The deeper the crisis, the better we get.
The way people use money as a shield and a weapon, a wedge, those times are over. Mostly.
OMG! spending it all now has consequences!
It hurts but I like it. Self reliant people now turn to each other, look each other in the eye, reach out to give or receive. They help each other find jobs and housing. They leave treats under a throw pillow, $20 for struggling friends, and find homes for a dog in need. HUMANITY in all caps.
There are murmers, and wonders about how it will end: and people lending an arm to lean on, grateful it isn't them but knowing it easily could be.
Reach for me, let me grab hold and lift you up. I try not to look away.
Where do you put that, when love is so dense that you are unable to accept it?
Feb 27, 2012
Feb 22, 2012
Travel Companions
It was the Hubs' birthday - and this month is big anyway with VDay and our anniversary - so we decided to get out of town and take a little adventure trip down the coast. Traveling with a cute little dog is like traveling with a toddler: passerbys can't help themselves but to pause and connect about a shared experience. Literally people were pulling up a chair as we sat outside for breakfast. What a gas.
What we had to haul down with us was also toddleresque. There's the crate, the pillow, the play blanket, the toys and bowls and leashes and brushes. And the contingency stuff, like shampoo in case of an unfortunate happening-upon a dead something or other and just having to roll in it, or something.
We stayed in Pacific Grove in a pretty little 1 room cottage with a toilet and closet. A dog bed with a potty bag and 2 dog biscuits were waiting for Sam upon arrival, a pat on the head by the check in clerk, and instructions on where to go for you-know-what. All that, and just 2 or 3 blocks to the beach.
Her first beach experience was fun - and her tearing everywhere in the soft sand and figuring out really quick about the tide. Ixnay on the aterway. She loved the kelp and smelly dead things underneath and for a while we thought her sniffer might get dislocated with moving so fast.
On to Carmel on Sunday, and a walkabout with tons of other dogs -- I mean maybe 70? -- on leashes with families in tow, everyone being reasonably well mannered (kids included). There were parks nestled around and away from the sidewalks and shops for the dogs with doggie gloves to pick up and discard the waste. The sidewalks were clean as a whistle.
Carmel was the most dog friendly place we've ever been. We would see an interesting shop and one of us would stay on the sidewalk and the other would step inside. Almost immediately someone inside would invite INVITE!!! Sam inside and ask if she could have a treat. She was admired in stores and restaurants and hotels and antique shops, and always with a bowl of fresh water. People walking our direction would just reach down and pat her head and keep on their way. Conversations would center around what kind of dog is she, and hazard a guess at what breed mix she might be in addition to lab. Sam seemed to walk a little taller there, a little more polite, and only once picked something up until she saw the scowl on my face, and gently let it go.
Another trip to the beach, this time at a no leash beach, what I suppose feels to a dog the way a nude beach feels to sunbathers. There were dogs as far as the eye can see, running free into the waves to retrieve a frisbee, walking alongside their owners, running and chasing each other, and tearing after toys.
We took a break to drive along the coast, and on the way home stopped in to visit her favorite Beagle in San Jose. Sam is officially christened as travel companion! Now all we need is for her not to christen the floor of her Beagle friend's kitchen and we're all set.
What we had to haul down with us was also toddleresque. There's the crate, the pillow, the play blanket, the toys and bowls and leashes and brushes. And the contingency stuff, like shampoo in case of an unfortunate happening-upon a dead something or other and just having to roll in it, or something.
We stayed in Pacific Grove in a pretty little 1 room cottage with a toilet and closet. A dog bed with a potty bag and 2 dog biscuits were waiting for Sam upon arrival, a pat on the head by the check in clerk, and instructions on where to go for you-know-what. All that, and just 2 or 3 blocks to the beach.
Her first beach experience was fun - and her tearing everywhere in the soft sand and figuring out really quick about the tide. Ixnay on the aterway. She loved the kelp and smelly dead things underneath and for a while we thought her sniffer might get dislocated with moving so fast.
On to Carmel on Sunday, and a walkabout with tons of other dogs -- I mean maybe 70? -- on leashes with families in tow, everyone being reasonably well mannered (kids included). There were parks nestled around and away from the sidewalks and shops for the dogs with doggie gloves to pick up and discard the waste. The sidewalks were clean as a whistle.
