Please Sir...Can I have Christmas?

In planning the wedding I told F that he's in charge of our Honeymoon. I gave him 3 criteria: Somewhere warm, Somewhere neither of us has been before, and dang if I didn't forget what the 3rd one was! Oh well. Anyway, he suggested that even though it goes against the main criteria, that we go back to The Homeland. This is an opportunity that would be stupid of me to pass up. So I said yes, as long as we DO NOT stay with relatives while there. He agreed.
He just called to tell me that he was looking at prices online for us to go over Christmas break. He gets very few vacation days, and we both get that time off between Christmas and New Years, so this is our best bet for an extended Honeymoon.

F: "I just checked tix to The Homeland. They're $1,500 before Christmas and $1,100 on Christmas day or there after."
ME: "I'd prefer to go the day after(Christmas.) Especially if it saves us almost a grand."
F: "Why the day after? Why not on Christmas?"
ME: "Um, because it's CHRISTMAS DAY."
F: "And what are you going to do on Christmas day anyway?"
ME: "Spend my first Christmas with my new husband." (this of course was a blatant gab at boasting his ego, you'll see how well that worked....)
F: "Look at it this way. You know I don't get much time off and this is a free day. So we'll have one more day to spend doing stuff."
Me: " So, what you're telling me is that I get to spend my FIRST Christmas with my HUSBAND on an airplane????"
F: " *sigh* Yes. We'll have more time to do stuff with that extra day."
ME: "hmph."

So yes, lucky me, I get to spend my Christmas not in comfy clothes snuggled in front of our fireplace in our newly remodeled family room, with my HUSBAND. But cramped on an airplane for god only knows how long with the unwashed masses.
Yeah. Oliver Twist gots nothin' on me.

Make Me Thin: Parts 2 & 3

Remember the Make You Thin Guy and his 4 Golden Rules? I missed the second installment about emotional eating, but happened upon it later during the week. The emotional eating deterrent? Tapping. Lots of annoying, self inflected tapping. Tap under your eye, followed by your collar bone, then the pinky side of your hand, then the top of your hand while looking down and to the right, then down and to left, then in a circle, then hum, then count to 5, then hum again, all while tapping the hell out of the top of your hand. Honestly, I don’t know if it change how my brain processed things like he claimed or I was just so focused on how my hand and collar bone were being to bruise from all the tapping that killed the emotional eating. I haven’t had to put it in actual practice yet since my emotions have been whipped by pure exhaustion. Too tired to even care to eat. Working on the family room is really putting the screws to me, but it’s all coming together, and the paint color I picked looks lovely against the orange and red brick fireplace. Last night however, I managed to remember to watch Part 3, Killing the Cravings. Praise the gods, I need that! And how, pray tell, do you manage that? Well folks, you gross yourself the hell out. Yes, that’s right, GROSS YOURSELF OUT. Apparently, the human’s imagination is greater than the human’s will power. So imagine the food that absolutely turns your stomach and makes you want to gag. Then imagine yourself eating said food, eh, not tooooo bad, until he tells you to add gross things on top of it. Like hair. Off an un-swept barbershop floor. Not gagging yet? Add the contents of a spittoon. (For you young ones Merriam Webster has this to say about a spittoon: a receptacle for spit. Think what people who chew spit into.) This is all heaped on top of/mixed in with, the food you are craving. Eyes watering yet? Covering your mouth and heading for the bathroom? That’s how I felt when I thought of a fish, with its scales still on it, it’s bulging cold dead eye staring at me. Covered in hair off a barbershop floor. With tobacco spit on it.
Makes me gag just writing it.
While imagining all these gross things you are suppose to press your thumb and middle fingers together on your left hand.
After completely gagging yourself, you are suppose to think happy-happy-joy-joy thoughts while pressing your thumb and middle finger together on your right hand. (I used the memories of when F proposed and when my little nephew, just over 1yrs old, kept acting the fool just in order to make me laugh. )
And that, my friends, is how you kill a craving.
So of course, me and my endlessly wandering brain decided that wasn’t gross enough. That in order to get the full effect, I needed to think of even more disgusting things to heap on my fish, with its scales still on and it’s bulging cold dead eye staring at me. And this of course could only be accomplished whilst in bed, trying to sleep.
Want to know what I came up with? If you have a weak stomach, stop here.

So going with the hair theme, since we are all raised to be grossed out by hair in our food, I thought of the grossest hair area I could.
Guesses?
How about the strip of tape covered with hair after a lovely day of bikini waxing? Brazilian anyone?
Toe Hair.
Toe Jam.
Used…….well, now I’m grossing myself out too much here. Needless to say I didn’t get much sleep last night.

What would your gross out items be? You know, in case mine stop working some day.

Say that Again?!

What follows is a conversation I had with Second-Eldest Sister concerning her upcoming wedding. She got engaged several months after F and I and our family couldn't be happier with our soon-to-be BIL.


*SES: "We've decided on a month to get married."
ME: "That's great! When?"
SES: "May."
ME: "May??!"
SES: "Yes, May."
ME: MAY?!?! As in May in two months MAY?!?!?!!?!?!?"
SES: "Yes, that's right."
ME: "Well, um, Wow. That's great!"
SES: *sigh* NO! You goof ball, NEXT May!"
ME:"OH! I was gonna say!"
SES: "Yes, May, 2009."
ME: "Thank goodness, I don't need someone else stealing my bridal thunder!"(the 2 girls I work with who both got engaged after me, but are getting married before me. Plus, they're younger than me! jerks.)
SES: "Exactly."
ME: "Have you picked an actual day?"
SES: "Not yet."

*Please note, this is the same Sister who when I was very little would tell me the mannequins in the store were my parents. And then, lead me around said store while covering my eyes and running me into things.
Shopping with her was great fun.

Not So Happy Easter

I hope everyone had an excellent Easter Holiday! Stuffed yourself silly with chocolate and what-not.
I however, can not say my Easter weekend was a banner one.
It all started to go down hill on Thursday, I should have known then. Normally we are let out of work early, several hours. Not so this time around.
1st Warning.

I’d been compiling a list in my head for several days for things to do on my day off, Good Friday, and finally decided to write it all down throughout the day on Thursday. Needless to say, I forgot what half the things were that I wanted to do. Thursday night I hardly slept. Which means that after F left to go to work (poor sucker) I rolled over and fell back to sleep, until 10 am. I proceeded to lie in bed until 11ish, knowing full well I had to donate blood at Church at 3pm. I didn’t feel well, but dragged myself up, and started to cross things off my list. NOT. First I went to the store that purportedly carried the shoes I want to wear for my wedding. They do not stock all the shoes (so much for trying them on), and specifically do not CARRY the shoes I want because they do not carry that supplier.
2nd Warning.

Then I headed to the grocery store. I had a list and a flyer full of fabulous coupons. The first place I went? Literally had isles TAPED OFF. The shelves that were accessible were half empty. I turned heel and ran back to my car. I was close to the Church and decided to donate early. After waiting AN HOUR, I was told my iron was too low and I couldn’t donate that day.
3rd Warning.

I decided to finish (start) my grocery shopping and headed several miles away to a store I knew would be stocked and clean. Nice store, about 20mins out of my way though. Apparently that extra mileage equates into extra high prices! Crazy! And once I started trying to get the items that I had coupons for, I discovered they were those misleading kind: SAVE $2 on any 3 frozen dinners! SAVE $1 on any 2 EXTRA LARGE SIZE items! Huh? That’s not a deal! So I put back the 10 items I had in my cart and head those extra 20 minutes back home to another grocery store.
4th Warning.

After 4 warning signs you’d think I’d figure it out. Not so much.

It started snowing while in the grocery store, and the wind was whipping. As I stomped in the house, cold and wet and extremely hungry loaded down with groceries, F was no where to be found. Oh, wait, that’s right he was in the shower! “Warming up.” GRRRRR. He helped put away the groceries while I collapsed on the couch with a hunger induced headache.
“Fffffffff” I whimpered, “Will you please make dinner? I’m done, I’m just DONE! And I have a headache from hunger.”
“I’m not hungry right now.”
Pardon? I just told you I was in pain from not eating and you tell me you’re not hungry? How many times have I stopped what I was doing to make you dinner because you “are so hungry I’m really shaking!”
Make the damned spaghetti already!
“Please, seriously, I NEED to eat.”
“Ok.”

