Just A Vintage Girl

Hey all! Me again; here to not dazzle you on this blog for the second post in a row. However, I have been working on something super special to share with you all, and finally, I am ready to do so.

Do you all remember how, a few posts back, I mentioned that I would be opening a blog about vintage clothing and how to rehab it and make it work, in the next few months? If you don't, that's okay, because I will be super annoying and repeat what I wrote previously.

"This is going to be an extremely pretentious announcement considering this is probably coming many months in advance, but I will be starting a new blog. Some of you know that I am a bit of a vintage clothes restorer aficionado. I am in love with vintage clothes and the look of them in general, and I am in love with sewing. Lucky for me, Aunt Bev happened to have a slew and a half of vintage clothes that fit me that I was welcome to. This is one of the many of millions of reasons why I love Aunt Bev.

Anyway, some of the clothes were vastly out of style with their sleeves and length, and were not the cute kind of vintage at all. However, the patterns and the garment itself were vintage, and I saw complete hope for reworking the garment so that it kept with feel of the pattern and the era, but also update it so I could wear it everywhere and not look like an old schoolmarm, as Aunt Bev would say. Sometimes all it takes it removing the shoulder pads from the sleeves, and others all it takes it removing the puffy, I’m on a pirate ship, sleeves. It’s quite easy, actually.

There are some pieces that are fine on their own, several actually, and only needed the buttons and what not changed out. But some of the pieces were those matronly pieces, as some were her mother’s, and they actually laughed when I put them on and wondered how I was ever going to do something with them to allow me to wear them in public. Since I’ve had a few people who are also in love with vintage clothing and want to know how to change them up and make them fit today’s style without stealing their integrity, ask to see the pieces I’ve done or how I’ve done them, I decided to do a blog all about this particular subject.

In this blog, I will take some before and after pictures of garments that seem as though they are past help. I will also include the pieces that I’ve done nothing to and show how to make them work with an accessory or two. Accessories can make all the difference. I am also vastly in love with Jennifer Love Hewitt’s character’s style on Ghost Whisperer. She wears all vintage pieces and changes them up with accessories, so even the silliest things suddenly don’t look so silly after they are dressed up with the right accentuating pieces and accessories.

I am far from a fashionista, but I think this blog could be something fun for me. It will be awhile until I get it up, because I’ve got a ton of other pieces that I’m currently working on altering, and it is also time consuming to get some great pictures to put up on the blog. As soon as I am ready for the new blog, I will let you all know. I will not be taking this blog down, but simply starting another one dedicated simply to vintage clothing."

Well, my friends, I was not actually being pretentious when I said that, but I just didn't know it yet. Today I started the brand new blog, and posted the first entry. So head on over to Just A Vintage Girl and become a non-fashionista, fashionista like myself.

Also, I received a random question on FormSpring from an anonymous individual. I'm pretty sure I know who asked me this, but I answered it anyway. Wait, that came out wrong. I would explain, but it's complicated. Don't you hate when people say that? It's right up there with, "because I said so."

Do you have any regrets? If so, what?

This is one of those devil's advocate kind of questions. In the long haul, big picture of it all, I do not. But sometimes I think about love, and I wish I would have been more ready to just dive right in and give someone a chance. I didn't, but that was probably the way it was meant to be

So Glad You Asked

Today I thought I would take a moment and post the answers from my recent FormSpring questions, with explanations. Yes, I'm now officially making a conundrum out of a simple thing such as FormSpring. But it's me, so you all knew this was coming eventually.

You also may or may not notice, but most of these questions are from the FormSpring question generator. I could lie about that, but why? I like answering questions, and no one but the amazing Zoe seems to be asking them, so I'm not above making FormSpring ask me questions to answer. In fact, it makes me kind of happy.

But seriously, guys, feel free to ask me any question you want to ask me. I even answer questions about ducks. (I realize I talk about ducks a lot and never explained that it's an inside joke from my novel. Not that my novel is about ducks, but it's an inside joke between two of the characters. This will make sense eventually, I promise.) I am working on getting my Facebook and what not linked up to FormSpring, it's just that I know some really hilarious people that would ask me some pretty inappropriate things, which is the reason I haven't done so yet. But I like questions...clean questions, about anything other than dirty things. Really.

This first question comes from Zoe and it's not a question. I love Zoe, in case you couldn't tell. Oh, and questions are in bold, answers in italiacs. I think you all could have figured that out yourselves, but I'm always here to over-help, which may be counterproductive. It's like over-sharing, only more lame.

LOVE YOU.

I love you more! You are incredible!

