I can still tell you what I was wearing the first time we went on a date. I can tell you where we were the first time we met, and what we talked about. I remember the first time he sent me flowers, the first time he kissed me, and the first time he told me he loved me.
So where did the last three and a half years ago? I'm pretty sure my memory isn't normally that stellar.
Vor is sitting next to, creating the wedding program, while I create some DJ music lists. We still have to make payments, do placecards, etc., but the fact is, this event really is here now.
I just wish this had been an easier few weeks leading up to the wedding. I don't want to look back at this week, and think, "Gee, that's the week we were miserable because Vor was taking the Bar," or "Gosh, the wedding... yeah, the was the week the dog got really sick and we didn't know what to do."
On a lighter note, my wonderful friends, Velvet, Vintage, Mocha, and Wildcat got me a Victoria's Secret gift card. Yes, yes. That was put to good use. I'm sure Vor will agree, when he sees it later.
Who, as a mother of the groom, two weeks before the wedding, goes golfing, retrieves a ball, falls down a hill, rolls through poison ivy and poison oak, dislocates their shoulder, and has their car damaged by a break-in attempted?
I never knew you when you were a puppy, but I've heard tell that you were a meeper (as in, one who makes a meeping sound), and generally, a cute fuzzball Golden Retriever. Of course, your philosophy on retrieving has always been, "You throw, you retrieve."
While you lived with Vor's family, you lived the life of a king--doughnuts, toast, hotdogs, and other goodies were your food. Then, you came to live with Vor, and all the goodies disappeared, substituted with Science Diet, Large Breed, Adult, Lite.
You love to be brushed by Vor, and you law with your paws wrapped around his leg. You love having your teeth brushed with that chicken flavored toothpaste, and you like to be vacuumed. Your tail is a force to be reckoned with, and it has knocked over many an unsteady T.V. tray table. You stand on your head, and put a paw over your eyes when someone pets you. When you law on your side, and I say, "Stretch, puppy!" you stretch out your front and back legs as far as they will go.
When I was horribly sick, you climbed onto the bed with me and wouldn't leave until I was better. You love Vor best and first, but I am your favorite play time buddy.
Oh, my sweet puppy, you are sitting in a vet's office, anxious, scared, and blind, while we try to figure out what happened, and how to fix you.
Okay, fine, you can email me at graceandpressure [at] yahoo [dot] com. Don't all flood me with emails at once, you know. If you're emailing about craniosynostosis, put it in the subject, and I'll respond quicker. Deal? Deal.