AAAAAnnnndddd…
July 16, 2009
Someone please explain to me the purpose of seating charts and how the heck I am supposed to know who needs/wants to sit next to each other?
(photo was google-searched, yo.)
My biological clock ticks for puppies.
July 16, 2009
I have a heavy heart this morning.
Yesterday was my nephew’s 3rd birthday – yes, it has gone by that quickly.
He’s adorable and one of the smartest kids I’ve ever seen in my life.
He can ride a bike, drive a go-kart, take apart pretty much anything you don’t see him get hold of in the first place and generally can run you happily ragged.
It was a lot of fun seeing my sister play hostess in my grandmother’s house – something Granny would have LOVED to have seen. A house full of children and laughter and noise again, instead of the pain that permeated the last few months of her life.
Allie got a moon bounce and the kids had a great time.
I got to hang out with her crazy in-laws and generally thank GOD for my family and my future in-laws.
Her VERY young sister-in-law is pregnant… happily so, and I want to swoop Abbey up in my arms and run from this place where people try to have babies at 16 years old. A place where it’s considered okay, normal even.
The evening was a hit for Brayden – a loud hit.
But later, when Abbey and I went to Allie’s house, Abbey accidentally let out Enoch – their pit bull puppy.
Now. Let me say a few things first.
Enoch has a varied history.
For one, this is a blue pit – a gorgeous pedigreed dog that allows Brayden to hang on him, kick him, bite him, without ever making a move towards him.
He’s a loved member of the family and just wants to love you and play with you – albeit a little roughly – because he just LOVES people.
BUT.
This is also a dog that got out at their old house, and when attacked by a smaller dog, returned the attack and killed the dog.
He was put in doggie jail as the courts tried to decide what to do with him – at this time, he was about 8 months old. They went with leniency, made Allie get heavy insurance on him, confine him at all times, and to pay reparations to the other dog owner.
This was slightly annoying – the last part – ONLY because the other people let their dog roam wild in the neighborhood – Enoch didn’t attack the dog first, nor did he approach the dog until the dog attacked him… so while I felt bad that their dog died – it could have been run over easily as anything. Or kidnapped. Their irresponsibility contributed.
But, off that soap box.
The judge was lenient because the animal control officer testified for them that he’d never seen a more gentle pit in his life, and that he felt strongly that this was a one-time offense.
But yesterday Enoch got out and chased my cousin’s pomeranian. A friendly dog – she surprised us all when she not only outran Enoch but outsmarted him.
And boy were we glad – because he had the chase in his eye. This was the hunting he’d been bred for. And one of our worst fears – as any attack on a dog means (on our land) that the dog gets shot.
I learned that pomeranians can outrun pits.
I also learned that I can ALMOST catch one while running.
I also learned that my cousin’s dumb-as-shit golden retriever will defend quite mightily when his ‘sisters’ and ‘brothers’ are threatened… even if by a pit that is just trying to play (but trust me, seems MUCH scarier)… and that a pit can get it’s ass kicked by a retriever.
Robby caught him before any damage was done.
Any physical.
Robby tased him.
And my heart just broke.
Enoch is a doll. A sweet baby who just loves and loves.
And that was painful to watch.
But, had the kids been outside they’d have tried to keep them apart. And while he wouldn’t hurt them normally – I can’t say what he’d do then.
He could kill them.
Just with his natural inclination to defend himself.
And we have kids all over the hill.
And dogs.
So he just can’t stay.
And this breaks my heart.
One, because I think that pits get a bad rep.
Two, because I like him. A lot. He’s gorgeous and loving.
Three, because if he stays, my father will kill him if a line is crossed again.
And it would be.
How could he help himself?
He just wants to run, to chase, to play.
And my dad just wants to make sure that none of the children get hurt – and that’s the only way he can see to ensure that.
We live in the country.
That’s how it’s done.
Attack the kids and you’re outta there.
And all I can see in my head is his poor confused face when he realized he was in trouble and that it wasn’t just one giant game of chase.
And I remember Paisley – a friend’s Staffordshire Terrier (of the same dog type family)- who is the very best spokesman for what the breed really can be.
I wish people could see that they’re not murdering evil idiots.
And I wish that there was a way to help Enoch get this THRILL out of his system and to calm down a bit.
And I wish yesterday hadn’t happened – because there is nothing I can do.
