Frustration abounds

So I should be writing about my trip, with nearly missed flights and nosy US Border Patrol agents, a beautiful wedding, and fabulous friends, but I'm not. I should write about my new job, or buying archery equipment, but I'm not. I'm cranky, so I'll write about that.

Upstairs has been stomping and banging and yelling and playing the radio too loud, generally pushing me toward a lengthy jail sentence. Graze, which is a really cool "food through the post" thing, screwed up and didn't send us the two boxes I ordered for delivery today. So instead of trying to send them for tomorrow (or even Friday) they cancelled the order--but as an apology, they're giving us a free box. Too bad I didn't get the two boxes I actually needed for today. I'll see what Adam has to say, but I'll probably be contacting them to point out that I ordered two boxes because I had a plan for them, and now I have to make other plans, so please give me a second credit.

LoveFilm, in their infinite wisdom, decided to send us a disc from Lexx. Unlike Netflix, where you can choose the order you want to see movies in, LoveFilm only allows prioritization. I can rank a title as a high, medium, or low, priority, but I can't say that I want to see Batman Begins next, followed by Battlestar Galactica. Or whatever. Because LoveFilm only seems to have 1 copy of the fourth season of OZ (the HBO prison show, not an L. Frank Baum reinterpretation), we keep getting stuff off our medium priority list, so they sent us Lexx. That would be fine, except they didn't send us the first disc of the series. They sent the last. This is in direct disregard of their own rules, which say they'll send discs in series order (Netflix did this to me a lot with Andromeda. Needless to say, that also pissed me off). So it looks like I'll be contacting them and complaining, especially as they're beginning to throttle our service again and we're no longer getting discs in a timely manner.

We're also being screwed by our energy provider, who wants to raise our direct debit by over half because their website has only allowed me to submit a meter reading once (I've been trying for months and it's always given me a "sorry, try again later" message) and they never send out a meter-reader. As such, we've been on an "estimated" reading for about a year, and now they want to screw us with that. Fixed direct debit my ass. "Fixed" means you don't change the rate after two months.

Lastly, someone sold our phone number all over. We're on the TPS (Telephone Preference Service), which is the stupidly named equivalent of the US's Do Not Call list. Before we changed phone numbers, we got called left, right, and center for a previous owner of the number, even with multiple requests to the same people to stop calling because she doesn't have the number anymore. With the new number we were blessedly free of such things (the previous people had registered it to the TPS as well). Then suddenly, we started getting called by a "Windows Technical Support" scam that claims to be operating under Microsoft. We got loads of these with the old number, but for the last several months we've been blessedly free of such calls. But now they're back again, so I'm having to unplug the phone before going to bed so we're not brutally awakened at 7:55am by someone wanting us to either take a survey (which Adam may have successfully dealt with today but I haven't been able to because they're so slow on picking up the line when I answer) or wanting to sell us "tech support."

I should be a happier person, but I've been able to get absolutely nothing done today because of upstairs (who have been at it for over 9 hours now), then being screwed by various companies to which I give money, but do not have to. The one bright bit of news, however, is that Adam and I are finally--almost--the proud owners of Starfarers of Catan, which is an incredibly hard to find game by Klaus Teuber and Mayfair Games. It's out of print and it generally goes for about $150 on eBay, which is far more than I'm willing to pay. But Adam and I managed to snag a copy for $50 plus shipping. Well, almost. We actually bought Die Sternenfahrer Von Cataan. Thankfully, the owner threw in the English translation booklet as well. My German is limited to say the least, but is more than Adam has, who is only capable of ordering a beer. Admittedly, that is a necessary skill, but I can also swear, which is also a useful skill.

Here to stay

Finally. After years of struggling to make our relationship work and months of nervousness that I wouldn't have my documents back in time to travel, not to mention the obscene amount of money thrown at the Tories (assholes), they can't deny it anymore: I'm here to stay. I don't want to be, but that's a different issue.

Yesterday I found a missed package delivery slip. There was absolutely nothing on it besides a tracking number, but when I went to the website to schedule redelivery they mentioned--many times--passports, so I assumed that all my crap (about a kilo's worth of paperwork and our passports) was being returned.

It wasn't. When I signed for it today it was just a tiny envelope, which meant it was my biometric residence card permit thingy (Indefinite Leave to Remain, or ILR), which they're no longer sticking in passports but printing out on plastic. Basically it's a driver's license type thing with a chip in it (because those chips are *soooo* secure). It's horribly ugly, but since it allows me to do nearly everything over here (except vote and drive, and I can drive on my US license for a year if I were crazy, which I'm not), I don't really care. I have to travel with it, which should be interesting; even though they've had these doohickeys for a while, I'm sure someone in Border Control will fuck it up and stamp me in wrong.* That'll be a fun fight to have...

Happily, a couple of hours after receiving my ILR card, there was another pounding on the door (delivery people in this country believe in making a LOT of noise). This time it was a mail carrier who wanted my signature (for Weldman, because he couldn't get it through his head that the "i" wasn't an "l") for a very large packet that appeared to have about a kilo's worth of paperwork in it. It did. They seem to have sent back everything of importance (and at least some of not), and in particular, our passports. So happy days, I'm free to leave the country again. And just in time, too, since I have to leave the country in just over a month for a friend's wedding.

So though I don't always want to be here, I say to everyone who has been a douche to me because I sound different

Suck it. Suck it long, and suck it hard.

I know the residence permit isn't very clear. I prefer it that way for a variety of reasons.

But it's there, and it's mine.

*This happened with my student visa when I first entered on it in 2005. I presented my passport, opened to my visa page, which she ignored and flipped to my ID page, then flipped back to my visa page. She examined it, then proceeded to turn the page and stamp me in as a tourist. I found out when I came back after the holidays in January that effectively I'd been attending classes illegally. Fun times.

Settlement Struggles

Perhaps a bit of a misleading title, but it's rare that I resist alliteration. I just received a phone call--literally just; I got off the phone less than 5 minutes ago--from someone (I missed her name; sorry, nice lady!) dealing with my application. Sorta. They're currently dealing with settlement applications from March, and mine is from April.

