I think I found my dress.
Allow me to repeat: I THINK I FOUND THE PERFECT ABSOLUTELY MOST WONDERFULEST DRESS.
It just came to my doorstep, via the UPS man. I look slender and 20 and also very tan. It's rather Grecian, don't you think?
Now we need to find me some shoes, and a veil-like thingy.....continue shopping, Dani!
I actually have another three dresses coming in the mail, so we'll see if one of them is more perfect. Can you imagine? That would be very confusing. Maybe I'd have to get married multiple times.
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
Whirling Dervish
I'm going to go lounge by the pool this afternoon. In truth, I have 87 gazillion emails in my inbox, and 72 million messages in my voice mail. If I owe you some manner of response, please know that it's very likely that I love and appreciate you and I am not going to get back to you until September.
Tim is having a procedure on his knee next week. Which is great, given how we are real bored this Summer, with absolutely nothing to do. I'm glad I've had so much practice sitting in waiting rooms, while people I love are sliced and diced.
Who is sarcastic?
Also, I think I have a wart. Warts are not very ladylike. How do you get them? Mine is on the palm of my hand, which I find both gruesome and fascinating. Wouldn't that be gross if I got lots of them on the palm of my hand? I'd be like a braille message. That gives a whole new meaning to the term "talking with my hands."
Oh dear.
I'm glad we've had this little talk.
Tim is having a procedure on his knee next week. Which is great, given how we are real bored this Summer, with absolutely nothing to do. I'm glad I've had so much practice sitting in waiting rooms, while people I love are sliced and diced.
Who is sarcastic?
Also, I think I have a wart. Warts are not very ladylike. How do you get them? Mine is on the palm of my hand, which I find both gruesome and fascinating. Wouldn't that be gross if I got lots of them on the palm of my hand? I'd be like a braille message. That gives a whole new meaning to the term "talking with my hands."
Oh dear.
I'm glad we've had this little talk.
Monday, July 13, 2009
What Stress?
Just for kicks, I looked online for the kind of stress test where they look at the major events in my life over the past year. Do you know the kind I mean?
I am so far off the charts, it's not even funny. And it's not the past year so much as just this Summer. Child's illness and hospitalization, move across town, marriage, change in job/ income, child going off to school for the first time. You know, stuff like I experience in spades.
Mostly, I feel validated.
The inner workings of my head feel like a pressure cooker. I'm kind of out of touch with my sense of humor as I go about my day. And I keep forgetting things that are important. Plus, I've been grinding my teeth and breaking out like a teenager.
You wouldn't think that anticipation of good stuff would be so stressful, would you? The whole marriage and move thing is very exciting, but it does represent a significant alteration to normalcy.
I think that the key to my sanity thru this time is likely to be found in good sleep, vigorous excercise, and large chunks of quiet time.
In other news, though, all of you faithful readers keep emailing me dresses to buy. That is very helpful! Maybe I should just post the rest of my to-do list, and see what you people can get done.
I am so far off the charts, it's not even funny. And it's not the past year so much as just this Summer. Child's illness and hospitalization, move across town, marriage, change in job/ income, child going off to school for the first time. You know, stuff like I experience in spades.
Mostly, I feel validated.
The inner workings of my head feel like a pressure cooker. I'm kind of out of touch with my sense of humor as I go about my day. And I keep forgetting things that are important. Plus, I've been grinding my teeth and breaking out like a teenager.
You wouldn't think that anticipation of good stuff would be so stressful, would you? The whole marriage and move thing is very exciting, but it does represent a significant alteration to normalcy.
I think that the key to my sanity thru this time is likely to be found in good sleep, vigorous excercise, and large chunks of quiet time.
In other news, though, all of you faithful readers keep emailing me dresses to buy. That is very helpful! Maybe I should just post the rest of my to-do list, and see what you people can get done.
Sunday, July 12, 2009
Companionable Silence
Yesterday, I went on a date. It was the Longest Date that Tim and I have ever had. It was a twelve hour date. I liked it.
