I love fall because I get to wear scarves and boots and fuzzy socks, even though I can almost never find a matching pair.

I love the wedding dress I chose, because it has feathers and lace and is whimsical just like me. I brought it home because the sample size fit perfectly, and Shea promised not to peek.

I love being engaged to a man who I know will never peek.

All I wanted for my birthday was a vintage typewriter. When I opened it, Shea put a piece of paper in it and typed "will you marry me?" on it. He got on one knee and gave me a ring, and then we framed the piece of paper he proposed on. 

I never fantasized about my wedding when I was a little girl, and at 27 years old this will be my second wedding. 

Shea played the violin at my first wedding. He picked me up from my bachelorette party and I begged him to talk me out of getting married. He said he couldn't do it, no matter how much he wanted to. 

I didn't need this. I didn't even necessarily want it. But he wants it, and it matters little to me whether we make it legal or not. It matters whether he is here or not. And he is. And I want to give him everything he wants. And if what he wants is to see me in a puffy white dress, walking towards him, I will give him that.

It's bizarre to love someone else more than I love myself. It's difficult too. 

But so many things in life are difficult, and bizarre, because that's what we are; that's what human beings are. Difficult, and bizarre. 

The End. Or is it just the beginning? 

A lot has happened. Shea proposed. I said yes. 

I'm currently applying to grad schools. My area of interest is stated as Children's Literature.

I have a job interview tomorrow, which is good. There have been a lot of home cooked meals in our house since I backed out of my position at the salon. And plus now there's a wedding to save for. 

I'm watching Chopped on the Food Network and I've just realized I always cheer for the woman. Girl power and all that. 

My thesis proposal is about Alice. You know, the one who fell down the rabbit hole. 

I don't want to go to my interview tomorrow. Shea told me to skip it. I won't though. I fear complacency. 

I always giggle at the Lava Life commercial where the mouse clicks between "relationship," "dating," and "intimate," and the guy on the screen acts accordingly.

Sometimes I have Criminal Minds withdrawals.

I was trying to read Alice in Wonderland (again) during commercials but I gave up.

Shea went to the bar. He gave me puppy eyes, trying to get me to go with him, but the couch seems so fluffy today. And the Puggle. He seems extra fluffy.

I'm making up for it by indulging in a healthy amount of rum and eggnog.

I could write until my fingers ache but I won't.

Goodnight Mindsay

So I've applied for graduation and started working on my proposal for a Master's thesis. 

My step-brother's mother died yesterday. I drove my mother and step-father to the ferry this morning to go get Teigan and deal with the arrangements. I'm house sitting slash cat sitting, and Puggle is none too impressed with these furry little animals that look nothing like him. Well, animal singular... I've already misplaced one of the cats. 

I'm contemplating plastering what will soon be Teigan's room with posters of hot girls, but I'm not sure who is hot to 15 year old boys lately. I'm taking suggestions. 

I'm not even sure where to start with Tracey's death, so I just won't.

My step-dad gave me explicit instructions before he left to eat anything that's perishable, since they don't know when they're coming back. I've thus far eaten half a lasagne and a package of pepperoni sticks wrapped in cheese slices. Plus two beer. And I'm pretty sure the following are true:

A) I don't eat pepperoni

B) processed cheese doesn't go bad, and

C) neither does beer. 

Tomorrow I have to go fill in at my mother's office, and since I'm virtually unemployed and not a total idiot, I'm sure it will be fine. 

I think I might just go back to beer and thinking about Metaphysical Shakespeare...