Bein' a Bride

So I got to rub shoulders with the soon-to-be bride --this is her beaming with her god-daughter this past weekend. Regardless of any drugged up delirium I may have had that day, I learned a few things.
1. It is not easy being from a large family. Rose and I were talking about it and she likened it to being in a high school clique, although one that stays with you your WHOLE LIFE. The role you were assigned at a young age is the mantle you wear for the rest of your life. Ah yes, you may accomplish things, you may get married or not, you may be whatever version of success or failure they deem is success or failure, but in the end... it is easier for families to operate if you stay loosely in the role that everyone sees you in. Be that : the smart one, the pretty one, the stubborn one, the clumsy one... ever wonder why some children move as far as possible away from family? Or why the NW of the US is so dang independent? Ask people where they are from. Where their family is. We have a lot of escapees here.
2. Family is a comfort. The good side. They know your sadnesses, the reason for your happies, they know your life. There can be comfort in not always having to explain yourself, who you are, how you came to be.
3. Family can make you crazy. Innocuous simple words such as "Can you pick up that piece of cookie on the floor?" " What did you get from Aunt Mabel?" can send a daughter into fits of apoplexy that only the oh so special mother-daughter relationship can explain.

At one point Rose put her head on my shoulder and said "I am glad you are the type of mom you are... thank you."

I will try to remember these light and appreciative moments when my now 15 year old tries my patience, pushes my buttons, and rolls into her own special teenagerland in the next couple years.

House - Painted stairs

Yes, this could be considered a rather bold color... and yes, I did really like the white that the owners had the stairs painted, it was very "original" but with KIDS and their FEET and DOGS and their MUD and CATS and WHATEVER IT IS CATS DO my white house interior does not stay very white.

Some parts of it are even a dingy sorta dirtish color.

Birthday story of long ago

Well, birthday story of three years ago. It is the season of birthdays in our house, Wilder on the 28th of May, Rose on the 5th of June. That makes for action packed weekends around our place. I lived through Wilder's party of boys, and one girl... plus his sister. Lots of yelling and sugar rushing.
This weekend will be at least a dozen fifteen year-olds whooping it up around the house. Yikes. But girls are easier? Or at least there are less fart and burp jokes.
I was wondering if they were all going to go out after hours to the gravel pit and get all dirty sliding around on their rears... and was reminded when we lived in Seattle next to a large park and beach. For Rose's birthday we thought we would go the park in the dark to the beach... such excitement for a bunch of 12 year-olds. My next door neighbor was walking down with us also. 12 year old girls being naturally squeally we thought they could get their hollering out of their system at the beach and through the forest before I was trapped in a house with them overnight. So halfway down the trail said friend disappears ahead of us down a trail. We head down the main road toward the beach, me and a dozen girls. It is dark. Evergreen trees leaning over the road. The gals are clustered around me as we hike down the hill to the beach. A truck drives by us heading uphill toward the exit. Then, a few minutes later, the truck is back... directly behind us a few yards. With their lights off. And shaded windows that I could not see in to who was driving. Once the girls noticed we were being followed, they began to freak out. Who out there is familiar with group psychology of girls? Not pretty, and we were about 1/2 mile from home. With no one around. And my neighbor somewhere down the trail and not able to hear me when I was calling her. Here we were out having an exciting evening of night beach visits and we are being shadowed by a truck of creepers. My inclination was to tear those truck boys a new somethingerather, I was that pissed that they thought that would be funny.
The main thing I have thought of since this is what sort of people in the truck thought it was funny to intimidate a gaggle of prepubescent girls like a scene out of a bad horror flick? They must have felt very powerless within their own lives to get a charge outta that.
The boring end of story is : called home and Dennis came and got the kids in the minivan, called neighbor on trail to go home, and I did not get to kick anyone's truck butt.
Wish me luck for this weekend. I think we will "do nails."

