Monthly Archive

The new job starts Monday. I decided only to take a long weekend between jobs because a) I would end up going to Marshalls way too many times if I took a week and b) it’s the holiday season and I can’t really afford to go too long between paychecks.

I decided today would be a Molly day. After a very emotional day yesterday (gah, the tears!), I got my hair done last night (blondie, blonde, blonde, blonde) and I have a massage scheduled for this afternoon, followed by some Christmas shopping.

I’m so disappointed in myself. Last year I was done with all my shopping by the second week in December. All the gifts were perfectly wrapped and waiting to travel to New York and rest under the tree.

This year? I’ve done nothing. I know what I’m getting Michael and my dad, I have an idea for my mom, but everyone else…gah!

So I’m enlisting your help. I really need a gift for my 18-year old sister.

Likes: music (all types, except country), theater, laughing, Sharpies, ugly hippie pants, nose rings, hair dye, Goldfish crackers, eyeliner.

Dislikes: Pointy-toe heels (I know. Breaks my heart too.), pickles…I can’t think of more. She’s pretty easy going.

OK…ready, set, HELP!

So it’s here. The last day of work. When I gave my notice a month ago I thought the time would crawl. But it didn’t. Instead it FLEW and now all of the sudden it’s the last day.

Yesterday was weird. I started cleaning out my desk, taking down photos and putting everything in a sad little white box to take home.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m excited about my new job. But leaving this job today? SUCKS.

I brought lots of tissues. I’ve been warning Mike since I gave notice that I was going to cry. I know myself. Emotional, party of one. I also wrote Mike’s card at home, alone, hours before I had to come in today so I wouldn’t be all snotty and red-eyed.

The joke has been it’s not goodbye, it’s just see you later. Which is true. We’ve planned on monthly lunch dates, we’ve always got the blogs and I fully expect to see Mike cutting up the dance floor at my wedding.

And every time a boy band comes on the radio, I’m going to think of him. (omg the Backstreet Boys just came on his iPod as I’m typing this. Freaky! But, awww.)

I’m also going to miss my lunches with Chelle and my wedding talk with Anna. You just don’t find people like this every day.

So while I’m happy, I’m also very sad.

I’m ready to start the new page in my book, but I’m really going to miss this chapter.

Over Thanksgiving my mom, aunt and sister accompanied me to the bridal salon to decide on a bridesmaid dress. I had narrowed it down to a few, with one in particular I really liked. My sister was a good sport and tried on a whole bunch. But in the end it was the dress I had originally picked. This one in red:

I loved the simplicity of it. The tiny belt, so Jackie O. I knew that all my girls would look stunning and it was so nice to have such a big task done. I enjoyed my Thanksgiving and headed back to Rhode Island with another check mark in the planning book.

And then yesterday I got a phone call. “Hi Molly, this is [the bridal salon].”

My heart stopped. My wedding dress! What was wrong with my wedding dress??

“The bridesmaid dress you ordered has been discontinued.”

I didn’t freak out. I didn’t yell at the woman for keeping a sample of a discontinued dress in her store. I think I was so relieved that nothing was wrong with MY dress that the reality of it didn’t hit me, not even when she was listing some more styles she thought I would like. (Um, I looked. I don’t like them. At all.)

It wasn’t until after I hung up that I got pissed. I complained to Anna in the next room. I called my friend and complained. I sent Clink an email using some choice words. And then I called my mom, who got pissed off for me, (Love it!) then brilliantly suggested that I call the store back and ask them to order a sample of the dress I originally wanted that they didn’t carry. Remember this one? You all liked it!

They said they would call the company right away and try to get a sample for when I’m back in New York at Christmas. Then they called back and said that they can get a sample, but not until February. (”What, do they have to grow the silk?” said Anna.)

So up side, there will be a dress in the store in my sister’s size in February. Down side, well, not till February. But up side, if I find the dress in Rhode Island and like it, they can order it for all the bridesmaids immediately.

Sigh.

I guess I was due for a wedding mishap, hmm? At least it happened 11 months out and not two!

I was tagged by Katie for a meme about seven random facts about me. I know I’ve done this one (maybe twice!) but come on, I’m sure I can come up with more.

1. If I let my hair air-dry it curls in the front, but not in the back. The back waves slightly or just gives up and hangs there. I try and make myself feel better by only looking at the front in the mirror. I’m pretty sure the curls are natural since my mom has super curly hair, but for awhile I was convinced it was because of the Perm That Would Not Die in fifth grade. Somewhere I have a picture of it half grown out.  And I was also wearing overalls. What was I thinking?

