Monthly Archive

What to post, what to post? There’s some fun stuff I want to tell you about, but that will have to wait until tomorrow. I could give you a little weight update. I haven’t actually been on a scale, but my size six pants that I’m wearing today? TOO BIG! Although, if I go eat any of the leftover cake in the work kitchen today, I’m sure they’ll fit just fine.

How about Halloween? Halloween is tomorrow and since we never seem to get more than four trick-or-treaters, I didn’t buy any candy and made an appointment for a tasting with a caterer instead. I’m sure my pants will go from big to snug by tomorrow evening.

If any of you are dressing up tomorrow, I have some great costume ideas for you. Well, for your feet, really. OK, actually, these are just horrible. Don’t wear them. Ever. Not even for Halloween. Thanks.

You know Grumpy, Happy, Sleepy, Bashful, Sneezy, Dopey and Doc, but did you ever hear of the lesser known dwarf, UGLY?

Do you think the shoe is being blindfolded to protect it from itself? I mean, if I looked that way, I might not want to see myself either.

Ohhh this shoe’s been a bad, bad girl. Yeah, you like that, don’t you? Take it, shoe! Take it now!

I think this is a genius invention. With the strap, you never need to worry about dropping the eraser while cleaning the board. Think of how much time you’ll save not bending over to pick it up!

Is this a pig? Or a mouse? Maybe a cat! Either way, I know I’m wearing animal skin. I don’t need to be reminded of it by staring at its face!

Mary, Mary quite contrary, how does your garden grow? With flowers and bows and ugly green toes and elastic bands all in a row.

Let’s all just take a moment of silence to mourn our dear childhood friend, Piglet. He lived life so freely, but has gone to a better place now. That big hundred acre wood in the sky.

Some people collect holiday towels. Fine. Others cross the line into holiday sweaters. Not so fine. This, my friends, is so far over the line, you can’t even see the line anymore. The line is a dot to you! Noooooo.

I was tagged by Hallie to provide 26 random factoids about myself using the alphabet. Which I am very grateful for because it is Monday, and other than telling you about all the wonderful fall clothes I bought yesterday (including Joe’s Jeans on sale!), my brain is in a serious Monday funk. But because I did manage to do a little wedding planning this weekend, I’m going to make them all wedding facts.

A - Anxious. Not about getting married, just about getting everything done, affording everything, hoping things go smoothly.

B - Bridesmaids. I’m really happy with my decisions and all the girls have been great. I even sent them the first edition of the Aisle File, a bridesmaid newsletter that introduced them all to each other, provided contact information and told them about getting measured for their dresses. Yeah…it’s a bit much. What can I say.

C - Cost. Holy crap, weddings are expensive. Of course I knew this going in, but once you start making deposits on things it becomes very real very fast. Michael and I are paying for most of it by ourselves and we will make it work. But it’s still overwhelming. See letter ‘A’.

D - Dress. I LOVE my dress. I wish I didn’t have to wait six months or so for my first fitting. When I went home the other weekend they let me try on the sample again…mostly because the store wasn’t busy and I said I wanted Jen to see me in it. The truth was I just wanted to put it on again!

E - Engaged. Nope, not getting old. We’ve always been so happy together, but since the engagement those feelings have been heightened ten-fold. There’s so much love in our house it’s sick. You have to be careful walking through there or you might emerge covered in honey and flowers and hearts. My fiancé? He’s awesome. Love you, babe.

F - Father/Daughter dance. I’m stumped on this one. I really don’t want any my little girl/I saw her first/butterfly kisses type of thing. My dad and I are close, but that sappy stuff won’t do. Any ideas?

G - Guest list. It’s currently at 204. That is about 30 too many. We figured out about 25 who we can take off so hopefully we’ll be inviting around 180 and some of them won’t come!

H - Honeymoon. The main problem here is Michael is terrified of flying. So he’s going to have to take some serious drugs and hopefully not be on a plane for too, too long. Right now I’m kind of leaning towards St. Lucia.

I - Invitations. A friend of ours does invitations on the side so she’s probably going to do ours. Whatever I want she can do. Except…I don’t really know what I want! I saw a picture of a Kate Spade invitation with leaves that I thought was beautiful. I might have her recreate that.

J - Juniper. Actual name of one of the colors of bridesmaid dresses. Along with Banana Yellow. Ugh. I’m leaning towards a deep red.

K - Keepsake. I have a wedding box. It was a gift from a former bride who insisted I have one. Inside is every card we’ve received, scraps of wrapping paper, color swatches, photos, etc. That’s in addition to the The Book, which holds all official papers, ideas and contracts.

L - Last name. I’m going to have a new one! As excited as I am about getting married and becoming Mrs. Michael, the new name part is still a little weird. I’m very much going to take his name…it’s just going to take some getting used to. I had dinner with my friend Elizabeth on Friday and she gave me a beautiful handkerchief with my new initial on it. I had to hold back tears.

M - Music. Music is VERY important to me. I know what I want to walk down the aisle to, what I want our first dance to be. I also want a DJ, but Michael wants a band. He says a band can really make the party, which I agree, but here’s my argument. When people hear a song they love it gets them out on the dance floor. A DJ can’t mess up the song. He’s just pushing play. Also, a DJ is cheaper. And is only one mouth to feed.

