You are currently browsing the monthly archive for October 2007.

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.


Disgruntled Daily Lover Molly


Dear Lactaid,

How about you start WORKING????



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?!”


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.

Ask me anything!

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Alltop, all the cool kids (and me)