Me at the Hitchin' Post

2 days 'til the kegger

2006-05-04T02:38:00.000-07:00

- Fishnet and shells to put in it for decoration...CHECK
- Raffia door curtain...CHECK
- Keg of Anchor Steam...CHECK
- Plastic cups...CHECK
- Inflatable palm tree...CHECK
- Strands of lights to line the backyard with...CHECK
- Mini bottles of Malibu rum with a save the date card for the back home reception attached to each one along with a recipe for goombay smashes on the other side*...CHECK

* Goombay Smash
1 oz spiced rum
1 oz Malibu® coconut rum
1/4 oz apricot brandy
2 oz pineapple juice
2 oz orange juice

Mix all ingredients in a highball glass with ice and shake. Garnish with an orange slice and cherry.

Unfavorable review

2006-05-03T03:22:00.000-07:00

I found the resort we're getting married at through tripadvisor.com. It's one of the highest rated resorts in St. Lucia on the web site. I still occasionally log on and read recent reviews.

The other day I read a review from a woman who got married there that was less than favorable. I couldn't tell from what she wrote if the things that went wrong were things that were contractually promised her or if she just assumed some stuff and was disappointed. So I sent her an email with some questions and asking for advice on how to avoid some of the pitfalls she experienced.

Her response to me was about as vague as her complaint on the web site but it sounded like she left A LOT to chance. I had asked her if she'd been working with the wedding coordinator before heading down there and she responded that I wouldn't even speak with that person until I arrived at the resort. Wrong. The wedding coordinator and I have exchanged about half a dozen emails already.

She then delightfully offered that she and her husband "got the runs on a daily basis."

Wow. Details I did not need to know. Or, if she felt they were THAT pertinent, she could have said, "You might want to be careful about stomach issues," or even, "Two words of advice: Pepto Bismol" would have been fine. Now I have this image, and that image includes sound effects. And I can't make it stop.

But the more I think about it, the more I wonder if having Destination Weddings Travel as our representative is helping us. Just yesterday my travel agent emailed me and asked me if the resort was treating me well because if we have a favorable review then they will start referring this resort to other couples (they hadn't worked with them before I found them). That's good for me to recognize because I have been thinking lately, with my insane attention to detail and my travel agent's simmering snootiness, that I didn't really need that company helping me wrassle my friends and family (seriously, if you could see my wedding web site...I am sure it resembles one of the President's daily briefing reports). But they offer protection. Like, if the resort screws us, I can go up to the manager, lean in real close and whisper, "I will destroy you!" and then turn on my heel and walk out.

Tomorrow, I walk

2006-04-28T09:53:00.000-07:00

The Avon Breast Cancer Two-Day Walk takes off tomorrow at 7 AM from the Kennedy Center. I'm ready. I have four pairs of double-layered socks, Body Glide, Second Skin and sunblock. Oh, and three Kashi Go-Lean bars just in case they don't have snacky-snacks that I like.

I've raised $2100 - over $500 of it in the last four days (good thing since I was financially obligated to bring in at least $1800).

My run-in last week with that volunteer of ours really helped motivate me for this. I mean, I have been dreading this thing for the past month and praying for rain for the past two weeks so I could get out of it. But seeing her and knowing that she made it through seemed like a sign to me that I just need to shut up and walk.

And so I am. This is a shout-out to all my sisters living with breast cancer - and to all who fought like hell.

A good day at work

2006-04-23T04:12:00.000-07:00

My organization had a big event yesterday - something we do annually that brings out a lot of folks and volunteers. Last year, I'd met a woman there who was volunteering with us, helping us set up. She told me she had come the year before and was so taken with it, that before she left that day, she'd put on a volunteer shirt and helped out the rest of the afternoon. As it happened, our National Office was looking to make a video to feature this event and exactly those types of people, so I got her phone number and promised to call her about it.

Over the next couple of weeks, I tried to reach her several times but couldn't. Now, when you work for a non-profit and you're asking people to do stuff for you for free, you quickly get used to not getting phone calls returned, but she seemed so enthusiastic and great that I kept calling (you also get used to the fact that you can't quick calling and asking until someone finally just says, "No. Stop calling me, you nut case.")

So I kept calling. Finally, one day, she called me back and told me that the week after our event, she was diagnosed with breast cancer. Ugh. I stopped calling. But I only stopped calling to ask her to do the video. I would still call every month or so and check up on her because I just thought she was the neatest person and, as far as I could tell, she didn't seem to have immediate family in the area and I wanted her to know that folks cared about her and were thinking about her.

Finally, though, after about six months of calling, leaving messages and getting no call backs, I did stop calling. I felt a little stalkerish.

Fast forward to yesterday. I got called up to the entrance of the event. And there she was. She wanted to tell me that she'd made it through treatment. I burst into tears.

Lessons from Oprah

2006-04-21T16:26:00.000-07:00

On an Oprah show the other day, a marriage counselor suggested that every night, before bed, a couple should express three things that they appreciated about their partner that day.

G and I have been trying to implement this. That fact that it is sometimes hard to come up with three things tells me that either we're not nice enough to each other or we don't appreciate the small things enough.

I've also learned that I need to start doing more things when he's awake. 'Cause when I wake up at 5:30 AM and clean the kitchen while he's still asleep, I don't get credit for it in the appreciation exercise later. I think I'm going to start dusting whenever he's in the room. Naked.

So far today, he's done about 20 nice things for me. The only nice things I've done for him are 1) not force him to go to a friend's happy hour with me (which I ended up not going to after all because I had too much work to do) and 2) not bitch about the fact that, once I got done with all my work this evening and came downstairs to hang out, he immediately went upstairs to play his video game. So, you know, nothing that's going to win me any Girlfriend of the Year awards. Maybe I should stop typing and bring him a beer. Naked.

Because there is just not enough going on....

2006-04-21T05:08:00.000-07:00

Here's the latest crap in my head:

Grad school.

What? Fuck me, man. It just started, though, this idea. So maybe it will go away. But I'm thinking about an entire career change. Get out of the PR/advocacy stuff (and, not by accident, away from DC bullshit) and get my Master's in American History.

I've always mused about it while I've dragged my friends to John Mosby's grave or Antietam battlefield. I had three great history teachers in my life. Two were my parents, who would bring the car to a screeching halt to read an historical marker on the side of a highway and who brought me at age 16 to Andersonville prison in Georgia in the middle of the summer so that I could learn about Union dysentary (I insisted on at least one theme park on that trip just to keep me from losing my mind).

The other great history teacher in my life was Dr. Donald Horward at FSU. I mean, I loved him. But as much as I loved his class, and as much as it made me want to do what he did, and as hard as I worked, I barely eeked by with a B-. Perhaps (and this will be the only bad thing I'll say about my Alma Mater) if I hadn't been just a single student in a sea of thousands, my academic adviser (whom I don't recall ever seeing in person) would have convinced me not to give up.

Alas, here I am in a career that, frankly, bores me. And a job that is so goddamn simple that I think my brain has atrophied. And I look at the job listings and none of them sound interesting to me.

Sigh. But is going back to school the answer? All that money? What will it get me? What do I want it to get me?

I've emailed the folks at the Master's History program at the school I'm considering to ask for an appointment. Maybe one of them can help me think straight.

It's just like a Tupperware party

2006-04-14T14:33:00.000-07:00

I'm having a women's only sex-toy party tomorrow night.

Tee hee.

There are about 15 women coming over and G has been banished from the premises until at least 11 PM. He keeps threatening, though, to sneak up, throw open the front door, yell, "Surprise!" and take a picture before running away.

I've never been to one of these before, much less hosted such a thing, so I will admit to being a little unsure about how it will go. I mean, I know that the presenter will present, my guests will titter, wine will be consumed in healthy amounts and somewhere along the way one of my friends will purchase her first vibrator.

After that, though, I got nothing.

The latest thing upsetting me

2006-04-14T03:59:00.000-07:00

Why did movie makers think we're ready for a movie about Flight 93? A-holes, man. It's wishful thinking, but wouldn't it be great if they - who were hoping to make some nice change on it - actually lost everything? It would be nice. At the very least, it might make some of the bile in my throat go down. I saw the trailer a few weeks ago when Shelley and I went to see "Inside Man" (GREAT MOVIE) and it literally turned my stomach.

And the Moussaoui trial is wrapping up. I read the transcript yesterday from the cockpit flight recorder and I wish I hadn't.

So the September 11th nightmares have started again. I mean, I really do get some doozies. And, for some reason, my 9/11 dreams have always been so incredibly vivid. I never figured out why. Like, is that just my personality? Or did it have something to do with how close I lived to the Pentagon in 2001? I heard explosions on that day, is that it? I smelled the char of the building, is that it?

I can't imagine what the families are going through.

Our first wedding-related gig

2006-04-09T05:01:00.000-07:00

The Runner Girls have established a ritual that when one of us gets engaged, she and her man get a little shindig thrown for them, attended by all the other RGs and their SOs. I'm the last one to get engaged and last night was our party.

It was so awesome.

Runner Girl CM had decorated her place in our wedding colors and it looked so great. Runner Girl CC brought over pink and green margaritas. Runnger Girl HF, who is starting her own wedding cake business, brought over TWO wedding cakes decorated with hot pink ribbons around them and dotted with lime green frosting. They were unbelievable.

After several hours of drinking and eating, we played a modified version of "The Newlywed Game" where we had to answer questions as we thought our spouse/fiance would answer them. Things like, "Favorite non-alcoholic drink," "Favorite TV show," "On a flight, aisle or window," etc.

G and I came in dead last. Like, last by the longest long shot. Pathetic.

Stupid girls

2006-04-08T05:43:00.000-07:00

I just watched VH1's "Jump Start" for about an hour and I have some thoughts.

- "Beep" by the Pussycat Dolls.
I never thought I'd ever say this, but I miss the Spice Girls. At least, in the midst of their cheese and hyper-sexuality, they touted things like "girl power" and didn't sing lines like "I don't give a [beep]/Keep looking at my [beep]/'Cause it don't mean a thing if you're looking at my [beep]/I'm a do my thing while you're playing with your [beep]"

Really? It's okay these days if a guy plays with his beep while you're doing your thing? That guy who once started jerking off on the Metro as I sat across from him will be REAL glad to hear that.

- "Bad Day" by Daniel Powter.
I suspect this song will go the way of "The Middle" by Jimmy Eat World, which means it's a decent song that will get played to an ugly death. But I love the video a lot.

- They played that Mary J. Blige video with Terrance Howard (yummy) twice in 60 minutes. I am fine looking at Terrance Howard, but honestly, I don't need to hear that song twice.

- "Stupid Girls" by Pink.
Memo to the Pussycat Dolls, you can make good music and not set the women's movement back 25 years. And does anyone else think that the little girl in that video looks just like Drew Barrymore when she was in ET?

My only problem with the Pink video is at the end when the "good" voice wins out and the little girl goes to play with her football instead of her Barbies. While I hope that my (non-existent at this point) daughter wants to play sports more than with her dolls, I still want her to play with dolls. Being a nurturer is not a bad thing and if we stopped looking at it that way, maybe teachers would get paid more and the goverment would subsidize daycare and help parents who decide to stay at home to raise their kids.

Yes, yes. I just turned a Pink video into a political debate.

Getting all Dr. Phil on my ass

2006-04-08T03:23:00.000-07:00

Shelley brought me a wedding invitation that she'd received recently so I could take a look at its design.

The wedding is being largely organized by the bride's mother - an issue that I have been feeling very insecure about lately. I am driving myself insane with worrying about doing something wrong according to the wedding etiquette police or breaking some huge rule about the proper way to do things because you know, I've never paid much attention to the way my friends have done things in the past and now that it's my turn to do this, I don't have my mom saying, "This is how this is done," etc.

So what I end up doing is saying to Shelley, who's been a bridesmaid in 11,000 weddings and is starting her own event planning business, "Do you think it's okay if I do things this way?" and she invariably responds, "Well, how do you want to do it? Then that's the right way."

So last night, I'm looking at this very elegant and properly presented invitation and I noticed that it was addressed to her "and Guest" and I said, "See, I've read that you're not supposed to use 'and Guest', you're supposed to find out the name of the guest and address it directly to him or her."

"Yes, but I don't have a boyfriend, but they want me to bring a date to the wedding, so what are they supposed to do?"

"Leave it blank, I guess," I said.

"That's ridiculous. So I'm not allowed to bring a date?"

Silence as I tried to figure the answer to that...

She continued, "If I got an invitation to a wedding and it did not say 'and Guest' I would assume two things: either I couldn't bring one or the bride and groom didn't have enough money to allow their single friends to bring someone."

Then she said, "I'm really surprised at my friends who go the traditional route."

Now that hurt my feelings. "How am I being traditional?"

"Well, the dress - which is absolutely gorgeous and I love it - and your concern over doing everything exactly the way everyone else does it."

And I said - no lie, choking back a few tears - "I just don't want to look like a piece of trash."

Then she said, "I swear to God, I'm forbidding you from reading theknot.com from now on. It makes you doubt everything about yourself, and you're doing fine. You really are. Trust your gut on these things, think for yourself. Those stupid rules were created by an industry - that I'm trying to join, I realize - that wants to make money and those rules are aimed at people who can't think for themselves. Stop listening to them."

It was the most helpful piece of advice that I've gotten through the whole thing.

Lately, especially, I have been consumed with second guessing myself and worrying about doing things the way one is "supposed to". I figure then I have the liberty to do things the way I want to (like have an Engagement Kegger instead of a proper engagement party).

You know, my whole life I've felt like a misfit. Like, in "Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer," all those toys on the Island of Misfit Toys? As a child, I was able to recognize that those were My People. And then losing both my parents at such a young age honestly did not help things. And now planning a wedding where everything is a little off-kilter (like, having it in the Caribbean), I feel that when I can, I should follow the rules. Does that make sense?

But having her say that to me last night was supremely helpful. She apologized later for coming off harshly, but, she said, she just didn't want me to twist myself into knots over things that don't matter. I really, really appreciated it.

Frampton

2006-04-07T04:16:00.000-07:00

We recently sent out an evite to our friends for our Engagement Kegger next month. Along with their response, we also asked them to list a song that must be on the playlist for our back home reception.

One of G's oldest friends (who's also joining us in St. Lucia) listed "Do You Feel Like I Do" by Peter Frampton.

I'm not a huge Frampton fan so I didn't know that song. I logged onto iTunes and listened to a sample, but you know how sometimes if you're listening to an iTunes sample it sometimes is in a weird place in the song and you can't quite get the feel for it? That was the case here, so I just sort of looked at G and said, "This is what M wants us to play at the back home reception," with my nose kind of scrunched up like something smelled.

G listened for a second and said, "Awesome."

"But what is it?"

And then he belts out, "Dooooooo you! Feeeeeel like I do?" and then of course I knew the song.

"M and I used to rock out in his car to that song in high school."

And I thought that was the absolute sweetest thing in the world.

Mundane update on the invites

2006-04-06T03:28:00.000-07:00

G still hasn't done the front covers yet, but promises to this weekend.

I've started the tedious task of cutting the invitation copy into perfect squares and sticking them to the green enclosure cards. They look nice. Even the ones that I mess up a little and are not completely symmetrical on the card still look good.

The invitation copy is lovely, I think. The headline is "Come with me my love to the sea, the sea of love," and every time I work on my invitations, I sing that song over and over again (and you will too, now). The text below it has our names and then it says, "Requests the honor of your presence as they become husband and wife on a cliff overlooking the Caribbean Sea at sunset," and then the details. It dawned on me last week that I may have messed up a little bit because when I listed our names, my name is first and G's second, but then it says, "as they become husband and wife," which is a different order. When I fretted about that out loud, G looked at me as if I had completely lost it and said, "How many times have you read this and you just noticed that?" He had a point.

I've finished creating the response card and the travel agent contact card. Those were fun. I was trying to get cute with them - which can get very dangerous. One person's cute is another person's cheesy.

For the response card, the headline is standard: "The favor of your reply is requested by July 15, 2006." Then there's the space for their names. Under that, instead of "Number of persons," I put "Number of beach chairs," and instead of "Regrets," I put "Bummer."

For the travel agent contact card (just a bit with our Destination Weddings Travel agent's name, number and email), I couldn't settle on just one headline, so I have 10 different ones (I had help - Shelley came up with several). Things like, "Pack your beach bags," "One pina colada, please," "Reserve your hammock built for two," "Grab your passport," "Change your latitude," and "Where I go I hope there's rum." I managed to sneak in two Jimmy Buffet references under the noses of the groom and maid of honor, who don't count themselves as fans. I'm fairly proud of that.

All of this copy on all of the cards is in hot pink and lime green font - though the green was used sparingly because it's hard to see. The fonts I used were Georgia Bold for headlines, Papyrus for the main body and Curlz MT for the "Dinner and dancing immediately following" on the bottom of the invitation.

