I’m a girl, I can change my mind if I want to. AKA how I messed up the budget.
We’re at the seven month mark. Seven months to go and we have a lot done. What we don’t have done is saving a bunch of money. We’re both to blame so no finger pointing, it won’t help anyway. I am going to ask for more hours at my part time job and Chris, well, he has plans of his own. It is incredibly hard saving money when you don’t make much or what you do make goes to bills.
We have been gifted 60% of the wedding budget already. So we haven’t far to go to reach our five grand budget for the wedding. However we both have concluded we need $1,000 for the new apartment and another $2,000 for the honeymoon. Obviously in order of importance the apartment comes before the honeymoon. We were over by five hundred dollars on the wedding budget but we buttoned down and got it just at the original budget level. That’s even with added expenses, gifts for family, extra board games for *ahem something and a couple of small things.
That being said now we get to the real meat of my story. Wherein I screw up the budget with emotions and a change of my mind. (because I’m a girl and I can.)
Remember my post “Another Cinderella’s Ball”? If you do then you know that it was a post full of emotional uncertainty. I was trying to figure out if I wanted to use the dress I had from my previously life: B.C., Before Chris. Once upon a time I did love that dress. I tried it on again and I think two things happened and I settled for the dress. I saw the dress as being “beautiful enough for me” and secondly I didn’t want to needlessly spend money on another dress when I have a perfectly good one already in my possession. I do that a lot. I try to use what I’ve got then get frustrated when it doesn’t work and I end up trying to find the cheapest version of what I need instead of what is best.
In this regard I got both so let me explain.
When I first started having doubts I would look through bridal magazines and compare the dresses. Nothing stuck out at me except a lace tea length dress. Too casual and too expensive. I would compare the dress I had to the ones in the magazines and found the one I had was always winning. Still I would look at the pictures of the dress and feel a bit sad. A little longing that wouldn’t go away. It was pretty to be sure. But was it still me? If I was having doubts I should address them.
In the meantime since July I had been going to a store and seeing a gorgeous dress. It was simply beautiful, stunning, a favorite designer of mine, Mori Lee, and in the size I needed (with a corset back, a must have for me). And ‘it was so not me’ I told myself. Not my style. Too girly, too frou frou and too poofy. Anyway why was I looking when I had a perfectly good dress at home? But I kept coming back and looking to see if it was still there. Early August I went and looked and it was gone. Just when they had a really big sale. And it was GONE. Okay see, God was giving me a sign, its not meant to be. Just be happy with what you’ve got. One week later I went back and there it was again! Only two sizes too big this time. Oh. Well, another sign.
I kept going back and kept going back, I’d shop then go over to see if it was still there. That should have told me something. Finally one Friday nite in late October I gave in. I called Chris and asked “How much do you love me?” Through the conversation I explained I had a dress that I was about to try on. He knew that I was experiencing problems reconciling the old dress to the new wedding and the new me. But financially we couldn’t afford it. He was supportive and told me that whatever I decided we’d find a way to make it happen.
So I waited and waited and waited for the large fitting rooms to open up. (I’ll bet you’re wondering just where the heck I am at this point…..) I talked to a girl who worked there off and on while I waited. She finally banged on the door and asked the person (who happened to be an employee) if she was done because someone needed the room. After waiting and over analyzing what I was doing for fifteen minutes the girl finally came out. I had asked Chris to come over and help me with the dress but the girl, Leah, who worked there said she’d help so he didn’t see the dress. I am glad she was there because the dress was too big and she ended up clipping the back for me to see the finished product. It was so pretty I almost cried. It is nothing like I wanted before but everything that I do want now. I look at it and I see Belle’s gown in Beauty and the Beast. Except for a few minor things like it’s not yellow, doesn’t have sleeves and it has pick-ups instead of ruffles on the bottom. Oh just a few differences! But if you’d like to see it check out Morilee.com style number 6106.
So I decided to buy the dress. I had a 20% off coupon so it came to be $180.00. Yes just a bit under two hundred dollars. When others spend a lot more I was worried about that small amount. Silly I know but budget wise we have no room. At that point 180 bucks is more than we can spare.
And the biggest shocker is actually where I found it. Tags on it still, brand new and in pristine condition. I found it at a thrift store called Savers. Amazing, huh? I can only think that since they had two (or more) of the same dress that it was a bridal store that went out of business. They give a tax write off for items donated. The only thing is I was kinda sad that I had my weepy dress moment in the family fitting room at Savers alone except for a nice stranger who works there. But whatever works, now that I have the dress I absolutely love.
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
Thursday, October 21, 2010
Tattoo I do or Tattoo I don't
Tattoo I do? Or Tattoo I Don’t?
When I turned 19 I wanted a tattoo. I wanted it enough to wrangle my friends into giving me money for my birthday so I could go out and get one. What I wanted was a rose and since my favorite color is, was and always will be purple, I wanted it that color. But being 19, excited and shy I just went to the first tattoo place I found. I picked the 'best' looking rose and went with it.
I wanted it in a place that would be easily hidden if I didn’t want it to be seen, but seen if I wanted it to. So I chose a few inches down from my shoulder on the left part of my chest. Straight over from my armpit. I still remember being so embarrassed because I had to wear a tank top to get it done. GASP! A tank top! In public! Oh NOoooooOOoooOooooo! I can laugh now at how I lacked self esteem to wear a tank top out, yet wanted a rose tattoo on my chest. Go figure.
