It's Blog Tuesday! (Yes, I just made that up.)

Where does the time go? I wrote my last blog eons ago and haven’t written a single word since.

Well, that’s not entirely true. I have written e-mails. I have written to-do lists that somehow never quite get to-done. And I have written a comment on a Facebook page or two.

But I have written no blogs.

Perhaps I was restraining myself from responding to all that Rapture nonsense. Or maybe I’ve been in a severe state of depression since learning that Oprah’s last show is tomorrow (25 years!!)

Nah. I don’t believe any of that The-World-Is-Ending stuff from people who don’t know any more about it than I do. And Oprah? Well, sure, I’ve watched her show from time to time over the years and have enjoyed it. She has brought a lot of people to the public eye. I mean, because of Oprah, people know who Stedman and Gayle are. I don’t know about you, but I’m sure I’m better off knowing that there are two people in the world named Stedman and Gayle.

And, okay, so she also introduced the free world to people like Dr. Phil, Suze Orman, Dr. Oz and Maya Angelou. I suppose those people – as well as Oprah herself – have had a positive impact on some folks.

But mostly her show’s end means to me that I’ll never have an opportunity to sit in her studio audience and rake in the loot on an “Oprah’s Favorite Things” episode. Darn.

No, I suppose the real reason I haven’t written any blogs lately is that I have had a lot on my mind. And, believe it or not, I don’t write down every thought that enters my head. Not for public consumption, anyway.

I’ve been getting myself back to the gym lately, which is a good thing. But a time-consuming thing, as well. And we’ve been considering a move. The thought of which overwhelms me. I mean, if you’ve ever read one of my blogs before, you know how much crap we have at home. Fortunately, I suppose, the garage is filled with boxes – so perhaps we’d just have to move boxes from Abode A to Abode B, and that wouldn’t be too difficult.

Yeah, right.

I have to stop thinking about moving or else I’ll get paralyzed here and won’t be able to write another word.

We have a lot of upcoming events on the calendar, some of which are out of town, so I’ve been trying to make sure we don’t double-book and end up in Cincinnati when we’re supposed to be in Columbus hosting dinner for friends.

And in a couple weeks I will be donning my chauffeur cap and driving my parents to Cape Cod, where they’ll “summah at the cahtage.” (Said in your best Thurston Howell the Third voice. And if you don’t know who Thurston Howell the Third is, then stop reading this blog. You’re too young.) Meanwhile, I’m having nightmares that my dad won’t be paying attention to the road and I’ll get us hopelessly lost and we’ll end up in Tampa, despite ol’ trusty Gladys the Garmin Lady telling me where to go.

But my biggest concern at this very moment is the dress I’m supposed to wear in a friend’s upcoming September wedding. It’s short. And practically sleeveless. I haven’t worn short, sleeveless dresses since I was 10. It’s Navy Blue, er, “Lapis” (which is a fancy name for Navy Blue) and has sparkles on it. It would look ideal on a 6 foot, 98 lb. model. I am close to 6 feet, but nowhere near 98 lbs. Notice I didn’t mention the model part? ‘Nuff said.

I suspected that on me, the dress would look like a short, navy blue bag with sparkles. Oops, sorry, lapis bag with sparkles. So I ventured into Macy’s last night and tried it on. And, yes, I did, in fact, look like I was wearing a short, navy blue bag with sparkles. Sigh.

If you ask me, after a certain age – say, 25 – women shouldn’t be forced to wear identical bridesmaid dresses. In any other situation, two women wearing the same dress is verboten. Why should weddings be any different?

My friend wanted her wedding color to be purple, but her mom selected the blue sparkly bag, er, dress. Helpful friend that I am, I tried on a purple dress that didn’t make me look like I was wearing a bag. So I bought it instead of the blue one. Probably, I’ll be exchanging the purple dress, but for now, I’m feeling better about the wedding.

So those are just some of the thoughts swirling around in my little brain. Exciting, huh? Yeah, well, sorry. Next time I’ll try to come up with something better. Maybe the kitties will do something newsworthy and I can write about it. Or I’ll spill something or get into another one of those "Lucy"-type situations. Those are always good for a few words. (Again, if you don't know who Lucy is, stop reading. I'm sure Lady Gaga writes an entertaining blog.)

Ah well. At least I didn’t once mention the crappy rainy weather we’ve had here in Central Ohio lately.

Happy Blog Tuesday. Time to celebrate!

Here's to the Happy Couple!

