Diaries I Read:
I feel like I�m out of the groove with the journal these days. I guess I�ve got too much tedium on my mind. Don�t want to bore you.
On Saturday, we went to our friend Eric�s wedding. It was an OK wedding � probably a 6 on a scale of 1-10. You know, sometimes I find myself sorta hoping something will go wrong at weddings, not out of any sense of malice toward my friends, but just so I�ll have a good story to tell. The only mishap of any sort was that one of the four (!) adorable blonde flowergirls stopped at the end of the aisle and began tossing all of her rose petals on the ground right in front of her. Everyone was looking back at her, aww-ing and giggling. Then she turned the whole basket upside-down, dumped the petals in a pile at her feet, turned, and ran sobbing into her mother�s arms. She was only two, maybe. It was cute.
The only other point of interest is the fact that B consumed about 15 rum and cokes throughout the evening. I had agreed to be the sober driver so he could get his drink on. He got his drink AND his freak on. I really wish I could adequately describe my husband doing the Humpty Dance. Pure hilarity. And kinda sexy, too, in a strange way.
The party FINALLY wound down around midnight and, as I�d been counting the minutes for the last hour, I was relieved when the DJ announced he was playing the last song. To my dismay, several of our friends (who had gotten rooms at the hotel � I thought it was stupid to get a room since it was about 20 minutes from our house) announced that they were going to the Jacuzzi.
B: �Babe! They�re going to the JACUUUUZZI!!!�
Me: �That�s great. We�re going home.�
B: �Aw, c�mon babe! I wanna go to the Jacuuuuzzi with my friends! C�mon, I can go to the Jacuzzi, can�t I?�
Me: �YOU can go to the Jacuzzi if you want, but I�m going home.�
B: �But they�re all going to the Jacuuuuuuzi! It�ll be fun. C�mo-on! Doesn�t it sound like fun?�
Me: �Fun? Sitting around the Jacuzzi in my linen dress with all you drunkards? No, it does not sound like fun. I told you, you can stay if you want to crash with somebody. But I�m going home. Now.�
B: �But if I stay, then you�ll be mad at me.�
Me: �No, I�ll be mad at you if you make me stand here arguing about this any longer.�
And so it went. It was pathetic, really. As it was, it took about 30 minutes to drag his sorry, drunk butt out of the hotel and head for home. All the Jacuzzi-goers were still sitting around the ballroom when we left. We wouldn�t have gotten out of there for another two hours.
When B woke up in his own bed in a clean pair of underwear and a toothbrush readily available, I think he was glad I had insisted on going home the night before. But man, I hate being the party-pooper nagging wife. I hate it when B puts me in that position and I look like drag of a wife who won�t let her husband have any fun.
Other than that, the weekend was a blur of running (eight miles on Saturday and six and a half on Sunday), shopping at Costco, doing laundry, cleaning the house (ugh, it was a mess � B tackled the downstairs and I took upstairs), making copies of PL paperwork for our attorney and the SBA loan people, and trying to draft up our business plan. The latter is really exhausting, tedious work. But everyone says it�s absolutely crucial to starting a successful business; plus that, you have to have one to get an SBA loan.
Our lives are going to be non-stop for the next few weeks. This week alone we�re going to an Angels game tonight; Wednesday I have an appointment with the allergist, my book club at night, and B heads out of town; Thursday is softball; Friday is a dinner bridal shower for a friend (that I�m giving � gotta make reservations and some cutesie little favors and stuff); Saturday is another Angels game with people from B�s new company; and Sunday is a big neighborhood block party. I�m tired just thinking about it. Plus that, I have to run five to six miles Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday, 10 miles on Saturday, and eight miles on Sunday. Whew.
I�m sure all of this isn�t very interesting to you. Sorry.
Maybe the pitcher will throw a chair at me tonight at the ballgame and I�ll have a good story to tell tomorrow. Or something.
Working at home - Wednesday, Nov. 17, 2004
Toronto - Tuesday, Nov. 16, 2004
On the way to Toronto... - Tuesday, Nov. 09, 2004
A Good Day - Monday, Nov. 08, 2004
Another letter - Thursday, Nov. 04, 2004