95 Is the New 100

If you’ve been reading this blog for any amount of time you’ve likely noticed that I write a lot about projects I’m undertaking on my home. You may also have noticed that I rarely (if ever) post a recap of those projects when they’re done. Well, there’s a good reason for that – none of them actually are done.

Well, I shouldn’t say “none” – last weekend we did finally hang the picture we bought way back in January to put in our revamped guest bath, thereby placing that project in the “done” category (oh, but wait, we do still need to put up the new door sealant we bought … and get new hinges … plus we never really did seal the grout on the floor or in the shower). And GAR finally hung the shoe rack in our master closet, which we worked on in February, so once I clean all that up, decide if I want more storage in there and purchase some sort of working accessories management system for the cupboards I’ll be able to mark that off the list too. And, of course, we finally patched and repainted that spot in the kitchen that’s been unfinished since March – now all that’s left to do in there is fix that spot on the ceiling, retouch the paint, repair the slanted shelves, build a wine rack, construct our pantry, and eventually replace all the trim and flooring. See! We’re practically done!

Okay, perhaps I should just take the first step and admit we have a problem. A problem, I mean, with actually carrying projects through to completion.

We’re really good at starting major undertakings. Heck, we’re practically pros at it. And, if I can give us due credit for a moment, we are also pretty effective at taking that project all the way through the hard parts, getting all of the big details taken care of. It’s just that last 5% – the finishing touches – where all that hard work seems to get forgotten. It can be something small, like the fact that 2 of the picture frames in the dining room have been sitting vacant since I “finished” that project last October. Or something slightly larger, such as having half-painted shutters on the front of your house for 3 months (and unpainted trim, chimney, mailbox and all those high-up, hard-to-reach spots on the house). Regardless of the size or scope of the work you can be sure of one thing – we will only complete 95% of it.

I don’t know why we deprive ourselves of the joy that comes with seeing a project done to perfection. After all, when we do actually finish a refurbishment – big or small – we always admire it for weeks afterwards, filled with the overwhelming sense of accomplishment that only two lazy desk workers can feel at completing such a simple task. Why just this weekend we bought new $10 throw pillows at IKEA and, by the way we’ve cooed over them since then (they really DO brighten up the whole living room!!), you’d think we’d just invented sliced bread.

But this is all about to change! Or, I mean, maybe after the wedding it will.

Oh, were you thinking that writing this post was an effort for me to turn over some sort of leaf? You thought I was taking initiative to pick up a paintbrush and get this done? Sorry folks, I don’t really have time for that right now. But I’m sure I will … you know, sometime this fall. Until then I’m adapting GAR’s philosophy – if you see painter’s tape in our house, even if it’s been in the same spot for a few months and is starting to lose its stickiness and sag, that just means that project is still “under construction” (like everything else in our life, including this blog) … and you can’t critique a project until it’s done, right?

In the meantime please enjoy these photos of (just some of) the projects in our house that are, well, you know, mostly finished.

 Guest Bath Before

 

 Guest Bath "After"

 

 Master Bedroom Before

 

 Master Bedroom "After"

 Formal Living Room Before

Formal Living Room "After"

 Swimming Pool Before

Swimming Pool "After"

You’re So Vain, You Probably Think This Post is About You …

Welcome to the first day of the “Summer of Me!” Although, I realize that by calling it this I am, most likely, setting myself up for a disastrous 3 months of bugs flying in my mouth, broken limbs and other immobilizing misfortunes. Regardless, as the remaining time before the big day dwindles I am suddenly struck with the sudden importance of focusing on myself for a change.

And it is a change. In case you haven’t noticed, I tend to spread myself a little thin – I love to go, go, go … do, do, do … and since I’m a natural planner I am always planning things to do, people to see, get-togethers, shindigs, soirees … you name it. And, well, I’m feeling like a kid with parents who, in an attempt to keep her “well rounded,” are constantly shuffling her between school, ballet practice, t-ball, cello lessons and Latin class. In other words, I’m overscheduled. And, frankly, I don’t have time for you anymore. No, not you loyal bloggers – I need you. Or, rather, I need this blog as an outlet – a reprieve from the other activities I suck myself into (see, it really is all about me). No, what I don’t have time for anymore is putting other things first – things other than my own needs and wants. After all, shouldn’t I love myself most? Treat myself the nicest? Sweep myself off my feet?

