Yesterday, my laptop self destructed. Hard disk? What hard disk? So yeah, basically, I don’t have a laptop anymore and since my entire life is made up of little ones and zeros, that was kind of a big deal. But then I decided,

And then this morning, the memory stick stopped working. It turned out to be a Windows 7 issue (no need to get any deeper into that) but you shoulda seen me. Remember that scene in Ghost where the best friend/bad guy is frantically banging on his keyboard while the tiny computer screen tells him that there are zero dollars in his embezzlement fund and he is FUH-REAKING out? Oh yeah, I was doing a fantastic recreation.

“No, no, no,” I kept saying. “No. This is… no.”

You know when you mess with Rain Man too much and he starts rocking back and forth all upset about Wapner? Well, technology is my People’s Court. I need it. I do.

Well, the memory stick is working, so I’ve chilled just a bit. But the laptop? Still among the unliving. And if you add that to the list of things that broke or needed replacing in the last week (his brakes, our dryer) it might explain why wedding planning makes me want to curl up in a ball on the couch and stay there. Forever.

Yesterday I emptied my savings account to write a check to the IRS (okay, not emptied – there’s still forty four dollars in there!) and while it did make me feel a little nervous to do it, it’s a far sight better than last year when I owed over three grand and there was nothing to do but save and save and incur nasty penalties. This year, I saved and saved in advance like one of those industrious ants in that Aesop fable about… you know, the ants and stuff. There were just so many things I didn’t plan on robbing the old nest egg for, like car problems and out-of-state weddings and such. But it turns out, that’s what savings are for and it does feel mighty good to pay cash for unexpected expenses.

My credit cards are all in support groups and I’m the one laughing the evil villain laugh. For once.

Now that I’m back to square one, we get to start saving for the wedding! This is a project I can totally get behind. I mean, it’s a year off and we’re already creating nerdy spreadsheets (and by we, I mean I. The Dork Lord seems happy to make mental projections and rely on my desktop handiwork. Which is fine). But since we’re putting this show on ourselves, the planning will have to be meticulous. And possibly involve bargains made with angry little men over the possession of our firstborn. Sure, Rumpelstiltskin might not be the fairy tale folks have in mind when they talk about a “fairy tale wedding” but I don’t know, it sounds like a good deal to me. Babies are really expensive.

My (user)name is ThisFish. And I’m addicted to letters.

Psst.. wanna play? All the cool kids are doing it.

UPDATE: Um, holy cow a lot of you play Words. I’m SLAMMED. But, you know, in a good way. Just be patient – I don’t know to play 35 games at once. Yet.

There were two babies in the pen – both one half of twins. The female, who outweighed the male considerably, would finish with her bucket o’ milk and then shove her little friend out of the way to finish his. And when that wasn’t enough? Well, she’d latch onto his man parts and proceed to suck on that with just as much remarkable enthusiasm. At first there were jokes about how lucky that little fella was. Oh, ha ha every guy’s dream. But then came the headbutting. I guess calves do this to their momma’s udders, too, but it’s totally brutal. When no milk came flowing from that poor sap’s junk, the she calf gave him a jab that launched his back feet right off the ground. Legs crossed in unison ’round the pen and the joking stopped immediately. There just ain’t nothin’ funny about that.  

Saying “my fiance” feels like playing dress-up, like I’m trying on a word that’s just a bit too grown up for my normal wardrobe. Which is silly, since living like old married folk has never felt like playing house. It just feels like us. And even though the title doesn’t fit just yet, it does feel rather spectacular, this being engaged business. Except for the part where he had to take the ring back this afternoon. I’m told that stones just get loose and that they’ll tighten up the prongs and all will be well, but you could not have found a sadder face in the whole wide state of Texas last night when I first discovered the loose stone.

Now, no, I don’t think that the ring is What’s Important Here, but it is so lovely and I would be lying if I said I don’t take several moments throughout the day to just stare at it, rolling it around in the light to feed my Jeremy the Crow sparkle craving. And what it means! It says, “I’m taken! And incidentally quite pretty!” I love it to pieces.

I tried apologizing to the Dork Lord for my saditude, but it simply wasn’t something I could control and if he thought I was overreacting, he didn’t let on. He just tapped me on the nose and promised he’d get it fixed. He had to make this promise six or seven times before we went to bed last night because again, the saddest face in all the land was staring at him from the adjacent pillow. And that’s how I know he loves me just as stupid as I love him. Ten minutes into pouty hour and anyone who loved me less would have offered to give me something to cry about.

Thank you, thank you for all your warm wonderful wishes and for sharing in our excitement. If you want to see this lovely ring that makes my heart delight, it’s on Flickr. I just can’t get the link right now (Flickr is apparently website non grata here at work).

Update! This is the ring. And this is the ridiculous perfection that is my niece. Wearing my grandmother’s wig. You’re welcome.