18 days...

Attention New York State residents:

Yes, I do realize it is my job to listen to your conspiracy theories. And yes, I am supposed to help you obtain your teaching license by tomorrow morning for your interview at 10am.

But allow me to get down on my knees....it will take me a second, I am getting older, you know...and plead for you to consider my fragile emotional state in these last few weeks of pre-wedded bliss.

In order for me to keep my sanity (and help you regain yours), please follow the guidelines below:

• You have 10 minutes. Give me your information like a press release: most important first...just in case I accidentally hang up on you.
• Save the details of your hip replacement for conversations over coffee with your girlfriends.
• Before you call sober up, wake up, spit out your gum.
• Save us both some time and go directly to your lawyer.
• Make yourself an outline. Follow it. Fax it to me.
• Ask for Keith.
• Don't yell or curse at me or else I will tell you what I really think of your "disability."
• Send me a box of chocolates....or maybe a simple stinkin' Thank You.

That is all. Thank you for your time.

The Washington County Fair...Part 2

2009 Fair Highlights

Milk.

And more milk.

Which led me to the Lion's Club booth for the biggest, most delicious ice cream cone I've ever had. Allow me to present a crude drawing:

Other highlights include stepping in cow poo, goat poo, sheep poo, rabbit poo, pig poo, alpaca poo, and chicken poo.

I argued with a crazy person and pet baby ducks.

Then I drove home.

The End.

The Washington County Fair...Part 1

Unfortunately, just because I was on vacation from wedding planning that didn't mean I was on vacation from work. And part of my "work" is spending 6-12 miserable hours each year in a booth at the County Fair.

And since I am incredibly optimistic about every stinkin' situation I'm thrown into, I made the best of my 4-10pm shift by turning it into a learning experience.

What I learned at the Washington County Fair

by Stacie

Teenagers still are not cutting their hair. They also don't seem to wash it. This is cool.

What is also cool: butt cheeks. The more you show, the better. With this revelation I discovered I am very uncool. My seat meat was covered by at least 7 inches of khaki.

There are no reproduction restrictions. Anyone and everyone can make babies. As many babies as they want.

It is possible to tattoo every square inch of your body. Even butt cheeks.

Thou cannot live on fair food alone. They try, though, and are currently failing.

Moms wear pants above their belly buttons. I assume for comfort. I am wearing a skirt that sits between my belly button and my lower ribs. It feels good here.

Santa lives in Washington County in the off-season.

Cowboys are not extinct.

And finally, camera phones are not the greatest at documenting spontaneous events. I apologize in advance for the low quality in the pig and cow milking videos I saved for part 2 of my fair experience.

23 days....

This is now on the list...THE list, so make a note on your dry erase board:

"What, no blog today??"

Folks, I'm not sure if you've caught on by now, but I'm planning a wedding. Not an after dinner cocktail party, backyard barbeque, or bar mitzvah.

I am tired.

And I have not had a single non-wedding related thought in weeks.

So don't be alarmed when I break out into instant hives and mild neurosis when I hear this or any of the other items on my "Do Not Speak" list.

But, after two wedding-free days I feel refreshed. (well, not completely wedding free. i did make a quick tux appointment, but who says you shouldn't be efficient even when you are on a "vacation"?) My mind is clear. And I'm now ready to share more deep, though-provoking commentary on...me.

(insert smiley face emoticon here)

28 days...

Well, it has finally happened.



This wedding has landed me on prescription medication.



I'm on Naproxen. Because my jaw hurts. Because I can't sleep at night. Because I fret.



I am a fretter. A worry-wart. A nervous-nellie.



But I don't have to fret for the two whole minutes it will take me to consume these brownie turds my dear, sweet co-worker snatched from a sample tray at a near-by bakery.

I promise I'll post more coherent thoughts once my brain is mine again. For now I'm just renting a spare room in the unused space near my occipital lobe.

29 days...

Notice how I didn't post anything on the 18th...the one month mark?


That's because I was frantic.

I'm sorry, did you say baloney sandwich? No? Oh, you asked what I'm frantic about?

Good question, I like my baloney sandwiches with a little mayo and cheese.

But back to what I was saying, I was incredibly frantic and snappy on that day and I'm sure you did not want to hear what I had to say.

It most definitely would have been a half jumbled mess of near-profanity mixed with Yiddish expressions and what I would call "gobledy gook."

But I exaggerate.

One month to go and we still have no idea if we're saying vows or lyrics from a Lenny Kravitz song.

In the next four weeks I have to print out a million programs.

I have 29 stinkin' days to put people in the right seats and give them little favors they'll forget about by the next day.

And that's not even half of it, folks.

You might want to stop reading after today. I'm not sure how much longer I can hold back on my Yiddish rants....

47 days...

...until the Fall Kickoff Event!!


The most anticipated weekend of the year....


The biggest collection of used crap in the country...


On Saturday, October 3rd you will find me and my walking shoes at

The Warrensburg Garage Sale!!

