It begins again.

I was informed by readers I didn't know I had that this blog needed attention.

So here it is.

Lots of things have happened since I left off, and I don't actually recall what I last wrote about.

I don't terribly much feel like looking to see what that was, either, so I'll just start again.

The wedding is 40 days away, or so the many event-related sites flooding my inbox with needless worry tell me. I'm starting to think, simultaneously, that I both have everything under total control and also need a drink. And a trainer. And a personal assistant. But it's cool, I've got it. I think.

The rsvps are slowly trickling in. I was a little hard on everyone and only gave our guests about a month to reply. You've got exactly nine days left, so... We've been keeping them in a cigar box on the kitchen table. Keith gets the mail every day, so when I get home I run to the box and look in. It's way more exciting when there's a new one. And so far, everyone's coming. I'm pretty sure all the not-coming people will slide in three days late. Or not at all. It's okay. I would do the same. You're probably thinking, "Why do I give a crap if you think it's okay?" To which I say you don't have to, I was just trying to be nice. You're supposed to be nice when you're getting married. Right? Not a secretly frenetically thundering mess, paranoid that everyone who sees you is wondering why, this close to the wedding, the bride is still so fat.

I admit, maybe not so freely, that I probably haven't tried as hard as I should to slim down. It's kind of hard. The only thing telling me I should besides my own persistent (though lately quieter) self-loathing, are the pictures being taken at various pre-wedding times. Pictures don't lie, or love you no matter what. That's the groom's job. But there's definitely a very unwelcome extra chin that appears quite prominently in several shots, as well as several other features I've been told in loud, disapproving tones, are only visible to me. The chin I mention is viewable daily, just below my real chin, or at my sister's blog, ontexastime. To avoid being one of the people we've come to talk about recently, I will stop making it "all about me" in a few sentences. I would like to say that the offending picture is the least important thing in an otherwise very good blog. The guy at the top of it, Nick Adenhart, should definitely be the focus, as well as my sister's attainment of a new (I might add, salaried) job. Those things have way more to do with the real happening world than my obsessions over myself.

Which brings me to talk about how amazing my family is.

They are incredible people. My sister, with the help of my mother, and Keith, and who knows who else, pulled off a party that almost literally made me fall down a flight of stairs in my extreme surprise. Here's my sister making sure that didn't happen.

She's good at saving me from stuff. And apparently at organizing things from 1400 miles away.

Look out, world. As our friend Travis was heard to say, I wouldn't get in her way.

I, of course, in my very own style, showed up with food poisoning, and dressed like a tropical church lady. I was comforted by many, and literally showered with gifts, and good company. Not having been to a "shower" before, I had no idea what to expect. Hopefully, everyone in attendance isn't sick of me yet, since they do all still have to come to the wedding, and I've heard I'll be there. (This is where I am wearing a large smile, and will tell you so since my descriptive abilities are not especially well tuned when it comes to conveying tone.) And really, I guess they don't all HAVE to come, but I suppose I'd like it very much if they did.

Okay, no more about me. For now. I guess I should talk about things around me. A wedding is pretty all-consuming if you let it be, and it's very me-centric. The outside world is kind of a blur lately. I'm not really sure what to make of all this swine-flu-bad-economy-pandemic-vs.-epidemic stuff. I might sound like an idiot, but most of the time lately, I find it much easier to not hate the world if I just ignore most if it. Reading the news generally proves depressing. And there I go making it all about me again.

I just checked CNN to see what I'm missing today... looks like not much. The president's first 100 days are being analyzed. Some model is too skinny. "They" think they've identified the first kid who came down with the Swine Flu, now so feared it has gained capitalization. I'm still wondering how it is we as humans keep getting diseases from animals. Maybe we should quit touching them. At least, the diseased ones. Sound good to you? Well, I'm sure glad I solved that. Now we can move on as a country.

