A year ago today, Sean asked me to marry him, which I guess makes today an anniversary of sorts, although, I don't know, do people actually celebrate their engagement anniversaries, or is that sort of thing just reserved for wedding anniversaries? Ours are only five weeks apart so it sort of seems like over-egging the pudding if you ask me, and besides, we have about fourteen different anniversaries anyway---day we met! day we got together! day we got together again after breaking up! day we got together again after breaking up again!---which makes me inclined to suggest that perhaps we just leave this one out of it, you know?
Maybe we'll try that new coconut curry sauce we bought at Costco to celebrate, catch up on a few more episodes of Friday Night Lights or something. Or maybe I'll just keep plowing through that unsinkable stack of thank you notes after dinner so that I can periodically look up, sigh dramatically, and say "god, if you'd just never proposed to me in the first place, I wouldn't have carpal tunnel syndrome in my right hand from crafting six thousand eloquent, funny, and gracious thank you letters for three straight weeks, SEE WHAT YOU DID?"
Ah, the thank you notes. I'm insisting on writing them all myself, you see---I have much better handwriting than Sean, plus the unfortunate combination of perfectionism, neuroticism, and Oh You Did Not Just Put That Comma There, Oh Hell No, Just Let Me Do It-itis---and yet, despite this totally self-inflicted turn of events, I am also overcome with the desire to point out that I'M DOING IT ALL MYSELF, LOOK AT THIS, ALL BY MYSELF whenever the opportunity presents itself.
After which proclamation, Sean invariably turns to me, scrunches up his eyebrows, and says patiently "But you told me you wanted to write the thank you notes yourself!" which is, unfortunately, both an excellent point and completely true. I want to write the thank you notes myself, except when it actually comes to the part where I have to write the thank you notes myself, you know? Catastrophe! How to resolve! Maybe he should just have to....watch me write the thank you notes myself? Yes, that would be an excellent use of everyone's time.
Hmm, I see that I am not painting myself in a very good light. Let's change the subject!
I spent this last weekend at the Broad Summit, which was, in short, an impeccably-organized retreat featuring a group of very stylishly-attired women drinking a lot of wine, and I think you know me well enough by now to know that this is my kind of weekend. It was a huge amount of fun and I met a lot of really great new people, all of whom I have probably now scared away with my hilaaaaarious jokey email this morning about how they should check their luggage carefully because I'd stolen a pair of each of their awesome shoes when we left. (I was kidding! I didn't really!) (I mean, honestly. I'd take their earrings if I were going to take anything. So much easier to pack.)
This is me and my roomie having a wine tasting lesson. I totally tried on all her clothes when she was at breakfast one day. I'm kidding about that too, of course. (OR AM I?) Also, do you see all those wine glasses on the table? This photo was taken at 10:30am. If you don't believe me, you can ask Kristin, because I stole this photo from her. But probably she won't remember what time it was taken. Because of all those wine glasses on the table.)
One of the highlights of an already highlight-filled weekend was meeting Mimi Smartypants, whose blog I have read devotedly since 2004, and with whom I spent two and a half hours in a car on Friday night, driving up from San Francisco to Guerneville, the first hour of which was taken up with me unsuccessfully attempting to navigate us towards the freeway entrance IN A CITY IN WHICH I LIVE, and the second spent saying alarmingly creepy things like "So you know when you wrote that thing in 2005 about the loosening of the corn? Oh my god, I still think about that all the time and laugh. ALL THE TIME. Not even just when I eat corn! All the time! Really!"
(Thankfully, she was a very good sport. Maybe because I managed to refrain from asking her to sign something really awkward. Like my laptop.)
This weekend, I am off back down to San Diego for my first visit since the wedding, and I am fully expecting to have some sort of planning-related flashback which will cause me to spontaneously arrange all the flowers in the backyard into bouquets or stop by the caterer's office to pick out serving trays---"But your wedding was six weeks ago!"---or make a whole bunch of chalk signs for no reason. Also, I am excited to see my parents again for the first time since I left, weeping, for my honeymoon back at the beginning of September---seriously, I was a 29-year-old newlywed crying for her mommy and daddy as the car pulled out of the driveway, I can only blame the emotion of the day before---but mostly, mostly, I am excited about driving past that effing Michael's near their house for the 89th time and THIS TIME NOT NEEDING TO GO IN. Free at last from the tyrannical pull of craft stores! Oh, the bliss.