Note to self: the next time you have a good job that pays well and does NOT require you to work until midnight, you should keep it.
Exchanging it for a job where you DO have to work until midnight is not a good idea.
It might seem like it is, but it’s not.
If you ever have the urge to do this again, please refer to this post.
Well, that was fun.
We laughed, we cried, we ate, we danced. And oh yeah – some of us even got married!
I feel relieved that everything went so well – nobody fell down, passed out, said anything inappropriate, or called off the wedding. My hair looked stupid (never go to the Skye Salon and Spa in Parker, and never have a stylist named Stacey!) but LP looked so beautiful, and as it was her wedding, that was what mattered.
She always yelled at my because “You’re so pretty!” is our default cover your ass move when you have bad news. For example:
“Hi LP! Um, so, our love chihuahua may or may not have chewed up your favorite pair of underwear and peed on your bed while I was supposed to be watching her.”
“She did what?!?!”
“You’re so pretty! Have I mentioned today, how pretty you are? PRETTY PRETTY, that’s you!”
But really – and I’m not just saying this – she looked spectacular yesterday.
As promised, I brought the funny to the wedding. At least, that’s what everybody told me! I did hear people laughing, and at the end of the toast there was lots of cheering, so I took it as a good sign. If you’d like to read my MOH speech from last night, see below.
If you don’t want to read the MOH speech, that’s cool. I mean, I’m pretty tired today, so I wouldn’t want to be reading speeches and other people’s funny on the interweb. What I would want to be doing is drinking a margarita in my pajamas at 3:30 in the afternoon. And I’m halfway there…if only I could just find that tequila….
Hello everyone. My name is Hilary and I’m your resident MOH – maiden of honor – this evening. I would like to preface this speech by letting you know that I am, in fact, going to make fun of the bride. We are equal opportunity teasers, always have been, and I give this speech knowing full well that on my wedding day, many many many years from now, when she stands next to me and gives her MOH toast, she will have her comeuppance.
Dana and I have known each other since sophomore year of college. We met when we discovered we lived in the same 20 bedroom mansion but had never met, which is a common occurrence when you live in the sorority house.
We lived together in the house together for two years, and then we lived in an apartment together for another year. And after living with someone for three years, sharing bedrooms, bathrooms, personal space, and lip gloss, you get to know them well enough you could almost write an owner’s manual.
Mike, you’ve never lived with Dana, and I have, and I have a journalism degree so I think this makes me uniquely qualified to do exactly that. And so, I present you with the Dana Partner’s Manual: full of incredibly helpful, and possibly life-saving, advice. So buckle up, and I won’t be offended if you want a copy of this later.
When Dana told me the story of your engagement, she said that her dad Sam apparently asked you if you’d ever seen Dana really mad, and if not, you might like to reconsider your offer. Sam, is that true? Did you ask that? Well, I have to agree with him. But it’s too late for that now.
One day you WILL see Dana really mad. Nobody knows when or why, but it will happen. However, I’d like to help you stave off that day for as long as possible, so I bring us to the first chapter in the Dana Partner’s Manual:
Chapter One: Having an argument with Dana.
There are a few topics of conversation never to broach with Dana:
Bringing these things up with Dana can only result in pain, heartache, and your possible demise. So don’t do it. Just repeat after me: I am always wrong. Dana is always right. In case you forget who is always right, you can ask her, she’ll tell you! I am wrong, she is right. Good. Say this to yourself every morning, like a mantra.
Speaking of morning, I’m glad you brought that up.
Chapter Two: Morning Time
Morning is an interesting time for Dana. For many people, morning is full of promise, shiny and new. A fresh start to a new day. But try to put yourself in Dana’s shoes. If you are Dana, morning is a time when the whole world hates you and you’ve lost the will to live.
If you want to survive the morning intact, there are just a few simple rules:
Rule number one: no talking. It’s okay to make her some coffee or cinnamon rolls, put them on a plate and the back away slowly. It’s okay to turn on some music. It’s okay to watch the news in a different room entirely. But there should be no talking in the morning.
Rule number two: no touching. Touching Dana in the morning is like poking a sleeping bear with a stick. Actually, it’s like poking a very pretty bear who used to be asleep but who is now awake, and really, really angry about it. Keep your hands to yourself, otherwise you might lose one.
Rule number three: never, under any circumstances, say anything about how her hair looks in the morning. Just don’t say those words. Actually, refer to rule number one: just don’t say any words at all.
No talking, no touching. You’re going to be fine.
Actually, you are going to be more than fine. Because life with Dana is more than fine – it’s awesome. And that brings us to our final chapter:
Chapter Three: Life with Dana
Life with Dana is always an adventure – you might get lost, you might get frustrated, you might get into a fight about something stupid like butter or Christmas trees. You might even get really mad at each other. But you will definitely get the most wonderful partner anyone could ask for.
As I’ve mentioned about a thousand times tonight, Dana is my best friend. I would even go so far as to say soul mate, because it’s a rare and beautiful thing in this life to find someone who understands you deep in your soul, who complements you, who makes you laugh, who’s there for you, and who just plain gets you. It’s rare and beautiful indeed, but not so rare that you can’t find it twice if you’re lucky. I think you’re both very lucky, because you have found that soul connection in each other.
