Engaged!

Yesterday, after two and a half years of dating, Ryan proposed to me. (I don't think anyone will be shocked that I said "yes".)

Because I knew the ring was coming, to throw me off the scent Ryan had told me he had something planned every weekend in December. Last weekend involved a picnic on the beach, so when he advised me we were taking a road trip on Saturday and of the necessary attire, I told myself that it was entirely possible that THIS weekend may not be THE weekend and whatever we were doing would be fun regardless.

So yesterday morning I gamely donned my bathing suit and sunglasses and practically skipped out to the van. It was an ADVENTURE! One that might involve a PROPOSAL! And... and... a RING! But maybe NOT! And that's OKAY!!

My first clue came when we dropped off the Dodge Caravan at Budget Car Rental in favor of a Chevy Cobalt. To me this meant we were going far enough that it merited renting a car (to save money on gas)... but not so far that we'd need to stay overnight (I had not been told to pack a toothbrush).

A few short hours later, we found ourselves in Key Largo. Ryan's first choice for lunch (The Fish House) wound up not opening until 11:30 AM, so we dined across the street at Rib Daddy's Kountry Kitchen, a tasty little hole in the wall. Here I was allowed to play 20 Questions. After inquiring whether or not we had much further to drive (no... so probably still in Key Largo)... if we were getting in the water (yes... hence the bathing suit)... if the day involved heights (no... so not parasailing)... or animals (yes)... I started to get excited.

First - some history. When I was little, I loved dolphins. Nay. This thing I had for dolphins... it went far beyond love. I wanted to raise a little baby dolphin in my bathtub, to frolic with dolphins in the wild... y'all, I wanted to BE a dolphin. I would happily splash about in my grandparents' pool making what I envisioned to be dolphin noises, periodically flinging myself out of the water in my very best imitation of a dazzling leap.

Luckily I outgrew this behavior, but my interest in Flipper did not end with childhood. When I was 18 I rushed right out and got a tattoo of two dolphins on my ankle and even debated Marine Biology as a career until that fateful day I learned it involved THE DREADED HATEFUL MATH and therefore managed to fall securely out of the realm of "Stuff Meagan Enjoys".

So when Ryan confirmed that whatever we were doing involved both the water and animals, using my tremendous powers of deductive reasoning, I asked "Am I swimming with dolphins??" The answer (yes) brought on a surprising bout of tears, and I rushed us right out of the restaurant and over to Dolphins Plus, a research and education facility in Key Largo.

Because I am an eager little dolphin freak, we were there a half hour early, so we sat on a bench and chatted and smooched as I battled the urge to run inside, take everyone hostage with my camera screeching "TAKE ME TO THE DOLPHINS NOW BITCHES!!... UH, PLEASE!!" Anyway, I successfully refrained from any illegal behavior, and once the remainder of the 8 participants had arrived, we made our way down to a little tiki hut at the back of the facility. The 12 dolphins (and 2 sea lions) at Dolphins Plus are housed in a blocked off canal adjacent to the Atlantic Ocean, thereby providing them with a natural seawater habitat. We then spent about 45 minutes learning about the different dolphins, as well as some basic rules for when we were actually in the water with them.

They then split us up into groups of two, and Ryan and I headed off with our trainer Megan, and our two dolphins Bella and Nica. Over the course of the next half hour, Ryan and I got to sing with the dolphins, whilst spinning in circles (I use the phrase "sing" loosely for myself, Bella and Nica), rub their backs and bellies, shake hands/fins and go "shopping" (whereby Megan sent Bella and Nica into the depths to bring us back whatever treasures they might find. Ryan got a nice chunk of rock. I... yes I... got a piece of sea grass.)

Megan then advised that she wanted to test our "driving skills". She had me hold onto a kick board, as the dolphins came up underneath me, and pushed me around in a big circle with their beaks. My kick board, however, was a flimsy piece of crap, so after Megan and her fellow trainer finished making fun of me, they provided Ryan with a much sturdier board.

As the dolphins pushed him around and he turned to make his way back towards me, he held the board up. As it turns out, it was not a kick board at all. Instead it was a sign that read:

"Meag,

Will you marry me?

Love,
Ryan"

I had expected when Ryan did ask me to marry him, that I would cry. But the crying I pictured in my head was the sort where you dab delicately at your eyes, while laughing a little and smiling prettily. Oh, y'all. That is totally not what happened. I burst into great braying sobs and as he came up next to me to hold me, I managed to gasp out "Yes! Yes!" (To be fair, Ryan, Megan, the photographer and the other trainer all got a little weepy too, although it was hardly the big snot-fest for them that it was for me. We've got pictures, guys. It must be said I do NOT look pretty when I cry.)

When planning the proposal, Ryan had asked the trainers when it would take place and they had told him near the end because once the girl sees the sign, she forgets all about the dolphins. And they were absolutely right because after some quick dolphin (and Ryan) kisses... my ass was out of the water and on dry land where Ryan got down on one knee and presented me with the ring. (Which I wouldn't let him actually put on me until we were safely away from the water. I had visions of me accidentally dropping the ring into the water, and desperately going "Fetch Bella! Fetch Nica!" and receiving instead a dead trout or something.)

