Photo Scavenger Hunt - ONE!

Sorry I spectacularly failed to post a photo on Saturday, but here now is my entry for ONE.

The ONE I love, adore, turn to in a crisis, support through his storms, remember throughout my day with smiles, call and talk to, write this blog for. love you, Honey. : ) This photo was taken by me with his i-phone in the back of the wedding limo.

I hereby nominate Mrs. Hairy Woman for the next round.

How To Be The Best Husband

Send your wife flowers on the third anniversary of your first date. Genius.

Married People Are Happy

Just in case you were wondering... we're doing great! We still have to figure out some of the intricacies of living in the same house (read: pack rat + possession-purger = frustration), but we're working it out. Ah, the magic of marriage! Photo is from our reception. Obviously. Just an amateur shot from a friend. We haven't gotten our pro shots yet. Oh, but when we do!
The smiles are genuine, grade-A real. makes my cheeks hurt a little just thinking about it... : )

INVITE ME!!!

Weddings. Ya can't get married without 'em!

Even though I am joyfully excited to be taking the leap this July, I am also more than a little overwhelmed. Life has become a series of lists; what I have accomplished and what I have yet to accomplish. There is a never ending list of details to attend to. And I do mean NEVER-ENDING! I have my dress and the bridesmaids' pretty much squared away and Raymond has all but finished the big stuff: church, hall, minister(s), band. Now we have the barrel of invitations, decorations, flowers, photographer, dinner menu, cake design, flowergirl's dress, groomsmen atttire, transportation, registry, honeymoon, hotels, rehearsals, parties, and showers to stare down. I think I missed a few. But that's about how it goes.

Invitations turn out to be a huge pain! (those of you already married, try to act shocked.) For instance, we have a list that is 193 invites deep. Those invites each represent at least two people. So, we're talking 400 people we would invite if we could. Our reception hall only seats 260 including the bridal party, so obviously we will need to separate people we would like to invite, but probably shouldn't until we have some regrets from the family and intimate friends list. How are you to do that? I'm calling this stage "Toe-Stepping." I've had one woman so far who sidled up to me, introduced herself as a friend of my fiance's family and demanded an invite. Sadly, she's on the B-list.

Envelopes. Do you know how to properly address an envelope? To a married couple? To a same-sex couple? To a live-in couple or amrriage partners who didn't take the same last name? Including children or not? It's all etiquette. I hate etiquette, but you can't address wedding invites without it. So now I know the "proper" answers to all these questions. (I'll tell you later if you really want to know.)

It's enough to give a girl a fit. I see now why we have videos on youtube of women chopping off their hair (actually staged, but we can relate), shrieking in rage, fainting, and generally acting insane on or near the day of their wedding. It can be a lot to handle. I've decided that I want to enjoy the heck out of my wedding planning and my wedding. One thing I don't want happening is to get to the day and be so concerned with details that I miss out on just looking my darling in the eyes and appreciating the man I am (hopefully) going to spend the rest of my life with. So, even if I have to give myself a proverbial lobotomy the day before the wedding, I am determined to let it all go and enjoy every loud and boisterous - as well as tender and private - moment of this day.

But in the meantime, I have some invitations to address...

Spaghetti and the Dog (Input Requested)

Hello, Friends. Long time no hear from, I know. Things have been busy on the Immigration front and they died down to a whisper just as quickly as they built up to a frenzy. But that isn't why I'm here. I have a serious, hypothetical questions to pose to you:

Let us imagine that you told someone 8 months ago that you don't feed your dog scraps from the table and that this person (8 months after the fact) fed your dog a half inch of spaghetti. What would your reaction be? And let's assume this person is your significant other.

Please respond in the comments section if you would:

a) say nothing because it was only a tiny piece of food and your S.O. wouldn't deliberately go against your wishes if they had remembered?

b) say something like, "Oh, remember, I don't feed the dog scraps from the table, Darling!" and smile sweetly?

c) yell sharply out of frustration, but apologize immediately knowing the shouting wasn't called for and you've hurt your S.O.'s feelings?

d) go balistic, shouting and cursing and insist the S.O. walk home or be driven home and refuse to speak to them for days?

I'd love to know what your responses would be. Thanks for helping me out! = )

If Only People Would...

Blanket Battles

Are you and your better half fighting over the sheets? The issue can now be resolved with the use of measured bedclothes. No more can you (or your S.O.) claim you haven't hogged more than your fair share. A ruler with hot to cold indicator numbers (meant to be read from inside the bed) now puts the argument to rest, so to speak. Now if they'd only manufacture the sheet itself in mood indicating fabric you could also evaluate how cold the bed becomes when you prove your loved one is in the wrong.

