Thursday, December 27, 2012

No Room at the Inn

Yesterday afternoon, curled up the couch, fighting day ten of a miserable cold and just killing time until my doctor's appointment, I noticed something amiss with the crèche on top of the armoire.

"Um, Chief? What's on the crèche? Up by the star? Is that a bat?!"

Chief didn't have to look twice to know I was exactly right. Nestled up against the beautiful star he had created just a few weeks ago, was a most unwelcome addition to our manger scene.

"Go outside."

I admit freely and readily here, no greater words have been spoken. For once, I didn't have to man up and figure out how to rid my nativity of a bat. Chief did. So, I did exactly as instructed. I grabbed my coat and the dog and headed outside. Chief followed long enough to get his step ladder from the garage and to talk aloud of his plan for the creature's demise. I just nodded eagerly at any suggestion that did not involve my help.

In my honest disclosure, I have to say, being the one who has already had rabies shots, there is an ounce of guilt that I am not in there dealing with this issue, but not nearly enough guilt to make me assist. About the time I thought I should remind Chief to not let the creature go should he get scratched or bitten, he came out the front door with the unwanted guest in a dish towel, gave it a hard thwack against the trash barrel and threw it all inside.

My hero. Truly.

He later told me bits and pieces of his heroic effort, but at the words, "when it jumped..." and, "so I set the crèche on top of it to keep it still..." I had to beg him to stop. Too much information.

So, Star of Wonder, I appreciate you providing a bit of warmth to the furry bat that took lodging there briefly (I hope it was briefly). Chief, you will forever be my hero for letting me be the sissy girl. Flash, this is the second time you have been ansent for a bat extraction. Duly noted. The next one is all yours. And to the THREE pets, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!?!?

Sunday, December 09, 2012

What We Learned... 36 hours at the hospital that was't covered in our pre-marital counseling sessions:

1. When you are looking forward to a weekend of no school work, just relaxing together, be careful what you wish for.

2. It's time to update our In Case of Emergency numbers.

3. The nurses in the ER will be skeptical when you say, "I am his fiancée" when you are wearing a cable tie for a ring, if you have to look at your cell phone to know his number and if you have no idea if he is still seeing Dr. Bourne or not.

4. Scrabble is entertaining. For about an hour.

5. Sitting down and watching a movie sounds great when you are home on the couch. It is torture when you are stuck in a hospital bed.

6. Despite their admonishments to get some rest, the nursing staff will be the very ones who prevent a good night's sleep by insisting on blood draws and blood pressure checks every hour.

7. Eavesdropping on conversations in the ER, hallways and elevators will make you count your blessings every time.

8. A homemade turkey salad sandwich never tasted so good after hospital food.

9. Having patience is only required of one of you. It actually works well to alternate, as it keeps the nursing staff guessing and keeps them on their toes when either of you approach their station with a question.

10. Most importantly, we learned how lucky we are to have someone there. While all tests came back negative and we leave with the comfort of a healthy bill of slate, it means even more to know when there are issues down the road, we will be there with each other and for each other.

Saturday, December 01, 2012

My Day

It's like the gods know you're trying to plan a low-key, drama-free, intimate wedding, and they just have to mess with you.  If our ring drama wasn't enough (the cable tie is holding up nicely, though, thank you for asking), the dress has been a royal pain.  I am certain the dress is a major concern in all weddings, but part of keeping this whole thing simple, was not to let such silly things become huge things.  Yeah, right.

The dress I ordered is neither the right color nor size, two issues that sent me into a small tailspin mid-week.  I set today aside as my day to remedy that situation and cross that stressor off.  Of course, I would be doing this without a ring on my finger, being a plump 40-something and not wanting anything along the lines of "typical wedding dress".  What a fun day this would be!

 I decided to brave an actual bridal store, although I was quite skeptical about them having what I wanted.  The drive was a bit of a distance, but of all bridal stores, I had highest hopes for this one.  Yeah, um, no.  While I gave it a go, and even agreed to try on a couple gowns, I still left nearly in tears from having to undress with a complete stranger to help me put an ugly satin thing on, only to have this same stranger (who was all of 20) tell me how bad that sort of waistline made me look and that this or that was just certainly not for me....right.  Like I was unaware of this. She kept giving me color advice, "for being a redhead" as though I was new to that color palette and not 41 years used to it.  

In any case, that traumatic experience shall not be repeated in my lifetime.  I have sworn off bridal shops for.evAH.  (And in case you are thinking, oh heck, I would have gone with you, please realize I am far less likely to allow someone I know well help me in and out of dresses.  At least I can rest easily tonight knowing that while I have probably scarred that poor young thing for life, at least I will never have to face her again.)

From there, the next best option was the city, and of course not the one I live in, and it certainly couldn't be someplace that would have a short direct route from where I currently was.  But, to the city it is.  And the search begins for a boutique a friend recommended, only to finally figure out after quite an extensive, back-and-forth search, that it has gone out of business at some point.  Fine.  Be that way.  So, a couple stores were hit along the way until the only option left was the nice, big, mall. 

Yes, a mall.  In December.  Just where I want to be!  The first store I hit, however, had some potential.  As long as I changed my idea of what I had imagined, and went with a "whatever works at this point" attitude, we might actually be in luck.  "Special occasion dresses" don't generally come in all ivory, nor look this time of year like what I would like to have, but fine.  Let's alter the vision and cross off a stressor.  I tried some on, asked the clerk to hold two and continued shopping.  

All around the mall, surrounded by more people than I enjoy, I went in any and every store that had potential.  Nothing else came close anywhere else, so back to the original store.  I still couldn't decide between two.  To complicate matters, (because of course there had to be further complications), the one I was leaning towards was missing the little jacket that went with it.  There was one in a smaller size, but it certainly felt like a smaller size.  I finally decided that was the dress I wanted.  The clerk, a very busy, quite ragged clerk at that, told me there should be a jacket in the right size was just a matter of where.  While she helped other patrons, I looked everywhere.  I was back at the counter, ready to tell her that I was unable to fine it, when I caught a glimpse of the fabric on a mismatched rack of various items.  I grabbed it off of there and sure enough, it was the size I needed that went with my dress.  The clerk was thrilled and so was I.  She felt badly about being so busy she couldn't even help me look and scanned a coupon I didn't have that gave me 25% off!  Woohoo!

So, there is a dress.  Not like the vision in my head, but a dress. 

But more importantly, there is a man.  A patient, loving man, who sat in a Jeep, or on a couch in the shoe department, who read sports updates on his phone, or watched toy demonstrations, so I could hang a dress in my closet.  He had been up at 3 for work and still endured driving all over the state, in and out of stores and watching his frazzled fiancée struggle to keep her wits about her all for the want of a stupid, wear-it-once dress.  He didn't go because shopping is his thing; he didn't go because I insisted; he didn't go to keep an eye on my purchase or the money spent on it; he went because he knows how much I hate to shop and how stressed I am about this silly dress, and so he went, despite my permission to stay home, to help me through it.  He saw a problem and he wanted to do his part in finding a solution.  And he did it well.

Problem is, now the flowers have to be changed.

Sigh.  I hear the gods laughing....