Yesterday afternoon we came back to the apartment, made some phone calls, showered and changed, then headed out for an awesome dinner at Seasons 52 in downtown Ft. Lauderdale.

While the tears have stopped... the beaming hasn't... and I can't imagine a more perfect engagement story for us. Now the next goal (besides starting to actively plan the wedding tentatively estimated to take place some time between January and April of 2009) is to get used to saying "my fiance" instead of "my boyfriend"!

Meagan the Dog Whisperer

Now that the CureTour is done, Ryan and I have successfully relinquished our roles as "roadies" and "perpetual travelers". (For now, at least). Frankly, although we had a blast, we are glad to be done and finally settled in our apartment in Coconut Creek with our pretty red couch, new mattress, approximately 42,000 boxes... and our dog Tyson.

While we're on the subject... Tyson is truly a delight. He's affectionate, cuddly, frisky and a boatload of fun.

However!

He has come to the conclusion that Daddy (Ryan) is the Leader of the Pack and he (Tyson) comes next. Mommy (me) is so obviously at the very bottom of the totem pole, which means that Tyson feels entitled to boss me around by attempting to jump on my head and gnawing ferociously on various exposed body parts. Also by "marking" all over the apartment (complete with no longer quite so Brand. New. Carpet.) This included a lovely festival of feces in the bedroom. Fun, FUN!

Actually, this is totally my fault. I am a big old softie which should come as no surprise to anyone. Thanks to me, Tyson took on the role of Master, as I caved to his every whim, so I have been practicing saying firmly, "No! I am the Alpha Dog, Tyson! NO! I AM THE ALPHA DOG, DAMMIT!!!" This, you will not be surprised to learn, has not been entirely effective.

The larger issue, though is Tyson pretty much hates (HAAAATES!) any person that is not Grandma, Grandpa, Daddy or Mommy. He also hates: big dogs, small dogs, medium sized dogs, cats, the television, fireworks, the washing machine, the garbage disposal, the dishwasher, the dryer, the garbage truck, the hair dryer, and pretty much anything else that otherwise moves or makes noise. We've been practicing desensitization activities (which for Daddy entails watching lots and lots of college basketball) and now we no longer feel we have to throw all of our electrical appliances in the dumpster and move to Outer Mongolia).

The hating (HAAAATING!) of the people and fellow members of the Animal Kingdom is taking some time, though.

Clearly we had to take some action. So, our first step in ensuring we will have a friendly, non-threatening household pet, was to have him neutered. Now, I know that this may cause many men (and my mom) to cringe but Bob Barker is totally right, y'all. If you're not going to breed your pet, spaying or neutering them is one of the kindest things you can do for them. It reduces the likelihood of numerous health problems (including cancer), makes the pet more affectionate and friendly and also eliminates the possibility that your pet will unwittingly increase the animal population.

Tyson, it hardly needs to be said, did not like the vet. In fact, all the barking, snarling and lunging led the vet to inform us "You have an aggressive dog here. He's going to require a lot of work". Faced with that news, we did what any normal parents do when they're told their son or daughter is failing Algebra or Home Economics. We cried. Not, like, at the vet or anything. But later. But when we picked him up post-surgery, he was noticeably more relaxed. Granted, he's not quite at the point of leaping joyously into the laps of strangers, licking their faces and whining with delight. But at least, he's not all "The Hound of the Baskervilles", causing people to go "Aieeeeee!" and run in the opposite direction either.

The other thing we've done is found an awesome trainer who spent a few hours with Ryan and me yesterday morning teaching us (and Tyson) the Heel and Sit commands. To you this may not sound so special. But for two people who no longer have to shove their arms back in their sockets after taking him for a walk, this is nothing short of miraculous. He walks at our sides, people! This is, like, Christmas and the 4th of July and my birthday and Arbor Day all rolled into one.

He definitely has a long way to go. But now we actually have hope that we may be able to have house guests some time in the near future. Speaking of house guests, did you see my mention of our pretty red couch? Then you probably saw that we also have 395,641 boxes, too. Once we get rid of those, we will also have a guest room. Come visit! Um. Not any time in the next month or so because Tyson might try to eat you. But maybe after Christmas?

Further Proof Ryan Just Needs to Propose Already (Haha! Just kidding!)

Today we were driving through Huntsville, Alabama. And I looked over, and was all "Baby! Look! It's a Wedding Supply Store! I bet it has pretty white dresses! And lovely, floaty veils! And oooh! I bet it has tuxes! Ummm... Huh. Er, nope!.... it has power tools! And... um... safety helmets!"

Turns out "welding" looks an awful lot like "wedding" when you're driving by at 45 miles per hour and are fairly drooling over an engagement ring you've been told is coming, but has not yet made an actual appearance. Anyhow, I'm guessing Sexton Welding Supply, Inc has a flourishing business in its own right, despite lacking the latest in bridal finery.

