23 Days Until 23

There are only 23 more days until my 23rd birthday on August 6.

The years of exciting milestone birthdays are over, sadly, so I’m not exactly on pins and needles about it. I’m looking forward to August because that means I’ll be living in Hoboken finally and I will just have returned from a weekend in Philadelphia and Washington D.C.

On August 2nd (the day after I move, keep in mind), my family is throwing my great-aunt a party for her 90th birthday. I’m really excited because my grandmother, my aunt and my dad are all flying in for the event. Afterwards, my dad and I are driving down to Baltimore, where he will be working on business and I will be taking the train down for the day for the Quilt for Life showing. I haven’t decided if this means I’m going to cancel the Washington D.C. dinner and just see who is around on Monday or if that means I will go down to D.C. on Sunday night and on Monday. People who are in the area, please feel free to leave me a comment letting me know if you have a preference or if you are planning on attending the Quilt for Life showing (I will be there at 10 a.m. and would LOVE to meet people, so feel free to come say hi!), otherwise I will just send out an email to those who I already have spoken with.

It will be a busy, busy time but I’m definitely looking forward to celebrating an early birthday with my family and friends and seeing the ENORMOUS Quilt for Life presentation at the National Mall. That will be a sight to see! Having a quilt representation of my life on display in our nation’s capitol is definitely an achievement, I think.

In more fun news, I discovered that as a blogaversary present (well, not really), Guy Kawasaki’s blog directory, AllTop, has listed myself and many of our fellow bloggers in the Diabetes category. I helped with some of the recommendations, but I had no idea I would land in the first line, alongside Kerri and Amy! I’m very excited to be listed, and everyone else should be too. Many of you may not know who Guy Kawasaki is, but he is a prominent figure in the social media world so I have known about AllTop for several months because of my job. I wrote to them originally recommending Amy for their Health category, then found out they were creating an entire Diabetes category!

Speaking of presents, if anyone out there loves me enough to consider buying me something for my birthday, feel free to check out the Amazon.com Wish List I created for my family. Or just visit Amazon.com, click on Wish List and search for my name. Not that I’m expecting anyone to buy me a Nikon D80 or a Macbook, but if you’re feeling generous, a subscription to Glamour would be pretty sweet… Something to decorate my new IKEA coffee table!

A Whole Year.

Last Saturday, I drove down to my dad’s cousin’s house for dinner after babysitting for a little girl with diabetes and her baby brother. My great aunt was also there, so we spent some time catching up on work and life. I told them about my plans for moving, talked about my job, and I found out that her daughter, my cousin lives in Israel, is going to have a baby girl soon. Then I realized that it had been exactly one year since I moved to New Jersey and I was exactly where I started. A full circle.

Today is another important date. Well, to me it is. I started my job one year ago today. I feel a little self-conscious bragging about my job and co-workers because, well, they all apparently read this. (Hello co-workers!) But needless to say, I’ve learned more about social networking and blogs than I ever did in the two years of being a blogger and I’m very, very appreciative that none of the people I work with are psychos. They are a little nuts sometimes but thankfully just the good kind.

Besides growing professionally, I also feel like this was the year I became a full-fledged adult. I pay my own rent. I have my own 401K and health insurance. I have made new friends, including some that don’t rely on artificial insulin! When I wake up in my apartment, or when I get another bill, or when I’m standing in the hallway getting a new reservoir from the closet, I still get a little thrill that this is all mine. I don’t know how long this will last… Maybe I have only a few more months before I think being a grown-up is totally overrated. Okay, occasionally I think being a grown-up is overrated, but mostly I think it’s pretty cool.

I’m excited to see where the next year leads me, especially with my impending move, and seeing how my responsibilities change both professionally and personally. I have added new freelance jobs to my resume in the past few months. In November, I signed on as a writer for the Juvenile Diabetes Research Foundation and I’m leading the JDRF Blogger Round Table, this spring I’ve been working on a new article for Diabetes Self-Management, and on my trip to Oregon, I met with the founder of SweetSpot.dm and agreed to help with publicity. I continue to enjoy exploring New Jersey, which despite the rumors is actually very nice, and the entire East Coast.

Plus I have this whole list of exciting adventures to complete.

