September 10th

Hank

In early November, Husband and I moved into our new house.

It has been busy, busy, busy since then. We have fixed a gas pipe and regular water pipes, cleaned hinges and found cabinets not being held up by hinges at all. We have primed and painted the pantry, the kitchen cabinets, the hallway, bathroom cabinets, and our massive hall cabinets and drawers. We have applied contact paper and fixed toilets and kitchen faucets. Husband and his friend used a metal lath to make a male-male faucet screw so that we could use the faucet neck that I picked out without realizing that there was a difference in how they were made. We have mowed the lawn, whacked the weeds, laid the insulation (okay, Husband did most of that). We have created a cleaning cabinet, created a dryer vent, replaced the shower heads and unplugged about six million drains.

It has been alot of work. And then we had cats. Cats who needed shots, who needed to be fixed, who needed some dental care and regular baths. Cats who shed their fur in clumps all over the house, all over the couch, all over the kitchen, all over my bed. Cats who jumped at the first light in the window in the morning and landed on my head. Cats who turned over for a belly rub as soon as I woke up and then scratched at my heel if I passed them by. Cats who laid in my laundry basket and my clean laundry, in my drawers and in my closet.

It was an incredible amount of work. And then, last week, we added a puppy.

Dumb Animal

It has, again, been a ridiculous amount of time since my last post. Not too much has happened since then but today I finally came back to this blog and realized that I had never posted the promised kitten photographs.

Here is my kitten hiding in the toilet and leaving fur on the seat. Ew. She thinks she's sneaky.

And here is my kitten as I like her best. Sans toilet water. The cuteness is overwhelming, isn't it?

The Cat's Meow

The new house has been filled with all sorts of surprises. Some have been good, like discovering that the owners left us a tool box filled with excellent quality tools, or finding a nice cast iron frying pan in a (bathroom) cabinet. Some of the other surprises have been of the middle of the road "eh" variety, such as finding that some of the handles on cabinets were painted and not screwed in, or realizing that the spare bathroom toilet would stop spouting smelly gunk as soon as the wax ring was replaced. And still other surprises have been, well, not-so-good. Among these was a gas leak that took Husband and my father three days of trenching and pipe relaying to fix, a window screen that NO MATTER WHAT will never stay in because it has nothing to latch it on except balance, and a KitchenAid dishwasher that stank to high heavens for at least two weeks while we tried everything to stop it. It would not drain. It could not drain. It was a friggin' nightmare.

But the biggest surprise of all came just the other day. I couldn't find the kitten Anastacia and I decided that before I went looking all over the yard for her, I'd use the bathroom. So I walked into the bathroom, lifted the toilet seat and found...

AN UNHAPPY KITTEN IN MY TOILET.

Sitting there. Drenched. Sullenly saying "meow" and too traumatized to move. The picture will follow as soon as I figure out how to get my pictures off my camera and onto the computer with the new setup.

Last week, the house closed and overnight we became homeowners. Husband and I cannot get over this. At every opportunity, we remind each other that HEY! HONEY! WE HAVE A FRIGGIN' HOUSE! I think the last time I felt this cool was when I made the high school basketball team - before I found out they didn't reject anyone =P

Anyway, we spent the weekend cleaning the place up and moving all of our wood furniture in so that it could be tented this week. It has all been more excitement than I can handle and since I have this afternoon to myself? I plan on sleeping. Moving has completely tired me out.

Misplaced Confidence

A few days ago, Husband agreed to pick up an evening shift at his second job. When he came home after his day job, he made a beeline for the bedroom to change clothes. By the time I made it back to the bedroom, he'd nearly entirely stripped.

- I should go to work like this, huh?

- Um. In your boxers? No.

- No? I guess you're right.

- Yeah, Husband. I think I'm right.

- It wouldn't really be fair to the female customers, after all.

- What do you mean?

- Well, if I went to work in my boxers it would be as if I were cooking a juicy steak and when someone mentioned that it looked delicious, I said "here, come closer, I'll let you smell it, but no tasting."

- Oh, I see. So you'd show up to work in your underwear and the women would be clawing at you and you'd have to say "Ladies, ladies, I'm taken."

- Precisely.

Little By Little

Thankfully, life is still slowing down around here. This weekend wasn't busy at all and it left Husband and I with time to spend on ourselves, something which has been in short supply around these parts lately. On Saturday, Husband went to a football game with my father and my cousins. They seemed to enjoy it, in part because their team won which was in stark contrast to the baseball game Husband went to with my dad last weekend. Apparently, the football game made up for everything that went awry during that pitiful baseball game. While Husband was at the game, my mother and Sister and I went out to the Huntington Gardens and the Norton Simon Museum. The gardens are possibly the most beautiful gardens in the world and I love them every time we go. When my sisters and I were kids, my parents took us to the Huntington and took pictures of us running around in the vast expanses of grass, goofing off near the fountain, and standing next to statues. I look forward to repeating those times with my own children. Anyway, Mom wanted to explore a plant sale so Sister and I toured the gardens without her. We only went to the Rose Garden, the Children's Garden, and the Japanese Garden but I got plenty of good photographs and neither of us had seen the Children's Garden before, so a good time was had by all. Then we helped Mom carry a couple potted plants back to the car =) The museum was alot of fun as well.

On Sunday morning, Husband and I drove back to my parents' house for breakfast. After breakfast, we reviewed escrow instructions together and saw Sister off to her mid-day coffee date with her boyfriend. And then? That was it. We walked to the house we're buying, looked around and got excited, and then we drove home. We spent the afternoon cleaning - washing dishes, shredding papers, the like - and then we went to the park and walked around. It was a nice date, something we've not done in awhile, and it was great to just walk and talk and flirt.

Despite things slowing down in our lives, alot is changing as well. We are trying to pack things up to move and keep the area reasonably clean at the same time. I think that everyone who has ever moved can agree with us that this? Is an impossible feat. Part of the problem is, well, me. I am one of those people who is constantly in the middle of fifteen books and who always has at least a dozen small projects going on at once. And G-d save the soul who tampers with the location of a book or a project. It has been exceedingly difficult for me to pack these things up and maintain my sense of sanity at the same time. I know they will be unpacked shortly but suddenly it will occure to me at 10pm that I just don't remember the name of a character in some obscure book and it takes alot of willpower to not tear open boxes looking for that one book. It helps that I know that once I did find the book, I would forget what I was looking for in the first place. Anyway, suffice to say that I have been a hinderance =P

A month? Already?

