It Was The Best Of Times, It Was The Worst Of Times, Part 2

Sunday morning we got up and brainstormed about the car situation. Actually we did that all day, alternated with napping, cooking a huge pot of soup, and a quick trip the liquor store. We felt cheap vodka was the kindest thing we could do to ourselves after the past stressful two days. Actually we felt EXPENSIVE vodka was the kindest thing, but there is nothing like weddings and car repair to wipe you out of money.

We also played with Miss Cleo, and discovered that she shares our love of coffee and animal crackers.

So in the end, we decided I should buy another car, and wait for the mechanic's report before deciding if Gwennie is to be sold, fixed and sold, fixed and kept or simply used as a giant flower planter.

This conclusion wiped us out, so we took a nap, followed by going to bed for the night.

Sunday we got up bright and early and took a bike ride down to the library to steal their wifi, as our neighbor's wasn't working.
On the way we pasted one of my favorite places in the world. Their signs are ALWAYS good for a laugh.

We decided to head straight over to the car lot, who then in turn drove us over to a giant tent sale. If we'd had any idea that we would be spending the ENTIRE DAY there, we would have brought a book or something.

I ended up buying a red Toyota Camry. I like her. We're still narrowing down her name, but we think it's Nadia. We like her.

We drove her home, ate leftover soup and watched Weekend at Bernie's and Weekend at Bernie's II. Anticlimatic, I know, but about all we could handle.

So everything is going to be fine. Expensive, but fine. (Please send money. And/or stuffed animals. Also and/or good thoughts about my appointment with the specialist.)

I Love Timmy's Comment Nick's Flickr Page.

Nick posted this picture of Dulce and Timmy said,

"I think she wants to eat you. You know how cats are good at waiting, right? Yeah. This one's waiting. Some night you will come home after a bit too much wine and you'll wake up the next morning without toes. Trust me. This cat has that look. It's not evil, per se. Cats aren't evil. They are simply very, very driven but at the same time very, very patient. Just wait."

It Was The Best Of Times, It Was The Worst Of Times.

So my brother got married and it went beautifully.
But I might be dying (sorry, I'm really morbid when I'm stressed), Nick's laptop took a potenially fatal blow (of coffee), and my car blew up. And by 'blew up' I mean 'expensive' and 'not covered by warranty'.
Oh and Mick got sick, but he's better now. I had a feeling he wouldn't die of illness. He'll be the first bird to die of spontaneous bird combustion or something equally dramatic.

And now I'll give you the long version.




Friday morning I got a distressing phone call from my doctor. Teach me to give her my real number. (kidding)
Could be something (bad), could be nothing, only time (and a specialist with uncomfortable equipment) will tell.
Nick and I decided to shake it off and worry about it after this weekend. We had no idea what a theme this line of thought would become.
We ran errands all day, including a completely unnecessary stop at Murphy's Surplus, just because it amuses us.
incidentally, this is our makeshift computer desk, because it's the only place in the apartment where we can steal our neighbor's wifi. My easel was there, but in all honesty, the computer is a far more worshiped idol in my apartment.

The rehearsal dinner ran smoothly, other than my father poking me in the stomach and asking if I was pregnant.
Right. 'Cause that's how I'd tell him. I'd drink a few margaritas at my brother's rehearsal dinner and drop it casually.
At least his fiancee Rose (my soon to be step-mother) had the decency to look horrified when he said that. And speaking of Rose, I found her quite tolerable. I mean, I think I'd flat out like her if she wasn't a package deal with my father. She obviously wanted me to like her, while it might have been a smidge over the top, I don't envy her position, trying to win over the affection of her new stepdaughter, so I've decided to reserve any judgment and give her time to show her true colors.
Rose seems to be the best my father was ever going to land, so she's a best case scenario as far as I'm concerned.
And my new step brother.
He looks like Harry Potter, he's shy at first, and he carries tools on his belt. Naturally, I heart him utterly, as he is EVERYTHING(see above) I ever wanted in a little brother.