Seattle story - "Getting in Touch with Nature"

Every day that I work, (all of three days a week) I go to Metropolitan Market in West Seattle to pickup lunch, dinner, or goodies for our volunteers.
I usually walk around in my own little bubble, as Seattlelites are prone to do, but today I stepped out of my bubble to poke at someone elses bubble.
While waiting in the coffee line for tea and to purchase a lovely tomato plant (one can never grow too many tomatoes it seems in May and June, UNTIL those tomatoes start ripening, and then I wonder what the heck I was thinkin' and start pawning them off on strangers...)
anyway, on topic....waiting in line. The fellow in front of me was talking to coffee gal, and saying he had been communing with nature. That he was getting in touch with nature by going to Green Lake and walking.
Let's visit Green Lake, shall we?
When he was saying how good he felt being out of doors in nature, I could not help but let out one of those nostril blows that is somewhat snortish. He turned around, and said, "you don't like green lake?" I told him I did not really think Green Lake was nature. (man-made lake, giant paved trail around it, that is packed on weekends, surrounded by a busy road on three sides and a highway on the other, and fringed with houses) As is usual when I blurt out these blunt-ish statements, he got a bit ruffled. If he would have been HONEST and said " I went to Green Lake to check out the babes" or some such, I would not have snorted. So sad that Seattle residents are beginning to think a paved trail and lawn is nature. You plant housing and condos like trees, and look what happens. People lose touch with greenspace. Used to be a goal of Seattle... now it is just "build-me-up-baby...make-mine-multi-use-housing-please"
I guess that is what balconies and lanais are for. Plants.

Refrigerators

If you have any good fridge recommendations, let me know. The other day I had some leftover soup I had put in the freezer. It tasted... "interesting" not bad, just a bit different.
About a week later I reached in the freezer and pulled out a bag of (formerly) frozen vegetables, squishy, leaking, somewhat luke-warm. Did a minor swear and started poking at the rest of the stuff in the fridge. Most things were still rock solid frozen. Thought.... "hmmm, maybe the kids left the door ajar a bit."
When I got home from work on Sunday, Dennis was dropping the kids off. He politely informed me that a cat or dog had went pee on the entry way carpet. Then, we noticed it was not animal wee-wee, but refrigerator wee-wee. As in, the fridge was no longer cooling. Our fridge is now located in our camping coolers. And last night I cooked all the meats, so we will be set with eating the leftover halibut, salmon, bacon and kalbi beef. I didn't want it all to go bad...

I just know my hot water heater is next. The upside of that is that it would ruin everything in the basement I have not yet unpacked that is in boxes on the ground. All that water damage would let me throw it all out without looking at it, or having to put it all away.
And have a clean basement, like the day we moved in.

Parents, kids, and public middle school

"When I was young" we were a sloppy yet consistently big group of neighborhood kids that went through elementary, middle school and high school together. There were not other options other than catholic school in my youth... so the public schools were a pretty all encompassing group of children and adults within a defined geographical boundary. Never mind that the PTA back then was scary and a bit Stepfordwife-ish. There was a set of unspoken and spoken rules of how children and adults behave, what was acceptable in school, yada yada. And if little Johnnie or little Stephanie was out of line at school.... geez-lou-eezie you did not want to be there when their parents heard about it.
Middle school back then was mean. No two cents about it. Anyone who did not fit the mold (whatever that was at the moment) was tortured verbally, and the beginning of the clique culture began.
When I was faced with middle school for our daughter, I found a girls school that took her in. Her strength in math and science was developed at this point, and continue to give her an edge in high school. At the end of her time there, I left her dad and bought a farm. We moved to a small town.
Our son is gearing up for middle school. It feels like a slap in the face to me, I took him away from his Seattle friends thinking I was returning to a version of my childhood (yeah, I know you can't go back) where similar kids from allover a geographical area attend school together. Where it is clear what is acceptable, and what is not. HA. Would that be where kids divide by cultural background and taunt the kids not in their 'group'? Would that be where a middle school girl can be raped on a full SCHOOL BUS with no kids piping up and the driver not noticing? How about 11 year old kids being thrown against lockers and things thrown in toilets?
Fear of this is what makes parents, who have the financial ability, to homeschool or head off to private school.
I could do that with our daughter, what do I do with our son? I have thrown him into a substandard educational system, that seems to have no teeth against bullying and flat-out criminal activity. My daughter gets in arguments daily on the bus about gays, christianity and people of color. She told me yesterday that she is beginning to hate christianity. I told her the Ghandi quote "I like your Christ, I do not like your Christians. Your Christians are so unlike your Christ". It is hard to show her the middle road.