It has been over a month since I've had the time or energy to post here or comment elsewhere and quite a bit has happened over the past few weeks. For one, Husband and I re-entered escrow with the house across the street from the house that fell through. We also adopted a kitten I named Anastacia. As of right now, a relative is housing the kitten until we have moved into the house, so we don't know how Anastacia will get along with our current cuddle-monkey cat, Sebastian. There have also been two significant deaths in my family - one relative each from my mother and my father's families. In fact, while my mother flew to Chicago for one funeral, my father and I flew to Seattle for the other. They were held on the same day.

Outside of this, that which has occurred has kept Husband and I busy, but is not really worth writing about. I spent a few days watching Husband's nieces and we went to the LA County Fair with his sister and her family. We also witnessed Husband's brother's graduation; he is now a police officer and thus fully capable of wrangling free goods out of any doughtnut shop along his beat. I actually do not know if he has a beat or what a beat really is, but it sounded good. Husband and I also helped his aunt move into a place which is decidedly closer to where we live (and will soon live) than her old home was. She will also save a fortune on transportation to and from work because now she lives so far away from work that she has to take the train and her company? Pays for the train tickets. So her commute is less because there is no traffic and her transportation is virtually free. How cool is that? There was the day of Husband's nephew turning four years old as well, and several days that we spent over at my parents' home when he worked outside with my dad and I chatted with my mom. And that? I think that about sums it up. Also, my parents celebrated their anniversary recently, we visited with Husband's cousin who visited from out of town, and we discovered that a close relative of Husband was diagnosed with diabetes which can, luckily, be controlled by diet.

In the month prior to that, my mother and I traveled to Illinois to celebrate the 100th birthday of my great-grandmother's sister. She passed away shortly thereafter, and so I think my mother and I were both pleased to have had the opportunity to visit with her one last time while she was alive. While in Illinois, we also devoted a day to walking around the Chicago Botanical Gardens, which were breathtaking. I cannot find the postcards I bought there to prove it, though, so Husband is just taking my word on that! Also, we celebrated my birthday and the birthdays of both of my sisters, and we found out that my half-brother will be performing a foreign exchange program wherein he leaves his home country and comes to live with my parents for the spring semester of this year. That should be alot of fun and I am looking forward to seeing him again.

This blog has always been a place for me to talk about my life today, right here and right now, so that I do not forget alot of what happens. I figure these are some of the most important times of my life as they are setting up my future, and I never want to forget them. It has taken me completely by surprise, however, to find that I rarely have the time to update. I will definitely start to focus on that more!

Stress Stress Stress

This whole home-buying thing is very nerve-wracking. Everything feels within grasp...and then, it does not. I am looking forward to it all being settled and over. Hopefully, that includes us being moved in.

Totally Fucking Awesome

Please cross your fingers that at the end of 45 days, we will be broke as jugs. ACK!

First Comes Love

Then comes marriage.

Then comes trooping down to the real estate agent's office
To make an offer on a home. Not a house. A home.

Luckily They Held Their Peace

Details Details

We are down to the final pre-wedding days. Last Saturday, my half-sister flew in from Switzerland and that's when everything really kicked off. Ever since, Fiance and I have been focused on last minute prep. On Saturday morning, we ran some errands and I had my dress picked up and my hair dry run done before picking up Half-Sister from the airport and afterwards we all had dinner at my parents' place. Earlier in the day, my family had picked up a cheesecake for Half-Sister because it is one of her favorite foods and cheesecake doesn't exist in Switzerland. On Sunday, we had a waffle breakfast with my family. Afterwards, Fiance jammed on the guitar with my dad for awhile and then went home to work on finalizing the reception playlist. Meanwhile, Mom and Sister and Half-Sister and I went shopping for shoes to go with Half-Sister's bridesmaid dress. That evening, we all met up again with Fiance at my cousin's house for a graduation party. Cousin graduated with her Bachelor degree earlier in the summer but then spent a month traveling around Australia so this was really the first chance they had for a party. Immediately following the party, Fiance and I drove to visit his sister to drop off the flower girl dress for her oldest daughter. It fit perfectly! =)

On Monday, I ran errands in the morning and then went to the Laguna Beach Sawdust Art Festival with Mom and Half-Sister. It was alot of fun and I think we all enjoyed looking around at all the art. We had lunch down the street at a second art festival and after wandering around that, we met Dad and Fiance back at my parents' house before driving over to the reception location for a final chat about how everything would play out. Once that was finished, Fiance and I drove around looking at local houses for sale a little bit and we all had steaks for dinner. Yesterday, Fiance and I both worked in the morning. I went to a movie later with Cousin's kids and Sister and Half-Sister and then Fiance and I met up and went to the photographer's for one last hoorah. Oh, and we also picked up our wedding bands.

And that takes us to today. So far, we have to stop by waste management to recycle an old computer monitor and to stop by Fiance's Brother's house to drop off his daughter's flower girl dress. We also need to buy a couple frames, tidy the apartment before Fiance's friend drives in Friday night, and drop off a few sweaters of mine at the dry cleaners'. Tomorrow, my uncles and my grandparents arrive from out of state. It's going to just get busier from here until the wedding this weekend!! =)

The Action-Packed Week

I wish I had time to update this properly because I don't want to forget this time in my life, but it seems like every spare second is devoted to...something. Anything. Everything under the sun that is not blogging.

Fiance and I spent Independence Day with his brother's family. Fiance's brother lives on a lake so we drove out in the morning and left just before the fireworks. Last year, we stayed for the fireworks but this year we were both tired and I needed to be up early for work the next morning so we missed them. Next year, I'll make sure that I'm not working the 5th of July!