So, let’s recap Good Friday: Wedding shoes? Nope.
Donate life saving blood? Nope.
Use somewhat fabulous coupons to get discounted yummy food? Nope.
Wasted several hours? Yep.
Wasted way too much gas? Oh yeah.
Saturday? Not much better.
F had to get some blood work done, so he dragged me out of bed with him at 8 am with the promise of a fabulous breakfast. I hadn’t even showered.
We drive FOREVER to this place that takes 2 seconds to draw his blood.
The fabulous breakfast? Eh. Cracker Barrel has some awesome bacon, let me tell you, the biscuits were pretty good too, and that was the highlight of my breakfast.
We drove home and I collapsed back into bed for the next few hours while F painted the ceiling in the family room.
I didn’t really sleep, a trend I’ve been experiencing lately and am not too thrilled about.
Got up, showered and started getting ready. We were going to meet my friends and F wanted to stop at the Outlet mall to get new tennis shoes. As always 2 mins after he gets out of the shower he announces that he’s ready to go! That I need to hurry up! So I rush. I am seconds from walking out the door to leave to find F, in the basement, on the computer, still only half dressed. The directions to the restaurant? Not written down. The cars not moved around, he was too busy to do his stuff because he was chatting with a cousin! Grrrrrrrr We fought about it in the car, he couldn’t see that my point was not whether or not we would be late, but that EVERY TIME we have somewhere to go he says he’s ready then as I’m at the door he can’t find his shoes, or his wallet, or his cell or his glasses or needs to write this or that, or stop at the hardware store, or the post office, or the bank, or SOMETHING that puts us 10 minutes behind schedule that he could have been doing while I was getting ready.
“You’re blowing it out of proportion.” he stated.
WRONG THING TO SAY buddy boy.
5th Warning.

Dinner went well. F was kind of ignored by the other husbands, but boys don’t socialize as well as girls anyway.
We got home really late and when the morning came, I dreaded heading to Easter Sunday Services. I waited until the last possible service at noon.
Once we got home F painted the ceiling with a second coat while I cleaned the disaster of a kitchen. I even moved the stove to mop!
“DH, I’m so hunger, I’m shaking!”
really? cause I’m not. “I’ll make dinner, but I have to finish cleaning the stove first, do you want me to make you a sandwich to hold you until then?”
“Yes!”
And this is where all those warning sign were pointing, Easter Sunday Dinner. I’d had an idea in my head to use some salsa to spice up the baked chicken and I was going to season the whole grain brown rice so it won’t taste so nasty, and all would be lovely in the land.
The chicken smelled good, but still tasted extremely bland.
The rice wasn’t done.
I cried.
Like a damn hysterical woman.
“I can’t cook! I know how to cook, but every time I do, it comes out wrong! I feel like such a failure!”
“Oh, DH, I’ve never seen you this way! Wow, you are really having an emotional breakdown.” He consolingly wraps his arms around me.
“Your mother thinks I can’t do anything! And what happens when I have to cook for them? Especially T? She’s such a fabulous cook!”
“OMG, why are you worrying about that?”
“I’m a woman! I’ve been raised to believe that I should be able to cook for my husband! I never thought I’d feel this way. I want you to eat my food because you like, not because that’s all there is!!!” At this point I’m practically wailing.
“Oh, DH. I’m not marrying you because of that!”
It went on that way for a few more minutes, with F promising we would learn to cook together. Which really didn’t make me feel any better, but I know he was trying.
I felt completely defeated the rest of the day. I was still upset the next morning. I could feel the dark bony fingers of depression weaving their way into my psyche. So I stayed home, taking a vacation day from work.
I painted the family room. It looks good.
But I’m still skittish about making dinner.

Who is this emotional basket case I’ve become?????

Weird

Seen on the way home last night: A six foot cowboy wearing his hat and........ Birkenstocks
It was 35 degrees out.

This and That

F and I are trying this new way of eating. I happened to run across a show on Sunday night on TLC called, I Can Make You Thin. So I watched it. Apparently this guy is a huge hit in England. And following his rules seems fairly easy:

1) Eat when you are hungry(hmmm, often I feel I should be eating, especially when I'm bored)

2)Eat what you want (ice cream here I come!)

3) Eat consciously(this involves setting down your knife and fork in between bites, not eating in front of the tv or reading, not easy)

4)Stop eating when you are full(right now I am having a hard telling when I am full)

But I've really been trying to do this. The full part is especially hard since I'm used to eating til I'm stuffed. I can tell when I'm not hungry anymore, but full? Not so easy. He says if you get hungry again in 10 mins after having eaten, eat again, or drink a glass of water. Next show covers Overcoming Emotional Eating. Blessed be, I need THAT. What I really need is How to Overcome Boredom Eating. Now that is a topic I'm sure many of us have issues with.

I need Bridal Body 2008, is what I need. I'm so damned lazy.

On a completely different end of the spectrum, I was searching online for thigh high nylons to wear on my wedding day to go with my garter equipped bustier. Apparently, the only way you can advertise thigh-highs is if you show the thonged ass above the nylons and hooker heels below them. My friend walked by my office as I was scanning the page and exclaimed, "DH!!!"

To which I immediately responded, "It's Not what you think!!"

Really, why is it that thigh -highs with seams are considered hooker wear? Or Adult Entertainment wear if you need to be P.C. And the sidebar on the screen that has "Sponsored Links"? Stocking Fetish Video, and Penis Enlargement. Um, seriously, I just wanted some nice nylons for my wedding day.

I did find some, they are very cute and sexy and bridal, and from Taiwan. Great, won't be going there anytime soon.

If they had a seam up the back, I'd be flying to Taiwan.

I Need Your Help

I have always had somewhat of a contentious relationship with Second Eldest BIL. When he first showed up on the scene 20+ years ago, I didn’t like him because he was cutting into my time with Eldest Sister, we were very close, us two sisters. As time went on I found his humor to be relentless and often cruel, and as a young girl who was still coming into her own, I didn’t have the verbal skills to defend myself. I also felt that he, being an adult, should know when to quit(Eldest Sister is 11 yrs older than me and he’s, I believe, another 4 yrs older than her). Needless to say, I had to broach the subject with Eldest Sister, asking her to please intervene on my behalf. She did, and things improved, for years. As I got older, though, things began to revert back to what they were. I would defend myself as best I could, but he was often belittling and down right mean. I was at loss as to what to do, what to say that would finally put him in his place. Often his cruelty leaves me speechless with rage. He reprimands me as if I was a child instead of an adult. “Oh my GOSH DH.” “What the HECK, DH.” Most recently he has taken to calling me gullible. A trait that I think at one time he enjoyed, especially when he could exploit it. Now however, I think he finds it almost disgusting. When I relate a story that I read on the net he calls me gullible. When I relate something I hear on the radio, he rolls his eyes and tells me that it can’t be true. It really hurts my feelings because honestly, I’m not gullible. I feel I’m well informed and well educated. Things that we all pass along via e-mail because they are humorous, he criticizes, in a “Reply to All” scathing e-mail. My opinions are all but dismissed as ill-informed and uneducated. I feel he is mere moments from declaring me stupid. This is exactly how he makes me feel. I’m quite tired of it. I have relayed my anger and frustration to F. But neither of us knows how to confront him. I can’t hold my temper, which means my sword like tongue (my mother’s words, not mine) fails me and is as sharp as a wet noodle. It happened again this weekend. “Guuuullible.” Was his sing-songy comment regarding my presenting Second Eldest Sister with a St Joseph statue, which is suppose to help you sell your house. I looked at F and he shook his head. I don’t know if anyone else caught the look on my face of pure hatred, but it was there.
So anyone, please, how do I deal with this? Short of calling him a fucking ass, which wouldn’t do well for family relations. I’m at a total loss. I need some advice. Help me please!

Hair Raising Issues Part 2

Shortly after I posted yesterday about my hair, I got an e-mail from my cousin whom I’d asked to do my hair for the wedding. She did my hair for F’s office Christmas party that first year, and it looked FABU! Just after F and I got engaged (9 months now!) she started a new job. This is great for her, because now she makes more money and has health insurance for her and her family. But turns out, it sucks for me. Here’s what part of her e-mail imparted:

(….) “Unfortunately I will only be able to take a 1/2 day on that Friday. :-( I couldn't remember if I told you yet or not. So I will not be able to help out with your hair, I'm sorry. But I know you'll be Gorgeous! (just make sure that you have a trial run so you’re comfortable with the stylist & style)
So, there goes my mimosa drinking, hair styling, morning. *La Sigh*
Now I have to go to my stylist, who does a great job cutting my hair, I just don’t know how the up dos will go over. I saw up dos that they did, and seriously? A little too little girlie. Of course that could have been what bride wanted.
And what her brides’ maids wanted too.
Oh, god, I’m screwed.

This is the look I want:

Oh, and if I could have their size 00 bodies too? Yeah, that'd be great, thanks!

