Mag-vice

Greetings!

I only got to talk to you for a few minutes last night and then cut you off, and didn’t get ahold of you again, so I just thought I’d offer some Mag-vice (This is the combination of the word advice and my name. I just let out an audible giggle at my desk. I know you miss me). I will be the first to admit that I know little to nothing about weddings, fashion or the stress and organization that it takes to plan a wedding. But I’m nothing if not honest, and usually somewhat rational. (I think we could also add exceptionally witty and clever to this list, see above: Mag-vice, but I don’t want to get too carried away and then have to add “wordy”)

...Now that I seem to be writing a full profile of personal attributes, lest we forget that my memory isn’t too shabby; (Note the oft-mentioned shoe incident) at least not for things I choose to commit to memory… and one of the things that I have chosen to commit to memory is the night you and I laid on Zach’s creepy roommate’s bed and went through the maid of honor responsibilities checklist in the wedding book that Jesse bought for your engagement…

To somewhat cut to the point there were two particular responsibilities that stood out to me as tasks that I was confident I could actually handle. The first, as I’m sure you’re well aware, is holding the bouquet of lead balls. I’m all over it. But perhaps the most important was to be an overall support and sounding board for the bride, as well as give honest feedback on all matter of or relating to the wedding.

So here we are approaching the first major decision besides the whole wedding dress thing, (which your standing best friend and “new bestie” Tracy handled beautifully… and if I do say so myself, brings up an amendment to the latter responsibility, which is: the maid of honor in addition to being an overall support, must fully understand her own limitations and refer to the resident “Jesse” in all matters out of her own expertise) and having already been a sounding board, I feel that perhaps the time has come for the aforementioned honest feedback/Mag-vice.

Without any further digressions or ado, I have assembled a list of 8 important thoughts for consideration:

1. You’re supposed to be bad at making decisions for your wedding; that’s what makes a wedding a wedding, and wedding planning a multi million dollar industry
2. No one color or style looks good on everyone. Everyone has a different color palette as well as different taste in fashion. There isn’t a single dress in the world that every bridesmaid is going to wear after the wedding. That’s ok. That’s what makes it a bridesmaid dress.
3. There is no such thing as “the bridesmaid dress that got away…” It’s only March. You’re getting married at the end of November. You already found one possible dress. You will find at least one more if you keep looking.
4. You are a teacher. You have summers off. That is 3 full months devote to finding another dress if you choose to find another dress. Right now you have a full time job and countless other school year commitments, and you still found one you like. The odds are on your side.
5. I know nothing about fashion, but I think I’m somewhat logical. I usually love summer collections… But wouldn’t it be logical to assume that summer collections would be mostly built around color palettes for tan people? I’d never thought of this until last night, but if it’s true, there may be no hope for Powder… I mean Jesse. (You know I love her; I'm just kidding. Sort of...)
6. You haven’t even gotten your dress yet… You haven’t even seen it in 3.5 months. You’re going off memory and amateur pictures with bad lighting… perhaps it will be easier/bring some more ideas in terms of style and color when you are able to see the dress that these dresses are supposed to complement.
7. This perhaps should be a sub point to # 3... You and your dress are the real point of the day. There is definitely such a thing as “the wedding dress that got away…” You found it. You bought it. It did not get away. Hooray!
8. You aren’t crazy. There’s a reason that Banana’s spring collection has just launched and already they’re sold out of this dress online. Thousands of other women have already given their stamp of approval to this dress by buying it. This means you have good taste with mass appeal; so whatever dress you end up choosing, choose confidently.

And that’s all I’ve got for now. I must admit I’ve enjoyed composing this message; having been my only recent attempt at overly verbose writing with an undeniably elementary use of improper puncuation in quite awhile, I feel somewhat refreshed. I only hope the jumble of words, as well as perhaps a few of the underlying thoughts and affirmations find a similarly welcome place in your head.

‘Till next time…

Volver

A long time friend recently relocated.
Leaving home, she packed her car with the
beginnings of a life. I volunteered to ride along,
flying first to Ohio to make the drive together.
Her parents were grateful, not wanting
to leave their daughter in the lurch, but
she was an adult after all, and they had
lives to lead, aging parents to care for.

