One Year

Yesterday was the mark of being engaged for a whole year! I can't believe how fast it's gone by. So I decided in order to celebrate that day a whole year ago, I would share with you how F went about asking me to be his wife. Please forgive me the tear stains on this Blog entry, I cry every time I think about it.

A week or so before he proposed F had the opportunity to go Back East with a friend for the weekend. I hugged him and sent him on his way, happy to sit on my deck and read a book for a few days.

He came back happy to have visited friends and family and I thought nothing of it. (He had spent his time picking out my ring with FIL and MIL's help). Several days later he received a call while we were having dinner at my house. He spoke in his native tongue which I'd become accustom to, but something about his tone made me pause for moment, but I dismissed it.(he was talking to the jeweler about shipping my ring here from Back East). He called me on Friday and said we needed to go to dinner to the place where we had our first date, a lovely steak place. Again, I thought nothing of it, we'd gone there several times in the past. When he didn't propose on our vacation the month before, I figured I had at least until November when we started dating. A whole six months away. Plus, we never really TALKED about being married. It was more along the lines of, "When we have kids..." OR "When we get married...." OR "I'm not moving anywhere unless I have the BLING...." those kinds of things. I was beyond clueless that within the next 5hrs that day, I'd be engaged.

I met him at the restaurant. He was quiet while we waited to be seated, but I figured that was just because the restaurant was noisy and it was hard to hear. We were seated side by side on a couch while we waited and I swore I felt his cell phone vibrating in his pocket. So I patted his pocket and said, "Is your cell in there? I swear I just felt it go off." His eyes widened as he informed me that his cell was in his other pocket. "Oh." (THE BOX was in the pocket I was just patting, he thought I knew what was going on, I didn't.) We ate dinner joking about our past visits there, how things had progressed since our first date and how it was about time we each found someone new. I even told him, "I guess it's time for me to break up with you. I'll wait til after you pay the check though." (if I have to explain that i was kidding here, i mean really people.) He suggested that we go for a walk around the nearby quaint town to work off some of the heavenly steak we just ate. I agreed. We walked all through the town until we ended up at the park, which had a river and a little historic village. In the center of the village was a gazebo over looking the river. As we approached the gazebo in my head I thought, "Hmm that would be a great little place to get married." We stood in the gazebo chatting for a few minutes and then F told me to check out the tree across the river and how the water had left it's mark on it. (this was his diversionary tacit) I looked but didn't really see which tree he was referring to, so I pretended I did. My back was completely turned to him. I was chatting away about the tree when I heard from behind me, "DH."

"Hmm?" I mumbled as I turned towards his voice.

And there he was, on one knee, with a black box in his hand.

Do you want to know what I thought when I saw that box and the shiny ring in it? "Why is he showing me a ring he bought for his mother??" It did not in anyway register that he was DOWN ON ONE KNEE. My mind was swimming.

I stared at him, dumbfounded.

"DH, will you be my wife?"

My hands went to my face. I started to cry. "Are you sure?" I half whispered.

"Yes, I'm sure." he chuckled.

"YES!! YES!! OH F, YES!!!!"

Requisite hugging and kissing followed.

"Your mom has known for a few days." He confessed.

"What?"

He'd gone and ask her permission for my hand in marriage. (and she'd kept quiet for DAYS, it was killing her, she told me so.)

And the ring fit! He'd secretly tried on my class ring, which I wear on my right hand, to get the proper size for my engagement ring.

How could I not love him?

Lucky Number 13

I’ve ordered so many shoes, and looked at so many websites that I forget what I’ve already looked at/ordered. I decided that one pair was THE PAIR and that maybe if I just order it another half size larger, shooting me up to a 10 instead of 9.5(which is too big too, I’m a 9) that I might get lucky. So I asked Endless.com to please send me said shoes and they promised me next day delivery. When I got home I scanned the rooms, no box.
“Didn’t I get a box?” I sheepishly asked F.
“HUH?” he grunted from the evil family room that refuses to be finished being remodeled.
“A box, I was expecting a box. Didn’t it come?” I asked hopefully.
“Nothing came.”
“Oh.” I mumbled dejected.
I went about puttering around the kitchen feeling sad that the cardboard container had not appeared on my step as promised.
Then I heard the rumble.
I looked up as the breaks screeched to a stop in front of our house.
Out the door window I could see the big brown panel trucked idling in front of the house.
UPS! Only glory be!
I started pacing back and forth in the kitchen, not wanting to seem too eager when the Man in Brown arrived at my door.
I was so excited I barely heard the door bell ring!
I raced to the door and threw it open, “Hello there!” The Man in Brown smiled at me, “This is for you.”
“OH! THANK YOU!” I exclaimed as I cradle the cardboard container to my chest. My eye caught sight of the other package tucked under his arm, AMAZON.COM winked at me.
Could it be? Was I getting 2 packages all at once? I’d ordered the workout suggested by Molly for brides to be from AMAZON.COM just a day or two before.
The Man in Brown glanced at the AMAZON.COM package, back at me, smiled and said, “Have a goodnight!”
“You too!” I said a bit sad that I was only getting one package instead of two.
I dug the scissors out of the junk draw and settled myself in amongst the other 4 cardboard containers that sat lined against the wall, waiting to be sent back to whence they came. Once again I set to removing all the ridiculous amounts of packaging from the shoes. I sighed as they emerged. Yes, these are THE ONES, I smiled to myself. I slipped them on and knew that with just a few break-in wearings we’d be in business.
“DH! I need your help.” came the call from the evil family room.
I clicked into the room and F turned to look. He raised an eyebrow ( I failed to mention that I’d changed into shorts and a sleeveless shirt in order to do work).
“They CAME!” I grinned as I pointed my foot out to show him.
“I see.” He grinned back at me.