Hair Today

I, like so many other Brides, am “growing out” my hair in preparation for my wedding. It’s been shoulder length for several years, anything past shoulder length and it gets mangy. Knowing this, I still feel the need to have long flowing locks upon my wedding day. Plus I’m too cheap to pay for a white girl’s weave, i.e. extensions. I have extremely fine hair. As a former stylist told me, “Your hair is very fine, but you have a lot of it.” That however doesn’t make it curl any easier. I am not the kind of female that gets up an hour early to make sure my hair is perfectly coifed. I used to. But then I got old and didn’t care anymore and discovered clip thingies. I try, I do, but proper hair maintenance takes time and frankly, I’d prefer to use it sleeping. Anyone with fine hair will tell you that getting it to hold a curl is near impossible. CBF has even finer hair and less then I do. She also is not a great maintainer of hair and whenever we go anywhere together she poaches my products. I remember her calling me about hair styling (she thinks I’m a great hair stylist, silly girl) for a big to-do she was attending. Knowing the state of fineness of her hair, my sage advice was, “Spray it before, during and after curling. That’s the best way to get to hold for most of the night.” Most of the things I know about styling has come from making mistakes. You should see my prom pictures. YIKES. And that was the product of like 3 hours of curling. It held all night though, I must say. When my hair is short I use the smallest curling iron possible. Last night I broke down and bought a new curling iron. My hair has gotten so long that the 2” barrel one I’ve been using for years now, doesn’t do enough. The 1” barrel one did too much (my bangs hated me that day.) So I searched and found 1 ¼” barrel, EUREKA! I used it this morning. It seems to be working. I was tempted, after having read (several times) Molly’s post about how she does her hair, to buy hot rollers. I would LOOOVE to have Molly Hair, but the $11.96 curling iron won out over the $39.95 hot rollers.(I'd also looooove to have those red shoes she's got posted today about her wedding shoes. Seriously, I'm not stalking her, I swear!) That plus the fact that hot rollers would take more time than a quick 8 (probably more like 5) curls with the curling iron.
It’s a good thing I’m having my hair done for the wedding. Or I’d probably show up with it pulled back in a clip thingy.

Ok, so I just reread this post and seriously, I’m kinda lame.

Can Somebody Get That?

Remember the lady with the Crocs and the inappropriate questions/comments and purple hair? Yes well, in a meeting with the entire office the other day her cell phone went off. In and of its self is no biggie; until she reached DOWN HER SHIRT to pull it OUT OF HER BRA.

Her BRA people, her BRA.


It’s probably better that she didn’t have it set to vibrate cause lord only knows where she would’ve pulled it out of then……………

Operator..Please Give Me #9......

And if you Disconnect me, I'll kick you right behind.....

Remember that childhood rhyme? Well this weekend, while F was making phone calls back to The Homeland about the wedding, as per FIL's demands, FIL kept beeping in. So F asked me to call FIL and tell him to stop calling.
So I did.
FIL: "F!?"
ME: "No, it's DH."
silence
ME: "F is on the phone and wants you to stop calling him." *nervous giggle* i knew this wasn't going over well
FIL: "OOOOH well EXCUSE ME! I gave him the wrong number and was going to give him the correct one."
ME: "Well you can *CLICK*

That's right folks. My 70 yr old future father-in-law hung up on me.
Like he was a 16 yr old girl.
So yeah, I'd like to kick him right behind the ...........

Overwhelmed

I cried in the shower this morning.

This wedding thing is really getting to me. REALLY getting to me. F still hasn't whipped up his side of the guest list and it was really upsetting me.
I know affording this wedding isn't going to be a simple, "Here Daddy! Pay for this!" Because I have no Daddy(literally) and even if I did, I doubt he could pay for it. God rest his soul.

That, and my house isn't selling and I am EXTREMELY BROKE because of it.

Also, I'm deathly afraid I'm not going to like my dress once my sister finishes it. Or my fat arms will still be fat, and goodness I am such a damn girl!

F turned off the water, wrapped me in towel and hugged me.

I wish I was still there in his warm arms instead of here, at work.

I'm really lucky to have him.

Remote This

I was watching “Who’s Wedding is it Anyway?” the other night and the MOG (mother of the groom) went out and bought a red dress to wear to the wedding. We are talking bright cherry red. The Bride was understandably upset. Her mother was wearing dark silver and her grandmother was in lilac. The BM’s were in black. So the cherry red? Can we say, FOCAL POINT? The wedding planner tried to intervene by telling the MOG that the dress was amazing and she looked great in it, but maybe she should exchange it for one in a different color “gun metal gray perhaps?” MOG’s reasoning behind her choice was completely self serving. “It’s MY BABY’S Wedding! And it’s during the holidays (they were having a new year’s wedding), so why not RED? Plus it looks great on me! Hahahahaha!”
“What a bitch.” Was my response to the TV. I went to bed before I saw if she changed it or not. I have CFB checking her TiVo to see if she has it and can tell me what the out come was. I have to say one thing for MIL, she would never do that. She knows better. She has better manners than that. Thank You MIL.

Update: CBF says: "She did indeed where that red (or as she called it, burgundy) dress. And then at the reception, she got drunk and went around to all the tables exclaiming that she was the groom's mother. Apparently, she did not have a wedding, so she saw this as her chance. I think she might have bi-polar disorder. Crazy biznatch."


Last night we were watching Rich Bride_Poor Bride. The one couple that was on, the girl was a total blond. She kept going over budget and couldn’t understand why anyone was getting upset. Every time her planner said, “This is going over budget” she’d say, “it doesn’t matter, they’ll pay for it.” “They” being the parents. She kept signing for things without telling her future spouse. Like the harpist for $500 for the first hour. F’s response to it all? “I’d leave you if you were like that.” This is his answer every time we watch this show. I just looked at him. “I would! This should tell him how she’s going to be when they get married. Not telling him stuff! That’s ridiculous.”
“I’m thinking if I was like that, you’d know it by now. Plus, you are a hypocrite. I KNOW there are things you don’t tell me.” I said pointedly.
He smiled, he knew he’d been caught.
“Right.”
At one point the planner had an intervention to try and stop the spending. This was the one time I was on the girl’s side. Her future in-laws ripped into her. I think at one point they even told her she was stupid. Which ok, maybe she was, but they shouldn’t talk to her like that! Especially on TV!
I turned to F, “If your parents ever talked to me like that, oh, it’d be ON! You know I’d try to bite my tongue, but hell no!”
F rolled his eyes and sighed.

I love the conversations we have when we do things together.

School is OUT!

On Sunday we had our Premarital Prep Class. This was more than just meeting with our Priest. This was an all day event, 8:45AM to 4:45PM. There were 19 couples in all, and F and I were the 2nd oldest couple there.
Yeah, me and F, and a bunch of 20 somethings with their teeny tiny waists and glaringly huge solitaries. Opps, was that a tad bitter? Oh well.
The class? A complete waste of time. COMPLETE. They feed us bagels at 9. F and I spilt one. They didn’t feed us lunch until after 1pm, after we all attended mass together. Back in the class room, we all fell on the pizza and wings and stuffed ourselves. Yes, that’s right, pizza and wings. All that was missing was the beer bong. And that’s what we got for $60? Not pleased.
Other than that, nothing to write about. No crazy couple. Nothing outrageous. No one fighting over the stupid little exercises we had to do. Really, it was a Blogging Bust.

Except the stone chapel that everyone but us (not really, but it seemed like it) was getting married at. "Oh we're getting married in the little stone chapel." So we checked out this "little chapel". Totally JEALOUS because the "chapel" is a Gothic church that was built in the 1930's and seats 200 people. I wanted to stab myself in the eye so I could forget how cool it was and how horrid it was that I wasn't getting married there. I’d post pics, but the website won’t let me copy them. Jerks. And posting the website, well, not really all that anonymous for me then, is it? Anyway, we could have had the family room cleaned up within that day instead of me stabbing out my eyes from jealously.


However, I think I found my bridal shower theme. I doubt my friends would protest!

Fun bridal shower theme: Stock the bar

by Meg Massie on Feb 27th 2008 7:31PM

Now here's a shower I'd like someone to throw for me -- and I'm guessing most guys could have a good time with one of these, too. A stock the bar bridal shower is just what it sounds like. Instead of buying household supplies for the bride, you're literally stocking the couple's bar with gifts of liquor and drink recipes.

Bridesmaid Essentials has a great guide for how to throw such a party, including decorations, menu ideas (of course there's alcohol), games, and even wording for the invitation.

The guide suggests including a few blank recipe cards with the invitation so guests can write out the recipes for their own favorite cocktails to share with the couple.

