Meanwhile - 8 Days Later

Marriage is a book of which the first chapter is written in poetry and the remaining chapters in prose.
Beverley Nichols

When I last left you, a wedding lingered before us. Four days after the event, I'm still exhausted, but after a fairly good night's sleep, wanted to offer a glimpse of the festivity.

Such fun we had. Such laughter. Old friends, fun family. Beautiful weather. And the newly married off on their honeymoon. Below, a couple of photos. Will catch up more as soon as I catch my breath.

I wish. Ian's 18th birthday last night, Senior Awards tonight, baseball games Friday and Saturday, my mom visiting. Graduation in Arizona next week. Dream on, Julie. Dream on.

P.S. I will post a photo of me in my dress as soon as I get one that isn't all blurred. That IS me on the right in the top photo. Purple lady.

Photos by B. Schraeder, F. Fredericks, H. Conrad, me

Launching a Life - Almost Wordless Wednesday

RPT FROM 100 LOVE SONNETS

By Pablo Neruda

I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz, or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off. I love you as certain dark things are to be loved, in secret, between the shadow and the soul.

I love you as the plant that never blooms but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers; thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance, risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride; so I love you because I know no other way

than this: Where “I” does not exist, nor “You”, so close that your hand on my chest is my hand, so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.

This is Going One of Two Ways

For each new morning with its light,
For rest and shelter of the night,
For health and food, for love and friends,
For everything Thy goodness sends.

Ralph Waldo Emerson

One day remains before the festivities of the next four weeks begin. All that stuff that's collected on my mantle the past few months take place starting next week. (I'm so glad I took that picture. Reminds me I need to get the Spring painting and pictures up there.) Tomorrow my mom arrives for the wedding, my youngest son goes to prom, two baseball games before that, and I must get my shower cleaned. My mother would probably appreciate clean sheets on her bed. I promised myself I'd get the bookcases in the living room dusted.

(In other news, middle son has landed a job after college graduation in May. Working on a deer ranch. Will only have 5 days to get home from Flagstaff and begin new job in Texas. So glad he will now live within a couple hours, however, with 128 fawns ready for his care come mid-May, probably won't see him until September. Most proud of that boy.)

I must say other than a brief meltdown Tuesday night and a butterfly stomach on Wednesday, I have weathered the planning for a wedding, two graduations, college visits and choices, high school senioritis, and an Eagle Scout Court of Honor - I think. Remaining on my list of things to do is checking in with the rehearsal dinner crew and putting together a small book of information for the honeymoon trip.

My husband and I looked at each other a couple days ago and said, "We need a vacation."

Too bad we can't afford one. Damn kids.

But, my meltdown - not quite sure what that was. I had to pick up my dress on Wednesday morning. Took myself off the teacher list for the day. The wedding will take place in the country, on a ranch. Outdoor for the ceremony and a restored, rustically elegant barn for the reception. However, it is located in a remote area and I decided to spend the morning finding the best route there for our families staying at the lake. One where when driving home at midnight, they might not get lost on country roads. Looked very easy on the map, but after driving for hours through the hill country, winding this way and that, dipping down to cross one lane creeks beds already flowing with water over the road, I decided sticking to the main highways might be best.

I arrived at the lakehouse to find trailers and trucks parked in my driveway. The new neighbors are extending their dock. The workers decided my gravel driveway was the best place to park. Wrong day to make that decision. Women running away from home to settle their minds and find a little peace do not fare well when a trailer loaded with pipe found in their parking spot. Not to mention the noise of the generator and the pounding of pipe driven into a granite bed. So loud I had to shout at the guy to get their vehicles out of my driveway and park where they worked - not at the neighbors. To be honest, the shouting didn't bother me. And I wasn't a complete bitch. I smiled while I said it.