But enough about that... (for now anyway). Everything with the tour is going remarkably well. We're more than 2/3 of the way through and I honestly didn't think it would take this long for me to actually post a blog entry, but we've been scheduling and rescheduling interviews, running Tailgate parties, encouraging donations, explaining our goals and missions, checking in and out of hotels and doing a heck of a lot of driving. We've definitely had a moment or two when we've looked at each other and gone "why did we want to do this again??" (Dear Reporter who called us at 3:30 AM thinking the event started at 4:30 AM instead of 9:30 AM, I am still bitter and I do not like you very much. Plus, I would like to buy you an appointment calendar. Hugs! Love, Meag)

These rare moments aside, this has been such an incredible experience. We've met so many families around the nation that display tremendous strength, compassion, good humor and courage, beyond what I could personally imagine under similar circumstances. Every day brings new experiences that are rewarding and fun. Best of all, I get to do this with my best friend in the entire world. (*cue sappy music*) And I apparently won some sort of relationship lottery since he not only makes me laugh and still makes my heart beat fast... but he irons my clothes for me too! How great is that?!

With just two and a half weeks left to go, we're excited to spend the next few weeks winding our way up the East Coast to New York City, but I'm sure we'll also feel more than a bit sad to bring the tour to an end. I try to look on the positive side of things, though and confess I will be happy to sleep under sheets that aren't imprinted with the "Marriott" or "Holiday Inn Express" logos. Also, I look forward to cooking dinner in our own home, taking our dog for a walk, getting the chance to exercise and being able to recall what city we were in three days ago.

And, y'all, maybe in the next few months I'll also be seeking out the Ft. Lauderdale "Wedding" Supply store. (But the one with actual dresses instead of blow torches...) Stay tuned!

Day One - Anaheim

Yesterday was hot. Disgustingly, stickily, oppressively hot. (Is stickily even a word?)

It was also the kick-off for the CureTour as well as the Disneyland Half Marathon. And heat notwithstanding, it was a terrific beginning for our 63-day adventure.

I am always moved by road races. There is just something about throngs of people running for a purpose - whether it's for a particular cause... or to fulfill a personal dream.... or just to get out there and move. Whether I am a participant or a spectator, I frequently find myself covered in goosebumps and fighting off tears... it's that powerful to me.

So this past weekend inspired even greater emotion as we had the chance to meet some of the families and children affected by this disease and watch all of those people running to help find a cure cross that finish line.

The race was a bit different for Tim. Starting at 3:30 AM, he ran a full 13.1 miles before meeting up with 13,000 other Disneyland Half Marathon runners to finish the rest of his first marathon on the tour. For him (and for us), this is just the beginning.

If you are interested, you can find more clips on YouTube featuring the tour here: http://www.youtube.com/curetour.

More in the next few days as we work our way through San Luis Obispo, Los Gatos and Sacramento!

"Clark, that there's an RV!"

Ack, y'all! We leave tomorrow for California. We'll spend Friday, Saturday, Sunday and part of Monday in Anaheim, and then - off we go!

I cannot believe it's nearly time to set off on this adventure. I've never ever had a job before where I felt so immediately charged with responsibility and energy and inspiration.

Also the feeling of being completely overwhelmed. These past few weeks have been so crazy-busy and Ryan and I often find ourselves looking at each other in some of our more relaxed moments going, "Wow, this is so great!" More often, though, it's something more akin to, "Hotels! RV Parks! Hotels! Nearest local hospitals! Insurance forms! Hotels! This is fun! We're excited! Excited! But, oh.... Tailgate parties! Did I mention Hotels yet! No? Hotels!"

And - oh the magic of RV Dump Stations just might fulfill Ryan's dream of actually being able to one day say "Merry Christmas! S**tter's Full!"

Anyway, as part of our preparation, we've started a blog to track the progress of Tim and the crew of the A-T CureTour. I can't make promises for how frequently I'll be updating my own blog between now and November (although I hope to at least post something like "Hi! We're safe! And in Alabama! Or maybe Illinois! Er, or is it Montreal? Come to think of it, we're not sure! But it's nice! Hi!") However this more official one should be updated fairly regularly right here: A-T CureTour on the Road

For those of you that have asked (okay, so none of you have, but I'm passing on the information regardless since I know you meant to), you can make a donation to this endeavor here: Help Find a Cure! Better yet... make a $25 donation and meet up with us along the way at one of our Tailgate parties or join Tim for a FunRun!

Hope to see some of you along the way!

Scorpions. Why'd it hafta be scorpions?

I was going to write a nice meaty entry about how much fun Ryan and I are having planning for the A-T CureTour and how it's become clear in the past few days what a terrific organization we work for.

There is also much to be said about how we found the perfect apartment and I freaked out for a few days because I loved it so, but it happens to be 3.5 miles away from a landfill and I was really SO not thrilled about that. As an aside, if you ever wanted to really annoy your boyfriend, you should plan on telling everyone you see about how... there's this really great apartment? But it's near a landfill? And, like, landfills are smelly and can't they be sort of, I don't know, dangerous? Such a gorgeous apartment, though! With a huge porch and two bedrooms and two bathrooms! Too bad about the landfill. And the kitchen is just enormous and has ceramic tile floor! And there's a private entrance, too! But, did I tell you about the landfill? The landfillllll! (Luckily, after talking to approximately 4,278 people, I have sufficiently reassured myself that just by living in the general vicinity, I'm not going to grow horns or a tail or anything.)

But this has all been temporarily eclipsed because today we had a little... um... visitor in the office.