Carmel was the most dog friendly place we've ever been. We would see an interesting shop and one of us would stay on the sidewalk and the other would step inside. Almost immediately someone inside would invite INVITE!!! Sam inside and ask if she could have a treat. She was admired in stores and restaurants and hotels and antique shops, and always with a bowl of fresh water. People walking our direction would just reach down and pat her head and keep on their way. Conversations would center around what kind of dog is she, and hazard a guess at what breed mix she might be in addition to lab. Sam seemed to walk a little taller there, a little more polite, and only once picked something up until she saw the scowl on my face, and gently let it go.
Another trip to the beach, this time at a no leash beach, what I suppose feels to a dog the way a nude beach feels to sunbathers. There were dogs as far as the eye can see, running free into the waves to retrieve a frisbee, walking alongside their owners, running and chasing each other, and tearing after toys.
We took a break to drive along the coast, and on the way home stopped in to visit her favorite Beagle in San Jose. Sam is officially christened as travel companion! Now all we need is for her not to christen the floor of her Beagle friend's kitchen and we're all set.
Feb 15, 2012
Be My Valentine, 2012
The hubs put a lot of thought into last night. Flowers on the table with not one card, but two, and a replacement pair of earrings that I had searched for online.
After dinner, we headed to the Mondavi, the tickets also his idea. I can't remember a time ...
Leo Kottke http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_uk_VWP5dMI can surely play a guitar! His 12 string and slack key guitar songs were wonderful. We enjoyed his dry wit and self-effacing humor, and came away with a great big smile and something to hum on the way to the car.
The Mondavi is perched at the edge of the university and Hwy 113 in Davis. It is made of natural slate, granite and wood. One side is all windows and the rest is all acoustics that makes every seat in the house the right one. A HUGE women's bathroom was an amazing treat. And under the theatre seats, I discovered these cool vents that circulates fresh air during the show. !!
So in addition to seeing the performer, there is the additional sensory treat of being inside. My last time here was a Sing Along Messiah and I swear we sounded like the Mormon Tabernacle Choir.
What an amazing time together. Here's to my better half!
After dinner, we headed to the Mondavi, the tickets also his idea. I can't remember a time ...
Leo Kottke http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_uk_VWP5dMI can surely play a guitar! His 12 string and slack key guitar songs were wonderful. We enjoyed his dry wit and self-effacing humor, and came away with a great big smile and something to hum on the way to the car. The Mondavi is perched at the edge of the university and Hwy 113 in Davis. It is made of natural slate, granite and wood. One side is all windows and the rest is all acoustics that makes every seat in the house the right one. A HUGE women's bathroom was an amazing treat. And under the theatre seats, I discovered these cool vents that circulates fresh air during the show. !!
So in addition to seeing the performer, there is the additional sensory treat of being inside. My last time here was a Sing Along Messiah and I swear we sounded like the Mormon Tabernacle Choir.What an amazing time together. Here's to my better half!
Feb 13, 2012
Around the Water Cooler
Yesterday, we put Sammy's leash on a couple of minutes before walking out the door. She loves going anywhere, and we've done this before. No big deal. But on Sunday when we called to her, she tore through the kitchen and somehow the end of the leash caught on the water jug stand and the whole thing came crashing to the floor. It made a terrific sound, and a terrific mess as you might imagine - shards of broken pottery and water was everywhere.
Holy cow!~ I jumped for the towels and she ran for the back door, and once the towels were down we found her trembling and curled into a ball, ears back and eyes downcast. I crumpled to the floor and called to her just a few feet away, and she wouldn't come. In soothing tones I called her again, please come, it's alright, arms open, waiting. Nope.
So I inched over and she looked up at me with the saddest expression, as if saying 'I don't know what happened, but it was my fault.' I wrapped her in a hug and curled her into my lap and we sat there, her shivering in fright and me covering the wet, scared dog in the comfort of a shawl.
It's alright. Really.
She had to be outside for a while until we picked up all the sharp pieces - and mop up gallons of water - and she threw up twice before we coaxed her back inside. Slowly we worked with her, it's alright honey, look how clean the floor is, such a sweet good girl ... and in time she began to relax.
She threw up twice more overnight, and is still acting sad and embarrassed. What a sensitive and gentle heart she has! I just wish I could talk dog.
