Five Minute Friday:: Adore

Last year my windows were festooned with ribbons, like peppermint stripes to the floor. Colored lights glowed at the door, and the Christmas candles flickered in the hallway bathroom. Even the couch had a snowman pillow on it. 

This year, my 2-foot tree is the only bit of Christmas in an otherwise very normal, every-day living room. Only one present is wrapped. Another present sits on my desk in a brown box, exactly as it looked when the UPS guy dropped it off last night. All other presents are still at the store, undiscovered. It has been a busy month, filled with goodbyes to students who are returning home after the semester, graduation parties and unexpected guests. 

But my heart feels quiet. Anticipatory. 

For the first time, my husband and I decided to celebrate Advent. 

We bought a cheap brass candle ring online that came with the purple and pink tapers, and we downloaded a devotional by John Piper. We read it from the glowing screen of the phone as we lie in bed each night. 

The words have been garlanding my heart with awe. 

That the King would come, not to be served but to serve? The realization spreads fresh across my duty-bent heart like a red carpet to welcome him. 

And that star that God placed in the sky millennia in advance, timed to perfection so that men who scanned the night for signs would see it--dazzling. The sheer scale of planning that went into His entrance sends fiery sparks of worship through my heart, brighter than any tinsel. 

My house may look pretty much as it did in October, but I can feel Christmas within me. More of Christ. More adoration for my King, the one who let himself be made small and weak to bring me near. 

An Italian in Texas! (And a crazy start to the semester)

For thousands of college students, the new school year means cramming your life into the back of your car and returning to the world of tests, papers, and dorm life.

And for those of us who do campus ministry (or are married to those who are), it means prayerfully flinging ourselves headlong into the busiest season of the year.

It means opening our hearts once again to befriend and love students.

It means pretending we don't have work at eight am for the sake of a deep conversation.

It means choosing to create community for young men and women who may carry scars from community gone wrong.

This year, it also meant the collision of two worlds: Italy and Texas. 

On the Italy mission trip two years ago, we met a young man with a big personality. Michele (pronounced "Mih-KE-leh") was not a believer in Jesus, but he had a lot of questions, and he seemed to have a really good time with our team and the Italian believers.

Several months after we returned to TX, that young man decided to follow Jesus and was baptized in an Italian mountain lake.

When we returned to Italy this past May, Michele was like a different person! He was full of joy, constantly laughing and joking around. It was as if knowing Jesus amped up his already gregarious personality. More than anything, he was excited to talk about Jesus and the Bible with anyone he met.

Check out these joyful guys! (Michele on left, with our friend, Ottavio, who is also a believer in Jesus.)

Two weeks ago, (smack in the middle of the busy semester kickoff) Michele arrived in the US for his very first visit! One of the permanent missionary couples in Milan traveled with him to Texas when they came back for their son's wedding. Hubby and I had the privilege of hosting him for two of the nights he was in town.

He promptly bought a cowboy hat that he wore with more Texan pride than most Texans.

This pic was snapped in Milan after he returned from his American adventure. Can you tell which one is Michele?

He also dove right into our busy preparations for welcoming the new students, helping the hubby pass out flyers for the Freshmen Connect event and even helping him set up the sound equipment for the student-led worship band.

But more than the Blue Bell Ice Cream, BBQ, steaks and stetsons, we were thrilled that we could share ministry with our Italian brother. While the church in Milan does some similar things--we are both doing campus ministry after all--is is larger and more established here.

Here too, the campus does not censor religious speech.

We went ice skating too! (from left: me, Michele, and two of the awesome students who went with us on the Italy mission trip last May)

We were also pumped to receive the encouragement of having Michele with us!

There is nothing quite like being around a newer believer to remind you of how crazy and amazing it is to know the God of the Universe. 

Or how precious it is to pray openly, publicly, without repercussions.

Or the fact that it really is incredible, this chance to do college ministry. This chance to stand witness to God changing the lives of young adults, one by one.

Our homegroup plus new students on the night of the Kickoff Rally! Right there in Rudder Fountain, we baptized two of the girls who joined our group last year. An awesome night!

When an old fear gets a facelift

"Now I drawed socks, see?"

 

Her eyes, heavily rimmed with dense lashes, were so blue. She clutched the percussion egg in one hand and the pen in the other as she created an elaborate family portrait. 

 

With socks.