Luckily I was not around when he made his appearance because..... Eeeeeeeekkkkkkk!!!! Also Aaaaaaaaaaaaaahhh!!! (And probably a few heartfelt OhGodOhGodOhGods, too...) If I had actually seen this critter myself, you can rest assured that Ryan would have had to physically lift me from my perch off my chair and carry my weeping, horrified ass from the office. And the worst part is... apparently - Just Super! - he's not the only one. They are spraying after we leave for California.

Seriously, though. Did y'all know they had scorpions in South Florida? And if you did, why the hell didn't you tell me? I mean, I'm sure I would have still moved here and all. However, when my boss told me we were a casual office - but hello! Possible scorpions! - you can bet I would not have chosen to wear flip flops for the past three days.

Nothing says summer like steel toed boots.

Orange and Blue

Well, I've successfully managed to meet Ryan's entire family without embarrassing myself, or causing anyone (as far as I know) to pull him aside to say discreetly, "Uh, Ryan? This girl that you've been dating... I don't meant to pry, but have you been smoking very much crack lately? "

This is great news because while I already knew Ryan had to have a pretty terrific family, I've now discovered for myself that they universally rock. It's been a lot of fun getting to meet everyone and to be included in all of the festivities from the Decatur Celebration to BBQs to the official Livergood family picture. I also have to brag that while having dinner at Ditka's the other night, I met "Da Coach". Yeah, so I totally didn't know who he was. But Julie and Craig (Ryan's sister and brother-in-law) were so excited by his presence that I had to prove what an awesome future sister-in-law I am by asking him to sign an empty wine bottle. And doesn't that just make you wish I was your future sister-in-law too?

In addition to some quality time with various super-cool family members, we also got to play with Tyson who is getting big. It has been confirmed that he is indeed the cutest puppy in the whole world and probably some alternate universes as well.

It seems, though, Tyson has figured out that I am a complete and utter wimp and this means he gets to grab my hand in his teeth and chew heartily upon it whenever his little heart desires. Which is pretty much all the time. What was really freakin' cute when he started doing it is now still awfully damn adorable.... but really? Getting sort of painful. We read online that in order to deter biting, the owner should yelp whenever the puppy gnaws on something that is not a toy and growl in a discouraging manner. Recognizing that this means he has over-stepped his boundaries, the puppy will then bow to the owner's clear authority and cease all biting behavior. Makes sense, yes?

Apparently our puppy has decided to boycott this theory because whenever we snarled in our most scary dog-like manner, he would kick and writhe and wag his tail happily, all the while biting down harder and more enthusiastically.

This could be a problem. We are already looking into obedience and socialization classes in Ft. Lauderdale. But in the meantime, Grandma and Grandpa are taking good care of him until we get settled in Florida in a few months' time. Didn't I tell you they were awesome?

Speaking of Ft. Lauderdale, we fly down tomorrow to undergo training for a week and a half, before driving out to Anaheim to get started with the A-T CureTour. We're more than a little excited and it should be interesting to see how the next few months play out.

In other news, Ryan has been saying that he does not think he wants cable TV in our new home. I don't necessarily agree with this because while I don't love television, there are a few shows that exist beyond network TV that I particularly enjoy. I mean, I don't cry if I miss them or anything and I'd rather be doing something active or outside (that is, when it's not so damn HOT), but on the whole? - fairly entertaining. More importantly, though, I know of Ryan's penchant for sports of all kinds. I envision him immediately regretting this decision and moving out of our house to live at the Ale House or Buffalo Wild Wings or something during college basketball season and football season and baseball season and soccer season and, God forbid, cricket season. And then I'd have to move in too in order to actually see him. And while I like these upstanding institutions and have invested quite a bit in ensuring they are successful in maintaining their respective businesses, I don't think I'd like spending the rest of my days eating chicken wings for dinner every night and resting my weary head on a door mat that says "Hooters Makes You Happy!" I'd like to avoid this scenario if at all possible and told him I would willingly surrender our TV in our very own home to him so that he may get his "fix", but it was looking like we might very well be a cable-less household. But thanks to him recently discovering the magic that is A&E, specifically "Dog the Bounty Hunter" and, strangely, "Flip This House", Ryan has decided that cable might very well be necessary after all.

Hooray! "Whose Wedding is it Anyway?", "Big Love" and "Corwin's Quest" here I come.

So, Meagan and Ryan, You Just Left Bulgaria! What Are You Going To Do Now?

Well, we're not going to Disney World. At least not for a little while.

Instead we're continuing on in our tradition of adventure with something very unique and, we think, tremendously exciting.

I really owe it all to Ryan. In 2006 I ran the Disney Marathon with the A-T Children's Project, a nonprofit designed to raise funds through events and contributions from corporations, foundations and friends to further international scientific research aimed at finding a cure for Ataxia-telangiectasia, or A-T. This is a progressive, degenerative disease that affects children, bringing about immune system problems, a predisposition to cancer and an inability to control the muscles, as well a startling and horrific array of other physical problems. Sadly, there is no cure for A-T and many children die before reaching their 20's.

Although I had run 4 previous marathons and over 20 smaller road races, this was by far the most rewarding race I had ever completed and I signed up as soon as possible for the following year. Of course, then I went and moved to Bulgaria, so I never did get to run that next race. But I still thought often about how much that particular marathon meant to me.

