Good Morning Babies! The sun is shining, it's finally hot and a fan will have to be plugged in tonite or neither of us will sleep well...again......That's ok, the heat is a welcome change. While the rest of the world seems to be melting under global warming, those of us here on Fantasy Island were freezing our collective asses off. Bring on the sun! Bring on the clear blue skies! We're ready for it.
Let's reach into this week's mailbox and see what's there, shall we?
A reader writes: "But HRG, you haven't told us about the really big day".
Well, faithful reader, it was, in a word.....perfect. But since you weren't here to share in the festivities with us, and in honor of 24, let's walk through the day.
7 a.m.
Wake up, trying to pad quietly around here. Like an alarm clock though, the second my hand touched the coffee pot, everyone's eyes were open. This pot of coffee was made correctly. Grab a cup and stare stupidly at the computer screen. Absolutely nothing is sinking in. Not even my horoscope.
8 a.m.
One pot down, time to make another before having a quick shower. This would be the pot made sans ground coffee. Upside? The pot was cleaned by having a full reservoir of water run through it. I laugh at myself, make another pot using the ground beans, then shower.
8:30 a.m.
Dad wanders out onto the balcony for some quiet time with his little girl. Despite this being HRG's, ahem, third kick at the can, we've never had some just us time on the morning of any wedding.
That's when the first of the tears start to fall.
10 a.m.
Sitting in Dana's chair, ginger molasses cookie and shaken green tea in hand, I try to chatter about funny, nonsensical things. She asks if I'm nervous.
Then I cried some more. Mind you babies, they're happy tears, but nonetheless......
11:30 a.m.
Home to change into something a little more suitable for the critter's grad, load up the car and off we go.
12:30 p.m.
See HB who is looking more than a little emotional herself, find our seats and settle down. HB's youngest sibling is there with his two adorable girls.
It's a nice reunion, it's been far too many years. His girls flirt outrageously with TCB. He plays back. The ceremony begins. Suddenly I feel the sting from a small negative orb. Flick it away with a mere wave of my hand. I hope it didn't hit anyone except it's intended target. Don't try that shit with me. Not today. The procession begins, everyone is on their feet cheering the grads as they proudly take their last baby steps.
Then I cried some more.
3 p.m.
Glancing nervously at my watch, and even though I know MM is going to be sad, it's time to round up the troops and head off to the restaurant to decorate. We discreetly say our good-byes. Yes, we cried some more.
4 p.m.
Unload the car and start moving centrepieces, etc into the restaurant. There are no tablecloths on the tables. Even with the beautiful flowers, it doesn't work. Ask about the cloths. They would've been ordered in and weren't. Ok. At this point, turning into a Bridezilla might've happened. But not to HRG. Despite the river of tears that flowed from my eyes all day, this little snafu was quickly dealt with. Off to my store we go. Within minutes, and with a flurry of activity, the cloths were found, purchased and we were outta there. Once again breaking land speed records to get back to Glo, we arrived, cloths in hand, ready to finish the decorating. The staff were amazing. They insisted we go get ready to get married, let them take care of this for us. No wasn't an optional answer. I decide I love them.
Then I cried some more.
5:30 p.m.
Back here, let the primping of four people begin. TCB decides he doesn't want me to see him in his wedding finery, so HRG is banished to the bathroom. There I artfully and skillfully apply make up. Oh, who am I kidding? I'm trying desperately to take 10 years off this face. Good thing I'd hid that spatula in the drawer.
7 p.m.
The men are gone. Off to pick up the cakes, then to Glo to greet our guests.
MM and I enjoy some quiet time. I cry some more (because you know, I haven't cried nearly enough today). My critter appears, camera in hand, ready to accompany his Mum. We do the picture thing. Suddenly it's time to call a cab and go.
I wonder if we have to tell the cab company there will be three people and a bajillion tummy butterflies riding with that driver.
8:15 p.m.
Resplendent in shimmering cape, HRG and her entourage arrive. The wind is so strong, it almost lifted me off my feet as it blew me backwards.