Her little sister climbed into my lap momentarily to clasp my neck, only to leap off a moment later and run to where her daddy sat.

 

The parents were traveling, documenting the state of the evangelical church in Europe. With them were their three kids, ages 4, 3, and 1.

 

It was beautiful to watch them.

 

There was a time I believed that missions was only for single people. Because of this, I feared marriage. 

I was petrified by the fear that love for a man might crowd out my First Love. Now my fears seem small and silly. Two people who the same Lord can be a powerful expression of who He is. The marriage can become a living picture of the grace of God, the faithfulness of God, the community of God.

Watching that beautiful family, I felt...surprise? And then I was surprised at my surprise.

 

I suddenly saw that my stinky old fear had never really died--it had just leveled-up a notch. 

Now the fear whispers that mommy-hood will absorb any chance of being involved full-throttle in the Great Commission. 

 

And I know how ridiculous this sounds. How un-true it is. But fears defy logic and truth much of the time.

 

 

I fear missing out.

 

I fear isolation and stereotyping from younger, kid-less friends.

 

I fear losing my passion for Jesus in a wilderness of diapers and spit-up and soccer practice.

 

I fear losing my identity, of being just "so-and-so's mom".

 

Can anyone else relate?

 

 

But somewhere in the tangle of my unease, I feel Jesus whispering to my anxious heart.

 

Daughter, do not fear losing yourself; this is how you find true life.

 

"For whoever wants to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses their life for me will find it." (Matthew 16:25)

 

 

And right along all these whispers of truth, He is gently breaking down the fences I erect between myself and Change. Little nudges.

 

With each new baby in our circle of friends, each new announcement of "Guess what--?!", the idea of family has earned familiarity.

 

He also keeps letting me stumble upon amazing blog posts on this topic. Like this one that made me cry, or this one about surrendering the desire for a life on the mission field that sounded like a twin heartbeat of my post from last year. And then, just this morning, I came across this beautiful post about trusting the Lord with change.

 

I'm so glad my Jesus is gentle with me. I'm getting there.

Three years ago this day

Last night you nuzzled close to my face in bed and we looked at each other in the dark.

"Three years!" you whispered. "That's crazy!"

And it is. But if this is crazy, well Sweetheart, I've decided I like crazy.

On that day three years ago, I was nervous and excited and my cheeks hurt from smiling but I just couldn't stop the grin that bubbled up and took over my face. I was declaring to the whole world that you were the man I wanted to follow as you follow Jesus. I was becoming yours, promising my heart and all my years until I die.

We only learn the magnitude of a promise when we live it.

I don't need the pictures to remember how your face trembled with emotion when I rounded that corner at the end of the aisle. The way our hands gripped each other and your eyes glowed as Ray said "husband and wife".

It was the first of all the moments following, but we've had even better ones since then.

I remember how we danced our feet sore and you did that crazy backflip that freaked out the mother you'd just waltzed. I remember how I blushed when you reached up for the garter.

Now you backflip for the neighborhood kids.

Three years ago this day I could not have known how I would love you now.
Or how your voice inflections would become mine.
How your allergies would create a new level of health for us both.
How I could love a second family so intensely.
How the curve of your arm and side could become home to me.

I love you, Darling. Like crazy.

*I started this post on Wednesday, our real anniversary, but had such a fun date that night that there was no chance to post until now. :)

Five Minute Friday::Glue

Today I am linking up with Five Minute Friday, a writing exercise where you set a timer for five minutes and write on a specific topic until it chimes at you to lift your fingers from the keyboard. You can join in here!

Today's word = GLUE

Yesterday was all unraveled and ragged. I flew out the door with my shoes barely on my feet and a granola bar in my hand. Seriously, God bless granola bar makers.

My house looks like a garage sale after all the good pickings have been picked over. Ever since our washing machine decided to re-create Noah's Flood two weeks ago, we've been living in a carpet-less home without baseboards or doors or basic organization. Just getting out the door is a feat of memory and agility. Where was my jacket again...? *wracks brain, bumps into furniture*

It really hasn't been too bad. Now that the thirteen rumbling red industrial fans and honking-huge dehumidifier are gone, at least I have a kitchen again. Even while the fans roared, we laughed about their white noise making it easy to sleep.

