Perhaps I should start with the tragic first so we can end on a positive note (since the tragedy came at the end, as it always seems to do, thus rendering chronological order the enemy of comedy in this case).
So here it is, for all the world (not that the world reads this). I ended my engagement with Paul on Monday. Following a conversation alluding to the fact that we were not on the same page relating to commitment and desire to commit I opted to cut losses and call it quits. It is a strange thing for me. I don't quit things. But I realise that this change was for the best for both of us, and so thus it is.
I have surreally begun picking up the pieces of my life in an attempt to figure out what on earth to do now. Go become a live-in nanny in Europe and bankroll my way through my student loans? Continue living in Cedar? Go become the champion of the downtrodden? So very many choices, and so very little direction.
Now, on to more pleasant things.
Last Friday Jamie and I went dress shopping for her and (since, at the time I was still engaged) to pick up some odds and ends for me as well. Upon visiting one of only three bridal stores within 50 miles of us (it also happens to be the store where I am still purchasing my dress from--love those agreements they make you sign!) a woman in her late 60s was assisting Jamie. This fine proprietor was wearing a deeply cut v-neck shirt with no kind of undergarment to support her albeit shrunken and sagging decolletage. Rather, she wore a v-neck shaped Dickie (for those of you unfamiliar, it is a mock turtleneck with a faux shirt front that only comes down to about the bust). However, during the many maneuvers required to get a bride-to-be into a dress the unfortunate Dickie began to slip, exposing a PG-13 view of the wrinkled skin of said woman's unmentionables.
Too funny not to share.
Also in the vein of humor, Sunday we attended church as a family (under the misinformation we were going to see an Apostle of the Lord speak). It was, however, Stake Conference and there was a choir on the stand. Before I continue let it be known that I have no discriminatory feelings toward any persons, but for the sake of this story certain facts about the individual's appearance are requisite to draw an accurate pictures. Consider it editorial license if you will. One particular member of the choir was a woman of large stature. In fact, a folding chair was set up behind the rest of the choir to accommodate her comfortably. During the course of the meeting my mother leaned over to me and whispered to take note of the woman's actions. To our surprise, and eternal amusement, she was trying to discretely peel string cheese near her lap and nonchalantly purvey it to her mouth. Three cheese sticks later we are all irreverently snickering at her irreverent snacking, at which point she produces a two-liter sized water bottle to, presumably, wash down her dairy deliciousness. We continued to watch as she then occupied her hands with a small clipboard. Mama queried, "What do you think she could be writing?" To which I gave the following supposition, "Mid morning snack? Check."
Mama began laughing so hard she was shaking, small snorts intermittently escaping her attempt to control herself, tears streaming mercilessly down her cheeks. Her whole-body-reaction caused me to begin laughing. It had quite the domino affect on our little party, and has become the brunt of our most recent family jokes.
Once again, too funny not to share.
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