I'm totally ordering pre-printed invites for the back home reception.

The Rangers won...

2006-04-04T19:07:00.000-07:00

They are on their way to the playoffs. Plus, I got Cool Fiance Credit for not rolling my eyes once (okay, twice) when it was announced that tonight's game was the Most Important Game ever. After last week's Most Important Game ever. One more month til hockey season is over. Woohoo!

It was a good game. I'll go ahead and admit that.

And he is so cute when he gets all into it and gets nervous when the other team scores and jumps out of his seat when the Rangers score.

In other hockey news, he's been accepted onto the "elite" league at the rink at which he plays. He wants to continue to play in his original league while also doing the elite league which means two nights of hockey playing per week. During a semester in which he's taking two classes. And going on the first of his (at least two) bachelor parties. And continuing his full-time job. And his three freelance jobs.

My thought is he's biting off a little more than he can chew and while I appreciate that he's brought me into the discussion, I suspect that he doesn't really want me weighing in with my opinion.

I, of course, did anyway (don't ask if you don't want it being the lesson here), but I only care a little bit if he takes it. I know him pretty well by now and I know that he's going to hate having all that commitment after about the third week and then he'll resolve it himself and I won't look like a control freak.

But you know, who can complain? He's on the Dean's List, he's getting rock star reviews at work, the freelance work keeps rolling in and he's paying sufficient attention to me. If he wants to go play hockey with guys five years younger and 50 pounds lighter, then all I can say is, "Take pictures in the locker room."

Watters and Watters. And Helen Thomas.

2006-04-04T13:59:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, Shelley and I stopped by a dress shop in downtown DC to check out a possible bridesmaid’s dress I’d seen. The shop is near my office and I go in every once in a while to look at the pretty things. When I first started looking for wedding dresses, I spotted The One there. Alas, it was $1200, so it ended up being The One for a Woman Richer Than I.

But they also had a very pretty and very affordable chiffon dress with a fuchsia print that I thought Shelley might like, so we had lunch together and looked at it afterwards.

As we were walking in, she said, "So if I don’t like it, will that hurt your feelings?" I feel like I've said it over and over again that I don’t care what she wears so long as it is fuchsia or lime green and she can and will wear it again. Alas, I've also said over and over again that I wouldn't become a hyper-stressed bride and I've so blown that out of the water it isn't funny. So I guess I should just thank her for asking repeatedly and recognizing that I need a little coddling.

Alas, she didn’t like it but we decided to wander around anyway and look at what else they had to offer. The store was practically empty except for the ladies working there and one other shopper, who sounded like she was ordering something. I didn’t pay attention.

As I walked past her, though, I realized that Shelley was doing the speaking-without-moving-her-lips/head toss/eye roll thing that indicates, ever so subtly that there’s someone nearby I should have noticed. "'Ook...'at...the...'oman...'itting...'own," she said.

After I looked at her blankly for about three seconds, it dawned on me what was going on. I looked over and noticed, finally, that the other shopper was wee little Helen Thomas, the White House correspondent.

"Oh, hey!" I whispered. "Helen Thomas."

"I didn’t realize she was so tiny," Shelley said later. "I mean, I knew she was short, but I thought she was a little stouter."

"Well, the camera does add ten pounds," I replied.

Besides our Famous-for-DC sighting, Shelley also tried on the cutest dress we both were surprised that we liked so much. (http://www.watters.com/product.php?showid=469)

She didn’t buy it, but is seriously considering it. I love it. Love it, love it, love it. Don't tell her, but I hope she buys it.

Ahh....

2006-04-02T12:16:00.000-07:00

We just got back from our weekend away. It was heaven. It's amazing what you can find just by driving 60 miles west out of DC. Just mountains and trees and wineries and nothingness. Awesome.

We stayed at a great little inn in a town called Paris, Virginia (population: 60). When we weren't drinking wine or beer, or eating unbelievable food, we were sleeping (as one would after drinking so much wine and beer and eating so much food). Sigh.

All talk of wedding and work was banished for the whole weekend which got tricky when we were having dinner the first night and they were playing some great Frank Sinatra. We instantly fell into a discussion as to how it would be nice to have Frank playing during the dinner part of our reception in St. Lucia - or should we stay cultural and have Caribbean music? - argh! Stop! Stop! Stop!

Yesterday was the seventh anniversary of my mother's death. I am never quite sure how I'm going to be on a particular anniversary. On some, I've been fine, others not so much. It's impossible to predict. I actually thought I was doing fine yesterday - in fact, I hadn't really thought much about it - until we got back to our room after driving around a little bit and my stomach started hurting and I felt like I was going to throw up. So I laid down and G came and laid down with me and put his arms around me and I just started crying really, really hard. Over about 10 minutes, I got a good sob out and after that, I felt much better. G drew me a bath and I took a nap and woke up feeling like a new person. I realized later that the time when I started to feel lousy was right around the time that I got the message at work to call the hospital. And I knew. I remember every minute of that day.

When does a critical eye cross over into being a hypercritical a-hole?

2006-03-29T17:30:00.000-07:00

We're still trying to figure out these blasted invitations.

I simply cannot get satisfied with the cover picture. G is going to take over and paint them all, since I have absolutely no artistic talent whatsoever - and it appears that he has at least a little more than I do.

I printed off a page of the actual invitation copy at work (on the color printer) and brought it home to test it out. To reiterate, how it works is that the invitation and reply card are going into an enclosure card. On the cover of the enclosure card, we're trying to paint a palm tree next to an outline of the Piton mountains, which is the most famous landmark of St. Lucia. The enclosure card is pink. The picture is being painted onto white card stock and pasted on top.

The invitation copy is printed on heavy white paper and pasted onto a green card (colors are green and pink, duh). The invitation looks good. The reply card will look fine. We're going to print "How to Make Your Travel Plans" on DIY business cards and paste them onto a smaller pink card as well.

All that bothers me is that damn cover. And it's making me a little morose. Because I don't know if I'm now just so un-enamored with the whole thing that I can't see how pretty it is (for the record, G absolutely loves how they look). There is a part of me that simply doesn't care anymore. I just want them done.

G gets very stressed when I'm stressed, which makes me more stressed. It's becoming this ridiculously vicious cycle. I told him that he simply MUST let me have my freak out and I'll be fine. Eventually.

Part of me also thinks that I should just return all the crap I bought and spend $200 on invitations. Argh.

Wedding-related items dealt with or experienced this week

2006-03-25T21:41:00.000-07:00

They're coming fast and furious these days and to write a blog entry detailing each one would be not only tedious but also boring as hell.

1) I had my first wedding nightmare. In it, we got to St. Lucia and the resort sucked, they had no record we were coming and they were mean.

2) A woman who was my neighbor ten years ago when I lived on Capitol Hill saw my engagement announcement in the Post and tracked me down. We're getting together for drinks.

3) The debate goes on about the little paintings we're doing for each of the covers of the enclosure cards for the invitations. I hate them. G likes that they are "imperfect". Harrumph.

4) Started scoping out potential wedding bands.

5) Shelley and I spent a good two hours going through iTunes and downloading songs for the St. Lucia and Back Home Receptions. That was so much fun. A little Stevie Wonder, Wilson Pickett, Madonna, Prince, Christina Aguillera, Diana Ross, Beyonce, etc, etc. We were dancing our asses off.

6) Finally gave up on trying to make the free wedding web sites work for us and ended up paying for one through weddingwindow.com. SO much better.

7) Started looking at tuxes for G and his brother. I guess technically they're tuxes, but they are definitely more on suit side of things. We're thinking a white suit with an ivory tie for G; white suit with a green or pink tie for his brother, whichever color is opposite the color dress Shelley goes with. Cool, crisp, clean.

8) Secured the bar for the Back Home Reception. That is going to be a blast. It's this cool little beach bar in the middle of DC. In the summer, they have an outdoor area called "The Beach" that is layered with beach sand and you just sit out there, take your shoes off and bury your feet in it. So awesome. Of course, our party will be there in the winter, but the inside is cool in and of itself.

9) We started getting the word out about our "Engagement Kegger" which will take place the first week of May. Fun!

All this is wonderful and exciting, but I told G last week that I needed a getaway. Nothing big, just something simple and quiet and relaxing. I told him that all I do these days is think about work or think about the wedding - and that just isn't living. So we've got reservations at a cute little bed and breakfast an hour out of DC in the Shenandoah Valley next weekend. We had tried to get reservations on a hot-air balloon, but they were booked up. So we're just going to go, maybe go for a hike, maybe go to a winery and sleep. I cannot wait!

The potential to throw a wrench in our plans

2006-03-23T04:55:00.000-07:00

Every straight woman will be able to relate to this. You know how when you're waiting for your period to start (and you REALLY want it to start - the exact opposite of hoping you're pregnant) and it's late by even 20 minutes, you begin to build up the scenario in your head that of course you're knocked up - even though it is scientifically nearly impossible? Before you've even made it to the drugstore for an OTC test, you've started worrying about how people at work will react and what your family will say. The first subtle feelings of panic start to gnaw at you until you say to yourself, "Self! Seriously. Get a grip. What are the f'ing chances?"

Imagine feeling that way seven months before your wedding date.

In addition to thinking, "Oy, how am I going to break this G?" I was also thinking, "Fuck man. I already bought the dress. There's no way they can let that thing out enough for a person who will be seven months pregnant!" To say nothing about the fact that I wouldn't be able to fly that late in the pregnacy. (Yes, I was thinking ALL this.)

Technically, I wasn't even late. I was just not as early as last month.

Alas, no worries.

I need to get over this

2006-03-21T19:31:00.000-07:00

I recognize that having a destination wedding is going to automatically take people out of the running in terms of attending. I know we're asking a lot of folks.

But.

There is a contingent of folks that we told several months ago that we'd be doing this, that we'd really want them to be there and that we hoped they would take that extra time to work it into both their vacation and financial plans.

So it bugs me that one of my friends, when asked by my Maid of Honor if she was planning to go, said, "Oh, it's so far away. I can't think about that right now."

See, I'm not proposing we all get a beach house in Rehoboth this summer, friend. I'm asking you to go to my wedding.

I don't know why that irks me so much. Maybe part of it is that G and I really went back and forth about whether or not to invite her and I decided that I needed to - that she's that good of a friend, even though for the past year she's been...how to say...kind of a pain in the tush. So maybe it bugs me that I spent so much time in thought about it, ruled in favor of inviting her (thereby kicking someone else out of the running) and now to hear that she's...eh, too distracted to think about this silly thing...kind of ticks me off.

The list of items for him to do for the wedding is getting longer and longer

2006-03-20T18:13:00.000-07:00

And his ass-dent in the couch is getting deeper and deeper.

Sigh...it looks like a bitchy comment may be in order.

Joint bank accounts

2006-03-18T11:28:00.000-07:00

We've gone and done it. Our paychecks now go into one pool.

We are still keeping own personal accounts and will continue to put money into them each pay period so we have our own stashes to be used on my grooming, his hockey gear and the tons and tons of gifts he will continue to shower upon me.

We've got columns under which charges fall: yours, mine and ours. Pedicures: mine. Gambling trips to Atlantic City with his brother: his. His Starbucks habit and my bagel addiction: ours. Bills, groceries, trips to the vet: ours.

What I would love is to have a married couple quietly observe these negotiations and then tell us later whether or not our plan will play out or will we eventually merge everything together?

My mother, who had two lousy marriages before finally marrying a decent guy drilled into me the fact that a woman should always have her own money that no one else can get to. And if I've reacted strongly to anything as we've done this, it is the idea of having everything combined. Maybe it's temporary, but I can't imagine ever being comfortable with not having my own money stashed away.

But for now, it seems to be coming together just fine. In fact, for all the heated discussions about money that we've had throughout our two and a half years together, this has been truly, truly, stress free. We are both completely 100 percent on the same page about everything (which I'm going to credit to all of those heated discussions).

Wedding invite idea

2006-03-18T05:24:00.000-07:00

We're going to use Photo Stamps (www.photostamps.com) for the wedding invitations.

At first, I thought the photo we'd use would be one of our feet in the sand, but we never made it to a beach. Then I thought we'd use one of the engagement photos we took for the newspaper announcements, but they're so..."Hi, don't we look pretty?"

So the brilliant idea I had earlier this week: a formal engagement picture pose, but we're wearing our scuba masks and snorkels. Hah! So pleased with myself over that.

We're going to take the picture this weekend.

Another Runner Girl wedding

2006-03-18T05:05:00.000-07:00

I've mentioned my group of girlfriends that run together every Saturday. We call the group the "Runner Girls".

Four or five years ago, when we started doing this, all of us were single. In November, the last of us will get married (me). We've all gotten married in the past two years - three last year in the span of six months. On Monday, another one is getting hitched, this time in Hawaii.

She left on Thursday, the rest of the girls left yesterday and today. I can't go because I can only do one destination wedding this year, so it should be mine. But I feel so sad about that now!

Sadly, I'm not inviting any of them to St. Lucia. Originally, I was thinking that I wouldn't be able to afford it. A few months ago, though, I realized I could. But this was right around the time that the Hawaii invites went out. I knew that many of them were making plans to go and I knew that two tropical vacations in one year was too much of a stretch for all of them. So instead of putting them in a position of choosing one wedding over the other, I never said anything to them about St. Lucia.

Which, alas, is no big deal. But I still wish they could be there. I adore them.

Making a statement along with our customized coozies

2006-03-16T20:02:00.003-07:00

In addition to giving our guests customized coozies to keep their beer cold, G and I agreed tonight that we would make a donation in our guests' names (both St. Lucia and our back home reception guests) to an organization that works to elect gay and lesbian men and women to office so that someday all of our friends and family will be able to marry the people they love.

I feel so good that we're doing this. I love that G feels as strongly about this as I do. I hope it makes a difference in some small way.

I will admit that there is an element of me that feels slightly guilty to be able to get married to the man of my dreams while my step-brother and many of my friends cannot. This eases that slightly.

Dick Cheney leaves the office at the same time as I do

2006-03-14T19:33:00.000-07:00

That actually makes me mad. I'm paying him to work late, goddamn it.

Plus, his commute fucks up mine.

Dickhead.

Ever had one of those times when you and another person are in a bathroom together and the other person really stinks things up and...

2006-03-14T19:31:00.000-07:00

...as you leave you pass a person coming in and you want to say to her, "I swear, I didn't do that"?

That happened to me yesterday.

So embarassing.

Holy cow, I miss him so much

2006-03-13T20:48:00.000-07:00

This being out of town for six days SUCKS. I want him home now - but I still have a full 48 hours without him.

He ate dinner at a restaurant in Austin tonight at a table right next to Ray Romano and Brad Garrett. He was very impressed with that, as I'm typically the one to recognize a famous person when he/she is right in front of me. It's my super power. But after tonight, my reputation is challenged. Of course, I suspect that if he was at the table alone - and not with about 10 other people - he would never have picked up on the fact that the reason he recognized the guys one table over is because he saw them on TV. It's a special gift, truly, to be able to place faces when they are out of context.

I miss him. Miss miss miss miss miss him. He told me that during the night last night he woke up and reached for me and when I wasn't there, it upset him. I actually cried over that (later, after we'd hung up). The tears might be related to the PMS that is currently setting up camp throughout my body, but whatever. The thought of him reaching for me in the middle of the night when we're thousands of miles away from each other feels like someone's ripping off my fingernails one at a time.

It's times like this that the camera phone is invaluable. I don't know how many pictures I've sent him of the kitties and me over the past few days just so he can see what we're doing at any given moment (the picture of Mr. Splash giving me a little kiss is my favorite so far).

God, I just want to wrap myself around him.

Interesting...Timely...

2006-03-13T05:04:00.000-07:00

Why Wanting Equality Makes Women Unhappy
http://www.slate.com/id/2137537/?GT1=7932
(For some reason, my hyperlink button isn't showing up)

Get past the first couple of paragraphs that deal with the easy explanations that are, I think, wrong as hell.

I could see a little bit of truth in this article, particularly in the next to last paragraph about how progressive women who constantly second guess can make themselves miserable. I am the POSTER CHILD for that statement.

Of course I realize that, but it doesn't make it any easier to not do it. The so-called fights that G and I had last week sent me into a day of worrying about how I could nip this new problem in the bud before it overwhelmed our relationship.

Yeah, Self, all it was was a poor method of communication ON YOUR PART. Chill. Just chill.

That being said, the part of the article that said that traditional at-home women were happier because - since they already set low expectations for their husbands - they don't get disappointed by their husbands inability to provide emotional support was a little depressing. And patronizing, frankly. It says very little good about traditional husbands (and while I'd never marry one, I know a lot of decent men who'd probably fall under that category). And I think I'd rather be a little on the unhappier side, frankly, than to settle for a guy who feels like his role in the marriage stops with the bank deposit slip.