So when we were job-hunting, I immediately began looking into working with ATCP. However, I was initially discouraged by their lack of an employment section on their website. Nevertheless, Ryan strongly encouraged me to send them a cover letter and résumé. I sent them off, not really expecting a response. To my surprise, I was contacted later that day by the Executive Director. It was true that they didn't currently have an open position, she said. But, out of curiosity, what was I looking for? I told her and thus ensued a flurry of e-mails and phone calls that have snowballed into something far bigger than I think Ryan or I expected.

While a lot of the details are still a little fuzzy as the overall gameplan cotinues to get hammered out, here's what we do know.

Ryan and I will spend the next few days here in Maryland, before heading to Illinois on Thursday to visit with his family. Following a huge family reunion with his dad's side of the family on the 11th, Ryan and I will either fly or drive to Ft. Lauderdale and undergo three weeks of training with ATCP.

At that point we will be embarking on a two-month journey across the United States with the A-T CureTour. Tim Borland will be running 63 marathons in 63 days, starting with the Disneyland Half Marathon (which he will run twice) and ending with the New York City Marathon to raise awareness and funding for ATCP. Deb and Brad Carr, independent film makers, will be producing FEAT, a documentary that follows his experience along the way.

Through 29 different states and Montreal, Ryan and I will serve as Jacks of All Trade, helping to set up sites, hand out T-shirts, talk about A-T, collect donations and trouble-shoot. It promises to be a challenging and emotional experience... not to mention a lot of fun. Once we finish with the Tour on November 4, we will then head down to Ft. Lauderdale, FL when the position they are creating for me will ideally be available. Best of all, it's my dream job since they've essentially created it around my skills and interests. We're both absolutely over the moon that things worked out so perfectly for us and feel South Florida will make a wonderful new home for Ryan, Tyson and me.

Yesterday Ryan and I celebrated our two-year anniversary by looking at (but not buying yet) engagement rings in the morning and making the rounds in the BBQ circuit in the afternoon. Without sounding too gag-worthy, I can't believe we've been together for two years and that I get to spend the rest of my life with the most amazing man in the world. From Orlando to Bulgaria... to a journey across the United States and back to Florida again... I love you so much baby!

My Hair Sucks (or I miss Jayme)

Once I got a mullet.

It was not, I assure you, something I did on purpose. Nor was it the 1980's. See, I have found that sometimes you will find a new stylist and he or she will be great for the first cut or two. So you will go back expecting more of the same magic and rainbows and unicorns. And instead, in the time between cuts, your stylist has been mysteriously replaced by some sort of deranged scissor-happy doppelganger and you wind up with something like this:

Keep in mind this is not as bad as it was at first. Since I didn't let anyone with a camera near me for awhile, this picture was taken a few weeks after the original cut. Also, by this point I had found Jayme. Beautiful, wonderful, fabulous Jayme. I wandered into Jayme's salon the night after receiving said mullet and asked the tall blonde girl standing at the counter with a mixture of hope and despair quivering in my voice, "Can you fix me?" She stared at me for a few minutes and replied with deep concern, "Who did this to you?"

Then she set about trying to make it look like I wasn't about to audition for a re-make of Xanadu. I still walked out of there with a mullet... but as she explained it would take awhile to make it look normal again. She brings the unicorns and rainbows every time, and after many months with Jayme who is quite possibly the most talented stylist in the universe I eventually wound up with this:

I was much happier.

Side story: I met Ryan shortly after I got the mullet. He remembers thinking "Wow she's really cute, but she has really bad hair." A smart man, he didn't tell me this until recently. It's funny now, but it definitely would not have been if I still had the mullet when he divulged this piece of information.

Then I moved to Eastern Europe and figured out that when the mullet departed with the end of the 80's it moved to Bulgaria. Seriously, guys. If there was a drinking game based on how many mullets you would see walking down the street, you'd be hammered after a few blocks.

Because my Bulgarian - to put it mildly - sucked, I didn't trust myself to go into a salon and request just a trim, please, so I decided to just not cut my hair for the better part of a year. As you can imagine this did not lead to silky and manageable tresses, so the first thing I did when I got home was try to find an affordable and quality stylist. These two things are not mutually exclusive, I know, because Jayme is both stellar and inexpensive. Plus she gives you wine and is great conversationalist/therapist. (And she tells me regularly I look like Reese Witherspoon which totally isn't true, but I love it anyway.)

I did not get wine when I got my hair cut the other day.

Nor did I get a good haircut. Okay, so it's not completely horrible, true. At least, there were no tears. And thankfully it's not a mullet. I would show you a picture except right now I am sporting a gargantuan zit right in the middle of my forehead. It's fabulous.

But it has lead me to believe that Jayme is one of a kind and if Ryan and I do wind up living in Ft. Lauderdale, I will be making trips up to Orlando regularly to get my great cut, good wine and fun conversation all for a very low bargain price.

And if we move somewhere else I will simply call Jayme and invite her to move in with us.

God Bless the USA

Well, after nearly 11 hours in the air, I made it home to Maryland on Monday afternoon. Ryan also arrived safely in Illinois yesterday with the puppy who, incidentally, is no longer named Luke. More on that in a second...