The rest of these FormSpring asked me. FormSpring and I are getting to be pretty good friends, which isn't at all creepy, and completely possible.

Who's the smartest person you know?

Does it have to be a person? Because my dog can outsmart just about every human I've met. She's a little con artist, she is.

This was an unfair question, really. This is no offense to anyone I know, but that's just the way it is. I am preparing a post about Greta Hayley's con-artist abilities, so soon you will understand why I say she is the smartest person I know. I'm not totally convinced she's a dog. Not at all.

Who's the most underrated actor?

Jackson Rathbone or Matthew Gray Gubler

Did you feel a rant coming with this one? You did? Oh, you all know me so well. I'm tickled. But not literally. I hate being tickled. Anyway...I realize I cheated and gave a double answer on this one, but I couldn't just pick one. I would say I am indecisive, but I can't decide whether I am or not. Therefore, I will explain why I picked two. If you really don't want to hear this and hate these two, I understand. Take a nap. I'll wake you when this explanation, i.e. rant, is over. Promise.

Let's start with Matthew Gray Gubler, or MGG, if you will, because I've mentioned him on here before, and fewer of you know him. He's not one of those actors that you look at and immediately fall head over heels for his gorgeousness. It's just not him. He's not bad looking by any means, and he used to be a model, but he's just not...I don't know, Jensen Ackles. He is, however, a lead character on the show Criminal Minds. (What you people did to poor AJ Cook and Paget Brewster was wrong, CBS. Boo!) On the show, he plays an autistic genius FBI agent with no social skills, and really bad jokes. You read all of that right. His performance is flawlessly stellar, so much so that I think you automatically imagine that he acts like this in real life. Then take into consideration that this was his first ever acting role where he wasn't just in the background, and it shows he's got talent, especially when he never set out to be an actor. I can't imagine it would be easy to pay an autistic genius FBI agent, especially with some of the ridiculously long words, lines, and uncut rants that he does. He's completely flown under the radar for quite awhile and is totally underrated. This scene is really one of the scenes where you can get a good overall feel for his character, and his total, absolute cluelessness to popular culture, that MGG pulls off flawlessly. It also segues us nicely into our next actor.

I know the moment I say Jackson Rathbone, at least two hundred Twi-hards are going to scream at one time. Yes, he is the guy that plays Jasper in the Twilight Saga. I'll give all of you Twi-hards a few minutes to stop screaming, because what I'm going to say next is probably going to hurt your little hearts. I want to be sorry...but meh. Look, I like Twilight, too, but Jasper doesn't really get enough screen time to show off anyone's acting skills. He kind of stands there quietly and looks like he's in pain. I wasn't completely impressed here people, sorry. Plus, the blonde hair on him, not so cute. If I suddenly stop mid blog, it's because I was murdered by some Twi-hards. Call the cops. Thanks.

And now that I've pointed out that I didn't really even notice Jasper in Twilight, I would like to point out this clip from Criminal Minds. We all know I love that show, and not long after seeing Twilight I saw this episode of Criminal Minds. I was so completely blown away by the duel performance of the actor who played both a guy and a girl. Yes, the girl talking at the beginning, that's totally Jackson. In fact, he made a better girl than me during the course of the show, which is in no way a cut at him. I'm jealous. I'm not going to lie. After the show I was so impressed that I immediately had to look up who played the character(s). Imagine my surprise when I realized it was that dude who played Jasper in Twilight. Yeah. Not only does he not look the same at all, but holy hell the kid can act. Seriously, why is he doing parts like Twilight and The Last Airbender? This kid is completely the next big thing and no one knows it yet. Plus, he's completely adorable, and although I'm disturbed a little by how much he and MGG look alike, he's just a little (a lot) cuter. Sorry, MGG. Just...sorry. Also, I like really unique people, and correct me if I'm wrong, but one of his parents is a native of Indonesia and the other is a native of Singapore, correct? I heard that in some interview somewhere. Specific, I know. I know some Twi-hard will come along and correct me if I'm wrong. Correct me snarkily and don't kill me for the above, and call it even, okay? Thanks.

Also, for any of you who fell asleep so you didn't have to listen to that rant, you can wake up now. Oh, and I don't blame you for snoozing on my parade.

If you could date any celebrity, who would it be?

This is an odd question to ask me, FormSpring question generator. If I don't know said celebrity, how would I know if I wanted to date them? That's creepy. I mean, I guess we could go by looks, but looks never gets anyone anywhere. I have no fantasy celebrity date because I have to know the person's heart because I can date them.

What celebrity would play you in a movie about your life?

