semi-autobiography

our story: the following is an exerpt from www.martiandgregswedding.com, which is now out of date. it was written by both marti and i...

Greg grew up in Leonard, Texas (near Bonham) where he met many of his closest friends. Family is very important to him. Greg helped with everything from the horses to driving and loading trucks for the family business. He doesn't miss an opportunity to spend time with his parents, three sisters and their families.

Greg's faith is also a very important part of his life. He became actively involved in his church at a young age and as he entered High School, led Sunday School Classes and Youth excursions until he decided to move to Plano to work at Prestonwood as a Sound Tech.

One of the things that drew Marti to Greg was his talent on the guitar. Greg loves the Blues and occasionally has the opportunity to perform in area venues where he shows his singing talent. Greg's music comes from his soul.

Greg also enjoys literature, rock climbing, and is an avid student of movie lines/song lyrics. He's kind of a hillbilly but Marti doesn't have to work too hard to clean him up once and a while.

Marti grew up in Little Axe, Oklahoma (somehow, Greg does not hold this against her) and while she's grown well beyond these rustic beginnings she still feels very much at home in the country. She always enjoyed music and studied hard to become an accomplished vocalist, eventually completing two degrees in the music field.

She grew up down the street and eventually next door to her church. Marti came to the Lord at an early age and really enjoyed attending church "whenever the doors were open."

Marti is a very passionate about the things and people that are important to her, a trait Greg has always admired. Whether it's her music, her God, or her loved ones, Marti is willing to go the extra mile to meet peoples needs or give them a special treat. She always has a spare greeting card in her desk that's perfect for whatever the occasion may require, and if she doesn't then she can always make one...


How We Met
Marti and Greg met at Prestonwood about two years ago. Marti was learning how to set up the choir kiosks when Greg happened by. She had seen Greg before, but didn't know his name as the tech guys don't usually wear name tags. A co-worker said something to him and introduced us. Greg replied and said something off-the-wall. Marti quickly realized that this guy was a lot of fun and looked forward to Wednesday nights in the hallway.

Over time, Greg would take "the long way" from stage right to stage left (through the hallway) to have a reason to say hi. Marti would set up the kiosks early and check on them a lot - or run errands to the other hallway just to make sure that there was opportunity to see Greg everyday.

Greg asked Marti to lunch (Cowboy Chicken), fortunately for Greg, three no's and a yes still means "yes". It was nice, however, the ENTIRE media department crashed the date and Marti fled like Cinderella.

Two weeks later, realizing she might have left Greg with a wrong impression, Marti texted Greg to see if he wanted to catch a movie - maybe some pizza. On June 5, 2008, they went out to see Indiana Jones and ate at Good Fellas pizza. It was triple digits - and the restaurant's air conditioning was broken. As it is a brick oven joint, it was a little uncomfortable, however, Greg and Marti didn't seem to notice. Greg had pre-purchased tickets to the movie, and the two talked through it. Greg had to buy TWO sets of movie tickets that evening. (It was worth it!) Since that night they've been nearly inseparable...


Important Dates
First Date: 6/5/2008
Engagement Date: 4/25/2009
Wedding Date: 9/5/2009

my wife's asleep in my arms...

she's snuggled next to me on the couch, her breathing is deep and regular. i can feel how warm she is, how small she is, i can feel her heart beat. her dark curls shine different colors in the daylight. she is soft, sweet, and beautiful...

we had planned to do something this afternoon, something worthwhile, but after i finished the dishes from lunch i found her curled up in possibly the most uncomfortable position humanly possible, snoring like a baby. it became clear that she needed the rest. i put her to bed for an hour only to have her wander back to the couch, she wanted to be with me. even through her sleep, her fatigue, she wanted to be with me.

i feel special...

hello, hello... is there any body in there?

frank sinatra once said, "oh, what a year can bring..."

in the last year i went from being a single guy, dating a great girl, working at a church, living with gamers to being married to and living with a great girl working an installation firm. i've been to oklahoma more in the last year than i have in my whole life and i've learned that a little patience goes further with everyone than a hundred good ideas.

my wife reminds me that this little outlet i've had here was important to her, and me, and to not take advantage of it would be a shame. no one reads it but her, but that allows me to send subtle love notes to some one that has changed my life more than any one else.

this is her place. you're welcome to hang out.

