The Gypsy’s Expiration Date

Well, it’s been 3 months – to the day – since my last blog entry. And it’s not because I don’t love you… that’s just not the case. Rather, I have been very pre-occupied as a result of my last entry.

For those of you who don’t know, Debi’s persistence in setting me up with her son paid off this time around and we have been very happily together since August 19.

Now, it would be super easy for me to go on some long, cheesy romantic rant about how he’s gotten me flowers, and how he cooks dinner regularly, and how sweet, romantic, etc he is. But that’s just obnoxious and not very gypsy-like at all.

I think it’s much more important to tell you that tomorrow is the Y2K of my relationship with Eric. The do-or-die. Or, as we’ve coined it, “Our Expiration Date.”

Before I proceed, it’s important for you to know that I could probably publish a book with the stories that the two of us have together already… so all you’re getting is the Reader’s Digest version. And, for those of you who know me well, you know that telling “short” stories does NOT come easily… but I digress.

Over Labor Day weekend, Eric and I went to his parent’s house for a family picnic. A couple of days before hand, Eric tells me that the last girl he took “home” was his prom date. Way to put pressure on a girl. I found myself nervous to go spend time with a family that I ALREADY KNEW! Well, I was nervous for no reason, because his family – like always – was awesome. And, it was that day, that I found myself standing in the kitchen talking to Debi when she dropped the bomb on me, “You know, Eric has never made it past 3 months with a girl.” I turned and look at Eric and, without skipping a beat, said, “you didn’t tell me I had an expiration date!” And so the joke began.

When Stacy (his sister) invited me to Morgan’s (Eric’s niece) birthday party, my response, “I guess it’ll depend on whether or not he dumps me by then.”

When we had our first serious “discussion” (we haven’t fought!), I could see the look in his eyes (I was the one getting in trouble) and I just looked and said, “so this is how I get dumped.” Fortunately, it lightened the mood and didn’t make him more annoyed (phew.)

When we made plans to go see Godspell with my family, I told him, “now, before my mom buys these tickets… I’m not going to expire before the show am I?”

You get the idea. In my truest form, I have held that joke over his head at every situational juncture possible.

Well, tomorrow is that infamous 3 month mark and, unless something drastic happens tonight, I’m gonna be the first girl that makes that mark. But, we shouldn’t be surprised. After all, last weekend, at his parent’s house, I was inside with his mom who brought up our babies while Eric was outside with his dad who asked if we were looking at engagement rings yet.

Both of those topics make me a little nervous... but I find myself cringing less and smiling more.

Only time will tell.

Choosy Moms Choose The Gyspy

An odd thing has been happening lately. I have had mothers of single (and not-so-single) men telling me that, "you need to date my son!"

While I'm flattered at the compliment, I also have to stop and giggle that this loud-mouthed, opinionated, piss-and-vinegar Italian with the vocabulary of a sailor is winning the hearts of suburban mothers who are anxious to marry off their sons.

My favorite future mother-in-law HAS to be Debi, though.

Several years ago, I was at a wedding of a long time family friend. I attended with my parents because weddings make me nervous and going with dates make me crazy ("when are YOU two getting married?!") Debi also attended the wedding and, at one point in the evening, I realized that she was taking pictures of me. Before the end of the night, she managed to get my phone number, which she then proceeded to give to her son, Eric.

Well, it wasn't long before Eric called me and the two of us met for drinks and subsequently went on several dates - including a Cubs game. In retrospect, the Cubs game is a perfect illustration of how desperately Debi wants Eric to get married (more specifically, to me.)

You see, Eric's parents had SIX tickets to this Cubs game. His parents were going, his sister and her husband were going, and Eric was only invited to go IF he brought a female date with him. Debi knew full well that I would be that date. It was about three dates in and we were already triple dating with his family. It was hilarious and an absolute blast. Plus, I have to love a family that loves the Cubs!

I'm not sure exactly what happened, to be honest. But Eric and I just kind of stopped talking. No disagreement. No break up. Just a fizzle. My best friend says that since we didn't break up, we're actually still dating.

Funny she should say that...

My mom recently ran into Debi. Debi mentioned to my mother that Eric was still single. My mom echoed that I was as well. Additionally, my mom referred Debi to my sister to get her hair done. This is where things get interesting.

After Debi's first appointment with my sister, I get a call from my sister that started something like this:

Jenni: Mrs. Waligora and I have decided that you and Eric are destined to be together. You should call him.

Amy: Shut up.

Jenni: No, seriously. He's single and he really likes you. You should call him.

