Alternate title: Weddings - The Most Inefficient Transfer of Wealth From One Generation to the Next.

I wonder if my teenage rebellion against authority has morphed into a rebellion against tradition, or generalized into a rebellion against all industry. I didn't want a diamond because I don't want to support a controlled market that I see as an inefficient waste of lives and resources. I hate diamond commercials and ads, thus my view that anything bought from the Shane Company should get flushed down the toilet. And I tried to avoid supporting the ridiculous market that is the wedding industry. But maybe I'm just cheap.

Part of me still thinks about skipping the whole wedding thing and eloping. I mean, conflicting emotions and expectations abound, I get anxious planning a dinner party for 8, and add to that 30k of cost to my parents? No wonder this stuff drives people crazy. And did I mention the constant focus on what the bride wants? There's nothing like having 5 different vendors ask you what your color palette is to make you suddenly decide that you Need a color palette. Beyond that point is a slippery slope to a nervous breakdown about ribbon and throwing someone headfirst into a foam cake display. But everyone keeps deferring to me with lines about "this is YOUR day" and "whatever you envision, we'll make happen". Um...don't people know that absolute power corrupts absolutely? I'd like things to be pretty and not cost too much. I probably should hire a wedding planner who could make that happen, but that, to me, seems like an overwhelming task and plus, it costs more money. And, full disclosure, there is a part of me that is enjoying exercising control, and a part that sees this as a Challenge. And so far, it's been something new and different to do, and fun at times. Especially cake tasting.

Here's the low-down: my dad has planned more for this day than I have. I want a big party with all of my friends and family, and I want there to be lots of dancing. The specifics seemed unnecessary at first. But how do you make a decision on any of this stuff while trying to remember that the details are unimportant? And what's the line to walk when you're lucky enough to have a father that wants more than anything to make you happy and yet has very strong opinions and expectations on how things should go, especially when you've spent most of your life just being contrary to him? Let's have a Baptist minister officiate! (Yeah, that one was a fun conversation. I might as well bring up how Bill O'Reilly is a bastard son of satan while we're at it. God, if you're there, I swear I'll try to believe in you if Bill O'Reilly gets caught fornicating with a goat. See the issue with the Baptist minister yet?)

Also, I'm sorry if I'm not inviting you. I'm sure there are going to be some awkward conversations in our future, and it's probably more a logistics decision than a personal one, but boy feeling obligated to invite people sucks balls, as does not being able invite others to for headcount reasons.

So, in summary, my life is not very tough. I'm super lucky that I get to throw a big party for the people I love, and I really don't want to elope. It will be completely awesome to see everyone, like a reunion, and I can't wait to see all my friends together again. But I have been thinking about this stuff a lot, and wow it feels good to get this crap off my chest. Me, C, our siblings and parents, on a beach somewhere warm, with a respectable old dude telling us how to love...sometimes that sounds really damn good.

I am so amazed at how much work Cliff put into the whole thing. About a month ago, he decided that he'd propose the next time I went to Oregon, so when I told him I'd be gone from Dec 3-5 he started planning things. He measured my brass rat even though the sizing may have been different for the right and left hands, got the ring from Amazon (a blue emerald-cut sapphire solitaire in white gold), went out with a friend to help him get a spiffy new suit (grey with light blue pinstripes) and french-cuffed blue shirt and then get them tailored, his sister helped him find shoes and accessories, and since Monday he'd been telling me that he kept having all-day meetings, so I wasn't expecting him to be answering IM at all. Monday he casually asked if my social schedule was full, and not suspecting anything I said that game night was Wednesday but that I actually had some free time Thursday, this ime…which then magically filled up with this "charity dinner". Tuesday he'd mentioned he'd gotten dinner with his sister at a place downtown, which he'd really done after the accessory shopping. He flew into Portland Thursday morning, called my mom's cell phone which Patrick gave him, and asked to meet with her and my dad sometime that day. Since they weren't free until 5pm, he checked into the Riverplace hotel, walked to the Fossil Cartel and got a backup ring in a bigger size (emerald obsidianite, or helenite, or shiny green glass from mount st. helens, depending on your take), and logged into IM at the hotel and chatted with me a bit, further convincing me that it just wasn't possible that he was in Portland! Then he drove out to west Portland, met with them and got their blessing, and drove back to east Portland to the restaurant and waited for us.

Also, can I throw in a shout-out to Patrick and Jen for totally having me conned?

Last night after dinner, we went back to my house and celebrated with my mom and dad, then I stayed in the first hotel in Portland ever - Riverplace gave us a little box of Moonstruck chocolates as a congratulations and a sweet note. I emailed my boss to tell him the news and that I'd be in pretty late, and then today we went and had an almond and chocolate croissant at St. Honore for breakfast, and split up - him back to the airport and me to finally get into work, where my boss had rounded up everyone to sign a card and gotten me a bottle of Asti.