Nonetheless, I've never felt like the weight of my Women's Studies Minor was on my shoulders more than in the past few weeks. It's like I'm not just getting married; I'm making a political statement. And I have to tread very carefully to make sure that statement reflects the real me and not the one that my friends want, society wants, or even my NOW membership card wants.

(For the record, I don't really have a NOW membership card. I just thought that was a funny way to say that. Ha ha. Ha.)

I must stop reading theknotdotcom

2006-03-12T18:39:00.000-07:00

Seriously, it makes me feel inadequate.

I manage to get through most days thinking I've got this wedding thing under control and that I'm doing well by guests, my fiance, my maid of honor, my future in-laws, etc.

And then I log on to the message boards on theknot and I'm overwhelmed by the eight gazillion things that other women are doing or have already done. Like, one woman whose bio I read today has posted the top five hair-dos that she's debating.

Ack! Five? I can barely think of one! (Jessica Alba's hair at the Oscars, by the way. Gorgeous!)

Or the woman who is putting waterproof cameras (that she's found for $2 each), customized can coozies and these fan-like wedding programs into her guest gift bags.

[Starting to hyperventilate]

Honestly, I was so proud of my LLBean Boat and Totes. She's already ordered 50. She's all, "I'll match you your Boat and Tote and raise you one customized signature plate AND a palm tree wax seal with green wax sticks, bitch!"

[Now I have the shakes]

I did go to the web site to make the customized coozies, I have to admit. There's something so wonderfully North Florida about that (an area of the world that I spent a meaningful bit of time) - while also incorporating the carefree summer days of upstate New York, where my beloved is from. In other words, redneckery is universal. And there is no reason, despite the wedding at the moderately swanky private resort tucked away into a quiet corner of a lush Caribbean island, that we can't bring a little of that with us.

But for the rest of it, I do honestly believe that I must stop reading that web site. I can feel myself start to feel like I'm so behind the Joneses when I really don't give a shit about them in the first place.

It's good to know his instincts are right...

2006-03-12T18:22:00.000-07:00

As I mentioned, G's at the South by Southwest festival in Austin right now. He's there with a group of co-workers.

With great reserve, he relayed a totally gossipy story to me. He was hesitant to do it because he says I'm judgemental. What a jerk! I can't believe he'd say such a thing!

Apparently, one of his co-workers, who is married, offered the other double bed in his hotel room to a female co-worker who didn't have a room reservation. G's pretty close to this guy (they play hockey together) and he was positively stunned that he'd do that. He said to me, "How would one sell that to his/her spouse?" And I said, "I can tell you now that that wouldn't be bought by me." And he said, "Yeah, me either."

Of course, now I promised not to judge this guy (he made me promise before I knew who he was talking about, the bastard). But I gotta admit, I'm a little disappointed in the co-worker. I may have to give him a little bit of the stink-eye when I see him next (which will leave him shaking in his skates, I'm sure).

Who knows, though. Maybe his wife and his ten year-old son are totally fine with it. In which case, who am I to judge?

Tee hee.

Whah? Huh?

2006-03-11T12:24:00.000-07:00

Two separate things said to me by two different people:

From my former boss, with whom I was having lunch:
"So, are you going to work after you get married?"

From my old friend, with whom I was having dinner. It was in response to our discovery that one of her neighbors got a job that I had applied for late last year:
"It's just as well. He has two kids to support."

My former boss's question was surprising, but that's about it. I don't know anyone who has the luxury to stop working just because he/she has gotten married. I don't know any woman who would say, "Well, that career thing was nice, but I'm done with it now."

But my friend's statement...yeah, that's got me a leeetle pissed off. When she said it, I responded how I normally do when someone's done something insulting: I wondered if I heard right, then I said nothing. I'm such a pussy.

What the f does him having two kids have to do with anything regarding who deserves to get it more? Now, I will say that when I read his qualifications (it was kind of a high profile job, so I was able to easily find out who had gotten it after my rejection came in the mail), I knew right off that he was way more qualified than I - and that's totally cool. But this bullshit, suburban housewife-ish comment that the men deserve to be kept working rather than the single, childless women??? Grrrrr.

Hi, 1945 called. It wants its sexist ideology back.

I want to ask her: what happened to you?

When we met - she was my first friend in DC - she seemed so progressive and independent. She spoke Spanish (despite growing up in a small town in Pennsylvania), she went to a prestigious university, she lived in the cool-but-rough part of town, she was a vegetarian. All of these things seemed so sophisticated and cool to me - a shmoe who'd gone to a state school and lucked into a job in DC. She was one of my first friends who kept her name when she got married (she's since dropped it).

And now...I don't know. Hanging with her is tough. We're so different. But I don't understand how we're so different. She thinks it's because she has two kids, but two of my closest friends have two kids each. She thinks it's because she lives in suburbia. But I live five miles from her, tops.

But now, I think maybe we're so different because she sees my work as less than important than the work that is done to keep her neighbor's kids in Gap outfits.

God, that f'ing pisses me off. I never want to be that way. I never, never, never want to be that way.

Holy cow! Hurry up!

2006-03-10T20:41:00.000-07:00

Received urgent email from wedding travel planner tonight. Apparently airfares to the Caribbean are going up next week, so she suggested I tell my friends and family who are just sitting on the whole idea of going to St. Lucia to make an f'ing decision already and bite the bullet.

She didn't say it that way of course, but I kind of wish she did.

I sent an email out to folks who have given me a definite yes, but not to the whole group. No reason to add any pressure to those undecided. Plus, I think I've repeated this so much it's starting to get uncomfortable, but we really hope they all don't make it, so if the airline industry happens to help us out with that, then so be it.

Ooh. I can't wait to see who jumps in!

God bless my therapist

2006-03-10T05:23:00.000-07:00

I've never mentioned that I'm in therapy, I don't think, but you all guessed it, right?

I've been seeing my therapist for a couple of years, typically once a month. She's a family therapist and her specialty is helping people navigate the dark, rough waters of familial relationships. You can see how she'd be a gold mine of information for me.

I saw her on Monday, the day after my "fight" with G about the wedding dress. I told her about it and asked her if I should be concerned by these incidences. "Couples fighting over wedding details...never heard of that happening before," is what she said.

She's a big believer in birth order and how it affect one's personality. She told me once that studies have shown that only/oldest children almost always marry a person who was the youngest in the line of siblings (which is totally G and me). That statement has held true in my non-scientific scan of the relationships among my friends, too.

Anyway, after I relayed my stories to her the other day, she said, "Do you think G thinks you boss him around?"

Me: "Well, that's what I was starting to think. That maybe he feels like I'm ramrodding the wedding decisions."

Therapist: "I didn't say 'ramrodding' but...you are definitely exhibiting "only/oldest" behavior and he probably just feels like he's being told what to do."

Seriously, it was as if the lights got brighter in the room. I LOVE HER!

She then said, "What is his mother?" "Youngest," I said. "Interesting..." she said. "But there is, like, 13 years between she and her brother," I said. "Oh, well, then she's an 'only,'" she said. "Yep," she added, "he nailed it. He's marrying his mother."

That's another post altogether.

So I came home and told G about it. Naturally, his response was, "So the lesson is to stop bossing me around?"

I do, I love him.

I said, "No, the lesson is that I should phrase things a little differently when I'm talking about this stuff. Like, with the suits that you and D wear, instead of saying 'You and D may have to wear something different than what we originally planned,' I should have said, 'Do you think that you and D may have to wear something different.' But, you also need to realize that when I'm saying stuff like that, I'm not saying it as an absolute, it-has-to-be-done-this-way, but more that I'm thinking through things and it's all up for discussion." In other words, take a couple of breaths before getting offended.

We're both always going to be who we are and come from where we came from; we just need to remember that. Duh, easy, right? Why did I need a professional to tell me that? It seems obvious, I guess, but it isn't second nature for me to think, "G's a 'youngest', how is he going to react to this?" Plus, I am the kind of person who just makes decisions, rather than torture myself with deliberations. I imagine that it can be off-putting to some. So I have to teach myself to take a couple of breaths before speaking.

One is the loneliest number

2006-03-10T05:11:00.000-07:00

Actually, it's not! One is the most productive number!

G's in Austin, TX, for the South by Southwest thingy (is it a festival? a conference?). He gets to go for work, which reminds me that I'm in the wrong industry. He'll be there until next Wednesday.

Since he's been gone, which was just yesterday, I haven't done much, admittedly. I walked at least five miles yesterday, though. Two of them to and from the metro (normally he drives me) and at least another three with my friend who's getting married in Hawaii in less than two weeks and I don't know how she's maintaining her sanity.

Tonight: dinner with an old friend (the one who was recently added to the guest list). Tomorrow, ten mile training walk (by the way, if anyone wants to donate to my walk to fight breast cancer, send me a comment with your email address -unless we've already emailed each other - and I'll give you the opportunity of a lifetime!). Tomorrow night: barbeque at my cousin's house. Sunday: manicure.

Man, I'm a social butterfly when he's not here. He's really bringing me down.

That was a joke.

One awful note and I need words of encouragement: I CAN'T STOP EATING. Seriously, it's like I'm on a frigging after-school special, "Betsy Stop Binging and Purging!" except there is no purging! It all just sits there in the bottom of my stomach, mocking me, saying things like, "See? Don't you feel better now?" But I don't! I feel wretched. Argh!

Actual conversation between G and me at a restaurant yesterday

2006-03-06T04:41:00.000-07:00

Me: You know, we might have to rethink what you and your brother wear at the wedding because this dress is a little more formal than what I was originally planning.

G: Like what?

Me: Well, I'm not thinking tux or anything like that...but you know, if you're in a casual suit and D's just in a Tommy Bahama shirt, it might look odd in pictures. Like we've gone to two different weddings.

G: Well, let's talk about this. I mean, I'm glad you found this dress, but I don't think I should have to make D uncomfortable - and I certainly don't want to be uncomfortable - in some, hot, too-tight suit just because you think it will look weird.

[Except there was quite a bit of anger in his tone. It literally set me back a few inches.]

Me [dismayed at getting yelled at]: Okay, you don't have to. [Two seconds later, pissed] I'm not saying get some wool suit - and it's not going to be tight, for crying out loud.

[Pause a second while I get more angry.]

But, you know, I certainly don't want the dress to inconvenience you in any way whatsoever. Wear shorts if you want, I don't give a shit. [Okay, I may not have said that last sentence but I wish I had.]

[I think I then made another bitchy comment that then set him back a few inches.]

G: Okay, I'm sorry. I'm sorry.

Me: [Not letting go...] I mean, I'm not talking wool suit - and maybe when we start looking at linen suits I'll realize that they are a little nicer looking than I'm picturing. But, for chrissakes, he made you wear a tux when he got married. Do you think he was thinking about your goddamn comfort?

[At this point, I wanted to stomp off and go pout in a corner but instead I stayed at the table and pouted for another minute or so before actually feeling bad for him for telling me that my wedding dress is going to ruin his wedding day. I mean, that poor, poor, unschooled man.]

The bad feeling passed within minutes. If I'm being honest though, I will express concern that almost all conversations about the wedding (at least the parts that he is concerned about) end up in, if not a fight, at least a little bit of tension. I said something the other night to him about that, too. I asked him if I could approach these conversations differently because he seems to get defensive from the start while all I'm trying to do is figure things out. Like with the suit, I wasn't saying, "You have to be hot and miserable in a formal suit." I was merely saying, "We should look to see if there are other options besides linen suits, which wrinkle easily and start to look sloppy, that will be more appropriate with the dress that I'll be wearing." But instead of hearing that, he just got instantly mad (he also got instantly un-mad).

I know that I need to do something different, though. I wish I could videotape myself in these conversations to see if my body language is saying something that sets him off. Or does he feel like I'm ramrodding things through and he has no say? Or is he just a little crazy like I am?

Reason #982 why I love him

2006-03-05T18:35:00.000-07:00

He's totally watching the Academy Awards with me.

Conversation with Mom

2006-03-05T05:07:00.000-07:00

Hey, I've got something to tell you but I think you already know.

I bought my wedding dress yesterday.

It is absolutely beautiful. It's true what they say about how when the right one goes on, you just know. I wasn't planning on buying anything; in fact, I really wanted to wait until G's mom got here in April to make the decision. But the thing went on and I immediately wanted to throw up, so I knew it was the one.

The saleslady said it, too, before I put it on. I'd tried on a few and none of them worked and she said, "This is the one, this is the one." As she was tossing it over my head, I asked her how often, when she declared that before a woman tried on a dress was she right and she said, "A lot." Her streak continues.

You'd love this dress. I think it's the dress you'd want me to wear. It's a dress that is happy to sit on a woman with boobs and hips. It makes my waist look like it's about 20 inches around; you always preferred it when I acknowledged the hourglass rather than tried to hide it. It shows off a little bit of cleavage. It's simple, too. Not a lot of crap dangling from it. Which you may or may not have liked. I think you always went for a little more of the flash than I did. It has a train. See? Your "radical feminist" (your words) daughter got herself a conventional wedding dress.

When I was standing on the little box thing that they make you stand on, I thought about how you should have been there. Not for me so much (Shelley was there and she makes things like this as they should be). You should have been there for you. You were robbed. You deserved that moment after all the things you went through, after all the hopes you had for me (which, by the way, they all came to fruition, so thanks for that), after all the times you told me how you pictured my wedding.

For my own peace of mind, I have to do this. I have to picture you sitting there in the room with the other friends and moms. I have to picture the look on your face, which would have mirrored the look on Shelley's face and on mine, when I came out in that last dress (you were as stunned as we both were, by the way). This is how I reconcile your absence in my mind; I relive the situation and put you in the middle of it. It makes me feel better.

I know that you would have been involved in the color conversation; and let's be honest, I probably would have started to get annoyed a little with you for not letting me just think it through on my own. I suspect you would have wanted me to stick with the white. Ugh, sorry. No. And would have been grateful when Shelley talked me out of the gold (which I still think would have been beautiful) and been fine with the ivory, which is what we went with.

You'd have an opinion about the bustle - French or American? I think we're leaning toward the French, but I've got a while to figure that out. I can't guess what your preference would be. I don't think we ever had a bustle conversation.

You would have said the same thing Shelley did about the price. I called her into the dressing room and I said, "Okay...pros:" and she and I immediately said in unison, "It's perfect." And then I said, "Cons. It's $300 more than the one at David's Bridal that I liked a lot." And she said - and you totally would have said this, too - "Did you think that one was perfect?" and I said, "No." And she said, "$300 isn't a big deal for perfection."

And she was right. And in that moment, I became the owner of my very own wedding dress. And somewhere...somewhere...you smiled.

I have an exacto knife and I'm not afraid to use it

2006-03-04T04:57:00.000-07:00

So I think I previously mentioned that we are making our wedding invitations. What this involves, for those unschooled in such arts:

Much lower-lip biting and staring at various sizes, colors, shapes, folds and formats at a place called "The Paper Source" in Georgetown.
Eventually, one of the incredibly helpful and creative staff takes pity on you and tries to help you figure something out.
Ninety minutes later, you guys decide on something.
He then suggests that you finish off the whole look with a lacy paper cummerbund tied off with some splashy raspberry-colored raffia. He's totally straight.
You spend another 15 minutes deciding if the lacy paper should be lime green with the swirl deisgn, or white with the shell design. I mean, lime's your color but it is a beach wedding. It's a dilemma.
The sales guy then makes a list of all the materials you will need that can't - or shouldn't, because of cost - be bought at his store. This list includes an exacto knife, at least 25 replacement blades, a cutting mat, double-sided tape and a metal-edge ruler.
You then take your drawings, lists and sample purchases home to your fiance to get his sign-off.
At some point, you realize that after all is said and done, you're not really saving any money.

We were at Michaels last night buying all the extra stuff we need. I don't know if other Michaels around the country are as a pathetic as the one in Falls Church, VA. I hope not. Its layout is horrible, the staff are completely useless and they are always - without fail - missing at least one crucial thing that you need.

So as I'm standing in the double-sided tape aisle, deep in thought, G comes up to me with the exacto knife and replacement blades. He was proud of himself for finding them. He then got upset with me for not dropping everything and fawning over him for his successful hunting and gathering mission. Talk about primal. In hindsight, of course I see that I should have immediately put down the basket and started picking bugs out of his hair. I'm going to have to embrace the neanderthal in me if I'm going to make this work.

We're also painting in watercolor the two peaks of the Pitons of St. Lucia along with a palm tree on the cover of each invitation enclosure. Such honest, pure ambition!

We're going to kill each other.

The guest list that is spiraling out of control

2006-03-02T18:42:00.000-07:00

We can't stop ourselves from inviting people to St. Lucia.