There is one more pair that is still set to arrive, so I’ll wait to post which shoes I went with until after they’ve had their turn on the carpet runway in the living room.

PLEASE !

I just want to give a heads up to all the advertisers out there. Your marketing for acne medicine? REVOLTING. The last thing I need to see first thing in the morning while reading my non-work related e-mail is some nasty pimply face that continually goes from a massive breakout to clear smooth skin. These pop-ups are a horrible way to advertise. It disgusts me that I have to avert my eyes just so I can read an e-mail about puppies and kittens and angel kisses. Do you really think these things work? And Yahoo!? Couldn't you find some other people to sell advertising space to? Like save the trees or something? I'm so sick of them, they are so gross. Please remove them from your website.

Thank You,
The World at Large.

Things....

I Realized This Weekend.....

1. My legs are horrifyingly white. Frosty ain't got nothin on me.
2. I love power tools. I am the female version of Tim the Tool Man Taylor. I may not know how to use them, but I want them, all of them, and a reason to use them.
3. Even though I am #2, I still kinda hate home improvement projects. But I think that's because I don't get to use the power tools as much as I'd like to. And this current project is taking WAAAAAAAAY to long to complete.
4. F has NO CLUE what it takes to prepare a home for a visit from the in-laws. He tried to tell me what needs to be done for MIL's arrival, and I told him I was way ahead of him, and that what needed to be done could not be completed in a weekend. A few of the items on the list? Clean cold air returns, steam clean carpets, remove cobwebs, wash curtains, clean and organize basement, etc. Basically, a heavy duty spring cleaning type of thing. I should add cleaning out the fridge to the list. Because we all know that MILs? They inspect the housekeeping handy work of their daughter-in-laws. All the while with the question of "Is she really able to care for MY BOY?" floating in her head. (correct me if I'm wrong.)
5. I miss sleeping all snuggled in my bed. F and I sleep completely different, and we have both had to adapt to each other. I like to fling the windows open letting the chilly night air wash over me while I cozy down in my warm blankets. He likes to close all the windows and alternates between being cold and hot and flinging covers off and back on again. Or laying in the bed shivering because he is too lazy to lean over the side of the bed and grab the blanket he threw off a few hours before. (i am not exaggerating about that last part, he's said it to me himself.)
6. I need longer weekends.

I'm Sorry, A What?

This just seems wrong to me. To profit by making a Theme park out of the Crucifixion of Christ?


That certainly is a different kind of one-way ticket you're buying.
Making a movie about it is one thing, I went and saw it and it was very emotional. However, that was a one time thing, and there weren't any rides or gift shops related to it. I just can't wrap my mind around this thing. I kinda want to go, just to see.
But it still feels all kinds of wrong.

Time Line

6:18pm: Arrive home. Seek out F to say Hello.


6:20pm: Notice large box sitting on back step, get excited at prospect of opening SHOES!


6:20:45sec pm: Notice other large box sitting in the living room by the front door. MORE SHOES!

6:21pm: Stack 2 large boxes on top of each other and admire lovely from the kitchen while making dinner.

6:45pm: Eat dinner in living room trying not to ripe into boxes with fork. MUST SEE SHOES!

7:00pm: F comes to tell me what needs to be completed on the evil family room this evening. Shoes must wait until work is over.

8:30pm: Finish work and start to head towards shoes who have been whispering to me for the last hour and a half. Hear F call from the basement to come help on his resume. *whimper* before heading downstairs.

8:45pm: Whiningly ask F if I can please go upstairs and try on my shoes now????

8:45:30pm: RACE UPSTAIRS TO SHOES! GLORIOUS SHOES!

8:46pm: Open first shoe box like it's Christmas!!!! Shiny! Pretty!

9:20pm: HATE STUPID shoes! Hate STUPID packaging that comes packed with shoes!

9:45pm: Limp into bedroom. Pretty shoes are MEAN! They pinch! They cut! They wobble! Hate stupid fat Polish feet!

9:46pm: Relay to F that out of 8 pairs of shoes, there are MAYBE 2 I could actually wear and MAYBE 3 others if re-ordered in a different size.

10:00pm: Crawl into bed feeling completely defeated.

2:00pm today: Order 3 more pairs of pretty! Shiny! Wedding shoes!!!!

All About F

I have chronicled about F from almost day one on this post. And usually, it's about how my Crazy is affecting us, or how MIL and FIL are affecting us, and often may not be a very positive representation of us. I worry about a lot of stuff, it's in my genes, it's my astrological make-up, I'm a worrier who wants everyone to be happy. So when things do not go well, I tend to freak the hell out. However, F has been there to help me out, he's a fabulous man.


We'd only been dating a few months when he rushed me to Urgent Care for my gall bladder, and grudgingly took me back home when I said I didn't need to go to the ER. Then, at 4 am in the morning when I finally decided that, um yeah, the ER might be a good idea, he did not complain as he showered, dressed and said he was sorry after hitting even the tinniest little bump on the ride to the ER, which jarred me and made me moan and cringe with pain. We arrived at the ER at 6 am, and when they finally decided to slice me open, my surgery wasn't scheduled to happen until Midnight. He stayed with me ALL DAY long, snoozing on the crap ass stool they gave him to sit on, calling my mom, my work and CBF to let them know what was going on. He stayed, even after my mom arrived to keep vigil. And when I woke up after surgery, he was the one I looked for, and asked for, and even in my Morphin induced haze(hi! morphin rocks! not that I'm addicted or anything....) when the nurse asked me if F was my husband I knew he wasn't but knew it was just better to say yes, so I could see him sooner. Plus, it just seemed Right to call him my husband.

