“I’m not wearing underwear today!
I’m not wearing underwear today!
Not that you really care
that I’m not wearing underwear
but nevertheless, I have to say..
I am not wearing underwear today!!!”
- Bryan, by way of “Avenue Q”

Bryan and I had pretty shitty days yesterday.

I mean, Kari kidnapped me and we ate sushi, so that was nice.  But other than that, our days were both just all around shitty.  We’re both running around like crazy people, trying desperately to get last minute things tied up and trying to be kind to everyone we cross in the process.  We’re not always successful at that, either.

Last minute photographer issues canceled our meeting, so I had time to straighten the house.  You have no idea how nice that was.  I opened all of the windows, turned on the attic fan, and let the dragon out of the house.  Throw in my fantastic oil warmer I got as a shower gift, and our house was nice.  I also picked some fresh hydrangeas from out back because I missed have fresh flowers in the house.

Then the craziness began again.  Bryan left work and went straight to one-act rehearsal, I dropped dinner off for him at the school, then got back on the road.  I had a half hour before the meeting at the church, so I set off to find a day-planner to keep myself sane. 

I made three stops.  NO ONE HAS ANY 2006 CALENDARS.

“But the year is not over,” I whined to any employee who gave me that response.  “I still have shit to do, and I need to write it all down somewhere.”  And they would shrug.  Bastards.

Then I headed to the church.

I had actually been prepping myself for this meeting all day.  This was, after all, my church and my minister and I wanted to make a good showing.  I had taught many a child in the choir program there, and almost everyone in the congregation has heard me sing.  My church.  I wanted it to go well.

But, as it turns out, I really suck at church stuff.  I mean, my heart is in the right place, but I’m just a liberal in the head.

The minister asked Bryan and I what we thought the word “grace” means. 

Bryan, of course, rambled off how grace is something God gives to us, a divine peace that we have to be silent to hear and enjoy, and something we should be conscious of maintaining.

“And you, Say-ruh?” the minister asked me.

“Well,” I fumbled.  Damn.  He had already taken the God answer.  I couldn’t just say, “Yeah, what he said.” So, instead, I went with the truth.. in my mind.  “Grace is the ability to move with ease, and the ability to remain deft and strong in the face of adversity, but still move with that same presence in times of comfort.”  Blank stares all around.  I gave in.  “So, you know, what Bryan said.  A peace.  With God.”

The men nodded in agreement. 

We settled on the elizabethian vows, because we both felt that those words were the most reverent.  We talked about what those words meant, and I stayed quiet until I was asked something, knowing that I didn’t stand a chance in this arena.  I smiled a lot, though.  Bryan winked at me when the minister wasn’t looking.

“Bryan, if you could change one thing about Sayruh, what would it be?”  I just knew what was going to follow.  Her ass.  I just cannot stand her ass.  It is frickin’ huge.  Have you seen it?  What am I saying, of course you saw it.  How could you not?

Bryan took a minute.  “I wish she wouldn’t put so much on her plate.  I wish she could learn to say no more often.  She overextends herself so much, wanting to help so many people, but I worry about her.”

Damn.  He’s too good at this.

My turn.  “And Sayruh, what would you change about Bryan?”

“His heart is too big,” I said, confident that I would come off well here.  “He loves everybody he meets, and he loves them deeply, regardless of whether or not it’s healthy for him or whether they love him back.  And when he’s hurt by people who don’t love him as deeply as he loves them, it cuts him.  I wish I could spare him that pain.”

The minister nodded.  “So, what I’m hearing is .. Bryan has a very Christ-like quality.”

WHAT?!  “Um, no.  No, I wouldn’t call him Christ-like, actually.  I recant.”

The minister went on.  “Christ loved everyone He met, whether or not they accepted His love.  And the pain He felt was deep enough.. well, you know the kind of sacrifice He gave.  It sounds like Bryan has that same attribute.”

Okay, I’m not including the good parts.  Sure, I felt like a fish out of water, because even after that, Bryan nailed the parenting portion of the discussion (”Bryan used such a good word there.. consistent.. I think he understands what it means to be a parent.”) and I was just sitting there, nodding.  But we also ran through our vows, which was terrifying until I saw those blue eyes staring at me from across the table, and I knew everything was okay.

Then the minister asked if there was anything we needed his guidance on.  I smiled and talked about how blessed we had been with the birth and baptism of baby Matthew and my new job and blah blah blah, but Bryan threw out some recent problems we’d had with people from our pasts.  At first, I was irritated that this perfect picture I had struggled to paint was being shattered, but I soon realized that we could both benefit from some counsel from a third party.

The minister nodded as Bryan spoke, and got quiet for a minute.  “For sure and for certain,” he said, in his warm southern drawl, “there are people in this world who are so broken that they exist only, it seems, to remain the thorns in our flesh.”  I actually exhaled a whimper at that point, because hearing those words, the words I had said repeatedly to myself to calm myself down and talk myself out of stupid decisions, hearing those words from someone objective and of-the-clergy had given me more peace than I had felt in a long time.  “But those people are so broken that they are to be pitied,” he continued, “and I know how difficult that is.  But we have to show them grace, no matter how hard that feels.”

He then invited Bryan to take a chair next to me, where our fingers intertwined.  We bowed our heads silently, while the minister read first Corinthians, and he blessed our marriage.  After our “amens”, he told Bryan to kiss his bride.

