Bonesy's Blahg

Bonesy Claus

If you’re on my Christmas list this year, let’s be honest… You are one lucky bitch!  First of all, because the list of people I gift is notoriously small.  But also?  You’re kinda gonna love what I got you.

See, as a woman of few skills, I can easily spot when I do have one.

I haven’t figured out a way to make a living doing it yet, but I’m a gifted gift giver.  AND, I can totally figure out a way to not break the bank while finding you that perfect gift!

Although, if you ask anyone at my bank, my account is pretty broke already.

As a mom of 4 kids, with a broken bank account … It’s a skill borne of necessity.  Playing Santa for a litter is pretty tough, especially for someone who loathes shopping as much as I do.   I mean, while I can appreciate a good mullet, neck tattoo,  or 6 inches of ass crack proudly displayed by a hairy 350 lb woman… Fighting mouth-breathers for a bunch of shitty Made-In-China presents in a WalMart?  Not my thing.

So I have taken internet shopping & made it my bitch.

This year, all of my gifts were either bought online, at locally owned & operated businesses, or online at locally owned & operated businesses in OTHER areas.   While I’d like to flip the ratio of online-to-local purchases, I’m content with where it’s at for now.  There really aren’t all that many locally owned shops in my area &, quite frankly, I like to sit around in my underwear.

(Kidding, kids… Please don’t run to disinfect the desk chair.)

Also?  When I give you a gift, it’s a pretty safe bet that you will have NO idea what the fuck is inside.  I will box your shit up in some random packaging that has nothing to do with it.

Generic saltine box?

Been there.

Instant oatmeal?

Done that.

Think I got you an iPhone?  Um, open that fucker up.  It’s NOT what you think!

I really liked when my kids FINALLY stopped believing in Santa.  I may have had something to do with Kid4 not believing after around age 6.  I’m not saying I outright told her he’s not real, but I certainly didn’t try to convince her of it when she started to suspect.

By “started to suspect,” I mean “let the older kids tell her.”

Hey, don’t judge.  She’s nearly an adult now & she turned out just fine.  Mostly.

Plus, after they no longer believed, we started a new tradition.  Gift tags no longer say they’re from “Santa” or “Mom & Dad.”

Now, they get gifts from The Grinch, Heat Miser, Yukon Jack, & Abominable Snowman.

Plus an occasional inappropriate or irreverent present from Baby Jesus.

It’s just how I roll.

 

Next year, maybe I’ll do a Bonesy’s Gifted Gift Guide.

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December 9, 2016 Posted by | Family, Friends, Holidays, Kids, People | 2 Comments

Excuses

So today I am one hot, hobbled mess.

I woke up with the best of intentions. My plan (like it is every morning) was to get up & ride the recumbent bike before work.

My alarm went off at 6 am and, while I admit there was a moment when I considered rolling back into the warmth that is my husband, I totally jumped right out of bed & started my day with a smile!

Ugh, who am I kidding?

I totally shut that bitch off & rolled back into the warmth for another 1/2 hour.

That may have been when things went awry.

Or, some sadistic fucker on his man period made a “me” voodoo doll & grabbed a giant pin.

Either way, when I finally did drag my ass out of bed, that first step was a bitch.

I know, because I yelled “BITCH!” right before I fell forward & smacked my forehead on the wall.

I’ve been fighting plantar fasciitis on my right foot for a while. Just when I think I’ve finally conquered it… it jumped to the left with a vengeance, just to prove who’s boss. (Hint… it’s not me.)

And I sleep on the left side of the bed, so that first step? Yep, it was the left. And that wall? Much closer to the bed than I realized.

So I hobbled my way through the morning routine (minus the bike), threw a little extra concealer on my forehead, grabbed an ice pack, then dug a dusty, mid-80s era, hand-me-down TENS unit out of the linen closet.

Why, you ask?

I told you, I had the best of intentions! I wanted to freeze and shock my foot back into submission so that I could go to churchersize tonight!