It's frustrating to me, I can't deny, that my application isn't done with and sorted, and my/our various documents aren't back in our possession. It has been nearly 3 months since I sent the application in. My previous application (marriage/civil partner visa) took exactly 3 weeks from when I posted it to the LA Consulate to when it was back in my hands. Both places have stated 6 month waiting times, so that there's a huge difference in turnaround time is annoying. But on the other hand, I have no idea what they're dealing with. It may be that there are 10 people in the whole of the UK who are dealing with all the applications. It may be that the applications are vetted extra-closely (you choose your reason for that, but settlement is just shy of citizenship and often leads to it, so choosing who stays permanently does have some real ramifications), so it takes longer. There are many different and valid reasons as to why the process takes so long, but it's frustrating nevertheless.*

But the woman was very nice in that she called me, because I didn't expect or need to be contacted, and in fact, I had told them not to worry about it, that I was just writing to inform them of my travel plans. So it was very nice of her (and possibly made for a nice break in her job, though I always hated calling people, so who knows what she thought about calling me), and I found out that a) she thought my application would be done before September and b) what to do if it's not (write/call 28 days before I need my crap back and something will be worked out**).

So we'll see. They have all my crap, since I went in a few weeks ago to have my biometrics taken (again). Now it's just a waiting game. Since waiting games are the kind of game I hate the most, this is not fun, but at least she was very friendly and polite. Not that I've met many nasty UKBA/Home Office people, though some of the passport/border patrol guards were a bit douchy in that they were either condescending or rather shirty about my entering the UK on a tourist visa, but when you're waiting and waiting and worried and waiting (and your last attempted contact with UKBA was an email that still hasn't been replied to 6 months on) any bit of friendliness feels hopeful and nice.

Getting married was supposed to solve most of Adam's and my problems, namely the problem of trying to physically be together, not 6000 miles and 8 timezones apart. How naive it was to believe that once we got married, this would be over and done with shortly thereafter. Even after all this is sorted, we'll eventually move back to the US, which means going through all this crap again to sort out a green card for Adam.  Goody.

I really don't want to have to contact UKBA again. Crossed fingers they get to my application in the next month and it goes on and off the desk in less than a day, and back to me by the end of August.

*It's also stupidly expensive.

**I notice she didn't say if I would have to pay the fee for having my application expedited or not. I chose not to ask and am simply hoping for the best. The fee is outrageous, doubly so given the outrageousness of the base fee. If I thought the people who actually process the applications saw any of the money I wouldn't mind so much, but you know damn well the woman I talked to probably hasn't gotten a raise in the last 3 years, let alone a bonus.

Do they know...Yes! They're not idiots!

So it's that time of year again.  Since I'm completely done with shopping for presents (seriously; if you decide to get me something, it will not be reciprocated, because I'm done, dammit!) and I even managed to wrangle the tree into the stand and get it straight all by myself--do you know how long that takes, by the way?!--I'm pretty well into the holiday spirit.  The additional present of Adam and I clearly stating that we would not get each other anything for our anniversary (two years today!) certainly didn't hurt (though ironically, our parents got us stuff).  No cards, no presents, nothing.  It's glorious.

But the carols are starting up, and I'm a total sucker for Christmas carols.  I'm not Christian, and neither is Adam, but we'll both happily sing along (badly) to all the Jesus-y tunes the season has to offer, and we don't always change the lyrics.*  That said, I'm not a big fan of Band-Aid's Do They Know it's Christmas?  Why?  Well, I ignore a lot of the lyrics that imply the entirety of Africa is a desert, that there are no rivers and no rainfall, so that doesn't bother me.  But do they know it's Christmas?  Well, do they have a calendar?

I'd like to say that the vast majority of Africans are not Christian, but a 3 second wiki search tells me otherwise.  As I do in so many things, I blame the English (and the French, Dutch, Italians, Belgians, Germans, Portuguese, and Spanish), who decided to take on the White Man's Burden (amongst other issues of money, power, and resources).  So I have to rephrase my answer to "they do have calendars in Africa, you know, so shut up and offer actual help instead of singing the same tired old song for minimal financial returns."

Ok, all done :)  Happy Yule and Solstice!

*My personal favorite that Adam taught me: We three kings of orient are / One in a taxi, one in a car / One on a scooter, blowing his hooter / Smoking a fat cigar

What's in a name? Frustration.

So I didn't change my name when I got married.  This has been a fairly constant battle with all sorts of entities, including governmental and various family members (generally not close ones).  Somehow, however, when we moved to Lewisham Road, it got sorted out with the various agencies we owe money to on a regular basis (water, electric, council tax, etc.).  I'm guessing this is mostly because I did all the work with the letting agent, so they used my name, and dumped Adam's on there as an afterthought.  They also handled most of the initial paperwork (including trying to change the energy provider without our--or our landlords'--permission, which really pissed me off), so it got sent off correctly to said agencies (Yorkshire Water managed to royally screw up both our names, but they were nice and fixed them promptly).  Miracle of miracles, something went right.

I find the whole thing ironic, of course, because prior to getting married, I was known everywhere by my maiden name.  Thus, it should be easier to not change it than change it, but whatever.  And while I know my friends' married names (those who changed their names), I still think of them--and often refer to them out of convenience--by their maiden names as well.  I guess we'll see what happens in the States, where I more truly existed than I did here, at least prior to March 2010, when I arrived with my marriage visa in hand.  In the States, not only did I not legally change my name, which is--at least in the State of Oregon--easy to do on a marriage license, since it provides a list of choices for each party (Weidmann, Barrett, Weidmann-Barrett, Barrett-Weidmann), but I effectively confirmed my maiden name.  A sidenote: if you don't want one of the choices that the computer provides for you, you must go before a judge to legally change your name, even if you're changing it because you're getting married, which is the only way to legally change your name if it's not via marriage (friends who wanted to combine their last names--Merriam and Foxsomething--to Merrifoxes had to do this).