Holy cow!~ I jumped for the towels and she ran for the back door, and once the towels were down we found her trembling and curled into a ball, ears back and eyes downcast. I crumpled to the floor and called to her just a few feet away, and she wouldn't come. In soothing tones I called her again, please come, it's alright, arms open, waiting. Nope.
So I inched over and she looked up at me with the saddest expression, as if saying 'I don't know what happened, but it was my fault.' I wrapped her in a hug and curled her into my lap and we sat there, her shivering in fright and me covering the wet, scared dog in the comfort of a shawl.
It's alright. Really.
She had to be outside for a while until we picked up all the sharp pieces - and mop up gallons of water - and she threw up twice before we coaxed her back inside. Slowly we worked with her, it's alright honey, look how clean the floor is, such a sweet good girl ... and in time she began to relax.
She threw up twice more overnight, and is still acting sad and embarrassed. What a sensitive and gentle heart she has! I just wish I could talk dog.
Feb 10, 2012
Soldier On
A lot of life is about precious moments that take our breath away. They are the moments we never forget. Today was like that, one for the books, as we sat mulling over options and futures and all of those earth-bound things that shouldn't really matter, but do.
We half expected it. And now that it is here, we weren't expecting it at all. We are moving on without the house. But what we aren't doing is fighting a game-changing, never-coming-back-from battle. The things that feel so catastrophic aren't really all that important in the grand scheme of things.
Ours is just a battle of leverages and bottom lines, and having the smarts to know when a flag has been called. Put a bag of frozen peas on that eye and soldier on. Whatever's ahead is almost here.
We half expected it. And now that it is here, we weren't expecting it at all. We are moving on without the house. But what we aren't doing is fighting a game-changing, never-coming-back-from battle. The things that feel so catastrophic aren't really all that important in the grand scheme of things.
Ours is just a battle of leverages and bottom lines, and having the smarts to know when a flag has been called. Put a bag of frozen peas on that eye and soldier on. Whatever's ahead is almost here.
Feb 9, 2012
Designer Depression
I think we're in a Depression: an original, dyed in the wool, full blown depression.
Similarities.
Similarities.
- A period of great wealth followed by a stock market crash and widespread economic pain.
- Wealth concentrated at the top among the very few, very successful
- Statistics seriously under-representing the depth of the problem.
- Unemployment in unequal measure: most hard hit were the poor, followed by the middle class.
- A re-examination of ethnicity as a determining factor for success.
- A significant erosion of the middle class.
- People turning to growing their own vegetables and raising their own animals.
- A barter system for communities to share what they had.
- Between 1929-1933, some 9,000 banks failed. Since 2007, 412 banks (some of them megabanks) have failed.
- A profound sense of shame being unemployed. People withdraw from their circles and disappear.
- Families shared housing, and life became somber and filled with worry.
- A profound distrust of the banks and money was moved elsewhere.
- After the Tsunami market crash of October 1929, the repercussions took years to manifest. Same is true today. Ours was not just one catastrophic event, but we are not even halfway through what will ultimately impact the economic stabilizers of housing, GNP, growth, jobs, government and banks.
- Social programs are in place as a first-line defense.
- Income Tax was implemented since 1929 and now hampers handymen and other small businesses that in the depression helped people make due.
- There is a different expectation of want (we have more, but perceive it as less)
- Some are in terrible straits, but not all. In the 1930s it was pretty much everyone.
- There are many stories about never leaving a hungry stranger at the door. We do not share that community mindset.
- There was no FDIC to insure the money when the banks failed. People lost it all.
- Social Security! Que Serra Serra. It is here now and that will hugely impact how the boomer cuspers cope with the
Depression? Recession? Dip in the Road?Whatchamagiggie.
Feb 8, 2012
Adjust Your Snorkel
I predicted this would be the Year of Change. Not entirely in the ways I had hoped, but it's proving true.
Having a mortgage situation isn't for the faint of heart, that's for sure. It began as a simple inquiry - hey, can we look at this, please ... ?
Last year we went to a lender who said we qualified; had the appraisal done which came back okay; decided to pony up some cash to equalize things; had a decent interest rate and terms; and were denied because the original loan has PMI. (Private mortgage insurance, an additional fee to the loan because the bank lent outside their comfort zone criteria. It is their hedge against default.)
Next, we called BofA who holds the Countrywide note to talk about a modification, and were told by the first line bank answerer that she would maybe get the PMI removed. $135 a month, just like that, gone? Was this woman the CEO to wield such power?
