a perfect match?

I hate bridesmaids dresses. I don't care what the David's Bridal catalog says -- there is no cardigan, necklace, or interesting belt in existence that is going to make that royal-blue bubble hem monstrosity into something wearable in the real world.

I started out with the notion of mismatched bridesmaids dresses -- sending each girl a few paint chips in different shades of pink and saying, "Find something as close to one of these as possible." Part of this was laziness. Mostly, though, I just love the eclectic look.


Then I was on the J. Crew clearance website a couple nights ago and found this beauty --

in every size from 0 to 12. What are the odds?

So I called everyone, sent them a link to see if they liked it, and asked them to send me their sizes.

Today, before placing the order, I returned to the mismatched dress photos I loved before. I decided, again, that mismatched is more my style.

Back to square one. My wonderful friends have all agreed to carry the little paint chip index card with them and go out in search of dresses.

Where to work?

I'm hopeful and excited about job possibilities for the first time, and let me tell you -- it feels great!

I'm not sure why this shift occurred, or if it will last.

It could be the compliment on my writing I received this morning. I've realized not everyone can write, and it is one of the most marketable and transferable skills I've got.

I've also realized I don't need to limit myself to newspaper journalism. There are PR opportunities that don't involve promoting massive, soul-sucking corporations. I could work for hospitals, schools, local governments, or nonprofits.

Switching gears completely -- a conversation with one of my former teachers pointed out the need for Spanish teachers. I could teach. It would require some brushing up, sure. And an emergency certification. But teaching Spanish to Americans couldn't be harder than teaching English to Thais, right?

So I'm broadening my search, and hoping the confidence levels stay buoyed.

Picking up where I left off, sort of

I'm returning to my blog, once again -- partly at the urging of my former roommate, partly because I need to get my jumbled and sometimes-frenzied thoughts out of my head and into a place where I can look at them, and partly because I finally feel I have things to write about, namely:

Preparing for marriage
Planning a wedding
Hunting for gainful employment
And, possibly, cooking

I hope to make this blog as entertaining and informative as I like to believe my Thailand blog was. Anyway, enjoy!

ah-choo

Working at a desk all day is adversely affecting my posture, I think. And staring at a computer screen for eight hours certainly isn't doing my eyesight any favors.

I think yoga would help me feel better, but there's not a sufficiently large, flat floor surface in the house in which I'm currently living.

Speaking of the house I live in: it has a dog. I mean, the house doesn't have a dog. The owner of the house has a dog. I live there with her and her dog.

Anyway, my whole life I told people I was allergic to dogs and cats. My grandmother has dogs and a cat, and she always had to vacuum all the carpets and furniture and lock up the animals before we visited, or else I'd wallow in a sneezing, itchy-eyed state of misery for the duration of our stay.

But I never reacted to my aunt's Yorkies or her Pomeranian. And I didn't react to a high school boyfriend's Sheltie mix. I just put two and two together in the last couple of months and realized I'm only allergic to cats!

To be honest, it was a little jarring to find that something I'd always believed to be true of myself was actually not true at all. Here's to self-discovery and non-allergies!

mind boggled

Out of curiosity, I just added up all my paychecks and tutoring money from my 10 months of teaching English in Thailand. I was a little obsessive and kept exceptionally good records of everything I made and spent.

In that time, I earned about $7,300. Not much, right? And I brought home nearly $4,000 of it (in cash, on my person, on three flights, mind you).

My mind was just boggled at the amount of things I was about to do with a mere $3,300 in that length of time. Things like...

- Four weekend trips to various beaches (two to five hours away from Bangkok)
- Daytrips to various parts of the city and other provinces
- Four-day trip to Cambodia
- Three-week trip through Vietnam, Laos and northern Thailand
- Weeklong trip to southern islands
- Bought a professionally-tailored work wardrobe, including a black suit, five pencil skirts, four trousers, five long-sleeved button-down shirts, a tailored jacket and a little black dress
- And, you know, paid electric bills, got massages, ate breakfast most mornings and dinner every night, saw movies, had coffee and smoothies and bought loads of souvenirs and jewelry

If only my American pennies would stretch so far.

summer internship: first impressions

Yesterday I began my stint as a communications intern with the Baptist General Convention of Texas. It started off with a bang as I had a chance to attend a staff retreat where the topic of discussion was the next year's media/marketing plan.

Before Wednesday, I didn't know much, if anything, about corporate meetings, media plans, or Baptists. So I learned a lot over the last day and a half. For example:

1. Most Baptists under 50 don't mind dancing.
2. Same goes for drinking.
3. Texas is the only state with two separate Baptist conventions.
4. Baptists love acronyms.

I spent a good portion of the time feeling slightly overwhelmed. I didn't grow up in a Baptist church, but I attended two during college. In spite of those few years of exposure, I had no idea how the relationship between the convention and individual churches worked.

There's a lot of catch up for me to do, but I think I'll learn a lot about writing!

pop quiz

Yesterday, I got engaged.

Here's what happened:

He and I were in his car, driving back to his parents' house from the jeweler's house. We had gone to pick up a custom ring made by a jeweler who had connections to his family. His parents had given us the stones from his maternal and paternal grandmothers' wedding rings, as well as his mother's wedding band. They also gave us gold settings to melt down and re-use.

I got to help design the ring. I brought pictures of rings I liked and the jeweler told us what he could do.

Yesterday, we drove out to the house so I could try it on (without looking at it!) and he could pay for it.

When we got into the car to leave the jeweler, I begged and pouted because I really wanted to look at it. He made a big production out of telling me to be patient. I gave up.

The next thing I know, he's pulling the car off the road and into a foot and a half tall weeds and thorns and thistles, saying it felt like there was something wrong with the tires. He asked me to get out and check out the tires on my side. I opened the door and stood up. Not wanting to walk around and get my legs scratched up, I opted to lean over the door to see what I could see, which was nothing. I told him as much and sat back down while he walked around the car, examining his tires.

"Come here and look at this," he said.

Having no desire to come anywhere, I instead leaned from my seat to look over the door at the front tire.

"I don't see anything wrong with the tire," I said.
"No, look at this," he said from behind me.

I turned around to see him kneeling in the poky weeds. It didn't register at first.

"What are you doing?"
"I'm proposing to you!"
"Oh!"

So I stood up. It seemed like the thing to do at the time.

"Will you marry me?"
"Yes!"

And then the ring was on my finger.

The end!