Sorry for the back-to-back posts, but today’s been too heavy-hearted, and I thought this might bring a chuckle.

Today’s outfit: khaki slacks, Victoria’s Secret "Very Sexy" bra, green camisole (lace-trimmed, because I’m quite the harlot at work), stiletto boots.  I had gotten chilly, so I had draped a light sweater over my shoulders.

Nature called.

Now, keep in mind that when I listed my outfit for today, I listed EVERYTHING that is currently residing on my person.  Note that there is one item missing.  I just can’t stand panty-lines underneath slacks, and none of my thongs were clean (that I could find).

Back at the ranch, Nature called, and Sarah answered.

All went well.  Until..

My zipper caught.  Like, at the bottom of the zipper.  As in.. WOULD NOT ZIP UP.

And I was going commando.

What would you do?

All I could think of was a quote from "Will &Grace"..

Karen (to Eric Stoltz, who was guest starring): Ooh, a redhead.  Do the carpets match the drapes?

Eric Stoltz: Wouldn’t know.  I have hardwood floors.

 

Bryan and I fight over food on a daily basis.  Bryan is THE most picky eater I’ve ever met, while I’ll eat anything that’s not moving.. and some things that are.  This makes for a very limited dinner menu.  And I’m beginning to miss some dinners that I enjoy and he won’t eat.

One of them is chicken salad.  Mmmm.. chicken salad.

I make a KILLER chicken salad.  It’s no Clementine’s, but it’s pretty damn spiffy.

I was so excited yesterday because I had already cooked all of the chicken to make my salad, I had chopped all the fruit (I prefer a fruity chicken salad in the fall.. mandarin oranges, dried cranberries, grapes, and apples), and I was ready to go.  I had just gonna grocery shopping with my momma, and had TONS of food to unload, when Bryan called and asked if I would bring him dinner to the theatre.

(Lest he get upset, he didn’t ask.  I offered.  I offered after he said, "Boy, I wish some vivacious, beautiful, graceful and talented redhead would bring me some food.")

I said, "How does a chicken salad sandwich sound?"  I’m unloading bags upon bags as I’m speaking.  And I haven’t eaten since the day before, about the same time, so I’m getting a bit tired.  He gets grumpy, I get tired.

"Ech.  I hate mayonaise.  Turkey sandwich?"

No problem, I grumble.  I live to be a short order cook. (I should say that I didn’t mind making it.  I was just getting tired.)

Screw that, I decided.  I’m making chicken salad for me.  And I’m making it now.

So I made a HUGE batch.  And I stuck some in a sandwich for me, and brought Bryan his dinner, and we ate in the lobby.  I hung out for half an hour, then headed back to my house, where I put the rest in another sandwich for today’s lunch.  And I put in the refrigerator.

Where it sits at this very moment.

 

Interesting little thought: "Starter marriages" can only be deemed as such when they’re finished.

I’ve had a front row seat to quite a few divorces.  And none of them would I call a "starter marriage".  I think that’s a demeaning term.  I think it’s like calling an unplanned child "a mistake".  Same thought.

I saw the article on "Starter Marriages" in the Sunday paper and laughed about it, because I distinctly remember hitting Humphrey’s for champagne the night that Delle’s papers finally came in.  I remember Bryan calling me to chat about them when his came in.  I remember how, in each occurence, there was such hope and optimism in their voice.. with a tinge of sadness.  A celebration is in order, because a new chapter is starting, but it’s not 100% happy.  No one strolls into marriage, hoping that they’ll be wiser after the divorce.  No one, and I mean NO ONE, takes their vows while thinking, "Eh.. for now, anyway."  That’s silly.

And me?  I’m looking down the aisle as we speak.  I’m newly 25, and have had a few offers, a few rings, and have always politely declined.  And what’s funny is that some of the people who condemn "starter marriages" would also condemn me for remaining single as long as I have, for "shopping" as long as I have.  Sometimes, we just can’t win.

We’re all allowed our own opinion, God bless America.  And what works for me may not work for someone else.  I have immense respect for couples who CAN work through their differences, because that takes a lot of patience and hard work.  But sometimes, even after counseling, talking, and trying.. it just doesn’t happen.  And don’t we all know someone who’s divorced?

My mother is my father’s second wife.  I don’t fault him for that.  I don’t take issue with it.

Maybe, sometimes, it just hits a little too close to home, huh?