To you, downstairs neighbor with a thing for extra-loud death metal at all hours:

You:
You are the kind of guy who bikes to work, and holds the door open for your neighbors. You're well-groomed and wear trendy dark clothes. You are slightly creepy looking, but you're normally smiling while you smoke your cigarettes outside the building, so that somehow makes you okay.

However:
You need to start saving up for some really nice BOSE, noise canceling headphones, maybe even some that are Bluetooth compatible. Because, dear downstairs neighbor, your taste in music is just really not ours'. We like you, we think, but we don't want to listen to your crappy, base-drum driven, repetitive, growling, floor-vibrating choice in music. Even the dog seems annoyed. She's moved from sleeping on the rug to sleeping on the chair, a few feet and several foam-insulated layers away from our floor, your ceiling, dear downstairs neighbor.

Please:
Just turn it down. Your choice in music sucks, but that wouldn't bother us if it didn't make the liquid in our glasses quiver.

Sincerely,
your normally mild-mannered upstairs neighbors, and our dog

The happiest of days.

Our dear friends Matt and Elie have been busy with their new baby. Matt is likely drowsily celebrating his first Father's Day, likely pretty sleep deprived.
Another friend, Ruthie, has headed off to the East Coast to study up with other outstanding promising young teachers from all over the country.
Megan and Mike are preparing for their wedding and honeymoon to Costa Rica in August.
Kara and Jim are feathering their nest in anticipation of a new baby in October.
Elliot is in South Africa.

I have impressive friends. I have always known this. They seem especially impressive to me right now though, I think, with the combination of new life, being a stellar young teacher in a sea of many, absolute capability in the complexity of event planning skills, important and shining preparation for a new life, and of course, international spectacularness.

We are here in good old Saint Paul, Minnesota, having a normal summer. Mostly normal, I guess, in comparison with our peers.

I have been feeling relatively balanced in the face of two of my best friends having babies.

A few weeks ago, I helped roust a newborn from a good hard nap so that her new mom could feed her, in preparation (and preservation) of sleeping hours for the night. First, let me say, I am not good at many things. I am, however, good at waking up babies, and not in the awkward, "I'm not sure what to do with this thing" kind of way, but in a very deliberate- she might be your precious fragile joy, but I know she's not that fragile, kind of way, and I WILL wake her up, no prob. And I won't feel guilty about it either. Babies don't scare me, they just don't really interest me all that much.

I am not planning on having a baby this year, or next year, and that's okay. I have to acknowledge that I was feeling a little intimidated that I'm not ready for my own yet, but I think I'm okay with it. I have to honestly say, that I am contented to sew baby quilts, and bake cookies for care packages for a new mom, shop for baby clothes patterns and "cuddle fleece" fabric prints with dinosaurs and peace signs printed on them.

Don't get me wrong. I love babies. I love small baby things like booties and onesies. I enjoy baby's little fingers and tiny peeling toes and feet. I like how when babies cry, they cry with everything that they are, shaking to the ends of their extremities from the overwhelming emotion. I like how babies smile when they have a gas bubble. I like feeling their light weight on my thighs, while I stare at a warm and roughly equivalent tiny model of my own body. I love those things. I love babies. I love that they are not mine yet. I really do.

Someday, I will joyfully welcome the sleep deprivation and the sense of living so completely for another life. Feeding, changing, washing, dressing. The quiet content and, knowing myself well, fulfilling calm with an ebb toward nagging frustration of being in service to a life that I will help bring into the world.

For now, I am in love with my role of supporting the leading lady. Someday I'll take the spotlight, but not yet, please.

I have officially finished my first year of teaching. Many first year teachers have horror stories to report or novels to write about their first years. I can honestly say that I didn't have enough drama to fill a novel, I'm not even sure that I have enough drama to fill a blog post... The fact that I had such a smooth year is due undoubtedly to the fact that I work with some of the most supportive people I have ever met. The staff at my school is friendly and out-going. They make non-pc jokes in the teachers' lounge and pop into my classroom before school, after school, and even during our day, to check in, say hi, and otherwise just be friendly. I have come to love my school almost as much as I have always loved my dear friends.

As as start writing the largest writing project of my life (likely), my capstone for my Masters degree, I cannot help but appreciate the "view from here." I'm not carrying any classroom baggage, I'm not worried about having a position next year, I'm not stressing out about the fact that I will be completing my "action research" in the fall while I will also be setting up a classroom and building a new community of learners. My teaching community is already solid. Thank god.

My first day of summer dawned with breakfast in bed (thank you, husband) and a to-do list longer than my dog's tail. A teacher's summer is not margarita's and barcaloungers, as my husband sometimes jokes. This summer I'm teaching an environmental science class to middle schoolers, I'm writing the first three chapters of my Masters capstone, I'm doing Responsive Classroom training, as well as ProjectWild training through the MN DNR. I hope I can get in some camping and strawberry picking as well as bread baking and friend visiting. But mostly, I already can't wait to get back to my teaching community, and I think that's rare. I'm in love with my craft.

It was really hot
Originally uploaded by Annieo's pics

We are now home from our honeymoon. My alterior motive in bringing A to México, to a location that I have already visited, was that I wanted him to become a Traveler. A's family hasn't traveled much, and I have a serious itch to see the world. I think it worked because we had an awesome time with very few hitches, despite some flakiness on our parts, and on the way home on the plane, A asked, "Well, where to next?" I love my husband.

Flickr

This is a test post from , a fancy photo sharing thing.

On not becoming parents, or growing up.
We have several friends right now who are growing up. Don't worry, we've told them. It's not a secret. They are having babies. What is interesting is that they are not buying houses. I think that some historians and cultural anthropologists would find this interesting. We are 27, and none of our friends- wait - yes, not one of our buddies from college owns a house. We have other work friends who own houses, but not one of our friends who are currently gestating or supporting the gestation of a baby have a mortgage.

A and I have thus far successfully avoided parentship, though someday, we would like to be parents. I haven't felt any pressure to have babies, even though two of my best girl friends are currently baking a bun, as it were.

I had my very first taste of jealousy/pressure from a small group of people who I don't know, have never seen before, and will likely not run into them very quickly again. I was sitting at a lovely local coffee shop near a newly married couple (A asked me how I knew they were newly married- I told him "because they looked 12 and had wedding bands on"). They were talking to the wife's parents about a new home that they bought. After casually eavesdropping on the details of their new garage, the fence they would have to "get after" come summer, and the verbal instructions rattled off by "dad" about "gas vs. forced air heating" I had been bitten.

I want a house. Since A and I don't even know if we will be in Minnesota next year, this a completely fool-hardy drive. This does not bother me. I will waste half of today tooling Zillow and real estate websites. We can't afford anything. This doesn't bother me either.

Okay, so obviously, this isn't Aaron and I. It is however, how we felt this morning walking from our car to the grocery store. We have plunged back below zero. Aaron asked this morning,"Why do we live here again?" I told him I think it is because we were born here.
I think we're itchy to get out and about. See the country. Strike out together. Though, we often start sentences like: "When we move back to Minnesota..."

January is waiting. March will be waiting too. Waiting to see where we will end up, if we will be anywhere other than here. It's hard to hope for change when I'm happy with my present circumstances, but I am trying to hope for him.
P.S. Don't tell our dog Lily that we're thinking about moving, she likes her people right where they are, thank you very much.