N - Not me. Here’s some wedding things that are just not me: wearing a blusher, sparkles on my dress, updo’s, big floral centerpieces. Oh, and another thing that’s not me? Marly. Who’s Marly? I’m not sure, but it’s not me. We’ve gotten a few cards from Michael’s relatives addressed to Michael and Marly. And one to Mollie. At least that was closer.

O - October!

P - Photographer. We met with one who we really liked and are meeting with another later this week. I’m really going for that photojournalistic look where they capture emotions you don’t even know you’re showing. Sure, we’ll get a couple of posed group shots, but I really want most of it to be candid.

Q - Questions left to answer: where are we having the ceremony? What time will we start? How many rooms do we need to block? Where will we get our hair done? Should I hire someone to do my makeup or have the salon do it? And on, and on, and on…

R - Rehearsal dinner. We haven’t asked yet, but I thought I would leave this one to Michael’s mother so she feels included. Although I’m not sure if she’ll go for the place I want to have it; a great place near us that has 69 beers on tap.

S - Signature. I think the cookie bar will be our signature thing. It’s very much us, and I hope to incorporate a whole bunch of cookies, including black & whites for my New York heritage and some oatmeal/cranberry/white chocolate type cookie for New England.

T - Toasts. I think we’ll go with parent’s toasts at the rehearsal and the maid of honor and best man at the wedding so the toasts don’t get too long. Although I’d really like my friend Elle to give a toast, since she said some beautiful things about my relationship last time I saw her. (Hear that, Elle? Start writing!)

U - Understanding. I know Michael will understand when I’m a stressful wreck the week before, because when I’m walking towards him on our wedding day, it will all be worth it.

V - Veil. When they put a veil on me at the bridal salon I got teary. It makes it so real. I won’t be wearing a blusher, but a simple fingertip length veil that cascades over my back.

W - Words of advice. Everyone has some, but one of the most interesting piece I received was from a complete stranger this weekend. She said, “always keep a piece of yourself for yourself.” She said women often lose themselves when they get married. “Love him with all your heart,” she said, “but don’t forget who you are.” I liked that.

X - (not) X-rated. Michael isn’t into strippers, but his friends might be. I don’t care if they go to a strip club for his bachelor party, but I draw the line at private strippers. They are nasty.

Y - “Yes!” Can’t wait to answer the question “do you take Michael to be your husband?”

Z - Zany. I want my wedding to be a blast, everyone dancing, everyone having fun. I want it to be crazy! In a good way, of course.

“Can you come in here for a little bit? I need to talk to you.”

I’ve always loved Christmas. The family gathering around the tree, the smell of a honey ham baking in the oven, the way the twinkle lights look in the dark if you lie underneath the tree and look up through the branches.

“I wish I didn’t have to say this at Christmastime, but since you’re heading home soon…”

It was my first holiday home with Michael. The holiday itself had been wonderful. Everyone liked him, the gifts were perfect and the house with warm with holiday cheer. I had spent a week at home without him and was planning the trip back to Rhode Island to celebrate my birthday.

“I have breast cancer.”

Have you ever felt like the time just stopped? Like everything around you is frozen and you’re staring straight ahead trying to make sense of your surroundings but nothing is clear?

“I found out on Christmas Eve, but didn’t want to ruin the holiday.”

You only get one Mom. One person that has loved you unconditionally since before you were born. That has seen you through the highest and lowest points in your life, watched you take your first wobbly step across the kitchen floor and your proudest strides across your graduation stage.

One mom.

And mine had breast cancer.

“It’s OK to be scared,” she said as she stroked my head, the wet stain from my tears creeping slowly outwards across the fabric of her jeans. She told me about the diagnosis, the treatment, the prognosis. “I’m not going anywhere,” she promised.

She kept that promise. She kept it through radiation, through the hormones, the mammograms, the countless doctor’s appointments. She kept her promise even when I wasn’t there to fight the fight with her…filled with guilt as she filled me in with updates, sitting cross-legged on my bed at college wishing I was home.

I kept my promise to stay positive, breaking down only sometimes in the quiet of the dark or the comfort of Michael’s arms. Only once did I let it overcome me, losing it completely, curled up in a ball on my oldest friend’s kitchen floor.

One year went by. Safe. But before we could reach year two, Michael’s father lost his battle with cancer. As Michael struggled with his father’s death, I felt my world starting to shake. What if mom was next?

Year two passed. Then three, then four.

Five is that landmark year. When they say the cancer probably won’t come back. Year five is just a little more than a month away.

Each Christmas I lie under the tree, looking up at the twinkle lights and remembering. Remembering that Christmas nearly five years ago. And this Christmas we will celebrate. Celebrate life and family and love.

I am so, so grateful I can hug my mom again this Christmas.

October is National Breast Cancer Awareness Month. It’s almost over, but you can still help. Click here to help fund free mammograms.

My entire relationship with Michael has been drama free. There’s no skanky ex’s lurking around, no throw-down arguments had just for the sake of arguing, no dishes thrown, no break up then make up.