I took yesterday off from, well, pretty much everything. On Sunday we drove back from northern Michigan and arrived home about eight hours after we started. To folks who drive long distances for a living, I have to hand it to you. That’s some kinda tough work!

Not being one of those people who drive long distances for work, I was whipped by the time we finally arrived home. I had absolutely no interest in unpacking from the weekend or preparing for the upcoming work week. Consequently, I was a little zombie-ish yesterday and didn’t want to think. Certainly I didn’t want to try stringing words together to form any sort of cohesive message.

Today, however, I’m feeling a bit more refreshed. So let’s give stringing some words together a try and see if we can get anywhere close to cohesive.

While the drive home was a long one, it was also beautiful. We took the more scenic route and the trees in northern Michigan are just starting to turn. We were treated to some beautiful fall foliage. In another couple weeks, the colors will be breathtaking, but ask me if we’ll make another trip up north. Go on – ask me. Yeah, the answer would be a resounding “NO!” Not that I wouldn’t like to see it, I just couldn’t take the drive again so soon.

The reason we drove so far in northern Michigan was to attend my cousin’s wedding. It was an outdoor wedding, held at a friend’s farmhouse, which I thought was quite brave of the bride and groom. Not for having it at a friend’s farmhouse, but because the weather in northern Michigan in mid- to late-September can by kind of iffy. And the day dawned cold and rainy, so we all envisioned being huddled under golf umbrellas while we watched the happy couple exchange their vows.

But they had Lady Luck or Mother Nature or the Man Upstairs smiling down upon them, because it turned out to be a beautiful day with the sun sparkling on the green grass and dipping the distant fields in gold. Truly, it looked like a commercial for the perfect outdoor fall wedding. Except perhaps for the hysterically crying flower girl who apparently didn’t enjoy her role in the proceedings. I imagine the director would have called “Cut!” and they would have replaced the crying child with her smiling twin.

But it wasn’t a commercial – it was real life. And despite the crying flower girl, it was a beautiful ceremony at the top of a ridge overlooking rolling fields and trees. The bride and groom wrote their own vows, which were by turns heartfelt and touching and humorous. I saw many a guest dabbing at damp eyes with tissues or – if they were fancy enough or well-prepared – actual lace hankies.

I’m always amazed when a bridal couple elects to write and recite their own vows. Mostly because I don’t think I could get through it. I figured I’d either stumble over the words or get too choked up to continue. Yep, just let me repeat after someone and I’m good. So I have to give them major props for pulling it off so well.

The reception was a blast, too. As the wine and beer and cider flowed, guests sat under a big white tent and were treated to a delicious dinner of salmon and country ribs with lots of great sides. Toasts were given – lots of toasts were given – and everyone celebrated the happy couple.

They had a great idea for a “photo booth,” which was simply a wrought iron bed set outside the barn. Later in the evening, guests had their photos taken in all sorts of spontaneous poses on and around the bed. I’m sure the bride and groom are looking forward to seeing how these turned out. Hopefully no guests will be too horrified by their antics!

Weddings are such great events – not only to share in one of the most special days a couple can have, but also to renew relationships with family and friends. Plus, they are a good excuse to let loose and, as my 7-year-old niece says, “dance up a storm”! Which we did. Either because we’d drunk enough liquid courage – or because we were cold and were trying to warm up! No matter the reason, a great time was had by all.

So to the happy couple, I extend my love and heartfelt congratulations. May you live a long and happy life together.

Weddings, Tiaras and People Magazine

I forgot my library book the other day and was jonesing for something to read at lunchtime, so I picked up a People magazine. For all I know it was last week’s People magazine and the folks at CVS were snickering behind my back that I was purchasing old news. Oh well – it got me through lunch.

I used to read People magazine all the time and I’m not even ashamed to admit it. Maybe I should be, but it’s not like I was reading The National Enquirer. And, quite frankly, I’m not sure anyone would believe me if I said I regularly peruse Forbes or Fortune.

Nevertheless, it has been a while since I’ve read People. And my first question is: Who are all these people in People magazine? I mean, I thought I was sort of “up” on celebrity news and such, but I didn’t know two-thirds of these folks.

Every time I think I’m sort of a cool older chick, the reality that I’m just an older chick smacks me in the face.

And what kind of name is Leighton Meester anyway?

There was a cover story on new bride Carrie Underwood with a photo spread of her wedding. I do know who she is, even though I don’t watch American Idol. (I know, I know…99% of the free world watches the show. Evidently it’s a character flaw. What can I say?)