Digressions aside, right now my decision is biting me in the butt (note Adam's laughter. Jackass).  This is because I'm applying for some open positions at his work, and nepotism being what it is, it would probably help to have Adam's last name.  Alternately, having a section on the application form* that asks "do you know anyone who is or has been employed by ____" would also be useful.  But I can't work it into the cover letter, nor anywhere on the application form.  So instead--and to be fair, I would have asked him to do this anyway--my dear hubby is whoring my name around as best he can, in the hopes that perhaps I'll actually land an interview.

So apparently I can't win for losing.  Or lose for winning.  Either way.  Oh well, here's hoping for the best.

*I hate application forms.  Just accept a CV and a cover letter.  Being unable to determine suitable candidates from a CV and page of text but somehow able to pick them out via an application form shows a distinct lack of initiative and intelligence in my mind.

You want how much?!

or

Why I had to buy a £10.90 men's undershirt.

As you may or may not recall, Adam's brother Mark got married two weeks ago.  As you also may or may not be aware of, my husband only wears black clothes.  That said, on very rare occasions (graduation, weddings--namely ours and Mark's) he'll wear a white dress shirt with a suit.  In part, this is due to the fact that he doesn't have any black shirts that are nice enough to wear with his suits.

When we got married, Adam didn't own a white undershirt.  My father, on the other hand, owns many of them; I think he bought a caseload of them just before he retired and didn't wear them.  So Adam borrowed one of Dad's, and I asked Dad if Adam could keep it.  Not a problem.

Except Adam didn't want it.  And for some reason, I didn't argue with him, or just keep it myself and give it to him later.  This turned out to be a mistake.  A costly mistake.

When we started getting dressed the morning of Mark's wedding, Adam put on his white shirt.  Sadly, once it was on, it turned a bit pink, except for the nippular region, which was a dark round patch.  After I finished snickering (and trying to purple his nurples), I suggested he try wearing his wedding shirt.  The results were better, but not by much.

Since I was already dressed and ready to go, I volunteered to see if the menswear shop in Slaithwaite (yay for amenities, just around the corner from Lewisham Road!) was open and stocked tee-shirts.  Luckily, it was and it does.  When I walked in, a stodgy, stuffing looking Captain Peacock type fellow came out of the back and asked if he could help me.  I asked him if he stocked white undershirts.  He gave me a rather askance look, and asked me what size, so I told him, "uh, large, I guess."  He pulled a box out of the drawer that said Jockey, showed it to me, and asked if that's what I was looking for.  I should have known that if wouldn't hand me the box to look at something was wrong.

He rang it up and told me the price.  The price being £10.90.  There was only one tee-shirt in the box.  Now, as you may know, I get frustrated when people ask "how much is that in dollars?"  The answer is that generally it doesn't matter; a dollar and a pound spend in basically the same way--a meal you would spend $12 on costs about £12.  That said, sometimes price conversion is useful.  As of writing this, £1 is equal to $1.63.

Now, take both of those financial comparisons into account, and look at how much I paid for the undershirt.

...

...

...

Yeah.  That's right.  Depending on how you look at it, I spent £11, $11, or $17.75 on a single, goddamned white undershirt.  All because my husband wouldn't keep one of my father's.

The good news?  It's very comfortable.  Soft and fitted, but not too tight, and moves nicely with him.  All I have to say?  It had damned well better!

More wedding photos, finally

If only iPhoto, Blogger, and the Apple Finder would play nicely, posting wedding photos--or any photos, really--wouldn't be such a chore.  I'm sorry it's been so long since I posted any wedding photos over on the photo blog, but a few more are up now, this time of the actual wedding ceremony.  There are so few posted, even though Mark took so many, because the ceremony was only 2.5 - 3 minutes long.  The single longest part was the poem and poor Judge Zennaché's stumbling over it.  Yeah, e.e. cummings is awesome, but a bitch to try and read out loud.  And I even rewrote the poem so he didn't have to try and decipher the e.e. cummings unique formatting.  The poem (with original formatting) and full text of the wedding ceremony can be found in this post, and the wedding photo blog is here.

And now, back to work.  Semi-literally.  I'm working every day at the moment (until Thursday, when I've got holiday time booked to go to Leicester for the weekend), and was last week and the couple of weeks before that, between other coworker's holidays, other coworker's illnesses, and now larger illnesses and alleged injuries (alleged because we've been getting rather conflicting information and info that doesn't make sense).  So since I'm at work all the time, I have to make food for Adam when I'm not at work so he can eat it when I am.  If that makes sense.  If not, I have to make tomorrow's lunch now (our main meal of the day, and tomorrow is scalloped potatoes and ham, with pineapple-brown sugar-mustard sauce).  And tonight's supper (pork chops, applesauce, baked potato, and whatever veg I decide to throw together).  And sandwich filler (tinned pork, which I will turn into my version of deviled ham--it involves BBQ sauce, amongst other things) for Adam to eat at work this week.  No rest for the wicked, which may be why I pass out and take naps when I get home from work.  Only three days this week, which is nice, but three long days.  Long days of people asking about my accent and my finding various ways to politely tell them to fuck off.  Or less polite, in some cases.

Not a real post.

So it is late, and I need to shower and go to bed so I can get up and go to work tomorrow like a good lass.  Yay?  So instead of leaving you with a real post, filled with funny stories, ranting, or whatnot, I leave you with a promise for tomorrow.  I know I've promised many posts--wedding pictures will still come, but it's a bitch to upload them and then select and post them so I've been putting it off--but the Tale of the Naked Neighbors (Parts 1 and 2, and possibly a Prologue) is well worth sharing.  Sadly, the retell cannot ever do it all justice.  Even so, I will try.

And with that promise of future stories, I'm off to get clean and asleep.  If you're truly craving some funny now, I encourage to go visit Hyperbole and a Half.  Not only does she win for having a rockin' blog name, she's also insanely hilarious, with touches of sadness and pathos.  Definitely worth a visit.

