3: VIBs, Lists, Countdown...

Today, I'll be heading to the airport twice to pick up two Very Important Boys:

First, my brother Adam, AKA Three (we're the OddKidds - due to me being #1 in the birth order, him being #3, and us both being "off"), AKA my Man of Honor.

Then, a few hours later, The Fiance, AKA The Man Who Will Be My Husband In Less Than 3 Days.

It's getting real.

Aside from two airport runs, other tasks for today include:
- Get nails done
- Visit The Brow Lady
- Pack up All Of The Things (for the wedding, not the move... SO MUCH PACKING AHEAD OF ME...)
- Obsessively check All Of The Lists
- Call to confirm tomorrow's pick ups and appointments (cake, flowers, drop dogs at kennel, get hair trimmed, something else I'm forgetting... this is why I need to obsessively check All Of The Lists...) and make sure everything can get done before we start the road trip down to The Coast at 10 AM!

It begins.

45 Days To Go: My Hot Single Life

I know you've been wondering: just how unbelievably, mind-boggling-ly exciting is Beth's off-season bachelorette life? Have I been loving it, and as Jenna Maroney would encourage, loving myself?

After all, the fiancé moved several states away recently due to getting a new job. You might think that is a case of poor timing (who wants a two month separation and a cross-country move thrown in the path of an already-overwhelming wedding?) but heyyyyyyyyyyy!

It also means being spun back out onto the dance floor SOLO for the last several weeks before I'm always in a partnered dance! Yes, darlings! I've been Living Single for the past three weeks, and tonight, I decided to share some insights into my hot, hot single life.

Read on, if you dare.

Craigslist Hookups. Oh, yeah, baby. I took some pictures. Made some posts, choosing words designed to entice. And started setting up rendezvous with random strangers from Craigslist... who are interested in purchasing used furniture and kitchen gear.

Flashin' Cold Hard Cash. Ooooh, it always feels exciting when you're walking around with wads of cash, doesn't it? Like you're about to go do something you really shouldn't. Orrrrrr like maybe you're trying to pay for most things in cash to be all budget-savvy during an expensive-event time of life. But imagine what you will!

Gettin' Sweaty. (I've been good about going to the gym.)

I think this hep cat is drunk. Better take his keys!
(I sit on the couch  run with a risque crowd.)

Gettin' Dirty. Shhhhh. I probably shouldn't tell you this, but I've been feeling a lot dirtier lately. That is because I'm now the single solitary human in charge of taking out the garbage, cleaning up all messes, and cleaning the stinking kitty litter...

Animal House Partying. Okay, the jig is up: by this I literally mean I spend a lot time at the house, with animals.

Sensational Social Scene. Sincerely, I've been pretty good about alternating my nights between two separate yet equally important activities (man, that sounded awfully Law & Order): 1) Staying home and either getting things done as far as writing, wedding planning, and packing OR freaking out about what I'm not getting done as far as writing, wedding planning, and packing - AND 2) Spending quality time with the wonderful friends who are keeping me sane and smiling. Who needs dates when you have framily?*

I appreciate independence. I'll always value some solo time, especially quiet writing time. And I do plan to enjoy some more friend bonding, pet-snuggling, and so on... but overall? I think I'm officially over the single thing. It comes with a far colder home and way, way more dirty kitty litter than I remember.

*"Framily" = friends who are family - credit for the word-mash-up on that one goes to my mother. Hi, Mom! 

His Last Day Here/Separation Anxiety

Rather than back-date this post so it appears on the day it happened... I'm just going to re-live the recent memories as I share these photos and thoughts tonight. They are not from tonight, or today, or yesterday. They are from Friday. Six days ago. Danny's last day as a Jacksonian.

Hard to believe this was already almost a week ago...

This was the starting plan. Almost all of it
happened! (Minus the cinema and the reservoir;
add Best Buy, Post Office, Goodwill, office...

Every Friday D gets a scone and coffee from
"his regular place." So there we went.

Saying farewell to beloved bosses.

... and seeing a coworker's pranked office.

Exploring the art garden...

...and the art museum...

...and classy artwork like this sculpture of a
chamber pot... with sculpted poo poo in it.

