Thoughts for the day.
August 4, 2009
1. I wish I hadn’t eaten junk food all day – I go to the trainer in less than an hour and I FEEL AWFUL.
2. No one, and I mean NO ONE better make me wear some stupid bachelorette sash when I’m not really into the night of abject drinking and tomfoolery anyway.
3. Who the hell cares if linens are floor length or waist length?
4. I hate people.
5. All these wedding photos make me want to gag today. They all look so happy and so WELL FINANCED. I want to live in the scenario where my retirement plans are my parents.
6. It’s hard to feel sorry for a man who’s worrying about his income to debt ratio when that same man just took a private jet to Aspen.
7. People that can DIY any and all of their wedding projects make me want to kick someone in the ear. I don’t care that they went on this mega spree and got enough to make 100 invitations for $25!!???!!!!! who gives a rat’s ass? I’d love to be the person only doing 100 invitations or feeding 100 people. Not that I mind having my entire family there, I don’t. It’s not about the money, but really – who likes a cheerful person that constantly tells you about all the great sales they have gotten – and their outfit looks better than the expensive-as-hell one you bought?
8. How the hell does one get started in Letterpress?
9. When you lose friends, I wish they’d just tell you instead of getting all bitchy with you so you’ll ‘get the picture.’ I don’t need to GET the picture. I need you to be grown up enough to SHOW me the picture because I don’t play friend charades very well. Too damned old for games.
10. I get that I’m a lazy friend and what not - I mean, I can keep up with the best of them online, but in person I just HAVE TOO MUCH TO DO to be social the majority of the time. But I’ll be there at your funeral, to dance at your wedding, and to hold you when you cry. If you won’t do the same for me, get to stepping. Unless you’re Lindsey and we’ve made a previously discussed arrangement. ;p And no, this doesn’t mean I hate you if you can’t make it to my wedding, I’m using it as an example of being there for me when I need you… I do have other subjects besides the wedding.
11. Speaking of the wedding, why do turtles have such a death wish? I’ve moved two out of the road this week on my newly discovered crusade to save the basking turtles. I know it’s warm, little buddies, but you guys don’t survive well in pancake form.
12. I hate that my favorite shoes always get discontinued. I decide to wait a week or two until it’s better to buy them, or I buy them and wear them out and can’t get them anymore. That just pisses me off. can’t they make extra pairs just for me? My black shoes are almost worn through – and I LOVE them… and I can’t find the Nina heels I drooled over anymore. Who the hell is running this footwear joint? I know I sound slightly amusingly pissed… I’m not. I’m actually pissed about this.
13. Why do people think that an antidepressant means you’re not allowed to have bad days anymore? Like the ‘magic pill’ is supposed to ward your life and opinions from anything and everything negative and you’re supposed to dance around to the musical theme of sunshine and rainbows. And if you don’t, it’s a personal slap in the face. Get the fuck over it. Being chemically imbalanced means being chemically imbalanced. I can’t plan for the off days. They just happen.
So there.
Steamy wishes.
July 23, 2009
Is it just me, or is a little chilly around here for a July day?
It’s not that they are cold.
They aren’t. Um. Well. Mostly.
It’s that people won’t stop telling me I’m making the biggest mistake of my life.
And it’s nothing personal to me or Nick.
They are talking about THEIR marriages and THEIR lives and how if THEY could do it all over again, well, they wouldn’t.
Happily married people are too busy with day to day stuff to scream about how this will be the best decision I’ve ever made and how it’ll be so awesome…
I guess because even if it’s true, it’s still going to be hard.
And we’re good.
We enjoyed the time with Father Greg.
We enjoyed the engagement party that no one got pictures of us at.
And then my wedding dress came in yesterday and I put it on and danced around the room, never wanting to take it off, loving that feeling, that image in my head of how I think I look in it, hoping Nick agrees come October…
And then my heart leapt.
October.
Is awfully close to September.
Which is pretty close to August.
Which is basically tomorrow.
Breathe, breathe, breathe.
How can cold feet not equal bad thoughts?
But they don’t.
They just are the same cold feet I get before making job changes.
Before making lifestyle changes.
Before making ANY large change… just slightly bigger because this kind of combines them all.
And I don’t have doubts.
I just have panic.
And I can’t quite make it go away.
And I don’t know why it’s less about the marriage and more about the wedding.
This mental image of me freezing mid-aisle only to run like a crazy person to get away from it all.
Not him, not the marriage.
But the center of attention.
I do NOT want to be the center of attention when it’s not on my terms.
And in this rambling craziness I have to ask why it isn’t on my terms.
Why all of this breathes and moves on its own.
Couldn’t someone else stand in for me?
