I Do's, BFF's, Silver Linings, & When NOT to Say Vagina

 My best friend got married yesterday and I was there, proudly holding my bouquet in one hand and my iPhone in the other as she and her man said their I Do's, kissed, and sealed the deal.

It was beautiful. Weddings and beginnings are supposed to be, right? Somehow, though, the words "Till Death Do Us Part" take on new meaning when the groom was rushed to the emergency room by ambulance and released a few days earlier after almost dying from a severe asthma attack. "For Richer or Poorer" means more when pennies have been counted and bills juggled. "In sickness and in health" takes your breath away knowing that just days earlier, the bride was praying for a miracle and the emergency responders were making sure that miracle happened.

The fact that the bride is a powerhouse of confidence who deserves every happiness after an abusive first marriage that she walked away from speaks volumes as she and the man who loves her now and forever tries to keep it together and not cry like a baby while he repeats the pastor and promises his today and all of his tomorrows. He does (and will continue to) treat her like the goddess she is and deserves to be and this is when I find myself blinking away a few tears of my own.

Flower girls sit at my feet, one my daughter, the other the bride's niece. I'm waiting for the bride to call and let me know she got the wedding proofs back because I'm positive there'll be at least one photo of me glaring at Buttercup and Mom-looking her into something that resembles proper behavior because she may as well have been the drunk aunt on the dance floor with all the flashing that would have taken place had she not been wearing leggings under her dress because we totally saw it coming. At one point, there were a few snickers as I did the Mom Finger-Snap & Point thing indicating that it was now time to get out of Downward Dog and sit the hell down.

"Stop that or no ice cream." I whisper-yelled it as I pointed to the spot where she was supposed to plant her little ass until the time came to follow the bride and groom down the aisle after they were pronounced Mr. and Mrs. I got plenty of pictures of the three-year-old sitting perfectly and adorably still as she waited for her cue while I kept praying that Buttercup would remember to Not Say Inappropriate Things in Public. She did remember, thank you very much. Which makes this post way less entertaining, but I'm pretty sure it's a major factor in me and the BFF still being BFFs.

There's also the fact that the bride chose dresses that accentuated curves AND HAD HIDDEN POCKETS! And that she told me I could play with my iPhone during the ceremony. Probably because she left the Chinese finger trap at home. Those are also reasons I love her and appreciate her friendship in ways that cannot be described. One does not make it to her 30's without a BFF without cherishing the one that appears when she is meant to.

There was a Tardis and the bridesmaids received pocket watches with teddy bears and the ice cream bar made everyone happy because rainbow sprinkles and chocolate chips hold that kind of power. There was silliness and friendship and family and new beginnings to be celebrated and enjoyed. There were Spanx to peel off and cellulite to embrace and fuller curves than were present when the dress was ordered to thank for not needing alterations because I didn't have time to get any done.

There were explanations to the child to give her much loved honorary aunt the space needed to share herself with everyone present and stilettos thankfully replaced with flats or bare feet. And then at the end there were hugs and good-bye's and I Love You's as the room was cleaned up and the bride and her groom prepared for their honeymoon and everyone else parted ways and started Facebook-searching for the connections made.

And then on Facebook there was an update from a mother of a flower girl and a bridesmaid to the best friend that took 30 years to find.

 

 

 

 

So...A Writer Walks into a Story...

 

I'm in Tucson. There is now snow. Everything is brown and green. And I miss Maine.

My best friend gets married on Sunday. Her Husband-to-be will most likely be released from the hospital tomorrow after a nearly fatal asthma attack. We flew 3,000 miles to be a part of the beginning of their Happily Ever After. But before we missed the first plane on Tuesday, we walked into a story at the Bangor Quality Inn on Monday evening being closer to the airport gave us some breathing room in the morning.

