Classy San Pellegrino Fiasco

I have done us all a disservice by making this seem like a story in which my class and grace collide. In reality there was only a collision of grace with mediocrity as the San Pellegrinos I refer to were $0.60 bottles I found in the clearance hallway at the back of the store. Bottles I dug out of heaping shopping carts, out from under nearly expired Metamucil and off-brand taco seasoning. 

That doesn't mean I didn't painstakingly ring them up in the self check-out, making sure the attendant price corrected on the bottles that didn't ring in correctly. I even ran into one of our athletes at the checkout and we watched as another teammate ignored us waving and left with his sole purchase: toilet paper.

So when I stepped out the front doors of the best - and busiest - supermarket in town with one of those mini, double-decker carts and hit the curb flying high, it now comes as no surprise to me that I completely ate shit. Pardon my French, but I even flew over the handlebars of the little guy. Two bottles of San Pellegrino water met their demise and my other strange purchases (everyone knows I eat weird) rolled down the sidewalk. Everyone passing started crawling around on the ground, where I struggled to stand up without introducing my palms and knees to shards of green glass.

Luckily, though, the market employee told me I should go back in and replace them, because why not add even more insult to injury by allowing me to go dig through a clearance bin of water again while my hands bleed. 

Don't get me wrong: I definitely did go get two new bottles, but I also removed a shard of green glass on the drive home as I nibbled on the chocolate covered almonds I nabbed in the trays under the bulk section.

Class and grace right here.

Wedding Season's Here (and It's 10 Years Long)

I was 23 years old, the same age my parents were married. I was single, ready to mingle, and not even remotely considering settling for one human being to spend the rest of my life with. And I had one friend get married that year. Alright, I'll allow it.

The summer I was 24 I had three, but it almost didn't count because two of the celebrations were for teammates 2-3 years older than I. The other was for a close childhood friend who had been dating the guy for nine years. So it practically wasn't real; it was merely a fairy tale we all were fortunate enough to witness. They even just had a baby, and I don't mind, because they're perfect. He built her a house, for goodness' sake!

That three-wedding load wasn't even so bad and more like a warm-up because my 25th summer I had no weddings and took my waitress cash directly to the Argentine black money market for nine weeks of South American adventures. Thank goodness no one loved each other that year, I really benefited.

Now, though, I think those other events were merely a warm up for Full-On wedding season, or Wedding Season 2.0 or something. This ten-year event I feel deep in the throes of. Wedding Season is officially here.

The mid-to-late-twenties promise to be heavy in the marriage load, so much so that I almost wish I had a boyfriend in every state just so I could stop serving the role of "Token Single Friend" that everyone tries to set up with a cousin. It was fun for the first few, but my early twenties were also an era of self-discovery and adventure. Now my dreams lie in reading home decor books and painting my fingernails in the evening, only once I've carefully planned my food for the next day and already blended my breakfast smoothie.

This summer is about to hit me in the face: I return from work travel to the last remaining snowflakes of Oregon and am thrust violently and (hopefully) open-bar-ily into six weddings. The schedule is relentless, but almost tempts me with relaxation and rest:

July 18 straight to July 25.
Two weeks off.
August 8
A week for oral surgery err I mean a week "off" for soft foods (I plan microbrews and fro-yo).
August 22.
August 29.
September 5.

Yes, 6 weddings. My only office decorations anymore are little off-beige, pastel cardstock with the names of some pretty wonderful couples. Makes my picture of my dog that much more needed in my desk space. 

As a single female, six is way too many weddings, considering I can't blame a single one on friends of a significant other. 

So we've started a weekly event to start preparing ourselves for what proves to be a multi-year "Wedding Season": Wedding Wednesday. Matrimony Monday just seemed a little too aggressive coming off a lazy summer weekend, so we've stuck with Hump Day. Yesterday we put our rings on our left ring finger. Next week I'm thinking I might wear a garter under my gym shorts to work out. The next week I may simplify and just throw on some white. I can't be caught unprepared for this. I just might catch a bouquet this year... And marry rich to allow the tradition to hold truth. 

I've already purchased one dress, the $147.00 bridesmaid dress I've been promised is "classic" and "can be worn again!". Little do most brides realize in their delirium, David's Bridal does and always will look just like a bridesmaid dress.

Doesn't mean I won't be wearing it the next weekend to the wedding in Italy! They have no idea!

So let this be my official well-wishes to all of you finding yourselves wondering how you'll balance multiple weddings, who to spend what on, who to fly to, and who in the world is going to have an open bar. And please, ladies, unless you're really accomplished, don't even worry about wearing heels. Weddings were made for dancing. And cake. And neither of those can be accomplished as well in heels, as great as they may make your calves look.