I invited my old roommate and her husband, who happened to have eloped to St. Lucia nine years ago (I dog-sat for them while they were gone so in a sense I was very involved). She's the friend who turned me on to scuba diving. She was my first friend I made when I moved to DC ten years ago; my first real drinking buddy (before she got married and had two kids, one of whom is special needs, and our get-togethers just became...difficult). I HAD to invite her.

G is giving in to pressure from Platonic Female Friend to invite two good-but-not-close friends of his. I'm in support of it, actually. The guy was the person who gave him a place to live when he first moved here five years ago and I like his wife a lot. G also does a lot of freelance work for them (they own a marketing communications firm). One of G's close friends from childhood (who is a Tier 1 guest) is a cousin of the guy. I think the rub is that we kind of feel like we are Tier 2 friends to them and, you know, that's just not who we're inviting to our wedding. But, in terms of friends, I have a lot more coming than he does and as I look at the guest list and picture what he'll see when he's standing at the altar (a cluster of my peeps and a scattering of his), I worry that it could bum him out. So I support it. And apparently they want to come. So...hang on. Let me go apply for another credit card.

The only reason we hesitated to invite them to begin with is that we have already invited 60 people (assuming our single friends bring guests). We can only really afford 40 - and that's really stretching it. I mean, really stretching it. We might have to put off children for a couple of years if 40 people come.

Ha ha. Good times, good times.

Engagement Announcements

2006-03-02T03:32:00.000-07:00

I sent over my draft of our engagement announcement to him yesterday. I think if he could have typed his actual response, it would have been, "Gulp." Instead he just said something along the lines of, "Wow. I hadn't thought about what this would look like."

We've decided we're putting the announcement in the Washington Post and his hometown paper in upstate New York but not the Miami Herald. Everyone in Miami who needs to know will know. Plus there is a chance that my real father will see it, take the opportunity to look up my phone number and begin making increasingly irate and harassing phone calls that stress the point that he "just wants to have a friendship with me." M'er f'er. And I mean m'er f'er in the worst possible way someone could mean it, not in the light and airy way I usually toss that phrase around.

He did that to my mom shortly before she died. I had been working as a press secretary for a statewide campaign in Florida and I suspected that, eventually, he would see me on television or read my name in a newspaper article and try to get in touch with me because he'd think I had money (because everyone knows that campaign press secretaries are rolling in cash). And I was right. He called one of my colleagues who was stationed in Miami (I was in Tallahassee). Thankfully, she picked up on the fact that the guy seemed kind of off his rocker and refused to give him any information about me. Within minutes, though, he'd looked up my parents' number and began calling them. Finally, my mom stopped answering and let them all go to the machine, which she then played back for me later. She finally said to me, "Maybe just call him to get him to stop," which made me so angry that he was actually going to bully me and my family into doing what he wanted.

At the time, a good friend of mine-slash-ex-boyfriend was an assistant DA in a town near Miami and I asked him for help. He recommended that my mom file a police report and then block his number from calling hers. That way we'd have an official complaint filed. Then, he said, if he worked around that, he'd have him taken care of. It was awesome.

Then I called the asshole and said, "Two things: 1) you're not welcome back in my life and 2) if you ever speak to my mother that way again I will kill you, you m'er f'er." Except I didn't say, "m'er f'er", I said the real thing in the lowest, calmest voice I could manage (even though my heart was racing). And then I hung up the phone. Bear in mind that when they were married, my real father beat my mother - and one time I walked in on it - so I took his threatening phone calls to her very seriously and I was not issuing an empty threat. He could get away with that shit when I was four, but I wasn't four anymore.

That took care of that until my mother died and he sent his mother to her memorial service.

ARE YOU F'ING KIDDING ME?

So picture a 27-year-old mama's girl barely hanging on at the memorial service for the single greatest love of her life. Now picture a little old lady - who is as toxic as her piece of shit son - coming up to her and crying about how much she misses her and wants her to call her and shit (oh, and throwing around the n-word like it was nobody's business. F'ing trash).

Oh my god, I was stunned. I was...stunned. I was at the one place that I had dreaded my whole life. My mother was newly dead. My world had ended as I knew it. I had just delivered a eulogy for the person whom I didn't think I could live without. I don't know how to draw that as more dramatic to really encompass what was going on in my head. And then this manipulative bitch shows up and tries to talk about herself...TO ME. It felt a little like a Jerry Springer Show to me.

I hate those people.

Anyway, we figure that they saw the obituary and that's how they knew where and when to go to see me. I say "they" because I assume he was there somewhere (there were tons of people, it was hard to know who all was there).

And that is why I am not doing an engagement announcement in the Miami Herald.

Ooh, I got my blood pressure all up now.

Not that I'm counting...

2006-03-01T04:52:00.000-07:00

My fiance made three comments yesterday about other women:

The woman who is going to cut his hair. How this comment came about was thusly: I sent him a "To-Do" list (charming, I know) that included finding out what type of color printer he has at work (for the DIY wedding invites), scheduling an appointment to get his hair cut before our engagement photo is taken this weekend and remembering that I love him more than anything. He responded with the name and kind of printer, a link to a picture and write-up of his hair stylist at PR Partners (which included the phrase "men are comfortable in her capable hands") and by saying that he loved me too, but depending on how good his stylist is, we may have to make room in the relationship for her.
Rachel Ray. What the f do men see in Rachel Ray, for chrissakes? He thinks I should grow my hair out to look like hers and get a pair of knee-high boots like she was wearing on Oprah yesterday.
Sarah Chalke from Scrubs. First of all, best show ever. Second of all, Sarah and I are both FSU alum (at least that's what I've heard - she is, alas, younger than me so it's not like we would have been hanging around Oglesby Union together). Plus, her character on the show is the person that would have been created if my friend Heather and I had a baby. So I love me some Sarah Chalke. But after the third reference of another woman being cute, I'd about had it with my fiance.

So now we like to joke, when the other one crosses the line, that we will either take that ring back, or give that ring back, depending on who is issuing the threat.

Ah, good times, good times.

Oh, Tyra

2006-02-28T04:56:00.000-07:00

Tyra Banks goes undercover as club dancer

God bless the model-turned-hard-hitting-investigative-journalist.

I'm going to try to make this light, but it's kind of serious

2006-02-28T04:22:00.000-07:00

So in my second full day of delirium, I began to feel guilty. Not overwhelmingly so, but it was definitely nagging at me.

I started to wonder - and don't snort or roll your eyes at this - if, by being so over-the-moon, ridiculously happy at the fact that I had gotten engaged and by having this big ole honkin ring on my finger, that maybe, just maybe, I was a bad feminist.

It's all Oprah's fault. I was watching her "Oprah After the Show" on Sunday and it was after the show that featured that woman who'd been completed dicked over by her rich husband. And Dr. Robin and Oprah were on her about how she lost herself in that marriage and that she was completely taken in by how much money he threw at her and her friends. And Dr. Robin (who, seriously I love so much I'd marry her if it was legal) was all like, "You lost yourself, you need to be full in your own life before you can share it with others..." and I was all like, "Oh my gosh. She's right. Am I full in my own life? Am I being taken in by his charm and his humor and his ridiculously wonderful way of treating me?..."

Not that G's a sugar daddy - holy cow, I wish (just kidding Ghost of Betty Friedan!). But you know, the notion's the same and it's important to consider. I was living a pretty good life when G came along. In fact, I'm pretty sure I was able to be present in a relationship with him because of that (2003, the year we started dating, was a real turnaround year for me in that I think I finally broke through all the depression and intense sadness that came after my parents died). But, do I still have that spark? Would my self-esteem crumble if our relationship failed? Do I bring as much to him as he brings to me? And, most importantly, am I putting too much importance and significance on him now because we're finally officially engaged?

I mean, yowser, scary things to contemplate and they require absolute honestly with myself - which I don't always have.

And I have to balance all of that with the fact that I have committed myself to loving another person - a man, for chrisssakes (just kidding, Spike Channel watchers!) - unconditionally for the rest of my life. "To believe when the truth comes up empty," Melissa Ethridge sings. I mean, wow. That goes against every survival instinct I have, but I feel that it is imperative to a marriage.

And, for the record, there is no truth coming up empty. I have absolute faith in him and in our relationship (so no one go writing in lecturing me about shit). I know this much about myself:

I can lose myself sometimes; it's happened before.
I don't like that person and G didn't fall in love with that person.
I have a responsibility first to myself, then to my fiance, then to any kids in our future, to be true to myself just as he does to be true to himself.

There's got to be a book on this somewhere.

Two days later and I can't stop smiling

2006-02-26T05:46:00.000-07:00

When he woke up yesterday morning, I was already downstairs. He hollered down, "Good morning fiance!" Yesterday afternoon, I called him after having lunch with friends. When he answered the phone, I said, "Hi fiance. This is your fiance."

Yeah, we're that annoying couple now. At least we don't do it in public.

This euphoria is mind-blowing. I would have gotten engaged years ago if I'd known.

I got to tell my runner girlfriends yesterday. That was so much fun. Much yelling and screaming on a sidewalk near Pentagon City mall. Then we had to call our other runner girlfriend (the one who's getting married in Hawaii next month) and tell her. She couldn't join us yesterday but she knew something was up, because I'm supposed to be doing my training walks with my Avon team on Saturdays, so when I said I'd be running, she knew. So we called her from my friend Cindy's phone and when she answered, I said, "Hey, it's CB," and she screamed, "Are you enagaged?" and all the girls could hear her and started screaming back. (It was comical to be in the middle of that, but if I'd witnessed it, it would have freaked me out.)

I can't stop looking at the ring. It is so beautiful. Oh my god, it breaks my heart.

I was wholly, enormously wrong...about being wrong

2006-02-25T03:22:00.000-07:00

And I do mean enormous.

Yesterday, G and I hiked the Billy Goat Trail. It was a gorgeous day: bright blue sky, chilly but not too cold. The trail, normally packed on the weekends, was practically empty.

About halfway through the hike - which is through a flat terrain along the Potomac River - it gets rocky (the billy goat part). It's the prettiest part of the hike because you're on these huge boulders overlooking the river. It's also a little tricky navigating because you are pulling yourself up on to one boulder, jumping to another, buttsliding down another one, etc. If you're not careful, you can hurt yourself.

It was at this point that G took a step and went down hard. He was grabbing his ankle and hollering in pain and I was freaking out. The whole hike I'd been telling myself, "Don't expect a proposal. It's not happening," and that's all I could think about. Suddenly, when I thought he'd broken something I reverted into Crisis Manager and was trying to get him to tell me what hurt so I could figure out how to get him out of there. But he wouldn't answer me and just kept rocking back and forth and holding his ankle.

Then he said, "I think I just realized how much I love you."

Huh? Could this be...?

And then he moved from sitting on his butt, to leaning on one knee and I started crying like a little baby, then the endorphins kicked in from thinking he'd hurt himself to realizing he hadn't and I started giggling and couldn't stop.

Somewhere along the way, he gave a little speech about this being the site of our first date and he couldn't think of a more beautiful place and would I be his wife. And then he cried, although not like a baby. He denied it later.

It was the most perfect, beautiful, surreal moment of my life. Journeys ended and began in that moment. The world stopped spinning. Time existed only for us. I can't even remember now if I said yes but I guess I must have said something. And then he showed me the ring and...holy shit...it's gargantuan.

I mean, it's really f'ing huge.

I think that's the first thing I said, too.

So he slid it on my finger and it fit perfectly and it was heavy as hell. I mean, it has six stones on it, for crying out loud. We went and sat down on one of the boulders as both of our knees were shaking and I just took some time to let it sink in and to get used to the look of this thing on my finger.

To describe the ring will be impossible; G's going to have to help me put up a picture, but I will say this: it has two amethysts on it (our birthstone) and it is framed by the diamond that was in my mother's engagement ring, the diamond that was in a ring my grandfather gave to me when I turned 13, and two diamonds that belonged to his mother, but originally belonged to her mother and grandmother I believe (I'm getting that story figured out this weekend).

When I look at it, I am alternately in awe and startled by it.

Afterwards, we finished the hike (and Brightlife, I told everyone we passed that we'd just gotten engaged, which was fun - thanks for the idea), we called Shelley first and then our families. We stopped by my friend Heather's house so I could show her. Then we came home, took a photo of it, emailed it around to folks, and then went to dinner at one of the five-star restaurants in DC.

Throughout dinner I kept looking at my fiance with just a different set of eyes. It sounds so corny, I know, but it feels different now. I said that to him and he said, "I know, it's so strange. But in a good way." At one point, I took his hands and kissed them and pressed them against my face and started crying all over again. It was the most joyful set of tears I have ever shed. I was so incredibly, f'ing happy.

Toward the end of dinner, the waiter told us that Heather and her husband had called the restaurant and paid for our dessert, which started me crying all over again.

After that, we met Shelley and her friend out for drinks. They bought us a bottle of champagne and we told stories about how we met, what our first date was like, when we knew the other was "the one", etc. It was so much fun.

Through all of that, I kept having to remind myself it was his birthday! Fortunately, I gave him his presents before we went on the hike so it didn't get lost in the aftermath. I kept saying, "It's your birthday! We should be celebrating that." But he said birthdays come every year, yesterday was once in a lifetime.

It was dreamy.

Okay, he's awesome

2006-02-23T19:54:00.000-07:00

My boyfriend totally went to the store and bought me maxi-pads tonight. Goddamn, I love him.

Absolutely true, wonderful story about rock star divers

2006-02-23T18:56:00.000-07:00

So I've got two thoughts here:

1) I am so envious of these guys, and

2) I am so in awe. I don't know if I would have been brave enough to do this. They deserve the wonderful gift they got.

Daring rescue of whale off Farallones

T-minus two days

2006-02-22T18:38:00.000-07:00

I'm pretty sure my hunch about getting a proposal this weekend was wrong. Either that or he is an actor worthy of the highest praise. I am trying to keep perspective. It will happen... sometime before November 10.

He told me the other day that when he refers to me to strangers, he calls me his fiance. He says it's easier to do that than to get grief for not having made it official yet.

In the lightest way I can possibly mean this, I want to say that that seems unfair. If he's going to dilly-dally (or, what I think is happening in this case: not threaten the ring maker with death if he doesn't hop fucking to it), then he should have to take all possible grief that can be doled out by strangers who should be minding their own business.

Sigh...

Thank goodness it's a short week, though, man. I have EARNED it. We had a pretty big event today and I managed to get my big boss - my boss's boss's boss - interviewed on a national radio show this morning. That, in and of itself, made me so nervous that I can't believe I didn't chew off every last one of my fingernails, which I've been growing out and painting in preparation for the metal they are about to highlight.

Don't these work people realize I have a personal life I have to be worried about? Jeez.

Big ups to the big girls

2006-02-20T08:12:00.000-07:00

So we went through three bottles of champagne yesterday before going to try on wedding dresses. That was fun.

I'm glad I went to that dress shop because I now will have no qualms about going to David's Bridal to buy. I didn't like the personnel very much, I didn't like their dress selection and what they had was more than I want to spend. Plus, they only had size 10s in every dress.

I griped about that a little to the saleswoman. I said, "You know, big girls do get married." She herself most likely wears jeans in the higher teens, and responded by saying, "I don't know what I'll do when I get married. I'll probably just have a dress made." Which, of course, I think is patently unfair. In today's society - and until we all get a handle on our weight - the average-sized woman isn't a 10. If you're only going to offer limited sizes, then have 10s and then have 18s or 20s. That way, a woman who's a 12, 14 or 16 can try on a wedding dress and get a sense of how it will look on her and not have to feel like a huge cow when making a decision on an $800 dress.

So even though I'm striving to be a size 10 on November 10, I wouldn't give my money to that store or any store like it. Solidarity with my plus-sized sisters!

Kiki birds

2006-02-19T06:12:00.000-07:00

It's 12 degrees today. When it's this cold, I'm always reminded of something funny my dad said when he came up to DC to spend Christmas with me after my mom died (which was also his last one).

It was really f'ing cold that year and as we walked outside one day he said, "Do you hear those kiki birds?"

"Kiki birds? No. What are those?"

"Those are the birds that go, 'kee-kee-kee-rice-st it's cold outside!'"

Part of it was his delivery, which of course is lost forever, but I still giggle whenever I think about that.

Showgirls

2006-02-19T05:33:00.000-07:00

Somehow, I've come this far in life without ever having seen "Showgirls". It's on the Logo Channel right now and, like a horrific car accident, I cannot peel my eyes away. It is the most horrible thing I have ever watched.

Wow. How does shit like this get made? When I think about how much talent must exist in the world of moviemaking, it actually makes me a little pissed that something like this got funded. Absolute shit.

My girls

2006-02-19T05:22:00.000-07:00

(Occasionally I refer to my breasts as "my girls" so I want to be clear that, for this posting, I am not.)

As I mentioned yesterday, Shelley and I are going wedding dress shopping today. Last night, she suggested that we go for some sort of celebratory drink beforehand. "Not beers," she said. "Champagne."

