Time for the Annual Post

Okay. It's been awhile since I've written, but in my defense, it's been a hectic 18 months. Cancer (my dad, now in remission.) Wonky schedule (the joys of working.) The addition of a second child (it's a boy!)

Okay, so the writing hasn't happened, but I have found time to read a few books for fun in the last year. Maybe there's hope for me.

Oh Yeah, I Have a Blog...

a kid, a full-time job, a husband, and little discipline for writing. The odd thing is, this year, I've felt more like writing. Maybe it's because I get to sleep again. I keep thinking if I install Naturally Speaking on my comp, I'll do better. But I doubt it. Maybe I should just post frequently enough to get all the old posts to disappear.

Timing Is Everything

Little did I know that when I bought my new car, the subject of my last post, I was expecting. Yeah, that kind of expecting. And as I write this, I am holding my 3 month-old daughter.

It's Been a Long Strange Trip

I have a love/hate/love relationship with my vehicle. It's a Chevy Blazer with over 300,000 miles on it. It really amazes me that it doesn't have more problems. More often than not, I'm using it to come to the aid of someone else with car problems.

When one honeymoon began, the other ended. Returning from our honeymoon, my starter, which had been throwing fits, gave up the ghost. I had to tow it the half block to the local garage to get it fixed. So talks of a replacement began. Since it has multiple issues, the concern became trade it in while you still can. So I'm taking it back to my hometown to make the change to a car payment (yikes!) The tentative plan was next week as it fits with work.

Then the latest scary car sound from hell started. Theories range from A to B, alternator or a bearing (sp?) So it goes to the local garage tomorrow, thankfully under its own power. Then the question becomes how much am I willing to spend to make sure that I can driving it the 4 hours home to trade it in, or do I put it on a trailer and haul it to my parents place, unload, and drive it to the dealer.

I'm a fan of it be a cheap repair, so I can take it on one last trip.

I Did It

I said, "I do."

I'm officially an old married lady. I informed my husband on the honeymoon that since I no longer had to worry about fitting into the wedding dress, I was going to let myself go.

It's not like I had the chance. Honeymooning in DC involves lots of walking. Lots. The kind of walking that leads one to struggle to move once you do sit down.

All in all, I am really elated.

As I told the pastor a few days before the wedding, "I was grinning like an idiot this morning while cleaning the toilet, and I hate cleaning the toilet. That's love."

Most of my co-workers are married and/or divorced and were pretty convinced that I would get nervous the day of. I didn't. Oh, there are some great photos of me walking down the aisle with my chin all wrinkled up as I tried not to cry (managed not to shed a tear.)

My reality was that the closer that it got to the wedding, the more excited I became. There were so many friends and family that I hadn't seen in years, and it just seemed like everyone who came really helped make it wonderful.

I still can't help grinning like an idiot when I think about it. I married this amazing guy. My husband. My husband. For so long, he was my b/f, then the fiance. I've gotten used to the new signature, but it amazes me to think that he's my husband.

I know that I'm still in the honeymoon glow, and that newness of the marriage will fade. But I can't help feeling excited about our lives together. I just want bottle it or capture the feeling for a moment so that when the inevitable rough times come, I can remember how excited, blessed, and lucky I feel right now.

Middle Aged

It's been coming on so slowly that I've barely noticed. Oh sure, there are moments at work, but for the most part, my job gives me energy. But everyone has there breaking point.

Mine happened with a phone call. Oddly enough, I was the one placing the call. There was a click on the line after dialing. Then music. Okay, I guess I'm on hold. Wait, I guess I'm not. I made another call a few hours later. "Please enjoy the following song while your call is connected." Or something like it. I was forced to listen to music that I would probably never choose to listen to. Yeah, I'm getting too old for some of this cell phone media wizardry.

Oh. My. God.

The fiance and I went and picked up "the ring."

I have always stressed that I am low maintenance in the jewelry department. My mom never had an engagement ring, and my parents have been married over 35 years. Diamonds don't guarantee a happy marriage. Come on, I had to have my ears repierced last weekend.

My future husband was adamant about a nice ring for me, and when I started looking, I must admit that I found that I like the look of diamonds. So we picked a beautiful solitaire, planning a wrap to complete it as a wedding ring.

We now have our wedding bands ready for the ceremony. It was hard giving up the engagement ring, knowing that I won't wear it again until October. My claddagh ring is insufficient. When I tried on the finished work, it fit perfectly. Is it weird that the weight of band reminds me of the seriousness of the commitment?

Arghhhhhhh!

I hate stress. Hate it. HATE IT. HAAAAAAAATE IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I don't get it. I'm smart. I try to be a good person. I try to help those in need.

Between my job and my upcoming wedding....AAAAAAAAAUUUUUUUUUGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHH!!!!!!

I know...

It Was the Summer of '84

I remember the day clearly. It was a hot, dry day, not unlike those we've been experiencing lately. I had been eagerly waiting for this day, and it had finally arrived. I was nervous, but I was ready. I walked in with my mom. It was the beauty salon where our neighbor worked, and with minimal tears and not minimal pain, I had my ears pierced.

A few short hours, I was invited to the city pool. My new ear bling forced me to decline the offer, and I wasn't much interested in having my ears pierced anymore. In fact, the last time that I wore earrings was for a dorm formal back in college, ... "a few" years ago. I basically had to reopen a part of the piercing to get the earrings in. Needless to say, my piercings closed years ago.

I had my ears repierced tonight. I am a vain, vain woman. I want to wear cute earrings for my wedding, and I knew clip-ons wouldn't cut it.

Since I don't have a regular salon and I'm lazy, I got it done at the mall. I swear that I was old enough to be the mother of every girl in the store, including the employees. My fiance in tow, I went up to the counter and said that I wanted my ears pierced. I think my vocabulary may have been a bit advanced because I swear that I heard crickets chirping in the silence.

The assistant manager to me over to look at studs and then went to get someone else to do because she hadn't been trained.

"Oh my God."

I kid you not. These were my exact thoughts.

Another girl comes over to help, and I am relieved that she looks like a high school graduate and the oldest employee in the store. After some general confusion about what they had in stock, I make my selection and start signing on enough lines that I thought I might have a house in escrow.

I loved filling in my age and date of birth. It led to the following discussion...

Misc Karen: "Ha. My age. I'm probably twice the age of your average customer."

Teenage Piercer: "You're probably twice my age."

(Yes, she did actually say this. Completely deadpan.)

MK: "How old are you?"

TP: "16."

MK: "I'm not quite there yet."

TP: "Oh, really? I was just joking."

MK: "No, I'll be twice your age in November."

That is when the crickets started chirping again.

She eventually dots my ears with a purple pen on my old holes so that I can greenlight the location. These dots were the size of large acne. She could have put them in about three different spots in the mark. I okayed it, trusting she couldn't mess up putting them in the old spots.

I got home, looked in the mirror, and noticed that the one in the left ear is higher than the one on the right. I'm hoping that once they heal it won't be as noticeable, and if worse comes to worse, I'll let them close up after the wedding.

Man, This Is the Song Stuck in My Head This Weekend