I'm in mourning (and engaged)

Excuse me:
OHMYGOSHI'MENGAGEDHOW'DTHATHAPPEN?!!

I can't believe it's already been a week and a half, and Fiancé is gone. If there's one thing about long-distance relationships that I hate the most, it's the saying goodbye. It's crazy, but the more time I spend with Fiancé, the more attached I get to him, the harder it is to not be beside him -- like, physically painful to me. And thus, the mourning. I already admitted to my mother that I'm being dramatic. I know it's not that big a deal that he's gone, because in no time at all, he'll be back, we'll be getting married and then flying back to Germany together (cross your fingers! We're praying everything goes "according to plan", but when does it ever?).

Wedding planning is next!

If you feel ripped off 'cause you were expecting stories of our visit - fear not! I just need to move from my stage of mourning to the acceptance stage, and then stories will follow.

T-Minus 23 hours...

And then Boyfriend will be in the country. At work today, I was occasionally smiling like an idiot, because I kept thinking what it'll be like to hug that guy again! (And just how will it be? Ridiculously awesome, that's how!)

Long distance relationships are not for the faint of heart, by the way. There are several good words to describe them with: lonely (sure, there's Skype, but that's not good enough, which leads into...), not fulfilling (physical contact, it's important more than once every five-to-six months), trying (discussing the hum-drum of your day is more fulfilling when it's done sitting on the couch together, vegging out) and a strain (since physical communication tells more -supposedly- than verbal communication, you're missing out on a whole lot of communication!). But hey, if you survive it, you're some kind of super hero or mutant with regenerative abilities and super strength or something.

However fantastic it is to constantly be around the -friend in your life, it's important to give them some time to do their own thing - and to take some of that time for yourself! You aren't connected at the hip, you're allowed to have different friends, you're allowed to have a boys, or girls-night out (according to your gender, of course). These things are good things, they're healthy things to have. They keep you from going stir-crazy. If your only social contact happens in the workplace, with your family, or at home with your other half, my friend, you're well on your way to Crazyville (interestingly enough, the population of Crazyville is 1: you).

So, to throw in some good ol' demonstration of this principle, we'll take Boyfriend. Boyfriend just spent the evening at a heavy metal concert. I love Boyfriend, I love being with Boyfriend and talking to Boyfriend... but sometimes I don't understand Boyfriend. Well, no, sometimes I don't understand heavy metal. Most of the time, actually. But Boyfriend loves it. So, when he talks to me about music, and heavy metal in particular, I shut up and listen, because I know that Boyfriend isn't particularly interested in hearing about various recipes I want to try out or which plants need what kinds of care, etc., but he loves me and supports the things that I enjoy doing (and will even listen to tangents about those things).

...Okay, we've moved toward conversation and communication here, so back to "Me" time. Go out, without Other Half, and do something awesome. Let Other Half go out, too! Hopefully there's a level of trust already there, wherein you know that they're not going to go out looking for some attention from some person that isn't their other half (ie. you). Even though you might not understand their fascination with monster trucks, fish, shooting guns, or shoes, make-up, and volleyball, let them do their thing. And go do your own thing, too. Let's try and get rid of Crazyville, that place is weird.

Countdown in Single Digits

Yep, in only a few days, Boyfriend will be walking off an airplane, safe and sound, here in Canada.

And I am freu'in', myself. I'm ridiculously excited, I can't help it!

Things are getting real. I was reminded tonight that I should probably be looking into Visa applications, since I want to, y'know, become an official Canadian German. And in time for school in October. Yes, this is an important step.

That said, I told my mother today that she should expect some pretty big news while Boyfriend is here. Like, something that will result in me calling Boyfriend something that's not "Boyfriend" in this blog anymore. I asked if she was aware that that was the plan; thankfully she said yes. She did, however, seem disappointed when I dodged her question, "Who's buying the ring?", by telling her that I refuse to have a ring with a diamond (as diamonds are intrinsically worthless, and that's not something I want as a symbol of my love for and with someone who is so intrinsically of worth in my heart and in my life), and that Boyfriend and I, a la German tradition, will both have rings (worn on the left hand during the engagement period, and then moved to the right hand after the vows have been said). I, however, neglected to tell her that rings have already been purchased. Oops.

