Corey finally booked our honeymoon. I know I said I would do it without him if he missed his January 31 deadline, but my threats are pretty much always empty. I just yelled at him for a long time and nagged until my throat hurt and just like that he got to work!
I felt sickly satisfied when he kept finding places fully booked for our desired dates. I loved looking at his face when he discovered that yes, in fact, some people do plan in advance for important trips. Ha! I'm such an asshole. Why am I so happy that he was wrong? It doesn't matter. We have a lovely trip.
We are going to St. Lucia to stay in a hut in the jungle for a few days and then will join all the other newlyweds at a Sandals. I'm ok with that vacation even if it isn't a rafting trip in Belize or a volcano/canopy hike in Costa Rica. We have our whole lives to do adventure vacationing. On our honeymoon, we're going to snorkel. And lounge. And drink complementary alcohol because it's included in our room rate along with one massage and a sunset cruise.
The craziest thing about having the honeymoon planned and paid for is that it makes the whole thing real. I am going to be a wife. He is going to be a husband. All this batting practice is going to lead up to a real game, an away game in the Caribbean. I'm so excited that we made it this far. I think our team will win.
Sunday, February 18, 2007
Thursday, February 15, 2007
Glum
I have to miss my rowing class tonight. For numerous reasons, including treacherous road conditions and a meeting with my professor, I am unable to drive down to the boat house. I question whether anyone has even plowed the path leading to the Millvale facility, but either way I can't go.
I keep weighing the options in my head and trying to work out a way to get there. Which is silly because it makes my day eons easier not to go. I can do the same workout on campus by myself. There is just something about having a room full of people to beat that makes me row harder in class. Or maybe it's Sonja yelling at me to pull harder.
I hate how I get myself really worked up on a routine. I feel like Rainman, repeating to myself that I have to miss rowing. Like I can't accept it as fact unless I say it internally 7,642 times. How I get stuck like that? Some little person inside me keeps yanking on my esophagus telling me that I'm missing the last class and what if they do something fun or worry where I am or hold up the whole boat waiting for me just in case and then think I'm a quitter if they ever see me again.
I just know this is going to ruin my whole day.
But I also know I made the right decision. It's bad out there. They delayed schools and it's 8 degrees and I know the bridges will be slick.
In a few hours, I'm going to be sitting with the stapler student and not paying attention to his worry stories because I'll be stuck with my own. Can it really be productive when two people with OCD are in a room together? Me dwelling on missed rowing and him stuck on whether he will get a fellowship for grad school 6 years from now...we'll probably both have heart attacks this evening.
I keep weighing the options in my head and trying to work out a way to get there. Which is silly because it makes my day eons easier not to go. I can do the same workout on campus by myself. There is just something about having a room full of people to beat that makes me row harder in class. Or maybe it's Sonja yelling at me to pull harder.
I hate how I get myself really worked up on a routine. I feel like Rainman, repeating to myself that I have to miss rowing. Like I can't accept it as fact unless I say it internally 7,642 times. How I get stuck like that? Some little person inside me keeps yanking on my esophagus telling me that I'm missing the last class and what if they do something fun or worry where I am or hold up the whole boat waiting for me just in case and then think I'm a quitter if they ever see me again.
I just know this is going to ruin my whole day.
But I also know I made the right decision. It's bad out there. They delayed schools and it's 8 degrees and I know the bridges will be slick.
In a few hours, I'm going to be sitting with the stapler student and not paying attention to his worry stories because I'll be stuck with my own. Can it really be productive when two people with OCD are in a room together? Me dwelling on missed rowing and him stuck on whether he will get a fellowship for grad school 6 years from now...we'll probably both have heart attacks this evening.
Tuesday, February 13, 2007
Never A Dull Moment at My House!
After my boxing lesson today, I found out that work was canceled because the University closed classes. Because we're having a blizzard. Hurrah! On the bus home, I spent a good twenty minutes worrying about my hungry student, who has a paper due Thursday, and the stapler kid, because he has a revision due tomorrow morning and was freaking out again last I heard.
As soon as I stepped inside, all my work troubles melted away because the neighbors banged on the door and told me to look out the window. There, on the little rooflet between my apartment and theirs, was a smoking, sparking live wire. Hurrah! They called our landlord's emergency number and I got to work dialing 911. This was my first emergency call. And I didn't even have time to practice.
