lane to avoid further contact, but I had to be careful not to overcorrect and throw us into the concrete barrier in the middle of the road. I handled that task fine.

I lost sight of the car we had hit, but I made my way over to the right side of the road, where the other car pulled up behind us. I waited until the right lane was empty to get out of my car and check on her. We had barely hit, so everyone was just shaken up. We decided to exit the highway and pull over into a parking lot on the access road.

When we got out of our cars in the safer area, I walked over to the woman's car. "I know you're not supposed to say this after a car accident, but I'm sorry. I feel so stupid."

The woman laughed. "It's OK. Are y'all in town for the game?"

"No!" I said pathetically. "I live here! I feel like such an idiot."

I was able to survey the damage. We really had barely hit.

To give you an idea, ER had bought a drink at Subway just minutes before the accident. They had been out of lids, so she didn't have one on her cup. She had drank maybe one sip out of her cup before she put it in my cupholder. Even through the wreck, not a drop of that drink spilled. Considering we were probably going 60 mph when the wreck happened, we were pretty lucky.

The woman's car looked fine. If you inspected it closely, you could see a tiny little mark (circled in yellow in the close-up) that must have been made by my rear view mirror. Other than that, nothing.

































And then there was my car.

















Eek.

Granted, I would much rather have it be MY car to sustain the majority of the damage, given the whole thing was my fault. I spent the whole rest of the day frustrated at myself for being such a dumbass. Geez.

I went to dinner at ER's parents' house that night. Her family, who's pretty much like my second family, just laughed. They've all got silly car accident stories like that. In fact, when ER told her mom the story of how the accident happened, her mom actually said it was kind of precious. (I told her she needed to see my car, and then she could tell me if she thought it was still precious.)

So basically everyone had a good laugh at me yesterday. And I totally deserved it.

Gah!

Now, to leave you with more pictures and some exciting, more responsible news, the important errand ER had come with me on was ORDERING MY WEDDING DRESS. I got all measured for it, and what's really cool is that my veil is free with my gown. Score! [*Note: The "sweetheart neckline" was just pinned here to give me an idea. It will look better when it's actually really altered. And when the dress is the right size, obviously.]











































I'm not one to spend a whole lot of money on one thing. ER has seen me panic for a few days after spending $100 on a blazer that fit me perfectly and I knew I'd wear for work someday. She's seen me go back and forth again and again on spending $60 on a pair of jeans. So she knew how hard it was going to be for me to throw down hundreds of dollars on one dress.

When it came time to make the transaction, I was fanning my face a bit, since it started feeling a little warmer in the dress shop. The woman helping me joked with me, saying, "Now, now, don't go and hyperventilate on me!"

I had to sign my name on a few different things, and the woman said, "All right, that's it! I'm gonna go get your packet now."

"I get a packet?" As the woman headed to the back room for a moment, I looked at ER and asked, "Does it have a paper bag in it?"

The woman came back to the front of the store with my packet. She turned toward the radio in the corner and turned on the wedding march. She picked up a small bottle of bubbles that looked like a champagne bottle. She began blowing bubbles at me and telling me congratulations. ER and I kind of laughed at the whole thing, but it was really sweet.

And then we headed toward my apartment and I got us in a stupid wreck.

When we were finally back at my place, I told ER this would give her some interesting material for her speech at the reception. I mean, how many people do you know who can say their love for their alma mater actually resulted in a car accident?

Day 12

We got back from PA on a Monday evening. We picked up dinner on the way back to my apartment, and we spent a relaxing night in. I told K we needed to get to bed a bit early since we had an early morning the next day -- and that's all I told him. The next day was the big surprise I'd planned for K for our first anniversary -- the hot air balloon ride.

Our anniversary is Sept. 22, but I scheduled the balloon ride for the 16th so we'd have plenty of time to reschedule in case the weather was bad. The 16th actually wound up being the perfect day for the surprise for a reason I hadn't even thought of: Before K's R&R, the most time we'd spent together consecutively was 11 days. We had always said once we finally hit Day 12, we'd have to do something special to celebrate.

