It is Thursday, the last week of April. We have to kill Murgatroyd, do Ragbrai, host the family, throw a wedding, and drive through New England to the Atlantic Ocean between now and Columbus day. We have an appointment with the radiology oncologist, dress maker, photographer and venue. That's pretty good.
But you haven't seen the media room, or my bedroom. I am going to have to hang that curtain rod I bought two years ago to hang the green valance I found at the Highway 141 sale two years ago. Why in the world did I buy a green curtain when I have red carpeting? Oh, that's right, it will bring out the color in my picture of Multnomah Falls I got for my birthday when CaDiva and I visited the Sunday market in Astoria, Oregon. It was a surprise. I walked clear to the back of the open stall of the photographer and hummed a happy tune while CaDiva negotiated for the over-sized color print on canvas. But I digress.
HRH is playing with some other friends Saturday, so next week is the first opportunity to register for Ragbrai or to look at the interesting bicycle she saw. Maybe we'll go looking for a bed on which our niece will sleep when she comes to town on August? That would be more fun than cleaning, but at some point that will have to happen too.
We still need a cake, and invitations, and a limousine. CaDiva said perhaps we should just go to the bakery and buy one of their champagne cakes to bring home. That wouldn't be a bad thing. It is, after, research. That wouldn't be the same thing as eating empty calories. Perhaps we can eat cake after cleaning something?
We could work on our ceremony workbook. We need to figure out what our ceremony should sound like. And then we could eat a bit of cake.
HRH will have to describe what counts as a limousine by her standards. I hope it isn't the HummerII. We could go look on the way to the bakery.
CaDiva needs to order the wedding favors. Oh, and the butter mints. I wonder if we could get them at the bakery?
Definitely going to be a busy weekend. And then, a nice piece of cake.
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