Tryptophan

it's thanks-freaking-giving, baby! a whole day of seeing people i actually like! gorging myself on all things sweet and savory! smoked turkey and giblet gravy, sweet potato casserole, corn bread, spinach balls, cranberry sauce! maybe a little football, i might talk to people...

it makes me glad that the pilgrims came over on the nina, pinta and santa maria in 1776 to escape nazi oppression. i'm glad that first thanksgiving feast was brought by neil armstrong and charles lindberg all the way from sydney, austrailia. so glad that the indians brought prime rib and tilapia from the casino buffets to feed the soldiers at the alamo. and so glad that my leonard education gave me a firm understanding of history so that i can appreciate it all...

i don't know if it's possible for humans to overdose on tryptophan, but, by God, i'm going to try...

it's cold in san antone...

oh, God, i hate the cold. say what you will about the heat in texas, but it's not like being cold.

it's concentrated pain that starts on the skin moves to the joints and then settles into your joints. your skin contracts, dries, and flakes; any scratch or smack is agony, your lips crack and bleed. all extremities ache and become painful to touch or move... no really, ALL extremities. that's not a broken bone or arterial bleeding, this is a serious injury. your heart rate slows, your blood coagulates, hypothermia sets in, you become lethargic and you slowly accept your fate. you freeze to death. your family divides your belongings and end up throwing most of it away.

you'll seldom hear me complain about the heat, but the cold i'll gripe about.

i played the red river valley...

i grew up in texas, i like it here, i might even be one of those people who have an unnecessarily high level of texas pride. the culture and history of texas are such that i love it, that's what drive people crazy about it. europeans hate americans because we think we're better than they are, that's also why most americans hate texans... jealousy knows no loyalties.

i have, however, been experiencing something contradictory to my national pride, having fallen for a girl from the wrong side of the river. not that there's anything wrong with the reservation, several of my ancestors were born in the indian territory (when it actually was the indian territory), there's even a cherokee in the list, but the inherit inferiority of the state is undeniable to even the staunchest defender of the land rush zone, after all, they don't just give away good land. in fact, the only time i can find that considerable chunks of texas were simply given away was by the spanish government and that was considered quite an honor. i mean, a slice of heaven from the queen? rock on! land in the bleakest parts of west texas is cheap, but you still have to pay for the honor.

what's the big deal about the lone star? i can't tell you. are we the most beautiful state? no way. biggest? not quite. richest, most populated, most popular, oldest, trendiest? no, no, no, no... i can't explain the majesty if you don't want to see it, because if you're willing then you've already seen it. there have been more song written about texas than, well, the rest of the united state put together...

she doesn't like it when i talk this way, when the interstate prejudice that has been drilled into me since infancy rears it's ugly head, but she simply sighs shakes her head and writes it off as mere enthusiasm... she's a good girl.

work, work, work...

i've worked all my life, it's really all i know how to do.

at ten years old i was, for the first time, paid for my labor. my cousin, grant, and i were contracted by my mother to pull weeds in the greenhouse for 3 dollars an hour, and glad to get it. for five hours we pulled weeds from the pea gravel coated, fire ant infested, black texas clay; our hands were cut up from johnson grass, covered in ant bites, and blistered from stubborn crab grass, but at the end of the day we each had $15 and three more greenhouses to weed. that day i learned to never work for family...

at sixteen, equipped with my own transportation, i got my first real job. oh, i'd done odd jobs for neighbors and work plenty of gigs for dad, but this was a real job with real work, a real boss and real pay. for $6 an hour, 40 hours a week, for three months i worked steel construction. unfortunately, the summer of 1997 we had nearly 100 consecutive days of triple digit heat and it only rained once... on my day off. my boss was a great guy, the now late ronnie wren, but he was never there, so i was at the mercy of brett the gang boss. i learned how to out work grown men, to out think a boss who doesn't give you quite enough information, and how to treat a welders burn to the eyes.

through college i went to work the family biz: working show floors, loading trucks, driving trucks, unloading trucks, setting shows, reloading trucks, driving trucks and re-unloading trucks. the show and destination might change, but the M.O. was pretty much the same, some gigs were fun, some were just work. i learned how to work a show, work to a deadline, deal with the client, to bribe the dock master, and always take care of your crew.

the work i do now is not all that different from the work i've always done. it's usually cleaner and it pays a little better, but the lessons i've learned along the way still play into it. ultimately, this work i more rewarding to me because it's my work, what i love and that allows me to invest more into it than i would at a different job.

maybe that's just the way it works, maybe not but i feel fortunate. my dad always said, "you can't call it work unless you'd rather be doing something else," but i say "do what you love and you'll never work a day in your life."