Tuesday, June 14, 2011

Sixteen Year Old Lauren

Tonight Jesse and I got on the topic of applying for our marriage license. It's one of the next things on our never ending, getting longer by the day, To Do Before I Do list. Neither of us knew how to apply for a marriage license so I went where any good bride goes when she needs answers on such things. Straight to Google. It was there that I learned that marriage license can be as inexpensive as $10 (Colorado), and as expensive as $100 (in Minnesota--go figure, right?). I also learned that it needs to be applied for in the county that the couple is getting married in. This will be a bit trickier for us as we're getting married in Dodge County. We are in the county of Dodge several weekends this summer but we will probably need to make a special trip down there during the week so we can apply for it when the courthouse is open. Jesse and I will also need copies of our birth certificates. Jesse is pretty sure his remains at his parents' place. Isn't that where every 30 year old man keeps his birth certificate? Mine was...somewhere. I just wasn't exactly sure. However, I am thankful and happy to announce that I now have it in my possession. Thank goodness because Google also told me it could take up to 4-6 weeks to have a replacement birth certificate processed. Yikes.


Memories, like the corners of my mind. Scattered pictures, of the way we were.

After I located the birth certificate and placed it somewhere safer, I continued to dig through the trunk that held it, along with several mementos from my life growing up. Several is an understatement. I seemed to have kept everything. Pretty sure the sales tag from my first training bra was in there. Purchased at Daytons of course. I was blown away at the things I kept coming across. The following is a short list of a few of those silly artifacts:

  • If I went to school with you, you can rest assured I still have your school picture. I can't say I look at it everyday, but I definitely still have it. At least a dozen of you wrote, "Good luck with the boyz." (why the z?) on the back of your picture. Thank you for the luck. I guess you can say all that luck is finally paying off. And I have you, fellow Triton Middle School classmates, to thank for that.

  • Then there were our glamour shots. How many rolls of film did we waste taking pictures of each other posing in various places? And how exciting was it to wait for one of our moms to go into Rochester so we could have the film developed?

  • Oh and remember that picture that all of us theater nerds would take in the girl's locker room after our final musical performance of the year? Yep. I have copies of that picture. That's right. I said copies. Plural. It's called blackmail, ladies. 

  • I also kept a lot of the notes that we would pass each other in school. Those were probably the funniest things. The things we would talk about that we thought were so important. Pretty sure I was crushing on at least four guys all in the duration of one month. Oy.

  • I also came across every birthday card I received the year I turned 16. The year I didn't pass my driver's test on the first try, but did score a very hot pair of Doc Marten boots, and a surprise birthday party.

  • Finally I came across something I wrote back in 1999. I have always loved to write. And I have always been dramatic. Feast your eyes on this following exert from my journal:
"...I had intended to talk of a certain subject that has been heavy on my heart lately. Well actually I hadn't thought much of it till tonight when I came across a box that had not yet been opened since our move to the country nearly a year and a half ago. Yes, I moved to the country and I hate it and I mean it with all the conviction in my heart. It was never my decision to make this henious move but it happened and there's nothing I can do about it -- something I have been told time after time since that dreadful day, August 31, 1998. I wonder if my parents would have done it if they knew how much pain and anguish it would cause me. It hurts so bad. My house. My home. No one understands it but it was mine. A 15 year old memory of mine that when I moved was discontinued and I would never ever get to have it back. Tonight as I was looking for something, I came across the box as I had said. In it were a whole bunch of things from our old kitchen. Magnets, pictures, notes, the ring I was looking for. Things that at that time meant very little to me, merely little invisible parts of my life. But now by just closing my eyes I can imagine exactly where they were in our little avacado kitchen. I hated that color. It was putrid. But now I love it. Sometimes when I think about it I can still hear the swing of the porch door and feel how it felt in the summer when every step you took down toward the basement got cooler, and cooler. And how warm the sun felt coming through the big landing windows...."
Don't say I didn't warn you. Very dramatic. Yeah, in case you didn't gather as much, moving out to the country was not my idea of a good time. I loathed my parents for making me move there. After I read that journal entry I started crying. Not because I still missed the old house. True, I still do at times. It was for sale recently and I tried to convince Jesse to buy it for me for my birthday. What? You never asked someone to buy you a house for your birthday? No, I cried tonight because I couldn't believe how much time has gone by. In just a blink of an eye twelve years has passed. Poof. Gone. So much has changed (my waistline). But so much has stayed the same (my affinity for dramatic rants). It's unbelievable to me to see where life has taken me. Twelve years ago I didn't want to live on that farm, or even be associated with that farm. And now, in just a little more than two months I am getting married and my husband and I will be celebrating with all our friends and family there. Oh. And that avacado green color I hated? That is one of my wedding colors.

9 comments:

Brenda said...

I love this post! I have a lot of similar items from middle/high school, including a hilarious "note notebook" I kept with my best friend in 8th grade. Memories!

Amanda- Hip House Girl said...

Aww, little Lauren. Those bullet points are seriously similar to the crap I found in my parents' house (more like the crap my mom finally brought out to my house to get it the heck out of her house). The passed notes, the photos... waiting to get your film developed! Aaahh! I LOVE your dramatic 16 year-old rant and how things have really turned around.

Carla @ Hammers and High Heels said...

Oh dear, this makes me glad all that weird stuff from my past is a few states away in my parent's basement. I think it would be scary to look through, you are brave! Of course I am sure the funny stuff is nice to come across though :)

nancydrew said...

This is the most boring, pointless blog ever.

Mom of 12 said...

I think it's always fun to look back. We were all pretty much stupid then, weren't we?
Sandy

MeganMac said...

What a pleasant surprise! I was recommended to this blog from a friend of a friend etc. I work for MNBride and I can't wait to see the outcome of your rather "sustainable" wedding. Perhaps we feature some photos!Keep posting!

Anonymous said...

Then don't read this blog, Nancy Drew! Get back to Canyon Creek and solve your mysteries, brat.

Anonymous said...

Is Nancy Drew still alive?! I would have thought she'd be dead by now....

Mrs. Robinson said...

I almost cried. :)

I love your blog. No lie. No dramatizing. I wish y'all would move to SC and we could be real life friends because girl, I swear....we are pretty much identical on the inside haha