That’s right, churchersize. CHURCHERSIZE. The place where I go to get my sweat on once a week with my girl posse & a whole bunch of other, also sweaty people who are my sized, but have completely opposite religious beliefs, & then I dare god to smite me. So far, I have not yet been smited… though I have been cursed with the lesbian shuffle the next day.

(My legs won’t bend right & my arms are held at a weird angle to my body when I walk.)

And now? Now my day is mostly over & it looks like I will be smite-free once again!

No churchersize for me. Apparently, there just wasn’t enough freeze in my ice pack. There was enough buzz in my dusty old TENS unit, surprisingly enough. I mean, I don’t know what a “normal” setting is, but my eyebrows are smoking & I think I now have Tourette’s.

Just ask the guy at the Christian-owned restaurant down the street from my work. I made the office lunch run & he oh-so-kindly offered to help me carry it all to my car after seeing my pathetic limp. Cool Dumb as I am, I refused…then managed to hit my toe with the door, which threw me off balance, which caused me to knock my forehead on the edge of it as I stumbled out & yelled “FUCK! BITCH! GODDAMMIT!!” & stomped my good foot, completely forgetting that there was a short step down, dropping the massive amounts of food in my arms.

Sh!  Don’t tell the work peeps.  5 second rule!!

*sigh*

So, instead of eating my healthy lunch, then sweating it off this evening… I ate pebbly soul food, I’m sitting on the couch with my foot up watching an Alanis Morissette concert with my dog, & YOU get a blog post.  But hey, I MEANT well!

October 13, 2016 Posted by | Confession, Family, Friends, Health, Rant, Sleep, Work | , | Leave a comment

Unpinking My Wardrobe & My Wallet

I own exactly one pink shirt.  I bought it at the breast cancer walk a few years ago.

Mostly because I was the only person out of THOUSANDS that wasn’t wearing pink.  So there may have been a tad bit of peer pressure there.

But also because it says “Fight Like  A Girl.”

As a tomboy who grew up kicking the asses of neighborhood boys to defend my mouthy, ball-less little brothers, I kinda love that slogan.  By “kinda,” I totally mean I’d make out with it…if it weren’t a slogan & I weren’t married.

I love words, but I’m not a whore!

Tomorrow I will be dropping that shirt off at Goodwill in protest of the Susan G. Komen decision to withdraw grants to Planned Parenthood.

I will no longer be donating to their cause, nor raising money & racing for the cure… in protest of their asinine, politically charged farce of a decision.

For an organization that claims to be a proponent of women’s health to withdraw funding from another women’s health organization in favor of a right wing campaign to limit access to health care is beyond ridiculous.

And their changing stories about the why’s & how’s of it only serve as proof of the political bullying behind it.

Regardless of your stance on contraception or abortion, Planned Parenthood provides health care to women across the nation who can’t afford it otherwise.  And 97%  of the care they provide is screening and reproductive health.  But the far right like to keep that all swept neatly under the rug, while they picket & rant about abortion.

The Komen donations were earmarked to specifically provide screening for breast cancer.

So the message here is the Susan G. Komen foundation is all about breast health…just not for poor people?

I’m not an activist, nor am I pro-abortion.

But I have been a poor, uninsured woman in need of medical care…in a country that increasingly only offers care to those who can afford it.  And the screening and care I received at a clinic back then saved my life.

So this year, I will be donating a nice fat check to Planned Parenthood on the day of my local Race for the Cure.

And then I’ll turn my attention to other, less sexy cancer awareness & prevention charities.

Maybe I’ll even start a new trend!  Like a prostate cancer awareness day!!  We’ll all wear brown & carry giant buttholes on a stick.

I’ll be free on Race for the Cure day.

October 2, 2016 Posted by | Family, People, Rant | , , | 4 Comments

My Big Fat Gypsy Dreaming

Is there a gypsy dress code?