So I took off work, bought my ticket, and
arrived at the brick house blocks away from
my childhood. Her mother bounced in the doorway.
How exciting! You two will have such a time!
I smiled and waved and could not articulate
The reason for coming. The desire to sit in a close
space for two days and reenact the intimacy we
once shared, if even so literally, so coarsely.

We headed south. Stopped for gas. To eat.
Listened to music. Munched on snacks.
Discussed her new job. The merits of Houston.

And then it happened. An attempt to capture the
Mississippi resulted in a camera dropped and at last
glimpsed in the path of an eighteen wheeler.
Wide-eyed silence followed by hysterical laughter.
Stomach ache laughter. Wheezing laughter.
Pull over to the side of the road laughter.
Minutes later we gathered our wits, but the levity
persisted. Unsuccessfully, I tried to refold the map.

We no longer sit in the bucket seats of an economy
sized Hyundai, a gear shift separating us. Rather,
we lay on our bellies, sticking to the cracked leather
of the Econoline’s reclined rear benchseat.
Noisy siblings. Non-existent air conditioning. Mom
checks the map hesitantly as we share secrets and giggle.
Now we live in the same city. Synchronizing schedules,
we meet briefly amid careers and relationships.

Etching paint

Protected from the corrosive cleaning solution
by thin plastic gloves--fifty for two dollars--
we run out of rags. Old boxer shorts stand in
to dress down the kitchen cabinets of a new old home
in preparation for a fresh coat of paint,
orange with blue accents.

A chair dragged in from the dining room
to reach the top shelf behind the fridge.
There: a plastic bag filled with pills
inscribed "watson 387." We run to
the next room where a google search
confirms our hunch.

Eyebrows raised, the cleaning continues
on to the corner cabinet next to the sink.
Xanax, Somnex, a cigarette.
Above the stove, a dried long stem rose.
Incredulous laughs, we snap a photo of the haul.
Last cabinet, a silver 24 hour sober chip.

Trading guesses at the story behind it all,
the gloves begin to tinge brown and tear;
the etching agent stronger than we'd thought.

Nothing from nothing leaves nothing

Police Officer: "Do you know you could have killed me just now?"
Me: "But sir, I was merging onto the highway. The lane was ending. I had had my blinker on for over a hundred feet."
PO: "Oh, so just because you have a blinker on that means you can barrel into oncoming traffic?"
Me: "But where else would I go?"
PO: "You interfered with police business. I was just about to pull over that white SUV, when you almost killed us all."
Me: (thinking) It was definitely a silver Mazda hatchback that I merged behind.
PO: "I can cite you for this. It's called 'unsafe lane change.' License and proof of insurance please."
Me: (fumbling) "Here's the license, I can't seem to locate my insurance card."
PO: "Nevermind. I'll be right back."
...
PO: "Well today's your lucky day. I can't get the printer to work, so I can't give you a ticket."
Me: (by this time properly chastened, but secretly vindicated) "Yes, officer."



Zach: "Oh, a bunch of mail came for you today. I don't know if it's anything you want. But there's this one from a law firm."
Me: (looking for wedding sites online) "Huh"
Zach: "Yeah, it's one of those mass mailings saying that this firm will represent you in your traffic case."
Me: (Still not interested) "Really."
Zach: "The weird part is, they know that you were pulled over for an... 'unsafe lane change'?"
Me: What the fuck?...I can't believe this!...They can't do that!...Can they do that?...I am so upset...I really don't need this right now, with the wedding, and I can't take off work, but I don't want to take defensive driving, I didn't even do anything!
(I leave the room in tears)
Zach:"So what should I do with the rest of the mail?"
...



Me:"Hi, I need to discuss a traffic citation that is apparently in the system but I never received a ticket."
Operator: "Well we're just going to have to wait until we receive a copy of the ticket."
Me: "I'm pretty sure you are not going to receive one because a ticket was never printed."
Operator:"Okay, well there's nothing I can do until I receive the ticket in the mail."
Me:"But I don't think you will."
Operator: "Please call back on Friday."