Contemplating "the parade of life."
(His phrase. This is why we'll wed.)

HOLY CANOLI.
(These were amazing.)

 

The fish man was out of the fish we wanted,
but we DID make it there as part of our ultimate day...

His last day here would have been incomplete
without a pint at The Pub.

We welcomed Shabbat.

And the pet crew got in all the cuddles they could.

I'll share my own love song to Mississippi, in words, in a couple of months. I won't try to write out right now the complex concoction of emotions I feel over his departure. But in looking through these photos again to create this post, I can say - man.

That was a good day.

11/12/13

Today is the fiancé's birthday. His magical birthday, no less: 11/12/13. I told him that must mean that the year ahead is going to be his best one yet.

In addition to his birthday, with all the buzz around 11/12/13 today, I have numbers on my mind (and trust me when I say, I'm not really a numbers-kinda-girl). Here are some of the numbers delighting or frightening me:


Yeah, I'm seriously marrying him.
Why do you ask?

116: Days until our wedding. I think I need to do a 100 Days Until... Countdown. Any thoughts?

4: Days since I've done anything even remotely wedding-related.

2: Number of wedding dresses I own, since I managed to successfully sell one! (I know. #offproblems)

5,000: Number of guests who show up at the wedding nightmare I've started having, where there are not enough seats and I have zero dresses (because now I sold three?!) and no food and the groom isn't speaking to me and there are seven tornadoes on the horizon... it's a bad dream.

180: Number of miles, round-trip, we're going to drive tonight to see a stand-up comedian. It's the fiancé's birthday and this is something he wanted to do. So we're rock-starring it on a Tuesday. That's love.

27,031: Number of words I've written for my NaNoWriMo project. That number will not be increasing tonight, due to the number/reason directly above this one.

1: Number of days late my rent was this month, due to me running out of checks...

55: Number of extra dollars the landlord made me pay in rent, despite NEVER HAVING BEEN LATE BEFORE IN 3 YEARS (other than general numbers/money stress, this number and the last one have zero to do with bridal anything, but I just needed to vent, thanks)

0: Number of additional minutes/hours I feel like I have in my life right now to get anything done in a timely manner... I should probably start by ordering some checks. Getting back to work. Driving 180 miles tonight. Then maybe, maybe doing something wedding-related tomorrow... did I mention next week we're going to someone else's wedding in New Orleans, and a few days after that we start the 16-hour-each-way-road-trip-to-Michigan for Thanksgiving?

But absolutely, the number one thing keeping me same?

That guy in the donut cat shirt. Happy birthday, babe.

...And Everyone's Still Talking About That Cake

I've started writing this post several times, and tripping over my words. Usually, that happens to me when I'm talking, not when I'm writing. But in this case, even when writing, I find myself at a bit of a loss. Sometimes that happens, when you're just completely overwhelmed by just how incredible the people around you are.

A few weeks ago, the parents were all in town. The MOB, FOB, MOG, and FOG all came in to see the show. The show, which was a lot of fun but also sucked up all the free time the fiance and I might have had. We hit the pause button on wedding planning. We certainly didn't have the bandwidth to put together a nice little party while our parents were in town.

So our friends did it for us - the world's best engagement party.

The Diva (Photo by FOG)

Our cherished friend Denise - AKA "the Diva" - was the amazing powerhouse behind the world's best engagement party. It was her idea, her coordination, her lovely and humbling gift. Denise is a director, and in addition to having a wonderful vision for this party, she assembled a stellar cast to help her; our friends Malaika and Nate, in particular, who helped with everything from decorations to collecting addresses from attendees.

There were several things that made this the world's best engagement party, but two things stand out above all: the people who were there, an assembly of family and urban family whose love and support filled the room to overflowing... AND THE CRAZY AWESOME CAKE.

THE CRAZY AWESOME CAKE.

People are still talking about that cake. Because it was crazy awesome. And perfect.

It was an intimate and lovely evening. Denise supplied champagne and invited guests to make toasts. Many toasts were made, some funny, some poignant (my dad promised he wouldn't tear up during his, but then did anyway), and concluded with a toast from the hostess herself, along with a Khalil Gibran poem.