We also celebrated my mother's birthday last week - and just as I wrote this sentence I realized that today is Fiance's mother's birthday and DAMN IT can you believe that I forgot to mail her birthday card?! - which was nice. We all had dinner together and then we had cake and she opened her gifts. It was nothing spectacular, but it was special =)

Last Friday, I spent the day hanging out with Fiance's sister-in-law. The plan had been to help her out with some house-chores and to scrapbook with Niece. But when I got there it was so hot that her candles were melting inside the house so we ended up sitting around talking and playing with the baby. And taking pictures. And having lunch out. And things like that.

Saturday was a busy day. In the morning I had a dress tailoring. I went straight from that to my bridal shower which was alot of fun and filled with everything from lingerie to dishes to cookbooks. I wish I had more pictures but I'm sure that once I beg everyone in my life for theirs that it will turn out alright. After the bridal shower, I drove to my parents' house where Fiance and Dad had been hanging out together (outside of their excursion to see a movie and drink beer) to drop off some dress accessories and pick up Fiance.

Yesterday was busy too. I picked up the rest of the bridal shower gifts from the shower hostess after Fiance and I went out to breakfast. Then we checked out announcement papers, thank you notecards for the shower and the bachelorette party, and the wine-and-cheese party, and the wedding, along with flower girl dresses and shoes and headbands and the like. Yes, run-on sentences are my friends when I'm busy.

Oh and last week was also our engagement portrait sitting session which meant that a couple of days later we received the proofs in the mail. Today I spent my lunch break calling various vendors - including the photographer - to schedule about five million appointments for Thursday when I'll be done working early - probably around 2pm or so. YAY!

That's all. That's it. That's the end.

This wedding hasn't been very stressful. Some people keep saying that I seem stressed but I keep thinking about some other very stressful times in my life - like attack after attack with my Crohn's last summer - and I've decided that many people in my life just assume that I'm stressed when I'm not. Last summer, I was stressed. I thought there was something seriously wrong and there were nights when I would lay down and wish I would die so the pain would end and then I would wake up an hour later spasming and puking and wondering if I weren't well on my way to dying. Last summer there were days when I was positive it might be my last, and there were moments when I honestly thought that if one more person breathed within five miles of me that I would have to take a hatchet to them. I was stressed and jumpy and anxious. And people in my life then never said I seemed stressed, when I was going through what was easily the most stressful period of my life yet. But this wedding? A piece of cake. So I just don't understand why people now are saying I seem stressed. Maybe they just expect it so they think they see signs of stress? The only day that has been even remotely stressful was Saturday and that wasn't stressful because of anything particular, I just felt guilty about being late.

Oh, and a car ran a light at about 50mph in a 35mph zone and literally missed me by inches, let's not forget that part of Saturday morning. That scared the shit out of me.

But anyway, that's it. I've got more busy-ness ahead, so I'll write later. Much later. In fact, I may not properly update this thing until after the wedding when I have more time. Which reminds me, I should clarify that half of my busy-ness has nothing to do with hanging out with family or with making wedding plans. Nope. I'm reading through a series of books so that I can return them to the woman who lent them to me and they are Time-Consuming. Trust me.

A List in Paragraph Form

As the wedding draws closer, I am ever thankful that Fiance and I made the decision early on to keep everything as simple as possible. Nothing about this planning process has been difficult or time consuming, and almost all facets of the wedding have fallen into place with little effort and no explanation. It has been wonderful.

We have, however, been busy. A few weekends ago, Fiance's mother told him that his aunt's birthday was coming up. I like Fiance's aunt so I bought a birthday card, sent it, and then asked Fiance if we could do something to celebrate with her. Fiance agreed and called his sister and made arrangements. Last Sunday, Fiance and I followed his sister and her kids up to Fiance's aunt's place. We hung out, went to lunch, hung out some more, and then drove home. It was a nice day and I hope that Fiance's aunt had a happy birthday.

Then, Fiance and I spent most of this last weekend at my parents. On Saturday, we helped garden for the first half of the day and then we left just shy of dinner time after walking around the neighborhood and hanging out with Mom and Sister. Yesterday morning, Mom called to let me know that Neighbor Family had an emergency so she wouldn't need us to garden because she'd be watching the kids. We drove over to the house anyway and spent the morning running down the street with the kids and then playing hide and seek. It was incredibly hot and I was very tired afterward but I got a couple good photographs out of it =) Yesterday afternoon, some of our plans fell through so we saw "Ocean's 13" instead. Halfway through the film, the lights came on in the theater and a loudspeaker announced that an emergency had been reported. We all filed out the exits at the bottom and then walked around the outside and, when it turned out to be a false alarm, we were re-admitted to find that they started the film again - without us in the theater. It was interesting, to say the least.

Today we have a wedding-related appointment at 3pm not too far from home. On the way home, we are buying birthday cards and gifts for my mother and his mother since their birthdays are Thursday and next Monday, respectively. And this evening, I am sorting out photographs for the family (and hopefully this time I will not crash Fiance's hard disk...) and Fiance has some work to do. Tomorrow, Sister flies home from her nannying gig in Spain. We are spending Independence Day with Fiance's brother, who lives on a lake, and then hoping to celebrate Mom's birthday with her Thursday night. This weekend is my dress fitting and the wedding shower. The weekend after that is my bachelorette party, Fiance's bachelor party, and a lingerie shower. The weekend after that Half-Sister flies into town from Switzerland and tries on her bridesmaid dress for the first time - hopefully it fits!! And the weekend after that, Fiance and I get hitched =)

Nothing too exciting, but that is where my life stands right now.

I Love Backrubs and He Knows It

- My back hurts.

Fiance turns around and looks at me.

- Right here, on the lefthand side.

Fiance raises his eyebrows.

- Why are you looking at me like I'm totally milking this?
- No I'm not.
- Yes you are.
- No. I'm looking at you like it's quite unfortunate that your back hurts, but I think it's all a ploy.

Father's Day: So Not Over-rated

When I was a kid, we had a family Father's Day tradition. Every year, my mother would spend the week or two before the holiday asking my sisters and I to dictate stories to her and collecting the crafts we made at school or in our Girl Scout troops. Then, she would lay out large sheets of white paper and squirt different color paints into old pie tins and have us dip our hands and feet in them. When we were little, we walked across the paper. As we got older, one foot was more than enough. Our hands were always the same: two little handprints side by side.