Me: "Hello. I need some information about a traffic case."
Operator: "Oh yes, I remember talking to you earlier in the week. We haven't received the ticket yet."
Me:"Um, there is no ticket."
Operator: "Please hold"
...
Operator:"Nope, I just checked. The ticket didn't come in today's batch. But we get them all the time. Loads of them everyday."
Me: "Let's just say, hypothetically, that you never receive the ticket, ever. What would happen then?"
Operator: "Well, you'd still have to come in for your court date. I guess you could dispute the ticket and take it to trial."
Me: "I hate my life." (under my breath)
Operator: "Excuse me?"
Me: "Nothing."

Are you there God? It's me, Margaret...

I generally consider myself to be what most might call a good person. Sarcastic? Yes. Cynical? Maybe. Mean-hearted? Only when it’s absolutely necessary or comedically appropriate… Yet, on the whole, I would definitely say I’m a good person. Now I’m not what you would call a deeply religious soul (At least not this month); however, I believe there is at the very least a God, and some sort of Divine balancing force at play in the universe. Afterall, how else would I be able to rationalize cleaning dog shit off of no less than 6 different surfaces (one being the bottom of my own bare foot), hungover, at 8am while dogsitting a creature who will henceforth be known only as “Satan” for a dear friend who was in a bind and needed to leave town? (By the way, the poo was only the tip of that ridiculous iceberg, so I must have some good Juju heading my way) Yes, perhaps I believe in this eventual cosmic balance because my own sanity depends on it. Nevertheless, this is what I believe.

Now let me just take a minute to say, that at first, I was rather unkeen on the idea of participating in this joint “secret” blog. You could say it had something to do with the fact that I’d be writing back and forth with Emily “Ivy League English Teacher” Sketch. Not only is editing and critiquing the English language your job, but even I can admit that my tutelage at Marquette left me far more adept in the art of dump-tackling and bonging beers than arranging prose… This being said, I do love to bask in self-pity. In fact it’s not something of which I am at all ashamed. Perhaps the best selling point of this whole blog idea went something like, “Maggie, really weird stuff happens to you. This stuff doesn’t happen to anyone else. You have to write it down somewhere.” Yes, perhaps I should. In fact, this experience may prove altogether cathartic for me. What’s more, maybe getting this long series of unfortunate events (aka My Life) down in writing will jump start the Juju. So, without further ado, let’s begin the whole healing process by pouring salt into the most recent, gaping wound sustained.

I am a Steelers fan. It is apart of who I am. It is my blessing, it is my curse. Every year from September – February my life quite closely mirrors the ebbs and flows of the men in Black and Gold. This year, the highs have been far more frequent than the lows. Yes, it’s been a good year for the ‘boys of the ‘burgh… and with that, it’s been a fairly decent season for me. Most of my free time at work, especially during the playoffs, is spent on one of three websites: ESPN.com, NFL.com, and Steelers.com. This past week, more than ever, my mind was incapacitated with different playoff scenarios and such. Afterall, it was championship weekend. To win the big game, you gotta get to the big game, and the Stees were on the doorstep… ‘Round about 2 ‘o clock on Friday, I’d had it. Did I have things to do? Yes. Was I going to get them done? Absolutely not. So I decided to do what any self-respecting, hard-working Steelers fan would do in my position: I decided to fake an illness, go home and get a jump start on the weekend. (Ahem, don’t judge lest ye be judged) Yes, I put on my coat and got real quiet, then complained of a headache, said I was starting to get the chills and feel achy. We’re talking oscar-worthy performance here. I even managed to work myself into a pycho-somatic headache. In short, I left at 2:15pm, hit the gym on the way home and was ready to settle in to the weekend by 4 pm… (Ahhhh, insert my contented self into a recliner here)

Sunday at 5:30 came and went and the Stees without a doubt put on a show to remember. (Due to the unwaivering laws of Karma, I am unable boast any further about the game.) In any case, after an exciting and fulfilling game, (and admittedly a few emotional tears shed after the Polamalu interception that sealed the victory) I couldn’t be happier. That was until I arrived at work Monday morning…