When I went into the back to get the tattoo done I had to sit back in a chair much like a dentist chair. Another guy was there and suddenly had his head hovering over my chest. Ah, excuse you?! The tattoo artist said he was an assistant just learning and wanted to know if it was okay for him to watch. What was I to say? No, get your head outta my boob-area? I was 19, about to get a tattoo and ultra shy wearing a worn out old tank top. So I said yes.
Then he started and the PAIN of it jolted like electricity through me. OWEE OW OW!! See normal women have things called breasts. They are mostly flabby tissue. Like pillows of fat. Sorry women, but it’s true, if it’s not milk, its fat. (Or silicone if you fake it.) Anyway as I said before the tattoo is farther up my chest making it even further from anything soft. So when I was laying back in the chair suddenly the tattoo was no longer on anything soft and void of nerve endings. What it was on was hard chest, rib cage - my torso full of pain as he tattooed onto my skin. OW!!
Oh and I’ll take this opportunity to explain something. I’m scared of needles. Yes. Scared of needles. Another head scratcher I know. How did I end up getting tattoo? Shear nerves. I know I wasn’t drunk, they don’t tattoo inebriated people. Plus I was 19 and this was my rebellion! Don’t back down! Do it to prove something! Getting a tattoo was my ultimate angst fueled battle against….. um…. I don’t remember. . ..
So after all that pain I had my tattoo. It hurt like a son of a gun. I’d say something harsher but I’ve lost all angst in that one battle. After the required time limit I took the bloody bandage off and saw my new tattoo. About 2” long by 1.25” wide it isn’t overly big and sort of looked like an on-the-verge-of-wilting flower. The petals look spiky and overall it really didn’t age too well. (My fault for not taking care of it.) Kind of small and pitiful looking, but its mine and I’ve got it for the rest of my life.
So in general it doesn’t cause a problem. I’m not ashamed of it anymore than the other parts of my past. I’ve had wrongs but they usually didn’t leave such a visible lasting mark. But sometimes it sneaks out from my clothes without me knowing. People are surprised and usually say, oh you’ve got a tattoo (because generally I don’t walk around wearing a tube top.) Though it is more visible now because I have better self esteem and wear tank tops a lot more. (out in public no less!)
But after saying I’m not ashamed of it I sound like a hypocrite when I say this: I’m not sure I want it to be seen during our wedding.
Yeah that’s really hypocritical of me to say but let me explain. I wore a strapless gown for Mindy’s wedding. And it seemed fine and all. I don’t cringe when looking at her pictures. You can see almost all of it and it looks okay. But I have a picture of me in my wedding dress when I tried it on. And the annoying thing is my tattoo shows about the top part of the rose and that’s it. For me it’s all or none! I don’t want a little peeking out, it’s distracting.
So what to do? I could photoshop every_single_picture of our wedding. But man, who would want to do that?! A tattoo removal is painful and just NOT in the wedding budget. Plus I’m fine with it for every other day of my life. I’m looking at tattoo cover up kits. But since it is right up against my dress I’d hate to stain it. ACK! What else is a girl to do?
I need advice!
By the way, probably not the best time to say this but I'm thinking of getting another tattoo. This one on my back of my favorite saying: We must be the change we wish to see in the world.
Um yeah. Perhaps AFTER the wedding....
When I turned 19 I wanted a tattoo. I wanted it enough to wrangle my friends into giving me money for my birthday so I could go out and get one. What I wanted was a rose and since my favorite color is, was and always will be purple, I wanted it that color. But being 19, excited and shy I just went to the first tattoo place I found. I picked the 'best' looking rose and went with it.
I wanted it in a place that would be easily hidden if I didn’t want it to be seen, but seen if I wanted it to. So I chose a few inches down from my shoulder on the left part of my chest. Straight over from my armpit. I still remember being so embarrassed because I had to wear a tank top to get it done. GASP! A tank top! In public! Oh NOoooooOOoooOooooo! I can laugh now at how I lacked self esteem to wear a tank top out, yet wanted a rose tattoo on my chest. Go figure.
When I went into the back to get the tattoo done I had to sit back in a chair much like a dentist chair. Another guy was there and suddenly had his head hovering over my chest. Ah, excuse you?! The tattoo artist said he was an assistant just learning and wanted to know if it was okay for him to watch. What was I to say? No, get your head outta my boob-area? I was 19, about to get a tattoo and ultra shy wearing a worn out old tank top. So I said yes.
Then he started and the PAIN of it jolted like electricity through me. OWEE OW OW!! See normal women have things called breasts. They are mostly flabby tissue. Like pillows of fat. Sorry women, but it’s true, if it’s not milk, its fat. (Or silicone if you fake it.) Anyway as I said before the tattoo is farther up my chest making it even further from anything soft. So when I was laying back in the chair suddenly the tattoo was no longer on anything soft and void of nerve endings. What it was on was hard chest, rib cage - my torso full of pain as he tattooed onto my skin. OW!!
