I had to prove that I was legally divorced before I was allowed to obtain a marriage license. If there was such a thing as a bridal license requiring proof of girlyness, the people at town hall would still be pointing and laughing, and I would be all out of luck. Today I grabbed a friend and spend the day pretty much trying to finish up all of the wedding-related things that required tending to. Along the way I learned that I am lacking a basic gene, the one all women are supposed to have, the one that causes a female to care deeply about every aspect of her wedding day. It's not that I...
My levels of cheapskatery are legendary. It causes me pain to part with my money ("Ouch! My caution!") and I would probably benefit from a 12-step program dedicated to admitting that I am powerless over my bank statements. Barring any such program, do you know what's the best way to get over your aversion to spending? That's right! Getting married! Because anyone who tells you that getting married is about finding your one special someone and uniting with them in holy matrimony has NEVER GOTTEN MARRIED BEFORE. There's no reason to do it UNLESS you've found that special someone, of course,...
I think I am officially All Better now. No longer sick! No longer so tired that just remaining upright makes me weep! It's all good. It's as though I awoke from a fog, looked around, and declared OH MY GOD I'M GETTING MARRIED IN JUST OVER A MONTH OH HOLY HELL WHOSE IDEA WAS THIS? (Answer: It may have been my idea. Back when Otto and I got back together, and I was all about living in the moment, what with my "Do not even do this unless you mean it this time, I'm SERIOUS" schtick.) So I've got about a month to put together a wedding. At least I'm not doing anything else while I do that....
Get up. Remind children not to touch anything. Encourage them to play on the computer, as that involves moving only a chair and a mouse. Bake triple-berry muffins, because it makes the house smell good. ("Mmmmm, this house smells great. Let's buy it!") Feed muffins to children for breakfast. Argue with one boychild who would rather have a pop-tart than a freshly-baked muffin wherein the berries are---horrors!!---still identifiable. Try to reason with him. Try to cajole him. Dare him to taste the muffin. Lose temper and call him a freak. Tell him you told him so when he finally tries it and...
With all of the recent events and stressors swirling around in my head, I did the only two things that made clear sense. First: I informed Chickadee that her ass is MINE this week. Slavery is BACK, baybee. She came home from school and did all of her homework for the week and then scrubbed toilets until it was time to go with Daddy. A good start, says I. My house shall gleam by Friday. And she went willingly, and then (unprompted) came and snuggled up with me tonight with her book about divorce and asked me to read with her for a bit. (She may not know why she did what she did, but she is...
I am going to live. Just thought you'd like to know. I may not be eating Chinese food again any time soon, though. So, remember how I bought Chickadee a dress for the wedding? I bought it on eBay, and it's been a while since I used eBay, see, so I'd forgotten how to speak the language. The picture was lovely (if a tad blurry). It was advertised as being silk, and in pristine, perfect condition. I thought I'd gotten a great deal. Sadly, I forgot that on eBay, translation is required. silk = polyester pristine = only a couple of stains perfect = unraveling just a little Yeah. So. I got burned...
Yesterday was a VERY EXCITING DAY, because something unprecedented happened. I went to Marshall's and found TWO pairs of jeans that FIT! And I would've happily paid any amount of money for those jeans, because my quest for ass coverage has become so dire that my normal penny-pinching ways have been downtrodden in favor of my new philosophy, which is: SPEND IT ALL if it means having pants to wear. But the heavens shone forth and the angels sang and my generous bounty cost me under $15. Total. It was a difficult decision, yesterday, whether to write the Love Thursday post I went with or one...
Anyone who's known me for any length of time knows that I like to shop. In fact, I think it's fair to say that I love the shopping in a way that sometimes causes folks to back away from me slowly. I love the thrill of the bargain. I love the chase. Despite this love affair, I would usually rather set my own hair on fire than go shopping for pants. I was sure I'd written about this before, and it turns out that indeed I did---nearly 2 years ago. Which would be the last time I went looking for pants to cover my (apparently freakish) behind. When I wrote that post, I was spending 99% of my time...
Continuing in the fine tradition of tackling only the life issues which require very little thought and probably don't need to be addressed right now, today I turned to my favorite activity to undertake every 730 days: Picking a new cell phone. Today was even more fun, because Otto and I had such good luck coming to agreement on wedding ring selection, we decided to figure out our phones together. Thankfully there is no societal edict that our phones coordinate, so it was a slightly lower-pressure situation, at least. Also, if our new phones suck? We can get new ones in another two years...