I don’t talk about The Crazy much, because most of the time it stays hidden deep within my head. But every now and then–because I am a woman and this is what we do–The Crazy rears it’s ugly head.

We got home from dinner last night and as I was heading upstairs to change, I heard Michael’s phone ring. When he didn’t answer it, I assumed it was his mother or grandmother. He usually has to be in the mood to talk to them.

“Your mom?” I called down the stairs.

“Nope,” he said. “It was B.”

Oh. Her.

B is a friend of Michael’s from college. A female friend. They never dated, but ran in the same circle and have periodically stayed in touch over the years. I’ve never met her.

“Why is she calling?”

“Not sure.”

“When is the last time you talked to her?”

“I don’t know…two or three years?”

“You don’t seem surprised to see her pop up on your phone after three years…”

I heard The Crazy coming out of my mouth before I could stop it. My insecurities rising to the surface, bubbling over and lacing my tone with annoyance and sarcasm. I came down the stairs and walked past him towards the bathroom.

“Are you upset?” he asked.

“Yes,” I replied. “But I’m not sure why. Does she know [that we're engaged]?”

“No. Molly, there’s nothing there. Never was.”

I closed the bathroom door and began washing my face. As I scrubbed, I thought about it. What was bothering me? They never dated. He said he never had feelings for her. I should believe him.

It’s not like I’m afraid he’s going to tell her he made a mistake, that he’s going to move to the Midwest and be with her. Don’t be ridiculous.  Maybe it’s the female friend thing.

Sure, I have male friends, but most of them were Michael’s friends first. And they don’t call me out of the blue. At 9:45 p.m. On a Wednesday. And why didn’t he answer the phone? Did he not want me to hear him talking to her?

I dried my face and told myself to let it go. I was being crazy. Super crazy. This man is my fiance and talking to an old (female) friend after three years isn’t going to change that.

I went to the couch and started flipping through a magazine, not paying attention to it, but just trying to look busy as I collected my thoughts. Michael came over and looked at me curiously.

“Why are your eyes puffy? Were you crying?”

“No (yes), I just took off my eye makeup (and cried) so they look red.”

I don’t think he believed me, but I didn’t want to talk about The Crazy stinging my eyes with a flash of hot tears when I heard B had called.

The rest of the night was fine…nice, actually. But it stayed in the back of my head, churning around and being a brat.

I’m not worried, I’m really not. I trust him with my whole heart and another woman isn’t going to come between us.

So why is The Crazy still hanging around today?

Dear Dairy (that’s Dairy, my dear friends. Like, milk product),

We need to talk. This love/hate relationship we’ve got going? Has got to change. You’re bad for me, Dairy. Just no good. But the thing is, I don’t know how to quit you!

Stop tempting me with your delicious cheeses, your creamy drinks and frozen delights. Stop mixing yourself with Ghirardelli chocolate and calling yourself Hot.

This relationship is making me sick. Literally. And I’m better than that.

Sincerely,

Disgruntled Daily Lover Molly

*************

Dear Lactaid,

How about you start WORKING????

Sincerely,

Molly

Today’s actual post is below. Sorry about the venting.

Since I began blogging, I’ve developed what I consider some really good friendships. One who is literally my Greek twin, one who turned me on to the heaven that is Luna Bars, one who had to deal with me ranting over gmail chat early one Sunday morning and one, the lovely Sass, who has sent me Easter goodies and my very first engagement card. You may remember that Sass and I met in real life a couple times.

But other than Sass and my blogging coworkers, I haven’t really broken down that wall between the blog world and real life.

Until last night, when I met up with Blogging Barbie. I recognized her immediately, an adorable bouncing blur of blonde hair and a big smile that met me with a hug and a true to life “Squeee!”

It didn’t feel awkward at all. It felt completely normal for her to be grabbing my hand and ogling my ring as a lobby full of people eyed us curiously. And when she told me I was skinny and walked like a dancer, I knew I’d like her immediately.

We ended up talking for over two hours, sharing a bottle of Riesling and some decadent appetizers. (Mac & Cheese with truffles mmmmm.) She even brought me a wedding magazine and a card that I thought was super sweet.

I’m really glad we ended up meeting and only wish I lived closer to the restaurant so we could have split another bottle.

On a wedding related note: today is exactly one month since we got engaged and exactly one year until we get married! Weee!

I made a little extra effort this morning. I coaxed my hair into loose curls, added an extra coat of mascara and put on my favorite wrap dress. Because today I will be a model.

No, I didn’t get discovered on the street. I was asked to “show up, look pretty and eat some food” for a series of ads for my work.

I don’t think I’m photogenic. At all. And since the majority of this photo shoot will involve eating, the lovely residents of and visitors to Connecticut who come across this ad will probably see a blonde girl with frizzy hair (because I’m sure the curls will turn to frizz in 20 minutes) stuffing her face while simultaneously trying to wipe salad dressing off her chest.

But walking into work this morning, I was frizz and salad dressing free. Looking pretty good, if I do say so myself. I came up to the crosswalk that always causes problems because no one stops, and waited as a mini van slowed down.

“Great!” I thought. “They’re going to let me cross!”

