Houseshow recap

So, the houseshow was completely lovely.

It's always a push for me to feel like my home is adequately prepared for guests. It's my easiest stresspoint, I think, and I get irrational and testy about how hard I perceive it's going to be to clean up and make food and get myself presentable plus be welcoming when the people come. For my dad, it was getting the car packed for roadtrips. For Tim, it's memory cards with wedding pictures on them before they're backed up. We all have the easy stresspoint. Mine is my house before people come over.

But Tim and I finally created this and I sighed and snapped a picture right as Sara pulled up. I should add that, weeks later, those flowers are still in that vase on the right and they're totally dead and gross. We don't keep up appearance when we aren't having people over, which is probably why I try to have at least monthly gatherings here. Good motivation.

If I ever wondered at some point in the planning process "Why am I doing this?", I was immediately reminded as soon as we all got settled in our cozy, softly lit living room with our dear friends and Sara's sweet voice washed over me and I just melted into the experience. I love live music. And I love my home and my friends. The perfect blend of those three things was a profound gift to me. It was an I'm so lucky! moment. And those are always the best.

I was hoping for a packed house so Sara could walk away with a fat bankroll of sweet tips, but we were a sparse group of 14. It's probably just as well since we have a third floor apartment in a quiet neighborhood. Even though we invited our neighbors, none came so I was worried about bothering them. But no one complained! So either we weren't that loud or they're just very tolerant. Both work for me. The people who came were incredibly attentive, appreciative, and generous listeners. I think Sara was happy, so that's all that matters.

Sara is one of those sparkly-eyed people. Have you met one of them before? They just keep sparkling at you and they can hold a genuine smile in their eyes for hours and even talk through a real, honest, from the heart smile. It's really impressive.

Kate and Joel right up there, you guys. They're cute.

Just to convince you to come to our next Houseshow, take in the video below. Sara gave me permission to share this even though this brand new song of hers isn't finished yet and it's not going to stay the way it is in the video. She's about to move to London on a wonderful new adventure, and this song really captures that sure anticipation of leaving behind and beginning again. I love it.

Cinco dé Houseshow

I've been missing Kansas City something fierce recently. Mostly the local music and my friends and how those two things worked together so naturally. I used to go to shows several times a month during the summer. The venues were close and the tickets were cheap, and the chances were high that the person on stage was dear to me. The "current favorites" playlist on my iPod generally housed my friends' music. 

Anyhow, Chicago life is still the best ever, I just have to keep a closer eye on tour dates and such so I can still see these people live and in the flesh. 

Well, my pretties, one of Kansas City's greatest, Sara Swenson, is touring through Chicago THIS weekend.

Now, let's pause and listen to some of Sara's music. 

   

Great. Thanks for going there with me. Well, on a whim, I emailed Sara (whose shows I've attended but I've yet to have the pleasure of meeting her in person) and asked her if she would be interested in playing a house show at our place on the night before her big gig opening for Peter Bradley Adams, and she said yes!

And then I felt like the world was small again. 

So if any of you who read this blog live in the Oak Park/Chicago area (do you exist?) and would like to come to this little shindig, please email me at bethany.tabailloux@gmail.com because I'd love for you to come! It will probably be a really great and wonderful time. 

Chapter 12: the kiss. oh, the kiss.

As much as Tim had dated before me (I've heard from several sources that the number of girls he dated was in the 20's), he had never had a girlfriend, and since it wouldn't have been in his character to kiss a girl he wasn't in some way committed to, he never had. Let me rephrase so you can fully appreciate this little nugget of information: he had never kissed a girl.

He had a system, he explained: if he liked a girl, he asked her out. If she accepted, he took her out on a date. If the date went well, he kept asking her out on up to 3 dates, but no more than 3 dates because if she made it to 3 dates then they would have a talk. A DTR, if you will. If he wanted her to be his girlfriend, he would ask her, and if he didn't want her to be his girlfriend, he would tell her gently but clearly that he really enjoyed spending time with her but he had decided over the course of their 3 dates that he didn't think they were right for each other, and would ask if they could just be friends.

Apparently, women loved him for this. He kept friendships with nearly all the girls he ever dated. His dates' roommates would write him emails thanking him for respecting their friend and being clear and open in communication about how he felt and where he did and didn't see the dating relationship going. Some of his former dates later asked him to shoot their weddings.

Using his system to navigate dating relationships throughout college and post-college, he had only found one other girl he wanted to be his girlfriend, and she wasn't into it. And then there was me. For seven years he had been searching and filtering and asking and dating, but never committing or kissing. He had finally found one special girl whom he really wanted and really wanted her to want him too, and it was me.

