This song is very appropriate for the final wedding countdown. Four more days! Enjoy the rocker mullets.

Today was Charles’ last day of work after 31 years as a bus driver for Muni. Some of you may remember my previous post about my morning bus driver. Ever since my engagement, he’s continued to stop traffic to pick me up when I’m running late, and he has also offered  a quick snippet of marital advice before I bound down the bus steps in the Financial District. He became a welcome addition to my morning commute.

During one of our talks, I asked him what kinds of books he likes to read. Oh, mystery books. And I like to read Christian books too. My face lit up, as I told him that I was the “Bible Girl” at work. Then our conversations turned to what we were learning and reading. What is it about that feeling, once you discover that you and someone you know both love Jesus? Well, since then, I’ve been bringing him some Christian books to read while he’s on his break too.

So, today was his last day. But my sneaking suspicion was right… he didn’t show up. He told me he might just go straight to his retirement party. I think that maybe he doesn’t like good-byes. In the event that he did come for his last Muni run on the 38BX, I decorated a bunch of candies for my fellow bus companions to give him on their way off the bus.

Charles – I wish you well on your retirement. Thanks for the memories and advice… and God Bless!

So… at our pre-marital counseling session this weekend, I was told that as a woman, I will be naturally inclined to be fearful and have a harder time trusting.

This is me casting aside my fears and trusting that Carl can move a full bookshelf on his skateboard. Yes, people. A skateboard.

The Summer has now begun in San Francisco. I survived another cold and foggy June – August, and I’ve finally put my scarf and beanie away and dusted off the flip-flops. I had to take this picture of a sunset in San Francisco, to prove that the sun does shine in the city. Carl is always surprised by this fact, but it’s true. It’s no Sunnyvale, but when the sun chooses to shine up here, it’s glorious.

I actually took this picture on my way to Trader Joe’s the other night. I’ll miss this view from my house! For those of you who don’t know, I work really close to the the Trans-America Building – the skinny, pyramid-shaped building in the background. It’s true. I “heart” SF.

At the recent Hekkert family camping trip to Tahoe, Carl’s family surprised me with this sign on my tent! Last year, they decorated my tent with streamers for my birthday. I wonder what they’ll do next year??

Olivia and Laila are equally excited about the big day. When I was talking with them on the phone recently, Laila said, “Do you wanna know a secret?” Sure Laila. “You’re going to marry Carl.” I almost forgot, so I’m glad she reminded me. Here’s Olivia and Laila showing off their engagement rings… but unlike mine, their rings have blinking lights.

Happy 10th Birthday Olivia! Welcome to the world of double digits. Life just gets more and more exciting now. Just please don’t go and get a bowl hair-cut like I did when I was ten. Bad idea. I love you!

Who says you can’t have a garden in the city? Thanks to our upstairs neighbor (who created two great planter boxes), Wendy and I are now farmers. We’re growing zucchini, tomatoes, and pumpkins…. and possibly one red pepper plant (still not sure if it will make it). This whole gardening thing was kind of an experiment, evidenced by the pumpkin plants that are taking over our yard. I guess the seed packet was right when it said to plant the pumpkins on a hillside, 8 feet apart (not 3 inches apart in a 6-foot planter box). Oops.

Here we are at the farmers market at the Ferry Building on Saturday. No plans to start selling our produce just yet, but I can say we have a greater appreciation for all things home-grown.

Who knew the kind of pressure the bridal industry imposes on you when you plan for the big day? ”Your wedding dress should be the dress of your dreams!” “The invitations set the tone for the entire day.” “What are your colors?” “What kind of cake will you have?” Back, back, you people, I say. These wedding monsters are haunting my dreams.

So, to keep the monster at bay, I’ve made a least one decision – my wedding colors. Why not choose the pastel colors of the rainbow? I thought this was just brilliant.

If you have any other color ideas, please do let me know. Although, I’m not sure what could top this.

