Owls, ice cream, and...
Psst! Scroll down to the bottom! Let there be exclamation points!
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Just got back from breakfast and running errands with the boy. I am filled with tiny potatoes, coffee, and the joyous lingering scent of Michaels in the Fall.
I will probably just set up a tent in Hobby Lobby/Michaels/Craft Stores Here and There until the end of the year. All the Fall stuff, and Fall-colored stuff, is out on display.
I pretty much shit my pants every time I walk in. I look like this.
I don't know what it is. I am a creative/crafty person, always have been inclined to create (no matter how much it sucks), but half the shit I see in there I'd have no idea what to do with it. I just want it because it's pretty and swirly and it makes my orange/red/cream/brown/leafy-loving heart go pitter patter. Who doesn't want to purchase that pitter patter? Luckily I am blessed with the self-control not to buy giant swirly leafy objects that belong in the mansion-sized garden I do not possess. The front of our apartment has a patch of grass with a dead tree on it. I don't think that qualifies as a yard, let alone a background worthy of Tim Burtonesque decor. Well.... maybe the dead tree. If Tim doesn't mind his artwork smelling like neighborhood cat piss.
I digress.
This is how I know that my wedding can be nothing but a Fall wedding. It's bad enough I had never in my life entertained the idea of marrying another human being until I began dating Chuck. Marry a large gnarly tree? Yes. Marry a tetchy tortoiseshell cat? Totally, if society would accept us. But another human? Surely you jest.
The joke is clearly on me. I'm okay with it.
So the only idea I DO have, is that weddingish things should be in tune with my leaf-shaped heart and nothing else will do.
Assuming, that is, we don't get blown off the face of the earth by a hurricane. Bad Fall season. Bad.
Hurricanes: Louisiana's own personal big-ass leaf blower.
The more I start thinking about our wedding next year, the people, the places, the cost, the strain... the more I just want to elope. Chuck is okay with eloping. I am okay with it. We can use the money our folks will give us to TRAVEL. But we can picture the disappointment in the eyes of our family members and comrades who truly do want to share in the festivities... and it makes us rethink the whole thing.
So we start trying to compromise. Well, if we do a super small festivity, then THIS person or THIS person will not be invited and they will hate us forever. If we invite THIS person, THIS person will HAVE to come. A few minutes later, we're back in the largish costly semi-formal Square One.
I just don't know.
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You know, sometimes I wish I was a little more mysterious than I am.
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THINGS. LATELY.
FIRST OF ALL, THIS. Although it's not particularly feasible, the thought of it gives me a giggle and a grin.
I always knew what it was, but lately I've become completely obsessed with steampunk elements. It's just... so insanely awesome. It just is.
I have decided that I find Jason Segel intensely sexy.
I enjoy wearing other people's clothes. If you leave a shirt over at my house, I will wear it around. If I borrow a shirt of yours, I will probably not give it back. Not on PURPOSE, but I simply won’t think about it, even as I am wearing it again. I have probably sampled each of Chuck's shirts at least once.
I wear your clothes. I WEAR THEM UP.
(Worst impression ever.)
MARMOSETS.
THAT IS ALL.
I need new music in my life. Send me mixes. Please.
I love these damn things. I ate one a day as a kid, swear it. I still do eat them on occasion, gotta love the fact that the gum is always unchewable. Now they have them with.... TWO GUM BALLS at the bottom. TWO.
HEY GUYS. Post a picture of something in the comments. Okay, wait. I got it. Pretend that I was temporarily blind. I have JUST regained my sight. What is the first thing you would want me to see?
-----------------------------------
Just got back from breakfast and running errands with the boy. I am filled with tiny potatoes, coffee, and the joyous lingering scent of Michaels in the Fall.
I will probably just set up a tent in Hobby Lobby/Michaels/Craft Stores Here and There until the end of the year. All the Fall stuff, and Fall-colored stuff, is out on display.
I pretty much shit my pants every time I walk in. I look like this.
I don't know what it is. I am a creative/crafty person, always have been inclined to create (no matter how much it sucks), but half the shit I see in there I'd have no idea what to do with it. I just want it because it's pretty and swirly and it makes my orange/red/cream/brown/leafy-loving heart go pitter patter. Who doesn't want to purchase that pitter patter? Luckily I am blessed with the self-control not to buy giant swirly leafy objects that belong in the mansion-sized garden I do not possess. The front of our apartment has a patch of grass with a dead tree on it. I don't think that qualifies as a yard, let alone a background worthy of Tim Burtonesque decor. Well.... maybe the dead tree. If Tim doesn't mind his artwork smelling like neighborhood cat piss.
I digress.
This is how I know that my wedding can be nothing but a Fall wedding. It's bad enough I had never in my life entertained the idea of marrying another human being until I began dating Chuck. Marry a large gnarly tree? Yes. Marry a tetchy tortoiseshell cat? Totally, if society would accept us. But another human? Surely you jest.
The joke is clearly on me. I'm okay with it.
So the only idea I DO have, is that weddingish things should be in tune with my leaf-shaped heart and nothing else will do.
Assuming, that is, we don't get blown off the face of the earth by a hurricane. Bad Fall season. Bad.
Hurricanes: Louisiana's own personal big-ass leaf blower.
The more I start thinking about our wedding next year, the people, the places, the cost, the strain... the more I just want to elope. Chuck is okay with eloping. I am okay with it. We can use the money our folks will give us to TRAVEL. But we can picture the disappointment in the eyes of our family members and comrades who truly do want to share in the festivities... and it makes us rethink the whole thing.
So we start trying to compromise. Well, if we do a super small festivity, then THIS person or THIS person will not be invited and they will hate us forever. If we invite THIS person, THIS person will HAVE to come. A few minutes later, we're back in the largish costly semi-formal Square One.
I just don't know.
-----------------------------------
You know, sometimes I wish I was a little more mysterious than I am.
-----------------------------------
THINGS. LATELY.
I have decided that I find Jason Segel intensely sexy.
I wear your clothes. I WEAR THEM UP.
(Worst impression ever.)
MARMOSETS.
THAT IS ALL.
I love these damn things. I ate one a day as a kid, swear it. I still do eat them on occasion, gotta love the fact that the gum is always unchewable. Now they have them with.... TWO GUM BALLS at the bottom. TWO.
HEY GUYS. Post a picture of something in the comments. Okay, wait. I got it. Pretend that I was temporarily blind. I have JUST regained my sight. What is the first thing you would want me to see?