No Complaint Day

Photos: Top:I know the reason this grows on my trees is because the spores of the forest that once stood here 100 years ago still live in the area. Bottom: The trillium are blooming, or they were when I took this pic three weeks ago.

I have no complaints today. Just thought that would drop in a bit of fresh air. I probably shouldn't type anymore, because I will roll into some sort of whine about something. This Sunday in Kitsap County...

my old cat snores,

it was close to 70 degrees,

I sat in a chair outside "doing work due tomorrow" so slowly...,

had a great dinner with the kids made by the soon to-be-ex at his clean place, not my messy place in honor of mother's day,

had nice things said to me by our 14 year old, (who is almost as tall as her dad!)

had sunflowers in a pot given to me by our 10 year old son, (who is under the weather)

and I got stuck behind Bainbridge drivers who drive so retardedly (I know, not a word) slow like 10-15 miles below the speed limit that I almost expressed myself potty-mouth linguistically all the way across that godforsaken island. If I ever live on Bainbridge, you will know I am either a)on serious medication and not aware of my surroundings b)had a brain hemmorhage or traumatic head injury and so again "am not aware of my surroundings or c) I have lived through menopause but with a complete reversal of my personality and hormonal drives and come out the other side a middle-class housewife with an audi, timeshare in Hawaii, white carpets and furniture, botox injections, and a new husband who uses more facial products than I do. Happy days.

Did I mention the father of my beloved children live on Bainbridge? And he loves it?

And that little diatribe is not complaining. Or whining.

Note to readers: (also called the Seattle Disclaimer) The above is only my version of hell. I have never lived with white furniture and will probably not ever be attracted to a metrosexual man, this does not mean that audis or Hawaiian timeshares are evil. (Although... they aren't in the BIBLE) I digress. Damn, those bible teachings are thrilling! I digress again. I love you all. If you embrace the middle class ways as I have been taught to do, such as the experienced joy at a fresh mowed lawn or a fine cup of coffee made by an impertinent coffee puller (oops, I mean barista) it is all good. Marriage is good, homogeneity (?) is fine. Heck, we can even be friends if you live on Bainbridge. But it will be so very hard for me if you drive 15 miles under the speed limit on the highway. But I can do it. I live for the thrill of a good challenge. And my retard comment should have been the 70's 80's version where you drag out the REEEtard. Remember? If you are too young for that reference, or too old, then we can go with "mentally challenged" instead. See, you can take the girl out of Seattle, but not the Seattle PC out of the girl.

Habitat for Humanity - how to put up siding sexily

Quick post.
1. Went for my first session of "how to build a house" so I can volunteer. Actually, just want to have those basic skills, practice them in a safe supervised environment, and then help build a house!
2. This is a specific class "Women Build" , all gals, I guess so we don't get all quiet and female-y around the "take-charge" men.
3. When I went to check in, the front desk gal at Lowes, where the class was being held told me I was early and I should go "look at some pretty flowers" while waiting.
4. The fellow leading the class asked me how old I was in the 80's to use as an example of black mold. (I guarantee my age has nothing to do with the prevalence of black mold in modern housing)
5. I can't stand any of that shit. How old am I? Go look at flowers? Argh.

