You Are 34 Years Old |
34 Under 12: You are a kid at heart. You still have an optimistic life view - and you look at the world with awe. 13-19: You are a teenager at heart. You question authority and are still trying to find your place in this world. 20-29: You are a twentysomething at heart. You feel excited about what's to come... love, work, and new experiences. 30-39: You are a thirtysomething at heart. You've had a taste of success and true love, but you want more! 40+: You are a mature adult. You've been through most of the ups and downs of life already. Now you get to sit back and relax. |
31 August 2005
Age
I hope I win it...
Foxwoods is having a $350,000 winner to "buy a new house" this weekend. So far, Erich and I each have a couple entries in. I know we have no chance in hell, but it would be oh-so-nice to win that money, take the cash, and do the following:
1) Two new cars, since we're both over 120K miles now.
2) Pay all of the insurance for the year on those two cars
3) Put aside all money for the wedding so my mom has no ability to hang the "but we're paying for it" line over me
4) Go to JournalCon (since now I can't fucking go, due to Jeep repairs in excess of $1,200)
5) Hire someone to come in and get ALL of the wallpaper off the walls, and repaint.
6) Replace the roof while we have cash-in-hand
7) If there's money left over, hire someone to reglaze and reweight all of our windows.
I know my chances are about nil... but I need a pick-me-up after yesterday's call from the Jeep dealership. Mind you-- the $1,200 in repairs is ONLY the stuff that needs to be done for it to pass inspection. I already know of another $500 repair bill that's pending, but at the moment, if it doesn't have to be done to pass inspection and I can drive the car safely without it on the limited basis that the Jeep's driven, that's what's happening. They said it MIGHT be done today. They had to order a part. Whee.
So yeah... to keep my spirits up, I'm using the dream of winning the Foxwoods Lotto on Monday.
Although I will say this-- with gas prices climbing again as they've started to do, suddenly that $200 per month Zone 8 T-pass is looking like a fucking BARGAIN. It cost almost $35 to fill Erich's car last night... about 12.5 gallons worth. That means that if I run the Jeep to the empty light, I'll be spending nearly $70 to fill it. And that's with prices the way they are now. I'm so glad I'm not driving to Needham for work anymore. I would go absolutely insane.
~ Mel.
1) Two new cars, since we're both over 120K miles now.
2) Pay all of the insurance for the year on those two cars
3) Put aside all money for the wedding so my mom has no ability to hang the "but we're paying for it" line over me
4) Go to JournalCon (since now I can't fucking go, due to Jeep repairs in excess of $1,200)
5) Hire someone to come in and get ALL of the wallpaper off the walls, and repaint.
6) Replace the roof while we have cash-in-hand
7) If there's money left over, hire someone to reglaze and reweight all of our windows.
I know my chances are about nil... but I need a pick-me-up after yesterday's call from the Jeep dealership. Mind you-- the $1,200 in repairs is ONLY the stuff that needs to be done for it to pass inspection. I already know of another $500 repair bill that's pending, but at the moment, if it doesn't have to be done to pass inspection and I can drive the car safely without it on the limited basis that the Jeep's driven, that's what's happening. They said it MIGHT be done today. They had to order a part. Whee.
So yeah... to keep my spirits up, I'm using the dream of winning the Foxwoods Lotto on Monday.
Although I will say this-- with gas prices climbing again as they've started to do, suddenly that $200 per month Zone 8 T-pass is looking like a fucking BARGAIN. It cost almost $35 to fill Erich's car last night... about 12.5 gallons worth. That means that if I run the Jeep to the empty light, I'll be spending nearly $70 to fill it. And that's with prices the way they are now. I'm so glad I'm not driving to Needham for work anymore. I would go absolutely insane.
~ Mel.
29 August 2005
Injuries and illnesses
Non life-threatening annoyances and concerns this week have abounded in the Casa de Measi this week.
Erich, while doing his manly hedge-trimming duties last weekend, managed to get himself a rather impressive case of poison ivy. He wasn't content to get it in a normal spot, like the forearm (where it's currently blistering). He has to get it on the backsides of his knees, up the inner thigh, and his kneecaps. So he's hobbling around like Frankenstein and going insane from itching. Yesterday he spent most of the day on his stomach on the bed, playing Halo. I can't blame him, either. I can just imagine as the skin gets all dry and crusty-feeling, bending it is the last thing he wants to do.
We've tried the normal treatments (tecnu, another otc ivy scrub/spray), but might have started them a bit too late for it to be effective. He's been using the anti-itch spray, perhaps a bit too much-- and might have had an allergic reaction to the spray (camphor... gotta love the stuff. Ick.) Tonight may possibly be an oatmeal compress-style bath night, in Aveeno or Quaker form. His kneecap started weeping last night, and the blisters on his arm look like they may start up by tonight. It's a good sign to me because it signifies the reaction is moving through the initial irritation stage into the healing stages.
Thankfully, he already had a doctor's appointment scheduled for Wednesday to check up on his thyroid med dose, so the doc can take a look at what's going on and determine if something stronger is needed.
Second issue is Miss Fizz, who is acting completely normal. BUT... she's lost some patches of fur on both of her back legs and on her chest by her front right leg. The skin feels soft and normal, and it's not completely bald, so I've ruled out ringworm.While we've been home, we haven't noticed any over-grooming. She's drinking normally and eating normally. She's active. She's flirty. She's being completely normal Fizz. But she's missing fur.
For now, we're keeping an eye on her, hoping that perhaps it's due to the stress of moving into a new place added with Gus being extremely interested in pouncing her over the past couple weeks. I know that her eating habits were out of whack for about a week and a half when we first moved in-- it might be some byproduct result of temporary malnourishment. But at the first sign of another symptom or if the fur loss increases any more, she's going directly to the vet. If she weren't acting completely fine, she'd be there already.
Third issue is my Jeep. I took it on Friday for its mandatory (but extremely late) inspection. We haven't been driving the Jeep really at all since we moved to the house. We commute with Erich's car every day (better gas mileage and far fewer miles on the odometer). Since the car's parked in a driveway now and it's not something that I would get a ticket for unless pulled over, it just hasn't been a priority.
Well, when I took it in-- it failed inspection. One is the front right ball joint, which doesn't surprise me-- I had the left front ball joint repaired about nine months ago. The other is a "leak in the exhaust manifold," which the Jeep dealer admitted to me may be sounding worse than it actually is. I know about a cracked gasket joint just off the engine. Hopefully that's the issue. But I've never had any exhaust work done... so who knows?
In any case, I now have a big red DENIED sticker on the front of the Jeep in the form of a big red R. I've made an appointment with the Jeep dealership (where I had the inspection done) for tomorrow to do the full diagnostic and get it fixed. AND this pisses me off, because unless it comes to under $300 (which it almost guaranteed WON'T), my hopes of going to JournalCon just got eliminated.
*sigh*
I'm annoyed. I'm really annoyed.
That's life though, I guess.
Erich, while doing his manly hedge-trimming duties last weekend, managed to get himself a rather impressive case of poison ivy. He wasn't content to get it in a normal spot, like the forearm (where it's currently blistering). He has to get it on the backsides of his knees, up the inner thigh, and his kneecaps. So he's hobbling around like Frankenstein and going insane from itching. Yesterday he spent most of the day on his stomach on the bed, playing Halo. I can't blame him, either. I can just imagine as the skin gets all dry and crusty-feeling, bending it is the last thing he wants to do.
