For those of you keeping score at home, there are now less than three weeks remaining before The Big Day. (I am referring, of course, to my first manicure in a dozen years. Truly a cause for celebration.) So, after our difficulty securing the desired plane tickets, Otto rearranged his life so that he could be here this weekend, and then we also went ahead and bought his plane tickets for the wedding weekend. Because it would really suck to get everyone together only to hear the pastor say, "Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today for a wedding that's been postponed because the airlines...
Houston, we have a marriage license. Tonight we're poring over bible verses and restaurants and flower options, and although I heartily believe that love is patient and love is kind, I refuse to have 1st Corinthians read during our ceremony. Just because. I think I've heard it at every wedding I've ever been to, including my own. But I don't believe I've actually heard Song of Solomon read at a wedding, even though it's listed as a popular selection. It was while we were shoulder to shoulder, looking up bible verses on the computer, beholding Song of Solomon that I realized we are...
The Pretty One is off the grid. Again. Hopefully she’ll be back online again in the morning, but until then you get my musings. And if she’s not online in the morning, she’s headed to the wireless store. (Think our parents had any idea one of those was coming? Well, perhaps – they did invent the Radio Shack. Kind of the same thing.) So our evening conversation wandered around as it always does. She hates the weather up there. She hates her cable provider. She hates icy roads that prevent her from getting to the grocery store. But the kidlets loved the made-from-scratch pancakes....
It's T-minus one month, folks, before I put on the dress and the shoes and swear at my hair a little bit and go become Mrs. Otto. There are a million reasons (well, half a dozen, anyway) that we've settled on the day we did, and we've long since made peace with the fact that we'll essentially be stealing a weekend for the wedding and a brief getaway before Otto goes back to Georgia and I finish up dealing with things here for another month and a half or so before The Big Move. We are accustomed to the long distance thing; we don't like it, but we're used to it. And it's temporary. Come late...
Tonight my children bounced off of one another and careened around the upstairs and generally behaved with good---if somewhat frenetic---cheer. When I flopped down onto my bed and asked if we would be reading tonight, Chickadee rushed to my side. "No," she said, putting her hand over our book (which was still sitting on my nightstand), "I don't want to read tonight." "Really?" For my kids to say they don't want to read is akin to declaring that they're not in the mood for oxygen. It never happens. "Why don't you want to read?" "I would rather have some quality family time," she replied,...
I think it would be interesting to sit down and write out ALL of my fears about remarrying. And I will do exactly that, just as soon as I have a full year of nothing else to do, pinky swear! But in the meantime, I try to keep the neurotic angsting to a minimum. Fortunately, I have two children with endless problems here to keep me focused on ACTUAL crises instead of the various ones I like to imagine. One of the things Otto and I are doing is a series of counseling sessions with my pastor. It's based on a profile we both filled out which was, admittedly, rather hokey. "I think my spouse and...
I am not a Valentine's Day person. I want to know that you love me, but not because Hallmark told you to say so. And while I do enjoy a lovely bunch of flowers, I like them best for no reason in particular. So Otto and I had agreed not to do anything specifically for Valentine's. I was happy to see him this past weekend, and sorry to see him leave on Saturday morning. But when I went up to bed on Satuday night and pulled back the covers, something went clunk. Nestled between my duvet and the top sheet was a heart-shaped tin of chocolates and a card. The chocolates, well---that's a...
When Otto and I picked up Chinese food this weekend, they gave us three fortune cookies. We, of course, ate two of them. The third cookie has been sitting on my kitchen counter ever since. I moved it to a more prominent location this morning while I was packing the kids' lunches, reasoning that maybe I would see it when I WASN'T running around, busy, and do something with it. I'm not sure what I thought I was going to do. Eat it? Throw it away? Who knows. All I know is that I was tired of seeing it shoved back on the corner of the counter where I stack the diet coke cans waiting to be...
So in the excitement of finding out my son might not just be a gigantic pain in the butt after all, and all of your lovely comments (thank you so much, you lovely pretty people who are pulling for my kid), I didn't even think to mention that Otto was here. Was. Past tense. Because he was here for about a day and then he left. I think it was something I said. It wasn't anything I said, really. He was just passing through on his way to an adjacent state and managed to stop here long enough for me to give him a haircut and feed him some fried rice. Because he has priorities. Having him here so...
