When I’m old I will insist on being let out of the car right outside whatever business I have to venture into, so I can waddle in the building in my heels and hat. Just like the old lady I saw today who looked killer in her all brown ensemble.
Rock on, old lady in heels, rock on.
Someone seriously needs to convince me that a handful of cookies is not an adequate meal because I just dubbed it “lunch.”
Sometimes I don’t think my brain works correctly. I’ll see the one unflattering photo of me in the twenty or so the photographer sent from our engagement shoot (Yes! They’re in! Yay!) and immediately I’m all, “OHEMGEE GROSS! I AM NEVER EATING AGAIN. EVER. MUST SPEND EVERY WAKING HOUR ON A TREADMILL.” And then I eat four chocolate chip cookies. You’d think my irrational outbursts would have a slightly longer staying power. Like, maybe a full minute.
I might get more done, albeit irrational crazy things, but still.
Do you ever get those urges to do something completely crazy and out of your comfort zone? Dangerous, dark shrouded things? Stupidly exciting, might-even-kill-you things?
Sometimes I get those urges. I’ll be walking by a tattoo parlor and, even though I hate needles, and tatoos, I’ll have the urge to go in and pick a design at random. Or I’ll be standing by the edge of a tall building or cliff and just for a split second, desperately want to jump. Sometimes I have to bring rationality back to the forefront and remind myself that, yes, I could buy a plane ticket to Guam, but what the hell would I do when I get there?
Though, I guess, the last wild and crazy thing I did was decide to travel six hundred miles to visit a man I met at a hotel in Montreal. And that worked out pretty well.
What wild and crazy thing have you done lately?
I am currently enjoying my mother’s version of “Breakfast of Champions” i.e. chocolate chip cookies and chocolate milk and awaiting the ladies of The View to pop on my tv and inform on What’s Happening In The World. Ladies and gentleman it is eleven am and I am lounging in my pjs and planning the rest of my second day off this week. Oh glorious day of no responsibility, I love you so.
I haven’t had two days off in a row that wasn’t for travel since August. And though I’m a little upset to know that I won’t be cashing a check at the end of the week from my little retail job, but I almost don’t care. The trade-off is worth it.
This weekend was all sorts of awesome. After working the early shift on Saturday The Boy and I started cleaning and cooking for our neighborhood Game Night. The plan, which was thought up over Halloween, was for one couple to cook a main course, and the others to bring side dishes and a game to play. So by 7:15 we had the chicken kiev (so good! so buttery! so time consuming!) in the oven and I had “hidden” all our crap in closets to try and present our abode as Clean and Pretty And Totally Not Inhabited By Pack Rats.
And we find out that one of the other couples had “forgotten” about our plan. And that they were planning on staying home and playing video games.
Unbeknownst to us, we had time traveled back to the 7th grade.
Seriously? Do people in their twenties really do this? We felt slighted. We had made the plans, written down the date, prepared for it etc., all with the assumption that our home-owning, full-time working, mid twenty-something neighbors would have the ability to keep track of a damn date without having to be reminded like ten year olds.
Luckily the other neighbors did remember, and the night ended up being a lot of fun. We played games and drank wine and the dinner turned out awesome.
Sunday was glorious. The Boy and I slept until noon, cooked a big brunch, caught the matinee of 2012, and spent the rest of the day eating chocolate chip cookies and watching movies on television (Meet the Robinsons, and Back to The Future 2 and 3). Cuddling with the fiance for multiple hours is always a Win.
And now it’s Monday.
And the rest of my day will include laundry and searching for A Better Job. And House.
Enjoy your day!
It has been raining almost non stop for three days.
If I could make the tv turn (shut up, it’s harder than it should be) on I’m sure the weather man would concur that it is, in fact, blustery and wet outside. Thanks to the weather I didn’t have to go to work yesterday and until about twenty minutes ago I didn’t have to go today either.
Now I do.
Having a day off given to you and then retracted is similar to having your big brother take back his Really Cool Toy when you just started to play with it.
Not fair. I’m telling Mom.
And, yes, it means that I get to collect my check and add a few hours to my paycheck but is it nowhere near as glorious as the day I had planned.
My today previously included coffee and podcasts, a lazy visit to the gym (which will still occur, just with a little more vigor due to the time crunch), an afternoon spent cleaning the kitchen, putting laundry away, and making chocolate chip cookies. A few hours on the couch with “The Other Boleyn Girl,” lunch with The Boy, and an evening double feature of “Precious” (my pick) and “2012″ (his pick).
Scads better than wet dog smell and unending phone calls.
Yesterday was nice though. I did some “I really shouldn’t, but what the hell” shopping at the empty mall. I decided against a manicure (because my fear of manicurists rivals only my fear of whales. Both irrational, both completely capable of making me break into a cold sweat) and purchased a maroon polish to apply myself later that afternoon. I smelled Yankee candles for twenty minutes before decided on Harvest and another Pumpkin Spice. I picked up some wedding related craft supplies and a coke zero, looked for flat gray boots to no avail and went into Victoria’s Secret to redeem my free underwear coupon.
