"I don't get many things right the first time. In fact, I am told that a lot.
Now I know all the wrong turns, the stumbles and falls
Brought me here..."
-Ben Folds

September 13, 2007 - And I know, that I am, I am, I am the luckiest.

Hi, how are you. I'm fine. Thanks for asking. I'm a little stressed and overwhelmed. I'm a little emotional. I'm a little kind of "AAAAAAAHH!" But all will be well. I know. All will be well.

We leave tomorrow for my sister's wedding. If I'm freaking out I can only imagine what she's going through. She seems to have it all together, having just spoken with her a few minutes ago to clarify some things on the program I'm doing for her, so I could make sure there were no mistakes, errors, omissions. My husband proofread it and cleaned up the stuff I pulled out of my ass to make up about benedictions and the Apache Wedding Prayer (honestly, I have no idea why some white Irish people need that all up in their ceremony, but it is significant to Ronnie and it's his wedding so... I'll smile and shut up).

I finally got my dress. The top isn't perfectly fitting but at least I'm not T-Rex arms like I was the other day. I can eat, reach, and get my party on, and that is all that matters. Anything that I need super long reaching for, can be done by my husband, who I will browbeat into helping me at every turn.

My powerpoint presentation makes me cry. Not because it stinks on ice but because it rocks on fire. And the music is great. The songs I picked out to run in the background all make me cry. Especially Ben Folds singing "The Luckiest". Damn if that song just makes me well up and get soft and drippy in the eyes. It's a dangerous one. But I love it and it makes me smile... and it's good for these two.

I guess I'm just about ready to leave except we have to get an oil change and my head is going to explode and I'm upset that Geoff's prescription that gets sent to us in the mail every month isn't here. We may have a last minute race over to my primary care physician's office to get a copy of that at 8am before we go. That isn't my fault. It should have been here by the beginning of this week, but it isn't and I'm semi-freaking. But. All will be well. All will be well.

Or, to Guster it up, "Be strong, be brave, it'll be okay."

This entire weekend has been looming for months, and my girl C was all "oh my GOD I cannot believe it is here."

Neither can I. Neither can I...

---

Anyway... I did have a non-getting ready for Linda's wedding anecdote for you. On Friday when I was driving home early from work to go get my lovely GES, I turned on the radio to get a traffic report.

Howie Carr was out on vacation, but Col. David Hunt was filling in. Normally I will hit the button immediately upon hearing his gravel voice and change channels. The guy may be a war hero, but that voice (which was damaged in combat) annoys me and I hate listening to him. So sue me.

Anyway... Col. Hunt says that he's got an in studio guest in the form of Michael Palin.

Oh.

My.

GOD!

no way! Michael... oh... dear god yes yes yes Michael Palin!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Longtime Readers of this journal will hearken back to 2001, pre 9/11, and recall one of my earliest journal entries where I confess my undying love for Mr. M.E. Palin of North London England. Since about 1977 I have loved this man. If asked in a meme who I would like to have dinner with, one person, alive or dead, I normally will pick Mr. Palin.

I love Michael Palin.

So, I start dialing the phone number to the radio program. I must, must, MUST have the opportunity to say "I adore you" to Michael Palin.

During the news report, my call is picked up by Sandy and she asks me what I want.

"It has been a lifelong dream of mine to tell Michael Palin, your next in studio guest, how much I adore him. Please let me talk to him."

She laughs and asks specifically what I want to talk to him about, so I tell her I'm going to confess to being a drooling fangirl and let him know that I love his travel programs for the BBC, and that I have an actual valid question for him. She laughs again and tells me to turn down my radio.

David Hunt is kind of a nimrod, and was just annoying for the first 15 minutes I was on hold, and I had to listen to him blather... and Michael Palin, who wasn't phoning in the interview but was actually AT the radio station, was as gracious as he could be when faced with someone who only knows him from Python. I heard a buzz on the line which meant one thing...