I knew I was falling in love with him.

When we were out shopping for a stand-up freezer a few weeks ago(we belong to Costco, 'nough said) and F told me the one I was looking at was too small I said, "But it's just us."

"Yes, but it won't always be just us. We're going to expand our family someday."

I beamed at his back and fell in love with him a little more.

And this weekend when he hurt himself while doing home improvement (damn family room still isn't finished! Evil family room.) and I had to rush HIM to the ER (after he made me help him change his pants because the ones he had on "smelled") and he looked at me while we were waiting and said, "You are so sweet. I love you." It makes me want to be a better person, because that's what he sees when he looks at me.


And not to worry, he is fine. We could have gotten by without going to the ER, but you can never be too sure when blood is running down your man's manly arm.

How can you not love a guy?

It's Smokin.....

My credit card that is. I just ordered my "wedding shoes". And when I say shoeS, I mean that the pool of potential wedding shoeS tops out at 8. 3 from Zappos and 5 from Endless.com.
I can't wait to see F's face when 8 boxes arrive on our door step.
Total Credit card bill for "potential" wedding shoes? $568.75.
That makes my head hurt.
$365.75 for the 5 pairs from Endless and $203 for the 3 pairs from Zappos.
Thank the Retail Gods that these 2 sites don't charge shipping, either way.

It'll be hard though, deciding which shoes I want to keep. They are all pretty. And need a good home. And I'm not a heartless woman who would turn a needy shoe out on it's well heeled self.
They are poor, and helpless, and need someone to care for them.
I care, and I have plenty of upper closet space that's prefect for hiding shoes.
Just ask the suede black peep toes that are cozily tucked away up there, awaiting their turn to be worn, most likely at my rehearsal dinner.

Pushing Daisies

I've well documented my hunt for suitable wedding shoes. I even consulted the Shoeru herself, Molly. After hitting 4 stores in one lunch hour and coming up with NOTHING, I've returned my hopes and shoe dreams back to the Internet. And this is what I found.






It scares me.





Especially when you consider that it'll cost $491.00 to have a flower growing out of your foot.



Um Hi, I just came from dancing around a pole to get married.....





I even saw ones that light up as you walk down the aisle.





Good lord, what has this world come to?


I DID find some, suitable shoes, but as before I'm still toren between open and closed toe. I guess it'll all come down to which pair feels best.



I think these may have been posted before, I'm not sure.





Too much bow? I don't know.


I know I said I wanted BLING on my shoes, but is this too much?

These are only a few from Zappos, I couldn't get the ones from Endless.com to cut and paste. There are 5 more on that Favorites list.
Oh, the money I'm about to spend to simply FIND a pair of shoes!

Big Brother

I got my Stimulus Check, a nice little $600. It's going to cover (hopefully) hair, makeup and nails for the wedding.
Weird thing is though, they sent it to me at "Our" house.
I haven't "officially" changed my address, unless you count magazines and bills. As far as the Gov't is concerned, I'm still livin the single life in my little house (oh how I miss that kitchen! *la sigh*).
So somebody is a Narc.

I'm lookin at you, City of [redacted] Water Billing Department and or Consumer's Energy.
You're the most "Official" places I've changed my address with.
Nasty Narcs! *insert finger wagging here*

If You're A Guy, Skip Reading Today

Or, if you a gal with a weak stomach, you might wanna skip too.





Ok? Anyone still with me? I was reading Cosmo at lunch and came upon an Ad for "The Diva Cup."





The DivaCup™ is very sanitary, comfortable, reliable and convenient. It holds one full ounce (30 ml). Since the entire cycle is an average of 30-40 ml*, most women find that the cup is not even half full after 12 hours.

Depending on your flow empty the cup 2-3 times per 24 hour day, wash and reinsert. It can be worn up to 12 hours, even overnight. The DivaCup™ is ideal for all activities including swimming, camping, backpacking, and travelling. It is suitable for all menstruating women of all ages.



So, um, you have to wash it out? In the sink? The same place you brush your teeth?
I read some of the testimonials, and they RAVE about this. I don't know. Washing it out, yeah, kinda grosses me out. But women used to do this anyway, before tampons, right? I mean, wash and reuse. ugh
And they are only sold at health food places, like Whole Foods. Hmmm.

Does anyone use this?

Miss Nasty

I had a completely different post ready to go today, but after starting my morning with a lovely comment from the ever bold and brave Anonymous comment leaver, I decided to give said Anonymous props for having the guts to be rude from behind the mask of anonymity. Kinda like the people who wear sheets over their heads as they claim to be Christian while burning a cross in some body's yard.......um, yeah. And I'm sure Anonymous will leave yet ANOTHER comment regarding this post and on and on and on, blah, whatever.

So, just let me update. CBF sent me an e-mail apologizing, without being provoked by me.

See? some people DO have manners.

Really?

This is the E-mail I just sent to all of my Bride's Maids:

Ok Ladies,
It's that time! I need to you to please go to a dress shop or tailor i.e. someone who knows what they are doing, and get your measurements so I can go order your dresses! I figured it would just be easier to go and order them all at once so there would be less confusion. My Eldest Sister and I are going next week to the dress shop to get all the details about ordering and what-not so I'll have more info for you then. Right now though, just e-mail me your measurements which I will take to the dress shop to place the order. I hope to do the ordering before the end of the month or, at the very latest, the beginning of June.

Yippie!

