There are a few reasons why I never expended the energy to get up and hit those little buttons so I can get my American Flag “I Voted Today!” sticker. The first being I’ve never liked any of the candidates. In fact, I think they’re all scumbag liars who are going to fuck up our country in one way or another. And I’m a little distressed when I have to base my all important decision on who is going to fuck up our country less and who will take away the fewest number of rights we have. Think about it…how can we select one person (who will always be a man) to make all of the decisions for a country of millions and millions (are we up to a billion yet?) of people?  Ya know it’s that way in just about every country in this world…but look at the state of the world. Doesn’t anyone get the connection? I think every candidate for every office has his/her own agenda in mind. I don’t believe their claims of being “the people’s candidate” because if they were, they would do everything the people wanted. We all know how often that happens.

Another reason why I never bothered to vote before because I get such a kick out of the Electoral College. Correct me if I’m wrong, but the reason why the Electoral College was established in the first place so long ago was to make sure the uneducated people of this country didn’t fuck up and put some baffoon in office.  <cue hysterical laughter> Why is it still in place? What they’re essentially saying is that America is STILL too stupid to be given the true right of picking their leaders therefore making this a true democracy.

So this whole time….these last 11 years since I have been old enough to cast a ballot…I’ve thought “what’s the point?” Don’t get me wrong. You will never have found me complaining about our leaders. Yes I will talk about what a fucking moron he is as a person and laugh at the fact that he’s just as clueless as the rest of us, but I will never complain about a decision he made because I didn’t take part in trying to elect the other guy. I know I forfeit that right when I don’t hit the polls.

So back to the reason why I will be voting this year. It’s because of an episode of  the show Cold Case. Pretty fucked up, huh?  It’s because all of those history lessons finally hit home. It’s because of all of those people in history who fought their whole lives to win our freedom and to win the right to vote for everyone. It’s because I want to be able to, with a clear conscience, sport one of those bumper stickers that says “Don’t blame me, I’m not a part of the Electoral College.”

When we got married into the Catholic Church, we (thought) we knew what we were getting ourselves into. After all, we were both born and raised in the church. We had heard from somewhere that Catholics were against capitol punishment and abortion, but oh well…that was them. What we DIDN’T realize is that you have to sign what essentially amounts to their version of a pathetic contract saying that you recognize &quot;one of the reasons for marriage is to  bring children into this world.&quot; There are other questions that completely offend my sensibilities as well such as have either of you been treated for any substance abuse problems or do either of you have any &quot;psychological problems which may affect your marriage.&quot; Yes. To both. We are both schizoid meth heads who can’t wait to partake in the rest of your blood contract saying that we have to have babies.

My question is one that I would have asked the priest if I had any desire to be around him. What if these particular questions were answered in the “negative” way? Would we not be allowed to get married in the church? What if we were honest with everyone and said that we had no intentions of ever having kids? Would we be forbidden from getting married there? Who are they to tell me I can’t join their elite club just because I choose to live my life in a different way? Am I less holy and are my financial, spiritual and community contributions to the church less desired and welcome because we don’t want to have kids?

I understand that one of the foundations of religion is that you believe in their beliefs. But are we the only people around who want to participate in a certain religion but don’t blindly agree with every single ideal? And I also understand that to the hardcore religionites they would say &quot;why do you want to get married in said church when you don’t agree with what said church preaches?&quot;

That’s a good question. It’s a question that has a few very complicated answers. One of them being it’s comfortable and it’s worked for us (up until this point.) The only thing that was ever “demanded” of us was that we give money every week and put our asses in the pews. At that point they weren’t meddling in our personal lives. Now that’s what they’re trying to do and it’s scary.

Other people have said “who cares? Just ignore it and live your life how you want to live it.” This is what we plan on doing, of course. But I have serious issues with all of this that makes me doubt my “place” in this religious world. In other words, if I am so offended and angered by all of this, then do I really want to continue practicing this religion? Isn’t the point of religion is to give its followers comfort and solace? If my current religion is bringing me confusion and anger, is this a relationship I want to continue.

For this writer who always seems to see things as black and white…I’m humbled by the fact that it’s time for me to accept that there will always be some gray in my life.