When I moved, I knew my life was going to change dramatically. But I couldn’t imagine just how true that was going to be. Although I am living in New Jersey, a state I never imagined living in (seriously, who grows up saying “I want to move to New Jersey!”) and although I’m working at a PR agency instead of that non-profit I spent five years preparing for, I think “Allison” has still stayed the same. I try to keep the same values that I was raised with. I still hate the humidity. I think sales tax is the most annoying thing in the world. I am still frustrated that my apartment complex doesn’t support recycling. I still wish I could see Mt. Hood, I still think trees are as important as people, and I still think people need to slow down and enjoy life just a little bit more.

You can take the girl out of Oregon, but you can’t take the Oregon out of the girl.

The Cheesecake Mystery.

It was a time of celebration, of merriment, of festivity.
The family has gathered
For a high school graduation.

It was a time of killing time.
The location: The Cheesecake Factory, adjacent to the mall.
The time: Saturday night.
So many people, we thought.
65-85 minutes, they said.

Splitting up.
Mother napping in the car,
Brother (and the Boy of Honor) checking out video games,
The Grandmothers chatting on a bench,
The Sister trying on clothes she can’t really afford at The Limited.

Pants won’t fit,
Dress is hopeless,
But alas, two shirts!
Perfect for summer (humidity and all).

Time is almost up!
Quickly zip up jean skirt, adjust top,
Slip on the heels.
Beep! Beep! says the cash register.
With a flick of the wrist,
The receipt is signed
And off we go!

Dinner is filled with laughter and good food.
Salmon and pasta and chicken,
Slices of delicious cheesecake from the Cheesecake Factory and
The biggest Chinese chicken salad you have ever seen.

Buzzzzz buzzzzz buzzzzz, goes the insulin pump
As it dumps in the contents of my reservoir.
Is there a “Select All” feature?

Hours later.

Cards have been read,
Checks have been collected,
Presents have been unwrapped.
Time for a blood sugar check.

5, 4, 3, 2, 1…
520 mg/dl
Gasp!
Shock!
Awe!

“Don’t you sometimes do two tests?” the Brother asks.
Brilliant!
Furiously scrub hands in the sink,
Seeking to remove any sneaky cheesecake molecules.
Pat hands dry and
Take Two:

524 mg/dl.
Blast!
The feeling of utter failure and confusion begin to set in.
Override insulin pump, which suggests bolusing .6 units.
Something tells me: not gonna work.

Gulp down half a can of Diet Ginger Ale.
Trudge upstairs to the bedroom.
Change into pajamas.
Move insulin pump from pocket of jean skirt to
Pocket of hoodie jacket.

Notice trail of tubing down the side of my leg.
I am unplugged.
The dressing room…
Realizations begin to unfold and
The feeling of utter confusion is replaced with
The feeling of utter stupidity.

So, this is to say,
Ladies and gentlemen,
That dressing rooms are a
Very dangerous place.

And, in case you were wondering,
Or just joining us,
I am indeed
And in fact
A PWD.
(person with diabetes, yo)

Leaving On a Jet Plane.

The third JDRF Blogger Round Table is now online and this month, we’re talking about my favorite subject: travel! Traveling with diabetes can be an arduous experience, especially when the goal is to get some R & R, but the nine bloggers on our panel (some of the OC’s best: Amy, Kerri, Scott Strumello and Scott Johnson, Allie, Sandra, Manny, Bernard and Gina) have some great tips for packing, road trips, warm weather and handling the infamous… Airport Security. Cue scary music.

I consider myself a seasoned traveler (I hit a record of eight states just last year!), and I’m continuing my Lemonade Life Summer Tour 2008 with stops in London, Orlando, Delaware, Washington D.C., and hopefully Philadelphia and Boston… not to mention my trip next week to Oregon for my brother’s high school graduation! Wow, I’m tired already.

Summer is the universally accepted season for travel (not that I’ve ever let a little thing like rain, sleet or snow stop me!) so most of us are probably gearing up for our vacations. Hopefully this blogger round table session will be useful for you and your family as your planning your next vacation. If you see anything that isn’t there, however, please feel free to drop me a note at amblass [@] gmail.com or leave a comment and let me know what’s missing. I’ll include any extra tips in my personal travel entries.

Bon voyage!

I’m Kind Of Weird…

Well, technically no one picked me to do the Ten Odd Things About Me meme, but a couple people tagged “everyone” so I’m claiming those. Here are some random things you may or may not know about me. I’m also not tagging anyone, because I’m pretty sure everyone’s been tagged by now. But if you haven’t been tagged, feel free to use me as your excuse.