Mostly I remember hearing one of her songs on the radio, “Before He Cheats” where she does all sorts of larcenous damage to the car of her cheating soon-to-be-ex-boyfriend. I figured nobody would want to mess with this babe, let alone marry her.

Of course, it’s just a song. But hopefully her new husband has listened very carefully to the lyrics of “Before He Cheats.” I would even suggest he take some notes.

Anyway, being a relatively recent bride myself, I love getting a glimpse at other weddings. Celebrity weddings, in particular, are interesting because I am usually equal parts fascinated and horrified at their excesses. Even if I had the kind of money celebrities do, I can’t imagine blowing it on an event for one day. On the other hand, I wouldn’t mind testing that theory. Anyone have a coupla mil they wanna throw my way?!

But, for instance, Carrie Underwood wore a tiara with her Monique Lhuillier wedding gown. Naturally, she couldn’t wear just any old tiara, could she? Not with a designer wedding gown that probably cost more than my entire wedding! So her new husband, Mike Fisher, a not-bad-lookin’ professional Canadian hockey guy, who evidently has some big bucks himself, bought her a tiara with REAL diamonds. Like 40 carats worth.

Are you kidding me?? The tiara I wore for my wedding, in contrast, cost me about $15. There wasn’t even one tiny diamond chip in the thing! And still I felt a little guilty over spending that kind of money for something I would wear only once. Not that I didn’t love my little $15 tiara with its shiny silver metal and sparkly rhinestones. But unless one is dressing up for Halloween or is, like, 5, the only time a woman can get away with wearing a tiara is at her wedding. Well, okay, I guess there are a couple other legitimate reasons – like she’s a beauty pageant winner – or is actual royalty.

Nevertheless, if someone gave me a tiara with 40 carats of real diamonds, I don’t think I’d ever take the damn thing off. Which would look sort of silly when I gassed up at the local Speedway, or made a quick run into Kroger to pick up a bag of tortilla chips and some salsa.

So imagine my surprise when I turned the page in People magazine and saw another photo of little Carrie Underwood in a second Monique Lhuillier frock (which probably still cost more than my entire wedding!). This gown was short and sassy to allow the new Mrs. Carrie Fisher a chance to boogie down on the dance floor. And she was no longer wearing the tiara!!

Sheesh. Celebrities.

Oh well. I did manage a laugh over the fact that her married name is Carrie Fisher. Wonder if anyone is going to confuse her with Princess Leia? Nah. To the best of my recollection, Princess Leia didn’t wear a tiara.

Weekend Update by Jane-You-Ignorant-… (If you know the last word, you used to watch Jane Curtin on SNL and you are old enough to read today’s blog.)

Well, the weekend was a resounding success and a great time was had by all at both the wedding in Cleveland on Saturday and the 80th birthday/Father’s Day cookout in Newark on Sunday.

Vince and I managed to get everything done prior to our departure on Saturday. At least I think we did. If we missed something, well, we really didn’t notice – so it probably wasn’t critical. And nobody ended up going “commando” – so I was happy that my list-making worked. For the most part.

Well, okay, so I did forget to pack my super-duper hair smoothing serum that should last me at least a year and cost more than the gross national product of a small, underdeveloped nation and, thus, not something I was interested in replacing for an overnight visit. I figured my hair was just going to have to frizz out if that’s what it wanted to do.

And while I packed both my deodorant and Vince’s, I didn’t check to see if there were sufficient quantities in each to get us through two day’s worth of application. If I had, I would’ve noticed I was on the very last dregs of my Fresh Scent Secret (“Strong enough for a man, but made for a woman”). Thus, I had to use Vince’s Right Guard on Sunday and probably smelled studly all day, but at least it was better than being, um, “aromatic.” Fortunately, I didn’t notice anyone giving me a wide berth at the cookout on Sunday. And it was a hot and sweaty day so, believe me, that Right Guard was certainly put to the test.

When we got to the hotel on Saturday, I checked in and was told that, as a Rewards Club member I was entitled to a free breakfast in the morning. The thing is I have absolutely no recollection of signing up as a Rewards Club member. But who am I to question a free breakfast? So I took the card and beat a hasty retreat toward the elevators lest the girl at the reservation desk realize that I wasn’t really entitled to a free breakfast (with an overpriced retail value of $11.99) and had the chance to snatch it back out of my hands.