Working Girl

Sorry for going so long without a post.  Last week was hectic in multiple ways.  First, I started work last week.  Only four hours a day, and only four days last week (Easter Monday is a bank holiday here in England), which was fine--and more hours than I'll often have--and the hours weren't too bad at 10am-2pm, but it was a bit of a struggle trying to find a schedule for Adam and I.  To add to the hecticness however, was having Kellie here from Tuesday afternoon until midmorning Friday.  It was lovely to see her and I'm so glad she came, but houseguests always add to hectic (I need a thesaurus by this point).  Sadly, we couldn't really even do anything with her, since I had to work every day.  But she got to see our place, and a bit of the area (ie Linthwaite, which is essentially contained on two roads, and Huddersfield, which is a pit), drink some beer with us, eat some food, and just generally chill.  And beat both of us--twice--at Settlers of Catan.  She's not allowed to play Settlers with us anymore.

Really, I'd like to say exciting things happened, but as they didn't, I won't lie.  Otherwise, on the work front, I learned that washing your hands is highly overrated when wearing food prep gloves: you try getting non-powdered (because of food) plastic gloves on your hands when they're damp.  And don't tell me to better dry my hands, because there is no way I could do a better job.  Also, the water is ice cold (only one sink tap).  Unless using the electric heater hose/tap thing, which is about the temperature of the water in your dishwasher.  There is no middle ground.  But yes, I/we/the shop is sanitary and clean and such, but those gloves are evil incarnate unless your hands are bone dry.

I've also learned that cutting rolls is easier when the bread is slightly stale, and it's also easier to butter slightly stale rolls.  However, that's not really something I have control over, as fresh rolls come in every day.  Additionally, I've learned that people are either deaf, stupid, or don't listen.  While it's not beyond the realm of comprehension that they have problems with my accent (note: people are also nosy assholes about that), I did ask Carmel (woman I work with/shop manager, no idea if that's how she spells her name) if my accent is really that hard to understand, and she says it's not.  She also thinks people are dickheads (her word).  We have a standard list of questions for people when they want a sandwich: white or brown; butter or not, etc.  Every time I ask "do you want butter on that?" they reapeat their order.  Yeah, dumbass, I heard you.  I've also repeated it back to you already, so why the fuck are you telling me again?  Adam says I should speak to them like they're blind (you know, raise your voice and talk really slow, because that helps the blind), and point at things in an exaggerated manner.  I'm starting to agree with him.

When the shop is busy, I don't have to worry very much about people asking about the accent, where I'm from, and generally being nosy.  But when it's not so busy, or everyone in the shop knows each other, I get that shit all the time.  Because we have loads of regulars, that should begin to die down soon, but it's incredibly frustrating, and much of the time, really rude.  There are friendly, nice ways you can ask about  where I'm from, but most people manage to find snotty, rude ways.  I think they think they're being funny.  I think I've mostly stopped telling them.  Adam says that I should tell them I'm from Marsden (village about 4 miles away).  I've tried Leicester, but that didn't work.  One guy was really awesome though, and not only knew West Coast vs. East Coast (seriously people, West and East don't change when you move countries, West is on the left, East on the right), but knew where Oregon was, and had even been there.  To a place I hadn't heard of!  He said it was "trailer trash" where his sister(?) lived.  I liked him.

The single rudest thing I've gotten (short of the people who are doing random other things on their phones instead of placing, confirming, and paying for their order) was the couple of cows who said "oh, well you're not from around here" and then went on to talk about how "funny and weird" my accent was in loud voices in front of me.  I never cease to be amazed at how rude people can be, and I think it hits doubly hard here because the Brits have always prided themselves on two things: their politeness and their ability to queue up for anything (which is a function of politeness).  But at least around here, I've heard the rudest, nastiest things cloaked in a false shroud of courtesy and honesty.  "Not to be rude, but..." followed by the rudest thing imaginable.  One of Adam's godmothers, or maybe her husband, actually told me that "we used to hate Americans and think they were awful, but then we went on a cruise and were forced to be around them, and we discovered that they weren't so bad after all."  What the fuck am I supposed to say to that?!  Thank you for sharing your prejudices with me?  Thank you for not hating me based on my passport?  I wish I could remember exactly what they said, because when I write that out, it sounds like I'm exaggerating or being overly sensitive, but it really was that rude.  But cloaked with a smile and a sense of "well, we've learned better, so it's not rude" but it really was horrible.

This, in part, is why I fear this weekend.  You probably know by now that I wanted to elope. I'm cheap, lazy, and, well, cheap and lazy, so eloping sounded like a good plan.  You also probably know that didn't work, and we had a wedding reception two days before we got married in December.  Well, we're doing it again.  Saturday is supposed to be a joint 60th birthday celebration for Tony, my father-in-law, and a second wedding reception for Adam and I, and all the people who couldn't make it to the states (which, as far as I'm concerned, is their problem, not ours, but...).  I feel, however, that this is going to be more of a wedding reception.  I am not thrilled by this for many reasons, one of which being that I will know only a handful of people (and like a few less).  Turnabout is fair play, as Adam was in that boat before, but he's not really going to know that many more than me, and this is becoming more and more about us, not Tony.  We fear, but are not certain, that there will be toasts (note: I didn't want to be toasted at my actual wedding reception, but Pam and Tony insisted, DESPITE the fact that I didn't want it AND we weren't actually married at that point), and a fear that there will be a requisite first dance (that absolutely WILL NOT happen).  Tony also wants me to wear my wedding dress again, but says that the dress code is dress-casual, and he won't be wearing his suit.  He also claims that I won't be overdressed in it.  I would be, and while yes, I bought a dress to wear again, I bought it to wear again on my terms, not those of other people.  So I'll be wearing my red and white summery halter dress that's been to two weddings and a summer party.  It's very Stepford.  I might be wearing my wedding shoes, though, as black heels don't really match it, flip flops aren't appropriate, and black flats probably aren't a good idea either.  The red doesn't quite match, but that's ok.  Those are smokin' hot red shoes, and I love them, so should everyone else :D

Now that I have blogged, I must return to the important duties of the day.  These include--in my opinion--work for the Girl Museum, some cleaning, some exercise, some writing, and making tomorrow's tea.  In Adam's opinion, that includes making him cookies and tomorrow's tea.  Superwoman that I am (not), I'll endeavor to get it all done.

