Well the time has finally come! The invitations are in the mail!!! Whoo Hoo! We have already received some response cards and it was like christmas when I went to the mail box, and what to my wondering eyes should appear, but wonderful response cards sitting right there!!!….which means, it will be like christmas every day for the next few weeks!!!!
Chris and I watched Kate and William tie the knot this morning and her dress was nothing short of Incredible! I loved the sleeves, the lace, her hair, her tiara, the bodice, everything….and my dress is…. well, nothing like it! As Chris teared up and I grinned from ear to ear as they said their vows, I kept thinking about our big day…just 56 days away!
“Much more important than working hard is knowing how to find the right thing to work on. Paying attention to what is going on in the world. Seeing patterns. Seeing things as they are rather than how you want them to be. Being able to read what people want. Putting yourself in the right place where information is flowing freely and interesting new juxtapositions can be seen. But you can save yourself a lot of time by working on the right thing. Working hard, even, if that’s what you like to do.” From Caterina.net.
“First of all, you have to listen to everything and understand everything. Then you can get aggressive.” Attorney Decof, 86, won grooves fight for Ping
Bottle caps in the asphalt like buttons on the earth. Coke, Sprite, and Dr. Pepper lining the driveway all the way down to where the mail comes. To the mailbox. To the mailman. To the curb where the garbage sits on Friday mornings for an hour or two after dad’s gone to work and mom’s gone to work and I’ve gone to school. And then down the road a little boy plays. Kept home for no good reason except that there’s more time to play in this world because life’s too short and he’s got all day. I wish I was that boy, so free to do whatever. Whatever, I don’t care. I’m a teenager now. I’m too cool for school. I don’t care what you say. Mom. Dad. Sister. Family – that stuff’s for punks. I’ve got to prove myself to the world. And do my own thing. I’m going to dye my hair. (But I never did.) I’m going to dress some other way. (But I never did.) I stayed the same.
It seems that each time I return to use the platform on which this website is built (i.e., WordPress), it is in need of an update. Although the update should be automated, that has never worked, and still does not. The reason for this is lost on me, and I don’t care to take the time to find out. Instead, I’d prefer to write and to think about what I am writing.
I am contented to say in this post that, at least for the time being, I am more interested in writing to write than to share with you. When I started blogging in 2004, and in each of my restarts since then, I have felt the need to reach out to an audience – even if that audience was a limited few. Writing publicly allowed me to share many thoughts and visions that I otherwise wouldn’t have had occasion to share. And I received feedback from some folks that they liked what I write, or they found it sad. Most often, people wonder if what I write is true. They usually wonder this about those entries that blend what is left of the truth when it’s pecked by my fingertips with the thoughts dangling about in my head like cured meet in a butchers meat locker.
I want to write short stories now because I have many ideas to write about. They’re bigger than blogs, and will take more time. They’re bigger than me, and that I don’t mind. They are what they are, and they’ve been sitting around like pickled eggs in a jar. It’s time to go down, go ’round, go back before I forget what I’m good at.
Winter finally melted away, at least long enough to provide those of us in Northern Lower Michigan a two-day glimpse of spring that, conveniently, coincided with the final two rounds of the Masters golf tournament. The Traverse City Golf & Country Club managed to open an assortment of front- and backnine holes that, when strung together like an assortment of random beads from the bottom of the bin at a bead shop, produced our first opportunity to knock the little white ball around for a couple of hours.
Saturday was high-fifties, which felt warm when compared to winter’s bite. That is to say, comfort is relative. Sunday was warm enough to break a sweat from carrying our golf clubs up and down the little grass slopes. We played quickly, so that we could make it to 2011 Masters at the Jonkhoff’s.
The final round of the Masters was an excellent shootout between nearly a dozen deserving golfers. Lindsey did a wonderful job tracking my ill-thought-out trivia questions. (We’ll get that right one of these years! Fortunately, we have many more ahead of us.)
We’re a golfing couple, as it is one of the many things we both love. The start of golf season is always exciting, and is even more so now that I have a soon-to-be permanent golf cart companion!
I was a man at a bridal shower this past weekend, which, I’m told, isn’t totally unheard of. (Yes, I was invited.) I walked in and this big group of women was laughing. Instantly I wondered if my fly was open or if I had mis-buttoned my shirt. No, it wasn’t that. I had arrived at the tail-end of trivia. Questions that I had willingly surrendered answers to without knowing what I was getting myself into.
Lindsey and I were seated at the front of the group, so that we could open gifts in front of everyone and nod at the gift givers and mouth, ‘Thank you’ in her direction. This sounded like a great idea – like having Christmas morning to yourself, uninterrupted by siblings or parents opening gifts. However, rarely am I forced to open lingerie in front of a crowd on Christmas morning. As soon as I saw the familiar dark and light pink striped box, I handed it to Lindsey. Here, honey, you can deal with this! My grandma was literally ten feet away. Her grandma, too.
Ah, well, it’s fun! That’s why we’re getting married! To push the boundaries and move up up and away in life. On a final note, it was cool to see many of the wonderful women that Lindsey has had in her life while growing up.