I’M NOT DEAD. WordPress is broken (anyone know how to fix the kitchen sink? I’m all ears), I hate my layout and I have over sixteen thousand images on my computer that I need to organize and move to an external hard drive because apparently sixteen thousand photos is too much for my computer to hold, which means that until that gets taken care of, I can’t upload the video and show you something hilarious that happened to me two weekends ago. But none of this is going to happen until I finish reading Mockingjay and maybe spend some time with the husband, because I don’t know, I married him? So he at least deserves a couple of minutes of my time as well as a warm dinner every now and then and a pat on the back for putting up with me.

I know. I frustrate me too.

I’m having a heated internal debate wherein the wanna-be literary genius and the photo-happy bride in my head duke it out over whether I should post pictures or words. Only, there is a problem with the pictures (see above) and my words are a jumbled mess of disjointed thoughts about life, love, and dirty dishes.

I’m working on it people. Have patience.

Here is your warning that the next few weeks will be sporadic posting about this that and the other. . .words, photos, wordless photos, and the like. Oh, and I’ll eventually get around to posting pictures of the honeymoon and maybe some day I’ll fill out that stack of thank you cards that glares at me from the kitchen counter.

For now here’s some pictures because I think my words are starting to not make sense.

(All photos credit to Nathaniel Ray Photography).

TYPE, DELETE. TYPE, DELETE. TYPE, DELETE. Such is the flow over here on my end, where every stream of conscious thought comes out as word vomit, senseless and ugly. I’ve been wanting to give you funny stories. Apparently I’ve forgotten how to use my fingers to do that. I’ll keep trying.

I just don’t know what to write, and I don’t know what you want to see.

Do you want more stories of Grams and Ollie?

Do you want Aubrey and Kevin Part Whatever Because I Forget Which One I’m On Anyway?

Do you want wedding stuff?

Okay.

How about this.

I’ll start writing some wedding posts – and if you like them, great. And if you don’t. . .well we’ll find something else to talk about here.

For now here’s a sneak peek of my bridal photo shoot – this was after we were done shooting and we were heading back to our car, and my feet couldn’t stand one more minute in those heels so I gathered my dress in one hand and my shoes in the other and off we went.

LAST THURSDAY MORNING WAS NOT LIKE EVERY OTHER DAY. You see, Thursday morning was the day that I’ve put off for two years. Thursday morning was the day that I’ve said “I’ll do that later, I’ll do that in two months, I’ll do that tomorrow”. Thursday morning was the day that I took the dreaded ACT and signed up for college.

6:30AM: Wake up, dive out of bed and leave the house within 40 minutes. Accomplishing that makes me wonder how I always find myself toeing the line to be to work on time.

70:40AM: Stop at McDonalds, debate what Dale would like to eat.

70:41AM: Remind myself that Dale likes anything. I’m the one that’s picky. Duh. I order the usual for me.

8:00AM: Arrive at Dales work to pick up his calculator and pencil. A frantic midnight search around my house produced no results. I give him my food offering in exchange.

8:05AM: Pull into the campus testing parking lot and enter the building. I notice a familiar face in a sea of 30 people about to take the same test. It’s my old elementary school crush, the one that used to pull my bra strap and once slapped me across the face. I pause to marvel at all the odd things you never do forget or forgive people for. I can’t even remember his name. This will bug me. Not that  want to say hi, oh no. I’m far to embarrassed to admit that we’ve ever even known each other. Besides, I’m wearing glasses and I’ve ditched my old 80′s bangs, I’m sure he might not even remember me.

At least, I hope he won’t remember me.

8:20AM: I remember how much I detest bubble sheets. Tempted to shorten my name and just use AubreyMo. You know, to cut back on the form fill out time.

8:50AM: Still waiting for everyone else to finish filling out their data. I now have two pencils sharpened and the white, papery shavings that they leave behind are staring at me from my desk.

No.

No way. I am NOT walking up in front of everyone to throw it away. I’d rather eat those shavings than subject myself to anyone elses’ scrutiny.

8:51AM: I gave in. I’m such a pushover.

9:00AM: Test one begins with four passages and 75 questions about English Grammar. I CAN DO THIS!

9:50AM: Test two begins, and it’s the evil four letter word. M-A-T-H. You know I’m destined to failure when I start guessing on problem FOUR.

10:20AM: I’m starting to discreetly notice how the red-headed boy next to me is only bubbling in half his answers on each test. Did he know that you don’t get docked for wrong answers? Did he? I want to tell him so bad I ache, but I want to keep my seat and my score even more.

This is the exact moment that the girl on my  right sneezes. Would I get kicked out for saying ‘bless you’? My desire for proper manners is driving me nuts.

Three Hours and a Million Questions Later (Also known as 12:30): Scores are back. Aced everything but Math. Failed it by one point. I am pretty proud how my guessing abilities went. I return after devouring a cookie to take the math placement test, pass that and head off to find my councelor.

Tune in later for part two of the college experience!

I LOVE FUNNY CONVERSATIONS LIKE THIS that happen on a daily basis between me and my Dale.

“Have you posted on your website today? What was it about?”

“I’ve started a few drafts but I haven’t posted them. I don’t remember what they were about though.”

“You don’t know?”

“To be honest, they were probably about something pathetically lame, that I made into a huge deal. That’s all anything on my blog is now days – just random crap.”

“Well, it’s not a bad thing if you like to write and impress yourself.”

*silence* “Did you just say ‘write and IMPRESS’ myself?”

“No. I said express yourself. But impress yourself works.”

I am so self centered sometimes.