Las Vegas Elopement 411

This is terribly romantic...

But then, I'm a sucker for poor decisions. : )

Happy Valentine's, everybody!

Happy Anniversary, Charles and Camilla!

Celebrating one year together as a married couple.
(pictured above: the couple in 1970 when they met.)

Time and Space

You can share time with someone.

You can share space with someone.

You cannot share time and space concurrently with someone.

Unless they're in your heart.

HA HA HA!

International Symbol For Marriage.
But only in Europe.
Apparently.

Love Is A Magic Ray

Love is a magic ray
emitted from the burning core
of the soul
and illuminating
the surrounding earth.

It enables us
to perceive life
as a beautiful dream
between one awakening
and another.
~ Khalil Gibran

Picking Up Chicks: 101

Men, tired of being rejected by women you've barely met? Unsure of how to approach that fabulous hottie across the bar? How will you learn the smooth approach when chatting up the ladies? Here's how. Cutting Edge Image Consultant, Stephen Nash (yes, Stephen Nash) gives you step by step instructions on how to keep it casual and easy when meeting chicks. He keeps it real on how to make your next approach "as natural as a sunrise."

For instance, don't wait for her to ask questions about you, instead, surprise her with a sentence loaded with personal goodies that make you seem like a real nice guy:

“Your sweater reminds me of my sister, though we are from the south, it gets cold around November. She used to wear something similar at Thanksgiving.”

See how easy that was? Also, if you can convince this guru of the girly that you've got what it takes and are striking out all over town, he will send you a copy of his ebook "How to Get a Girlfriend" absolutely free!

This one's a no brainer. Gentlemen, start your engines, cuz it's time to put that love-mobile in drive.

(Swiped from Joey's blog.)

My P.S.A. for the month:

As we grow up, we learn that even the one person that wasn't supposed to ever let you down probably will. You will have your heart broken probably more than once and it's harder every time. You'll break hearts too, so remember how it felt when yours was broken. You'll fight with your best friend. You'll blame a new love for things an old one did. You'll cry because time is passing too fast, and you'll eventually lose someone you love. So take too many pictures, laugh too much, and love like you've never been hurt because every sixty seconds you spend upset is a minute of happiness you'll never get back.

(sent by Ray)

Celebrity Crushes

I've decided it is time for me to develop a Celebrity Crush. I'm not sure what that involves, but I am pretty sure I should have one just for academic purposes. Since I don't have a lot of experience with celebrity crushing, I decided to research this fascinating phenomena.

First Stop: PBS.org
What You Should Know About Celebrity Crushes. I felt it was important to read what the "responsible" media of our culture wanted me to know about my Celebrity Crush. Most notably, PBS advises me to cease and desist if it "takes up way too much of your attention, time or money." So I think I'll stop at five posters over my bed and one trip to Hollywood or Nashville. Shall we continue?

Next: Picking a Celebrity to Crush Upon
Really this one is the hardest. I mean, Celebrities are usually good looking, but so few have any redeemable qualities upon which one can hang fantasies. I am afraid I will need recommendations. They don't even have to be good ones, since this is purely for science. Old or dead (or old dead) celebrities don't count. Has to be someone "on the scene." Uhm, they should also be men.

Finally: Feeling Out The Demographic
While I am waiting for the bestest Celebrity Crush suggestion, I decided to read up on the effects of Celebrity Crushing from web readers around the world:
Young Misses talk about their crushes in boring detail and with far too many "OMG"s and "LOL"s.

Women and Men

My brother and I were having a discussion on how relationships are defined between women and men. I asked, "When does a couple know that it is a couple?" Here was my brother's response:

"Men and women are like a tetherball apparatus; the man is the pole and the woman is the ball. A man can't keep track of the woman as she swings wildly around him. It's impossible for him to figure out what she's doing, thinking, or feeling. So he just stands there and waits and when she finally winds around to where she's touching him, then he knows they're a couple."

At which point we both howled with laughter.

Wedding Question

Is it considered bad luck when the unity candle blows out the second it's lit and the bride and groom don't relight it?

How about if the bride forgets which hand the ring goes on her new husband?

And why is it that every single f-ing thing that happens on your wedding day is either good luck or bad luck? I mean seriously. Otherwise perfectly rational and non-superstitious people like myself suddenly turn in to old Greek women who curse and wail and tear their hair out if a bee stings the bride in the armpit or the father of the bride gets violently ill.