We've tried the normal treatments (tecnu, another otc ivy scrub/spray), but might have started them a bit too late for it to be effective. He's been using the anti-itch spray, perhaps a bit too much-- and might have had an allergic reaction to the spray (camphor... gotta love the stuff. Ick.) Tonight may possibly be an oatmeal compress-style bath night, in Aveeno or Quaker form. His kneecap started weeping last night, and the blisters on his arm look like they may start up by tonight. It's a good sign to me because it signifies the reaction is moving through the initial irritation stage into the healing stages.
Thankfully, he already had a doctor's appointment scheduled for Wednesday to check up on his thyroid med dose, so the doc can take a look at what's going on and determine if something stronger is needed.
Second issue is Miss Fizz, who is acting completely normal. BUT... she's lost some patches of fur on both of her back legs and on her chest by her front right leg. The skin feels soft and normal, and it's not completely bald, so I've ruled out ringworm.While we've been home, we haven't noticed any over-grooming. She's drinking normally and eating normally. She's active. She's flirty. She's being completely normal Fizz. But she's missing fur.
For now, we're keeping an eye on her, hoping that perhaps it's due to the stress of moving into a new place added with Gus being extremely interested in pouncing her over the past couple weeks. I know that her eating habits were out of whack for about a week and a half when we first moved in-- it might be some byproduct result of temporary malnourishment. But at the first sign of another symptom or if the fur loss increases any more, she's going directly to the vet. If she weren't acting completely fine, she'd be there already.
Third issue is my Jeep. I took it on Friday for its mandatory (but extremely late) inspection. We haven't been driving the Jeep really at all since we moved to the house. We commute with Erich's car every day (better gas mileage and far fewer miles on the odometer). Since the car's parked in a driveway now and it's not something that I would get a ticket for unless pulled over, it just hasn't been a priority.
Well, when I took it in-- it failed inspection. One is the front right ball joint, which doesn't surprise me-- I had the left front ball joint repaired about nine months ago. The other is a "leak in the exhaust manifold," which the Jeep dealer admitted to me may be sounding worse than it actually is. I know about a cracked gasket joint just off the engine. Hopefully that's the issue. But I've never had any exhaust work done... so who knows?
In any case, I now have a big red DENIED sticker on the front of the Jeep in the form of a big red R. I've made an appointment with the Jeep dealership (where I had the inspection done) for tomorrow to do the full diagnostic and get it fixed. AND this pisses me off, because unless it comes to under $300 (which it almost guaranteed WON'T), my hopes of going to JournalCon just got eliminated.
*sigh*
I'm annoyed. I'm really annoyed.
That's life though, I guess.
25 August 2005
OMGIHTBT
(translated: Oh My God(dess) I have To Blog This)
I go to the Hard Rock for lunch today to enjoy some classic Pig Sandwich goodness. (they've renamed it the Pulled Pork sandwich, but it's still a pig sandwich, and if you order that, they know exactly what you're talking about).
Anyway... enjoying tunes, enjoying my surprisingly enjoyable Forgotten Realms novel, when I hear eight steady same-tone beats that gives away an extremely familiar song without bothering to turn around to see what video now is playing.
But like just about everyone else in the place at the time who was 30 or older, I turn to the TVs NOT showing last night's taped Red Sox loss to relish a kickass video moment gone by. Ah yes, there he was-- Bono in all of his free mane, unbuttoned shirt, unsunglassed-ness godly goodness interrupting downtown Los Angles with an impromptu set on top of the liquor store. Edge looking like... Edge (he doesn't age, does he?). I always had a thing for Edge, too. I hadn't seen this video in a long time. And it's an adrenaline rush song for me nearly every time I hear it. I literally stop eating to just enjoy the video.
It's pathetic that the Hard Rock plays more video than MTV these days. Of any genre.
But anyway, lots of slight nodding going on to the beat. We're all in synch, enjoying good music. Some people go back to chatting with their tablemates, and it's business as usual at the Hard Rock.
UNTIL...
Some dickhead teenybopper (okay, maybe a bit older than a teenybopper, but if this kid's in college, I'd be shocked) states "If they're going to play some U2, at least play the good new stuff instead of this old shit."
Two thoughts--
1) The fact that this kid managed to make a comment clearly audible to everyone save perhaps the kitchen staff in the fucking HARD ROCK CAFE was quite impressive
2) The fact that nearly EVERY HEAD in the restaurant turned and gave this kid a look that either spit daggers or shocked at the "old shit" comment was amusing as hell.
And one waiter, who looked to be my age, give or take a couple years, went up to the kid, and said (now easily audible, since it was near silent at the Hard Rock... U2 was winding down and the cops were shooing them at this point) "We don't bash any music in here, kid. I guarantee there's more than one person in here who would probably describe your favorite band as pure shit. So if you don't like it, talk to your friend and deal for four minutes or go elsewhere."
Smattering of applause. Many smirks. Kid is humiliated. Eating recommences.
The next song starts, and I doubt I was the only person fighting to keep diet coke from going up my nose as the first riff starts. I turn-- and many others (including the waiter) turn to look at the kid, who now looks to be in physical, tortured pain but keeps his mouth firmly shut.
Well, you can tell by the way I use my walk, I’m a woman’s man... no time to talk.
Guess he don't like disco either, eh?
You can't script life this enjoyably. You just can't.
:)
I go to the Hard Rock for lunch today to enjoy some classic Pig Sandwich goodness. (they've renamed it the Pulled Pork sandwich, but it's still a pig sandwich, and if you order that, they know exactly what you're talking about).
Anyway... enjoying tunes, enjoying my surprisingly enjoyable Forgotten Realms novel, when I hear eight steady same-tone beats that gives away an extremely familiar song without bothering to turn around to see what video now is playing.
But like just about everyone else in the place at the time who was 30 or older, I turn to the TVs NOT showing last night's taped Red Sox loss to relish a kickass video moment gone by. Ah yes, there he was-- Bono in all of his free mane, unbuttoned shirt, unsunglassed-ness godly goodness interrupting downtown Los Angles with an impromptu set on top of the liquor store. Edge looking like... Edge (he doesn't age, does he?). I always had a thing for Edge, too. I hadn't seen this video in a long time. And it's an adrenaline rush song for me nearly every time I hear it. I literally stop eating to just enjoy the video.
It's pathetic that the Hard Rock plays more video than MTV these days. Of any genre.
But anyway, lots of slight nodding going on to the beat. We're all in synch, enjoying good music. Some people go back to chatting with their tablemates, and it's business as usual at the Hard Rock.
UNTIL...
Some dickhead teenybopper (okay, maybe a bit older than a teenybopper, but if this kid's in college, I'd be shocked) states "If they're going to play some U2, at least play the good new stuff instead of this old shit."
Two thoughts--
1) The fact that this kid managed to make a comment clearly audible to everyone save perhaps the kitchen staff in the fucking HARD ROCK CAFE was quite impressive
2) The fact that nearly EVERY HEAD in the restaurant turned and gave this kid a look that either spit daggers or shocked at the "old shit" comment was amusing as hell.
And one waiter, who looked to be my age, give or take a couple years, went up to the kid, and said (now easily audible, since it was near silent at the Hard Rock... U2 was winding down and the cops were shooing them at this point) "We don't bash any music in here, kid. I guarantee there's more than one person in here who would probably describe your favorite band as pure shit. So if you don't like it, talk to your friend and deal for four minutes or go elsewhere."
