A lesson in what to never say to your customers if you run a dress shop

So just for fun my friend and I went out looking at wedding dresses the other day. I was shocked to learn that people who are getting married in 2012 have already been in to order dresses. What? And I thought I was being over prepared! So after looking at a couple regular dress shops we found an ad in magazine for a vintage wedding dress shop in Orleans. SWEET! Let's GO!!!

It was probably one of the the most mortifying moments of my life. At first it was awesome, I walked in and started looking at the dresses dated 1890-1990 and I almost started to cry they were so awesome. And then I picked some to try on.....annnnnd I didn't fit in a SINGLE DRESS. NOT ONE. Too small...every effing one.

The woman who owned the shop said "Well you have a year, maybe if you lost a few pounds". To which I replied "ehh I don't think so, i'm not really a dieting kind of girl." Then I think in some attempt to soothe my bruised and battered ego she asked my age. When I replied "Thirty" she said "Well yeah you are probably at a comfortable weight for you age." Then she measured my waist and told me it was really my waist I had to worry about because everything was "very forgiving" in the hips."

I'm not sure how I didn't cry but I didn't. We left there with me feeling like a big fat cow. I came home and apologized to Scott for being such a fatty. He just hugged me and said "Those women were obviously malnourished." I fit into a size 14 in kids pants I can't be THAT fat. I checked my bmi I am at the very low end. Why did I allow this woman to get into my head and make me feel like a heffer?

Anyway I hate her. It was traumatic but I think i'm recovering. Although I'm still thinking about it, four days later so I must not be that over it. I think now I am mostly angry that I let this woman shake me and make me feel like there was something wrong with me. I don't like letting anyone do that ever, especially not some bitch who couldn't have fit a leg into any of those dresses.

*this isn't edited for typos or grammatical errors, I'm sick I don't care.

April Vacation

Well the third week of april is rapidly approaching, I realized this a few minutes ago and then a giant wave of sadness washed over me. April vacation is when Sierra and I go to Vermont. The first time we went she was 3, and every year it's really wonderful. Steve asked me to switch vacations with him this year because he was having some issues with work or something, and I said "fine" not thinking much of it. Now that it's here I feel a little devastated.

People talk about how much they love their kids, but it's not something you can put into words. I usually go away on some kind of trip when she's with her father for awhile to try to keep my mind occupied. It's like a piece of my heart is missing, and I hate every second of it.

I have no idea what I'm going to do when she grows up and goes to college. I suppose I'll have some kind of nervous breakdown and wind up in a mental institution. Or maybe I'll just buy several puppies and treat them like children like so many other people do when their kids grow up and move away.

I am sitting in my bed crying, wishing next week would hold mountains, the teddy bear factory, shelburne farms, Church Street, Echo, ice cream and all the other things it usually holds. Instead I will be here, not tucking Sierra into bed and singing "Twinkle Twinkle, Little Star", not hugging her and asking how her day was, not waking up to find a picture and a note that says something like "To Mom, I love you. I hope you have a good day. From Sierra".

Gosh this is really hitting me hard....

blech.

So we're getting married!

As most of you know...I've done this before. Only it was under very different circumstances and I was taking one for Team Sullivan. Unfortunately, despite my best efforts I could *not* just suck it up and live the rest of my life miserable and with a partner who I did not mesh with at all. Steve isn't a bad guy, but we are like oil and water and it makes for a chaotic marriage.

Oh my god they are making fresh tortillas on the television and I want one in my belly right now.

Yeah so anyway, Steve and I not so much. I swore I'd never get married again. Never ever. What's the point? It's just a piece of paper. I never like anyone after a year of dating anyway, how I am going to spend the rest of my life with someone?

And then there was Scott.

Oh come on...now they are stuffing squash flowers with cheese. I wish Sierra would change the channel this is extremely distracting.

3.5 years later not only can I tolerate Scott, but I might love him more now than ever. He's my very best friend, and I can't imagine not spending the rest of my life with him. Scott is probably the nicest, most sincere person I have ever met. He listens when you talk, he genuinely cares about people and he says some of the funniest things out of absolutely no where.

Our politics are the same, our taste in music, movies and sense of humor are all very similar. He still thinks I'm beautiful when I am wearing my old lady nightgown and he brings me tea in bed. I don't really know how I got so lucky, but I am so thankful that I did.

So here we are, engaged. I'm thrilled but I'm tweeking about wedding planning. There is a part of both of us that just wants to take off to vermont, go to the top of a mountain or a farm and get married. No pressure, no one staring at us, but then we think..."How else are we going to get our friends and family from all over the country together in one place for an epic party?"

We're not. So I think we are planning a wedding. Thankfully last year I attended two really fantastic weddings that made me feel a little better about weddings. I cannot STAND cheesy traditional weddings. I don't want people to confuse this with me being cantankerous and disliking love. I LOVE love, but uber cheesy engagement photos, save the date cards with the bride and groom in some lame posed setting, engraved cake cutters, and way over the top extravagant food and flowers ect. That stuff grates on my nerves. It just does. Oh and bad music oh no no noooooo. Oh please for the love of god do NOT play bad music, or have any sort of group dancing going on like the electric slide or the chicken dance.