Amy: I'm not calling him; he should call me.

Jenni: So you'll go out with him?!

Amy: I'll talk to him.

Jenni: Oh, it's love!

Amy: Shut up.

This past Saturday, Debi came in to see my sister again and the phone call that followed went like this:

Jenni: What are you doing tonight?

Amy: My high school reunion is tonight; I'm going to meet friends at the Fifth.

Jenni: Well, I have plans for you.

Amy: I told you I have plans.

Jenni: But this is important!

Amy: What is it?

Jenni: Eric is going to be at a party at [our neighbor]'s house tonight. He is expecting you.

Amy: I'm not going. I have plans. Tell him to call me.

Jenni: Well, I gave Mrs. Waligora your number but you should know that Eric has been hanging out in Homewood bars hoping to run into you.

Amy: He's been WHAT?! Why doesn't he just call me?!

Jenni: HE DOESN'T HAVE YOUR NUMBER.

Amy: Oh my gosh.

What a frickin Yente. I wanted to just start singing, "Matchmaker, matchmaker, make me a match" to my sister. Anyone who knows me will tell you that I do NOT respond well when other people make decisions for me.

And, seriously, stalking my bars! If I didn't know the guy, I would have thought about a restraining order right in that moment. But, after I got past the initial shock, I couldn't help but compare the gesture to that of John Cusack's character in Serendipity. A genuine quest.

So, I stopped by the party just to say hi. After all, if he's been spending so much time looking for me, I guess I can meet him halfway and give him my number again.

Honestly, it was good to see him. And he did call. We talked for awhile and we're meeting for drinks tomorrow night.

I imagine Debi will have us engaged in the next few weeks. Keep an eye out for your save the date cards!

The Gypsy With A Memorable Foot

I have tattoos.

I have a cross on my side that is only seen during bikini season. I have cherry blossoms on my back that are often showcased on warm summer days when I pull out the tank tops and summer dresses. And I have a music staff on my right foot that is almost always visible since I rarely wear socks and am almost always in flip flops or heels.

I am used to being stopped and complimented for said tattoos and I don't mind it in the least. Hey, I paid for them and I love them. By all means, take a look (thank you, I think they're cool too.) Or ask me how long they took (my side took 45 mins, my foot took about an hour and a half, and my back took about 3 1/2 hours.) Sure, ask me where I got them (the first two were done by Rich at Peace of Art in Chicago Heights and my back was done by Carissa at The Crux in Saugatuck, MI.) Ask me if they hurt (my side and my back were a piece of cake. My foot, on the other hand, I made him take a break half way through because I thought I was going to pass out.) And, of course, ask me what song it is (Canon in D Major by Pachelbel.)

This past weekend, I had the ODDEST and, yet, most amusing tattoo experience to date. I was standing next to a guy, who just happened to look down at my foot and then looked back up and said, "I've meet you before." Startled, and grasping for familiarity, I looked back at him and said, "You have?" He replied, "Yes, unless someone else has *that* tattoo." Laughing, I replied, "I really doubt that." After a couple minutes, he pinpointed meeting me at the networking group that I had attended for my boss a couple weeks ago.

Before getting tattoos, I imagined a whole range of reactions from people, but never had I dreamed of being recognized for one. It cracks me up, but just proves... my tattoos ARE unique!

What's A Gypsy To Do (Next)?

From the outside looking in, many people mistakenly assume that I have no direction. I'm simply dust in the wind waiting for the next breeze to take me away. To their credit, it does appear that way. But, honestly, I do have direction. And, more than direction, I have a goal. The goal may seem absent, but, to the contrary, it is ever present. The goal is simply this: unwavering quest to find my real, true passion. I have found that many long for that passion; that "bigger purpose" in life. However, instead of chasing down their dreams, they settle and long for that piece (and peace) that's missing.

I'll admit, I'm still not sure what will make me happy nor am I'm not even sure whether or not I'm pointing in the right direction. What I do know are the things that have brought me joy in the past, paired with my skill set (as well as the things that I am capable of learning,) offer me a wide range of possibilities. And I'm not too proud to experiment and play until I find just the right combination that makes me want to jump out of bed in the morning just so I can get to work.

In my last post I revealed just exactly how "all over the place" I really am. And honestly, after searching the recesses of my memory to name all the places I've lived and the jobs I've held, I'm a little bamboozled that I'm not exhausted from moving (on average 1.5 times per year) or learning how to do each job that I've held. So, why not test my luck further?

For those of you who don't know, I moved back to my parents house a couple of months ago in order to meet two goals: 1. To pay off debt and 2. To go back to school and pursue my teaching certification.