The Bride

And this is the response I just got from CBF, you know, the one who said this has followed that up with this ever lasting bit of good cheer:

"Are you trying to stomp on all of my self-esteem. Do we really have to do this. I was hoping that the [redacted] weather would be conducive to losing some of my inches. This is humiliating. Ok, I'm through whining, but still."

Apparently, I am in charge of a 40 yr olds self esteem.
Who is a mental health professional.
Doctor, heal thy fucking self.
I am seriously at the point of telling her not to worry, because she's out of the wedding. Why would you say that to the bride? My god. Tell someone else, not me. WTF!

F made the mistake of just calling me to see "what's up?" and I told him we need to elope because I'm tired of trying to fucking please everyone.
He said yes, then said: "we can doing something little here, and use the money to pay off some bills."
Pardon?
"If I'm going to tell everyone to take a flying leap, I want to at least get some fun out of it. Not stay here and do nothing."

And to top it all off, I can feel the PMS kicking in.

Fashion Faux Pas

I wore a skirt.
(trust me that is a big deal.)

I wore a skirt to church.
(seriously, a huge deal.)

I wore a skirt to church with my mother.
(haven’t gone with her in a few years.)

I wore a skirt to church with my mother on mother’s day.
(she went with us to our church.)

I wore a skirt to church with my mother on mother’s day, and we were late.
(we’re always late to church, no fear of God here I guess.)

I wore a skirt to church with my mother on mother’s day, and we were late, which is why I forgot to wear a slip.
(honestly, I don’t really own a “real” slip I go for the “bloomers”, cuts down on thigh stickage. If you’re skinny you have no clue what I’m talking about most likely.)

I wore a skirt to church with my mother on mother’s day, and we were late, which is why I forgot to wear a slip, even though I had on bright red knickers.
(i hope no one noticed.)

What Do You Do?

What do you do when they lie?

And don't see anything wrong with it?

What do you do when they omit details?

And don't see anything wrong with it because they are "protecting you"?

What do you do when they mooch or think they are entitled to "special favors"?

And don't see how that's just not right?

What do you do when they turn to you and say, "Don't think I could love my kid if they were gay."

And can't see past that?

What do you do?

Lunch

What follows is a conversation I just had with 2 separate co-workers about lunch, a very important topic in our office. Some days we begin discussing lunch plans before we even have our morning coffee(tea for me).

ME: "Qdoba's?"
CoW1: "When?"
ME: "Lunch."
CoW1: "Today?"
ME: "Yeah."
CoW1: "YES!"
CoW1: "Didn't you bring anything? I brought a burger."
ME: "Nope, it'll keep."
CoW1: "Right, then I won't have to bring lunch tomorrow."
ME: "Right!"
See how well we rationalize things?

Conversation I had with my second co-worker inviting her along with us:

ME: "Qdoba's?"
CoW2: "Today?"
ME: "Yeah."
CoW2: "Alright!"

Simple and to the point, that's the only way to be.

I'm A FEATURE!

My Wedding Date Twin, Molly, over at These Little Moments, was kind enough to answer my burning question about what type of shoe I should wear for my wedding, open or closed toe.

Go check it out! She's a great person, with great hair, and shoes, and has a fabulous photographer for her wedding, whom I'm totally not stalking........

Julia Roberts Called, She Wants Her Character Back

F and I were watching TV when the trailer for the new McDreamy movie, "Maid of Honor" came on.

F: “Hmph, that looks an awful lot like My Best friend’s Wedding.”

ME: “It is, told from the male view. (F shakes his head in disgust at my confirmation) And how gay of you to know that.” (not that there’s anything wrong with that…..)

F grinned as he flipped me off.

Now Boarding....In-Law Visit....Gate: Insanity

FIL is sick, still, again, more badly.

“I may have to go back East.” F says.

FIL is sick enough that his doctor told him not to fly. He was supposed to be traveling for work.

“Can’t he take the train?” I asked F, knowing the place he was suppose to be going to was easily reached by train.

“Yeah, but then we’d have to pick him up in C. Cause the train doesn’t come here.”

“Wait, what? I thought he was going to D. How did we get from D to C???”(don’t you love my alphabet soup writing?)
I knew where this was going and my fear was confirmed by the extremely pregnant pause F took before answering me….

“Oh, I see what you mean. He could take the train to D. I thought you meant take the train here when they visit.”

“What? Your Dad is coming? I thought you said your Mom was coming, ALONE.”

“I want both of them to visit.”

“Um, F. This is kinda something you should have told me awhile ago.”

“Well it doesn’t matter now, since he can’t fly, so he’s not coming.”

All conversations we’d had about pending visits had solely included his mother, not FIL. How his mom would meet my mom and they would spend the day together, how his mother wouldn’t approve of us sleeping in the same bed so he’d sleep on the pull out couch. FIL was never mentioned.
I couldn’t vent my anger at him for leaving this bit of the equation out, he was already crying about his dad being sick and possibly not living until the wedding.
So I dreamed it instead.
I told him to tell the jeweler to keep the damned ring because the WEDDING IS OFF.
His face, in the dream was one of shock and horror.
I felt highly satisfied at finally making him understand how strongly I dislike his father.(of course calling off the wedding would mean FIL won, and we certainly can't have THAT.)

My ring arrived today.

TELL ME

Conversation F had in my presence:

F: ”Blah blah blah. Yeah well I need to talk to you about DH, but she’s sitting right here.”
Pause as his friend L makes snarky comment on the other end.

F: “yeah, she’s a pain.”
Pause as L says something, apparently in my defense because F then says:
“No really, she is a pain, trust me. HAHAHAHA”

He hangs up.