She said any homeowner who has paid a while on their mortgage without incident can request a review of PMI, maybe even have it dropped entirely. No one knows this, of course. If you happen to call in and happen to ask, they will look into it. Except they said no for us, even though we were current on our loan.
So on we went to Wells Fargo, where Randy has banked since he was in high school. We met with the loan officer in October. He never even called us back.
And this, with two stable incomes and 35 years of great credit histories.
We were clearly being discriminated against! So I did some online research and am now hooked into the 5-refi-solicitation-calls-a-week and as many emails that won't qualify us. Then researched the Government website and the HARP program. And the VA option. Nope.Nope.Nope. Too high of a loan to value (meaning, we're underwater).
Hello!!! After not losing sleep over funding loans that required 50% or more of someone's take home pay to pay back, they worry for being asked to help families stay in their own homes? Banks are sleeping alright: it's the rest of us that are worried sick.
Multiply that by thousands and thousands of people who want to do the right thing and are told it would be better to miss a few payments, to get the bank's attention. And when they follow that advice, the bank still won't work with them and they fall into default.
Or those that are being encouraged by friends and family (and attorneys) to walk away and live rent free until the 3 day notice comes. It sounds sweet to be hounded day and night by creditors and give up the good credit they have spent a lifetime to build.
Hang onto that snorkel: it's still low tide.
Hey, is anyone in the market for a 3/2 on a busy street, sparkling pool and hot tub, remodeled kitchen and baths, for 25% more than it will appraise?
Having a mortgage situation isn't for the faint of heart, that's for sure. It began as a simple inquiry - hey, can we look at this, please ... ?
Last year we went to a lender who said we qualified; had the appraisal done which came back okay; decided to pony up some cash to equalize things; had a decent interest rate and terms; and were denied because the original loan has PMI. (Private mortgage insurance, an additional fee to the loan because the bank lent outside their comfort zone criteria. It is their hedge against default.)
Next, we called BofA who holds the Countrywide note to talk about a modification, and were told by the first line bank answerer that she would maybe get the PMI removed. $135 a month, just like that, gone? Was this woman the CEO to wield such power?
She said any homeowner who has paid a while on their mortgage without incident can request a review of PMI, maybe even have it dropped entirely. No one knows this, of course. If you happen to call in and happen to ask, they will look into it. Except they said no for us, even though we were current on our loan.
So on we went to Wells Fargo, where Randy has banked since he was in high school. We met with the loan officer in October. He never even called us back.
And this, with two stable incomes and 35 years of great credit histories.
We were clearly being discriminated against! So I did some online research and am now hooked into the 5-refi-solicitation-calls-a-week and as many emails that won't qualify us. Then researched the Government website and the HARP program. And the VA option. Nope.Nope.Nope. Too high of a loan to value (meaning, we're underwater).
Hello!!! After not losing sleep over funding loans that required 50% or more of someone's take home pay to pay back, they worry for being asked to help families stay in their own homes? Banks are sleeping alright: it's the rest of us that are worried sick.
Multiply that by thousands and thousands of people who want to do the right thing and are told it would be better to miss a few payments, to get the bank's attention. And when they follow that advice, the bank still won't work with them and they fall into default.
Or those that are being encouraged by friends and family (and attorneys) to walk away and live rent free until the 3 day notice comes. It sounds sweet to be hounded day and night by creditors and give up the good credit they have spent a lifetime to build.
Hang onto that snorkel: it's still low tide.
Hey, is anyone in the market for a 3/2 on a busy street, sparkling pool and hot tub, remodeled kitchen and baths, for 25% more than it will appraise?
Feb 2, 2012
My Life as a Recycled Bride
Super funny article in today's Huffington Post by Tracy DiNunzio, founder of Recycled Bride:
I know more about weddings than your average bear. I also know a few things about getting divorced, starting a company, and exquisitely f-ing up your life while your parents and everyone else look on in shock and horror. And because of my messy, complicated, and admittedly ridiculous experiences with all of these things, I may just be able to save you some time and trouble when it comes to planning your own wedding -- and more importantly, enjoying your marriage.
I got married on a sweltering hot day in July of 2008. Robert and I planned a big, expensive, perfect wedding. His family is Jewish, mine's a mix of Jewish/Catholic/Lunatic. So we had all the bells and whistles of your typical American Jewish wedding: 47 food stations at the cocktail hour, a five-course dinner, a 10-piece band, and 200 formally attired, obscenely sweaty guests.
