Also, I have no idea what is going on with the different fonts in this post but for some reason can't figure out how to make it better. Sorry. **wait I think I fixed it**
Hm. This is tricky. Normally I have a strict no-indulging-in-what-if-I-could-change-the-past rule because while I certainly have regrets I think my past made me who I am today and brought the people into my life that I have now and that I would not change for a million dollars. However. In the interest of this question I'll go with the first thing that popped into my mind, sad as it will sound.
(takes a deep breath and hopes she doesn't get a lot of crap for this...)
I wish I could go back and change my wedding. I can't think back to the exact "moment in time" when the wedding stopped being about what I wanted it to be about and became this... other thing that made me miserable and from which I can't find a single good memory without it being immediately followed by two or three bad memories. Maybe I would take back the day TheBoy and I went out and found the boat we had the wedding on, which happened before we were even engaged btw. Or maybe I would take back the day I bought the dress I grew to hate. Maybe I would have fought harder the day I let TheBoy talk me out of just driving to City Hall and having done with the whole thing because he said our families would never forgive us. Maybe I wouldn't have spent time choosing my engagement ring with TheBoy, a ring I now only wear maybe 4 days a month. Maybe I wouldn't have said yes. I'm not sure how far back I'd have to go to erase the memory... Its a slippery slope isn't it?
And before I start getting a bunch of comments about how sad this all is... Save your fingers the typing. Yes I wanted to get married and yes I am happy with TheBoy and yes it does mean a lot to me that we are married. I just wish I didn't have THESE memories of that particular day that is supposed to be this huge deal. Its not like I can take it back, you know? You only get ONE wedding day. I wish mine were different is all. Maybe I should go back to the moment when I got it stuck in my head, probably sometime around the time I was eight years old, that my wedding day would be this wonderful, happy, fairy-tale of a day and give myself a reality check.
Oh Kate. I'm not sure if I should shake my head at your naivety or be ashamed that I actually had to consider WHICH embarrassing story to share. My name is synonymous which embarrassing and my stories are many and they are mortifying. However, remembering that this is a family blog ~ahem~ I'll tell you about the time I propositioned my now brother-in-law.
I had been invited to dinner with TheBoy, his father and step-mother and his brother to celebrate... something. That particular detail is unimportant. What IS important to know is that I had only met these people on ONE other occasion at this point and that I was REALLY nervous. We went to this Italian restaurant which was WAY fancier than any place I had been before. (Did you guys know that before TheBoy I had done absolutely zero fine dining and had NEVER drank wine aside from that wine mixed with fruit juice stuff? I guess you could say he took this little small town, beer drinking girl and... well he created a monster I guess. Just a little random tidbit of info for you Tiffy fans out there. Moving on.) So the only other time I had met TheBoy's brother he had this girlfriend he'd been dating for ages, like since college or something, named Liz. Liz was conspicuously missing from this second dinner so, when an appropriate time arrived in conversation I asked him about her. Well it turns out that they had recently broken up. Being a somewhat typical girl I made all the appropriate comments about how sad that was but how I'm sure he'll find someone fantastic in no time and so on. And then, in what I can only describe as one of those moments where you actually SEE the train shifting a little off the track but are powerless to stop it, I blurted out "that's okay I'd like to have both brothers."
Needless to say the table fell silent, both I and now brother-in-law turned interesting shades of purple, TheBoy shot me a look of what-the-hell-just-came-out-of-your-mouth-woman and I seriously considered sliding under the tablecloth to wait out dinner. However, these people being much more refined than I, and mercifully forgiving to boot, after an awkward cough or two the conversation continued on to other subjects and I made it through the second meeting of my future in-laws with no other mishaps. TheBoy loves to torment me with that story occasionally. Now brother-in-law and I never discuss it.
Italy. No question. My only problem would be deciding which places in Italy to visit and in which order. Can my all expenses paid trip be for like 3 months? That would be super. Because I want to do the tourist thing and see all the historical sites like the Vatican and Rome and Venice and Florence and so on but I also kind of just want to find a little village on the coast where I can swim and walk around exploring and drink homemade wine and dip crusty loaves of fresh baked bread into homemade olive oil and eat my weight in fantastic Italian food cooked for me by some one's grandma who doesn't speak a word of English but loves me and my enthusiasm for good food and good wine.
Wow I didn't think I had put that much thought into this fantasy trip of mine but... I guess its fairly clear I have! ~sigh~ I guess I should start playing lotto.
Okay so I saved this one for last because... well because the first memories that popped into my head are memories that I don't want to be my happiest memories. That doesn't make any sense at all. Let's see if I can explain, or at least work it out in my own head, here in writing for all of you guys to witness my neurosis. So as a child of divorced parents I spent most of my summers in Mississippi with Jim (my father) until I was like ten or eleven. So the combination of it being summertime (yay!) and being with my father, who lived far away and I didn't see often, and the age that I was, means that most of my happy childhood memories involve him.
And I wish they didn't.
So I suppose I could sit here and spout memories of swimming until my fingers were prunes, or the excitement of getting up early for church on Sunday because "daddy" had to get there early, followed by big lunches at Po' Folks or Shoneys and lazy Sunday afternoons spent playing in the park or napping quietly indoors to escape the heat and humidity. But I don't want to. And I struggle with this more than I probably should.
Instead I'll tell you about a friend of my mom's whose name I can not remember but who had this beautiful, and huge, horse named Rio. Why can I remember the horse's name but not the woman's? Anyway. Like all little girls I loved horses. My mom shares this love to this day in fact. I had riding lessons and the whole nine yards. Somehow my mom managed to get me an invite to go up to the hills and ride this woman's fantastic horse. It was like flying. I think I can safely say that is the largest horse I have ever ridden, though I will allow for the fact that every thing seemed bigger when I was young. Even though I'm probably only like four inches taller now than I was then. Ha. Its funny what I can remember about that day (all but this poor woman's name!). It was slightly rainy and overcast, that kind of day where you kind of feel the rain sitting in the air? I was wearing jeans (shocking) and I remember being sore, that good kind of saddle sore, afterwards. I remember being shy and a little afraid to ride such a big horse but loving it once I was up in the saddle. I remember feeling tall (don't laugh) and I remember feeling that I was somehow more powerful through osmosis.
Right now I'm spending a lot of time poking around over at the Courage Campaign. Though I have yet to host an event or anything, I do try and get the word out and help where I can because I believe in separation of church and state and I think that discrimination, for ANY reason, is wrong. In the past I have also volunteered with women's shelters and orphanages and I did a little dialing for dollars on the Obama campaign. Lets just say I'm a big fan of equality and will do pretty much anything in my power to ensure it. Sadly there isn't much IN my power to do which is SO frustrating!
THE RULES: 1. Leave me a comment saying, “Interview me.” 2. I will respond by emailing you five questions. I get to pick the questions. 3. You will update your blog with the answers to the questions. Be sure you link back to the original post. 4. You will include this explanation and an offer to interview someone else in the same post. 5. When others comment asking to be interviewed, you will ask them five questions.