dear god, i don't even know where to begin. i'm eleven days away from becoming a wife. the Yankees won the World Series. if this year gets any better my head might blow up.
once again i've been a neglectful blogger, but between my Yankee Playoff Vigil (which involved: one lucky hat that desperately needs a professional cleaning now; many prayers to St. Rita; in-depth analysis and pumped-up fist-bumps with my dad; nervous game-time e-mailing with Aunt Val and many Joe-Buck-sucks texts with Geever—oh, and Michael biting off all his fingernails because if the Yanks didn't win, he was going to have one miserable bride-to-be on his hands) and all the last-minute wedding details that need tending to and, oh yeah, my full-time job—i've had no spare moments or brain power to be creative.
i still don't have the brain power, truth be told, so i'm going to share some photos i've been taking instead of writing it all out.
these illustrate why i believe autumn is the most beautiful season of them all. sure, spring woos you with its lushness, its pretty smells and Crayola colors, but autumn wins, without a doubt. why? because—just like with senior citizens and worn-in denim jeans—its beauty comes from having lived a full life. it's been there, it's done that, it has a story. i love that.
these illustrate my Yankee pride. my awesome dad came in last Friday for the less-than-awesome parade. it was a mob scene and it was—how can this be true?!?—boring but we had a great time and hell—our Yanks beat the Phillies.
and lastly, this is me last weekend trying on my mom's wedding veil from 1971. thirty-eight (or thirty-nine if you're my parents) years in storage turned it into something ideal for the Bride of Frankenstein, but it was fun and funny to try on. (you can tell from my expression, however, that i'm operating at a certain level of hysteria these days. too many damn details to remember!)
i finish up work this week and next week the hoopla begins. can't promise i'll have time to post again, but i do promise i'll try.
i was born in december of 1976 via c-section. my father didn't know i'd been born until a few hours afterward. i asked him once what he was thinking all that time. "i was hoping your mother had had a healthy baby," he told me. "but if not, i was hoping she'd had an irish setter puppy." i have a good deal of his DNA. that says everything about me.