Spazzmanda

Engagement photos by the talented, beautiful and dazzling Fox of Celestial Studios fame.

I had them made into our guestbook. It is bitchin’.

I think I’m coming down with something icky in my throat.   Feh.

So, did I happen to mention we moved? We’re at least in the house. Living in the basement apartment in what I’ve affectionately learned to call our “love nest.”  Grandmother tells me that we are, in fact, living in “sin.” But since the wedding is only 6 short weeks away, it is really a sinlet. Barely a blemish on my permanent record, really now.

That’s okay, I think she approves.

Oh, in other news… I found my knitting bag. Behind the dollhouse under the mountain of unopened boxes.

I miss my toaster.  I want waffles.

… Our house it has a crowd, There’s always something happening and it’s usually quite loud. Our mum she’s so house-proud, Nothing ever slows her down and a mess is not allowed.

Our house, in the middle of our street- Our House, in the middle of our…

Currently we’re painting, shifting around sister’s things (oh joy) and waiting for the permits to start the renovation maybe this week???

More to follow.

I just realized something creepy.  Today for lunch, I brought butternut squash soup (orange), carrot sticks (orange) an orange and if I wanted it later, peach yogurt.

Then I noticed my dress was a print, orange on white.

Something is weird today.

Bet on “orange” today if you can.  I wonder if there is some cosmic number for lottery using the numbers that make up the word “orange”. Hmmm. I’ve got two sets of numbers I’m playing today (up to $110 million folks!)

I think that the depth of the human soul and one’s capacity for both love and hate can be well defined by a simple story I have to share this lovely spring day.  On Wednesday, Jeff and I were out house hunting. Which is less fun than it sounds, why are real estate agents liars? The first place we stopped had a bonus chicken coup that was mentioned nowhere in the description. I digress, that is a story for another day.

We stopped at this one house that looked to be vacant. I hated the driveway enough to veto on site but Jeff wanted a closer look. He said he was going to knock on the door and see if anyone was home. Which is weird to do, but he is a strange fella so I just stayed behind, applied some chapstick and called my mother, who had just locked her keys in the car and had some time to kill.  A few minutes later, he comes tearing around the house like he is being chased by a rottweiler or someone with a shotgun.

I totally. freaked. out.  I screamed in my mother’s ear and dropped the phone. I don’t know what I was looking for (a weapon?) All I have in the car is an emery board. (Note to self: get a gun.)

I look at his face as he reaches the door and he switches from terror to unabashed amusement. (F&%*ing theater major.) He points at me and laughs as I pick up the phone with my mother on the end hollering “What’s wrong???!!!”

He thought this was terribly entertaining. Two for the price of one.

This would be the third time he’s done something to scare me while I’ve been on the phone with my mother.

Normally, his modus operandi is to simply hide behind something, lie in wait for me to happen by and pop out. Sometimes he is more creative and uses props to frighten me (another story for another day.) Sometimes he scares me without actually meaning to.

Jeff says I scare better than anyone he knows. I make fun noises. But the problem is that now  I’m getting a complex. I’m constantly waiting for him to scare me and I think it is going to make my hair fall out. And there’s nothing worse than a bald bride.

He’s freaking me out.

It’s pissing me off.

Yes, it is kind of funny, but don’t tell anyone I’ve said so.

So, I was mad. Really mad. Really, really mad about the incident. And when we got home, there was this:

and these

Even though we’re going to be moving (hopefully) very soon, he planted my herbs and flowers  because he knows I’d like to sit on the porch and enjoy them.

I’m loving him again. Until the next time he decides to play an evil prank.

Then the gloves are off.

Warning, crude language and misuse of quality curses:

This morning I started the complaint process with a vendor that misrepresented a download of a probably pirated textbook. I’m cheap, and trying to go green and it is an accounting book for a class I’m merely auditing, I thought a digital copy would be, I don’t know, convenient?

Me:

I thought that this was going to be the textbook, (Textbook Title Here.)

Instead, this was the powerpoint presentation for the chapters, which is not entirely useful to me.

I would like a refund please.

Sincerely,

Moi

Them:

hi,you bought the files is not powerpoint presentation for the chapters,it is solution manual or test bank for textbook.

Me:

I understand that now, but it was presented as the textbook.

Am I going to get a refund or am I going to have to take it up with Pay Pal?

Them:

This files is consistent with the description, the product description said it is solution manual or test bank, not textbook,you should see the description before buying, so you agree the describe before you purchase, my file is correct and complete. What you are saying is just an excuse.

Me:

Ok, so insulting your customers is the way you do business and customer satisfaction is not important to you at all.

I will take it up with paypal or my credit card company if necessary (you see, I’ve been a good customer to both organizations and they DO care about how merchants treat me.)

Thank you for being absolutely NO help at all, and have a lovely day.

(Opens PayPal dispute)

Them:

i know you are liar,you steal my files.fuck your mother,watever asshole.

and:

i know you are liar,you steal my files.fuck your mother,watever asshole. i will win,I strongly do not refund, you are an idiot.go away,fuck.

Me:

I didn’t steal your files, they are readily available online.

Also, sir, you may want to be aware that the publisher of this book has no idea you are selling these files.

You should watch yourself. This is no way to do business.

And if you have to resort to cursing and name calling, I’ve already won.

Have a lovely day.

Them:

You are an idiot, the world is on you this idiot, you are a bastard, well, I will give you a refund within 24 hours, you are an idiot. I am a smart person.

I’m comforted that I’m dealing with a smart person here. This would have been a real nightmare otherwise.

Turns out that PayPal does not protect buyers of “Virtual Goods” so I’m most likely out the money  anyways unless CitiCards saves the day or by some miracle the choad actually refunds my money.

Lesson learned.

This just in from Fox, a photo she snapped back in October, we were cleaning up after an event so it was really a bad hair day for the both of us, but somehow, she manages to make us look pretty stinkin’ cute.  If you have not befriended a professional photographer, I highly recommend you do so immediately.

This came in yesterday:

Then my grandpa sent me 4 emails this morning on how to get rid of wrinkles.

Is someone trying to tell me something?

I know that I have established that I may be a little old lady already, but seriously? AA-frickin-R-P?

Ok, I may have teased a bit. Not MY dress, but my mother’s dress will have to serve as your eyecandy for the day.

My mother, angel, saint, and hot lady that she is was married at the age of 20. The year was 1972 1974. She was fresh as a daisy and it was the 70’s. Gotta love the 70’s. This was wedding number 1 (of 2) and she was so very, very young. Very VERY young. With a teensy ribcage. TEENSIE TINY. Following her wedding, she promptly packed her dress away for the day, YES, that glorious day that her 32 year old daughter would decide to put it on:

and laugh.

I do apologize, it is actually very, very lovely. Abundant with lace (which you know I like;)  and beading. Lots of Lace. LOTS of fabric. Poufy sleeves. And buttons too? I can’t breathe in this thing. Not to mention that it leaves absolutely, positively EVERYTHING to the imagination. I can’t lift my arms and is it hot in here? I feel dizzy. It is oh, so 1972.

You know what? I cherished this day in my grandmother’s home. Because not only was I with my most special of ladies sharing this special memory, it was right after this very moment that I tried on MY dress. There was a moment.

And that’s all I’ve got to say about that.

For more pictures from the “trying on of Mrs. Rebecca’s dress” you can go see my flickr stuff HERE.