Beginning of a new era.

Hello, friends.  It’s 7:30am on a Tuesday morning and I’m about to start studying.  I may make this little blog my morning mantra.  I used to blog in college, and I even still have the account and all of its old content, but after reading through the most recent posts (and by recent, I mean 2005ish), I realized that if the author of that blog were to walk into my home, I would have a glass of wine with her and then ask her to leave.  Turns out 21 year old me and 26 year old me are more different than I would have originally thought.  21 year old Laura slept until 11 and stayed up until at least 2am, and no it wasn’t because I was earning a hard earned dollar by bartending my way through college.  It was more like I was helping all those hard working bartenders by showing up Wed-Sat and giving them something to do.  I had zero plans for the future… I truly never thought 3 years ahead.  Ever.  Soooooo…. new blog for 26 year old, mature, old married lady Lola.  Ha… mature may be a stretch.

So the nicknames.  Let me explain real quick.  Michael grew up eating “country breakfasts” such as cream of wheat and oatmeal.  (I was eating sugar… poptarts and the like.)  Evidently he liked Oatmeal so much it turned into a nickname.  Fast forward a few decades and I showed up at the Griffin residence.  Michael has three young nieces who love to be silly (as those under 9 years old tend to do) and one day the youngest, who was 3 at the time, called me Lola.  Or maybe it was Lorla, but either way it’s evolved into Lola and it’s stuck.  I dig it.  I’m going with it.

Okay, so to catch everyone up I’ll give a brief rundown of what’s been going on the past several years.  Lola moved to Houston after graduation and after a few years of running here and there bumped into Oatmeal.  I was an event planner at the time (a ridiculously fun job, but not a career move for me…not enough vacation and/or benefits to stay longer than 3 years) and Oatmeal was working as a superintendent for a natural gas construction company.  Oatmeal had just purchased an airstream the first time we ever talked on the phone.  Obviously it goes without saying that I fell in love immediately.  Oatmeal tortured me for a year by not saying “I love you,” but then when he finally did (while slightly tipsy and dressed like a 70’s hippie on Halloween 2009) he couldn’t stop falling and now we are hitched.  I like to think that our wedding was the greatest of all time.  We planned it together for 5 months with the help of all of our parents and siblings (even my brother was setting up tables 2 nights before the big day), and it was truly the most epic night of my life.  You know your wedding was a hit when…. well, we won’t get into detail on a public blog but let’s just say our friends had a REALLY good time.  And we still have a rubber chicken.  Note:  Rubber chicken + stick on mustaches = most wonderful wedding ever.

Now I’m living in the country, about 60 miles west (and a tad bit north) of Houston.  We live in a B&B that was going to originally be the roof over our  heads on our wedding night, but it turned into a lease and our first home.  It has 2 bedrooms, 2 bathrooms, an awesome kitchen and a loft that I just turned into my office.  Our dogs have 3 acres to run around that we rent, plus all the neighboring land around us that our neighbors own.  It’s awesome.  I had small cardiac arrests at the thought of moving this far out.  What would I do without Starbucks, HEB, Central Market, Whole Foods, STARBUCKS, Pei Wei, sushi bars, yoga studios, pilates studios, movie theatres, STARBUCKS?, and all of my friends?  I had been living alone in Houston for so long and so enjoyed the convenience of everything being so close by.  And, I never found myself in traffic.  It seemed a win-win until I met and married a cowboy.

Let me tell you, moving out here has been good for me.  Every day Oatmeal comes home from work and rides the horses that we keep at our house.  I cook supper and we sit down and eat it together (home cooked meal every night rather than grabbing pei wei or Mexican food).  Each morning I make a cup of coffee or a fruit shake (without the assistance of Starbucks or Jamba Juice… and without the calories and price) and go on a walk with our dogs.  Off a leash, mind you.  Yes, I can walk our dogs without a leash because I’m no longer in a monstrous city where they’ll get hit by a car in seconds.  And, I no longer have to take our dogs out to the bathroom.  I just open the door, they run several hundred feet off, and then they come back.  Done.  No pooper scooping up a tiny back yard, either.

It’s really pretty out here, and the neighbors are so spread out that we have a lot of privacy.  I can lay out or work out in a swimsuit and not worry about neighbors being offended/creepy, or I can play my music as loud as I want without worrying about it waking up someone’s baby.  It’s awesome.

(Funny side note:  Oatmeal was shocked to see how many people had pets when I lived in an apartment.  My old place had a heavily advertised “dog run” so that residents could let their dogs run off-leash, but it smelled like a port-o-john.  Oatmeal ended up naming city people that had dogs “Shit Slaves” because the owner had to stop what they were doing every time their dog had to go potty and take them out.  I’m so happy to no longer be a Shit Slave.)

Oh, and one last feature of our house is our back porch. It’s awesome.  And right now it’s raining so the rocking chairs are the best seats in the house.  

So as it turns out, country life ain’t that bad.   I think I’ll stay for a while.

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