Our last night in-country was spent at the Sveta Sofia Hotel in the capital. Kevin, one of our totally awesome PCV friends, joined us for some yummy Chinese food, Zagorka beer and outstanding conversation. Bulgaria is such an awesome country and as much as I was happy about returning to the States, it was equally as tough to say goodbye. We will definitely go back for a visit someday. In the meantime, there's plenty o' fun in store for Ryan and me, starting with his visit to Maryland tomorrow.

As far as the Pup Formerly Known As Luke is concerned, he evidently handled the flights very well and is enjoying his new home in Findlay, Illinois. After all, there are toys and treats to be had. Grandma and Grandpa are spoiling him very well. (Yeah. I said Grandma and Grandpa. Ryan and I refer to ourselves as Mommy and Daddy too... and sometimes we even talk to each other in baby talk when the puppy is not around... ya' wanna make somethin' of it?)

Anyway, when Ryan and I first named the puppy, he didn't have much of a personality yet. So Luke seemed to fit just fine. Then he started doing more than just walking and sleeping. He started to frolic. And run into stuff while playing with his stuffed cow. And crawl into Ryan's shoes. And get teeth. (Also pee and poop all over the entire apartment, but that is another story.)

For some reason neither Ryan nor I could bring ourselves to call him Luke. Instead we had settled on calling him "The Puppers". Clearly this could not be his proper name because we are nauseating... but not that nauseating.

Then "The Puppers" figured out he really likes to gnaw on people... particularly their ears.

And it came to us.

His name is Tyson (or Ty).

Coincidentally I happen to have a good friend named Tyson (or Ty). But as much as I like my friend Ty, we didn't really name the puppy after him.

It's after Mike Tyson.

Haaaaaaa! We kill ourselves. (Actually I am giving myself too much credit. It was Ryan's idea.)

So. Um. Hi Ty! Hope you don't mind having the cutest puppy in the whole entire world as an inadvertent namesake! And to everyone else... it's good to be back! I'm looking forward to catching up - hopefully in person - soon!

Two Posts in One Day... Is There a Full Moon?

Yeah, I know the other one is really long. You probably didn't read it all. That's okay. (But if you didn't make it through to the end you're missing out on lots of naked women and bubbles. I'm just sayin'...)

Anyway... it's official.

We’re coming home.

Most of you know this already, but only today are we able to “go public” with the news as the Peace Corps is now aware of our plans too.

It’s something we’ve been contemplating for awhile as I’ve been dismally unable to find viable employment, but were holding out as long as possible to make sure some totally awesome, fun job with a great salary didn’t miraculously appear at the last minute.

Needless to say – it didn’t. And since Ryan and I aren’t interested in doing long distance (at all, like ever again)… he’s made the decision to Early Terminate from the Peace Corps and join me back in the States.

So I fly to DC on Monday while Ryan heads to Illinois on Tuesday. Then on Thursday he’ll be coming to DC to hang out with me for a week. While he’s already met my mom’s side of the family, he’ll have the chance to meet my dad and step-mom, as well as hit a few friends’ BBQs before we both go to his home town so I can meet his family. Needless to say I'm really excited (plus maybe just a teensy bit nervous)...

After that… well…. I’m going to have to be a bit secretive for the time being as the details are still being hammered out. It certainly does seem as though Ryan and I may have a very exciting opportunity that will eventually land us in Ft. Lauderdale a few months from now. More on this once everything is squared away. For the record, we think that we think we’ve been extraordinarily lucky and are very much looking forward to the future…

... we will definitely miss Bulgaria, though...

(Ummm... but probably not the puppy as it looks like he may be coming home with us after all... Thanks Gloria and Mark for serving as temporary Mom and Dad! He's a sweetie-pie; we promise!)

In the Immortal Words of Hamlet…

Forewarned is forearmed. This one is long.

Back in May, Ryan and I, plus Scott and Anna (two of Ryan’s friends from his days of teaching in China) embarked on a journey through Romania, Serbia, Greece and Turkey.

Over the course of our trip we collectively took nearly 1700 pictures wandering through museums, churches and mosques, hiking o’er mountains, fields and cities and experiencing the nuances of the doner/gyro/kebap.

What follows are some of the highlights:

We started our trip in Veliko Turnovo, a city in Bulgaria Ryan and I have oft visited, but was new to Scott and Anna. We ambled around the Tsarevets Fortress, which was even prettier in the summer and I had the chance to catch up with my friend Tamsin from my CELTA course.

We had some struggles trying to determine where we could purchase tickets out of Bulgaria, but with the help of a kindly security guard, we were able to secure our fare for the next part of our trip... Romania!

We spent our first night in Romania in Bucharest, indulging in some absolutely fabulous sausages and beer at Caru cu Bere. I had heard it was a restaurant not to be missed and I must also offer two enthusiastic thumbs up for a delightful culinary experience. We didn't linger long in Bucharest, though, as the next morning we were off to Brasov in the Transylvania region.

Of all the places we visited, Brasov emerged our unanimous favorite. It was beautiful. It was quaint. It had tasty beef fajitas.

While in Brasov we visited Rasnov Fortress and Bran Castle. The latter is frequently linked with Dracula although Vlad Tepes (the bloodthirsty prince upon whom the fictional character of Dracula was based) only visited his cousin there once. The "real" Dracula's Castle is Cetatea Poienari, located in the highest peaks of the Fagaras Mountains. Although we were intrigued, it's very challenging to reach and ultimately we deemed it too expensive for a visit. We’re on a budget here, people.