But for those of you out there screaming that THIS is what pits are bred for, that THIS is all they can do, that they can not be gentle and loving, that they’re always going to turn on you, well.
I have a bit of information for you.
(Jackie, I’m linking this because there IS no better example of what such a “Killer Breed” really is on the inside).
Guys, go visit www.paisleyplanet.com because everyone needs to learn a bit more than the news or the image that these dogs have to work against.
Enoch doesn’t really have much of a chance of staying on the family’s land because of preconceived notions and yesterday’s actions.
As a parent I can’t argue their stance.
But as a dog lover I just hurt to the bottom of my heart over this.
Biceps and a Blanket. Statement, that is.
July 15, 2009
I’m slowly but surely getting stonger.
In many ways.
Today, the way that I am able to focus the most on is muscular – mainly because I had a training session last night where my trainer decided I was entering a Strongman competition and therefore needed to press 3358123957823 pounds.
She was wrong.
And when my arms gave out and the bar very nearly cleaved in me in twain, she figured it out too.
And right when you’d think it would stop – it didn’t.
Instead, this devil of a woman spotted me, helped me pick it up and made me move even faster.
And her orders of “Hold for 3 seconds!” did nothing but make her have to hold the bar, because try as I might, after lifting the thing 90 times, I could NOT hold it in the air.
We were lucky I could still lift my arms period.
I hated her yesterday.
At least until I was finished.
Then we were friends again – all was well.
She had retracted her horns, I was able to smile again.
Though I still couldn’t lift my arms.
It makes it fun during the recovery days.
My back itches – mosquitos are rampant these days.
So, I get to have a fun little… um… remedy to the problem.
I pull out a file drawer and scratch my back as though I’m a horse.
It’s sexy.
But it doesn’t help distract me from other things going on.
Like Nick coming into town tomorrow… !!!!!!…!!!!!
Wedding counseling starting for Real, yo.
Engagement party.
Oh, and the flame war that erupted on my blog the other day.
You didn’t think I was going to mention it, did you?
I hadn’t planned on it.
But it’s been eating at me.
And today’s entry is about strength, after all.
For most of my days I spend time in sheer panic mode.
For reasons I can mention and for reasons I cannot.
I laugh and tell jokes to those around me to fill my brain with anything else.
And wedding planning has – strangely enough – become my solace.
Yes, I’m lucky to be able to plan an actual wedding with the man that I love. Or… let’s be honest. I’m lucky to be able to plan our wedding all by myself for him to show up to.
I’m lucky that we don’t have a mortgage at this time. I’m lucky that he makes enough money to make sure the big expenditures can be paid when it’s time to pay them.
I’m lucky.
That doesn’t mean that there aren’t bad times.
Making what I make and supporting the things that I need to support means that things stay tight.
Worrying about legal matters and paying for those means that dreams of owning my own home or being able to spend money as I wish are in the future, not the present.
Worrying about the health of those around me – the people I love who tend to use a distraction method much like my own (Mrs. D, you know who you are!)
Cancer, deaths, legal battles on several fronts, a future that has absolutely no planned path, a family that is falling apart at the seams, – all of those add up to a person that has many more layers than a registry and a wedding.
I don’t see anything wrong with indulging dreams and fantasies, even when other things aren’t going great.
I don’t see anything wrong with embracing the fact that I am so very lucky on many fronts, and avoiding the topic of the ones that I’m less fortunate in.
I’m not going to be able to have a big gorgeous house like Leslie, to travel to Australia like Jackie, to buy cocktail dresses and actually have a place to wear them like Krista, to work out and be toned and gorgeous like Christy, to live in NYC and live the fantasy life like Bern (okay, minus the work schedule) or to go to grad school and be mega-educated like Laurie.
And that’s okay.
Those are THEIR fortunate things.
Not mine.
And like all fortunate things, they all have a grey side.
Leslie would hand me her mortgage payment in a minute, and the job market is killer for those like Laurie at the moment.
Very rarely are things ALL good or ALL bad.
They simply are things.
I’ve reached the age of 29 – a wise ole young age – realizing that I know exactly enough to get me through day to day – and not enough to help many others do the same.
My mistakes have led me exactly where I am.
And I carry no weight that I haven’t earned.
And especially no weight that other people attempt to place on my shoulders.
The people I love are many.
I love openly and people of many different personalities.
Some of you are total asses. You know this, I know this… and because I share the same trait, we love this about one another.
