Eloping is no picnic. It is almost as bad as fussy seating arrangements and picking out bridal party gifts and shit. Seriously.
Why would I bitch? An all expenses paid trip out to the eastern seaboard?! OMG! I iz ungrateful.
I will tell you why I can bitch.....
BioDad (as the credit card person): "I just got promoted to a ridiculously involved lead position at the company, and keep missing the inn's business hours with the 3 hour time difference, can you please help with the reservations in New York? Oh, and Vermont? Are you still going there? Can you look up flights, too?"
Manwife (hubby to be): "I want the ridiculously expensive titanium ring!!!" and "are we still eloping? where are our tickets? have you made any plans yet?" and "I wanna snowboard in Vermont!" and "Flying isnt that bad, stop freaking out!"
Future In Laws (supposed babysitters of the Squidge):"We can't handle watching our future grandson for an entire week. Even though he loves us and begs to stay with us. He'll be sad, we just can't do it. Hope you understand!"
SSA (frazzled lady of the manor and general badass): "AAAAAAAGH FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU RIGHT IN THE FUCKING EAR HOLLLEEEEE SHEEEEEEIT!" and "AGGGGGGGGGGGGGGH! I can barely plan a car trip and vacation down the coast 120 miles! FUCK FUCK FUCK FUUUUUUUUCCCCCCCCKKKKK" and "They're gonna lose my luggage, I know it. Those fucking bastards at the airport are gonna chuck it on a plane to Aruba. Shit."
But no really, I can barely drag out an atlas and plan a successful road/camping trip out to the Washington penninsula, and then maybe even plan driving down to oregon! I fucked that one up this year though.
And to top it all off, the job I got was so piss-poorly organized I ended up turning it down out of disgust and mistrust. Blarg. I've interviewed for another position, but have heard jack all since. Piss.
'Sokay being a housewife, money's just tight until Manwife's classes are over for the quarter (then he's on to night and online courses, wheeeeee! I get my lithuanian booty back!). And then after that, he still has to turn his paychecks over to me, for the bill paying and budgets and whatnot. I'm much better at finances than he is, by a very very longshot, but I still feel awful and awkward and shrewish taking all of his money and doling out a weekly allowance for it. So. Bloody. WEIRD.
So that is all the blog I have, sorry for the lack of wild Yankee mountain lady ranting, I has been BIZZY BEE:
I am making all kinds of crafty stuff: For my itty bitty sisters (Wibbo, 3.5, & Ms S, 2) I am sewing little softies - an elephant, a monster, a fish, and a bunny. I think they will also get pretty necklaces and dress-up purses.I am also crocheting a throw blanket, knitting a bag to felt, making my future MIL a necklace and pouch, and also embroidered log cabin pillows.
And then, I have two scarves to block, a Squidge to teach/entertain/keep in line, meals to make, laundry to wash/hem/let sit in wrinkly piles, and a hamster to wrangle - fucking rodent keeps escaping her "habitat" to try and live under the stove. Stupid fluffpile.
Oh, and running the universe, I do that too. No big deal. You know how we do.