But yesterday at work my shoulders and neck creaked with painful lumps as the phone constantly rang and rang and rang and my throat grew dry from explaining. The papers piled up faster than I could sort them. My fingers clicked constantly, almost independent of my tired brain as the mental to-do list grew longer and heavier.

It felt like I was coming unglued. Can anyone relate?

I stumbled up the stairs to our homegroup meeting with only half a heart to be there. Heavy-eyed, foggy-brained from my desperate post-work nap, I willed myself to sit.

"Between the songs", they said,  "let's tell what God has been doing in our hearts". What have You been doing, Lord? I wondered. I'm so unglued and discombobulated.

As I flipped backward in the blue journal looking for scraps I'd chanced to record, I found the sweetest words. Words that had patched me together on another ragged, teary day in January.

"Cherise, you do not have less at this moment when you are exhausted and fighting a cold than you do on days when you are well-rested, healthy, and feel in control. You have Me in abundance at all times, and I am all you need."

Wonderful truth.

He is not diminished if I am depleted, and He holds even my unraveled, unglued moments together by his powerful Word.


Side note: My homegroup will notice that this journal entry wasn't what I shared last night with the group. It felt like a personal hug from Jesus for that moment, something just between the two of us for me to feel his love while I shared something else out loud. But now, in the light of a new day, it seemed  appropriate to share.  I hope someone else will feel His love in the middle of an unglued moment like mine. 

Book Review::Surprised by Motherhood

I am not a mother, but odds are I will be someday.

 

Someday my fridge will be covered with crayon masterpieces, my walls with jelly stains, and my floors with cheerios. Someday hubby and I will be entrusted with one or more miniature humans and I know deep in my gut that our lives will never be the same.  

 

Honestly, it’s terrifying.

 

Even though I love children.

Even though I get wistful over the soft curls of my friend's kids.

Even though I pray for the ones who will someday look like me and my husband.

Change has just never been my favorite, and the knowledge that two little pink lines will one day change absolutely everything--well, it scares the bejeezus out of me.

 

When that day comes, I will be so thankful for moms like Lisa-Jo and brave, hope-filled words like hers that come straight from the trenches. Which is why...I'm unashamedly doing my very first book review/promo for her!

 

Surprised by Motherhood reads like a heartfelt conversation on the couch with the author, a girl from South Africa who married a "cowboy-green eyed" man from the Northwest on the firm understanding that she would never bear his children. Ten years and three kids later, she bravely bares her heart and invites you into the messy, hilarious journey all laced with truth and wild hope.

 

 

She writes for you mommies. You, the ones who feel caught on the exhausting treadmill of life wondering, "will things ever slow down?" She believes you deserve a super-hero cape and a cheering squad and she's volunteering to wave pom-poms for you.

 

"I would throw away most of the parenting books that made me feel like I was somehow failing this most important test of womanhood—being a mother. I’d throw out the advice about what I was doing wrong or should be doing differently or should aspire to be doing. I’d just revel in the daily, sleep-deprived merry-go-round and eat a lot more chocolate cake.(p. x)"

 

She puts it this way:

This isn’t a “how-to” book, it’s simply my “you can” story.

 

She writes for you daughters too, especially for those who feel the absence of their mothers. When she was entering high school, her own mom was entering a hospital. Now, more than eighteen years after her mother's death, Lisa-Jo understands the pain of working through the unsaid, the unexplained. Whether the absence is literal or emotional, the wounds are real and she offers her own journey in all its confusion and healing.

 

She also writes for the not-yet mommies and someday mommies, the ones of us who need someone to say, "I was scared too. Yes, it's hard--but it's glorious and beautiful and worth it."

 

“Parenting is not for the faint of heart. And it’s especially not for those type A personalities accustomed to having all their ducks in a row, all their check boxes checked, and their sofa cushions, cereal boxes, and entire lives neatly arranged.” (p. 4)

 

  It doesn't hurt that she is type-A like me. Just an added layer of commonality to make me believe dying to self in the area of perfection might actually be possible.

Grab the first three chapters here for free!

Being a one-car family

For three weeks last month, my faithful little car sat inert and unresponsive in the driveway. Inserting the key did absolutely nothing--not a flicker of light or sound.

It was like a car coma.

We tried all the normal stuff--battery checks, tightening of connections and cables, even a battery swap with the running car--but nothing worked.

 #firstworldproblems

We were puzzled, but since we have a second car, life went on.