If you know me well or if you read my last entry, you know that I've actually traveled this road of wanting to be a teacher before - and I couldn't quite settle into just exactly it was that I wanted to teach during my time in college. And, I'll be honest, I still haven't quite nailed it down yet. But, I'm am confident that it's something that I want to try - even if I find that teaching is just another stop on my journey.

Being back at home with mom and dad is humbling. You have to relearn how to structure your day. And, for me, I had to learn how to live with people again (I'm still working on this.) I'm still getting used to running into people that have known my family for generations while around town. And, let's be honest, when outsiders hear that you're in your late 20's, living at home with your parents, and working part-time jobs, they just assume that you're a bum. So, dealing with that stigma has been rough.

But, I am blessed. I have great people in my life that recognize my assets and have given me jobs, which they are willing to be flexible with in order to accommodate my (eventual) school schedule. My parents invited me back into their home. I'm convenient to my sister and friends again. And I get to try something new.

I'd be lying if I told you that it was all rainbows and unicorns. Sure, there are obstacles and frustrations - but life would be so boring with out them. There are days when I am so frustrated, it takes every effort to keep from collapsing into a sobbing heap on the floor. But, at the end of the day (or the next morning,) I count my blessings and look for the lesson in the obstacle.

The Gypsy's Holy Sainthood

My friends (and especially my parents) will have a shiny gold star next to their names when they get to heaven. I'm sure everyone feels this way about their loved ones. I mean, we're all walking disaster areas. But my circle surely deserves it. I could prove this to you in a nearly 3 decade long autobiography, but I'll spare you the tedious details and just give you the highlights.

I change my mind constantly (and passionately.) Some people call this indecisive; I prefer to look at it more positively as exploration and the desire to learn. One in the same? Maybe. In college, I declared five majors. Musical Theatre (well, this wasn't so much declared as it was my intended major), Elementary Education, English, English/Secondary Education, and the degree I graduated with: Communication. Honestly, I didn't know what I wanted to do (obvious, right?) and I wasn't anywhere near ready to make the decision. So, I found a fun major and went with it.

But my mind-changing doesn't stop there. Since 2004, I have moved eight times, lived at six addresses, in three states, and gone back to my parents' house 3 times. And I loved every minute of it. Honestly, I would probably continue to move to new places if I had someone to do it with. It's just too exhausting to completely start over like that all the time.

Oh, and how about jobs. Non profit volunteer management/event planning/fundraising, Marketing/Event Planning/Sales for a small, local computer shop, a short trip back into non profit volunteer management/event planning/fundraising (this is a result of the nearly deadly "it couldn't have been as bad as I remember it." No, Spaz, it was that bad.) Sprinkled in there were part time experiments in retail clothing and bartending. And if you want to go all the way back, I have worked:

Filing at a doctor's office.
Bagging groceries, pushing carts, and putting people's unwanted food back at the Jewel.
Retail sales in a bath boutique.
Phones and check out for a carryout Italian restaurant.
Flower arranger/balloon inflater/water sprinkler/container gardener/sun-tanner at a garden center.
Park District day camp counselor.
Call center for alumni donations.
College basketball game ticket sales.
And football sales.
Summer camp counselor. Twice.
TV Producer. (7am local access sucks.)
The voice of the Hope College Admissions Office (Hope College Admissions. How may I help you?)
The occasional face of the Hope College Admissions office (as long as I wasn't wearing my "Friends Don't Let Friends Go To Calvin" t-shirt.)
Waitress.
Consulting firm administration.
Shipping and billing for a woodstove manufacturer.
Nanny.
Cold calling -- err, "Admissions Representative" for an online university.
Barista and manager for a coffee house.
Receptionist for a salon and day spa.

Seriously, I probably need an intervention. And I'm sure I've left at least one or two jobs out. But I'm kinda proud that I can honestly say that I can do all that stuff (well, MOST of that stuff.) And that I've lived all of those places. I mean, life is an adventure. How boring to do the same thing every day.

So, like I said, my friends and family all deserve a gold star. Firstly, for keeping up with my latest life experiments. And, secondly, for letting me ride that ride until I'm ready to get off and never once giving me crap for always being ready to try the next new thing.

Sure, why not.

After hearing comments from multiple friends for many years about how I should blog (such a commitment) or how I should Tweet (I tried; I didn't like it), I've decided to give it a shot.

Like most things in my life, I'm not sure how long it will last, but I hope you'll enjoy me while it does.

Love, peace and many impromptu adventures,
The Spaz.