cindy's world

When we were in Vegas last week, Mr. W and I saw a couple of movies: Disney’s fairy-tale-in-NY Enchanted with his parents (I was in a state of enchantment watching that movie — I laughed, I cried, I coughed — it was great) and the Beatles musical Across the Universe with his gamer brother (not my kind of movie, I’m just not into the drug culture, I guess).

We got talking about upcoming movies and gamer bro described a movie about a woman whose husband died and then she started getting recordings and letters from her deceased husband with things for her to do for him, basically to help her carry on with her life after his death. As he got deeper into detail, I said this movie sounds like a book I’d read by Cecilia Ahern called P.S. I Love You and he said, “That’s the name of the movie, too!”

The author Cecilia Ahern, if I remember correctly, is the daughter of an Australian or Irish prime minister who wrote the novel when she was very young, I’m thinking teenage years. I came across the book at my best friend Grace’s funeral in New York in 2004; when Grace was ailing in the hospital with leukemia, she would order used books online to be delivered to her room and read avidly. P.S. I Love You arrived with two other books the day after the funeral, during the brunch reception hosted by her husband Justin at their apartment home. Justin had excused himself briefly to pick up a package that had arrived down in the lobby, and when he returned and opened the package to find these books she’d ordered, I watched his heart break and I quickly asked to borrow them (mostly to get them away from him). He gave them to me, said to keep them as long as I wanted. I think he even read the jacket for P.S. I Love You, which premise of a terminally ill spouse preparing packages and letters all ending with “P.S. I love you” to help a loved one move forward hit probably too close to home for him right then.

I started seeing previews on TV of the Warner Bros’ movie this week. They kept the same character names as far as I can tell, and some snippets seem to match some scenes in the book. I’m impressed at the powerful cast to bring this little book to life, people like Hilary Swank (playing the lead character of Holly), Lisa Kudrow (playing best friend Denise), Harry Connick, Jr. (playing new love interest Daniel), Kathy Bates (playing a character I don’t quite remember as it’d been awhile since I’d read the book), and a personal favorite, James Marsters playing some other character I don’t remember. James Marsters! “Spike” from TV series “Buffy the Vampire Slayer” and “Angel”!

Here is the IMDB ratings and profile of the movie, and here is the official movie website.

Hey Diana, you still have my book. Have you read it yet?

So like, the defendant in our current criminal trial (we’re still picking a jury right now and haven’t heard any evidence) allegedly stabbed his ex-girlfriend 17 times but apparently is a bad shot cuz he didn’t hit any vital organs so she survived.

A lot of thoughts come to mind. Is she a big girl and the extra cushion saved her life? (I’m not being facetious, this HAS happened, and in a trial in this very courthouse, too.) 17 stabs means he was angry; what made him so angry with her? Did he MEAN not to hit any vital organs so he was just swiping with the blade and not sinking it in? Maybe he was sitting on her and pinning her down, that’s why he couldn’t hit things like her liver cuz he was blocking it with his own body. I thought *I* had relationship problems. Were there signs of violence before that she ignored like women with battered wife syndrome? Did he leave her for dead or did something make him stop? If she’s like the typical battered wife who refuses to testify and wants to get back with her abusive man, would she think a 150 people-capacity at her wedding venue is ridiculously small?

Returning from lunch gymming, waiting for the elevator to pick me up earlier, I ran into my head supervisor.
“How’re you feeling?” he asked me.
“Okay. Just some residual coughing, but that’s normal –”
He looked at me meaningfully. “No. I mean the OTHER thing.”
“Oh,” I said, somewhat embarrassed, because he’d been on me to schedule my LEEP procedure last month and I’d kinda brushed him off saying that my doctor said as long as it’s done within 6 months, I’m fine. And I still hadn’t scheduled it. The elevator doors opened behind me and I backed into the elevator gratefully, shrugging at my supervisor sheepishly and saying I’ll get on it.
He firmly placed his forearm against the side of the elevator door, keeping it from closing, eyeing me very deliberately. “Cindy. This is serious. Get on it.”

When I walked into my courtroom, the phone was ringing. As I still had a few minutes until lunch was over, I didn’t pick it up. Then my cell phone rang and caller ID showed an unfamiliar number. I picked that up.
“Hello, this is Cathy from Dr. [K]’s office. We did a biopsy on you a couple of months ago with instructions for you to schedule a LEEP procedure, and don’t see on here that you have an appointment set up yet. Can we schedule that right now?”
*sigh*

So the LEEP procedure, based on doctor availability and my current menstrual cycle, will take place December 19. I filled out the time-off request form and walked it downstairs to my supervisor. After I told him about the call, he said, “You know what my nickname was as a kid, right? I’m not kidding — my friends and my dad called me this until I was a teenager.”
“No, what is it?”
“God.”
*sigh*

I’d been dragging my feet for the past 4+ months since my engagement, cuz wedding planning is so not something I’m remotely interested in. The most I’d done was buy and flip through (sans enthusiasm) two bridal magazines some months ago. I haven’t even sent in the ring to be resized, yet. I had two small epiphanies in Vegas that kick-started things. One, I “realized” how to make a guest list. Two, I “realized” who my bridesmaids are. The latter happened in the shower, as with many of my great ideas.