Daily, customers wander into my place of business requesting goods and services. It's sales. It's what happens in a sales environment. Having heard their requests, I provide said things and then attempt to procure payment in return. And daily, the bulk of these individuals complain about that second part. The payment. I'm lucky if they do not also complain about the goods and services they requested upon receipt of them. Additionally, each individual believes they are unique and special in their dislike of, disapproval of, or inability to fulfill the payment necessary to exit the store. I have stopped listening to the majority of people through the door, and have installed a generic dialogue that plays in my head and may occasionally trickle out of my lips until they leave. It is as polite as I can make it, and seems to please them, and keep me from committing crimes against humanity. I fully believe that the institution of an awards ceremony similar to the Grammys, Emmys, or Oscars, needs to come about for those in the field of Customer Service. I might qualify for at least a small supporting role nomination this year. Annnnd...it's all about me again.

Time to go. I need to go check on my laundry. Nyah.

For today.

And 3, and 4, and 5, and 6 - Keep it up.

I would like to take this time to provide a relatively public service announcement for anyone who either is, or may believe themselves to be, extremely out of shape. If you should happen to purchase, against whatever sense you may have, or preconceived notions that you are too cool for this, any form of exercise dvd with the words "boot camp" in the title, know this: Those skinny bitches on the cover may not be able to form overly complicated rambling sentences with nearly the amount of boredom-inducing talent you have yourself, but if you should be so assumptive as to attempt following their instruction (albeit clumsily and out of rhythm), that they will indeed kick your ass. And you may not know it then, but you will the following day. So either don't buy one of these things if you think you can't deal, or shut up, and keep doing it until you can move in sync without the aid of intoxicants or the simple fuel of intense self-loathing. Thank you. 

Digging up the past. The recent past.

These are to usher in the nice 50-degree (and warmer) day we'll apparently be enjoying today. Usually, Wednesdays are my day off, but right now I'm waiting to hear if my phone rings, since I may have to fill a shift. It's pretty late, and I'm guessing I probably won't be called. Maybe I'll pick up a camera instead. 

Some pictures to brighten things. Or not. Or maybe. You decide.

The downfall of my existence...SO EMO

There are these times Keith and I decide it's a good idea to go to Martin's at one a.m. to purchase things to eat-- to eat also at one a.m., things like Entenmann's Brownie Bites and so forth... These items and their untimely consumption will be the downfall of my existence. Or, at least, the downfall of my ever-expansive waistline. For the record, no, we are not stoners, or anything of the sort. We are however,  enablers.  We have literally spent twenty minutes at a stretch reading labels of such goods, analyzing the pros and cons of various obviously bad foods, and arguing points that only hold sway amongst ourselves. Totally grandiose crap labored over totally mundane, horrible, nutritionally devoid (and therefore ultimately satisfying at this hour) junk food. I think that we may also have to start a co-dependently based self-help group of two to free ourselves...from ourselves. Susan Powter would really dig this. Stop the insanity!!!

Boy, this is tasty.

...

Success. 

Tomorrow's the day. Tomorrow, I go dress shopping.

I have an appointment, so it's all official and stuff. I figured an appointment was the best way to make sure I don't find some reason not to go. Honestly, I'm waiting to have them tell me something terrible, like that I'm too late, nothing can be ordered this close to the wedding. Or that yes, they can get me the dress I want, but it will be $500 more dollars because they have to rush it and I'm "plus-size" in bridal measurements. Everyone can tell me to be positive all they want,

 I'm used to hearing it. But I'm not starting any new trends, so you can stuff it. 

Luckily I have moral support in the form of Valerie. Hopefully she'll still want to come to the beach after shopping with me tomorrow. I decided just to go to one store, figuring that if I only have one place to look, there's less that can go wrong. Fewer things to be indecisive between. And only one old seamstress to have to convince myself it's okay to get half naked in front of. You know, because that's not going to be awkward or anything. Sure, she's seen who knows how many brides in ill-fitting bloated looking white satin. But how many unfamiliar old ladies have I had to strip down for? That would be none, if anyone reading this wonders. 

For your viewing pleasure, here are a few gowns I would like to think I might have a chance with, given my wallet can stretch far enough and my body can be Spanxed in enough.

First things first.

I decided to go ahead and try to maintain a blog. It will probably be about a lot of nothing, though I'm pretty sure that's acceptable. More later. That, by the way, is the tail of a Harvey. He's fulfilling his official position of lap-warmer and positive-outlook-holder today.