Sept. 16th was Day 12.

I woke up around 5:15 that morning. I had hardly slept because I was worried we'd oversleep and miss our balloon ride. I even had a dream that K's ex-fiance had taken K on a balloon ride, but he had never told me. In the dream, when he realized that was my surprise for him, he told me he had hated the ride and thought it was a waste of time. Needless to say, I was anxious to get on the road and finally have the surprise out in the open.

I let K sleep a little later while I got ready for the day. When he got up, I told him to dress for hiking -- wear tennis shoes, jeans, and layers on top. We left my apartment a little before 6.

We drove and drove, and finally around 6:45, we arrived at our destination: a bakery. I didn't know what to expect when we arrived -- would there be a balloon all ready for us to go, or would we go on to another place to take off?

Well, there was no balloon in the parking lot. There was a van with a large basket on the back of it, but no balloon. I hoped K wouldn't see the basket and figure everything out. Thank goodness, he didn't. (Additional benefit of a sunrise balloon ride: Your clueless passenger is too out of it to piece together what's going on.)

When we walked inside the bakery, a man and woman were standing, drinking coffee. They said my name, and I nodded. K and I went up and introduced ourselves. The woman was wearing a ball cap with a hot air balloon embroidered on it. Her sweatshirt had six hot air balloons on it, and her dangly earrings were actually in the shape of hot air balloons (I had to look at them for a few seconds before I realized what the were). Her husband wore a polo shirt advertising the balloon company.

The woman looked at K. "Are you excited? Are you ready?" she asked. K nodded. "Do you know what you're doing yet?"

"Not a clue," K answered quickly. We all laughed, and the woman started telling me where we'd go from there and what we'd do to set up. Several seconds later, K said, "Aaand now I see the shirts. ... Got it. I'm a little slow -- still not fully awake."

We headed out to the van, and we all rode out to a little airport nearby. The man and woman had explained to us that they were a little light on the crew, since it was a weekday, so they'd need our help preparing the balloon for our ride.

K and I were excited to get to help them prepare the balloon. The man and woman pulled it out of a huge canvas bag. We turned the basket on its side, and we laid the balloon, which was rolled up length-wise, in front of it. The woman told us the balloon was 7 stories tall. (Wow!)






































We started slowly and carefully unrolling the balloon, making sure to pull it from the canvas seams instead of the actual balloon material. Then, we made sure it was completely spread out. The man put a fan at the bottom near the basket. He gave K and me each a pair of gloves and showed us how to step on the bottom part of the balloon and to grab the top so the air from the fan (once it was turned on) could get inside the balloon.

As K and I did our part at the bottom of the balloon, the man and woman went around to the top and continued to spread the balloon out. Pretty quickly, it began to fill with air. It was a cool morning to begin with, so having a huge fan blowing straight at me got a little cold, but it was really neat to watch the balloon fill up.





















































After several minutes, the man came back to the bottom end of the balloon and started using the burners. They had warned us that the burners would seem close, but that we wouldn't be in danger of getting burned by the flames. I had to keep reminding myself that as I stood just a couple feet away from the large flame and could easily feel the heat coming from it.

















Very quickly, the balloon started rising, and the basket started slowly raising along with it. The woman ran to where K and I were standing and told us to put all of our weight against the edge of the basket to keep it in place. Her husband had climbed inside to continue prepping the balloon, so K, the woman and I were all leaning against the balloon as it slowly tipped upright.

All of a sudden, they were telling me to get into the balloon. Quickly and clumsily, I hurled myself into the balloon. K was right behind me. Then, before I knew it, we were several yards into the air and climbing quickly.











































It was then that it occurred to me to be scared. I had realized that we were basically in a giant basket. "You kind of have to have a lot of faith in wicker to do this," I said to our pilot.

He reassured me that we were standing on an actual floor sandwiched between all that wicker -- not to mention the fact there were cables from equipment in the balloon that ran across as well. We were safe, he promised. We weren't tipping or rocking, and the giant basket we stood in came above my waist.

