Honeymoon, Day 1

I got married this weekend! And (apart from a last minute venue change- more on that later) everything went really well.

However, today I want to talk about the first day of my honeymoon. We slept in until the sounds of the garbage truck outside had sufficiently roused us from slumber, then had a fairly leisurely morning beginning to put away wedding gifts. After that, we went up to where I board Rocky, and I worked with him while Justin played on his iPad and kept an eye on Bear. Bear ran around happily and threw up horse crap only once, and thankfully in the barn, not the car.

We also made an amazing discovery tonight, one that will surely hit us in the wallet in the future. We went to an Italian restaurant in town, Bellisio's, that we have never been to before. Wine was half off a bottle (every Monday!), so we decided to splurge and order a bottle of wine. We are not big wine drinkers, and I am very picky about the wine that I like. Moscato's are my favorite as they are a sweet wine with less of the aftertaste I dislike.

Tonight, I had the best wine EVER. It was sweet, fruity and delicious to taste with absolutely no alcohol-y aftertaste. I wrote the name of it in my cell phone so that I can hopefully find it in stores and buy it. It's Moscato D'Asti by Luccio, and I highly recommend it. Unless you're one of those people who enjoy super dry wine. Anyway, this post should probably not be all about the wine- but oh man was it good. We finished the bottle at the restaurant. Additionally, I love the way they presented it, poured it for us, and put it in a chiller wrapped in a white cloth.

We also had a cheese tray appetizer with three different cheeses, red grapes and focaccia bread. I didn't care for the blue cheese but the other two were delightful, and we took home the extras.

I had their Fettuccine Alfredo, which tasted like fancy, grown up macaroni and cheese. YUM. I just got home from this dinner not long ago, and just writing about it makes me want to reheat my leftovers and eat them now. Justin had Chicken Marsala with Parmesan Romano potatoes and fresh green beans with sliced carrots. He enjoyed his meal but wishes he would have gotten the Fettuccine Alfredo.

The couple at the table next to us fascinated me, and I stared at them more than I probably should have. Their server (who was also our server) brought them a bottle of wine that she suggested based on what the couple said they liked. They did not like her suggestion. She ended up bringing them a sampling of three other chardonnays for them to try, for a total of four chardonnay choices that they tasted. The woman tried them with complete seriousness, dismissing two right away and mulling over a third until pronouncing, "it's ok." The fourth agreed with her, and she said that it was "really good." Her husband said little, and peered at the menu with his glasses perched near the end of his nose. He was a little less serious about the chardonnay but agreed with his wife's choice. He seemed like a well trained husband. She laughed, making a joke about getting older and that he needed to wear his glasses to see the menu. He smiled patiently.

Overall, it was an expensive dinner but if I could afford to go there more often... I'd be there every Monday for half off that bottle of Moscato. Which, I just discovered online, is $9.99 a bottle. I'm sensing Bellisio's jacks up their wine prices just a little.

One Week...

Ok, so it was one week yesterday.

Today, it's six days.

I had my first real bout of nerves yesterday, as I had my final dress fitting with the shoes after getting the dress altered. I was so, SO afraid that somehow the dress would be ruined and I would have to either pay tons to have someone fix it or find another dress that would work. Thankfully, the dress is not ruined and is almost perfect. There is no longer a ripple across my boobs, which was my biggest concern, so I think it was worth the money I spent with the tailor. The dress will sit perfectly but I will need to check it and tug the bottom of the bodice to make sure it lies flat; the tailor kept telling me that "the longer I wear it, the better it will fit."

Right.

So I am supposed to wear my dress for a while before the wedding. My pristine, white wedding dress can easily be worn...what, while baking? Watch movies in it? Is she KIDDING ME?! The second time she told me that I had to hold myself back from screaming at her. Generally I think I've done a good job of not being a Bridezilla, but this lady came close to making me snap. There is no way I am sitting around wearing my dress before the wedding. The number of things that could go wrong with this scenario makes me cringe just thinking about it. I have a dog and two cats, and even if they were locked away, their hair would still be present. What if I tripped and fell? I am definitely not a graceful person. Or got sweaty and had sweat-stains? Or thirsty or hungry or Justin comes home and sees me or it gets all wrinkled from me sitting- or am I supposed to stand around for several hours?

I know there are more things I could think of and I am probably being a little too dramatic, but this is... my wedding day. The bride is the main focus of the entire event; of course the groom matters, too, but who does EVERYONE want to see? The bride. I tried explaining this to someone yesterday, and I don't think he got it.