And all I could think was: "damn, there goes the money spent on getting my hair done today".
Then into Glo we go. Walk into the lounge area where our reception will be. The tablecloths and everything are perfect. And...oh my gawd, there are people there. Lots of them. Suddenly I'm very nervous again.
I remember nothing until......
9 p.m.
It's time. Our guests have made their way out the spot, shielded slightly from the wind by the beautiful willow trees. Strains of Amanda Marshall's "Marry Me"" can be heard. Inside TCB and I share one last quiet moment, then binding our wrists together with a simple red silk ribbon, we join hands and begin the walk towards the rest of our lives.
9:21 p.m.
As the sun sets on Solstice, we are joined together for eternity.
And then we Snoopy Danced.
The rest of the nite is more or less a blur for HRG. There are flashes of conversations, moments spent with friends, but to be honest babies, there's so much I don't remember.
Thankfully there are three videos and pictures.
The picture count? Over a thousand and counting.
Now would be a good time to buy stock in HP photo paper and ink.
Trust me.
HRG
Sunday, June 29, 2008
Saturday, June 28, 2008
One Week Later
The one who swore she'd never ever EVER wear another wedding ring, the Queen of the Commitmentphobes is still smiling and glowing and finding it all a little too good to be true.
That, or it's just that the shock of actually doing it hasn't worn off yet.
Yeah. Yeah, that's it.
You know my babies, there is an entire week of my life that seems so surreal. It was like being enveloped by a warm cloud. Disconnected is a good word to describe it. In a good way. Oh, there was the occasional glimpse of something dark and nasty, but HRG made damn sure everyone was protected from it's ugliness. Casting all those negative-energy spells was exhausting, but necessary. If it had dared to even try to rear it's ugly head again, there would've been no choice but to bring out the big guns. The wooden spoon. HRG is well trained in the art of wielding The Spoon. And she's not afraid to use it.
But back to happier things, yes?
Mystery Mama arrived late, once again "detained" at customs. Maybe it's because she's so beautiful and looks like a gangster's moll. Or maybe it had something to do with her entourage jumping up and down dockside, yelling things such as: "throw over your suitcase" and "jump, jump!" We could stay long enough to hug and cry the first of many many happy tears, then TCB and I broke land speed records to be on the other side of the city to meet with the fine man who'd agreed to bear witness to something even seasoned bookies wouldn't touch. The meeting was great, he got our sense of humour and desire for a more Pagan ceremony. He wrote it for us and it was perfect.
In retrospect, taking the week before the nuptials off would've been the smarter thing. Staying focused at work? Impossible. Walking in a circle like the heel of one of my many pairs of stilettos was stuck in the floor was pretty much how it went. By Wednesday afternoon, I was a basket case and was summarily sent home to await the arrival of both Mystery Mama and my Dad.
The hi-lite of that day? Seeing the gianormous smiles of joy when HB opened the door to see Dad standing there. More tears of happiness. Surprising each other didn't go quite the way I'd planned, but sometimes The Fates step in and change things up a little. It was a quick, but happy reunion. They did get to see each other several times after which was fabulous.
Thursday was spent in the hands of a Goddess. MM and HRG lolled about and had a girly day. For the record, our hair was beyond fabulous. MM was eyed in the most lascivious manner as we left. That guy obviously thought she was all that AND a bag of chips. She is. I just wish she'd see herself the way others do.
Thursday nite was a time to show off. Er, I mean, it was our stags. Thankfully, a job interview kept TCB from being annihilated and a good time was had by all. Even Dad, who thinks Frank Sinatra is god and that no other kind of music should be allowed to exist, stayed the entire nite and honestly enjoyed himself. He came out of it with an appreciation for the musicianship behind the evil "rock and roll". He had to. His little girl sings it. My staff respected my wishes for no shower or fuss, but were not about to let me get away without wearing the silly hat.
So they made me a headpiece and a sash. Because they're so caring. I should mention that both were comprised of yellow warning ribbon that had the would caution printed in big black letters. Yes I wore it the whole nite. Even onstage. It was fun actually, and playing it up even more so.