Now to the point of this post. The campus visit requests are starting to come in already. He’s got 4 so far for 2 schools in Rhode Island, 1 in MN and 1 in MA. There is hopefully(!) a pending one on the horizon (that I am the most excited about, so far) in TX. In other words, the options are increasing….and most importantly, the odds are getting higher and higher each day that Jeff, my darling husband of 3 weeks and 2 days, may actually have a tenure-track Professor of Finance position lined up by early 2009. That translates to us leaving this God-forsaken city and movin on up…north, south, east or west side TBD.

This major change will bring with it a whole new set of adventures for me, no doubt. As my loving readers have hopefully realized by now, my life is not a normal one in the sense that no matter how much I wish for an uneventful existence, the chances of me getting one are slim.

So settle in for in interesting ride in this beautiful chaos called my life.

By the way…I think I look like a close relative of Adelle Charles from Fuel Your Creativity fame in the pic in the top right hand corner

I’ve learned a few things on this trip. Number 1…I’m not quite as comfortable in a 4 Diamond resort as I thought I’d be. I felt very guilty sneaking in my Walmart bag full of breakfast items because we can’t really afford to spend $15/pp on breakfast every morning. Number 2…well I can’t really think of a number 2 right now, but I’m sure there is one. Oh! I really like driving a Nissian Altima (push button start…how frickin crazy is that?) Number 3…GPSs are like men…you really have to watch your back because you never know when you’re going to get a dud that is more trouble than it’s worth. Number 4…concierges are frickin rockin. They’re like your own personal assistants who are paid to be your BFF for that 15 minutes you get to spend with them. Number 5…the amount you pay for your room directly correlates to the comfort level of the chairs that are on your balcony…and this is not something the resort feels it needs to hide. And number 6. If we move to TX, I REALLY need to learn to like people, football and hairspray.

Goodbye Texas. I may or may not be back. But you are definitely a state that I never wanted to visit before, but one I’m glad I did.

How’s married life? It’s a question I’m getting asked a lot these days. Weird is what I always answer…which is then answered by even weirder glances. I think I’m kind of having a post-wedding attack of cold feet. Now before Jeff craps his suspenders and everyone else hands over their bet wins/losses…I’m in no way regretting my decision. Not in the least. One of my favorite stories to tell about mine and J’s relationship is how like a month into dating we were both like “ugh. We’re going to get married, huh?” and the other answers “shit!  ya.”  At this point I don’t remember the owner of each side of that conversation but I don’t think it matters. Right off the bat we knew. There was no question. It was as if we’ve been best friends our whole lives.

So I’m not feeling weird about my choice of a mate. I think I’m mourning the loss of the fiercely independant Michelle. Jeff will never hold me back or squelch my urge to do anything. I know that. But I’m getting questions like “How’s it like being a Mrs?” and I kind of feel like I’ve lost my identity. I’m no longer going to be checking “single” on those little forms. I’m no longer going to have the last name that I’ve had for 28 years, 11 months and 40 days and it’s a little hard saying goodbye.

These last couple of days in my conversations with the uber friendly locals, I’ve going from referring to Jeff as “my fiance” one minute and “my husband” the next, to much confusion and amusement of the person on the other side of the conversation. It’s at this point when I have to confess that I’ve been married for exactly 6 days and everything is taking some getting used to. For example, the day before we left I was going to deposit some of the wedding checks into our savings account so they don’t get misplaced. (plus I am uber anal about people holding my checks for a long time so I want to extend the courtesy of letting their checkbooks stay as up to date as possible) so anywho…I was attempting to deposit checks. I got all the way down to the bank with everything endorsed and the deposit slips filled out when the teller informs me that I can’t do anything with these checks unless Jeff signs them as well because they were made out to “Mr. and Mrs.” As stupid as this sounds, I totally felt constrained and restricted from doing what I wanted to do. What it boils down to is that I needed his consent to do something. That is soooo not the life Mishi wants to live. Not a big deal, I know. But it’s a part of the larger theme I have to come to terms with.

I couldn’t have landed a more supportive or kind man. If I want to keep my last name then he’s cool with that. I kind of feel an obligation to take his last name, though. I can’t put my finger on where this obligation that I’m feeling comes from- society? Family?  Maybe both? I’ve settled on a compromise. In my private life I will be Michelle O. In my professional life, I will remain Michelle K.

