Via the $10,000 Wedding.
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
Embellishment.
I tend to agree with going against the homemade route (thanks commenters! You cheered me up) BUT I gotta say I was floored by these photos of a $68 dress from Target and a very talented bride:
Via the $10,000 Wedding.
Via the $10,000 Wedding.
Me too.
"I'll be watching the election returns clutching a Bible in one hand and a bottle of scotch in the other."--work person
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
Stupid economy making bargainhunters out of other brides...
Bummer--there was the most beautiful wedding dress on eBay, by my favorite wedding dress designer, at an amazing price, and I went in at the last minute to bid and I bid up and I bid up and whoever else wanted it wanted it, I guess, more.
I have a friend who designs dresses and I'm open to the idea of a custom dress, but it also makes me hugely nervous. What if I don't like it and it ruins the friendship? What if I'm not brave enough to tell her I don't like it and I wind up wearing something I don't love? Does one offer to pay someone for doing something like that, and if so, how much? What if it winds up LOOKING handmade, my worst fear of all? There are so many unknowns; it makes me very nervous.
I can't afford the dresses I really like, heh. And I'm too snobby to be happy with something that's not truly special. So I guess I'll keep looking, and comfort myself by reminding myself that the dress on eBay was a few sizes too big. I know things can get altered down, but with the many kinds of delicate fabric involved in this particular dress, I was worried about the alterations. And I still have almost a year to find the dress. Wah, you can tell I'm sad, but I'll get over it :)* My presentation went exceedingly well this afternoon, and in the grand scheme of things, that's more important (since an author's, you know, career depends upon it).
*In case you're wondering, I DID try the traditional "go to a bridal boutique with your mom" route, and it was one of the more disheartening experiences of my life. It's really awesome to be lectured sternly on the price of lace and basically shaken out the door with the rug after forty minutes. Trying on wedding dresses was supposed to make you cry in a good way, I thought, not a sad way.
In actual earthshattering news, the election is only seven days away. Discuss.
I have a friend who designs dresses and I'm open to the idea of a custom dress, but it also makes me hugely nervous. What if I don't like it and it ruins the friendship? What if I'm not brave enough to tell her I don't like it and I wind up wearing something I don't love? Does one offer to pay someone for doing something like that, and if so, how much? What if it winds up LOOKING handmade, my worst fear of all? There are so many unknowns; it makes me very nervous.
I can't afford the dresses I really like, heh. And I'm too snobby to be happy with something that's not truly special. So I guess I'll keep looking, and comfort myself by reminding myself that the dress on eBay was a few sizes too big. I know things can get altered down, but with the many kinds of delicate fabric involved in this particular dress, I was worried about the alterations. And I still have almost a year to find the dress. Wah, you can tell I'm sad, but I'll get over it :)* My presentation went exceedingly well this afternoon, and in the grand scheme of things, that's more important (since an author's, you know, career depends upon it).
*In case you're wondering, I DID try the traditional "go to a bridal boutique with your mom" route, and it was one of the more disheartening experiences of my life. It's really awesome to be lectured sternly on the price of lace and basically shaken out the door with the rug after forty minutes. Trying on wedding dresses was supposed to make you cry in a good way, I thought, not a sad way.
In actual earthshattering news, the election is only seven days away. Discuss.
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
Daddy dearest.
I've been meandering my way up to writing a post about the economy, saving money, planning a wedding in this economic climate, visitors, etc, but then I saw THIS and it jarred me out of my lazy blogging torpor:
"A new father has named his baby girl Sarah McCain Palin as an endorsement for Republican ticket...and without his wife's consent. Mark Ciptak of Tennessee says he picked the name to "get the word out" for McCain-Palin because he can't give a lot of money to the campaign. "I took one for the cause," he said. He wrote the name on the documents for his daughter's birth certificate, ignoring the name his wife picked, Ava Grace. “I don’t think she believes me yet,” said Ciptak. “It’s going to take some more convincing.” Yeah, it'll probably sink in when she sees the name written in the divorce documents." [The Knox News]--via Jezebel
WHAT an ASSHOLE. Even if he named the kid Michelle Barack Obama, I don't care. SHE DID ALL THE WORK! Holy crap, someone should punch that guy in the face.