At lunch time, we sat under rather disappointing cloud cover to eat our lunch. The patio is lovely this time of year, and despite the lack of sun, the day was quite warm. We'd been to the farmer's market downtown, where we had wandered through the vendors, holding hands. I was noticing, as we functioned in the crowd, how well we've learned to read each other. With the smallest motion, and nary a word, he said, "Please hold this bag, while I pay for the bread." Or a slight nod of his head tells me, "Those people over there are bizarre." A squeeze from his fingers lets me know that he is changing directions in the crowd, and would I like a cup of coffee? It's a sort of intimacy that holds such value to me, because I've never quite had it before. Well, except with Kara, but she doesn't hold my hand very often.
We put lunch together, after we got back to his home, and moved the small feast out to the patio. There we sat, enjoying the fresh bread we'd just purchased, and wishing the clouds away. We were enjoying that kind of quiet where you don't need to say anything at all. Yet, he'd chuckle, and mention something that had tickled his fancy from the morning. Or I'd make a random comment about something in my head, and he would nod and smile.
The sun finally did put up a robust fight against the grey. It was hot enough to lay by the pool, and the sun played a lazy game of hide-and-seek. Tim read on his lounge chair. I dozed on mine.
I completely ignored the huge to-do list that was growing back at my house.
Today is going to have to be different. Since yesterday was a serious day of rest, I am hoping that God won't mind if I dash about working my fanny off this afternoon, to make up for the leisure of Saturday.
I need to deputize all of you out there in blogland to find me a wedding dress. I need a white sundress, a bit dressier than an everyday dress. I can not wear the empire waist style. It needs to be under a hundred dollars. It needs to be comfortable in a hundred degree weather, and I need to look like a twenty-year-old when I put it on. So, go forth, fellow shoppers. See what can be found.
At lunch time, we sat under rather disappointing cloud cover to eat our lunch. The patio is lovely this time of year, and despite the lack of sun, the day was quite warm. We'd been to the farmer's market downtown, where we had wandered through the vendors, holding hands. I was noticing, as we functioned in the crowd, how well we've learned to read each other. With the smallest motion, and nary a word, he said, "Please hold this bag, while I pay for the bread." Or a slight nod of his head tells me, "Those people over there are bizarre." A squeeze from his fingers lets me know that he is changing directions in the crowd, and would I like a cup of coffee? It's a sort of intimacy that holds such value to me, because I've never quite had it before. Well, except with Kara, but she doesn't hold my hand very often.
We put lunch together, after we got back to his home, and moved the small feast out to the patio. There we sat, enjoying the fresh bread we'd just purchased, and wishing the clouds away. We were enjoying that kind of quiet where you don't need to say anything at all. Yet, he'd chuckle, and mention something that had tickled his fancy from the morning. Or I'd make a random comment about something in my head, and he would nod and smile.
The sun finally did put up a robust fight against the grey. It was hot enough to lay by the pool, and the sun played a lazy game of hide-and-seek. Tim read on his lounge chair. I dozed on mine.
I completely ignored the huge to-do list that was growing back at my house.
Today is going to have to be different. Since yesterday was a serious day of rest, I am hoping that God won't mind if I dash about working my fanny off this afternoon, to make up for the leisure of Saturday.
I need to deputize all of you out there in blogland to find me a wedding dress. I need a white sundress, a bit dressier than an everyday dress. I can not wear the empire waist style. It needs to be under a hundred dollars. It needs to be comfortable in a hundred degree weather, and I need to look like a twenty-year-old when I put it on. So, go forth, fellow shoppers. See what can be found.
Thursday, July 09, 2009
The marriage bed is holy, and undefiled
Shopping for a mattress is a completely appropriate thing to do with a man one is about to marry.
When Cathy and Asia were here this weekend, they recommended a mattress made of that heavy memory foam stuff. These things are too heavy to lift, and too expensive to afford, and I totally want one.
Last night, Tim and I went to the local furniture store to test drive mattresses. He would fling his body in the air, and land on a mattress with a bounce, before thrashing about to assess the firmness, and support, of the article in question. Then, he'd editorialize, get up, and go do the same thing on the next bed in the line.
I was vastly amused. As was the salesman, come to think of it. He followed us at a less-than-discreet distance, no doubt wondering where this grown man got so much energy for leaping from bed to bed.
Tim wants a firm surface. By "firm" I mean that he wants to sleep on concrete. Me? I'm more genteel. I prefer to sink into a cloud to pursue my REM.
There was one mattress that was hard on one half, and soft on the other. Which is not a bad idea. But, I'd really like to provide him some incentive to visit my side now and again. I'm just sayin'.