Anyway, it's now turned into a gathering of two other of my girlfriends, Shelley and me. They're coming over to my house for brunch and champagne before Shel and I head out. It sounds so glittery and light. Considering that I almost didn't ask her if she wanted to do this with me today because I felt like it would be such an inconvenience, I can't help but be touched by how she wants to make it into a little bit of a party. It is such a great idea and so sweet and I am once again grateful for her for helping me remember that this is a celebration and that people want to be a part of it.

Something may not be up

2006-02-18T06:31:00.000-07:00

Apparently, he really does just want to hike the Billy Goat Trail. I think we're going today.

Oy.

When your family lets you down, drink

2006-02-18T06:13:00.000-07:00

My mood did not improve throughout the day yesterday.

When I called Shelley in the morning to tell her about my exchanges with my aunts, she just sighed and said, "As if you needed another reminder that your mother isn't here." It was nice to hear her say that because that was truly at the very root of it all for me and to have her 1) recognize that in an instant and 2) sympathize was just so nice.

We're going wedding dress shopping on Sunday. I thought that might cheer me up and also keep me from falling off the wagon because all of this emotion has me making several trips to the fridge.

I got home last night and just decided that I was going to drink a lot of wine. So G and I sat on our new awesome couch that just got delivered and I drank wine and cried my eyes out for about an hour and then I told him funny stories about my parents for a little while and then I tried to teach him all I've learned in salsa class. That was funny in and of itself because starters, I ain't no salsa expert and secondly, by this point I was fairly inebriated.

Also at some point during the evening, we called his parents and reiterated how wonderful they are and how much we love them. His mother told us about how she's looking forward to going to New York City to go shopping for a dress for her to wear to the wedding.

I wish I could disinvite my family and just have his there. I'd still have all my friends - all of whom are f'ing rock stars. That's what I am going to focus on today. I may have lost two of the most wonderful people in the world when my parents died; two people who thought I was about the best thing since sliced bread. And even though almost every surviving member of my family is an a'hole, the fates have given me incredible friends and an incredible boyfriend who has an incredible family. I am blessed.

Speaking of managing expectations....

2006-02-16T20:40:00.000-07:00

Why do I consistently manage to get my feelings hurt by my family? When am I going to learn?

Absolutely everyone that I speak to who is invited to the wedding is unabashedly excited about it and everyone wants to do what they can to help...they say the nicest things...they make me feel so supported.

My grandmother I can write off pretty much. I've written her off the past couple of years anyway and the only thing I expect from her is that she will say or do something that attempts to focus the spotlight squarely back on her. But one of my aunts...why I think that I've got this support system in place with her when she has never once proven herself to be there...I mean, what am I thinking?

The worst thing about this feeling is that it always makes me miss my mom so much I want to hit something. I hate just about anything that brings that feeling back, you know? It's like I get through each day functioning around the hole and can even learn to live with the hole, maybe even patch over the hole with happy feelings and memories and then WHAM! I am reminded of what I am missing.

Ah, what I am missing. I miss looking at her. I miss her voice. I miss burying my head into her neck. I miss the odd little language we used to speak to each other when we were trying to make the other laugh.

I know that there are other women who go through the wedding planning process without their moms either because of death or estrangement, so I don't think I'm unique in this but honestly my mother was born for the role of Mother of the Bride. She would be here if she could. It is times like this that I feel robbed. I feel angry. I feel sorry for myself.

Ugh.

Sorry. I know this isn't a pretty sight. What started it is the decision that G and I made recently to go down to Miami in July to see family and maybe go diving for a few days in Key Largo. I called my aunts and asked if it would be possible if we had a small get-together in one of their houses for the South Florida contingent of wedding invitees, maybe about 12 people. Most of them still have never met G.

I felt immediately like I'd overstepped some huge boundaries by asking. I wish now that I'd never done it. I don't know, maybe it was asking too much. But I stated that we would pay for everything and even do all the necessary pre- and post-clean up. It wasn't like I was asking some strangers, I was asking my two closest living relatives, for crying out loud.

One aunt responded that she thought the other aunt's house was better. It is. It's bigger and it has a nice pool in the backyard. That aunt flat-out said no and pretty much lectured me on how much of a huge inconvenience the whole thing would be. Note to aunt: a simple no would suffice; you don't have to make me feel like more of an a'hole than I already do. So of course, I don't want to now go back to the other aunt and say, "The other said no, so can we do it at your house?" since I feel like she kind of pawned me off to begin with.

So I just emailed a friend of mine and asked her for bar recommendations where we could perhaps just do a casual stand-around in public. Although, frankly, I'd rather say screw it and just spend the whole time under water in Key Largo.

This just once again makes me love my future in-laws about a thousand times more than I already do. I am so grateful, for the sake of the children I might someday have, that they will have at least a fighting chance at being normal, uncomplicated, unconditionally-loving humans.

Something is definitely up

2006-02-16T04:04:00.000-07:00

Evidence

As a joke, I gave him a book called "The Idiot's Guide to Being a Groom" for Christmas. He's been reading it lately.
I've been barred from his office a few times in recent days until he is able to close whatever document, email, whatever, he's been looking at. (Note to self: this may also be evidence he's having an affair.)
This is the biggest of all. Next Friday is his birthday. Over a week ago, he asked if I wanted to take the day off from work to go hiking on the Billy Goat Trail, which is this cool hike just outside of DC. It was what we did on our first date. In nice weather, it's hard to keep me off the Billy Goat Trail (which he knows), but I can rarely get him to go with me (like pulling teeth). I find it suspicious that he knows two weeks in advance that, of all the things he can do on his birthday, that's the one thing he knows for sure that he'll want to do.

So I've been wrong every time throughout this debacle so I'm not betting any money. I am also working overtime to manage expectations in the likely chance that I am, in fact, wrong so that as we're walking back to the car after the hike and there has been no proposal, I don't flop down on the road and throw a temper tantrum. (I'm kidding. I wouldn't do that - the road is dirty.)

Strung out

2006-02-14T04:22:00.000-07:00

For some reason, things are not quite working the way they should in my body right now.

One's...gross. I won't go into. Unpleasant and I want it to end. Period.

The other is the fact that I haven't had a full night's sleep in weeks. I mean, as I sit here at the computer, looking up and biting my lip in concentration, I can only guess that maybe it was...New Year's Eve? That was the day that I slept and slept and slept.

I fall asleep early and then wake up at 1:00 or 2:00 and I'm just up. It's been great for going to the gym because finally at 5:30, I figure I've got something I can go do.

Alas, I am so tired that I think I can actually feel the blood rushing through my veins at this very moment.

I've got a doctor's appointment today to address both issues. I'm going to beg for a prescription for Ambien or something like it. That is, if I haven't burst into tears before I even have to ask. Hopefully they'll both start to work themselves out.

Happy f'ing Valentine's Day. I feel that I should disclose that I totally bought G a stuffed dragon from the Hallmark store that sings that song, "CU-pid! Draw back your booooow and let your arrow goooo..." As he does this, his wings flutter. Or maybe it's an alligator with wings. Whatever. It was so kitschy, I had to do it.

I dreamt about the ring

2006-02-12T07:45:00.000-07:00

It was a nightmare actually because that thing was f'ing hideous. It was so big that it actually covered my entire ring finger and the two fingers on either side. It had a chain hooked from it that went around my neck and it looked kind of medallion-y. Like he'd taken an old boy scout medal and put a couple of diamonds on it.

Oh god.

I think I may have actually gasped awake and, ohhh, that feeling of relief that swept over me when I realized I was dreaming - it was beautiful.

I guess this means I'm worried that I won't like the ring (when it eventually gets here) but I swear I don't consciously worry at all. I have faith in him and in Shelley, who's helping him.

Maybe I do worry a little bit.

Just a tad.

Yay! Snow!

2006-02-10T18:31:00.000-07:00

We're finally getting snow! The area is expecting about three to six inches tomorrow. Not much for folks used to this sort of thing, but this Florida girl loves it!

What was that REALLY about?

2006-02-09T04:50:00.000-07:00

It wasn't a fight...or even an argument. It was a heated discussion.

This is what I think it was about:

Background
I make jokes that I'm doing Weight Watchers because I want to fit in a size 10 wedding dress. While it's true that that is my main motivation, the secondary motivation (which should be primary...sue me) is that I know what fat can do to a body. I work for an organization that is trying to get everyone in this country to recognize that we all must get healthier.

For G and me, I want us to figure out our food issues, resolve them and be healthy-living folks before we start having kids so we can raise healthy, active little people.

I've been the one leading the charge for our recent weight loss efforts. I'm trying not to push too much because I can't force the guy to eat better any more than he can force me. And if either of us pushes too much, it really pisses the other off.

It has been going well. G's the primary cook in our relationship and he is careful to make things that are healthy and tasty. Still, I'll occasionally send him a new recipe I find on the WW web site in order to change things up and try new stuff. Usually he ignores them because he absolutely loathes anything that is labeled "fat free": cheese, sour cream, whipped cream, milk, butter, etc. He's a little bit of a purist when it comes to cooking and says that the absence of fat makes things cook differently and that fat-free foods are full of chemicals. (For the record, I say how much worse can the chemicals be - if in fact there are any - than the artery clogging shit the other stuff has.)

And lately, I think he's been falling off the wagon. When we do not have dinner together, he usually orders Thai delivery which is awful. I don't know what he does for lunch, but for the past month, he hasn't dropped any more weight, even though he started off really strong in December (he lost 10 pounds over the holidays).

What started it
My cousin and her husband are coming over for dinner on Saturday night.

We had mutually agreed to make tilapia as the main course, which in and of itself is a pretty healthy dish. I found a tilapia recipe on WW and emailed it to him. He acknowledged it but said he wanted to look in our Cooking Light magazines for something else.

Well, I love me some Cooking Light but it ain't Weight Watchers. The way I see Cooking Light is it has recipes that should be the worst we ever do. Like, when it's time to indulge, let's see what CL has.

So things were starting to get a little tense when...

I had to bring up dessert
I found a creme brulee recipe on WW that was 5 points (full fat creme brulee is about 11 points). He then decided that he wanted to make a creme brulee from a recipe he had, serve it to the whole crowd but make me my own separate WW one.

Why this bothers me
I know it seems like that should be a good solution, but I will come back to the issue that I feel that we both need to shift our entire way of thinking about food. The way I see his actions makes me think that he views our current situation as temporary; he needs to make temporary concessions to my weight loss efforts but after the wedding we can go back to eating like we only want to live until 50. However, I want him to start to think like this: "How can I still eat the dishes I like without all the calories and fat?" And I want him to think like this for the rest of our lives.

Why this bothers him
He doesn't understand how making a full fat creme brulee is any different than occasionally eating a cheeseburger; it's an occasional indulgence. Plus, he feels that I haven't given him enough credit for coming as far as he has in the way he deals with food. My response to that was to say that occasionally craving a cheeseburger might have more to do with needing some extra protein and so you just have half the cheeseburger. "So have half the creme brulee," he said.

Argh! Who wants half a full fat creme brulee when I can have whole WW creme brulee?
That was the question I asked that finally helped me see what we were fighting about. He wants the full fat and is willing to eat less of it and I want as much food as I can possibly stuff into my mouth, so it better be low in points.

I'm not sure if we resolved it or not. But at least we f'ing stopped talking about creme brulee.

Where do we go from here?
I'm not entirely sure. I am thinking more and more that I should wrestle the cooking duties away from him, which he might relish in the beginning, but he really likes to cook so it will literally be a matter of days before he starts trying to take over. Like, if I suggested that I'll do all the cooking on Saturday, a whole new fight would start. It's his thing. He likes to show off. He's good at it, too. I just wish that I could show him that a person who can cook delicious stuff that isn't too awful for the body can reach rock star status.

Baggage

2006-02-06T04:48:00.000-07:00

He gave me baggage for my birthday. In more ways than one.

I went up to New York on Friday for the weekend with a friend of mine. Everytime I take short trips, I use this one particular roller suitcase of his that is just a little bit bigger than the one I have. So when I returned home yesterday, he gave me my own suitcase just like his for my birthday. Inside it was a matching overnight/toiletries bag.

It's really lovely and thoughtful and you know, if I didn't have something else in the back of my mind as a possible birthday present, I would have been wild about it. Plus I know he put some thought into it so I tried to be really enthusiastic in my, "I LOVE IT!" Because I am grateful for it and I do love it and I love him for thinking it up - it is merely a victim of an expectations game. Because I was also thinking, "When the FRANK am I getting the other thing????" If you'll remember, it was over four weeks ago that he said it would take four weeks.

Can you imagine the noise inside my head right now?

I mean, I'm trying not to talk about it, write about it, think about it - and I haven't had a dream about it in months. But come on. People! Thanksgiving passed, Christmas passed, New Year's passed and now my birthday has passed. Valentine's Day? Maybe, but it seems a little too obvious for him.

Oh. My. God.

So as I'm in the middle of giving him many kisses for my gorgeous matching luggage set, he says, "Sorry it took so long."

I opened my eyes and looked at him and said, "Sorry the luggage took so long?" And he looked slightly confused and said, "Well, yeah, I didn't have it for you on your birthday."

(Seriously, babe, the delay in getting my luggage was the LAST thing on my mind.)

"Whatever, babe! You were busy last week! It's fine. I LOVE IT!"

I think my hair is on fire.

Ouch.

2006-02-03T05:01:00.000-07:00

Our travel coordinator booked our flights to St. Lucia yesterday! Sadly, only one of the tickets could be purchased with my frequent flyer miles, the other was full fare. But hey, we still saved $600 and I still have 30,000 to go somewhere with!

Here's the painful part: our flight leaves National Airport at 6:05 AM.

Whatever, though. I'm going to so excited, I won't be able to sleep a wink anyway. Woohoo!

Funniest birthday message received so far today

2006-02-02T09:58:00.000-07:00

From a guy I've been friends with since I was 15:

SUBJECT: Happy Birthday!

You brand new 34 year old you.

I was thinking how cool you must have thought it was when you turned 16 before the rest of us and got your bitchin K car to drive me and Kyle in. Now it’s not so cool to get older huh?
Have a happy birthday.

-M

What's that creakin? Oh, it's my knees.

2006-02-02T05:25:00.000-07:00

Groan.

Really, groan.

This one sucks. This one really, really sucks.

When Shelley turned 34 a few months ago, she was really down about it and I kept reassuring her that her life wasn't over. She was all, "Get me some prunes!" and I was all, "No, here, sing along with me to a 50 Cent song!"

Now I get it and I should have kept my mouth shut.

G came up to me last night as I was washing my face (and applying an extra dollop of Clinique "Repairwear" night cream), "You seem down. Are you really upset about your birthday?"

"What's not to be upset about?" I asked. "I'm 34; I'm unmarried - an old maid, a spinster. Childless." At this point I started laughing because I was trying to sound ridiculous on purpose but, honestly, I was only half joking.

This morning, I went to the gym for my 60 minute training walk and tried to forget about it. But all the f'ing televisions were set to different news stations and they were all covering Punxsutawney Phil so I couldn't get away from the fact that today is my birthday and I'm not really crazy about it. I mean, look at the blog's sub-headline, for chrisssakes! I am now - at least for the next three weeks - EIGHT f'ing years older than my boyfriend. My boyfriend, who hasn't even started to break a sweat about 30!!!! ARGH!!!

I know this will pass. It's going to have to. I'm younger today than I ever will be again. I may as well revel in it.

Fucking fuck.

My D karma is good

2006-02-01T05:02:00.000-07:00

My sister-in-law (brother's wife) likes to forward emails. You know, "send this to 10 beautiful women in the next five minutes or a bird will shit on your head" kind of stuff. Delete. Delete. Delete.

Well, she sent this around last night:

Anyone remember this??

It was 1987! At a lecture the other day they were playing an old news video of Lt.Col. Oliver North testifying at the Iran-Contra hearings during the Reagan Administration.

There was Ollie in front of God and country getting the third degree, but what he said was stunning!

He was being drilled by a senator; "Did you not recently spend close to $60,000 for a home security system?"

Ollie replied, "Yes, I did, Sir."

The senator continued, trying to get a laugh out of the audience, "Isn't that just a little excessive?"

"No, sir," continued Ollie.

"No? And why not?" the senator asked.

"Because the lives of my family and I were threatened, sir."

"Threatened? By whom?" the senator questioned.

"By a terrorist, sir" Ollie answered.

"Terrorist? What terrorist could possibly scare you that much?"

"His name is Osama bin Laden, sir" Ollie replied.

At this point the senator tried to repeat the name, but couldn't pronounce it, which most people back then probably couldn't. A couple of people laughed at the attempt. Then the senator continued. Why are you so afraid of this man?" the senator asked.

"Because, sir, he is the most evil person alive that I know of", Ollie answered.