Some of you are darlings – people that are seriously angels on Earth and I will never be able to stand next to your glowing character without feeling lucky just to have known you.
Some of you are simply stickers. Loyal, good friends who would fight for me or next to me – and I you.
And I love you all.
But your gripes with each other are not my own.
Disagreeing with a statement is different than a character flaw.
I’m not entirely sure why the comments went the direction they did.
I’ve never had anything happen like that before.
I’m more than willing to discuss it in a non-public forum.
But out of respect for everyone I love, I will not discuss any pointed comments made here… in my space.
Disagree with mass abandon to anything anyone says here.
But respect my space – there is a hedge of protection around those who visit.
Please don’t make it personal.
I like my house of cards in tact.
Cahlaws
July 13, 2009
I think I figured out why women don’t always get along.
Lol, I loved the responses I got. Loved the differences of opinion. Loved my first official hate comments – though not who they were from.
My registry. An inanimate list formed in hours of togetherness time with my baby sister who cries in pure excitement every time she thinks about my wedding because she loves Nick so much.
China patterns. Pure happiness. I love to cook and have always wanted some for every day dinnerware.
Pretty frames, silver randomness. Lol, in truth my entire registry could be purchased with the amount I’ve spent on yarn.
I grinned at the various responses. I love how everyone is so different. I got private notes on not being green enough, public ones on not buying American made – considering the world’s economy I think everyone could use a leg up. A public comment about how I should put more pots on it and advice on everything I left off.
Weddings are such that everyone has advice and opinions.
I dream of roasting in the polka dotted green pan. Eating on the china. Sleeping on the bedclothes.
And I dream of exactly what I have.
Please remember – all of you – all I really want is your company on my special day.
Gifts are never necessary. Never expected. And while my wishlist/registry may seem like an attack on humanity to some, rest assured that I will leave all weapons and clubs at home on the wedding day to avoid killing you for bringing the wrong gravy boat.
::snicker:: couldn’t resist.
Love you all. Really.
Moseying along the one subject path.
July 13, 2009
I keep thinking I need a rest.
How many of you find that at the end of the weekend you’re falling into bed purely exhausted, with no chance to rest at all?
Maybe this marriage will give me a chance to rest.
Sarcasm doesn’t apparently translate well in written form.
Or maybe someone has a case of the Mondays.
Long talk with my FMIL this past weekend – she’s really wonderful. I’m hitting the absolute jackpot on in-laws and I am not entirely sure how I got so lucky.
She called to ask a few questions and to tell me she picked up all our champagne flutes because she found them on sale and to take them off our registry.
That’s in additional to a million other little things she has done with this wedding that would have already counted as more than any gift I could have thought of.
Same with my parents.
I’m so incredibly blessed that they’ve chosen to help Nick and me with this.
And I’m excited about the champagne flutes!
Our registry.
I had a friend recently tell me that my Macys registry was ridiculous, because she couldn’t really see spending that much money on those things.
And, well. I was kind of hurt. Not that I care if she spends the money on those things – I’m 29 years old. I have stuff to start my married life with.
What I had been instructed to do, by pretty much everyone, was to register for things I would LOVE to have to start my life with if I were just going on the “I wants” instead of the “I needs”.
You see, I know how to make do.
I’m a single mom whose ex has never done a darned thing to help.
My daughter and I know what it’s like to have second hand and we’re quite proud that we’ve made it as far as we have in life, including the help from family and friends along the way.
So, the registry was supposed to be a Wish List.
And it is.
I wish I knew more people who were getting married now – or had asked more people at the time why they were registering for what they registered for.
What about you guys – married and unmarried – if you were registering for yourself and your loved one, what would be on your list?
Targeted.
July 11, 2009
No matter which part of the country you’re from, you must admit one thing.
Nothing is QUITE as sexy as a person who’s gotten sunburn on their back in almost a target pattern.
And I, my friends, have just such a pattern on my back.
No, no.
No bum rushing allowed.
I am a faithful woman and my love and commitment already belong to Nicholas.
You simply must control yourselves.
Never forget!!!
Frustration… and the desire for a cookie.
July 9, 2009
So, in the past few months I’ve started eating better and have hired a personal trainer.
This is quite the expense for someone who lives very paycheck to paycheck – kids don’t feed themselves, you know – and was something I contemplated for a while.
