What Now?

So many hours spent searching for that perfect dress – the one that made me feel and look like a million bucks – and worth every minute of the glorious search (even if I was sick as a dog with mono at the time). I’m talking about my wedding gown, or as I like to call it, my Jackie O. beauty!

Oh, how I LOVE this dress. You remember that episode of Friends where they sit around the apartment in their dresses? I can SO relate. There’s just something about strutting your stuff in a 500 lb. garment that makes the world a happier place.

Sadly, my day in the gown has come and gone…nearly three years ago, which leads me to my reason for this post.

What do I do with the dress now?

At this moment, it’s hanging in a garment bag upstairs, the same bag it’s been since my wedding night. Yes, I haven’t even had it cleaned yet. Isn’t that awful? Is it too late for it to be cleaned? And what am I supposed to do with it afterwards?

Preservation? I’ve heard scary things about this. It can turn the dress yellow. Or, worse yet, they steal your dress and send you home with a 500-pound box of fluff that you think is your dress. What?! I’m a gambling woman, but even I can't take that bet.

Donation? Ooohhh…I know this is a noble thing to do, but I don’t think I can stand to part with my glorious friend. All of that bead work. And the satin bow. Hell’s bells! It has a satin bow. How can I even think of giving that up?

Help! I need a solution. Something that will keep my dress safe and gorgeous for years to come. Any ideas? Ladies, what have you done with your gowns? UT ladies, do you know of a good place to get wedding dresses cleaned? I’m not going just anywhere.

OK, you get the point. I’m a little beyond obsessed with my wedding dress and need help knowing what to do with it. Any ideas or suggestions would be greatly appreciated.

Cheers!

Megan

Isn't it cute how the dress poofs when I sit in it? It's like sitting in a marshmallow!

My dress and I made our shared debut on Sunday, Oct. 9, 2005 at the Bellagio in Vegas. We walked down the aisle to "She" by Elvis Costello. So wonderful!

My IKEA Idea

All IKEA fans raise your hands! I know you’re out there, and I’m right there with ya. What’s not to like about a store that carries hip things at rock bottom prices? I like it so much, in fact, that I used to plan roadtrips around the store…that is until they built one practically in my backyard. Thank you, shopping gods, for answering my prayers!

So, I’ve been giving this some thought. I know there are others like me out there, and I know that IKEA’s website sucks ass. Sure, they show you what they have. Tease you with the goods. But what they show and what you can buy are two very different things. Why have a website of goods that aren’t available to purchase online?

Here’s my IKEA Idea – catchy, eh? – I want to start taking IKEA orders from the poor desperate souls like me out there, who really want those adorable, bitty jars, but can’t buy them online and don’t have a store in their area. Send me your shopping list and, for a nominal fee + shipping, I’ll go get you what you need.

What do you think? Do I have a business idea or what? The only trick would be figuring out a trustworthy system that would work for both parties. One that would ensure I’d get my money upfront while also reassuring the costumer that they’d receive their order. That will take some thinking.

I guess I’m just blog-storming here – my new word for brainstorming via my blog – since there’s got to be someone out there who appreciates this idea more than the company I keep (two mutts and a hubby) ever will.

Thanks for entertaining my wild imagination!
Megan

Just call me Patrica Parker, AKA Spiderwoman

Do you ever have those days when you’re not comfortable in your own skin? When something just doesn’t feel right and it’s almost more than you can bear? I know I do, and today happened to be one of them. Then I came home to my DH, who had a little something…interesting to show me.

A tarantula! WTF?! Say it isn’t so! Oh, wait, it’s only a tarantula’s skin…well, skin, hair and even fangs. Eeeeeeep!

Come to find out, this particular spider sheds his entire outer shell once a year. I hate spiders. HATE with a capital everything! So I find it very odd that I actually found myself envious of such a creepy, crawly being.

What if I could just take my top off (keep it clean, people) and crawl out of my shell once a year? How nice would that be? A fresh start, new fangs and all!

Megan

P.S. How ironic that I, the woman who literally has nightmares about spiders OFTEN, comes home to this when just last night I caught a spider with my bare hands who had been crawling on my face like it was some kind of moon bounce. What does this mean? Is there something the good Lord is trying to teach me that has something to do with one of my worst fears? If so, I’d like to learn the lesson and just get on with it already!

