A paint color was picked...

Below are some pictures from our weekend extravaganza. I know everyone is so jealous that we are now going on two months and I still have to concentrate on not stepping on tack-strip as I climb the stairs. And I'm sure you're wondering why all the pictures of the house still look like the day we moved in. But I don't really have a reason. I just want to say thank you to Carl for the endless hours of hard work this past weekend. We are much further along because of you and 'thank you' just doesn't begin to describe our gratitude.

Nic standing on a jimmy-rigged scaffolding on the top rung of a 16 foot ladder. I'm glad I wasn't here for this.

There's really no place to sit. Unless you count the camping chairs now sitting on our front porch.

This...

Equals this:

Hard at work:

Our Birthdays

Last week, Nic and I both celebrated our birthdays…I turned 27 and Nic turned 29. The best part of our birthdays is that we get to share them with each other. We are two days apart (me on the 8th, Nic on the 10th) and people always ask me if I like sharing my birthday. Let me confirm: I LOVE sharing our birthdays. It’s become my favorite part of my own birthday, knowing that a celebration for me is also a celebration for him. The best part is that it usually turns into a birthday week, and we are equally excited because we are both celebrating together. It's no longer Nic's Birthday or Bekka's birthday. It's Our Birthdays. It’s seriously the best.

Each year as we turn a year older, I reflect on our previous years together. Sometimes I can’t believe we are getting older. Most of the time, I still feel like the 16 year-old little girl that fell head-over-heels in love with the 18 year-old with bleach blond hair. I think it’s this reason that makes getting older so much weirder. Yes, weird. It’s not hard or unwanted, it’s just weird. We look the same (almost identical) and we feel the same (except that now we’re married and have graduated from college and work full-time and own a home…but you get the point), but we’re now 11 years older. He’s no longer writing notes to get me out of class and our date nights no longer consist of grilled cheese sandwiches and hot chocolate at Denny’s. But I’m just as head-over-heels for him now as I was then. Every day, my love for Nic grows deeper. After 10 years, he still opens doors for me. he holds my hand as we fall asleep every night. he dances with me to my favorite songs in our living room. he loves whatever I make him for dinner. he respects me and honors our marriage. and he loves me regardless of my imperfections. I love this man and cherish every birthday with him. I can't wait to look back on our adventures as we celebrate 98 and 100 together.

Progress...

is slow. and picking a paint color sucks.