Wedding Ceremony

While I should really post something more along the lines of my previous wedding posts, I don't really feel like it at the moment. I have a lot on my plate right now, though I'm sure some of you with jobs think I have loads of free time sitting on my hands, I don't, in fact. And no, I'm not spending all my time reading--believe it or not, about 95% of my reading is done in the hour or so before I go to sleep. I just read THAT fast.

But I digress. Though I do still need to post about the wedding itself and our honeymoon, today I include the text of our wedding ceremony. I heard the poem on Brothers & Sisters, which I don't normally watch, and I owe MASSIVE thanks to Andy, who gave me the complete works of e.e. cummings for my birthday a few years ago, so I had a copy of the poem. For the sake of our awesome judge, Charles M. Zennaché, I did reformat the poem into something easier to read aloud.

Welcome.

We are gathered here today to celebrate the union of Adam and Katie and to share in their hopes and dreams for the future.  They would like to thank you for witnessing this special event in their lives.

At this point Adam and Katie would like me to share a poem by e. e. cummings.

i carry your heart with me(i carry it in
my heart)i am never without it(anywhere
i go you go,my dear;and whatever is done

by only me is your doing,my darling)
                                                                     i fear
no fate(for you are my fate, my sweet)i want
no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)
and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows
higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that’s keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)


****

And now for the vows.

Do you, Adam, take Katie to be your lawfully wedded wife, and do you promise to love, honor, and cherish her in sickness and in health, for richer or for poorer, for better or for worse, and forsaking all others for as long as you both shall live? ( I do)

Do you Katie, take Adam to be your lawfully wedded husband, and do you promise to love, honor, and cherish him in sickness and in health, for richer or for poorer, for better or for worse, and forsaking all others for as long as you both shall live? ( I do)

Adam and Katie will now exchange rings as a symbol of the commitments they have made to each other.

Adam, please repeat after me: With this ring, I thee wed ( With this ring, I thee wed) (places ring on Katie’s finger)

Katie, please repeat after me: With this ring, I thee wed ( With this ring, I thee wed) (places ring on Adam’s finger)

By the power vested in me by the State of Oregon, I now pronounce you husband and wife.

You may kiss the bride.

More pictures posted

I've posted the wedding pictures that the fabulous Heather took over on the photo blog.  Sorry it took so long to get those posted!  More will come, eventually, as will more writing about the wedding, which will be found on this blog.

Crap, I published without a title

I figured I'd treat myself this evening (which, for some reason beyond my comprehension, includings blogging).  There's a few reasons for this.  First, Mom and Dad are in Seattle, so I have the house to myself and can thus get rat-assed (or shit-faced, take your pick) in peace and not feel like a twat/loser/15 year old/bad daughter.  Second, the last two days have been a pain.  Yesterday, I had to clean out the junk/gadget drawer in the kitchen because it was filled with ants.  Oh, and the dog barfed at some point--don't know when--and I had to clean it up.  I don't cope well with slimy bodily excretionsToday, I walked into the main bathroom (which I rarely use, particularly when I'm alone and don't feel a particularly pressing urge to bathe) only to find the sink and counter, AND part of the wall black with ants.  Also today, I went to a pilates class.  Very little mat work, but plenty of leg work (and core--probably more if I'd chosen to, you know, actually engage my core) and so now my calves feel like, well, like they do when I jog.  If you care--which you don't--I don't get shin splints from jogging because I run on the balls of my feet.  Instead, it affects my soleus muscle (one of two? muscles in the back of the calf).  It's less painful by a long shot, but possibly slightly more annoying.

And now I have to interrupt my drunken blogging (hey, I could be calling you, don't complain) to say that LOST is wrong.  Well, it's not, because the writers have had this planned out from day frickin' one, but if Jack is on the plane--Oceanic flight whatever that crashed on the island--Desmond can't be on it, since he was on the island pressing a button--or not--when the flight crashed.  And oh fucking god the island is Atlantis.

And now I'll stop my drunken probably not because they're probably very wrong spoilers, but will say: Adam, if you don't like it, don't read it (I love you honey :) ).

So yes, go back two paragraphs--wow, didn't know Steve Martin could tap dance (seriously, I shouldn't blog and watch TV at the same time)--between all of that, writing more thank you notes for wedding gifts since I haven't written any for probably two weeks, and well, I dunno, I wanted some champers.

Specifically, I'm drinking the final bottle of Domaine Meriwether's Brut Discovery Cuvée.  This is also know as "the sparkling wine you drank if you came to our wedding reception."  

Can a jumpsuit be slimming if you're above a specific size?  Or has Jorge Garcia lost weight?

(Fucking simultaneous timelines)

For those who are curious, according to Lisa at Territorial, most private parties average about 3 drinks a person.  We averaged about 4 drinks a person, though to be fair, I don't remember if Lisa averaged in the case (12 bottles) of sparkling (that which I am drinking now).

(I think we're up to 4 different timelines now, but maybe only 3.  To be fair, I doubt sobriety would help)

Part of this is because Kellie, Dylan, and a couple of other people I don't remember kicked our average WAY the hell up.  Very few people drank beer (Carol, Adam, and myself are the only people I know for certain had a beer or two), and we were under our initial price limit.  For those who don't understand--which would include me, had I not set this up with Lisa's help--we rented the winery (shockingly cheap), and then told Lisa how much we wanted to spend.  She also offered a figure, to be fair, but we stayed under it.  Also note that that figure did not include the sparkling wine.  We had three bottles of that left, and now we have none.

And in a roundabout way, this is why I shouldn't blog while drinking.