Specifically, if I become a gypsy, would I have to start wearing lots of jangly jewelry & creamy bright blue eye shadow?

Can you make trade-offs?  I mean, I might be okay with the fake gold & Mimi make-up…as long as I don’t have to learn to play the finger castanets, wear colorful skirts, or come up with elaborate ways to con people out of their money.

I’m really not all that imaginative, plus I get super paranoid when I’m running a con & act all coked-up.  (Minus the coke, of course.)

Here’s the thing…

I’m a little frustrated.  I’m a hair over 40, stuck in a high-stress, dead end job, up to my eyeballs in debt, and my youngest kid just left for college.

Is this my mid-life crisis?

Maybe.  Realistically, not many people live beyond 80, so I am technically at mid-life.

It all started last spring.  I was on the way home from an outing with friends when I got a flat tire.  I pulled into the nearest gas station & called Kid4 to come pick me up.  I got out of the car & stood under a dim, flickering street light, pondering the life choices that led me to this place. (Mostly why I needed to be the drunkest person in the room, yet didn’t go rub the head of the midget playing bongos.)

While I was working on my issues, I saw it:

A big ol’ ugly Winnebago for sale in the lot across the street.

Big. Ugly. Winnebago.

But it got me to thinking…

In that semi-drunk, wild-eyed moment, that run-down, rickety Winnebago  looked like freedom.

Giant, boxy, bald-tired, shag carpeted, olive green trimmed freedom.

And since then, I’ve been obsessed with the idea of chucking all of my crap and becoming a vagabond.

I want to surround myself with beauty, not things.

I want to seek out new adventures & kitschy roadside attractions, stumbling across them as I roll.

I want to meet new people, characters, and personalities.

I want to wake up one morning & be all “Eh… I’d like to see Montana.”

I want to be put out to pasture, but have the entire continent be my pasture.

(Yes, I am aware that pastures are filled with animals, crap, & allergens.)

Obviously, this is not something that can happen overnight.  There are logistics to figure out, like how to get my husband to go along with my craziness & how we would support ourselves.  (He didn’t like my suggestion of him standing in a Walmart parking lot with a sign all day while I write. Killjoy.)

So I didn’t buy the Winnebago. But I am still trying to find something that will fit into our budget and our driveway.

And, I’ve committed myself to doing one thing per day to achieve this dream.  It could be something as small as perusing Craigslist, or packing a box to donate, or shopping for my new gypsy jewels.  The point is to do SOMETHING to bring my dreams closer to reality.  One small thing is all it takes.

One thing…and a Winnebago.

September 29, 2016 Posted by | Confession, Family, Friends, Kids, People, Travel, Work | Leave a comment

How I Spent My BlahgCation

In my last post, I mentioned the need to get hot before my daughter deleted my fan club. I mean, I didn’t REALLY think she would delete my fan club. Could she? WOULD SHE? Answer: SHE WOULD.  Apparently we are now at critical mass. If we were using that goofy scale that Prez Bush came up with to determine terrorist threats, I would be at code red.  In case you forgot, RED AIN’T GOOD!

Anyway, so I got a message from Kid1 the other day, who essentially demanded I get this blog going again.  Then HE made a threat to take down my fan club, blah blah blah, something about his career, blah blah blah…

Honestly, I’m not sure if he’s even an admin of the club.  So that feels like an empty threat at best.

My point to all of this is my audience is comprised mostly of my spawn & they can’t brag about their mama if their mama doesn’t get off her ass & give them something to brag about!

End result?  You get a long overdue blog post.  AND I GET TO KEEP MY FAN CLUB for a little bit longer!  Win-win!!

The truth is, my life has been stupid busy since the last time you’ve heard from me!  We had 2 weddings this year, so my kid levels have jumped up to a Duggar-like 6!  I NOW HAVE SIX KIDS!!!  Luckily they’re all old enough that I don’t have to change any diapers or remind them to keep their hands out of their mouths.  I mean, usually.