Actually, it went on beautifully. Each morning my sleepy, scruff-faced husband drove me the short distance to work and dropped me off at the front door.

Because I didn't have to trek the quarter mile from my parking lot to the office, I was able to leave the house ten minutes later. And when I was ready to leave, there he was with curbside service. So luxurious!

I started to look forward to those drives. Ten minutes of connection to bookend the workday. Who knew that living with less would feel like being spoiled?

Of course, getting places took some planning. There were some conversations that went like this:

"Wait, were you going somewhere? I was about to go to the--"

"Oh, ok, well...can you drop me off?"

"Maybe, but I don't finish my thing until--"

"Ooooo, that won't work. I'll call so-and-so. Maybe they can bring me home."

We have been talking for a while about downsizing to one car. Less gas. Less upkeep. And the thought of slashing our car insurance by 50% makes those Geico commercials look like amateurs.

But my weekend out-of-town plans couldn't happen without my car, so we finally had her towed. Sixty bucks later, I had wheels again.

During those three weeks, I felt God whisper to my heart: "I am all you need. Reconsider what is 'essential'" 

I want my life to be oriented toward things that will last, stuff that isn't stuff, you know?

I want to be distilled,
pruned.

Even if it means I'll need a ride. 

Ignite: Then and Now

Have you ever tried to water a potted plant that was bone-dry? The water beads up and splashes off the dust with no effect.

Only small drops, patiently dripped, get through the crust.

Just after Christmas, the hubs and I squeezed onto a bus with 56 other people and drove to Indiana’s capital for the Ignite Conference. Ignite is a bit like a family reunion for the several hundred college students and staff who gather every two years from all the churches in the Collegiate Church Network. For two days, we worship, barely sleep, hang out, and hear dynamic teachings designed to re-ignite our hearts with love for God and for people.

When I went to Ignite two years ago, I was like a waterless plant that had forgotten how to drink. Starved for friendship, terribly lonely, and laboring under a false weight of expectations, my hard protective crust blocked out the love I needed.

I'm not saying love was not offered--it was. The sweet women in our group welcomed me, sat by me, chatted as we made coffee. But the wounds I nursed were so painful that I was unable to soak it in. Love splashed off, ineffective. 

This time was so different! The acceptance got through this year and soaked my heart. 

To all the women who loved me that weekend, thank you!
When your engagement secret was shared, I squealed as I anticipated your joy to come.
Adoption hopes whispered over our pillows thrilled my heart for you and your future family. 
You came on an impromptu picture-snatching adventure with me in the bright cold, and I felt like your sister. 

You sat beside me for hours in the dark on a swaying bus, just to talk and listen. 
You prayed with me, 
You smiled at me, 
you weren't embarrassed to worship beside me. 

But the real thanks welling up in my heart is to the One who has patiently dripped love into my crusty heart. Dripped and dripped so persistently and long. And then He gave me a milestone like Ignite. A two-year bookend--something to hold side by side for the difference--so I could compare the soils of me then and me now. 

He used some of you, and my heart is so thankful!

If you feel like your own heart is impermeable, that it is too dry for love or friendship, take heart. He is a Spring of Living Water, and He doesn't give up that easily. 

If you feel like you are the water, continually poured on a hard one that won't receive, take courage. The softening is His job--yours is to be the pipe, the spigot, that He pours through. 

The Case of the Missing Mailbox

 Who on earth would want to steal a mailbox?

This is what hubby and I have been wondering, ever since our mailbox disappeared almost six weeks ago.

And we’re not talking about a little hump-backed classic with a red flag and a wooden post. Oh, no. This honker is a huge metal contraption with a honeycomb of mailboxes that serves nearly 20 families on our street.

It all started one night in October when I came home from the gym to find a police car flashing blue and red in front of our house. The policeman was inspecting a huge dent in our poor mailbox, which was lying flat on its back.

“Looks like y’all had a hit-n’run” he said. “No witnesses, so I really don’t have anything to write up.”

Two days later, it disappeared. We assumed the post office had collected its damaged property, but when the hubs went to pick up our mail, a postal worker informed us that some scalawag had stolen it!

The vacant spot where our mailbox once stood

Again, who would steal a mailbox, especially one so huge? Isn't that a federal offense? Is this some new level of thrill-theft, like stealing street signs?