I went into Victoria’s Secret for free underwear and came out with free underwear, and fifty dollars worth of makeup.
Like an episode of I Love Lucy, The Boy just knew.
While enjoying an episode of “Square Face” (Bones) he turns to me and out of nowhere….
The Boy: “You haven’t purchased any Victoria Secret lingerie in while.”
Shaba: “It’s expensive.”
(Also, I just purchased some lingerie a few days ago, of the non-expensive kind. It’s not like I’m totally overdue.)
A few minutes later while paying bills he noticed the pre-authorization from Vicky’s.
The Boy: “50 dollars in Victoria’s? And no lingerie?”
Shaba: “Mmmm, makeup?”
The Boy: *sigh*
When I’m old I will ask my service people personal questions and get away with it.
I will over tip and over share.
I will keep my change in a Hello Kitty change purse and fold my dollar bills into origami hearts.
I will send children cards for Holidays that only Hallmark recognizes, complete with themed stickers on the envelopes and the required two dollar bills to pad the inside.
I will keep Werthers Originals in the candy dish and Crispix in the cupboard.
Michelle posted recently about the constant “buzz” of wedding planning that exists in her head.
Well, girl, let me just say “WORD.”
I didn’t get it before I was engaged. I didn’t. I don’t think I could have. It’s just one of those things that you just don’t understand before you enter the tulle covered, bedazzled, tiara-ed world of The Bride. Where I once remember being puzzled over “bride diets” (because, really? why try and makeover your body for a party?) now I admit one of the biggest spurs in my side pushing me to the produce aisle and the gym is that white dress hanging in my bridal salon’s “Received” area. {Side note, my dress is in!!! Squee!! I’m making plans for a first fitting in January!!}
Before I spent my free time blogging, or reading, or learning stuff, or making “Shaba Loves Me” t-shirts for a few Very Important People. Now, if I have a few moments of free time I spend it looking at wedding porn. StyleMePretty, a Practical Wedding, The Brides Guide. I spend hours staring at West Coast brides who always seem to have way better luck at thrift stores than I ever do. I spend hours looking for “things” for my wedding. I have lists upon lists of “things” to do, “things” to research, “things” to try and “things” to buy. And after every tiny check I put on my ever-expanding task list I feel a little more defeated. Because it never really turns out the way I imagined.
I’m terrified that my wedding, the vision I’ve had since April and have worked on peice by peice like a little bird building a nest, will become passe before it has taken place. I’m afraid that my handiwork, my vendors, and my wedding won’t be the “wedding blog worthy” wedding I imagine it to be. I’m afraid that my non-theme theme of Stuff I’ve Always Liked That Just Happens To Be Trendy Right Now will become a snore, trendy and “So Last Season” by the time June 12th rolls around. And I know it shouldn’t matter. I know I should just do whatever the hell I want because I CAN. And it’s MY (our, really) Day Dammit. And I will. I just wish I knew it would all turn out the way it looks in my head, I wish I had an insurance policy for the beauty and fun quotient of my wedding. Dear Flo From Progressive, can we get a quote on that?
I just want it to live up to the image I have in my head.
And though I know, I KNOW it’ll be fine and wonderful and The Best Day ever because at the end of the night I’ll be married….I can’t seem to shut up the little wedding ‘zilla inside my head.
So, tell me something good.
And don’t use the word “wedding.”
Today’s Proposal story come from Tabitha at Headed in the Right Direction she and her brand new husband were married August 8th!
Here’s her story!
First of all, Joe let it slip (after I bugged him for the zillionth time) that he would be proposing sometime before my birthday (April 5th), so I knew it was coming, but didn’t know what to expect or when. And I really tried not to think about it too much, or assume every little suspicious thing he did was an indication of the impending proposal. I wanted to LET it be a surprise.
So, on March 26th, Joe suggested that we go out to lunch the following day, since my friend and bridesmaid-to-be Megan was going to be in town, and he said I could choose where we’d eat. Coincidentally (or so I thought), my boss asked me to run an errand for him at noon: he wanted me to go to the Elephant Bar to pick up a new catering menu for our event planning files. Totally did not faze me at all; and I suggested to Joe that we just eat there since I had to stop by anyway. (See how he made it seem like it was my idea? Sneaky.)
Joe said it would be his treat, on one condition: I had to dress up kind of nice, because he wanted to “show me off” — as he so enjoys doing. Again, I thought practically nothing of it. I admit, a teeny tiny suspicion arose, but then I thought, “Nah, he’s not going to propose on my lunch break!” He also mentioned he would dress up too, maybe even in a tie.
Fast forward to the next morning, March 27th. I got all ready and prettified and headed to work. Then, within an hour or so of arriving at work, I got the WORST migraine EVER… (Oh, and a little TMI: I also had the runs. I mean, literally, I was running to the bathroom every half hour that morning. Not fun.)