Kid3 married his college love two days after they graduated  in Virginia . This meant a road trip.  The hubby had been keeping a crazy work schedule since the beginning of the year & I am always on the prowl for adventure, so we made a vacation out of it.  Vacation, followed by big-ass party?  YES, PLEASE!  We spent a few days alone on the road, reminding one another why we don’t make more road trips…then rented a working farm to call home base with the family in VA.  Actually, a farm probably wasn’t my best choice. Birds freak me out, so the free range chickens that swarmed my car was a flock of noisy nightmare.  Also, it was 45 minutes of hairpin, dirt-road hell to get to any type of civilization & they have bears there.   So there’s that.

IMG_2486

The end result?  I got an awesome new daughter & all I had to give up was a little of my pride by running from chickens.

Next up in the Bonesy family drama-rama?  Kid1 deployed. DEPLOYED!  That’s when they take the beautiful baby that was once connected to you by actual tissue & blood flow… and deposit him on the other side of the planet.

At this point,  I MAY have spent a few days drinking away my feelings, hiding out from society & sobbing into the fur of a Golden Retriever.

It’s my process.

But then I had to sober up & snap out of it.  Kid2 got married at the end of August!

Deployment meant Kid #1 couldn’t be in town for his little sister’s wedding, so I fixed that for her.

Picture by Cannon Candids Photography

I found a company online that made a Flat Kid1 & got it to me just in time for the wedding.

I can honestly say that I did not flash anyone at Kid2’s reception, though she probably would have thought that was AWESOME!  I did host a vodka closet, do a little ghost hunting, & pass around a Mason jar of  ‘shine, though.

I mean, don’t even pretend like you didn’t do that stuff at your wedding.

Mixed into all of that other stuff, Kid4 transferred schools & moved away.

(Cue the feelings-drinking music again, please.)

We have no major life events on the horizon, so now I’m back to looking for other outlets for my ADD and a new excuse to open a bottle of vodka.  Trevor appreciates the lack of snot in his fur, though.

Trevor[1]

 

September 11, 2016 Posted by | Family, Kids, Love, Marriage, Travel | Leave a comment

Howdy, Neighbor!

I’m sure I’ve mentioned once or twice that I hail  from nomads. My family moved about once a year while I was growing up.   Besides the fact that I was always the socially awkward new kid, it was kind of a cool upbringing.  See,  a childhood of rentals = a constant parade of human oddities.  Almost like a never-ending county fair freak show or Ripley’s Believe It Or Not!

We just had a LOT of downright strange neighbors!

There was Marsha, the female Elephant Man.  Okay, truth be told, she was actually just a really big woman covered in moles.  But she had a super-cool live-in boyfriend who liked to invite me into the basement when she wasn’t home!

Wait, maybe that wasn’t such a good thing.

But he did let me play with his…

Vial of mercury.

What were you thinking? 

Come to think of it, mercury poisoning kind of explains a lot about that guy.

My favorite move brought us right next door to Grace & Bob.  They seemed like a harmless old couple…at first.  Turns out, they were a horrifying train wreck of a couple that you couldn’t help but to watch all wide-eyed, but from a safe distance.

Or, as safe a distance as you could find from next door while still watching.

Bob was kind of slow & mostly suicidal, and would occasionally lock himself in the shed & catch it on fire.

But Grace?  Hoo boy!  She was full on crazycakes.   Like use-the-cuff-of-your-jeans-for-an-ashtray CRAZYCAKES!

So, we totally used that to our advantage.

Once, when my sister & I found a dead mouse, we had Grace come over to “take care” of it for us.  (Don’t judge.  We don’t like critters!)  Grace came in, picked the little bastard up by the tail, sniffed it a few times… Then said “Mmm.. Lunch!” as she walked out the front door.

We didn’t have the balls heart to ask if she really did make lunch.