As a general rule, women are much more judgmental when it comes to how the bride looks. There is the inevitable comparison between what they wore/want to wear and the bride's choices. Additionally, how does the bride look in her chosen outfit? If you can't tell, I am feeling just a little nervous about the scrutiny. This is supposed to be the day when the bride looks her absolute best in every way.

It does make me feel better to think back on the other weddings I have attended, to see if I remember what others looked like. I am left with general impressions, but all of them amount to that the bride was happy and beautiful in her own way.

I have also started a list of things I need to get done before the wedding, or things I need to remember.
-Stickers on boxes (these are sunflower stickers on the boxes to hold candy at the reception as party favors)
-I need to find a pretty table or an adequate table with a table cloth for the wedding to hold the roses for those who cannot be at the ceremony (grandparents)
-Get a cake cutter and server (the implements, not the person)
-Pick up the marriage license after Wednesday
-Decide on ceremony music
-Choose a father/daughter dance song
-Choose and buy bridal party gifts
-Find/choose something old to wear for the wedding... I have blue and borrowed in my shoes (they are my soon to be sister-in-law's wedding shoes, and new in my wedding dress)
-Buy static guard
-Be at JCPenney's at 10:15 on Saturday to start getting everything done... manicure, pedicure, and hairstyle. I debated the mani and pedi but then I thought... heck, it's supposed to be the fanciest day of my life. I should get the full treatment.
-Let Molly and Michelle know the rehearsal times (DJ's wife/my boss and the photographer, respectively)
-Ask Molly to help with chair setup at the ceremony site, making sure the chair rental company sets them up correctly

There is probably more but I hope not. Oh, and then there's the planning for our honeymoon...

Choices

Lately, I have been wondering about my career choices and what I am truly passionate about. Today, while reading "Life of Pi", I realized that the care of both animals and children matters a great deal to me. However, I think that animals would be at the top of my list, and before someone starts a whole animal versus human debate, I would like to explain myself.

Does it matter how children are raised? Absolutely. When I consider having children of my own someday, I'll admit to being afraid of being a poor parent; not for any particular reason, but because it is a huge responsibility which I take seriously. At work, I see the results of not just poor parenting, but neglectful, abusive- really, an abhorrent lack of parenting. It's sickening. I do my best to remind myself that these adolescents I work with are generally the product of having no one to care about them and growing up in an environment that fosters their negative behaviors rather than teaching them appropriate ways to live in society. It is easy to become passionately angry with their parents and society, and again I remind myself that the parents likely come from situations that are the same or worse as the clients I see, but perhaps they didn't get the chance to go to a treatment facility, to receive help.

Where is the accountable party, then? If these cycles of abuse and neglect aren't stopped... whose fault is that? I realize that this need to blame someone or something for problems is normal, but it feels...I need someone to blame or I feel powerless. If I can identify that so-and-so fucked up, then the lines are drawn and there is a clear 'enemy,' someone to work against or to help. It's not that simple, however.

I believe that everyone should be held responsible for who they are and the choices they make once they are an adult. I have to believe that everyone has a chance to better themselves. It may be a tiny window of opportunity, it might be incredibly hard to see it or to follow that shred of hope, but it has to be there. If someone doesn't want to continue the cycle of bad choices and have a healthy life, there are options. It's the age of technology and there are so many organizations out there to help. Heck, step into the library and, if you don't know how to use the computer, ask the librarian for help. Look up parenting classes, housing assistance, there are even agencies to help with job placement including career planning, resume writing, interviewing skills, etc.

And that's why I am more passionate about animals. People usually get the chance to grow up, get help, and better themselves. They can attend therapy, and if they so choose, move to a completely foreign place and get a fresh start. People have the ability to choose. Animals do not.

Animals are stuck with who picked them up and has decided to keep them. I just made kissy sounds at one of my cats, and he ran across the room to me, sat down, and started purring. I didn't even have to touch him.

Animals are wonderful creatures, and can teach us humans so much if we are only willing to learn. How many people do you know would be happy to run across the room to you and sit next to you? No conversation, no touching, just sit there and be happy? Hopefully more than I can think of. I think a true friend is someone you can sit next to in silence without feeling the void.

Someone whose dog, cat, rabbit, what-have-you- someone whose animal loves them is a good person. Or can be a good person given the right circumstances.

Regime

Okay, so two posts in one day is a lot for me. But I wanted to post this today to try to keep myself honest.

Today I worked out to Jillian Michaels, and it was hard. HARD. I think I liked it, and want to do it every day, at least until my wedding. That's my first goal. After that, it would behoove me to continue working out- obviously- but I'm trying to set smaller, more reachable goals for myself.