2. I get told all the time I look like Cate Blanchett. I don’t see it at all. I’ve also been compared to Claire Danes, Tori Amos and Posh Spice. I think the last one was just an attempt to get in my pants.

3. My last name means “swan” in Russian and “duck” in German. If you translate my first and middle name with it, I roughly equal Bitter Beloved Duck (or Swan). Nice, huh? My sister’s name translates as Beautiful Meadow Swan. I think I got the short end of the stick there.

In middle school there was a girl in my group of friends that discovered in her language class the meaning of my last name. She would sit in front of me at lunch, biting the heads off animal crackers and taunt me with “Molly Duck! Molly Duck!” I didn’t like that so much.

4. I like peaches, but nothing peach-flavored. I like grapes, but nothing grape-flavored. I don’t love bananas, but I love banana-flavored things.

5. Movies and TV shows make me cry. I came in on the very end of Mona Lisa’s Smile on Sunday and even though I’d never seen it before, I cried at the ending. Michael thought I was crazy.

6. I’m very freckly, especially in the summer. A few years ago Michael told me to wipe my lip, there was dirt on it. He kept telling me I was missing it and I fell for it for a few minutes. I was so angry when I discovered it was a freckle. I do not like the lip freckle. I do, however, like the little one above my left eye. I think it’s unique.

7. I was almost on Sesame Street. My dad knew someone who worked for the show, but apparently I was just under the age requirement. I’m still a little resentful that I wasn’t able to sing the alphabet with Kermit.

She’s the same, but different. Her hair is shorter now, but her eyes still get really wide when she talks animatedly about a weird client. Her clothes are less revealing, but her laugh is still infectious. She hates to talk about the past, but two vodka tonics always bring her right back there.

She may not be entirely happy, but she’s happier. She talks about her future with him and makes it sound long term. No longer a Mr. Right Now, but a Mr. (Possibly) Right.

********

She’s the same, but different. Her big brown eyes are a door to our childhood, but her diamond ring in the door to her future. She’s still shy, uncomfortable with all the attention, but she is poised and adult. She’s a lawyer, but she laughed when I reminded her about playing with Barbies in the basement.

She is family, but soon will become part of another.

********

She’s the same, but different. She still sings at the top of her lungs, but the music isn’t as angry. Her eyes are lined with dark liner, but her skin in glowy and warm. She still laughs at my jokes, but now there’s genuine joy behind it.

When I camped out in her room, she gave me her pillow so I wouldn’t have to use the lumpy one.

********

She’s the same, but different. She wants her mom when she’s so sick it makes her cry, but wishes her fiancé was curled up beside her. She twirls in her gown like she did when she played dress-up, but agonizes over the color of a bridesmaid dress. She still loads up her plate with mostly stuffing and sweet potatoes, but now wonders how long it will take to work that off.

She’s a woman, but likes to be reminded of when she was a girl.

I’m leaving early today to head home to NY for Thanksgiving. I’m really excited to see my family, especially my sister who is coming home from college tonight. I have no doubt she will be wearing a pair of ginormous corduroy hippy pants that I swear are big enough for a preschool class to play parachute under.

The downside is that Michael and I will not be spending the holiday together. Throughout the course of our relationship we’ve always split up on Thanksgiving. Christmas is with my family and Easter is with his. But we’re engaged now and next Thanksgiving we will be married so this is the last time we’ll celebrate separately.

I miss him already. This morning he was unusually quiet. We were doing our morning routine–he was in the shower and I was at the sink putting on my makeup. I keep watch on the clock (because that boy will shower for three days if you let him) and periodically call out the time. “It’s 7:45!” Michael always replies with the same thing: “You’re 7:45!”

It makes no sense, I know. It’s just something we always do. But today when I called out the time he said, “OK.”

We didn’t talk much the rest of the morning and I tried not to think about it as I was scurrying to find one last pair of shoes (what, I only brought four), my iPod and debating whether or not I really needed to bring my big pink fuzzy lounge around the house socks. (The answer is yes.)

Just as I was about to leave, he commented that he felt out of it today. “Is that why you didn’t talk to me all morning?” I asked.

“I’m sorry!” he said pulling me into a hug. “I didn’t even realize it.”