A little ditty about me that may or may not surprise you. I was not in a hurry to get married in any way. Even when I was younger I would amuse the adults around me by proclaiming “I don’t want to get married until I’m in my 30s!” Just about 29 is pretty close so I guess I’m not too far off from my original plan for my life. I don’t want to have kids, so I scored big by finding a guy who didn’t either. I want to travel the world and live a completely hedonistic life. So does he. I want to throw myself into the arts…I want to settle in to write that great american novel…I want to get back into theater…I want to take up pottery and gardening. Ya…not an art per se…but whatever. I know I will still do all of this stuff and Jeff will never stand in the way of any of that or anything else my little heart desires.

So what is my problem?

Parting is such sweet sorrow. I think the comfort, answers and acceptance will come through my writing. I always swore that it wouldn’t be any different than the previous engaged/living together stage but I can’t deny that it is different. I’ve always jumped head first into new things.

So begins the next chapter.

Ah yes. Love. It will make you do the craziest things I hear. And it will. I’ve had to change my phone number a few times because of this crazy little thing called love. I think one of the craziest things you can do though, is have a wedding with a lot of “little details.” Think about it. It’s almost always those tiny little farts that smell the worse, right?

Here I am…2 days after “the most important day in my life” and I couldn’t wait to get to my web page and thank all of the key players that made these events that beautiful circus’ that they were. So without further ado…here I go.

- I would to thank Geneva on the Lake for the warm welcome my sister, Jonathan and I got at 7:30 the morning of the wedding. Talk about welcoming the morning!  I couldn’t have thought of a better way ease my anxiety than by enjoying the fresh campfire smoke that was billowing through the radiator.  And having to open the windows when it’s 40 degrees out? Not a problem!  My nipples enjoyed the wake up call. I knew that using all of the towels to block the smoke from seeping into the bedroom where my wedding dress was hanging wouldn’t be an issue with you guys either. So very nice you are! After all, paying that much money for a suite at a world-renowned hotel should come with such amenities and perks…kind of like the bugs (both crawling and flying) that were provided.  To top off all of that generosity, the GM even took it upon himself to comp $100 off of the total bill for my “inconvenience.” When you have a $800/night bill…every little bit helps! Thank you so much for your generosity!  (I bet he’s such a peach!)

- Another nod to Geneva on the Lake for the kick-ass plywood/rusty nail ramp thing that was erected in front of the entrance. Such classy plywood that was, too! No worries about the rusty nails that were sticking out that tore the lace of my dress. Jonathan luckily had cuticle scissors to cut off the torn pieces.

- This is probably one of the biggest, most necessary thank you’s. A warm thank you hug to the organ player who showed up unexpectedly at the church and insisted on playing the music for the ceremony. Oh don’t worry. It doesn’t matter that we spoke for the phone for 20 minutes about how I don’t want or need you to play the music at the wedding because we hired musicians and a vocalist and we hate organ music. I understand…being straight off the boat from Poland only…hmmm…about 50 yrs ago… may make da Engrish a little hard for you to comprehend and speak. Also, my most sincere thanks for choosing your own music…God knows that if you went by  the programs I probably bled all over, things would’ve been a lot different!  Of course…a lot less beautiful though. And the vocalist?  She is totally ok with you cutting her off and allowing her to sit there like a moron not singing because you took over everything from the choir loft.  But my most favoritist part of it all was how you totally didn’t want any credit for your hard work. You just totally slipped out as quietly as you slipped in. If you see a picture of me from that hour…those tears you see?  Tears of awe at the overwhelming generosity you showed us. I will forever be grateful for changing my wedding ceremony into something I never dreamed it would turn out to be. And the wedding video that will show my absolute shock and revulsion once you start playing and singing? It was just the unbelievable job you did that made me want to vomit.

- This thank you is one that I am very shocked to have to write. It goes out to our “loveable” priest whom we met 3 yrs ago and immediately loved and wanted to officiate our wedding. I thank you for the homily that was completely out of character for you. I’m so glad you reminded me that my job as a wife was to make sure my husband’s ego is stoked. Having just received his Doctorate in a field he’s always loved shows that he really DOESN’T know where he stands in this working world and I have to make sure that I tell him everyday that he is my king, and great and wonderful and perfect and….lest his self esteem suffer as you predict it will. Just like in the bible. I’m there.