Smattering of applause. Many smirks. Kid is humiliated. Eating recommences.
The next song starts, and I doubt I was the only person fighting to keep diet coke from going up my nose as the first riff starts. I turn-- and many others (including the waiter) turn to look at the kid, who now looks to be in physical, tortured pain but keeps his mouth firmly shut.
Well, you can tell by the way I use my walk, I’m a woman’s man... no time to talk.
Guess he don't like disco either, eh?
You can't script life this enjoyably. You just can't.
:)
23 August 2005
My private portal
Clarendon Street's walkways are other sidewalk in Back Bay-- unassuming, almost always busy, grasping all of the rare sunlight that manages to fall on the concrete. I cross Stuart Street, my eyes dimly focused on the white ten story building a couple blocks in front of me. I've almost finished my morning coffee, hot again to ward off my morning allergy attacks as the weather begins to show signs of cooling.
It's now late summer, and the day lillies in the sidewalk-lining planters have disappeared, but gardeners have not yet cut the leaves back to the ground. A smattering of leaves at the top of trees are beginning to turn yellow-- the first signs of autumn have arrived. A small patch of green warms what would otherwise be another boring city sidewalk among the white collar business world. In the morning, the winds here are still fairly quiet. I know that as the weather cools and the winds shift, the walk from the station to my office will no longer be the easy stroll it is now.
I cross the steps of the old Hancock Building. There's one small spot that I notice every time I walk over it. It's not marked by anything other than a warm, wonderful memory that has been burned into the concrete. Each time I walk over it, a soft smile forces its way past the typical commuter glaze I normally hold on my way to Boylston Street. If I grasp onto the smile and look around, I see snow.
Swirling snow piles on the steps, over the bushes, and covers the sidewalk at my feet. I know that the wind is howling in the intersection, but for just that moment, everything is silent. All of the commuters disappear, and only Erich and I exist in the heart of Back Bay. I feel the warmth of the morning sun of August... but all I see is the nighttime blizzard of January racing above me between the buildings, and feel the sensation of a new band of silver that matches the sparkle of the snow around my finger.
As I cross St. James Street, the snow disappears and the August sun returns. I touch the flat side of the delicate band once with the tip of my thumb and sigh. It doesn't last long, but it's a wonderful feeling.
I've walked through my private portal that now welcomes me every morning, and it's time to face another day.
It's now late summer, and the day lillies in the sidewalk-lining planters have disappeared, but gardeners have not yet cut the leaves back to the ground. A smattering of leaves at the top of trees are beginning to turn yellow-- the first signs of autumn have arrived. A small patch of green warms what would otherwise be another boring city sidewalk among the white collar business world. In the morning, the winds here are still fairly quiet. I know that as the weather cools and the winds shift, the walk from the station to my office will no longer be the easy stroll it is now.
I cross the steps of the old Hancock Building. There's one small spot that I notice every time I walk over it. It's not marked by anything other than a warm, wonderful memory that has been burned into the concrete. Each time I walk over it, a soft smile forces its way past the typical commuter glaze I normally hold on my way to Boylston Street. If I grasp onto the smile and look around, I see snow.
Swirling snow piles on the steps, over the bushes, and covers the sidewalk at my feet. I know that the wind is howling in the intersection, but for just that moment, everything is silent. All of the commuters disappear, and only Erich and I exist in the heart of Back Bay. I feel the warmth of the morning sun of August... but all I see is the nighttime blizzard of January racing above me between the buildings, and feel the sensation of a new band of silver that matches the sparkle of the snow around my finger.
As I cross St. James Street, the snow disappears and the August sun returns. I touch the flat side of the delicate band once with the tip of my thumb and sigh. It doesn't last long, but it's a wonderful feeling.
I've walked through my private portal that now welcomes me every morning, and it's time to face another day.
19 August 2005
Where was I...
I was tagged by Minarae...
What was I doing 10 years ago?
Ten years ago I was 20 years old and just about to start my junior year of college. After two years of living in dorm rooms at Warren, I decided to change my scenery and was moving into Hamilton Hell with Janice (a lesson in bad roommate-ing, if there ever was one). It was the beginning of a very wild year for me, between marching drum line, turning 21, being a big sister in the sorority, writing sappy X-Files fanfic (that really kept my growing depression at bay), and lots and lots of college hockey, thanks to season tickets right behind the bench.
What was I doing 5 years ago?
Five years ago last week I started my current job. I was living in The Beast and was very lonely save my friend in Colley, but trying like hell to stay in Boston. Moving to my pseudo-home in Pennsylvania to my mom's wasn't really what I wanted to do. At that point, I hadn't started gaming with JT and Tan (that came about a month later). I was in a dark, dark place in my misery and not sure where to look.
What was I doing 1 year ago?
Gus was turing one year old. Erich and I were preparing for another year in our apartment, and Jason was living with us (having just lost his job). I was thinking of my grandmother a lot, since it was the first anniversary of her death. I was beginning to consider serious prayers about the November election that the nation would vote Bush out. Alas...
What was I doing yesterday?
Worked all day. Came home and watched some TV. Played the Sims. Enjoyed the crickets on a beautiful evening and looked out at the yard, which had a slight glow from the full mooon.
What am I doing today?
Today I worked from home, organizing some of my filing and timesheets that have scattered over my cubicle. WHile working, I also ran the dishwasher since our sink was getting scary. After my 1/2 day of working at home, I fell asleep on the couch, waking up to find Colley curled up in a ball on my stomach (he's doing that a lot lately). I did some afternoon errands for cat supplies and random house stuff, and then picked Erich up from work. We got specialty hot dogs for dinner, and now are just puttering the house. And I'm listening to crickets again.
Five snacks I enjoy:
Chips & salsa
Pretzels
Popcorn
Cheese (really any... cheddar, string, plastic slices...)
Apple slices with cinnamon sugar
Five bands I like:
U2
The Killers
ELO
Fleetwood Mac
Enigma
Five things I would do with a million dollars:
Pay off our mortgage
Buy new cars for the two of us
Reimburse my dad for college
Pay for some miracle cure to lose weight
Run away and elope somewhere far away.
Five locations I would like to run away to:
Australia
Egypt
Ireland
Bora Bora
Japan
Five bad habits:
Biting my nails
Scratching my face (out of habit from hives)
Chewing on my hair
Being lazy about exercising
Being lazy about cooking
Five things I like doing:
Spending time with Erich
Reading
Cross-stitching
Penpalling
Creative writing
Five TV shows I like:
Mythbusters
MXC
History's Mysteries
X-Files
Dog: Bounty Hunter
Five famous people I would like to meet:
Liam Neeson
Jodie Foster
His Holiness, the Dalai Lama
Nelson Mandella
Bono
Biggest joys in my life at the moment:
Being in love with Erich
Being engaged TO Erich
Owning a house
My cats
Having a wonderful circle of friends
Five favorite toys:
My computer
Our funky big-screen TV
Digital camera
All of the gadgets in the house that DON'T REQUIRE QUARTERS ANYMORE!!!
The cats (live-action toys)
Five people to tag:
Tone
Tuba?
Gag
Bunny
Erich
What was I doing 10 years ago?