"And what do you recommend we do about him?" asked the senator.

"Well, sir, if it was up to me, I would recommend that an assassin team be formed to eliminate him and his men from the face of the earth."

The senator disagreed with this approach, and that was all that was shown of the clip.

By the way, that senator was Al Gore!

Well, this just flat out didn't happen. Common sense told me that. I didn't remember that exact part in the North hearings, which, by the way, I totally watched (I was a DC dork before I even got here). But I know that that clip would have been all over the f'ing television in the weeks after the first WTC attack in 1993, much less the second in 2001. So I replied to all, "I wouldn't be a good liberal if I let this go. This didn't happen. And Al Gore wasn't even at the North hearings." And I attached two different links that backed me up.

Common sense is all I ask if you're going to forward shit to me. And if you don't have that, how 'bout a trip to Google just to check?

Anyhoo, I got this back:
"Sorry if I offended you."

Then I got another one from a friend of hers this morning:
"Thank you. I like it when the truth is heard."

It's funny, because I really like her, but she forwards some pretty right-wing emails to me and I'm like, "Hello? You really wanna go at this? I DO THIS FOR A LIVING." Usually, I ignore them but this one, I simply could not. I can't stand it when bullshit spreads.

Inconsiderate girlfriend

2006-01-31T16:33:00.000-07:00

I think I just let my boyfriend down a little bit.

Thursday is my birthday. Thursday night, friends are coming over. This was decided about two weeks ago when I could tell my boyfriend wasn't making plans for my birthday so I said, "What are we doing for my birthday?" He suggested a restaurant. Not great for a girl watching her weight. Plus I'm going up to New York for the weekend to see "The Color Purple" on Broadway and I know it's going to be hard to stay on plan. So I searched for another option. "Let's have people over and we can make burrito fixins [which are so easy to make WW friendly]." So he said okay and that he would send out the email inviting everyone. But then it took him three days to do that until I said, "Do you want me to send out the email?" And then he finally did. So now people are coming over on Thursday and the house needs straightening up, of course, because we're slobs. We made plans to do that tonight. Except now he's working until at least 7:30 and won't be home until after 8:00. So he suggested I just get started. Cleaning the house for my birthday party that I had to think of and force him to invite people to.

So when he said he had to work late, I half-jokingly said something sarcastic, only I can't remember now what it was, and he said, "You know, it really makes me feel great when you're so supportive." Which made me feel bad. Because the reason he's working late and the reason he's been distracted is that he's got school, work and about 35 freelance web design jobs going on right now.

I'm an a-hole. And now I'm going to go clean the bathroom.

Walking towards a size 10 wedding dress

2006-01-31T07:44:00.000-07:00

January's progress report
Weight lost this month: 8 pounds
Weight lost since Thanksgiving: 11 pounds
Activity points earned (how Weight Watchers counts exercise): 43

Since my goal is to average about eight pounds a month from now until November, I'm obviously pleased at my January performance. My activity points need to increase though. I really should be getting about at least 15 a week, but preferably about 20 per week.

And here's how I'm going to do that. Yesterday, I signed up for the Avon Walk for Breast Cancer. It's a two-day walk on April 29th and 30th. The route is 39 miles but I've committed to walking a marathon distance over those two days, 26.2. I would commit to more but I strained my Achilles in late 2004 when I was training for the Disney Marathon which sidelined me for three months. I know I can walk/run five miles without it hurting, but I haven't really trained for anything farther than that since I injured it and the times when I have gotten a little exercise crazy, my Achilles lets me know it.

So I bought new sneaks yesterday and had inserts put in which will help and I have a brace that I can wear that supports my ankle. I'm going to approach training for this like I would a marathon: two mid-week walking days of 60 minutes each and a long training walk on the weekend, with my longest training walk being 13 miles. I'm supposed to throw in two days per week of cross-training in there as well - and I plan to occasionally - but I know myself and four days a week of exercise is about all I can tolerate, temperment-wise. I just get sick of it.

The hard part is going to be raising the $2000 that I committed to raising. Oy. That's A LOT of money. I've done it before, though. I raised $4500 for diabetes research when I ran the Dublin Marathon in 2001 - but my mom had died of diabetes just 18 months prior. People would have been a-holes if they hadn't given me money. (That's a joke, by the way; no one's an a-hole for not giving to my particular charity.) I'm going to have to come up with some fundraisers between now and then.

So this morning, I headed to the gym for my first training walk. I had G put new songs on my MP3 player last night and I found it very difficult to not dance on the treadmill and sing out loud. Especially during "Golddigger". I will admit right here and now that I have a huge crush on Kanye West with his cute little buck teeth and his preppy clothes. It would horrify him, I'm sure, to see this mid-30s white chick gushing all about him, but it's not my fault; he shouldn't be so f'ing adorable. Ooh, and that time a few weeks ago when he sang that "Hey Mama" song to his mother on Oprah. Good god. I may have started ovulating.

But anyway, I'm on the treadmill fighting the urge to not do that backwards thrust he does in his video and it was ALL I could do to not yell out, "WE WANT PRE-NUP! WE WANT PRE-NUP!" I did, however, sing softly out loud, "He'll leave your ass for a white girl," but I don't think anyone heard me.

After that, "Darling Nikki" came on, which, c'mon, was Prince's finest work. Even though I do love the newer version by the Foo Fighters and my boyfriend Dave Grohl, Prince is the Master of Dirty although he refuses to sing that song anymore since he became a Jehovah's Witness. Sad.

True story: You know how that was the song that spurred Tipper Gore to go after the record industry in the late 80s? She heard one of her daughters - Karenna maybe? - singing it in the house ("met her in a hotel lobby masturbating with a magazine") and completely flipped out. Same thing happened in mine. I was walking through the kitchen singing the exact same line and my mother said, "Hang on. What did you say?" Of course, she didn't then demand a congressional hearing or anything (although if it would have made me clean my room, she would have considered it), she just shook her head and probably wondered how much her daughter would end up charging.

Anyway, back to "Darling Nikki" and the treadmill. I almost, almost, did a little grind while I walked. But again, did not. You can ALL be grateful for that.

Bursting into tears in the middle of the Patriot Center

2006-01-30T15:41:00.000-07:00

Shelley and I finally made it to a bridal expo yesterday. Highlights:

The woman at David's Bridal who tried to convince me that I should buy my dress from her shop (in Springfield, VA) versus the one in Woodbridge, VA, where I went a few weeks ago. This is despite the fact that the Springfield shop didn't return either of my phone calls requesting an appointment. She then told me that I needed to buy my dress right now in order for it to be ready by November 10th. And she delivered all of this information in the snottiest tone of voice that I've experienced in a loooong time. And I work in Washington, DC, so that's saying a lot.
I found a company called Caribbean Caterers that we may use for the back home reception. They had yummy samples.
I was given a "Bride To Be" button and was encouraged to wear it. I didn't because that seemed a little sad, although I will wear it to our engagement party because I think that's a little funny. When they handed it to me, I held it up to Shelley, tapped on it with my forefinger and said, "Don't you forget it, missy!"
Somewhere in between a deejay exhibitor and a cake exhibitor, I burst into tears because I was there with my best friend in the world and it's just another step in our lives that we're taking together.
I learned that one should never try a sample piece of wedding cake that is pistachio flavored. It's pretty horrendous tasting, even if you love pistachios more than you love your boyfriend and your two cats combined.
I learned that women modeling wedding dresses at bridal expos wear stripper shoes.
I came across an exhibitor who does those at-home sex toy parties. I've got one planned for April and I've already invited about 20 of my girlfriends and informed my boyfriend to stay far away from the house that night because they would be mortified if they knew he was anywhere around.

Missed opportunity

2006-01-30T04:46:00.000-07:00

So I have chronicled how G's mom and I continue to get closer in our relationship (see here and here).

She is in the midst of making the travel plans for she and G's dad and G's brother and sister-in-law, so we've been emailing a little about that. I had an idea for the rehearsal dinner (the pig roast on the beach): getting a traditional St. Lucian chak-chak band to play at it. Since G's parents are hosting it, I wanted to find out if she liked that idea (which she did), so we emailed about that. Etc, etc. She wants to be a part of the planning but she isn't pushy about it. She's so great. I just love her.

Which is what this posting is all about. I've been sloooowly trying to add the signatory, "Love, CB" into my emails as has she. But we haven't actually said it to each other.

My birthday is this week and last Friday, I got a card from them with a check in it (which made me feel like I was 12 a little, which was perfectly fine). So I called her last night and spoke for a few minutes with her. At the end, it was one of those end-of-the-phone-call rushes to get out, "Okay, I'll talk to you soon. Take care." Except she then added, "Love ya."

Well, I froze. Positively froze. I said, "Okay, take care. Bye-bye," and hung up.

I sat grimacing at the phone for about 10 seconds and G finally said, "What?" and I said, "Ooh, I fucked that up."

"What happened?"

"Oh, god, your mother finally told me she loved me and I didn't say it back!" I started to get a little worked up. I mean, not really worked up, just angry at myself.

"It's okay, baby," he said.

"No, no, no! It's a big deal. It was a big deal for her to say it and I just froze!"

He kissed my hand and he said, "She knows you feel it even if you didn't say it back." Which of course isn't good enough for me. I contemplated calling her back and launching into a whole horribly awkward, "Listen, back a few minutes ago when you said, 'love ya', I should have said, 'love ya' back and I don't know why I didn't. Because I definitely do love ya. So I'm sorry about that. But I'm glad we talked. Okay! Talk to you soon. Take care. Love ya."

But I didn't, for which I am thankful this morning.

So now I have to plan our next phone call together and how I'm just going to say it. Or maybe, since I'm an awkward talker but a pretty good note-writer, maybe I'll write her a note saying it. Like, really laying it out. Turn-on-the-waterworks kind of thing.

Ahhh! Why did I have to freeze? What if I embarassed her by freezing? Oh, I'd be so embarassed if I told someone I loved them and they were all, "Okay! Bye!" back to me.

Ooh, I could just kick myself.

Because everybody likes to say, "Sahl-sah!"

2006-01-27T18:28:00.000-07:00

I've started salsa lessons.

So I've only had one lesson, but I think I've got real potential. I think I may have a career in salsa dancing ahead of me. That's what the instructor told me.

Okay, he actually told me, "You're really getting a hang of it!" At another point, he used me as his partner to show the rest of the class a particular move and he called me his "talent." Tee hee. I wanted to say that spending the first 18 years of my life in Miami finally got me something good. But I didn't. Just in case maybe he liked Miami.

G is not taking these lessons with me. I told him last night that he was in big trouble because I'm really going to want him to learn how to dance with me. Otherwise, he's going to have to be okay with me going out salsa dancing without him. Although, the one thing I've always enjoyed about going salsa dancing is that the men truly just want to dance with you. It's the Latin version of going to a two-step bar. Or the straight version of a gay bar.

Yes, I've gone salsa dancing before without lessons. It was shameful. I had no idea what I was doing and, I know now, stepping forward on three when it should have been on two. Disgusting.

My problem with bridesmaids dresses

2006-01-25T17:58:00.000-07:00

I've finally figured out how to put it into words.

When I was at David's Bridal last week, they gave me a bag of "goodies", which was nothing more than catalogs of more stuff I could buy from them in addition to a free Pria bar. Ew. Thanks.

So I'm looking through the catalog of bridesmaids' dresses and I'm thinking, "Ooh, that's nice," or "That coordinates well", etc, etc.

Then I looked at the dresses as if I was the one being asked to wear them and it all turned sour. Like, you know in those old variety shows the sound effect it would make when something wilted? That noise went off in my head.

This is my problem: bridesmaids' dresses are so inward looking. All the dress focuses on is that one day and, singularly, the bride. The dress is supposed to play second fiddle to the wedding gown and by implication, the bridesmaid is supposed to play second fiddle to the bride. The dress, as a stand-alone dress, is ugly. It's sole purpose is to exist for that one day.

I just think that's rude.

Why in the world would I want Shelley in a dress that she doesn't like, that is less comfortable than what the rest of my guests get to wear and that, frankly, exists just to frame me in photos? And I don't need to put her in some ugly tea-length contraption to set me apart; I'll be the one in white.

I think that if every bride would approach the selection of their bridesmaids' dresses as if she would need to wear it out to a fancy party, then maybe we'd have more satisfied bridesmaids in the world. We'd certainly have less of a rip-off bridal industry, and that can't be a bad thing.

Grow, dammit, grow!

2006-01-24T20:09:00.000-07:00

Last summer, I had the cutest little pixie hair cut. I'd wear it a little spiky, maybe bobby pin a chunk on one side. I loved it. Loved it, loved it.

I decided around July to start growing it out for the wedding. You know, the wedding that at that time was 17 months away. I thought for sure that by the time it rolled around, I'd be in the Crystal Gayle range.

Alas, with a mere 10 months away, I still have what would be considered a short hair cut, although the fact that I can almost pull it into a ponytail is amazing to me. My hairdresser, bless her, is helping me out by giving me slight trims on the bottom as the top grows out so that I don't, in her words, "Grow a mullet."

I hate it. I have middle-aged, soccer mom hair. No offense to soccer moms, but you guys know what I'm talking about and - admit it - you're not happy about it either. Worse, since the top is growing out, it "feathers", you know like in the 80s? M'er f'er, I couldn't get my hair to do that when I was 12 and my social life literally depended on it but today I look at myself in the mirror I and see Jo from "The Facts of Life". The hair gods do exist and they have it out for me.

I'm taking a woman's multi-vitamin because one person recommended I take pre-natal vitamins because that makes hair grow but then someone else said that I just needed an extra dose of folic acid, which could be found in a woman's vitamin without the cost and akwardness of asking for pre-natal vitamins from my pharmacist. Oh, and sure, it's probably good for the rest of my body as well.

I read in this month's In Style Weddings (which remind me to NEVER purchase ever again) that hair grows about a half-inch per month, which means that I'll get another five inches by the time this thing happens. Which is still just chin length.

Harrumph.

Matters of opinion

2006-01-24T03:40:00.000-07:00

As the look and shape of our wedding develops, I'm enjoying talking to other women about their plans. What I am learning - which I guess won't be any surprise to those of you who've gone before - is that every wedding is as different as the people planning it and every person thinks they have the best idea.

Case in point: the woman who gave me my body wrap and massage the other day is getting married this October. Large-ish wedding in Richmond, 200 guests. When I told her that we were getting married in St. Lucia with about 25 people, I could tell (or at least perceived) that she was thinking that that sounded like the worst idea ever. Of course, a 200-person guest list sounds a little like the 7th level of hell for me, so I didn't take it personally. She was very polite, but said something like, "Well, we couldn't do something like that. My grandmother wouldn't be able to make the trip." Apparently her grandmother has told her that her wedding is the only reason she's still hanging on to this world. I said, "Jeez, Grandma! A little pressure!" but I don't think she liked that. I was just trying to be funny and maybe lighten the mood a little. Yikes.

I neglected to mention to her that G's grandmother isn't making the trip (and that fact hasn't slowed us down a bit) and that my grandmother is making the trip but is bitching about it every step of the way and I have half a mind to tell her to stay home. My massage therapist is probably a nicer person than we are.

Anyway, point being, I think we both got a little defensive. I mean, at first I thought she was the only one getting defensive. Until I wrote that last paragraph.

I think it's good that weddings are as individual as the people in them. We need more variety in this world.

My rock star boyfriend

2006-01-22T17:51:00.000-07:00

I got my spa day today, the one that G gave me for Christmas. It entailed a body wrap, one-hour massage, lunch, hand and foot treatment (a manicure and pedicure without the paint) and a facial.

I am exfoliated, lubed up and happy!

The woman giving me my hand and foot treatment asked me if I was there for a special occasion. When I told her it was a gift from my boyfriend, she said, "Wow! You better marry that guy!" and I told her that I was.

Give it to me long and ivory

2006-01-22T07:18:00.000-07:00

I had my day at David's Bridal on Friday. I had so much fun!!! I honestly did not think that it would go so well and that I would enjoy myself as much as I did.

First, you know, I was terrified that they'd have nothing that fit me or that what they'd have would make me just look like a fat girl in a wedding dress. I mean, you just hear horror stories about how 1) they only have size 10s in stock and 2) size 10 in a wedding dress is a size 6 in the real world. So I've got it in my head that the saleswoman's going to have to head in back and find the last, remaining gargantuan size 32 so that I can at least put some organza contraption on and pretend.

My fears were quickly put to rest. Starters, they have sizes larger than 10 and I am merely a 16. Phew. Even better, though, was that - despite the double digits - I think I really looked nice in the dresses. I feel comfortable knowing that if the wedding were held next week, I would still be a pretty bride. Give me another four months to lose weight and watch out!

I told the saleswoman that I'm having a destination wedding and was more interested in dresses in their Galina line because they're more appropriate for that setting but that I still wanted to try on the frouncy, fluffy dresses because, f'ing A, man I'm only doing this once! Give me the ball gowns, too!