Father! Everytime I tried to come over to your table to talk to you at the reception you were always deep in conversation with someone. I didn’t want to interrupt. I am sooo glad that my uber competitive cousin and judgemental extended family were there to hear your confession about the “real” reason you were going on Sabbaticcal in a couple of weeks, though. You told us it was to go back to school and to “renew your love for God” and all this time it was to renew your love for your liver by entering rehab. It was so touching for you to tell all of my family so they can relay this information to me the following morning in complete amusement. And the fact that you couldn’t walk and wanted to dance with me as the reception was ending and wouldn’t let me go as I tried ot get away in the most polite way possible? Touching!  Speaking of touching. No worries. I’m totally giving you the benefit of the doubt that your hand touching the side of my tit was because your motor skills weren’t working as they normally do. The rest of my guests on the trolley that night said you looked very peaceful once you passed out in the back.

There are a few other thank yous I want to give out, but these were the main ones. I think the others may be stories for another rainy day.

The craziness will die down over the next week or 2 and I’ll start posting more about nutty everyday occurances. Then maybe…just maybe…people will be able to say:

ya. she’s back in her write mind

Well these last couple of weeks have been pretty bad. Just stupid shit.  I don’t know where to start so I’ll just start my standard spewing and maybe everything will come out at some point.

So ya’ll know that I’m a self proclaimed writer. But what you don’t know is that I can kinda sorta be creative…when the mood strikes me and when the stars are aligned and the moon is in Scorpio…

Anywho I got the bright idea that I didn’t want your typical “buy’em from AC MOORE, print’em on your inkjet” programs. No. That’s too easy. And boring. And tacky. And if it’s good enough for millions other brides everyday, it’s damn not going to be good enough for this bride. So I kind of put one together with “tuscany” themed scrapbook paper and card stock and those little swingy things (brads) and…oh…I bought those nifty edging scissors (yes, cool ones) and a big ole can of spray mount.

I put a prototype together and loved it!  Showed them to my wedding planners and they loved them too. Oh ya…Jeff saw them to. He liked them. So all is good…time to start production. I didn’t use any “normal” paper for any of this. I used heavy duty card stock for the front and back and “regular” card stock for each of the four pages inside. Did I mention that I could only get 2 covers out of each scrapbook page?  And that I need 120 covers to complete the project? Did I tell you that I had to special order this paper because the craft store only had 1 broken-open pack?  Um Hm. I should’ve known to cut my losses there.

So anywho…the process took forever. I had to spraymount the scrapbook paper onto the heavy duty card stock…cut down with an Xactro knife and then use my nifty paper cutter to cut the pieces into the sizes that I needed. Smack dab in the middle of cutting cover 19 or 20 out, the Xacto knift slipped off of the straight edge and sliced it’s way into a chunk of my right thumb. I knew it was bad because of the hurties but I had the wherewithall to grasp my finger as tightly as I could and hold it above my head so it hadn’t started bleeding yet. I calmly yelled for Jeff to bring a roll of paper towels because I’m pretty sure I cut my thumb in half lengthwise. Sure enough, as soon as I took the pressure off, the blood was running down my arm and soaking through the pape towels. He wanted to take me to urgent care, but I had programs to finish. So I continued on with my thumb wrapped in a wad of PT…because I knew I didn’t have a band aid thick enough to control the bleeding.

Next AM it was still bleeding so I knew I had to go to the ER. The moral of this story is that I needed 5 or 6 stitches but waited too long (14 hours) and so now they couldn’t do them so he tried super gluing it..which lasted all of 2 hours. He told me to come back if it split apart again. Screw that…I had programs to do.

After about 4 days of bleeding, spray mounting my fingers and eyelids together (ok practically on that last one) the covers were done!  Now I just had to print the 4 pages…and assemble!  That took a few hours…but they were done…not 100% perfect as I would have liked them but I thought they looked damn cool.