Gardening weekend

Once I worked (slept) through my first ever two-day migraine I have ever had I bounded out of bed (dizzily, caffeine-bereft) and went outside. It was momentarily not raining, so I decided to hell with the broken lawn tractor....I would hire someone to mow the lawn. It makes me crazy not to have the lawn mowed. It is not like it can get so long anyway, I don't water it in the summer, and let the horses at it spring and fall when it rains. But it is an uneven field of weeds, sprouts, mosses, a few grasses and volunteer onions (no idea why those are there).
Looked on craigslist...picked up the phone. Within an hour two guys came over. One hour after that I am in mowed lawn bliss. See, big headaches are great for some things. I really appreciated such a simple act. And then I planted. And planted, and planted. A new peach tree, and a pear. Two roses. Shade and sun perennials. Two pots worth of annuals. All my lilies and plants I divided and took from our old Seattle house. I may be cursing myself in a couple weeks when I have to weed the six new beds I created... but right now I am loving it.
For mothers day when I was living the standard family life, I always asked for an undisturbed day of gardening. If only I could get paid to putter in my yard. And avoid the house and all its demands to be cleaned and organized....maybe I could just camp outside. I will work on that goal.

Modified To-Do List

This is just to get it out of my head.
1. Leave for weekend trip. Get food for crew.
2. Leave note for kid dad, animal maintenance staffperson in our absence.
3. Call bridal mother.
4. Finalize details for bridal shower.
5. Maintain positive and forward thinking attitude. Even in the depths of todo list hell.
6. Drink water.
7. Find out what "noxious dangerous toxic" thing happened near our house in the last 100 years alluded to by neighbor.
8. Get brakes done on van.
9. Clean out mystery spills in van.
10. Clean out van in general.
11. Do nightly yoga with daughter. And speedwalking around road.
12. Figure out 'take care of ma' week in Michigan.
13. strip bathroom. Or ask kid dad to do it this weekend! yeah. like that idea.
14. Fix barn horses tore off front of. Brutes.
15. Pet horses. Groom horses.
16. Chase dog around yard.
17. Start up Sunday night baseball games.
18. Make cursed doctors appts.
19. Including cursed dentist.
20. Write report for work.
21. Sleep.
22. Daydream.
23. Drink coffee.
24. Enjoy baked goods in moderation.
25. Look at new school for children.
26. Talk to Rose' counselor.
27. Transfer audio system for memorial.
28. Do this all in the next 3 days.

Why This is an Anonymous Blog (of sorts)

Ran into some photographers. We began chatting. One of them lives on Bainbridge. We instantly rolled into commuter "ferrytalk." I told her I was writing about all the ferries. She asked if I was an author. I snorkled out of my nose. No, just blogging about it. She wanted to read the blog. I said it was not really public. Repeated. Then realized how absorippinglutely ridiculous that sounded. It is on the internet. Of course I am public. Just loosely anonymous.
This began as a venting action to keep my sanity when I moved for healthy reasons away from the father of my children and bought a farm. And left my cheer group behind. Oh, I mean peer group. Dang girls, anyway. So this was my way to share stories, get them out of my system. I am one who will tell a story about tripping over a piece of toilet paper, so not to be able to share those vital parts of my day with friends just about killed me. Like, I have to tell that toilet paper story, gotta get it out of the ol' system. So, hence, blog.
And no, I won't tell her where to find this blog. It is odd to think of someone who has met me, but does not know me, reading this. I am fine with anonymous readers, commenters, lurkers, since that is a different tier of 'knowing.' And actually it is cool to find random people out there that for whatever reason click on this blog and have something in common. It makes the big big world much smaller.
I have to remember I can't really know any of the bloggers I read, truly, no matter how personal I think they get. This is a written record of things we choose to write about. I think there is also a bit of professional cautiousness on my part about telling people about the blog. Since the co-ferry commuter knows "where I work." Yeah, yeah, I am a wuss.