   The ring story:
Boyfriend and I were on our way to the cinema, and passed a jeweler on the corner; we slowed down and looked at the rings in the shop window. Most of the rings were gaudy and sparkly: two things that turned me right off of them. Then, in the corner, I see the words: Herbstangebote (or, fall sale)! I like these words, a lot, so we go to work looking at them and really deciding, rather seriously, actually, which rings we wanted. We decided on a pair we both liked, then resolved to go there the next morning and try them on. So, after the film, we said good night for the evening, and showed up together the next morning to ask about the rings. The sale was a good one; unfortunately none of the rings we liked fit both of our fingers, so we ordered the pair we liked for an extra 20 Euro. Boyfriend would go to the shop a couple days after I flew back home to Canada, pay for the rings, and take them home. That night, as Boyfriend is about to leave, the woman I'm staying with pulls us aside and, rather seriously, tells us she needs to talk to us. I think she's mad because I forgot to clean some hair out of the shower or something, but thankfully she just explains that she got together with a few other women from the branch (a small ward, or assembly of members of our Church) in that city and had pooled together 100€ so that Boyfriend and I could go out tomorrow with her and purchase some rings. I looked, seriously, almost gravely, at Boyfriend, and this woman thought I was ticked at her or something, haha. In any case, we explained the situation and now, we have a swell story to tell the grandchildren one day.

The only damper on my excitement is the fact that I, admittedly, scratched a truck today with my side-view mirror, on the way to Church. I had pulled out of my driveway and was working on straightening the steering wheel when something I had on the dashboard fell, causing me to attempt to catch it, while I had toast clamped between my teeth. The wheel, having not been straightened, caused my car to head straight for this truck, and I dropped the thing that fell, grabbed the wheel with my other hand and jerked it the other way. I pulled over, heart racing. After calming down I checked the damage, then went to Church, knowing the neighbour wasn't going anywhere today. After sitting through a Sundays worth of talks on repentance, I was well prepared to go home and admit my wrongdoing. I'm a mortal, and I admit I thought about not saying anything - heck, the scratch is barely noticeable, super thin and not very long, but I got out of my car, knocked on the neighbour's door and explained the whole situation... to be told it was their tenant's truck, and that they'd give her my number. Deal.

When I told Boyfriend, he wondered aloud if we'd survive my driving skills long enough to allow us to get married this year. 

Trouble in Paradise

I'm in a conundrum. I've hit a wall. I have a problem.

No, not that kind of problem. Things between Boyfriend and I are great.

So, I got a job back in November ("Finally!" I thought), and it was only supposed to last until the end of the first week of January. For those of you not looking at your calendars, that'd be this Saturday. Strangely enough, my work has decided to keep me on - they're extending my contract for a few months. Unfortunately, Boyfriend will be here next Thursday, and there are six work days happening while he's here, and I've only got enough time off to ask for four of those days off.

So, do I work the two days, keep the job, and support myself and save up for our future, even though it would mean sacrificing two whole days, almost 22 hours of our visit? Or do I drop the job, enjoy as much time as humanly possible with Boyfriend while he's here in the flesh before he disappears back to Germany for five months, and try my luck finding a new one? Sometimes the time difference between us frustrates me. Normally I'd just call Boyfriend, but, he needs to sleep sometimes, too.

The plot thickens!


Update!
Well, Boyfriend and I agreed that it's easiest to just keep the job and for me to sacrifice some of our time together in order to keep bringing home the bacon. Or, bread. Or, well, those little slips of paper that the bank gives me money in exchange for (a trade I'm more than willing to engage in). Unfortunately, I'll be missing a total of 7 days off, since my work is changing my current no-working-Sunday-through-Tuesday schedule, to a different no-working-on-Saturday-and-Sunday schedule. So, I can ask for four days off, but, I have to work three. Gah! At no other time would I wish sickness upon myself, but if it means I get to lie on the couch and have boyfriend rub my feet and bring me soup... Heck, maybe I'll start spending more time around my sick sister...

Going German

Phew! First post! I think some introduction is in order.

I'm Katie, I'm in love with a German, and I'm a Mormon.

After being inspired by others who've written about their journeys into the unknown world of love, travel, marriage and parenthood, I decided I wanted some kind of record. This is a solid way for me to be accountable: make my goals, and therefore my failures and successes public. Heck, maybe there's someone out there who needs some help - I sure need help. I've got a lot of trials waiting for me, a lot of difficulties, and a lot of changes. Maybe someone, somewhere, needs some advice from others, and how they managed these things. I know I'm not the only one to have fallen for someone outside of my own country's borders. So, how did that happen, anyway?