You see, as was previously illustrated by my cleaning dog poo 6 ways to Sunday, my luck isn’t the greatest. I’ve all but come to accept and expect that where there is a high there must surely follow an extreme low. After all, this is my long series of unfortunate events we’re talking about here. So, this morning my boss comes up and remarks that she had watched the game this weekend and cheered for the Stees, then offered her congratulations and good luck wishes for the ‘Bowl. As she began to walk away, she suddenly turned and revealed that one of my coworkers was given a free ticket to Sunday's game in Pittsburgh, and being a devout Packer fan, he of course had no interest in attending. Naturally, he headed to my desk, to pass along the ticket for free. That’s right. ALL I HAD TO DO WAS GET THERE. Unbeknownst to him, I had been looking up flights all week to Pittsburgh, even considering flying over just to be in the city and watch it at a bar with likeminded strangers. Flights were no more than 140 bucks. I could've been in Heinz Field, at the game, to witness the whole thing. An opportunity of a lifetime. But no, I was bored, and decided to catch a fake illness. I assure you the extra hour and a half in my recliner that night and “prime parking” at the gym, was not worth it.

Let us review. I am a Steelers fan. It is apart of who I am. I should be the happiest person in the world, but all I can think about is how wonderfully stupid I am. Juju, where are you? If you’ll excuse me, I have to go throw myself off a bridge now.

And just one more question, Are you there God? It's me, Margaret...

Unfinished Rankings

Drumroll please…

It has finally come time to release the results of this year’s sibling net worth evaluations. I appreciate your patience, and assure you that I have a perfectly legitimate reason for the delay; however if Mark’s multiple stints in Kindergarten can teach us anything, it’s that good things come to those who wait… and wait… and frequently visit the “snack station”. But I digress.

Considering this year’s additions to the family, both blood and “outlaw”, this year has definitely proved to be a more challenging task than last. I am confident however that I have judged each of you MORE than fairly. So, that being said, let us begin:


Emily:
This year, Emily, the eldest and perhaps smartest daughter has, like her older brothers, joined the ranks of the engaged/married sibs. While this scores her some points with the ‘Rents, who are tickled to tears (believe me, I was an unfortunate witness to Mom’s “cryfest 2008” at the bridal parlor) with her upcoming wedding, we can’t overlook the hideous amounts of money we will all need to spend to celebrate her wedding- not only once, but TWICE in two cities 2,000 miles apart. *Let me take this time to say while she may think she is the “smartest sib”, none of us are falling for this trick, and she’s only receiving one gift from each of us. In any case, perhaps we should be fair and wait to deduct Emily points for the “two-fer” wedding arrangement next year. As far as past and present is concerned, Emily is coming closer, yet has failed to overcome the net value hit she took when she cold-heartedly hid her sister’s shoes causing her to be grounded all summer for losing them. (No, I’m not over it.) On the positive side, Emily scored some major points last summer when she valiantly took on the asshole DJ at the 3rd of July party, asking him quote “what’s your f***ing problem?” Based upon the sheer joy this brought to her sister, the Christmas cheemeister has graciously chosen to overlook the fact that this was yelled within earshot of over 10 children under the age of 13.
Net worth: $40

Cort:
While it may seem Cort has been around forever, she has only just begun her journey as a Sketch “Outlaw”. Again, it has taken a bit longer for Mark to figure out what everyone else had long figured out… She’s the one. (Just Mark proving again that good things come to those who wait… and wait… and wait.) Still, there is much that the cheermeister has yet to come to know about Cort, in terms of her true downfalls that can be exaggerated and exploited and used at her expense. In any case, I must judge on what I know… While Cort has been waiting far too long for a wedding of her own, she has made good use of the weddings of others. For example, when Emily and Maggie woke up the morning of Todd and Becca’s wedding, disheveled and without a clue of how to put themselves together, Cort pulled out her magic bag o’ glam and whipped the Sketch sisters (we’re talking hair, makeup, and accessories) into a presentable state. Also, anyone crazy enough to put up with Mark “One Fish is thinkin’ of a half a fish” Sketch, deserves a medal. This being said, all the positives in the world cannot cover up her allegiance to a certain crappy team that has always been crappy and will always be crappy. In fact, I would argue that anyone who values the Cleveland Browns must not value themselves and thus must not deserve to be valued. (That came out a lot meaner than I expected it to.)
Net worth: $32


Todd:
So it’s true, Todd may be half of the reason the first grandchild has been brought into the family, but let’s not get carried away, Becca did all the work.