Also, since I’m about to embark on this whole “two becoming one” journey I should clarify that when I call this the “Summer of Me” what I really mean is that it’s the “Summer of Me + GAR” – so, yes, I am putting “we” first, not simply “me” (since I already see us as unit those terms can be used interchangeably in my mind).

So, yes, I am going to be selfish. Okay, well maybe just a little (I have a feeling my old friend “guilt” will really not let me focus on myself as much as I probably should) … it’s not so much about being egotistical as it is about being ego-centric. I need to focus on me or else I won’t have any balance (or get what I need to do accomplished) between now and the wedding. From now on if you wonder why I haven’t planned a summer pool party, know that it’s because I’m too busy getting a facial. Expecting me to organize a girl’s night? Nope, I’m working on our wedding program. Thinking it’s been awhile since I suggested a road trip? That e-vite isn’t comin’, I’m painting my guest bedroom instead.
Not that I won’t still make an appearance at whatever event you’ve planned … but, to be honest, without my intervention – and mad planning skills – it seems like my dance card isn’t nearly as full. But, it will be – with other, “me”-focused activities I mean.

Already my new self-centered attitude has allowed me to discover a level of personal vanity I’ve never had before. I’ve finally scheduled an appointment for the teeth whitening services I purchased on Groupon. And I’ve joined a fitness boot camp in the hopes that all those extra squats, lunges, pull-ups, kettle ball swings and other torturous back aching exercises will keep me svelte (or at least not busting out of my wedding dress) from now until the honeymoon, at which point I can destroy all my hard work by redirecting my focus to chugging liters of beer and devouring giant carb-loaded pretzels. Most importantly, GAR and I are also scheduling a little “us time” in the form of a weddingmoon … wait, no, I’ll save that story for another day.

For now, enjoy this shot of us preparing our stomachs for Oktoberfest … because I do still believe that planning is key to making the most out of every experience.

Get Your Groupon

As it gets closer to our wedding day I am increasingly becoming a bride on a budget. While it is fair to say that I am a frugal person all around – the type who rarely pays full price for anything – as my checkbook slips further into the red I have amped up my penchant for saving to a whole new level.

I do hate to haggle (but I will … oh yes I will), though I did wait to buy my wedding dress, honeymoon, reception décor and more on sale. But more and more the penny pinching has crossed over into all aspects of my life. That said, I refuse to deprive myself of fun times. And thanks to my new BFF, Groupon, it seems I have pre-paid for more than enough fun to keep me plenty busy these next 2 & ½ months until the “big day.”

If you’re not familiar with Groupon, you should be. It’s awesome. And there’s an app for that (an app that I own and monitor daily on my iPhone). GAR and I have enjoyed an outing to the Ice Bar (a bar that, as the name suggests, is made entirely of ice), several fine meals, a drag show and more thanks to specially priced deals acquired through Groupon. Heck, the girls and I happily Groupon-ed our way through Vegas – enjoying shows, spa services and pole dancing classes all for low, low prices.

Yes, thanks to Groupon I have been still living the life of luxury, even when I should be scrimping and saving to the fullest. But, there’s just one problem – I seem to have developed a slight addiction. I mean, who doesn’t love a sale? And sometimes I’ve found the Groupon’s siren song to be a little too tempting to resist.

I first realized there was a problem when I tried to convince GAR that purchasing a Groupon for a 4-night trip to Belize was a good idea. And, really, it was such a steal … and you get to stay in one of those crazy treetop huts! Oh, I wanted it bad. Though I knew how fiscally irresponsible it was I was too, too tempted. And, while I don’t know much about the country of Belize, I desperately wanted to be able to use terrible puns like “You better Belize it!” upon my return. And cool as it seems, I don’t think that fun wordplay is enough justification for a major purchase like that. Thankfully GAR was able to talk me down from that teeny ledge before I was able to hit the “purchase” button, but it was a close call.

But I am getting better. Really I am. Just last week I successfully turned down an amazing offer for 4 nights in a posh Miami hotel (that one is still hurting). But it’s getting harder now that Groupon has all sorts of competitors – Living Social, O-Deals (for the Orlando market) and others have popped up, each offering daily deals of their own. And, between GAR and myself, we have racked up a few deals that we still need to “redeem.”