Oh something else happened on Thursday. The baker who was supposed to make our wedding cake hadn't been in touch. Feeling a little nervous, and after leaving yet another message, I made a mental note to hit our local grocery store's bakery if we had to. (more on that a little later).
(this post is jumping all over the place, but you know babies, I'm still doing that myself. Thanks for bearing with me)
In the blink of an eye, Friday arrived. The day before the big event. There were last minute details to be attended to. The noon deadline for the cake came and went. No matter. Off to store we went. No big drama, no frantic pacing, crying and wondering what we were going to do now. A few minutes with the outstanding staff there and problem solved. We chose two cheesecakes and a tiramisu. They were amazing. And half the cost the other baker would've charged.
To be honest, I really can't recall what else we did that day. Flowers--we chose daisies in all kinds of vibrant and fun colors. Cakes. Done. Rings, etc. Yup. After a huge chinese food feast, MM painted glitter on HRG's toes while TCB and Dad wrapped up the truffles (made by HRG and hand rolled with MM) and little candies into cute little boxes. It was funny watching two Virgos debate the merits of weighing the candies as opposed to counting out equal amounts of each. It was hard to resist the urge to arbitrarily yell out numbers as they counted candies into little piles. Watching two grown men tie little pieces of colorful ribbon around candy-filled circles of tulle and then stuffing them into little boxes was amusing to say the least. That they were so into that little project was, however, a little disconcerting.
Knowing sleep would be elusive, HRG paid homage to he who is Tommy Chong. Enter the Sandman.
It was a dream-filled sleep. I woke happy and not feeling as nervous as I thought I'd be.
Then it hit me. I made coffee, remembering to put the filter in the basket. The freshly ground coffee remained in the grinder. Look how pretty I am.
Dad sat out on the balcony with me, trying to have the father-daughter talk.
That's when the first tears fell. Like any other girl, of course my eyes leak often, but usually not in situations like this. Not crying was suddenly not an option. I cried at home, cried at the stylist's..... Actually, it struck me as funny there. When one starts crying, we all do. So here's HRG, surrounded by four stylists, we're all crying. I could just picture the look on the face of the person who walked into the salon at that moment. Especially if they'd never been there before. Four women with scissors and hot irons in their hands, one woman wrapped in a black cape. And they're all crying. Yeah, I'd be afraid too.
Then it was home to change into something nice and then off to watch the youngest critter smile and she walked across the stage, the high school student in her fading with every step taken towards the beginning of her life. We clapped and hooted and cheered. And cried.
And no one did anything to mar the declared Day of Happiness.
Which is a good thing.
Because there is always, always a wooden spoon close by.
HRG
That, or it's just that the shock of actually doing it hasn't worn off yet.
Yeah. Yeah, that's it.
You know my babies, there is an entire week of my life that seems so surreal. It was like being enveloped by a warm cloud. Disconnected is a good word to describe it. In a good way. Oh, there was the occasional glimpse of something dark and nasty, but HRG made damn sure everyone was protected from it's ugliness. Casting all those negative-energy spells was exhausting, but necessary. If it had dared to even try to rear it's ugly head again, there would've been no choice but to bring out the big guns. The wooden spoon. HRG is well trained in the art of wielding The Spoon. And she's not afraid to use it.
But back to happier things, yes?
Mystery Mama arrived late, once again "detained" at customs. Maybe it's because she's so beautiful and looks like a gangster's moll. Or maybe it had something to do with her entourage jumping up and down dockside, yelling things such as: "throw over your suitcase" and "jump, jump!" We could stay long enough to hug and cry the first of many many happy tears, then TCB and I broke land speed records to be on the other side of the city to meet with the fine man who'd agreed to bear witness to something even seasoned bookies wouldn't touch. The meeting was great, he got our sense of humour and desire for a more Pagan ceremony. He wrote it for us and it was perfect.
