Who knew a day starting with waffles and Oprah could turn out to be so productive. I got my car inspected and registered! I made sure everything with my new health insurance was on track! I emailed to switch days with a coworker so I can attend employee appreciation night at the RBC Center! I went grocery shopping! Woo!

Ok, gotta admit, I had some prompting about the car inspection thing. Some prompting by the, um, the NC State Police. Oops. Now that there are no stickers on one’s license plate, how are we to remember when to get our cars inspected? Sure, most people would take their mail notification and run straight to an auto body place, but I discarded mine and all was forgotten… until a random license and registration check two streets away from home. Now I have to go to court and show the nice judge that I’m legally licensed and registered, and that he shouldn’t take $400 from my bank account. Sheesh.

Here’s my newest wedding dilemma. Although I tried with all my might to convince Allan that my wedding dress is red silk and black lace with Mrs. Sandoval be-dazzled across the ass, the truth is my dress is ivory. It’s ivory and it’s gorgeous and I wish I could wear it every day. So, anyway, we went to Men’s Warehouse last night to see about some tuxedos. Because the men-folk wearing the tuxes are not all in one location, we had to go to a place convenient for everyone, and Men’s Warehouse fits the bill. Once there, they strongly suggested the men wear ivory shirts or else my dress will look dingy. Although I get the rationale, the Men’s Warehouse ‘ivory’ shirt is actually, basically a pale YELLOW. I hate it. It’s awful and yucky. So I visited some wedding message boards and found that a ton of other girls had the same complaint. Their solution? White shirt with an ivory vest and tie for the groom. From the pictures they posted, it seems like a nice compromise. I’m curious to see what it looks like in person. The other men-folk will wear a black tie and black vest, in case you were wondering.

Oh, and the other disappointing thing about Men’s Warehouse is their tie selection. Basically, Allan can’t tie his own tie for the wedding. They come pre-tied. But the thing is, one of the million reasons I’m marrying this particular man is his ability to tie a tie. It makes me all giddy and gives me a fluttery feeling inside when he walks in the door wearing a tie. No joke. The kid can tie a beautiful Windsor knot, and every time I’ve pictured him on the staircase during our wedding, I’ve pictured him rocking a Windsor knot. But no, Men’s Warehouse ties are like half knots or something like that. Boo to you, Men’s Warehouse!

I sent an email to a bunch of folks last night and my father responded in a very smart-ass way… to all of them. Inadvertently. Although I know he loves me and was just teasing me, to those who don’t know him and our family dynamic, it probably came off as really harsh. And it upset me. Beware of REPLY ALL, people! I can’t wait to explain to my future in-laws that my dad isn’t really a jack-ass, he’s just super sarcastic!

In other news, we’re going out to dinner tonight and I keep wanting to go to the same place over and over – Tyler’s Taproom – but I’m going there tomorrow on a lunch date with Wendy, but I still want to eat there tonight. Is that wrong? Is it wrong to want to eat their Cobb salads and garlic fries EVERY DAY?

The picture is of me & my honey looking so handsome in a Windsor knot (and Burberry tie!). At the time this picture was taken, he was NOT my honey… he just wished he was! (December 2007)



Last night Allan and I sat on the couch, watched ice dancing at the Olympics, and tied ribbon (technically twine) on things for the wedding. After we were finished, he said he needed to go find his testicles.

I had fun doing wedding stuff with him! That it consisted of making bows and that ice dancing was on the screen made it that much more ridiculous and cute!

Allan’s the most masculine man I’ve ever met, just for the record. When we were at the beach this summer, a friend said about Allan: That boy has nothing but testosterone flowing through his veins. At the time, he was jumping head-first into waves coming off of the Atlantic Ocean. He has a rock climbing practice tool in our bedroom. He chops down trees and volunteers to put up fences. He loves to build things and take cars apart. And until we started dating, I didn’t realize soccer was a contact sport. His bruises say otherwise.

On top of all that, he brings me flowers!

It might seem a little early to be doing some of this wedding stuff, but I have free time. And eventually, hopefully I’ll find another job at some point in my life, and I won’t have nearly as much free time. So I’m trying to take advantage of the situation as much as I can.

It’s Job Search Tuesday. Every Tuesday morning I hunker down and do the job search thing. Sometimes the number of jobs I can apply for is nearly nil. Other times it’s not bad. But there are so few jobs out there that I don’t look every day – it’s depressing if I do. If I’ve learned one thing in my millions of times being unemployed, it’s that staying positive is THE MOST important thing. But it’s hard.

Also last night, Allan thought it’d be a good idea to teach me to drive his stick shift. Straight drive. Manual transmission. Whatever it’s called. It was a bad idea. I’ll put it to you this way: I lost track of the number of times I stalled and the number of people who honked at/flipped me off. When I walked into the house after the fiasco was over, my hands were shaking. Oh, and somehow, some way I made a funky, burnt smell emit from Allan’s car. Like I said, it was a bad idea.



I’m not vain. Well, I guess everyone is to one degree or another. But my post-ortho appointment pictures aren’t posted out of vanity. I take them so I can see my own progress. It’s hard to notice all the little movement (because at this point it’s little movement, at least on top) when I’m living with it day to day.

In exactly one month, March 18, the six month mark till my wedding, I get the lower braces put on. I’m preparing myself for some intense pain and I’ll have to get used to talking and eating all over again. But I’m happy. My bottom teeth are horrible. Awful. British. I was told that my top teeth were ‘almost British.’ Thankfully you can’t see my bottom teeth when I speak or smile, so it’s never bothered me much. Wait till you see the Before Braces picture of those suckers!

I suck at math and got confused and convinced myself my wedding was six months away, but it’s not. It’s seven. But tomorrow it’ll be six months and 30 days! I’m really excited to get married at this point. I’m ready for Allan to be my husband, not just my fiance. Don’t get me wrong, being his fiancee is pretty awesome, but I think being his wife will be even better.

Last night Allan and his mom, Mama S., were chatting on the phone and this is what was said. Keep in mind Mama S. has a sometimes wicked sense of humor and she’s been single for over 15 years.

Mama S.: I’ve decided to give up sex for lent.
Allan: Oh good God. I’m going to go play in traffic now.
Mama S.: Calm down! I didn’t say that Allie was giving up sex for lent!

LOL.


I heard a song on the Hope for Haiti telethon that I’ve been playing over and over (and over and over). Don’t worry, folks, I went the legal route and bought the song from iTunes. Anyway. It’s Hallelujah and I’m probably the only person to never hear it before that moment. Apparently it’s been covered over 200 times by different artists. I’ve since heard other renditions, but I don’t think any of them hold a candle to the version on the telethon.

Valentine’s Day was nice. Allan made me breakfast, we went to the movies and saw Valentine’s Day (of course!) and then got PF Chang’s to go. It was really mellow and lovely. And I got the love rug – score!

It’s crazy to think that in six months and one day, I’ll be married. I really never thought I’d get to this point in my life. I figured I’d always be a single gal, and I was okay with that. Or at least I was trying to convince myself I was okay with that. Then along came Allan, who’d actually been there for years and years, and he swept me off my feet and asked me to marry him. (Insert smile HERE.)