Oh and I’ll take this opportunity to explain something. I’m scared of needles. Yes. Scared of needles. Another head scratcher I know. How did I end up getting tattoo? Shear nerves. I know I wasn’t drunk, they don’t tattoo inebriated people. Plus I was 19 and this was my rebellion! Don’t back down! Do it to prove something! Getting a tattoo was my ultimate angst fueled battle against….. um…. I don’t remember. . ..
So after all that pain I had my tattoo. It hurt like a son of a gun. I’d say something harsher but I’ve lost all angst in that one battle. After the required time limit I took the bloody bandage off and saw my new tattoo. About 2” long by 1.25” wide it isn’t overly big and sort of looked like an on-the-verge-of-wilting flower. The petals look spiky and overall it really didn’t age too well. (My fault for not taking care of it.) Kind of small and pitiful looking, but its mine and I’ve got it for the rest of my life.
So in general it doesn’t cause a problem. I’m not ashamed of it anymore than the other parts of my past. I’ve had wrongs but they usually didn’t leave such a visible lasting mark. But sometimes it sneaks out from my clothes without me knowing. People are surprised and usually say, oh you’ve got a tattoo (because generally I don’t walk around wearing a tube top.) Though it is more visible now because I have better self esteem and wear tank tops a lot more. (out in public no less!)
But after saying I’m not ashamed of it I sound like a hypocrite when I say this: I’m not sure I want it to be seen during our wedding.
Yeah that’s really hypocritical of me to say but let me explain. I wore a strapless gown for Mindy’s wedding. And it seemed fine and all. I don’t cringe when looking at her pictures. You can see almost all of it and it looks okay. But I have a picture of me in my wedding dress when I tried it on. And the annoying thing is my tattoo shows about the top part of the rose and that’s it. For me it’s all or none! I don’t want a little peeking out, it’s distracting.
So what to do? I could photoshop every_single_picture of our wedding. But man, who would want to do that?! A tattoo removal is painful and just NOT in the wedding budget. Plus I’m fine with it for every other day of my life. I’m looking at tattoo cover up kits. But since it is right up against my dress I’d hate to stain it. ACK! What else is a girl to do?
I need advice!
By the way, probably not the best time to say this but I'm thinking of getting another tattoo. This one on my back of my favorite saying: We must be the change we wish to see in the world.
Um yeah. Perhaps AFTER the wedding....
Thursday, October 14, 2010
Check check check
Check check check…..
Seven Months, three weeks…..
Or 236 days…
I get daily emails reminding me with daily tips that the days are counting down. I started the countdown on my calendar about a hundred days ago. Now daily I get emails to tell me what I should be doing. Some are really useful. Some are really useful …. for someone else. And a select few are fairly frou-frou. (That’s the word I use for girly and unnecessary.) Like: Arrange a printer or hire a calligrapher for table cards (7 months). (Pretty flowing handwritten names not high on our list of priorities) Discuss attendant’s duties with your maid of honor and bridesmaids (8-9 months) I really can’t see having this discussion with my girls unless they’ve never been in a wedding. Would you have this talk with groomsmen? I think not. But afterall Etiquette doesn’t sleep. And neither should the bride….. That I think is the sole purpose of a wedding checklist timeline. Dun dun da dunnnnnn!
And then there’s the real reason I wrote this blog post. Stretching out weddings for every penny they are worth. Many times if you are waiting more than a year for a wedding it is because of money concerns. I believe the wedding industry takes advantage of this by exploiting bride and groom’s desire to “do something” early on in the planning stages. Because so much happens in the last 6 months and before that there isn’t much to do but save money, plan and dream. So now the wedding checklists you find in magazines and books drive the timelines out of whack for all but the wealthiest of brides.
Determine your design, wording, font and paper stock for your wedding invitations, stationary, table cards and thank you notes, finalize order (7months) Yes, pick out the style and color but to finalize at 7 months? Whoaaaa…. We don’t even know the time the ceremony will start yet! Choose and order bridesmaid dresses and accessories-8 months. For Mindy’s wedding we ordered the dresses five months in advance. And they came three months in advance of the wedding. I’m asking my girls to look with me six months before, in January. A lot can happen to a woman’s body in eight months. Ask my friends who have had kids. *giggle*
And the final one that got me started ranting about the whacked out timeline:
Register for gifts (9-10 months, some checklists say sooner)
A little background about me. I love a good sale. By sale I mean clearance sale. As in, this is going buh-bye and we want it gone, here is our rock bottom price. “Normal” ad type sales are for things that will stick around, for generating interest in items the store wants you to buy now when it’s on sale or better yet, come back next week and get it at full price. Oh yeah I get my kicks on the back of the racks. The red and orange stickers haphazardly smashed into the front of the box, the side of the bin or stuck to the barcode. That’s where I get my deals. Sometimes it back fires if it is something I wish I had more of. Like shampoo that gets discontinued or snack flavors they stop making. Often it is seasonal items and you get one shot at it. The week-after-Halloween bat t-shirt marked 75% (off or better yet, 90% off). The day after Christmas 50% is pretty cool but the New Years Day 75% off xmas merchandise sale is even better… SCORE! And right now all the college dorm stuff sales make me happy. Dishes, bowls, bath rugs, even notebooks. Time to get more of those awesome bowl/plate combos. It’s a plate, it’s a bowl, its perfect for pastahhhhh! I could infomercianalize those but I won’t.
So where am I going with this? Other than off on a tangent. Pastabowl plates!
