Pants are hard

As I was confessing to my dear friend yesterday, I'm having a good day if I can get up and remember to put on pants every morning. And she agreed, confirming, "Pants are hard."

I feel guilty for complaining about life and how hard it is sometimes. I imagine myself re-reading this post many years from now and wisely frowning upon the person I used to be, stroking my long, Gandalf-like beard, and thinking, "Sister, you don't know the half of it." But, for now, pants are hard.

Dad received his MRI test results, which confirmed that the staph infection has ravaged the weakest part of his body, in this case, his spine, destroying several discs and causing cracks to appear. So, in addition to his prostate surgery, he will probably also need back surgery. They are sending him to a neurologist for more information. His constant pain is discouraging. He can't continue to live like this. And I can't do a damn thing to help him. The powers that be did, finally, send him to a pain clinic yesterday that prescribed him a powerful painkiller, you know, the kind people rob pharmacies for. He had just taken the first pill when we visited him yesterday, so the effects hadn't totally kicked in yet, but I hope they do, soon.

Meanwhile, in about one month we will note the one-year anniversary of leaving Dinky College and moving in with Husband's parents. I absolutely cannot fathom the fact that we have been there for an entire year. Our move-in date for our new house keeps getting pushed back because who knew completely renovating a house would take such a long-ass time? After the wedding last Saturday, we drug our exhausted, hungover butts out of bed and drove to Indianapolis with two pickup trucks to retrieve our hardwood flooring. We appreciate the muscled help of Diosthocles, whom we somehow conned into coming along and lugging around our forty-eight boxes of wood. Our carpeting will finally be installed Tuesday, and if it ever stops raining, we'll pick up the rest of our tile and cement board for the two downstairs bathrooms before laying the hardwood and installing the kitchen cabinets. Aside from other semi-minor fixes and installations, we should be able to move the majority of our junk into our new abode after that. Maybe we'll be living in our house by this time next year. Maybe.

Has anyone seen my pants?

Wedding Bells

Wedding season has officially begun! This past Saturday I was a bridesmaid in a wedding for my dear red-headed cowgirl friend. We have been friends since she moved from Arkansas to Indiana in high school. With her lighthearted spirit and innate sense of spontenaity, she can never help but to make me smile. With her, I experienced the yearbook class, to which I contribute the inspiration for my college education and current career. Also, I don't think I will ever forget ramping my little yellow VW bug up the hill and onto the highway at our school...she can get me to do just about anything...

To the best of my knowledge, the wedding went off very well, except for a sick horse who couldn't attend and lead their carriage after the ceremony. Aside from a stiff wind, the day was almost as beautiful as the bride. Note:


She even looks lovely with a men's room as a backdrop! I cannot wait to see the professional photographer's pictures from the day! Here is the female bridal party in its entirety. Our lovely spring colors were so bright and cheerful!


At the reception, Husband and I took the obligatory old, boring married couple picture. I think we clean up pretty well!


You will always be Fuller to me!

What Font Are You?

What font are you? Take this short quiz to find out. I absolutely love fonts. While freelance designing, I get all of my inspiration by taking the text and playing around with different fonts until I find the right ones for the piece.

However, I'm disappointed. This quiz says I'm Times New Roman: "Dude. You have three names. You're blue blood, old money, landed gentry, confident, assured; perhaps a tad old fashioned but you don't let that bother you. Let the kids go crazy with their new fads — you prefer style that's going to last. You secretly fear you need to get out more, and you're probably right."

I would probably look good on financial statements and TPS Reports.

How boring.

Talk Like Shakespeare Day

Happy 445th birthday, Bill! Visit TalkLikeShakespeare.org or the Shakespearean Insults Generator to learn more. My favorite insults so far: "Thou weedy open-arsed varlet!" and "Thou puny rude-growing flap-dragon!"

I remember first studying Shakespeare in the ninth grade. After we finished a selection of his plays, we were allowed to watch the movie Romeo and Juliet in class. All I remember is that, at one point, Juliet (played by Olivia Hussey...fitting last name) flashed her chesticles for a split second and the boys in the class went wild. I looked on disapprovingly. Possibly envious. After all, it was the ninth grade.

What’s your first memory of Shakespeare? Your favorite quote?

In honor of tiny things...

Our carpool buddy and his lovely wife (seriously, she JUST had a baby? no effing way!) dropped by the house last night and brought the softest, teensy-weensiest little baby, Claire. I got the chance to hold her (safely positioned on the couch, because I don't trust my bumbling self with tiny preciousness). I've only held about three other babies in my life, and I am almost positive now that there is nothing better. Of course, after they departed, I demanded of Husband that: soooocuuuuuteiwantonetooooooo! Husband's logic prevailed (umm...we live with his parents...have no house yet fit to inhabit...no money because of said house...) But still...soooocuuuuute...

I suppose, for now, I will have to suppress my procreational inclinations by looking at pictures of other tiny preciousness on the INTERNETS. So, for your viewing pleasure, I bring you Tom Thumb.

SQUEE!

Slacker 2.0

This weekend didn't result in the drumming up of any interesting stories for your reading pleasure or of any pictures of the renovations, which I actually meant to take last week. I didn't do any of my work-related editing that I had planned and prepared to complete from home. I didn't go to church on Easter Sunday. I didn't even buy my Husband a bloody Easter card! In fact, I didn't do one iota of useful work this weekend. I felt glorious. And guilt-ridden.

Instead, I shopped (my first real shopping excursion in months) with a few lovely ladies, watched a movie with Husband (House Bunny...*Oliver*), and visited with my parents and the in-laws while stuffing my face with chocolate and mashed potatoes and rolls...nom nom nom.

