I pride myself on the fact that I’m not really a Bridezilla. I’ve been quite laid-back about this whole wedding thing, and actually more into the whole being married thing. Bring that on. A few months ago, I did have a blip about envelopes, of all things. And then I got over myself. Other than matching paper goods, the only stipulation I’ve made is that the bridesmaids’ outfits don’t go all the way to lavender on the purple spectrum. And…
Last week, Sarge wandered into the bedroom, where I was reading and minding my own business. ‘I just bought something,’ he said. ‘What?’ I expected him to name some official noise-making device with numbers on the end of it. ‘You’re going to hate me. You’re never going to speak to me again. It’s terrible.’ ‘Whut?’ ‘I got an internet TV box. Blah, blah, blah (some numbers). And it has Netflix.’ I looked at him over my book. ‘It has what…
The first and only time I danced on a table it buckled underneath me. My friends lifted me, in the chair, onto the table because it was the only free space on which to dance. I was 18 and liked to dance. I was also drunk. All other space that night was taken up by girls dancing around their handbags and boys dancing around girls. On a crowded dance floor, I am usually considered a fire hazard. A fire hazard…
1. It complements my healthy-eating plan. When I’m eating grapes or rice-cakes and therefore hungry, it helps to re-pin cake recipes. 2. I can keep wedding ideas together without glue or paper-cuts. 3. It’s a source of my daily Zen. 4. And sometimes it tells me what to do next. 5. It’s shown my that broken books can be beautiful. 6. It tells me I’m not the only one. 7. If I pin a project, I might actually try it.…
