a hard love.

Yesterday I returned late from a somewhat wedding-related jaunt upstate. Marc was already in bed as I lugged some shower gifts up the stairs into our already over-boxed apartment. I moved in officially on Saturday, and we are seriously overwhelmed, despite all of my efforts to cut down inventory before the move. Right now the only places to sit are on the bed and at the computer. We have no couch because, although we managed to remove his old leather jobby with great difficulty, my green garbage couch was of severely suburban proportions and was having none of our skewed entryway. So we left two couches on the curb and filled the living room with boxes. Please don't come visit any time soon. Once I'd locked up and settled in, I returned to my [far too many] messages, not giving anyone the phone time they deserved. I stripped and climbed into bed, and snuggled up next to Marc, smelling his musky back and listening to his snore. I wrapped around him and noted the moment.

and so a year.

Today marks one year of the Know (although I didn't really say much until April). Thanks for reading (all 16,702 of you!).

welcome back.

Say hello to Amber, again.

a couple of things.

First, I'm only wired occasionally, so the days of 7 weblog entries are suspended until further notice. Which will come (Marc, you reading this?), but things like moving and getting married are slightly higher priorities these days. Goodbye broadband job, hello dial-up unemployment. Such are the sacrifices I make.

Second, and since I hear people hate posts about not posting, it's my birthday! Yep, 26 years ago today, it all began with a bang and a whimper. As if there wasn't enough to celebrate already!

showered in estrogen.

For a girl like me, being in a room with 30 women is a little much. But wow, yesterday it happened and a half. There was a shower, and lots of women, and lots of presents, and embarrassing games. I have the best girlfriends ever. And a new black feather boa, and a new grill pan. And any day that ends like that can't be bad. And the other days recently haven't been so bad either!! On Saturday I had my final fitting and Diane and Max bustled me and unbustled me. And bustled. And unbustled. I sat, and danced. They bustled, and unbustled, and then, finally, I took the dress off for the second to last time ever.

This morning, trying to pack up the car, I proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that all of the interior volume of an RX-7 is less than the trunk volume of a Lincoln Continental. Which means if you're driving a Continental, you're driving a regular car with an RX-7 tacked on the back. Boaty!

lady of leisure.

I'm an unemployed soon-to-be housewife. After 9 hours of cleaning, bill-paying, and packing, I have a new appreciation for so-called domestic engineers everywhere. Watch here for my awe to grow...

In other news, I committed a fairly major faux-pas on Saturday, when I arrived at someone's funeral reception with a wedding shower gift in hand. I had the day wrong. Michele was kind enough to be doubly impressed at my presence when I told her what had happened, during her actual shower on Sunday. I had a feeling that second black party dress would come in handy someday.