Not a day goes by that I don’t think about how thankful I am to be with a husband as loving and caring as mine.
Growing up my Mom always told me I needed to marry a guy who worshiped the ground I walked on, and treated me like a princess. Perhaps having that expectation in my head made me a bit picky as I hit my dating years. I would go out on one, maybe two dates with someone, before moving on. I always had the ability to pin point my suitors downfalls before we even hit date number three. Even as a teen I figured there was no point in wasting my time with someone if I didn’t feel it was going anywhere. My longest relationship before I meet Nick was maybe two months, which had been a big deal.
I first met Nick at a friend’s birthday party my sophomore year of college, 2005. I walked out on the back patio, and there he was, lounging in a chair. As soon as I laid eyes on him I thought to myself, “that boy is very cute, I’m going to hang out with him later tonight”. I stepped back inside, and began devising a plan to lure him inside. After striking a few ideas I came up the perfect plan, start a group game. I grabbed a deck of cards, stuck my head back out, and announced that a card game would be starting shortly, and any interested parties should make their way inside.
It worked like a charm. Nick made his way inside, sat on the sofa, and I made sure I snagged the spot right next to him. We spent the remainder of the night chatting, laughing, and getting to know each other. My roommates and I already had a party in the works for a weekend coming up, and I urged him to come by. Everything was going perfect, we spent the entire night together, and there was an event in the future I could use as an excuse to see him again. I knew that at the end of the night he would whip out his phone, and ask for my number. My instincts were right all night, but apparently I missed the mark when it came to the close of the party. He said goodbye, and walked away without getting a single digit.
I was a little put out, I spent a lot of energy winning him over all night (or so I thought) and he just walked away. I left the party thinking I would have to find a way to hang out with the party host again, just so I could run into Nick. Two weeks went by, I fell into my regular routine, classes, studying, writing papers, and hanging out with friends. Our first house party was approaching, we were already consumed with planning for it, and slowly but surely Nick began to fall off my radar.
That weekend Theresa and I decided to have a night out on the town, or at least the approximate 3 x 5 blocks that create Athens downtown. We made our way to the first stop of the night, a very stereotypical freshman hangout, Bourbon Street. Just as I thought Nick had fallen off the edge of the Earth in my brain, he hurtled right back in. As soon as I stepped foot in the bar, there was Nick. He was sitting in a booth with a large group, made up mostly of females, which was slightly intimidating. All of the reasoning I came up with to forget about him went down the drain. The “he really wasn’t that cute, or funny, or charming, or anything I am really looking for” justifications, were gone. He was that cute, funny, charming, and I really did want to hang out with him. As soon as he met my eyes, he waved us over. Before I even got to him, he had his phone out, ready to get my number.
He immediately made up for faltering at the party.
We parted ways soon after with promises to see each other at our house party, and another week of waiting ensued. My excitement grew as the big day approached, my belly did somersaults every time I imagined him walking through the door. The night came, I politely talked with everyone, made my rounds, but always kept one eye on the door. He never did make it through the door that night, but he did make it over the balcony and through the patio door to make an entrance. From the minute he arrived, I abandoned my hostess duties, and put all my attention on him. We spent the night hanging out, and the next weekend, and the next, until we quickly found ourselves seeing each other daily. We hit the ground running, and we kept running, until five years later he got down on one knee, and asked me to continue running with him, for the rest of our lives.
My longest relationship of two months was quickly overlapped by my now over seven years with Nick. After just a couple of months I knew he was going to be my husband. It felt right, comfortable, in my soul I knew that this is what I had been waiting for. I fulfilled my Mom’s hopes of marrying someone who treated me like a princess. Nick goes above and beyond to make me happy on a daily basis. He surprises me with gifts, makes me breakfast, takes me out on spontaneous dates, comes to school events (complain free), gives me massages while we watch TV, hides love letters around the house, and above all he loves me with all his heart and he makes sure that I know it. I have never doubted our relationship because he would never do anything to hurt me. I never wonder what he is doing when I’m not around, because I know how much he loves me. He makes me feel as if I am the center of his universe, and I believe it. Perhaps that makes me conceited, but I can only blame that on him. I know he is 100% mine, I know he will be mine forever, because he has put a lot of effort into convincing me of that. He is my everything, and my only hope is that I do as good of a job convincing him as he does for me.
Seven years later I want to go back to the night the nineteen-year-old me poked my head out the back door and first laid eyes on him. I want to tap myself on the should and whisper in my ear, that is your future husband.
- Visual journal
- Laser printed image
- Mod Podge
- Colored pencils
- Paint brush
Before I made this page I knew exactly what I wanted to do for it. This image is one of our engagement pictures, and is one of my favorites. I had to include it in my journal. I knew I wanted to do some type of image transfer, because I love the way it creates a semi-transparent look so you can see the words in the book. I decided a Mod Podge transfer would be perfect, and I got to work. When I first did Mod Podge transfers I didn’t do them 100% correct. I would paint one layer on the image, place it face down on the page, and before it fully dried I would try to peel the back off. As you can see in this page, that didn’t always work. Areas would tear, spots wouldn’t stick, believe it or not this was the best transfer I did out of more than I care to remember I attempted.
To do a proper Mod Podge transfer you take a laser printed image (because there is a higher density of ink) paint one coat of Mod Podge on top, and let it dry. Once dry, you paint another coat, and let it dry. Once the second coat dries you paint a third, and while it is still wet place it face down on the page, and burnish it with something wide and flat, such as a spoon or scissor handles. To burnish all you do is rub the object on the back of the image in order to make sure every part of it is pressed firmly to the page. After the final coat dries, wet the back and using a sponge or your fingers rub the paper off. The end result should be the color ink from the image stuck to the paper, with no white paper on the back. It creates a semitransparent look, with words showing through the lighter areas. REMEMBER: Mod Podge transfers create a mirror image, words will be backwards unless you reverse them!
Once I had a successful Mod Podge transfer I decided I wanted to somehow break out of the rectangular shape the original photograph was in. In the end I decided to use color pencils and scribble around the image, carefully matching the colors to the best of my ability, to make it look like the picture was bleeding out onto the book page. To finish it off I used a two ripped pieces of book pages and a not so successful transfer to create a space to write my words along. I used sharpie to write the words.
Use an image in your journal, but find a creative way to break out of the typical rectangular photo shape. Rip it, cut it, create a transfer, color on it. Think outside of the box, literally.
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