I Would Normally Make a Comment...

But this really speaks for itself.

Wow.

Also On the Dresses...

As of now, most of the people in the bridal party have received their outfits for the wedding. Everyone is either extremely pleased and has made it clear, or still somewhat mortified by my choice of gown/doublet and have been very good at lying to me. (okay, I know at least one person would take the option to switch to a tux if I let them...)

I am very impressed. Witches Closet Creations (see link on the right) is made up of a pair of ladies in Washington State who make and sell clothes and other sundries by mail order. That being said, they managed to fit just about everybody just about perfectly from...oh...between 1500 and 3000 miles away. Nice. And they did it for a price I'm still not sure I believe, especially considering what other similar frims charge For The Same Bloody Thing But Less Well Made.

Cheers, and Kudos to you, Liz and Laura!

Murphy's Law, and How It Could Be Worse...

So. You have a wedding in three weeks. You are getting prepared, you have a lot of the details worked out, you're getting pretty excited, right?

Three weeks: it's good that there's that much of a window when you manage to sprain your ankle playing softball on your company team. It wasn't even an exciting play, I'd just gotten out, and turned to run back to the 'dugout' (um, we play on the National Mall. It's a field where they plunk down bases and a pitcher's 'mound' to make it a diamond), when my foot caught...or something...and turns the wrong way, and suddenly my ankle wouldn't take any weight. Which led to three hours in the emergency room. Over which time they poked it a little, took my vitals, took some x-rays (it's not broken, thank all that's holy), and gave me a splint, crutches, and an Rx for some STRONG Motrin and sent me on my way. I think I made out well there, too. Could have been an all-nighter, that could.

So, today is my coworker's last day before he leaves to get married and honeymooned (which is much better than just getting mooned, there's HONEY involved), and therefore I couldn't call out sick. I'm taking over for him while he's away. Yup--here's me at 8:45am catching a cab outside of the Rosslyn metro with my crutches to get the 0.2 miles up the hill to my office. Those of you who know the Wilson Boulevard Hill understand me. Those of you who have watched the Philly Bike Race at 'The Wall' understand me. Those who don't? Think 25* up-angle on a submarine. And now I'm stuck trying to juggle the crutches and my coffee cup (of tea, I'm weaning off coffee again, finally) because I forgot my big Nalgene and can't go with an empty cup.

The VERY good news: three weeks should be enough time--unless I do something stupid--to heal. The more difficult news: I'm stuck on crutches for at least three days and we have our engagement photoshoot tomorrow...at a sheep farm. With rolling hills and such. Wow, that was stupid! Guess we'll be sticking near to the barn, where I can hobble ten feet. Because I really don't want my ankle to match my bridesmaids gorgeous purple dresses.

Last names...

An Observation: When the cashier at Safeway actually looks at your name from the receipt and is able to pronounce it normally, there is no reason why the rest of the population should have any problem with it.

As a Side Observation: When the underpaid, overworked cashiers at Safeway are pleasant and courteous, it is a sign that the world will shortly be ending. I would leave any major urban areas if I were you.