"A new father has named his baby girl Sarah McCain Palin as an endorsement for Republican ticket...and without his wife's consent. Mark Ciptak of Tennessee says he picked the name to "get the word out" for McCain-Palin because he can't give a lot of money to the campaign. "I took one for the cause," he said. He wrote the name on the documents for his daughter's birth certificate, ignoring the name his wife picked, Ava Grace. “I don’t think she believes me yet,” said Ciptak. “It’s going to take some more convincing.” Yeah, it'll probably sink in when she sees the name written in the divorce documents." [The Knox News]--via Jezebel
WHAT an ASSHOLE. Even if he named the kid Michelle Barack Obama, I don't care. SHE DID ALL THE WORK! Holy crap, someone should punch that guy in the face.
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
Nine to five.
Last week I moved offices and now not only do I have a window and a printer and speakers and two lamps but somehow I think they switched out my mouse so it's the kind that CLICKS in the most satisfactory way. Life is good.
Sunday, September 14, 2008
This is why I don't like cell phones.
I’ve been secretly and not so secretly dreading today for a while: first race ever in the morning, when my lackluster training attempts haven’t led to me running farther than 30 minutes and 2.7 miles as a personal best; and moderating a book panel with some highfalutin’ authors in the afternoon, when public speaking and being in charge are two of my least favorite things.
Well, the race was fantastic. So exhilarating! I kept running the whole time and in fact beat Chris and Shelby, who were parking the car and didn’t expect me to be done yet, to the finish line. A personal best, distance and length of time. And the book panel went fine, despite 90 degree heat, glaring sunlight, and a crazy lady with a shopping cart strolling up and interrupting the proceedings with a broken-English yelling match.
After the panel was over, we went out for lunch to celebrate. I parted ways with my companions at the subway and, strolling home in a pleasant margarita haze, decided to call my grandmother, who’d donated to my race-fundraising efforts, to let her know I'd finished it successfully.
We chatted cheerily. I was almost home when the bombshell dropped.
“Now, you remember that my cousin has a daughter who works for Senator John McCain?”
“…Oh. Uh, how nice!”
“And she says to me, she says, “Norma, John McCain is a good man.”
“That’s very nice, Nanny.”
“I mean, I’ve never met John McCain. But when Barbie—I mean, Barbie’s daughter Amber, who works for him—says he’s a good man, doesn’t that give you great confidence?”
“…I’m really glad, Nanny.”
“Now—I just hope…I mean, who—well, I hope that helps you with what you’re thinking. Have you been following it much?”
“Nope, not really. I mean, I just … I don’t like to get into politics too much, I like to keep family things … I just don’t like to get into it.”
“Well, just as long as you’re not going to vote for someone who’s going to raise taxes!”
That’s when the tequila—or, I prefer to think, a hitherto-untapped source of bravery based in deeply felt convictions—kicked in.
“You know, Nanny, under Obama’s tax plan the middle class will benefit MORE from tax cuts than under John McCain. Under McCain the middle class will have to pay more taxes than they would under Obama.”
“That is not true! Obama wants to raise taxes for the middle class!”
“No, that’s just Fox News rhetoric. If you look at the facts, if you actually look at Obama’s tax plan side by side with McCain’s, the middle class will benefit more from Obama’s, and that has been reported by the Wall Street Journal, which is a conservative newspaper—“
“Obama is going to raise taxes for the corporations and for the rich people. And when we have to buy groceries, buy clothes, from these corporations, we are going to be suffering and paying more.”
[Blink.] “…Nanny, I just don’t like to talk about politics with family; I love you guys so much and I just want to keep it—I just love you guys so I don’t like to talk about it.”
“Okay, well…I’m just going to pray that you find the conviction to vote for the right candidate.” [The Right candidate?]
“Okay Nanny, I love you. Bye bye.”
So now my sweet grandmother, who was clearly so alarmed about my (never stated by me in family settings because I detest conflict) political standing that she brought the topic up at all, as indicated by her nervous laughs throughout the conversation, is going to be even more disappointed in me than she already is (because I live in sin); and I have to sit here and actively think about something I generally try to ignore which is that my entire family is so brainwashed that they are willing to ignore plain facts and vote for John McCain because he’s “a good man,” as my grandma’s cousin’s daughter (whose paychecks are signed by him) says, the man who will—if we let him—drive this country even deeper into the ground. There goes my high for the day. I’m throwing my cell phone out the window and watching it smash.