But the noise. Incredible. I found some ear plugs I keep in the bunk room, in case a snorer bothers the other sleepers, and poured myself a vodka tonic. Went into the small bedroom where the noise traveled the least and pulled out my library book. Read for four hours. Didn't get any work done other than a few plants potted and I moved the swifter around the floors a bit when I'd get up to get a refill.

I took this after the workers left for the day. Tell me they will be done by the time we have 20 people in and out at our place next week.

I did venture also to take a photo of the ducks. The males are enduring a lack of female companionship as the mother duck sits in a pot at the end of the dock, nurturing 8 eggs.

The point of this story? I felt much better when I drove home to work on Thursday. And, with all the activity of next week, my blog life is going to go one of two ways. Either you won't hear from me for a while or I'll be on here every day, seeking solace.

Everyone take good care while I enjoy my company, these most blessed events, and welcome a daughter in my life. As much as I love all my men, having female camaraderie, other than my cat, makes me most happy.

My azaleas have chosen to bloom just in time. This time next week - full bloom.

There's No Place Like....

I base most of my fashion sense on what doesn't itch.

Gilda Radner

Time once again to return to the shop for the final alterations on my dress for oldest son's wedding. Two months after the initial shopping trip with the Bunco Bitches to find the dress they decided looked best on my bod, I found myself back on the elevated step in the dressing room.

Following the instructions of my peers, I wore the chosen bra and even arrived with the cute little silver shoes I'd selected at the shoe store the day before.

Yes, those are bruises on my legs and there is a woman's hand up my dress, that belonging to the little Russian lady that does the altering. Next to her, out of camera view, is my friend Linda, also a seamstress, who worked the Russian chick to make sure she did an excellent job.

Don't I look like I'm having fun?

The lap swimming I've done for the past year seems to finally have made a dent in my body. The dress needed two inches taken up on top seams. Also, the chosen bra didn't quite fill out the top. Someone in the room finally uttered, "Face it, girl. You have no tits."

The little Russian lady sent for the bra lady and once again I bared by body in front of my friends. No modesty left although I told them if they made me put on my Spanx, they would have to leave me to my self. You know those things - they barely fit over your ankle and then you have to pull them all the way to your armpits? No, I will never let anyone see that wrestling match.

Alas, the Spanx wasn't needed and we progressed to another bra fitting. The little lady pushed and prodded at my bosom, moving it this way and that. She instructed the bra lady to bring her best push up bra. I had no clue what they were going to push up. When handed the tendered bra, I leaned over and followed the instructions to shake my girls into the cups, then reach my hand in and move them around. I put on the dress and my alterer again stood before me, adjusting me this way and that. I could tell she just wanted to reach in there and move them around herself. At that point, I could have cared less.

Anyway, all pinned up and hot flashing and my Fred Flinstone feet aching from standing in my pretty little silver shoes for an hour, it was, finally, time for lunch...

...and a margarita.

I found a different pair of shoes to wear. Hopefully, I can keep these on long enough to get down the aisle and through the dance with my son. Two weeks until the wedding. It truly has been fun getting ready and I can't wait to have a grand time. Family, friends flying in and if someone would just come and clean my house, I'd be in good shape. I'd do it, but I'm off to a double header. Youngest son's baseball. Comes before cleaning, of course.

And if I had my way, these are the shoes I'd wear to the wedding. There's, indeed, no place like my Birkenstocks.

How Beautiful the Bonnets

I will be the gladdest thing
Under the sun!
I will touch a hundred flowers
And not pick one.

Edna St. Vincent Millay, "Afternoon on a Hill"

Spring had indeed arrived as evidenced by the Texas countryside. Wildflowers abound. I wasn't able to stop the car on the windy roads last Saturday, but happened to catch these few photos near my house. Imagine an entire field rolling in blue.

Last year's drought? Long forgotten. The winter's rain has provided a bumper crop of beauty.






So much for that brief visit to nature. Back to completing my taxes. When I come out of the number blitz, I'll resume regular life again.