I haven’t had anything remarkable to write about lately. Would you like to hear the story of the dog who woke up the family at 5:20 am? It’s the SAME DAMN STORY DAY AFTER DAY. The only variety is whether or not she wakes up lonely in the middle of the night (as if 5:20 isn’t the middle of the night enough already) and if she does (which she usually does), how much she howls, barks, whines, yips and is cacophonous (either I made up that word or I am a vocabulary genius).
I have taken to drinking Vodka. With calcium-fortified orange juice, of course. Gotta be healthy.
In other news, my little sister’s wedding is two weeks away. I KNOW! And I just realized that I probably should have ordered my dress one size smaller. I KNOW! It will be FINE, JUST FINE but a little gape-y. Grreeeeeeat. There’s a Vodka drink for this situation, I am sure.
I tried to get a decent pre-wedding picture to illustrate the gape-yness but then noticed that I am in DESPERATE need of some tan line intervention so I was distracted and horrified and deleted all of the incriminating evidence of my dual farmer tan and thick tank-top bathing suit strap tan lines. Is it even possible to have opposing tan lines? Evidently, yes. My skin is the sort which tans easily. I mean, I can be outside with 50 sunblock smeared liberally for just a little while and I come inside with lines. I suppose it is my Indian blood. When I was reckless and cancer/wrinkle-fear free, I enjoyed this aspect of my genetics. I *always* had a beautiful, even tan. Now, of course, it just makes it difficult since I cannot step outside without wondering if my outfit will leave a semi-permanent impression on my skin.
Speaking of tans…when we went to Fripp Island back in June, I got a lot of sun. We slathered up and avoided peak sun hours but it is almost inevitable (especially for me) to instantly develop bathing suit tan lines. Malyn was in the shower with me (we shared a bathroom with approximately 50 other people and took showers together to save time) and she peered up at my chest and said, “Whew, Momma, your boobies are getting WHITER!” I tried to explain that the skin around my chest was getting darker and my…aherm…chest was staying the same color but she just looked at me and declared, “I hope my skin stays white like this when I get older.” Let’s hope she still maintains that line of thinking when she hits middle school.
So, I am going to have to seek advice from people regarding getting rid of tan lines. I am hoping to do this without having to suntan. I would rather use self-tanners or even spray tanning. With all of the skin cancer scares and realities in my family, I just don’t feel comfortable adding to the damage I have already done with my devil-may-care attitude about the sun in my earlier years. And I don’t want to add to my already-high wrinkle probability rating. (Truth be told, wrinkle factor is just a squidge below cancer on my list of concerns.)
Speaking of socially awkward, I am attending my little sister’s bachelorette party tomorrow. Typically, planning and throwing a bridal shower/bachelorette party is the responsibility of the Maid/Matron of Honor–which is my role. But, instead of doing that, I decided to surprise her with a trip to Las Vegas, which I wrote about here and here. Her friends, however, wanted to do something for her and planned a bridal shower (which I attended last weekend) and a bachelorette party (which is tomorrow). Now, Dawn is about 8 1/2 years younger than I am which puts her and her friends smack in their early 20′s. I NEVER was a party girl. I prefer a good book and a 9 o’clock bedtime to drinking and dancing and always have–even in my earlier years. And I never had a swinging, single life. I was married practically as soon as I was out of diapers. Dawn is, for the most part, the perfect blend of Fun Loving 20-ish Young Lady and Chill Out, Watching TV and Drinking Wine Coolers with Her Older Sister. So it should be interesting to see her in the 20-something element. I had the good grace/social savvy to decline the clubbing/dancing part of the party (har.) but will happily attend the lingerie shower/Nice restaurant part of the evening. It’s sad when getting up the next morning and determining how long my puppy can hold it’s pee is enough of a concern to warrant my early departure from this event. Bryan’s band is gigging it that night so he can’t be on puppy patrol. That’s okay, though, my other SILs are leaving after the dinner. One of them is in my exact age/life station situation and the other is Under Age and couldn’t get into the clubs anyway. Now that’s just irony right there. At least we KNOW we have a designated driver. Another dose of calcium.
So, onward to Wedding.
HAHA! Did I say TWO WEEKS? I MEANT ONE WEEK TILL WEDDING! AAAAAAACCCGHCGCJCKKKK!
WHERE’S THE STOLY???