In retrospect, taking the week before the nuptials off would've been the smarter thing. Staying focused at work? Impossible. Walking in a circle like the heel of one of my many pairs of stilettos was stuck in the floor was pretty much how it went. By Wednesday afternoon, I was a basket case and was summarily sent home to await the arrival of both Mystery Mama and my Dad.
The hi-lite of that day? Seeing the gianormous smiles of joy when HB opened the door to see Dad standing there. More tears of happiness. Surprising each other didn't go quite the way I'd planned, but sometimes The Fates step in and change things up a little. It was a quick, but happy reunion. They did get to see each other several times after which was fabulous.
Thursday was spent in the hands of a Goddess. MM and HRG lolled about and had a girly day. For the record, our hair was beyond fabulous. MM was eyed in the most lascivious manner as we left. That guy obviously thought she was all that AND a bag of chips. She is. I just wish she'd see herself the way others do.
Thursday nite was a time to show off. Er, I mean, it was our stags. Thankfully, a job interview kept TCB from being annihilated and a good time was had by all. Even Dad, who thinks Frank Sinatra is god and that no other kind of music should be allowed to exist, stayed the entire nite and honestly enjoyed himself. He came out of it with an appreciation for the musicianship behind the evil "rock and roll". He had to. His little girl sings it. My staff respected my wishes for no shower or fuss, but were not about to let me get away without wearing the silly hat.
So they made me a headpiece and a sash. Because they're so caring. I should mention that both were comprised of yellow warning ribbon that had the would caution printed in big black letters. Yes I wore it the whole nite. Even onstage. It was fun actually, and playing it up even more so.
Oh something else happened on Thursday. The baker who was supposed to make our wedding cake hadn't been in touch. Feeling a little nervous, and after leaving yet another message, I made a mental note to hit our local grocery store's bakery if we had to. (more on that a little later).
(this post is jumping all over the place, but you know babies, I'm still doing that myself. Thanks for bearing with me)
In the blink of an eye, Friday arrived. The day before the big event. There were last minute details to be attended to. The noon deadline for the cake came and went. No matter. Off to store we went. No big drama, no frantic pacing, crying and wondering what we were going to do now. A few minutes with the outstanding staff there and problem solved. We chose two cheesecakes and a tiramisu. They were amazing. And half the cost the other baker would've charged.
To be honest, I really can't recall what else we did that day. Flowers--we chose daisies in all kinds of vibrant and fun colors. Cakes. Done. Rings, etc. Yup. After a huge chinese food feast, MM painted glitter on HRG's toes while TCB and Dad wrapped up the truffles (made by HRG and hand rolled with MM) and little candies into cute little boxes. It was funny watching two Virgos debate the merits of weighing the candies as opposed to counting out equal amounts of each. It was hard to resist the urge to arbitrarily yell out numbers as they counted candies into little piles. Watching two grown men tie little pieces of colorful ribbon around candy-filled circles of tulle and then stuffing them into little boxes was amusing to say the least. That they were so into that little project was, however, a little disconcerting.
Knowing sleep would be elusive, HRG paid homage to he who is Tommy Chong. Enter the Sandman.
It was a dream-filled sleep. I woke happy and not feeling as nervous as I thought I'd be.
Then it hit me. I made coffee, remembering to put the filter in the basket. The freshly ground coffee remained in the grinder. Look how pretty I am.
Dad sat out on the balcony with me, trying to have the father-daughter talk.
That's when the first tears fell. Like any other girl, of course my eyes leak often, but usually not in situations like this. Not crying was suddenly not an option. I cried at home, cried at the stylist's..... Actually, it struck me as funny there. When one starts crying, we all do. So here's HRG, surrounded by four stylists, we're all crying. I could just picture the look on the face of the person who walked into the salon at that moment. Especially if they'd never been there before. Four women with scissors and hot irons in their hands, one woman wrapped in a black cape. And they're all crying. Yeah, I'd be afraid too.
Then it was home to change into something nice and then off to watch the youngest critter smile and she walked across the stage, the high school student in her fading with every step taken towards the beginning of her life. We clapped and hooted and cheered. And cried.