Honestly, probably Kristen Stewart. I realize this probably sounds dumb, because a lot of people think I hate her. I don't, I just think she's a little dull. However, she and I carry the same level of excitement in drastic situations, so I think if things went south, she would shrug her shoulders and go along with it. That's why she would have to play me. But if we're going by who I would pick to play me on personality and talent alone, I would have to say Lucy Hale.

I'm waiting for the shock of me saying Kristen Stewart and me in the same paragraph. I do realize most people think I hate her. Here's my reasoning for saying I think she would be the right person to play me. First, she was the first person to come to mind, and not because she's also in Twilight. I'm not wild about Bella whatsoever, so boo. Yep, definitely getting whacked by a Twi-hard before this blog is over. I love you, Twi-hards. Please don't kill me. It's just that she's so very calm about everything, almost to the point of boredom, and doesn't really give a crap about what people say. I'm far from dull, but when faced with a really terrifying situation, I usually become very dull instead of freaking out, which is really a key in what it would take to play me. I mean, while I was working one night we were robbed at gunpoint, and at another job a very bad situation happened that I'm sure would have ended a lot worse had an off duty police officer, who we didn't know was an off duty police officer, just happened to be on his way out of the store and feel like something wasn't right. I will tell these stories later, but I've lived an interesting life with a lot of odd things that had happened. Instead of being shocked in these situations, I became completely calm. Kristen could so play me because I think she'd represent the real me well.

As for Lucy Hale, I realize a lot of people don't know her, and she's way cuter than me, but I'm okay with that, because you always want to look cuter in your own movie. I just think she's adorable. If I could pick someone to play me, it would totally be her. That's how I'd want to come off on screen. And if my book ever gets optioned out for a movie, she'd be the perfect girl to play my lead character. Yes, I've thought about this. That's kind of sad, right?

What one thing are you exceptionally bad at?

Bowling. I am so exceptionally bad at it, that I define the meaning of the phrase "exceptionally bad." My friend and I once bowled against a drunk guy. Our scores combined lost out to his by a good forty points. If that isn't exceptional, I don't know what is. However, I also have exceptional amounts of fun losing exceptionally bad, so it's fitting.

True story, folks. True story. I love you, Becky. Let's go bowl badly soon!

What was your first paying job?

I've owned a pet-sitting business since I was seventeen. Some of my first paying jobs were hugging peoples' pets. Not a bad way to go. The care that pets require is far outweighed by the love they give.

I have a ton of stories about my pet-sitting days to tell. I promise I will get around to them one day that comes hopefully sooner than later. I have lots of stories to tell, folks.

What's the secret to happiness?

Knowing who you are, and then understanding and accepting it. Everything else will fall into place around that.

What YouTube video made you laugh recently?

This one, because it's a kitty eating ice cream. Everyone loves kitties and ice cream. If you don't you're just a big meanie, or allergic to cats. Together they are pure bliss.

Okay, that's all for now. But really, guys, ask me questions. Your questions probably won't require long drawn out rants. If that's not incentive, I don't know what is. Oh God, I'm trying to get you guys to ask me questions by offering incentives. I feel like a used car salesman. I'm sorry.

iGo For A Walk - Part 2

Last week we talked about walking, and discovered why it is so fun to take a walk where I live. And by fun, I mean it’s much like watching grass grow, paint dry and hell attempt to freeze over, for three weeks straight. I took you along the road most traveled, so to speak, and today I’m going to show you what happens when I walk the other way. Strap yourself in, kids, because it’s going to be a hell of a ride.

When I go the other way, I first start out by seeing this. As you can tell, this walk is going to be as fun and fancy free as a person who had a practical joke played on them and they now find their shoes glued to the ground with no way of getting out of them. I think the bad analogy really adds to the feel I was going for.

After I turn the first bend, I see this. This is particularly exciting because, not only can you see the church bathroom to the far left, but you can see that the door to it is open. And you thought I was kidding about the church having bathrooms outside. Pshht. I never kid about such ridiculous things.

Ah, then we reach a straight away. Look at all them trees. Ain’t they just the most exciting trees this side of that there Mississippi?

Now this is where things really get to the fuck the what point. This picture is going to look totally normal until you really look at what’s way far away. Go ahead, look harder, click on the picture to enlarge, do a dance while you wait. Do you see it?

Yep, that’s right, there’s a bridge the size of Texas right in the middle of this quiet country road. This bridge would be fitting for say, a city with five million people, but for a road that gets a whole seven people a day, give or take the less of seven people, it’s just not appropriate. Oh, Penndot, your idiocy never fails to amaze me.