I still can't believe it! Everyone has been so nice, and it's just been an amazing whirlwind. I think the back-up ring will be the "official" once it arrives, but I've now got two shiny new pretty things, and a shiny new "fiancee"…things are awesome!

Because I'd call to tell you that Cliff and I got engaged last night!

I've been up in Portland on another of my monthly trips for work, and when I got in on Wednesday I had a very fun game night at Adam/Natalie's place, catching up with my high school friends and their p-town news and playing Boomtown. On Tuesday, Patrick had IM'd to say that he and Jen had an extra ticket to this 6-course charity dinner at DOC in Portland on Thursday, and if I was in town maybe I'd like to go??? And of course my answer was "HECK YES I LUV FREE FANCY DINNER!" So I'd packed a slinky shirt, but then Portland was super freezing because it's December and Oregon has real weather, and Thursday I just ended up wearing jeans and a nice work shirt+sweater combo, with some jewelry to make it look like I was trying, because I know those law-type-charity dinner things have got to be fancy! Patrick picked me up after work around 6:30, and then we grabbed Jen from downtown and headed to the restaurant. We get there, it all looks super quiet, and we walk into the tiny restaurant and are standing in the middle of their kitchen, and one of the guys ask Patrick and Jen if they have a reservation. And they kind of stand there, and I look around, and I see Cliff in a suit walking up to me and I say "WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING HERE???"

At which point he says "I'm proposing to you!" and gets down on one knee and asks me to marry him.

At this point, my head is really just blinking in loud red letters "DOES NOT COMPUTE". I'm double-taking at Cliff, because he's supposed to be in SF, not in Portland, not right next to me looking all fine, not smiling at me from one knee on the floor, looking at Patrick and Jen, and at the guys in the kitchen like hopefully one of them will tell me soon what's going on, and just all around feeling like I wanted to cry and hyperventilate quietly somewhere, because I totally was floored.

5 minutes later, I think I said "Of course I'll marry you" and took the ring and put it on. It might have been 20 minutes later. And hugs were exchanged all around and P&J left with the super-spy-smiles they totally deserve, and Cliff and I sat down to the nicest 6-course meal I've ever had.

*EDIT* Apologies for the technical difficulties, I don't have the right permissions to share the youtube video, so you have to log into a youtube account to watch. Which I do appreciate for my future public office runs, but lessens the "let's all laugh at me together" fun. *

Note the differing strategies here: chipmunk, standard, and cheater.

This is now the 2nd time I've gotten into an eating contest and realized it was about speed, not quantity. Oh, and no hands. Fail!

First reaction: of course not! But I get pretty confused when thinking about politics, and then it almost starts to seem like it is.

One thing that I've learned up from spending too much time on the internet is that people really like to complain about money. The rich complain that they pay all the taxes. The poor complain that the rich have all the money. If both claims are true, what are we arguing about again? Of course the tax line with which we force income re-distribution is going to be perceived as unfair if you're on the wrong end of it, just like it's much easier to agree with Robin Hood if you're not the one being stolen from. Shouldn't there be some line that everyone can agree on?

In my ideal mathematical world, there exists a solution to the system of equations describing how government should be paid for, what it would span, and who it covered. But this world is far from ideal, and no one can say what is Fair. Arguing politics seems pretty useless to me because people simply feel differently, and there is no right answer in feelings, unlike in math. Even considering the salaries politicians get, I'm extremely glad I don't have to do it for a living.

Big version can be seen here.

Short version: Iraq war is top right in purple. Current Bailout is soft yellow in larger yellow. Pretty equal boxes.

Billion Dollar Comparison

No comments on Adam's career because I too have been questioning a career change, except I'm thinking about nursing. I figure if my job occasionally is going to make me cry I might as well at least get a deeper satisfaction from it. Not that my job really makes me cry...I just don't seem to have the motivation and/or drive. I love the perks of my job, and it's hard to argue with staying with something that enables my life, which I adore, but when I meet with my boss and talk about my 5-year goals at the company, I'm pretty hard pressed to come up with any. I'm definitely stagnating here.

I can start nursing pre-reqs at the local community college pretty cheaply. If none of my college courses count, then I need 34 units at $26 a pop = $900 total. After two years of CC classes, depending on scheduling, I'll be ready to start coughing up nursing tuition for 7 semesters, $2000 per (not sure, think it's a semester) at SFSU, assuming the state finances improve and SFSU resumes having classes. So, current estimated outlay is $15000, which is underestimating because the total with books and fees is more than I want to think about now.