The big deal?? Uhhhh...it's only the world's largest garage sale...in the world.


On my shopping list for this year:

• Elvis earrings
• sausage and peppers
• homemade dog treats
• antique doorknobs
• buttons
• roasted almonds

I also plan on playing smooshy-face with every dog I pass and squeal at every antique stained glass window that I can neither afford nor carry.

I love routines.

32 days...

Um. This is bad. I just read the side of a van. It said, "North Country Janitorial." But I saw, "Cupcake."




Lord, help me make it through these last few weeks of wedding planning without the assistance of your most wonderful creation: the Snickers bar, and without killing the groom or anyone else who happens to catch me at my "best."

Give me kind words when I talk to the wedding coordinator who still has not returned my panicked message from over a week ago.

And, could you please replace that panic with soft, fluffy, marshmallow clouds? I wouldn't want to accidentally, in a state of complete mindlessness, seat my gentle, old granddaddy with Corey's loud and rambunctious track friends.

Also, about that cupcake...

Free box of cooking magazines

No, anonymous Craigslist poster. This is a cat.

8 days...

Yes. Only eight days until the RSVP deadline.

And I'm still waiting on a few individuals who like to wait until the very last minute to do anything. I won't name names...Mom. (see, i didn't say your name)

Luckily, there are only a handful of people who I will have to hound for any kind of confirmation...Daddy.

But you know, with most of these people I can just assume they are coming, the only problem is I don't know what they want to eat...three out of five bridesmaids and their dates.

And I wouldn't want to inconvenience them with the wrong meal...maids of honor.

So, I guess in eight days I'll start with the gentle nudging...two out of four groomsmen.

And then work my way into suspect interrogation....grandmother.

But it's really in their best interest to send in the response cards. As. Soon. As. Possible.

Just a quick note from the pet peeve department

I swear, just one more off-topic post and then I'll get back to the sappy, boring details of the wedding that is already 98% planned.

Here's the thing, and I only just recently started noticing this, when you talk on the phone you really don't need to narrate everything you do.

Don't get me wrong, folks. I would love to hear about your day, or the conversation you had with your immature, selfish ex-boyfriend, but when you start digging through your purse for a pen, or looking up a phone number on the computer I don't need to hear your conversation to yourself.


"Let's see, I know it's here somewh-oh there's my tic-tacs..."


"Do bee doop doop (sucking noise) I know I saved it...."


"Hummmmmm, (big sigh) if I open that and click on this..."


"Now why did I save this piece of string?"


I'm glad you have a healthy and open relationship with yourself, but when you talk out loud like that I feel like I'm eavesdropping. And that's rude.

A Day in the Life

This is me. Take it or leave it--I make trivial tasks difficult.


On a normal day, you get your cup of tea, tear open a honey packet and squeeze its contents into your cup.


On my normal days, I get a cup of tea, go through five honey packets and spill just about everything on myself.


Yes, this is my routine: Order tea (how ironic the tea I choose is called "calm"), wander around looking for the drink accessories station, scout out honey packets and stirrer. Grab packet. Tear open packet....wait, that one isn't tearing, try a different corner, nope, no corner works, grab new packet. Tear open packet...no, these corners aren't working either, darnit.

Grab new packet, use force this time. Packet rips in half, honey oozes out, two drops into tea, the rest on me. Crap. Grab napkins, soak in tea, wipe up sticky mess. Grab new packet, corners don't open. Curse under breath and ignore stares from girl at counter. Grab new packet, use force, but not too much.

Packet opens successfully!!! But tea is now cold.

Corey is fully aware of my tendencies to attract faulty honey packets, or how I find the one crack in the sidewalk to trip over.

Lucky for me Corey's takin' all that instead of leaving it. (insert cheesy grin here)

38 days...

Oh crap.

A month is 30-31 days...sometimes 28....and were at 38. So that means we are now entering the "month-ish" range. Ohmigoshjustbreathe.

I have already started a list of advice for my never-been-married friends. This is a mixture of advice I was given and ignored and things I learned along the way:

1. Give yourself a year. Don't give yourself a year and a half.
2. When involving the groom, only give him three options. Options you've already approved.
3. Order invitations.
4. Invite everyone you've ever known. Including me.
5. Learn to cry on command.
6. Take dance lessons. I'm already regretting not doing this with Corey...images of fist pumps and karate chops come into mind.
7. Elope.

That's all for now. More in 39 days.

Just in case you were wondering

This is how Corey and I spend a typical day:

So as you can see, Corey and I lead very busy lives. And I spend a lot of time eating.

These pie charts were actually kinda hard to figure out. The last time I needed to show anyone how much of a whole of anything was high school...maybe college. And it wasn't that interesting then, either.

On the road to recovery

I'm still a little sore from yesterday's Craigslist incident. Dibs is dibs, folks. It is an understanding even my 7 and 8 year old sisters understood when "calling" the front seat for trips to the grocery store (that is, before you had to be in a car seat until you were 15).

