There Are Two Sides to Every Taco

Winter Semester of 2010 was an extremely busy one for Kevin and me. We had 13.5 credits together, with 13 of those being junior/senior Electrical Engineering courses (and we both had 3 additional time consuming credits), planning our wedding (or at least responding to all the emails from my mom who was planning our wedding), working, church, trips to Logan and Duchesne . . . and we still had to eat sometimes. A good chunk of the time, our meals were tacos at Kevin's apartment. They've got lettuce, right? . . . totally healthy.

Anyway, by the time Brant and Margaret (Kevin's brother and sister-in-law) invited us to Color Me Mine one night in February or March, tacos had become quite entrenched into each of our subconsciouses. As we perused the shelves for something to paint (absolutely NO MUGS . . . I had spent way too long in apartments with mismatched cups and dishes), we suddenly both glanced at the napkin holder.

It was useful (a must for a home occupied by two engineers). It wouldn't become some annoying mug or ridiculous bowl that wouldn't stack in the shelf, since it wasn't a mug or ridiculous bowl in the first place. And most importantly, it looked like

"A taco!" we said simultaneously. It was decided. The taco napkin holder would be our first real decoration.

As we painted it, we basically let each other paint however we wanted. Kevin took a more methodical approach and I took a somewhat random approach, which is typical of our personalities. At times we'd compare our work and laugh about how differently we'd chosen to paint things such as the lettuce or cheese. (This was when the incredibly profound phrase "There are two sides to every taco" was first coined, which is likely to become a family saying in the same category as "there are always more dishes than you think.") However, by the end, our styles somewhat converged and we had a masterpiece on (and in) our hands.

Oh, how we loved that taco napkin holder. I would point it out to just about every guest who came to our apartment. It was always a welcome guest at the table.

Kevin's side

My side

But the good times were not to last. One afternoon I came home from campus, opened the freezer to see what meat we had, and realized too late that the napkin holder was kind of perched on the top of the freezer door. In horror, I watched as the taco napkin holder fell from the top of the refrigerator, bounced off the counter in slow motion, and then smashed onto the floor with a shattering "CRASH."

Then, silence. I sighed, picked up a broom, swept up the mess, and didn't cry until Kevin came home to the tragedy.

But life goes on. You don't have to have your napkins in a napkin holder. Still, we wanted to recreate it someday.

And that day came last Friday. Kind of. When we went to Color Me Mine, there was no taco-shaped napkin holder. Nor was there a moment of "aha" where we both somehow "knew" what we wanted to paint.

Nevertheless, I think we found something that represents our lives the same way the taco did while we were engaged: a darling little yellow house.

Kevin's side (the windows have shutters over them)

My side (the back of the house)

(and yes, that is an offshoot of Rice Chex in the background)

Just as the taco represented our life while we were engaged, this house represents where we are now (both metaphorically and geographically . . . the house across the street looks a lot like this one). We are starting to build a home together. Each day we discover new similarities and new differences. But each side of the house is needed to make it whole. There are two sides to every taco.