Oh, and so I don’t gip you in this post, this is what I see on my way back. Yep, nothing exciting here, just more exciting trees that don’t live in Mississippi.

Wait, wait, just in case you haven’t had enough of those fine babies, here they are again from a different angle. Go ahead, get it out of your system, I know you want to ooh and ahh yourself silly.

Also, as with the last post, I will share the exciting things I saw on my walk. Again, I ask you all to take a break, go grab your inhalers, gather yourselves collectively and prepare yourselves properly before moving on with the post.

We good?

Okay, first I will introduce you to a family of pine cones, the ones in which you may need to click on this picture to enlarge in order to see said family. From left to right we have Princess Tutu Snufflinger, the daughter, Queen Lulu Snootenhopper the mother (names are different because Tutu was technically adopted and refused to change her name to anything that had snoot in it), Prince Dirk Snootenhopper, the son, and King Heinrich Snootenhopper, the father, and also shortened to King Heiny.

So, you see, not only in this family of pine cones the idealistic American family, but they’re royalty as well. I was honored to come across them. Really...honored.

Next, I came across these flowers and thought I’d take a picture for you all because they’re pretty, pretty pink flowers. Ooh, ahh. The only thing that could make them better is if they were shiny.

Directly after the flowers, I saw this precious little bird sitting all on its own on the fence post. Much like the grinnie from the other day, we also had an agreement about how close I could get to him and how I could photograph him. And this time I’m sure it was a him because right after taking the picture his little female friend flew out of the bushes and also forced him to fly away. A man wouldn’t try to force the female away from the paparazzi, but a woman would. It’s in the nature of the beast, large or small, mammal or no mammal.

I came up on a “shed” next. You will see in a moment why I put quotation marks around the word shed. This needs no explanation. Do you see it hiding there in the trees?

And because I know one view of this beautiful piece of craftsmanship was simply not enough, I took another picture at a different angle just so you could see how well this baby was put together.

Since every walk needs a little bit of the American spirit, I present you with a high flying flag. It was momentarily flapping in the wind as I tried to catch it in all its glory, but much like Chuck Norris, you don’t forgive it, it forgives you. Let’s please take a moment of silence to do one of two things. One, put your hand over your heart and honor the flag, or two, sing “It’s A Grand Old Flag.” Your choice. We can even do one and two together and two in rounds if you’d like.

And if you feel you need to do three, which is blow up the picture to see the flag, then by all means, go on ahead.

As I rounded out my walk, I came across a groundhog who thought he was a prairie dog, what with standing up and all. I don’t really know if it was a he and I didn’t bother to look, but for the sake of the story he’s a boy named Mann. Because I took this picture from a non proverbial bridge, and not the one the size of Texas, but another one over a creek, I couldn’t exactly get close enough to get a great picture of him. For that and not doing him justice, I am sincerely sorry. I am working on an apology letter to him now since he’s the only one who really wanted his picture taken and I let him down.

Now that you’ve seen the preciousness that is the species confused him, I ask you for your opinion on the following letter.

Dear Mann,
I am so sorry that I couldn't get a better picture of you. I tried, I really did, but there was a kitten in a tree and it had a cold, so I had to get it a Kleenex. This is not a lie, which may or may not be a lie in itself. I ask only for your forgiveness and for you to come closer to the road next time so I can take a better picture. No, wait, a take that back. Don’t come near the road. No. Gravel is bad. Bad I tell you. Whatever you do, DON’T COME NEAR THE ROAD!!!
Your New Friend Who Let You Down,
Cassadee

Think it will suffice? I left out the part about him being confused as to what animal he really was because I didn’t feel it necessary to insult him, but depending on his reaction to this particular letter, I may bring it up. Someone should tell him and it’s obviously not going to be his friends. I’m like the best gay guy to the animal world, setting them straight one species at a time.

Now that you’ve seen my two options for walking paths, and yes, these are the only two I have, I’m sure you can understand just why it is that I get so bored so very quickly. If not, then you come live here and I'll go live where you live. We’ll do a whole Parent Trap switch. I can dye, cut, or add extension to my hair; whatever is necessary. I can also learn a new language, but I’m not great with British accents. Just a little FYI there, but I’m still willing to try.

I would also like to point out that, if you’re really gun ho on taking a walk here, that there are two major differences that you need to know when picking a route to walk. If you take the first route, you can’t hear any of the turnpike traffic at all, making it so quiet that you’ll go out of your mind and start making music videos about singing trees eating lollipops, therefore making Lady Gaga seem totally, completely sane.