Leaving that night, I felt so incredibly blessed. So undeservedly fortunate. Denise's generosity, and the goodwill of our loved ones, is more than I can ever adequately respond to with enough thanks. Re-living it all again, I'm a blubbering mess, y'all. (And that's just over the engagement party. Imagine me at the freaking wedding. The off-season, ugly-girl-crying bride...)

Revelers! (Photo by Wayne Thomas)

I would go on and on, but I'd just get more emotional. So instead I'll just say thank you. Thank you, Diva. Thank you, urban family. From the bottom of my (ugly-girl-crying) heart.

Us (Photo by FOG)

“Love one another, but make not a bond of love: Let it rather be a moving sea between the shores of your souls...” - Kahlil Gibran

Anniversaries

This past week marked two important anniversaries in my life.

September 30 marked the six-year anniversary for the fiancé and me. Six years since two friends who had been on a few dozen were-they-or-weren't-they-dates had a conversation that decided our new status was "officially together." (The conversation was immediately followed by me sending him a text while still sitting in his parking lot that night, which said something like "Don't get weird about this, okay?" His response was something along the lines of: "Wouldn't dream of it, doll. Won't get any weirder than I already am." Fair enough.)

A good visual representation of us.

Six years together, so far. Six years wherein we've laughed often, cried rarely, worn a lot of costumes, cooked, toasted, roasted, supported, traveled, lost grandparents and loved ones, gained friends and loved ones, and realized we want all the years ahead of us to be spent together, too. Which brings us to the next anniversary...

October 4 marked three years since I survived the car wreck that by all logic should have killed me. If you want to read the whole story, it's here. If you want the nutshell version, I was driving a Tahoe full of production equipment from Jackson to Memphis. While driving in the left lane to pass an eighteen-wheeler, a deer stepped directly in front of my car. At 70 MPH, I hit the deer. Then I was rear-ended by the eighteen-wheeler behind me, which spun me back into the right lane and directly into the path of the other eighteen-wheeler, the one I had been passing. That truck hit me, too, still at 70 MPH. The rear of the car was crushed, the front was ripped off, and here I still am today. Three years after three separate impacts -- deer, semi-truck, semi-truck -- any one of which could have meant the end of my story.

To the left, imagine where the front of the car used to be;
to the right, imagine where I was leaning against the airbag.

I could write again about my feelings from that night, all of my gratitude and fear and renewed sense of purpose, all of which is still true. But instead, on this third anniversary, I'm literally counting my blessings. Here are just a few of the things that have happened in the three years since the night I miraculously did not die:

• I've been more intentionally grateful, almost every day (I'm still only human)
• I learned that when the chips were down, I did, in fact, have the right people around me, thank God
• I made a career shift to allow for more writing time; I have since written six scripts, three novels, and two more children's books, so far. I have had two plays published - one I wrote pre-wreck, one I wrote post-wreck - which are now being performed, in real theaters, by real actors, in places I've never been. I no longer feel like a wannabe when I say "I'm a writer."
• New friends came into my life, and new theater projects, and the urban family for which I am so thankful continued to grow... and old-gold friendships are even more precious to me than once they were
• My first nephew was born, and I got to hold him while he was still tiny, and now he's walking; I shared wonderful mugs and glasses of coffee and wine (and mimosas) with my parents (and with the fiancé's parents), and appreciated them even more; I've been able to cheer on all of my siblings as their lives moved forward in amazing and sometimes surprising ways 
• I fell in love with Doctor Who. I know-- what took me so long?! 
• I took the fiancé out of the country for the first time-- just to Canada, but now that we know that we can, in fact, leave the country and be let back in despite his rouge-ish ways, we have bigger plans ahead
• I snuggled with Dov, survived all the attempts on my life by the world's largest cat, and fostered and found homes for a dozen rescue dogs (one of them still with us-- oops)
• I wore bridesmaid dresses in two of my best friends' weddings, and danced at several other weddings, one of them just a few days post-wreck and while still donning a neck brace, and not to be a broken record, but seriously: I have been reminded more times than I can count what an amazing collection of people fill my life, including that hilarious, protective, loyal, and loving best friend of mine...
• ...to whom I am now engaged. http:// hen we got engaged, and started planning our own wedding 

Those are just a few of the thousand good moments and milestones I've been blessed to experience in the past three years. There have been bad days, too; funerals, illnesses, setbacks. But to get through my own bad days, and to be there for my loved ones on their bad days, is another category of blessing. Some blessings feel brutal, but are blessings nonetheless.