Registering early has its perks and pitfalls. While you may get to check off one more thing from the to-do list there are downsides to doing it too early. Many times I’ve gone looking through at a list for a wedding at stores only to find they’ve been marked down to clearance. Ahhh, but that’s great you say, save the people who love us money, right? WRONG. Good luck finding said clearance object. Try it but once. Grab an employee and ask them where it is. They’ll look at the list, go to the spot where it was, tap on the tag a bit, mumble, go to the aisle endcap with the clearance, stare at the list and say it should be there, it says we have three left. Then they mumble something like, sorry and walk away. Leaving you all alone to contemplate the rest of the stuff left on the list.
So unless you are registering for a car (which only gets booted out of the ‘store’ once a year) you’re better off going to register max of 6 months in advance. Or the middle of the season just before your wedding. Because even if you don’t set foot in any aisle with seasonal stuff you know there is a huge chance they won’t have your dishes, dish towels, bedding or super fantabulous as-seen-on-t.v. gadgetry. The dining sets get changed out at least three times a year, new colors come in for bath and bedding. Out with the old, in with the new!
This is all just advice for brides who aren’t going to be heading to downtown Minneapolis to register for fine china or crystal stemware. (That is the stuff they keep in stock for years. You’re safe registering for that.) If you are that kind of bride or you just want to mark something off that grand Wedding Planning Checklist then go right ahead. It’s a big world and diversity makes it wonderful. So go grab your calligrapher, call up your printer, wrangle your fiancée and head to the nearest store to beep your way through the aisles. In the meantime I’ll keep working on my save the dates and watching the shows I’ve dvr-ed. I’ve got a lot of Glee to catch up on afterall.
Seven Months, three weeks…..
Or 236 days…
I get daily emails reminding me with daily tips that the days are counting down. I started the countdown on my calendar about a hundred days ago. Now daily I get emails to tell me what I should be doing. Some are really useful. Some are really useful …. for someone else. And a select few are fairly frou-frou. (That’s the word I use for girly and unnecessary.) Like: Arrange a printer or hire a calligrapher for table cards (7 months). (Pretty flowing handwritten names not high on our list of priorities) Discuss attendant’s duties with your maid of honor and bridesmaids (8-9 months) I really can’t see having this discussion with my girls unless they’ve never been in a wedding. Would you have this talk with groomsmen? I think not. But afterall Etiquette doesn’t sleep. And neither should the bride….. That I think is the sole purpose of a wedding checklist timeline. Dun dun da dunnnnnn!
And then there’s the real reason I wrote this blog post. Stretching out weddings for every penny they are worth. Many times if you are waiting more than a year for a wedding it is because of money concerns. I believe the wedding industry takes advantage of this by exploiting bride and groom’s desire to “do something” early on in the planning stages. Because so much happens in the last 6 months and before that there isn’t much to do but save money, plan and dream. So now the wedding checklists you find in magazines and books drive the timelines out of whack for all but the wealthiest of brides.
Determine your design, wording, font and paper stock for your wedding invitations, stationary, table cards and thank you notes, finalize order (7months) Yes, pick out the style and color but to finalize at 7 months? Whoaaaa…. We don’t even know the time the ceremony will start yet! Choose and order bridesmaid dresses and accessories-8 months. For Mindy’s wedding we ordered the dresses five months in advance. And they came three months in advance of the wedding. I’m asking my girls to look with me six months before, in January. A lot can happen to a woman’s body in eight months. Ask my friends who have had kids. *giggle*
And the final one that got me started ranting about the whacked out timeline:
Register for gifts (9-10 months, some checklists say sooner)
A little background about me. I love a good sale. By sale I mean clearance sale. As in, this is going buh-bye and we want it gone, here is our rock bottom price. “Normal” ad type sales are for things that will stick around, for generating interest in items the store wants you to buy now when it’s on sale or better yet, come back next week and get it at full price. Oh yeah I get my kicks on the back of the racks. The red and orange stickers haphazardly smashed into the front of the box, the side of the bin or stuck to the barcode. That’s where I get my deals. Sometimes it back fires if it is something I wish I had more of. Like shampoo that gets discontinued or snack flavors they stop making. Often it is seasonal items and you get one shot at it. The week-after-Halloween bat t-shirt marked 75% (off or better yet, 90% off). The day after Christmas 50% is pretty cool but the New Years Day 75% off xmas merchandise sale is even better… SCORE! And right now all the college dorm stuff sales make me happy. Dishes, bowls, bath rugs, even notebooks. Time to get more of those awesome bowl/plate combos. It’s a plate, it’s a bowl, its perfect for pastahhhhh! I could infomercianalize those but I won’t.
So where am I going with this? Other than off on a tangent. Pastabowl plates!
Registering early has its perks and pitfalls. While you may get to check off one more thing from the to-do list there are downsides to doing it too early. Many times I’ve gone looking through at a list for a wedding at stores only to find they’ve been marked down to clearance. Ahhh, but that’s great you say, save the people who love us money, right? WRONG. Good luck finding said clearance object. Try it but once. Grab an employee and ask them where it is. They’ll look at the list, go to the spot where it was, tap on the tag a bit, mumble, go to the aisle endcap with the clearance, stare at the list and say it should be there, it says we have three left. Then they mumble something like, sorry and walk away. Leaving you all alone to contemplate the rest of the stuff left on the list.