Planning this affair was stressful and stretched all of our resources to the max. We argued with each other, we argued with our parents, I think I even argued with the flower girl, and she's 3 (but for the record, she was wrong). The wedding was beautiful, but by the time we rode off into the sunset, we were totally drained.
That experience inspired me to create Recycled Bride, an online marketplace where brides buy and sell gently used (and new) wedding dresses, decorations, and more. I wanted to help other couples avoid the stress of spending their future children's college fund on a wedding. Robert and I were excited to run Recycled Bride together. I couldn't dream of anything more picture-perfect than working with my new husband on our very own wedding business.
Oops.
Within months, we began to develop what they call "irreconcilable differences". We separated before our first anniversary, and divorced shortly thereafter. And there I was, secretly coping with an embarrassing divorce while writing about bridal bouquets, wedding dresses, and everyone else's happily ever after...on a website called Recycled Bride. It was like the universe was playing a cruel (but clever) joke on me, and I didn't know whether to laugh or cry at the irony. So I did lots of both.
After a while, Robert and I found our footing as friends, and even resumed running the business together. But the only thing harder to explain than a swift divorce (see: Kim Kardashian), is a fledgling business that takes up all your time, but is pre-revenue (that's a fancy web business word for "we weren't making any money then"). I was working crazy hours with no income, and needed a solution that wouldn't distract me from building the Recycled Bride empire. So I decided to earn extra cash by renting out my guest room to travelers.
My very first renter was Collin, a musician who wanted a cozy place to stay while he was in Los Angeles for a week. I pretended not to notice that he was cute. He pretended not to notice that I was pretending not to notice that he was cute. We fell easily into endless conversations, and then we fell in love. Collin extended his stay in California, and then extended it again, until we both realized that he was never leaving and he moved from the guest room into what's now "our room". Last week, we got married in a tiny romantic beach wedding with no guests.
The wedding was somewhat spontaneous, and we weren't well prepared. We didn't have a witness, so a random stranger on the beach ended up signing our marriage license. He may have been homeless. He may have been Mickey Rourke. We're still debating, but it's definitely one of those two. I wore stupid, pretty shoes, then twisted my ankle and stepped on Collin's toe the minute we hit the sand. During the ceremony, raging beach winds turned my hair into a ridiculous bird's nest. The wind was so loud, we couldn't even hear the officiant, so instead of repeating our vows, we said "What!?" a whole lot.
Afterwards, we got drunk on champagne at our favorite neighborhood restaurant, I ripped my dress, and then we rode off on unicorns into the sunset. It was...perfect.
In an ironic and totally unexpected way, I got my happily ever after. But I had to stop believing in glossy photos and "perfect days" to get here.
I have an amazing husband, an ex who's also a great friend and coworker, and a thriving business -- and none of it looks anything like I expected. So when I talk to brides who are fretting about the imperfections, the awkward moments, the feeling that they're somehow not living the "big day dream", I wish I could bundle up all of my experiences, good and bad, and magically infuse them into every bride's brain. Because I might have screwed up a lot (yes, a lot!), but I learned some good lessons. Here they are, in no particular order:
1. Your wedding, your marriage, and your life will be filled with flaws, mistakes, inappropriate jokes, and unexpected plot twists. Embrace the weirdness of it all, and learn to laugh at yourself.
2. Planning a wedding is just like starting a business. You have a budget and need rent space, hire employees, and create something that delights your customers/guests. If wedding planning with your partner isn't fun, you probably shouldn't start a business together.
3. Wedding photos lie. Especially the ones on blogs, in magazines, and on Facebook. Pretty does not equal happy, and happy is way more awesome.
4. Everybody has gross morning breath. That's kind of unrelated, but not necessarily. It just a thing that's true.
5. There are no signs or omens. If your dress arrives late or it rains on your wedding day, it has no bearing on the quality of the life that you build, every day, together.
Now go forth, and be married!
I know more about weddings than your average bear. I also know a few things about getting divorced, starting a company, and exquisitely f-ing up your life while your parents and everyone else look on in shock and horror. And because of my messy, complicated, and admittedly ridiculous experiences with all of these things, I may just be able to save you some time and trouble when it comes to planning your own wedding -- and more importantly, enjoying your marriage.