I had another creative inspiration while talking with my brother. I asked him to be in the wedding, and he said, “What part do I get play?” I told him we wanted him to play the part of the horse. He told me he’d prefer to be the goat. I think having a live nativity scene at the wedding will be so inventive and original. Once I told him there’d be a nativity, he suggested that he play the important role of the “hay.” Done and done.

Ever since I started riding the Express Bus to work in the morning, I’ve become familiar with the different drivers who arrive at my bus stop at different times – 8:15, 8:30, 8:45. The express route is the esteemed route for all of the seasoned drivers, so most of them have paid their dues through years of service. There’s the sweet, skinny Asian man who always packs in the bus to the gills and lets you stand with your face practically smashed up against the windshield.  If you can fit your body on this bus, you’ll be dropped off at your stop with a smile and a “Have a nice day” as you walk down the steps. And there’s the grandfatherly, plump, older Hispanic man who always says “Good morning” when I walk onboard.

But then there’s the gruff, burly bus driver.

This guy has rules – no crowding, don’t stand in the doorway, don’t cross over the yellow line, move to the back of the bus – and he’s not quiet about it. He’ll bark at you if you’re late, and he definitely won’t stop or wait for you if he sees you running to the bus stop.

Yet for the past year, I’ve just decided to give him a smile when I board, and sometimes he smiles back. I also obey his rules.

The week after I got engaged, I was bursting at the seems to tell everyone I knew, including the burly bus driver. So one morning, right when I boarded, I smiled and told him with enthusiasm, “I GOT ENGAGED!” He was taken aback and said, “What?” I repeated what I said, and he beamed, saying, “Well.. congratulations!”

When I got off the bus, I apologized to him for being so excited about my news. He responded by saying, “Beautiful things happen to beautiful people.”

So, the next morning, as I’m walking to the bus stop I see that my bus has already arrived and I was still a block away. Guess whose bus it was? The burly bus driver’s. Remember, this is the guy with the rules. The guy who barks at you, shakes his head, and will not put up with any tardiness. When I got to the corner, I noticed that he was pulling over. Suddenly, he opened the doors and said, “Come on in sweetheart!” I couldn’t believe it. We chatted it up the entire ride downtown, and I learned so much about him. He’s been a bus driver for 30 years, been married for 45, has a grandson, and is about to retire so he can help take care of his wife who has health issues. I asked him for marriage advice. He just chuckled, and then said, “Well.. just love each other. Communicate. Be best friends.”

Now we know each other’s names, and it’s the highlight of my morning to to ride downtown with Charles. I’m actually making him some banana muffins right now. It’s my mission that he retires with a smile.

I must admit that I had high expectations for The Noticer, by Andy Andrews. Maybe it’s because it was hyped up by the publisher, or because it was written by the New York Times best-selling author of The Traveler’s Gift. One of the endorsers even said, “This is the best book I have ever read in my life.” I was ready for this book to be a page-turner. It wasn’t.

At first, I was immediately drawn in by the initial story when a hopeless young man named Andy, who was living under an ocean pier, encountered an older man named Jones. Jones mysteriously knew everything about Andy’s life, and began to offer him some perspective. Slowly you see hope breathed back into Andy’s life again.

The book, which blends fiction and allegory, moves along chapter to chapter with Jones “noticing” others who feel like there’s no purpose for living. Jones continues to offer each person “perspective” on their situation and always seems to walk into someone’s life when his advice is needed most.

The book’s redundancy began to frustrate me, as well as some of the close connections to other best-selling books. Was Jones supposed to be like “Papa” from The Shack? Jones also gave advice to a married couple that seemed to be verbatim from The Five Love Languages. And, how many times did I have to read how Jones introduced himself as “Jones…not Mr. Jones, just Jones”? I couldn’t help but roll my eyes at times.

Even though I wouldn’t give this book an enthusiastic thumbs up, I did find an inspiring take-away for a new definition of wisdom: “The ability to see into the future the consequences of your choices in the present.”