There Is Lightning In Me Still

A gal I know shared this poem last week, and I can't get enough of it. It's by Charles Rafferty.

When I was in school, I used to crave those assignments where you had to memorize a poem or a passage or a Shakespearean soliloquy. The memorization forced me to inhabit the work, to become intertwined with the words, to dive in and climb, dripping, out of the author's pool of language. It was always a meaningful experience for me.

I want to memorize this poem.

AGAINST HESITATION

If you stare at it long enough
the mountain becomes unclimbable.
Tally it up. How much time have you spent
waiting for the soup to cool?
Icicles hang from January gutters
only as long as they can. Fingers pause
above piano keys for the chord
that will not form. Slam them down
I say. Make music of what you can.
Some people stop at the wrong corner
and waste a dozen years hoping
for directions. I can’t be them.
Tell every girl I’ve ever known
I’m coming to break her door down,
that my teeth will clench
the simple flower I only knew
not to give . . . Ah, how long did I stand
beneath the eaves believing the storm
would stop? It never did.
And there is lightning in me still.

Quick Update on the House

Upon the advice of my lawyer (I just love saying that), we did not pay our rent on the first of the month.

Yep, we had to get a lawyer. There was no way around it. There are just too many parties involved in this mess, and we have to have someone looking out for our interests. And our interests are pretty simple: We don't want to be kicked out on short notice, and we don't want to lose our deposit.

But yeah, he told us not to pay her another penny, so I'm not. And that feels so bad. I've never not intentionally paid for the roof over my head. But that's just it -- I've been paying her for the roof over my head, and she hasn't been doing the same, so deal's off. She broke the contract, not me. He's actually trying to work out a deal now where we pay our rent to the lender, maybe even with an option to keep renting from the lender after they buy the house at auction in March (presuming they will, because from what I understand, it's usually always the bank who buys the house).

So there it is. We're waiting to hear from the lender, and I've referred all calls from my landlord to my lawyer (sounds so powerful, right?) and we've got to find a new place to live, perhaps as early as March 23. Y'all please pray that we find a great new place. In the meantime, I'll be using the money I've saved by not paying this month's rent on moving boxes.

And We'll Have Fun Fun Fun

Last night, for about the 927th time in as many days, I was told that I'm no fun. That I don't know how to relax, let loose, and have a good time. I've heard that from my friends who've known me my entire life, from complete strangers, from my husband, from my mother. And they're all right.

I don't what know what it is that makes me be un-fun. What makes anyone be a stick in the mud? Fear of embarrassing yourself. Familial or peer disapproval. Fear that whatever you find fun can actually be harmful to yourself or others. Memories of consequences or regrets brought to you at night by the Ghost of Too-Much-Fun Past. Lack of funding for fun-ness. Or not even truly knowing what you find fun. For me, it's probably a combination of all that.

I will say that for some reason, hearing that comment last night really pushed a button with me. I don't know why. It didn't make me throw seriousness out the window and decide to live it up. In fact, it pushed me in the opposite direction. My tension and self-consciousness became so palpable that anyone next to me surely felt their presence.

But what can I do to become more fun? There are plenty of things you can do to become more serious. You can return to school. You can get your first "real" job. You can do time. You can start wearing all black, smoke Gauloises and read too much Sylvia Plath (bad example -- that sounds like lots of fun). And you can usually get lots of support if you choose to get your act together. But what if you choose to loose it? Is there a way to train yourself to have fun? How can you get those around you to accept the new you, the one who's going to lighten up, even if it means changing some dynamics? Is there a School of Fun somewhere that teaches these things?

If so, please sign me up. I need to get loose. I need a redo. I need my button un-pushed.

Yeah, I've Got No Title For This

While I was in yoga class tonight, my phone was blowing up. Just after I got through getting totally relaxed, I checked my messages, and saw that I had repeated phone calls from both my husband and my landlord.

Yep, that's right, landlord. We're in our mid-thirties and renting because we already own a house, in Florida, that we didn't stand a snowball's chance in hell of selling when my husband's job brought us to Arkansas in the summer of 2008, when the real estate situation in Florida was pretty much in drug-addict-without-a-decent-vein-left rock bottom. So we moved to Little Rock and rented a house, praying that we'd be able to get decent tenants who would care for our home in the Sunshine State. Our prayers were pretty much answered -- we got semi-decent renters who pay on time, even though they lowballed the hell out of us because they knew we, like every other homeowner trying to shift a house at that time, were desperate.