ME: “What did I do now that you have to talk to L about it?????”
F: “I can’t tell you that.”
ME: “WHAT?! Why not!?!? It’s about me! I have a right to know!!!”
F: “No you don’t. I have to talk to L about something about you.”
ME: “TELL ME.”
F with an evil gleam in his eye: “Nope.”
ME: “ARGH!”

Workin for a Living...

I passed a milestone at my job. 10yrs of service. For someone my age, this is a big deal. Most people in the Gen X group are job hoppers. 2-3 yrs, and they're on to something that's more of a resume builder. I, am just lazy. I've got it good here. Flex time-ish, 2 weeks off at Christmas, an insane amount of vacation time, it's all good. And the majority of the people in my group within the bigger office have been here as long, if not longer too. They work with me EVERYDAY. We can hear each other's conversations over the cube walls. And yet, AND YET half of them spelled my name wrong. You know how I feel about this issue. But somehow, the people who are in charge of in putting data, where things have to be correct, spell my name wrong.
At least I got a donut.

Seriously, Just MEAN

I love validation. Who doesn't? And each and every time I get an actual comment on one of my posts I get all excited and the warm feelings of love and understanding just flow through me. Someone CARES enough to make a comment. Someone UNDERSTANDS what I'm saying enough to make a comment. Someone actually finds me AMUSING. And since my commentators are so few and far between (no pressure commentators, NONE at ALL.....ahem) you can imagine my hurt and annoyance when I get C-SPAMed, Comment SPAM. Yeah, what the hell is that all about? Seriously? Are you really that lame that you have to SPAM on a Blog? And none the less it wasn't even a GOOD SPAM, it was about SUITS, MEN'S suits. Hi! little market research here, I AM NOT A MAN. And this SPAM? Not only once, nay! TWICE!!! SAME DAMNED THING! Really, just EVIL to do that to a poor girl. Repeatedly.
I've pasted it below so you can read it. But so HELP ME if you go comment on this twit's page instead of mine, you are so DEAD to me!
(please don't leave me for a poser!)

"Have you ever realized that when you buy readymade suits you get a choice of only a few colors & styles, also finding the perfect fit are quite difficult? Wouldn’t it be better to choose from over 2000 different British & Italian fabrics and get a tailor made suit at a similar price that you pay for readymade suits? We are a company based in Hong Kong and have been providing custom made suits & shirts since 1997. With representatives in major cities around the globe we can arrange to show you the fabric samples and take your measurements, or you can also place your orders online with the help of our measuring guide. There are over 2000 fabrics to choose from along with all the latest styles.All our suits and shirts are produced by highly skilled Shanghainese tailors in Hong Kong and delivered in about 4 weeks, express delivery can be made in 2 weeks at a minor extra cost. In case you are not able to find what you are looking for then please let us know your requirement may it be in words or by a photograph and we could arrange it for you.We also have an outlet at the Hotel Intercontinental Budapest where you are most welcome to visit us. Though we are not located in streets like Savile Row (London), we have still been able to offer made to measure suits to many VIP’s from around the world.Experience an easier way of shopping for bespoke suits & shirts at Euro Tailors"
Kenny Surtani

Kenny? Really? So doesn't make me wanna buy a suit from you. You know, that and the fact that I'm NOT A DUDE.

GROOOOOOOOOSSSSS

I was in the bathroom at work. We have those toilet seats that don't make a complete circle

The gap in between had a hair on it. A very dark, hair. Which of course leads me to believe it was a pubic hair. UGH. I stood there and took a deep breath and blew to get it off the "gap" and it worked. But when I looked down, I saw it had landed ON MY BARE TOES!(i'm wearing flip-flop type things)
HORRIFIED, I tried to shake it off but it just would not budge!
I looked over for a brief second and saw the pubic hair laying on the floor.
On closer inspection of my toes what I THOUGHT was the hair was really an unraveling thread from my shoe.
PHEW.

Things.....

That Should Be Illegal....

• Changing the gas price from $3.47 to $3.56 while people are waiting in line for the $3.47 price.

That's just low down dirty.

• Oh, wait, actually having to PAY over $3 for gas should be illegal too!!!

• The gas station that used to be at least 10 cents cheaper than everyone else, is now only a penny cheaper if not more expensive than everyone else.

The Bling Is Gone

I look at my engagement ring often. Mostly to check to make sure it looks good, you know, CLEAN and SHINY. The other day I was coming out of the kitchen at work and I happened to look down at my ring.

A diamond was missing!

Actually, it wasn't missing, it was a trick of the light, however I did notice that it was sitting lower in the setting then it should be. I got back to my desk and examined it more closely. The diamond in question had sled out of it's bracket or groove, if you will, on one side. When I poked at it with my nail, it moved. I got very nervous. I can't tell you how many stories I heard when I worked in the jewelry store about how the diamond was there and then it wasn't. One good knock and I could lose the diamond for real! I immediately e-mailed F and told him to get in touch with the Jeweler where he bought the ring, back East. As I was waiting for his reply a co-worker came in and I told her what was happening.

"Oh yeah, it totally IS sitting lower!" (i tell you this so you don't think I'm over reacting.)

F called me back and told me that I have to send the ring back.

Back East.

How long will this take? How long will I wonder if anyone will notice it missing and think the engagement has been called off? I can't take the stress.

My thumb keeps going to my ring finger to mess with the band.

The one good thing about all of this? The deep scratches on the ring from when I wore it while sanding joint compound should get polished (buffed, for those in the know) out. And then my ring will be returned me to all shiny and new looking! YAY!!!!

Trust me, you don't want to see a pic of the ring on my pudgy finger, but this is what it looks like.