Until they decide to lug another one out to our street and install it, we are braving the Christmas lines once a week to pick up our mail.

This whole saga is making me appreciate postal workers so much more than I ever have before!

To: My Mommy on Her Birthday

Today is your birthday, but I am over 100 miles away. 

If I could, I would wake you up with herbal tea and a walk in the sparkling dawn because we both love mornings. I would clean your house, rub your back, and then let you nap while I made dinner. 

But I can’t, so here—these are a few of the thankful thoughts I’ve had all day about you.

Thank you for being a mommy who snuggled and kissed and hugged freely.

Thank you for putting up with math-induced pouting and door-slamming.

Thank you for singing about birdies and cherry trees and barrel-and-a-heap while the ball bearings squeaked beneath us.

I am so thankful that you taught us for an entire year about China.

And that you made dollies and their tiny fashions with us.

Thank you for reading aloud.You dedicated hundreds of hours to this, enthralling our hearts forever with the beauty of words and stories.

For making us apologize to each other. 

For apologizing to us.

For nature hikes, sketchbooks in hand.

For encouraging dress-up and pretend (even if it meant the whole living room disappeared under boxes and sheets).

For Hershey-bar pie and Swedish tea rings at Christmas.

For all the times you packed and unpacked for camping trips.

For trimming our bangs in your bathroom, swishing the hair bits away with that funny brush.

For thrift shopping,
                bra shopping,
                                and shopping to fill shoeboxes meant for kids in Belize or Bhutan or Belarus,  making Christmas expand beyond my own wish list.

For letting our little fingers into your sewing, your paints, your charcoal pencils and teaching us that art isn’t about the product, but the process.

For loving Daddy and for kissing him in front of us.

For long talks in the bathroom, in the car, and during walks through our suburban streets with our tennis shoes crunching in tandem--talks anywhere about everything.

For treating me like an adult, but letting me be a little girl whenever I need it.

And finally, thank you for not hiding your flaws. This most of all. Because of it, I have hope that perfectionism is not permanent. I know that there is strength in humility, and beauty in admitting need. 

Blessed are the poor in spirit, because their daughters see God through their brokenness.

Happy birthday, Mommy. I love you.

Keeping up with the Castilles: Novembering!

I have a tendency to overestimate how much I actually share about the day-to-day life around here. Even though I've told you about my new conversation partner, last month's awesome retreat, and the crazy flood at my office, there's a lot that has gone un-blogged. So here: catch up on us!

Back to School:
One of the biggest recent changes for us is the fact that hubby is back in school! Four weeks ago, he began an online Masters program in Pastoral Counseling. It's a role reversal: when we were married 2 years ago, I was the one studying until the wee hours. Now he burns the midnight oil in our front bedroom while I go to bed.

He has a pile of impressive books...

Being his in-residence editor has its perks: it lets me learn a bit about such topics as the Intertestamental Period, the Maccabean Revolution, and the Herodian dynasty. This unashamed geek is planning to pounce on those books when he's done.

You can call me "Tink"
I finally did it--I got a pixie cut!

I was so afraid I wouldn't feel girly without my hair, but it actually feels extremely feminine and bold. My only regret is that my hair is growing so fast! I don't think I was counting on this level of maintenance.

40's Fun
My new workplace is big on social events--and food. Apparently, they also are really big into costumes, which is just fine by this recovering dress-up-aholic! The theme in our office for Halloween this year was "dress as your favorite decade."
I picked the 1940's, mainly because a) I had clothes that would work, b)someone else had already picked the 50's, and c) it's vintage--what's not to love?  

Some people said I looked like a flight attendant, but others swore I looked like this lady in Captain America (minus the hat):

Ok, I'm not in military gear, but maybe? I can dream.

(Side note: my pixie cut was postponed three days so I could pull off a 40's-ish hairstyle.)

Getting Crafty: Wreath Edition

I got crafty last weekend! Having my mom and sister here always wakes the sleeping artist in me.

I used this tutorial as my inspiration.

After thanksgiving, I may add some red berries or simply remove the camel-colored rosettes to help it transition to the Christmas season.

Ok, more realistically, I'll probably just leave it until July next year. (Those are flowers, right? They could pass for spring...right?)

Fun Favorites to Share!

This blog is not, and never will be, a place where I push products on my family and friends for profit. Not to disparage blogs that do--I read several that are lots of fun!--but that wasn't the point of this one.