Annnnnd then I started to tear up. Because a) I’m hormonal and b) I won’t see him until Sunday night and c) I’m so, so, so thankful for him that I didn’t want to let him go.

I left and headed off to work listening to Christmas music (yes, already. XM has FIVE Christmas stations) and thought about how lucky I am. Good man, good family, good friends.

I’ll try and post tomorrow, but if I don’t, have a wonderful Thanksgiving!

Taking a page from Ashley’s book, because it was just so good.

Notes to Everyone…

…I’m going to miss you a lot. Like, a lot, a lot. I’m not ready to deal with it yet, but just prepare yourself for tears.

…I’m annoyed you’re the only one that hasn’t figured out a way to get their measurements done. I hope this isn’t an indication of how you’ll be as a bridesmaid. (And today I’m glad you don’t read the blog.)

…I’m sad we’re not spending Thanksgiving together. This year especially it feels like we should be.

…Friday night was awesome and I love how we can hang out for an hour and a half and have it feel like three days. Two weeks to go and we’re toasting with mojitos!

….I’m so proud of you. I try not to call you too much because you’re a big kid now, but I really am so, so proud. But I hate your hippy pants.

…No matter where I go, you are my home. I can’t wait to curl up on the couch and catch up! (And stuff our faces with artichoke dip.)

…You have become one of my closest friends in a short amount of time. Thank you for listening to me ramble about everything under the sun. Our kids are going to have a great time playing in their suburban neighborhood.

…I’m convinced we’re cosmically connected. But I still hate that song.

…You are the only person who can convince me to buy a sweater out of the junior section. You were right, it looks great.

…If you ask me one more time if I want to go to Bible study, I will ask you if you want to go to a special showing of the Thunder From Down Under.

Taking a day off has its benefits:

Don’t worry, I was thinking of all you guys at work the whole time, I swear.

…for watching Gilmore Girls and The Hills with me. Even though I know you secretly like them both.

…for always saying dinner tastes good, even if it doesn’t.

…for not being able to keep your hands off my butt, even when I complain that it’s annoying. I secretly hope that when we’re old and gray you still won’t be able to keep your hands off my butt. That goes for grabbing at me in your sleep too.

…for absentmindedly fondling my ring while we watch TV.

…for keeping our relationship drama-free.

…for listening with real interest when I tell you all about my blog friends.

…for actually having opinions about the wedding, but at the same time, letting me do mostly what I want.

…for asking me to marry you. Yup, still excited about that one.

…for telling me I look cute in sweatpants and no makeup.

…for loving me. I love you too.

Monthly product review below.

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The Dawn Camisole by Wear Ease® is a cotton-blend camisole that offers elastic support for the healthy breast, as well as two drainage pouches in the front and back. My mother, a breast cancer survivor, tried on the camisole and said she wished she had one right after surgery. “The pockets would have held the drains comfortably,” she said. “Instead I had to awkwardly tuck them into my pants.”

Made of high grade cotton, breathable for all types of climates, with spandex, makes it easy to step into and easy to pull down for dressing changes and doctor exams.

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Wow. Can I just take a minute and say a big THANK YOU to all the amazing readers that commented yesterday? You guys rock. It was so nice to hear from regulars, lurkers and new readers all at once. Your words talked me down from the blogging ledge and I promise you, I’m not going anywhere.

If I could afford it, I would buy you all a pair of designer shoes.

Of course now you’ve put me in a tight spot, because after all those “write on, woman!” comments, I feel like I must impress. And big surprise, today I’ve got nothing.

Want to know how today is Day One of eating no dairy? You remember my battle with dairy, right? My mouth is in love with it, but my stomach? Not so much. After being sick almost every day, I finally started writing down what I eat. And what do you know…I somehow have managed to be eating some form of dairy at almost every meal. I have a college degree, I swear.

No? Don’t want to talk about dairy? Alright, how about how I almost DIED last night?

I’ve been taking Michael’s new Envoy to work the last view days and was on my way home in the post-daylight savings time dark. I was in the right lane heading North and there was someone in front of me and someone next to me in the left lane. As we were coming up a hill, there was suddenly headlights facing us. There was someone driving South in the Northbound lane. And fast!

The driver on my left swerved into my lane to avoid hitting the brilliant driver aiming at us and the rest of us jacked up on our breaks. From 65 to zero pretty damn quickly. It all happened so fast, but as I slowly began to breathe again and was aware of my heart beating out of my chest, the first thing I thought was “Good thing I didn’t get hit in the new car!”