We left a different couple.  I know how silly that sounds, but we left a more solid, calm couple.  The wedding is just details.  People are just drifters.  What really matters, deep down, is us.  That’s the only answer we need.

“Sunday morning rain is falling
Steal some covers share some skin
Clouds are shrouding us in moments unforgettable
You twist to fit the mold that I am in
But things just get so crazy living life gets hard to do
And I would gladly hit the road get up and go if I knew
That someday it would bring me back to you.”
 - “Sunday Morning”, Maroon 5

Thursday mornings used to suck at my house.  Bryan has an early morning meeting on Thursday mornings, so that was the one morning we couldn’t snuggle for 20 minutes.  But now that I’m at work and working 45 minutes before his alarm even goes off, Thursday morning is now the one time we can see eachother.  I crawl back into bed for ten minutes, right after he’s hit the snooze button, and I get to relive all of those glorious mornings where we used to take time for granted.  Usually to the soundtrack of “Garden State”, which was a present from my sister when Bryan and I first started dating.

“It’ll change your life,” she said.  I laughed at her, then.  But.. alas.. she was right.

“Sarah crashed early,” he wrote.  He was correct.  After an incredibly tiring day (to follow a tiring week and a tiring month and a tiring summer.. you get the drift), we shared our first officially married event: I went to bed alone.  While we were watching Project Runway, trying to catch up on the last weeks that we’d missed, I was jarred by Bryan asking, “Are you as tired as I am right now?”  No, I could beat him.. he had woken me up when he asked.  It was 9:15.  I made it till 9:30, but then I couldn’t take it anymore.  I kissed him on the cheek and passed out in the bed.  I barely stirred when he crawled in beside me, and just stayed awake long enough to hear him whisper, “Sarah Brown, I love you.  Will you marry me?”  I nodded.  I think.

I walked around our insane abode this morning while the sun was struggling to rise and was just lost.  Our house is so neglected.  And while walking around, I recalled a conversation I had with John (of Delle’s baby-daddy fame) on the back porch of the Lloyd mansion.  My bridal shower had wrapped up and I had walked baby Matthew outside to rock him to sleep in the sunshine.  John came and sat beside me.  We got to talking about how silly I thought all of this marriage stuff was (not the actual marriage, but the rigamarole surrounding registries and such), and he said, “Yeah, I always thought women should register for shoes.  You know, stuff you actually want.  Not cookware, not bedding.. shoes.  And clothes.  Because wouldn’t THAT be much more fun to open?”

The man had a point.

So I thought, when I rule the world, I will start a registry company for stuff that brides-to-be will actually need:

• A maid service from the time you get registered until a week after the honeymoon
• A SEVERELY specific day-runner type book, that breaks down your day to the quarter-hour
• A grocery delivery service, to span the same time frame as the maid service
• Free dry-cleaning
• And, of course, a slave for Stephanie.

I used to have a day-runner.  I did.  But it was much easier to fall out of the habit when my day was broken down like this:

A.M. - Work
P.M. - Rehearsal

And now, it’s like:

5:30 - shower
7:00 - set up refreshment service for visiting assesment team
7:30 - prepare for daily tag-up
8:00 - tag-up
8:30 - prepare for outbrief with assesment team
9:00 - outbrief
And so on and so forth until
4:15 - LEAVE WORK.. NO, REALLY, SARAH.. GO HOME
4:30 - Actually leave work
4:45 - Gym/Bank/Drug Store
5:30 - Feed puppies and scarf something edible
6:15 - Meet with Photographer
7:00 - Meet with Minister
7:45 - Exhale from meeting with Minister
8:00 - Go home and do laundry/clean house/check email
9:15 - Stop pretending you’re not sleepy and go to bed

Alright, I know I’m bitching.  I’m “breathing bad karma” (thanks, Bryan).  I also am late for a meeting. 

“My mother used to say that there are no strangers,
only friends that you haven’t met yet.
She’s now in a maximum security twilight home in Australia.”
- Dame Edna

She would tell you that her aura is orange.

But I disagree. 

See, orange is such a flat color.  Granted, it’s bright.  It’s noticed.  But orange doesn’t seem warm enough.  Maybe a burnt orange, like what crackles in the fire place, warm and cozy.  Maybe she’s got a burnt orange aura.  But see, burnt orange is so muted.  This girl ain’t muted.  She’s lively.  She’s juicy.  There ya go.. tangerine.  Maybe she has a tangerine aura.  Bright, and colorful, and.. okay, but that’s just too bright.  Garish, almost.  This lady isn’t garish.  She’s classy.  Like orange pekot.  Refined and warm and something that you sip gradually, not just gulp down in a hurry.  You cherish her.  You relish her.  But orange pekot tea can sometimes be bitter, like the rind of a citrus, so maybe that’s not the right one either.  Because she’s sweet, like a cantelope.  She’s soft and ripe and sweet.  That soft orange that makes you so excited about the explosion that is forthcoming and..

.. this has moved far too much into the dissection of the color orange.

So I say this: she is all of the shades of orange, and thensome.  And orange and pink go AWFULLY well together.

I love you, my dear Ra.. happy 30th birthday!

I leave my gentle readers with two of my favorite Ra quotes:

I was trying not to gossip, but she’s getting all of the details wrong, so now I’m forced to!!

I would be bullemic, but I’m afraid that if I stick my finger down my throat, it will digest.