Yet, even as I make it, a part of me is already making excuses that I can't.

Indeed, this week I have also resolved that I should be spending at least 3 days in a row per week with my horse.

These two ideas don't have to compete with each other, and yet they do seriously impede my... well, okay, sleeping in and watching TV. Two activities that I very much enjoy, as lazy and somehow embarrassing as it sounds to admit. I enjoy being lazy and relaxing.

If I go overboard, I don't think I will be able to maintain the schedule. I think, for now, I will figure out the best 3 days in a row per week to visit Rocky. He should be my first priority as he is under my care. The other 4 days per week I will devote to spending 20 minutes getting my butt kicked into shape by Jillian.

And now that it's on the internet, I might even do it.

Weekend!

This last weekend was super fun. Apart from an injured hip and butt cheek (I fell off my horse... or, rather, was dislodged from my horse's back in a manner that was not planned by me), I had a great time.

A friend of mine, who has been living in South Korea for the last year, has returned to America! On Saturday, we met her at the Mall of America (very American) to see each other and shop. I have missed her greatly, and it was wonderful to see and speak with her again in person. After that, we met up with another friend of ours at our hotel, and then proceeded to carpool to the State Fair!

The State Fair was great, we went to the Miracle of Birth Center and saw tiny, newborn goats, cows, pigs, and sheep. I wanted a goat. And a pig. Perhaps a cow...yeah. Talk about your barn of adorable! So then we went to the Warner Coliseum to watch the "Western Horse Show" which was scheduled from 6 pm to midnight, or something crazy like that. We didn't stay for the whole thing, and it started late (because, let's face it, horse people are NEVER on time). The first competition was...odd. And not very safe.

You started out with your horse in a horse trailer with its halter on, while you and your partner had your saddle, saddle blanket, and bridle up at the front of the truck pulling your trailer. The goal is to take your horse out of the trailer, get all of its gear on, gallop around the arena 3 times, take all of the gear off and load your horse back into the trailer in the fastest time. I felt a little bad for the horses, who were being hauled out of trailers by their tails, their girths were pulled tight very quickly while bits were shoved into their mouths, and then they were off and running. It was exciting but not exactly...sane. Or horse-friendly.

Anyway.

I got a new pair of Ariat boots. A part of me questions the wisdom of the particular pair that I bought (or rather, my parents bought as an early Christmas present). They are quite a unique pair~ shiny black patent leather, with turquoise and white stitching on the top part of the boot. My attempts at adding a photo here have so far failed, but the point is that they are hardly the type of boots I would normally wear around the barn. They are... shiny. Fancy looking. And I adore them. They look like a men's dress shoe-cowboy boot hybrid in feminine form.

...

After the State Fair, we went to the Renaissance Festival. I unfortunately left my outfit at home, but had a wonderful time anyway. I got two little grotesques; the shop called them gargoyles, but technically they aren't. Real gargoyles are water spouts, but I digress. They adorable little grotesques, they are the size of a large shot glass. One is based on a bull, but has 4 horns, a lionesque mane, and little bat wings. The other is a sortof monkey-puppy mix, with one little horn on top of his head, little bat wings, a fringe of mane, and pointy ears.

The best thing I got all weekend, though, was time spent with my fiance' and one of my best friends.

Socially Acceptable Assholes

When you don't see people very often, they usually ask you about three things: how's work, where do you live, and are you seeing somebody? The Big Three questions that are supposed to tell you what the other person has been "up to" and how they are doing. There is nothing wrong with those questions; in fact, I much prefer them to the Fly-by-hi. This is the person who sees you, usually at a store, and says hello to you as they move toward you. You start to smile and say hi back, readying yourself for a conversation. Instead, they keep their momentum up and sail past you. However, they don't want to appear rude, so as they are passing you, they say, "how are you?" You begin to turn to answer, but they are walking briskly away and are not looking back. On these such occasions, I will sometimes shout after them, "Fine! How are you?"

These interactions irritate me. I'd much rather both parties pretended not to see each other by focusing intently on items on the shelf, the floor, the ceiling...whatever. What is it about seeing someone you know, even vaguely, that forces us into these awkward socially "correct" boxes?

I am getting married in barely over a month.

People love to hear about it. Sortof. They want to know "how plans are going," and what we have left to do. They also want to know what we have already planned on, and usually, how much it cost/where we got it.

When I first started being asked these questions, I was under the misinterpretation that these people genuinely wanted to know about my wedding as it relates to myself. In other words, they care about me and what I am doing. However, I have discovered that this is not always the case. Usually, in fact, it isn't.