But how much is it worth to me? Paying money to take a salary cut...I'm ok with that. Working towards another career that I may or may not love...how to know? I think I need some volunteer experience in a hospital anyways - maybe that's a good way to find out while getting another pre-req out of the way. I've also been thinking that if I end up having kids, I could start school afterwards, maybe once they're in school. It would certainly be easier to have the corporate benefits while popping tykes out than try to fund it on my own. But then that's pushing it out 5+ years...back to that 5-year plan again!

After pimping the laser girl so much last night at game night I feel obligated to write in and say she was grumpy today when I saw her, and it made our 10-minute appointment much less fun then the last time.

But I guess I'm not really paying for pleasant company :)

I also realized that the one I'm going to seems to have an older-looking laser...possibly the newer and more expensive places have better cooling/pain managing lasers? No idea. But the process is awesome!

To summarize my last post, we took a photo.


Couch


















At some point in the night, C's sister picked the lock - apparently it wasn't much of a safe.


Inside


















Hmph. Looks like beading supplies. Still room for drugs though.

(As Riad pointed out, the simplest explanation is that some kid in the building was playing spy. But that's such a let down, I refuse to believe it, even though that's exactly the kind of thing I would have done when I was a kid.)

Involving some movers and a loveseat. It involves some build-up though, so be patient. It's possibly been the most exciting story I've been able to tell for a year.

On Thursday the big move went smoothly, and now I've got mostly everything put away. Probably one of the least-stressed moves ever: I had two weeks to pack up, so C and I were just leisurely taking carloads over, though it's easy to call it leisurely now that all the heaving and sweating is over. I knew I was going to get a coffee table and end table from IKEA. (Yes, I know they're evil, but still super cheap for small stuff if you go in the exit and avoid the window shopping.) The couches we got from C's sister, where they've been languishing for at least 5 months in her apt. building lobby because they don't fit in the door to her place. Because they were on the first floor, moving them was a quick double-park and grab job for the movers.

We all get to our apt, and the movers start unloading the couch. It gets all the way in the apartment, a little dirtier for the trip from the truck, and we call it good. But the loveseat, on closer inspection, had a decent sized L-shaped tear in the back of it. The mover pointed it out to C on the way in, so they peeked inside. Inside the loveseat was a suitcase-shaped, locked safe.

This is the point in the movie where Javier Bardem walks in with a shotgun.

We of course started imagining the scenarios. Best case, $50-500 of cash, I figure, not anything worth killing someone over. Maybe someone in the apartment building wanted to stash their hidden money from the family tyrant. Worst case, drugs. The case has been used as a drop for some dealer, and there is some very expensive powder in there because it's way too small to be a worthwhile amount of pot. We're either dead or robbed at gunpoint soon. Middle case, a bomb, we all get some amount of disfigurement but at least live to tell the story of the SF apartment bomber, trying to return housing prices to sane levels. There's some stretchy plastic material coming out of the edge, which of course I pull without thinking. Nothing explodes. Maybe not a bomb.

When shaken, the safe rattles a bit, in a plastic way. C's sister knows nothing about said safe, and swears it wasn't there in March when she moved said loveseat down to the lobby.

What do you do?

The movers are coming tomorrow to get my bed, desk, filing cabinet, and torchiere. I know I could have gotten a U-haul and some day laborers for much less $, but this was easy and fast, and I am willing to pay to not move my bed down 3 flights of stairs ever again. I'll probably pile the shoe rack, silverware, orchids and remaining bits in my car for one last load over to C's. 4 carloads later, and $250 minimum for the movers to take the furniture, two heavy boxes, and grab couches from C's sister, and I will be formally living in sin. (Formally means I'll have an actual dining table, there will be a real tv that doesn't live in the closet, and there will be a guest room/office.)

It's going to be awesome. I'm going to miss my place after 2 happy years saving a decent amount of money and ridiculously cheap rent for SF, but I can't wait for the ability to run around naked, to not need to lie on the tile floor on hot days, and to leave dishes in the sink and/or the dishwasher. A dishwasher! I also am curious how C and I co-habitate, but honestly I don't think there are going to be any surprises there. He's amazing.

In case you haven't seen it, this guy really makes me wish I had a cat.

For the 3 people I know who might actually want to read the whole 9 pages about the history of graphics cards.

In other news, I'll be back in Portland in two weeks, from Monday thru Wednesday this time though. See you guys!

I miss the comics.

*cough cough*

Have you guys ever had mono? What does it feel like?

I've been sleeping 10 hours and waking up tired, which is really unusual for me. And I've been napping a lot more. But the only other symptom is a mild sore throat. No fever to speak of, and lymph nodes feel large but not swollen. And my appetite is steady, as always.

Watching the occasional House only fuels the hypochondria...it's African Sleeping Sickness that I got while cheating on my husband with a neighbor!