The memory-foam thing was wonderful. It's one of those that you can drop a bowling ball on, and the thing doesn't shimmy. This provided no little challenge to Tim, who did his leaping thing several times, to see if he'd bounce. He didn't.
Tim asked me, as we lay there on the bed, (in a public room with a salesman watching), if I liked the bed. I told him that I thought I actually loved it, and that I pretty much would like to marry it. Or at least to sleep with it. Which I thought was downright hysterical. The salesman didn't even crack a smile; I hate it when people don't get my jokes.
My big goal for the day is to pretty up Michael's records of scholastic achievements. It's like revising a resume. I have to put together this impressive dossier on his years of home education, so he looks like an advanced and motivated learner, worthy of the program he's applying for. Basically, I have a snow job to pull off. All those chores he does? Home economics, baby. Listening to the radio? Musical appreciation. Bedtime stories? Comparative World Literature. Camping and hunting just became forestry and zoology. When I am done with this portfolio, they're gonna offer me a teaching job.
I watched an introductory video for this school, and I totally want to attend it myself. It's part of the International Baccalaureate program, whatever that means. I think it means that he'll have a lot of homework. Michael, the jock-turned-intellect is very enthusiastic at the thought of going to school. Don is thrilled to death at the prospect of being the only child at home.
It's funny to me to watch the way this seems to be evolving all at the hand of God. I can really get a glimpse of how this would ease the transition to our new and improved family, for each of the kids. Don will likely need more of my attention for a while, and this would certainly meet that. Michael is needing more Independence. Tim and I will need some time to ourselves. His two kids will be in school full time this year, but Faline will be home educated the following year. Aaron will finish out elementary school, and then we'll figure out what is best for him.
I am going to have 4 kids, and 3 of them will be in public school. Clearly God has a sense of humor.
When Cathy and Asia were here this weekend, they recommended a mattress made of that heavy memory foam stuff. These things are too heavy to lift, and too expensive to afford, and I totally want one.
Last night, Tim and I went to the local furniture store to test drive mattresses. He would fling his body in the air, and land on a mattress with a bounce, before thrashing about to assess the firmness, and support, of the article in question. Then, he'd editorialize, get up, and go do the same thing on the next bed in the line.
I was vastly amused. As was the salesman, come to think of it. He followed us at a less-than-discreet distance, no doubt wondering where this grown man got so much energy for leaping from bed to bed.
Tim wants a firm surface. By "firm" I mean that he wants to sleep on concrete. Me? I'm more genteel. I prefer to sink into a cloud to pursue my REM.
There was one mattress that was hard on one half, and soft on the other. Which is not a bad idea. But, I'd really like to provide him some incentive to visit my side now and again. I'm just sayin'.
The memory-foam thing was wonderful. It's one of those that you can drop a bowling ball on, and the thing doesn't shimmy. This provided no little challenge to Tim, who did his leaping thing several times, to see if he'd bounce. He didn't.
Tim asked me, as we lay there on the bed, (in a public room with a salesman watching), if I liked the bed. I told him that I thought I actually loved it, and that I pretty much would like to marry it. Or at least to sleep with it. Which I thought was downright hysterical. The salesman didn't even crack a smile; I hate it when people don't get my jokes.
My big goal for the day is to pretty up Michael's records of scholastic achievements. It's like revising a resume. I have to put together this impressive dossier on his years of home education, so he looks like an advanced and motivated learner, worthy of the program he's applying for. Basically, I have a snow job to pull off. All those chores he does? Home economics, baby. Listening to the radio? Musical appreciation. Bedtime stories? Comparative World Literature. Camping and hunting just became forestry and zoology. When I am done with this portfolio, they're gonna offer me a teaching job.
I watched an introductory video for this school, and I totally want to attend it myself. It's part of the International Baccalaureate program, whatever that means. I think it means that he'll have a lot of homework. Michael, the jock-turned-intellect is very enthusiastic at the thought of going to school. Don is thrilled to death at the prospect of being the only child at home.
It's funny to me to watch the way this seems to be evolving all at the hand of God. I can really get a glimpse of how this would ease the transition to our new and improved family, for each of the kids. Don will likely need more of my attention for a while, and this would certainly meet that. Michael is needing more Independence. Tim and I will need some time to ourselves. His two kids will be in school full time this year, but Faline will be home educated the following year. Aaron will finish out elementary school, and then we'll figure out what is best for him.