Sleepless...On the Couch

Remember last week, F went far far away.(he asked me to pack for him.) F has now returned.(he asked that I UNpack for him.) F is completely disorientated because of the time change and what-not. F still has not put the suitcase and presents and trash away from his trip. It completely litters the guest bedroom and bed, i.e. the room I go to sleep when he snores. I refuse to clean it up for him. Especially after spending the week he was gone cleaning the whole freaking house by myself, missing all the lovely sunny warm weather. Extra especially after he found the energy to go hang out at his hobby for half an hour and shoot the breeze with the boys.(i was dragged along.) So last night, after he went to bed at 8 pm, he began to snore beyond belief. Since I refused to clean up his mess, YET AGAIN, I found myself on the couch shortly after I came to bed. He came out about 4 am and told me to come back to bed, I declined to do so.
He knew he was in trouble.
He came and asked me again at 5am.
Again, I declined.
We met in the hallway after he got out of the shower, "Good morning?" he queried.
I narrowed my eyes at him, "good morning."
"What's wrong?"
"I'm tired."
He dropped it.
But he did start picking up after himself.
I think he got the message.

JC Penney is a Damn Tease

So the shoes from JC Penney's? Available on line ONLY. Which, ok, my fault for not paying better attention to what the site said. F came along for the ride. (he is still totally out of it. Woke up at 4 am this weekend, which means I was awake too, not cool. But YAY! he's home.)
Anyhow, fighting through my 3 hr long sinus headache I stumble downstairs and make my way back to the Penney's website only to find that in my size, those lovely shoes, come ONLY IN BLACK. So yeah, I didn't get them. Oh, I could have had them in white, if I wore a 6.5. What is it with the 6.5s!?!?!?!!?
The hunt continues.
F suggested that I go to DSW.
How does he even know such a place exists?????????

Is It Wrong?

I have a friend at work that had a pair of heels that she absolutely loved. Loved to the point that she had them resoled, like 5 times. After several years they were scuffed and scared and stretched out, I finally convinced her to buy new ones. The ones I found for her she didn’t buy. She went shopping on her own and bought a pair of shoes that she now hates. Hates to the point that she’s reinstating the old pair.
My point here is that I too had a pair of sandals that I loved. They were from Target, Cherokee Fisherman’s Sandals. I wore those suckers all over Europe. Wore them all summer. I LOVED those sandals, they were so comfortable. A few summers later while getting ready for trip to Australia I discovered that they really smelled. I hunted for replacements, all over the net. I could not find them. So I bought a pair of shoes that CBF said were like butter, a pair of Sketchers. She’s very foot conscience. I wore them all over OZ, and I HATED them. They were heavy and the black rubber insole made my foot sweat and turn black. Then the stitching started to come undone. I went back to my original Target sandals the next summer. I would switch between the two pairs, but ultimately, the Target ones would win out. Then the sole got a crack in it from one side of the shoe to the other. I continued to wear them. This past summer the insole came free from the sole. I was determined to continue to wear the sandals until they fell apart at the seams for the top leather straps were still in amazingly good condition. However, the SLAP SLAP SLAPPING of the insole back into the sole with every step I took drove me crazy. I began my hunt again and found a pair of nice shoes online, for $80 bucks. F shamed me out of buying them, saying that was too much to spend on sandals. I reluctantly purchased a cute pair of fisherman’s sandals from Payless and wore them to Boston. Where the straps came into the sole, the lump it created, poked me in the bottom of my foot and rubbed them raw. And then my knees started to hurt. I was able to fix the poking rubbing strap, but even so, every time I wore them last summer my knees would hurt. I cursed those sandals, and I greatly fear having to wear them again this summer.
So what all this is leading up to, is this; I found some new fisherman sandals that I think would be ultra comfortable. And they cost $85 bucks. They are Doc Martens. Docs are suppose to be very good shoes, but are they really worth $85 dollars? And can I, so broke it aint no joke, justify a pair of $85 dollar sandals?

I realize they look kind of manish, but they are so damned comfy, if you get the right ones,and they look so cute with shorts, or jeans, or capris.

I also found a pair from Red Wing that are $75.

Thoughts?
Suggestions?

Oh, and JcPenney's is having a sale, so I checked out their website too. They have a pair of Clarks on sale, so I went to the Clark's Website. Um, HI! I'll take one of every pair of your sandals, Thanks!

Oh, and I found THESE on the Penney's website, I think I may have found my Wedding Shoes!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Aren't they so, simple and sophisticated? AND I can actually try them on to see if there'd be any Polish Foot Mush.

ARGH!

I told you all that F is currently out of the country for work related stuff. I was so excited that I was going to get to sleep without earplugs! YES! I thought to myself, I'll FINALLY sleep like I did in the days before F! LIKE A ROCK. Surely I've mentioned his snoring, haven't I? The snoring that makes me go sleep in the other room? The snoring that requires me to wear ear plugs to bed EVERY NIGHT?
We bought a box of like 500 ear plugs a few weeks ago.
I was actually excited.
About ear plugs.
Anywho, the first night F was gone I snuggled into the middle of the bed for a much needed good night's sleep, and jumped at EVERY SINGLE DAMNED SOUND I heard. I found out that our house is extremely noisy at night. Who knew? I've conquered the problem by loading the CD player with "sleepy time music" as my niece called it when she was little, and promptly fell asleep. Slept through the night even. But I still woke up feeling like I didn't sleep. And now, after several days I wake up before the alarm goes off, by like an hour. And CAN NOT fall back to sleep. WTF? All my glorious plans of great sleep, not so glorious.
I'm seriously looking forward to Saturday, when F returns.
I figure at least I can sleep in that morning before I have to go get him at the airport.
Which of course will end up with me awake at an ungodly hour because I'm afraid of over sleeping and not going to pick him up on time.
This is what it's like to be me.