Vitamin C-ya

Toxicity and symptoms of high intake:

Since ascorbic acid(vitamin C) is a water-soluble vitamin, toxic levels are not built up or stored in the body, and any excess is lost mostly through urine. If extremely large amounts are taken gastrointestinal problems may appear, but will normalize when the intake is cut or reduced. To determine a level where a person might experience discomfort is difficult, since some people can easily stomach up to 25,000 mg per day, while others start having a problem at 600 or 1,000 mg.
Some people using mega dose therapy of vitamin C may have side effects such as gastrointestinal complaints including diarrhea, nausea and abdominal cramps. These side effects normally stop as soon as high potency intake is reduced or stopped.

Remember the Doctor that told me to take 1,000mg of vitamin C a day? The one that wouldn’t give me any drugs because they caused diarrhea?

Yeah, THANKS A LOT DOC. Apparently I am in the percentage that doesn’t do well with excessive amounts of Vitamin C. And here I was upping the dose by eating an orange every morning as well!!!

Fracking idiot.

And this is what my mother said when I told her why I thought I wasn’t feeling well:

“Oh DH I'm so sorry I didn't realize you were taking vitamin C. That will give you the runs for sure. I remember that woman who worked at the club telling me that was one of the purposes of vitamin c - to clear your system so you'd get over the cold, flu, whatever.”

Confirmed by mom, who is not a medical professional, AT ALL.
I don't mean to over share here people. I don't feel that bathroom habits/occurrences are to be discussed with the public at large. However, in this case, I consider this a PSA (public services announcement).
And I didn't take ANY Vitamin C today. Not even the 200mg that was in my Daily Multi-Vitamin.
Yes, I checked the label to see how much was in there.
No, I didn't take any.
Yes, it was THAT bad of an experience.

Green Eyes Aren't Smiling

Today F is going to met up with his tax accountant, which is now, OUR tax accountant. Remember her? The one he dated, which he says he actually only e-mailed before dating me? The one that is now our tax accountant? The one that he was going to go visit after she had surgery? At her house? Yeah, that one. Well, it's tax time! And so this morning I handed over my tax info. None too pleased. There's just something about A Potential having my most intimate information. Plus? He's taking her to lunch. Yeah. She gets a free meal on us. Ok, him, but still.
I said, "Can't you just met for coffee? Do you really have to have lunch? With your ex?"
"She's not my Ex. We never dated. We barely e-mailed."
"Emm, right."
"Stop being weird about this."
Raised eyebrow, "Right. Weird. Your Ex."
Loud *sigh* from F.
So my Irish Eyes? Are not smiling.
They are flashing a tad bit of the green eyed monster.
Not the best color green to be sporting.
A Potential.
Most INTIMATE Information.(outside of medical records.)
FLASH FLASH
Maybe I should wear sunglasses for the rest of the day.

Ms. Snippy

Let me just start off by saying I've worked with these people for over 10yrs, so all the things that bother me now, have been building for the last 10yrs.

A few years after I started this job we(the students, I was a student when I started) decided that a potluck would be fabulous to have to celebrate some holiday. It went over amazingly. So imagine my surprise when Ms. Snippy slams into me about having another one when the next holiday rolls around.
"What makes you think everyone wants to have another one?! You didn't even ASK us if we want to participate! You just put up a sign up sheet!!!!"

I was of course speechless, especially since the potluck wasn't my idea. I think I told her she didn't have to bring anything if she didn't want to.

Over the years there has been many complaints about birthdays and who should bring what and who should buy what. I'm still holding out for us not doing anything, but I don't see that happening anytime soon.

So, yesterday Ms. Snippy stops by my cube and informs me(not asks) that, "Tomorrow is our Boss' birthday. Ms. Nosey is making the cupcakes, and I got a card and am going to pick up flowers. So that'll be a few dollars each."

I beg your pardon?!?!?! Did you ASK me if I wanted to participate in this? And YOU are just ASSuming that I'm willing to chip in for flowers????!!!!!
And then when they decided it was time to give said items to the Boss, they just barged into her office, WHILE SHE WAS ON THE PHONE. That was a BUSINESS call no less.

Is it just me?
Am I just a cranky 30-something?
Or are these women just out of line?

Things.....

I'm Finding Out That F doesn't Like...

1. Eggs, over easy. And God bless him for it, because I hate them too and therefore have no idea how to cook them.



2. Potatoes. "In large amounts. I've never eaten this many potatoes." I'm Irish, so potatoes? 'Nough said.



3. Instant Potatoes. "I like REAL mashed potatoes." Yes, I love me some potatoes, but I'm a lazy Irish Potato lover. Peel? Boil? Mash? And you want me to do all this so we can eat within the next 30mins? Dream on.



4. When I'm "negative". He thinks I should be more supportive when something he does goes wrong. He sees it as negativity, I see it as honesty.

Ok, so I know there are more, they are just evading me at the moment.

Take A Hint

I'm sitting in a co-worker's office and we are chatting. Another co-worker comes by and pops her head(we don't care for her much.)
"Are you working?"
"Yes." I croak out.
"OOOOh are you sick?"
"Yes."
"Well I just need to ask you a question."

ok, hold on a sec. I just told you I was in the middle of work with someone else, but you think it's ok to just butt in? so not cool.

"I need this information. Do you know if it's in the system?"
"I honestly don't know."
"Well I'm working with these people and they want to know XYZ."
"Like I said, I don't know if it's in there. I'd need ABC to find out if there is XYZ."
"So, how would that work? I give you the request and you research it?"

PARDON? This woman is notorious for passing her work off to other people.

"Ah, NOOOOOO. You and your people would do the research to find ABC and from there we could maybe locate XYZ."
"Oh."

She has pushed her way into meetings, interviews(which she didn't attend) and into offices, when the door is shut, and she isn't "waved in". She's handed off work to people who are already overloaded, and if you are on the phone, she'll stand there and wait, instead of coming back later.

We need to start some basic manners training for people, I swear. When I was in 2nd grade I had a teacher who ingrained it into our little heads that you stand there and don't speak until you are recognized by her looking up at you. I follow this protocol to this day. And if someone is on the phone, you go away until they hang up.

Apparently, I either have really good manners, or the mentality of a 7yr old.

Not Laughing

Conversation last night with F while I was engrossed in a novel:

F: "So, we have 2 weeks left until we'll need to break up."

Me: "Huh?"

F: "You know, after we get our results back from Father."

Narrowed eye glare.(from me of course.)
Me: "Yeah, I guess so."

F: *sigh* "Never mind. Go back to your book."

Me: "Ok."

Fill in the Circle COMPLETELY

So, I made it through the PMI. My future with F is hanging on the results of a SCANTRON. Yes, fill in the circle, really it was a minuscule rectangle, completely, do not X, do not Circle, fill in completely, flashback to college inducing 140 question SCANTRON. I’m not sure Father got my joke when I asked, “Is this a timed test?” F tattled on me and told the Father that I’ve been worrying about this “test.” Thanks F. So I got a light lecture on how I shouldn’t worry all the red flags will be discussed, AT LENGTH when the results come back.

IN THREE WEEKS.
*GULP*

Father sharpened our pencils, took F into a different room and left us, alone. Completely on our honor to stay in our assigned rooms and not cheat. We did not. Cheat that is.
The first question? “My future husband and I have many interests in common.” Oh, um, gosh, not so much. That would be “Disagree”. Not looking so good so far.
It went on like that. “My future husband and I agree about finances”. “My future husband and I have many friends in common.” “My future husband and I have the same religious beliefs.” YIKES! No we don’t. F is waaaaay more devote than I am. He still says his prayers every night before bed.

“I feel that my future in-laws may interfere with our lives.” Agree
“I feel that my future husband’s parents don’t approve of me.” Agree
“I feel uncomfortable around certain family members of my future husband.” Agree
Those questions are Four Alarm Fire Red Flag territory.

“I feel comfortable with my body.” Seriously? I’m a female, how is that even a fair question?
“I feel I have sufficient knowledge of sexual things.” Or something like that, basically, they were asking if I know enough about what sex is about. In fact, I think that was one of the questions. Agree. I am a whore.
Some of the questions made me giggle.
Some of the questions made me think.
Some of the questions made me worry.
Some of the questions made me wonder if F knew what they were asking. English is not his first language after all.
I was honest. And I felt so much better after it was done. I wondered of course how F was answering the questions about my family. We talked about it later, as Father said we would, and we answered differently on the first question. F looked at it differently than I did, and then of course I wanted to change my answer. He told me there were some he skipped over and came back to later. He said some of his answers would not make me happy. I told him the same would be true for him. He seems to think that if Father tells us we shouldn’t get married; we can wait 6 months and work on things. Or if we decide not to get married at all, I can live with him until I sell my house. HUH??? If we aren’t getting married, why would I sell my house? Maybe he said until he sells HIS house. He also said we could just continue to live together. Um, no. I want my babies to be legit. When the time comes, that is.
So, another 3 weeks of waiting. I’m going to try and not think about it this time around.