1. I have some odd eating habits. I love to eat kiwis with the skins still on - I like the fuzzyness. I also like to eat the tails of cocktail shrimp. Nice and crunchy. I also have to thank The Parent Trap remake for introducing me to Oreos and peanut butter and I owe my obsession with ketchup and Ranch dressing to my best friend K.

2. I sleep with a sound machine. Between the weird noises my apartment makes and the footsteps and television blaring from the apartments around me, the only way I can fall asleep is with a sound machine to give me something to focus on. I have it set to “rain,” which is a sound I got used to falling asleep to after growing up in rain-soaked Oregon.

3. I really like popcorn. I have a bit of an unusual passion for popcorn. Movie theater popcorn, air-popped popcorn, kettle corn, low-fat. I’ll even eat stale popcorn. I’ll eat pretty much any kind of popcorn, though I’m not a huge fan of white cheddar popcorn, the kind that comes in those air-filled black bags at the check-out counter at grocery stores. You know the ones. They make me ridiculously thirsty and they make my fingers sticky. So I try to avoid it.

4. I’m five foot eight. Apparently this is tall, as I’ve had a few people remark to me how tall I am. I am also, for the record, twenty-two (almost twenty-three!) as several people have also remarked to me how I seem older. I used to think that was really cool, but I think this summer might be the summer when I stop thinking that looking older is cool and start thinking that looking older kinda sucks.

5. I hate having my knees touched. I know that posting this on the Internet is a very, very dangerous thing and I swear to God I have no qualms with kicking you in the balls and screaming if you even pretend to touch them. But this list is supposed to be about weird or unusual things about me, so there you go.

6. I named my first car Buffy. True story. When I bought my car, I thought about naming it because we had christened my dad’s car the Groovy Mobile. My dad suggested naming my car Hal, but I thought naming it after a psychopathic computer that killed the crew might be sending the wrong message. So I went with Buffy, because my mom and I both thought Sarah Michelle Gellar was adorable.

7. I’m a Trekkie. Hardcore. Conventions, dressing up as characters (I was Captain Janeway for Halloween when I was 12 years old) and I even collected autographs. I know a ridiculous amount of Star Trek trivia, bought Star Trek books and went to the opening day showing of Star Trek: First Contact, which I have seen about twenty times.

8. I don’t like shoe-shopping. I’ve never been the kind of girl that has a “thing” for shoes. I find most cute looking shoes to be terribly uncomfortable, and it’s hard to find cute shoes that don’t make me come home with red welts and tears.

9. I took French for six years. I started when I was in seventh grade and went all the way up to my senior year in high school. Despite all that, I speak French very, very poorly. Reading is not too hard, but I’m terrible at speaking. It would probably take me five minutes to pull together a simple phrase.

10. The alternate choice to “Allison” was “Kirsten.” My parents still have the list of possible names for me in my baby book. My middle name, in case anyone is wondering what the “m” in my email address stands for, is Michelle.

Self-Identification

In the past week, I’ve attended two social events from two different organizations. The first was a movie (Made of Honor) and drinks, and the second was a women’s networking dinner. So far I’ve met two dozen girls that live in New Jersey, all of them a little bit older than me (which, at 22, isn’t all the surprising), all working professionals, some of them single, some of them married, and none of them know I have diabetes (technically I told two ladies who I met at the beginning of the dinner, but then I changed my mind and didn’t tell anyone else - luckily they didn’t bring it up again). It was strange spending so many hours with so many women and not having diabetes come up once. I tested in my car and bolused covertly under the table.

For such a long time, diabetes was almost forced into the conversation. When I first diagnosed, all my friends knew because, well, I was just diagnosed with a chronic illness and was in the hospital and it was kind of a big deal. So they knew, and all my teachers and classmates knew because that’s just what you did. When I went to college, sometimes people asked me if I worked, for months my answer was Diabetes Teen Talk. When people asked me what I hoped to do with my degree in public relations, my answer was to work for the Juvenile Diabetes Research Foundation (I honestly had no plans to work for an agency, and I would still love to work for JDRF in the future). Without even meaning, diabetes became very much a part of everything I did. I didn’t exactly hate this solid integration of diabetes into the rest of my life, but I did get tired of teaching diabetes all the time, as you do.

When I moved here, most of my immediate friends were people I knew because of blogging. My social circle because almost entirely people with diabetes. At work, my boss knew I had diabetes before I even had my interview (the guy from DiabeticFoodCritic is the one who got me the interview, so it was kind of obvious). Which was actually kind of cool because I avoided that whole “So, I have this thing called diabetes… and sometimes I might need to take a break…” My co-workers knew right away, because one of the reason I got my job in social media public relations was because I was the “girl who blogged about diabetes.”

