Starring the belligerent asshole who ruins the whole thing for everyone.
Everyone was getting ready to leave and I put on my coat, but was stopped on my way down to the door. A couple of the guys said that one of them was being somewhat ornery. Then I saw a hand trying to get the door back open and thought it was a joke. It was not. Let's call that particular gentleman Wedge...one of the simplest tools known to man. Soldier tossed up my boots; nobody thought the episode would last long.
I don't remember exactly how long it took or if there was much of an issue, but myself and another girl walked out at the same time. Soldier got me settled into the car and went to help a couple of other guys help get Wedge into his car. I sat there for a few minutes and watched while Wedge tried to fight these three guys. Then I got irritated. I got out and kind of got in the middle, knowing he wasn't going to do anything to me. Needless to say, Soldier wasn't thrilled.
Wedge just kept trying to get people to fight or hit him, and of course the guys fed into that. At one point one of the guys pushed him on the ground; there was a gross, dull thud and there was some blood from a cut on his forehead. I wouldn't at all be surprised if he got a concussion.
Here's the "best" part of the story: Wedge and his wife had brought their two kids to the party. (Please notice that I made a conscious decision to put those quotation marks there. I fully understand the correct use of them, and their intent is to be sarcastic. Just in case anyone doesn't know how to use quotation marks properly. ...I feel strongly about it.)
So the kids are sitting in the van with all this going on. The baby was sleeping, but the other kid was awake and definitely old enough to know what was going on. Wedge's wife thought she could calm him down and asked if myself and the other girl would get the kids home. Neither of us had our phones (GPS), so we were following another car that would contain Wedge and his wife. According to the plan.
By this time, I had completely lost track of (and interest in) Wedge's whereabouts. As we followed the other car, we came upon Wedge and the guys a block or so away...apparently he had tried to run away, though I'm not sure what he planned to do. After a struggle, they got him into the car and our two guys set about following us to the house. We tried to stay calm and reassuring for the kids, but I was pretty pissed about the whole situation.
As we were driving along, we came to a red light and the car in front of us was shaking...which would have been funny in a different situation. They turned before the light turned green, and the other girl and I assumed something bad was happening. But we all made it to the house and we took the kids to bed while the guys wrestled with Wedge. Finally they got him inside and pinned on the couch. I stayed in his face and just talked to him, while the guys still tried to push it.
In my opinion, one of the biggest issues in situations like this is that people freak out. It makes everyone very tense, adrenaline stays high, and they get the reaction they want. When I was working with individuals who had developmental disabilities, our training was to stay calm when our clients were having behaviors. (Still have no idea why they called it that. Usually behaving means good, but that meant bad, sometimes very bad.)
As one of the guys was leaving, he punched Wedge in the balls. And after an initial flinch, he started laughing. That part was a little unnerving. That's obviously someone who's not in their right mind, but I firmly believe alcohol doesn't fundamentally change a person...it's not a hallucinogenic or anything. Wedge's wife finally took over and pinned him, and the guys put zip ties on his hands and ankles so he'd stop. How fucked up is that?
That was when he took it one step too far: he started telling his wife how fat she was. I wanted to bash him in the face for that. I sufficed with just covering his mouth; he started trying to lick and bite me. That irritated Soldier but I had on leather mittens and a wool coat so I didn't care, and I think it made him angrier that it wasn't bothering me. Really I had to keep myself from laughing about it.
Around that time the wife said she could handle it and the guys decided it wasn't a threat anymore. The guys walked out without a word but I got a parting gift from Wedge: "Fuck you Laura." I reciprocated, then told him I hate him to the core of my soul, and that his wife is better than him. One last parting shot.
The next day I texted her to see how things were going, and she was very apologetic. One part that sticks out in my mind is her kind of giggling and asking what she should get out of the situation once he was sobered up. I was marginally disgusted, I think it was in my tone when I told her she shouldn't try to get anything; she should walk away. One a basic level, I don't understand abusive relationships. I don't believe he's like that generally, and she did say she'd only seen him like that once before...but let me tell you a story about the one time I questioned my safety from a guy: I had the slight feeling I may get injured, and I got out of the situation. And that's the end of the tale, because in my book of fairy tales you don't get another chance to make me feel that way. She may not have the highest self-esteem, but she should at least think of the kids with something like that.
