Man.. doing a wedding registry is hard work. We managed to brave the mall traffic today to register at what was originally supposed to be “a few places.” After 5 hours, we came close to finishing off our registry at Macy’s. We still have a lot of cleanup to do and adjusting of what was recorded (changing colors, adding missing set pieces, etc.) But, man it’s tiring.
I have to admit, though, that doing your registry at Macy’s is completely worth it. As registrants, we get 10% back on all of our purchases between now and our wedding date. We also get 10% back on anything purchased off our registry (so, go nuts my friends!). There was even deals that said “if you spend $x on y brand, you get a free gift.” Very crazy.
So, it was a blast running around the store — picking out our formal & casual dinner plates, flatware, cooking utensils, etc. Anything you want — scanned. Done and done.
The one thing, though, is that afterwards Miss Possible and I agreed that we felt like we shopped like mad and had nothing to show for it. We were feeling as though we were excited to come home and look at all our goodies.. Well, unfortunately, that will have to wait. July is just around the corner.
I just found out today that my ex-roommate, “J” gave birth to her daughter the other day. I’m a guy who is always looking for links to the past. I’m not sure why, but it’s some sort of reassuring thing. For instance, way back when I started writing for The Diatribe in April 2005, “J” was still my roommate and very much a close friend. My early blogs are sprinkled with mentions of her. After nearly four years of living under the same roof, we had become like siblings. That all seems like so much longer than 16 months ago.
The next couple of months saw her move in with her soon-to-be-husband and change the direction of her life. Our friendship withered on the vine, with our primary connection being the lease agreement between us and the monthly rent checks I mailed her, as I still lived in her property. She was there at my wedding, but that was a rare detente and it was, once again, downhill.
I was on the distribution list announcing her baby’s birth, so I haven’t dropped off the map completely. It was just such an out-of-body experience reading the email and viewing the pictures already arranged on her daughter’s very own web site. I felt as if I was looking at the baby pictures of someone I used to know. I can’t put a finger on it, so I’ll just go with vorstein. It felt just like vorstein.
As a newlywed, the benefits of marriage are unfolding on a daily basis. It’s a whole different ballgame than even living together before marriage. Chores are shared. Dinners are cooked. Important dates are remembered so I don’t have to. I dare say that marriage could make me a lazy person. I’ve been an independent adult-type person since I was a kid. I was about nine years old when my mother decided to stop making my lunch for school. I think it was a combination of my mother being busy, me complaining about her sandwiches (mayonaise on ham – really?), and her wanting to make me independent. In due time, I was quite comfortable with doing laundry, ironing clothes, and cleaning the house from floor to ceiling. If only my dad had taken the same route with me, then I might not have to rely on AAA for car problems and my landlord for apartment repairs.
Anyway, about that fear of growing lazy…well, I have these summer weight cargo pants that I bought last year. Toward the end of the summer, one of the buttons fell off and I hadn’t replaced it since. It only took me a mere 12 months to get around to it. So, the other night, I brought out the pants, the button, and my ramshackle collection of thread, needles, and other sewing implements. I can’t do much with a needle, but I can sew on a button and I can sew up a hole like no one’s business.
Just at that moment, Swedish Girl said, “Want me to do it? I’ll do it.” I protested mildly, but gave in. I left the room for a moment, returned, and she was done. As solid as I am in the field of button-sewing, I am slow. That one button would have taken me longer, much longer. I don’t want to embarrass myself too much by estimating how long, but Swedish Girl saved me time and bloody fingertips. Just chalk up buttons to that list of benefits of marriage that unfold on a daily basis.
The reports of my death are greatly exaggerated.
I’m still here. Still kicking. Just trying to culminate some Diatribe-worthy material. There are rumors of another pub crawl. This might go down in about three weeks and IF I partake, and IF I survive, then I’ll try to share some misadventures and maybe some pics. That’s all I have for now. Sorry. Work has been crazed and Swedish Girl and I are apartment hunting. I’m paying for my relatively relaxing summer of 2005.
I’ll leave you with an incomplete thought of mine over the last couple of weeks – friends are a strange and interesting concept. Make that friends and frienship. Think of your friends and how you met them. Most friends are either classmates or former classmates; college roommates or former college roommates; co-workers or former co-workers; and people you met through your existing friends.
None of this is groundbreaking, but I was reminiscing about Captain Larby and LTJ and all the people I’ve met through them. Larby was my college roommate and I met LTJ through him. Larby met LTJ through his later college roommates. In turn, Larby met Mrs. Larby through LTJ. Now what if Larby and LTJ had never met? A-ha!
