Elizabeth

If you received an email saying that I desire your friendship on a site called Reunion.com, please disregard the message.

I absentmindedly granted the site access to my email, and it subsequently sent the previously mentioned message to every single person in my gmail contact list.  All 578 email addresses.

So in case you were wondering; no, I don't want to be your friend, nor do I want to have a tender, touching reunion. 

 
I think I may need to purchase this poster.  However, I can't think of a decent place to put the thing.  I fear I've used up a good portion of The Cottage's wall space.  I really should frame some pictures of family and friends rather than invest in yet another poster.  Hm.  

My concentration has been really awful lately.  Summer didn't used to affect my focus so much.  I'm sure that my work performance has been less than stellar during these past two months.  I think I'm craving some quiet, local adventure.  Mental, physical, or spiritual.  I want to don a white pleated skirt and play tennis.  Or go hiking and enjoy a small brown bag lunch in the woods.  Or go to the beach and watch the waves fold over each other and feel the sand between my toes.  Or curl up with one of my half-completed and listen to the cicada's sing.  Or even just fold laundry.  Anything that makes me feel alive.  Work has been pretty dull lately.

Today is my mother's birthday.  She's at a beach house on Lake Michigan with the Forrest siblings.  I need to call her when I get home.  I gotta say, I really wish could've scraped up the money to take the trip, but it was pretty much impossible.  I just have to keep looking forward to the wedding.  It will be so nice to have so many loved ones in one place.

Sometimes, I'll be at work and I'll start looking at my ring, and I'll suddenly become wildly giddy.  I have to fight the urge to squeal and run in circles until I pass out.  I think it's fifteen-year-old Liz expressing her joy.  

Erin, my love, you must go to Fay Cullen and look at all the Art Deco and Edwardian engagement rings.  I'm curious to see which one is your favorite.

Is it 2010 yet?  I can't wait until my mother comes up for her next visit so we can nail out the details and sign the contract.  I'm getting kind of crazy excited.  I need to start making things so I actually feel like I'm working toward the day.  Or go dress shopping.  Or make the programs.  Or the invitations.  Or the save-the-dates.  Or something.  I've just got too much bridal energy in my body to handle.  



Oh.  Sigh.  Perhaps I'll sit down at the computer and design the save-the-dates in three weeks.  Right after the Coos Bay trip.  I ordered some more invitation samples to squelch out the bridal antsiness.  We've been engaged for a year and right now all we have to show for it is an engagement ring, a garter, a heap of brochures,two invitation samples, and fabric swatches from Stephanie James Couture.

We're considering South Africa for the honeymoon.
I found a package online that was put together by the Jane Goodall Institute. 
I'm actually really, really excited.

You know me.  I like a good dose of Disney once in awhile. 

However, I'm not the type of bride-to-be that says annoying things like, "I want to feel like a princess!"

Apparently, there are a lot of brides-to-be like that out there.  So many, in fact, that Disney teamed up with bridal designer Kirstie Kelly to make wedding gowns based off of your favorite Disney princess.

Uh, what?

Some of them are actually lovely.  Belle's in particular strike my fancy.  Then, there are those that make my head hurt.  Some of the bridesmaids dresses look like they were discarded costume prototypes from the musical versions of the movies.  Ariel's bridesmaid dress line in particular seems to be fishy-skanky chic.

I really need to stop over-training out of boredom.
I worked out from 3:00 PM - 5:30 PM just because I had nothing better to do.
I really ought to form some casual local friendships.

My Interviewing & Listening class was short and sweet.  Played the role of the interviewer and the interviewee.  It was pretty enjoyable, except I wasn't prepared for the awkward transitions between questions.  I suppose it will get less awkward with some practice.

This class, along with several others, is based on a contract grading system, so I picked up the project requirements for the A grade.  It actually sounds really interesting.  It's a tape-recorded oral history interview with a paper analysis.  I'll probably interview Mrs. Morris, if she's up for it.  For some reason, I keep imagining Terri Gross conducting the interview, though.  Odd.

I'm exhausted.  Work tomorrow, and then Jason and I are going on a date for his birthday.  The boy is turning 22 tomorrow.  Pasties and love.

I just got my garter in the mail.



My first wedding day related purchase! 

So, after looking high and low for a dance competition version of "Cuban Pete," I found this lovely rendition.  I think all the tossing around can be rechoreographed into something a little more basic and it can be made a little less raunchy, but just seeing it made me want to squeal with excitement.