But, my friend Kelly & I did make her breakfast once!  We put some eggs in her mailbox one Saturday night on the hottest week of that summer.  We sat at my bedroom window, waiting for her to check the mail on Monday, but I don’t remember actually seeing it.  I do know she blamed the girls who lived a couple of streets away, though.   She couldn’t get the stench out, so wanted them to buy her a new mailbox.

Can I get arrested for a federal offense 25 years after the fact?  What is the statute of limitations on tampering with someone’s mailbox, anyway?

Then, when I was about 15, we moved into a ramshackle rental in a bad section of town.  Not long after we pulled up in the U-Haul, a few of our new neighbors came over and offered to help.  They were two good-looking couples, clean-cut & uber-friendly.

Also, they were cult members.

Even after my mom found out they were cult members, she still sent me to run errands with them.   You know, totally normal errands, like going door-to-door handing out tracts.  Scouring the real estate section for recent closings so we could “help” new neighbors in OTHER neighborhoods.  Inviting people to “meetings” where they could experience something called “new birth.”

I was good with it for a while.  I mean, what do I care if people get brainwashed?  They were nice to me, paid me in Pepsi, & bought me a few new outfits for our cross-town missions.

I drew the line when they invited me to go out of town with them for “training.”   I mean, brainwashing is fine for OTHER people, but for me?  I think I’ll pass.

I thought I had left all of that behind when I got married.

Then all hell broke loose.

No, really.  I’m pretty sure that hell actually broke open & unleashed the devil’s spawn to my neighborhood, in the form of a little boy named Johnny.

To be fair, Johnny clearly wasn’t “right.”  I don’t judge for that.  What I DO judge him for are the actions that took place over the several years we lived there.  Peeping.  Theft.  Flat tires. Dented cars.  Exposure. Urinating on my house.  Threats of physical violence.  Did I mention he was armed?  Grandpa thought he was old enough for a pocket knife when he turned 12.  Yeah, all of that happened BEFORE HE TURNED 12!

What’s a NORMAL family to do when the psychotic neighbor boy now carries a blade?

Move.

And now?  Now we live in a nice, quiet neighborhood, right next to a man who drives the Scooby Mobile.  A 50-year-old man in a PT Cruiser, with “Scooby” decal-ed across the back window… and a giant stuffed Scooby Doo in the passenger seat.

Or we DID live next to him.  He was taken to jail a couple of weeks ago, after drunkenly crashing his car twice in one day, shooting up the tree in his front yard,  then holding the still-loaded gun to his wife’s head.

*Sigh*

Maybe it’s time to move on.

August 14, 2016 Posted by | Family, Friends, Kids, People | 2 Comments

Ratings

I’ve been demoted.  This has nothing to do with my new boss having read my blog.  (I’m pretty sure she hasn’t.)  Actually, it has nothing to do with my day job at all.

Nope.  I’ve been demoted by my child, the infamous Kid2.

Earlier today, I had this convo:

Kid2: Woman, don’t you EVER answer your phone?

Me: What are you talking about?

Kid2: Well, I’ve sent you like 3 texts lately that you haven’t bothered to respond to.

Me:  Are you feeling unloved?

Kid2: Maybe a little. But one was pretty important, so you suck.

Me: Also, I’m kind of awesome.

Kid2: But mostly you suck.

Me: With a side of awesome.

Kid2: Well, sometimes.

Sometimes!?

I have now been demoted to “sometimes” status on the Scale of Awesome.

So, in order to remedy that, I’ve agreed to go to her sorority Founders Day brunch next month.   I’m not quite sure why she wants me to do this.  Have I mentioned that I like to leave an impression?

“Like to” might be a bit of a stretch.  It kinda just happens.  I can’t be trusted in public settings.

So, apparently, Kid2 is just asking for it.   Which means she secretly loves when I embarrass her.

Which means I’m pretty fucking awesome, whether she’ll admit it or not.