Yeah, that’ll happen.

My Apple is Rotten

Dr Blah Blah? Is a blithering idiot. This is the same guy I saw last time. I don’t want to see him again. He is not my assigned doctor. I think he is the pick-up doctor. You know, the guy who gets all the extra patients the real doctors don’t have time to see? Yeah, lucky me.

He looked at me, “Have we met before?”
“Um, yeah.”
“You look familiar.” His brow furrowed quizzically.
DUDE! I just said we’d met before! Stop sniffing the anti-anxiety meds while transcribing your medical notes!
“So, you’re not feeling well.” Oh my god, here we go again. Damn you Shane!
“Yes, I think I have bronchitis.” I totally do sound like a man, btw.
“Em, well you know Bronchitis is anything dealing with your bronchial.”

Merriman Webster
Main Entry: bron·chi·tis
Pronunciation: brän- k t- s, brä -Function: noun
Bronchitis is an inflammation of the main air passages to the lungs. Bronchitis may be short-lived (acute) or chronic, meaning that it lasts a long time and often recurs.

“Right.”

“Well, let’s have a listen to your lungs. Breath for me.”

During the 3rd breathing exercise I fall into a coughing fit.
No comment from Doctor Blah Blah.

“Well ok, your bronchial are swollen. I suggest you just take some extra Vitamin C, 1000 mg a day. I find this really does help. (he told me last time too.) Buy some of your favorite decongestant (pause as he waits for me to name it, I don’t.) And get lots of rest.”

I look at him dumbfounded. I go for one last ditch effort to score the drugs.
“Um, ok, the last time I had this it lasted for 2 months.”

“Really? Well, that’s unusual.”

ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!?!?! That’s UNUSUAL?!?!?!!?!?!? Is “unusual” even allowed to be used medically??? As per the definition above, I would think that qualifies for “Chronic.”

“Ah, yes.”
“Well, take the Vitamin C and get lots of rest. Seriously, (concerned look) lots of rest. We could all use more rest with our busy lives, right?”
“Riiight.” Do I look that bad?
“ I think right now Antibiotics would just give you diarrhea.(this is true) Lots of rest. (that’s FOUR times he’s mentioned rest. I must look like hell.) And if you don’t get better by Friday, come on back and see us.”
“Ok.”
You know, I have no problem with holistic medicine. I’d rather go the route of non-chemicals, but damn brother! Hook a girl up when she tells you the Vitamin C isn’t cutting it!

As I relayed this in shorthand to F later that evening over the pizza my sweetie picked-up so I wouldn’t have to cook, he says to me, “So you’re staying home tomorrow, right?”
“I can’t I’m behind at work.” (this in no way of course is affected by my Blogging….)


Tomorrow, the visit with the Priest and the dreaded PMI…………………

An Apple a Day......

I haven’t been feeling well for the last few days. I spent almost the entire day in bed yesterday. Then of course I couldn’t sleep last night. The coughing started around 5 pm last night. This morning, it got worse. And my lungs hurt with each semi-racking cough. So I called the doctor as I was driving to work to get an appointment. Normally, they are happy to make you an appointment and collect your insurance money. Apparently, things have changed. The receptionist put me through to a nurse, so I could explain my symptoms and see if anything could be done without seeing the doctor. (Huh? Free medical advice?) The nurse that answered? A male nurse. This completely threw me at first. I never said I’m impervious to society’s assigned stereo types. Anyway, Shane (my male nurse) asked me a few question:
“Why do you want to see the doctor?”
so i can chop you all into a million pieces “I think I have bronchitis.” I croak out like a frog.
“What are your symptoms?”
besides the fact that i sound, as my co-worker put it ‘manly’? “Coughing, and there’s mucus involved. I’ve had bronchitis before. ”
“Soar throat?”
“Yes.”
“Ear pain?”
my ears are burning right now because you won’t just make me an appointment already! “Oh yes.”
“Emhm. Fever?”
sweet heaven, just take my money! “Um, not that I’m aware of.”
“Ok, can you come in today?”
no, i’m calling for next month when my untreated bronchitis turns into pneumonia. “Yes, what time?”
“2 o’clock with Doctor Blah Blah.”
“Great, thanks.”

Are they screening out the hypochondriacs? I mean, seriously. I told you at the beginning that I’ve had this before. I know what it feels like. Come on Shane! Some patients aren’t weirdoes! And I TOLD you I had insurance. Along with my DOB and Name. So the bill will get paid.

So when I go in at 2, wait for 40mins to see the Dr., and he starts asking me the same damned questions, can I tell him to just ask Shane?


P.S. F just called. Said I sound real attractive and wanted to know if I want to cancel tonight. Tonight we go see the Priest again and this time we are taking the PMI. I said no because I want to stop worrying about taking it and start worrying about if we are going to pass it or not.
“DH, are you seriously worried about this?”
“Yes.”
“It’s not pass or fail you know.”
(Um, yeah it kinda is when you have the Priest tell you that out of the 10 people he told that they “failed” 9 didn’t get married and the 10th one showed up in his office after 8 months wanting a divorce. Plus an older friend, she’s in her 40’s, told me her Priest told her the same thing and they got married anyway, and then divorced.)
“Emhmm.”
“I seriously haven’t given it another thought. It must be a woman thing.” (his explanation for many things I worry about and he never even considers.)
“Yeah, it’s a woman thing.”



Update: That fever Shane asked me if I had? Yeah, jerk jinxed me cause now I have it. Thanks for nothing Shane!

And So It Continues

BM dresses have been decided.


Now I've turned my attention to the BM's shoes. At first I considered open toe until my CBF reminded me that we'll all be wearing nylons and hence the seam would show which is, as we all know, a fashion faux pas. I've been stuck on the idea that I want them all to have the same shoes. But, since the dresses are floor length, pictures showing mis-matched shoes is not really an issue. So now I'm considering just letting them pick out a black shoe of their choosing. But here are where some issues arise. My friend on the East Coast wore bedazzled tennis shoes under her wedding dress. I don't want her wearing bedazzled tennis shoes under her BM dress. If she had some kind of foot/knee issue where wearing heels would place her in pain, then I would give her a pass. But she has no ailment that I am aware of. Ballerina slippers? To me that is just kind of a coop out. Unless you are like 6yrs old. (which my flower girl is, and even she wears her patten leathers with heels.) Plus, it's not like I'm asking them to wear 6" hooker heels. And CBF? I can see her arriving a few days before the wedding in need of said shoes and me having to try and find time to take her shopping knowing full well she'll go for the Payless shoes and then complain that they hurt her feet.

Am I over thinking this?

As my friend from Europe told me : "I've spent more time thinking about your wedding than I did my own!"

Can I put conditions on their shoes? ie Must have heel?

Would I be a total bitch for doing that?

Will black shoes even look good with Bordeaux dresses?


In my hunt for the prefect BM shoe, and with the new realization that I can't really do peep toe/open toe with hose, I've rethought my shoe choices and have come up with some new ones.

1) I don't LOVE this one, I wanted a little "Bling" on my shoes. But it'd do.



2)Bling! But I'm afraid my Polish feet would mush out through the hole in the top there.




3)Pretty! Simple Bling. Little higher heel, but still managable.



4) Mucho Bling! Lower heel, but again, Polish foot mush possibility.






And will someone PLEASE tell me how it is that a Satin Dyeable shoe is $445????? Does Vera come and SEW it around your foot or something?





It doesn't even have any expensive BLING on it! And it only comes in a 6.5!!!!

Boys

A conversation with F last night:

Me: "I think I'm getting sick. Everyone at work said I sound funny, and I can hear it too."
F: "You sound fine. I live with you and I say you sound fine. If you are getting sick are we canceling dinner on Saturday?"
Me: "I don't sound fine and I don't know yet."

A conversation with F this morning:

Me: "Blah blah blah blah." ( I don't remember what I was saying.)
F: "Why do you sound so funny????"

Instant Gratification

I love the internet. Often my friends and I wonder what we ever did without the net. We'll be in the midst of a conversation about something and one of us will say, "well just Google it." My Christmas shopping is so much easier via the net. Wedding items are found via the net. Fiances are found via the net. Bills are paid ON TIME via the net. You can find ANYTHING, ANYONE via the net.
Knowing things are easier this way I've purchased F V-Day flowers. Plus, they were on sale. FTD promised delivery and I figured him getting them a day early would be a wonderful surprise. Especially since he works with mostly men. I purchased said flowers from FTD Monday afternoon. Tuesday morning I recieved an e-mail from DHL with a tracking number. OH THE JOY! I could track the progress and know EXACTLY when F got his flowers. I tracked them from FL to OH to a city within my state. At 7:53 this morning they were with the courier.
At 2pm I check their progress again and see this:

Shipment delivered.

