Dear FutureMe,
I hope you are still taking care of yourself.
Whatever you are contemplating, do it.
Does this mean
Or
Or something else entirely? More home revisions? What am I contemplating in my heart of hearts?
One of the things about being a new wife (in my family, at least) is finding oneself gifted with the remnants of one’s childhood that have been saved for such a transition point. Long ago, I was given the box of holiday ornaments that my mum had collected over the course of my life (Hallmark’s daughter issue every year and some made by yours truly in grade school) but today I received my silver baby cup and spoon. Complete with teeth marks.
Tags: family
Today was an absolutely unproductive day. I’ve spent it drowning in agonizing pain and nausea.
I am counting down the minutes until M. Sort brings home an Imitrex refill for me.
Tags: health
Today began the first day of what will likely amount to two years of ClearCorrect braces. Like InvisAlign, I can remove them to eat or perform, though I’m supposed to wear them 22 hours per day. Like traditional braces, they HURT.
My teeth are achy and my tongue is all cut up from the edges of the trays. After a few days, I’ll be used to this set of trays, though. Every three weeks, I’ll have a new set to get used to.
For now, I’m consoling myself with this:
It’s not a bad trade.
This week (and mind you, it is only now Tuesday) has seen:
- A sharp decline in the efficacy of my washing machine, requiring me to rewash many times
- Further deterioration of my (25-some-odd-year-old) dryer (I swear that rusted old thing is going to catch fire and be the death of us)
- The breakdown of my shower/bathtub fixtures and functions (M. Sort finally got the tub to drain by yanking out parts, but no baths for me until I call a plumber…sigh)
- An ever-growing urgent ‘to do’ list around the house
- Our cat, Bella, terrified and stuck in a tree for three hours after being chased in broad daylight by a bold coyote
- Me with a lisp, thanks to ClearCorrect braces
Oh my.
Pizza dough.
Tags: food
M. Sort and I had a fantastic time on our Disneyworld honeymoon. Our trip began with displays of surprising spirit and generosity from friends and strangers alike and it filled my heart with joy.
We stayed at the Grand Floridian and the service couldn’t have been better. Everything was lovely, right down to rose petals à la romance novel scattered on our bed (I think we were both slightly scandalized) and a view of the fireworks and the water pageant. We witnessed impressive thunderstorms and danced in the downpour. I indulged in sweet tea, gospel music, old family traditions, and good old vitamin D. Thanks to the wonder of SPF 85, I didn’t even burn much.
And now we are home and it is GOOD. It’s back to being dreary here in Seattle (though hopefully not for long) but tomorrow is the farmers’ market. I’m ready to get back into good habits of nourishment and being attentive to my health.
Today, I’m unpacking, processing some photographs of my sister’s graduation, putting away thoughtful gifts that we will share in our new/continuing life together, and preparing to hang the new family photographs and our personal marriage contract to remind us of the sacred vows we made to one another just twelve days ago.
Sometimes, there’s no place like home.
On June 13th, I became the Mme. to my M. Sort.
Don’t we look happy?
We are.
Two weeks ago, I accompanied my sisters to the pumpkin patch at Remlinger Farms. We tromped through mud, rode around the patch in a rickety truck with hay bale seats, let my nephew guide us through a corn maze, and picked out lovely pumpkins.
Unfortunately, I returned from Disneyland with a virus that gave me bronchitis, so the pumpkins are uncarved. No matter, now they are part of our general autumn decor. Well, except for the one that appears to be rotting away on the back patio. That one is now just part of the compost pile.
Tonight I learned that the infant daughter of our close family friends successfully underwent surgery to correct the breathing problems she faced. I also read a letter from a grieving mother to her 13-year-old son who was lost to cancer just last week.
I don’t–and never will–understand why some of us are granted reprieves and miracles and others receive only heartbreak (and I imagine that most will say that life is a mix of both but there are times, especially involving children, where the contrast is so stark and overwhelming that one can’t help but wonder and thrash about) but what I do know was reinforced tonight by both the answering of my fervent prayers and the wisdom of the eloquent and impassioned love letter that has me weeping so intensely that I can barely type.
Life is the greatest bargain; we get it for nothing.
Madame Josephine lives with her husband, Monsieur Sort (not his real name) and their three (often naughty) cats. She believes strongly in the power of hope, compassion, tea, and hot baths.