I am going to have 4 kids, and 3 of them will be in public school. Clearly God has a sense of humor.
Wednesday, July 08, 2009
...in a single bound
I'm so glad I'm a faithful blogger.
Last weekend was a blast, because Cathy and Asia were in town. I took no pictures at all, despite the fact that I bought new batteries for my camera. Sorry about that. Asia mostly fired deeply personal and incisive questions at my patient husband-to-be with the worthy goal of ascertaining his suitability to marry me. Consequently, they are now fast friends. They discussed much of this riveting information on the tennis court, where they were very happy to hit a ball about between topics. Unfortunately, Tim's knee was less than thrilled with the strenuous excersise, and is now swollen up as big as Texas. Cathy and I shopped, as any friends would.
My entire freaking existance has taken on a life of it's own, and I am sort of swept along in the tide. Among the significant, and life changing, transformations underway, is the new and alarming possibility of my child attending a real High School. Michael has decided that he wants to attend some Ivy League College, and Lacrosse is largely to blame. However, he is also appreciating the need for academic excellence, and is interested in a new School as a means of accomplishing this. This school, if he's accepted, would be really hard, academically agressive, and completely over his head. I think it's a fantastic idea. I am meeting with the officials to apply on Friday. Also, I am freaking out. Normal people cry when their baby leaves for kindergarden. Not me. My kid will leave at the age of 14 instead of 5.
In the bride department, I can not find a dress. It's very annoying. All dresses on the planet have an empire waist, which makes me look pregnant. All white dresses on the planet cost upwards of a million dollars.
I have to eliminate and pack, and I don't have any time to do so. I guess I am getting some things done, little by little. But, there's a heck of a lot that needs to be dealt with. My house is just so full of junk!
The reception planning is also on the table. Once we get bunches of RSVPs back, we'll have to start thinking about food and wine. And cake. And flowers. And renting tables. And the fact that all these people are going to be in my new house....which is all freaking me out.
Mostly freaking out is kind of the theme.
So, let's summerize. I am getting married, doubling the amount of children I have, moving, enrolling my eldest in school, signing the boys up for football, planning a reception/honeymoon/wedding, working, paying bills, being a single mom, and trying to find a pretty white dress. All of this while freaking out.
But enough about me. How have you been?
Last weekend was a blast, because Cathy and Asia were in town. I took no pictures at all, despite the fact that I bought new batteries for my camera. Sorry about that. Asia mostly fired deeply personal and incisive questions at my patient husband-to-be with the worthy goal of ascertaining his suitability to marry me. Consequently, they are now fast friends. They discussed much of this riveting information on the tennis court, where they were very happy to hit a ball about between topics. Unfortunately, Tim's knee was less than thrilled with the strenuous excersise, and is now swollen up as big as Texas. Cathy and I shopped, as any friends would.
My entire freaking existance has taken on a life of it's own, and I am sort of swept along in the tide. Among the significant, and life changing, transformations underway, is the new and alarming possibility of my child attending a real High School. Michael has decided that he wants to attend some Ivy League College, and Lacrosse is largely to blame. However, he is also appreciating the need for academic excellence, and is interested in a new School as a means of accomplishing this. This school, if he's accepted, would be really hard, academically agressive, and completely over his head. I think it's a fantastic idea. I am meeting with the officials to apply on Friday. Also, I am freaking out. Normal people cry when their baby leaves for kindergarden. Not me. My kid will leave at the age of 14 instead of 5.
In the bride department, I can not find a dress. It's very annoying. All dresses on the planet have an empire waist, which makes me look pregnant. All white dresses on the planet cost upwards of a million dollars.
I have to eliminate and pack, and I don't have any time to do so. I guess I am getting some things done, little by little. But, there's a heck of a lot that needs to be dealt with. My house is just so full of junk!
The reception planning is also on the table. Once we get bunches of RSVPs back, we'll have to start thinking about food and wine. And cake. And flowers. And renting tables. And the fact that all these people are going to be in my new house....which is all freaking me out.
Mostly freaking out is kind of the theme.
