It’s been another rough week. Instead of taking a ton of exams (I only had one this week), I sat around and received grades on all of the exams I took last week. That was a…sad experience. I’m trying not to get bogged down thinking about grades. I’m passing. I got mostly B’s this time around. However, I did so well on the first round of midterms that I’m upset with my performance on this time around. I’m chalking my poorer performance up to harder material and a ton of exams in a short period of time. I’ll study differently next time. The big thing I need to remember is that my grades are for me. I feel like I am always trying so hard to please other people that I’m letting them down when I don’t get above-average grades. Step 1 is changing my attitude. Second year has gone worlds better than first year did grade wise and I’m going to have to take it all in stride.
My major stress-relieving activity lately has been looking at tons and tons of bridal gowns online. I’ve had a vision for this wedding for a very, very long time. When the Captain and I were in high school, I pictured a princess dress akin to those worn in Disney movies and a tiara. I was set on lavender as the main color and I wanted lilacs and white roses. When I went with Best Friend to help her pick out her wedding dress in 2008, I realized that my preferences have changed quite a bit. I don’t want a dress that is wider than most standard doorways. I like lace more than beading. Don’t even get me started on the color choices…I have considered nearly everything on the cool side of the spectrum from olive green to teal to navy to french blue to plum and back again to emerald. And we haven’t picked a date yet.
All of this wedding talk makes me really miss my grandmother. She would have LOVED to be involved in planning and deciding and dress shopping, especially. She really would have loved the Captain. My grandmother would have been impressed by how courteous and respectful he is. She would have been floored by his cooking skills. But if she ever had any doubts about whether or not the Captain was the one for me, I would have only had to mention one tiny thing and all of her qualms would disappear…
Black jelly beans.
My grandmother loved black jelly beans. Every Spring when the stores started selling bags of assorted jelly beans, my grandma would fill several crystal dishes around her house with the sugary treats. Her and I would then be sure to pick out all of the black jelly beans because they were the best flavor of all and no one else in the family liked them. “People who eat the black jelly beans are very special,” she’d tell me. We both endured eye rolls and wrinkled noses from family members on Easter Sunday when the jelly bean bowls were replenished and there were new black beans to eat. After my grandmother passed away my freshman year of high school, I kept my love of black jelly beans to myself.
Several years ago during my first year of college, the Captain and I were talking about Easter traditions. I told him about picking out all of the black jelly beans and eating them first fully expecting to hear sounds of disgust on the other end of the phone. Naturally, when the Captain almost shouted, “I LOVE BLACK JELLY BEANS!” I knew that I’d eventually marry him.
As my grandmother said, only special people like black jelly beans.