Flash forward a bit. We found a great house to rent in Little Rock, only to find out less than a year later that our landlord wanted to move back in. We scrambled around to find a new rental home, but finding a decent place to rent for a decent price in this town is hard. We looked at lots of places that would have been fine to buy, because if we owned them, we could have made the cosmetic changes necessary to make them livable. It was astounding, however, how many people wanted to charge an arm and leg in rent for a home with six inch blue shag carpeting, mirrored ceilings and flame stitch wallpaper who were, of course, more than happy when we asked if we could paint and update, but who seemed stunned, stunned, I tell you, when we asked for a slight reduction in the rent because with those simple changes we'd be increasing their home's value by, oh, $50,000 or so.

But one day, I got lucky and found a most decent house for rent on Craigslist. Though it was slightly over our budget, it needed no work, and it was in a great neighborhood. The lady who owned it was moving to California, and didn't want to bother putting it on the market in a downturn. She really appreciated that we were just like her -- forced to move to a different state while at the mercy of renters. She knew that we understood. She knew that we cared.

So flash forward just nine months more. We've enjoyed renting this home, even though we think it has some pretty serious structural deficiencies. We've had to have some repair work done (on her dime, of course), but it's always been handled promptly and with as little interruption to our life as possible. And the finance thing has been tough for us, but we've dealt. Our tenants in Florida don't come close to covering our house note with their rent each month, but we've sucked it up and paid our mortgage there, all while keeping up with our rent here. It's a stretch. It hurts. I've thought a million times about how freeing it would feel if we just let our house in Florida go, but you know what? There's always a little voice in my head that says "Good people don't do that."

So back to my el fuego phone. My landlord only called once, and didn't leave a message. But my husband had called repeatedly and left messages. So his was the call I returned first. When he answered, I quickly said "Hey, before I forget, our landlady called. Did she call you?" His answer was "Well, I guess that explains it." You see, while I was at yoga, a real estate agent knocked on our door. He told my husband that our house is in foreclosure and that it's going to be put up for auction really soon. He actually pulled up the friggin' Pulaski County records on a computer to prove it.

#*$@ me.

My cool, calm and collected husband had already taken a deep breath and called my dad to talk to him about the situation. They're all thinking straight and shizz and making plans. Here's my first thought as to plans: RUN FOR THE HILLS, WE'RE SCREWED!!!!!!! For some bizarre reason, I've researched this very situation before, and I know tenants basically have no rights whatsoever when this type of nonsense goes down.

In the meantime, I make my husband call the landlord back (when in this type of situation, it's best I play ostrich, because when I get mad, my home training goes out the window). You know what she did? She lied. She told him she'd only called because she's considering putting the home back on the market, and she'd like to give us first dibs. As if. This place is flood-prone. It's about to float off its foundation. We don't want to buy an overpriced ark. When pressed, she mentioned the words "short sale." She never confessed that she's in foreclosure. And you know what makes me angriest? She's no worse off, financially, than we are. She actually gets more toward her mortgage each month that we do towards ours, and yet we somehow still manage to pay ours. She even tried to bring up the fact that she's on a fixed income and is on a pension. WELL GUESS WHAT, LADY, WE'RE ON A FIXED INCOME TOO. I don't see a raise in either of our salaries any time soon, so for all intents and purposes (yes, people, that's the correct phrase), we're also pensioners. It just makes me furious that we've been financially strapped now for almost two years because we believe in holding up our end of a bargain, and she just can't be bothered.

But as angry as I am right now, I'm actually a bit happy. This house we're living in is too expensive. I've been thinking lately about how wonderful it would be to not have to pay this much in rent. I've got dreams and plans, and they don't involve paying over 50% of our income on housing costs. I don't know how we'll ever find another home as large as this (we like our space) in a decent neighborhood for any less, but a girl can dream. And I can fortunately stay a bit dissociated from this situation. I can breathe. I can meditate. I can pray. I can let my husband be the calm spokesperson. I can call my dad for advice, and I can call my landlord and give her another chance to be truthful.

And I can listen to what Lil' Goldfish was singing as I just put him to bed:

"I love you, you love me, we're a happy family..."

Yes baby, we are. No matter what happens, we're happy. Because I love you, and you love me. And that's what matters.