And and randomly, Adam said the last post sounded like bragging, so I'd like to point out that I'm reading Harry Potter and the Socerer's Stone instead of EVERYTHING back on the side of my bed.  Yeah, I'm lame and tired of reading new things.  I'm also tired of Faith kicking me in the middle of the night.  Her nails/clawns are sharp and pokey, and have a lot of dirt on them to boot.  Man, I remember when our backyard used to be green.

Dude, back to LOST.  And if you care there are 4.5 champagne flutes worth of champers in a standard 750 ML bottle of sparkling/champagne.

EDIT:  It's not Jacob and Esau, it's Ram Dass and Timothy Leary.  Whatever the fuck that means.  For all my love of this show, I really, REALLY hate it.  Gah.

Also, Morgan Freeman narrates everything these days (minus CNN; James Earl Jones isn't dead yet) since Walter Kronkite died.

Part One is Done

No, not of a book.  I'm ashamed to say that I haven't written in months.  I should, but you try planning a wedding and applying for a visa and the like and have the desire to write a book.  Yes, I know that part of what makes an author is sitting down and writing and working even when you don't want to.  I plan on remedying this shortly, but that's because, well, Part One of my visa application is done.

I got the paperwork I needed from Adam on Thursday, and so on Friday I spend 4.5 hours filling out a form.  Note that this would have been much easier and faster if I could have filled it out by hand.  There are two reasons for this.  First, there was a character limit (100 or so) in all the answer boxes, including the more open-ended questions.  This is a problem, particularly on questions like

"You said you've travelled to the UK in the last 10 years.  Please list all visits and details below."

"You said you've travelled outside of your home country in the last 10 years.  Please list all visits and details below (excluding the UK)."

Hi.  Have we met?  Do you know how many times and places I've travelled in the last 10 years?  I've been in and out of the UK a dozen times--I just counted--in the last ten years.  Additionally, in the last 10 years I've been to Canada three times, Mexico once, Paris three times, Germany three times (Freiburg/Munich/Stuttgart, Berlin, and Hamburg), Copenhagen once, Italy once (Rome, Florence, Orvieto, and a fuck-ton of hill towns), Brussels once, and Dublin once.  Needless to say, this information does not all fit in a short form.

It is also a problem when trying to answer the question "Is there any other information we should know about in your visa application?"

Yes, your form isn't big enough to list all the pla

The secondary problem with the form was that the following pieces of punctuation were not allowed.

$

£

&

(

)

:

;

'

A couple of these make sense in light of the questions and for clarity purposes.  However, most do not.  I also assume that other pieces of punctuation were not allowed.  These are just the pieces I tried to use.

However, the application is done.  I have to go to Portland on Tuesday to be biometrically scanned.  I'm not thrilled about the prospect, but I understand it.  Then I have to mail in the online application (yes, I noted the irony) and all the supplemental paperwork that proves that a) Adam and I can support ourselves, b) we are not lying about anything, c) this is a marriage of love, and d) we've paid our (substanstial and non-refundable even if denied) fee.

Note I said that *I* have to mail all that stuff in.  Yet in addition to the fee, we had to pay $12 for postage.  I presume this is so they can post it all back to me.  Somehow, however, I feel that I've been screwed with my pants on.

Oh well, this is all so Adam and I can be together without harrassment.  And that's well worth it all.  Hopefully, our time apart is coming to a close.

Wedding Details, Part 2

Additionally, I also have a reminder link for you: Wedding Photos.  And now I present

The Wedding Reception (or until I get tired of writing).

The general plan--such as it was--for Saturday was to head out to get my hair done, where all the girls met me (except Kat, who had to work Friday night).  Kellie even came bearing a bottle of Asti and some plastic wine glasses.  I'm not sure how kosher that was at the barber shop/salon, but no one said anything (though one of the hairdressers was snotty and ignored Kellie, who was trying to get her hair cut).  So the girls kept me company while Clint spent over an hour curling and pinning and spraying my hair.  The final result:

A bitch to comb out

After that, I sped home, to find that the three restaurants that were cooking for us had all called.  Two of them more than once.  Mom and Dad, bless their hearts, offered to go pick up the shrimp and lox platter from Newman's Fish Market, as well as the curry from Gateway to India, and a giant bag of ice.  That left me to go up to Tasty Thai (thank you Barbara, for that suggestion!) and Long's Meat Market, which are conveniently a block apart.  After getting all that to the house, I headed back to Tio Pepé to grab all the Mexican food.  Turns out it was good that I got some of the stuff out of the car, since Tio Pepé sent us two trays of cheese enchiladas, a giant tray of tortilla chips, two containers of sour cream and two of salsa, and a thing of green onions.  What a deal!!!

Also that morning, I put the in-laws to work.  Between Pam, Tony, and Mom, they got all the quiches and puff pastry thingys done, as well as getting the fruit sliced for the (slightly failed) chocolate fountain.  Fabulous!!  To be fair, I was a bit...crazy...by this point, so it's not totally beyond the realm of possibility that the quiches and puff pastries were done on Friday.  Don't think so, though.  Either way, Mom and Pam rocked the oven stuff, and Tony rocked the fruit.  So when I got home, I shovelled some food into my pie-hole, and started getting dressed.  This was not an easy feat, what with trying to get my seams straight, my corset on and centered, my shoes buckled (thank you for touching my feet Adam--I couldn't bend over with the corset on).  Then we piled into the cars and hit Territorial, and Dad headed over to pick up his mother, my Grandma Marie.  He didn't have to drive up to Scappoose to pick up my mother's parents, so quite honestly, it made his day easier, though I was sad that my grandparents weren't able to be at my reception.  Stupid weather.  It also knocked out 5 other relatives and 6 people from Seattle/Tacoma.