Priorities, people.

I got a great comment from one of my bridesmaids yesterday. She went to get measured for her dress and texted me “…and by the way, my butt is twice as big as my waist!”

Women always notice the important things.

Sometimes I want to throw in the towel.

This blogging world? Can be mean. Recently, two of my blog friends had nasty comments left on their blog. Unsurprisingly, both were by anonymous commenters who have enough balls to talk crap about someone they don’t know, but are too chicken to use their real name or link to their blog.

I think it’s very courageous of bloggers to put themselves out there. I know I’ve been hesitant in the past to reveal some things, but I’m usually met with such positive feedback by such wonderful readers that it pushes me to keep going.

Occasionally I get the judgemental ones. The people that think they know me because they read my words and are quick to supply a fresh comment daily with some condescending words of “advice” or a rude observation.

I usually brush these people off. Because for every mean reader, there’s 10 amazing ones. But as more and more of my friends get attacked, as people who I thought were friendly readers leave passive aggressive comments, I wonder if blogging is worth it.

It’s easy to say I let it roll right off my back. Because I shouldn’t let these strangers get to me. But the truth is it still stings. To have someone dissect you–to have them decide who you are without really knowing a damn thing about you.

I used to get really excited when I checked Technorati and saw that someone new had linked to me. When I crossed into the triple digits I was shocked. People were reading me and it was awesome.

But when someone un-links you? Now that’s a slap in the face. Especially when it’s someone who used to read you often. I’m not upset with this person because I understand. It’s been the same way for me with her blog. Much like friends can outgrow each other, bloggers can outgrow each other too. I read blogs I feel a connection to and if that’s not there, I probably won’t read much longer.

But I was curious. So I sent her an email saying I think I understood why she no longer reads, but wanted to hear the reason from her. In between her explanation was this:

“I do read your blog from time to time, but not like I did before.  Mainly because I can go to Such Great Heights and read the same thing.  Somehow, five or six of your blogs have turned into one blog it seems like.”

What do you think, readers? Is this true? Has my own voice disappeared and blended into a big blog mush?

If so, I don’t think I should be doing this anymore.

Back in July I went to Vegas. Remember that? It was everything Vegas should be, including a front row, VIP ticket to the Thunder From Down Under. What’s that? You haven’t heard of the Australian all-male review? Well, my friends, I suggest you Google it immediately. Go ahead, I’ll wait…

Everyone up to date now? Good. Not sorry you looked, are you?

Over drinks on Thursday, Jen told me that the touring Thunder was coming to Rhode Island and tickets were only $25. Only $25 for the number-one male review in Vegas? Oh, I was so in.

Michael was not pleased, but I explained to him how the first time I went I sat in the back with my eyes closed and I was pretty sure they wore wetsuits the whole time.

Saturday night arrived and Jen and I met up with her sister at the arena. We were a little early, so we went to the bar, then settled in to do some good old people watching.

Oh, the people watching. Not as good as Vegas, but still. The women that came to the show ranged from 20-somethings in jeans and heels like us, to 70-somethings (I kid you not) in sweat pants. There was also the middle-aged women wearing very inappropriate clothing. Clothing even I wouldn’t wear. Ever. Like, ever. Yikes.

The show started and the crowd went wild. Jen and I were excited to see some of the original Vegas cast and were pleased to see they brought some new routines with them. I won’t go into too much detail, but let’s just say there were some tushies. Lots of tushies.

As soon as the show started, everyone abandoned their seats and were on their feet clapping and cheering.

Want to know how you can always remember you’re engaged, even when at a Thunder From Down Under show?

Clap your hands while wearing your engagement ring. You should see the bruise that appeared on the inside of my right ring finger from banging against my engagement ring. It was dark purple!

Michael said it serves me right.

I think he’s just jealous I got to see some Australian tushies.

Thursday, 6 p.m. - 11 p.m. - Drink. 

Friday, 3:40 a.m. - Wake up. Am ridiculously thirsty. Sit up and notice Kodiak is staring at me. Tell him to go lie down, no one likes a creepy, stalker dog.

3:41-3:45 a.m. - Drink copious amounts of water and go back to sleep.

6:50 a.m. - Alarm goes off. Nudge Michael to hit snooze. Pull covers over my head.