I sometimes reference anniversaries pretty lightly. We all do. Forgetting an anniversary is one of the world's oldest jokes... and, in fact, this year the fiancé forgot ours for the first time ever, despite me tagging him in a Facebook status about it, which he liked (true story). I forgave him, largely because soon we'll have a new anniversary date, so the September 30 one will eventually fade away. Still, a year and a half from now, when the fiancé is "the husband" and we celebrate our first anniversary, we'll laugh together about how we'll actually have been together for nearly eight years at that point. Assuming he doesn't forget the new anniversary.

Sometimes anniversaries can seem a little arbitrary. But sometimes it's important to remember not only the date an anniversary marks, but also everything that has happened on all the days in between, and everything we survived to reach this day.

So here's to anniversaries, and not taking a single one of them for granted.

Cheers!

This Little Light of Ours

As my loyal readers (all ten of you beautiful creatures) may recall, the fiancé and I don't have the most romantic of proposal stories. This is not a surprise, really. "Romantic" is not a word frequently used to characterize us - but never say never.

Unbeknownst to  the fiancé, I saved the bottle of wine we were drinking that night. I hid it in the kitchen, because I had plans for that bottle. Big plans. At one point, when I was gone, he found the empty hidden bottle and put it in the recycling bin. Luckily, I noticed it, retrieved it, and did a better job of hiding it... until I could get it to my friend Juniper.

Because my friend Juniper's husband Del takes bottles, and makes art; functional art, no less - objects like lamps. While that's cool any day of the week, I thought it would be particularly perfect to preserve the modest little bottle of red with which we toasted our engagement. What better way to preserve it than to have an artist transform it into something that would continue to illuminate?

Many thanks, Juniper and Del. This little bottle will be with us for quite some time, and we're gonna let it shine.

Eclectic, Efficient, Elegant, and... Elvis!

So, this weekend was the Venue Visit extravaganza. As you may recall, the plan was supposed to go something like this: venue, food, venue, brewery tour, venue, venue, vodka.

Be proud: we stuck very close to the plan. So without further ado, here are the venues we visited (WHICH COULD NOT HAVE BEEN MORE DIFFERENT FROM EACH OTHER!), in a few words and a few pictures each.

FIRST VENUE: ECLECTIC, AKA THE FUNKY MUSEUM
Our first stop was a modern art museum, which had three possible spaces - turns out only one of which might be viable for us, since two of them are for functions of 75 people or fewer, and we're pretty sure we'll have more than 75 people on hand for the big day (we ARE thinking relatively small, but relatives alone = more than 75 people). This museum was badly damaged in Hurricane Katrina; construction is still ongoing, but what is already finished is beautiful and interesting, with lots of natural light.

• The Oh, Yes Factors: We both loved the look and feel of the place; there's an entire separate structure included for "bridal party prep"; the location is accessible and scenic; windows everywhere = amazing outdoor feel, indoors; the rates are reasonable; we can bring in our own catering and bar, with no venue-imposed rules.
• The Big Red Flag(s): As a museum and not an event-driven venue, there are no "extras" included; we'd have to do all our own set up, rental of tables/linens, and handle all arrangements with outside vendors. Woof.
• The Pictures:

Nice view, huh? Also the venue is nice ;-)

One end of the room we would be in

The other end of the room we would be in

The center quad in the museum campus. Fiance provides scale.

LOVE this exterior staircase!

Exterior Party Courtyard, adjacent to the interior space we'd use.

SECOND VENUE: EFFICIENT, AKA THE DEDICATED WEDDING HALL 
We picked up D's parents, then headed to the second venue. I was a little nervous about this one-- only because D had mentioned it to his best friend, who said "Oh man, I went to a wedding there once. Total crap hole." Luckily, turns out this friend was thinking of a different place (he drinks a lot at weddings). This place was really lovely and impeccably kept, and all they do is weddings. It's a big hall with a stage and a dance floor, plus a gorgeous covered courtyard with a pretty fountain. Here, weddings are their business, and business seems to be good.