Now, I’m starting to make new friends. And I’m not telling them. At least, not yet. It’s strange. For a few brief hours, it’s almost as if I don’t have a disease. I answered questions about moving from Oregon, about my job, about where I live and what I think about New Jersey. I talked about how cool Hoboken is, I talked about movies I liked, I talked about yummy Indian food in Edison. I listened to the girls tell me about their jobs, their relationships and their hobbies.

I’m not sure what difference the silence really made. It’s not like I wouldn’t have talked about those same things if I had told them I have diabetes. But I think my self-identification, this idea in my head that saying I have diabetes automatically makes someone think I’m sick and weak, has made more of a difference to my self-esteem than anything anyone has actually said. I wonder if all of our concerns about telling people we have diabetes, all of our covert operations, are really just our way of protecting ourselves. We are protecting ourselves from wondering if someone thinks we are defective. Not that people actually think we’re different, or unlovable, or someone they shouldn’t be around, but that we think they’re thinking that. So if we don’t say anything, we have a barricade up. It protects us from the things other people are thinking and the things we think other people are thinking.

I don’t know if any of it’s true. I don’t know what anyone thinks when they look at me. I hope they see someone who does what she thinks is right. Someone who tries to help people. Someone who tries to tries to be strong, and someone who always gets back up when she falls down. Because that’s what I see.

That’s what I try to be.

The Glass is Half-Full with Lemonade.

First, a big thanks to everyone for your thoughtful, supportive comments yesterday. Whenever I write one of those big, emotional pieces there’s a little part of me that’s always petrified that everyone is going to think I’m an absolute idiot, but thankfully that was not the case! I’m glad that what I wrote helped so many of you and I feel much better having written it. When I first wrote it, I thought I was coming off as being harsh and a little unreasonable. My initial focus was on what Penny said in the comments. That there are plenty of noncompliant diabetics out in the world and that she often has to keep her mouth shut in order to not argue with the many people who say there is no distinction between a compliant and noncompliant diabetic. But, as I wrote in my post, there are people who actually don’t take their insulin or test their blood sugar. My grandfather was one of them. He either had LADA or type 2 (no one knows for sure - he was an adult, but my grandmother said he went on insulin very quickly) but never took care of himself. My grandmother would give him his injections and then he would go off and eat candy bars and cookies. He eventually died from complications.

In my initial drafts, I focused quite a bit on what a noncompliant diabetic is. But I decided I wanted to take the opposite approach - I wanted to focus on what a noncompliant diabetic isn’t. I’m glad to hear it helped give some of you confidence, and I appreciate everyone who read it.

I thought today would be a great day for an encore. You may have seen the Five Pieces of Advice You Won’t Find In A Book meme floating around on a few of the blogs. Well, I think yesterday’s post was a pretty good piece of advice, so that will be my #1.

Here are 4 more things:

RELAX!
This has been the biggest piece of advice I have been giving to parents and the newly diagnosed since I can remember. Often I’ll meet parents who are seriously freaking out and I always wondered, How is this helping anyone? It isn’t helping you, and it certainly isn’t helping your child when your every move is filled with hesitation, sadness and anxiety. This does not help you think clearly - and thinking clearly is a very, very important skill for someone with diabetes. So breathe, step away from the edge, take things as they come, don’t worry about the future, don’t worry about things that are done and can’t be helped. Just do the best that you can and odds are, everything will be fine.

Avoid Auto-Pilot
This is the biggest mistake of veterans with diabetes. They go on auto-pilot. They do the same thing, over and over, day in and day out, without actually realizing that, ohmygod, their insulin amounts have changed! Imagine that… Seriously though, I know it’s not realistic to be spot-on with analyzing trends every single day, but it’s important to sit down with your records (digital or old-fashioned) and just read them. See if you can see anything, and if you can’t, double-check with your doctor or diabetes educator or your spouse/parent/child. They might see something you don’t. The more you avoid auto-pilot, the better your control will be.

