The Bigger Picture Should Make You Feel Pretty Small

Today is just one of those days. You know what I mean? One of “those days” where you wake up at 8:00 (ish) and fall back asleep at 10:30 and sleep till 12:30. Then a couple hours later, you start to feel a headache coming on so you do everything you can think to do to prevent it. But, of course, you fail and end up spending the second half of the day—the only part of the day where you’re awake, I might add—in pain. You’re sweating up a storm, so you check your AC thermostat and even though you have it set to 75, it’s 80 degrees inside your house. It’s 100 degrees outside. There’s no relief. But you deal with it because it’s Sunday evening, and there’s nothing you can do about it today. So you decide to distract yourself on the computer but…oh wait. For some unknown reason, your Internet isn’t working. OK, fine! You go outside to throw the ball for the dogs but…oh wait! Sabre lost (or hid, we’re still working on it) all the balls except one, and he guards that one like it’s his long-lost brother. So now all you want to do is get in a nice air-conditioned car (an air conditioner that works properly, I might add), drive to a hotel with free wireless internet, stay in a nice cool room with free cable television, and never ever leave. But, of course, you don’t. Instead you type up a blog entry that you can’t post till the Internet starts working again, feeling ridiculously pathetic for complaining about such little things.

My parents were in a motorcycle accident on Saturday afternoon. They were on their way to a funeral when the front tire of the motorcycle blew out, and they went over the top. As soon as they fell off, a bunch of people came over to help them, flagged down an angkot (public transportation in Indonesia), and got my parents to the ER. Miraculously, my mom has very few injuries, considering the fall she took. The right side of her body is pretty beat up. Her right foot is very swollen, she can’t walk without being in pain, and she can’t drive. And just in general, she feels pretty sore. My dad, however, broke five ribs. He’s stuck in a hospital bed and is in excruciating pain. They say it will probably take 4 to 8 weeks for complete recovery. It’s hard for him to think that way, because he’s in such terrible pain without much hope for relief anytime soon. I hate being so far away. My mom tells me that there’s really nothing I could do if I were there, but 10,000 miles has never seemed quite this far. On a more positive note though, my parents have been extremely encouraged by all the people that have visited them in the hospital, and all the people praying for them all over the world. I’ve heard people say all sorts of negative things about Facebook, but I have to say, I think they’re all missing the bigger picture here. I posted a Facebook status about my parents’ accident and within a couple of hours, people in Alabama, Minnesota, Arizona, Mississippi, California, Texas, Indiana, Oklahoma, South Carolina, Washington, New York, (and many others) and all throughout Indonesia and other countries around the world, were praying for them. What an incredible prayer chain! One status. That’s all it took! I sent an email to my extended family members, who then forwarded it on to more people, and so on and so forth. My mom received my email from a couple that used to live in Indonesia, asking for prayer from all of their contacts. Prayer is such a powerful thing, and to know that there are thousands of people praying for my parents is not only encouraging to them, but encouraging to me as well. And to those people that say they don’t like Facebook and they’re deleting their accounts, I’m not the person to go to for moral support.

So as you can see, complaining about being hot or not having internet (which just came back on, by the way), seems so trivial when you know your own daddy is laying in a hospital bed with five broken ribs. It makes me feel small and petty. And I sincerely hope that from now on, whenever I start to feel sorry for myself and lament about all my “first world problems,” that I’ll change my perspective a bit. Instead of being frustrated with an AC that doesn’t cool all that well, simply be grateful that I have a nice house to live in that has AC at all! Or instead of being irritated with horrible Texas summers, be grateful that summer eventually passes and the other three seasons are quite lovely here.

On a lighter note, my sisters are coming here tomorrow for a visit. They’re bringing me Indomie! Sabre is going to be 11 months old in three days. He’s almost a year old! Crazy! Tatum is handling her recovery quite incorrectly. She’s supposed to rest and take it easy this week. No playing or running or jumping…which is all she’s wanted to do since the drugs wore off on Friday afternoon. She clearly has no idea she had surgery two days ago. Travis made chicken stir-fry tonight. It was delicious! He wants me to donate plasma, but I have a little tiny fear of needles. OK, a big fear. He donated yesterday and thinks I need to give it a shot. But I’m convinced that I’ll look a bit silly going in of my own accord and then bursting into tears when they try to stick me with the needle.

Also… it might rain tonight. Gulp.

It's All Random Again, Folks.