Cor actually dared to pick the monstrosity up. Look closely. His fangs are those shiny black thinkgs just above the red markings in the center. Kill me now!

Fire in the Sky

Picture of Draper fire taken from my back deck.

I don’t know if Mrs. O’Leary’s cow was at it again or if some hoodlum delinquent (*cough…Cory…cough*) was playing with illegal fireworks, but something sparked a massive fire on the mountainside by my home.

I live on South Mountain, an area connected to the fire’s location, so I received several calls last night from friends and family, all calling to see if Cor and I were okay. We're about 8 blocks south of the fire and several blocks west, so we were fine. No evacuations here. But I do want to thank you, dear peeps. It means so much to me that so many of you would take time out of your lives to call and check on us.

The fire’s contained now, thank God, with no injuries or damaged homes. I’m sad to see the hillside burn, but I’m relieved that the outcome wasn’t any worse.

Anyhoo, thanks to all of you (from old high school chums to my big bro who NEVER calls) for checking in. I {heart} you very much!

Hugs & Love,
Megan

P.S. Just to be safe, I should probably clarify that Cory is not the actual hoodlum behind the blaze. Yes, he enjoys the illegals (fireworks, that is), but he hasn’t played with them since our stinky neighbor called the cops on us two years ago. Anyone in the market for fireworks that make a bang? I know a guy…

Sew what?!

Growing up, my Mom had a HUGE problem with me using the word “so” as a response. “It’s rude,” she’d scold. It was like “fart,” a word that just wasn’t said much in our home – almost a swear on Mom’s level.

“Sew” wasn’t said either, not because it was a swear, but because it wasn’t really done. Ma and I aren’t exactly domestic goddesses. We don’t really cook. We don’t bake much of anything. And we certainly don’t sew. Not because we have something against these activities; they’re just not part of our routines…until now.

So what? I’m going to tell you.
Sew what? Flowers. Stinkin’ cute, fabric flowers!

I traveled to my sassy friend Kezia’s (Tinkering Ink) house on Saturday, where I was given my first sewing lesson. Talk about learning from the master. Kezia and her neighbor Tasha showed me all sorts of tips and tricks.

I hand stitched.
I used pinking sheers. (These large, heavy, decorative-edge scissors that you use in sewing.)
I learned to make yo-yo flowers.
I even took a spin on a full-blown sewing machine. Giddy up!

Sure, I pricked a finger here and messed up a flower (or six) there, but I was actually doing it. And since our date with thread, I’ve made two more flowers all by myself. Get outta town, you say? Get outta town, indeed!

Thanks, Kezia, Tasha and Paul (Kezia’s DH)! I had sew much visiting! I hope we can do it again sometime!

Kezia (with Paul), displaying a few of our creations.

Yummy fabric treats!

Strike a pose-y.

A craft not without its casualties.

Jet Packs? I think not!

Today’s the day. Carpe Diem! I’m writing my first blog post.

I’ve been thinking. Stewing. Pondering. What direction will my blog take? A creative course? A personal path? A humorous approach? Days…no, weeks have been spent tossing this question around in my head.

Well, I’m done contemplating. F- it! I’m just going to blog about all of the above. Whatever tickles my blogging funny bone. If it sucks (or I suck at doing it, I should say) I can just shut it down. Problem solved.

But what do I write my first post about? You only have one first – it should be a good one. Not one thrown away after a night of too many martinis, if you get my drift.

I asked my DH, Cory, what I should write about. His answer: “Jet Packs!” Ummm…NO!

I should say that he’s a bit of a science nerd. He is at this very minute watching Sc (the Science Channel), which is about the only channel our main TV sees. Thanks, Bill Nye. Thank you very much!

Anyway, as much as I’m sure you’d love to read about jet packs, I’m going to save that for a future, less significant post. It’s just not sponge-worthy for the first post. Sorry, Bear. (I call Cory “Bear,” BTW.)

Instead, I’m just going to end the all-important first here. Firsts usually end rather suddenly anyway, right? Right!

So, it’s official. I’m a blogger. Eeep! Scary, I know, but it was bound to happen.

Cheers!
Your newest blogging friend, Megan

Bear, mesmerized by Sc. The pups, more entertained by me and my camera.