So to help all of you ignorant to the Rules of Dibs, let me give you a brief summary (the full text can be found in Section 16.8 of the Law of Dibs):

• "Dibs" is not necessary to claim possession of disputed item, title, etc. Acceptable claims are Mine, Me, Shotgun, Here. Also, the more obvious, "I will take it" is adequate.
• Acknowledgement of possession, or lack of, does not affect claim in any way.
• Once dibs is called it cannot be un-dibbed unless the dibber gives his or her consent.
• Dibs does not expire until, for example, the filing cabinets are retrieved.

I will need a few more days to recover. But I am hopeful once I return to Craigslist to continue furnishing my make-believe house I will find a few more educated sellers.

Don't EVEN get me started

Sorry to the three readers of this blog, but I am in NO mood to provide you with witty commentary on my boring interactions with wedding vendors or Corey's illnesses. There is anger flowing through my veins. One false move and I just might tell you how I really feel about that outfit.

I admit I am slightly obsessed with Craigslist. What frugal non-germiphobe isn't? I have found everything I would ever need to fully furnish a three bedroom, one and a half bath colonial with attached garage, rose garden, and in-ground pool. I have also found my dream job (dog walker) and a place where I can rant about how awful the bridal shop in Philadelphia was.

As I recently browsed the furniture section, I came across two two-drawer file cabinets I desperately needed to organize future projects in my studio. I learned the hard way that you can't take your time on a steal like this ($10 for two) so I called dibs and went on with my work.

Hours later I find out that "dibs" doesn't mean squat in Craigslist world. So, my file cabinets are gone and someone else is at this very moment organizing their own future projects.

To whoever snatched those suckers out from under me, I hope you drastically underestimate the scope of those projects and the stress makes you grumpy toward your family and they end up going to get ice cream sundaes without you.

So there.

Too funny to NOT share

Ok...shhhhh. I'm in my office, but I have to get this out before I either shoot snot out of my nose or something a little more fowl...um, never mind.

I have a friend named Jill. She's a lot like me. I say dumb things, she says dumb things.

I say things like, "August starts on the first this year."

She says things like, well, hers takes a little explaining.

And so the story begins... her mom sent Corey and I a sweet email congratulating us and giving advice that has worked for her and her husband: bake a batch of cookies when we're upset with each other. I love the idea. Not only will it help me get over a spat, but I get cookies out of it.

So, she gives me this advice and I picture myself in the middle of a flour storm, egg and dough everywhere, with a crazed look in my eye as I spit in the cookie dough!

I tell this to Jill with my little smiley emoticons and LOLs, and her response is:

"HAH! Spit in the dough. I would do that but then forget which cookie I put it in and end up eating my own spit. "

HAhaha(snort)hahahaaha(snort)aaahahaahaa(snort)ha!!!

Aaaaaaand they're OFF....

...at Saratoga! Yes, welcome to the 100-and-something season of horse racing at this, the most, or maybe it's the second most, historic race track in the country!!...or world...or whatever.

In this relationship, one of us is a racing fanatic and the other likes to get dressed up and look at fancy hats (that's me).

June:

"Corey! It's almost here!!"

"I know! The track is only 29 days away!!!"

July:

"I will help you right after the track is over."

"A week before the wedding?!?"

July 28:

"This is the best time of the year!"

"You mean, besides our wedding?"

"Oh yeah, of course!"

No, really. This is a good thing. Now is the time I get to push through a few "questionable" practices without any resistance from the distracted groom.

Like little finger cymbals for all the guests. So, when we say our "I do's" we'll hear a wave of tin chirps. Romantic...right?!

Or maybe fish bowl centerpieces.

Or a fun new dance where everyone grooves in their socks!

Am I trying to make Corey regret his choice in priorities? hehehehehe....no.

Friends don't let friends eat their weight in cookies

They just don't.

And where were my so-called friends last night? Right next to me. Watching as I got up for "just one more."

Well "friends," I betcha didn't know I can't hold my cookies. After four I can no longer walk upright and I end up with tummy grumblies like you wouldn't believe.

So, thanks. Thank YOU Cathy for making the darn things. Thank YOU Janie for sitting right next to me and not intervening once. Thank YOU Brad for pointing them out to me and getting the whole destructive process started. And thanks to the rest of you who just watched.

My name is Stacie, and I can't control my cookie consumption, but you all are enablers, and you should be ashamed of yourselves.

48 days...

Today is a much better day. It's Saturday. I'm not at work.

Yesterday got better...after I ate this whole cookie...

...and did my ugly search on Craigslist. There is a lot of ugly out there.

For example:

Same couch....but I (head turn)....can't quite (head twist)....figure out (standing upside down)....which part I'm lookin' at here.

This message brightened my day:

RE: Couch in bad shape

this couch is not in new shape. but with a cover maybe it would look nice. or good for a camp. Hey its free what more do ya want. the couch did get a little wet but will dry

I'd like to see what they replaced these with. Maybe something "modern," like this?