Thankful

Celebrating life's blessings with gloriously excessive amounts of food and drink!

Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday, and has been for as long as I can remember. This year, I'm sad to be away from my family, but I'm also excited to be celebrating Friendsgiving with a great group of people here. I tend to complain on here, so it's time to count my blessings. 

Why I'm thankful for my husband, and also why he drives me nuts
He's smart. Really smart. Like sometimes I don't even understand when he's explaining something mechanical to me. It kinda makes me feel dumb, but also proud.
He's silly most of the time, which balances out my generally serious nature.
He's a better homemaker than me, except for cleaning. But the dude can sew. 
He grabs my butt, a lot. Admittedly, it's obnoxious, but at least I know he likes me.
He thinks I'm beautiful no matter what. That means when I don't feel well, first thing in the morning, or when I'm wearing my now customary uniform of sweatpants/no makeup/unstyled hair. 
He's easygoing. This is especially nice when he comes home and I'm embarrassed that I've been lazy and haven't cleaned or done much all day. He doesn't mind.
He's caring and enjoys taking care of me. This includes making me eat and rest when my body is being dumb, massaging my angry calves, and handling the responsibilities I don't like.
He's damn good looking. 
He has to practically be a saint. Sometimes I'm seriously at a loss as to how he puts up with me. 
He's very forgiving. I may or may not sometimes become just the tiniest bit irrational when I've had a bit too much to drink, and he always listens and always wants to do what he can to make me happy. What a weirdo. 
He's a great amount of weird. Just the amount where I roll my eyes at him, but I secretly like it because he's fun and I'm glad he's not boring. 
He's mine. It took a while, but he decided I was the one he wanted to spend his life with and he didn't waste any time in making that happen. 

Why I'm thankful for my crazy ass life
It does not lack adventure. 
I've lived in some weird places, and I think that's neat.
I have awesome friends all over the world. 
Mountains, lakes, ocean, meadows.
Freaking fantastic friends and family. Ugh, that was one word away from perfect alliteration. For realsies though, I can't even express how jealous of you should be of all my lovelies. 
I've never actually had to wonder where I was going to sleep or when my next meal would be. 
Somehow, things always seem to work out. 

Alright, so I can't think of as many specific examples. And I know I bitch a lot, but I am a very lucky lady. I know that there are many places in the world, and even in my own country, where I would need to be concerned each day...about getting shot, raped, killed, etc. Oy, that took a really dark turn. 
Let me try that again. My life isn't perfect, but it's pretty damn good. I have a roof over my head, food in my cupboards, and a good man who loves me. While it doesn't make for super entertaining blog posts, I'm trying to remember that stuff more often. Mostly for the sanity of my husband and the sake of my marriage. And I'm sure there's a quote, that I'm much too lazy to look up right now, about how the bittersweet makes the sweet sweeter. So, a day late, I'll leave you with that thought--there's (almost) always a silver lining. 

Yesterday, we had a lovely Friendsgiving. Unfortunately, I drank a bottle of wine. Yup, myself. It seemed like a good idea at the time...well, maybe I knew that it wasn't but I have this stupid trait where I have an idea in my head of how things should go and then they don't and I get irrationally pouty. Anyway we came home and I insisted upon sleeping on our love seat (which, in retrospect, only punished me). But these things reminded me that I really need to make an effort too. I'll admit it, sometimes I'm the Richard Cranium. Possibly slightly more than sometimes. Anywaysies, that's another thing I'm thankful for. I can act like a little bit of an ass and realize that I was a jerk, but also be forgiven. I'm a happy, albeit hungover and just a tiny bit miserable, girl. 

Side note-yes, I am aware of Black Friday insanity (and irony of it being the day after Thanksgiving) and, no, I did not participate. That shit cray. Ugh, hate Kanye West. He's such a twat. 
Okay, back to good things.  

Appreciate stuff. And treat yo'self. Mic drop.

Liberté, égalité, fraternité

Je suis Paris

A terrible thing happened in France. We all know that. Terrible things have happened in Lebanon, Syria, Kenya, Iran, Iraq, Afghanistan, and pretty much every other country in the world. We all know that too. 
Facebook has erupted in the last few days with articles, thoughts & prayers, and a profile picture overlay in support of France. A good number of people are upset about this because they feel it belittles all of the other places and the problems going on there. I disagree with this. Of course part of the reason Paris is getting so much attention is the media coverage--but media coverage can be blamed for a lot of things. However, I think there's another, possibly bigger, reason for it: people have more of a connection to Paris. 