• The Oh, Yes Factors: For one fee, this place covers just about everything: the space, the tables, the chairs, the linens, the A/V set up - you can even order the catering and bar through them, if you choose (although those are separate fees). Lots of light. Huge space. Very professional.
• The Big Red Flag(s): This was the most expensive venue we viewed. It's also sort of off the beaten path, and while the space itself is great and very functional, there's nothing around it... like, at all.
• The Pictures:

Pretty Fleur de Lis wall decorations

Outdoor Patio. Clearly where The Smokers hang.

One end of the courtyard. No, dude wasn't peeing in the fountain.

FOG scopes out the interior space

INTERMISSION: LUNCH & BREWERY TOUR

Having already made it through a three hour drive and two venue tours, it was high time for lunch. And a brewery tour because, hey, they stopped tours after 2:30. 

Priorities, y'all.

The brewery was small, but the tour guide was enthusiastic, and it was nice to have a brief and 100% stress-free intermission.

Also, beer.

THIRD VENUE: THE HOTEL ELVIS LOVED

We had to look at one hotel, right? There are plenty of pros to utilizing a venue set up not only to host, but also to house. We chose to explore this one, which was a little off the beaten path but adjacent to a golf course and set in a beautiful, tree-filled residential neighborhood - and, its real claim to fame? Elvis vacationed at this hotel, every summer, for seven years. There's even a Love Me Tender suite. Yep.

• The Oh, Yes Factors: The staff at this place was awesome; very friendly, very knowledgeable. The hotel rooms were small but nice, and the rate for wedding guests is awesome - and they throw in a free room for the bride and groom, the night of the wedding. The ballroom had one side for dining, and one side for dancing, the huge bonus being you could do both at once. They do all set up and breakdown, security is included, custodial is included. Pretty much as efficient as the last place!
• The Big Red Flag(s): The space was all-interior, and pretty dark, not necessarily in a good way - no natural light whatsoever. It's also sort of retro, not in the best of ways. But the biggest red flag (other than Elvis freaks showing up): in addition to their fees, the hotel requires all beer/wine/liquor be purchased through them, and while the fees weren't crazy, the limited selection was. Like, it'd be a Bud / Bud Light / Bud Lime Wedding.
• The Pictures:

Front-side view of guest room wing. Also, kind of a rear view.

Our great tour guide, plus the dance floor

Dance floor / Dining floor (Yeah... that carpet...)

Dining Hall with chairs/tables (included - another bonus)

Oh, yeah! Other YES factors: Giant Lobby Bell... AND ELVIS.

FOURTH VENUE: ELEGANT, AKA THE SOUTHERN SWEETHEART
The final venue we visited was on recommendation from the FOG.* It was a little further out, but just off the highway. Unfortunately, we couldn't get inside to see the interior, but weren't too concerned - FOG has a relationship with the owner and should be able to score us some pictures. Meanwhile, as you'll see, the exterior was gorgeous Southern charm.

• The Oh, Yes Factors: Beautiful and full of Southern charm - you can just imagine the gorgeous photographs this setting yields. FOG's existing familiarity with the owner and the space is also a bonus.
• The Big Red Flag(s): This space is the second most expensive - without including the set-up, tables, linens, and everything the hotel or dedicated wedding venue offers for comparable pricing.
• The Pictures:

Walkway to the front of the venue.

Walkway to the back of the venue. Also awwww.

Whew. A long day, but a good day. The fiance was a total rock star, as were the FOG & MOG. All four of the venues were truly good options (take that, Venue That Already Got Booked). It was both fun and strange to think are we going to get married here? at each place.

None would be a bad choice. And at the end of the day, whatever one we choose is just backdrop. The real point is, we will wind up good and married, wherever it happens.

So. After finishing the Venue Visits, next step was supposed to be Vodka.

It wound up being homemade mandarin orange margaritas, made by my future in-laws.

WIN.

And speaking of win, now for the fun guessing game: weighing cost vs. convenience, look vs. logistics, and so on... any guesses as to which venue we're seriously contemplating?!