You just want to say, "Calm down, people. It's just a freaking wedding..."



So, how was your weekend?

Rare Bit of Welsh Wedding Fun

Seems getting to the church on time is getting harder and harder.

This kid is my hero

Deamonte Love led 6 children through the streets of New Orleans. He's six years old.

Yaar the Champion

I grabbed the seat closest to the front of the crowded bus, the one jammed behind the driver with no view. The little woman sitting next me was attractive, middle-aged, and foreign. I smiled, said hello and then made an off-hand comment about the crowded condition of the bus.

"It was not this bizzy when I took at sevens in the morning. But now I take it later; it's bizzy." She smiled. She had a cute smile. She had y wrinkles around her eyes, olive skin and a crop of curly brown hair pulled up in a loose ponytail. She was dressed casual nice.

"You don't have to go to work so early anymore?" I chimed in, "That's good. You can sleep in now!"
She smiled, "No, I have five childrrren." She gazed at me as the information sank in. She was gratified by my response.
"Five?"
"Yes."
"What ages?"
"My oldest thirteen. My youngest five." She gave a pleased smile that was half exhausted and half mischievous.
"Wow! That's a lot!"
"My husband is dead. I am widow," she added.
"Oh," I replied, rather sobered, "so you have a lot of work to do each morning!"
Again the exhausted impish look, "Yes." She was staring at me again. "I'm here in U.S. three years. I have no family living here to help out. My husband family, I no like them. They think because I widow I do something bad, you know..." Here she gave me a pious, celibate frown meant to allay my fears that she might be running out on her dead husband.
I smiled at her. "What country are you from?"
"I move here from Germany, but I come from Afghanistan. After my husband die."

"Do you miss it? Afghanistan?" I asked.
"No," she shook her head thoughtfully, "It is beautiful country, but I don't like anymore..." She trailed off and smiled shyly.
'Your husband's family lives there?"
"Yes. There."
"So you have no one here in the U.S.?" As I watched her face I couldn't believe that she was about to hit me up for money, she looked too well off. But then why would she volunteer so much information to a total stranger?

"I have few friend. They help sometimes. One friend, Elizabeth, from the college, she come and tutor my childrrren each week. They speak now better English than me!" I liked the way she rolled her 'r's. She added a laugh and shook her head good-naturedly. "I have also other friend," she lowered her head and almost whispered, "A man. His name is Mohammed, but he not Arab, he black, you know Muslim, but from here," she pointed to the floor.
"Oh!" I nodded affirmingly. Her smile broke out like sunshine.
"He a good friend, he help out with kids sometimes, you know." She rocked her head side to side to indicate the breezy way in which she could take or leave this friend.
"That's good!" I responded. "Everybody needs friends."

I imagined her and this black Mohammed, their budding friendship and the growing sense of impropriety that their friendship created in this woman's life. She was obviously proud of him, whatever his role.

I turned back to the green-brown eyes, "Do you work down here?" I pointed vaguely out the window.
"Yes, I work at hotel _ _ _. I work there two years."
"Oh really? What do you do at the hotel? Are you a manager?" I couldn't imagine this lively, intelligent woman cleaning rooms.
"No," she murmured, "I do the rooms, you know..." She looked embarassed.
"Oh! Really? I used to do that, too!" A complete lie. "Do you like working there?"
"Is ok," she shrugged. "I'm sorry my English so bad. It's very hard. I know five language, but in my country no one teaching English, so..."
"Actually, your English is quite good. It will get better the longer you live here." I beamed at the little Afghani.
"I used to be teacher," she confessed.
"Really? What did you teach?"
"My language. To children. I know Russian, Farsi, Hindi and two languages of Afghanistan. But I can't speak English very well."

As a teacher and a perfectionist, I could easily understand her frustration living in a country whose language she'd never been taught. How hard, I thought, to know so much and be unable to express it. I assured her, "It will get easier over time. Don't worry."

As we pulled up to my stop, I rose from my seat to exit the bus. I turned back to say goodbye and as I did this small woman opened her arms to hug me. As I hugged her I wondered when I would ever hug a total stranger on the bus again.

"My name is Sarah, by the way. What's yours?"

"We are."

I struggled for comprehension, "We are?"

"Y-A-A-R," she spelled out the all important word as I stepped backward toward the door of the bus.

"Yaar. OK. Goodbye," I said it as the doors slid shut.

The bus pulled away carrying the only Afghani immigrant I know.