Snuggie? Or inverted bathrobe?

I will never tell.

isn't he wonderful?

A very long time ago, Tim told me he had a surprise for me.

Well. It wasn't that long ago. I'm talking January...but the Frenchman and I have covered a lot of ground in a few short months of being the token of each other's affections--and I don't just mean the space between Kansas City and Chicago--so it does feel like a very long time ago.

Anyhow, before I went on my January visit, he was talking up this surprise. He kept going on about how it was a really, really good one. Then I got to Chicago and he took me on trains, and in cabs, and up to the 96th floor of the John Hancock building, then down Michigan avenue, then ice skating in Millenium Park, then to the Vivian Maier photography exhibit, and none of those wonderful activities was the surprise he was talking about. I left to come back to Kansas City, and still he boasted of his great surprise that was yet to come.

I went back to see him last weekend, and he promised that the first afternoon I was there, I would finally get to experience whatever this big surprise was. All I knew for sure was that it was weather sensitive and I had to not be afraid of heights to be able to enjoy it. I started developing unproven theories about what it could possibly be.

As soon as I arrived in Chicago, it started snowing. We were warming our hands on mugs of hot coffee when Tim made an ever so ambiguous call to "the place" asking if our "appointment" was still on despite the snow. The people said yes, and my man smugly assured me that his great surprise was still happening despite the snow, "because by the time we're in the air, the weather will have cleared."

In the air?

"So...is it an airplane or a helicopter?",  I asked. 

I still love the look on his face when he realized he'd let that bit of information slip. And he still loves the look on my face when he told me we were going on a sunset helicopter tour of downtown Chicago.

Whose life am I living here, people?

It was wonderful. I'll let the pictures tell the story of the experience, except for two snippets that show how hilarious and genuine my sweetheart is.

We got in the car to drive to the airport (because that's where helicopters take off from, go figure), and Tim handed me his camera bag because I wanted to play with those bad boys on the ride to Midway. I opened the bag and was surprised to find that he only packed one of his Cannon 5D Mark II's. He usually takes two cameras on important shoots. 

"Just one?", I asked.

"Yeah", he replied, "if the chopper goes down, I only want to lose one camera."

"Seriously?! What about our lives, mister?"

He chuckled and said something about preserving the value of his estate.

Comforting.

And then, when the pilot was getting us settled in our seats, he asked Tim if he wanted to sit up front to take advantage of the better view for photography. The window space up there was easily three times what is was in the back. Without hesitation, Tim declined the better seat next to the pilot. He wanted to sit next to me in the back, even though it meant his view would be limited.

Speaking of his pictures, here's a few incredibles. If you want to see the whole collection, click here.

Well.

I have never been one to tell a story before its finish, and my life is currently a whirl of several different stories that are positively swollen with potential for fat happy endings, but it's too early to tell just yet.

When I was a kid, my mom refused to promise me anything except that she would never stop loving me. I begged for promises for birthday parties and puppies and vacations and new shoes, but she flat refused to tell me on certain terms that any of those things would materialize. Her word was strong as steel because she let no weak promises slip in to her language.

That was a grand tangent.

The point is, I won't tell my stories yet because they're not finished. But that strong as steel word told me tonight that I needed to update my blog with something...anything, for goodness' sake, so I will tell you things that I am sure are true.

• I have eaten oatmeal with raisins, apples, and honey for breakfast every day for the last 5 months. I love this food. I start thinking about it everyday around 7 pm. If I'm not careful, I eat it for dinner too. Gosh. I could eat some right now.
• I have been 24 years old for almost 24 hours. It feels good.
• My boyfriend is the most admirable man I have ever known, save for my father and grandfathers.
• I want to be a Child Life Specialist. I've tasted it for two months now, and I love every day that I spend at the children's hospital with those kiddos helping them understand and cope with being sick, and remember joy in the midst of their pain.
• I am going to move away from Kansas City sometime before August. If I hadn't been slowly preparing myself for this for the last year, I would wretch at the thought. I love all that this sweet little city and its beautiful people has been for me since I was 19 years old, but I have two big life dreams that can't come true here, so I will go. But I promise to come visit as much as I possibly can (except in February and August when the weather is profoundly irrational).

There they are; the things I know for sure.
Now, a funny:
On Wednesday I was at the hospital , learning more about how to do my dream job, and I met a sweet girl for the first time. We were getting acquainted, talking about various play activities and whatnot. Near the end of our conversation, I thought I would be nice and let her know that she had paint on her forehead. I figured she had broken out the finger paints for her play-group that day and one of the kids had tagged her without her knowing.
"Oooh!", she said kindly, "that's not paint. It's ashes."
I wanted to crawl in a hole and die. It was Ash Wednesday, people.  What kind of a Christian am I?

That's all for tonight, buddies. Except for one thing, doesn't my Mimi look positively regal in her birthday picture?

I mean, she could be the queen of England.
The other night over the phone, Opa (that handsome gent pictured above) told me he remembered the first time he ever told a girl he loved her. I asked him how that turned out, and he said: "Oh...you know...well, she's sitting right in front of me."

Sleep tight, my readers.