Ten years ago I was 20 years old and just about to start my junior year of college. After two years of living in dorm rooms at Warren, I decided to change my scenery and was moving into Hamilton Hell with Janice (a lesson in bad roommate-ing, if there ever was one). It was the beginning of a very wild year for me, between marching drum line, turning 21, being a big sister in the sorority, writing sappy X-Files fanfic (that really kept my growing depression at bay), and lots and lots of college hockey, thanks to season tickets right behind the bench.
What was I doing 5 years ago?
Five years ago last week I started my current job. I was living in The Beast and was very lonely save my friend in Colley, but trying like hell to stay in Boston. Moving to my pseudo-home in Pennsylvania to my mom's wasn't really what I wanted to do. At that point, I hadn't started gaming with JT and Tan (that came about a month later). I was in a dark, dark place in my misery and not sure where to look.
What was I doing 1 year ago?
Gus was turing one year old. Erich and I were preparing for another year in our apartment, and Jason was living with us (having just lost his job). I was thinking of my grandmother a lot, since it was the first anniversary of her death. I was beginning to consider serious prayers about the November election that the nation would vote Bush out. Alas...
What was I doing yesterday?
Worked all day. Came home and watched some TV. Played the Sims. Enjoyed the crickets on a beautiful evening and looked out at the yard, which had a slight glow from the full mooon.
What am I doing today?
Today I worked from home, organizing some of my filing and timesheets that have scattered over my cubicle. WHile working, I also ran the dishwasher since our sink was getting scary. After my 1/2 day of working at home, I fell asleep on the couch, waking up to find Colley curled up in a ball on my stomach (he's doing that a lot lately). I did some afternoon errands for cat supplies and random house stuff, and then picked Erich up from work. We got specialty hot dogs for dinner, and now are just puttering the house. And I'm listening to crickets again.
Five snacks I enjoy:
Chips & salsa
Pretzels
Popcorn
Cheese (really any... cheddar, string, plastic slices...)
Apple slices with cinnamon sugar
Five bands I like:
U2
The Killers
ELO
Fleetwood Mac
Enigma
Five things I would do with a million dollars:
Pay off our mortgage
Buy new cars for the two of us
Reimburse my dad for college
Pay for some miracle cure to lose weight
Run away and elope somewhere far away.
Five locations I would like to run away to:
Australia
Egypt
Ireland
Bora Bora
Japan
Five bad habits:
Biting my nails
Scratching my face (out of habit from hives)
Chewing on my hair
Being lazy about exercising
Being lazy about cooking
Five things I like doing:
Spending time with Erich
Reading
Cross-stitching
Penpalling
Creative writing
Five TV shows I like:
Mythbusters
MXC
History's Mysteries
X-Files
Dog: Bounty Hunter
Five famous people I would like to meet:
Liam Neeson
Jodie Foster
His Holiness, the Dalai Lama
Nelson Mandella
Bono
Biggest joys in my life at the moment:
Being in love with Erich
Being engaged TO Erich
Owning a house
My cats
Having a wonderful circle of friends
Five favorite toys:
My computer
Our funky big-screen TV
Digital camera
All of the gadgets in the house that DON'T REQUIRE QUARTERS ANYMORE!!!
The cats (live-action toys)
Five people to tag:
Tone
Tuba?
Gag
Bunny
Erich
16 August 2005
Alive and okay...
The latter part of last week was viciously hot, ending with an obscene day on Saturday where the temps and the humidity level were probably matched. I don't do well in this weather at all.
Saturday night was the final competition for DCI at Gillette Stadium. Ivanna and Joe came up, and Sarah, who was a member of my pledge class in Eta Gamma so many years ago, came down from Maine with her elder daughter. I hadn't seen her since 1996, and really had lost touch with her. Sadly, we didn't have a lot to talk about. But Ivanna and she did, which was good.
Our seats were in section 315 in row 25. This meant that we were literally the second from top row of the stadium. Nosebleeds? Indeed. During playoff season in January, I can see those seats causing literal nosebleeds. They are FARKING high up there. My fear of heights was in overdrive. As much as possible, I stayed seated. Even when clapping for the individual corps.
The show was pretty good. I had a good time. Only a couple of performances really grabbed me as extremely interesting, however. Ivanna commented that our seats had a good deal to do with that-- especially with sound. Perhaps. I wasn't into the music, though, for most of the shows. I hate the concept of voice-over work during the shows with a mic-- to me, it defeats the purpose of having a corps with musical instruments. And I didn't agree with the outcome of the scores. Erich enjoyed himself, but found it pretty long. I told him that we'd hit a smaller, local show sometime next summer. Finals is a pretty intense show to start off with. And of course, since my mom lives a half-hour from the stadium, we'll hit DCI East in Allentown next August. :)
Ivanna and Joe spent the night. The two of us were up well before the guys and chatted a bit over morning hot drinks before nudging the guys out of bed. They left to pick up relatives and head back to Jersey in the early afternoon, and despite all attempts to do otherwise, I spent most of Sunday sprawled on the couch, dead to the world.
Yesterday, I knew I was in trouble-- despite drinking water, I was feeling really dehydrated and knew I was going to pay the price for it. I ached all over, and wasn't ruling out heat exhaustion from Saturday night. Sure enough, today has been one of those "joy" days with visits to the bathroom. Lovely. Thank Goddess for Fruit2O so I can get the stuff in my system faster. I'll be chugging it the rest of the week.
But I am okay. And I'm alive.
But I'm never, EVER sitting in Gillette Stadium in that weather ever again. Sweet Jeebus, it was hotter than hell.
I'll write a better entry later this week... but just wanted to say I was alive.
~ Mel.
Saturday night was the final competition for DCI at Gillette Stadium. Ivanna and Joe came up, and Sarah, who was a member of my pledge class in Eta Gamma so many years ago, came down from Maine with her elder daughter. I hadn't seen her since 1996, and really had lost touch with her. Sadly, we didn't have a lot to talk about. But Ivanna and she did, which was good.
Our seats were in section 315 in row 25. This meant that we were literally the second from top row of the stadium. Nosebleeds? Indeed. During playoff season in January, I can see those seats causing literal nosebleeds. They are FARKING high up there. My fear of heights was in overdrive. As much as possible, I stayed seated. Even when clapping for the individual corps.
The show was pretty good. I had a good time. Only a couple of performances really grabbed me as extremely interesting, however. Ivanna commented that our seats had a good deal to do with that-- especially with sound. Perhaps. I wasn't into the music, though, for most of the shows. I hate the concept of voice-over work during the shows with a mic-- to me, it defeats the purpose of having a corps with musical instruments. And I didn't agree with the outcome of the scores. Erich enjoyed himself, but found it pretty long. I told him that we'd hit a smaller, local show sometime next summer. Finals is a pretty intense show to start off with. And of course, since my mom lives a half-hour from the stadium, we'll hit DCI East in Allentown next August. :)
Ivanna and Joe spent the night. The two of us were up well before the guys and chatted a bit over morning hot drinks before nudging the guys out of bed. They left to pick up relatives and head back to Jersey in the early afternoon, and despite all attempts to do otherwise, I spent most of Sunday sprawled on the couch, dead to the world.
Yesterday, I knew I was in trouble-- despite drinking water, I was feeling really dehydrated and knew I was going to pay the price for it. I ached all over, and wasn't ruling out heat exhaustion from Saturday night. Sure enough, today has been one of those "joy" days with visits to the bathroom. Lovely. Thank Goddess for Fruit2O so I can get the stuff in my system faster. I'll be chugging it the rest of the week.
