Nostalgia : October 2009 Archives


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October 28, 2000

... years ago today I walked down the aisle on the arm of my stepfather and prayed that I wouldn't trip on my train. He gripped my arm because he's terrified of being the center of attention anywhere, especially family. 

I didn't look at the faces of all our family and friends, 200 of them, who came to witness the marriage of a young man whom they thought would never marry and a fresh-from-teenhood girl whom they also thought would never marry. 

No one is good enough, the girl and boy had thought. Until they met each other. 

I didn't look at my grandmother who sat in stony silence after my mother sternly told her to behave herself, meaning no faux-fainting spells, wailing, sobbing, and other drama indigenous to my family, drama which manifests at such functions, usually to my amusement. 

I didn't look at my bridesmaids. Or my mother. 

It's funny how we spent so much time picking out flowers and decorations and the like because I didn't even see them while walking down the aisle. I'd forgotten about the colors we so carefully chose for the day, my dress, the food. I'd forgotten about the photographer waiting at the end of the aisle; the sound her shutter made was the only indication I had that time was actually passing. 

It was all so surreal. A flashback to when I was a little girl and thought about what my wedding day would be like; a hazy memory of first crushes, whoosh to when Chris and I first noticed each other from across the room through a sea of people, and finally God brought me to this moment. 

I can't tell you anything about my wedding. Were it not for the video and the guestbook, I wouldn't know who was there. All I saw at that moment was the young man waiting for me at the end of the aisle. And he was crying tears of happiness. 

Everyone has a pro and cons list they keep about themselves, locked away in a corner of their mind. He knows my cons (and I his) and loves me  - oddly, I think he loves me more because of them. 

The other day we argued over something which I'll forget about in a few weeks. We laid in bed, covered in darkness. He took a breath and said: "You know what I love most about you?"

I immediately thought of something physical. 

"You're stubbornness," he answered. "I love how fiercely you stand by things."

And then he kissed my forehead and went to sleep. 

I tried to think what I loved most about him. I went to sleep trying to narrow the list down, such was the length. 

Love. (I'm wearing a wig for Mardi Gras.)

My drunk hobo costume nonwithstanding

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The latest for Momversation at the bottom; it's all about slutty and gory kids' costumes. I wrote about this last year and still proclaim that the teen wolf costume is the best. It's taken a year, but Ewan is finally over his Grim Reaper phase. I am finally over my drunk clown hobo mail worker phase.

I blamed my parents. All their idea. 

My mother did it

I am wearing a Schlitz beer t-shirt, yes. Here's another shot. Parties offended: six - actual hobos, Schlitz employees, AB employees (did I mention that I dragged around a string of empty Budweiser cans?), clowns, postal workers, and the homeless. 

OH, and then there was THIS GEM:

Zombie in fashionable 80s tunic-dress

I'm not crafty like Giyen is; I could knit a costume I suppose but it would take several years and the finished product would look like a giant body sock with the arms all out of sorts, I'm positive. as you can see from the photo above, I always made my own costumes, which I still think is cool to do, it's just a bit easier when your kids are older, perhaps. My mother likes to get the kids their costumes and I'm sure would never dream of dressing them us as drunk hobos. 

The boys are going as Jango and Boba Fett, though Liam is careful to make the distinction: "He's my clone son, but only when the costumes are on."

This installment of Momversation is all about how the majority of Halloween costumes - kids' costumes - have lost all imagination. Seriously, put "dead" or "slutty" in front of something and voila! COSTUME.

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Dana asks: "Thanksgiving Traditions: Yours or Your Mother's?"