I worked very hard to describe the situation without exaggerating. I said that a large area of snow was melted around the obviously hot wire, which was split, sputtering, smelled bad, and streamed black smoke into the snowy air. My calm facade was shot to dust when a spark zapped my hand on the window ledge and I started freaking out. The firemen were here in under 5 minutes! Hurrah!
These firemen were really friendly and hot. They were all young and spent a very long time banging snow off their boots before coming into the apartment. They even threw some snowballs at each other on the unshoveled and unsalted porch. They pretty quickly controlled the live wire, turned off the electricity to the kitchen and office, and gave the building owner (who arrived on the scene just in time) a tongue lashing for leaving an exposed wire on a rooftop running between two apartments.
Who knew there would be a better way to provide power to two apartments at once? I would have just run a string through the windows and put a tin-can on each end. Or is that for providing phone service? Anyway, the landlord promises to have an electrician come and fix the wire, maybe even wrap it up in some duct tape.
My firemen friends lingered in the kitchen a bit, complimented my pink Kitchenaid, and told me they were reluctant to return to shoveling snow, which was their task before we called to save their day. I think they were a little sad to leave when they saw the case of Yuengling by the radiator. I felt like inviting them to stay and hang out for the afternoon geyser show.
As soon as I stepped inside, all my work troubles melted away because the neighbors banged on the door and told me to look out the window. There, on the little rooflet between my apartment and theirs, was a smoking, sparking live wire. Hurrah! They called our landlord's emergency number and I got to work dialing 911. This was my first emergency call. And I didn't even have time to practice.
I worked very hard to describe the situation without exaggerating. I said that a large area of snow was melted around the obviously hot wire, which was split, sputtering, smelled bad, and streamed black smoke into the snowy air. My calm facade was shot to dust when a spark zapped my hand on the window ledge and I started freaking out. The firemen were here in under 5 minutes! Hurrah!
These firemen were really friendly and hot. They were all young and spent a very long time banging snow off their boots before coming into the apartment. They even threw some snowballs at each other on the unshoveled and unsalted porch. They pretty quickly controlled the live wire, turned off the electricity to the kitchen and office, and gave the building owner (who arrived on the scene just in time) a tongue lashing for leaving an exposed wire on a rooftop running between two apartments.
Who knew there would be a better way to provide power to two apartments at once? I would have just run a string through the windows and put a tin-can on each end. Or is that for providing phone service? Anyway, the landlord promises to have an electrician come and fix the wire, maybe even wrap it up in some duct tape.
My firemen friends lingered in the kitchen a bit, complimented my pink Kitchenaid, and told me they were reluctant to return to shoveling snow, which was their task before we called to save their day. I think they were a little sad to leave when they saw the case of Yuengling by the radiator. I felt like inviting them to stay and hang out for the afternoon geyser show.
Saturday, February 10, 2007
Getting lip from the lip cleaner
I went to get my face waxed today in preparation for the rugby banquet. Once a year, the gang of us puts on dress clothes and tries to be presentable, at least for the first half hour or so. I'm going to wear my new red dress and my fancy leg warmers to keep out the chill. I thought I would get my eyebrows nicely shaped and do away with the fuzz above my lip. Sometimes girls need to groom. Even rugby girls.
There is only one nail/wax place known to me in my neighborhood. I don't like going there because the wax artist makes fun of me. Seriously. She mocks me in front of the other customers. This place doesn't have a back room where they wax you. You park yourself on the massage chairs inside the entrance and they yank the hair off your face where everyone is picking out nail polish.
Today I was waiting my turn and a flustered woman blew in the door and said "Let me go in front of you! I'm on house arrest and I have to be home in twenty minutes." Touched as I was by her story, I knew my procedure would only take 3 minutes. They might be mean here, but they are swift. I did, however, grill this woman to see if she knew of another nail place.
"They make fun of me here. Just wait and see. Where else can I go??"
The wax lady came over, saw it was me, and started in on her usual routine. "Oh!! It you! You soooooo hairy. Teeeheee." She smeared the wax and ripped out my barely visible blond unibrow. "Just cause you hair white don't mean there not a lot of it! You very hairy! Teehee!"