So unless you are registering for a car (which only gets booted out of the ‘store’ once a year) you’re better off going to register max of 6 months in advance. Or the middle of the season just before your wedding. Because even if you don’t set foot in any aisle with seasonal stuff you know there is a huge chance they won’t have your dishes, dish towels, bedding or super fantabulous as-seen-on-t.v. gadgetry. The dining sets get changed out at least three times a year, new colors come in for bath and bedding. Out with the old, in with the new!
This is all just advice for brides who aren’t going to be heading to downtown Minneapolis to register for fine china or crystal stemware. (That is the stuff they keep in stock for years. You’re safe registering for that.) If you are that kind of bride or you just want to mark something off that grand Wedding Planning Checklist then go right ahead. It’s a big world and diversity makes it wonderful. So go grab your calligrapher, call up your printer, wrangle your fiancée and head to the nearest store to beep your way through the aisles. In the meantime I’ll keep working on my save the dates and watching the shows I’ve dvr-ed. I’ve got a lot of Glee to catch up on afterall.
Thursday, August 19, 2010
A Real Life Toy Story 3
Overwhelmed.
Lately I’ve been feeling overwhelmed when I get home. Especially when I go into my bedroom. Since I was a teen my bedroom has been my getaway. My place to escape and also my storage spot. When I was a kid though I used to drag all my toys into the livingroom and play there, not my room. Finally my parents, being fed up with their couch being a toy box, told me to go play in my bedroom.
But now when I walk into my bedroom there is no place to play even if I had the urge to break out some toys. (Okay I KNOW a few of you are thinking dirty just because the words bedroom, play and toys were in the same sentence. Oh and the word urge. Don’t go there!) I have piles of stuff with two paths, one to the window/air conditioner and one to my bed and closet. This is no way for a grown woman to live. Though I fully admit I’m not a grown woman. That is another blog post though.
Embarassed.
When I tried on my dress a few weeks back I prayed my mom (who helped me into it) would not say anything about my room. My parents have the habit of KNOWING I’m not a grown woman and calling me out on stuff like you would a 16 year old. Ugh. Anyway as she was helping me and having a hard time she kept backing up into the piles of stuff. I was embarrassed. Then a couple weeks later Mindy came into my room to help me into it again so she could see it. Again I was embarrassed. There is a reason ‘bare ass’ is in that word. That’s how you feel like you are. I felt shameful like I was naked and ‘bare assed’.
Denial. Not just a river in Egypt.
Let me stop here because I don’t want you to have the wrong impression. I am not a hoarder. You watch the show Hoarders and see gobs of flies sitting on old rotten food and find animal carcasses both domesticated and feral under piles of junk. I may be in denial and I know not all hoarders keep garbage but my problem is I happen to just be lazy with occasional fits of cleanliness. All my stuff is clothes, knick knacks, books and whatnots I’ve acquired or I’ve been given over the years. I don’t keep every pizza box, clean it and shove it away in case I need to deliver 27 pizzas somewhere. Honestly I talked to a couple in St Cloud at a garage sale and they said his mother did just that.
Saying goodbye to old friends ala Toy Story 3.
So let’s get back to staring at the massive amount of stuff in my room. As I stand there looking I get overwhelmed so I put it off. But lately I have had an itch. I read a saying that said: “Live Simply So Others Can Simply Live.” Have I been living simply? No. I see that in the piles of stuff I haven’t taken care of. In the jewelry that falls behind the shelf and stays there because there is just too much stuff in the way. I see it also in the large Rubbermaid tubs where I keep old memories, toys, books and clothes that never get used. Sadly they may never get used or looked at again if I just keep feeling overwhelmed. So I sat down on the floor Sunday morning and started. Slowly at first I went through what I found on the floor by a bookshelf. I put things into three piles: toss, donate and keep. Then on the bookshelf I pulled off the books, categorized them and re-arranged the shelves to fit some large scrapbooks on them. I carefully worked my way down one wall. Then I worked on what was in the tubs so I could have room to put away things in the keep pile. I re-arranged parts of my room while doing this. I found it got easier and easier as I tried to look at everything with an analytical eye. I tried to distance myself emotionally. It worked for the most part.
Partius Interruptus.
Soon it was time to go to a birthday party and my cleaning was interrupted. After that I met up with my parents. A friend texted me to tell me she was in town but my room was even more of a disaster than when I started. I told her no and sent her a picture. But by then the disaster was orderly piles instead of disarray. Hurrah! Then the feeling of being overwhelmed came back extra strong. I must have been emotional because I fell asleep on the hard floor for a half hour. Holy crap. The hardest part of it all is parting with gifts and things from my childhood. Three porcelain dolls I have was hard. But I consoled myself knowing that maybe some little girl would cherish them as I did when I was younger. I have no room now to display all my knick knacks and they would make someone happy.
