Happy

Growing flowers in January. I hear and see on the news folks facing 17 degree weather and horrible snow blizzards, I think about these poor people whilst I water my geraniums, petunias and roses. Poor suckers.




Fatness. I snapped this pic just as he was stretching from his 15th nap of the day. I had looked for him in all his favorite cupboards, and finally found him sleeping guard at the top of the staircase. Fatness is a beloved pet, he is there for me when I weep over the writers strike and listens intently as I regale him with my theories of why Denzel Washington was overlooked at the Oscars to which Fatness has his own opinion.


My laptop. This is where Timothy and I spend a lot of time. He writes a lot, mostly about important things with titles like "Advocacy vs Adversarial" and "Cultural Reform" and "Progressive Decentralization." He spends a lot of time on websites like "Religious Tolerance" and stuff about philosophers. Me? I'm perusing important pop culture stuff like perezhilton.com and tmz.com and writing about my cat.

Things That Gratify Me, Part 2

The day Timothy surprised me at work with a marriage proposal. My manager had gathered my entire dept. around for a quick "meeting" the quick meeting was really a ruse for this to happen:


My grandpa's garden.


My grandma's apron.


The first time I saw Griffin in his uniform.


Erica, shopping for a wedding dress.


Arizona thunderstorms.


Laughing my ass off with her.


Pictures like this.


Fatness.


Listening to Tim sing and play on this.


Running around the hills of Holbrook with my cousins. Notice Chris standing next to my grandma in her "Little House On The Prairie" bonnet.


My grandma hanging out laundry in hose and straw hat.


and...
Dove soap
Mondays off
fat cats
Camille's legs
the smell of furniture polish

and....
Erica quietly muttering that she is going to vote for Clinton or Obama, smack in the middle of my Mother's 27 minute testimonial on how Mitt Romney is basically Jesus Christ himself and how the entire media has ignored his perfection.

Rant

I started off the day by getting up far too early, drinking too much coffee and cleaning toilets with pure chlorine, which has provided me with a 3-way headache. I might as well cap it off with a much needed rant.

Why do husbands clean really dirty things in delicate areas? i.e. black, dirty work boots on travertine bathroom tile.

Am I the only person who cleans up after myself in a public bathroom? My work bathroom looks like a flock of geese just finished up bathing in the sinks and making a nest out of paper towels.

Why do co-workers come to the office on their deathbeds, really, do you think while you sit at your desk hacking up your dried out lungs and slurping up snot, you are doing us all a service?

Why do people talk during movies? Hey here's a clue, you are not at home, it's called a public place where people pay $9.00 to see a movie in quiet. While I'm sure the people on the screen seem very real to you, it's called acting so shut the eff up.

Microwaves at work. I think the people in my office bldg found a way to blow stuff up for amusement. How I love to heat up my soup, carefully covered with a paper towel, in a microwave that has 5 lbs of scrambled egg and sausage shrapnel hanging from the sides.

Trying on clothes. Thank you dept. stores for providing the horrible green-tinted fluorescent lights and foot to ceiling 3 sided mirrors so that I can see all the cellulite on my ass and thighs, and insure I see all of my 3 foot long legs that have no shape except for the narrowed part of the bottom I call ankles.

Fitness folks on morning talk shows. They stand upright in their black Lycra sports trunks, their spray on tans and 0% body fat and begin to explain in their high self-esteem meth-fast voices how simple it all is. "Hey folks, just get movin! You can jog through the grocery store, exercise in your chair at work, lift canned food, use your baby for arm lifts...." It was at that moment I had Tim's standard issue fully loaded 9mm glock aimed at my JVC 38 inch screen, thankfully, Tim Kung-fu high kicked it out of my hands.

Good-day.

Bridezilla

We began our journey at David's Bridal because the first place we had an "appointment" at was closed, not a good way to start wedding dress shopping. I placed an old Indian curse upon the place, we stopped at Starbucks and re-grouped.

Erica had picked out several dresses beforehand in her usual organized fashion. When we instructed the help of her size 2, she seemed slightly befuddled and mumbled something about the last size 2 that was in here was "my 5 year old" and "we don't have many of those" hence began the many many pinnings of huge 4's and 6's.

She liked this one because it made her boobs big, Chris and I had to tackle her to the floor to get her to try on a veil.

...and a tiara

Apparently no wedding dress is made with sleeves anymore, sleeves are now on endangered lists in 3 states, one not being Utah. We had to make do.

David's wasn't quite cutting it, so Erica put in a panic call to Christy, who then whipped out her magic wand (or temple recommend I forget which) called, got us an appt and met us there because she is amazing. Besides the retarded 13 year old helping us, this place had a better selection and nicer dresses....case in point.

Here is where I told Erica to give me her best standard bride pose, she sprang into action.

...and as luck would have it these two gals found their dresses for the wedding.

It was around this time and 159 dresses later that Erica donned this little dandy. It felt good, was the right price (on sale), and....

...she was about to say it...

THIS IS THE ONE, much like Brigham Younggers proclamation at the mouth of the Wasatch Front

So, a light yellow sash, alterations, sleeves and a slight hem later and my beautiful beaming daughter will have one wedding dress that has been dreamed of for several years. I love you my beauty.

Let Them Watch Reruns

I'm pissed. No really. I hate this f-en writers strike, it has forced me to read books I have put aside for years and have meaningful conversations with actual living people, not me yelling at my t.v. screen when Dr. McDreamy considers getting back with anorexic sappy Meredith. I'm actually cooking dinner and really listening to Tim when he is explaining to me how precinct homicide statistics have gone down this quarter. I'm walking around my house taking inventory of what tasks need to be done, like cleaning out Griffin's stinky bedroom that has dusty "Suns" t-shirts hanging in it from the Charles Barkley era. Yesterday, I started cleaning out my laundry room when I stopped in mid-dust bunnies and broke out into a cold sweat, stupidly asking myself "what if the writers never come back?" I fell to my freshly scrubbed floor and started to hyperventilate... "TIM TIM come quick" I croaked. He efficiently took inventory and knew the words that would comfort me. He soothed me back from the cliff, softly whispering things like "there will be a new Grey's Anatomy, Dr. McDreamy is still doing operations and does live." When the color started returning he quickly added "LOST is just around the corner... Sawyer is tanning on the beach and Jack is off crying somewhere" I started to breath again and he gently said "American Idol is showing previews, remember?" I was back.