I really have to start blogging this stuff when it happens, I'm getting angry again in rethinking it. But there's your dose of insanity for the Christmas season...Happy Holidays!
Sunday, December 20, 2015
Thursday, December 17, 2015
Secret Santa
Santa stays secret when you're the one who brought the shitty present
Raise your hand if you've missed the crazy stories. This one's (well, two, I think) for you!
For the past few years, one of Soldier's coworkers has held a Secret Santa Christmas party, and this year's was held last night. There's always a bit of anxiety with getting a Secret Santa present unless everyone knows each other really well. Soldier has only been working with this group for a couple of months, and there were still some of them I hadn't met, so we were both a little nervous.
We drew two names, one guy and one girl. Soldier had an idea for the guy, but he was leaving the other for me. I was a bit irritated; I'd only met her once. I went through all the girly stuff at the store and put together a nice spa bag for the $50 limit. And with that kind of limit, you kind of assume that everyone should get pretty nice, thoughtful gifts. I'm sure you can see where this is going.
We got there and had some food and drinks...which reminds me...there were these buffalo chicken stuffed muffins that I need to get the recipe for. They were scrumptious. So much yumminess in my mouth.
Everyone was chatting and having a good time, I think we'd all been there for a couple of hours by the time we opened presents. Someone awful decided we all had to go one by one. Oh yay. I was toward the end of the group, dreading my turn because everyone would be staring at me. There were some really cool gifts, some funny ones, and a couple that were a bit more inappropriate. My turn came and Soldier had to help me get the ribbons off...they were tied really tightly and I was already nervous from people looking at me.
I got the wrappings off to reveal...a bottle of Riesling. I don't mean to sound ungrateful (too late, I do now!), but it's about a $10 bottle. I know that somebody had asked Soldier for tips or ideas for me, and he'd said that I'm girly. Not a lot to go on, but really? A bottle of cheap white wine was the best possible option? Not gonna lie, I was kinda disappointed. Well, I can't be a frigid bitch so I tried to act like it was cool. Suh not kewl.
***
Back to eating and drinking. At one point, the Hostess decided that we were new bffs and we needed to chat. Well okay, everybody likes to be liked. So we went to her room and sat on her gloriously comfy bed. But then she started talking about her love triangle...or square. I already knew part of the story, but I really don't want to be in the midst of all the details.
Here's the short version: there was a guy (duh) she was with...I'm not sure if it was actual romantic or just sex.
Honestly, when I met this guy I deemed him a Frat Boy. Soldier told me I was wrong, but he totally is. He's good looking and is constantly working out, has a constantly pouty look on his face, kind of mumbles everything he says, and is angsty. He's a Frat Boy.
So Girl B came into the picture and became the girlfriend. I'm not sure if there was a bit of dabbling with both women but whatever. Girl B was dismissed in a rather public manner, and I believe Hostess stepped back in. Someone else wanted to start dating Girl B and respectfully asked Frat Boy if he was okay with it. He was. But then he decided that he wanted her back. His plan to win her was by berating her. And she agreed so he'd stop. Because that's how healthy relationships work.
Hostess is telling me that now the Frat Boy is bothering her and she just wants it to stop. Good God it was uncomfortable. I didn't know what to say, especially because I've heard different versions of the situation.
While we were chatting, some of the guys kept coming in and telling us to get back to the party. Then one of the guys, in kind of a weird way, decided he would stand guard so we could talk. After a while Hostess started feeling ill, and everyone was getting ready to leave. The only thing left was to pack up and head home...or so I thought.
Raise your hand if you've missed the crazy stories. This one's (well, two, I think) for you!
For the past few years, one of Soldier's coworkers has held a Secret Santa Christmas party, and this year's was held last night. There's always a bit of anxiety with getting a Secret Santa present unless everyone knows each other really well. Soldier has only been working with this group for a couple of months, and there were still some of them I hadn't met, so we were both a little nervous.