So my final bit of advice to BOTH of you – yes, I know I’m very wise – is to nurture that connection. Choose the highest road, the kindest word, the gentlest touch. Take care of each other.
Dana and I have always joked that we’ll outlive our husbands and when we’re old we’ll wear crazy hats and start drinking at 10 am. Mike, if you take care of her as well as I know she will take care of you, I have no doubt that we’ll all be there together. I hope you look good in a crazy hat, and I hope you like vodka.
I now conclude the reading of the Dana Partner’s Manual with a toast: to Dana and her new partner Mike.
I have finished my MOH (maiden of honor) speech for LP’s wedding tomorrow, as I’m sure you already saw via Twitter because you are just desperate to keep up with my life, Internet.
I’ve already tested said speech to my mom, and she thought it was both funny and poignant. But she’s my mom, so maybe she has to say that. Test run #2 happens tomorrow at the bridesmaid’s luncheon. While the bride is getting her hair and makeup done, I will be making the funny in a different room.
So, just like a usual day really.
I’m actually not really that nervous, because the groom’s Aunty Lila already talked about birth control pills, condoms, and bacon. What do I have to lose at this point?
My pride? Too late for that.
My street cred? I have none.
My dignity? I’m wearing a hot pink evening gown. Enough said.
Full transcript of said speech will be posted after the wedding.
You’re welcome, Internet, you’re welcome.
Dear Comcast:
Some of us are trying to work. You know work? That thing that you do, at that place, and they pay you for it?
For me, “that thing” happens to be writing, editing, planning, and researching.
“That place” happens to be at my dining room table, until I make my move out West in a couple of weeks.
It’s too bad that nobody is going to pay me for anything if I can’t do those things at that place, and I can’t do anything IF YOU KEEP KICKING ME OFF THE INTERWEB.
It keeps happening, and every time it does, I get this little message that says my remote connection has been terminated. What, Comcast, you’re firing me from the Internet? And then, when I sign back on, there’s a smug little note that says “Congratulations” but no exclamation mark (excited punctuation is the difference between smug and sincere, in case you were wondering) welcoming me back, only to kick me off again.
I’m tired of it, Comcast. I’m tired and stressed out and my heart just can’t take it anymore.
And I blame you.
Because my crazy emotions are certainly not the fault of all the coffee and the Twizzlers.
That much, I’m sure of.
I have to go do that thing now, at the place, 10 feet from here.
Let’s just hope somebody pays me for it.
Sincerely,
Hilary
…it is still entirely possible to have no idea what the heck is going on.
To wit:
“So, you do realize what this seems like, right?”
“Uh, well, correct me if I’m wrong, but we seem to be lounging around in my room, and you seem to be wearing a pair of my shorts. I also recall that I took you to dinner a few hours ago.”
“Yup, it seems like that’s what we’re doing. Seems kind of like all the stuff we used to do. When we were dating. Dinners, lounging, shorts. You remember that, the dating?”
“Uh huh…”
“I’m just saying, it kind of seems like you just took your ex-girlfriend on a date.”
“It does seem like that doesn’t it. Huh.”
“Huh.”
I was in yoga last night, which is my favorite place to be on a Tuesday night. Because of all the running I do now, as well as all the sitting I do all day, my shoulders cramp up and pop and crack and are constantly in pain. Physical therapy, massage, stretching, sitting on a balance ball in the office…nothing works except yoga.
And so I go, every week, cracking and popping and spending an hour in both harsh pain and sweet release, stretching out my back and shoulders in preparation for the long week ahead.
Except for last night. Last night was different.
Last night, for the first time ever, my poses were perfect. My shoulders were pain-free. My head was clear, and for the whole five minutes of meditation, instead of the usual potpurri of emotions and words and deadlines, I actually managed to think about nothing.
Which is impressive - I mean, maybe not to you, but I’m impressed with me – given that one week ago I decided to uproot my entire life. I quit my job, I’m packing my stuff, I’m in the process of saying the long and emotional goodbyes to friends and coworkers, and I’m moving away from my beloved square state for the first time.
This was not an easy decision, as most of you know. I’ve been crying for a week straight, at anyone who looks at me. The Mister and I went to lunch and we never made it inside the restaurant I was sobbing so hard. My neighbors and coworkers are baffled, because instead of excited, I seem depressed, and they don’t understand me.
But I understand me. And the root of all the crying isn’t sadness or panic or depression really, but just an emotional reaction to the unknown. Is this the right decision? Am I making the right choice? Is this where God and the universe are calling me to be? Is this opportunity fate, as many have suggested? I have no idea. Not a clue.
And that seems wrong, you know? Unfair, even. Where is that feeling of certainty? Where is that moment of clarity where I just know that this is the right thing? Where is that golden light shining down on me, telling me (preferably in a large, booming voice) to go forth and just do it because not only is it a great slogan, but it’s also the universe’s plan for me? Where is my thunderbolt moment? I have no idea. Not a clue.