So she did. Sigh...

My friend Heather came with me with her two sons, one who is 3 and one who is about 10 months. The three year-old, upon seeing me in this, told me that I looked like a princess. Little puddinhead.

Ultimately, though, I knew that the Galinas are the way I'm going to end up going because they don't require I wear petticoats underneath, which were hot hot hot when I was standing in a controlled climate. I'd be miserable in the Caribbean.

This one is the one I loved the most. I head back in May.

Niece of Bill W's

2006-01-20T06:37:00.000-07:00

I come from a family of alcoholics. Both of my mother's sisters and my grandmother are in AA. My mother and my grandfather were not alcoholics. I've come to the conclusion (with help from therapy) that that is the one benefit of her diabetes - that somehow the fact that my mom had one chronic disease saved her from the other. My grandfather, however, was a CLASSIC enabler. After he and my grandmother divorced in the 50s, he married two more alcoholics before he passed away in 1990. There are other extended family members who I think are still drinking, which makes me sad for them and makes me scared of them, too.

I've told G some stories about being a child around my grandmother while she was drinking that have utterly floored him. They're not pretty and I don't tell him everything because I don't want him to hate her because of them. He can go ahead and hate her because she was an asshole to me while my mother was dying (she was sober then), but not because when I was 10, I had to carry her back to our hotel in Puerto Villarta, Mexico, from the bar we'd been at together. That one she couldn't help.

Uncontrolled drinking scares me. I've had family members try to stick their tongues down my throat, call me horrendous names ("selfish bitch") and accuse me of horrible things ("you're trying to ruin my life") when they'd been drinking. When I see people in that stage - one particular friend I've got my eye on right now as maybe having a problem - even if they are not looking at me or talking to me, I feel myself tense up and prepare for some kind of fight.

There's a difference, in my mind, between the stereotypical drunk kid and the drunk alcoholic. Drunk alcoholics are quieter. You almost don't know they're drunk until you look in their eyes or hear them speak. It feels more sinister to me because it isn't so obvious. That isn't to say the other type isn't alcoholic - maybe is, maybe isn't - that just wasn't what I experienced growing up.

I just finished reading A Million Little Pieces. Great book; the controversy surrounding it in my opinion is irrelevent. In it, he mentions the statistic that only about 15 percent of people who try to get sober stay sober. This amazed me because it means that somehow my aunts and my grandmother are truly defying the odds. I said something about that to one of my aunts a few weeks ago and she agreed it is pretty astounding. Even more astounding to her is that they all became sober at around the same time in completely different parts of the country.

I was 17 when that happened and I guess I always thought they had a little family meeting and said, "I'll go if you go." But it didn't happen that way at all. They all hit bottom at about the same time, they all started recovery at about the same time and they have all managed to keep going for 17 years now.

You know, I don't give them enough credit. I don't ever think, when they are driving me up a wall, "They are doing the very best they can right now." And they really are. I mean, if my mom could see her sisters now, she'd be so proud of them. Both own their own businesses, both are sober and both are as present in their relationships as they can be (even though they aren't speaking to each other right now; that will pass). My grandmother...sigh...that will always be a tough one for me. She was really, really awful to me during the very worst period of my life and in the years after. She's making an effort right now to be loving and supportive - I can see how hard of a job that is for her - and I am trying to reciprocate. But it's tough, man.

A few weeks ago, one of my aunts was flying to New York. As she waited at her gate, there was an annoucement over the PA, "Could a friend of Bill W's please report to the ticket counter." Being a friend of Bill W's is code for being in AA. She thought, "I couldn't have heard that right, could I?" but went up to the counter anyway. When she got there, she found a man who was straight out of a treatment center, on his way home, wanting to go to the bar next to the gate because he'd gotten drunk there on his way down a month prior. She sat with him before their flight, they sat together on the flight and she just listened to him and talked with him for about three hours straight.

That story amazed me. I said to her, "You know, you were his angel. You might have saved his life." She seemed to shrug it off; just said she was glad she was there to hear the announcement. Meanwhile, I'm stilled floored by it. I'm still amazed at this incredible support network that has stood the test of time and is saving lives everyday. It's truly remarkable.

Ugh! Pink eye!

2006-01-19T17:01:00.000-07:00

I get conjunctivitis all the freaking time - mainly because of allergies but also because I like to make out with 15 year olds.

Ha ha. That's...not...funny.

Anyway, I went to the restroom this morning at work and as I was washing my hands, I looked in the mirror and was all, "What the...?" Normally I can tell when it's coming on but today I had no idea until I saw the two red orbs glowing hot like coals peering back at myself. I look like a leper.

It's absolutely miserable. The only thing I can think to blame it on is the fact that we're having 60 f'ing degree weather in January and everything's starting to bloom early. F'ing global warming. I blame W.

Anyhoo, I have an appointment at David's Bridal tomorrow afternoon. I hope they calm down a little bit in the interim so I don't scare the ladies who are helping me try on crap. "I swear it's not contagious!" as they scurry away from me.

I just love him

2006-01-19T04:28:00.000-07:00

I'm having one of those days. You know, when you're all up in your SO's shit feeling all moopy and googly-eyed and like he/she's the best thing since Starbucks? Yeah, that's me today.

It manifests itself in me wrapping myself around him while he's trying to sleep (why I continue to mess with him at 6:00 AM anymore, I don't know). I may even, at some point today, send him an e-card.

To Gripe or Not to Gripe, That is the Question

2006-01-18T12:20:00.000-07:00

As fantastic and wonderful as my boyfriend is, he can be a little forgetful. It exasperates me sometimes.

The things he forgets tend to be little things that could escalate into bad things: leaving the keys in the door lock and not realizing they’re missing until he’s ready to leave the house again, leaving a candle lit for 14 hours (I was out of town when it happened) and, in last night’s case, leaving the space heater on in his office overnight.

Clearly, since I’m alive and able to write about it, nothing bad has ever come from these incidences but something could. If I come across the forgotten item and he is nearby, I'll call him out on it a little bit, but usually I find out about it hours after its done and he's not always around (or, like this morning, still asleep). So I’m in a quandary. When I discover these things not in his presence, do I say something to him, or do I not? And when I do, how do I say it?

I don’t want to sound like a nag, or like his mother, but on the other hand, you know, we’re talking some serious stuff here.

“Honey, you risked our lives and the lives of our cats again…”

“Sweetie, when you’re brushing your teeth at night, could you take a look around and make sure there are no open flames anywhere in the house?”

And will it do any good? Is this an irreversible condition? Am I doomed…err, committed…to sweeping up behind him every day to make sure we’re safe? Or, through gentle counseling and non-judgment, will he eventually be able to focus and realize that when he lights a match, he will then need to extinguish it at some point?

Fat-ass freak out

2006-01-17T08:49:00.000-07:00

I’m in a little freak-out mode about my weight these days. In the first week of the new year, I managed to lose 3.2 pounds but last week I put a pound back on.

It was a stressful week, a busy week and I wasn’t able to dictate my food choices like I need to. But I was dismayed at the gain.

I’ve been going to the gym about twice a week but haven’t been running with my girlfriends for about a month because of holidays, travel and work. We’re all hooking up this weekend, thank goodness.

On top of feeling lousy about myself – and I know I shouldn’t beat myself up – I felt like the women at Nordstrom were scanning me as I walked around looking at the gowns. In fact one of them directed all her comments to Shelley (tall, thin) and none at me. Finally Shelley told the woman, “She’s getting married.” I was embarrassed for her to know that I was the one looking, not Shelley.

Anyhoo, I of course bring this emotion home to my boyfriend who loves me just the way I am and gets upset when I’m upset which makes me even more upset with myself. I told him about how insecure I felt looking at the dresses and he said, “Those women wish they had your figure.” So sweet and wonderful. I am so lucky.

His feedback was that I’m too hard on myself and when I beat myself up like I’d been doing, it makes me want to throw in the towel and I just need to ease up a little on myself. He said there was no way I could have been that bad and it must have been a freaky weight day and to let it go.

So I did. I’m trying to shake it off.

Just looking

2006-01-16T15:18:00.000-07:00

Shelley and I ended up not going bridesmaid dress shopping this weekend after all. We're going to wait for the summer stuff to come out. We still went to the mall, though.

One of the malls in the area has a massive LL Bean in it, so we went by. They had a wide selection of those canvas totes that I'd ordered online there. Some were on sale even - so I bought two. I'm not going to get more until I know for sure how many people are going but it's good to know that they go on sale occasionally.

Also stopped by Nordstrom to check out their wedding dress selection. At least according to their online catalog, they have the kind of dresses that I think would be most appropriate. When we got there, though, there were very few dresses that weren't black. I may be a tad on the nontraditional side, but not that much. I didn't really ask, though, if there were others around because I wasn't prepared to try anything on anyway. Meaning I wasn't prepared emotionally or physically. I really want to be down a size or two before I start looking in earnest and who knew I'd feel sick to my stomach and then burst into tears as we walked away?

Shelley said, "What is it? Price?" and I shook my head no. "Mama?" and I nodded yes.

Giving theknot.com credit where credit is due

2006-01-16T10:23:00.000-07:00

Fine. I'll admit that I like the personalized bottled water for the kitsh factor alone. And maybe the personalized CD labels, too.

But that's it.

I want the 90 inch Valencia table runner, please

2006-01-16T03:51:00.000-07:00

We did the yuppie thing and registered at Crate and Barrel yesterday.

We had contemplated Macy's for a very long time because my mom once said that when it came time to register, I should go ahead and ask for fine china that I would never buy for myself. I thought that was really good advice. When we were at his parents' home last weekend, I asked his mom for her opinion on it. She said that if that's what I wanted then I should do it, but that I should be prepared to pay for the completion of my list - or only ask for the individual pieces from here on out for birthdays and anniversaries until it was completed. Then she said to get it dishwasher safe or I'd never want to use it.

G just wants cookware. Expensive cookware, of course. All-Clad. Fine china means nothing to him.

We had looked at the china at Macy's everytime we walked by it in the mall and we 1) were never thrilled by what we saw and 2) could never agree on what we did like. I also started to wonder if I really wanted fine china or thought that my mother would want me to want fine china. Pretty sure it was the latter. Pretty sure that if I got the fine china and started to whip it out at dinner parties, I'd always be saying to myself, "I really don't like this as much as my everyday stuff."

So we went by C&B yesterday just to take a look and we managed to not only agree on the table settings but also on silverware. So we leapt.

It was fun. We didn't list a lot of stuff, because we don't want anyone who makes the trek down to St. Lucia to shell out one more penny, but we are going to have a back-home reception that every person we can't invite to the Caribbean will be invited to - and I'm assuming they'll ask about a registry. Plus I figure that the people who get invited but can't go will want to do something. If we don't give them a list, chances are we'll get things we don't need.

Sadly, there was one black mark on the day. G's wallet was stolen while we were in there. As best as we can figure, someone saw him take it out to give his license for the little scanner and put it back in his back pocket. We realized it was missing before we left but thought that maybe it had just fallen out. In fact, I'd managed to even get a little annoyed that he'd lost it and had secretly started wondering if he would "lose" our children someday. I'm crazy.

Anyway, when we got home and started cancelling cards, something had already been charged to one of them. The bright side is they didn't get his license, so at least he doesn't have to hang out at the DMV for five hours.

Making a fool out of myself in front of Dr. Jeff

2006-01-14T16:04:00.000-07:00

I was totally hooked on "The Biggest Loser" this past season. And I luhuuvved me some Dr. Jeff. He was the older guy who lost, like, 150 pounds but still didn't win the big prize because he was voted off by his "friends" because they knew he should have won.

Anyhoo, my organization had a booth at the NBC Health and Fitness Expo this weekend and I was the lead staff person today. As such, I was there at the crack of dawn putting the finishing touches on our area before our volunteers arrived.

Before the doors opened, though, I ran into Dr. Jeff! I was just sort of standing there, looking around and he was standing there, talking to some folks and I thought, "Oh, hey, that's Dr. Jeff from The Biggest Loser." And then about a second later, I thought, "OH SHIT! THAT'S DR. JEFF FROM THE BIGGEST LOSER!".

I practically mowed down the poor folks talking to him to get up in front of him so I could gush.

Me: I just love you! You should have won!

Dr. Jeff: But I did win!

Me: Yes, but you should have won the money! [At "the money" I actually raised my fist to sky and shook it at the injustice of it all.]

Dr. Jeff: Ha ha.

Me: My boyfriend and I watched every week and we just loved you. You're such an inspiration.

Dr. Jeff: Thank you, that means so much.

Me: [Gush, gush, gush.] Okay, well, bye!

Dr. Jeff: Please tell your boyfriend that I said thanks.

Don't you just want to put him in your purse and take him home? Oh, it made my day. Seriously, I had been dreading the whole event because I was just so worn out from my week and did not want to have to work all day. Before that happened, I was feeling all mopey. But then I saw Dr. Jeff and my day turned around.

My boyfriend cried last night

2006-01-13T16:48:00.000-07:00

Oh, don't worry, things are fine. The Rangers retired Mark Messier's number last night and as they lifted the jersey to the rafters of Madison Square Garden and "Ode to Joy" signified that Something Big was finally happening after the hour long ceremony, he admitted that he got choked up.

My little hockey dork.

The torment of the bridesmaid

2006-01-12T07:16:00.000-07:00

Shelley and I have entered the Bridesmaid Dress Negotiations.

I want her to wear a dress that she likes and will wear again. I just want it to be greenish. Last fall, she bought a dress for a friend's wedding that is gorgeous and would be perfect except - and I hate how this sounds - it's cranberry, and that simply won't do.

She was kind of sticking to her guns on it, though, and I saw us heading toward an impasse. Finally, I said to myself, "Self, you're being an a-hole. Let her wear the dress she wants." And I dropped the issue altogether.

This weekend, however - at her suggestion - we are going bridesmaid dress shopping. I'm not entirely sure what turned the tide but I'll take it.

I'd suggested a Lilly Pulitzer because I love those dresses. When I have the body for them, I'm buying at least two. Sure, they have a "Ladies Who Lunch at the Club" look to them, but I can trash them down just fine. Her response was that if I made her wear a Lilly Pulitzer she would quit this whole thing altogether.

So on Sunday, we're going to a bridal expo - again, she asked me to; it's for research for her new business - and after that, we'll go somewhere where they might sell chic, elegant, un-stodgy, Dontcha-wish-your-girlfriend-was-hot-like-me dresses that might also go as a bridesmaid dress at a ceremony overlooking the Caribbean Sea.

Should be fun.

Gift bags

2006-01-11T10:49:00.000-07:00

Apologies to my fan: I'm going to post the mundane things about the planning, too, because I want the record of my decision making. Sadly, doesn't make for good reading.

I ordered these today. One medium in lime (lime and fuschia are going to be the colors) and one mini in turquoise.

Because I'd really hate to spend $22 per medium gift bag that I'm going to fill with other things, I'm hoping that the mini works. I suspect it won't. If we have to go with the medium tote, then the stuff in there will be pretty cheap: bug spray, SPF, clothes pins (for the mosquito netting around the beds) and maybe some flip-flops from Old Navy. If the minis work, we might put water-proof disposable cameras and not much else in them.

Don't plan on getting just the lime-colored one since single men will be receiving these as well. Plus, if all of our guests use them as beach bags during the trip, then it could get confusing down on the beach if they all look the same.

The things I know

2006-01-11T04:38:00.000-07:00

During this whole "ring" thing, I always knew that G wasn't actually in the planning of it because I know that he positively cannot keep a big secret. I was right.

Last week, we headed up to upstate New York (second time in six days for me) - but this time to visit his family. As I was heading to work on the morning of our departure, he mentioned that he was going into work late. I inquired why. "No reason."

I dropped it and had moved on to thinking about where the hell my gloves were. Next thing I know, he's picked up our senior cat (whose name is Splash but goes by several variables, including:) "Mr. Splooshie says 'don't ask so many questions.'"

Uh, okay, Mr. Splooshie. Sorry for that.

Fast forward six hours and we're heading to the airport (BWI, by the way, which SUCKS. We've been totally screwed by the Independence Air closure when it comes to visiting his parents).

Me: [Slightly smiling ] So how was your day?

Him: Fine. I don't know what you're talking about.

Brief pause.

Him: Okay, I'll say one thing: I need to know your exact ring size by next week. (I'd given him my college ring which fits my ring finger to use as the guage for sizing but apparently the jeweler wanted specifics.)

Me: Okay.

Another brief pause.

Him: It's going to be about four weeks.

Me: Jesus! Quit telling me shit!

We head up to NY and spend a wonderful weekend with his awesome parents. Seriously, I keep trying to figure out their major flaw and I simply cannot. I mean, "major" in relation to my family. Their major flaw may be they pick their noses in public but when you stack them up against the insanity that I sprang from, that's goddamn high-minded.

