feeling a little more grown up

When did you start feeling like a real adult? I still don't (at least consistently). I've hit all these milestones: turning 18, starting college, turning 21, moving into my own apartment, graduating from college, buying a car, working in the "real world," getting engaged, getting married, moving half-way across the country without knowing a soul except for Ian and Eric McMiller...without ever experiencing an A-ha! I have reached maturity! moment. Ian feels the same way -- even friends who are in their thirties with kids have shared similar musings. I'm kind of embarrassed about it.

Today, however, I think we got a little bit closer. But first, some backstory: It's been a long road, which happened to start on my 24th birthday when Ian gave me a wonderful vintage rose print. It has lived in four different apartments, because we always had the intention of framing it, but we needed to find something to complement it. A Christmas or two later, Ian gave me a set of vintage flower notecards -- and we realized that they were what we'd been waiting for (they have only resided in three apartments).

That brings us to last weekend, when we finally took the prints to the very nice little framing shop nearby. The owner helped us pick out mats and some fantastic brown-black barnwood frames. On Thursday night, we got a call. The prints were ready! So we picked them up today when we had time to hang them together. On the way home, Ian said rather proudly, "Wow, I feel really mature." So did I. So did I. (For about five minutes.)

Here's one of the smaller prints.
It's a drawing of Ixia or African corn lily (the other is of narcissus).

Ladies and gentlemen, you are witnessing a rare occasion:
Mr. Let's Just Eyeball It is measuring.

We're both so pleased with how they turned out.
They look great with the toile bedding we bought for our most recent anniversary.

Now, don't go pitying Ian because his toile and flowery bedroom is feminine. He picked out everything. Didn't he do a nice job? (Trust me, it looks even better in person.)

Alright...I need to go find something to hit the ceiling with (or go into another room). My upstairs neighbor has been playing Frère Jacques on his new electric guitar for about an hour and I can't take it any more. Maybe I'll feel fully mature when we buy our own house...