Take a Diabetes Vacation
Okay, okay, before you start yelling at me about taking a vacation from a chronic disease which has no cure (uh, yeah, I got the memo), let me tell you that this idea actually originated from Dr. Bill Polonsky, diabetes psychologist extraordinare. The idea behind this isn’t to completely stop your diabetes management for a week, or a few days or even one whole day. The idea is to cut back just enough on your management that you can relax (advice #1) but not die - which is a good thing. To go on a diabetes vacation can go many different ways. When I go on “vacation” I tend to cut out testing my blood sugar a bit more. I might test my blood sugar 3 or 4 times a day, but I’ll take much longer stretches without testing. Another good one is to have your partner or parent do all the carb counting or even have them program your pump entirely (make sure they know what they’re doing first!). Sometimes a diabetes vacation means eating whatever you want without worrying about high blood sugars. I know The Powers That Be would kill me for saying this but a handful of out-of-range blood sugars will neither kill you nor cause permanent damage (Shhh! Don’t tell anyone!). A diabetes vacation, however, should only last about a day before going back to your usual routine.

Ask Questions
If you don’t know why something is happening, ask! You are perfectly well within your right as a human being with a chronic disease to ask questions about it. I mean, you always encourage your children to ask questions in class if they don’t understand something, right? Well, same idea. If you don’t understand why something is happening, how can you or anyone else expect it to change? People with diabetes need to be more vocal not just with each other, but with their medical team. And if your medical team doesn’t give you a satisfactory answer (i.e. an answer that actually makes sense and helps the situation) then you probably need a new medical team.

Also, if you are looking for some helpful suggestions on eating healthy in college, you should check out this new article I wrote for JDRF. It features two great diabetes educators and a handful of kick-ass ladies with diabetes (Sara, Allison, Ashley and Jenny).

Merry Month of May.

I love May.

Ever since I can remember, May has been one of my favorite months. It’s the month where the cold weather streak snaps (supposedly) and at least in Oregon, it’s the time when our marathon weeks of overcast skies and rain slow down and become more sporadic. May is more relaxed and being the last month before school got out, most of us were more comfortable slacking off a little bit more. We spent more time hanging out on the back porch of our favorite coffeeshop in Eugene, Espresso Roma, where everyone liked to congregate between classes to drink coffee, play chess and chat.

Of course, now that I’m a big person, there’s no summer break for me but I’m still enjoying seeing more sunny days and warmer weather. I would appreciate it even more if Mother Nature cooperated and quit with the rain completely, but I’ll take what I can get.

May looks to be a pretty good month so far. This weekend, Jon Schlaman, co-founder of Diabetes Talkfest is in town, so I’m heading into the city to play tour guide for awhile. Next week is JDRF’s Spring for a Cure fundraiser, which is the first JDRF event that I’ve actually paid to attend, believe it or not. I actually felt quite grown-up being able to afford the $100 entrance fee without having to rely on my back-up plan of volunteering for registration and then quietly sneaking away to enjoy the party. Later in the month are dinners with friends and of course, our first summer meet-up in Delaware (email for details).

All of this leads up to the grand finale which is I’M GOING HOME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

My younger brother is graduating from high school on June 6th. :: sniff sniff :: My little baby’s all growed up… Anyway. I’m flying to Oregon on May 31 which gives me a full week in Oregon. I’m actually working remotely from home, as I am speaking to a few public relations classes at my alma mater, the University of Oregon. I’m not entirely sure how I convinced them I’m qualified to mold young minds, but apparently they’ve given me the power so I’m taking it!

I think it’s safe to say that it’s going to be a good month.

This photo was actually taken in October, but with all the evergreen trees we have, there isn’t much of a difference between summer and winter in most parts of Oregon.

A Weekend? Don’t Mind If I Do…

It’s Friday.

It’s sunny.

And it’s seventy-frickin’-degress!

I am sitting in my little cubicle at work decked out in a white skirt, purple flower-patterned blouse and my adorable ribbon-adorned silver flats. I’m totally rocking the summer look right now and it feels so good. Summer is taking it’s sweet time showing up here on the East Coast, so I’m very appreciative of some summer lovin’.

It’s also supposed to be nice and toasty (not burnt toasty, nice toasty), which is perfect because I’m heading into Manhattan early tomorrow morning for a workshop for young professionals and that whole “quarter-life” crisis crap. Hopefully I’ll learn something useful, or at least meet some people who also have no idea what they’re doing (yay!) and then of course I have the entire afternoon to enjoy myself in Manhattan. Might try to knock a couple more things off my 101 Things list, because I’m been slacking on that a little bit lately. Should sign myself up for a museum or visit an art gallery or something. Granted, I have more than two years left to go before this thing is over with and that seems like a long time, but before you know it, I’ll be twenty-five and still have eighty-six things left to do.

