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J-Lo the Wedding Planner, eat your heart out.
High: One more day until Calvin's home!
Low: I'm not made of money.
Losing 12.5 pounds.
Michael's midnight phone call.
Though my heart can't take no more
I keep on runnin' back to you...
I actually thought I could become a jogger.
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Dramatis Personnae
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April 11, 2002
I am an organizing fiend.
One week ago today Calvin and I decided to set a date. And in that one week I managed to:
- Secure a minister
- Order bouquets and boutonnieres
- Reserve a photographer and send off the deposit
- Set a hair appointment (must get a weave!)
- Decide to the 90th percentile the location
- Finalize the guest list
- Research potential hotels
- Secure a coordinator for the ceremony location/luncheon
- Decide upon (but not yet purchase) the wedding dress(es)
- Budget the entire deal
- Make thirteen different lists
Yea verily, I could do this for a living.
Michael called at 11:40 p.m. on Tuesday from Camp Pendelton. I'd gone to bed at 11:00 (after watching The World's Greatest TV Show, The Osbournes) and so wasn't *too* deeply asleep when he called. The child has no sense of time whatsoever.
Me (groggy): "Hello?"
Michael (excited): "Hey! What are you still doing up?"
Me (boggled): "If you thought I would be asleep, why did you call??"
Michael (still excited): "Oh, I'm too hyper."
Marie's quiet, reserved gladness at the news of our impending marriage is balanced with Michael's unabashed enthusiasm (which is quite typical of their personalities). Quoth he: "When I get in a bad mood, all I have to do is think about you guys getting married and it puts a big ol' grin on my face."
Awww.
He'll be home over his birthday weekend (Head's up, family members! There'll be a little shindig at our house!), and he'll be bringing several of his Marine friends with him. You should have seen Marie's eyes light up at that ("Oh, I hope they're cute!").
Oi.
I've been working out like a fiend and eating like a rabbit for the past week, and the scale has yet to budge. It'd better all catch up at once and cause a significant drop here soon, or I may panic. You'd think 12.5 pounds in two months wouldn't be that hard, wouldn't you? That's only a little over a pound a week. So! I thought, "No problem."
And yet a pound, when represented by, oh, say, hamburger meat, seems insurmountable. I kid you not. I took a three pound package of hamburger out of the freezer the other night and said to myself, "Laura, you have to lose *four* of those in exactly 79 days."
Panic. All over the blessed place.