It shouldn't annoy me really. It's the cheesy peoples day, good for them! It does though. I'm a snob in really weird ways, but I admit it so...that's the first step to not being a total asshole right?

Anyway I'm rambling the point is, I'm glad that I attended some weddings that weren't super lame. I'm glad I didn't go home from those weddings with shell shaped chocolates as a wedding favor. In fact the last one I went too, they donated money in our name to the American cancer society. Brilliant. I think we might follow their lead and do that at ours.

What I want is a really awesome party for our friends, but I also want it to be full of personal touches. We also have...no money so this poses a rather interesting problem. It's not like Scott and I are going to have ice luges for shots or chocolate fountains or some crazy ass over the top flowers and cigar rollers, but even my modest ideas are pricey when you times it by 100 people.

So I think I need to take some deep breaths and make a list. I do NOT want to be one of those crazy brides who does nothing but talk about her wedding planning. Actually you have my word that I will keep my wedding planning blogage to a minimum. I just had to put this somewhere because it's all looming and I feel like I will explode if I don't put something somewhere.

Anyway if anyone has any tips or is a really awesome seamstress, knows a good (cheap) photographer or can make killer handmade wedding invitations let me know. I have an idea for the invites but I think if I tried to make them myself it would end with me throwing things, swearing and possibly setting the card stock on fire in a fit of rage.

Ryan

I met Ryan weeks before my 17th birthday on the steps of community hall in woods hole.

"Hi my name is Ryan. You're really beautiful."

I think my reply was something like "Umm...thank you" and then he took the headphones from around his neck and said "Listen to this". It was Aphex Twin, and it was the start of our friendship that was cut short far too soon.

When I think of Ryan I think of his mixtapes that were put together so perfectly, his backpack full of beer, his outrageous stories that would get on my nerves, the secret spots in the woods we'd make fires at and drink around. I think of the time we broke into my cousins apartment while he was living somewhere else to watch "Helter Skelter" and my cousin showing and almost kicking the crap out of him.

Ryan was a major reason I spent my highschool years watching foreign films, listening to bands like NomeansNo, The Pixies, The Pogues. He was the reason I smoked expensive cigarettes and only drank stouts and microbrews. I will never forget the night we all drank *way* too much "Southern Comfort" (god you couldn't pay me to drink that garbage now!) and we stumbled around woods hole at 2am and he took the last swig and opened the big mailbox by the post office and yelled "I'M MAILING IT OFF!" and we laughed so hard our stomachs hurt.

Ryan could drive you crazy. He would take over your car stereo, he would talk and talk and talk and he could be stubborn as hell. He was however a true friend, and he wore his heart on his sleeve. He would give you the shirt off of his back if you needed it. And he would randomly give me these really awesome out of nowhere gifts.

The last time I saw Ryan he came into my work to say hello. I was pregnant and it was the day after I had a level 2 ultrasound so I had this really amazing picture of Sierra. I ran out to my car and got it and showed it to him. I feel really good about that. I am really glad he got to see Sierra even if it was just in an ultrasound.

Six months later he was gone. Six months later he decided to take his own life. None of us really know why. And all of us, I think, struggled with the "What if's". What if I had been more present? What if I wasn't so wrapped up in taking care of my two month old? Could I have said something to change this? Could I have somehow kept this from happening?

Eight years later I still hear songs and think "Ryan would have liked this". I still watch "The Evil Dead" and think of him. I never realized it as I was living it, but Ryan had such an impact on me. I have the worst memory ever, but I somehow I can relive memories of him so clearly. Sitting on the rocks at Ganset, swimming in the ocean at 1 in the morning, endlessly searching for land land never, drinking cup after cup of coffee at coffee o, and arguing with Hugh about being able to smoke outside.

I miss him. I wish I could show him my record collection. I wish he could come sit by our fire pit and tell us stories that were so far fetched we would roll our eyes at him. I remember at his memorial service the minister saying something about him being meek and the ENTIRE place erupting in laughter. Meek? Clearly you didn't know Ryan T. Leary...

For some reason I can't figure out how to end this post so I guess I'll just end it with some "Slint" lyrics because I think he'd approve of that.

"I miss you.
I've grown taller now.
I want the police to be notified.
I'll make it up to you,
I swear, I'll make it up to you.

I miss you."

It's not very easy being so opinionated....

Well it's Easter time again. Ahh that fabulous time of year that has nothing to do with Jesus anymore, and everything to do with cadbury eggs and a bunny who has a penchant for breaking and entering. I have actually relaxed a bit when it comes to Easter. When Sierra was younger I was like ABSOLUTELY NO CANDY UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES! To illustrate how crazy I was about what kind of food she ate I'll just throw out that her first birthday cake was a fruit juice sweetened organic carrot cake that I lovingly made with whole wheat flour. It wasn't half bad, so stop gagging.

Anyway I'm getting sidetracked...