Everyone knows someone getting married, or they have just been married themselves, or they were married 15 years ago, or they want to get married someday. Notice that none of those things relates to me. I am not trying to say that everything should be about me; to the contrary, I very much would like for most things to not be about me. However, if you are asking about my wedding...that's about me.

At work the other day, one of my coworkers asked me how my wedding plans were going. I gave a vague answer, something like "we've only got a few last minute things left." She then began asking me about my DJ. I told her who our DJ is going to be, and she asks how much it costs. Here I hesitate, because money makes me uncomfortable to discuss with most people. I tell her anyway, now starting to realize that she may have an ulterior motive for her line of questionings. This is confirmed as she turns to one of our other coworkers, and says, "Oh, we can get one WAY cheaper. That's a lot of money for a DJ. My fiance' and I are...." Coworker number 2 eagerly chimes in with her own wedding plans.

I stood there for a minute, staring at the two of them agreeing that I have overpaid for my DJ and how it's not really worth spending so much money on anyway. THEIR plans are going to be just fine. They continue on trying to talk to each other about their own wedding plans, and essentially ignore me. Yup. The entire reason they even asked me about my wedding was to confirm that they had the best, cheapest DJ. Essentially, their wedding was going to be "better" than mine.

I could continue to give examples of similar ways people have been socially acceptable in a rude way, but there is no point.

I'll just continue to make it a point in my own life to only ask someone else about their lives if I genuinely want to hear the answer. Not to compare and contrast to my own life, but because I care about theirs.

Bear

My new dog is probably going to the bathroom downstairs as I write this. He's four months old now, and almost completely potty trained...except when he's left alone downstairs.

Okay, he's laying like a good boy at the bottom of the stairs. We'll see how long that lasts. He's really quite smart, and affectionate in his bumbling way. My little Bear has grown to 23 pounds the last time my dad weighed him a few days ago. It's amazing how fast he's growing, when we got him a month and a half ago, he weighed closer to 10 pounds. His back is only a few short inches from being level with the seat of our couch and he can easily rest his chin on our bathtub. Bear's paws are ticklish and it has taken him a little time to get used to having them wiped off when he comes in from outside. So far, he has been miraculously good at not destroying our things; apart from the occasional bathroom accident, he hasn't chewed up or shredded anything of ours.

He's also been wonderful with the cats, who seem to have mutually decided to not like him. Bennett is starting to accept him and takes most of his attempts to play with her in stride. She is the brave one, and will sit her ground, watching him with her steady gaze until he backs down. If he gets too close too many times, she will raise her paw and hiss as he scoots away. She's actually hit him twice now, the first time requiring a trip to the vet for the scratch she put on his eye. After having an ointment and eye drops put on his eye twice a day and a cone around his neck for 3 days, Bear's eye has healed without incident. The second time she tapped his nose and there was no injury. He has since become adept at dodging and is careful not to get into her space too much, unless he forgets himself in his desire to play.
Fox, on the other hand, is the scared-y cat. He watches Bear from his various perches, appearing engrossed in whatever Bear is doing. If Bear gets too close, the hair along Fox's spine stands on end and his back arches. If Fox becomes truly "frightened," his tail puffs up and he growls low in his throat. I say "frightened," however, because Fox continues to sneak around in order to watch Bear, occasionally appearing to want to play with him. It seems Fox loses his nerve and scampers away only to test his own daring again a few minutes later.

I worry about how Bear will do this summer. His coat is incredibly dense, built for withstanding harsh winters. That's the Husky in him, or as the vet suggested, potentially Akita. The rescue said he was a German Shepherd/Husky mix, but who knows? His fur is soft like a stuffed toy, but it keeps him well insulated. He already gets hot easily in 50 degree weather; what will it be like when it's 80? The vet said to keep him inside during the summer and only walk him in the early morning or late evening. Sure enough, when it's -10 next winter, he'll be begging to go for long walks. Luckily, he seems to enjoy relaxing much of the time, so maybe it won't be so bad.

People always look surprised when I say I got him from an animal rescue; apparently he doesn't look like a "shelter dog." After getting him, I've had many people tell me that a German Shepherd/Husky mix is a great dog, and much better than either purebred. A part of me thinks that I should have done more research than I did before getting him, but I had been interested in a German Shepherd. I did a search online and found him, couldn't get his face out of my head. When we drove down to get him the same day we were moving houses (because that's exactly how life works) I knew it was him the second I saw him. A lady was carrying Bear and his brother in her arms. As soon as I saw him, I knew this was my dog.