My mom collected these traditions every year in a big black art portfolio. And every Father's Day morning my sisters and I would pour into my parents' bedroom and my mother would fetch the portfolio and we would spend some time sitting around looking at its treasures. I'm sure there were other gifts, but that portfolio is all I remember. And then, sometime towards the end of my high school years, the tradition unraveled.

I'm not sure what started this process of degradation, exactly. Did Father's Day become just another Hallmark holiday to us? Was it something that we tolerated but didn't care about? Did we think it was un-cool to appreciate our father? Was it that we were old enough to write our own stories, but not yet great at time management? Was it that we never seemed to find the time to make our handprints and footprints? Or that our hands and feet had stopped growing? Was it that we'd long stopped making DAD crafts at school? Did it have anything to do with our family growing out of our home - going to college, studying abroad, moving out? It could have been any of those or a combination of all of them.

For a long time, that portfolio represented family to me. It held our history in a way that photograph albums, home videos, and reminiscing at the dinner table did not. And I suppose that until there are grandchildren running around, the portfolio will remain as dormant as it has been these past years. But just the other night, my family was all together under one roof and - for the first time in a long time - we took a picture.

Looking at this picture tonight, I am convinced that it wasn't the portfolio that represented family to me. It was the moments that made that portfolio possible.

Happy Father's Day to everyone out there making moments with their families - moments to look back on and smile about. It is those moments which I have learned to cherish. And a VERY special Happy Father's Day to my Dad, the coolest cat of them all, who I am never too hip to love and appreciate. You're still my hero!!

Why You May One Day See Me at a Remote-Controlled Helicopter Conference

I forced Fiance to go to the LA Bloggers Party with me. The man had absolutely no say in the matter.

On Saturday, Fiance and I were running late from about 8am on. We had a million errands to run - including borrowing a bundt cake pan from my parents - and it took us much longer than we had anticipated. After we were finally home, Fiance set to work making a lasagna and I ran a couple more errands we had forgotten about. I'm not typically much help with lasagna making because Fiance doesn't follow a recipe, he just smells and tastes and works from memory. All I do is grate the cheese and after a few pounds of cheese have been grated, he tends to intervene because I do that so damned slow it is maddening.

For at least a month, Fiance and I had been planning to attend the LA Bloggers Party. I had responded to the email invitation that we would bring lasagna and Kahlua cake and that we would show up early to help get things set up. So I knew that we needed to leave at, oh, 4pm Saturday afternoon.

4pm came. And 4pm went. SHIT.
And then 5pm came. And 5pm went.
And then 6pm came. And we finally left.

Fiance, the poor and wonderful soul that he is, tried to stay out of my way while I panicked and fumed for two hours that THEY WERE ALL GOING TO HATE ME because I said we'd be there by NOW and we hadn't even left and WHEN THE HELL would that cake be finished baking and WHY wouldn't the FUCKING lasagna brown already?

I think he was maybe two minutes away from taking me out back, shooting me, and then claiming my whereabouts were a mystery.

I kid. He would never hurt a hair on my body unless it was by accident or he got a good laugh out of it.

Anyway, the party was great. And they didn't hate me after all. And here is the photographic evidence:

(RedStapler, Fiance, and LA Daddy)

A non-blogger, Tara Met Blog, her friend, and 8 Centimeters Deluded

Frowning of a Lifetime, Childsplayx2, Honea Express, Sink into the Pacific, Tara Met Blog, and House of Prince (left to right, top then bottom)

Fiance taking a shot with Tara Met Blog and two other peoples' hands =)

Now I have some people to email and soon I'll add a sidebar link page with everyone's websites. I'll also get all the links in order for this post, which shouldn't take too long. I used everyone's screennames and blurred out the nametags because I'm not sure who is picky about being anonymous and who is not. Hopefully all the pictures that I need to email and responses to comments and emails that I have received will be finished soon. I'm sorry to those of you who have been inconvenienced by my inability to email in a timely fashion but in my defense, I'm, er, busy? =P Thanks for your patience!

Can I Just Say That I am in LOVE?!

Fiance and I went to the LA Blogger Party last night. Everything was great, the people were awesome company and from what I hear, the alcohol was pretty damned cool. Being the total geeks we are, Fiance and I had a very fun time and since this was my first blogger party, I now know that IT WILL DEFINITELY NOT BE MY LAST. What a fun time! I'll be posting about it later with pictures and everything but in the meantime, I just wanted to say this:

THANK YOU, L.A. DADDY!! THE PARTY ROCKED!!

Oh, and next time I'll try not to be, like, two hours later than I said I would. I really am sorry!

Also, if anybody has any pictures, please email them to me at twizt16 (at) yahoo (dot) com OR sarah_and_donald (at) yahoo (dot) com. I am usually snap-happy but I thought I'd scare people off so I only took a few, but I'd love to leech off you folks for memories. If you leave your email address in the comments, I'll be sure to pass mine on to you.

When Good Things End

I learned yesterday that a girl I went to high school with was murdered recently. Murdered. Along with her father and her mother, she was beaten and then stabbed and then torched. Her mother survived - although her medical state is critical - but her father perished with her. Their home was destroyed in a fire.

When I say that I went to high school with her, I need to clarify that I did not know her. We were not friends or even acquaintances and her name didn't sound familiar. My sister had to pull out the yearbook and show me photographs. She was a few years younger than me, which may be part of it.

In the grand scheme of things, high school is a very short period in one's life. Every year or so, I run into so-and-so at the supermarket or in line at an amusement park or out to dinner and we'll stand there for five or ten minutes and catch up. This is how I have found out about weddings, divorces, babies, graduations, deaths, and all sorts of other occurences. But I also run into so-and-so from other facets of my life: former coworkers, fellow volunteers, ex-clients, people my parents or sisters know, etc. And from these people, I also hear about a multitude of happenings. High school figures - students, teachers, coaches, and administration alike - are a very small percentage of the total number of people I encounter like this, but they comprise a total after all and that's something.