Ferry Riding Guide - Kingston to Edmonds run

There is just so much to say about this run. It is one of my faves, except on spring and summer weekends . That line up the hill to wait for the ferry takes forever in Edmonds and the wait on the hill in Kingston also bites. Don't take this ferry on the weekend to the peninsula/rainforest/Port Townsend or Twilight land. Take the Bainbridge, which just adds 15 minutes onto the drive, and cuts off 2 hours of sitting in your car waiting to get on the ferry.

Quick and long notes: I never see security checking the Edmonds side of the commute which kinda freaks me out, why exclude Edmonds from the sniffy dogs and people in uniform? The Edmonds gate people have the most charisma that they are willing to share. Other ferry booths also have personality, but most often you see them sharing that with each other. Some at Edmonds are also hilarious. One speaks german and is sparky. One is a little droll with droopy eyes. Mostly men work these gates. Mostly women run (what I call) the motorcycle gate on the dock. On the Kingston side, the ticket sellers can alternate between surly and pleasant. It should be noted that I have also seen some of the strangest tourist behavior on this boat, so they may be reflecting the clientele of the day. At least I have never seen them pound on a car, wave their arms, yell and swear as one of the main floor leads on the Bainbridge route has done.

The ferry ride itself is the shortest cross-Sound ride. When in Edmonds, there is not much next to the dock other than a couple espresso stands and three bars. If you really have time (and you usually do not once you are in the official ferry queue) a walk up the street can lead you to some "It's an Edmonds Kind Of Day" experiences. Although, less and less is evident as Edmonds tears down anything older or smaller and replaces it with.... oh lets guess.... condos? Condos that are built in a month and look it? The clue here was when they remodeled an older OLD structure that used to be full of shops, giant beams, wood floors, kinda squirrel-y, not to be duplicated type building into what? What? Ah yes. A building like friggin' every other building. People people people.
Dang, such a good digresser, am I.
OK. On the Kingston side : visit the bakery, first old building on the left when you get off the ferry. They have parking. Pies, cookies, cupcakes, rolls, bread, everything made fresh daily by friendly bakers who also are the cashiers. And everything can be single serving to go. If you are in the mood for ice cream, head over one block to Moras for homemade and across the street at the burger place for regular. The mora girls can be snorky, the burger place can get harried. But if you are nice, they will extend themselves. The little taco place next to Mora's rocks and is a cheap healthy alternative. The creperie at the corner is a blast to watch them make the crepes.
Regular ferry rules apply: Don't set your car alarm. Don't run on the boat. Turn your music down. Don't talk on the cell phone getting on or off the ferry. Hey, I just noticed I am a very Don't/No person. I shall rephrase.
Regular ferry rules apply: Do leave your car alarm off. The motion of the ferry will set it off and you will be called over the PA. Do maintain a walking pace while shipboard. Please keep your music trapped inside your car. Leave your cellphone off on boarding or disembarking the boat when driving. Coffee is a buck if you bring your own cup. (But their coffee has taken a turn for the worse, not sure what is up with that) Let's see, for the Edmonds/Kingston run in particular, be patient with the round headed car parker ferry workerman.

This ferry usually unloads exactly as they load. As in, you will get off loosely in the order you got on. Unlike the Bainbridge/Seattle run, although I noticed they were changing that a bit. I guess those ferry captains talk or email each other about what works, and what doesn't.

Strange ferry phenomenon: When someone honks, other cars honk. Even if you have no idea what the honking is for. Like they are all a herd of geese and have no other purpose. Kinda like when our dog barks because she hears a neighbor dog bark. She has no clue what it is barking about but just wants to put in her two cents. I tell her to hush, if she does not know what everyone is barking about she should not copy. She should have her own reason for barking, and not just follow the crowd. If she was a lemming or a teenager, she would have big problems.