July 24, 2016 Posted by | Family, Kids, Textersations | , , , , , | 2 Comments

What It’s Like To Be My Kid

 

 

Kid3:

 

Me: Sweet! Are you at the creepy puppet museum? If so, take drugs to sleep tonight.  Otherwise, the nightmares will make you crazy.  That’s how creepy puppet museums work.  They’re a front for the makers of Ambien.

Kid3: Howdy Doody?  Lol  Emily took me to the natural bridge and they had a toy museum that we looked at in the gift shop.  The toy museum was free!

Me: Really?!  That’s because old toys are creepy.  And creeped out kids get nightmares.  Nightmares are free.  Know what’s not free?  The drugs parents buy to make sure creeped out kids sleep.  It’s all about the drugs.

Kid3: You are a junkie.

Me: I get nightmares.

Kid3: Was Howdy Doody before your time & more for Aunt Kim? I remember one of you two was making fun of us for looking like Howdy Doody or something when we were younger.

Me: Howdy was from the 50s, but I think we watched reruns.  We make fun because we love.  Also, because we hate.  And because we feel ambivalent.  But with you, it was def out of love. 

Kid3: Ah okay.  It looked old but I didn’t know how old.  But we know that’s why you did it all those years.

July 13, 2016 Posted by | Family, Kids, Sleep, Textersations | Leave a comment

How to WIN Friday the 13th in 769 words.

Sh! Everybody simmer down for a minute. I have something important to say!

Okay, not really.

But I am trying to quiet all the voices around me so that I can concentrate on the voices in my head.  Apparently, 3 days of missed meds & the resulting lack of sleep makes me a little schizophrenic.

It also makes me look a little like THIS:

I’m not saying this IS me, but I was a little sad earlier this week & wearing a purplish/blue shirt today. And I need to color my hair.

I think my trigger was the dirty apple I had for breakfast.  Okay, not a dirty apple.  I washed it.  But he did have a wicked case of blue balls & an apparent need to drop some seed.

Seriously, full frontal apples are the key to my genius!  Or just a happy coincidence for a dirty, sleep deprived mind.

But then I had to go to work…which is where the frivolity should have ended, if I had a lick of sense.

Which I do not.

And that’s how I was caught on the security cameras standing in the middle of the street shouting “HAPPY FREAKING FRIDAY!”

You can probably add that to the list of reasons they’ll eventually fire my ass.

But you know what?  IT FELT SO DAMN GOOD I DID IT A SECOND TIME!  Doubt me?  Try it.  Just don’t say I didn’t warn you they’ll eventually fire your ass for it.  Nothing like a little video proof of dumbassery.

From there, they paid me to eat breakfast.  Then make tea.  Then spill tea.  Then make more tea.  Then add extra tea bags to the new tea because I needed the caffeine & it was only 8:30.

Considering what they paid me to do all those things that I would should have done for free, I made some serious coin on a per-hour basis.  Probably.  I’m bad at math.

But it was all okay, because I found my old-ass ipod, which had a ton of music that I totally forgot I had!  So while I was fumbling away my morning in a gigantic puddle of eyecrossingly strong tea & paranoia, at least I got to jam to some great indie tunes & stuff that I’ll never admit to having on an ipod that may never see the light of day again.  And my new obsession song, which I added this morning before I ever saw the apple sac, but played over & over again like a fingerbanged teenager with a huge crush & a bad case of acne.

(“Taste” by Josh Abbott Band, in case you were wondering.)

I then let Kid4 know that Kid1 ruined my hoo-ha.  She thought that was TMI, but really, caring is sharing.  Plus, he did have a gigantic head.  There may be reconstruction surgery in my future.

Somehow, that became a text about back alley liposuction & vajazzling with an uber-conservative friend who doesn’t mind my over-sharing.

Then, 2 out of 4 children were demoted.  Temporarily, anyway.

I don’t think it had anything to do with giant heads or vajazzling or back alley lipo, but I’m not making any promises.