Or could I stand behind a curtain?
Preferably with Nicholas, as I’d like to have him see me in my dress.
Do I have to meet and greet and love and hug and think and plan and pay and dance and BE IN THE MIDDLE of everything?
I long for my warm socks.
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.
Nerves.
July 8, 2009
Everything is getting on my nerves.
And I don’t mean annoying.
I mean I’m losing my mind.
For those of you that are NOT counting, which I’m expecting is everyone on the planet EXCEPT me, I’m getting married in 95 days.
And I really need a friend in town to keep me on my to do list, because I have MANY meetings and such that I need to put together to hand out money and do the final planning before the Big Day.
And I haven’t one clue how to start.
It should be a lot easier than it seems.
After all, how much does planning a meeting actually take out of your day?
Hardly anything.
Which reminded me today, when I panicked, that I need to refill my prescription, which may be part of the problem.
OCD can only kick in so much before it stops you in your tracks.
That’s the problem.
You look around and go, “Where the H, E, double hockeysticks to do I START?!!?”
And the answer is…
I don’t know.
I need to go over the song list so that I know what fits in where and meet with the DJ again.
I need to decide upon cake flavors and meet with the cake lady.
I need to figure out what I’m going to do about the groom’s cake, though I’m leaning towards doing a smaller wedding cake and doing other smaller cakes so that there is sort of a cake TABLE… and the wedding cake won’t end up being massive and hugely expensive.
I need to meet with the photographer and hash out those details.
I need to order the bells.
I need to order invites – I need Brian to finish them.
I need to finish the girls’ stuff.
I need to pick out shoes for them and Abbey.
I need to order Abbey and Allie’s dress.
I need to make sure Brayden gets fitted for his tux in time.
I need to make sure the guys have the tux info and realize I’m picking them up and when it’s time, I need to pick them up.
I need to meet with the caterer and make ANY decisions there.
I need to meet with the florist and finalize my ideas on that – that keep changing.
If I do the many cakes idea, I need to gather cake plates. I love cake plates.
I need to finish the guest book idea.
I need to buy props for the photo booth.
I need to sweet talk someone with a camera into manning it.
I need to gather stuff to keep the kids entertained.
I need to take Brayden to shop for material for his pillow.
I need to make my reception headpiece.
I need to buy rehearsal dinner shoes.
I need to make programs… and design them to print them out.
I need to make direction cards for folks to hand out on the way out of the church.
I need to make sure Nick and I have transportation and everyone has the accomodation locations – and that people that I know will procrastinate have somewhere to stay.
I need to make sure Nick has a flight down here – missing one would be not good.
And I’m curious as to what, if anything, we’re doing for our honeymoon.
I need to order linens.
I need to find out what sort of plates/silverware the caterer uses.
I need to order alcohol.
I need to buy underwear for under my dress.
I need to order Spanx for my fat butt.
I need to do my mock up hair appointment… and get my color updated so my stylist doesn’t kill me.
Actually plan the rehearsal dinner…
Do I need to order tables and chairs because the chairs are so ugly at the rehearsal dinner place?
Do I need to order linens for the chairs?
City information packets to rooms and stuff for the out-of-towners rooms.
Book hotel room for the wedding night…
Newspaper Announcements?
Do I really have to do a unity candle?
Gotta make sure everyone gets their dresses and stuff…
Gotta pick out readings for the ceremony – don’t want to do the usual stuff, want to make it US specific…
Make sure Nick has all the insurance info and stuff so I’m immediately covered…
Schedule fittings for my gown and make sure I don’t forget them… you know, when the gown comes in…
Accessories for my gown.
Make sure that I have someone in charge at the church and at the reception so I don’t go nuts.
I need to stop going nuts too.
And make sure I keep my meds on hand.
So I stop doing this…
Krista’s on the phone with me having to listen to my nutso-ness.
Like I said, Nerves.
*ETA*
Need kraft bags for italian cookies.
Do I need a label for the bags to be cute?
Do I need to use the other half of the reception hall?
True Love poem – where to add?
Order papers for my guestbook in colors that accent.
Make garter?
Maybe tomorrow.
May 28, 2009
My anger is taking over today.
It’s not so much any one thing as it is this never being able to get ahead.
The anchors in my life aren’t so much guides to safe havens as my own personal versions of a metal albatross – each heavier than the last.
I want to scream at various people for various indignities… some more ridiculous, some more deserved, some simply unchangeable.
“The brake fluid and its condition has nothing to do with the condition of your actual brakes.”
Uh huh. I wonder what the master cylinder would say to that.
But it doesn’t matter, because they have to be replaced and no matter the spiel you give me about how the material of your shoes are better than the material of everyone else’s, both you and I know I’m getting screwed.