So the next two nites I kept plugging away at the piles, at the tubs, the bookshelves, and the closet. On Tuesday nite a bit before 8pm I loaded up my car full of stuff. My whole back seat and the floor (my trunk is a gateway to Narnia so I can’t use that…..) and the front seat piled a foot from the ceiling and the floor as well. Just to give you an idea that my car does in fact at this point look like it belongs next to that “van down by the river”. I decided when I started this that I’d like to give most of it to the Place of Hope or Expressions of Hope on East St Germain. They are a Christian church that has a thrift store. So I drove through downtown, over the bridge and found that they were closed. Blah. So much for giving it to them. I called up Savers at 8:10 pm and found that they only accept donations til 8pm. Crap. Crap. Crap. I have a car full of stuff that like a bandaid I just want to rip off and have a clean break. The next nite I worked at Fashion Bug so I didn’t have time then.
So for the last two days I’ve had a car full of stuff. I do look like I’m homeless. Great. Just the look I was going for. I should throw some Mcdonald’s wrappers in for good measure.
Hopefully tonite I will have my not-so-clean break and give it all away. I started out wanting to give away a third of my possessions and so far I’d estimate it was more like a sixth to an eighth. Good start but hopefully I’m not done. God granted me the strength to start now I hope he’s got more for me to continue.
Lately I’ve been feeling overwhelmed when I get home. Especially when I go into my bedroom. Since I was a teen my bedroom has been my getaway. My place to escape and also my storage spot. When I was a kid though I used to drag all my toys into the livingroom and play there, not my room. Finally my parents, being fed up with their couch being a toy box, told me to go play in my bedroom.
But now when I walk into my bedroom there is no place to play even if I had the urge to break out some toys. (Okay I KNOW a few of you are thinking dirty just because the words bedroom, play and toys were in the same sentence. Oh and the word urge. Don’t go there!) I have piles of stuff with two paths, one to the window/air conditioner and one to my bed and closet. This is no way for a grown woman to live. Though I fully admit I’m not a grown woman. That is another blog post though.
Embarassed.
When I tried on my dress a few weeks back I prayed my mom (who helped me into it) would not say anything about my room. My parents have the habit of KNOWING I’m not a grown woman and calling me out on stuff like you would a 16 year old. Ugh. Anyway as she was helping me and having a hard time she kept backing up into the piles of stuff. I was embarrassed. Then a couple weeks later Mindy came into my room to help me into it again so she could see it. Again I was embarrassed. There is a reason ‘bare ass’ is in that word. That’s how you feel like you are. I felt shameful like I was naked and ‘bare assed’.
Denial. Not just a river in Egypt.
Let me stop here because I don’t want you to have the wrong impression. I am not a hoarder. You watch the show Hoarders and see gobs of flies sitting on old rotten food and find animal carcasses both domesticated and feral under piles of junk. I may be in denial and I know not all hoarders keep garbage but my problem is I happen to just be lazy with occasional fits of cleanliness. All my stuff is clothes, knick knacks, books and whatnots I’ve acquired or I’ve been given over the years. I don’t keep every pizza box, clean it and shove it away in case I need to deliver 27 pizzas somewhere. Honestly I talked to a couple in St Cloud at a garage sale and they said his mother did just that.
Saying goodbye to old friends ala Toy Story 3.
So let’s get back to staring at the massive amount of stuff in my room. As I stand there looking I get overwhelmed so I put it off. But lately I have had an itch. I read a saying that said: “Live Simply So Others Can Simply Live.” Have I been living simply? No. I see that in the piles of stuff I haven’t taken care of. In the jewelry that falls behind the shelf and stays there because there is just too much stuff in the way. I see it also in the large Rubbermaid tubs where I keep old memories, toys, books and clothes that never get used. Sadly they may never get used or looked at again if I just keep feeling overwhelmed. So I sat down on the floor Sunday morning and started. Slowly at first I went through what I found on the floor by a bookshelf. I put things into three piles: toss, donate and keep. Then on the bookshelf I pulled off the books, categorized them and re-arranged the shelves to fit some large scrapbooks on them. I carefully worked my way down one wall. Then I worked on what was in the tubs so I could have room to put away things in the keep pile. I re-arranged parts of my room while doing this. I found it got easier and easier as I tried to look at everything with an analytical eye. I tried to distance myself emotionally. It worked for the most part.
Partius Interruptus.
Soon it was time to go to a birthday party and my cleaning was interrupted. After that I met up with my parents. A friend texted me to tell me she was in town but my room was even more of a disaster than when I started. I told her no and sent her a picture. But by then the disaster was orderly piles instead of disarray. Hurrah! Then the feeling of being overwhelmed came back extra strong. I must have been emotional because I fell asleep on the hard floor for a half hour. Holy crap. The hardest part of it all is parting with gifts and things from my childhood. Three porcelain dolls I have was hard. But I consoled myself knowing that maybe some little girl would cherish them as I did when I was younger. I have no room now to display all my knick knacks and they would make someone happy.
So the next two nites I kept plugging away at the piles, at the tubs, the bookshelves, and the closet. On Tuesday nite a bit before 8pm I loaded up my car full of stuff. My whole back seat and the floor (my trunk is a gateway to Narnia so I can’t use that…..) and the front seat piled a foot from the ceiling and the floor as well. Just to give you an idea that my car does in fact at this point look like it belongs next to that “van down by the river”. I decided when I started this that I’d like to give most of it to the Place of Hope or Expressions of Hope on East St Germain. They are a Christian church that has a thrift store. So I drove through downtown, over the bridge and found that they were closed. Blah. So much for giving it to them. I called up Savers at 8:10 pm and found that they only accept donations til 8pm. Crap. Crap. Crap. I have a car full of stuff that like a bandaid I just want to rip off and have a clean break. The next nite I worked at Fashion Bug so I didn’t have time then.