My sweet little Tatum got spayed today. I am completely losing it. The surgery went well and all, but now she's home, and you would never know she had surgery this morning. We were supposed to keep her confined for the first 24 hours, but we failed. She's supposed to have a cone on, but we took it off because she kept knocking things over and running into walls. (We'll put it back on before bedtime.) She's only supposed to have a quarter of a normal meal and half a cup of water today. She devoured said quarter meal and has definitely guzzled more than half a cup of water. Needless to say, I'm feeling like a bad post-surgery puppy mommy. Both puppies are currently in their crates, because Tatum was trying to get Sabre to lick her stitches. No joke. This is going to be a long, long week.

I ran out of Indomie (Indonesian instant noodles). For those of you who have never had Indomie, I'm very sorry. They are wonderful. Completely unhealthy, but wonderful. Since I was a small child, I've eaten noodles for breakfast. It started in Thailand with Mama (Thai instant noodles), and simply continued in Indonesia with Indomie. I've been given many looks when I admit to people that my breakfast of choice is noodles, but what can I say? They're easy to make (because first thing in the morning I have no interest in doing anything too complicated), they're quick to make, and they're delicious. And I miss them immensely. Breakfast just isn't the same anymore.

I found out today that Francine Rivers has a new novel coming out sometime in spring 2014. I did a little dance. If there's one author that has yet to let me down, it's Francine Rivers. I'll admit that I wasn't quite as fond of the third book in her Mark of the Lion series, but other than that, her books are my favorites. Despite the fact that I have a degree in English Literature, I'm really very picky about books. I know many English lit people that will read just about anything and somehow enjoy it. I am not in that group. If I'm not hooked within the first 30 to 50 pages, it's not going to happen. But Francine Rivers' books have never failed me. If you've never read one of her books, you need to change that. Aside from the fact that her stories themselves are great, I also highly respect her as a writer. I love to write and hold writers to a certain standard. You see, Rivers takes writing seriously. She actually takes the time to have her novels thoroughly edited by an editor! What a novel thought! And then she rereads them herself to make sure everything still makes sense. So even though she only has a new novel every few years, I always know it's going to be well-written and a great story.

I think I'm going to eat a light dinner. You know, chips and cheese. Kind of like nachos, but not.

When You Feel Like You've Been Drugged

Don't you hate it when you take a nice afternoon nap only to wake up and feel almost more exhausted than before you napped? I really hate it. And I'm battling the overwhelming urge to go back to sleep until I no longer feel drugged.

If there's one thing I definitely like about my husband's new work schedule, it's that he gets Friday, Saturday, and Sunday off every single week. :) wonderful! On Friday we took the puppies to a splash park and playground. Sabre loves to go down the slide! We finally got Tatum to try it this time too. She was a bit unsure at first, but after one time, she discovered that it really was a lot of fun. After running around and sliding for a bit, we walked to the other side of the park where there's a splash pad. They knew exactly where we were going after a little while and ran straight over to it. Sabre loves the water! Tatum loves the water as long as it doesn't splash on her. She'll lay it in all day long. After the park, we went to a friend's house and the puppies played with some other doggie friends. I tell you all of this because then, on Saturday morning, the puppies woke up, played for about 40 minutes, and then slept almost exclusively for the next five hours. And after that, the only reason they woke up was because we took them back out for some play time! It was a strange (but very calm and relaxing) Saturday morning.

Over the past few years, I have struggled with something I like to call the "never-aging disease." It's not scientific or anything, and most people disagree with me that it's a disease, but I struggle from it nonetheless. When I was about twelve years old, I was frequently told that I looked as though I were sixteen! I always took it as a compliment because I enjoyed looking older than I was. However, pretty much around that same age, something happened. I apparently stopped aging. Since I apparently looked about sixteen when I was twelve, and I apparently look sixteen right now, it seems as though I haven't aged in eleven years! I'm constantly told that I should be grateful that I look young. The popular phrase is, "Someday you'll be grateful!" Well let me tell you something, Folks. Today is not that day. You see, here's what happened. Travis and I went grocery shopping yesterday. He was getting some vegetables, and I decided to go get something we'd forgotten in the frozen foods section. At one point while I was walking back, I was walking the opposite direction of these three boys. The oldest of the three boys was probably thirteen or fourteen (it's hard to know, because I wasn't really paying a whole lot of attention to them). As I walked past them, the older one said in that flirty teenage way, "Hey..." and smiled at me. I smiled politely and said hi back, and continued on my way. And then I felt saddened by the entire thing. A boy in middle school tried to..what's the word? Flirt with me? I don't know. But I'm desperately ready to look my age, you guys. [sigh.] Travis was less than understanding of my distress. He tried to convince me that perhaps this boy just likes older girls, but we both know he didn't think I was twenty-three.