Overall, the reception was a lot of fun, though we hit a few snags.  First, the coffee pot didn't work.  At all.  Mom tried to fix it, Lisa--the awesome woman who works at Territorial and did so much for us--tried to fix it, and Wade Watts, my awesome chiropractor, tried to fix it.  Actually, he went McGuyver on it, and it still didn't work.  The second snag was the chocolate fountain.  This is something Adam and I have always wanted, but have never gotten the chance.  Didn't really this time, either.  Not because the fountain didn't work, but because I couldn't be arsed to read directions, and so didn't melt the chocolate in advance (actually not a huge deal--the internal heater eventually melted it).  And I didn't bring any vegetable oil (Lisa only had olive oil).  So we had less of a fountain, and more of a...bowl.  But it was tasty.

Otherwise, it really was fun.  My only stress really came from the insistence that someone had to toast us.  This specifically came from Pam and Tony.  You know, it's our day, so we should get the veto.  The other bit was that Adam wanted us to say something/toast everyone.  First, no, we weren't married yet, so no one did have to toast us, and second, we never did figure out what the hell we wanted to say.  I had no beef with Adam and I saying something, but that's a little tough when you can't figure out what you want to say, even after several weeks of thinking about it.  Beyond that though, people seemed to eat, drink, and be merry, though there was a distinct lack of dancing, which made me very sad.  I danced with Adam but once or twice, and with Rob (or was it Levi?  No, I wasn't drunk) once, whilst Kellie danced with Levi (or was it Rob?).  Still, I had a great time, and I sincerely hope that all our guests did.

I know this came to a rather abrupt end, but I really did run out of things to say.  If guests want to add to the comments, that'd be cool :)  And next up, Wedding Day!

New Photo Blog

So I started a new blog, this one simply for photos from Adam's and my reception and wedding.  The fail on this, however, is that I haven't actually posted any photos there yet.  Yeah, I suck.  However, for future reference, the blog is located here.  I hope to get some photos up in the next day or so, but I do need to check with the photographers first.  Additionally, I'll endeavor to write more about the reception and wedding and honeymoon and such tomorrow.

Wedding Details, Part 1

As I promised, I'll start writing about our wedding. I'm sure it'll be several posts, since in my mind it starts a week before we got married--a little before, actually. So without further ado, Part 1.

Adam was due to fly out of Manchester at about 6am Monday morning, meaning he needed to be at the airport by 4am (note, most ticket counters do not open until 4:30am, regardless of the time of your flight). Because of a distinct lack of 24 hour public transit in most of the world, this actually meant he had to leave the flat for the airport around 10:30pm. He'd mostly packed the day before, so when his jackass friend and another, slightly less jackassy friend invited him out for a beer, he accepted, providing it was just for one pint or two. In short, several hours later and very very drunk, Adam finally arrived home (via his father, but I got a little confused about how this happened). This was well less than two hours before he needed to leave for the airport, and a shower was required--as was telling me why I couldn't get ahold of his all day. This discussion is now closed, I'm not angry (with Adam), and everything turned out ok, but very not bueno at the time.

When Adam landed in Portland on Monday (early!) I was there to meet him, and he had no problems with Border Control. This was a nice change, given that the last two times I've gone to England I've had to be interrogated--last time for more than two hours. This was especially nice, as Adam was coming over to get married and had no visa; he didn't need one, but technically, neither did I for the last two trips to England.

After a stop at Gustav's (nummy!) we made it down to Eugene. Tuesday we did a bunch of running around, including applying for our marriage license and talking to the Judge who would perform the ceremony. Judge was fabulous, and marriage license was easy-peasy. However, the third part of our running was not so great. We went to my financial institution, and were told that we couldn't add Adam to my account--which I have held for 29 years--because, and I quote, "he doesn't live in Lane County." Apparently my being a long term member and his being a week away from my husband didn't matter, because he personally doesn't meet the membership requirements. Brilliant. However, we went back the day after we got back from the honeymoon, and had no problems whatsoever, just a bunch of paperwork.

Wednesday Pam, Tony, and Mark arrived into Eugene. They did surprisingly well after so long a day, but we sat around for a few hours (and bottles of wine and beer) and talked before they crashed. Being one person/couple short of a bedroom, poor Mark was in the living room, but at least he had a mattress and box springs, and a sheet to block the entryway. Classy...

Thursday was unmemorable, except for sushi that night, which went really well, and came complete with a magician, who was quite talented at card tricks and sleight of hand. Friday was crazy mad, however. Mom, Pam, and I went out and got mani/pedis, which took about two hours. Then we had to call and confirm food pickups for the next day, THEN go out to Territorial and set up for the reception. Oh, and we were also supposed to meet a bunch of friends. But somehow, we got out to Territorial, all the rental stuff had been dropped off, and Lisa let Adam, Mark, and I, along with a handful of friends into the back so we could set up a bunch of tables, a bunch more chairs, and just generally try to make it all happy for the next day.

Shortly before we finished, we found out that a carload more of friends had finally made it into town--the roads went psycho icy for a stretch--and so piled into various cars, picked them up, as they weren't going to drive anymore themselves, and hit a bar for food and drinks. It was lovely :) Icy as shit, but lovely to be with good friends and good beer. But Saturday morning soon began to beckon, and so we piled back into the cars, back to the hotel, and then for Adam, Mark, and I, back to the house and bed, so as to be well rested for the first of two big days, which will be the subject of Part 2.

Over and Done

I trust that I will be forgiven for not having written since December 4th. Since then, Adam has come and gone, his parents and brother have come and gone, we've hosted a wedding reception (in pretty atrocious weather--13 guests couldn't make it to Eugene), gotten married, and been on our honeymoon. And then I had to go Christmas shopping in order to properly celebrate Christmas Eve and Day. Because nothing says happy holidays like receiving lots of loot :)

I will post about our wedding reception and wedding (really, not a lot to say about the wedding though) over the next few days, as well as our honeymoon. As I get pictures, I will post them. My brother-in-law, who took hundreds of photos for us, has all the photos. Everything was shot on digital, but for some reason one of the two memory cards couldn't be read by my computer, so I don't have any photos from the wedding day itself right now, though I do have a large chunk of the reception photos, and the few photos we took on our honeymoon. But major kudos go to Mark, who did a fabulous job of shooting everyone at the wedding reception, and took some absolutely gorgeous photos, even of our tremendously unphotogenic family.