But, if you choose to go the other way, you can hear turnpike traffic for about a third of your walk. It really shakes things up, let me tell you.

We will conclude this series with one more post, where I am to regal and amaze you with tales of excitement that have been endured while walking. Get your oohs and ahhs ready; it’s going to be a bowl full of jelly.

And before I forget to add this, because it's me and I will, the amazing Miss Zoe asked me a question on FormSpring:

What gives you the inspiration to write?

A lot of different things. It depends on what I'm writing. Mostly emotions.
For my novel, it was that I felt like there was a part of me that no one saw. I wanted to write it out all, so I created a character that says and does everything that I want to, but could never say and do, and it took a life of its own. When I need out of my own head and insecurities, I write.
Other times, something I see on a television, or a character on a show will give me an idea or inspiration. I'll see a scene and immediately my mind comes up with a play on it, a play on a character, or an idea based off of it and I end up with an entire idea and just go for it.

A Very Cassadee PSA

This blog is all about cars. Things that happen when you’re out and about in one, driving one, ones breaking down. I know this doesn’t sound like it’s going to be a fun blog, but I promise that is simply not true. It will be splendid. Just in case amazing doesn’t work out, I’m going with splendid.

This all started on the night of the Criminal Minds season five finale. This isn’t important in any way, but I just thought I’d throw out that useless piece of information in case this blog doesn’t end up being very long, which is what I think is going to happen. I’m just giving you more to read.

Aunt Bev’s car is fifteen and it was also due for an inspection. Obviously, this was a recipe for disaster. My mom was supposed to meet her at the garage where Aunt Bev would be dropping her car off and take her home, however, she had a real estate situation she had to deal with and I wanted to get out of the house. I decided to go instead. I also wanted to pick up some groceries at the store near her house, so this worked out well anyway.

As soon as I pulled in, there was Aunt Bev with her larger than life purse, which we bought her, so I can’t complain about the size. She did her thing and got in. As we were heading home I was regaling her with the tale of whoa that my mom was dealing with when she happily interjected about how excited she was that my mom’s car finally got the air conditioning fixed in it. Then she went back to letting me tell my story like she wasn’t at all excited about the air conditioning and never said that. This is one of the many reasons I love Aunt Bev.

I took her home and came in for a little while to show her how to do something online, and then we got to talking. I was telling her about how I had jokingly asked my mom if one of her client’s sons was cute. My mom said yes, but he was arrogant. I then asked my mom if she was saying was that, if I were to meet the guy, I'd tried to smack the arrogance out of him. My mom answered with a resounding yes. Aunt Bev, who has met the son, agrees. That’s two people legitimately thinking I would try to slap the arrogance out of someone, and that’s just too funny for me.

Aunt Bev and I talked about men, the Friend situation, and everything in between for over an hour. She’s the kind of person I can talk to about this stuff and feel okay with doing it. She gets it, and she’s open about it. We always talk about guys, how much they suck and so forth. We also concluded we would both be lesbians because we hated boys so much, obviously not together, but we didn’t like girls all that much either. Again, this is why she is awesome.

It was getting late and I finally had to depart in order to get home on time for the Criminal Minds finale. I didn’t want to miss a second, so I rushed through the store like a bat out of hell, only to get to the registers and find that five were open and the store was busy. Okay, the store was Wal-Mart. You know how busy they are and how well things are going to move with five registers open.

I stood in line for longer than I shopped and I kept watching the time, worrying that I would never get home for Criminal Minds. I could have taken the line, but what I could not take was the lady in front of me that literally paid in five different orders. I kid you not. She paid for most of the things in one order, but then came the milk, which she paid for alone, the bread, which was the same, the baby food, and then some clothes. Five orders, folks.

This sparked me to text my mom, who, through the miracle of unicorns and rainbows, has figured out how to text. I told her I was never going to be home in time for Criminal Minds. I didn’t want her to think I died because I wasn’t home in time for Criminal Minds. She would probably think that, too, since I never missed an episode.

Going off topic for a second, this lady is probably the coolest lady in the universe, of whom I could not agree more with. Now granted, the whole “I don’t care about those people” was a little harsh, but I don’t think she meant it in that way. We’ve all had our shows interrupted by something that doesn’t pertain to us and has spat out with one good, “I don’t care what in the hell is going on with them.” It’s not that you don’t, you just are in television show mode and are angry that the news has interrupted you for something that doesn’t pertain to you. I want to find and friend this lady. I really hope the station fixed it and she got to see her Criminal Minds. If not, she can track me down and I will gladly recap it for her scene by scene.