Inside my head, I thought "No shit. That's why I'm paying you to help me out." What woman wants her face hairs brought to attention? We all pretend they aren't there. Even at the place of removal, we don't talk about the face hairs. We slink into the salons and get our problems taken care of with a nod and a nice tip. We don't laugh at the customers!
She kept going, dripped wax on my lip skin. "This better for you. Not so hairy anymore. See? Not hairy!"
I wanted to kick her, to tell her to just shut the hell up and wrench the hairs from the root so I would never have to see her again. I clenched my teeth and muttered "Just wax me, bitch." Only she didn't hear me because she was giggling at my face hairs.
The house arrest lady nodded in sympathy and told me I should go to the place on Penn Circle, where they do a damn good job. Now I have to decide which is worse: the humiliation of the first place or the parallel parking involved in the new option.
At least I look nice in my dress.
There is only one nail/wax place known to me in my neighborhood. I don't like going there because the wax artist makes fun of me. Seriously. She mocks me in front of the other customers. This place doesn't have a back room where they wax you. You park yourself on the massage chairs inside the entrance and they yank the hair off your face where everyone is picking out nail polish.
Today I was waiting my turn and a flustered woman blew in the door and said "Let me go in front of you! I'm on house arrest and I have to be home in twenty minutes." Touched as I was by her story, I knew my procedure would only take 3 minutes. They might be mean here, but they are swift. I did, however, grill this woman to see if she knew of another nail place.
"They make fun of me here. Just wait and see. Where else can I go??"
The wax lady came over, saw it was me, and started in on her usual routine. "Oh!! It you! You soooooo hairy. Teeeheee." She smeared the wax and ripped out my barely visible blond unibrow. "Just cause you hair white don't mean there not a lot of it! You very hairy! Teehee!"
Inside my head, I thought "No shit. That's why I'm paying you to help me out." What woman wants her face hairs brought to attention? We all pretend they aren't there. Even at the place of removal, we don't talk about the face hairs. We slink into the salons and get our problems taken care of with a nod and a nice tip. We don't laugh at the customers!
She kept going, dripped wax on my lip skin. "This better for you. Not so hairy anymore. See? Not hairy!"
I wanted to kick her, to tell her to just shut the hell up and wrench the hairs from the root so I would never have to see her again. I clenched my teeth and muttered "Just wax me, bitch." Only she didn't hear me because she was giggling at my face hairs.
The house arrest lady nodded in sympathy and told me I should go to the place on Penn Circle, where they do a damn good job. Now I have to decide which is worse: the humiliation of the first place or the parallel parking involved in the new option.
At least I look nice in my dress.
I feel good
I feel good about myself today. I decided a long time ago that I didn't want to make or buy or deal with wedding favors. What do people want with picture frames or baggies of chocolate or tulle flowers? Nothing, that's what.
So I decided I wanted to take whatever money I would have spent on favors and donate it to the PA Breast Cancer Coalition. I helped paint Allegheny County pink today! And I feel darn good about it. (I selected Allegheny County because that's where I live and it seemed to need more help than other counties. I want my county to be the pinkest one so we can win!)
Sometimes I was feeling so consumery and elitist and frou-frou during this whole wedding planning process. The fanciness of it all was making my armpits sweat at times and all the work to be done was certainly making my chin break out in zits. (You try getting Corey to participate in an administrative task and see how stress-free your life is!)
But when I made that donation, I felt good inside. I felt good about myself and the wedding. It's like now everyone is coming together to celebrate Core-man and Katy AND helping to find a cure for breast cancer.
I'm very pastoral and idealistic this morning. Weddings are beautiful.
So I decided I wanted to take whatever money I would have spent on favors and donate it to the PA Breast Cancer Coalition. I helped paint Allegheny County pink today! And I feel darn good about it. (I selected Allegheny County because that's where I live and it seemed to need more help than other counties. I want my county to be the pinkest one so we can win!)
Sometimes I was feeling so consumery and elitist and frou-frou during this whole wedding planning process. The fanciness of it all was making my armpits sweat at times and all the work to be done was certainly making my chin break out in zits. (You try getting Corey to participate in an administrative task and see how stress-free your life is!)
But when I made that donation, I felt good inside. I felt good about myself and the wedding. It's like now everyone is coming together to celebrate Core-man and Katy AND helping to find a cure for breast cancer.
I'm very pastoral and idealistic this morning. Weddings are beautiful.
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