As high school is a definite period in my life, something I can measure as having been a constant in my life over the span of four years, it is easy to use that one as a measuring stick of sorts. And since those years, it never ceases to amaze me what I hear along the road. Last year, I ran into a former teacher who had married a fellow student. About six months ago, I saw a high school friend who told me about the suicide of someone I hadn't seen since graduation. Things like that, they always hit close to home because they make me reconsider my life.

This murder, this heinous act committed against a family who CERTAINLY DID NOT DESERVE IT, struck me last night. I researched it in the news this morning and I have spent the entire day turning it over in my head. What was she like, this woman? Who was she and would things have been different if we had ever met? Did I ever brush up against her in the hallway, did I know her and have since forgotten, what could she have taught me in life? What was her family like? Who were they and why would someone do this to them? What could possibly possess someone to do something like this to another human, to an entire family, to a full community?

I guess you could say that I have always been a fairly idealistic individual. I like to think that people are inherently good and I prefer to consider their mistakes while believing that they did the best they could, the best they knew how to do. The more I hear about incidents like this - the incidents that hit me the hardest because I have something in common with that victim - the more I loose a little of that shimmer from my youth. I know that it is only natural, that with time all peoples' optimism fades a little. I'm still a silver lining kind of gal and I am more grateful today than I was yesterday. It's just difficult to learn of an event such as this one and not realize that innocence is something which is stripped of someone, layer by layer, in this world.

And that's a shame. It really is.
Rest in peace. I am praying for your family.

WHEW!

I feel like I have been on my feet for seven or eight days straight.

Last weekend, Fiance and I carpooled with my father and my sister for seven hours up to my family reunion. I have to admit that while I had been looking forward to the reunion, I was also nervous about meeting so many family members. A few years ago when my grandfather passed away, my family found out rather suddenly that there was a HUGE family that we didn't know. And this family reunion was for that side of the family, a group of people who seemed fairly well acquainted with one another without having the faintest idea who any of us were.

The morning of the reunion, the four of us had breakfast together before finishing the drive. While we waited for my father outside of the restaurant, Fiance and Sister and I saw a momma cat moving her kittens from one location to another. It looked like a long walk and ever since, Fiance and I have moments where we look at each other and remember how cute the kittens were. Then we look at Cat and wish the big fat monster he's become, the monster who whines whenever he is left alone for five minutes and who farts when he's laying next to my face at night, could have been a kitten just a little bit longer.

Immediately after the reunion, we all drove home. It was a very long weekend in that respect, considering that we drove fourteen hours in three days and only stopped to sleep and eat and meet strangers. The next day, Fiance and I woke up and drove to his Niece's third birthday party. And just when I was done sitting in a car, Sunday evening I drove to a nearby shopping center to have dinner with a friend. It was a long weekend and I think I am still sleeping it off.

Fiance, however, is not. In fact, right this very moment the man is making his marriage band. MAKING it. Out of titanium. With some machines in his buddy's garage. Which makes me realize that if I feel like I've been on my feet for seven or eight days, then he must feel like he's been on his feet for fifteen at this point. I'n sure he'll have plenty of stories to tell when he gets home.

A Time to Remember

With loss, there was darkness.

I have never been good at dealing with death. When my grandmother passed away, I remember leaving her home and sitting on her steps rocking back and forth sobbing uncontrollably. And when my grandfather passed away six months later, there were questions boiling beneath my skin and itching to escape. I have watched family and friends alike exit this life and it always hits me in a way that I could never describe, wherein my life appears to have overnight lost its every purpose. My faith is tested in a manner that grates at the core of me, and I'll find myself flipping through pages and pages of prayers looking for the light in a sea of darkness.

What I have always been good at, however, is stepping up to the plate.

Last week, a friend of mine experienced a loss of her own. Together, Fiance and I opened up our home to her and began to think about how we could accomodate her. Then, over the weekend we found out that one of Fiance's close relatives had passed away. I have been astounded by his ability to overcome this loss, to take everything in stride and to be such a strong man throughout this. As well, we were informed that one of my relatives had been checked into the hospital, and subsequently a rehabilitation center, after a fall.

It has been a difficult month for Fiance and I. We have been faced with losses, insecurity, and stress. Every time I begin to write something, whatever is going on gets in the way. We both expect everything to settle down within the next week, but in the meantime I just have to say that Fiance has been a hero through everything - especially considering his recent loss. He was excited about waking up early to surprise my mom for Mother's Day, and he has been looking forward to my family reunion this weekend almost as much as I have. He has been encouraging with regards to Jet's death - reminding me that people deal with grief in different ways - and strong with regards to his own. I am so proud of him and so thankful that our relationship has solid foundations, that we are able to go through these things together however distant either of us may be from time to time.

So when things come to halt around here, I'll write a little more. In the meantime, I am just using this post to record what is going on in my life. However difficult this month has been, it is a period in my life that I don't want to forget.

I Want my Baby Back

I'm sorry that I haven't written, but it's been hard to write lately; I miss my baby.

Since someone killed my Jetboy, alot has happened. My sister painted a canvas that she called "Memories of Jet," and then Fiance and I framed the painting of Jetboy that my dad made a few years ago. On Monday, there was a car accident mere seconds after I left an intersection that involved six cars and two deaths. It was strange - and by strange I mean that it is hard to wrap my head around the idea that two people died while I was at an intersection and I didn't know. And not only did I not know, but I just assumed that the people in the cars over there were fine. What did I do while they died? I asked a woman if she was alright and when she screamed at me to take her kids out of the car, I did. We sat on the corner and we waited. I guess that the strange thing about it is that I don't feel guilty.

I feel guilty about Jet's death. I feel like I should have been there. Like I should have MADE SURE that the fence was secure. Like I should have been there. I play and replay his death, worrying and wishing and feeling devastated. But the car accident with the kids and the deaths? The car accident that requires police statements and phone calls and drawings? I feel like I did everything that I could, it wasn't my fault, and I didn't know. And the devastation I feel at having lost my Jetboy is absolutely unparalleled with the awkwardness I feel regarding the other accident.

Other things have happened since Jet's death as well - things like wedding plans and adopting two new dogs (we named them Dante and Thor) and family reunion plans and a brand new idea that is slowly changing Fiance's and my life - and I think most people would say that the biggest thing in my life that has happened since would be that other car accident.