I got married on a sweltering hot day in July of 2008. Robert and I planned a big, expensive, perfect wedding. His family is Jewish, mine's a mix of Jewish/Catholic/Lunatic. So we had all the bells and whistles of your typical American Jewish wedding: 47 food stations at the cocktail hour, a five-course dinner, a 10-piece band, and 200 formally attired, obscenely sweaty guests.
Planning this affair was stressful and stretched all of our resources to the max. We argued with each other, we argued with our parents, I think I even argued with the flower girl, and she's 3 (but for the record, she was wrong). The wedding was beautiful, but by the time we rode off into the sunset, we were totally drained.
That experience inspired me to create Recycled Bride, an online marketplace where brides buy and sell gently used (and new) wedding dresses, decorations, and more. I wanted to help other couples avoid the stress of spending their future children's college fund on a wedding. Robert and I were excited to run Recycled Bride together. I couldn't dream of anything more picture-perfect than working with my new husband on our very own wedding business.
Oops.
Within months, we began to develop what they call "irreconcilable differences". We separated before our first anniversary, and divorced shortly thereafter. And there I was, secretly coping with an embarrassing divorce while writing about bridal bouquets, wedding dresses, and everyone else's happily ever after...on a website called Recycled Bride. It was like the universe was playing a cruel (but clever) joke on me, and I didn't know whether to laugh or cry at the irony. So I did lots of both.
After a while, Robert and I found our footing as friends, and even resumed running the business together. But the only thing harder to explain than a swift divorce (see: Kim Kardashian), is a fledgling business that takes up all your time, but is pre-revenue (that's a fancy web business word for "we weren't making any money then"). I was working crazy hours with no income, and needed a solution that wouldn't distract me from building the Recycled Bride empire. So I decided to earn extra cash by renting out my guest room to travelers.
My very first renter was Collin, a musician who wanted a cozy place to stay while he was in Los Angeles for a week. I pretended not to notice that he was cute. He pretended not to notice that I was pretending not to notice that he was cute. We fell easily into endless conversations, and then we fell in love. Collin extended his stay in California, and then extended it again, until we both realized that he was never leaving and he moved from the guest room into what's now "our room". Last week, we got married in a tiny romantic beach wedding with no guests.
The wedding was somewhat spontaneous, and we weren't well prepared. We didn't have a witness, so a random stranger on the beach ended up signing our marriage license. He may have been homeless. He may have been Mickey Rourke. We're still debating, but it's definitely one of those two. I wore stupid, pretty shoes, then twisted my ankle and stepped on Collin's toe the minute we hit the sand. During the ceremony, raging beach winds turned my hair into a ridiculous bird's nest. The wind was so loud, we couldn't even hear the officiant, so instead of repeating our vows, we said "What!?" a whole lot.
Afterwards, we got drunk on champagne at our favorite neighborhood restaurant, I ripped my dress, and then we rode off on unicorns into the sunset. It was...perfect.
In an ironic and totally unexpected way, I got my happily ever after. But I had to stop believing in glossy photos and "perfect days" to get here.
I have an amazing husband, an ex who's also a great friend and coworker, and a thriving business -- and none of it looks anything like I expected. So when I talk to brides who are fretting about the imperfections, the awkward moments, the feeling that they're somehow not living the "big day dream", I wish I could bundle up all of my experiences, good and bad, and magically infuse them into every bride's brain. Because I might have screwed up a lot (yes, a lot!), but I learned some good lessons. Here they are, in no particular order:
1. Your wedding, your marriage, and your life will be filled with flaws, mistakes, inappropriate jokes, and unexpected plot twists. Embrace the weirdness of it all, and learn to laugh at yourself.
2. Planning a wedding is just like starting a business. You have a budget and need rent space, hire employees, and create something that delights your customers/guests. If wedding planning with your partner isn't fun, you probably shouldn't start a business together.
3. Wedding photos lie. Especially the ones on blogs, in magazines, and on Facebook. Pretty does not equal happy, and happy is way more awesome.
4. Everybody has gross morning breath. That's kind of unrelated, but not necessarily. It just a thing that's true.
5. There are no signs or omens. If your dress arrives late or it rains on your wedding day, it has no bearing on the quality of the life that you build, every day, together.
Now go forth, and be married!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)