So that brings us to the couch in his living room on the second day of my trip, after I had met his brother and future sister in law and most of his closest friends. Everyone was gone and we were up talking when he told me he wanted to kiss me and he had never kissed anyone before.

My past relationships never prepared me for this kind of situation. I had only heard about committed Christian men who saved their first kiss for so long they were now pronounced man and wife before they kissed their lady. So I gently asked: "Are you sure you don't want to wait until marriage?" To which he replied: "Absolutely NOT!"

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Chapter 11: Chicago

Did I say I'd get back to writing our love story in January? March is what I meant. Late March.

I had an early morning flight into O'Hare and a window seat. We started our descent into the city and my first ever glimpse of Chicago literally took my breath away. 

She was so beautiful and snowy. The morning light was gentle and I felt like I was about to land in the Celestial City from the Pilgrim's Progress. Or something.

My plane arrived a full thirty minutes early, so I went to the ladies' room and tried to get a grip on my nerves. Pessimism felt more comfortable than hope. As much as I liked Tim and couldn't wait to see him, he still wasn't entirely safe to me because of all the unknowns and I needed to put on a little bit of steel beneath the surface to handle the beginning of another few days together.

I walked out into the baggage claim and a thousand people were milling around, knowing where they were going. I didn't know where I was going, but soon enough I found Tim waiting for me. He was facing another arrival gate, so I walked up behind him and tapped him on the shoulder. I'm sure we hugged and smiled or something, but I mostly remember instinctively reaching for his hand because I needed some kind of guidance and reassurance that he was going to take care of me in this strange city.

Of course, I immediately remembered that he had already established that fact...to my parents.

A week beforehand, I was at work when I got a call from my mom:

"Tim just called us at home! Dad's talking to him right now!"

"What?! How did he get your number?"

Keep in mind that I had never opened the lines of communication between Tim and my parents. They each knew about each other, but they didn't know each other. 

"I don't know, but I picked up the phone when he called and he introduced himself and said that he just wanted to let us know that he was going to take good care of you when you go up to see him next week. He wanted us to have his phone number and know what you guys are going to be doing and where you're going to be staying."

I was in shock. And I knew my parents were positively LOVING this.

"What are he and Dad talking about?"

"Oh, now they're talking about Moody and France and stuff."

"Let me listen!!"

So my mom and I sneakily listened in on my dad's side of the conversation. He sounded positively jaunty, like he was talking with an old friend that he went to school with or something.

"That's just really impressive, Bethy. It means a lot that he would call and talk to us."

My mom's voice rang in my ears as I watched Tim heave my suitcase off the conveyor belt and wheel it back over to me. I took his hand again and we walked out of the airport into the cold parking garage.

He had wanted to make it explicitly clear that he did not plan to take advantage of me as soon as I got on his turf. He planned on showing me the best sites in Chicago, introducing me to his friends, and he had prepared my sleeping arrangement to either be in the same room with his brother's fiancee who would also be visiting or at another (female) friend's apartment down the street if her plans got cancelled. My parents felt honored to be included in our plans. He was winning on every front, and I started to relax as we drove out of the airport grounds.

We did so much that first day. 

Ogilvie and Grand Central Stations, Millenium Park, Michigan Avenue, the Chicago Cultural Center, ice skating...it was a really terrific melange of perfect dates. 

After lunch, when we were walking to our next activity, Tim complemented me on my boots. I had been waiting for this complement because I had just spent more money on those boots than I had ever spent on any singular piece of clothing I'd ever owned, so he did good to notice. 

Then he said; "My girlfriend's got style."

To which I challenged: "Your girlfriend?"

He hadn't cleared this role definition with me.

"Bethany, do you know what a DTR is?" 

Of course I knew what a DTR is. I grew up in Christian circle too. A DTR is a conversation to Define The Relationship. It usually happens at a Starbucks or some other common ground and there are always sweaty palms involved. A DTR rarely goes well for both parties, because one party either doesn't want the conversation to happen or they desperately do want the conversation to happen and will come out on the losing end. DTRs are painful and awkward and everyone hates them but some people think you just have to have them. I used to be one of those people.

"Yes, I know what a DTR is."

"Great. Let's skip it."

I was surprised, and then a second later I was delighted. I wanted to be his girlfriend and I wanted him to be my boyfriend and I didn't want to have to dish up all the stray feelings packed around and hanging loose from that desire. We just skipped it.

I love my job

It's just the best gig.

picking up

Life is picking back up again, and I'm so happy.