The coming weekend probably won't be any more productive, renovation-wise. I have to attend a church fish fry Friday night, make a big batch of sugar cookies for a bachelorette party Saturday, and attend a bridal shower Sunday. I was supposed to take the afternoon off of work this Friday, because my dad was going to have surgery, but that has now been postponed. So, instead, I will continue to eat my weight in sugar and fried food and take bets on whether or not I will fit into my bridesmaid dress on April 25. Judging from the size of my ass at this current moment, odds don't seem to be in my favor...

Slacker...

This week has felt jam-packed and a little overwhelming, if only because I've been constantly starting at my April calendar that has every single day spoken for, and is currently bleeding into May.

So, I haven't posted the pictures that I never had the chance to take of our second floor bathroom renovation which is, for all intents and purposes, COMPLETE! The lights are hooked up, the paint is finished, the floor is laid, and the vanity is installed and capped off with a vanity top, faucet, and hardware. We also finalized our carpeting order this week (plush, environmentally-friendly, in the color "Mushroom," how fun!), and Husband is hoping to pick up the hardwood flooring tomorrow (thanks for the extra set of rippling muscles, Diosthocles!). Husband and I also got all purdied up this week when he got his front chipped tooth fixed (watch out for those forks!) and I got my first [professional] haircut and high-light in months.

So, Husband is no longer broken, and I am no longer dingy blonde and split-endy. This means we are now presentable for the two weddings in two months that we are participating in, possibly with another wedding thrown into the middle, which we will attend as guests, just for fun. It seems everyone is either getting married or having a baby (A belated blog congratulations to our carpool buddy and his lovely wife. Welcome, Claire!).

So, there you have it. An introduction and three paragraphs that begin with the word "So." But no pictures or any information about my life that you actually cared to read. Bummer you made it this far in the post. I feel terrible; I have to give you some kind of reward for reading this entire thing. SO, here's some eye candy:
I love this dress. I covet this dress. I just might make a shrine in front of which I will worship this dress. But can I justify spending $58 on a sunshine sundress when I really don't even look good in yellow and where would I wear it but oh did you see the lace trim and chest ruffles and tie bow in the back? *Faints with a clunk.*

*Lifts head. Opens one eye.* Anyone want to contribute to the KittyMarie Needs A New Yellow Sundress Fund? Anyone? Anyone? Okay, nevermind. *Clunk.*

A Must-Visit

Love words? Love quizzes? Love helping to feed those in need from the comfort of your computer chair? You're in luck! I just stumbled across the Web site Free Rice, who describe their mission as "For each answer you get right, we donate 10 grains of rice through the UN World Food Program to help end hunger." I don't know if my knowing what a "naumachia" is (a naval maneuver) or that a "stager" is an experienced person matters in the long run, but it certainly can't hurt! This sounded like a site that would be right up the alley of many of you!

I got 1,000 grains of rice in the regular English text and another 1,000 in the French test. The funny part of the French test? The answer I kept missing was for the word échouer. Yeah, that is the infinitive for the verb "to fail."

KittyMarie FTW...

I'm glad we've moved past the 1970s...

...or have we? Decide for yourself:

Page of a children's book from the 1970s

As sweet story for a sweet Friday

I enjoyed reading this short, personal story about a son and his parents who never took left turns. If you have a few minutes, it's well worth your time!

Happy Friday, everyone!

Love, just love...

I will totally give it up for target.com; they can make cheap pretty darn cool.

I am completely, one hundred and ten percent in love with this bedspread. Come on, people, GIANT GRAPHIC BUTTERFLIES.


However, Husband's masculinity was threatened by the prospect of sharing a bed with his wife and the order of lepidoptera.

So, I propose a solution: two beds. I realize this defeats the purpose of marriage, but go with the on this one. Sometimes, sacrifices have to be made in the name of beautiful design. I can have one bed with the GIANT GRAPHIC BUTTERFLIES, and he can have a bed with a more masculine pattern.


PROBLEM SOLVED.

Gullibility, thy name is KittyMarie

I am an incredibly gullible person. This is the main reason why I should never venture out of bed on April Fool's Day.

In addition, I am always the last person to hear news. It doesn't matter what the topic is, if you know some hot new tidbit (or even something lukewarm, for that matter), you can be sure that I haven't heard it yet. As an example of both my gullibility and tardy news-gathering, I was taken in by an April Fool's Day joke posted on Facebook last April and believed it was God's honest truth until July when I was corrected by a group of people thirty years older than me.

Husband also frequently takes advantage of my gullibility for his own amusement. I will believe almost anything he says (shouldn't I know better by now?). I think sometimes he's just testing me. I'm sure he is aware of how much I trust him, because he could be having a hot, sweaty affair in the next room with some woman (or man?) of questionable moral fiber and could lie through his teeth to my face, and I would totally buy whatever he was selling.

I once thought that I would like to work for a newspaper - be the first person on the scene, get the inside scoop, report everything I had heard to the anxious public. I have decided that this would not be the best career choice for me until I become a lot more nosy and suspicious.

Happy (belated, because I meant to write this yesterday) April Fool's Day!

I would have rejected this proposal...

I am by no means the best editor in the world. I am by no means the best writer in the world. I am by no means the most cultured reader in the world.

But I know when something is baaaaaaaaad.

This link is to one of the worst descriptive passages I have ever read, which you simply must check out (found through mentalfloss.com). It's ever so painful, and it is guaranteed to make you instantly feel better about your own writing skills.