The end of the season
Ring my bell curve

Here are some people I love, making no sense.

Driving home from the rec center this evening, the boys got into a discussion of birthdays. You wouldn’t believe how much time they spend planning their birthdays. It borders on the obsessive (says the woman who has made One. Single. Solitary. Decision. About her impending wedding in…um, three months and fifteen days – and that decision was to have cake, which can hardly be considered a DECISION, you know, but it made Raphael happy).

Anyhow, we were just coming back from the rock climbing wall, and Tre had talked to one of the attendants there about the birthday parties they have there. Apparently they hide candy on the wall, which sealed the deal for Tre. He must have a rock climbing birthday party with extra special hidden candy, or life will not go on.

“A ROCK CLIMBING PARTY!” He bellowed, “I HAVE to have one!”

“Yeah, me too,” chimed in Max.

“Max, didn’t you just tell me you hated the climbing wall?” I asked.

“Oh yeah.” He pondered this a moment. “Yeah, I want a reptile party.”
”Does that mean with pictures of lizards and snakes, or are you inviting only lizards and snakes?” I wondered. He rewarded me with a disapproving look, so I’m still not sure. Raphael was taken with the birthday discussions and blurted out,

“I want a SHOOTING CAR PARTY!”

I was struck dumb for a moment, wondering what that would be, exactly. Finally I recovered and said to my dad,

“Yeah, well, who wouldn’t?”

Speaking of the wedding that isn’t planned, I’ve started thinking about it. The planning, I mean. Thinking about it is a step in the right direction, don’cha think? I even have a notebook, with a few things scribbled in it, so order can’t be far behind. AND I nearly found a dress, which is to say I whined to a good friend until she got together with another friend and they hunted down the perfect dress except when I tried it on it turned out to be made for a freakishly tall woman (aka over 5’2” – can you IMAGINE?), and would not, no never, fit my squatty frame. Wow, that was a long sentence. I am remorseful.

Anyhow, a natural byproduct of all this serious thinking is lots of talking. Musing, if you will, about the details of the wedding. And WHO would be the most logical person to muse to? Why the other main participant in the wedding, my beloved fiancé (I know, insufferable, right? Wait until I get to refer to him as my husband. You’ll want to make a drinking game out of it or something).

So, here I am, given to random statements like, “I think afternoon for the ceremony, don’t you?” and “I’ve been told CAKE is a good thing to have at weddings, you know.”

Clay (my fiancée, did I mention that?), on the other hand, is elbow-deep in the plans for remodeling our new house. Which still isn’t ours, but will be in one week and one day. Tra la. HE not only has a notebook, he also has file folders with many papers. He has drawings of rooms with measurements and phone numbers of people to talk to about pulling permits and mysterious things like that. So when I say something interesting about the wedding – “I wonder what flowers look best in February. Do you think that’s too early for sweet peas?” – he responds with a blank look and a statement like, “I really think I need to move that cabinet with the pull out shelves by the refrigerator forward. Otherwise we’ll lose seven inches of space right there.”

As if that has anything to do with flowers.

I was talking to my friend Amy, about…what was it? Geez, it could be anything, wedding dresses, math curriculum, winter coats…anyhow, I said something mundane about whatever it was we were discussing, and Amy replied,

“Yeah, and speaking of needing to blog more…”

And I would, I totally would, but first I need to figure out what a shooting car party would look like.

Comments

Amma D

Ummm, about the shooting car party, Raphael is still at the age where his language and culture base is developing so fast that sometimes he will forget things he said. Kind of like a reverse dementia. So many new things are entering his mind every day that stuff just fades away - or gets bumped too close to the edge and falls off. Maybe (hopefully) this one will fall off.

Still, one wonders what a shooting car party would look like...

Groovecatmom

Is that a party where the car shoots stuff, or the kids shoot cars? Because don't they have video games like that?

They have it easy. See, they get to tell you their cool ideas, and you must implement. You, on the other hand, have to both come up with the ideas for the wedding, and implement. (Did I split that infinitive? Grrr.) Plus their birthdays are months and months away, so don't be distracted!

You could have a kids' wedding cake with cars, bugs, and whatnot on it. Not that I want to give you more things to think about, or anything.

Sarah

Was the dress truly hopeless? I mean, is there any possibility that a decent seamstress/tailor could hem it and fit it to you? ...I have the reverse problem, being 5' 10": the dressmaking industry seems to assume that no woman is going to be over 5' 8", which results in many dresses and skirts being irredeemably too short. Harrumph.

If, by some miracle, you can find a nice, non-pushy florist to chat with, I'd ask HER about flowers. I was lost in a sea of flowers until I chatted with a few florists about seasonability and prices, and suddenly my vision clarified significantly. :-)

Mary Jo

He wants to get his gang together and do a drive-by?

Miss Editrice

Hi! What a great journal---your observations are wonderful. May I be so crass as to point out a small error in your French (since we WILL be hearing a lot about Clay)? "Fiance" is an adjective, and must be made masculine or feminine according to the noun it's modifying. This means that a woman is a fiancee, and a man is a fiance. I don't know how to do accents, but certainement you'll want to keep the accent, too.


hardisonhome

Yes well - take it from someone who planned a wedding in 4 months - in the end.. the only thing that really matters is that you end up married... If the flowers aren't perfect, blah blah blah - it will still be perfect if you go home as Clay's wife... On the other hand, you had better pay special attention to that cake - your kids might be disappointed if that plan goes south!

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