*I'm going to create a glossary soon, to reiterate/permanently record all acronyms used here: FOG = Father Of Groom, and so on. 

Venue, Venue, Venue... Vodka.

Tomorrow we're looking at wedding venues all day. I just sent The Fiance a schedule, which looks like this:

8 AM - DEPARTURE (venues are all 3 hours away from where we live)

11:30 AM - VENUE 1

12:30 - QUICK LUNCH OR WE'RE GONNA BE MEAN AND NO ONE WILL WANT TO RENT US A VENUE

1:00 - VENUE 2

2:00 - BREWERY TOUR, BECAUSE HEY - BREWERY TOUR! (OKAY, SERIOUSLY, IT'S THE CRAFT BREWER WE'RE CONSIDERING AS PART OF CATERING THE SHINDING - ALSO, HEY - BREWERY TOUR!)

3:00 - VENUE 3

4:00 - VENUE 4

5:00 - GOOD STIFF DRINK. SOMETHING COLD. I'M THINKING VODKA.

So that's the Super Fun Saturday ahead! Well, seriously, it should be fine. After all, it's like a madcap game of duck, duck, GOOSE, only with venues and vodka. And a brewery tour.

The stressful part, of course, is that we had a 5th venue we were going to view, but it's already been snapped up. So, yeah.

Send good vibes.

Or vodka.

(PS I'll update #TheList in my next post... hopefully the venues/vibes/vodka will all lead to some good additions!)

On Jury Duty, Meat Grinders, and Deadlines

This is from a bygone fictional era.

Remember when summer was a time of vacation, sunshine, a beautiful and all-consuming embrace of something called "break?"

Yeah, in Grownuplandia, it's more like vocation, stressful deadlines, and a relentless and all-consuming ongoing attempt to avoid going "broke."

I shouldn't complain, really; things are good. But every once in awhile, you need to let off some steam about the LITTLE THINGS that add up to BIG FRUSTRATION, and that's what this post is all about. Be warned!

So, life's a stubborn beastie, and thus despite the fact that I have all of these incredibly important personal goals (which, yeah, now include planning a wedding - see, this post is totally on-topic), the rest of the world around me refuses to take a chill pill. Life keeps barreling forward. This is not unexpected. But what I was unprepared for this summer is just how many ADDITIONAL, INSANELY MUNDANE things the universe was planning to toss my way, such as:

For realsies.

JURY DUTY. I've been pre-selected to sit on a jury next week. I have no idea what this means, other than unlike everyone else I know here, I don't get to call in and find out whether or not I need to show up (my paperwork says very specifically NOT to do that). I have to be at the courthouse, 30 minutes away, at 8AM on Monday or be found "in contempt."

Yay, civic duty that will suck up an indeterminate amount of time starting Monday!

I HATE THIS THING.
THIS THING IS TERRIBLE.

A MEAT GRINDER. Sounds sort of horror-film-y and interesting, right? WRONG. To make a painfully long story short, about a year ago I got a meat grinder from a credit card rewards program. To anyone who knows my dietary habits, that's a bit silly.

So I sold it on Amazon.com - to some psychopath in New York who insisted on returning it, despite there being nothing wrong with it, and sent me many nasty messages with ALL CAPS AND IN-COLOR BOLDED YELLING TEXT threatening bad feedback if I didn't accept the return and cover all shipping costs (plus return money + original shipping.)

So I was now $40 in the hole on this stupid free meat grinder. After letting it sit in its box for another six months, I decided to try selling it on ebay in May. All went well. Or so I thought. Now THIS buyer wants a return, but has USED THE FREAKING MEAT GRINDER. I will bore you no further with details, but suffice to say it's looking like I'll wind up losing about $75 on this stupid thing. And letting the second buyer just keep it. Meanwhile, this whole debacle has not only cost me $75 but also a ton of time - literally DOZENS of emails, plus a few post office trips. How did I get into this situation? Oh, right. Stupid credit rewards program. I should shred that credit card.. If only I had a meat grinder...

DEADLINES. Somehow, on all work fronts-- all of which were supposed to be relatively calmer, schedule-wise, over the summer --I've had multiple moderate-to-huge-deadlines for the past several weeks. Deadlines associated with clients means deadlines I have to meet, to avoid that aforementioned BROKE fear.