So for the last two days I’ve had a car full of stuff. I do look like I’m homeless. Great. Just the look I was going for. I should throw some Mcdonald’s wrappers in for good measure.
Hopefully tonite I will have my not-so-clean break and give it all away. I started out wanting to give away a third of my possessions and so far I’d estimate it was more like a sixth to an eighth. Good start but hopefully I’m not done. God granted me the strength to start now I hope he’s got more for me to continue.
Monday, August 16, 2010
True friendship is a poke in the butt
The women in my life.
This last weekend my sister and I saw the movie Grown Ups. Even with me being a huge movie buff I count this as my new favorite comedy. It seemed like a cross between Indian Summer, Cheaper by the Dozen 2, and Now and Then. It felt so real like someone’s home movies. It didn’t feel like acting and I can see the actors had a lot of fun making it. This got me to thinking about my group of friends and the friends I’ve had in my life. So today I want to talk about are the girls in my life. If it wasn’t for the girls who have supported me with their tears, my tears and our laughter I would be a different person today. Ask my mom, friendships mean a lot to me.
Let me explain. Back in school I was a bit of an outcast. Remember when being an outcast was bad, not good? Yeah, those days. Anyway I was a weird little kid, weird shy preteen and weirder teen. (I’m not throwing my own pity party, just stating facts.) In high school I finally started to get friends. In the 6th, 7th and 8th grades my friends were sort of the outcasts drawn together. I am thankful for those friendships, they got me through a lot. But in high school I started to get close, lasting friends. Also I started to grow up. My social finesse was quite lacking. For instance take how I met my best friend in high school. I came up to her in choir, introduced myself and asked her what she liked to collect. Then I said…… I collect rocks! (Pause for laughter) Yes, and she ended up my friend (still is!) even after that!
Then in college things changed. I really grew, I became less shy. Thankfully no more talk of rocks. Also I could talk to guys who weren’t close friends. Whoa. What’s happening?
So what I’m saying is I don’t take friendships lightly. Pretty much someone has to ignore me for a long time or say I don’t want to be your friend for me to not count them as a friend. Maybe that’s good, maybe that’s bad. It also means I don’t walk away from toxic relationships either. Thankfully though I think all of my closest friends aren’t toxic. Maybe fattening and cholesterol filled but not toxic. NOM NOM NOM French Fries and chocolate…..nom nom nom
I have so many close friends that I can tell anything to that I feel blessed. I have many not close friendships too and some acquaintances as well. But it is those close friends I hold in my heart. You know you’ve got a close friend when you can poke her in the butt walking up the stairs and all she does is goes slower on purpose or yells at you to knock it the hell off.
Ah, true friendship is a poke in the caboose.
This last weekend my sister and I saw the movie Grown Ups. Even with me being a huge movie buff I count this as my new favorite comedy. It seemed like a cross between Indian Summer, Cheaper by the Dozen 2, and Now and Then. It felt so real like someone’s home movies. It didn’t feel like acting and I can see the actors had a lot of fun making it. This got me to thinking about my group of friends and the friends I’ve had in my life. So today I want to talk about are the girls in my life. If it wasn’t for the girls who have supported me with their tears, my tears and our laughter I would be a different person today. Ask my mom, friendships mean a lot to me.
Let me explain. Back in school I was a bit of an outcast. Remember when being an outcast was bad, not good? Yeah, those days. Anyway I was a weird little kid, weird shy preteen and weirder teen. (I’m not throwing my own pity party, just stating facts.) In high school I finally started to get friends. In the 6th, 7th and 8th grades my friends were sort of the outcasts drawn together. I am thankful for those friendships, they got me through a lot. But in high school I started to get close, lasting friends. Also I started to grow up. My social finesse was quite lacking. For instance take how I met my best friend in high school. I came up to her in choir, introduced myself and asked her what she liked to collect. Then I said…… I collect rocks! (Pause for laughter) Yes, and she ended up my friend (still is!) even after that!
Then in college things changed. I really grew, I became less shy. Thankfully no more talk of rocks. Also I could talk to guys who weren’t close friends. Whoa. What’s happening?
So what I’m saying is I don’t take friendships lightly. Pretty much someone has to ignore me for a long time or say I don’t want to be your friend for me to not count them as a friend. Maybe that’s good, maybe that’s bad. It also means I don’t walk away from toxic relationships either. Thankfully though I think all of my closest friends aren’t toxic. Maybe fattening and cholesterol filled but not toxic. NOM NOM NOM French Fries and chocolate…..nom nom nom
I have so many close friends that I can tell anything to that I feel blessed. I have many not close friendships too and some acquaintances as well. But it is those close friends I hold in my heart. You know you’ve got a close friend when you can poke her in the butt walking up the stairs and all she does is goes slower on purpose or yells at you to knock it the hell off.
Ah, true friendship is a poke in the caboose.
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
Not a surprise, I'm cheap.
In an ongoing effort to NOT keep things secret and NOT a surprise I bring you my latest find!