Actually, we have a lot. A quick count showed that we still need to cash in meals at least 4 restaurants, take paddleboarding lessons, watch some stand-up comedy and have our teeth whitened … and that’s assuming we stay strong and don’t get sucked in by anything else along the way. But, hey, at least I know that – if money gets really tight – we won’t have to starve … or settle for anything less than a bright and shiny smile.

Oh wait, what’s this? Groupon is partnering with Expedia to form Groupon Getaways, offering unbeatable travel deals? This combines my two loves (other than GAR, of course) – traveling and saving money! Watch out Central America, I see some bad puns coming your way after all! Uh-oh … I am in big trouble …

A Race that Left More than Just My Burri-toes Hurting

What’s the best way for a bride-to-be who can’t squeeze into her wedding dress to burn calories? I know! How about a race?

It seemed like such a brilliant idea when my Groom-A-Saurus Rex (GAR) suggested it a few weeks ago. Of course, the fact that this race combined 4.2 miles of running with extreme eating challenges along the course did make it somewhat unusual (which greatly appealed to me), but I have to admit that it also may have been a little counterproductive to my goal. After all, for all the good I did with the cardio, I have to believe that the burrito, the 6 glazed donuts and the beers I chugged were, at least to a certain degree, working against my whole “weight loss” objective. But, since this was a dinnertime race, I guess this sustenance did kinda serve as my dinner, so I can feel a little better about that at least.

Well, except for the donuts … those were just gluttony.

Not that I was able to down half a dozen donuts anyway – I don’t think I could accomplish that even if I wasn’t in the middle of run. Oh sure, the burrito at the beginning of the race went down easy enough … and I didn’t even seem to notice that I had eaten it until about 1.5 miles in (at which point it hit me like a bean-filled brick). But, when it came time to down 6 of Dunkin’s finest at the halfway mark I was barely able to get down 2 measly dough boys. I suppose it was better on my waist that way (not to mention my stomach, which managed to hold it all down for the remainder of the run), though I didn’t quite get to finish the run as a true pig race “champion.” They did grant me a medal nonetheless. Or, rather, (in lieu of an actual medal) they granted me a pig snout. I’ve never been so proud.

And this race also marked the longest race GAR has completed to date. Congrats! It seems that all he needed was a little sugar to motivate him.

Overall I'd label this run a success. It's the latest in my list of race victories - in addition to the 5K I ran with my Dad earlier this year, another 5K I completed with my coworkers, the Warrior Dash (which left me tattered, bruised and muddy):

A 15K where Kitty Glitter and I placed in the top 5 overall for the 5K, 10K and full 15K divisions (and won these swanky awards): 

And, of course, the Marathon & 1/2 I ran with one of my BFFs - all 39.3 miles of it: 

And through all my running (and the subsequent photos) I've learned one very important lesson - I look like crap after all that hard work! It's almost enough to make me swear off all this sweating stuff altogether ... unless there's donuts involved, of course.

Far From A Sweetheart

David’s Bridal is having their semi-annual $99 wedding gown sale. I think the timing of this event was orchestrated for the sheer purpose of mocking me.

Actually, I did not buy my wedding dress at David’s Bridal. Although, trust me, I would have loved to have found something I liked there – they are the most reasonably priced of the bridal shops and, of all the items on my “must have” list for the wedding, my dress is not on the high priority list. I know this is hard for some to believe. To watch shows like “Say Yes to the Dress” (which I catch GAR watching all the time), you’d think it was the single most important decision of one’s “big day.” But, for me anyway, it’s not nearly as important as providing a great overall experience for our guests. I mean, do I want to look pretty? Of course. But, budget wise, spending thousands on a garment that I will definitely, without a doubt, only wear one time (and only for a few hours at that) is something that I’m just too practical to justify (plus I’d rather spend that cash on liquor. I am a firm believer in the idea that weddings should have free-flowing, open bar booze. You’re welcome). But, alas (going back to the whole “wanting to look pretty” aspect of things), unlike their commercials promise, I did not love David’s Bridal. On top of the pathetic customer service, the cattle stall type changing area and the reckless children running about uninhibited, the dresses I tried on there simply did not flatter. No matter how much I enjoyed the numbers on the price tags, I just didn’t find anything that made me feel happy there (to be fair I did set myself up for failure by spending the hours prior to my visit to David’s Bridal at a very high-end boutique – you know, the kind where they lavish you with individual attention and ply you with free wine before showing you the payment plan you’d need to afford their gowns. Clearly my frugal mindset didn’t allow me to purchase anything at the fancy pants shop either).