This Old House

Too keep myself on track, or at least remotely inspired I subscribed to several old home/restoration/farmish/do-it-youself type magazines. The spring copy of This Old House came yesterday, and in it the editor was talking about a job he had to do at a relatives house. And he described the house as ramshackle. I immediately thought "Omigod, I think I live in a ramshackle house." At least, if This Old House was to walk by, they would call it ramshackle. I think I am going to embrace that word, and make it my own.

There is a wierd feeling I get when I get home late from work, all is dark, the kids are at their dads. My house looms. It is not even very big(!) 1900 sf or so, and it literally looms above me as I walk up. It is not an ominous looming, just a presence. As in, I have stood here at this spot for a dang long time and you gotta respect that, lady.
I cannot help but think how proud the original owner who built it must have felt. It seems BIG for its era of modest Poulsbo farmhouses, and the proud feeling I have of making this a home for my family has to be nothing next to the feeling of building it 106 years ago out of nothingness on empty logged dirt.

Book News

For those of you monitoring my blood pressure and cranky levels, I sent the book text off minus the intro last week. Today, as long as the heavens allow and the ferry doesn't sink, I will be sending off all 199 images, minus five pending from another institution.

News Flash: I am in the ferry line, and the police just told someone to turn down their music. For the first time in my life of hearing overloud music, I actually really like that song and was kinda groovin'.

I did not know that was a ferry line requirement to have low volume tunes. Polite, yes, law, no. Live and learn people.

Picture: Has nothing to do with book, but does have to do with blood pressure. How many of these cookies do you think you can eat without it affecting health? I am thinking alot. I will let you know.

Gentleman Woman Farmer

That is what my neighbor called me yesterday, somewhat stumbling over it all. A gentlemanwomanfarmer. I guess that is alot better than 'single-mom-getting-into-lordknowswhat-without-a-man girl' neighbor. Sometimes I feel I am on the receiving end of folks not able to fit me into their little hole of working single ma. Whatever that means in their head, I guarantee I don't fit it.
In the past two years I have dealt with things I never dreamed were still happening around Seattle, or for that matter, since the 1970's. I forgot how open Seattle is. There is a reason people are moving here in droves.
I am only 20 miles away, but wow, it is quite a different beast over here. I am missing the alarm in my brain that has a clearly designated this-is-woman-behavior and this-is-man-behavior section. I didn't grow up that way in my family. If it needed doing, it was done. Didn't matter what gender accomplished the task. In this place, for better or worse, I am the do everything person. I don't have the luxury of only cooking and cleaning. I also have to fix the mower (slowly) clean the gutters (fearfully) get the cars repaired (I like this part) talk to neighbors with wayward dogs (not so much) oh, and get my kids in to get their teeth cleaned. For the first time in my life, I have been told that there are things women do, and things men do, and that is for a reason. And, that it is in the bible. Sigh. I am hitting small bumps of how to fit into community meetings, where the women flow to one area and the men to another. I have a foot in both the decision making homeowner group and the childrearing gardening cooking group. How is that navigated? Before I die, I will know. But for now, I don't. And sometimes it is just tiring. I know why I have such a fierce love of inclusiveness within groups. Some sort of reaction to being excluded. Yeah, yeah, not everyone needs to like me, but civility is a good thing. I make it sound like everyone is cognizant of their behavior, and I really think they are not. All strange. But also, all invigorating for me. I love a good challenge, and an opportunity for opening minds, or probably more appropriate for me, but less effective, the opportunity to smack closed minds into shock mode. But politely, of course.

I am really doomed if a man does wander into my life. Since I don't want to be the inside the house cleaning person. Or even the crafty person. I want to be the outside breaking things like my lawn mower person. Or trying to fix things and getting all oily and dirty person. Or tying my hair up with baling twine and wearing jeans all day person. And then when I am all dirty and tired come in the clean house with dinner already done person. I also don't want to be the scrub around the base of the toilet person. That is my least favorite job.