I ordered these off the fashionbug website and had them sent to the store for free shipping. Well yeah, I work there so I’d be going there anyway! Ha ha
They were originally 12.99 and on the website they were marked down to 5.35 AND buy one get one FREE. My total was 16.70 for six pairs! That figures out to be 2.78 per pair! WAHOO!
I’m giving them to all of my bridesmaids. I order half Large, half medium. Only thing I’m worried about is one BM Nellie. She wears a size 11 and the large is a 9-10. They had no XL left. Boo. Well, we’ll see. If they don’t fit her I’ll take the diamond off them and add it to a pair of black flip flops in her size. I’ll make it work dangit.
Moissanite. My space rock.
Moissanite.
Last year (2009) when Chris and I started getting serious he started showing me pictures of rings. Then we’d go to jewelry stores and I’d oogle all the rings. It seemed each time we went we’d both get a bit disheartened, sad or downright depressed. Firstly none of the rings I was seeing really caught my eye. I guess I’m picky about what will sit on my finger for the rest of my life! Go figure. All the rings seemed gaudy to me. Too big, way too small or too…….. silver. Wait, no, that’s white gold. Erm I learned early on not to say silver. Sorry. I wanted “yellow” gold. Like yellow snow apparently no one wanted yellow gold either. What I wanted was something simple and "swoopy".
But the biggest setback was cost. It was all too costly. Neither of us has much money. That’s why we have second jobs.
We were discussing how expensive the rings were and I came up with the idea that I'd be very happy with an amethyst instead of a diamond. Everyone has a diamond and with the blood diamond controversy I didn't want that hanging over my head either. But all the jewelers told us an amethyst is too "soft" and we'd end up replacing too often. (reminds me of poor Mindy who couldn't get her pearl engagement ring because pearls don't last with everyday wear)
Then one day Chris asked if I knew what Moissanite was. I’d heard of it somewhere but didn’t have much knowledge of it.
What is moissanite?
Back in 1893 a man named Henri Moissan was researching the minerals from a meteorite that landed in in Canyon Diablo in New Mexico over 50,000 years ago. He found minute traces of Silicon Carbide in the samples. Ten years later it was renamed Moissanite. Mostly found in meteorites and underground the mineral is so rare in its natural form that all of it in the world would not make a full pair of earrings. It took until the 1980s and 1990s to find that lab creating it and using it would make a brilliant gem. Cree labs partnered with Charles and Colvard and is now the exclusive manufacturer and marketer of Moissanite gems.
How it stacks up.
Diamonds are a girls best friend. Because of what?
Rarity.
Check.
Brilliance.
Check.
Color, cut, Mohs hardness.
Check check check.
So overall since the price of a Moissanite is approximately half the price of a diamond, has more brilliance, (they can give it more facets) and is so close in hardness to a diamond why wouldn’t I want it? Oh and its rarer in its natural form than a diamond. (Even the lab created gems are more rare than diamonds.)
Yes, and the best part?
I can say I have a space rock on my finger!!!
How many can say that?! *big grin*
Last year (2009) when Chris and I started getting serious he started showing me pictures of rings. Then we’d go to jewelry stores and I’d oogle all the rings. It seemed each time we went we’d both get a bit disheartened, sad or downright depressed. Firstly none of the rings I was seeing really caught my eye. I guess I’m picky about what will sit on my finger for the rest of my life! Go figure. All the rings seemed gaudy to me. Too big, way too small or too…….. silver. Wait, no, that’s white gold. Erm I learned early on not to say silver. Sorry. I wanted “yellow” gold. Like yellow snow apparently no one wanted yellow gold either. What I wanted was something simple and "swoopy".
But the biggest setback was cost. It was all too costly. Neither of us has much money. That’s why we have second jobs.
We were discussing how expensive the rings were and I came up with the idea that I'd be very happy with an amethyst instead of a diamond. Everyone has a diamond and with the blood diamond controversy I didn't want that hanging over my head either. But all the jewelers told us an amethyst is too "soft" and we'd end up replacing too often. (reminds me of poor Mindy who couldn't get her pearl engagement ring because pearls don't last with everyday wear)
Then one day Chris asked if I knew what Moissanite was. I’d heard of it somewhere but didn’t have much knowledge of it.
What is moissanite?
Back in 1893 a man named Henri Moissan was researching the minerals from a meteorite that landed in in Canyon Diablo in New Mexico over 50,000 years ago. He found minute traces of Silicon Carbide in the samples. Ten years later it was renamed Moissanite. Mostly found in meteorites and underground the mineral is so rare in its natural form that all of it in the world would not make a full pair of earrings. It took until the 1980s and 1990s to find that lab creating it and using it would make a brilliant gem. Cree labs partnered with Charles and Colvard and is now the exclusive manufacturer and marketer of Moissanite gems.
How it stacks up.
Diamonds are a girls best friend. Because of what?
Rarity.
Check.
Brilliance.
Check.
Color, cut, Mohs hardness.
Check check check.
So overall since the price of a Moissanite is approximately half the price of a diamond, has more brilliance, (they can give it more facets) and is so close in hardness to a diamond why wouldn’t I want it? Oh and its rarer in its natural form than a diamond. (Even the lab created gems are more rare than diamonds.)
Yes, and the best part?
I can say I have a space rock on my finger!!!
How many can say that?! *big grin*
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