Still can't shake off the sleepiness. Blah. What's a girl to do? My husband is watching something about all the parts of an engine. Or how to assemble one. Or disassemble one. I have no clue, but he offered to let me listen to it. I dramatically declined. Ok, I've used all the brainpower I have. It's a wonder I get anything done around here.

The Sun is So Cruel to Fair Skin

This past weekend, my husband and I went to Dallas to visit family. It was a load of fun. :) I got to see some of my cousins that I don't typically get to see, and we went by ourselves. In other words, we didn't take the dogs. It was a bit hard to leave them behind, but it was also nice to be able to focus on spending time with everyone without having to worry about the dogs. I only teared up a couple times, and both times were before we got to the boarding kennel. Yay for me! While in Dallas, we had an early birthday party for my cousin Jake (he's 8... almost!). At this lovely party, we got to swim since my aunt and uncle have a pool. Towards the end of swim time, my little three-year-old cousin, Chara, decided she was ready to swim by herself. Luckily, she decided to do this while I was very close by and able to catch her when needed. But she reminded me every minute or so that she didn't want me to catch her. Then she'd instruct me to go to the middle of the pool (while she held on to the side), and once I was far enough away, she'd let go and go under the water. She was actually a pretty good swimmer despite the fact that she doesn't know how to swim yet. She'd make a little big of progress towards me, not realizing, of course, that I was swiftly moving back towards her so I could pull her up. She wasn't the least bit scared, no matter how long she stayed under water. Brave little girl. :) She's also very funny. (When you're three, it's a lot easier to be funny because you're just so cute!) She kept singing (over and over again), "You don't know you're beautiful! Oh oh!" I had never heard this song before, but once she found out we could play songs from youtube, I got to hear it quite a few times. I spent a great deal of time with little Chara, but she wasn't so sure about my dear husband. Chara loved Travis whenever he would do the "monkey thing" with her and other fun tricks, but other times, not so much. At one point, Travis was in the hot tub area (that is not hot--no one wants to sit in a hot tub during a Texas summer) messing with something, when Chara came over to me and said, "Your boy broke it." And then on Sunday morning, in a noble attempt to convince me to ride with her to church after I told her I was riding with Travis, she said, "But he's gonna beat you up!" It's a work in progress.

This week has been busy it seems. We drove back home Monday morning, and I don't feel as though I've actually spent that much time at home. Today I went swimming (sort of) at a friend's house and found that even though I sprayed myself with about seventeen layers of sunscreen, I somehow missed my knees, and now they're...red. Very red. :( As I'm typing this, they're burning. I think it's some kind of requirement that every time I swim, I have to forget to put sunscreen somewhere. Except Saturday at the birthday party. Hm, perhaps my theory has a few holes. Anyway, I also went grocery shopping this morning. I have decided that no matter what, I will not get in line behind old(er) people. I have done it far too many times and every single time, something goes wrong. You know why? Because they insist on writing a check to pay for their groceries. Don't get me wrong, I use checks too. But not at a grocery store. Perhaps I'm being insensitive, but I just don't understand why a check is preferable to cash or a debit card. It always takes forever and something goes wrong and, quite frankly, you seem old when you use a check. Needless to say, I will no longer get in a line if there is an old(er) person in line. I'm horrible, I know.

The only problem with going out in the afternoon for a few hours is that Sabre and Tatum are stuck in their crates the whole time. So now, instead of dealing with two worn out puppies, I have Tatum who just wants to chase all the bugs, and Sabre who doesn't know what he wants to do, so he just barks. At me, at the door, at Tatum. It could be a long night. I'm very sleepy and ready to sleep in as much as I possibly can tomorrow. (If the puppies will also sleep in a bit tomorrow...) There were other things I had planned to share with you, but I have completely forgotten them. Perhaps next time I will have scintillating tales to share with, but until then, good night, dear friends.