But I am okay. And I'm alive.
But I'm never, EVER sitting in Gillette Stadium in that weather ever again. Sweet Jeebus, it was hotter than hell.
I'll write a better entry later this week... but just wanted to say I was alive.
~ Mel.
11 August 2005
Political commentary
Out of sadness and an overwhelming feeling of powerlessness (is that even a word? It is now.), I don't talk politics often. I'm tired of the bullshit cop-out "If you don't like it here, leave the U.S." or the claims that I'm not patriotic because I'm not celebrating the behavior of our president. Last I checked, the reason our nation existed at all was because a few guys started challenging authority over in England. Questioning the authority of the government has been an American trademark since the beginning of this nation. But now, more than ever, those who do so are belittled and condemned. It's come to the point, though, where my anger has led to exhaustion and hopelessness about the situation. Which is morally cowardly of me, I admit. Perhaps that's what "the other side" wants-- all of us to just wither in exhaustion.
Congrats, it worked for me. I quietly shake my head, occasionally crying some silent tears over the state of our nation. But I'm not a fighter. I'm a wuss. But my beliefs, I continue to hold, challenging them as I find new information-- asking if my beliefs are crackpot thoughts of ignorance, or if I have a foundation to back them up. So far, most of my beliefs have stayed strong. A few have changed. A few are up in the air.
Through all of the weariness, I take some comfort in the words of those who walked before me...
We must not confuse dissent with disloyalty. When the loyal opposition dies, I think the soul of America dies with it. - Edward R. Murrow
When a whole nation is roaring Patriotism at the top of its voice, I am fain to explore the cleanness of its hands and the purity of its heart. - Ralph Waldo Emerson
To announce that there must be no criticism of the president, or that we are to stand by the president, right or wrong, is not only unpatriotic and servile, but is morally treasonable to the American public. - Theodore Roosevelt
A democracy is nothing more than mob rule, where fifty-one percent of the people may take away the rights of the other forty-nine. - Thomas Jefferson
What makes me saddest of all, however, are the friendships- both online and off - that I have lost because my beliefs are liberal. Yes, I'm pro-choice, pro-equality for homosexual marriage, pro-evolution, and anti-theocratic influence in our laws. I don't care how anyone lives their lives-- if they have different morals that require strict religious observance... no problem. Just don't dictate that I have to follow them through laws that not only make no sense to me since I don't follow their beliefs, but are a detriment to my already law abiding, tax paying, full-time job holding lifestyle.
Hell, two diarists online, who I enjoyed reading for two to three years and shared so many things with, snubbed those who didn't agree with their conservative attitudes, myself included, under a guise of not wanting to write online anymore, although they both still were and are. Despite sharing some very, very personal things with these people, they just snubbed people and moved on. Perhaps it shouldn't bother me, because on the surface, these were just internet friendships at this point. But given that I *thought* there was a respect and understanding to agree to disagree on some points, I just felt lied to, betrayed, and quite frankly, snubbed in a "you're not welcome in our clique" sort of way. It's probably stupid, but it hurt. And I often think of them fondly with thoughts of what could have been, and what seemed to happen (since I got no explanations from them). I mourn the loss. I miss their comments. I miss feeling like I have the right to comment on their entries (which I still read from time to time-- the internet gives me that small comfort).
It all makes me sad. I have conservative relatives. I have conservative friends. I disagree with them. Sometimes strongly. But when the disagreement on politics is very strong, then it's clear that politics simply is one of those topics we need to avoid discussing, or it will make us upset. That's cool with me. It's just like religion-- sometimes, it's just better to leave it alone.
So after all of that verbage, I come to what actually inspired me to write this entry this morning. I came across this link somehow in my morning coffee-sippage time. I found myself nodding, smiling, and honestly surprised at how well it sums up both my experiences and my opinion on the world at large right now. Only I admit that I just am too much of a coward to actually do anything about it, save post the link and story here. I'm not this intelligent. I could not write this. But it rings nearly 100% true.
This piece was written by Mark Morford for SFGate.com (the online version of the San Francisco Chronicle). The original posting of it is here.
Congrats, it worked for me. I quietly shake my head, occasionally crying some silent tears over the state of our nation. But I'm not a fighter. I'm a wuss. But my beliefs, I continue to hold, challenging them as I find new information-- asking if my beliefs are crackpot thoughts of ignorance, or if I have a foundation to back them up. So far, most of my beliefs have stayed strong. A few have changed. A few are up in the air.
Through all of the weariness, I take some comfort in the words of those who walked before me...
We must not confuse dissent with disloyalty. When the loyal opposition dies, I think the soul of America dies with it. - Edward R. Murrow
When a whole nation is roaring Patriotism at the top of its voice, I am fain to explore the cleanness of its hands and the purity of its heart. - Ralph Waldo Emerson
To announce that there must be no criticism of the president, or that we are to stand by the president, right or wrong, is not only unpatriotic and servile, but is morally treasonable to the American public. - Theodore Roosevelt
A democracy is nothing more than mob rule, where fifty-one percent of the people may take away the rights of the other forty-nine. - Thomas Jefferson
What makes me saddest of all, however, are the friendships- both online and off - that I have lost because my beliefs are liberal. Yes, I'm pro-choice, pro-equality for homosexual marriage, pro-evolution, and anti-theocratic influence in our laws. I don't care how anyone lives their lives-- if they have different morals that require strict religious observance... no problem. Just don't dictate that I have to follow them through laws that not only make no sense to me since I don't follow their beliefs, but are a detriment to my already law abiding, tax paying, full-time job holding lifestyle.
Hell, two diarists online, who I enjoyed reading for two to three years and shared so many things with, snubbed those who didn't agree with their conservative attitudes, myself included, under a guise of not wanting to write online anymore, although they both still were and are. Despite sharing some very, very personal things with these people, they just snubbed people and moved on. Perhaps it shouldn't bother me, because on the surface, these were just internet friendships at this point. But given that I *thought* there was a respect and understanding to agree to disagree on some points, I just felt lied to, betrayed, and quite frankly, snubbed in a "you're not welcome in our clique" sort of way. It's probably stupid, but it hurt. And I often think of them fondly with thoughts of what could have been, and what seemed to happen (since I got no explanations from them). I mourn the loss. I miss their comments. I miss feeling like I have the right to comment on their entries (which I still read from time to time-- the internet gives me that small comfort).
It all makes me sad. I have conservative relatives. I have conservative friends. I disagree with them. Sometimes strongly. But when the disagreement on politics is very strong, then it's clear that politics simply is one of those topics we need to avoid discussing, or it will make us upset. That's cool with me. It's just like religion-- sometimes, it's just better to leave it alone.
So after all of that verbage, I come to what actually inspired me to write this entry this morning. I came across this link somehow in my morning coffee-sippage time. I found myself nodding, smiling, and honestly surprised at how well it sums up both my experiences and my opinion on the world at large right now. Only I admit that I just am too much of a coward to actually do anything about it, save post the link and story here. I'm not this intelligent. I could not write this. But it rings nearly 100% true.
This piece was written by Mark Morford for SFGate.com (the online version of the San Francisco Chronicle). The original posting of it is here.