But me? I would say that it was the one night since Jet's death when I didn't break down sobbing against Fiance and gasping that I wanted my baby back. Because that night has affected me more deeply than any of the other things combined and that night is the one that is making it impossible for me to write. I miss my baby.

I hope there are LOTS of tennis balls in Heaven

My parents bought me a black dog one year for Christmas. A few weeks after the holiday, my father and I drove out to a breeder in Cherry Valley where two labs were looking for a home. I chose the black one because he was beautiful, shy, interesting, sweet. And I named him Jet. Yesterday morning, somebody driving a car on a road near my parents' home didn't stop. Jet had been out all night - only the second time in six years he had strayed for longer than an hour - and my understanding is that he was dead upon impact. And that's all there was to it. My baby, my sillygoosedog, was gone.

I never realized how lost I would feel without Jet until I heard the telephone message that there had been an accident and all the neighbors had was his collar. So now I worry about how lost he felt without me when he was trying to find home. And Jetboy? I'm really sorry I wasn't there. We loved you and we miss you.

Being Institutionalized is Only a Matter of Time

Something I said last night in complete earnesty:
     "It's really good luck that the cat puked on our sheets."

Praying the New Hairstyle Will Get Him Laid

Sometime shortly after Fiance and I began to live in sin, we went to dinner with my parents. This isn't exactly a rare occurence and most people would probably not be very keen on how un-rare it is, but Fiance doesn't mind it one little bit. In fact, he likes my folks. They like him, too - probably more than they like me considering how many brilliant examples of adolescent stupidity I provided them with between the ages of, oh, 12 and 19. It's a miracle that my parents survived my teenage years and moreover did not end up paying millions of dollars in therapy for the things I put them through.

At the time of this particular dinner outing, Fiance and I were still in the process of unpacking my belongings and breaking down boxes and spending every penny we had between us on bookcases in which to store my approximately ten billion paperbacks. Naturally, the conversation tended to limp towards that ever-sensitive topic of The Move and it's evil twin: Change. Change from sleeping on the right-hand side of the bed to sleeping on the left-hand side. Change from eating mayonnaise on sandwiches to not purchasing mayonnaise because it has vinegar in it and DUH vinegar is a demon creation. Change from living 6500 miles away from your sweetheart to waking up less than 6.5 inches away from someone who takes snoring Very Seriously.

At some point in the conversation, my mother stood up on a soapbox and preached to us all of her opinions related to Change and the beast it could be. Specifically, she does not like the idea of women who enter into relationships determined to change a man into something he is not. This means that WOMEN, you are not to attempt to pry the remote control from the death-grip of a man - he was made that way and the detachment will not go well so BE YE WARNED. Also, it meant that I was not to try to convince Fiance that now that he's all growed up he maybe doesn't need to spike his hair anymore. As such, one of Fiance's favorite phrases this past year has been "Remember what your mother says about changing a man?!" He tends to follow this by telling me how beautiful I am and how I am certainly not made less stunning by standing next to an oaf who spikes his hair despite thirty years of life experience screaming at him to cut it out already.

Do you hear that sucking sound, Internet? That is the cosmos realigning because Fiance has realized that flattery? It will get him nowhere.

As an Old Man He Will Park in Well-Lit Areas, Twitch and Mumble Under His Breath

As I've mentioned previously, Fiance and I have been struggling to keep the number of potential wedding guests to a minimum. This has been a constant uphill battle, like trying to keep clothes on a stripper, and on more than one occasion we have wished that Elvis, Cher, or Bullwinkle were marrying us in a drive-through chapel in Vegas. Just a few days ago, however, we managed to nix three people.

Relative One. Relative Two. And Relative Three.

If that had been the end of the story, I would probably be asking you all to take a deep breath content in the knowledge that Fiance and I would be headed to the bottom circle of Hell. After all, it seems safe to assume that the darkest corner of Creation be reserved for people like us who knowingly exclude relatives from mourning the end of Fiance's bachelorhood. And what defense could I possibly offer Satan? Yeah, Lucifer, about that...

Then we consulted with an older and much-wiser relative about the potential deletion of Relatives One, Two, and Three from our invitation spreadsheet. And before you could say HOT DIGGITY DAMN - before Britney Spears could annul a marriage - we found ourselves glued to one of those relative's Myspace page. Although I absolutely will not divulge details, it did turn out that we were entirely justified in giving them the axe: They.Cannot.Be.Trusted.

Seeing the Myspace page jumpstarted a Very Serious discussion between Fiance and I about the ethics of Internet picture-posting. I know it's hard to believe but I do have a sliver of morals (which amounts to a little more than, say, that crazy astronaut who tried to kidnap the other woman in her deranged love triangle) and some of those apply to which pictures do and do not make the blog - or any web profile I may have, for that matter. There are five people whose permission is not obtained when I post pictures: my parents, my sisters, and Fiance. I know that they trust my discretion (fools) and I trust theirs. I also assume that if they have any problems with any photograph or post, they will inform me of such. Everyone else ranging from my best friends to my half-sister, from my future in-laws to other peoples' children, gives their express permission before I post anything.

- So let me get this straight; you ask everyone else for permission?
- Yes, Fiance. And if I wasn't positive that a picture would be acceptable, then I would even ask Sisters for their permission.
- You would ask your Sisters but not me?
- Well, I figure you trust my discretion and have 24 hours of daily intervention opportunities. Besides, Internet freaks are much less likely to hunt you down.
- And rape me in a parking lot? THANK G-D.

Dear Me of Yesterday,

Hey there, little Miss September. That was a big Easter celebration; I'm so proud of you remembering everyone's name! In fact, since you did such a fantastic job maneuvering between fifty people and introducing your in-laws-to-be to those crazy folks you call your family, I'll almost overlook your HUGE social faux pas. Almost... Next time when a large group of people is toasting your engagement, pay attention, okay? They don't want to raise their glasses and look over to see you in a tiff with your sister.