Anyway, back to the topic. My mom’s response was not sheer and utter panic, but instead a calm, “have faith.” This comment came back to bite her in the ass fifteen minutes later when I was trying to drive home. Some lady, some ridiculous big haired lady in a huge truck that her hair didn’t quite fit in, was driving down the road in front of me. This was fine until she stopped, blocking the road, and just started to text, making no means to hide what she was doing. After the first minute, I realized we weren’t going anywhere soon, nor could I get around her, so I texted my mom and told her I had faith that I was going to get out of the car and slap the person who is stopped in the middle of the road in front of me, letting everyone and their mother cut her off. My mom’s response?

“Go for it.”

No, really, that’s what she put. I love you, Mommy.

And for the record, my mom and I exchanged texts safely, and my hands were back on the wheel a full minute before big haired hooter decided to move it like her car had a gas pedal.

The following day my mom was out with Aunt Bev dealing with her car again. Long story short, Aunt Bev’s car had a little issue and she wanted to get a second opinion, so my mom took her to get her car so that Aunt Bev could take it to another mechanic the following morning. Confusing, I know.

My mom was gone for awhile because Aunt Bev decided that maybe she wanted to look into getting a new car, instead of messing with a car that was fifteen years old. I was sad I didn’t get to go, but I was working outside and all over dirty and smelled. Not that you needed to know that, but I’m just trying to keep my Queen of Over Share title that I deemed over myself.

While my mom was looking at cars, my neighbors were trying to see how much patience I had, and what they could get away with before I blew my top. Look, I like my neighbors, they’re great people, but they can be a pain. Well, correction, the husband is really nice and keeps everyone in line. The wife, on the other hand, leaves her kids, both under four, outside to scream and play, and run amuck, while she goes inside and talks on the phone. She also allows them to do various other things, which I will explain in a minute.

During the course of the day, she did several special things. What you have to know is that she lives to the right of us, and is the daughter of the people who live to the left of us. The people who live to the left of us live a good football field away. Neighbor was down there at first herself, talking on her phone on the porch. I could hear her. Then, she took her kids down there and they swam. I could hear all three of them. I was inside the house with three fans and the television on. They were a football field away. There was no reason I should be able to make out what they were saying. None.

Last year, the neighbors had bowled over a ten foot wide path about ten feet behind our property, meaning we now have no privacy. They’re right there. The window to my bedroom faces that way, and it used to be all six foot weeds and trees back there. I now can no longer get dressed without shutting my blinds. I realize this is normal for most people, but we live in the middle of nowhere. Not cool.

Anyway, the dogs started throwing a fit, so I went outside to see what was going on. My dogs aren’t big on barking. They bark over two things, and that is if someone they don’t know comes to the house and knocks on the door, and if the neighbors yippy dog is up at our fence barking at them, but they never bark first in the case of the latter.

I went outside to see what was going on, only to find that the neighbors' kids were up against our fence, while the mother was still on the other side of the path, taunting our dogs. Our dogs are not mean dogs whatsoever. They would never hurt a child, ever. They LOVE everyone. However, my concern is that, if the kids start sticking their little fingers in the fence, the dogs aren’t going to know what they are or why someone is encroaching on their territory and snap at them. It’s reasonable to think a dog could do that, because they’ve never had anyone yell and stick their fingers in the fence. Oh, did I forget to mention that the kids were yelling at the dogs, so of course they were barking as the kids inched their way closer to the fence.

Then, their mom finally catches up with them. I was outside in the yard watching my dogs the entire time. They weren’t coming up against the fence near the kids, but rather standing a few feet from it barking while the kids screamed and waved their hands at them. I was glad to see their mom finally make it there, thinking she was going to grab the kids and tell them not to harass our dogs. What does she do? She yells at our dogs for barking at her kids. YOUR KIDS ARE HARASSING OUR DOGS, WHICH ARE FENCED IN, LADY! Honest to God, use some common sense.

The neighbors that lived there before us never bothered our dogs. They’d walk by here and there, but no big. These kids were standing out there taunting our dogs, but she decided to yell at our dogs. This is a woman who lets her yappy dog out to run around barking onto everyone else’s property. It came at my mom one time inside of our garage on our property. The woman can’t watch her own dog, or kids, but she’s going to yell at my dogs? Please. Nice lady, no common sense, and she needs to mind her own kids and her own business.

With that said, I texted my mom and told her what was going on, asking how she would prefer me to handle it, because the only thing I could think of was to slap the common sense back into her. I’ve never slapped anyone, so it’s funny how slapping something in and out of someone came up twice in this blog already. I think I have an explanation for as to how this happened, though.