This is my single favorite picture of the nearly 200 I have--I don't think Anne knew she was being photographed here, and there's just something I love about how Mark captured her here.

And for the PLU crowd (go Lutes?), we have this unholy gathering. Believe me, it was unholy.

Left to right: Jimmy, Anne, Rob, Heather, Katie, Levi, Me, Kristan

Kneeling: Kat, Kellie

Paid Forward

So in a frenzy of realization, I went to the Holiday Market to do some holiday shopping, the realization being that "oh crap I need to get people presents at the same time I have to plan a wedding." I wouldn't change our wedding date for the world (it's our 4th anniversary, thus saving me from having to learn and celebrate a second date), but in hindsight, I wish Adam and I had starting dating at a different point of the year.

Anyways, it was moderately successful today, as I got presents for a few friends and for my mother-in-law. I still have some more to go, but the really fantastic part of the day is that one of the vendors gave me something for free, because I commented on how lovely I thought it was. Apparently yesterday she'd been given a necklace for free by another vendor because she commented on how much she liked it. So she decided to give away a couple of pieces to the first people who commented on how much they liked them. So I got two presents for people for the price of one. I was very happy about that, but also pleased because I think I got two pieces for two people who will hopefully like them very much.

Now it's my turn to pay it forward. Hopefully I'll get a chance soon.

An Open Letter to My Guests

Dear Invited Wedding Guests,

I sent you a wedding invitation with an RSVP card enclosed, and a request that your reply be returned by 11 November. With only a few exceptions, I also included either a stamp on the postcard, or a stamped envelope (for non-US residents) so you could return your RSVP card with little to no hassle.

Many of you were very courteous and replied in a timely manner, making it easier for me to plan for food and beverages, as well as assemble a wedding playlist that includes your requests (which admittedly is not yet finished). A few of you have not yet replied. I understand some of you have other concerns; massive family events, work and life changes, large amounts of travel, and severe illnesses mean that the card was pushed aside, and possibly forgotten. However, there are also some people out there who, so far as I can tell, just haven't bothered to reply. I did send out an email recently to a group of you, and shortly thereafter received a couple of RSVP cards, and an email. The rest of you have remained silent. I have to assume that if you haven't RSVPd you will not be coming. I follow some of your lives, either directly or indirectly, and have some idea about your intentions. However, for some of you I really have no clue; one of you implied months ago that you would be attending, one of you I have heard absolutely nothing from (including when I requested a mailing address, which I subsequently found), and one who I haven't heard from since sending a mailing address.

In short, I am very frustrated. No answer from you means I plan for you to not attend. And while I would like to see everyone (even if you don't RSVP I would still like to see you), there will not be enough chairs or food if I'm not notified. And I refuse to feel guilty or bad about that; RSVP means a response is requested either way, not just if you'll be attending.

Additionally, I stamped your RSVP card/envelope (exceptions include a Canadian friend--sorry, I couldn't get a stamp for you) and a few people in England. Unless you are one of those people, or I see you all the time, use the stamp. Don't call one of us in lieu of sending the card back, don't email one of us in lieu of sending the card back, put it in the mail. Postage isn't cheap, and neither was printing those cards. The only exceptions I have to people not mailing them back are the people in Eugene I see all the time--I don't mind you giving them to me by hand--or the couple of people I told to email me. I'm happy to receive emails as well, and I will attempt to respond, but those cards are what I use to assemble the master guest list that I use for all my planning (yes, one actually exists).

I also understand that sometimes things get lost in the mail, or in the case of the postcards, potentially shredded. But if I've emailed you asking for a response and you sent your card, please reply to my emails and let me know again, because I didn't get your card.

Thank you,

Katie

Revenge of the Editor...and later, the Pumpkin

So today I finally got my arse in gear and finished up the editing. For those who think "wow, you're lazy" you haven't read it. Also, I'm not getting paid to put in the kind of work I did on that. Were I getting paid, it would have been done much sooner, and probably with even more information. But it is done, and Adam will copy it for me tonight, and I will return it tonight (and give it to the committee tomorrow).

Mom and Dad will be here in a couple of days, which is leaving me slightly panicky. Perhaps because I hate cleaning (not like the house isn't already clean), but also because I fear the vacuum will soon explode. It smells hot after about a minute of use, but never smells worse, so I don't know. We can't afford a new one, so if it goes kaboom, I guess the bedroom, rug in the living room, and weird step/window seat thing won't get vacuumed anymore. No, that Dyson on our Bed, Bath, and Beyond wedding registry (notice my sly little plug there :) ) isn't for the UK. It's really not for anything, because $400 is an insane amount of money for a vacuum. That said, Adam is allergic to dust, and I want a vacuum that works, has a HEPA filter, and rocks while doing so. And is bagless. So maybe we'll buy it with our completion discount. Doubtful, but we'll see.

Also tied in with wedding related stuff, if you received an invite, please send back your RSVP card. If you show up without telling us, there's no guarantee you'll be able to eat anything or drink on our budget. Or have anywhere to sit. Just a friendly reminder...or not so friendly, as the case may be. I have to start buying/ordering/paying for food in a couple of weeks, and as is appropriate in these sorts of situations, the number of guests I plan for is determined by people returning their RSVP cards. So if you want to eat, drink, and sit, let me know. Additionally, it'll mean I'm genuinely happy to see you, not happy tinged with irritation.

I also must try to carve a pumpkin tonight. I'd like to point out that I've never carved a pumpkin before, only scooped out the innards (ick). Adam and I are entering a pumpkin carving contest, and have decided to carve "Mother Slime" on the pumpkin (it's from KoL). Unfortunately, he's never carved a pumpkin, either. Also unfortunate is that most of our knives are either quite spendy and sharp (mine) or cheap and dull. And very few have blades of the appropriate sizes. Wish we had a scalpel...