And God Created Puppies, And It Was Wonderful

So I'm reading a blog and I click on a post about Instagram. I read the post and scroll down to the comments section. I really shouldn't be allowed to read comments on anything. Articles, blog posts, semi-controversial facebook statuses... I read the comments and often times find myself battling it out with a myriad of emotions, most of them unpleasant. But nevertheless, I still end up reading the comments every single time. Apparently I'm a glutton for punishment. Anyway, this particular post seemed harmless enough. What could people possibly say on a post about Instagram that would make me upset or sad or anything really? But do you know what someone said? She had the nerve to say that it's so annoying when people post endless pictures of their dogs! How rude! Apparently "dogs are not your kids" so, therefore, you have no right to love them as such. I read a whole paragraph (in the comments section!) on the horrors of puppy pictures. Little tears formed in the corners of my eyes and sadness overwhelmed me. OK, not really. Not at all, actually. But I felt indignant, even though it wasn't specifically directed towards me. I haven't actually posted many pictures of my puppies lately. When Travis and I were in job/home limbo, we posted videos on Facebook and pictures on Instagram very regularly because... well, we had nothing else to do. And those pictures and videos were of our beautiful little puppies. :) And here's the way I see it: you don't have to look at my pictures. It's true. You are under no obligation whatsoever to partake in my life. I love my puppies and whether it makes sense or not, they ARE my babies. I don't have children. I am home all day long. I don't have all that much to do. I cook, clean, do laundry, and take care of my puppies. I'm not saying they're as much work as a child. I'm not insane. Why do you think I opted for puppies instead of babies first? I can't put my child in a crate and go grocery shopping for a couple hours. But for this phase of my life, my puppies make staying home so much better. For example, last night I was feeling down. I'm having a harder time adjusting to Travis working nights than I thought I would and last night wasn't the best. I tried to convince my sister to talk to me on skype, but she was busy. And then suddenly, I sat down on the floor and just started crying. I don't exactly know why. I'm not sure years of study could figure out why I had a sudden emotional breakdown for no good reason. But little Tatum, my sweet girl, looked at me for a couple seconds (she did that head cocking thing that's just so cute) and then climbed into my lap and onto my chest and started licking the tears off my cheeks (and eyes and nose and entire face, really). She put so much effort into comforting me with doggie kisses, that I ended up on my back. Sabre must have thought we were having a good ol' time, so he came over and joined in the kisses. My face was completely covered with doggie kisses. Even after I finally sat up, Tatum still stayed on my lap. And even though some might think that doggie kisses are gross (I was once a part of that club), I felt so loved. I was laughing so much by the end of the "puppy therapy" session, the only way you knew it started in tears was because my eyes don't handle tears well. I just think it's really amazing how much a puppy (or two!) can love you. God created some very special animals when he created dogs. And I'm so glad I have these two little crazy, hyper, silly, frustrating, wonderful animals in my life.

And here are a couple pictures of my babies. ;) 

While I made myself some breakfast a couple days ago, Sabre stole my spot on the couch. 

He does this on purpose.

I was trying to make the guest bed and the puppies decided to hinder my progress. 

She's a looker though, isn't she? :)

Dirt, Dinner, and the Possibility of a Donut

I'm hoping that although we've only been up for about an hour, that my darling puppies are completely exhausted and ready for their morning nap. I let them out around eight this morning. Our backyard got flooded again Saturday night (very shortly after I wrote a post celebrating our dried up backyard), so yesterday (Tuesday) was the first day they could go out back again. However, Sabre gallops more than runs so he ends up with dirt (clay-like dirt, I might add) stuck in between his toes. A lot of it. So he would come to the door and try to jump through the closed window. That's his way of telling me that he's ready to come inside. However, one look at his feet and I knew I needed to go out and wipe them off. I got one, but then he ran back out into the yard and started sprinting around with Tatum again. And we continued in that pattern for a while. He'd come to the door, I'd go outside to wipe off his feet, he'd go play. It was like he'd only play if I was outside. I finally got them inside and into the bathroom where I wiped off his feet. Tatum was much easier. But either way, they both need a bath even though they'll be all dirty again as soon as the bath is over. Puppies.

My husband has finally switched over to his official 2nd shift. This means that instead of working from 7:30 am to 5:00 pm, he now works from 3:30 pm to 2:30 am. It's pretty different. Definitely going to take some getting used to. Sabre's having a hard time with it as well. You see, since Travis doesn't get to bed until 3:00 (at the earliest), he sleeps till sometime between 10 and 11. And since the rest of us wake up before 8, Sabre gets antsy and starts jumping and barking at the bedroom door. We're working on fixing this rather annoying behavior. And by we, I mean I am. Travis is sleeping. He can't help.

