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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:

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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!

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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.

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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.

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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:

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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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Wear Ease® is a company that designs and manufactures post-mastectomy lingerie for women to wear after breast or chest surgery. Their goal is to provide comfort, while still allowing women to feel feminine. 

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.

And remember, just because October is over, doesn’t mean the fight for a cure for breast cancer is. Click here to continue to fund free mammograms.

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