You don’t know enough to know HOW I’m getting screwed, but I do – and I know JUST enough to know there’s not much I can do about it.
And Save the Dates? No. I don’t have Save the Dates.
I have mini super casual wedding invitations.
Boy, I love how much escapes my notice these days.
The first time around, that part was correct and names and cities were incorrect.
This time, that part was left off entirely.
And while this is more amusing than anything else, it goes on the list of baby albatrosses because it simply IS at this point, because I noticed it AFTER mailing out 150 of the damned things.
And my weight.
Hello inspirational story about a woman who almost died because she weighed too much and finally woke up and got her life together and now weighs 160.
Her too much was 230.
Congrats to her for losing the weight. Really. Because for some of us it’s pretty darned hard.
Say – the people who spend 3 months eating lettuce and water, working out 5 days a week and gaining 9 pounds.
Oh, and if I hear one more person tell me it’s muscle weight and I’m losing inches.
Nope.
Same inches.
Different texture, sure.
But considering I can’t fit into any of my clothes and could take down my fiance with a good cannonball, this isn’t such a consolation prize.
And my daughter leaving for the summer.
No custody decisions, nothing.
Leaving to sign up for months of fake influence and happy-go-lucky every day, which makes me look like the overzealous disciplinarian that is out only to ruin her life and make texting after 9 at night much too difficult.
Having to listen to everything I do wrong.
Having to listen to everything Nick does wrong.
Twisting at turning at the hands of two people that want nothing more than to dangle this puppet to their own tune for the next few years.
Not bothering to get to know what’s underneath.
Not bothering to allow her to form her own opinions or to learn her own lessons.
I want so much more for her than that and there’s nothing I can do to stop the assault.
And my neck is cracking under the weight of today and soon I won’t be able to move at all.
Limbs still underneath this giant incapability to save the person I love most or to even control tiny situations.
Like 13 months too long for a 12 month warranty.
Or $300 unrecyclable paper with the wrong wording.
Shoes that are too tight.
Clothes that are too tight.
This rock and that rock having kicked the hard place’s ass and forging a wall around me.
One that I can see and feel and touch and smell today.
I can’t imagine it away today.
Cave dweller.
April 9, 2009
My imagination is, and will always be, the death of my practicality.
Two days into this diet that killed my ability to have starches and simple carbs and I literally want to tear people to shreds.
Now. The question is – is it because I’m not supposed to have them, or is there something that my body really craves in them that it’s not getting?
Two days shouldn’t be enough, but already I’ve started feeling just not great.
Rather like having my back hurt just because yours does.
I’m clueless as to how I’m supposed to eat more than 1200 calories without soda – much less 2000.
And I’m wondering also if this feeling has to do with the fact that I didn’t buy any beef of any sort – nor pork. I’m allowed to have them, but having long wanted to go towards more bird-related and/or vegetarian ‘meats’ because of the heaviness involved after consuming a beef meal, I took this opportunity to fill my cabinets with meat from both sides to see which I like the best.
I’m a little disgruntled that I can’t have my staple Morning Star Chikn Nuggets (why are they spelled that way?) but at the same time, I have to assume that the rather built-for-endurance trainers I have at my disposal probably know a bit more than someone that is considered obese by BMI standards.
(excuse me while I daydream about cupcakes.)
Why am I such a baby?
The simple truth?
Imagination and power of suggestion.
I am woefully susceptible to both, and found myself drooling last night at my father’s Subway sandwich.
Only because I knew I couldn’t have it.
I am the wimp of wimps.
My dinner of Egg Beaters, spinach, and turkey sausage in a scrambled sort of colorful mix was actually fantastic – I would eat it every night if my system wouldn’t object eventually – not to mention the trainer.
I just don’t respond well to change.
Any change.
And right now – the change is starches.
Thank GOD I have something to whine about other than the wedding and the custody battle.
Starches seem a weak third topic, but a topic nevertheless.
Ah, sweet potato fries, how I miss thee.
Pissedness
April 3, 2009
Obviously I’m not a woman that deals well with change.
So when Journal Community decided to shut its doors with no advance warning last night, I didn’t take it well.
I haven’t been taking it well.
I want to stab someone in the eye for not simply letting me have a few extra days to find and contact people I love and make plans with them.
I have a lot of the contact information, but some people I just like to keep up with randomly – some I talk to every day.
So this… this pisses me off.
This was very… I hope they get crotch rot.
That kind of very.
I’m trying to decide whether to work here or play on Vox.
I’m not creative enough to express myself here the way I should be, so I can’t quite decide. I can only use templates. I don’t know enough to do anything else.
Freakishly annoying.
I want to shank someone.