My mom responded to this whole, “I’m going to slap her thing,” with an “I have taught you well.” I asked her if she was saying it was okay for me to smack people. She said, "sometimes." Again, I love you, Mommy.

It’s important to know that I’m going to sound like a PSA in five, four, three, two...My mom and I would never slap anyone, nor have we. We’ve never smacked or punched anyone either. We may say these things, but it’s jokingly. We wouldn’t really do it. Maybe in our head, but not in real life. We like our freedom and are strongly opposed to court hearings, official charges, and jail girlfriends. We do not promote violence, or fighting passive aggressive stupidity with violence, and neither should you.

This PSA was brought to you by Dear Cassadee INC. A subsidiary of Amy Inc. A subsidiary of Ruby Red Hearts Inc, which is a brainchild of Amy without the INC, who is otherwise known as Cassadee Willows, also without the INC. None of the above are affiliated with other people named Cassadee, Amy, the color ruby, the gem ruby, the color red, or hearts. We’re also not affiliated with willow trees.

Oh, and to sum things up on Aunt Bev’s car, she did take her car to another garage and my mom did pick her up. The other garage never got around to her car that day, claiming they were out of inspection stickers. They told her if she left the car overnight they’d do it the next day and let her know when it was ready. By later in the day they had not called her, so she called them. They were a family owned business, so someone picked up, but they were closed that day. Why they told her to leave the car and that they would look at it that day is still beyond us. They told her to bring it back Wednesday. My mom and Aunt Bev went to get her car only to find the keys in it, it parked right at the road, and all the doors unlocked. Way to go, garage.

That being said, the verdict is still out over if she’ll take it back there to get it looked at Wednesday, and if she will be getting a new car or not. I shall keep you updated. In the meantime, if anyone has anything to say about a Hyundai Sonata, Aunt Bev would appreciate your opinions.

I would also like to put a little disclaimer in about yesterday's post. I realize some of you saw a post entitled, "how are you so amazing?" If I were you, I would have been wondering how stuck up I was. Who titles their blog that anyway? Well, other than me.

And, seriously, who asked themselves that question? Well, other than people with multiple personalities. I mean, I would assume. Can anyone confirm this for me?

In all fairness, the title was unintentional. I recently got a FormSpring and that question was asked to me by the ever amazing Zoe. Below was my answer. I am new to FormSpring and didn't realize how it would come across into my blog when I hit the "add to blogger" button, so I apologize. From now on in, the questions asked will be included in the end of each blog, if there are questions to be included. Hey, it's better than sounding like a stuck up something or another from a monkey's uncle.

Both of these questions are compliments of Zoe over at Roll the Dice.

How are you so amazing?

I do not know, mostly because I don't think I'm amazing, just average. What I do know, however, is that you are absolutely, positively amazing, strong, and wonderful, and I appreciate your friendship and the light you add to the lives of those around you.

When do I get a sneak peak at your novel? (:

Soon, I promise. I'm working on finishing up a few details and figuring out what I want to share. (Just a side note, I am working on putting a sample of my novel on the blog. I want to make sure all of the copyrights have been deemed before doing so, so we don't have a swiper no swiping issue. It's not that I don't trust my wonderful readers, but there's always that one sleazebag who will wonder along here with no good intentions.)

Ask me anything

Come On, You Have Time For A Saga

With summer almost here, and spring in full swing, that could only mean one thing. My mom and Aunt Bev are back to their typical antics again. I know how much you all have missed their little adventures, so, much to Aunt Bev’s fear and chagrin of what I’m going to write, I shall tell you their story, while telling a whole other story. Man, I feel like a maverick multi-tasker right about now. I also feel like the beginning of the Ghost Whisperer, what with the whole, "in order to tell you my story, I have to tell your theirs," thing.

I will get to the main event in a minute, but first I'm going to Kanye (skip to 0:44) myself with some other news. By the way, why hasn't anyone made an app where you can Kanye yourself? Am I the only one seriously disappointed by this?

First, I would like to tell you all that I got a FormSpring, so check me out and ask question. This is either really great, or really nerdy, but you can ask me anything. If you ask me about ducks, I will probably have a great answer. If you ask me serious questions, I probably will not, so, in other words, I want any and all questions you can come up with. If they're heart to heart questions, they can go into the Dear Cassadee pile, with your permission, of course. No question will go unanswered.

Second, I am working on a new segment for the blog called Greta Hayley Says. It will be awesome, as long as you like cute puppy dogs. And who doesn't?

And now on to one of the longest posts to date, but I promise hilarity, insanity, and most of all, Mom and Aunt Bev stories. What's not to love?