I met my former roommate J.Lee through a roommate ad she posted on line. Years later, she met her now husband, JC, on match.com. One day, while they were out shopping in Boston, they ran into JC’s friend, Swedish Girl. The rest is history. Now what if I had not chosen J.Lee’s apartment as the one to move into back in 2001? Or what if she had never found JC’s profile on line?
So much of our love and happiness is dependent on our friends, our connections. I suppose it’s all part of the master plan. I hate to say it, but it’s the universe’s way of paying it forward. Just pause for a few moments and think about how you met your friends or significant other. So many little details had to allign perfectly at the right time and place. Karma, right Earl?
I have to apologize for the delay, but I was able to get the photos from our recent escapades up in Boston last weekend. A very nice time was had by all, and I’m sure the Bride & Groom had a lovely time as well.
In other photo-related news, in case you were recently looking for some of those older photos — apparently Flickr hid them while I was an unpaid member.. those should all have returned now that I’ve paid my yearly dues. Enjoy!
Perhaps the best barometer of when a relationship makes that leap is when one or both members of a couple feel close enough to ask their mate if they have anything in their teeth. This is, of course, followed by a big flash of teeth and a close inspection by the trusted mate. There is a time at the beginning of a relationship when both members of a couple eat, keep their mouths mostly closed until they can steal away to the rest room to check in the mirror, and then return and commence talking. That kind of etiquette is nice, but I think being able to show your spinach-laden teeth is also nice in its own way. It means you’re at that point in coupledom where you know you will not be shunned for having half a pork chop stuck in your canines. Now, if someone asks you this on the first date and does actually have something in his/her teeth, I’d skip the coffee and dessert and head home…alone.
Last year I gave Captain Larby a hard time for “abandoning” The Diatribe. Sure, he was waist deep in wedding planning, but I thought that was a cheap excuse. Now I know how right he was and how wrong I was. Swedish Girl and I are marrying on Saturday and by most comparisons, our wedding is intimate and casual. But that in no way means it is neat and tidy. I have horror stories regarding reservation snafus, clothing errors, and a slew of relationships to repair. Contrary to my belief, small does not equal easy. I owe the Captain an apology. As you can see, I have been an infrequent contributor to The Diatribe lately. I haven’t forgotten about y’all, believe me. I’ve barely had time to remember to breath, let alone compile a semi-entertaining thought for our faithful readers.
My life has been non-stop for a couple of months now. I don’t usually get to sit down and catch my breath until bedtime. But the hard part is done and I’m looking forward to Saturday…that is, if anyone is still speaking to me. I don’t recommend planning a wedding in under two months. It can be done, but at a price. I have a few more white hairs, a few less pounds (not complaining), and some nice dark circles under my eyes.
I’ll be back to The Diatribe in earnest before long. Afterall, we’re going to have to pick up the slack for Brother LTJ. I may have brushed off Larby’s reasons as mere excuses, but now I know better.
I’ve written before how I avoided seeing Closer with my girlfriend to preserve the relationship. After seeing the movie alone more than a year later, I decided I was right. That movie, while compelling and haunting, left me feeling depressed and dirty. While channel surfing last night, I rediscovered long-buried thoughts that might actually prove my hypothesis.
I came across a Mad About You marathon on Nick at Nite. I have to admit, I watched that show back in the day. I don’t even know why – because I was never a fan of Paul Reiser, Helen Hunt has always annoyed me (and sometimes repulsed me), the supporting characters were ugly and clingy, and let’s face it, it was pretty much a chick show. So why the hell did I watch it? It probably had a strong lead-in on NBC’s daunting 1990s Must-See TV lineup, not to mention sparse competition.
Anyway, last night I ended up watching the pilot episode and the clever cross-over episode guest staring Michael Richards as Kramer. While watching, I drifted off to a time almost exactly 10 years earlier when I used to watch the show with my girlfriend. The MAY storyline in the spring of 1996 was that Paul Buchman was cheating on Jamie or was thinking about cheating on her because she kissed a coworker. This was material which I now deem inappropriate for a couple to watch together, yet we watched it.
We were already on shaky footing due to a couple of breakups, our latest re-start had occured under dubious conditions, and we were just trying to get through a rough period and hopefully make it through to the other side. She was probably trying harder than I to make things work and (cliche warning) if I knew then what I know now, things would have turned out differently. Looking back, it seems so simple what a wiser course of action would have been. (devil’s advocate warning) Then again, what happened was meant to happen because we acted age-appropriately.
Even though we watched that several-episode-long story arc of Paul and Jamie’s marital problems and vowed that nothing like that would ever happen to us, we broke up less than a month later. The power of suggestion is a mighty thing and I’m not saying that a TV dramedy directly led to the end of my first real relationship. I’m just saying that these days, I’m all about remaining positive, upbeat, and cheery.