I'm really trying so hard....

Music To My Ears

I enjoy listening to the lyrics to songs. If it is a particularly cute song, I go so far as imagining James singing/saying the lyrics to me. Sappy, I know. You should see the havoc this habit wreaks on me when I’m nearing my particularly emotional “time of the month”.

Lately, I’ve paid especially close attention to song lyrics in older, or classic songs to find a suitable one as our first dance next year. I know I want something timeless, no pop songs (and certainly no songs about stalking…sting….) with lyrics particularly clear in case our guests aren’t familiar with the song. My obsession with NPR has me listening to some crazy super old music on my drive home from work at nine at night, when I heard a Billie Holiday song I fell in love with. I think her tune “Getting Some Fun Out of Life” is a perfect mixture of fun and heartfelt to match my relationship with James. I bought it and have listened to it a lot to make sure it’s something I want to capture the moment of James and myself together as a married couple for all to see. Today, I heard Michael Buble’s version of “All I Do is Dream of You” from Singing in the Rain, but wanted to hear the original. I ended up downloading Dean Martin’s version, and it is just the right pace to make for a good slower song for James and myself to waltz to. And it is sweet.

I’m still open to other suggestions; Reblog if you have a song in mind.

One less thing for the registry

Remember that awesome fish patterened plate set I posted about a few months back? My best friend Erin got the oval shaped serving platter for James and I as an engagement/housewarming gift. It is awesome. I will be mounting it to the wall for all to admire.

James and I (and my maid of honor and her boyfriend) went to Crate & Barrel on sunday to set up a gift registry. C&B hosts these awesome breakfasts for engaged couples, where they open the store before it opens to the public for the day, serve you mimosas and cook waffles and paninis and stuff on their bakeware, and you can get drunk/register for stuff with the store to yourself! (There were other couples present). Having my other friends there was incredibly helpful, otherwise James and I could have very easily overlooked the minature globes that we need 10 of, the fake pear, and fake apple, and fake artichoke that we clearly need to make this house a home.

Because I have such a fear of commitment to things, I wandered around, overwhelmed by all the stuff I potentially needed. I finally registered for a lamp that we liked, a piece of art (that I later removed), and a few vases and stemware. We stood at the dinner plate display and I could feel my head swarming. Some of the patterns I liked, but would I still like them in 5, 10, 15 years? My color tastes changes with the seasons, but a plain white set is too yawn inducing. Overwhelmed, I decided against registering for the plates. I’m going back today to review a few I narrowed down online.

This is easily the most fun, and easiest part of the wedding planning process. I get to pick out presents! Stuff I want! And people who love me will get them! And if they don’t, I get 10% off everything still unpurchased on my list after the wedding is over! Which is why James and I looked for a cadillac on the C&B website.

I have never seen a Beagle in real life.

lickystickypickyme:

the day I do I will probably scream, run in little circles, jump, gasp for air and faint. (in that particular order)
That’s how much I love those dogs.

Licky, my family has a beagle, and I do that everytime I see him.

Life Goal:

To dance to the song “On a Cloud” by PPP with Ellen on her show.

I have sent the suggestion to the Ellen show.

Keep your fingers crossed.

A Weekend of Epically Un-Exciting Proportions!

This past Thursday marked my SEVEN year anniversary with James. Which will be promptly erased and brought back down to zero once 10/16/10 comes and goes. One more year of bragging about HOW LOOOOONG I’ve been in this relationship and then I’m back at the bottom, getting laughed at by all the more experienced maritals because of how little I understand about wedded life. Kind of like highschool. Only with sex.

Because I probably owe him somewhere in the $50 billion range for all the car payments, tuition payments and stuff he’s bought me over the past SEVEN years, I got James a wii. I talked to a friend online while I watched him hook it up. When he announced that it was ready, I told my friend I was going offline, that I was going to “Wii all over my living room”. Variations of that sentence have been repeated by myself and James since thursday with no signs of getting old. “I was totally wii’ing in my underwear this morning!” “I can wii standing up OR sitting down!” et cetera et cetera.

We spent friday at the beach, where I reached the genius conclusion that I CLEARLY did not need sunscreen. Who was I kidding? I was a bronzed goddess for about 2 hours after leaving the beach before my entire chest became flaming red. I’m talking, ripe tomatoes stuffed into my bra. It hurts when my boobs touch when I lay on my side. And my nose is peeling. I will have to fear the sun next summer to avoid the dreaded tan line. Good thing I can just spend all my time inside wii bowling.

We went to a bbq on Saturday,  and it was so hot everyone there was melting. Including the puppies. We sat, in the heat, drinking on the porch when someone mentioned how they would love to go down a slip and slide that very moment. One thing led to another, and soon a great friend was returning from the nearest Benny’s with a kiddie pool and 60 ft of extra wide plastic tarp. Sixty feet of glorious, cold watered slippery joy. James is still wincing from the massive red bruises on his sides after making contact with the bricks holding the tarp in place, and there are muscles I didn’t know I had in my stomach burning when I laugh. Or twist. Or wii box.

The original plan was to go back to the beach on Sunday to nurse any hangovers from the night before. But between the elaborate breakfast and all the Rock Banding we had to do, we left behind schedule. Apparently, everyone in the state of Massachusetts wanted to go to Nantasket Beach that day. And at two in the afternoon. After two fruitless hours driving up and down the main stretch in traffic looking for an opening, we left. Pissed off at our bad luck, we drove home complaining about the government and how it was the government’s fault we didn’t get parking (for shame, Obama. You promised me change!). Things were quiet and crabby until we hit Storrow Drive. We were driving along slowly because of the Sunday traffic, and I was gazing out my window at the beauty that is the Charles River. Thats when I saw it. A beached whale. A beached whale having sexual intercourse with another person. In the grass, under a tree. Next to a baseball field, where some unknowing dad was pitching slow balls to his son to teach him how to hit a baseball. The whale’s dimpled white ass cheeks thrusting into the ground/unfortunate soul is permanently ingrained in my minds eye. I shudder. Do you know how many hours of Mario Party 8 it’s going to take before I force that memory deep into the recesses of my brain?

I have purchased my wedding gown.

I can only describe it as ivory, lacy and PERFECT. Further details will not be released due to the fact my fiance reads this. And you are not allowed to know.