For a woman, getting ready for a wedding is a lengthier process than, say, getting ready to go to dinner at Applebee’s. It takes me a minimum of an hour. We won’t even discuss how long it takes an actual bride to get ready for her wedding, but the process begins right around the same time the engagement ring is placed on her finger.

Nevertheless, I was merely a guest at this wedding, so an hour was all I needed. Only I didn’t get an hour. I had about 40 minutes. For you uninitiated to the world of women’s “special event” preparation, those 20 critical minutes are the difference between showing up fully coiffed, dressed with all zippers zipped, buttons buttoned and hooks hooked and ready to party – and arriving with nervous perspiration on the upper lip and forehead, lipstick applied crookedly, hair only half curled and smeared eyeliner on at least one eye.

And this was an outdoor wedding under the hot, relentless sun. I was doomed from the beginning!

Fortunately, I managed to get over my snotty When-I-Say-I-Need-An-Hour-To-Get-Ready-I-Don’t-Mean-40-Minutes attitude, and was able to enjoy the wedding. I enjoyed it even more that we had an hour and a half gap between the wedding and the reception.

We spent a few of those precious moments chatting with good friends I’ve known since college along with their “80-And-Change” mother, Mrs. B. Once upon a time this group would have used that hour and a half to head to a bar somewhere to indulge in a little before-dinner libation, but our friends had their kids with them and needed to bring them to the babysitter’s before the reception. Well, the kids, plus the baby deer they had in the back of their SUV. Yes, I’m serious. A baby deer. I’m still shaking my head. Only these friends… (Bambi had apparently been abandoned and wasn’t old enough to fend for itself, so our animal-loving friends were taking care of it until they could find an alternate care solution.)

So Vince and I went off on our own in a quest to find a place where I could indulge in a soothing glass of red wine. And while it wasn’t a fine dining experience complete with white linen tablecloths and a full wine list (or any wine list, for that matter!), at least the one type of red wine they served had an alcohol content higher than, say, Diet Coke. So I was happy. Plus, I was able to remedy the crooked lipstick and smeared eyeliner situations. Really couldn’t do much with the frizzy, half-curled hair thing, but then that was my own fault since I forgot my semi-precious hair smoothing serum.

Nevertheless, by the time we showed up at the reception I was back in a good mood and ready to party. And party we did! We were seated with my old college buddies and we all had a wonderful time. The photos may show a group of middle-aged people laughing and dancing like, well, middle-aged people, but we didn’t really care. We figured as long as none of us fell down and broke a hip, it was all good. Plus, the mother-of-the-bride was dancing right along with us, so we had no worries.

We discussed the possibility of heading out to a local bar after the reception to keep the good times going, but none of us managed to work up enough energy. Thus, like a bunch of Cinderellas (or middle-aged weenies), our evening ended before midnight.

This was probably a good thing because Vince and I had to be up-and-at-‘em bright and early the next morning. For one thing, we wanted to get our free buffet breakfast before they found out we weren’t really entitled to it. So at the crack of dawn (or 9AM – same thing), we made our way to the dining room in the hotel and enjoyed our overpriced lukewarm sausage and eggs and relatively fresh fruit and blueberry muffins. No, I kid. For the price we paid, it was some good eatin’!

We met up with our friends to say good-bye (which, with this group, requires a minimum of one hour), and then we headed for points north and our Sunday event.

I have one word for Sunday: HOT. I spent the first 45 minutes in the kitchen arranging food in serving bowls and making sure plates, napkins and utensils were at the ready for the hungry hordes once the steak and ribs were ready. Most of the time, however, I was digging through boxes and bags looking for a particular item the Grill Masters needed only to discover (a) they’d already found said item out by the grill and had neglected to inform me, or (b) they’d changed their minds and didn’t need whatever it was I was searching for anymore. Grrr.

By the time I came outside to the patio where everyone was gathered, I was hot, sweaty and completely wilted. And hot, sweaty and completely wilted I remained for the duration of the day (thank heavens for Right Guard, even if it did make me smell studly!). But we had a festive afternoon with helium-filled balloons, gaily wrapped packages and a memory book that we’d prepared for the birthday boy. So we enjoyed watching him look through it. And we enjoyed the food, the company and the conversation.

We ended the day full, happy, and sweaty – but we couldn’t have asked for a better day. Well, perhaps if I’d been able to use Fresh Scent Secret instead of Vince’s Right Guard, I wouldn’t have sweated like a man all day. But really, otherwise, it was great. And I didn’t have smeary eyeliner or crooked lipstick. Life is good. And, as Vince says, “It’s the little things…”