Some things

Gizang* (of 81...that's inmazing--that means inconceivably amazing--I will be sending a present to my 100th follower), I've been working on a post that's been chilling in my drafts for about three weeks now and I can't seem to get myself to finish it, Mortal Kombat style.

It's not like it's some epically awesome or even personally wrenching post. It just involves a lot of copying and pasting and is actually about design and interiors and stuff that actually fits into the format of the current incarnation of this blog. But it's just taking me my sweet-ass time for some reason. Maybe I need to stop cruising around the block in my Caravan, trying to start some fringe religion--because hey! I have the church bus all ready, so why not? That will solve my airbrush conundrum.#

* Speaking of copying and pasting...I looked up and had originally written "prize for my 100th follower" and decided I wanted to change it to "present for my 100th follower" since it's not like this blog is a sweepstakes and the "iz" in prize somehow got copied into the opening word of this post, thus altering "Gang" into "Gizang," which I like and am keeping.

ANYWAY

So here's some things in lieu of my real post:

1. Thanks so much everyone for your words of encouragement for Harvey. I read every one of your comments to him**, and he appreciated it so much, he didn't even lick his ass the whole time I was reading it to him. I took him back to the vet on Tuesday, and even though he's feeling much better, he's now on two more meds (For those keeping score at home, that's three pills, two types of eye drops and one type of powder. One of my co-workers said with all these lame drugs lying around, it's like I live with a really shitty band.)

2. If I were a fairy (faerie?) and left magic dust wherever I went, in addition to rainbow glitter, mine would be littered with bobby pins and clear hair ties. They're all over our house....Marc opened a book last night and a couple of each fell out and I swear I found two bobby pins in the dishwasher this morning.

3. After almost choking on a hard-boiled egg earlier this week, I'm pretty sure that's how I'm going to die when I'm home alone and left with my own devices. Remember when that lady died on Six Feet Under when she choked on her dinner? And Miranda on Sex and the City also almost did eating Chinese food? That's going to be me. Also, what was the deal with early-aughts HBO shows being obsessed with single ladies choking? And with shows that started with S-x?

ANYWAY ANYWAY

My situation is only made worse by my nightly ritual of slathering lotion on my raptor-claw dry hands and then deciding that my lips also deserve to be as adequately lubricated. Once my hands are all lotioned up, there's no way I can pry off the top of any sort of lip balm, so I end up violently biting the lid off in frustration and almost swallowing it in the process. Now I'm paralyzed by the vision of Marc snoozing away in the room next door while I stagger around the bathroom clawing at my throat and desperately trying to give myself the Heimlich but our counter is too low and I keel over and conk my head on the toilet.

So yeah, maybe I should occupy my time and hands with writing that legit post instead of fretting about all this. Thanks for bearing with me.

# One of my friends dubbed the van "The Dreamcatcher," which I love. I think that name will inform what's airbrushed on the sides. But thanks from the bottom of my heart for your rad suggestions.

** This is a lie. I'm a crazy cat lady, but I'm not nuts enough to read blog comments to my cat. Yet. But seriously, thanks. It means a ton.

I'm giving you a longer look

Ahh! I love these extraordinary posters for everyday events. Mine right now would be on the subject sitting in the sunbeam in my living room drinking tea and wearing some crazy old pajama pants and thinking about how I really should start washing my face before I go to sleep.



EDPED: Every Day Posters Every Day



These are just a few of my faves.



Did you know you can submit one of your own?



What would yours be?

Say, "Eh, I guess that'll do." to the dress!

or, Unleashing my inner Bridezilla.

Ever since I announced Marc and I were engaged and planning our wedding, lots of people have jokingly joshed around about how I'm going to be such an insufferable diva, meaning--I hope--that they expect I'll actually be a pretty mellow bride. Even Marc got in on the act, calling me a Bridezilla when I timidly requested that we maybe not have our wedding on Sept. 11. It's been a pretty great compliment--but in a weird way a hard persona to live up to.

Hence the four-dress saga.

I even feel a little diva-ish writing about it, but people asked so here goes. I went shopping with my mom and, ignoring a longer, more formal dress, picked out what I thought I wanted: a short, sophisticated dress that to me said. "I am a grown up. And I am having a tasteful civil ceremony that has nothing to do with fairy princesses or enchanted magic or even Spanx." So that's how I ended up choosing this guy:

(imagine it minus cheesy sunglasses and sandals)

Back in Chicago, I took my friend Shannon to see the dress and get a second opinion before I ordered it. BUT. When we were at the store, she forced me to try on that longer, more formal dress I studiously ignored in the first place (this is a lie). It looked great on. I even thought about buying it and cutting it off into a short dress. I even dragged another bride-to-be friend to the and forced her to try it on for her wedding (this is not a lie). My insane-o logic was, "well, if I can't have it, somebody I know had better wear this to something so I can bask it its glorious presence." She wasn't having it.

Then what did I do? I ordered dress #1. Like a fool. Then, like a fool, I looked at the catalog that came with it and decided this dress (#2)...



...was just the swinging retro look I was going for. Plus that model is at least as pale as I am and she looks pretty alive-ish in it, right? And then I sat on it. For weeks. Of course, this dress was not available in stores, so I'd have to order it online to try it on. By the time I got around to ordering it, the dress was on sale (score!) but was non-returnable (burn!). So I ordered it anyway. Tried it on for my friends, and everyone was underwhelmed. Tried on trusty ole #1 and decided it wasn't as great as I thought. At this point it time, I have owned #1 too long to return it, so now I have two un-returnable dresses on my hands.

While trying it on, I thought of a vintage sundress (#3 but sort of doesn't count) I bought at a garage sale for $6 (and also wore as part of a Halloween costume in 2006). I tried it on for the friends, who decided this was the most "me" and most flattering dress of the lot. Ugh, of course. That works for me, but being a secret Bridezilla, I didn't know how excited I was about wearing a dress that I just happened to have and had already worn as a costume. I mean, maybe if Marc agreed to wear the Batman suit he'd donned that year...

Sorry, I don't have a picture of it, but it's very dance-contest Sandy from Grease:


I thought that if I Brigitte Bardot'd my hair all up and got a super poofy crinoline and just went all the way with the vintage look, I'd get more excited about it, but the whole thing felt sort of costume-y to me. Which got me thinking about that long, elegant dress from way back in the day.

Since I seem to be unable to make a definitive decision regarding anything clothing related, the smart thing seemed to be to go try it on again and see if I really loved it or just wanted what I didn't have. Of course. Of course, no store has the dress now. I know because I went to six places to try it on.

And then I went and found it on ebay and ordered it (Non-returnable. Of. Freaking. Course.)

I give you #4:


Thar she blows. We'll see if I'm still into her when she arrives.

So, not only have I given in to fairy princess, I've taken a couple of dresses hostage in the process. And I'm in full-blown indecisive diva glory. At least we know I won't be naked. Marc, on the other hand, I'm not so sure about. He's been joking that he's going to have to wear one of these babies because I may have just exhausted our wardrobe budget for the wedding.

Oh yeah, scoldings and suggestions (and offers for any of these lovely frocks) are more than welcome!

Teeny tiny tighty whities

This is what you get when you are an exceptional mini-bowler in Wisconsin.


Way to go, Marc! (Bowling alias: E. Bola. I was Fawn Knutsen.)