- I get this a lot: Hey Mark, you nefarious and perverted liberal commie tofu-hugging sex-drunk San Francisco medical experiment gone wrong from the land of fruits and nuts (or some iteration thereof -- so cute, my hate mail can be), hey, I notice you love to ridicule those creepy Christian megachurches and you enjoy spanking wide-eyed Mormons and tweaking the litigious nipples of the cult of Scientology and you recoil at toxic Bush policy like a vegetarian recoils at undercooked veal.
And I can tell you think Dick Cheney is pretty much the devil in a defibrillator and that America is so desperately on the wrong track it might as well be North Korea, and you clearly tend to wince in savage karmic pain when looking down the rusty barrel of a welfare-happy red state and I just have one slightly nasty and pointed and cliched question for you -- Here it is: Where is your supposed progressive openness? Your liberal generosity of spirit? I thought you Lefties were all mushy and passive and live-and-let-live?
In other words, where is that famous so-called tolerance I thought all you wimpy libs were supposed to possess like some sort of gentle polyamorous smiling hug for the world?
To which I reply: You cannot be serious. Does the answer really need to be articulated? Is it not painfully obvious? Can I have a shot of Patrón and a long nap before I answer? Here goes ...
You, hate-mailers from the sanctimonious Right and even some of you morally paralyzed middle-grounders from the Left, are correct. I am, in fact, deeply intolerant. It is true. I can hide my deep biases and predispositions no longer.
I cannot, for example, tolerate the dark and violent road down which this nation seems intent on careering like an Escalade on meth. I cannot tolerate brutal, never-ending unnecessary wars and I cannot allow gay rights to be bashed and I truly loathe watching women's rights be slammed back to 1952. Or 1852.
I really have little patience for the gutting of our school system and the decimation of science and mysticism and the human mind for the sake of a handful of militant Christian zealots who truly believe the Second Coming will be arriving really soon but hopefully not before the next episode of HBO's "Cathouse: The Series," which they watch in secret with the lights off while clutching a Bible in one hand and a big tub of Country Crock margarine in the other.
I cannot tolerate an American president, ostensibly meant to be one of the most articulate and intellectually sophisticated leaders on the planet, mumbling his semicoherent support of the embarrassing non-theory of "Intelligent Design," to the detriment of about 300 years of confirmed science and 10 million years of common sense to the point where America's armies of dumbed-down Ritalin-drunk children look at him and sigh and secretly wish they could have a future devoid of such imbecilic thought but who realize, deep down, they are merely another doomed and fraught generation who will face an increasingly steep uphill battle, who will actually have to fight for fact and intellectual growth and spiritual progress against a rising tide of ignorance and religious hegemony and sanitized revisionist textbooks that insult their understanding and sucker punch their sexuality and bleed their minds dry.
I have surpassed my allowable limit for how much environmental devastation I can willingly swallow or how many billion-dollar tax subsidies our cowardly CEO president gives his cronies in Big Energy while doing nothing to ease our gluttony for foreign oil, all the while trying to tell us how many undereducated misguided American teenage soldiers we have to sacrifice at the bloody altar of oil and empire before we can call ourselves king of the bone pile again.
But I am perhaps most intolerant, not of Christians per se, not of faith, certainly not of radiant self-defined spirituality, not even of organized religion -- though I do fully believe more independent spirits and raw human souls and moist sexual licks have been lost to its often narrow-minded and cosmically rigid brainwashing techniques than have ever been saved. But hey, that's just me.
I am most intolerant of, well, of those who allow such intolerance. Of those who would, based on their narrow views of sex, God, love, hope, war, the mind, the Earth, soil and animals and air and water and fire and love and spirit and drugs and guns and dildos, work to legislate those neoconservative beliefs, codify them, make them the law of the land, force their regressive beliefs on everyone else under punishment of violence and beatings and prison. I am, in short, intolerant of intolerance.
Oh, let us be clear. I love diversity, religious pluralism, peace and love and pacifism and good drugs and open-mouthed sensuality. I'm happy to let you believe in any god you like and marry any gender you like and let you love how you will and be in full control of your sex and your body and your mind.
This, to me, is the America worth fighting for. These are the laws I support. Don't believe in abortion? Don't understand gay people? Sexuality makes you rashy? Think Harry Potter teaches kids evil and witchcraft? Don't marry a sexy gay witch abortionist. But don't you dare, based on your limited understanding of God and life, make laws declaring that I can't.
But maybe this is the problem, especially here in San Francisco, the World Headquarters of Tolerance, where liberals tend to be so PC and open- minded they merely sigh and shrug when our government and half the nation move to outlaw everything they stand for, when those people openly loathe human rights and try to codify homophobia in the U.S. Constitution and slowly annihilate Roe vs. Wade and treat any display of resistance or questioning of the norm the way a dog treats a fire hydrant.
Enough. Basta. Let's refashion the old, stagnant definition of tolerance and make it less about merely enduring, merely putting up with the existence of other narrow-minded beliefs no matter how devastating and embarrassing they obviously are to the nation's health.
Rather, let's flip that sucker over and baste it with raw goat butter and sear it on the open flames of divine justice and bliss and intellectual fire and white-hot orgasm and burn it new.
Let us take the rather flaccid word tolerance and pump it full of Ecstasy and medical marijuana and sake and real divine love and fancy book learnin', turn it on its head and spin it like a bottle and reclaim it from the neocon Right and turn it into, say, giddy outrage. Or radical reconsideration. Or ecstatic rebellion. Or wet conscious electric pointed awareness. Is this not a better way?
Let us explode those dead meanings, correct the mistaken neocon dictionary. Let us hurl that dying and mealy and abused term back at their powerful and often bigoted scowl. Here is your weak, ineffectual tolerance. We cannot swallow it anymore. In fact, we are choking on it.
08 August 2005
For people going to DCI Finals...
(since people read both my LJ and my regular journal)...
Going to DCI finals in Foxboro? Need a place to hang out and do some somewhat cheaper eating first?
If anyone's interested in a semi-chaotic BBQ at our place on Saturday (noonish to afternoon, whatever time works), let me know. Ivanna and Joe (her fiance) are driving up from New Jersey and meeting us at our place, grabbing whatever food we're throwing on the grill, and then heading up to Gilette Stadium. It's only about 20 minutes from our house.
Just thought I'd throw it out there. If you are interested, DO tell me... because if I don't hear from people, I'll assume we're only cooking enough food for four people.
Going to DCI finals in Foxboro? Need a place to hang out and do some somewhat cheaper eating first?
If anyone's interested in a semi-chaotic BBQ at our place on Saturday (noonish to afternoon, whatever time works), let me know. Ivanna and Joe (her fiance) are driving up from New Jersey and meeting us at our place, grabbing whatever food we're throwing on the grill, and then heading up to Gilette Stadium. It's only about 20 minutes from our house.
Just thought I'd throw it out there. If you are interested, DO tell me... because if I don't hear from people, I'll assume we're only cooking enough food for four people.
06 August 2005
Stitching happy dance
I've finished my first piece since 1996. :) It's little, but it's quite cute... and the photo honestly sucks... I'll have to redo it in the morning when I have better light. New photo added. :)
Fire Elemental Dragon by Dragon Dreams. It's a freebie pattern on their website, and the first of five in the series that I'll be stitching. Air, Water, Earth, and Spirit are the other four.
It's so nice to have a finish. Adding some really little pieces into my rotation was definitely the right idea. At this point, I may finish all five by Christmas, which would be fantastic. And with The Castle coming along nicely, too, it could be a very big year for me stitching-wise.
