Friday morning saw me tearfully clutching the score sheet of my CEN exam, searching and (finally) finding the word "congratulations" at the bottom of the page, punctuated not by an exclamation (which I think would have been more appropriate), but by a period. Just a "no big deal, we knew you'd pass" itty bitty dot at the end of the word. And just like that, the weight was lifted -- the anxiety that had been sitting heavy on my shoulders for the past few weeks, with all of the hours spent studying cranial nerves and AV blocks, the multiple trips to Coffee Bean & Tea Leaf and Starbucks, melting away at the assurance that, come Monday, I will have three more letters tacked on to my nametag, assuring the world that yes, I am certified in emergency nursing.
Immediately from the testing center, I met up with Jimmy for a quick lunch (out of all the restaurants at our disposal on a Friday afternoon, nothing sounded quite as delicious as Chick Fil A), I ended up perusing the racks at Nordstrom in search of a cute dress for that evening's upcoming celebratory happy hour, which I found along with a few other unnecessary0but-necessary purchases. I got my eyebrows threaded, and visited my birthday present at the apple store, got my car washed (and a free wash for next time), and headed home to get ready for the celebration.
And Friday night found us siting in the back corner of the patio at Trudy's relishing in cold drinks and good company. Later, we made a game-time decision to continue the night at Highball for bowling and (later) karaoke. It was an amazing night full of ridiculous laughs, wonderful friends, and pure, unblemished relief.
And when I got home on Friday night, I found these on the counter:
He picked each of the flowers out himself. *Swoon*
Saturday morning, Jimmy and I slept in and woke up slowly before heading to Magnolia Cafe, anticipating long wait times and stifling heat. We were pleasantly surprised by the results of the cool front that had moved in over the past few days, and that we secured a table in less than twenty minutes. French toast, a buttermilk cherry pancake, and the Texas Benedict (eggs benedict with sausage and biscuits instead of the standard ham and english muffin? Smothered in chipotle hollandaise? Accompanied by homefries and strawberries? For that, a resounding and mouth-watering enthusiastic nod of the head) served as the fuel that would power us through the rest of the amazing day.
We headed up north to the outlets (buying two new pairs of sunglasses to replace my absolute favorite pair that recently snapped in half) and to IKEA, where we threw elbows in attempts to make it to the Home Office section. After much debate, we braved the check-out with a brand new seventy-eight inch long white desk to go along one wall of the West Wing. And my some miracle, we fit all seventy-eight inches of it into Jimmy's Honda Accord and I promised Jimmy that I would never again make him come to IKEA on a Saturday.
And then, the baby. Some girls on their twenty-sixth birthday dream of a bouncing little bundle of giggles and smiles little tiny onesies. Me? Not so much. After hours of labor (literally, working...in order to pay for the freakin' thing) and discussing name options (Jimmy, of course, wants to name it "Kevin Garnett"), we brought home the newest member of our family, a beautiful, functional, uploads-pictures-like-you-wouldn't-believe twenty-seven-inch iMac names Maela.
And the festivities reached their pinnacle at The Duchman Family Winery and Trattoria Lisina in Driftwood. We sampled amazing wines and incredible food, topping the evening off with honey lavender/cinnamon/hazelnut gelato with a candle.
I know you're not supposed to tell what you wished for, or it won't come true, but I'm also not very superstitious, so although it sounds lame and incredibly cliche, I wished to always feel as full of joy as I did in that moment, celebrating the advancement of my mid-twenties surrounded by people I absolutely adore.