I finally followed a recipe! Travis has been coming home for dinner during his shift, so on Monday night I made chili! I was very tempted as I was chopping six cloves of garlic to just...eliminate a couple. No big deal. But I reminded myself that it's a very good idea to follow the recipe as written. I'm sure they had a good reason for including six garlic cloves. AND, the best part of the whole thing, I chopped an onion! If you know me even a little bit, you know that I hate onions. I've learned over the last couple of years to eat very very cooked onions. But they have to be very cooked and very thin and, more or less, not taste like onions at all. Raw onions... yeah, I can't do raw onions. The smell, the watery eyes, the taste.. all bad. But this recipe called for an onion. I read up on how to cut an onion without crying and found that cold onions don't make you cry. I put the onion in the freezer for a few minutes. I just happened to be watching The Help while I was chopping garlic, and in the movie they say that putting a matchstick in between your teeth helps. So I did that too! And I didn't cry at all! I couldn't even smell the onion! (Which in my book is really really good!) And when Travis came home and tried the chili, he said that it was super delicious and better than any chili he's made. Pretty high compliment!

Pst, my puppies are falling asleep! Hip hip horray!! The only problem is, now I'm scared to move.

Oh yeah, and I think my sister is going to help me get ahold of a chocolate cake donut this weekend while I'm visiting! So excited! I mean, not just about the donut but also about visiting Dallas. I have to leave my puppies behind. (We're boarding them, not just leaving them in the house all weekend.) I'm probably going to look like a crazy person when I get all emotional about leaving my babies, but what can you do? I'm a naturally emotional person. I've tried to overcome this in my life, but it's a lot harder than it sounds. But I have improved quite a lot since high school. And I can promise you, everyone is grateful for that! ;) It'll be good for the puppies though. They've never spent the night away from us. I do worry that we'll be knocked over when we pick them up on Monday though. Considering how excited they are when we come back from the grocery store, it's going to be a sight to see.

OK. I've said all I came to say. Which, as it turns out, isn't a lot of substance, but maybe next time I'll have more enlightening, exciting, wonderful things to share with you. Have a wonderful Wednesday!

I Love Wearing White and Taking Naps

It always seems like I just wrote a post, and then I look at the date and see that it's been days and days. And here I thought this was going to be a long week. It went by surprisingly fast, considering today is the first day the puppies have been able to go in the backyard. Their paws get a little dirty, but you can't have everything.

When Travis got home yesterday, we loaded the puppies in the car and took them to Pet Smart and Lowe's. They needed to get out of the house. Pet Smart was good except we have further seen that Tatum has no doggie social skills. Anytime another dog is around her, the hair on her spine goes up, and she looks a bit scary. Not terrifying, mind you. She's still a baby puppy at 4.66 months (trying to be as accurate as possible), so I think there's still time for us to fix her antisocial tendencies. I sure hope so. Because one of the only things that redeems us in the eyes of so many people who don't like big dogs is that our big Sabre is a sweetheart. He loves to play with other dogs, he gets so excited when there are kids around (just ask the two kids that wanted to pet him at Pet Smart yesterday), and pretty much just loves everyone. This rather large female mastiff approached him yesterday, and he was thrilled! There's only so much you can do in a store, but he was definitely ready to play. Tatum, on the other hand, was overwhelmed and eventually bared her teeth. We gave her a correction on that one, since the sweet, albeit large, dog was doing her absolutely no harm. Tatum's also the first to bark at other dogs on our walks. Sabre wants to play, Tatum wants to "attack" but then runs away and tries to hide behind Travis or me as soon as she thinks the other dog might take her up on the offer. We're thinking of taking her to a puppy socialization/training class. There were many things I didn't like about living in a tiny one bedroom, one bathroom apartment, but one of the best things about it was the "at home dog park" right outside our door. As soon as we'd let Sabre out the door, he'd go to all his friends' doors and scratch on the door a bit. Or his friends would hear (or sense) him outside and just appear. Their owners always said, "Oh, so that's why she was whining at the door..." We'd say the same thing if it was one of the other dogs that went outside first. Sabre always sat at the window and waited for a friend to show up. And there were even times that some of the other dog owners would bring their dogs right in front of our door, knowing that we'd let Sabre outside since he'd start whining incessantly. Then they'd play for a while and get sufficiently worn out. His closest friends were a Chihuahua, a Pomeranian, a Schnauzer, a Terrier mix, a Pitbull mix, and a German Shepherd mix. Needless to say, he learned very quickly how to play with small(er) dogs. It was really the Chihuahua (Precious) that taught him. You see, she was his first friend when we brought him home. They were about the same size at first. Then, somewhere around 40 lbs or so, Precious decided they couldn't be friends. If he would approach her, she would bark viciously in his face and run away. Sabre tried for weeks and weeks and weeks to appease her. He would basically go as far down to the ground as he could and then crawl towards her. We think he was trying to make himself look smaller. Then, one day, Precious came outside while Sabre was playing with his Schnauzer friend (Bear), and when Sabre approached her, she stood there and let him lick her. And they were friends again. We think maybe Precious was trying to teach Sabre how to be a better friend to small dogs. I mean, it certainly worked. He stopped trying to paw them (since his paws are the same size as their whole bodies) and learned how not to hurt them when he nipped at them so they would chase him. It was a wonderful thing. But Tatum didn't get to play with them as long. We were only there a few weeks after Tatum came home, and the time away from other dogs has been bad for her. Sigh. The grass is always greener, huh? In this case, quite literally. We have no grass. Just dried mud. Wink, wink.