The Good, the Bad and the Ugly

WARNING: THIS POST IS PIC HEAVY

As promised, and only a week late, here are some pictures from last weekend's bridal show.

I didn't retouch any of these photos, because I didn't want to make the bad ones look better (and because I'll never have enough time on my hands to retouch this many pics). Also, some of the pictures aren't composed very well, because I felt I needed to be a little sneaky as I took them. I didn't know if some of the vendors would be bugged by another vendor snapping away. I encourage you to enlarge them for better detail.

Also, with only a couple of exceptions, I have taken care not to show or mention the names of the vendors. Although it could be argued that some of them do indeed deserve international shaming, I have to live in this town. If you have specific questions about certain vendors, especially because you love their work, just let me know.

They had a lounge area set up near my booth. It was the whole "graphic black and white with a punch of color" theme, which I saw almost everywhere at the show. As a design technique, that's starting to bore me. But as I was later discussing with a friend, I still think it works for fashion. Notice that the accent color was green. (Green seems to be THE wedding color these days, if the Little Rock bridal show is any indicator.) They also used a lot of clear chairs, which I'll admit I do like. I've always been a fan of Philippe Starck's ghost chairs, and I'd love to have one.

I hate this picture. It, and it's fraternal twin sister, the "look how high our wedding party can jump in the air" picture, need to go away. I implore all good photographers out there to stare blankly at any bride who requests shots like that.

Yeah, you know you want a hot pink and orange wedding, and you know you want the ladies who plan that wedding to also dress in that color scheme. It just comes together so well, right?

We won't talk about that cake. It's Arkansas, people.

Lots of booths there were doing this leaning tower of blossoms thing. I think it's hideous. It looks like your florist screwed up. My friend Kerri told me that she thinks it showed up in some magazine somewhere, so now everyone is doing it. To which I say, "If everyone jumped off a bridge..."

This is a local cake company that does some really neat things. I've never tried one of their cakes before, but they look pretty cute. I was torn at this booth, though. On one hand, they had lots of those topsy-turvy cakes. Topsy-turvy cakes belong to brides who want to take pictures of their wedding party jumping in the air.

But then they had this creation. The colors, the design, the detail -- I loved everything about this cake.

This booth belonged to a couple who do photography. I love the way they chose to display their sample photos and their business cards. I've always had a thing for teeny clothespins, though. (Teeny anything, really. Stop laughing.)

As yes, here's Tanarah, of Distinctive Designs by Tanarah. When I rounded the corner and saw her booth, I stopped in my tracks. There's the whole "my booth is 20 feet taller than yours" thing. Then there's the Amazon dressed in a wedding gown made of flowers.

Everything Tanarah did was incredibly unique. Take, for example, this bridal portrait.

Not unique, you say? Look at it from the side.

What?!?! She attached fresh flowers to a portrait! Who thinks of that kind of stuff? Pas moi. I also loved this centerpiece that she did.

Tanarah says, "Why display samples of your bouquets in a vase when you can hang them from a rustic frame?" (See the first Tanarah picture for the full view with frames.)

Also notice that sofa which she has covered in moss. Real moss. Woodsy, fairy-like themes seemed to be popular, and she did touches of that well without being twee about it.

No, this next pic is not Tanarah's work. This booth just had the same color scheme. Look, I did the drinks in the glass jars thing at my wedding, so I can't complain about it too much. But that was in 2001. And it was outside. In the morning. I think Martha Stewart's come up with plenty of other great wedding ideas more recently, so let's move on, shall we?

I hate that the next two pictures didn't come out better, because this booth had some great ideas. I loved these table settings.

Ok, avert your eyes if you're a prude. Jamie Fender happens to do some beautiful wedding photography. But she also does things that are a little more risque, including boudoir photography. But my word, she does it right. It's hard to tell from these shots, but her work is so chic and artistic. I know, I know, that's a Playboy-esque cliche, but it's true!

I love what this next photographer did with her booth. Not only did she lay down a tile floor over the ugly convention hall carpet, but she had some of her photos turned into tiles.

More green woodsy fairyland business.

Love what this photographer did, also. He built a faux wall out of wood, and it showcased his work so well. But more green and black. Yawn.

There were a couple of vendors there renting photo booths. One of them had cute retro props and outfits for the guests. The other had this crap. Yes, these are the types of hats that you either win at the fair or buy in a drunken stupor when you're on Spring Break.

