Last night I dreamed that nimby and I were going camping. We get out to our camp site, which is way out in the woods, and there is this horse there. It’s a giant beautiful black horse, and it’s clearly wild, but it lets us come up to it. It is really like the amazon of horses. I get on its back, and it’s the most amazing creature in the world. Its fur is so soft, and I just love this horse. I want to bring the horse back to live with us (in my dream this makes sense… maybe we have a barn or something… )but I have to find a way to bring it back. So, we are five miles away from my parents’ house out in these woods, and I RUN all the way back to the house, but I don’t find whatever I went there for. Then I run all the way back to the horse in the woods. I do this a couple more times, and then I realize, “dang, I just ran five miles multiple times without getting tired or anything,” but it’s because I did it for this horse. And then I realize there’s no real way to get the horse back to the house, but I’m still really happy because I’ve seen this amazing giant animal.
Then I woke up and realized it was noon and I’d intended to get up at 9 or 10. Buzzkill. Then I burned myself while making coffee.
And now I wonder: Why I didn’t just ride the horse back?
My dreams have been getting me back under control lately. You’ll see what I mean.
There is a family with a lot of problems in my old neighborhood. The oldest son has been morbidly obese his entire life. Their only daughter is a 30-something alcoholic who lives in their house with her husband and their three kids. The next oldest son is a drug addict of the highest degree Read more…
Maybe I’m just feeling particularly weepy today, but this video was so sweet and was just the right thing for this morning. Maybe the post wedding glow is making me particularly susceptible to this kind of thing …
<dirt-w> Hilarious headline of the day: <dirt-w> “Dobson attacks Barack Obama with fruitcake” <Steph-w> just wow <Brando|work> o.O <Brando|work> wow <Steph-w> but at the same time, if you’re going to assult a politican why not use fruitcake <dirt-w> exactly
I keep trying to recap the wedding, but right now, I still have too much going on my head. I’m trying to let my brain settle. Someone I used to know once compared my brain (or anyone’s brain) to a glass of water with a bit of dirt in it. If you keep moving it around and trying to get to the bottom of it, you never can make sense of it. But if you just let it settle, it becomes perfectly clear. So, that’s what I need right now.
So much has happened, and so much is still going to happen, but now there’s less stress, less pressure. For months before the wedding, I’d been putting things on my list of “things I’ll think about after the wedding.” Now that I’ve passed that milestone, I’m not sure where the list went.
Right now, I’m still in the middle of a big sigh of relief. Even being back at work, in my predictable beige office, is a relief. Not too much has changed. Now that I’m married to Nimby, I still love him. Life is good. A little bit has changed, though. I mean, we’re married now. Our relationship is the same, the way we treat one another, and all that. But the terms are different. When we first started out and I moved to Maryland, I comforted myself with the knowledge that I hadn’t signed any contracts. If things went really badly, I could always just go home. Things went well enough that we both felt marriage would be a safe bet, so we got engaged. But now, we’re actually married, and I have actually signed a contract. It’s a little bit different, but it’s not bad at all.
This is probably the only post I will get in today. Don’t hold your breath to get one tomorrow, either.
I woke up because I was feeling restless. It’s thundering outside. Every day lately, it’s been sunny all day except for an hour or so when the clouds roll in, it rains and thunders for 10 minutes to half an hour, and then it clears up again. Maybe if the rain goes through this morning we won’t deal with it this afternoon.
I spent most of yesterday being wickedly sick. As you might have noticed from Paperclip Crusades, this is a bit of a recurring theme for me. We couldn’t decide why I was so sick. It might have been related to the three margaritas I had starting at noon, the three and a half beers I had with dinner, the one cosmo, two vodka tonics and half a beer I had at the bar afterwards,or it could’ve been due to the Jaeger bomb someone bought me at the last minute as we were trying to leave the bar. Nonetheless, Read more…
I promised one of my teachers that I wouldn’t be “writing” on my wedding day. We writers have a tendency to be composing paragraphs or essays, sometimes whole novels, as we experience things. I promised her that on my wedding day, I would take a break from experiencing everything in terms of its literary worth and strictly enjoy the day for the amazing occasion it’s sure to be. But that doesn’t mean I can’t blog all the insanity leading up to it.
I wanted to make a big “post-mortem” post about MLG once it was over, but I was a bit exhausted, and it was more important to focus on unwinding and enjoying San Diego. Nimby and I had a great time. We literally rode the trolley all around the city. We shopped, had sushi, people watched, saw a couple sites, had a few beers, and all those other things we love to do together. Maybe the coolest place we visited was this cigar bar. I took pictures, and you’ll get the details on that later.
The down side of San Diego is that my feet are killing me. Seriously, we walked so much I had to buy new shoes because the little gold flats I love so much were never meant for marathon walking. But the new sandals I bought made a big blister on my right foot, and it got dirty as we continued to trek around the city. I don’t want to get too graphic, but my foot is now slightly swollen and noticably red, and it hurts to put any weight on it. In the past hour, I’ve crawled across the room with my right foot elevated behind me (yes, like a dog) to fetch things from my backpack. But I’ve finally had a good chance to bandage it up and sit with it elevated for the rest of the night. I might venture back down stairs for one more of my parents’ famous margaritas, but that will require actual walking as I have not successfully crawled down any stairs since I was about 10.
Being back in my parents’ house is strange. Althoug Nimby and I have lived together for a bit over 2 years now, some aspects of marraige are just now becoming real for me. For one thing, this house is not my home anymore. I’ll always be welcome here, of course, but now I feel the difference for the first time. And yet, some things are still the same. The way my dad talks to my brother is still the same. And the way my brother gets pissed off is the same. But the fact that I think my brother is right this time — that’s new. Lots of the decor is new, but the day bed I got when I was 13 is still the same. The bed spread is new, but the big stuffed lion I’m now using to prop up my feet is the same one I begged for at least 15 Christmases ago.
While I’m glad to be home and excited about the wedding, it’s a little strange. When my brother hugged me, he said, “We’re all here in your honor; isn’t that cool?” And it was cool, but that’s not the sort of thing he normally says. I would have expected him to make some smartass remark about how dumb marriage is because one thing we have in common is our basic distaste for social institutions. On the other hand, it’s nice that he understands what this means to me. When I asked him to do a reading for the wedding, he said he’d be happy to do it as long as it wasn’t too Jesus-y. Heh. I love my big brother so much.
Tomorrow, we’ve got a lot of things on our to-do list, and I’ll be sure to pass on any interesting bits. Until then, I’m going to see about hobbling downstairs for a drink and maybe a snack.