After coming back to California, I called my three girls, the women who’ve known me the longest, the best, know what I’m thinking at a glance, have physical and emotional history with me. They all surprised and touched me and said yes, despite the fact that I have no wedding date or location to give them and I assured them this isn’t a commitment and they could back out once I’m able to give them actual solid dates and venues.

This morning, I flipped through my third bridal magazine which I’d purchased in Vegas and started reading a monthly check-0ff list of things that have to be done each month in a sort of count-down fashion, starting 12 months from the wedding date. It was so fussy and details were so expensive that I had a little mental breakdown. I guess I’d been in a sort of denial about how many freaking stupid little overpriced details go into wedding planning, and I’d thought I could just pull it off with minimum work, money and stress. How hard could it be? I just secure the location, date, wedding party, dress, food, and I’m done. But no, the checklist told me to do wedding planner interviews, and DJ/MC/band member interviews, and view photographer and videographer samples, and book appointments for cake and food samplings, and pick invitation themes and colors, and select save-the-date cards. And that’s just the beginning! I wanted to cry. I cursed wedding etiquette and traditions and what they entail. Mr. W offered to elope but I can’t do that to my parents as an only child. He finally asked me what aesthetic details are actually important to me at the wedding site, and I pictured my tranquil place and named three things: Chinese lanterns, bridge(s), water. And he came up with this:

I’m not disclosing the location yet because I’m not committing myself (and I don’t wanna jinx things), but I did some research and turns out this place DOES do weddings:

The location appears to be available for booking next summer and the summer after, and their wedding package includes ceremony, reception, setup/cleanup, sound system, candles around the pond, lanterns around the garden, plus a separate day for rehearsal. I think it’s reasonably affordable for me considering with everything in one place, I don’t have to worry about 2 separate location bookings and transportation. Keepin’ my fingers crossed…if you recognize the location, shhh for now!

A week without a post. I think that may be some sort of a record for me. Except for, wait…when I was on vacation and didn’t have internet access. That’s sort of what happened here, too. I went to Vegas for Thanksgiving and had the entire following week off for vacation. Since I didn’t have my own laptop with me, I haven’t been at work to use my work desktop, and I’ve stopped accessing this blog from Mr. W’s computer, you have this week-long gap. (The post in Vegas was written on Mr. W’s dad’s computer.)

We left for Vegas after work the Wednesday before Thanksgiving, got there wee early Thanksgiving morning, and our plan was to hang out there for 4 days and leave for Yosemite (where Mr. W has never been) on Sunday or Monday, hang out there for two days, and spend the rest of the week at home running errands, Christmas shopping and watching “Buffy” and “Angel” on DVD. But what actually happened was that after arriving to Vegas, we discovered that Mr. W’s gamer brother (as opposed to Rocker Brother who’s a guitarist in a band, and Chicago Brother whom I’ve never met cuz he’s in, duh, New York — I mean, Chicago) had the same week off work that we did. So Mr. W nixed the Yosemite plans and we instead hung out in Vegas with his family until Wednesday. That was great for me, as I was hacking and dying from my ailment and I think a few days in the very cold climate of Yosemite would’ve killed me.

Vegas: We walked the Strip, watched “The Mentalist” show, went to my first hockey game at The Orleans (totally thought about Flat Coke and Bat, the hockey freaks that they are), checked out the fairly-recently opened Hooters Casino (not impressive), hung out with Mr. W’s parents, played Wii and other games at Gamer Bro’s house, hung out with Gamer Bro and Wife, attended Rocker Bro’s band performance at a local restaurant bar. Ooh, I have a picture of that:

Sorry about the grainy photo; all I had was my cameraphone. I also got to see Mr. W and bros when they were little pesky children as Mr. W’s mom shared boxes of old family photos with me. It was only slightly disturbing to gloss over formal professional photos of Mr. W cuddling with his psycho ex #2 (the one after his kids’ mom) and her kids, if “slightly disturbing” means I want to reach back in time by reaching into those photos and squishing her obnoxious little head with my fingertips until her brain pops like a bubble of caviar, or that may be the monthly hormones talking. It is liberating to know he doesn’t read my blog anymore, tho. It is comforting to be able to write that I winced inside when his mom, showing me old photos of her other sons’ weddings while talking about preparing to make a separate album just of everyone’s wedding photos, said none of her kids had big weddings, except for Mr. W, who had two of them. Grrr.

Well, on to brighter things, like MY goddamned wedding. See next post.