Instead I found a dress at a nice, mid-range type of shop. And, while the smallest size they had in stock was a good 4 sizes too large for me, when they clamped it on me, cinching up the back enough for me somewhat get an idea of what it would look like in the proper size, I did think it was quite lovely. And my Groom-A-Saurus Rex (GAR) agreed (yes, he was there with me while I shopped and, contrary to popular belief, him seeing me in my gown – not to mention being an active member in the decision making process – before the wedding day did not result in certain doom and disaster. No black clouds followed us home. No plagues of locusts. And not the slightest bit of fear in either of our minds that we somehow inflicted the certain demise of our marriage with the supposed “bad luck” such an action promotes). Plus – bonus! – it was part of a “trunk show” that was happening that weekend (still not exactly sure what that means seeing as I didn’t see so much as a suitcase, footlocker or storage bin anywhere in sight. But it did mean that it was on sale, which was good enough for me). Decent priced, though not a total steal, it was perfect … except for a few minor things that would need correcting with alterations.

Ah yes, alterations. Simple enough, right? There are certain things you expect – an adjustment of the waist if it’s too big or too small, a hem along the bottom, maybe a few other tweaks here and there. But then there are the things you don’t account for. On my first visit to try on my dress I learned that not only was the dress a bit too tight for me, it also was constructed in such a way that the back of the dress gathered in a weird manner right along my rump. Yes, though I couldn’t have noticed it when I tried it on the first time (due to the sample size being enormous on me), the buttocks area of the dress was designed all wrong, causing an odd, unnatural bulging in that area that would be sure to raise some curious eyebrows by onlookers. Assured that this could easily be corrected, I returned to the shop skeptical, but willing to see what they had in mind. And they didn’t really do much to calm my fears. But the seamstress did say she’d take it out a bit and see if that helps. And then I gave her the remainder of my list of changes – removing the train portion of the dress, shortening it all around, making the top of the dress a sweetheart neckline – and we spent quite some time pinning and poking and adjusting it. And then, at the end of it all, she rang up my total cost for the work.

See, I’ve already told you about how GAR secretly watches “Say Yes to the Dress.” But, I didn’t tell you that he watches a lot of wedding-related programming. And this particular day – the day I went in for alterations – he had been watching “Bridezillas.” Well, let me tell you, the attitudes of those nasty brides must have seeped into my brain because when I heard the price for all these alterations I channeled my inner “zilla” and freaked out!

But I took a few breaths, composed the panic in my voice the best I could, and asked why, in the name of everything holy, did it cost so much? Are they shipping in special thread made of gold? Is the entire cast of the next season of “Project Runway” consulting on the project? I mean, you have the materials already. Heck, you already have a fully-formed dress to work with. You just need to tweak it a bit. How can removing a train cost more than constructing the train in the first place? (I mean, what am I supposed to do, drag the extra fabric along behind me all night long? Of course I could bustle it, but that cost nearly as much as chopping it off … and just the fact that I even know all this terminology now is showing that I have invested way more time and thought into this process than I ever thought possible). And, most importantly, why is it that I can now buy several more, brand new, completely ready-to-wear (after some alterations, of course) wedding dresses at David’s Bridal (especially now, thanks to their low, low $99 prices) for less than the cost of making a few nips and tucks on my dress? I was sure that they were ripping me off. So sure that I invested even more of my precious time into researching how much these things generally cost. And what I learned is that, yes, they really do cost this much (unless you know a good seamstress to do it for less which, I’m assuming, many people do). And so I sucked it up, bit the bullet and whined about it the whole way home.

But I didn’t get my sweetheart neckline. I wasn’t feeling too sweet either on the price or in spirit. And with that ended my first semi-“Bridezilla” moment. That is, until today. Ah yes, today my sister sent me a lovely photo of the beautiful dress she picked to wear to the wedding (the bridesmaids, as well as my “bridesman,” get to pick out their own attire. Hopefully, unlike me, they will actually wear their wedding day garments again). My favorite feature of her dress? The sweetheart neckline. Well isn’t that just darling …

Perhaps I will be seeing the seamstress again after all … once I resign myself to the fact that perhaps my wedding dress does need to move up the priority list just a little. But I’m still not scrimping on the booze. You gotta have priorities man, priorities.