And no one did anything to mar the declared Day of Happiness.
Which is a good thing.
Because there is always, always a wooden spoon close by.
HRG
Monday, June 23, 2008
The Voice of a Generation
....has been lost.
George Carlin passed away suddenly and unexpectedly last nite. He was 71. But you know babies, that was just a number, he was ageless, timeless. He was on a very short list of those who wielded words like swords. Comedy didn't have to be infantile and juvenile, he proved that.
He was smart. No, make that brilliant. Anyone who could convince a generation of pot smokers to pick up a newspaper, to educate themselves, to get involved, to make a difference, well, they should be a national icon. Always on the cutting edge, not afraid to expose the leathery underbelly of the Father Knows Best crowd, George Carlin made us look at ourselves and the world around us. His timing was impeccable, his near psychic ability to read his audiences and tell them what they didn't even know they needed to hear was a talent very few possess. He delivered his messages in the guise of comedy, then he'd shrug in his Carlin way, wink and remind you not to shoot the messenger.
His Seven Words routine will go down in history as one of the most important First Amendment challenges. He called it like he saw it. At the time it was perfectly fine to beat your wife and kids. Your government could randomly select your sons and send them to their premature graves in Vietnam. So, in the only way he knew to get people's attention, he made a point. A very valid one. It worked.
Read about him for yourselves babies. In doing so, you'll find there was so much more to this intelligent, complex man.
Here's hoping the Hippy Dippy Weatherman gets an eternity of Hippy Dippy Weather, Man.
He deserves nothing less.
HRG
George Carlin passed away suddenly and unexpectedly last nite. He was 71. But you know babies, that was just a number, he was ageless, timeless. He was on a very short list of those who wielded words like swords. Comedy didn't have to be infantile and juvenile, he proved that.
He was smart. No, make that brilliant. Anyone who could convince a generation of pot smokers to pick up a newspaper, to educate themselves, to get involved, to make a difference, well, they should be a national icon. Always on the cutting edge, not afraid to expose the leathery underbelly of the Father Knows Best crowd, George Carlin made us look at ourselves and the world around us. His timing was impeccable, his near psychic ability to read his audiences and tell them what they didn't even know they needed to hear was a talent very few possess. He delivered his messages in the guise of comedy, then he'd shrug in his Carlin way, wink and remind you not to shoot the messenger.
His Seven Words routine will go down in history as one of the most important First Amendment challenges. He called it like he saw it. At the time it was perfectly fine to beat your wife and kids. Your government could randomly select your sons and send them to their premature graves in Vietnam. So, in the only way he knew to get people's attention, he made a point. A very valid one. It worked.
Read about him for yourselves babies. In doing so, you'll find there was so much more to this intelligent, complex man.
Here's hoping the Hippy Dippy Weatherman gets an eternity of Hippy Dippy Weather, Man.
He deserves nothing less.
HRG
Sunday, June 22, 2008
Woke Up This Morning
...and something happened.....
I woke up married.
Yes. Yes I did.
Much fun/laughter/food/wine/merriment was had by all. The day had it's usual pre-wedding hiccups, I had a teeny weeny tiny "hollywood" moment probably due to lack of food and feeling a little pressured, but it was gone in a flash and all was well.
Actually, it was perfect and fun.
And then we Snoopy Danced.
More on that later.
HRG
I woke up married.
Yes. Yes I did.
Much fun/laughter/food/wine/merriment was had by all. The day had it's usual pre-wedding hiccups, I had a teeny weeny tiny "hollywood" moment probably due to lack of food and feeling a little pressured, but it was gone in a flash and all was well.
Actually, it was perfect and fun.
And then we Snoopy Danced.
More on that later.
HRG
Saturday, June 21, 2008
The Last Post
......oooh doesn't that sound ominous?
Relax my babies, HRG would never abandon her loyal reader(s). It's my last post as an unmarried woman.
It won't be a long post. I'd hoped for time alone to collect my thought this morning, but alas, with an apartment full of people, it's not possible.