Really?

I've told you about my recurring chin hair. Now I seem to have sprouted some kind of wire out of my cheek. Ok, so it's not REALLY a wire, but it feel much stiffer than a hair. Almost like that plastic thread they use to sew tags into clothes. Know what I mean? The stuff that keeps pricking you in the neck? Yeah, like that. When I run my finger nail across it, it makes a clicking noise. My facial hair has it's own sound track. I've gone at it with the tweezers several days in a row, but to no avail. It's just not long enough yet for me to be able to yank the damned thing out. It's like the missing tooth, or the hang nail, you just can't stop messing with it.
I can seriously see this being an issue come wedding day, and all the pictures will showcase me with my hand plucking at my face.
Lovely.

Clean Up..Aisle...ALL

I went grocery shopping on my lunch just now. Even without F here to help eat food, the fridge is bare. I went just down the street to my favorite major chain and commenced spending money. About 2 aisles in it hit me, hard and fast, I have to GO NOW! I believe I told you the horrors of not having a gall bladder. I like to know where a bathroom is at all times. I was however completely clueless about it's location in the grocery store. Squeezing my ass cheeks together as tightly as I could I thought I could make it through the store, check out and then back to the office, unload all my groceries and THEN go to the bathroom.
Yeah, not so much.
I asked an employee where the restroom was and she pointed, not 20 feet behind me tucked in next to the Pharmacy was the restroom. GLORY BE PRAISED! I had to keep myself from running there, slammed my cart to a halt and bolted into the farthest stall down. It was then that I discovered that I'd just spent the last 30mins traipsing around the store with my zipper wide open.
Like a good girl I'd "gone" before I left for the store, and apparently I either didn't do up my pants, or they came undone.
Nice.
Then while in the checkout lane I noticed the seasoning packet I'd bought to season my roast had a tear in it. Not too big, I figured I could make it back to the office and slap a little scotch tape on it. As I unloaded the bags I noticed a brown substance pretty much coating the inside of one bag.
I tossed the packet into a baggie and tried to salvage what was coating the bag, didn't really work. So the $3.69 I paid to make my life easier and more tasteful? There's about $2.00 worth left.
I guess I should have waited to shop.

Drunken E-Mailing

What follows is an e-mail F sent me. F is currently out of the country. He'll be gone for several days. Because of time changes and whatnot, his sleep pattern is totally screwed up. I laughed when I read this e-mail because it takes a bit of deciphering because the spelling and typing are quite nasty. I've placed the proper word next to the wrong word, in green.
Have fun reading, I know I did.



"DH, went out for Suchi Sushi and got totally fat and drunk and I am majorly buzed buzzed now... it was nto not just one glass of bear wither either. it was 4-5 glasses and 2-3 shot os of sachi (sp?) sake... I can not belive believe I am coherant coherent enought to type this email... okay I am goin g going to surf the net and watch the soft porn* they have on regular tv here... cheers love F"

* Just so you know, I told him watching porn was wrong, and that its even worse to tell me he was going to go watch it. Boys.

PMI: The Reckoning

Red flags? A few.
Were they major?
Not in Father's opinion. In fact he said there weren't any red flags.
The first Flag we talked about was our families, because apparently F thinks my Eldest Sister and Eldest BIL could be an issue. He doesn't feel comfortable around them.
Fair enough.
We talked about FIL and his behavior. Father really didn't have any advice on that, other than to respect him.
And to not move Back East.
He was concerned about our financial answers. Despite how much F and I make combined, a tidy sum, we are still struggling. Me the most, with my ever looming credit card debit. (if only my house would sell, Pray Shout Out to St Joseph!)
Other than that, it went ok. Until Father told us that he's almost certain he'll be leaving our Parish come July. So not cool. But he would come back and do our wedding if we wanted him too and that if the Priest he thinks is coming to replace him is really coming, we might be just as happy with him. (we'll see. We may have to stalk Father to his new locale.)
And then, F? Totally ratted me out. See, F and I are both Christians, but from different sects. Vastly different as far as I'm concerned and since his religion doesn't allow women to participate in the running of the Services, and basically paints them as second class citizens, I refuse to attend. He told Father that he'd ask me to attend and I refused.
Father took his side. Telling me I should go because it's important to F.
I don't like being ratted out to the Priest and I couldn't sleep last night for thinking about it. I'm a little hacked off about it. (F used this same tactic on FIL concerning me to their Priest. And I think that's part of why FIL resents me, or whatever his negative feelings are towards me.)
I'll go. But not because Father is a "Father" and he holds some kind of religious authority over me, but because I respect Father as a person, and hence respect his opinion.
But I won't like it.

Interesting....

Remember when F and I took the PMI and he couldn't believe that I was worrying about taking it?
Well, guess who just called me to tell me he's nervous?
Emhm, F.
Says he has a feeling something bad is going to happen.
Like I need to hear that a mere 2 hrs before we meet with Father to go over our results.
Damn it, now my stomach is getting all in knots.

It Takes All Kinds

Sunday, F and I arrived at Church to find it packed to the gills with people. First Communion. That means every blood relative of the child was in attendance. F and I headed towards the VERY back of the Church and managed to grab the last 2 seats in the place. The people in front of us had 3 boys, which grew my attention because the one had both his fingers up his nose and didn't care who saw. The oldest boy kept putting his feet on his mother's legs, her butt, the small of her back, where ever he could land them, all while trying to un-shoe his youngest brother who had taken up residence in his mother's arms. Fair enough, they are just kids. The first thing I noticed about their Aunt was her shoes. Very kicky heels with a red and white check pattern, kind of like she was wearing the picnic table cloth on her feet. But they looked better than that. My eyes caught the flash of blue next. I peered at her and caught sight of her bright blue, very long nails. Um, ok. The blue nails flashed up to her hair, and the pink little girl mini clip. OH! Now that is one of my pet peeves, adult woman who wear little girl hair accessories. Seriously! Move your lazy butt a little further down the aisle and buy the adult mini-clip! Yes, it may only be brown, and not have the hint of looking like a butterfly on your head, but hey, You're an ADULT, these things happen as part of growing up.