----
And since I didn't get to my Stitchers' Blogging Question on Wednesday due to an absolutely horrid day at work...
8/3/05: Have you hand-dyed your own fabric? Why or why not? Would you like to try to do so? No, I haven't. Until a month ago, I really wasn't in a living situation where I could have even thought of doing so-- renting an apartment doesn't lend itself to a lot of creative fabric work. :) Now that I'm in my house, it's more of a possibility, although I don't expect to do my own anytime soon. I'm enjoying the professional work in my fabrics-of-the-month too much!
---
I've been working furiously on Egyptian Sampler this week. I should be finishing my current "official" rotation on it sometime next week/weekend, but I think I may work on it for about 20 hours to really get some work done on it. I'd like to get the center three figures done (save backstitching), and possibly the outline frame. I'll get a photo up of it sometime after I finish its rotation round.
03 August 2005
I can live with it...
It doesn't go with my skintone very well, in my opinion... but it's not bad. In the sunlight it just lights into flame...
Ten minutes ago... still fairly sleepy. I think it's interesting how my eyes look distinctly grey (which they are, but they tend to lean blue) in the photo.
Off to work.
02 August 2005
The solution to all female stress
Buy hair dye.
It's been four months since I've controlled the roots, and they're getting rather brown and ugly again. But the store didn't have my regular color (Light Golden Blonde, for anyone counting), so I asked Erich to choose.
He originally went for the color that I distinctly remember using my sophomore year of college, when Ivanna and I thought it would be a GREAT IDEA to dye my hair light auburn. (I was going for the Scully look... so sue me).
It came out such a bright McDonald's red that my hair actually clashed with my BU hockey jersey. And at the time, my hair went about to the bottom edge of my shoulder blades. Stick straight. Really thick (as it is, and forever will be). It was a sight to behold. I should seriously find a photo and scan it in...
I said no to that shade this evening, but he was interested in something reddish. So we're going with "Light Strawberry Blonde." The dye currently looks very... apricot. Hmmm...
This should be interesting...
It's been four months since I've controlled the roots, and they're getting rather brown and ugly again. But the store didn't have my regular color (Light Golden Blonde, for anyone counting), so I asked Erich to choose.
He originally went for the color that I distinctly remember using my sophomore year of college, when Ivanna and I thought it would be a GREAT IDEA to dye my hair light auburn. (I was going for the Scully look... so sue me).
It came out such a bright McDonald's red that my hair actually clashed with my BU hockey jersey. And at the time, my hair went about to the bottom edge of my shoulder blades. Stick straight. Really thick (as it is, and forever will be). It was a sight to behold. I should seriously find a photo and scan it in...
I said no to that shade this evening, but he was interested in something reddish. So we're going with "Light Strawberry Blonde." The dye currently looks very... apricot. Hmmm...
This should be interesting...
Perspective, Anxiety, gah...
First-- a huge thank you to those who responded via comments or by private email to my fears yesterday. Lots of suggestions and encouragement, and two very lengthy emails with two close friends who are at different stages of this wild wedding planning thing-a-ma-jig, and I'm feeling a tiny bit better. Hopefully that'll grow with time. And maybe a couple of verbal brawls with my mother. Which will hopefully lead to things calming the fuck down.
Upon the advice of four people, I've registered an account on the Kvetching forums at IndieBride. Lots of different topics over there, and I beelined to the one simply named "Anxiety."
Me? Anxiety? Tell me one you haven't heard...
A big part of what really set me off was a discussion with my mom on Sunday, in which she made a comment about reserving a hotel for the reception in downtown Providence, but that we should just have the ceremony there because "we didn't really need to have it outside."
Well... yeah, we kinda do.
And my mom has been told why this needs to happen. I'm already making some allowances-- by my own choice, with no pressure by others-- to NOT have a full Pagan handfasting. This is because, despite my openness about my faith, I'm not completely "out of the broom closet" when it comes to extended family. My parents know. My brother knows. Anne (dad's wife) most likely knows, but already thinks I'm weird, so probably thinks it's some weird New England thing. And I think my Grandma Lillian knows. Mom's side of the family? Nope. Lots of conservative Polish Roman Catholics. A couple of them would probably be okay with it, or at least not say anything.
But breaking the news to my grandfather that we would not be getting married in a church was a bit difficult. He was upset, but I told him that neither of us belonged to a church. And I had to remind both my mom and my grandfather that neither of us would be able to get married in a Catholic church anyway. I was baptized and received my first communion in the Episcopal church. Erich recalls receiving first communion, but doesn't know the denomination beyond "Protestant." He's not particularly religious, although spirituality crosses his mind from time to time. And I hold mine as more of an internal ethics/morals structure than an open practice.
Having the ceremony outside is MY way of expressing my faith during the ceremony in a way that's meaningful to me without being obtrusive to other people. And really-- if we're shooting for an autumn wedding. It's NEW ENGLAND. You get married out under the gorgeous leaves!! Instant ceremony decoration-- and one that we couldn't top anyway.
So having a completely detailed Pagan handfasting during the "public wedding" is something that I don't want to do. At least not openly. A later handfasting, just with friends and us, might be in order later. And that's something we don't have to arrange a big whoop-de-doo about. Maybe we will-- but I'm not worrying about it.
With the "Melissa's not marrying in a church?!?" issue now out on the table for family consumption, it's time to start getting into some of the grittier things of a wedding. Like... picking a date.... you know, one of those minor things. And everything's just hitting me at once. Really stupid little stuff that I don't need to be worrying about yet-- like how we're going to address engagement and wedding invite announcements when we have two sets of divorced parents, and one of the four has remarried... because we don't need some retarded "Jennifer, Thomas, Deborah, and Arthur... and Anne (kinda)" thing going on for our announcements.
Although I am leaning toward an amusing reply card like I saw in the forums. "will be there with bells on/won't be there - childhood bell issues." Indeed.
Hello, IndieBride... I am about to become your slave...
I hope it'll be okay. It's just that I had to forcefully shove wedding stuff off my plate with all of the moving. But it seems like family and co-workers pushed off the "so... when's the wedding?" questions just until they determined we had a box unpacked at the house. Whammo! It all starts back up again. "When's the date?" "Have you bought a dress?" (Dude, we're trying to figure out how to adjust our finances due to the friggin' flooring bill at the moment. I can't buy new bras, let alone a wedding dress at the moment).
And Ivy... per your email... you may have to go dress shopping with me. Because I'm certainly not going with my mother. I can only imagine... *shudder*
At this point, the only goals I have for the wedding for the next say, two months or so, is this...
1) Check out reception places downtown.
2) Pick a date-- either randomly or by necessity in a deposit on a reception spot.
3) Thereby having a date so I can start researching what I'll need to find an officiant (since different officiants have different preferences to meet with couples beforehand).
4) And really casually, start putting together a backbone of an invite list.
Maybe we can just get married and not tell anyone... *scratches chin*
Upon the advice of four people, I've registered an account on the Kvetching forums at IndieBride. Lots of different topics over there, and I beelined to the one simply named "Anxiety."
Me? Anxiety? Tell me one you haven't heard...
A big part of what really set me off was a discussion with my mom on Sunday, in which she made a comment about reserving a hotel for the reception in downtown Providence, but that we should just have the ceremony there because "we didn't really need to have it outside."
Well... yeah, we kinda do.