We drew two names, one guy and one girl. Soldier had an idea for the guy, but he was leaving the other for me. I was a bit irritated; I'd only met her once. I went through all the girly stuff at the store and put together a nice spa bag for the $50 limit. And with that kind of limit, you kind of assume that everyone should get pretty nice, thoughtful gifts. I'm sure you can see where this is going.
We got there and had some food and drinks...which reminds me...there were these buffalo chicken stuffed muffins that I need to get the recipe for. They were scrumptious. So much yumminess in my mouth.
Everyone was chatting and having a good time, I think we'd all been there for a couple of hours by the time we opened presents. Someone awful decided we all had to go one by one. Oh yay. I was toward the end of the group, dreading my turn because everyone would be staring at me. There were some really cool gifts, some funny ones, and a couple that were a bit more inappropriate. My turn came and Soldier had to help me get the ribbons off...they were tied really tightly and I was already nervous from people looking at me.
I got the wrappings off to reveal...a bottle of Riesling. I don't mean to sound ungrateful (too late, I do now!), but it's about a $10 bottle. I know that somebody had asked Soldier for tips or ideas for me, and he'd said that I'm girly. Not a lot to go on, but really? A bottle of cheap white wine was the best possible option? Not gonna lie, I was kinda disappointed. Well, I can't be a frigid bitch so I tried to act like it was cool. Suh not kewl.
***
Back to eating and drinking. At one point, the Hostess decided that we were new bffs and we needed to chat. Well okay, everybody likes to be liked. So we went to her room and sat on her gloriously comfy bed. But then she started talking about her love triangle...or square. I already knew part of the story, but I really don't want to be in the midst of all the details.
Here's the short version: there was a guy (duh) she was with...I'm not sure if it was actual romantic or just sex.
Honestly, when I met this guy I deemed him a Frat Boy. Soldier told me I was wrong, but he totally is. He's good looking and is constantly working out, has a constantly pouty look on his face, kind of mumbles everything he says, and is angsty. He's a Frat Boy.
So Girl B came into the picture and became the girlfriend. I'm not sure if there was a bit of dabbling with both women but whatever. Girl B was dismissed in a rather public manner, and I believe Hostess stepped back in. Someone else wanted to start dating Girl B and respectfully asked Frat Boy if he was okay with it. He was. But then he decided that he wanted her back. His plan to win her was by berating her. And she agreed so he'd stop. Because that's how healthy relationships work.
Hostess is telling me that now the Frat Boy is bothering her and she just wants it to stop. Good God it was uncomfortable. I didn't know what to say, especially because I've heard different versions of the situation.
While we were chatting, some of the guys kept coming in and telling us to get back to the party. Then one of the guys, in kind of a weird way, decided he would stand guard so we could talk. After a while Hostess started feeling ill, and everyone was getting ready to leave. The only thing left was to pack up and head home...or so I thought.
Monday, December 7, 2015
Etiquette and the Modern Wedding
Please come help us celebrate the time, money, stress, and love we've put into our marriage ceremony...that you'll still find something wrong with.
Have I bitched about wedding planning enough? I've been putting off the invite list stuff and finally delved into it today. I have so many annoyances with it.
I would be fine with having about 20 people at the wedding. Immediate family, close friends, done. Granted, I knew Soldier's mom would want to invite a lot of people. I was a little aghast when we finally got her list though...I think it had around 180 people on it. Well that was a big no (although a handful of them were already on our list), but I made Soldier go through it because I didn't feel it was my place to make cuts. I haven't had the energy or guts to send the updated list back out, and I don't relish that day.
I did hear one end of a conversation Soldier had with the 'rents about how there was an "obligation" for them to invite people. I may have stared open-mouthed, aghast and possibly a little ragey. I'll be the first to admit that I'm a bit callous, but I don't feel that there's at all an obligation to invite anyone to a personal, intimate event. Plus, whose wedding is it again? In her defense, Mama-in-Law has offered to pay for it. However, to me, that means I might have to give up some control, which you all know I'm not prepared for. Seriously, it's a little concerning sometimes.