Anyway, we were ultimately quite satisfied with the castles we did see despite a few initial challenges in getting there. We had boarded a mini bus arranged by one of the local hostels, along with a group of about 15 other travelers. As it turned out, our driver didn’t truly know where he was going. To further complicate matters, he understandably didn’t speak a lick of English. Apparently he also had plans for the afternoon that did not include taking a bunch of tourists to Romanian castles, so he spent some time trying to find another driver to take us. (We sort of guessed at this part, though, since he drove us to a huge parking lot filled with other buses and promptly left us alone for about thirty minutes while we tried to figure out if we were being abandoned, cheated out of our money or worse. Here I must thank the producers that gave us such cinematic masterpieces as Turistas and Hostel. Bravo, gentlemen. Bravo. Thank goodness there were a lot of us and it was daylight, that's all I've got to say... Yes, I do have a runaway imagination, thank you... but c'mon! We were in Transylvania!) While we waited for everything to get sorted out, one of the American guys on our bus entertained us all by offering some super helpful Romanian phrases he was in the process of learning from a guidebook. Translated they were, “Here! I am in possession of my own needle!” and “I have hepatitis!”, and “I have been raped; my belongings are in order!” Undaunted, our new friend happily shared the last phrase with our driver who'd been unsuccessful in his endeavor and was at this point grudgingly driving us to our destination. This earned a hearty laugh and he cheered up considerably for the rest of the trip.

Over the course of the next two days, we further explored the sites of Brasov, including The Black Church, Schei and Ecaterina's Gates and Rope Street, supposedly the narrowest street in Europe. We foolishly (but delightedly) hiked about in a thunderstorm atop Mount Tampa and found some hauntingly beautiful cemetaries. Ryan and I even got a romantic evening alone.

Yes, Brasov was great, but we wanted to see a little of Bucharest too, so after three amazing days we caught a morning train to the capital of Romania. We were headed out of Romania on another train that evening, so we did our best with the limited time we had in Bucharest, traipsing over 10 miles of city pavement.

It was fun, but at the end of the day, we were tired and excited about heading for the next country - Serbia.

Belgrade was probably our least anticipated locale, but wound up being our second favorite due primarily to the kindness of its citizens. Although the city is slowly recovering from the days of Slobodan Milosevic’s rule and the atrocities of genocide, bombed out buildings still remain. We managed to take in a few museums on our first afternoon, and saunter down what is perhaps the best walking street in Eastern Europe. The next day Ryan and I went on our own to Skadarlija (the Bohemian quarter) and Zemun, before meeting back up with Scott and Anna to explore the Kalemegdan Fortress.

Belgrade has a gritty appeal and we would have liked to stay longer, but had to bid farewell after just a day and a half. Not just to the city, but also to Anna who had plans to participate in a Library Science class in Prague. Ryan, Scott and I, on the other hand, were headed to Thessaloniki to pick up my long-awaited visa.

I’d been to Thessaloniki before when applying for said visa, but didn’t really get to see much of it so I was looking forward to returning. A comparably upscale community on the Aegean Sea, Thessaloniki is quite pretty, possessing great seafood, gregarious people and, of course, ouzo. Ouzo is an anise-flavored liqueur and on our first night there I suffered a gross error in judgment regarding just how much ouzo is too much ouzo. The next day was not a good one and I would have liked to remain under the covers with the lights off... possibly even engaging in some quality private time in the bathroom with my head in the toilet... but instead - heigh ho - Ryan and I left Scott in the hotel room and journeyed to the Bulgarian embassy. It was a national holiday in Greece, but luckily the Embassy was open and after 5 months of waiting, I had earned my legal right to stay in Bulgaria for at least a little while. (Ah, gotta love irony…)

Anyhoo, the hangover gradually went away and we much enjoyed the rest of the afternoon walking along the path next to the sea and checking out the Archaeological Museum and ancient ruins.

That evening we hopped a train to Istanbul, Turkey. This was the city to which I was most looking forward, and although it took a few days to properly appreciate, it did not disappoint. Istanbul was by far the most touristy place we visited and everywhere we walked, people were inviting us into their shops and restaurants to enjoy their wares and cuisine. It’s a heady place and if I lived there for ten years, I would imagine there would still be much I would have yet to see and experience. We had but three days, and in that time we went to the Hagia Sofia, the Blue Mosque and the Topkapi Palace. We explored the Grand Bazaar and the Spice Market. We took a ferry across the Bosphorus to the Asian side of Istanbul.

My favorite part of the entire trip, though, wound up being when Ryan paid for me to experience the magic that is the Hamam (or Turkish Bath) at The Cemberlitas Hamam.

The Cemberlitas was erected in 1584 by the architect Sinan and still functions today as a double bath with separate sides for men and women. While there are numerous baths from which to choose, Cemberlitas made the most sense as it was a short walk up the street from our hostel and is purportedly one of the best in the city for tourists. Admittedly it was a bit confusing for me at first as the guy at the desk just handed me two tokens for my bath and massage, then pointed to the women's side, shaking his head when I tried to take a towel. I emerged in a small locker room area, where I presumed I was supposed to take off my clothes, but the only towels in sight were the forbidden ones at the entrance. I decided he must have been mistaken, and stealthily tucked one under my arm when he wasn't looking.

