Yes, I'm Alive

Sorry about the distinct lack of posts. Apparently, planning a wedding in less than three months is quite time-consuming. Who knew?

In any case, we have all the big pieces in place (date, locations, and People to Help Pull This Off). I even have my dress! Now it's time for the fun details (like orchids, silk ties, and miniature quiches).

"Therefore I tell you, do not be anxious about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink, nor about your body, what you will put on. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing? Look at the birds of the air: they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they? And which of you by being anxious can add a single hour to his span of life? . . . Therefore do not be anxious, saying, ‘What shall we eat?’ or ‘What shall we drink?’ or ‘What shall we wear?’ For the Gentiles seek after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them all. But seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be added to you."

These verses from Matthew 6 have helped keep me sane, calm, and joyful through the first couple weeks of wedding nonsense. :)

p.s. This book looks amazing. I want.

For those who care to know...

1. I'll be at the Outer Banks until October 10. So no blog posts until then, in all likelihood.

2. We got engaged yesterday. :)

In Which I Get Chopped

I have this alarming habit of slicing myself open in the kitchen. Alarming, that is, to everyone but me. I'll be happily mincing garlic or butterflying chicken, and then I look down at my hands . . . Oh bother. Blood.

I usually don't notice the cut until I see it. It rarely hurts (due probably to the extensive scarring, burning, and lemon-juicing to which I've subjected my hands over the past six or seven years, a paring knife could do some pretty serious damage and I wouldn't feel a thing). So there I am in the middle of dinner prep with the snow peas wilting and the pasta boiling madly, and I need to run around to find a Band-aid or, at the very least, a paper towel to wrap around the offending finger.

It happens at least once a week. My poor family and boyfriend are horrified every time I make a mis-slice. But really, it's not a bit deal: no infections, no pain, and I've never gotten blood on the food. Promise.

Epic fail at "lily-white hands," though.

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Also in the chopping arena, I (the hairdresser actually) snipped off at least two inches yesterday to give me a thoroughly-modern-Millie bob, or something close to it. I like it. My hair hasn't been this short since freshman year of college, when I whacked my former ballerina's mane. In any case, it will be awfully convenient for the beach next week (off to the Outer Banks from October 4-10).