We just didn't realize that meant 24 hours before the next flight and texts messages from the BFF about the future Mr. BFF, the epi pen that saved his life long enough for the ambulance crew to do it again on the way to the hospital, and the very obvious irony in the hospital staff trying to feed a man deathly allergic to eggs and poultry a chicken dinner followed up by a pancake breakfast.

Before that, though, I walked into a story while holding my daughter's hand at the Bangor Quality Inn hotel. Front desk clerk Chris Snow and regular guest Anne Saunders chatting it up. I had my phone out of my bra and asked them if I could take a photo before anyone moved and the story wrote itself inside of my head before the words "I'm a writer. Do you mind if I share this?" came tumbling out of my mouth.

The two consented and then I explained what a blog is, which s funny but also true. Chris is exactly who I want to walk in and see at every hotel I ever check in to. Anne, obviously, agrees with me. She and Chris go way back from before and the Quality Inn was something else and something else before that. And the scene grew warmer and simpler and sweeter simply because it was real.

I'm often asked how I go about the nasty business of gathering ideas for my writing. So far, my best answer is that I don't. The moments that become essays and columns and blog posts and chapters? They find me.

 

Something Hilariously Funny

I promised, didn't I? Ganted, this is all subjective, but I happen to think my blackberry message conversation with my BFF Mel in which we go round for round trying to narrow down my choice in color for a netbook is fucking hysterical. I'm indecisive. And while I may drive most normal people up a wall with my OCD tendency to waffle on any decision (Do I want the burger or the chicken? Well, I got the burger last time....the chicken might be nice...but what if I don't like the chicken? I know I like the burger...so I should just get the burger, right?)

If I'm with The Husband, the rule is that once I've selected something, the menu must be taken away. If it isn't, I always end up pissed I didn't go with my first choice, anyway. But Mel understands.

Mel's got my back.

And I've got hers. (Bob, she's getting a blue Ford Flex, okay? Make sure she doesn't change her mind.)

See, I need (Need, dammit) a new, sleek, cute little netbook to take with me to that writer's conference I signed up for. Not this piece of shit brick for brains I bought four years ago that honestly just tells the world I have no sense of style, taste, or anything else importantly superficial.  So The Husband told me to look at Dell Minis. (Then he asked me if I wanted jewelry for Valentine's Day, and the writer in me went for the new pretty netbook, but that's another post.)

So I looked at Dell. And just because this little nugget will help things make sense for you, my favorite color was pink. Until last week, anyway.

Here, for your reading pleasure, is about a week's worth of messages debating the colors of the rainbow in the Opi collection (and our sanity.)

 (The following conversation took place over a span of about four hours.) Mel: Honestly, if it were my choice, between those three colors, I would choose............ Pauline: Yes? Mel: Red Pauline: Ur just saying that

Mel: No I am not Mel: The pink is expected for a girl, know what I mean? And maybe not all that professional, you would be known as the chick with the hot pink netbook. Pauline: Hmmmm.  I'll kill u if all the other chicks have one when I get there. Mel: The pearl is nice, but I myself wouldn't want that light of a color, not sure why. It's prettyy, but does nothing for me. It speaks to u cuz of Buttercup's birthstone. (And all the other chicks won't have hot pink!)

Pauline: Aye aye yay.

Mel: I love that deep richness of the color, it's seductive. It's not "hey I'm red, notice me", like fuck me pumps. It's mysterious.

Pauline: Fuck me pumps. Love it. Ok. If I get a dell, its red

Mel: Totally your decision.

(The Next day)

Pauline: Ok here's the funny.... Ready? Mel: Ready! Pauline: Ok, The Husband says I should get an HP mini. Better reviews, more awards, can expand the memory, get an external dvd, and is still cheaper than the dell

Mel: Doh! Pauline: Yeah, so now the question is...should I get the black crystal or the silver?

And the beat goes on, people...'cuz after The Husband told me to get silver because it was cheaper, I chose black because I could. And now I gotta decide on a bag or a sleeve. A girl's gotta accesorize, you know.

And the beat goes on.