But I did encourage let them get into a bidding war for the title of MOM’S MOST FAVORITE CHILD after that, so I think I made good.  For the record, Kid2 won the sprint with her offer to let me come to campus & hang out in the Buckeyes football locker room!  Kid3 is looking more toward the marathon by planning out my pneumatic retirement trailer park.  He’s good, that one.  Kid1 just wants to be Kid2’s favorite sibling.  I’m not clear why he wants to hang out in the OSU locker room, though.  Curious.  Kid4 is working, so I’m still waiting on her offer.

But Kid2 & I did manage to solve every fucking world problem in existence via text message this afternoon!  I’d share with you, but we’re planning to sell our ideas to the highest bidder to help pay for my future trailer park.  Let’s just say I’m really fucking glad that placenta eating is a thing now.  And that Mt Dew plus Mentos equals ass-plosion.  But woe is the man who has to spend eternity huffing Larry the Cable Guy’s farts.

I’m not sure how we got to that either.

But then?  Then we designed Kid1’s new tramp stamp, which is sure to impress his future-mother-in-law …. or at least be easier to explain to her than his abnormal, but clearly AWESOME upbringing.

On crumpled notebook paper, for extra classiness.

May 13, 2016 Posted by | Confession, Family, Friends, Kids, People, Sleep, Work | 1 Comment

Not-So-Super-Sunday

Today, guys everywhere are doing super cool stuff – hanging out, bullshitting with their buddies, & drinking their way up to & through the big game. Lucky bastards.

I should also be doing those things!

Not because I’m a guy (I have the stretch marks, prolapsed uterus, & the 4-baby-sag to prove it)… but because I maybe SHOULD have been a born a guy.

At any given moment, I would much rather be doing “guy” stuff than “girl” stuff. Well, except for that pesky all of the work during sex thing . I’m not an idiot! I know how good we girls have it there.

My point is, instead of celebrating the last day of football season like a good tomboy should… I have spent my day chained to the laptop. I’ve used words like “cute” and “vintage,” along with silly phrases like “my colors” and “cake tasting.”

WHAT THE FUCK HAS HAPPENED TO ME?!!?

I said “yes.”

Yes, I’m already married. But the first time we got hitched, it was kind of on a whim. Well, maybe not a whim. But it had certainly all happened fast enough to leave me in a semi-retarded fog.

We met at the end of August while signing up for the military. By the end of November, I had left for (and returned from) boot camp, fallen in love, gotten engaged…and now had to plan a wedding. But the thing is, I didn’t know anything about that crap!. I had just turned 18 & had really never given much thought to marriage!

And I was certainly not one of those little girls who grew up dreaming of a princess wedding.

So while we considered a big ol’ extended family hoopla, we ultimately decided we wanted to do it before he left for boot camp. So, we worked the phone lines until we found someone willing to do the deed without forcing us to sit through classes that we didn’t have the time or inclination to take.

That person was the mayor of a neighboring town who happened to be on bereavement leave. Despite the fact that her husband had just died, she agreed to come into work long enough to marry us that morning 25 years ago.

There were 3 witnesses.

We went to work later that day.

It’s a crazy story, but it’s all true. I LOVE that we did everything so completely off base from what everyone else we know did in their wedding. We did it cheaper… and OURS WORKED, BITCHES!

But this time, we want to do it “right,” whatever that means. We want to be sure we get the opportunity to celebrate our love with all of those we love the most. That’s the most important part of it all for us

It’s still going to be unconventional. It’s still going to be fun. But in the end, it’s still going to be US, with hopefully way more of YOU.  And then I’ll pay some bartenders to get you drunk before I make my grand appearance… in a dress. This way, your memories will be foggy when you think back to it the next day. This is called “WEDDING PLANNING” & it’s apparently a skill I am damn good at!

February 7, 2016 Posted by | Confession, Family, Friends, Love, Marriage | , | Leave a comment

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