Do you want to come to our wedding?

See, this method seems so much easier. In the age of socially acceptable mass e-mails, I am trying to understand why I have spent the better part of the last 60 hours addressing envelopes, hand-feeding card stock into my printer for inserts, and stuffing/stamping/licking said envelopes.

The guest list is another fine point in this adventure. I told Josh we should just concede and invite the entire Eastern Bloc. And maybe Bangladesh. (It should be noted that I made the Bangladesh suggestion under my breath while he was on the phone with his aunt, gathering addresses (and, consequently, more "must-invite" names). Following this comment I threw a kitchen sponge at the counter.)

The invitation process isn't all bad, though. Mom, Grandma, Anne, and Marnee came over to help, bless their hearts. I have even made some new friends in the process:

My Aunt Candy got me this great little book for Christmas -
The Nearlywed Handbook: How to Survive the Happiest Day of Your Life by Dan Zevin. Now, there's lots of practical advice in this book, none of which is to be taken seriously, as it is written by a stand-up comic. Josh and Anne thought it was real advice and I'm still not sure they believe me when I say it's all just a big joke. Anyway, here is what Dan says about registering for gifts:
Typical Bride Response to Registering - "Matching dishes. We're definitely signing up for those cool blue plates from Crate & Barrel. And Polo bedsheets. Do you have any idea how sick I am of sleeping on that Holly Hobby pillowcase I've had since I used to wear a retainer? We're going to be married people! We're going to get a set of forks that don't have the ValuJet logo on them! And champagne glasses. Don't you love those tulip ones in the Domestications catalog? Hey, I just remembered! Williams Sonoma has that awesome KitchenAid Mixer-Master thing I've been wanting. Hmmm, I wonder what you do with one of those things..."
Typical Groom Response to Registering - "Home Depot is open till ten o'clock on Thursday nights."
Typical Couple Response to Registering - Most Nearly-weds resolve to register together at a mutually agreed-upon store, such as any store of the bride's choosing. This helps the groom learn his place in the wedding-planning process right off the bat.

Oh, between this book and watching "My Big Fat Greek Wedding", I've managed to stay somewhat sane :)

Happy New Year!

Reality sets in

I'm leaving my job. Tomorrow's my last day. It finally seems real to me! I had a lovely going away lunch at work today with scrumptious Cottage Inn pizza and was bestowed with a card filled with lovely writings. My favorite was Marnee's (mostly inside jokes but I'm hoping you can find some humor in it anyway):

Top 10 things to help you be successful at your new job:

10. If you are transporting clients, you better get some barf bags for your car
9. When people arrive to the office after you, don't forget to welcome them to their job
8. Find out who has the pregnancy chair and don't sit in it!
7. Call up Felix to get your Ybarra fix
6. Always have a plan
5. Don't neglect the record
4. Never, under any circumstances, make any jokes about quadriplegics
3. Wait at least 30 days before telling anyone your nicknames
2. Be on time, especially your first day!
1. Don't forget those you "Left Behind" here in Kalamazoo!

Brings back so many memories...like the time when I got to work and Marnee greeted me in the parking lot, throwing her arms wide and proclaiming, "Welcome! Welcome to your job!" And Marnee's insatiable need to always have a plan, no matter what's going on. ("Soooo...what's the plan?") And my constant references to the "record" that I seem to be keeping on myself ("For the record...") And of course, the reference to the fact that I was quite late on my first day of work because my alarm hadn't gone off. Apparently it was so painful a memory that I forgot all about it. Honestly, I'm still not sure I believe that it happened! Then there was our temporary obsession with the Left Behind books, the fact that one of my nicknames is Pork (don't ask), and my favorite foster care worker, John Ybarra, who used to hound me about having his brother Felix put decals on my sweet black Grand Am I used to have. Good times...Marnee always knows how to sum things up. I'm going to miss these people.

Below is my stapler, which I am very grieved to part with. Just call me Milton.

Dent

I have discovered that my engagement ring has created a dent in my finger. I've become one of those people, like my mom, who has worn a ring long enough to have a dent in my finger. ("Those" people? Are we really our own category?)

