verging on inane

Sigh.

It's Tuesday, national day of crap that doesn't go together. I'm tired. Have all kinds of crap I could be working on--finishing touches on the wedding flowers, writing a toast for my dad/me for the Big Day on Saturday, cleaning up my luggage from last weekend.

Instead, I whipped out my glue gun and glued crap onto pens for Rene's birthday box. The crap in question was little pictures of barns. Don't ask unless you want to hear a boring story that somehow has blossomed into in-joke legend. (; So right now, instead of having a cleaner house, I've got something that looks like we live with a four year old influenced by a material Pollock. That and a shirt designed with those thin strings of glue you get when you're a sloppy creator.

Is that why earth looks this way, is such a sloppy-ish mess a lot of the time: did the proverbial Creator get bored and just slap things together at the last minute? This could not possibly have been planned. Mud? Please.

Anyway, a few more days and my sister will be hitched and this all can go down in the history books. I'm tired of discussing only the wedding and ensuing chaos that's circling it like fifty-five hundred little moons of Saturn. You get caught up in this stuff and before you know it your life is subsumed by floral tape and finding a purse that goes with your dress, and it's not even your own fucking wedding.

Do I detect some bitterness? Perhaps the glue gun should be applied to my lips for a while.

Dan and I thought we'd get married "when we were done with college." Whenver the hell that is. We waited forever because my parents and family were so gung ho about us being done w/ college first. It was a good idea. In theory. I mean, we had no money when we were young, we had a lot of learning to do, the list goes on. I'm glad we waited. Should we have waited this long? Who knows. I don't, not anymore. It's all about perspective, I spose. We have just as much money now as we did when we first considered marriage, if not less with bills and post-college loan payments. I'm not sure we could get away with eloping but damned if it doesn't sound nice and simple after this inharmonious din that's been going on since Sara bought a dress in January. It's like listening to a kid with a kazoo. Cute at first, and then annoying, and then you reach the melt the kazoo on the hood of a Mack truck boiling point.

I think part of me is having that sibling rivalry going on in a small degree. Sara's the first kid to finish college, get her masters, get a "real" job, buy a house, have a dog, and now, get a husband. I'm still in the living with my boyfriend, working a job to pay the bills, still not done with college phase of things.

Am I cool with that?

For the most part, yeah. I mean, who cares? Sometimes it strikes me that I should care more. I could use a house. I could use a garage to store all my crap, I could paint the walls of my own house. I could do all these things. If I were goal oriented--which I'm not. My big goal is usually just minute to minute, hour to hour, day to day. If I try to think three weeks out it's nearly insurmountable in my head. It's like well, it hasn't happened yet, so why bother.

Besides the fact, if I had a house, it would look much the same as my house does now--strewn with crap. As George Carlin fondly points out, what is a house if nothing more than a place to keep your shit.

Sigh.

On the flip side there was Chicago last weekend, which was great fun. We had a rough start on Friday--got to the airport, you know the hurry up and wait tactic so may airlines employ--and our flight was cancelled. At 10 we finally take off for Chicago. And land, meet Serena and pick up the rental car and head back to the hotel. Next day we hit the continental breakfast and the Bohemian Cemetery (for Dan's thesis...the breakfast was just a bonus.) Get ready and hit the road for the wedding.

Great wedding--short enough and quite lovely. Sara's got a good eye for design and color and the way things look--it turned out beautiful...I think Will even shed a few squeaky tears. They're a great couple. Could I use the word great again in this paragraph? Let's not find out. (;

Sunday we dropped Serena at the airport, checked luggage and took the L back to Chicago, with intentions of seeing Little Italy...which, because it's Italian and Italians are notoriously Catholic, was pretty much shut down. So we trekked around the city and ended up down town staring up at the Sears Tower, which I thought would have been utterly cool to ascend...but I wasn't sure Dan could stomach it. So we foraged for lunch and had some great food, got back on the train and headed back to O'Hare.

I love to fly. I know this is quite the long blog at this point so I won't elaborate but I do so love to fly. (; Dan didn't get sick either way, tho there were a few moments on the to flight that I thought he might get green enough to eject items. The flight back was better, little fun turbulence and aside from a nosedive landing (which I can attest to was a bit unsettling...esp when, after noting the direction of the nose, the professed 16 year veteran stewardess sitting near us said: well, he's certainly taking us in for a nosedive, isn't he? Reassurance is wonderful.) and a meowing child was just dandy.

So it's Tuesday. I really ought to go clean up some of this crap that's littering my house before the cat trips.