The next day I emailed the Responsorial Psalm (it’s a Catholic mass) to my Aunt Terry because I had asked her to be a reader. Instead of a thank you, I got a terse email back saying that she thought she was doing a “reading” and the resp psalm is “not a reading” and she doubted that we wanted all of the attention taken off of us with people tromping all over the alter. I wrote back that the idea was, even though in a normal mass the 1st reading person reads the resp. psalm,  we wanted to get as many family members as possible involved, that is why we did it that way. And besides, no one else is going to be wearing a wedding dress that day so I’m not worried about attention being taken away. And if she still didn’t feel comfortable then please let me know ASAP because I had just finished the programs and needed to change and reassamble them if she changed her mind.  All in a nice way of course.  I got no response. I thought it was taken care of and she was just huffing around in her “beautiful house with a brand new $50k addition.”

That is until 9 last night. I get a email from her and here’s what it said (copy and pasted):

Until last night at 11 when I remembered the incident with the pit bull and then remembered that conversation. Quite the premonition, huh?

I’m not saying…I’m just saying.

Anywho…I’m handling the blow torch like a champ when Jeff bursts through the door, out of breath and bleeding. The first thing I thought was, “Oh!  Our friends with the icepick came back! Yay!” No…but close. He and Simon got attacked by a Pit Bull.

Somewhere around this time I remembered to turn of the blow torch (an ex had breath that smelled a lot like propane…I think it was the software engineer…) and asked if they were ok. Simon got banged up and he was bleeding in a few places on the back of his neck and his chubby cheek. Jeff had a nasty gash on his thumb and started cleaning it out while I got a warm washcloth and tried to wipe Simon. He wimpered…that’s how I knew we had to call the vet.

Neither of them were injured enough to warrant visits to their respective emergency rooms, but a doctor’s visit was in order. We made the appointments and I got the story:

Jeff and Simon were heading back home when they passed a familiar neighborhood lady and the young stray pit that she found roaming the neighborhood and took in a few wks ago.  Jeff has spoken with her before and the dog got along really well with her existing dog. He and Simon met each other a few times as well and everything was fine.

Apparently Mr. Vicious Pit was having a rotten morning because as soon as he saw Simon, he dragged the lady across the street (literally knocking her off of her feet) and dove on Simon. Simon is a very brave dog, so of course he didn’t take it lying down. He fought back. Enter Jeff. He sticks his hand into the pit’s mouth trying to get Simon’s flesh out of there. The lady is screaming “hit him! hit him!” which Jeff did with no success. He finally got the dog off Simon and picked Simon up and started to turn away when the dog lunged at him again. By this time another woman has come out of her house and was helping. The owner was dragging the dog into her house screaming “he’s out of here!” While Jeff tore ass carrying poor Simon the whole way home…(he’s 51lbs. Simon, not Jeff.)

Back to the present. It was vet time. The doc had to shave the areas where there were wounds to check them and clean them. Luckily most were surface wounds, but there were a couple of deeper puncture marks. She sent us off with some antibiotics, pain meds, antiseptic wash and the Health Department number to call because the dog may need to be quarantined since no one knows its history.

Jeff’s MD visit was much of the same…cleaning, antibiotics and instructions to call HD.  We got all of the scripts filled and Jeff wanted to stop by her house to 1) see if she was ok 2) see if she knew the dog’s vaccination history and 3) to tell her she’s getting a visit from the HD because the dog is dangerous. The lady offered to pay the vet bill which Jeff declined at that moment. At that point we felt that everything was a terrible accident, that he was an unstable dog but she tried to do a good thing by giving him a safe home and he turned on her. We figured since she was bringing him to the pound, he would be destroyed. Very sad to have to happen, but the dog is dangerous and unpredictable. What if it was a baby stroller instead?

Anyway…she then informs Jeff that she’s not giving him up and that she’s “going to get him a muzzle and get him some training.” Training in what?  How to rip throats out quicker and cleaner?

Needless to say we’re pissed and when we dropped off Simon’s vet bill this morning we included a note telling her we hope she follows through with her promise to get him trained because it is a very dangerous situation and he’s a liability to her.

I warned a neighbor walking his dog near there to be careful because Jeff and Simon got attacked by that pit bull and had to go to the doctors. His response was “Oh no!  I hope Simon and Bruce are ok!”

Here are some pics of my baby’s injuries and his shave job.