Such a lucky family to get me
I come from a family which is fairly small; I have one sibling, each of my parents has one sibling, there are rarely more than two kids on any family branch and many of us are far-flung. My brother lives across the country from me and we lead very different lives.
I think it’s safe to say that I am intrigued by large and/or close families.
As a result, I’ve apparently developed a habit of marrying into those sorts of families. (Yes, let’s refer to my marriages as “habits.” That should delight both ex and current husband alike.) The idea of a big crazy group of people who voluntarily spend time together just because they’re related appeals to me. I had childhood fantasies of having a whole gang of siblings, and seeing the interactions of those who do fascinates me. read more…
Romance and real estate
Tonight on the phone while discussing the whole Housing Situation (it now merits capitalization, and in a couple more weeks, I’ll be shouting in all caps, LUCKY YOU), Otto said this:
“I’m torn, here, because I’m trying to be the good husband and—”
There was more, but I stopped listening, because he’d just said he was trying to be a good husband and I was wondering why he used that particular word. And then I remembered it’s because HEY, HE’S MY HUSBAND! How did that happen? Oh, right, that happened about nine days ago and now I have a husband. Nifty.
Of course, we tend to be the veritable poster children for that whole Mars/Venus thing of women wanting a sympathetic ear and men needing to fix things, and once I recovered from my whole “like, ohmigod, we are totally MARRIED, dude!” reverie I had to remind him that there is no fix for the current situation. read more…
As the house turns
For a while I couldn’t bear to talk about it, so I think the last update I gave you on how it’s been going with the house is this one.
Our friends the Lowballs (secondarily dubbed the Oddballs by Otto) waited for a week after their second showing and then made a second—only slight less ridiculous—offer on the house. There was some back and forth and then they vanished (again).
Yesterday I had two showings, and I dutifully vacated the house for the first one but happened to still be here when the second showing arrived. GUESS WHO IT WAS! No, really, GUESS! Yes, it was our friends the Lowballs! Back for a THIRD showing, after having already made two offers on the house. I think you know exactly what I mean when I respond to this turn of events with … THE HELL?? And I didn’t even make an attempt to be polite, either, just chirped “Well I’m pretty sure everything is exactly the same as THE LAST TWO TIMES YOU WERE HERE” on my way out the door.
Today the people who came for the earlier showing are coming back for a second showing.
Between you, me and the rest of the ‘net, I’m about two weeks away from completely losing it regarding selling this place. If you have any good juju to spare, please send it this way. I think Otto is tiring of all my “And I cannot wait until we can be together”s ending with “in a van down by the river!”
Call me Ishmayohead
I had THINGS to do today, and STUFF to say, and I was planning to write about this copy of The Dangerous Book for Boys that I received, too.
[Monkey: Does it shoot poison darts?
Me: Nooooo….
Monkey: Is it filled with sharp knife blades?
Me: Um, no.
Monkey: Well then why is it DANGEROUS?
Me: Hey, they have instructions for the best paper airplane in here—
Monkey: COOL! GIMME!]
But none of that matters now. None of it. Do you know why? I will tell you why. I can sum it up in one word: Lice.
Just in case you didn’t catch that: LIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIICE! read more…
It turns out I’m a fashion icon
Did you watch American Idol tonight? Did you happen to notice Jordin Sparks WEARING MY FREAKING WEDDING DRESS? What’s that? You didn’t? Because it looked so much better on me? Oh, you’re sweet.
Such is the hardship of 1) buying off the rack and 2) being fabulous.
But, seriously, let’s think about this. Jordin Sparks is 17 years old. Do I need to be mortified that we wore the same dress? I mean, it’s not like I got it from K-Mart or anything. It’s a silk dress from Nordstrom. (Which, HI, I never shopped Nordstrom when I was in high school, but then again, I wasn’t on American Idol.)
No, it’s not so much that a teen wore the same dress as me as that I just know her teenaged boobs didn’t need nearly all the special help that mine did. Hmph.
Out in the backyard
Well, it’s official. Life is Back To Normal. My manicure fought the good fight, but was chipped in three places by tonight. The polish has been removed, and I consider the whole Friday to Tuesday thing a personal best. Now I can get back to things like obsessing over selling my house!
Do you have any idea how hard it is to keep a house in showing-ready condition when you have children? It is VERY VERY HARD. For the past couple of months I have struggled with this through rain and cold and let me tell you, I have used up a lot of duct tape on some very whiny children.
But now, everything is different. It’s warm out. That lovely band of marauding landscapers finally came and did my yard clean-up, revealing plenty of room to romp and play. Why, I haven’t had to let the kids into the house in WEEKS! read more…
I should get married more often
Sure, there’s the small matter of how I don’t even get to LIVE with my HUSBAND just yet, but still. The perks are amazing. Why, I just checked and the last three posts got a zillion more comments than usual. And my goodness, what comments they are! My swelled head barely fits through the doorway anymore, and tomorrow I shall sit and cry when this post doesn’t get over a hundred comments telling me how pretty I am. Heh.
Also, today I got a spammy “I love your website and want you to promote mine” email from someone who—in all seriousness, I think—addressed me as “Mrs. Otto.” That made me giggle for a long time.
Though I laughed harder when I found out someone addressed Otto as “Mr. Mir” today, too. read more…
We kissed and then I hit everyone
I know I’m not southern yet… heck, once I’m down there, I know that folks will only be too happy to remind me that I am just a YANKEE in their midst, but I feel a Y’ALL comin’ on and it needs to be allowed.
Y’all, words cannot do this whole wedding thing justice. Cannot.
That doesn’t mean I won’t TRY, but I’m just SAYING. I will not be able to capture even a tenth of it all, not even if I allow myself to be as cheesy as possible. It can’t be done. Because on the one hand it was enormous and huge and now things are DIFFERENT and on the other hand it was so much just what was happening in the space between the two of us and so logical and natural and everything is just the way it was, only moreso.
So. You can see the problem with trying to describe it. Also, when I’m not busy marveling at the superfantastical wonderfulness of it all, I’m busy dying of tuberculosis. read more…
All the essentials
(I wrote this ahead of time and set it to post at midnight, lest you have the urge to come yell at me for posting on my wedding day.)
I’m ready to do this thing.
I’ve got something old.
And something new.
Something borrowed.
And something blue.
And I also have this.
(I’ll be back Monday as Mrs. Otto. Maybe even with pictures.)
Love is worth the wait
Almost eighteen years ago I sat down in an auditorium next to a fellow eighteen- year-old who had dark hair, bright blue eyes, an earring (oh, a bad boy!) and an attitude almost as big as my own. I immediately set out to make him fall in love with me, but he was willful, you see. He found me amusing. He liked me. But he would not bend.
(Okay, he was dating someone else. Details.)
I told him we would end up together. He would laugh. Regardless, that was the beginning of a friendship that survived through our other relationships and our various moves around the country, and he still loves to tell people that he was at my wedding. And my baby shower.
I used to wish we’d figured it out sooner, that we’d skipped some of the detours and found our way to each other right from the start. But now I know that this was exactly the way it was supposed to happen.
All week I’ve kept sneaking peeks into this box, and tomorrow when we take them out and put them on, it will finally be the moment when I can look deeply into his eyes and say: “I told you so.”
Happy Love Thursday, everyone!