6:51 a.m. - Push away the big black head and wet nose that’s trying to worm it’s way under the covers. Seriously, dog. Go. Lie. Down.

6:59 a.m. - Alarm goes off again. Nudge Michael to hit snooze.

7 a.m. - Damn it. I really have to pee.

7:01 a.m. “Kodiak, come on. Let’s go outside.” He lies down.

7:02 a.m. - “You were just bugging me to pee. Come. On.” He looks at me. FINE.

7:03 a.m. - Pee. Brush my teeth. Look in mirror. Clearly, I am not 21 anymore. Drinking on a Thursday night has interesting affects.

7:04 a.m. - Start to head back upstairs. Glance to the left at the hallway floor.

7:05 a.m. - Begin cleaning up dog vomit.

7:10 a.m. - Apologize to Kodiak. Scratch his head and let him lean on me.

7:11 a.m. “Michael, he vomited.” No answer, as he’s asleep.

7:12 a.m. “MICHAEL.” “Huh, what?” “He vomited.” “Oh…did you clean it up?” “No, I left it. (Rolls eyes.) Of course I cleaned it up.” “OK, good.”

7:13 a.m. Climb back into bed. Am still tired. Will stay for just 15 more minutes.

7:40 a.m. Damn it!

7:41 - 8:05 a.m. - Take super fast shower, do hair and makeup. Marvel at the power of a good under-eye concealer and mascara.

8:06-8:17 - Get dressed. Thank goodness it’s Friday and I can wear jeans.

8:22 a.m. - Get out the door.

8:23 - 8: 48 a.m. Drive. Notice that by the state of my car, it is clear that I have a cold. Make a note to gather up all the used tissues when I get to work and throw them away. Am gross.

8:49 a.m. - Get behind slow driver in the left lane who won’t speed up enough to let me pass the guy on the right and I really need to get over. I speed up just a little so I can squeeze in between them. And he slams on his breaks. Jackass. I slam on my breaks to avoid hitting his Audi and move into the right lane. I look over at him to give him an annoyed glare and notice his gigantic mullet. Forget that I’m annoyed because I am shocked at the size of it. And think that I’ve never seen a mullet in an Audi before.

9:00 a.m. - Arrive at work. Walk into office and notice adorable mini frosted donut on desk.

9:01 a.m. - Rejoice.

9:02 a.m. - Eat donut. Make happy noises.

9:08 a.m. Eat another one. More happy noises.

Happy Weekend!

I’ve been trying really hard to think of a great post for all of you, but to be honest, not a whole lot is going on. I’m busy at work trying to finish things up and leave how-to’s for Mike, my relationship is fantastic, the dog is behaving and the weather is cold. That’s basically all I’ve got.

So I’ll give you some random Molly-thoughts to get you through your day. You’re welcome.

- I love my shoes today. Love. They’re vintage Banana Republic–black suede stiletto boots with a touch of slouch to them. I inherited them basically brand new from my fashionista aunt who periodically decides to revamp her wardrobe, emptying her closet and donating the goods to me, my mom and my sister. I snagged the boots and they’re divine.

- I thought I had conquered my cold, but apparently it was hiding in the corners of my nose because today it’s back in full force and I cannot breathe. At all. Of course, I didn’t realize this until I got in the car and found myself with one tissue for the entire 40-minute commute. Lovely.

- I received this email in my inbox this morning: “There is leftover raspberry chocolate mousse cake down in the kitchen (actually it’s in the box in fridge so it stays happy!). Please help yourselves.”

Seriously? My willpower just went down the toilet.

- You know when you’re in a new relationship and you spend a ton of time making yourself cute? And in the morning, you sneak out of bed before he’s awake, brush your teeth, tousle your hair to achieve the perfect bed-head that looks natural but really took some time with a hairbrush, and apply some mascara so you look like you woke up naturally that pretty. Then you sneak back into bed and wake him up with a kiss.

I am so over that.

This morning I rolled out of bed and faced with a temperature of 27 degrees outside, I wrapped myself in a heavy, purple terrycloth bathrobe that Michael has never seen before.

“What is that?” he asked.

“Heaven,” I replied, tying it around me.

And having not yet fully achieved the Un-Sexy, I pulled on black sweat pants and shoved my feet into slippers.

He claims he still wants to marry me.

I watched A Shot at Love with Tila Tequila and ate spicy food before bed last night. I have learned my lesson, because the dream that followed was…odd.