She didn't mean to pour champagne all down your shirt and pants and camera, after all. So if it ever happens again, just let it slide and take it with grace. Trust me that you will not remember the flurry of words that happens when you're trying to figure out what the hell was going on with your sister's champagne. But you will always regret that you denied yourself the opportunity to enjoy, to experience, and to remember your family and your friends joined together in one happy moment. You will always remember that you missed what was potentially one of the most heartwarming moments of your life thus far. So many people came together to congratulate you, to wish you and Fiance well, and to show the two of you their love and support and you? Sarah, you let that moment pass you by in favor of fighting with your sister. You will always wish that you had been paying enough attention to thank them for such a thoughtful toast and you will never forget that you acted unreasonably and immaturely in front of several dozen people who love and care about you. And yes, you will cry because afterwards you will find that champage spilled all over costs most people a change of clothes, but you? Your foolishness cost you a memory. One of the memories you had been waiting for your entire life, one of the memories you had been looking forward to, and one of the memories you will never have a chance to make again.

It also cost you a photograph. But that's beside the point.

The point is that you should live your life as if each day were your last and when you missed that toast, you failed that mission in a split second. Because they may forgive you for missing that memory, Sarah, but you will never forgive yourself. So if you ever have that chance again, do me one big favor:
Don't. Blow. It.

Oh, and also? Don't wait until the next day to apologize to your parents. But if you do, you know what? They still love you, even if you do play the part of jacka** rather well.

Love,
Me of Today

Mes Dames d'Honneur

On Friday after work, my sisters and I went shopping for bridesmaids' dresses. We arrived with a catalog of fashions to select from and went straight to rifling through the racks of endless gowns. Unfortunately, my sisters and I are all itty bitty teensy weensy people, so the shop clerk was forced to use clips the size of my fist to keep the dresses from falling off.

This was not the case with me. My bridal gown was ordered as a size 2 and when I tried it on, my sister laced up the back as tight as she could to keep it from sliding down. All the sudden, I found myself standing on a shop platform surrounded by mirrors and wondering if the wedding dress was intended to inhibit respiration. The clerk raced over to loosen the laces and, giggling, made some comment about my sisters practicing lacing me up before the actual wedding day. And all I could think was that practicing meant I'm supposed to wear a garment that outweighs me MORE THAN ONCE.

Which is why I'm taking all the deep breaths I can possibly muster over the next four months.

The Question is This: Was it Said with a Straight Face?

Now that we have gotten the ball rolling on the reception site of our dreams, Fiance and I have been faced with something of a problem. The maximum occupancy for the room is 200 and we currently have an invitee list 213 people long. Luckily, it hasn't been too difficult to whittle down the list:

- So did you two set a date for the wedding yet?
- Yeah. It's the last Saturday in July, the 28th. Do you think you'll make it?
- It's a Saturday? Oh. No. I'm sorry but I'll be in juggling class.

So the Resemblance Isn't a Fluke After All

On Friday night, Fiance came home from work with that look of a self-proclaimed genius. The talk that followed began well enough ("Sweetie, I was talking to Coworker and...") and went downhill from there. Apparently, when Coworker got married in December he only paid a fraction of the typical cost for invitations. Fiance was sold before their conversation was finished. Running the idea by me was really just a courtesy; we both knew I had no say in the matter.

Then he dropped the big "BUT" into our discussion. You know the one I'm talking about. I would love to go out to dinner with you tonight BUT I promised my goldfish a backrub. You look good BUT you've also got a booger hanging from your nose. Yes, that is the "BUT" I mean. In this case it went something like: "This guy makes amazing invitations BUT his English isn't that spectacular. He speaks Vietnamese." I'll admit that I wasn't stoked about ordering my wedding invitations from someone whose command of the English language wasn't commendable. So Fiance volunteered Coworker, who is Vietnamese, to translate should we need any help whatsoever.

Saturday morning, we visited the reception site with my parents and had breakfast together. Of course I had to tell them the story of how Fiance had dropped the InvitationManDoesn'tSpeakAFreakingWordOfEnglishDamnit bomb. My mother looked across the table and shook her head at Fiance. "You went about that whole thing wrong," she started out. "What you should have done is told her you'd heard about someone who sold reputable good-quality invitations for a reasonable price and potentially spoke French. She would have gone for that." And of course, Fiance and I both knew from that very moment that there was no denying she had given birth to me.

On the TREK to Marital Bliss

It didn't take Fiance and I long to decide we wanted a short engagement. What we did want was a date that worked best not only for us but for the rest of our world. We picked the last Saturday in July, a date that came before my sister's international departure and after the month my grandmother requested I never wed (apparently June in southern California is not a godsend). It honestly seemed like the perfect date. And then this classy conversation happened...

- We haven't set anything in stone yet, but we're considering July 28th.
- Wow, that's really soon! Are you pregnant?
- No! We just didn't want a long engagement. That's all.
- Oh come on, you may as well tell me if it's a shotgun wedding.
- It isn't. And what's that supposed to mean?
- Well, you'll be showing by the time you say your vows so don't you think it'll be obvious then?
- Seriously, I. Am. NOT. Pregnant.
- Really?
- Yes.
- Then why are you getting married so soon?

I can see right now that with family like this: 1) I don't need enemies, and 2) the next four months are going to be the longest of my life. I would have shared the other conversational jewel that was passed our way upon revealing the wedding date, but I feel it may offend the people who said it if I ever posted their qualms online and belittled them. But I will give you what my father said when he heard what they wanted me to schedule a wedding around: "Oh, and I'll be washing the dogs on the second weekend in July so if you could do me a favor and make sure not to have a wedding then."

Yes, as Linda so wisely put it, the adventure has begun!

Four Little Words and One Big Answer

In a very small corner of the world on Friday night, one man proposed to one woman.

And she said yes!

When Did Choosing a Church Become Choosing a Stalker?

Boyfriend hates evangelism. He has no appreciation for other people telling him what to believe, how to feel, and which of his thoughts are going to send him to burn in eternal damnation. In Boyfriend's eyes the evangelists are akin to Lucifer himself. The face he pulls when the local Jehovah's Witnesses stop by to distribute their bilingual "Do you know Jesus?" pamphlets is evidence enough of this. I, on the other hand, am a big fan of religion. If it were up to me, we'd be in Shabbos service half the weekend and taking Mass the other half. There is nowhere that radiates a community more to me than a group of people with faith (common or otherwise) engaged in worship. One of my favorite feelings is stepping into the sunlight after devoting a morning to prayer and reflection.