Not quite.

As the van slowed down, two men in what had to be their late sixties rolled down their windows and leered at me…even craning their necks back as they coasted through the crosswalk.

It felt soooo dirty and I was super annoyed. “THANK YOU!” I yelled sarcastically as they drove away.

What I wish I had said was, “If you had stopped, you could have watched me walk across!”

Where did the weekend go? Actually, I know exactly where it went. It’s lost somewhere between I-95 and Rt. 84. Where 10 hours of my life have disappeared to. Because this weekend? I was in a car. A lot. From Rhode Island to Connecticut, Connecticut to New York, New York to Massachusetts, Massachusetts to New York and New York to Rhode Island. In three days.

Jen and I headed to New York on Friday to spend the weekend with my family. It was my sister’s Family Weekend at college and since I hadn’t seen her since the summer, I promised I would go.

The drive? SUCKED. Because not only was it raining (and by the way, it always rains when I go home. Every. Time.), it was pouring. Cats and dogs and elephants and gorillas. So much that at one point I could not see the road and if I didn’t know a turn was ahead, we probably would have met our match with a jersey barrier.

But, we did make it home. Just in time to head off to the dress shop and make Jen parade around in a ton of bridesmaid dresses. Some good, some bad, some…banana. Yes, banana yellow. Why oh why is the one sample in Banana Yellow? The dress itself was beautiful, simple lines, very Jackie O. But it’s soooo hard to see past the color. So hard. And really, very few people look good in banana yellow.

Know what helps you forget banana? Three tons of Mexican food. By the time we left the restaurant, my mom, Jen and I were in a guacamole haze and practically had to be rolled to the car. All while carrying five (yes, FIVE) take-out boxes.

Saturday we headed up to my sister’s college and I learned where my road impatience comes from.

Mom: “Come on, Ohio! Pick it up! Yes, yes, the leaves! They’re beautiful! Then pull over! What? You’re on your cell phone? You’re not even looking at the leaves? How can you not be looking at the leaves?!”

Ha!

My sister greeted us when we arrived and it was so nice to see her. I didn’t even mind her nose ring. Dare I say it was actually kind of cute?

I was sad to say goodbye later that day, but excited to know I’ll see her again in a month.

Later that night we came home and ate our leftovers. All five boxes of them. Re-introduce guacamole haze.

Sunday was more driving, followed by a tennis game where I stunk. I blame it on all the driving.

And the fact that I was weighed down by guacamole.

* I would have a shoe room, lined with shelf after shelf of beautiful designer shoes in every color of the rainbow. Especially these:

(Sorry, where was I? I fell into a Christian Louboutin dream state…)

* I would have a personal trainer who would assure me every day that I was stunning, while at the same time kicking my ass. Said trainer would also look exactly like Jake Gyllenhaal in Jarhead.

* My clothes would be a mixture of the finest designers mixed with every day Gap tee shirts. Because I wouldn’t be a snob.

* I would smile for the paparazzi as I struck my signature pose: hand on hip, hips turned and angled slightly forward as so to make me look as long and lean as possible.

* I would step out of cars like a lady and never show anyone my Britney.

* I would actually really donate to charitable organizations.

* I would not carry around kick-me dogs in my purse. Big dogs all the way.

* I would say No Thanks to free drugs, but Yes Please to free swag.

* I would be the next face of Chanel. (What, a girl can dream, can’t she?)

What would you do?

There’s been a lot of secret sharing ’round these parts lately. My girls Ashley and cdp started the trend and I thought I’d join in. It’s cathartic, no? We’re like our own little Post Secret here.

• I’m not religious, but I’ve started to pray. I guess it’s more like thank you’s or wishes, but I do it every night before bed now. It started the day I got engaged. I thanked God, whoever he/she is, for bringing Michael into my life.
• I also pray for my mom. She’s been losing her hearing for years and I’m frustrated that with all this modern medicine, it can’t be reversed. I pray she’ll be able to hear her grandchildren laugh. This prayer always makes me cry.
• And while we’re on the topic, I have very conflicted feelings over this God thing. A woman in my mother’s office died suddenly–at 50–just days before he son’s wedding. Explain that one to me.
• Sometimes when I get overwhelmed, I want to throw in the towel and just elope.
• I don’t know what I want to be when I grow up.
• Even though I’m not worried, I always feel a little relieved when I get my period.
• On occasion, I choose comfort over style when I put on shoes for work.
• Sometimes I question my writing ability.
• Sometimes I look in the mirror and think, “Damn, I look good”.
• And sometimes I hate what I see.
• I hate to drive places I don’t know and will make an excuse not to.
• I know I will be a good wife, but I’m scared I won’t be a good mother.
• Even though I know it’s better to save, if I came into some serious money I would buy a pair of Christian Louboutins. In a heartbeat.

I started crying on my way to work today. Not an all out, snotty bawl, but a slow tear running down the cheek type cry. I wasn’t sad, I was happy. And sappy. As usual.

The Big & Rich song “Lost In This Moment” came on and I was imagining myself walking down the aisle towards Michael. I can’t believe I get to do that next year!