So, let's summerize. I am getting married, doubling the amount of children I have, moving, enrolling my eldest in school, signing the boys up for football, planning a reception/honeymoon/wedding, working, paying bills, being a single mom, and trying to find a pretty white dress. All of this while freaking out.
But enough about me. How have you been?
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
Bridezilla, Part I
I am so glad that I worked today, because, really, could my time have been better spent?
As I merchandised books for the reading public at large, I worked at composing the invitation to our reception. How does one properly do that?
"Announcing the marriage of..." No, that won't work. We won't be married by the time we send it.
How about, "Pretty soon, Tim and Kelly will be married at a ceremony that you are not invited to. As a consolation, we'd love to have you come over to the reception."
Too informal.
Or, "Tim and Kelly and their passel of brats would like to buy you a drink. Come on by..."
It's no easy task. We don't want you to come to the wedding, we just want to have a little shindig. Preferably from 6:00-6:30, and then you can all go home so we can be newlyweds.
Hit the lights on your way out.
Thanks for coming.
This is turning into the party of the century. In my imagination, anyway.
There's cake and decorations and food and flowers and wine and people and discounted rooms at a local hotel for those of you coming from out of town....I'm dizzy. Somebody help me.
Clearly, I have no time for a job.
But I'm tan, and I have a nice ring.
In case you forgot.
As I merchandised books for the reading public at large, I worked at composing the invitation to our reception. How does one properly do that?
"Announcing the marriage of..." No, that won't work. We won't be married by the time we send it.
How about, "Pretty soon, Tim and Kelly will be married at a ceremony that you are not invited to. As a consolation, we'd love to have you come over to the reception."
Too informal.
Or, "Tim and Kelly and their passel of brats would like to buy you a drink. Come on by..."
It's no easy task. We don't want you to come to the wedding, we just want to have a little shindig. Preferably from 6:00-6:30, and then you can all go home so we can be newlyweds.
Hit the lights on your way out.
Thanks for coming.
This is turning into the party of the century. In my imagination, anyway.
There's cake and decorations and food and flowers and wine and people and discounted rooms at a local hotel for those of you coming from out of town....I'm dizzy. Somebody help me.
Clearly, I have no time for a job.
But I'm tan, and I have a nice ring.
In case you forgot.
Tra-la-la
When I was a little girl at my Grandparent's home during the Summer months, Granny would sing quite early in the morning, "I am happy, tra-la-la, and I'll make you happy too..." Which always sounded meanacing before adequate coffee. She jolly well meant it, though. Never has there been a more boyant personality than my Granny.
My girlfriends are planning my bridal shower. The theme is French bordello; which sounds quite scandelous. I told you this would be a doozy. What could be more appropriate for a bunch of Christian Homeschool moms? I am happy, tra-la-la, and I'll make you happy, too.
The whole real-life-work-and-clean-the-house thing is totally crimping my style. I need to be allowed to sit by the pool, and plan. When I sit by the pool, though, everything but the handsome man in the tan just go right out of my head. I need to focus, but all of the pending excitement have given me a serious dose of ADD.
My tan really is coming along nicely. Thanks for asking.
Today, I have resolved NOT so go sit by the pool. Instead, I am going to work, and thence to clean, and also to shop for invitations. Meanwhile, I was thinking that I owe a few "thank you" cards, and I need to get this house in order, so that Cathy and Asia aren't horrified when they arrive on Friday.
I so need a personal assistant.
My girlfriends are planning my bridal shower. The theme is French bordello; which sounds quite scandelous. I told you this would be a doozy. What could be more appropriate for a bunch of Christian Homeschool moms? I am happy, tra-la-la, and I'll make you happy, too.
The whole real-life-work-and-clean-the-house thing is totally crimping my style. I need to be allowed to sit by the pool, and plan. When I sit by the pool, though, everything but the handsome man in the tan just go right out of my head. I need to focus, but all of the pending excitement have given me a serious dose of ADD.
My tan really is coming along nicely. Thanks for asking.
Today, I have resolved NOT so go sit by the pool. Instead, I am going to work, and thence to clean, and also to shop for invitations. Meanwhile, I was thinking that I owe a few "thank you" cards, and I need to get this house in order, so that Cathy and Asia aren't horrified when they arrive on Friday.
I so need a personal assistant.