——————————————————————————————

I was auditioning for the show and was really excited about it. I called Ashley to tell her, and she became very upset with me.

“You’re not really attracted to women,” she said. “That’s false advertising. It’s reality television. You have to be honest.” (Wait, what? Honesty on reality TV?)

I agreed and told her fine, I won’t do it. But that wasn’t good enough for her. She wanted a formal apology. So she sent me a form apology letter that I was supposed to fill out and return to her. Which I did.

Ashley then made a ton of photo copies and hung them up all over my new job so everyone would know that I had, in fact, said I was sorry.

When I walked into work my new boss was upset with me, asking if I had a problem with gay people, because if I did I wouldn’t be able to attend the gay porn awards in Vegas with the rest of the staff.

I got really upset and tried to convince her that I am accepting of all people and, wait, I really want to go to the gay porn awards with everyone! (WHAT?)

“You’re accepting of everyone, huh?” she said. “Even people with eight limbs?”

(Now I know where this came from. I watched a segment about a child who was undergoing surgery to remove her four additional limbs last night on CNN.)

“Yes!” I cried. “Even people with eight limbs!”

Luckily, she was happy with that answer, because apparently we were taking on a new eight-limbed client.

——————————————————————————————

Then I woke up. And came in to work and told Ashley all about the dream. I’m not sure she wants to work with me anymore!

 Yeah.

I spent the majority of last night cleaning our bedroom. Why? The piles. I’ve told you all about the piles before. I can’t help it…I make piles. Our bedroom was especially bad because it’s not finished. The walls are still an awful yellow from the previous owners and I hate the carpet. Since we haven’t renovated it yet, it doesn’t feel homey. And I suppose since it doesn’t feel homey, I don’t keep it as zen and I probably should keep my bedroom. Hence, the piles.

But the piles and piles of clothes had basically taken over the whole room, so while Michael was at work I put on the episode of Say Yes to the Dress I’d been waiting to watch and dove in.

Kodiak, who usually likes to lie right next to the bed apparently wanted nothing to do with the piles, as he took one look at me and went to lie at the top of the stairs.

Have you seen Say Yes to the Dress? It’s great. It’s a show on TLC about brides shopping for the perfect dress at Kleinfeld’s in New York City. Sometimes I’m shocked at what they spend (one bride spent $11,000 on her dress! And it was ugly!) and other times I wonder what they are thinking. (Feathers? Really?) Of course, sometimes it also sends me into a panic, like when one bride came for her fitting and her dress was the wrong color. If that happens to me I will probably lose it.

On one episode, a bride was talking about her colors and it got me thinking. I’m still not entirely sure what my wedding colors will be, but I’m thinking they will represent fall. I really like the colors represented in the inspiration board below.

One thing I do know is that my bridesmaids will wear red. I know they’ll all look great, especially my sister who looks stunning in red. Actually, she looks great all the time, especially when she’s laughing.

When Michael came home I hovered behind him until he walked into the bedroom and saw how clean it was. He was very, very happy to see the piles had disappeared. Like, really happy.

So happy, that as we snuggled up in bed he kissed the back of my neck and said, “Will you marry me?”

Hehe. Yes. Yes I will.

The tale end of hurricane Noel hit us this weekend. We didn’t have any real damage other than a bunch of tree limbs down, but the combination of my lingering cold and the whipping winds kept Michael and I inside the entire day. The. Entire. Day.

There’s not much to do inside on a Saturday other than watch TV. So that’s what we did. We started with the news, then moved on to football. A sport I basically knew nothing about. We watched the Kansas University/Nebraska University game, since Michael spent some time at KU and is still a Jayhawk fan. I spent the majority of the game asking, “wait, what just happened?” and “hold on, what does that mean?”

I know, I know. But I’ve never really been into sports. And not wanting to look like an idiot when I’ve watched with other people, I never said anything. Teaching me about sports is just one of the jobs he’s going to have to take on as my fiancé. That and bringing me ice cream from the kitchen because I’m on the couch and it’s too far away. 

Sunday we went to His Mother’s for her birthday dinner and even though her friends who I despise with every fiber of my being were there, it wasn’t that bad. He actually kept his bigoted comments to himself and was laughing, which is totally out of character. And His Mother was nice and appeared to like the necklace I bought her, putting it on and wearing it to church later that night.