I looked around at the gorgeous view of the sunrise and the open countryside, and I forgot about being scared and began to just enjoy the ride. It was peaceful up there.

















We could see for miles and miles in every direction. There we were, just enjoying the views around us, while the world below us went on about its business.

Around the homes below us, people were taking out trash, taking dogs outside, walking to their cars. Many of them waved at us, and we always waved back. Our pilot told us to be careful what we said in the balloon: "They can try to talk to us up here, but we'll never hear them. But they can hear everything you say up here clear as a bell."

It was funny to see the reactions different animals had to us. Dogs would run and bark, determined to try to find a way to catch us. Cows would look around them, but never up. Horses did look toward us. All the animals, though, tended to try to run from us (maybe the sound of the burner scared them?).

















So much about a balloon ride is dependent upon the weather. The amount of wind determines how far you're able to travel. Several times, our pilot mentioned how perfect the weather was for our ride. It was calm, but there was a light breeze that allowed us to simply float along peacefully. The temperature was comfortable. It was a beautiful, clear day.
















































We got pretty high up a few times, and others, we were gliding along just a few feet above the treetops. We lucked out when we flew over a lake. The pilot lowered us to just above the water so I could get a picture of the balloon's reflection in the pond below us.
















































The ride lasted about an hour. We wound up landing in an area the pilot sometimes uses to take off. Since you can't really know where you'll land when you take off, there's a chase crew that follows the balloon on the ground. Our chase crew was our pilot's wife in the van we rode in. We had a two-way radio in our balloon that the man used to talk to his wife to help her follow us on the ground.

To land the balloon, our pilot did what he called "walking the balloon" so he could get us to a certain area of the field we were landing in. We got very close to the ground and actually touched a few times. In fact, we landed several times before we actually landed. Some of the landings were very smooth -- we simply touched down to the ground for a few seconds -- while others were rough, feeling almost like the balloon would tip over.

Once we were in the general area where our pilot wanted to really land, he put us down for good. This one wasn't as good of a landing, and almost in slow motion, the balloon slowly tipped more and more to the side. I wasn't sure if it was going to balance itself out and fall flat again, but I leaned back and back, trying to keep my arms in the balloon like they'd told us to do in case the balloon landed on its side.

Sure enough, it completely tipped over. Our pilot and his wife had also told us not to climb out of the balloon until they told us to, since it would still be very much inflated, and the only thing keeping it on the ground would be the weight of those of us inside. It was only a few seconds before the pilot told me to get out. I crawled out of the balloon, and K was out behind me a few seconds later. The balloon deflated pretty quickly.





















































K and I helped the pilot and his wife push all the air out of the balloon and roll it back up. I put Velcro straps on it every few feet as our pilot, his wife and K all gathered it back into the humongous canvas bag. They put the basket back onto the back of the van, and we all piled in and headed off to a park for the celebratory champagne toast that traditionally follows a hot air balloon ride. On the way there, our pilot told us we had traveled over 15 miles in the balloon! He and his wife kept talking about how perfect the weather was for a balloon ride.

When we got to the park, we sat down in a gazebo, where our pilot and his wife poured us mimosas in keepsake champagne glasses with "First Flight" and a hot air balloon etched into the glass.

































They told us the history of hot air balloons, and they gave us certificates with our names, balloon number and a photo of the balloon on them. I reminded K that the traditional first anniversary gift is paper, so our little certificates were the perfect way to remember the ride.

















We stayed and talked awhile longer as our pilot and his wife, who have both been balloon pilots for many years, told us all kinds of stories of their own and from friends in ballooning. Some of the stories were (thankfully and purposefully) specifically not told to us until after the balloon ride, but it was nice to just relax, enjoy mimosas and talk about our neat experience while the rest of the city was rushing around to begin the day.

When we got back in my car to head home again, K told me he had actually always wanted to go on a hot air balloon ride. We had both loved it. It was definitely a neat way to celebrate our first wedding anniversary -- and it was a memorable, perfect way to celebrate finally reaching Day 12.