I have also discovered that my diamond looks best under dim lighting.

Happy 89th, Grandma!

The many results of eating less...

This is a photo of a two-pound catfish. I lost the equivalent of this fish in body fat this past week. I accept your congratulations and well-wishes for further fishes lost. Perhaps next week...a mackerel.

Today I cleaned out my fridge, as three things had come to my attention: 1) There was no room in the fridge; 2) Despite this, there was nothing to eat; 3) All my tupperware had gone missing, and I had suspicions as to its whereabouts.

What did I find? The two nearly-empty half gallons of milk that I was recitant to open. The penne. The whole-wheat spaghetti. The barbeque meatballs. The chicken marinade. And finally...the shredded lettuce. For those of you who are conducting highly complex biological experiments requiring specific variables, it was shredded iceberg contained in a navy blue IKEA Syntes cereal bowl with an elastic-edged Saran Ready-Wrap thing. It had been in my refrigerator for approximately...well...it dates back to pre-engagement Laura's house, so let's say approximately four and a half weeks.

I am a disgusting human being.

Please excuse me while I scavenge through my non-perishable food items for something to eat.

And also...

http://dictionary.reference.com/search?q=flat%20as%20a%20pancake

Junk food aisle explosion!

For the month leading up to my birthday, I swore off many wonderful things, all of which can be found atop this cake. Marnee is the ultimate diet saboteur, and I love her for it.

Yoke

With my job, I have to help people who are going through tough stuff. That's what I'm paid for. Most of the time I do a pretty good job of dealing with it during the work hours and not letting it consume me. Every now and then, though, I go through these cycles where I feel compelled to solve everyone's problems for them. Not just at work, either. Between my 40-hour-per-week job, my 10-hour-per-week counseling practicum, my family, and my friends, it seems everyone's facing some kind of crisis. Well, okay, that was a blanket statement - not everybody. But a lot of people. And a lot of the crises are very serious. And I take on the yoke of pushing up my sleeves and trying to solve the problem single-handedly.

Now, the problem is not so much that I want to help. I should want to help. I'd be a little worried about myself if my attitude was one of, "No way, that's your problem, get out of my comfort zone. I don't want this to get in the way of me camping out on my couch and watching Desperate Housewives." (For the record, I don't watch Desperate Housewives. Nor do I have a couch - not a real one anyway. It's just a hyperbolic example. Work with me, people. It's all about imagery and exaggerating the absurd!) The problem is that I've lost my sense of balance between the two. These crises are not mine...the electric shutoff notice. The cancer. The broken arm. The abusive relationship. The destroyed home and missing relatives. The burnout of my coworkers. The elderly killed in the bus fire. The blown transmission. They belong to the people they are happening to. Most of the time, I cannot solve them. I don't have the capacity to fix the entire problem. And being a benevolent control freak, this is sometimes a reality I don't want to face.

What can I do? I can pray. I can ask God to help me serve these people. I can call periodically to show people I care. I can pick up a prescription, accompany someone to a scary doctor's appointment, cover a home visit for the coworker with car trouble...I can do little things...under normal circumstances. Lately, though, it seems like even the little things are hard to do with the many other demands I have on my time, energy, and sanity. I am frustrated because I cannot help as much as I want to, cannot do even the little things that I normally would be able to do. Heck, I can't even meet the demands of my own life. I can't seem to make up the time at work that I'm having to miss for my practicum. I have to be VERY careful with my money right now if I want to get my own bills paid. I have to take care of myself so that I'm strong enough and present enough to be useful to those around me. And I don't think that's selfish. When I was a lifeguard, we were taught that we should never attempt a rescue if we were somehow disabled or there was some kind of threat to our safety. For example, if I saw someone face-down in the water, and there was a downed power line also in the water, would it be smart of me to try to rescue that person? Of course not, because then I'd become electrocuted and there would just be two people to save.

That's kind of how I'm feeling right now. I feel disabled in the helping department, and I need to resolve that before I can help anyone else too much. Maybe right now is my time to feel okay about depending upon others, even though there is so much strife in the world around me. I hate, HATE that thought, but I have to come to terms with it.