If you didn't know, one of my favorite things to do is create sentences using as many different languages as possible. Ten points per language identification ;)
Today is my last day with my man for the hols. We're getting a small break from family by getting a hotel for the night. Weather was not favorable for driving back from the city tonight and I'm leaving for home sweet Brooklyn in the morning. We had a wonderful time getting to see almost everyone, but it has been the most exhausting holiday in my memory. Is this adulthood? No wonder 'bah, humbug' became a thing! Only kidding. But really. So much hustle and bustle. Not enough hugs and laughter.
This is mostly due to the fact that this year's holiday visits = wedding planning scramble. There are so many options yet so few that work out as you delve into the details. How many details do you change to make something work?
Tonight we met for dinner between shows. Bellies full of hot stone bowl bibimbap, we decided to stop in for a cupcake. I made it halfway through my Philly Fetti funfettied vanilla butercream complete with edible glitter concoction. Saving it for late night snack. Even completely full the crispy post-snow air had me feeling light as a faerie princess on my way back to the hotel. I'm sure the edible glitter helped, but mostly I'm ridiculous in love.
So I decided to go shopping. At lulu. DANGER, WILL ROBINSON! I cheerfully silenced my inner alarms promising only to buy from the sale rack. If it was something perfect. And I didn't already have it.
There were pants. New colors. Fun, interesting styles. One must be sure something that looks "interesting" actually fits. To the dressing room! First pants: "Geez, these are clingy. Is there a knot in the drawstring somewhere? Shouldn't try on yoga pants right after dinner." Turns to mirror: nope. Next pants. Mirror: nope. Peaks out of dressing room. "Could you see if you have these in a four?"
I don't have a problem with being a four instead of a two as far as my waist is concerned. In fact, I'm really glad my jeans aren't falling off anymore since I got back from ship life. But I'm 4'11." A size two can be hemmed. Size four, as I soon discovered, cannot. A hem doesn't do anything about the funkiness of extra knee room falling at your ankle. I bought a jacket.
Curse you consumerist culture for stealing my self esteem! You can have my dollars. Just leave the self esteem, please?
I feel the same about the wedding stuff. I would honestly be happy to shell out a ridiculous amount of money to throw a great party with my loved ones, but I don't like feeling like a dollar amount is a requirement. I don't want your "Wedding Inabox." I don't want to be stripped of my dignity to prove my love.
I want what I always said I wanted. Christmas lights, backyard, potluck. Gifts optional. Please bring a dish and your secret recipe for the happy couple.
Ah, such an idealist, yes?
Yes.
Today is my last day with my man for the hols. We're getting a small break from family by getting a hotel for the night. Weather was not favorable for driving back from the city tonight and I'm leaving for home sweet Brooklyn in the morning. We had a wonderful time getting to see almost everyone, but it has been the most exhausting holiday in my memory. Is this adulthood? No wonder 'bah, humbug' became a thing! Only kidding. But really. So much hustle and bustle. Not enough hugs and laughter.
This is mostly due to the fact that this year's holiday visits = wedding planning scramble. There are so many options yet so few that work out as you delve into the details. How many details do you change to make something work?
Tonight we met for dinner between shows. Bellies full of hot stone bowl bibimbap, we decided to stop in for a cupcake. I made it halfway through my Philly Fetti funfettied vanilla butercream complete with edible glitter concoction. Saving it for late night snack. Even completely full the crispy post-snow air had me feeling light as a faerie princess on my way back to the hotel. I'm sure the edible glitter helped, but mostly I'm ridiculous in love.
So I decided to go shopping. At lulu. DANGER, WILL ROBINSON! I cheerfully silenced my inner alarms promising only to buy from the sale rack. If it was something perfect. And I didn't already have it.
There were pants. New colors. Fun, interesting styles. One must be sure something that looks "interesting" actually fits. To the dressing room! First pants: "Geez, these are clingy. Is there a knot in the drawstring somewhere? Shouldn't try on yoga pants right after dinner." Turns to mirror: nope. Next pants. Mirror: nope. Peaks out of dressing room. "Could you see if you have these in a four?"
I don't have a problem with being a four instead of a two as far as my waist is concerned. In fact, I'm really glad my jeans aren't falling off anymore since I got back from ship life. But I'm 4'11." A size two can be hemmed. Size four, as I soon discovered, cannot. A hem doesn't do anything about the funkiness of extra knee room falling at your ankle. I bought a jacket.
Curse you consumerist culture for stealing my self esteem! You can have my dollars. Just leave the self esteem, please?
I feel the same about the wedding stuff. I would honestly be happy to shell out a ridiculous amount of money to throw a great party with my loved ones, but I don't like feeling like a dollar amount is a requirement. I don't want your "Wedding Inabox." I don't want to be stripped of my dignity to prove my love.
I want what I always said I wanted. Christmas lights, backyard, potluck. Gifts optional. Please bring a dish and your secret recipe for the happy couple.
Ah, such an idealist, yes?
Yes.