Before you call me an ignorant American, hear me out. Think about how many people you know who have visited Paris. Now think about how many people you know who've visited Lebanon, Syria, Kenya, Iran, Iraq, or Afghanistan. I would be willing to bet those are vastly different numbers. 
I, for one, have visited Paris...which you already know since I write about it a *little* obsessively. I walked on those streets, ate the food, and (attempted) to be part of that culture for a while. These are tangible things for my brain to comprehend. I took a part of Paris with me, and left a part of my heart there. So when that city gets hurt, it hurts my heart. Ew, that's kind of a sickening romanticization. Apparently that's not a word, but I'm leaving it. 

I haven't ever been to Lebanon, Syria, Kenya, Iran, Iraq, or Afghanistan. I haven't smelled the air, tasted the food, or walked on the streets; I don't really have anything concrete to attach to those places. And if you compare media coverage of the different locations, Paris is mostly good and the others are mostly bad. For not having any real experience there, it's hard to counteract those stories. (Just for the record, I don't at all think these are completely bad places filled with solely bad people. This is just one part of my argument.)

Here's the other part of my argument: showing support for Paris doesn't mean people don't support those in other countries. There's a general saying that, when something bad happens to someone, they should remember there are people who have it worse. In the reverse of that, when something good happens, we don't tell them to remember there are people who have it better. There are always people who have it better, and always people who have it worse...that doesn't mean we aren't allowed to feel happy or sad. 

I, for one, hate all of it. I can't fathom opening fire and killing a bunch of random strangers, and it makes me sick to try and make sense of it. I have that feeling no matter where it takes place, but it's worse when it's a place I've gotten to know and love. 
I don't have any say in the layover options Facebook has. Is it fair who/where/when that attention is given? Probably not. Does that mean I should be stingy about it to make a point? I don't think so. When we were given the rainbow option in support of the US Supreme Court decision for gay marriage, of course I took part. Not because that decision directly affected me, but because I wanted my gay and lesbian friends to know that I support and am happy that they're now allowed those rights. 

I do support all the innocent people that are being affected by all the violence in the world. My heart goes out to them. But, given the opportunity, did I put the French flag over my picture to show my solidarity? Oui. Parce que, je suis Paris. 

The Bride Wore Wool

Mawwiage...is what bwings us...togeva...today.**

Sometimes, at the very last minute, when you least expect it, everything falls into place. 
I think I gave you the skinny on our wedding plan. 
(If you need a recap: Soldier and I had to get married legally so I could get on his insurance. Originally we were just gonna do the courthouse thing, but then decided to take advantage of the scenery and some wonderfully helpful friends.)

The day started off surprisingly well considering our parties the previous night. I got up and started to get ready, then eventually started prodding Soldier to get up and run some last minute errands. 
There were still a couple of unknowns on the day of: the location and the rings. Yeah, I know those are kind of important pieces. And of course you know we had a location picked out; it depended on the weather and our photographer friend. There was a backup option if it was too rainy for his equipment. It was cloudy, but not predicted to rain until later. 

Then there were the rings. We'd looked at some shortly after I got up here to look at the options; Soldier didn't know what he wanted. There again we found prices jacked up at the magical word of Wedding. So we found some on Amazon and clicked away on a couple of simple, nice tungsten rings. We were being kind of cheap, I know. 
Things take a bit longer to get here and I'm impatient but I was pretty good about not checking the tracking every day until I was pretty positive they should have arrived. Well, they supposedly had arrived like 3 days previously. It was about a week and a half before the wedding and I freaked out a bit. Soldier (because he's basically a saint) humored me with going to a local jewelry store because I didn't want to pay expedited shipping. The cheapest, sterling silver ring for him was just under $200, which made the shipping cost look much better. On the plus side, it did give us the chance to double check his size and the thickness of the rings we wanted.
So, back to Amazon. Rings ordered, quick shipping, we should have still been alright. A couple of days later, it was inexplicably cancelled. We still don't know why. The Saint reordered while I panicked again, tried to come up with an alternate plan, and assumed everything was going to be a disaster. I was still trying to figure out what to do while I was putting on my makeup on the big day. My best idea was to use some thin ribbon. 