Friends

1. That is a very wacked opinion, Ms. Feisty. Can we make a $1000 bet whether that happens or not? Am confirming at LEAST Saturday night.
2. I need garden help, Ms. Green. The weeds are sprouting. And I am just watching them.
3. Ms. McBride: Rest well. It will all be over soon. (Wow, that sounds almost deadly)

Another commute, another coffee accident

The big maw of the ferry awaits me...
I had to really think where this is! Duh. It is Bremerton, home of the Navy Shipyards. And quaint coffee shops, antique stores, excellent public art and a few good art galleries. Yay Bremerton! I can't figure out how I took this picture. That is the rack on the truck unglamorously framing the shot.

My daily commute. Coffee cup just perched for spillin', laptop open and ready to receive that spill, and about 10 minutes into the ferry ride me drooling, face pressed up against the driver side window sleeping. Ah yes, I am a hot BABE.

Dress Shopping for Assistant to the Bride

I am seeing a pattern. Bridesmaid dresses all seem to be for much younger females than I. As in, ones with perky small non-childrearing breasts, a 'sleeker' waist and let's just face it, overall YOUNGER. The clincher was when I tried on a dress and had to manually pull parts of my anatomy up about 6 inches (I am not kidding) to smoosh in those parts of my anatomy into the too small breast containment zone. I could not figure out what the lumps were above my belly button. They were my boobs flattened. That was a very sad realization. Not a good look. (But hey, I would really make the lovely bride look good, wouldn't I?) And really, spaghetti straps? Those won't even hold my .... well, we are running a family style blog here. I am thinking the whole strapless concept is a danger zone for me unless this is a 'clothing optional' wedding. And it is not. What if I had to jump in the air with my arms up for some strange reason?

I think I will start looking at the mother of the bride/groom dresses.....

Habitat for Humanity - training

I have written before about my extreme love for the re-use building supply store. And craigslist. The reason I basically have close to $7000 worth of never installed bathroom materials sitting in the garage waiting to go in my "new" bathroom, and what did I pay? Kohler, Restoration Hardware, American Standard...ah yes, I paid just around $900.
There was an article in the paper yesterday about training for women on construction basics with then the ability to help build a house nearby. I am going for it. I am master at painting, but construction has me looking to the kids dad, friends or neighbors. It would be nice to know how to do it. Way way in my faraway youth I was trained on what I consider huge equipment for art school.... which had a masterful shop, but I recall none of that. Other than the saw was really big. And would take your finger tips off lickitysplit. And that the art piece I produced got good reviews and a killer story from a classmate at 4 in the morning the night before it was shown.
Such a long time ago. But I still remember that story!

Junior Bridesmaid Gowns by Alvina Valenta - Style 507

Now that I wonderfully thrown a fit at my gal pal 3 months before her wedding.... Rose has found her bridesmaid dress. We still need authorization from the bride for color choice, but it was grueling getting the daughter to pick a dress! There was one that she and I both Loved, but I figured the bride would not want two gals standing by her side dressed like classical roman slave girls ala 2010. I do have a wee bit of sense.
Junior Bridesmaid Gowns by Alvina Valenta - Style 507

About said personal fit: when longtime friends no longer keep in touch or share their lives with you the way they did, it sucks. I am just realizing how much it sucks and able to recognize it and no longer take it personally, but it is hard to lose that link in communication. When your lives are woven together by history, familarity, love, longevity and stories... I am torn between "I should have just kept it to myself since she is getting married in three months" and "share." I chose share, and we shall see where that goes. There is so much more wrapped up in this conversation... but the bottom line for me nowadays is trust. I suppose that will be my mantra for the rest of my days of living. And that squirrel-y word 'truth' which I used to believe was so concrete and black and white, and it is nothing of the sort. Where are those hard black and white words that we can solidly build upon? Which ones are written in stone?