There is a magnificent villain named Time on my tail, dressed as a twelve hundred storey digital grandfather clock.
On Saturday he was standing on my tails, the ones I haven't worn in a year, as I perched on a chair, stool, carpet, in arms and on shoulders -- more people presented their shining faces at my bridal shower than I could have expected, so painstakingly organized by Maria and so graciously celebrated by every tit in town. I giggled, swooned, preened, and drank more than I have in years -- all at once. There were babes in arms to oldest friends, a lady with suitcases filled with dildos and crotchless panties (sex toys and lingerie, tupperware-style!) and then we were off to the bar that I've missed a little more than I was allowing myself to remember. Which is alright, since we learned long ago that missing things is a sign of having had things worth missing -- not a sign that something is lost.
Some of the ladies that were with me on Saturday made me cry with love. I wish everyone could feel that.
I'm rambling. I have fourteen minutes until my singing lesson. Tomorrow I either get my period or we're starting on the pregnancy wagon two weeks before we'd planned to officially start trying. Too many people never have it this lucky.
Today I kicked ass at work, yesterday was tough but far from unbearable.
People rule. The wedding rings are ready, beautiful, and in a place where I will not forget I put them (which is a big deal)
One dress is finished, the other one should get done tonight.
My mother is threatening not to come to the civil ceremony that we're having in MONTREAL for HER this WEEKEND. (and the number of good parties we've turned down in the process...) and that's just fine too, because it means I won't have to wear white and I'll still have the paperwork necessary to change my name.
Two weddings, two consecutive weekends, two dresses, two suits, one set of rings, one handfasting tether, two ceremonies, two meals, two sets of invitations, two entire weekends out of town and then
one
honeymoon.
My hair is cut and clean, my makeup is all in a bag, I managed to stand up to having either "done" the day of either ceremony (not that anyone was trying to force me into it for the real wedding) -- I want to look like myself for both and I will. My nails are done and stupid but they're just nails and I don't really care, but there's enough gas in the car to drive to mexico so long as we're gentle on the accelerator, just in case.
And you know what? So far, it's all falling into place , and the worst of the "pre-wedding you're supposed to have fights" fights last night resulted in hugging and "I'm sorry you had a rough day too, baby".
Life -- I've determined that it can't be real but I haven't decided if the idealist in my thinks that I should wake up (take the whatever pill) or let myself keep dreaming.
(Am I gloating or glowing?)
I know.
I'm remembering.
Forever.