So over the past few years I've graduated to buying her a couple pieces of candy. A peanut butter egg, a small bag of mini eggs and then I fill her basket with things like bubbles, a jump rope, a butterfly net, a wiffle ball bat, ect ect you get the point. She plays with those things one or two times and then they end up being neglected and ultimately thrown away in one of my "oh god too much stuff in the house everything must go" phases. Then I just buy them again the next year.

So this year I was like "I'm tired of buying plastic crap that ends up in a landfill" (thank you "The story of stuff) and on a whim said "Hey Sierra what if you asked the easter bunny to adopt a manatee for you this year instead of getting you all that stuff you don't really use?" And she said "OK!"

What? That was WAY easier than I thought. She's a good little egg that Sierra! So we went online and she picked out the one she wanted to adopt and then we emailed the easter bunny. Misson 1 accomplished. The package came today with her adoption certificate and stuffed manatee.

Now we're getting down to the wire so it's time to dye eggs. Now I've known since I was 15 about factory farms. Back then I sent my hard earned cash (oh dunkin' donuts you were such a craptastic first job) to PETA.* Refused to eat any meat (instead my diet was 50% bread and 50% macaroni and cheese), wouldn't get within 10 feet of a gillette product and my lip gloss was bonnie bell and ONLY Bonnie Bell. However this phase ended one day in my 16th year when I ate a chicken tender and then there was no stopping me. Omnivore 4 lyfe.

Somehow I managed to do a decent job of ignoring the fact that these animals are treated beyond poorly. Even during my all organic, fruit juice sweetened cake phase. It wasn't about the animals it was about what was going into my child. I sort of just went about my happy little life disassociating the egg on my plate from the poor drugged up chicken in a tiny cage that produced it. My thinking has slowly been getting back to that more and more over the past few years. I've recently been reading probably more books about food politics than I should be, and it dawned on me today that to dye eggs we needed white ones.

I can't do it. I cannot buy those white eggs. So I was having this internal battle with myself. Rob my child of a fun tradition? Well that's dramatic right? I mean the eggs ARE already there. And me not buying them isn't going to change anything right? Still...I know what would happen. I would pick them up, and have visions of those awful conditions and it would ruin my funky good egg dying time.

So then Sierra said "I saw this egg kit at Walmart when I was in there with Nana and it was glitter eggs."

"Oh" I thought. "That would work....except" I won't set foot in a Walmart. I hate that place. I hate their politics. I hate that they moved into my town and put the little guys out of business. I just plain hate them. So now I start to feel *really* guilty. Is this fair to her? I can't deny her egg decorating and dying just because of my beliefs.

So I'm happy to report I've worked it out. She doesn't feel like leaving the house today (ok then!) so I'm going to take a trip to Michael's** this week and we're going to follow Martha Stewart's instructions on how to make glitter eggs.

*If I could get that money back I would. I can't stand that organization.

**If anyone knows bad things about Michael's or Martha Stewart glitter DO NOT TELL ME. At this point I do not want to know. I will punch you squah in the face.

It's been awhile...

So I haven't written in this thing since September of 08' I guess. It doesn't seem like I stopped that long ago but I guess I did. Lately I have been feeling more like writing so here I am.

I guess to get you up to speed (although if you're reading this i'm pretty sure you know all of this already) it's been a rough couple of years. One of my very best friends passed away in a car accident a year ago Saturday. My grandfather was diagnosed with and passed away from ALS. And Scott's mother lost her battle with cancer.

There has been good as well. Sierra is growing up and is just as rad as ever. Scott and I moved into a very cool house this past october and I got Layla back. We had a really great vacation in Colorado this past summer. We also went on a week long road trip with stops in Ohio (it was better than you'd think!), DC (Yay Jon Henry!), MD, NJ, and W Virgina.

I was laid off and then got a job at a bakery that I don't hate. I have been able to get some photography work which is nice. Although for the most part I find weddings to be a total snooze fest. At least traditional ones...I do have one coming up in October that I am very excited about.

I don't know not much else. I shut down creatively for the most part when things got bad. I haven't *really* played my guitar since Michelle passed away. I think it's interesting because people say that the best creativity comes out of sadness, out of depression. I don't find myself being terribly inspired to do anything but sleep and occasionally when no one is around wallow in self pity.

I don't know if this is a sign that I am coming out of it, or if this urge to write is just a passing phase. I guess we'll see...

All the things I should be saying, but can't until I have another job lined up

Dear Evil Boss,
I'm not sure what planet you came from, maybe you just emerged from the fiery pits of hell. Either way I have determined that you do not have so much as ONE redeeming quality. You are the most ignorant, self absorbed, tactless, idiotic person I have EVER had the displeasure of working with. And believe me, in 15 years of food industry service jobs i've worked with some doozies. But you Sir, you take the cake.

Not recycling isn't funny. George W. Bush is not an intelligent man. Cat Country is not "shit kicking music." Neil Bortz is an ASS. Your gas guzzling SUV is a piece of shit. Your "pool" is the weakest excuse for a pool i've ever seen. Did you get that out of the sears catalog? I think we had that exact one when I was growing up and was less than 4 feet tall so it was actually a big deal.