Delivered on: 2/13/2008 1:26 pm
Delivered to: Receptionist
Signed for by: [redacted]

Oh HAPPINESS! F should be calling soon! He'll be all red faced(i'll hear it through the phone) and boyish about his early V-Day flowers. Hearts and flowers of happiness.

It's 3:22pm, F has not called.

I check again. Yes, they were delivered, and signed for, but then I check the address of delivery, it is the correct address but does not have F's name on it! Just the business'.
Does the signee not know to whom the package should go?
Wouldn't the signee open said package and then see the card?
Is F not in the office and therefore is unaware of said package?
If F comes straight home instead of going back to the office, will the flowers die because I was too cheap to cough up for the vase?
Is F in possession of the package and is just messing with my mind knowing I'd be going stir crazy wondering if he got the package????
Damn the net!
Damn it's tracking abilities!
Damn the lack of instant gratification!

Update: 5:18pm F just called, not a WORD mentioned by him about the flowers. I think he is messing with me.

Update: 02/14 9:58am Last night at 8:45pm F confessed that he did indeed receive his flowers and had kept silent because he knew it would drive me batty. He said he was going to hold out until THIS evening.

Gotta love a man who knows you so well.

Dream a Little Dream

I had another dream about F and I. This time I wasn't cheating. No, this time, I was whipping my engagement ring back in his face in a fit of rage. My Matron of Honor standing next to me the entire time. She's never even met F. The only thing I can think is that this all stems from the stress I feel because he hasn't given me his guest list yet, even though I've been asking.
And the stress from re-doing the family room.
And the stress of not sleeping, because he just won't stop SNORING!!!!!!!!!!!!

Here, There and Everywhere

Over the weekend I had to go to a funeral for a co-worker’s parent. Actually it was the viewing the night before the actual funeral. Anyway, I was horrified to see one of the 20something grandkids sporting a short skirt and CFM boots that had her knee-high plaid very “Clueless” sock peeking over top of them. At a funeral?? One of her cousins was sporting flip flops, in 30 degree weather!
Am I getting old, or was this totally as inappropriate as I think it is?

On the way to work today, along the freeway connector I saw 2 hats laying along the side of the road. Both with a thin layer of frost over them. The hats? They were those 1920 gangster hats.


Weird, right? Just lying there, along the side of the road? They were about 20ft apart.

Today, as with everyday, I was late for work. So I semi-curled my hair and pulled it back into a clip. I noticed a slight color difference in one section and just chalked it up to the light or just the way my hair was laying. Until I just went into the bathroom, and decided to take a closer look. GRAY HAIR! A big huge chunk of GRAY HAIR. Now granted, I’ve had gray hair since I was like 25, and I’ve been doing my duty as a female by applying cancer causing chemicals to my head on a regular basis. I knew it was time to color again, and thank the gods I bought the stuff last night, because DAMUMMN sistah! I need some serious coverage! Makes me want to put a hat on it’s so bad.

BM dresses have been picked! Thanks to my sisters coming along with me this weekend we have decided on this, in Bordeaux.





Granted, it’s long, and I know, everything I was looking at was short. However, my Sisters feel that long would look good on everyone, and because it’s a late afternoon wedding it would be better. So, phew! One less thing to stress about!
Of course, CBF e-mails me after seeing the pic sent to the all the other BMs with this little gem of good feeling: “I’m going to look horrible in that.”
*Sigh* Bring on the vodka.

Things........

....We learn as Children and Don’t Even Realize It

Over the course of the last few years, I’ve come to realize that many of the rules and habits and well, hot button items I have can be traced directly back to my childhood, and more specifically; my mother. It’s always the mother’s fault, right? I’m not blaming her; I want to make that clear. I recognize now how extremely hard it had to be to be on her own for the first time in her life, left to raise 4 children after my father passed away at the age of 46. As I spend time with F, I can’t possibly imagine losing him at 46. It really scares me.

However, that is not today’s topic. Today is about me, and my Crazy, and how I’m coming to recognize where it stems from. She was a, no, IS good mother, and I love her dearly, especially now, with the wedding. God bless her and her non-meddling self. There are things that drive me nuts, pull my hair out crazy. Things I learned from my mom, rules, house rules, life rules, that if broken; send me over the edge. You use a knife to spread butter, jelly, or what have you on your bread. Not a spoon. You do not place cold water in a hot pan, or a hot pan in cold water, it will warp it. You do not pour hot grease down the sink. It’ll plug it. You do not use a baking spatula to fry eggs, or turn meat in a hot pan; you use a flipper, or a pancake turner, as some call it. A baking spatula will melt from the heat. You use a step out towel for the shower so the floor doesn’t get wet. Everything must be put away in Tupperware or baggies, after a meal. Nothing is left in the pan it was made it, and then placed in the fridge. If you take something out, put it back where you got it. (This one actually comes from my dad and his tools.) When I tell you not to do something, you don’t continue to do it, especially if it’s something you are doing to me. I should not have to explain myself, No means No. This last one, oh how I remember the frustration and hurt and anger in my mother’s voice when my father would continue to torment her after she told him to stop. I’m not stupid because I am a woman. Do not treat me like a child. This one is more recent. This one stems from the relationship my mother has with her current boyfriend, of 20+yrs. I could see it in her face before she would even say it, I can still see it in her face sometimes when F and I are bickering. She thinks that he thinks we don’t know what we are talking about because we are women.
It’s an odd realization to discover your feelings are that of your mother. To stop and say, I feel this way because I saw how my mother felt when XYZ happened to her. I was talking to my cousin about relationships last year, she’s a psychologist. And I told her how crazy it makes me when F does things “wrong” i.e. using a spoon as opposed to a knife.
She laughed, “I do that too. It’s the Family Crazy. We get it from our mothers. So when I feel the Family Crazy coming on, I try to say to myself, ‘this is the Family Crazy that’s making me feel this way, using a spoon really isn’t going to hurt anything.’”
I was amazed. She knew exactly what I was talking about. When I mentioned it to my mother? “Yes, I can see that.”
So now, I try to get a hold on the Family Crazy. It’s not easy. Many times I just can’t understand why F doesn’t just follow the “rules”. To me, it makes sense. Makes things ordered and easier, especially when/if there are kids.

Seriously, he’d be able to find his wallet if he just put back where he got it from!

Waste of Make-Up

Our home remodel is well underway. Not finished in a day, as I was lead to believe, but I am willing to live with it being done piece-meal. Sunday I got a bit of a reprieve from work in order to go look for Bride’s Maid dresses and to get what Eldest Sister refers to as my “Foundation Garment” so we can begin on The Dress. I slept in while F was out doing hobby type stuff. As he came home I left. I drove to the town where I knew I could find my “Foundation Garment” and also where a dress shop carries some of the BM dresses I’m considering.
The shops were CLOSED. All 3 shops, 1 lingerie shop and two bridal shops, CLOSED. On Supper Bowl Sunday, when most Supper Bowl widows would be out shopping.
I understand that it’s suppose to be a day of rest for those that follow the religious doctrine, however, in this day and age, many stores are open for they follow the doctrine of the Almighty Dollar. When I talked to Second Eldest about it she was all “Well DUH!” until I said to her, “But, most women work now-a-days! When else can you get your Party together if not on the weekend?!?!!?”
“True.”
So I ask you, Dear Bridal Shop Keeper, what is your reasoning behind being closed on Sunday? Do you not know that many of the women today only have weekends in which to do serious shopping? This is a huge event, Bridal Shop Keeper, where you most likely will sell many dresses, in my case, 8. But you deny me! With your darkened windows and ghostly mannequins. You increase my stress level.
You cause me to fear my Eldest Sister who demands, “Did you buy your Foundation Garment YYYYYEEEET?!?!?!!? We need to get started on The Dress in case you don’t like it so you still have time to order one!!!!”

“I have not!” I am forced to cry in response. “The store wasn’t open!”

And again, Bridal Shop Keeper, my stress level goes up even more with the notion that if I do indeed hate The Dress I’ll discover it on a Sunday; when you’ll have your doors locked against my business and I will be left, dress less, crying in the streets of a strange town where the well heeled patrons of Starbucks pass by, careful not to spill their double cap soy lattes on the distressed Bride who gathers their cast off napkins to fashion together a dress that is held together with ABC gum!

I lay this tragedy at your gloomy, cold stoop Bridal Shop Keeper. May you take pity on the fragile shell of a woman who huddles in your dank doorway……….........when you re-open come Monday.

Dress Crisis: Part Duex

My Very Helpful Co-worker and I went to Jc Penney's to see what Bride's Maids dresses they offer. None. They no longer do that, the very nice Catalog Lady told us. They stopped doing that about 10 yrs ago, she continued. 10 yrs, that's about when my friend got married, so the dresses we ordered from Penney's were some of the last.