It was a long, wedding-less winter. This being my first "slow season", I wasn't quite prepared for just how slow slow could be. It was fun at first when we traveled to France, then moved to a new apartment. But then not much happened for about 7 weeks and I got bored. Then I got sad. Then I started questioning my life purpose.  I talked about going back to school and getting a second job and doing all sorts of things, and Tim was all like "it gets better! we're going to be busy again soon!"

I remember him going through this a little bit last year, but I didn't really understand. A long winter break from work sounded amazing to me then, but I've since learned that there's a reason they call it an "occupation"...it's supposed to take up most of your time. The weird thing about being a wedding photographer in a cold climate with harsh winters is that for 3 months out of the year it actually doesn't occupy your time at all. Now I know for next year that I need to plan my time better so I don't feel so useless until Spring. On to better things.

Five days ago, the best thing happened. I became an aunt.

The long of it is that Amanda went a week overdue, then had to get induced, then had to labor for 36 hours with little progress, then after a few dropped heart-rate scares, the doctors decided to do a c-section. Bless her heart. I nearly went crazy during that time. It's a hard and scary thing to have a loved one struggle through a tough labor. We were all so relieved when it was over.

Here's the short of it:
 

We are so in love with this little girl. We miss her when we go a day without seeing her. She's a precious tiny Zaylee nugget and Tim and I come up with ridiculous reasons for being "in the neighborhood" so we can drop by and snuggle her littleness. I think happy chemicals get released in my brain when I have a baby in my arms. Someone google that for me.

We're headed to California soon to shoot our first wedding of the year, which just so happens to be my dear friend Erin's. We got a new camera, new clothes, and new haircuts just for this. We're pretty pumped.

I'll sign off with a treat for your eyes. My Timothee.  My precious guy.

25

A quarter of a century, I am. Every birthday is so special. I've somehow been blessed enough to go to sleep at the end of every March 10th feeling loved by the people around me, and this year it happened again.

On Friday night our core group of friends celebrated Gabrielle's birthday. Since mine was on Saturday she pulled me up to stand with her during the singing and blow out candles with her. 

This picture totally outs a bad habit of mine. Does anyone else pick at their fingers when they get nervous? Am I alone in this primal habit? 

Moving on.

On Saturday I woke up and opened packages my parents and sister sent to me. Packages! What a thrill. Just like that time when I was in 5th grade and Mom sent a batch of cookies to me while I was at camp.   Then I ate a donut for breakfast. Happy birthday to me. 

By then Oak Park was starting to heat up for the St. Patrick's Day Parade: streets blocked off, drunken shenanigans at Starbucks at 9am and such. I have to be honest here and admit that I really don't like St. Patrick's Day. It's probably my least favorite holiday along with Halloween. I hope we can still be friends now that you know that. I like other holidays. Probably every single other holiday. 

Tanget?

So after the donut we drove into the city for a much more peaceful ambiance. The weather was clear and beautiful and Tim's surprise lunch for me was at the Hancock Tower Signature Room. The view was breathtaking which means that I couldn't breathe for a second when we stepped off the elevator at the 95th floor of the building where OPRAH ALSO LIVES. She was probably there, somewhere on a floor below us, lounging in her vast lounging rooms with her cocker spaniels. 

The Signature Room is surprisingly affordable and family friendly, and I really liked that about it. All kinds of people were there, including families with little kids who were positively giddy about being so high up. It was a great atmosphere.

I love that Chicago is not landlocked. I feel better when I can see an end to the land and an expanse of water.

My husband. He still feels like my new boyfriend. He's the best guy and I'm so excited to be his girl.

After that we rode the elevator back down 95 floors to the ground level and wandered into the North Face. I've been wanting a new coat that's not my standard black, and I also wanted to wait till Winter was over so I could get it on the cheap. After much agonizing I picked up a white outer shell windbreaker that was on sale and realized I could take my tried and true 4 year old black insulator jacket and zip it into the inside of the white outer shell for a warm winter coat option, or wear the shell alone as for a Spring windbreaker. It was the perfect birthday present and I handed it to Tim and he took it to the counter and bought it and then I put it on for the rest of the day.

Then we went to the Old Town to meander a bit before stepping into A New Leaf, which is basically a cave of botanical wonders. Tim wanted me to pick out a bouquet of flowers to take home because he's sweet like that.

And then we spent the rest of the day at home. Tim played and sang me a beautiful rendition of "Happy Birthday" and we snuggled and ate guacamole.

It was a perfect spontaneous day. 

It's good to be 25. I'm finally feeling like I know a thing or two. I also felt like that at 18, and then I went to college and realized I didn't know anything. I suppose I feel the smartest when I'm not in school.
The end.