It's an important day not only for HRG but for HB's youngest critter. It's her graduation day. We will be in the stands, proud smiles beaming, as we watch our baby don cap and gown and make those first steps towards adulthood. And no one, and I mean no one had better do anything to upset this day.
I officially decree this a day of happiness!!
HRG
Relax my babies, HRG would never abandon her loyal reader(s). It's my last post as an unmarried woman.
It won't be a long post. I'd hoped for time alone to collect my thought this morning, but alas, with an apartment full of people, it's not possible.
It's an important day not only for HRG but for HB's youngest critter. It's her graduation day. We will be in the stands, proud smiles beaming, as we watch our baby don cap and gown and make those first steps towards adulthood. And no one, and I mean no one had better do anything to upset this day.
I officially decree this a day of happiness!!
HRG
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
Wot's This?
The previous, and, I might add, freakin' hilarious post brought forth no witty replies?
Tsk tsk tsk....
HRG
Tsk tsk tsk....
HRG
Saturday, June 14, 2008
Warnings
The warning on my cigarette package says that smoking causes impotence.
Good thing I don't have a penis.
HRG
Good thing I don't have a penis.
HRG
Sunday, June 08, 2008
Am I Ready For This?
Good morning babies! It's been ages since my last post, I know. Wouldn't it be cool if we could record our thoughts as they pop up without looking like a dork? Blue Tooth has everyone walking around talking to themselves--looking like dorks. I rest my case. Point is, writing these great posts in my head while walking to work is easy. Remembering what they were and having the privacy to write them at the end of the day are an entirely different thing. Alone time has been relegated to Sunday mornings for an hour or two. I miss alone time.
Which brings me to this. A question that's been asked a bajillion times.
Am I ready for this?
Fear and Doubt still hover in the perimeter of my heart. Not silent, but far less vocal than before. The door remains closed, windows nailed shut, yet still they conjure up ghosts from days long gone. They whisper "remember what happened whens". I've learned ignore them. Well mostly.
It's different this time. I'm different now. Lessons have been learned, lumps taken. After breaking a few hearts and having mine smashed into a million pieces a million times, I've finally learned that letting someone love you is the trick. It's a hard thing to do. Loving someone is easy. Allowing someone to love you back is like climbing Mount Everest--with thinner air.
It means being vulnerable. It means trusting someone with all your secrets.
Given my history, can I really do this? The last time it was this good, I fucked it up in a big way. I stopped blaming it entirely on the booze and accepted my responsibility for it a long time ago. Funny thing, when I finally forgave myself, TCB appeared. I no longer put myself into situations where alcohol and bad judgement become drinking buddies. These days it's more fun to sing like a rock star than party like one.
What I do know is that this is warm and comfortable and happy and safe.
Thanks for listening babies. I think I answered my own question. Yes. I am ready for this.
HRG
Which brings me to this. A question that's been asked a bajillion times.
Am I ready for this?
Fear and Doubt still hover in the perimeter of my heart. Not silent, but far less vocal than before. The door remains closed, windows nailed shut, yet still they conjure up ghosts from days long gone. They whisper "remember what happened whens". I've learned ignore them. Well mostly.
It's different this time. I'm different now. Lessons have been learned, lumps taken. After breaking a few hearts and having mine smashed into a million pieces a million times, I've finally learned that letting someone love you is the trick. It's a hard thing to do. Loving someone is easy. Allowing someone to love you back is like climbing Mount Everest--with thinner air.
It means being vulnerable. It means trusting someone with all your secrets.
Given my history, can I really do this? The last time it was this good, I fucked it up in a big way. I stopped blaming it entirely on the booze and accepted my responsibility for it a long time ago. Funny thing, when I finally forgave myself, TCB appeared. I no longer put myself into situations where alcohol and bad judgement become drinking buddies. These days it's more fun to sing like a rock star than party like one.
What I do know is that this is warm and comfortable and happy and safe.
Thanks for listening babies. I think I answered my own question. Yes. I am ready for this.
HRG
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