Waltz of the Dearly Beloved

So, here’s a question: what did you do with your wedding dress, if you have one? I’m loathe to admit that mine is resting comfortably in our spare bedroom closet, barely shrouded in the plastic it came in and ah, I never had it dry cleaned, which means it is rendered useless and essentially ruined, given that I fell on my wedding day (surprise surprise) into something large and greasy — I can’t remember what. All I know is that somewhere, there is a black stain of something oily, and I was too lazy/did not care/totally not sentimental enough to do anything about it.

I bring this up because we were cleaning the closet out today, and realized we have to make a decision about it one way or another, and I’m sure as shit not moving that thing to another house. But throwing it away? Doesn’t that seem … wrong? I mean, I never harbored any illusions that I would foist it upon my daughter to wear on her wedding day, because although I’d like to think it was simple and classic (It was! It was Vera Wang, and I only mention it because while I am not a label whore by any means, I have always loved Vera Wang’s wedding dresses for their simplicity and BESIDES, I got it at a sample sale), what is simple and classic today may be the equivalent of the high-necked monstrosity that was popular in the early 1980s in a few short years. And besides the obvious fact that I may have a family of little boys, storing it for my daughter puts so much pressure on her — I remember how awful I felt when I didn’t wear my step-mother’s wedding … hat? Shoes? Jesus, I can’t even remember what it is I bailed on, besides her mother’s pearls that I forgot to put on after one too many bloody marys at 9 a.m.

And lo, hey, look! Turns out I have a photo of said dress with my mom, which honestly, I didn’t think I had. And ah, memories are all we’ll have of this dress, I’m afraid. God, was my make-up ghostly, or what? I’m pretty sure she was whispering something snarky and inappropriate about my photographer who was competent, but a bit of a douchebag.

Almost five years ago! I can hardly believe it, truly.

Anyway, on to the weekend recap! Are you ready? It can be summed up in two words:

Sloth.
Vacuum.

Hooray! Honestly, we are among the laziest couples in existence, and nothing pleases me more than a weekend spent indoors working on domestic projects and maybe some crafting, if I were the crafty sort. Except it wasn’t all fun and games — I did vacuum after all, and though I’ve been told that canister vacuum cleaners are the work of the devil and that bags aren’t obsolete, I maintain that there is nothing more satisfying than emptying out a full canister of pet hair into the garbage. In fact, it makes the top three list of things that are unexpectedly satisfying, which includes popping zits (shut up, it is SO SATISFYING), power washing mold off of the driveway and now, vacuuming until the canister nearly bursts. I’m sure I’ll add more riveting activities if I think about it hard enough.

Ahem.

Happy Monday. I’m mostly dreading the work week because it promises to be miserably busy, as last week was.

*Emily Wells. Also known as The Artist Who Led Me To Jesca Hoop.

41 comments January 6th, 2008