And my mom has been told why this needs to happen. I'm already making some allowances-- by my own choice, with no pressure by others-- to NOT have a full Pagan handfasting. This is because, despite my openness about my faith, I'm not completely "out of the broom closet" when it comes to extended family. My parents know. My brother knows. Anne (dad's wife) most likely knows, but already thinks I'm weird, so probably thinks it's some weird New England thing. And I think my Grandma Lillian knows. Mom's side of the family? Nope. Lots of conservative Polish Roman Catholics. A couple of them would probably be okay with it, or at least not say anything.
But breaking the news to my grandfather that we would not be getting married in a church was a bit difficult. He was upset, but I told him that neither of us belonged to a church. And I had to remind both my mom and my grandfather that neither of us would be able to get married in a Catholic church anyway. I was baptized and received my first communion in the Episcopal church. Erich recalls receiving first communion, but doesn't know the denomination beyond "Protestant." He's not particularly religious, although spirituality crosses his mind from time to time. And I hold mine as more of an internal ethics/morals structure than an open practice.
Having the ceremony outside is MY way of expressing my faith during the ceremony in a way that's meaningful to me without being obtrusive to other people. And really-- if we're shooting for an autumn wedding. It's NEW ENGLAND. You get married out under the gorgeous leaves!! Instant ceremony decoration-- and one that we couldn't top anyway.
So having a completely detailed Pagan handfasting during the "public wedding" is something that I don't want to do. At least not openly. A later handfasting, just with friends and us, might be in order later. And that's something we don't have to arrange a big whoop-de-doo about. Maybe we will-- but I'm not worrying about it.
With the "Melissa's not marrying in a church?!?" issue now out on the table for family consumption, it's time to start getting into some of the grittier things of a wedding. Like... picking a date.... you know, one of those minor things. And everything's just hitting me at once. Really stupid little stuff that I don't need to be worrying about yet-- like how we're going to address engagement and wedding invite announcements when we have two sets of divorced parents, and one of the four has remarried... because we don't need some retarded "Jennifer, Thomas, Deborah, and Arthur... and Anne (kinda)" thing going on for our announcements.
Although I am leaning toward an amusing reply card like I saw in the forums. "will be there with bells on/won't be there - childhood bell issues." Indeed.
Hello, IndieBride... I am about to become your slave...
I hope it'll be okay. It's just that I had to forcefully shove wedding stuff off my plate with all of the moving. But it seems like family and co-workers pushed off the "so... when's the wedding?" questions just until they determined we had a box unpacked at the house. Whammo! It all starts back up again. "When's the date?" "Have you bought a dress?" (Dude, we're trying to figure out how to adjust our finances due to the friggin' flooring bill at the moment. I can't buy new bras, let alone a wedding dress at the moment).
And Ivy... per your email... you may have to go dress shopping with me. Because I'm certainly not going with my mother. I can only imagine... *shudder*
At this point, the only goals I have for the wedding for the next say, two months or so, is this...
1) Check out reception places downtown.
2) Pick a date-- either randomly or by necessity in a deposit on a reception spot.
3) Thereby having a date so I can start researching what I'll need to find an officiant (since different officiants have different preferences to meet with couples beforehand).
4) And really casually, start putting together a backbone of an invite list.
Maybe we can just get married and not tell anyone... *scratches chin*
01 August 2005
So now it's August... do you know what that means?
I'll quote myself (roughly) from entries earlier this year... Come August, I'll start thinking about the wedding....
So August is here. And I've found and unpacked the bridal magazines and my wedding planner. I have the copy of the wedding book that Minarae sent me. And I'm honestly just scared to death of this whole ordeal for two reasons:
- I have the personality that could fall into Bridezilla mode
- My mom most definitely has the potential to become Mom of Bridezilla. In fact, she's already started.
And to be honest, there's a good portion of me that just wonders if going through all of the steps to plan a wedding is something I want to do. The pressure has been put on me by several family members, particularly from my mom. I'd like to actually enjoy my wedding. But already, it's taking on that stressed-out feeling that my college graduation entailed (which wound up not being a particularly happy day) as the "but this needs to be done, Melissa..." words (and chastizing tone) has crept into my mom's voice. My mom rarely uses my full first name when talking with me. If she is, it's a sign of exasperation. If I let her run this, I'll wind up with a Polish Wedding of Epic Proportions (tm). And while it's fun to attend one of those weddings, I don't want it to be mine. Polish food=good. Bring it on. Length of parties= Oh. Goddess. No.
But I'm going to give it a try, and hopefully can get past all of the stuff I'm seeing in magazines and find something that appeals to me for a wedding. It's just all so frighteningly.... girly. Beh.
If, by some strange miracle, I actually find a dress... I'll be posting the photos to my notify list:
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Maybe all of this dread of wedding planning is just a sign of complete, utter laziness on my part. I don't know. But the whole thing just screams of "what are the Jonses doing??" comparisons, and I'm completely turned off by them.
Hopefully something will inspire me...
So August is here. And I've found and unpacked the bridal magazines and my wedding planner. I have the copy of the wedding book that Minarae sent me. And I'm honestly just scared to death of this whole ordeal for two reasons:
- I have the personality that could fall into Bridezilla mode
- My mom most definitely has the potential to become Mom of Bridezilla. In fact, she's already started.
And to be honest, there's a good portion of me that just wonders if going through all of the steps to plan a wedding is something I want to do. The pressure has been put on me by several family members, particularly from my mom. I'd like to actually enjoy my wedding. But already, it's taking on that stressed-out feeling that my college graduation entailed (which wound up not being a particularly happy day) as the "but this needs to be done, Melissa..." words (and chastizing tone) has crept into my mom's voice. My mom rarely uses my full first name when talking with me. If she is, it's a sign of exasperation. If I let her run this, I'll wind up with a Polish Wedding of Epic Proportions (tm). And while it's fun to attend one of those weddings, I don't want it to be mine. Polish food=good. Bring it on. Length of parties= Oh. Goddess. No.
But I'm going to give it a try, and hopefully can get past all of the stuff I'm seeing in magazines and find something that appeals to me for a wedding. It's just all so frighteningly.... girly. Beh.
If, by some strange miracle, I actually find a dress... I'll be posting the photos to my notify list:
**********************************************************
**********************************************************
Maybe all of this dread of wedding planning is just a sign of complete, utter laziness on my part. I don't know. But the whole thing just screams of "what are the Jonses doing??" comparisons, and I'm completely turned off by them.
Hopefully something will inspire me...
I'm talented
This weeked I managed to nearly complete the new blog template... but for some reason, the simple act of cutting and pasting is beyond my capabilities. I managed to kill not only the new working template, but my old blogger template as well.
To the point that I just. don't. care.
So we're going green for a while. And maybe, when I'm in the mood, I'll try fixing the template I *wanted* to use. Because it's actually nearly done. But I can't copy and paste it into the template for my normal blog and have it work. Why? Who knows. (Who cares.)
*sigh*
Yes, I'm feeling helpless.
But at least I have a working template-- with links -- this morning. Unlike last night.
~ Mel.
To the point that I just. don't. care.
So we're going green for a while. And maybe, when I'm in the mood, I'll try fixing the template I *wanted* to use. Because it's actually nearly done. But I can't copy and paste it into the template for my normal blog and have it work. Why? Who knows. (Who cares.)
*sigh*
Yes, I'm feeling helpless.
But at least I have a working template-- with links -- this morning. Unlike last night.
~ Mel.
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