A Guide to Rock’n Roll Wedding Attire? Well, isn’t that simply fedorable.

Ascot what your country can do for you … OK, sorry about the puns. GAR here for a third time! I know you’re probably sick of me holding my dear Hard Hat Bride’s Blog hostage, but it’s these pedestrian posts that really illuminate my love’s wonderful writing skills. Plus I have no clue how to create my own blog.

So I know what’s on your mind right at this very moment: “What do I wear to a Rock n’ Roll inspired wedding?” Leather, tall boots, chains, black skinny jeans, sleeve tattoos, white powder under my nose? Maybe something with a British flag? These are some images that may arise for you as you think back to your MTV days when they actually showed videos. Whether you were a fan of Dial MTV, Alternative Nation or Head Bangers Ball, you knew what “rock” looked like. But team this with the idea of a wedding and the only image that comes to mind is Slash from the Guns n’ Roses video “November Rain” (at least for me it does).

When we first came up with the idea of a Rock n’ Roll wedding theme, we had an inkling of where to begin, but not the whole scheme. We did know that music and concerts are one of our strong passions. From STP to Cake to Tom Petty, we’ve witnessed some great shows. There’s nothing like seeing the energy of a band live on stage. Whether they’re just rocking out, hitting you with riffs you’ve worn your CD out to (or tape or LP or 8-track if that was your world), or launching their set with some humbling guitar feedback, there is a vigor in the air that your body can’t help but harness and ride for the next week. My favorite moments are when the band kicks it to the crowd to take over the singing. There’s something very powerful about hearing an entire arena sing a full song for the artist. What a rush this is for us and we wanted to bring some of that to our special day. I’m confident in saying that if we could get married on-stage during a concert we would. As we developed an outline of what we think would fit into a Rock inspired ceremony and reception the notion of what to wear came up.

So let’s lay down some “Do’s and Don’ts” for you:

1. Do be comfortable. The bride, groom, groomsmen, and even some parents will be sporting Converse All-stars or Vans. Honestly, if you plan on dancing or just enjoy walking in general, it’s a great way to be fashionably comfortable.

Don’t wear flip flops. I know we’re in Florida, but you’re still at a wedding. And unless you are dressed in Beach Boys’ attire, frankly it doesn’t make sense (Even if you do talk all night about how “Pet Sounds” is one of the best rock albums ever made)

2. Do (for the guys) wear your favorite concert or band t-shirt with a sports jacket or suit. This can be one of the most relaxed ways of enjoying your night. And if you wear a dress shirt please feel OK leaving the tie at home; unless you are going with the full Angus Young look (Google him if you don’t know this great guitarist)

Don’t break out your camouflage cargo shorts. We didn’t invite the lead singer of Limp Bizket and there’s no need to pay homage to him.

3. Do (for the gals) be creative in your dress. This can include, but not limited to, animal or fun prints, lace, ruffles, fringe or a simple dress with fun accessories. Basically anything that would make Bruce Springsteen pick you right out of the crowd to dance on stage.

Don’t shave half your hair off Cyndi Lauper style or go for the full Sinead or Billy Corgan. An ounce of Rock n’ Roll can go a long way (and we imagine that you have to go to work on Tuesday). On the other hand, we are not getting married on a southern plantation – so no need to debutant it up.

4. Do dress in a way that allows you to boogie down. I almost said “dance like no one’s looking” but that’s just a stupid saying (I might as well put wooden words up in my house). We want you to have fun, dance, cut-a-rug and groove so let your wardrobe allow that.

Don’t wear clothes that can restrict you of this. This can include outfits that cause wardrobe malfunctions if you take more than 3 inch steps, cumbersome masks, wallets with eight junkyard dog chains attached to your belt and of course sunglasses at night - with that one, you’re just looking for trouble. We may let it slide you are the biggest Gwar or Insane Clown Posse fan in the world, but good luck walking up the stairs in that sweet Gwar ensemble.

5. Do get fun with colors. Colors can remind us of our favorite artists. From the “Man in Black” to the psychedelic attire of a Mr. Hendrix they all had a style of their own. So, go with colors that make you Rock.