That Boyfriend and I still get along despite this MAJOR difference in our faith and our perception of faith is testament to just how tolerant he really is. Now imagine two so different people looking for a home church. And if that's not enough, imagine when we start looking for our home synagogue. Luckily, we found a church last Sunday that is trying to make the whole selection process easy.

On Monday, an elderly gentleman stopped by to deliver us a loaf of bread. "It's our practice in the church to bake a loaf of bread for newcomers. We hope to see you again next week!" On Tuesday, one of the pastors left a personal message on our answerphone. It pretty much declared that they miss us already and can't wait to see us in a few more days. On Wednesday, we received a letter that thanked us for our attendance and encouraged us to return. A letter, Internet! A LETTER! With our names all typed up looking spiffy and the whole nine yards.

It's like we're being stalked. I'm starting to wonder if Boyfriend has a point with all his evangelism-hating. At this rate, I wouldn't be surprised if the bread did contain what he thinks it may: brain-washing chemicals.

Yes, the Pastor Actually Said it Out Loud and in Public

"Can you just imagine if we dropped plane loads of chocolate bars on Iraq instead of bombs?"

Yes, I can. It would ruin all those spiffy military uniforms we've bought our armed forces, though, and that would be a shame.

Reason #67249 That Boyfriend Rocks

Last Sunday, he took me to see "Carmen," a French opera. We dressed up and then he showed his woman a good time =)

I love that man!

A Not-so-Mushy Birthday

In a past life, I was paid to wrap gifts. People actually dipped into their wallets in exchange for fancy paper with a bow slapped on top. Not only that, but sometimes if a husband forgot about Valentine's Day until 9pm on February 14th, he'd tip me. For saving his scrawny little a** from a whipping. Anyway, it was my first college job and looking back, wrapping gifts was the highlight of those first few collegiate semesters. It was one of my favorite things to do. Still is. In fact, I love gift-wrapping so much that when I saw a surprise birthday gift wrapped for me on the table last summer, my response was to flip out because SUCH BETRAYAL CANNOT BE TOLERATED!! HOW COULD YOU EVEN THINK ABOUT WRAPPING A GIFT WITHOUT ME?! HAS THIS RELATIONSHIP MEANT NOTHING TO YOU?!

Nowadays, I have learned the valuable lesson of assuming that when I find a wrapped gift on the table in the summertime, Boyfriend has nothing against me. He just means for me to open the damned thing and thank him for showing me a good time on my birthday.

Yesterday, Boyfriend turned 30 years old. This means that we are now in two separate decades of our lives. I am in the sexy-fox-twenties and he is in the old-fart-thirties. At least that's what we're calling them in the September household as of right this second. This birthday also means that Boyfriend got to walk around the office listening to every imaginable quip similar to "whew, that was a close one," even though he was born on an odd-numbered year and therefore being a Leap Year Baby was much much farther away than they know. And it also means that I was handed the opportunity to humiliate him on a silver platter. Yes, Internet, I took him to our night class and had them sing "Herzlich Gluckwunsch zum Gebortstag" (better known as "Happy Birthday") in German. Which, just for the record, is a song that probably sounds best without grunts, spitting, and frustratingly incomprehensible accents.

He ate it all up, and then ripped into the gift - a hand crafted wooden chess set. Which I got to wrap. And he got to open. Believe it or not, he didn't once flip out that I'd wrapped the thing waiting for him on the dining room table. Which is how I found out that, Yep!, wrapping a gift is still one of my favorite things to do. Happy Birthday, Boyfriend! I love you =)

Conversation Overheard Between Two People Seriously Considering Investing in Dentures

- The other day, I wrote about Valentine's Day on my blog. I wrote about how I screwed it up.
- Yeah?
- Yeah, and I mentioned that I would have semi-redeemed myself with a cute story about how we met each other, except that we met at work. I said you were up to your elbows in bike grease. So I might have exaggerated a little.
- I see. Just blowing a little grease out of proportion to suit your blogging needs.
- What? You say it like I live by lying through my teeth.
- No, honey. Someday when you're old, you won't have any teeth and then you won't have to lie through them.

The Fiftieth Day of the Year

Several months ago, Boyfriend and I visited his Sister. The conversation somehow drifted into my love of literature and the next thing I knew, the evening was over and I was borrowing a "very quick read." Thirty pages into it, I decided that it wasn't a particularly quick read after all. Despite the enthusiasm for the tale that Boyfriend's Sister and her husband had shown, I just couldn't stomach Sleeping Beauty being presented in an erotic light. His sister, Boyfriend and I decided, loves her some smut. And that's what we call it now: The Smut, with capital letters.

Then, sometime during the first week of February, an invitation arrived for me in the mail. It was yellow and green and announced a baby shower the night of February 10th in honor of Boyfriend's Sister and her pending bundle of joy. And let me tell you right here and right now that Boyfriend and I absolutely racked our brains trying to decide on a gift. Boyfriend's Sister already has a daughter - a beautiful little 34 monther with a head full of curls - so it seemed to us that she and her husband had everything they could possibly need.

Exciting as we are, and in light of having seen their daughter's closet stuffed to the gills with unworn outfits, Boyfriend and I settled on buying Diaper Genie bags and some Playtex bottle liners for the shower.

Despite our triumph finding the right sizes for both bags and liners, however, purchasing a bunch of boring consumables just didn't seem right for a baby shower. So the next day, I stopped by a local bookstore on the way to work and bought the next two books in the erotic Sleeping Beauty trilogy. And ever since the baby shower, Boyfriend and I have casually wondered whether or not his sister is spending her maternity leave entrenched in erotic literature.

Sunday night, Boyfriend and I had dinner at his sister's place. We arrived just shy of 6pm and asked her how she was doing. At 38-39 weeks preggers, she was tired and uncomfortable and her back hurt and she had a sweet tooth. After dinner, we left and arrived home just shy of midnight. An hour and a half later, Boyfriend's sister was en route to the hospital. Then, at 4:26am on Monday morning at 7 pounds and .07 ounces, her little miracle was born.

I guess