Luckily, I had the greatest boyfriend in the world, and he brought me some aspirin to alleviate my migraine. At noon, he picked me up and we headed for the Elephant Bar. He mentioned that Megan was already there saving us a table, since there was a big lunch rush. Then as we pulled into the parking lot, he said, “Oh, I have to show you something really awesome that just landed out back, so you need to close your eyes until we get there.” I asked him what he meant by “landed” and he reminded me that the Santa Barbara airport is right behind the restaurant. So I figured there was some missile or huge plane that Joe thought was super-cool, cuz he’s a nerd like that, and again brushed off any slight suspicion that this could be “it.”
I should also mention that I was a very diligent employee, because I said, “Well, I need to go to the front desk first to grab that catering menu for my boss; I don’t want to miss the lady I’m supposed to meet!” And Joe said, “I’m sure she’ll still be there, but the thing outside might not be there for long! Let’s go there first.” I was hesitant, but I said okay.
(Oh, and for the record, by this point, my migraine was 90% gone and my bowels had calmed down at least enough that I didn’t fear any embarrassing incidents – phew!)
So Joe began to walk me through the restaurant, with my eyes closed, and I was really nervous about running into stuff or tripping over things, so I was holding on tight to his arm and reminding him to stick close and not let me face plant into a window or anything. As we got out onto the back patio of the restaurant, Joe positioned me, then I heard a subtle, “Shh!” and he said, “Okay, open your eyes!”
I opened them and saw…
Some airplanes. Some helicopters. Nothing that screamed, “AMAZING! EXCITING! REMOTELY INTERESTING!”
I was confused.
Then Joe said, “Oh, actually, you should turn around.”
So I turned around, and there, sitting before me, were about 25 of our friends and family! And suddenly Joe was on one knee, and I was completely in shock, and he said something along the lines of, “We’ve been on quite a roller coaster, and I can’t wait to see where else it takes us in life. Tabitha Rose Petrie, will you marry me?”
“YEEESSSSSSSS!!!” I squealed (while jumping up and down)!
I hadn’t even noticed the ring box he was holding open in front of me, and then he was putting the ring on my finger.
Ack! It was so perfect — the ring, the moment, his words, and the fact that so many loved ones were there to witness it.
My parents and his parents were there, along with a bunch of people from work and our church, friends of Joe’s who I’ve also become close with…and Megan! There were a bunch more people who knew about it but weren’t able to make it, but I was still so excited to know that people were celebrating with me in that moment, wherever they were!
Needless to say, I was one happy FIANCEE!
And then we ate a delicious meal, and then I had to go back to work. Talk about anti-climactic, but hey…I was engaged!! I could have been lost in the middle of a desert and still felt like the happiest person alive.
The end.
Congrats Tabitha and Joe!
If you or someone you know has a proposal story to share send it to ablogofherownATgmailDOTcom!
Like during the following conversation I recently had with The Boy…
Shaba: “There must be some weird trend going on with men, because I’ve seen A LOT of men with long fingernails. It’s not fair, why can’t I grow nails but weird gross men can.”
The Boy: “Umm.. I don’t think it’s a ‘trend’ but more like a drug culture thing.”
Shaba: “What?”
The Boy: “Yea, I think it’s a cocaine thing. Especially if just the pinky nail is long.”
Shaba: “Oh my god. Gross.”
So apparently my area is full of cocaine addicts with nice nails. Which is totally unfair. I’d love to haven nice nails but I’m not about to catch a case of Lohanitis* to get them. Sigh.
*Stolen from Katelin.
So I keep forgetting what day it is.
When I’m old this will actually be acceptable.
And ya’ll won’t notice anything’s wrong when I’m all “woo hoo Tuesday!” on Wednesday.
And The Boy will still cringe every time I say “Ya’ll” and blame it on residing on this side of the mason Dixon line regardless of my Yankee background.
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 | LovelyAnomaly on Small Happy |
Small Happy November 19, 2009
A house. A car. A 401k. A white picket fence. 2.5 children. A “worthwhile and fulfilling career.” A designer bag. A vacation fund. Organic groceries. Furniture that matches. A bi weekly manicure and on time hair appointments. A patio. A marriage. A wedding. A nursery. A before baby, before college, before gravity body.
Big Happy. Big, impossible, happy lies in the collection of these things. It’s hard not to get sucked into the list of things we self-impose on ourselves. This check list of happiness for our lives. Every check mark brings with it a momentary pleasure and then a void. What next? What can we concentrate on now? What do we set our sights on? What goals can we strive to achieve?
And while I want a good number of the things on that list, I don’t think I want that happy. I want Small Happy. Healthy happy. I want warm bath on a cool night happy. I want “novel you sink into” happy. I want warm cookies, baby laughter, fresh lilacs happy. I want money to pay the bills and keep me in six dollar wine happy. I want matinee movie happy. I want one expensive dinner a year with The Boy happy. I want I don’t hate my job and I get my weekends off happy. I want christmas newsletters about little league games and ballet recitals happy.
I want library card happy.
I want small, quiet, happy.
And to be content with it.