Don’t get fun with colors after tripping on acid or taking your prescribed pain medication. Those things can be quite strong and you’ll be seeing so many colors that you will end up dressed like the cast from Saved by the Bell. (Disclaimer: Neither GAR or your Hard Had Bride condone any use of illegal substances or the misuse of legal prescriptions. However, we do condone the misuse Pop Rocks and Cola)

6. Lastly, and most importantly don’t glitter up. If you do, think about others because man, that stuff is hard to get off. A misuse of power regarding any glitter product may get you booted by one of our highly trained bouncers with low moral fortitude.

Overall, wear what you think Rock ‘n Roll is to you. Maybe it’s your favorite artist, an escape from the world that confines you, or just a practical pair of blue suede shoes. Whichever it is, dress for fun and dress for a Rock Wedding. So jump on your crazy trains, yellow submarines or wild horses and break on through to the other side because schools out for the summer and your momma don’t dance and your daddy don’t rock and roll. After all as Classical Oboe player Mitch Miller once said, “The reason kids like rock ‘n roll is their parents don’t.” Wait … I think I’m starting to lose touch with this blog post. Let’s end with the words of some real rockers. When thinking of dress and mindset for a Rock ‘n Roll Wedding …

Rock 'n roll music is what gets me off - Joan Jett

We're a rock group. We’re noisy, rowdy, sensational and weird - Angus Young

Waking Up in Vegas

The average temperature for Las Vegas in May is in the high 90s. It is the desert after all. And yet, after my plane bounced and skidded onto the runway, sand whipping all around the tarmac, I emerged to find that, strong winds aside, the thermometer was barely tipping 50 degrees – a far cry from the warm, dry air I planned to sunbathe in throughout my girl’s weekend. As a thin-blooded Floridian who is unaccustomed to such chilly climate I couldn’t wait to unzip my suitcase and cover up my optimistically bare arms with the one and only (short sleeved) sweater I packed for the trip. Brrr! Shivering I stood by the luggage carrousel and waited for my bag but I was stood up. After waiting some more to file a missing persons … I mean, missing personal items … claim I received some devastating news – my suitcase, fearing that the excitement of Sin City would drive it to a life of sex, drugs and other vices, had headed for the more soothing plains and safely innocent large arches of St. Louis.

And so I got up and shaked the glitter out of my clothes and headed for Treasure Island to check us gals in for a weekend of debauchery, gambling and pedicures (all while wearing the same clothes I had been donning since 6:30 a.m. Eastern that morning). Okay, so we didn’t do much of any of those things, but a full recap would be tedious and unsupported by photographic evidence since much of our activities took place inside venues where such picture taking devices are not allowed (and now I realize it sounds like I’m talking about debauchery again when, in fact, I’m talking about the “no camera” policies at such places as Cirque du Soleil performances – we saw 2: Zumanity and Ka, both of which were excellent, though we all enjoyed the R-rated antics at Zumanity better – and the clothing optional, women-only spa in our hotel which, fair enough, could be considered even more risqué than the raunchiest of Vegas clubs).

But, that said, I will provide a few of my favorite snapshots taken during our ladies weekend, many of which do detail our one saucy night out at the clubs (where we got in on the VIP list thanks to a fake name I used – thanks, and just call me Silver Moua! If I look glassy eyed in these photos it might … might … be because being VIP also earned you free drinks). Enjoy!

Here's a group photo of us VIPs. From left, Sapphire, Kitty Glitter, Jeep and Silver Moua.

See, we were totally innocent - all we did was eat gelato. When in Rome (or, errr ... Venice).

Yeah, Venice ... Sort of. 

We did have just a few drinks as well. 

It's no Bellagio fountains, but Kahunaville did provide some watery entertainment. 

Finally my suitcase decided to join me! I took my new wardrobe to Caesar's Palace to check out even more cheesy fountains. 

At last we took our dancing shoes out to see The Strip at night. 

And Silver Moua gained us VIP access to a swank rooftop bar ... you could even go swimming (an option we did not exercise for a few reasons, not the least of which was the chilly weather).

But gaining VIP access was no easy task ... and we took some battle scars to get there. 

At this point I may have had a few free drinks. 

But not as many as this guy! 

And we might have done just a little bit of gambling as well ... after all it was Kitty Glitter's namesake machine. 

And this officially ends the portion of the night I remember. And, well, that's what you get for waking up in Vegas.