Lost in this moment with you/I am completely consumed/My feeling’s so absolute/There’s no doubt/Sealing our love with a kiss/Waited my whole life for this/Watching all my dreams come true/Lost in this moment with you.

Alright, alright. Enough sap. Moving on…

I need to pick bridesmaid dresses. And a photographer. And a caterer. And a color scheme. Gah. But let’s just focus on the bridesmaid dresses for a minute. Finding my dress was easy, but bridesmaids? Booo.

Here are some options. Disregard the colors because like I said, color scheme what? (I’m open to suggestions, by the way.)

This one is from J Crew. I like it because it’s simple and can be worn again. Plus, it’s under $200 and the girls could just order it online instead of having to get fitted. (Any former brides–how the hell did you get all your bridesmaids fitted for dresses??) But don’t let that influence your choice. I’m just saying.

This one is very similar to the first, but comes in lots of different colors and is in a heavier fabric. Good for cooler weather, or girls who want a less clingy fabric.

Maybe I want them to wear long dresses! I think this one is simple and classy. I’m also kind of liking the black…

Again, a long dress. This time strapless. I like the gathering on the side and if I remember correctly, this is what the bridesmaids wore in my Big’s wedding and they looked great. What is your take on strapless, though? Not everyone looks good in strapless dresses.

Help, help, help!!!

 - The 8 .m. marketing meeting I attended today was apparently the land where bad hair accessories went to die. At just one table there was a scrunchi, a 80s-style fabric headband and a banana clip. You remember banana clips, don’t you? (Example below. I wish I could have gotten a live shot, but I don’t think she would have appreciated me up in her face with my cell phone.)

The best part was her curly bangs and slicked back sides, making it not only a banana clip hairdo, but a mullet!

- Jen and I went on a haunted hayride on Saturday (yeah, yeah, shut up) but had to stop at the ATM on the way. When I pulled up the machine was beeping because someone had left their card in it. Since the bank was closed, we weren’t sure what we should do. We searched the card for a phone number, but there was none. No “in case this card is found call here”. Nothing. So we did the only thing we could think of; bring it to the police station. Because we are good Samaritans.

Or maybe because we were paranoid that we were on surveillance taking the card from the ATM.

- My sister pierced her nose. I can’t say I’m surprised, but I think she’s a big idiot. Why? She hates her nose! Obviously drawing more attention to it is the best possible idea.

- At our last tennis lesson last night Jen and I kicked some serious ass, beating our opponents three games to one. To celebrate, we did a jump in the air chest bump. Which works a lot better when you don’t have boobs. Our instructor enjoyed it.

- Last night Michael climbed into bed and while spooning me, grabbed my hand. “What’s that?” he said, fingering my ring. I laughed at his joke. “It’s still new. And really, really nice,” he said.

Awww.

…ice cream had zero calories.

…that since it doesn’t, we wouldn’t measure our self worth by the size of our jeans.

…the weekends would last just a little longer.

…the designers at Christian Louboutin and Jimmy Choo would suddenly decide I was their muse and shower me with an endless supply of gorgeous designer shoes.

…my hair would stay frizz-free regardless of how humid it is.

…Martha Stewart will stumble across my blog and offer to plan–and pay for–my entire wedding.

…I would win the lottery, even though I never play.

…I tanned easily, instead of exploding in a multitude of freckles.

…twenty minutes on the elliptical was enough.

…I would get scouted on the street my a modeling agent. Just so I could say I had been scouted on the street by a modeling agent.

…I could keep flannel sheets on the bed all year round.

…that I was naturally this blonde. There would be far less upkeep.

…Kodiak would learn how to vacuum.

…I could be a host on HGTV.

…I liked the taste of  broccoli.

…I didn’t like the taste of crunchy Cheetos.

What do you wish?

I had my hair highlighted last night. Goodbye, roots! (Yeah, the picture is a little Cousin It. You don’t think you’d get a Molly Before Makeup shot, did you?)

Best. Engagement. Gift. Ever. Black and White cookies (my FAVORITE) from Val. There were more. They go quick. Michael only likes the white side so I’ll eat the black for him. He says this is why we work so well.

“Mom, stop taking my picture and let me outside. And don’t use the flash. It gives me devil eyes.”

Friday means jeans with hot shoes! These are a few years old so I’d never find a picture for the “Wearing” section. So here you go, a live shot!

Have a great weekend!

“My plastic surgeon says I can’t do any activities where balls fly at my nose.”

For the last month I’ve been taking tennis lessons. I came into it with absolutely no knowledge other than step one: hit ball. I had always wanted to learn, so when Jen and I found out the town was offering beginner adult lessons we signed up.

There’s nine of us in the class. Our instructor is a college student who learned the hard way that if he makes fun of us, Jen and I will throw it right back. Last week we actually made him blush asking him if he got a haircut for his girrrrl friend.

Anyway.

Each class begins the same, practicing “Up’s” and “Down’s”. Basically, bouncing the ball up on the racket, or bouncing it down on the ground. The first time we did this I burst out laughing. Any one driving by would have seen nine grown adults practicing bouncing a ball. The image still cracks me up.