Which means my personal writing deadlines, from this blog to the current novel I'm working on to keeping up with my reading (since you can't be a great writer if you don't read - just ask Stephen King) all get shoved back. It also means turning down other things I'd like to be doing, and feeling generally at Stress Level 10.

All of these things led to last night, when I dragged The Fiance out to a nice restaurant-- not because that's a nice thing to do, but because I had a deadline to write a review of the place --only to find it closed due to some plumbing issue or something. So we went elsewhere, and while we waited on our entrees, in an attempt to explain my mood and be sweet about it, I told him:

"I'm feeling overwhelmed right now. I have all these deadlines and the jury duty and the stupid freaking meat grinder debacle, and I'm behind on emails and wedding planning and house stuff and everything else... the nice thing is, there are a million things stressing out - but you're not one of them. So thank you."

To which he raised an eyebrow and said: "Give me time."

Ooooh, buddy...

(Luckily, he then said the right and reassuring things; he just can't help saying something snarky first. It's like a disease. A communicable disease which I also have, but with me, it's like a chronic re-occurring condition-- with that guy, it's terminal.)

Anyway, thanks for indulging me in a little vent-sesh. Now it's back to the deadlines, which I've decided WILL include one more post this week/weekend before jury duty begins. Or in a fit of meat grinder madness, I shred a calendar.

xoxo...

Sanity, Squared

So, there was the stress-creeping-in post earlier this week. It was a relief just to put that out there a bit, before diving back into the madness that is this week. Because this week is just one of those weeks.

It's one of those weeks that I have work gigs pulling me in several different directions.

It's one of those weeks where there is something on the calendar for the evening, EVERY evening.

This chat message happened in real life.

It's one of those weeks where I was super proud to carve out half an hour to go to the gym yesterday... only to realize, when I got home, that I'd been wearing my drawstring shorts backwards.

One of those weeks.

But luckily, I have resources and allies. People that help keep me sane and smiling.

Like my mother, now known as THE MOB (Mother of the Bride), who sent a sweet and supportive message my way.

My friend Nicole, in from out of town, who just kept fist-bumping me about how awesome this part of life is - yeah, dude! (She also survived a fall from a six story building and is kind of amazing for perspective and inspiration, in general).

And of course, The Fiancé, who can always make me laugh. See the image in this post? Up and to the right? That'd be the opening to a chat conversation we had yesterday. Welcome to my life. It's pretty nerdtastic.

All that to say - more soon. And it'll be good. Even if it's "off"... it'll ultimately be good. 'Cause it'll all work out in the end, and if it's not okay, it's not the end.

HAPPY WEDNESDAY!

THE STORY

"When do we get to hear The Story?"

I've been getting that question a lot. Truth be told, it's a bit disappointing for a writer to suddenly have everyone asking her about The Story, only to swiftly realize that they don't mean that novel you're working on, they mean OMG HOW DID HE ASK YOU TO MARRY HIM WAS IT SUPER ROMANTIC THIS IS BANANAS I'M ALREADY CRYING!!!???

Seriously, though, it's sweet.

When people ask about The Story, I mean. That's sweet: friends' excitement, exuberant curiosity, wanting to know how this fabulous news came to be. The Story itself, well - at first glance, it's not actually what a tale that would be universally characterized as sweet. It's certainly not epic or flowery. No one gets down on one knee and there were no flash mobs. If you want to see something like that, watch this couple instead:

ALL THAT SAID, I'll oblige all of y'all and tell The Story. Then we'll see if it's sweet (or OMG-BANANAS-worthy) or not. So here it is:

How We Got Engaged
Or, The (Lack of a) Story

Once upon a time, there were two lovely, brainy, and romantically-inept people who loved each other and were already pretty ding dang committed to each other and had started finally talking about the fact that honoring and formalizing that commitment might be nice. There was discussion about a ring, and two things were decided about said ring:

1) Spending a crazy amount of money on a ring actually is crazy - or, said in a less judge-y way, spending more than they could afford on a ring just wouldn't do for these two.
2) One couple's joy shouldn't be symbolized by anyone else's misery; in other words, no blood diamonds or shady-gems allowed.