I was getting ready and there was a knock at the door, which totally threw me off, but I thought maybe my family had sent something. It was a shipping envelope, and I automatically knew it contained the rings. I was so happy over these stupid metal circles; they made it feel real. Kinda weird, but whatever. 

The weather did hold up enough, but it wasn't any heat wave. I did wear a white dress, though it was about knee length, so I added wool socks and Burberry rain boots. To keep it classy. 5 friends joined us, one of them officiating and another taking pictures. It was roughly a mile walk out; we said our vows, exchanged rings, kissed, and were married. It was so fast, but I'm glad we went out unconventional route instead of visiting the courthouse. 

When we got home, there were flowers at the door; my siblings had ordered a bouquet for me. It didn't make it in time, but it was a perfect centerpiece for our little dinner party/reception. Plus it was super sentimental and adorable of them and it meant a lot. 

So that's it, I'm officially a married woman. But I'm still working on getting "Real Housewives of Alaska" up and running. 

**If you don't understand that quote, you should feel bad about yourself. And then go watch The Princess Bride. 

Stag & Hen

Last fling before the ring

The other day I got a text from one of my friends here: the boys decided to have an impromptu bachelor party and what were the girls doing? I kind of cringed. I had wanted Soldier to help me with cleaning and getting ready for our little wedding and party. On the other hand, the girls were really sweet in planning a night out to celebrate. So, I took off my crabby pants and put a smile on my face.

As I was getting ready, we went through the options of whether or not to coordinate. Of course, I was instructed to wear white, and they would wear black. That might be an American thing. One of the girls said it’s a sorority thing, but I’ve been to plenty of bachelorette parties where that’s standard. Anyway, I have maybe half of my wardrobe here so it was tricky. I ended up going kind of high fashion: a high-waist, mid-calf pencil skirt with a t-shirt that says “jaune et belle,” and some nude booties. I felt kind of ridiculous at first, but then I got pretty excited; it’s been a while since I’ve gotten all dressed up and sassy. I do enjoy getting dressed up and sassy. And I figured, so what? Who cares if people think I'm overdressed or don't understand my outfit? 

They picked me up and took me to a cute farm to table restaurant. We got a bottle of champagne, which I’m also a pretty big fan of. We had appetizers, dinner, champagne, and some good chats. Then we moved on to the bar. We only had one shot of Patron and kept the drinks flowing.

I was pretty proud of myself that I didn’t call or text Soldier at all. I knew he’d be having a good time, but I was a little concerned at how much he would drink. Then, at a relatively reasonable hour, he called me. He was slurring his words, but he was already home. He wanted to make sure I was alright, that I was going to get home okay, and was wondering when I’d be getting in. I was so touched and pleased that he called, and that he wasn’t blacked out or drinking till the next morning. He doesn't remember calling. In a weird way, I think that's almost sweeter--not having all his faculties, it was still on his mind to make sure I was taken care of.

This, friends, is a good man. I suppose he was worth the wait. Fine. He was absolutely, definitely worth the wait. 

I think I was home around midnight or 12:30 which, for a bachelorette party, wasn't horrible. Except that when I'm drunk, I take forever to do anything, especially get ready to go to bed. Soldier was already there, sleeping, quite drunk. Apparently they had an overwhelming amount of shots, and his friends were sufficiently in awe of his ability to shoot whiskey. 

I was still relatively drunk when I got in bed, and I kind of just laid there for a while. I was kind of feeling small. Even though we've been living in sin (gasp! egad!) and sharing our lives for the past month, I also knew, or maybe was trying to get through my brain, the gravity of our decision. 

I was excited, but not exactly excited. I was thinking a lot of everything that would need to be done the next day. I was more concerned about making sure the dinner and little party went well for our friends than focusing on us. 

It ended up being a really nice night out, and I was so grateful that the girls had wanted to make sure I had my party; my kind of party. There were no penis straws, dare-type games, or Team Bride shirts. My party was comprised of kind people, laughs, and the complete certainty of their attention to my enjoyment. Easy, casual, and perfect.