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XOXO

The End?

It's over.

This blog, that is ;)

You can get your fill of the adventures of the Redhead-Next-Door, but in a new fab blog! Check out Life With Dick.

It might be til death due you part, but that doesn't mean you can't blog about it.

Dental Damn

So my dreams of a non-braces wedding were dashed yesterday by my dentist. I will be wed in full-on teeth metal.

Paul has never kissed me without braces. And now he's marrying me, teeth unseen. What if we get married, I get my braces off, and I'm a bad kisser? Yeah, you're right. That would NEVER happen. Once good kisser, always a good kisser. If anything, it'll be better without the braces. Like sex without the condom. But with teeth. And metal.

To Do, Before I Do

My "To Do" list before the wedding (which is in less than a month away if you are counting and if you're not, you really should start) keeps growing. And growing. I have no idea how I'm we're going to get it all done. Our home-made white wine seems to be helping me feel better about the whole task-list-from-hell thing, but at the same time is a wee bit of a hinderence (what with me passing out on the couch each night).

And I'm not talking about the little things to do that will go unnoticed if they're not done (like wedding programs). We're talking big things (like flowers). Perhaps seaweed could serve as a enviromentally friendly substitue? Plus, it would tie in well with our wedding venue (a boat).

If that wasn't enough, the tailor called yesterday to say I have to come pick up my wedding dress right away because she sold her business. Say what? So, now I don't even know if the alterations were done. I'm freaking out. I'm staying positive. At the very least, I can always fashion myself a spur-of-the-moment potential wedding dress out of toilet paper (like they do on that Cashmere toilet paper commercial). Although, I am getting married on the high seas...for those of us who've had to substitue toilet paper for paper towel in the ladies washroom, you know how well water and toilet paper go together. Ew.

Needless to say, I haven't had much of a chance for blogging. I did finish up a post I started back in May (check it out here). I'm in the process of designing a new post-wedding blog. More on that soon :)

A Day By Any Other Name...

I was half-asleep this morning when I heard Paul talking downstairs. I rolled over to his [empty] side of the bed, trying to get a good look at the clock with my one eye that would open. 6:00 am?

What is he doing awake at 6:00 am on a Saturday?

Paul sets a cup of tea on the bedside table for me.

Paul: "Time to get up beautiful."

Me: "I thought it was Saturday and we didn't have to go to work."

Paul: "I wish I was Saturday, then we could stay in bed and [censored].

Me: "At least it's Wednesday, the week is half-over."

Paul: "Hon, you know it's Tuesday, right?"

Me: "Oh bugger."

Undressed

With my wedding to Paul only 39 days away, life has been crazy busy gettin' ur done, and not leaving things to the last minute (as per my usual live-on-the-edge procrastination style). I've had nightmares of showing up at the ceremony and the Justice of the Peace isn't there because we forgot to call her. Or, forgetting to get the marriage license and then not being able to tie the knot. Very Freudian I'm sure.

My wedding dress finally arrived. I couldn't sleep a wink the night before, I was so anxious to see my dress for the first time. Touch it. Wear it. OMG would it even fit?

I took Paul's daughter Hannah (age 9) with me for the unveiling, a nice step-mother step-daughter bonding moment. I unzipped the garmet bag, and got all goose-bumpy. The dress is the perfect medium shade of ivory to match my redheaded complexion. I slipped my feet into the dress, pulled it up to my chest, zipped it up. It was...too big. Ok, I can deal with that. After all, that's why God invented tailors. I turned around to face the mirror. And...nothing. I thought this moment would make me cry or make me feel "this is THE dress" or something, anything. All I felt was slightly underwhelmed. Which is NOT the feeling you want to have when trying on your [2nd and last] wedding dress.

I went out to the waiting room to show Hannah. Surely she would see something I was missing, and reassure me the dress was DDG and I looked radiant. All my doubts were placed in the hands of a 9 year-old girl.

Me: "What do you think Hannah?"
Hannah: "Uh................................."

It's too late to order another dress. So, I decided to focus on the positives of the dress - makes me look tall and lanky with curves in all the right spots. And the color looks amazing on me if I do say so myself (well somebody's got to!).

Besides, it's all about the accessories. They make an outfit. Right? I'll pretend I didn't hear that.

Paul tried to smooth things over by telling me I'd look radiant in anything. Uh huh. What a GUY thing to say. Some smuck probably told his bride-to-be she'd look good in this outfit too (see right).

Oh bloody hell.

Oy!

After an action-packed weekend which included my Toyota Corolla receiving a lap dance from a Hummer on Sunday (so not cool), I fell asleep exhausted last night.

This morning at work I get a call from my mother.

Mum: "How come I'm hearing that you were in a car accident from Facebook?"

How can one woman inject such guilt into one simple question? I swear I have Jewish relatives somewhere. And the way she said "Facebook" like it was a person, a person who I told a secret too. I remember when she used to say the same thing, but about my blog. Seriously, my mom is the only one I know who could be jealous of a non-entity.

To maintain my good-daughter status, I offered to call my mom more often with updates on my life, so she wouldn't have to read it second-hand from a social networking site.

And true-to-form I called her that very evening with an "update" - a job interview for a swanky new position!

Me: "Hi Mum, just calling you with an update on my life since this morning."
Mum: "Ok, but make it quick. I'm on my way to a dinner party."

I can't win.