This led to the decision to procure a certified-ethical, sustainably-produced diamond from Canada. Aboot time, eh?*

Speaking of time. It takes some time for an cruelty-free international engagement ring to arrive at one's doorstep. No matter what the tracking information says. Which means that on two separate occasions, planned romantic proposal situations were thwarted by the postal system and its tediously slow delivery of The Canadian Ring.

To make a long (and, for real, not that interesting relative to all the other crazy awesome stories we could tell you) story short, the ring dawdled and no romantic proposal happened.

Then one Monday night, after a somewhat long and stressful day, our heroes were sitting on the couch. Feeling like they needed a pick-me-up, they decided to have an upscale takeout night, and were eating some delicious gourmet pizza and drinking some good red wine. After finishing an episode of Game of Thrones (clearly, the most romantic show ever... um, not really) while snuggling with the pets, this conversation took place:

Me: This is just a really good night.
He: Hold that thought.
(He runs upstairs, and comes back down with a small box.)
Me: Hold on.
(I chug the remainder of my glass of good red wine.)
He: Let's see if this fits.
Me: Is this really happening?
(He puts a ring on my finger.)
He: Yes.
Me: Don't you have to ask me a question, or something?
He: Okay. Do you want to love me for the rest of your life?
Me: That's the plan. Do you want to love me for the rest of your life?
He: Already doing it.

I had to go to a jeweler later that week-- because, as it turns out, the ring didn't fit.

But the proposal actually did.

*I grew up near the Canadian border and would just like to go ahead and apologize to my Northern neighbors for that cheesy accent joke, even if it's pretty accurate. Also, thanks for the cruelty-free sparkler, Canada!

Accidental Husband Test

So the Fiancé and I have only been engaged for a few weeks now, but we've been together for years. He has proven his mettle time and again. He’s supportive, he’s loyal, he’s hilarious, blah blah blah. Pretty much all of his prior awesomeness has now been trumped by the Accidental Husband Test he passed this weekend.

Photo from Etsy. (Seriously)

This is a story of puke, y’all. If you can’t handle a little vomit in a story, you may want to skip this entry. (But I promise not to get too graphic. I’m no Daniel Tosh.)

Any time I have to get on a plane, I get motion sick. It sucks. But the good news is, I can usually head it off by taking some preemptive Dramamine, and thereby keep the motion sickness to mild headache and avoid getting to the serious-nausea stage. However, when I woke up at the godforsaken hour of 5 AM to head to the airport, I woke up with a migraine.

Not. Good.

I rarely get migraines; they’re a remnant from an awful car wreck I was in a few years back. Thank all that’s good and holy, they're not the norm for me - but when one sets in, it’s unforgiving. We’re talking throbbing, disorientation, nausea, utter misery. A migraine usually means calling in to work. Staying in bed. Which is not an option when you have to get on a plane. To go wear a bridesmaid dress in someone else's wedding.

So I drag myself out of bed. The Fiance helps keep me propped up as we take the dogs outside, and then he schleps all the luggage outside. I take some migraine meds. My friend Rachel arrives to take us to the airport. I manage to keep it together for most of the car ride, but I can tell things are about to get ugly.

Please let me make it to a toilet please let me make it to a toilet please let me make it to a toilet…

Rachel pulls the van up to the drop-off curb at the airport. I say, very quietly, “I’m sorry, but I’m going to throw up,” and then open the van door and keep my word, all over the sidewalk.

I’m not proud.

Rachel’s look of pity was a sight to behold. I must have looked really, really pathetic. But then I felt better. I thought it was over.

Then came the plane ride. The puddle-jumping, turbulent, stuffy-hot-miserable-get-me-out-of-this-hell plane ride. In order to avoid the truly unfortunate details and cancel the suspense, let's just say I threw up, into a flimsy airline barf bag, seated less than six inches from my future husband.

My future husband, who kept his hand on my back the whole time and told me it would be okay. Who pointedly ignored the lady across the aisle and her disdainful look. Who later described the incident to the friend who picked us up from the airport as "the most discreet bout of getting sick you could imagine. It was practically graceful."

Now that's how you pass an accidental husband test.

He's a keeper, y'all.