Tonight's guest blogger is Chelsey from I'll Be Seeing You. After reading her guest post, make sure you show her some love over at her blog. Thank you Chelsey!
I can never stress enough to anyone to marry your best friend. Physical attraction is great, but by the time your 50 year wedding anniversary comes up, lets face it, unless there are major changes in the medical industry, we'll all look like shriveled up prunes. Joseph and I are the biggest nerds on earth, but I can truly say, I'm absolutely 100% thankful that we're that way. Just last night when we were having dinner at a restaurant; we looked to our left, and what can I say? We're nosy. I could hear the couple beside us discussing different possible governmental policies they thought were ridiculous. The couple behind me were discussing something that sounded like different kinds of wine. Our topics of choice throughout the whole dinner were,"Okay, so, if you were a Pokemon trainer, which elements would you want?", and "Batman is NOT a super hero! He has no super hero powers!", and "OH MY GOD! DID YOU KNOW AUNT MAY FROM SPIDER-MAN HAD A LHASA APSO?!" Yes, I promise guys. That's what we talked about. How many people could I talk about my favorite Pokemon with? Yeah, that's what I thought.
I'm more thankful than anyone knows for the support we received from our families, minus Joseph's mom, but, Joseph's her baby so we all knew that wouldn't go over well; she's fine now. Everyone knew when we got married it would be like sending two 12 year olds out into the world, giving them money, a car, and house, and saying,"Good luck!" I worked at Dollar General for 4 months. Granted that my boss was a psycho douchebag who tried to make me work in the evenings during my Anatomy lab, but still. Joseph has had quite a few jobs, and the longest he's stuck with any are maybe 6 months (minus the Marine Corps). Joseph's parents bought his first car for him at 16. I wasn't even allowed to drive until the last 2 weeks of my senior year (Dad's rules). Needless to say we were, and still very much are, clueless to the real world. I assume we may get it one day, though.
Nicole asked me to write about where I saw my husband and I on our 50 year wedding anniversary. Being young and naive, it's hard to wrap my head around anything passed tomorrow, but still, somehow, I can very clearly see us as adorable (possibly cranky and hateful) little old people. I can see Joseph, all shriveled up and shorter (if that's possible. I do love him, but the poor thing is only 5'3" now.) If my love of food continues, I will probably be at least a whopping 800 pounds, but, let's hope I change by then.
If Joseph and I, by the grace of God, manage to survive to see our 50 year wedding anniversary, it will truly be a miracle. Between my horrible almost-burn-the-house-down cooking, and Joseph's,"Oh hey, this 18-wheeler is ticking me off. I think I'll ride his bumper", we'll definitely be pushing it.
I guess our future could go in any direction, but, Joseph's absolutely determined that we win the lottery, the easy way out of being poor the rest of our lives. Joseph stops at a gas station at the very least, once a week to get lottery tickets. I try to explain to him the odds of us winning are slim to, well, there's no chance. If we ever won the lottery of course our future would probably be much different, but since that's obviously not going to happen, I'll get back to my real approach:
Children? As of right now, I don't see us having very many, one, two at most. My husband is determined to raise the all-star boy, and I'm determined to raise the girliest girl you have ever seen.
I can absolutely see us on a farm complete with an old farmhouse we had restored years and years before. It's a pretty rational belief to think our home will look like a small armory. Where we're from, EVERYONE lives and breathes guns! (I've even been to a few gun shows in my life, and yes, I thoroughly enjoyed them.) Joseph, for the most part, will probably still have the same past times. He'll be metal detecting, and I'll be praying he doesn't sneeze so I don't have to dig through the dirt for his dentures. (True story, this happened to my grandfather.)
We'll still have the old cavalier with the, what used to be "stitched up" bumper, flapping in the breeze because we're too cheap to get a new vehicle. We'll be petting our taxidermy kitties because I can assure you, we won't be able to let go. And, has anyone seen the show Picker's on the History channel? I can assure you, our home will look like one of the houses featured on the show. Joseph's a pack rat and picks up things randomly off the curbs. It's embarrassing, but we're from hillbilly country, so THERE it's normal. Silly Joseph...
Animals will still play a huge role in our lives. Since our plan is to live on a big farm, we'll have tons. We'll have 2 or 3 cows, just for pets, pigs, for the same reason; we'll have chickens and roosters just to listen to their little chirps and wake up calls. We'll have every single kind of dog you can imagine and the laziest, fattest cats on the planet.
I know for a fact, when you walk into our house, Joseph's dress blues picture will be sitting in the center of our living room, and I'll still be just as proud looking at it then as I was the day I first laid eyes on it, Family Day, in his barracks room. I'll still have my old binder of letters, and it will still be in the same condition as now: I will take care of that before anything. You can open the refrigerator, and I promise there will still be Ginger Ale (my favorite drink on the planet) sitting in the corner next to a half empty gallon of milk, because I'm sure Joseph will still be eating cereal for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. (Not because I'm a horrible cook, but because he just absolutely loves cereal.)
As for the celebration of our 50 year wedding anniversary? It'll probably be a hot, humid day back home in, up in the Appalachians. Joseph and I try our best to celebrate every month we're together anyway. Every year, every month, every day, every hour, every minute, ever second: all of it is a blessing, and we definitely try our best not to take it for granted. Honestly, Joseph and I may be immature and have more to learn than could be imagined, but everyone thinks of Joseph, and some people even consider me, an "old soul". We prefer to keep to ourselves; we like it that way. We don't like loud, noisy get togethers. We prefer the peace of quiet moments. Our celebration will probably be just like any other day. We'll probably celebrate quietly, and alone. I can see us in our horribly beaten up Cavalier, riding down the dirt road to the place where Joseph proposed. Somehow, I can picture Joseph trying to get down on one knee, hearing a few bones pop, and us both laughing since he had attempted to do it again just "for ol' times sake"; we joke a lot, and I don't see it going away with age. I see us walking, slowly, but walking up that same road as we did that same cold winters night he proposed, and I see us just talking; talking about everything, as we do everyday: the night he proposed, how sick I was, how I dropped the ring in the snow, how we both cried; the day we met, how nervous we both were, how he gave me the biggest bear hug ever and me apologizing for having stinky breath; the day we first kissed, and how I was afraid I would be bad at it ; and laughing, as always, once again, at the day we were married, and the horrible misfortunes we encountered on that day (to read about those, go here). He'll probably "accidentally" bump in to me while we're walking, grab my hand, and he'll probably look over and say: "So baby, did you see us making it this far back then? Did ya?", and I'll do my ever famous and annoying, "answering a question with a question" and reply with,"Did you?" Joseph will probably smile and say,"Yes baby, I did, and I may have said this earlier but, happy anniversary. I love you most." I'll probably blush, because Joseph still has his ways, and I still do, sometimes daily, and say,"No, ...I love you most." I can see all of this, every bit, clear as day. Two cute, frail, old people walking and talking like they just met, just as we already do, each and every day.