Well, I served a mission for my Church - The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints - and I was called to labour (and labour I did) in Frankfurt Germany. Boyfriend was also called there, an occurrence not so regular. He should've been called to the Alpine mission (Switzerland, Austria, and southern Germany), since Austria doesn't happily open it's doors to Americans, and there are a lot of American missionaries out there in this wide world. Thankfully, Boyfriend was called to Frankfurt. Which is where we met, at a district meeting. In my third transfer (and his sixth), we served in the same district (a group of missionaries serving in several areas adjacent to each other), and had many more opportunities to get to know each other, and become friends. In fact, because of the closeness of our district, both geographically and in our friendships, we saw each other almost daily (Monday: Preparation Day, Tuesday/Wednesday: district meeting, Saturday: sports day with members/investigators). Then, I realised I was distracted - then-not-Boyfriend was a distraction for me from the work! - so I admitted the "crime" to my mission president and thankfully, at the end of that transfer, we were both transferred away to different zones (a series of districts make up a zone).

Fortunately, we were placed in areas and situations where we were able to see each other every 2 transfers or so, at zone meetings, as well as at Frankfurt's main train station, the Hauptbahnhof, where everyone was sent when they would transfer areas. In my last few transfers, I thought for sure that I wouldn't be seeing him again - he was in the southern part of our mission, and I was in the absolute almost-most-northern part... And then I heard on our transfer calls that for my last transfer I would be serving near Frankfurt, in a zone that would, that transfer, combine three times with his zone (and others), for a meeting to re-organize stake boundaries, and create another stake (made up of several "wards" and "branches" which are like districts, but in regular-member jargon), to say goodbye to our then-mission president, and to welcome our new mission president.

Suffice it to say, I realised I needed to tell then-not-Boyfriend how I felt about him, for fear that maybe he had some feelings for me, and I didn't want to miss an opportunity that perhaps Heavenly Father had brought us together, when we otherwise never would have met.

So, I "died", ie. finished my mission.

And then I told then-not-Boyfriend how I felt for him. And it turned out he felt the same for me!! I freu'd myself - I was ridiculously happy.

So! Here we are now. The situation: we've both finished our missions, I'm in Canada, he's in Germany. I flew out to visit him in late September/early October. I've worked like a madwoman since then, saved my money, and I'm waiting for the 15th so I can pick him up from the airport. Yes, he's coming to Canada. To meet my family. AHHH!! I've threatened to tie his ankles together so he can't run away from me after he meets them. They're... an eclectic bunch, like, the first set of silverware or dishes that you owned after moving into your first apartment, where you survived on a steady diet of ramen noodles and waffles.

I am a convert to the Church of almost 12 years. I am the only active member of my family, of which, my mother, two brothers, and my sister are members. We have, like every other family, a lot of issues, and a deep pit of back story. It turns out that Boyfriend, a convert of almost 6 years, and the only member in his family, also has a deep pit of back story. Our back stories have jived in such a way that we have a relatively deep understanding of each other, and the reasons why we are the way we are. This has made communication a lot simpler.

Speaking of which, on the topic of language: we both speak English, we both speak German. I'm lazy, and he knows this. We mostly speak English together, unless we want to speak in secrets, or I get into a mood where I want to speak German. He's stopped pressuring me to speak German (which mostly started because whenever we would talk, we'd do it when it was red-eye-early for me, and my brain wouldn't be able to get into German-mode. My laziness has won out since then, even though we now talk during the day for me, when it's sleepy-eyed-late for him).

Going back to the beginning, what kind of difficulties do I foresee in our future? Well, blending our lives, for one; finding an apartment for us in Germany, us getting married, satisfying both my Canadian, and our German relatives (I have a rather large collection of family in Germany) with the wedding plans; me moving to Germany and us having to deal with the paperwork, to say nothing of basically starting my life over and making new friends (sure, there's Skype, but it's not the same as going out with the girls), as well as attending school in Germany, in German. Basically, everything.

So, these are my chronicles. They're going to be filled with tears, and laughter. Definitely a lot of laughter. I have a great tendency to make a fool of myself. And I'll share these moments with you, and you'll laugh at me. But, that's okay, as long as you laugh. I'm going to be learning a lot, and not just German. Hopefully, through some good ol' fashioned trial-and-error, I can provide you with some good reading material.

The journey has begun, friends.