Leaving my clothes in the locker and wrapping the towel around my body, I made my way into the attendant cool down room. Immediately it became obvious this was going to be unlike anything I’d ever experienced. Lounging about on wooden benches were a bunch of topless Turkish women with towels around their waists, chatting and laughing. The second they saw me, one of them leaped up, ran over to me, and scolded me in Turkish, whipping off my towel leaving me standing – oh so sexily - in my underwear and borrowed rubber flip flops. Um. Okay.

Then they handed another smaller towel and sent me into the bath itself. It was breathtaking. Of course I was not permitted to bring in my camera, but if you pay a visit to the linked website above, you can get a glimpse of what my words can't do justice. Around the perimeter of the circular marble room were exquisite carved fountains trickling both hot and cold water. Arching far above was the domed ceiling etched with stars and circles, designed to allow a dim filtered sunlight to leak in, giving the room a lazy, sensual feel. And in the center was a large, elevated marble slab where a single, phenomenal looking naked girl lounged.

Thus began my contemplation of the age-old question posed by Hamlet (and loosely paraphrased here):

“To wear panties… or not to wear panties?”

That is, indeed, the question. I had pondered this ahead of time (Do I wear a bathing suit? Do I go completely naked? What? What?). Finally I had settled on wearing little sheer pink and white striped boy shorts – sufficiently cute and maybe a little frisky, but not ridiculously provocative or anything. But when I saw the cute naked girl, I questioned myself. I was hardly wearing granny panties or, like a turtleneck or anything, but still… I immediately felt a bit overdressed. Did I look like a prude? Was I supposed to go completely buck? Attempting to shrug off my concerns, I positioned myself on my towel on the slab across from the girl and closed my eyes, periodically opening them to contemplate the remarkable ceiling and wonder further over whether I should just suck it up and take my underwear off already. The young naked girl was summoned from the room to receive her massage, so I had some time by myself to just relax and listen to the water babbling quietly in the fountains. Then a middle-aged woman walked in (she was naked too, dammit), and I was thrown again into confusion.

What to do, what to do.... I decided not to puzzle over this particular issue anymore and…

Underwear off!

I lay there for a few moments, relishing just being nude. Ahhhh. This was the right decision. No doubt about it. Then I happened to look over and notice a sign painted on the wall written in several languages. It said, in rather firm black letters, “Please do not bath (sic) naked.” Annnddd...

Underwear on!

Then yet another naked (elderly) woman entered the room. This time, though, I didn’t question. The trio of naked ladies probably wondered about the gal who refused to get nude, but I rocked my panties, y’all.

Shortly thereafter a tremendously fat Turkish women entered the room wearing only a pair of skimpy black thong underwear. She laid me out on the slab closer to one of the fountains and dumped cold water all over me. At this time the hot young naked girl entered the room again and proceeded to sit very close by, watching this process intently. I found this a bit strange at first, but then I got caught up in the fact that a practically naked woman with pendulous breasts was scrubbing me all over with a loofah. Sorry to disappoint my male readers, but this was a new experience for me. She then filled up a pillowcase with soap and sort of squished it around, puffed it up and banged it down on top of me so bubbles flew everywhere, including up my nose. I didn't speak Turkish and she didn't speak English, but there was no miscommunication here. No! When she wanted me to turn over she just gave me a little slap on my ass.

After a thorough scrub down, a bucket of warm water was dumped over me, whereupon I was motioned over to one of the fountains. She had me sit on the floor between her knees while she washed my hair (and my face) with soap. Then, sufficiently loofahed and squeaky clean, I was permitted to loll about on the slab once more while I waited for my oil massage. And I then realized why the young naked girl had stared so closely when out of the corner of my eye I saw the elderly naked woman getting virtually smothered in suds. It was fascinating and I must admit it was really very hard to look away. Too bad. It would have been fun to have a story about the totally smokin' nekkid girl who tried to pick me up in the Turkish bath, but I guess it was just the novelty of seeing a human being completely covered in bubbles.

Eventually I was called in for my massage and found the masseuse to be both skillful and friendly. She also spoke a little English, making me relax a little more as I was able to understand what was required of me a little more clearly. Soooo... steam... bubbles... oil... all in all, I was very impressed by the experience. And really everyone should be as comfortable with their bodies as these women were. Not like I want to hang out in my underwear with my girlfriends every day, but still… it would be fun every now and then, yes? Uh… Ladies? Anyone? No? Just me then? Ahem… moving on….

I later read that it’s considered impolite to bathe naked in the Turkish baths. In the touristy ones (like Cemberlitas) the attendants often excuse the behavior because so many of the people who frequent the baths do wind up stripping down, not understanding that culturally it’s a taboo. So I’m very pleased with my ultimate decision to go against the grain and wear my panties after all.

It was a very full and satisfying few days in Turkey. You know how the saying goes, though. All good things must come to an end and the evening following the bath we boarded one more night train back to Stara Zagora. And although we had spent two simply amazing weeks on the road, we were definitely ready to be home again – back in beautiful Bulgaria.