That said, I just visited my family this weekend, and it reminded me of how much can be learned when sisters share life and ideas with you. (For example, I had no idea that you could use baking soda and vinegar to keep dreadlocks clean, or that drinking a honey-apple-cider-vinegar-water mixture can be good for your complexion. Who knew??)

So without further ado, here are some of my new favorite things. Hope you like 'em!

Scripture Typer app
We do everything on smart phones now, and honestly, it can often distract me from spending time on things that matter. So I downloaded a Bible memory app!

I chose ScriptureTyper for its great reviews and because it caters to all types of students.

Visual learners can type the first letter of each word as they memorize. There is a vocal recorder for audio-aficionados like myself. They even have a "draw" feature for artistic, tactile-kinesthetic peeps who want to create artwork to jog their memories.



Paprika app
Ever wanted to find a recipe quickly, but it was buried somewhere in a pile of cookbooks? Or wanted to email your grandma's famous chicken recipe to a friend but you were nowhere near your computer? Then you'll love this app.

If you and a friend both use Paprika, she can email a recipe to you, you can open it in your phone, and boom--it's already in your app. It also has a browsing feature, so you can search recipes online.
Once you have the recipe, you can customize it, put your own rating on it, and even (my favorite!) categorize it with personalized tags for easy finding later.

And every week, I use Paprika's meal-planning feature to plan out the grocery shopping--so handy!

Burt's Bees Tinted Lip Balm
When it comes to a good tinted lip balm that gives a rosy glow without feeling waxy or sticky, Burt's Bees is the best! I use the "rose" tint, but they have several others I want to try, like "hibiscus" and "red dahlia".

Thanks, Mom, for giving it to me in my Christmas stocking this year!

Shellac Manicure
Maybe I'm sloooooooowww to get on the bandwagon (ok, yes, I am), but I just got my first shellac manicure! I have super soft nails that chip and peel all the time, so normal nail polish usually looks like it went through a war zone by the second or third day. No-chip polish sounded too good to be true, but a sweet friend convinced me to give it a shot this weekend. Today is the 5th day, and it still looks like new!

Do you have any awesome new favorite things? Tell me!

How does my garden grow?

 The last time I showed you my garden, the box stood stark in the ground, softened only by a few tiny pepper and tomato plants.

Look at it now!

Because of the drought our area has had for the past two summers, I was considering installing an auto-drip system. But because this summer has been pretty wet so far, my new concern is drainage. Too much water equals root-rot. I'm hoping that the fact that it's a raised bed will help.

I'm excited about these baby tomatoes!

And these flowers will one day be cucumbers!

Not sure why the bell peppers are looking puny. Too much water perhaps?

There is one problem I have no clue how to fix. Little sugar ants are eating the stems of my zucchini plants at the root! Does anyone know how I can stop them?

Housemate :)

I have always wanted a home with a revolving door, like the one in my home growing up. It was a home where the table was large and well-used, where privacy was more like privilege than like constitutional right, and where fun took priority over fastidiousness. (Awesome word, look it up here)

Even during our engagement, we toyed with the thought of one day renting a bedroom in our home to a missionary on furlough or to anyone needing a short-term place to land for a while. In theory it would be an awesome situation, giving emotional and/or financial benefits to both parties.

This fall, we are getting an opportunity to put the theory to the test! A good friend needed a short-term place for the few months between the end of her lease and the start of her life with her new husband, which will begin in November. The fact that she is a close friend and has asked me to be in her wedding has only made the situation even sweeter.

Clearing out the front bedroom required some hefty consolidation since it had previously served as an office and catch-all storage room, but I have always believed in a good, periodic junk-purge. (Yay, Goodwill!)
Now it has been transformed into a friendly place with paintings on the wall and verses written on cards over the doorframe.

I love to chat with her in the evenings after work, discussing the things on our minds that have been waiting all day for a girlfriend with whom to share them. We are opposites in nearly every way, but, rather than conflicting, our differences complement, encourage, and sharpen.

The three of us feel like a family, especially when her fiance comes over and makes himself something to eat and then wrestles my husband in a grand tickle fight and we fold each other's laundry and our mail comes in a single stack.

I will really (and I do mean REALLY) miss her after November 3rd.

So give me your thoughts! Would you and your spouse ever rent to a friend?