Update: it's about 3:30 in the afternoon and I've opened a bottle of wine. At least I made it past noon?
Soldier and I made an agreement that this is a big deal, we want to focus on our life together, and we want to share it with people we know and love. For a while, I wasn't even sure I was going to invite all of my aunts and uncles. I think it might be out of the ordinary; we've never been super close with extended family. On my dad's side, there was a bit of a falling out a few years ago and he hasn't spoken with his siblings a whole lot since then. My mum's side is a bit trickier: for a long time her sisters didn't want much to do with her. (There's a whole family history there, don't think my mom's anything less than amazing.) A while back they all started to catch back up and make up for lost time, so she asked me to invite them, if only to make the gesture. I'm not sure I've ever met my aunts, but I'm good with sending the invitation, and I'd be happy to have them there to begin a relationship. And that's about it. The number on my parent's list was around 10 or 12. That I can live with.
Now I'm getting around to collecting addresses and figuring out the correct way to write them on the envelopes and everything and you know what? Why? Who cares? I'm over here stressing out over the Mr/Mrs/Ms, the Dr, the correct way to add significant others and children, aaand cue the auto-immune that heartless bitch.
And, unfortunately, I'll continue to stress, because I'm sure I'll get shit from somebody.
On a happier note, all is right in the world because Soldier made me a freaking giraffe onesie. This is why you marry someone.
Have I bitched about wedding planning enough? I've been putting off the invite list stuff and finally delved into it today. I have so many annoyances with it.
I would be fine with having about 20 people at the wedding. Immediate family, close friends, done. Granted, I knew Soldier's mom would want to invite a lot of people. I was a little aghast when we finally got her list though...I think it had around 180 people on it. Well that was a big no (although a handful of them were already on our list), but I made Soldier go through it because I didn't feel it was my place to make cuts. I haven't had the energy or guts to send the updated list back out, and I don't relish that day.
I did hear one end of a conversation Soldier had with the 'rents about how there was an "obligation" for them to invite people. I may have stared open-mouthed, aghast and possibly a little ragey. I'll be the first to admit that I'm a bit callous, but I don't feel that there's at all an obligation to invite anyone to a personal, intimate event. Plus, whose wedding is it again? In her defense, Mama-in-Law has offered to pay for it. However, to me, that means I might have to give up some control, which you all know I'm not prepared for. Seriously, it's a little concerning sometimes.
Update: it's about 3:30 in the afternoon and I've opened a bottle of wine. At least I made it past noon?
Soldier and I made an agreement that this is a big deal, we want to focus on our life together, and we want to share it with people we know and love. For a while, I wasn't even sure I was going to invite all of my aunts and uncles. I think it might be out of the ordinary; we've never been super close with extended family. On my dad's side, there was a bit of a falling out a few years ago and he hasn't spoken with his siblings a whole lot since then. My mum's side is a bit trickier: for a long time her sisters didn't want much to do with her. (There's a whole family history there, don't think my mom's anything less than amazing.) A while back they all started to catch back up and make up for lost time, so she asked me to invite them, if only to make the gesture. I'm not sure I've ever met my aunts, but I'm good with sending the invitation, and I'd be happy to have them there to begin a relationship. And that's about it. The number on my parent's list was around 10 or 12. That I can live with.
Now I'm getting around to collecting addresses and figuring out the correct way to write them on the envelopes and everything and you know what? Why? Who cares? I'm over here stressing out over the Mr/Mrs/Ms, the Dr, the correct way to add significant others and children, aaand cue the auto-immune that heartless bitch.
And, unfortunately, I'll continue to stress, because I'm sure I'll get shit from somebody.
On a happier note, all is right in the world because Soldier made me a freaking giraffe onesie. This is why you marry someone.
Friday, November 27, 2015
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.
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.
Monday, November 16, 2015
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.
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.
Friday, November 13, 2015
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.
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.
Friday, November 6, 2015
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.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)