You see, I’m used to being skinny. Have always been somewhat of a small girl, even though I was curvy. Being 5’11″ helped hide the extra weight anyway and even at my heaviest, when I reached that stage where I could say that I weighed the same as I had when I had given birth, I still looked great.
Though I didn’t know it at the time.
NOW, however, I don’t look quite as great.
That’s not a Debbie Downer – it’s simply the truth. After losing weight for K’s wedding with some old fashioned, but effective, stress dieting, I had gotten to a size rarely seen in my life and looked great doing it.
But.
Because the dieting was so unhealthy I gained it back. And then some.
I gained more weight than I ever could have imagined.
In fact, I now weigh an embarrassing 70 POUNDS more than I did when K got married. And to say that I spent some of that time inert would be an understatement.
I love to exercise, always have.
But I love to do it on my own terms.
In the weight room/gym, in a place where I can get done and go grab a bite when I feel like I’m done.
I can’t run and end up 10 miles away and decide I’d like to be through, no. I want A/C and entertainment on my runs. A little electronic numerical goal to count down to.
And I’d sort of walked away from all of that.
But now I’m marrying a man that can sit in a chair and make me look like a lazy slob. He NEVER. STOPS. MOVING. Ever. He bounces and jitters and runs and racquetballs and bikes and softballs and all of these other things that make me tired just thinking about them.
And I knew that I needed to step it up and get in shape, if only to keep up with him in the grocery.
And so I hired a trainer.
An amazingly fit woman who laughs at my jokes, listens to my crap and then tells me to shut up and do the work.
It’s a perfect relationship and I can’t believe sometimes that I am paying for this torture.
Nor can I believe that with the 4 months of eating great and working out 5 days a week, that I haven’t lost a pound.
And I haven’t.
But I have lost 3 inches.
And for those of you that say that’s what matters, well. Kiss my. Um. Big toe?
because I don’t know where those 3 inches went, but they certainly aren’t the three that are helping me fit into smaller clothes.
NOTHING about my clothing size has changed.
So I’ve gotten frustrated.
And have been behaving badly.
Sneaking Mountain Dew and Lorna Doones and when I finally weighed myself yesterday after a week of this, I realized with surprise that I have lost 5 pounds this week.
Wha?
Now, I know the food isn’t good for me, and I will try to jump back on the healthy bandwagon, but it’s amazing how the first amount of self confidence boosting I have had in the past few months with regards to my body has come through two liters of Rootbeer and some junk food.
Now if I could only find a pizza or burger that would help me get rid of my double chin…
On marrying at 29…
July 9, 2009
I’ve been asked by people along the way if I regret waiting until I’m 29 to get married.
I can’t yell NO! on the internet and have it come across correctly, but understand – that was a definite yelled NO!.
The thing that is different about getting married at 29 rather than when I was younger is simply – I know myself.
I’m not saying it’s impossible to know yourself at a younger age, but I don’t have the simple belief that things will be okay in my relationship just because I don’t believe in divorce as an out. (other than the 3 A’s, which are most certainly a talk for another time.)
I know now that things aren’t black and white on this, and that being able to live with something or someone isn’t simply defined by whether or not the relationship is GOOD at the moment.
But more about the character behind the relationship and the people fighting for it.
When I was younger I believed, as most young folks do, that love would solve all my relationship’s problems… that if we were going through bad times, love would either fly in and fix our problems or we didn’t love each other enough.
I’ve spent the majority of my twenties in and out of hard times – dealing with custody issues with my daughter and her father’s family, dealing with health issues with my family, and simply learning the hard way what it means to be an adult with a child that is too close to my own age.
Making the decision to marry Nick was a hard one.
One made over years – before he ever asked the question… and more than likely before he ever THOUGHT to ask the question.
I had to know who he was when he was angry. Who he was when I had a problem with our relationship. Who he was when expressing his own problems with our relationship. Who he was when he dealt with problems outside of our relationship.
And even more than that, who I was when I was with him dealing with those things.
And I learned a lot about myself. I learned that I can be on time for a movie. I can balance my checkbook. I can make decisions that will be unpopular with him simply because I believe they are RIGHT and even if he doesn’t agree, he’ll still love me and respect me and life will go on.
I don’t feel the need to change my views or opinions to fit his notion of what he wants in his life.
He has to love me as me and I have to love him as him.
And when you consider that love is an action every bit as much as it is an emotion, you’ll realize how hard that can be.