I have to show Jason tonight.

the lesson of the moth

By Don Marquis, in "archy and mehitabel," 1927

i was talking to a moth
the other evening
he was trying to break into
an electric light bulb
and fry himself on the wires

why do you fellows
pull this stunt i asked him
because it is the conventional
thing for moths or why
if that had been an uncovered
candle instead of an electric
light bulb you would
now be a small unsightly cinder
have you no sense

plenty of it he answered
but at times we get tired
of using it
we get bored with the routine
and crave beauty
and excitement
fire is beautiful
and we know that if we get
too close it will kill us
but what does that matter
it is better to be happy
for a moment
and be burned up with beauty
than to live a long time
and be bored all the while
so we wad all our life up
into one little roll
and then we shoot the roll
that is what life is for
it is better to be a part of beauty
for one instant and then cease to
exist than to exist forever
and never be a part of beauty
our attitude toward life
is come easy go easy
we are like human beings
used to be before they became
too civilized to enjoy themselves

and before i could argue him
out of his philosophy
he went and immolated himself
on a patent cigar lighter
i do not agree with him
myself i would rather have
half the happiness and twice
the longevity

but at the same time i wish
there was something i wanted
as badly as he wanted to fry himself

archy

I was feeling a little down yesterday.  In general, I've been feeling pretty happy lately, aside from feeling a little lonely, but yesterday, I just couldn't get over these feelings of self-hatred. 

I'm grinning right now, though.  I drove to work, listening to "Born To Hand Jive," and it made my morning.  I had this silly little fantasy about playing it my wedding and holding a mad crazy dance contest.

I'm glad the strike is over.  It makes the weekly program changes a little easier.  

I should really take my vitamin C tablets everyday.  I can't afford to catch the cold/flu thing that's going around.

I feel like there's so much to say, but I can't put it into words...

I've been doodling all day.

I'm pretty sure I'm going to make the following Save-The-Date cards: 



I showed them to Lily last night.  I'm a fairly skilled doodler and these are just too freaking cute to resist.  I actually prefer them in black and white with just a tiny smidge of color.  The maps of Napa and Rome on the website are my favorite.

This could be fun. 

Donna, the department head, is on vacation today.   In fact, she's vacationing in Coos Bay, of all places.
Shauna, the other employee in the department, came down with a nasty stomach flu.

I arrived at eight and helped Shauna with inventory separation and filling the logs for a couple of hours.  Then, she headed home to hide under some blankets.  Poor thing.

Anyway, I'm here.  All alone.  The department is empty, except for me in my festive little cubicle.  It's painfully quiet.  I keep overhearing awkward conversations from the news department.  Perhaps I should put on some music or something.

Edited To Add: If Bob from the production department doesn't stop watching Avril Lavigne's "Girlfriend" on YouTube, I'm going to punch him in the face.  What business does a forty-year-old man have with that song, anyway?

Ow.  Ow.  Ow.  Ow. 

And let it be known, I feel ridiculous singing along to "Simple Kind Of Life" by No Doubt.  Which is a shame.  I like that song.

Hello, lover.

Maybe, Liz, if you weren't so self-absorbed and selfish, you wouldn't hate yourself so much.
Get over it.  Stop comparing yourself to others.  Learn to live your own life and be satisfied with it.

I think I'm going insane.
I think I should refrain from updating until I starting going sane.
Insane entries are almost as bad as drunk entries.

So much for a peaceful afternoon.

I get a call from Jason warning me that Tamera is coming over with two more exterminators.  They knock on my door thirty seconds later.

Jesus Christ.  I don't know how much longer I can take this.  It's not exactly an ideal situation for someone with social anxiety.

I'm just glad I hadn't climbed into my pajamas yet.

I get off work in one short hour.

I'll get in Jason's car (my battery is still dead) and drive to Dutch Bros. for a nice, hot coffee.  I'll make the drive to Ashland, drive around for a half hour or so while listening to my audiobook, and then head home.  I'll slip out of my yuppie clothes and into some nice cozy pajamas, turn on the heater, crawl under the covers, and nap with Harry Potter playing softly and the kitties curled at my feet.

A few hours after I get home, my darling fiance will get home from work, bearing gifts of toilet paper and salt and vinegar chips.  Life will be pretty fantastic, and I will appreciate it for being so.  There's no reason to be depressed.  My life is too good for me to be depressed.  

I wrote all my secrets and negative thoughts on the backsides of dollar bills.  That way, I can get them out of my system and out into the world without feeling like a spiteful and cruel person.  I tend to get so upset with the people I love.  It's not enough for my life to fit neatly into little boxes, but I find myself wishing that their lives were orderly and linear, too.  I'm hesitant to let the people I love make their own mistakes, but that's how we learn.  That's our nature.

My great-grandmother, Marjorie Marie Mulherin, married four times and lived to be ninety-nine years old.
I have to find out more about this woman.