As the month went on, we started to get pretty good. Last night we played doubles and Jen and I kicked some major ass. It helps that on the days we don’t have lessons, we’ve been playing on our own. Basically five days a week for the last month has included at least one hour of tennis. (I’m starting to worry that my right arm is going to be much stronger than my left.) The upside? Better skills, plus the loss of another few pounds!

The downside? Other tennis players.

Usually every time we’ve played outside of class we’ve been next to another team. And at least 90% of the time, these teams are assholes.

Yup, I said it. Assholes. I don’t know if it’s because tennis is traditionally a sport of the wealthy, but these people take themselves waaaay too seriously.

Take the team we encountered in our very early days of learning. OK, so the balls didn’t always land in our court. But is that reason enough to chuck them back at us with an eye roll?

Or the team where one looked completely bored and the other would swear in a foreign language. They would also watch us and snicker if a shot didn’t go completely as planned.

And how about the team that decided to play on the court next to us during lessons (even though there is a clearly marked sign that says town activities take precedent), who would yell “that’s ours!” all angry-like if one of their balls rolled over towards us.

Like the nine of us, who have two huge baskets full of balls, even want your stupid little stray ball. Pull down your socks and get the hell over yourself. Assholes.

My grandfather has been playing tennis for more than 60 years. He’s not an asshole.

So I ask you all today, dear readers, that if you’re a tennis player…

…don’t be an asshole.

Completely unrelated, but I since I started with Clueless, I thought it was important to tell you that this used to hang on the back of my door. Yes it did. And it wasn’t a poster. It was a cardboard replica of a mirror and it looked like the girls were looking in it. Just wanted to remind you how cool I was. Am. Was.

Last night our good friend Brian was in town for one night only, so we made plans to meet up with him after Michael got home from work. You remember Brian, he’s the one with the girlfriend I freaked out about. She didn’t come for the visit. I’m OK with that.

After a super busy work day and an hour of tennis, by the time Michael got home at 10 I was curled up on the couch in my pajamas, remote in hand. If it was anyone but Brian, I would have said forget it and gone to bed. But I didn’t. I dragged myself off the couch, changed into something going out appropriate and we headed off the to bar.

As we circled the parking lot searching for a space, Michael commented on how crowded the bar was for a Tuesday night. That’s when it hit me: Wing Night. The best night of the whole week when I was in college. Five girls with four bucks each could get a massive plate of wings and pitchers of Miller Light.

Guess what? I’m not in college any more. As we walked into the packed bar, aside from Brian and our usual group who gathered to see him, I recognized no one. I also noticed a significant difference between the girls in the bar and me. My cute, black, three quarter length Express shirt left much to the imagination. Their skin tight, super low cut, tops…did not.

Now I’m not judging here. I own shirts like that. I have, and still do on occasion, wear shirts like that. But still. Apparent age gap. Yeah.

It didn’t help that the whole night we talked about marriage, children and work. Who are we??

By the time we got home it was nearly 1 a.m. and by the time we got to sleep it was almost 2. Needless to say, the 6:45 a.m. alarm was met with multiple slams of the snooze button.

I? Am apparently old. Just thought you should know. 

P.S. If you need a laugh, check out my guest post at Hank & Willie.

Do you find when you have a day off from work the next day is ridiculously! busy! all! day!? That’s what’s happened to me today, so in lieu of talking all about the almost 100% wedding date (October 24, 2008!), I’m taking a cue from my girl Clink and asking for your opinion. Of course, I probably can’t afford most of these for my wedding day shoe, but it’s nice to dream, right?

#1 Sophisticated, yet sweet. I love how the little bow would peek out from under my dress and the heel isn’t super high so I wouldn’t have to worry about changing shoes later.

#2 Simple and very bridal. It’s one of those dyeable shoes, so much more affordable then say, a Jimmy Choo and I like the little rouching on the straps.

#3 Mainly because it’s a Stuart Weitzman and so freaking cute. I’ve actually had this particular shoe in the “Wanting” column in multiple colors. Le sigh…

#4 For something totally different, perhaps a pop of color in something fantastic like red. Or blue! Or pink!

So, what do you like and why? And feel free to send me pictures of your favorites (or the most appalling things you’ve ever seen.) When readers send them I always save them to add to the next Makes My Feet Hurt installment!

Friday

12:30 p.m. Meet Elle for lobster mac & cheese. It is delicious, but I’m still feeling stressed over venue/family/money stuff. I tell Elle about it as we eat.

1:15 p.m. Lunch is over and I’m feeling sick. Can’t tell if it’s the mac & cheese, the stress or a bug. Am annoyed.

2:25 p.m. Leave work early and head for the couch. Why am I feeling so sick? (And really, no. I’m not pregnant. Promise.)

7:15 p.m. Am feeling a little better. Val arrives and we head out to pick up dinner.

9:40 p.m. Am out cold on the couch. Apparently, I am old.

Saturday

10:30 a.m. Arrive in Newport for our first venue of the day. Fall in love. It’s THE place, we both think so.

11 a.m. Sit down to go over how much it would cost to host wedding at this venue.

11:30 a.m. Realize that this may be much more than we can afford, but hope for the best anyway.