So we headed over to David's Bridal, to see this dress:

Which is Flat Taffeta. I thought nothing of it, until I saw it. Flat Taffeta? means it is iridescent fabric. Which means it has a black tone to it. So that pretty color in the picture? Not really what it looks like.

Strike 3.

I'm back on the web, searching. And have found a few other ideas.

1. I'm concerned about how high that sash comes up under the boobs, which could cut them in the wrong spot.

2. Painfully plain, but the empire waist hides many-a-issues.

3. Again, the "cumber band self-tie sash" might ruin it for those that have any sort of chest, or waist for that matter.

These last two are above the knee cocktail dresses, or as the website says: This collection offers a length above the knee for a more, flirty, fun party dress! I'm not sure how I feel about a flirty bride's maid dress.

4.

5.

I've spent more time looking for a BM dress than I did my own!!! Hopefully I can break away from the home improvement on Saturday to go shopping. And finally make a decision!!!!

Now Boarding, Hell in a Hand Basket, Gate 666

I'm getting married! Yes, in case you haven't caught on to that yet, that is the news. Now, being a good guilt ridden Catholic, I'm getting married in the Church. Luckily, I shopped the local pews and kneelers, and found a church with a very cool priest who is funny and educational, go figure.

The Date was set almost immediately and then I was informed that 6 months worth of "counseling" would need to take place before the "I Dos". SIX MONTHS?? Are you kidding me?

They were not kidding, and it's really not all "counseling" either.

F and I went for our first meeting, and Father, true to form, was funny, and educating, and not at all damning when F and I gave the same address. He thanked us for being honest. Then he told us a funny story about another couple who lied and then were so eaten by guilt that they showed up, in tears, and confessed. He gave them the challenge of not having sex until the wedding, 10 months out. Saying that it would strengthen their union because they would find out if their relationship was too heavily based upon sex.

He presented us with the same challenge. Asking, "What will make that day truly special then? What will have really changed once you go home?"

I snickered.

F paled.

I knew F would have a hard time not "doing it", but I feel I am quite capable of abstaining. We discussed it when we got home.

And had completely different ideas about what Father meant. F feels that it just means no sex, that we can continue to sleep in the same bed.

I however, feel that he means we sleep completely separately. Which, honestly? I feel I'd sleep so much better! All these years of sleeping alone are hard to shake.

F thinks I would crack. About the sex, not the sleeping in different rooms. And I think I would crack about the sleeping in a different room, not the sex.

F? He'll just crack.

That is as far the conversation got.

Our next meeting with Father is at the end of next month. When we take the PMI-PerMarital Inventory. I'm a little freaked that F and I will have too many "red flags" and Father will tell us not to get married. I mean I am seriously freaked out about it.

Like, I can't sleep freaked out about it. Which probably means either I'm over reacting, or there is reason for me to be freaked out.

Are there things F and I haven't covered? Probably. Do I know what those are? Besides the religion our kids will be? Not so much.

So, 30 days of worry and sleeplessness. Yay me.

Huh?

I put in a fresh pair of contacts this morning and my left one keep bothering me like I had an eyelash in my eye. Naturally, I assumed that since it was a NEW contact there couldn't possibly be a rip in it, right? Especially since I inspected it this morning before popping it in. Yeah, not quite. I took it out when I got back to the office after lunch and there's a huge chunk missing. A huge SQUARE chunk. Apparently I have a crazy eyeball that is razor sharp and takes to chomping pieces out of my contacts.
Freaky.

A Few Things

1. We got an estimate for having the family room re-done, $1,600-$1,700 because F is "a friend." So now we have to finish ripping out the paneling and nasty gross insulation so The Guy and his crew can come do it this weekend!!!!!! Of course ALL of this is on the D.L. because with wiring and what-not the city inspectors would need to come take a look. And The Guy told us it would be another $500- $600 in PERMITS. So yeah, I'm hoping the neighbors are cool enough that they won't go calling the city on us. We are refraining from putting the trash out in the back yard, instead, it's getting piled in said family room until The Guy and his crew come with a truck to haul it away. So yay! My first remodel!!!!


2. I spoke with Eldest Sister this weekend about the BM dress situation. She confessed that she thought the dresses I picked looked cheaply made. And that, yes indeed $195 was way too much for them. Especially for my 2 young nieces who are going to be Jr. BM's. I told her I'd be heading to JC Penney's to take a gander. JC Penney's is where my friend from Overseas got our BM dresses. So maybe I'll get lucky. If not, the dress from David's Bridal is growing on me.


3. W, F's brother wants to get FIL a BMW, and asked F to pitch in on the payments. F said no, because he's already paying for MIL's car payment. (total point of contention with me, let me tell you.) I asked F how W was going to pay for it, and he said W was going to refinance their house and would have a few extra hundred a month. I can't help but wonder if T knows this is going to happen. I have all kinds of issues with this, but I know it's not my say. If it was? NO WAY IN HELL.


4. We bought the material for my dress! Contessa Satin in Cream!!!!!! Here is the pattern. Version A, so you can see the train.

Minus the dorky head piece. Let the wedding take place! !

Too Much!!!

I am having a crisis.

A dress crisis.

A bride's maid dress crisis.

I thought I was all set. Had the dress picked out, and the color. Bordeaux. With Melon accent.






















Then, as I was e-mailing my friend to ask her to do their "try-on" option, I saw the price.

$195

Um, yeah, $195 for a bride's maid dress. So now? I. am. Freaking. OUT. My friends don't have that kind of money. I can't ask them to pay that kind of money, PLUS shoes, and maybe a wrap. Plus a present and hotel. So I went back to David's Bridal. And they have a dress I liked to begin with, just not in the color I love.





















This one? $135. A tad bit better. And I do like the color. But I've already told my friend she could wear sleeves. Does a wrap come in this color? Well, of course not. Seriously, how can you NOT have matching wraps in EVERY color you offer? As for my love of the 2 tone option? They offer it, but again, it's just not the same colors. This makes me sad. I need dresses, and ones that won't break the bank. And I have every body type represented in my party as well.
So I need something for EVERYONE!
Can I ask them to pay that amount? After all, I paid $250, and that was 5 yrs ago. But I really wanted to keep it cost effective.
But I REALLY love the color Bordeaux. With the Melon accent.
I need a drink.
Any suggestions? PLEASE!

No Gold Star for Me

I try to live by the Golden Rule, Treat Others as You Yourself Would Like to be Treated. I don't always succeed, especially when gossip is involved. But I still try. Now I've told you about the most recent trip back to the East Coast to see the In-Laws. While in the car with MIL, F asks her when FIL's B-day is.

"Is it this month?"
"Yes."
"How old will he be? 70??"
"Yes."
"WOW! 70, that's a big one. Are you having a party for him?" I asked even though the man refused our Christmas present. (can you feel the bitter?)
"HMPH. No."
Seriously? She just said no. A "I can't be bothered" No.
"Really? Why not?" F asked.
"Who will do all the cooking? No, no party."
"Hmm, have it at a restaurant. I mean 70 is a big deal." I suggested, knowing what she meant about the cooking and what a hassle it would be.
"Yeah, you can use those gift cards we gave him. Just the 2 of you maybe." F grinned at me.
"HMPH." was her reply.

So of course I thought that was the end of it. FIL would be left without a party, and without a card from us, because seriously, not worth my effort.(Especially later, when I asked F if we sent FIL a card would he send it back? F was not pleased, fight ensued.)
A few days later, F's brother, W calls, looking for a number for one of FIL's friends. Apparently, my suggestion was taken to heart, and a party was indeed going to be had. All I could think about was the guilt F was about to receive about not attending. And hoping that MIL got a decent restaurant to host it.
A few weeks go by without a word, and then, other night F says to me, "Mom had that party for Dad. I guess he was really surprised. He really enjoyed himself."
"Really??? Did she have it at a restaurant like we suggested?"
" No, her and T did all the cooking. She invited 10 of his buddies from work. It went off really well. He really liked it."
My first thought? He has 10 friends? No shit???
My second thought? WTF! I bet he doesn't even know that it was my idea. That without me, he would have slipped past 70 without any recognition. I didn't dare ask F if FIL knew it was my idea. I actually cried that night because I was so upset, because I guess I knew FIL would never know that I got the ball rolling for his cranky butt to have a party.
You're saying to yourself right now, DAMN! Girlfriend is SHALLOW! And maybe, I am. Maybe it's wrong of me to want to be recognized for being the bigger person, that despite what an ass he has been to me(maybe one day I'll tell you the story of our first meeting and how he completely ignored me), I still thought of him. Somehow, though, I can't help but think that if he knew it was me, he might rethink his behavior. Might actually treat me better. You know, be NICE for a change. But I'll never know, because you know damn well it will never be mentioned again.
Except to degrade us for not attending of course.