Big family dinner on Saturday night, the rest of the extended brood came over and everyone talked about how they can't wait for St. Lucia, how they want to stay a week and is that okay and when can they start booking travel.

G insisted that the save the date email with the travel details not be sent out until it's "official". He had to take some good-natured ribbing for when exactly that will be. "Four weeks," was the standard answer that was given in front of me.

Fast forward to departure day. I've mentioned how the ring is going to incorporate my mother's diamond and a diamond that my grandfather gave me when I turned 13? Well, G's mom gave him a ring with a similarly-sized diamond that originally belonged to his great grandmother. He said that she got a little choked up when she gave it to him, telling him that she was glad it was going to be a part of the ring that he gave me. Which, of course, sent me into a little bit of the ugly cry.

So there it is. Four weeks. Somewhere in between my birthday and Valentine's Day.

When I was 18, I did one of those educational trips to DC (the Capitol is positively swarming with high schoolers in the January/February time period - can be extremely frustrating when trying to walk hurriedly down a hallway). They took us to the monuments one night and since then, I'd always thought, "Gee, wouldn't it be romantic to be proposed to on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial?" Now, of course, I know that the real romance is on the steps of the Jeffereson Memorial. It overlooks the water and is typically less crowded with tourists.

I am willing to bet a lot of money that that is not the way it's going to go down. And I can't wait to find out how wrong I am.

Family Counseling

2006-01-10T13:18:00.000-07:00

Yeah, mine is already starting to drive me a little crazy.

We've given our "principals" (family who are helping us pay for this thing) first dibs at the rooms they want before we send out the save the date email ordering - err, requesting - our guests to book their rooms at the resort.

You'd think I'd asked my aunt and grandmother to travel to hell and back with me - on their hands and knees. I had a 20 minute conversation last night with said aunt and I told her, "You should arrive on Wednesday because if you arrive on Thursday, there is a chance you will be late for the rehearsal dinner." I get an email from our wedding travel coordinator this morning (whom I'd asked to stress the Wednesday arrival issue with my family) saying that my aunt wants to come on Thursday.

ARGH!

So I gripe about it to my Best Friend/MoH who says to me, "Honestly, do you really care if she misses it?"

"No."

"You're just pissed that she's giving you a hassle."

"Yes."

"So let it go. She'll do other things that will piss you off more. Save your anger for then."

Which is why she is BF/MoH in the first place.

So many details

2006-01-04T02:37:00.000-07:00

We've settled on a dreamy resort in St. Lucia. Wedding date set. 20 rooms blocked. G will get the rehearsal dinner he's been asking for. Indeed, it is the very thing that sold him on a destination wedding in the first place: a pig roast on the beach.

I spoke with the resort's general manager earlier this week. She said, "I'm sure you have millions of questions." But I didn't. I had no idea what to ask. I wanted to tell her that I wasn't one of those women who instinctively knew what every bride needed to know or needed to ask. But I figured that she didn't need to know she was dealing with a novice.

I floundered around for a bit and finally tried to play it off that I wanted to see her propsosals before I asked questions because I'm sure that would answer a lot of them right off the bat. Then I called Shelley.

Shelley's an event planner. She had 800 questions for me to ask her. Some of them I really didn't even care about the answers. I didn't ask all of them. I couldn't. It would have embarassed me to ask the resort's general manager about who would be the staff person who was in charge of keeping the reception program moving along. She even had an industry term for it, which I've forgotten.

But some of them were really good questions, which totally made me sound like I knew what the hell I was doing. Can we choose the ceremony site when we arrive on the island or do we need to decide now? (When we arrive) Can I get a CD of the steel drum band? (Yes) Will you deliver our guests' gift baskets to their rooms or will they pick them up at check-in? (In room) Will our guests be seated or standing during the ceremony? (Depends on how many) How does the resort keep interlopers away from the ceremony and reception? (Most have the good taste to stay away, but staff shoos away when necessary) Can I get everything in writing? (Yes)

Anyway, there were a ton of others, but I can't remember them all now. Let's just say that I feel slightly smarter today than I did before I spoke with her.

I also feel completely overwhelmed by the amount of work I need to do. Shelley, while giving me questions, also gave me 800 ideas, most of which will keep me working every Saturday and Sunday from now until November. Oy. I just want to get married. I don't want to have to do any work.

That was a joke. Sort of.

And, as of yesterday, our guest list was up to almost 50. I decided that I really neeeded to include my dad's sisters and their adult children. This is awful, but I'm really hoping they can't go. I mean, they won't go. As my sister-in-law put it, "If they go, then I will know that hell has finally frozen over." These people don't like to travel outside of a 50-mile radius of their podunk southern Georgia town. But if I don't invite them, holy shit, my ears will be bleeding from all the smack talk going on about me.

Which means that I'm falling into the exact bullshit family politics that I was hoping to avoid.

Sigh.

Holiday weight loss

2006-01-02T06:22:00.000-07:00

So we both successfully managed to weigh less on January 2 than we did the Monday after Thanksgiving.

I lost five pounds, then gained two back in the last two weeks of the year. G only had one week of weight gain and is down 10 pounds from when we started.

Good for us.

One wild and crazy night

2006-01-01T06:37:00.000-07:00

Happy New Year to all. Best wishes for a great 2006.

I used to have this philosophy that as goes my new year's eve, so goes the new year. It was important to me to find a good place to celebrate and make the most of it. Didn't matter if it was a huge, raving party or a small gathering - I just wanted to relax and be silly. And the level of fun that I felt that night would dictate how exciting or not-so-exciting the following year would be.

You'd be surprised, it actually held true for a couple of years.

Thankfully, I'm over that. In fact, if that philosophy were still important to me then it would mean that 2006 is going to be the lamest year of my life. Because my boyfriend had to wake me up at midnight last night with two champagne flutes filled with water. Yeeeehaw!

I joke. It was actually very sweet. It may be one of my favorite new year's moments ever - even if I was snoring five minutes later.

Blackbird

2005-12-31T10:49:00.000-07:00

The first song that G ever sang to me was "Blackbird" by the Beatles.

I know that John Lennon and Paul McCartney wrote it as a statement on racism, but when a beautiful man is singing it to you while he sits on his bed naked, its meaning becomes something else entirely. It still makes me cry when I hear it.

Blackbird singing in the dead of night
Take these broken wings and learn to fly
All your life
You were only waiting for this moment to arise.

Blackbird singing in the dead of night
Take these sunken eyes and learn to see
All your life
You were only waiting for this moment to be free.

Blackbird fly Blackbird fly
Into the light of the dark black night.

Blackbird fly Blackbird fly
Into the light of the dark black night.

Blackbird singing in the dead of night
Take these broken wings and learn to fly
All your life
You were only waiting for this moment to arise
You were only waiting for this moment to arise
You were only waiting for this moment to arise.

A wedding and a funeral

2005-12-31T05:10:00.000-07:00

My great aunt died on Christmas Day, which was fitting.

She had been suffering from Alzheimer's since at least 1999 and had been in a 24-hour care facility in Vermont since 2001. Her eldest daughter was with her every day taking care of her and making sure the staff respected every one of my aunt's wishes until the very end.

Christmas was always her favorite time of year. She really started faltering this summer, but kept rallying back and when she stopped eating around Thanksgiving, but was still hanging on, the nurses finally asked my cousin, "She's waiting for something. Do you know what?". My cousin guessed Christmas and at 8:00 AM that morning, she passed away.

Her memorial service was yesterday in upstate New York and I went. I saw family I hadn't seen in years, some of which I was very glad it had been that long. But most of whom I truly love and wish I could see more often.

My aunt E and I stayed with another cousin (there's like, a hundred). Yesterday morning, before the service, she took us to the cemetary where some of my family are buried. Also there, is a headstone that my family had made to commemorate my grandfather, mother and father, whose ashes were spread on an island that my family owns in a lake in the Adirondacks. So yesterday morning, I stood over the only marker that exists with my parents names and dates of birth and death. Next to it, lay my great-grandfather and great-grandmother and despite the fact that I didn't know one and barely remember the other, I was humbled by the fact that I exist because of them and I was sorry I couldn't thank them for that.

The service was moving and there were people there who I'd never met but whose lives are legendary to me. My great aunt and her husband owned and ran a resort up in the Adirondacks for over 50 years and the service was flooded with former staff in addition to family. My aunt E's best friend as a teenager, when they both worked at the resort, was there. I've heard so many stories about the trouble the two would get in and the hell they would raise. To watch my aunt and she talk and laugh until they were crying, I felt like I was seeing my aunt as a girl. There was also a man and a woman (who met at the resort and married a few years later) who worked with my mother when she 16. I walked up to them to re-introduce myself and the woman gasped and said, "My god, I thought you were Cathie. You look just like her as a girl."

Gulp.

Then I got on a plane and flew back down to DC. G picked me up at the airport in a suit and with a change of clothes for me, which I did in the car and we rushed to make the wedding reception of the guy who set us up.

I was sorry I missed the wedding. Truly, wedding receptions do nothing for me. They are all the same and, frankly, they're really starting to get kind of boring. The wedding is where you really get to see the open, raw emotion that exists between two people. If I'd had to choose, I would have caught that part, but missed the other. But alas, death.

I'm wiped.

Fucking shit

2005-12-28T19:08:00.000-07:00

Still haven't booked a place. Here's why:

The resort we hoped for in Turks and Caicos never responded to our coordinator's request for information.
We looked into another resort in Puerto Rico that I'd briefly flirted with last summer. They haven't called her back either, but she suspects because of the way some things have been labeled in the system that there may be construction going on next fall on many of the rooms. But we can't know for sure because they haven't called her back.
We then looked into a resort on St. Lucia that, despite my best efforts not to considering how swimmingly our first two efforts have gone, I've fallen madly in love with. Except that one appears to have several rooms that have been "waitlisted" which means there is some sort of temporary hold on them. Considering the fact that there are only 30 rooms, and we want to take 15 of them, this doesn't bode well.

Like, okay, two questions. Why, if the industry standard kept anyone from booking until this week, is that f'ing place waitlisted? And. What was the other question? Am I getting screwed by using a travel planner or would things go better if I did it on my own? Anyone have a basic understanding of the travel industry that can give me some insight?

Wahhh! This is why I wanted to get a head start, but it seems like half the world has made it in before me.

It has begun

2005-12-27T05:28:00.000-07:00

God bless her, our destination wedding coordinator emailed me yesterday, saving me from having to be the freak girl who emailed her again asking if we could finally start the planning of this thing.

I'm trying to figure out her shorthand right now. You know how sometimes you get an email from someone and they assume you have at least a basic level understanding of where they're coming from? That's the way she writes me and I'm trying very hard to put myself in her shoes as she's writing these emails so that I can understand the details she skims over because she assumes I know what the hell she's talking about.

Like, she sent me two quotes yesterday for the hotel package. One included airfare and one did not. The only indication I had that one included airfare is because she called the other one, "Land Only."

Actually, as I type that, I realize I sound like an idiot. Of course the "Land Only" didn't include "Air". Oy.

Anyway, the quotes caused me a little bit of angst because the cost of us just going there and staying for 11 nights is just under half our entire wedding budget. It didn't include flowers, a photographer, a dinner for about 30 afterwards, the services of a wedding coordinator on-site or anything else along those lines.

Plus, she believes that the resort does not have an on-site wedding coordinator, instead they hire out for one. If that is the case, she highly recommends that we not use that hotel because, she says, "experience has proven all sort of problems and issues can occur" when there is not an on-site contact. I can see how she would have a point, except that we have a personal recommendation on this hotel from two good friends of ours and it's the highest rated hotel on Turks and Caicos, according to all the folks who post things on tripadvisor.com.

Oh well. You know, I'm just not going to let myself get worked up. It will all work out. Even if the wedding coordinator sucks, even if the hotel sucks, even if we go over budget, I am still going to be marrying a rock star (figuratively) and every person we love the most will be in paradise with us.

I might need help remembering that every once in a while.

Two women trying to slyly communicate - and doing a horrible job

2005-12-26T06:06:00.000-07:00

G's brother and sister-in-law are trying to get pregnant.

I really, really love my future sister-in-law. She is, quite possibly, the nicest person to walk the earth and we get along so well. When they were here for Thanksgiving, she and I had some time to hang out alone and it was one of the best things of the weekend.

She's as into this whole waiting game (mine) as I am, and I am as into hers (with limits, of course...ew). I'm trying not to ask her too many questions because I know that the pressure can really build. I told her that I wouldn't just keep asking her everytime we spoke because I figure if she's got something to tell me, she will.

So G's brother calls last night and talks to him for a while and then G hands the phone over to me saying that SIL wants to talk to me. With both of us sitting next to our men, trying to not let them know what we were talking about, this is what ensued:

Me: So...what's going on?
SIL: Nothing. [Dramatic pause]
Me: Nothing?
SIL: How was your Christmas?
Me: It was great. I got a spa day! [Note that although I love the spa day, that's not what she was asking me, so I was trying to answer her with a, "No, it didn't happen," but G was sitting next to me so I had to also sound thrilled about it. Which I am. It was a pickle.]
SIL: Wow, that's nice. D got me a ring that I'd put on layaway so long ago, I'd forgotten about it.
Me: Really? [To G:] She got a ring for Christmas, babe.
All: [Laughter]
SIL: [Another dramatic pause. I felt like she was trying to say something by not saying anything so...]
Me: So...any news?
SIL: Ummmm, maybe?
Me: Really?
SIL: Well, [whispered mumbles, like she was talking out of the corner of her mouth] it's hard...to...tell.
Me: Hard to tell?
SIL: There are some...feelings.
Me: Are you...[whispered] late?

At this point, G's brother starts hollering at her to stop talking about it because she's going to jinx it and she and I both started laughing. She's promised to email me so now I'm just waiting.

I've created a monster

2005-12-25T13:12:00.000-07:00

I bought G a DVD handycam for Christmas, although one could successfully argue that it was really a present for the both of us. I just figure that we've got a big year ahead of us and we'll be glad we've got something to catch it all.

However.

One guess what's the first movie he wants to make tonight.

Merry Christmas

2005-12-25T05:19:00.000-07:00

It's 7 AM. This is my favorite time of this particular day.

I'm the only one awake, of course (I would give a limb to be able to make myself sleep past 6 AM), the presents are all still wrapped under the tree and the day is full of anticipation.

My favorite moment of my favorite time of this day was when I was 10. My parents were working class folks who, on top of that, weren't that great with their money, so money was always an issue in everything (still is for me in that even though I don't have the same concerns, I always feel like I'm one wrong purchase away from bankruptcy, which shows how hard it is to shake things).

That year, my mom was divorcing her second husband, while preparing to marry her third (who ended up becoming my adopted dad and the man of both our dreams); he was also in the middle of a divorce. Money was T-I-G-H-T. Despite that, they were both working overtime to keep me in the private elementary school I had been attending since grade 1. Ostensibly, my real father should have been paying child support, but my real father was a miserable shit who would only show back up in my life 17 years later when he saw me on TV (I was a spokesperson for a campaign) and figured I was rich. I told him to go f himself.

Anyway, that year, I had started riding my bike to school, which was about three miles away. It saved money on having to pay for the school's bus service and I remember feeling so proud that I was grown up enough to help the family out (I'm sure my wonderful mom sold the whole idea on me by appealing to that side of me). Unfortunately, I had truly the uncoolest bike ever made so, for Christmas, I asked for a new one.

There just isn't the money, sweetie, I was told. Disappointed, sure, but what could I do? I knew that the reason money was so sparse was because of me. I couldn't bear to add to the stress.

So you know where this is going. I walk out of my room on Christmas morning and there is the raddest bike ever sitting in the living room with a big ol' bow on the handle bars.

I was the only one up - and the only child - so I just sat there, confused, for a couple of minutes. I mean, we didn't have money for a new bike, so it couldn't be for me. On the other hand, I couldn't see either of my parents fitting on that thing. Finally, I could wait no longer.

I went in to my parents' bedroom, went up to my mom and whispered, "Mom, there's a bike out there and I think it might be for me." I remember how - even though I'd risen her out of a deep sleep - she still managed to clearly and loudly laugh at that.

Ever since then, the pre-gift opening, the pre-everyone's awake moments when I'm alone with the tree and the presents, is simply my favorite time of day on Christmas.

And I will say nothing, nothing about how there is a gift under there for me that feels like a little box wrapped to not feel like a little box.

Merry Christmas to everyone. I had so many unhappy Christmases the years after my parents died. I feel so fortunate to be able to spend this day with the love of my life...and our cats (yes, they have their own stocking, shut up). I know this day can be really difficult for some folks, and if you are one of them, please know that I've been there and I'd give you a hug if I could (and if I could be assured that you weren't some nutso internet person).