1 p.m. See second venue of the day. It doesn’t compare to the first and the old mansion seems dark and musty.

3:30 p.m. Call mom to discuss finances. Am told what I already knew–we can’t afford that venue.

3:35 - 4:25 p.m. Meltdown. Feel overwhelmed and frustrated with planning. Feel disappointed and sad about venue.

4:30 - 6 p.m. Sit down with wonderful fiance and figure out how much we can swing. Come to conclusion that wherever we have our wedding it will be beautiful.

7 p.m. Still feeling stressed, but try to eat before going out for the night. Only manage a couple bites.

8:30 p.m. While getting ready to go out, Michael notices my back has broken out in hives. Excellent.

9 p.m. - 12:30 a.m. Meet up with friends and celebrate engagement with drinks and shots. Manage to forget about stress and have a good time.

Sunday

3 p.m. Look at another venue that I only booked an appointment with as an afterthought.

3:2o Fall in love with venue. Realize that it’s a beautiful, oceanfront venue that we can afford. Rejoice!

3:30 p.m. Pencil in date with wedding planner. Plan on finalizing date early this week.

Today

10:25 a.m. Feeling really, really happy. I’m getting married!

Dinner wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be. It wasn’t awful, but it wasn’t great either. I don’t have the energy to rehash it all again, but some highlights included me getting VERY sick to my stomach (nerves plus the first real food I’d eaten all day). When I came out of the bathroom, his grandmother asked me if I was pregnant. Uh, no.

Later, she offered me a shot of German bourbon to ease my stomach. (?) Guess she believed me when I said I wasn’t with child.

His Mother surprised me by not listing a thousand and one church friends on the guest list, but she was visibly upset when we told her we weren’t getting married in a church.

We decided not to bring up the money issue at dinner since it’s really his grandmother–not his mother–that we’re asking. Michael will be speaking to her privately. It’s probably a good idea, since His Mother basically shot down every venue I suggested because “No, Newport is too expensive.”

And oh yeah, she wasn’t happy about the no cake thing either. IT’S OUR WEDDING. If we don’t want cake, there will be no cake.

Guess I rehashed it after all.

But last night will be a distant memory in the next few hours, as this weekend is going to be awesome. It’s starts this afternoon with lunch with one of my college roommates (and bridesmaid!), Elle. We’re going to this amazing restaurant and having lobster mac and cheese. Yes, I said lobster mac and cheese. It really is THAT good. Elle moved to D.C. this summer so I haven’t seen her in awhile. I’m really looking forward to lunch.

Then tonight, Boobeski (another college roommate and bridesmaid!) comes for the weekend. She’s tagging along on visits to two venues tomorrow (cross your fingers that one is THE one) and bringing her collection of In Syle Weddings.

Saturday we’re getting together with a big group of friends to officially celebrate the engagement. I can’t wait.

Have a wonderful weekend and enjoy your Monday off!

Clarification: I have Monday off for Columbus Day, not the Canadian Thanksgiving!

First of all, do I have the most awesome readers or what? Thank you to everyone who linked to The Winning Pitch yesterday. Also, a big thanks for your support about the reviews. The one for October is posted below.

On my way into work this morning, I called my friend, the is she or isn’t she bridesmaid. Her birthday was on Tuesday and even though I was mad at her, I called and left her a birthday message. When I still hadn’t heard back from her by today, I decided to bite the bullet and call one more time.

She picked up on the second ring with a cheerful “Hello!” And before I knew it, the word vomit was coming up and I was talking a mile a minute. I told her how when I pictured my wedding, I always thought she would be standing next to me. How we had been friends since 1st grade and it was important for her to share that day with me.

However, I was so hurt by her response and then lack of contact afterwards that I was seriously reconsidering my decision to include her in my wedding party.

She burst into tears and began apologizing. Apparently she IS very happy for me and unfortunately let her own insecurities and issues overwhelm her when I shared the news. “I know you’ve been waiting for this forever,” she said. “I love you and couldn’t be happier for you.”

By now I’m a mess, driving down Route 1 bawling my eyes out. And she’s bawling her eyes out, which of course made me cry more. In the end, I officially asked her to be a bridesmaid and I’m very happy with my decision. I’m glad I made the effort and didn’t just write her off.

I thought that issue was the cause of my nervous stomach today, but it’s still here so I know what’s really causing it. We’re having dinner with His Mother tonight. I haven’t talked about her lately because things have actually been really quiet on that front. The few times I’ve seen her have been fine, almost normal, actually.

Tonight we’re going to celebrate the engagement with her and Michael’s grandmother. And while it’s supposed to be a celebration, I am already dreading the inevitable–the discussion about getting married in a church (we’re probably not) and the discussion about money. Tonight we have to ask for financial help and I’m really not excited about that. Especially since a few months ago, the grandmother thought I should get married with 20 guests in our backyard.

Cross your fingers that tomorrow’s post will be a positive one!

As soon as the summer begins to fade away and air turns colder, my favorite thing to do is switch out our lightweight blanket for our winter comforter. I love the weight of a warm blanket around me as I sleep. And there’s nothing better than a down comforter. Unfortunately, they cost a fortune.