Accepting that he’ll never view my priorities as his own is a lot harder than me realizing I won’t always view his as my own either. We rarely look at our side of the coin and I think that is the difference between 29 and 21.
Self awareness.
I’m okay with us disagreeing.
And I know the world won’t end if we argue or fight, though it’s rare when we do.
I know when he’s angry he’s going to growl – but he does that with everyone.
And he knows that when I’m angry I need to be alone or I need to be teased into laughing again and that I never hold grudges.
I feel very solid in my relationship.
Very solid in the decisions I’m making regarding my relationship.
I don’t mean that I never have doubts about spending the rest of my life being the person who makes all the doctor’s appointments – I just mean that I realize wishing he’d make some himself isn’t going to inspire him to do that.
Nor will his wishing I’d make every meal both healthy and delicious isn’t going to inspire me to throw out my grandmother’s recipe for cornbread dressing and start with something low-cal.
I love who I am right now.
I love that I no longer feel the need to compartmentalize myself to please those around me.
I love that I know what my buttons are and that I can not react when provoked.
I love that who I am on the inside very closely resembles someone I’d have respect for on the outside.
And I love that I’m marrying Nick knowing that THAT woman is the woman who said yes… not some starry-eyed version of the girl I used to be.
Heck, he proposed after one of the worst days we’ve ever had in our 4 1/2 years together – and that he did that, that THAT is when he chose to tell me he’s committed, he’s fighting for this, he loves me even during our darkest hours – THAT is the man I’m lucky enough to marry.
And knowing that brings me a peace underneath all the bridal craziness that nothing else on the planet could.
In my opinion, 29 is simply PERFECT.
Back on the meds!
July 9, 2009
OCD will once again be reigned in within a day or two, thanks to Walgreens.
OCD brings a fun aspect to wedding planning.
My dream wedding, in the beginning, would have been one at which I wrote a check to the planner and showed up on the day of and everything was done to my specifications/personality.
However, because I’m not rich, and because my boyfriend believes that it’s weird that I never wanted to plan a wedding and therefore this will be good for me, I have been working it in the wedding world with my own two hands.
But, since I got all the big stuff out of the way…
Which, let’s tangent for a bit – The big stuff seems to be the stuff that freaks most of the people out, but for me, it was the easiest!
I started with the photographer that I was dying to work with and worked from there.
Church was easy, since, well – I can’t marry Nick where HE lives in October. In Minneapolis there is snow everywhere!
But, the weather is gorgeous in Memphis at that time and so I chose my church.
So the big stuff was easy. 17 weddings helped me plan for that…
But then comes the hard part for me…
Details.
It’s not that I’m not good at details – I’m a perfectionist. I’m VERY good at details.
But I’m also a high functioning OCD nutcase. Meaning that the word ‘perfectionist’ as a description is simply being polite. Everything simply HAS to speak to me. And that means that there are so many things that has to speak to me that I’ve ended up as queen of my panic molehill with a crazy to do list.
Hopefully this refill will help me regain perspective.
Now I just have to find something to kick me in the butt and give me ENERGY!
One thing that has been inspiring me lately is all the DIY projects out there on the web.
Now, I USED to be a huge DIYer. But since I’ve been working in Finance, my energy levels have been sucked out by the inordinate amount of brain power it takes for a right brained person to operate in a left brained world.
So, this wedding has definitely inspired me to turn back to my noodle necklace roots.
But things that make the wedding OURS instead of just another ceremony – that will touch my heart on that day and in years to come. THAT is where my focus and inspiration has been lately.
Such as using wedding bells to send us off – bells that remind me of my late grandmother that I lost last March and miss every single day, that remind me of when he proposed in Loring Park last September.
The wishing wall – where people can sign in with more than just names – with words and pieces of advice that I’ll be able to read over and again.
The ‘photo booth’ with its props and sunshine love. I can’t wait to see what the people closest to me will do with them.
And today, this inspired me – a little personal touch so Nick could carry my love with him throughout the day:
from Weddingbee.com - a pocket square
Now I just have to think of something adorable and wonderful to embroider…
Along with my other varied DIY projects.
I love it.
Found Randomly on the Web.
July 8, 2009
- Toilet paper Dress
Now THAT, my friends, is a bride who had time on her hands.
I am more of a scruncher in the first place, but for you folders out there – this toilet paper wedding dress should inspire you to greatness.
If my dress takes any longer to come in, I may recruit some of you to began folding for a back-up masterpiece.