Anyway, I got to catch up with my cousin Caleb and some very old and dear friends over dinner, before we headed home.

The next morning (Sat) we started out bright and early, as I had to report to hair and makeup. Before we left, I packed a bag of snacks, good thread (emergency sewing kit thread generally SUCKS) and bobby pins. Just as we were parking outside the hairstylist's, a cup of coffee launched itself out of the cupholder and directly into Nick's laptop.
We dried it off as best we could and decided to shrug it off and think about it later.

The minute I sat down in the hairstylist's chair, she exclaimed, "You MUST be Jesse's sister!"
I told y'all there was a strong family resemblance, a resemblance which reared it's gorgeous head again when she did my hair in a poufy retro style and I looked in the mirror and saw instead of my own face, the spitting image of my grandmother circa 1962.

After that, Nick and I headed over to Jesse and Bethany's new condo where all us brides and 'maids were getting ready. I'd like to say I was leaning in on the right to comfort and calm her, but frankly, she was the calmest and happiest bride I've ever seen.


We ate bagels and drank coffee and watched Nick try to revive the laptop, with the help of a blowdryer.

Just when things were getting TOO calm and under control, our flowergirl arrived. In a cloud of words and swish of skirts. This is a child after my own heart.

Our limo arrived and we piled in, Nick following in my car, heading to the country club.

A few minutes after we arrived and settled into the little brides room, a stressed-looking Nick knocked on the door and informed me that my dear little Gwennie-car had 'thrown a rod' and that it was BAD.

My father offered to have her towed back to my house (quite a distance). His motivation for this kind gesture could have been anything from not allowing anything to spoil Jesse's (his golden child) wedding, to impressing his fiancee, to maybe even just wanting to be nice to me. I choose not to examine it too closely, and simply be grateful for the gesture which allowed the rest of my evening to run fairly smoothly. (Bless you Lola, for dropping everything on a Sat night and driving over to my place to wait and sign for Gwennie.)

Nick and I shrugged it off and decided to worry about it tomorrow.

Meanwhile, the guest began to arrive. Some family and old friends I hadn't seen in years where there.

My gorgeous Aunt Kitty and my favorite cousin Caleb.

My Grandpa Ken, who taught me every joke I know.

My Uncle Frank and Aunt Shannon, who haven't aged a bit since as far back as I can remember. Seriously. I'd think they'd made a pact with Satan if they both weren't such warm and lovely people.

Luke and Andrea (left), Dave with his date (right). I haven't seen them since high school. I think we've all gotten better looking with age.

Groomsman Dan escorting my grandfather (in back), who I don't care much for since he took up grabbing my ass, and his lovely wife Marty, who I adore. My family is a mixed bag at best, but you have to admit, we marry up.

Groomsman Jordan escorting Gramie Dude (real name) and her husband Patrick (another example of what lovely people we tend to marry). They are more adorably perfect than they appear. I love them both more than coffee.

Groomsman Leif escorting my mother and her husband Bob. Yes, the 'Prophet of God.' He avoided me all evening. Which was very kind and thoughtful of him.

Jordan and Christy.

Leif and Katie.

Dan and I.

Adam and Erin.

Dan (best man) and Cindy (maid of honor).

Ashley, concentrating so hard on all her instructions.

At the other end of the aisle, my brother began to cry. And I cried when I saw him cry.

Love is beautiful.

We all took a few more pictures with the photographer, in the midst of which Ashley got into the champagne. *giggle*

The reception gave me a chance to catch up with my Gramie Dude, dance with Patrick, chat with some relatives I haven't seen in far too long, dodge the bouquet, and bond with the other 'maids.

Despite appearences I am actually defending her shoe choice, not condeming it. And then they were off.
Nick and I, after a tired but happy slow dance, hitched (no pun intended) a ride home with my Aunt Kitty, exhausted.

To be continued ..................

I'm Here.