And well, crap.

On Sunday, I’m driving all of twenty miles to see my dad’s cousins in Edison. My great-aunt is in town for Passover, and while I’m not Jewish so I’m not going to Passover, it’ll be nice to see her and my cousins. We’re going for Indian food, which is the perfect thing to do in Edison because I think ninety percent of the restaurants in Edison are Indian restaurants. Don’t ask me why, but it’s true. If you want good Indian food, go to Edison, NJ.

Hopefully the weather is nice where you are too so we can all enjoy our weekend!

How My Father Met My Mother

Every couple has Their Story. The story they tell when they meet each other’s families and friends for the first time, the story they tell their children and their grandchildren, they story they whisper to each other during romantic moments

“Do you remember when…”

Every couple has Their Story of how they got together. Some stories are simple, some stories are complicated. Some stories are funny, some stories are serious. All stories are wonderful and have a happy ending.

~*~

It was October 1981. My father had moved to California after losing his job and had decided to live at his parents house while they were living in Europe. It was a few weeks before my grandparents actually left and it was the weekend of his tenth high school reunion. My grandmother brought in some of his old high school yearbooks and they were reminiscing about people he went to school with. My grandmother pointed out people she was curious about and my dad promised to let her know what they were all doing. He also recognized someone in the yearbook as someone he had been working with at his new job, but didn’t remember from high school.

The next day, my dad went to the reunion. When my dad was in high school, he was, well, kind of dorky. He was short and bit overweight, and now that he was in his late twenties, he was much taller (having had his growth spurt during his senior year in high school) and had lost weight. Having visions of having the entire high school class be amazed at his transformation, his illusions were quickly broken when most people didn’t remember how he looked at all.

After a couple hours of meandering around the reunion and meeting people, my dad was bored. A woman named Betsy happened to recognized my dad and called him over.

Betsy asked, “Hey, do you know Caren?” (This would be my mom.)

“No, should I?” my dad asked.

“Probably not,” my mom replied.

My mom was working and living as a ESL teacher in the North Monterrey area of California, in a town called Castroville (the artichoke capitol of the world, or so my dad tells me). My mom says that because it was during the school year and she was working, she almost didn’t go to the reunion. Obviously she changed her mind or there would be no story (or a me to tell it!).

My dad and my mom spent all night talking to each other. But towards the end of the night, they briefly separated (my mom thinks one of them went to get something to drink, but she couldn’t remember specifically what happened). Meanwhile, some guy came up to my mom and asked her to dance. Since my dad wasn’t around, she said yes.

And off she went.

When my dad finally came back, my mom was gone. He waited around for her, but after awhile, my dad figured he wasn’t going to see her again. Disappointed and little pissed, he decided to leave without saying good-bye.

After my mom finished dancing with the other guy, she looked around for my dad. She looked and looked, but finally someone told her that he had already left. A little annoyed, my mom left the reunion.

~*~

The next morning, my maternal grandmother asked my mom how the reunion went. My mom said that it was good and that she had met a guy, but that he had left.

“Oh well,” she said. “His loss.”

~*~

On Monday, when my dad was at work, he saw Cathy, the woman that he recognized from the yearbook.

“Hey, where were you on Saturday night?” he asked.

“Why do you want to know?” Cathy asked.

My dad explained that he recognized her from the yearbook and hadn’t seen her at the reunion. “So, who did you hang out with in high school?”

“Oh, my very best friend was Caren G—-” Cathy replied. (That would be my mom.)

My dad, surprised, said, “Huh. Guess who I hung out with for most of Saturday night?”

Cathy asked my dad if he was planning on seeing her again.

“Nah, I don’t think so.”

“Oh go on!” she insisted. My dad was hesitant but after a little more pushing from Cathy, he finally relented.

My dad, knowing that my mom was a teacher, looked her up at the school district and gave her a call.

That Saturday, they had their first official date.

While they were on their date, my dad told her about seeing Cathy at work and how she encouraged him to call.

My mom replied, “I haven’t seen Cathy since we graduated from high school.”

~*~

They got married on April 16, 1983.

And the rest, as they say, is history…

~*~

Happy 25th Anniversary Mom and Dad!

Love,

Allison and Eric

My parents. Christmas 2007.

~*~

Weddings are certainly in the air with the impending nuptials of Gina and Kerri, but even if you aren’t married or engaged, I would love to hear how you and your significant other got together, or about your parents or friends if you’re not with anyone.