This table display made my eyes bleed. I believe this event rental company was run by two straight guys. That's their excuse.

And look, it's as if they had my blog in mind when they chose this color scheme.

I don't know what to say about this, other than if you've been desiring a "Prince circa 1984" themed wedding, this is the event company for you.

There's classy boudoir photography, then there's this, for the bride who's always dreamed of being in a rap video. (Although the top pic is kinda cool. And I do believe it's a bride and bride.)

When Hannah Montana gets married, her reception will look something like this.

Why yes, this is an ugly glowing pink coffee table with sticks made out of silver beads on it. There are no words.

At first I didn't like this. Then bits and pieces of it began to grow on me. Maybe I was just deliriously tired. Or maybe it's because it has that whole vampire brothel thing going on, which I'm not completely opposed to.

What do you choose when you want to do the flower lean, but want to be different? Why, you go for the flower droop.

Insert flower Viagra joke here.

OK, true story. I walked up to this chocolate fountain booth just in time to hear this bride and groom say "Oooh, that's kind of a funny color."

Seriously? Do y'all not own mirrors?

Hey kids, there's this booth that can do a Purple Rain themed wedding right over there.

Bridezillas, Part Two

Call it payback, call it karma, call it divine intervention.

Some higher being read my last post and decided that it would be a great idea for me to work the local bridal fair today.

Oh, joy.

I will spend my day smiling and chatting and telling brides-to-be (and wannabes) and their families how beautiful and wonderful and special they are and how yes, they can have anything their little hearts desire and of course, all the vendors here would be more than happy to discount everything 75% and throw in lots of freebies because nothing would thrill us more than making sure the world revolves around you.

Or something like that.

But really, I don't mind doing this kind of thing. I do like making others happy. I get a kick out of seeing someone's eyes light up not just because you've made their dreams come true, but because you've created dreams for them they never even knew they had.

Nevertheless, I'm off to write my serenity prayer on the palm of my hand, just like a middle-school cheat sheet. I have a feeling I may need it once or twice.

P.S. I've already had a look around some of the booths, and I'm going to take lots of pictures for you to see later. They are some excellent design ideas out there. Plus, I've seem some things that are horrible, and that will hopefully give you a laugh. I mean, what bride wouldn't want a sequined turquiose tablecloth atop a fuschia shag rug?

Bridezillas

I'm dealing with a couple of bad customer service issues right now, and I was planning on possibly having to throw a temper tantrum to get my way tomorrow.

Then I watched Bridezillas.

I'm sure many of you have seen this show, but I've not really watched it before today. It's a reality show about brides-to-be who act like complete and total selfish little brats. I know no one is perfect, and that we all act like toots from time to time, but these girls take the cake. I am dumbfounded that there are really women out there who act so horribly and treat everyone around them with such disdain. I am dumbfounded that they are proud of the way they act. And I am dumbfounded that the people around them let them get by with this behavior.

Yes, it's the people around them I blame most for such ugliness. I blame the people who raised them and never backhanded them into next week when they were little and tried to pull this crap. Because let's get real, sweet girls don't suddenly turn into little devils the second they get a ring on their fingers. I also blame their friends who watch them spiral into madness and don't call them out on their behavior. And I blame the service providers who do business with them, despite the way they're treated. No employee should ever have to put up with that crap, no matter what the price.

And I'm sure you wouldn't be surprised to hear that these Bridezillas' bad behavior is inversely proportional to their class, intelligence, taste and beauty. (Although they make sure to tell us -- usually at the top of their lungs -- just how classy and intelligent and tasteful and beautiful they are as often as possible each episode.)

One highlight of the show is that the narrator makes fun of these girls the whole time. I wish I had that job.

The other good thing about the show is that it really opened my eyes to my own bad behavior. I think I'll be much less likely to pitch a fit in order to get my way from now on. I'll pay more attention to how the things I say might be interpreted. And I'll certainly be much more cautious of the message I'm sending my children, and of how I respond when they act bratty.

I'm still going to have to make a couple of phone calls tomorrow. But here's hoping I don't act like a Bridezilla. To help me, I've written a Bridezilla Serenity Prayer:

God, grant me the serenity to peacefully deal with nasty people,

the courage to discipline my children forcefully in public if that's what it takes to prevent them from growing up to be nasty people,

and the wisdom to recognize when I am being a nasty person.

A-FREAKIN'-MEN