I've got a marathon post about my long weekend in the works, with pictures, I've been working on it all morning.

In the meantime, amuse yourself with this picture of Mick and Gillian, and the fact that 'Rezzie told me she isn't wearing underwear today.

So Then I Said...........

.............. "You found abnormal cells up there? Well, are you sure they're MINE?? Between you and the nurses, there was a lot of traffic up there, maybe one of y'all left them. This will never hold up in court, Doc."

Ask Miss VJ

Dear Miss VJ,

I'm a girl with a crush. A crush on a hot, hot man in karate class. A hot, hot BLACK belt in karate class.
I've recently asked said karate-boy out for coffee and he responded by saying yes with a stipulation...
that it only be professionally...
What the heck does that mean?! We go to the same dojo, not the same cubicle! We wear white pajamas and punch each other like kids who have crushes, and talk about stupid ninja movies we've seen. We do NOT trudge into the office like zombies or meet at the photocopier...
He gave me his number and now I'm wondering if I should call....
Do I call?
Cause I know if I do and we meet, he'll fall in love with me and then we're at a moot point and in a sitution he didn't want to be in.
What do I do??

Confusedly,
Hawt Ninja



*combs eyebrows in front of a mirror*

*stares at herself in the mirror, tilting her chin up*



Dear Hawt Ninja,

No. You probably shouldn't call.

See, the beautiful/horrible thing about men is that they tend to say exactly what they mean. I know, isn't that ridiculously confusing?
But anyway.
It's a situation he doesn't want to be in.
For whatever weird reason. (I mean, seriously, he doesn't want to date you? What happened, did he get one of those stick thingies to the head once too often or something?)
So unless you can get him to open up about why it would have to be strictly professional, or you can go to coffee without ANY expectations of changing his mind about the nature of the meeting ('cause we know it's cruel to begin any kind of a relationship expecting to change their mind about something, and that applies even at this stage) than you're setting yourself up to hear the same letdown, after you've invested more of yourself.

Go find an even hawter ninja with better sense, 'cause you deserve it.

Adorably,
Miss VJ


*survey's face from a slight sidewise angle*

*winks at her own reflection*

Next question, please.

So Then Nick Said ............

.............. "People this much in love should get like a doctors note excusing us from work and stuff."

I Love Coming Home.

This last picture, that's Twink.
Twink's (stupid bastard of an) owner moved away and left her behind, so she's become sorta the neighborhood cat. I'd gladly take her in except for the two cat limit in our complex. So Steve feeds her, BJ chats with her during the day, and I tell her every morning when I leave to keep an eye on the place and she greets me with an ankle rub every night when I get home.

So Then Nick Said ..........

............. "YOU WANT ME TO DO WHAT WITH THE VOLUME??"

So Then I Said .........

......... "Baby, I would even live in an igloo with you. For the rest of my life. Which would be about 30 minutes. 'Cause I would DIE of the cold."

I Didn't Buy Them.

It took me about half an hour to talk myself out of buying them.

See, I had to buy silver shoes to match my 'moondust' bridesmaid dress.
The only silver shoes I could find looked either like rejects from Liberace's middle east tour, or total stripper shoes.

After several stores (and remember I have NO attention span for shopping) I was getting a bit discouraged.

I pointed at one pair. Clear plastic bottom with stilleto heel, silver sole and glitterly silver strap.
"See Nick, these are only appropriate if you're swinging around a pole or serving drinks in a topless club."

Nick poked the shoes.

*FLASH*

The shoes LIT UP.

You know, like little kids sneakers?
Yeah. Like that.
Red and green flashing lights.
All down the heel.

Our eyes widened, then turned and met.
"Ooooooooooooooooooo."


For the next half hour I stood there, giggling manically and whispering, "No. No, I couldn't."

Happiness is ........

............. the fact that my perfect boyfriend got even more perfect last night when he cooked me dinner. I mean, have you EVER seen ANYTHING more sexy before in your LIFE?

The only thing yummier than the food was HIM.