If they lived in Kansas, I’d probably be more able to let things slide. Naturally, they are--ALL--swing state residents.
...
I truly hate giving my grandparents distress. THIS coming after YESTERDAY’s lunch at which Chris had to intone “I don’t want to talk about it. I don’t want to talk about it.” in the face of HIS grandfather’s repeated attempts to compare Sarah Palin to Teddy Roosevelt. Grandparents, listen up. We are TRYING to respect our elders. Please don’t make it hard for us. Allow us to respect your life experiences and don't get in our face with viewpoints that will force us to lose that respect.
Well, the race was fantastic. So exhilarating! I kept running the whole time and in fact beat Chris and Shelby, who were parking the car and didn’t expect me to be done yet, to the finish line. A personal best, distance and length of time. And the book panel went fine, despite 90 degree heat, glaring sunlight, and a crazy lady with a shopping cart strolling up and interrupting the proceedings with a broken-English yelling match.
After the panel was over, we went out for lunch to celebrate. I parted ways with my companions at the subway and, strolling home in a pleasant margarita haze, decided to call my grandmother, who’d donated to my race-fundraising efforts, to let her know I'd finished it successfully.
We chatted cheerily. I was almost home when the bombshell dropped.
“Now, you remember that my cousin has a daughter who works for Senator John McCain?”
“…Oh. Uh, how nice!”
“And she says to me, she says, “Norma, John McCain is a good man.”
“That’s very nice, Nanny.”
“I mean, I’ve never met John McCain. But when Barbie—I mean, Barbie’s daughter Amber, who works for him—says he’s a good man, doesn’t that give you great confidence?”
“…I’m really glad, Nanny.”
“Now—I just hope…I mean, who—well, I hope that helps you with what you’re thinking. Have you been following it much?”
“Nope, not really. I mean, I just … I don’t like to get into politics too much, I like to keep family things … I just don’t like to get into it.”
“Well, just as long as you’re not going to vote for someone who’s going to raise taxes!”
That’s when the tequila—or, I prefer to think, a hitherto-untapped source of bravery based in deeply felt convictions—kicked in.
“You know, Nanny, under Obama’s tax plan the middle class will benefit MORE from tax cuts than under John McCain. Under McCain the middle class will have to pay more taxes than they would under Obama.”
“That is not true! Obama wants to raise taxes for the middle class!”
“No, that’s just Fox News rhetoric. If you look at the facts, if you actually look at Obama’s tax plan side by side with McCain’s, the middle class will benefit more from Obama’s, and that has been reported by the Wall Street Journal, which is a conservative newspaper—“
“Obama is going to raise taxes for the corporations and for the rich people. And when we have to buy groceries, buy clothes, from these corporations, we are going to be suffering and paying more.”
[Blink.] “…Nanny, I just don’t like to talk about politics with family; I love you guys so much and I just want to keep it—I just love you guys so I don’t like to talk about it.”
“Okay, well…I’m just going to pray that you find the conviction to vote for the right candidate.” [The Right candidate?]
“Okay Nanny, I love you. Bye bye.”
So now my sweet grandmother, who was clearly so alarmed about my (never stated by me in family settings because I detest conflict) political standing that she brought the topic up at all, as indicated by her nervous laughs throughout the conversation, is going to be even more disappointed in me than she already is (because I live in sin); and I have to sit here and actively think about something I generally try to ignore which is that my entire family is so brainwashed that they are willing to ignore plain facts and vote for John McCain because he’s “a good man,” as my grandma’s cousin’s daughter (whose paychecks are signed by him) says, the man who will—if we let him—drive this country even deeper into the ground. There goes my high for the day. I’m throwing my cell phone out the window and watching it smash.
If they lived in Kansas, I’d probably be more able to let things slide. Naturally, they are--ALL--swing state residents.
...
I truly hate giving my grandparents distress. THIS coming after YESTERDAY’s lunch at which Chris had to intone “I don’t want to talk about it. I don’t want to talk about it.” in the face of HIS grandfather’s repeated attempts to compare Sarah Palin to Teddy Roosevelt. Grandparents, listen up. We are TRYING to respect our elders. Please don’t make it hard for us. Allow us to respect your life experiences and don't get in our face with viewpoints that will force us to lose that respect.
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