Tomorrow, PMI: The Reckoning.

Midnight Man Handling, It Never Ends

It has been a long while since I was Manhandled. But a few weeks ago it happened again. And this time? DOUBLE HANDED. That's right, 2 hands made their way onto my tushy. At the same time. They rested there, squeezed my tushy twice. Rested again. One made it's way to my hip, patted me and then both retreated.
I told F the next morning. He laughed.

"I must have been dreaming about sex."

Such a boy.

More of Yesterday and into Last Night

My mother called me while I was still at work last night. We spoke for a few minutes and like a true mother she says, "What's wrong? Is everything ok? Are YOU ok?"

ME: "I've been better." I sighed as I could feel the tears welling in my eyes.


Mom: "What's happened?"


So as the tears begin to run down my face, I relay the tale.


Mom: "Oh DH. Do you think you can spend the rest of your life living with them?"


ME: "I don't know mom, I really don't know."


And then I really started crying, and my nose started running. (why does that always happen at the same time? like crying isn't enough, your body's gotta throw in a few snot bubbles to top it off?)


Then, I got a bloody nose. Really helpful, let me tell ya.



So we talked for awhile. She told me I had to work it out with F as to how we'd handle these types of things. She's very comforting, that mom of mine.


When I got home F was waiting for me to take me out to dinner, and the water works started again. (trust me, I find myself annoying right now with all this damned crying.) Any woman knows that talking while sobbing does not make for an easy conversation. F listened, we talked very calmly. I told him I couldn't come to love a man(FIL) who is so cruel for no reason. And that I always feel like I can't be myself when we are at his parents', that I'm always uncomfortable. He told me that he told his mother that's why we don't stay there when we come to visit.


ME: "But that's the thing F, you tell her, not him. And you know as well as I do, she's not telling him this stuff. Of course he probably wouldn't care if she did."


He told me if I was going to leave him he wasn't going to help me move my stuff out. A running joke between us which made me laugh.


In the end I asked him to please defend my honor.


F: "I do."


ME: "Well ok, then defend my honor the way I would." I grinned at him full well knowing I was asking more than he could deliver as far as telling his father off is concerned.


I think everything is ok now.


Of course I screwed myself out of a nice dinner with all my blubbering, damn it.


Stupid girl hormones.

Will This Never End?

I cried myself to sleep last night.



Let me give some back story. A few hours earlier F came to me and said that one sentence that strikes fear in every heart, no matter what gender you've assigned to, "We need to talk."

It appears that while we were Back East for Christmas, yes, remember that trip? Apparently I committed a major faux pas by not greeting FIL like an excited puppy upon my entry into his home. I could be wrong here, but I thought etiquette dictates that the host is suppose to greet guests when you arrive in their home. So really, I should be upset that he didn't greet me, right?

My second faux pas, yes, I was bad more than once; occurred whilst relaying a statement that had been made to my mother by another woman who was the mother of a groom. "My mother told me that she was told that the MOG is suppose to wear beige and shut up." *insert laughing here* From what I can gather, MIL and SIL took it to mean that I was telling MIL to shut up and wear brown. But they weren't the ones to relay this to F, W (his brother) was. Remember W? The guy who dropped several F-Bombs and then stormed out leaving his wife and children behind during this same meal? Yes, he's the one who brought it up to F. Bit of the pot calling the kettle, don't you think?

OK.

I just want to make sure I've got this straight. I didn't greet FIL when I entered his home as a guest and I told MIL to shut her mouth and what color she should wear to the wedding, BACK IN DECEMBER and it's April, and I'm just now hearing about from an extremely distressed F. He's been stressing out about how to tell/ask me about this for 3 WEEKS.

"I didn't want to start an argument. I didn't want you blowing up over this."is what he told me finally. I also found out that when FIL hung up on me, he thought that it was I who was telling him to please stop calling, not that it was me relaying a message FOR F. (Don't shoot the messenger comes to mind.)

I know it's wrong to keep score, but I can't help but think of all the things that have been done to me by these same people and I haven't refused to talk to them or given them the silent treatment because of it. Ok, maybe I have to FIL, but dang, the hatin never stops with this man.
I want to express my feelings about this to F, but seeing how distressed he was over this, I hate putting him in the middle by complaining about his family, again. Which is exactly what is happening.
When I laid down to sleep my mind began to race, as it does. And this enormous overwhelming feeling of despair came over me, and I started to cry. F was already fast asleep so I got up and went to cry in the other room.
Is this how things are going to be for the rest of our lives? His family withholding affection and giving the silent treatment at the slightest hint of an imagined affront? Causing him to lie to me when I ask him what is wrong and he says "Nothing." because he doesn't want a confrontation with me?
I've never encountered a family like this. I've heard of them, but never had the displeasure of interacting with them. They constantly assault me and my sense of proper conduct and I do nothing. But when they feel accosted, it's all out war.
I know the saying goes "Kill them with Kindness." It's the "Kindness" part I'm having difficulty with.
This hurts my heart more than I can say because it makes me question this union.

Damn it, and Damn them because now I'm crying again.

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.