I tried to make corndogs yesterday. It didn't go quite as well as I'd hoped it would. Apparently corndogs require special cornbread batter in order to stay on the hotdog and stay yummy after frying. Hopefully I'll do better next time. Once I want corndogs again. At this point, the corndogs I had yesterday didn't endear them to me a whole lot. This is why I don't like cooking. I try something new and it fails. I have to admit, I tend to try things without a recipe or I change the recipe, so I guess it's more due to my lack of following directions (or getting directions), but I'm working on it. One of these days I'm going to follow a recipe exactly. You'll see.

I started watching Glee on Netflix this week. I couldn't say anything about it before I watched it (because it's really stupid for people to say horrible things about something they've never seen), but now, I feel I can officially comment on it. I love the show for the musical performances. They're the best part of the show. Actually, I have to be honest. They're the only good thing about the show. I have to keep reminding myself that this show is not meant to be realistic. If it were meant to be realistic, they failed miserably. I didn't go to public high school in the states, but I genuinely hope that real life teachers don't act like such idiots. I have yet to find a truly likable character, and find myself skipping over a lot of scenes. And in the end, I feel dumber for having watched it. But I love the ensemble music. I made it about halfway through the first season, and I think that's sufficient for me. I mean, teachers encouraging students to look up to Madonna and emulate her? Disgusting. After trying to explain to Travis what was happening in the show, he finally said, "If you hate the show so much, why do you keep watching it?" And so I took his very sage advice and stopped watching it. :) If I like the music as much as it seemed, I can always look at their soundtracks. No need to suffer through the show itself.

My dear husband and I have such different tastes in...everything. As I'm writing this, he's watching a documentary movie (something like that) and it sounds incredibly boring. I prefer TV shows to movies, and even then, I'm very picky. He likes to read magazines like Popular Mechanics, Popular Science, and National Geographic. I like to read nonfiction novels. He likes to work outside, I love air conditioning. (I'm much more willing to go outside when it's not 100 degrees outside. I burn. Badly.) He likes to camp and hike, I developed a strong hatred for both activities throughout my childhood. He likes broccoli, I tolerate it. He hates cheesy foods, I love them. He hates mashed potatoes, I could eat mashed potatoes as my main course. And I could really go on and on. But you know what? There are some ways that the differences are a good thing. I mean, if it weren't for Travis, I never would have tried skiing. I can't say it was my favorite thing, but I tried it. And Travis has listened to me read a couple novels to him and has actually enjoyed them. He wouldn't ever pick up a book and read it on his own, but he'll listen to one. :) And it hasn't happened yet, but someday I might go camping with him. You never know. Hiking? Not so much. It pushes both of us out of our comfort zones. For example, starting in about...upper elementary school, I hated dogs. Couldn't stand them. I had no interest in petting dogs or looking at dogs or being near dogs. Travis always had a dog growing up. He LOVES dogs. I knew when I married him that I'd have to figure out a way to tolerate dogs. And now? Now I love them! I mean, I don't necessarily love ALL dogs, but I'm much better now than I used to be. And I really truly love our dogs. A lot. Learning to adapt and grow together is a really wonderful thing.