Charge That

I have a friend. She lives on the East Coast. We have been friends since the 9th grade. I only see her every few years. We stay in touch through e-mail. She irritates me with her cries of being poor while she spends money on things they really don't need. I realize as her friend I can't say, stop spending money! Well, I guess I could. But I don't know how to go about it.

We've been commiserating about our massive credit card debt. So imagine my surprise when she sends me pics of the huge camper trailer they bought. Ok, so they are saving money by going on camping vacation instead of staying in hotels. Oh, but wait, they camped in a tent before, so this is an upgrade.

More complaining about credit card debt and the fact that her yearly bonus isn't going to be what it's been in the past because her company is cutting back. With her last bonus they put in a new bathroom. With the one before, they bought a hot tub.

I don't get a bonus.

Then she tells me they HAVE to BUY a new truck because the one they have can't handle pulling the massive camper-trailer long distances. LEASING is not an option because it would get too banged up. A new truck payment? We are talking at least $450 a month.

That's half my mortgage payment.

So that all means she can't come visit over Easter. Which was her idea to begin with. So there you have it. I'm tired of my friend complaining about not having money and then buying big ticket toys.

Am I the only one?


P.S. I forgot to mention, the massive camper trailer? They had to borrow money from his parents to buy it. Um, ok.

Stop Stressing Me Out!!!

People, I am losing it. I've been getting all kinds of negatives lately about the wedding. My female co-workers all freaked out when I told them my sister is making my dress. They were horrified that I wouldn't like it, that we would fight(well duh, we are sisters) and just all manner of bad things. Then there's the cost of all of it. Which, honestly? Is keeping me from planning. No flowers, no cake, no DJ, no photographer, because it all costs money. F is freaking about the money,which makes me freak, and seriously, not getting much of a fairy tale feeling here. On top of that I can't help but worry about what drama his father may cause, or his brother and his wife. It's getting to me in so many ways. I need to stop, but I can't seem to.
MIL? Apparently pretty hacked off that we didn't stay with them this last time. Wanted to know why her house wasn't good enough. Oh holy lord. It's not the home, although, it's not the cleanest, but it's her husband. This little bit of info was told to me during a fight. About FIL and his behavior and how it's allowed to go on.

"He's old! He's not going to change!"

"He shouldn't be allowed to behave that way! I don't get why you guys let him get away with it!!! I've never met someone so rude!"

Apparently, from what F tells me, this is how it's always been. And he was dumbfounded when I told him that FIL was laughing and joking with his buddy on the phone.

"He was joking?"

"Yes."

"And laughing?"

"Yes."

Oh, I'm just not equipped to deal with this.

I'm an American Gal

While back East we visited with F’s cousin, S and her husband SC and their 2 adorable boys, J and SH. Cousin S married an American who is whiter than I am, in ethnic backgrounds. SC is a very nice guy and I will love having them at the wedding. We started talking about how J and SH show absolutely no Home Land features AT ALL, except maybe their dark hair. They are extremely fair skinned and fine haired and you would never look at them and say, Oh, You must be from The Home Land. It is obvious that they aren’t strictly pure blood of one ethnic background; you just can’t tell what the mixture may be. Like I said, they are adorable. I said I hope our kids get F’s hair and skin color and my sexy hazel eye color for a truly exotic look. They laughed as Cousin S attempted to prove her boys have her and F’s hair.
Then Cousin S wraps her arms around SC and says, “Oh Honey, you know you picked me because I am from The Homeland! Because I take care of you like a Homeland woman; doing your laundry, feeding and caring for you, (pause to look at me) no offense, not like those American girls, who don’t.”

We all laughed. Because it’s true. I don’t wait on F hand and foot. Just the other night he was complaining about being hungry and I looked at him and said, “You know where the fridge is.” This was of course after I’d taken him out to dinner. F does a lot of the laundry. He does some grocery shopping, and every now and again, he makes dinner, and even helps when I make dinner. We have slipped into those common gender roles in many cases. I make dinner more than he does, I insist that the house needs cleaning, and I keep track of the items we need when we go shopping. He takes out the trash, and pays the bills.
It was then that I realized how truly different we are. How what he grew up with is totally different than what he sought out. I think in looking to escape the negatives he saw in his culture, he may have lost some of the positives too. You know, if you consider being waited on hand and foot as a positive. And really, who doesn’t? As long as you’re the waitee and not the waiter.
I still take care of my man, don’t get me wrong. We take care of each other, and that suits me just fine.

But it makes better sense to me now, I can see how his mother disapproves. She thinks I’m not doing enough. Maybe not caring enough for her boy. But she has it wrong. F picked me, and she needs to accept that I’m not about to make 5 different dishes just because F wants corn beef instead of chicken, roast beef or lasagna that's already been made for everyone else.

That’s not how I was raised.

That’s not my culture.

FIL Strikes Again

F and I went back East, AGAIN, to visit for Christmas. After attending my family Christmas I was all wound in knots about what would transpire with F’s Family. If it would be a repeat of last year. And, yeah, pretty much it was.
The minute we walked into the door at MIL & FIL’s, MIL started shoving presents in our face. I just wanted a hot shower and a quiet bed. Not so much. What I got from MIL? The woman who is determined to purchase my wedding night attire? 12 wash clothes in red and green (our bathroom is gray and light aqua, and yes, she’s seen it), a pink summer nightgown ( I wear a top and shorts to bed because nightgowns wrap around my legs trapping me, she has seen me in my pjs) a jade colored cowl necked top to “Hide your chest”(it enhances my chest, which of course F likes) and wine colored slippers that were, Bedazzled.(those actually got left there because F stepped in and informed her that I literally have 3 pairs of slippers at home.)
I purchased a very lovely dragon fly lapel pin for MIL from Lia Sophia. And because she is constantly questioning me about my hair care routine, I bought her several bottles of product AND a nice little suction cupped holder to keep them in, in the shower.
For FIL we stopped and purchased a gift certificate for a restaurant they like.
F gave FIL his present in the living room while MIL and I were in the kitchen discussing my new top. This is what I heard:

F: “Here, we got this for you.”

FIL: “I don’t want it! You can’t afford to be buying me presents! TAKE IT BACK! Use it on yourselves!” (Granted the sentiment was well intended, the tone of voice however, the usual much clipped, angry one.)

At this point they’ve made their way into the kitchen.

F: “We can’t take it back; it’s for the East Coast only.”

FIL: “Don’t give me that! This is AMERICA! You can use it in the Midwest!”

I’m standing inches from FIL and in my nicest voice possible I say: “But it’s a present we bought for you. From us, to you.”

FIL: “Then I’m RE-GIFTING IT!”

Folks, I had all I could do to keep my lips from parting. The tip of my tongue waged war in my mouth to form the sentence: “Well that’s just rude.” But I DID NOT! I walked past him. And fumed as I slipped the cowl necked fug over my head.
Upon re-entering the kitchen F says to FIL, “Look what we got MIL!”
FIL responds, “I DON’T CARE WHAT SHE HAS!!”
And this, my friends, is how our visit started.



How did the trip end? With dinner, with the family. With an F-bomb filled appetizer. The minute F and I entered the house; I knew something was wrong, because it was silent. On the couch sat his brother, W, his s-i-l, T and their 2 kids. As we cross the threshold T says to F:

“F, can you please take me home?” Bewildered, F says, Yeah sure.

W rings in with, “F! Don’t you take her home!”

And it deteriorates from there.

T follows us into the kitchen declaring that she doesn’t deserve to be treated this way, that she’s tired of him swearing at her, and on and on and on. From the living room W punctuates her point by yelling, “FUCK YOU T! FUCK YOU!” And a few other choice sentences of which I can’t remember them all because I was so incredibly horrified at this behavior. MIL was almost in tears. The 6yr old refused to go anywhere with his father. Finally, after much swearing and yelling, W left. Poor T was left with her in-laws after such a spectacle. Dinner was fairly silent. FIL refused to try the food item I brought all the way from home which took 5 people 5 hours to make. He was cranky and rude the entire meal, nothing new there.
I think F was so upset by the display, he got ill, and was sick in the bathroom.
After the dishes had been cleared, and some of the food put away,(MIL leaves things out over night, or over days, and expects you to still eat them. This habit of hers totally grosses me out.)T decides it’s time to head home. So I am left with MIL to watch, “Rich Bride, Poor Bride”. We actually enjoyed ourselves.

My favorite comment from the entire trip came from MIL. Who from across the room the night we arrived said, “Your (engagement) ring is dirty.”