Two days before the wedding

I was supposed to work the Thursday before the wedding, but an emergency dental appointment blew that out of the water. The problem (I think) was an unwelcome return of my TMJ caused by stress-related grinding of my teeth during the night. I woke up around 2 a.m. because my head felt like it was going to explode. And what does everyone do when they’re at the end of their rope? Call Mom of course! (Mom, you sounded awfully awake considering it was 3 a.m. your time…) By the time morning came, my roommate had come to the rescue with a bottle of Tylenol (which I later lost… sorry Melanie!)

So, a little example of how some details just get lost in the craziness of the week. But first, some history: My dad requested a different hotel than the reception location (the Coast), so I found him one down the street. We wanted to go to dinner together when he got in on Thursday, so he called when he got settled in his hotel. He was in room 126, he said. Mark, Breanna and I arrived at the Extended Stay down the street from the Coast, and knocked on the door of room 126. No one answered, so I called Dad. Our conversation is below:

Heather: “I’m standing outside your door, where are you?”
Dad: “Oh I went to get some coffee and I just got back… you’re here? No you aren’t.”
Heather: “Yes I am, room 126, right? I’m standing outside your door.”
Dad: “So am I…”
Heather: “Dad… what hotel are you at?”
Dad: “The Coast.”
Heather: “What?? Dad, you made a reservation at the Extended Stay!”
Dad: “Oh yes… I changed it and I forgot to tell you.”

Mark and Breanna thought it was funny, and I can’t say I wasn’t amused. Mark had not yet met my dad, and I was relieved that some random man didn’t come to the door of room 126 because Mark would’ve probably stuck out his hand and said, “Nice to meet you, Mr. Terry!” Which would’ve undoubtedly been funny but awkward.

Back on the air!

I took a break from blogging and have emerged as Mrs. Heather Seymour! Mark and I are back from Belize with plenty of stories to share, so please check back for pictures and more! Do you want to hear about lost keys, snorkeling with sharks, and an articulate fellow named Prince Charles Paris? If so, I'll talk to you soon...

To the bobby pins on my floor

Dear bobby pins,
You hide under my journal and books. I can only see a fraction of you when you hide like that. It's not my fault that your spindly ends look like spider legs. And you expect me to react calmly? My heart skips a beat until my brain can realize that you are inanimate. Please don't take it personally but this hiding game has got to stop. I can't handle any more stress. It's not you, it's me. Please stop congregating on the floor. The rest of your friends live in the silver box in the bathroom. Please direct yourselves accordingly.

Love,
Heather

The animals

Here they are... drum roll please. The pictures of Frederick are the only acceptable ones out of a batch of about 50... he's so fast.

A month left

The past three weeks have been such a whirlwind I haven’t been able to catch my breath! After three bridal showers in three weeks in three different states, I think I need a break. The wedding preparations have slowed for the time being, but my checklist is always sitting at the back of my mind and begging for attention. It’s like that quarter-long project that you know you should be working on because if you leave it until the last minute, you’ll be at the library looking up random resources until closing time and typing until the sun comes up. Both Mark and I tend to be eleventh-hour organizers, although I think I’ve been pretty on the ball with wedding stuff so far. I’m shaking off my procrastinating tendencies, and it has paid off. Unfortunately, when one area of life gets the attention, another just falls to shambles. My room is a disaster (littered with gift wrap and clean laundry that needs to be folded), and Howard (my rabbit) and Frederick (my chinchilla) are probably suffering from a lack of personal attention. Sorry boys! I’ll make it up to you…

Hometown blues

Ok, I admit it. I miss Greeley. I just returned from a lovely weekend home, and I already want to go back. I miss King Soopers and its uncanny ability to somehow bring about a reunion with someone I haven't seen in forever (this time it was Mrs. Beattie, for those of you Dayspringers who were around when she was there). I miss the countryside and all its fresh smells (I think I still may be used to the fertilizer and cows, I didn't smell a thing when I was there. Except for the skunks). I miss my friends who have made Greeley their home, which means I see them once or twice a year at best. I miss my friends who moved away from Greeley, which makes holidays a frantic time filled with coffee dates. I miss my family and our out-of-control schnauzer. I miss always knowing which direction is west. I miss JB's. I miss Wildflour, although I'll never be able to go back since they closed (best bagel shop ever). I miss the availability of cream cheese pizza. Now I have to make my own if I have a craving. Here's to you Greeley and all the memories you bring. All the outsiders may hate you and your unique smells, but you'll always hold a special place in my heart.

Work quirks

1. Self-made mochas are popular, so every time I go to the box to pull out a packet of hot chocolate, I inevitably find five to six half-empty packets swimming around.
2. Our rolls of toilet paper do not match our toilet paper holders. The rolls are about half an inch too short, causing the roll to get stuck in mid-turn. This has resulted in many frustrated removals of too-small toilet paper rolls, and rants around the water cooler. This misfit is a recent development, and we know the economy must be going down the hole if even the toilet-paper makers are downsizing.
3. The table in our lunchroom is an octagon! We should paint STOP on it.
4. We call the five cubicles in the center of the office "the bullpen." I'm still not quite sure why.