Saturday, June 27, 2009
Sun Goddess in training
Now that Summer is here with all that heat, I am planning my days around the pool. Tim asked me, in a sincere voice, the other day, how I feel my tan is coming along.
I found that question to be amusing on a number of levels.
First of all, I am not given to emotion regarding the amount of melanin in my skin. I am given to raptures regarding new swimwear, and warm weather, and even leisure time.....but not melanin. And I don't really sunbathe as a goal. Mostly, I lay in the sun for relaxation, delight, warmth, to supervise my children, or to read. The whole tan thing is a lovely bi product.
My Mother used to refer to me a 'mushroom', on account of how I'd hide in a cool, dark corner with a good book all Summer. That was how I spent Summers when I was young. My skin still gets startled every time I expose it to UV rays. I always, every time, consistently burn during the first week of outdoor activity.
Tim's sincerity at asking that question was amusing, too. He's a very thoughtful man, and a very tan one. He sees leather skin as an important part of aging.
I was looking through Scripture this morning for examples of step-parents. Jesus had a step-dad, you know. Are there any step-moms in Scripture that aren't wicked? Why are they always shown as wicked in books and movies? Do I have to be wicked?
Joseph, Jesus' step-dad is shown in all the capacity of a real dad. He protects and provides, he parents, he is the legally recognized father. He's obeyed by Jesus. What other examples of step-parents are there?
Moving right along....Why can't I find a dress to be married in?
I want a pretty sundress. White. Slightly more dressy than your average sundress. I do not want taffeta, empire waist, or double digits.
Kara and I went to the Black market/white something-or-other store yesterday morning to try their dresses. The little sales girl asked what size I wear (6) and she looked me up and down, then kept bringing me 8s. Hate her. The empire waist things look so maternity on me. The strapless things should Not be worn by women over 38 who have forgone plastic surgery. It was a depressing and futile excercise.
Plus, also, too
Have I mantioned that I am overwhelmed at all that I am supposed to plan and pull-off over the next 7 weeks? Homeschool, marriage, moving, homeymoon, reception, and a good tan. All while being a single mom, and working to pay the bills. I kind of putter around the house muttering incoherently, while getting exactly nothing accomplished.
But I have a nice ring. So that's something. And my tan really does accent that large diamond so nicely.
I found that question to be amusing on a number of levels.
First of all, I am not given to emotion regarding the amount of melanin in my skin. I am given to raptures regarding new swimwear, and warm weather, and even leisure time.....but not melanin. And I don't really sunbathe as a goal. Mostly, I lay in the sun for relaxation, delight, warmth, to supervise my children, or to read. The whole tan thing is a lovely bi product.
My Mother used to refer to me a 'mushroom', on account of how I'd hide in a cool, dark corner with a good book all Summer. That was how I spent Summers when I was young. My skin still gets startled every time I expose it to UV rays. I always, every time, consistently burn during the first week of outdoor activity.
Tim's sincerity at asking that question was amusing, too. He's a very thoughtful man, and a very tan one. He sees leather skin as an important part of aging.
I was looking through Scripture this morning for examples of step-parents. Jesus had a step-dad, you know. Are there any step-moms in Scripture that aren't wicked? Why are they always shown as wicked in books and movies? Do I have to be wicked?
Joseph, Jesus' step-dad is shown in all the capacity of a real dad. He protects and provides, he parents, he is the legally recognized father. He's obeyed by Jesus. What other examples of step-parents are there?
Moving right along....Why can't I find a dress to be married in?
I want a pretty sundress. White. Slightly more dressy than your average sundress. I do not want taffeta, empire waist, or double digits.
Kara and I went to the Black market/white something-or-other store yesterday morning to try their dresses. The little sales girl asked what size I wear (6) and she looked me up and down, then kept bringing me 8s. Hate her. The empire waist things look so maternity on me. The strapless things should Not be worn by women over 38 who have forgone plastic surgery. It was a depressing and futile excercise.
Plus, also, too
Have I mantioned that I am overwhelmed at all that I am supposed to plan and pull-off over the next 7 weeks? Homeschool, marriage, moving, homeymoon, reception, and a good tan. All while being a single mom, and working to pay the bills. I kind of putter around the house muttering incoherently, while getting exactly nothing accomplished.
But I have a nice ring. So that's something. And my tan really does accent that large diamond so nicely.
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