Much To Do About Everything

EEKKK!! Arrggghhh!! BLEH! Meltdown mode in 5 … 4 … 3 …

To quote the terminology we are asked to use at work – You might be wondering why it’s been so long since I last updated this blog. Well, let me assure you that it’s not due to a lack of interest on my part. I am just as committed to this project as ever. However, several other “opportunities” (not “challenges,” not “problems” – those are such negative words. No, of course, “opportunities” is the correct word to use when describing obstacles … I mean, barriers … wait, no … time-consuming activities?) Yes, that’s it … I have been otherwise consumed with fabulous other opportunities that have, regretfully, forced me to pursue additional activities outside of this blog. But, of course, I have now identified the ways in which I can make room for all of these activities in my life so that I can give you, the readers of this blog, the full and total amount of attention and efforts that you desire.

Although I’m pretty sure the only solution that allows time for all those “opportunities” is for me to give up an activity that I do greatly enjoy – sleep.

Not that I can sleep anyway, not with Hank the tarantula still on the loose and the dogs dragging constant filth into the house … not that I can even bathe them now that, out of the 4 showers we have in our house, only one works. The other (previously) working shower head decided to break the last time I was in there, sending the part of the plastic nozzle that regulates water flow flying straight into the back of my head with a hard “whack!” and now the water stream is so intense it’s like stepping into the path of a fire hose when you turn it on. So now I have to run to the other side of the house to shower, shake out the curtain to make sure Hank isn’t hiding in there with me, and dress myself from the pile of clothes in the laundry room (where I’m also convinced Hank may be hiding) that I haven’t had time to fold since returning from Vegas (and, yes, I know I still need to update you on that trip as well. For now you can write off my lack of doing so as a “what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas” maneuver), where I clearly did not strike it rich or else my malfunctioning shower and giant bug infestations would hardly even be worth mentioning.

But this is the small stuff, and these aren’t the “opportunities” that have really kept me from blogging as of late. No, even as I was driving my car this weekend at its new max speed of 30 mph (and that’s pedal to the metal fast) to the dealership to sell it, and I broke down on the highway 4 times on the way there, facing honking, nearly getting rear-ended by cars driving at top speeds, and being assaulted with some less than friendly hand gestures aimed at me and my (literally) smoking Focus I was not concerned … not even as I signed the paperwork on my brand-new, totally impractical and out of my price range Mustang … not even as I broke out into a bad case of hives from the itchy diseased fabric on the dealership couch I had to sit on for 4 hours to buy the thing … none of that was causing me much distress. No, what freaked me out … what sent me into fits of doom and despair … was the realization that there are less than 3 months to go until the big day – Mr. & Mrs. Day – and yet we have about 17 umpteen billion things to do between now and then.

I did actually promise not to be one of those people who freaks out or gets stressed about wedding planning. It’s just one day after all, and I’m sure it will be lovely. No, I’ve been very cavalier up until now – picking things out here and there without too much second guessing, making quips about how GAR is running the show here, and when people ask “How’s the planning going?” I’ve simply replied “Fine.” I mean, it is fine, right? Or did I not bother to check? Did I not check my “To Do” list to see how many items were on there still (okay, it might have helped to make a “To Do” list in the first place)? I guess not because suddenly it all unraveled. No, what happened is that GAR unraveled. Suddenly he realized that we had to get it together and get moving. And, much like Scooby Doo, hearing that he was worried about getting it all done – I mean, GAR, the guy who has never worried about a thing in his life … the guy who just assumes that everything will always work out totally fine because, for him anyway, it always does … if that guy is worried – I had to go “Ruh-roh!” Okay, now I am freaking out! And so we have kicked it into full-scale, Tim Gunn-style “make it work!” mode – spending every (previously) free moment working on centerpieces, menus, invites, programs, etc. etc. And it all leaves so little time for everything else, which is exactly what I was so desperately trying to avoid happening.

And it didn’t help that during my first wedding dress fitting this past weekend the dress didn’t, well, fit. I mean, it was too small. The fabric bunched and gathered and rolled up and plopped itself on top of my derriere and refused give way. And, while now that Kim Kardashian is engaged I could imagine this happening to her, at least she has her 200-karat diamond to help comfort her. Me? Well, I don’t know how to deal with it myself. As far as I know I didn’t gain weight (sure, it’s not like I’ve actually, you know, weighed myself to find out. But I think I have a general idea of clothing snugness and that hasn’t changed … I mean, buttons haven’t gone flying wildly off my pants or anything like that), so it was merely ordered in the wrong size. Or – and this is the option I prefer to believe – it was just crafted poorly and, in reality, it is my size and it should have allowed for more rear end room all along. But regardless of the reason, it has to be solved. I think I might have heard the saleslady saying something about how they can work to fix it but I was too busy hyperventilating into a paper bag to make out the actual words said. I go back this Sunday for them to start the hard work of altering it and I’ll keep you posted on how it goes … barring any other “opportunities” that arise between now and then, of course.