She did throw a wrench in everything when she asked me to go to weekly Bible study with her, but I think I wiggled my way out of it without too much issue.

Later that night we came home and Michael curled up with me to watch some more of my Gilmore Girls DVD. Because he’s good like that. And after I fell asleep on the couch, he kissed my forehead to wake me for bed.

Damn, I love that boy.

I’m sick. And I know exactly where I caught it from. You see, some of my friends are sick as well. And don’t try to tell me that you can’t catch a cold through blogging because apparently you can.

The cold started innocently enough, a little sniffle, the occasional need to blow my nose. On Wednesday I had a three minute straight sneezing attack and now today I feel like the entire weight of the world (yes, the entire weight) is sitting on my chest. (Michael is reading this now saying nooooo!!! Stay away from me!!! Six feet!!!)

The interesting thing is that the congestion is only on the left side. And since I’ve been blowing my nose for a week straight, my left nostril is now raw and sore. I’ve been rubbing my beloved Smith’s Rosebud Salve on it as much as I can to ease the pain.

Except yesterday I forgot it at home. And after digging through my bag, all I could come up with was some peach lip balm.

Yeah, that’s right. I went there.

Aside from the cold, this week has been very wedding productive. Last night we met with, and subsequently booked, our photographer! And we’re thisclose to booking the caterer we met with on Wednesday that served us delicious appetizers, including a fig and caramelized onion puffed pastry pizza that was to DIE for.

After our appointment last night we found ourselves in need of dinner and standing outside of a Pizzeria Uno. I hadn’t been to one since high school and jumped at the chance. (Please stop shuddering at my lack of culinary sophistication. I’m sophisticated, I swear. Just not all the time.)

I ordered the entree that I always loved–their traditional cheese and tomato Chicago-style deep dish pizza. It was as good as I remembered it.

And yeah, I brought the leftovers for lunch. What’s the saying? Feed a cold? You bet I will!

Happy Weekend!

A few weeks ago I got a phone call from my friend Ashley telling me that a position had opened up at her job and was I interested in applying? I wasn’t looking for a new job at the time, but I figured it couldn’t hurt to send in my resume.

It wasn’t very long before her boss was calling me to set up an interview. I set a date and time, then sat back to examine what was going on.

I knew I would leave my current job one day, but I hadn’t expected to do it so soon. I’m comfortable in my job, have a groove, know what I am doing. I also have the best first boss I could have asked for. When I thought about the day I would eventually leave, I thought I would sit down with Mike, talk about my options and go from there.

But Mike happened to be on vacation when all of this started. And I felt awful about that. What if they offered me the job? Would Mike believe me when I told him I didn’t sneak out to interviews behind his back?

I went through the interview–an intense two hours that left me more confused than ever. The perks? They are good. The money? Even better. But was that enough for me to leave?

I didn’t give myself the chance to find out, because just a day later I told my potential new boss thanks, but no thanks. I passed on the job before it was even offered to me.

And then I started regretting it. The self evaluation that followed wasn’t pretty. I realized that the real reason I said no wasn’t because I didn’t think it was the right job for me, but because I was scared to leave the comfort of my current job. And most of all, I didn’t want to stop working with Mike.

I’m one of the lucky ones–an employee that can call her boss not just a friend, but a great friend. Mike is more like the big brother I never had; who can tease me unmercifully, then turn around and offer me great advice. He’s shown genuine concern when my sister was screwing up in school and was campaigning for me to get engaged. But most of all, he had faith in me and encouraged me to push myself. When I was panicking about giving my very first press tour, he told me I could do it. That I wasn’t seeing what he saw. That I had it in me and just had to break through my fear.

He was right. So when I was graced with a second chance and asked if I would reconsider taking the new job, I did. And after going over all my concerns with the new boss, I pushed through my fears and accepted.

But then I had to tell Mike. And the thought of it made me physically sick. I knew he would understand and be supportive, because that’s the type of guy he is. But I still didn’t want to do it.

The first sentence was the hardest. “I’ve been offered a job,” but it got easier from there. He asked questions, listened and in typical Mike fashion, even gave me advice from his days working at an agency. When all was said and done he congratulated me and gave me a big hug.

Mike will find an eager recent college grad to take my place in the office. But I know he won’t replace me as a friend.

Happy Birthday, Mike. I’m going to miss you like crazy.

And PS- Of course you’re coming to the wedding!