Making the best of things

When I first moved here to our little village, it was a hard transition because I missed my dream job (in a library), I missed my friends and I missed the convenience of city life. My new job sucked, Big C was working a ton so I hardly saw him, and I'm pretty shy so it was hard to make friends. Plus, I grew up in a small town and had no intentions of going back to that kind of lifestyle. 'WHY THE HELL DID YOU MOVE THEN?!' is the question I can hear being asked. The answer is as lame as it is a classic. I was in love with Big C and I wanted to be with him. We'd been dating for 2 years and it was time to commit to each other. I had just graduated and now had the freedom to move. He has a great job out here that paid more than mine, so it made sense for me to come to him, rather than the other way around. Etc, Etc.

So, after a few months of moping and getting used to my sucky job with my sucky supervisor, I decided to get over myself and make the best of things. I drove to the nearest city once a week and had some cafe au lait in a coffee shop. I spent time in craft stores and looked at pretty things. I went to the mall and bought nice clothes to wear at the office (because the first step to feeling good is looking good, or so they say.) And I scrapbooked. I scrapbooked the shit out of my life. I took a picture a day of something good (or funny, or meaningful, etc) and I scrapbooked. It forced me to focus on the good in my life and it marked many a special occasion that I can look back on with alarming accuracy.

 

My scrapbooks (under a beagle calendar, of course)!

This is something I want for Little C. I want him to be able to look back on his life and see happiness. I want him to know without a doubt that we cared about his life and experiences. That we love him. I mean, I know he'll know that, but I want him to have something tangible to remember us by. Having Little C shoved my own mortality in my face. Someday, if the gods are kind, he will bury me and his dad when we die of old age (rather than the other way around) and rather than have 'stuff' (ie plates, knicknacks, etc) to remember us by, I'd like him to have our memories. I already write letters to Little C, but sometimes pictures are easier to trigger memories.

I received a scrapbook from one of Big C's cousins, so I'll start with this. When Little C is napping, and when Big C is spending time with him in the evenings, I can use these minutes to scrapbook. Here's hoping we get some decent pictures!