In the meantime here’s a snapshot of my new ride. Consider this purchase a result of my stellar “pre-wedding crisis” decision-making skills.

Nightmare on Pine Street

June 1 is the start of hurricane season in Florida, and we already got our first bad storm (which threatened to become a tropical storm before it wimped out and decided to be a little less menacing than was predicted – all bark, no bite). But last year on this date we faced a storm unlike any other we have ever seen – a storm that revolved around moving into our 80s money pit of a house. Of course we didn’t know it was a money pit at the time we moved in … no, we’ve spent the past year figuring all of that out … but we should have seen the events of June 1, 2010, as some sort of red flag as to what was about to come before us. Because, let me tell you, before the garbage disposal caught on fire, the septic tank blew up, the air conditioning busted and plagues of fleas, flying ants, wasps and giant spiders invaded the house there was far worse drama – the ordeal of moving into this house in the first place.

As you know, when shopping for our house we looked at quite a few that weren’t exactly gems. And while ours looked good to us at first glance, we were unable to attend our own home inspection due to the fact that we were overseas at the time – so my Dad attended in our place. By the time the results of the inspection trickled down to us we were several layers removed from the inspector himself but we got the gist – some minor problems and a couple of slightly bigger ones, and the homeowner would have to fix the latter before we moved in. And she did (based on the number of “small” problems we’ve had to deal with since moving in I shudder to think how bad it would have been had the “big” problems not been resolved). But then the closing came so fast and we had spent most of our time out of the country between when we learned the house was ours and when we signed the papers ... and a few small facts in our contract seemed to go unnoticed – like the fact that, even though we were closing on the house in May, we didn’t actually get to move in until June 1.

To be honest, we did need the extra days to pack up our old house, a task we had woefully neglected for far too long. But it did mean we had to do some frantic rescheduling of moving trucks and cable company visits, rethink our strategy of painting as much of the house as possible before moving in, and somehow figure out how to do a complete move during a work day, instead of over the long Memorial Day Weekend as originally planned. The fact that I had used up all my vacation time on our European vacation meant that I did, in fact, have to work on moving day – June 1. And, as if that’s not enough to figure out, I also had already signed on renters for the house we were moving out of – and those renters were moving in on June 1. Somehow we did it – hired a moving company to pack and haul away our belongings just in the knick on time as our renters pulled up in their own packed moving van. Me rushing to the house during my lunch hour to meet a cleaning company I hired to clean the place for us since, obviously, I didn’t have time to do that myself. And quickly rushing over to the new house to tell the moving company where to put our stuff … but that’s where it got really tricky. You see, the woman we bought the house from – the one who built all this extra time into our contract so she would have lots of time to move herself out – was still there … and so was her stuff.

Confused? So were we. But it seems that the moving company she had hired stood her up. They just didn’t show. And because it was a holiday weekend prior to this she had been unable to find another company to come help her. And so we did what any sympathetic new homeowners would do – we kicked her out. But we were kind enough not to throw her belongings out on the front lawn. Instead we moved them all into the garage and told her she could come back for them later (which, it turns out, was about 2 weeks time). With the chaos and confusion of moving so many belongings around in various directions in a limited timeframe it looked, and felt, like a hurricane of epic proportions had hit our home (not to mention that fact that my lunch “hour” was now completely blown).

And now it’s been a year since the nightmare on my street (which isn’t named “Elm” like in the horror series but is coincidentally named after another tree – Pine). And through every storm we’ve weathered since then (literal or metaphorical) I always think back to last June 1 and laugh. Because if we somehow pulled it off on that day, we can handle anything. So bring it on First Day Of Hurricane Season! You are no match for us!

p.s. If you’ve missed the stories of what’s gone down on Pine Street in this last year you’re missing out. Thankfully I’ve chronicled many of them right here on this blog – click the links to your right and enjoy the memories!