Plumeria Bay is the answer to my problem. Offering everything from down comforters to feather beds, they’re one stop shopping for a comfortable night’s sleep.

Each blanket is made to order in the United States with the finest European fabrics and Hungarian and Polish white goose down. And they’re so soft! Twenty minutes under my comforter and I was sleeping like a baby.

Comforters come in a variety of sizes and you can even pick your own warmth level! You’ll never have to worry about being too hot or too cold again.

The selections at Plumeria Bay make great gifts, or a perfect addition to your own home. Check them out today!

OK readers. Let’s sit down, you and I, and have a little chat. There’s going to be a small change around here and I wanted to fill you in. Also, I need a favor.

Starting this week, once a month in addition to a daily post, I will be doing a product review. Not just any product review, but on one I think you’d like to know about. This project is in conjunction with the blog over at The Winning Pitch. As most of you know, three days a week I post over there about girly stuff–everything from fashion and style, to health and beauty, to life in general.

It’s a fun site run by a great woman, but it’s not getting the traffic it deserves. So I’m asking you, my awesome readers who love all things girly (yeah, yeah, Mike and Peter. I know. But you might learn something!) to check it out and if you like it, add it to your blogroll. Remember when your blog was still a baby and you got excited everytime a new person linked to you? Help me give that feeling to someone else. (They like comments, too!) You can find the blog here.

So, the product reviews. I’m not selling out, promise. It’s just one review a month and if you like the products, you can head to their website and check out what they’ve got. And maybe if you’re lucky, we’ll do a contest every now and then. Who doesn’t love free stuff?

So let me know what you think. Nobody’s freaked out? Good. Obviously my readers are important to me and I didn’t want you to think I was becoming one of those blogs. You know the kind.

OK! I’m glad we had this talk.  I’ll be back later with today’s real post.

Inspired by KLC’s post.

Yin and Yang. That’s what Michael and I should be called. I wouldn’t say we’re complete opposites, because we have a lot in common, but our relationship is very balanced.  For example:

Me: I make piles. Lots and lots of piles. Magazines, clothes, papers. They’re on the end tables, the counter, the chair in our bedroom. I TRY to control it, I really do. But I’m just a pile-er in the end.

Him: Definitely not a pile-er. His super hero name would be the Anti-Pile-er, because he goes around and disassembles my piles when he cleans. Michael is very neat. Everything has it’s spot. You should see our silverware drawer. It’s stunning.

Me: Unless I’m ridiculously tired, bedtime usually includes some reading or TV watching before turning out the light. I need some decompressing time before sleeping.

Him: Can fall asleep standing up and the drop of a hat. I’ve never seen another person go from awake to asleep as fast as he does.

Me: I have no patience. Zip, zero, notta. Slow drivers make me agitated. Product research makes me tired. I get annoyed easily.

Him: Very patient. Spent months researching vehicles before purchasing. Doesn’t enjoy slow drivers, but won’t throw his hands up at them and yell, “what are you DOing?” (Not that I know anyone who does that…)

Me: I also have a tendency to become easily overwhelmed. This was evident this morning when we went to look at another reception venue. It wasn’t what either of us wanted, but I found myself trying to rationalize things about it because it was more affordable than other places. After asking his opinion when we left (he didn’t like it either) I felt a meltdown coming on. I KNOW I just started this process, but I thought finding a venue/setting a date would be a lot easier than it is.

Him: He took my hand and told me that we only get to do this once and because of that, he wants it to be right. He reminded me that when we find the right place, we’ll know. And that even though money is an issue, we’ll deal with that when we need to. He reminded me that this year isn’t all about planning, it’s about enjoying our engagement.

He’s right, of course. It’s so easy to get caught up in the planning and forget about why we’re really doing this. It’s because we love each other. So much.

Oh yeah…

Him: Likes sour cream.

Me: Does NOT.

* I buy my gym clothes at Walmart. As long as they fit well (aka no camel toe or something equally as disturbing), I could care less that everything is under $10. They are workout clothes, after all. Clothes that get sweaty and gross and a brand name isn’t going to stop that from happening.

* I have serious issues with people who brush their teeth outside of the bathroom. Our bathroom is off our kitchen and sometimes Michael will walk out of the bathroom to look at something while he’s brushing his teeth. HATE. It just skeeves me out, thinking about all the little particles floating around and landing on stuff.

* I’m apparently really protective of my stuff. Last night Michael was reorganizing the second bedroom and made a comment about one of those plastic, three-drawer things that was filled with my stuff. He had already eliminated some of my piles and when I thought he was going to start sorting through it I got really upset. “That’s my stuff,” I said tearing up. “My stuff! Don’t. Touch. My. Stuff.” Ooooook.

* I bought my wedding dress five days into my engagement.

That wasn’t the plan, but my mom and I decided to “just browse” a bridal shop in New York and browsing became buying because when I stepped out in the fifth dress I knew it was THE one. And when a veil was placed on my head, we teared up. It felt very real. I purchased the dress I’m going to walk down the aisle in!

And no, I can’t show you pictures because, Hi Michael!!! But trust me, it’s beautiful and exactly how I imagined I would look on my wedding day.

Squeeee!!!