Kristin says thunderbolt moments are wonderful and clarifying. She also says thunderbolt moments are rarer than rare, and we can’t just sit around waiting for them.
We always listen to Kristin Wisdom because it is the best kind of wisdom: practical, loving, and always true.
Maybe the best we can hope for from the universe isn’t a flash of light and a feeling of total certainty, but instead, a gentle nudge.
Maybe physically nudging myself into pain-free poses and a blissful state of mind is the best I can hope for right now.
Maybe I have to go so that I can one day come back, even though it’s scary and I’m not feeling very brave about it.
Maybe my body’s letting go is a gentle nudge to the rest of me that now is the time to let go and move on: from work, from The Mister and my life here, in favor of something newer and better.
And maybe the simple act of admitting that you aren’t brave is an act of courage in and of itself. Maybe, in admitting our true feelings and fears to ourselves, we then open ourselves up to the possibility that these truths can change, our fears will abate, and life will continue to get more interesting, more exciting, more good in the process. Honesty begets goodness.
Maybe I just had a thunderbolt moment after all.
Okay Internet, I am officially freaking out.
I have been offered a job in San Francisco.
Do I take it?
Ready….GO!
(Seriously though, I need help deciding, and any insight you have into this situation is valuable.
Have you ever moved away from home?
How did you do?
Was it scary?
Was it a good choice?
Are you glad you did it?
Wish you hadn’t?
If you lurk around on this blog ever at all, now would be the time to speak up about this please thanks!)
I have been neglecting my blog for the last two weeks-ish. I always feel like I should apologize for doing that. But then I always feel like asking myself why it is that I let an inanimate object of the web 2.0 variety make me feel bad things about myself. Clearly it’s just a big hurricane of emotion over here.
I cannot stop eating dairy foods and crave them all the time. And by all the time I mean for the last three days. Yogurt, cheese, enormous glasses of milk, cheese, and cheese. This is only weird because I very rarely crave anything involving cows – beef, cheese or anything with a nice cow print upon it – nothing. I am usually a straight up vegetable girl and I actually have been known to long for giant bowls of peas or 15 and a half brussel sprouts. Some people find that weird. Of course, those same people subsist solely on junk food and baked goods, and I find that disgusting, so there you go. Besides, how weird is it going to be when you’re dead and I’m running marathons? Not so weird that I won’t risk it. Ummm anyway, cheese is great.
Speaking of marathons a little bit, I ran the BolderBoulder last weekend! I used to not be able to run around the block, and now I can run at least 6.2 miles, most likely more. At least, that’s what I like to tell myself. And I was not, contrary to what I assumed would happen, trampeled by skinny hippies. No Internet, I ran the whole way, I was not trampeled, and I had such a great time running 6.2 miles that I did it again later in the week. Although I have to tell you, it’s much easier to run when the whole city cheers for you, and it is less easy to run when you are by yourself. So I guess it’s just like they say “Everything Is More Fun With Hippies.” If they say that. I guess I should ask my brother, who lives in Boulder 82% of the time. G – Do they say that? They should.
Speaking of The G (The G is my illustrious brother, in case you didn’t know) I would like to report a sad state of affairs: The G is actually not in Boulder like he’s supposed to be, but is, instead, in Arkansas. Yes, that’s right, Arkansas. Which means he’s missing out on all kinds of summer fun. This fun includes, but is not limited to:
- Hiking in Moab with the Lutherans
- Seeing Harry Potter at the IMAX
- Riding bikes and playing with sidewalk chalk
- Drinking vodka lemonade on the deck (The G likes his girly drinks don’t you know)
- Telling me how great I look while I prance around in various wedding attire
- Scrapbooking
- Wait a second – this has turned into my summer list basically. Which means it’s time to wrap this up.
In conclusion, I guess, this is not a post about a random smattering of things, but is mostly about feelings: I feel conflicted, I feel fast, I feel like I miss my brother, I feel like I have way too many weddings to go to. Oh – and I feel like I would like some cheese.
Do you have any?
Dear San Francisco,
Let’s get married.
What? Who said that?!?
But seriously, let’s.
I mean, I know it seems kinda crazy, since we’ve only been on two dates and all, but they were so good. The weather was good, the coffee was great, and okay, fine, I’ll just say it: I’m in love I’m in love and I DON’T care who knows it!
Soooo, think about it, SF. For me?
On to pictures!
I’m off to San Francisco today! Dunc and I are going to be all over the Bay Area – Muir Woods, Berkeley, San Francisco proper, and his house on the Oakland side of the bay. Can’t. Wait.
I’m sure I’m going to have many a photo and story when I get back, but for now, let’s see what other people have to say about San Francisco, shall we?
Jordan @ Oh Happy Day makes living in San Fran look like good times!
SFGirlByBay is always inspiring.
Stephmodo has lots of good things to say about the city by the bay.
Of course, everyone’s favorite childhood singer has devoted a song to living down by the bay, and it’s required listening before a trip to the bay. Natch. Too bad I couldn’t find a video of that.
See you Tuesday, Internet!