This week we all set out on the most impossible mission that should have been mission easily possible. It was Mission: Find the Septic Tank In Our Yard. It took three days, ten people, two shovels, a metal detector, a hammer, three metal rods, and nine holes in our yard to do so. I know you’re all sitting there wondering if I’m serious, and if so, how this is even possible. Allow me to regal you with an epic tale of idiocy and intrigue.

This mission started out so innocent. All we were going to do was find the septic tank and have it cleaned out. We pulled the deed, only to find that the location of the septic tank was MIA on the deed, meaning we had not an inkling of a clue as to where the septic tank was. We’ve lived here for thirteen years but had no reason to know until now. No problem. We would simply call the people we bought our house off of. This is where the trouble arose.

The first thing I did was call Becky, naturally. Because that makes sense. Actually, it does, because I thought her mom was friends with the people who we bought the house off of it. I explained the situation to Becky and asked her if there was a way I could contact her mom for the old owners’ phone number. This is the response I got, and I quote:

“You’ve lived there for how long and you don’t know where the septic tank is?”

This was about to come right back around and bite her in the ass in a huge way. Which makes me giggle, of course. I wasn’t asking for a phone number of someone in WitSec or anything.

After some round about insanity, we ended up tracking down the old owners of the house on our own and gave them a call. They weren’t home so we left a message. This is the part of the story where my mom politely ducks out to go and help Aunt Bev pick up her car from the mechanic, which is a whole other story, and just as the sun is going down, two people pull up to the house in a black ruck. This is also, coincidentally, where it gets weird.

The reason I knew that people were even here was because the dogs started barking, not because I heard them pull up, or could see them from my living room. Now, normal people who weren’t at all creepy motherduckers would come to the house, knock on the door and introduce themselves. These people, however, found it more fitting to sit in their car and turn their lights on, shining them into the house. I found no reason to go outside while home alone, and try to find out who these people were, because that was just creepy. Then it got more creepy.

They proceeded to get out of their car and wander all around our yard, never coming up and knocking on the door, or trying. Because this was so weird, I didn’t want to go outside unless I was on the phone with someone, because I automatically assume people who don’t come to the door of someone else’s house and instead randomly run around their property are ax murderers. It turns out I was close; they were the old owners of our house.

No, really, they’re nice people, they just handled things a little odd. I hung up the phone and started talking to them, only to find out they weren't sure where the septic tank was either. They had an idea, but they weren’t totally sure, because it was never on their deed when they bought the house off of the original owners. They were going to inquire with the original owners about the location of it after they got settled in, only the original owners happened to go to the big pie in the sky, so they were unable to do so.

After that conversation, and one about how they really didn’t have to come over; they could have just called, they got in their car and left. I thought it was quite nice they came over, and it just confirmed my initial thought of them from thirteen years ago; they are strange, strange people, but nice. It’s the nice that counts.

And speaking of counting, there are now five people involved in the septic tank debacle. My mom, myself, Becky, and the two previous owners of the house. Five more to go.

Since it was dark after my mom got home, we packed it in and called it a day. Then the next day happened and Aunt Bev got involved. Do you see where I’m going with this, folks? Yes, this is totally going to turn into the greatest show on earth. Forget the circus, you should be here.

By the time I awoke, both Aunt Bev and my mom had a plethora of holes in the yard. So many, in fact, that I sang the song from the major motion picture, Holes, to myself several times. And you know what, it fit. Our yard completely looked like the desert in holes.

By the time I ate, went out on the porch, and decided to really inspect things, there were two other people in our yard; our older neighbors. I’m not sure what happened, but I looked out in time to see my mom and Aunt Bev coming back into the yard with these two, so at best guess they went and got them and asked them if they knew where our septic tank was since they were the oldest people in the neighborhood and had been here before time even started. Okay, so I hope they didn’t word it like that, but in all fairness they’ve lived here forever and knew the original owners, so it was worth a shot.

They hemmed and hawed around and decided they thought the septic tank was in a totally different place than the people we bought the house off of thought it was, so then my mom and Aunt Bev made more holes. Then they gave up, because no matter what they did, they were not finding the septic tank.

Ah, but I forgot the best part. You know the original owners of our house that are dead? Well, they’re not dead at all. In fact, they’re alive and well and live but twenty five minutes from here. The older than time neighbors told us so, therefore, after giving up, we decided to do some research and find the original owners and call them. This is how we got up to nine people being involved.

Upon calling and talking to one of the original owners, we found out that they never recorded where the septic tank was on the deed after they installed it, so no one but them actually knows where the septic tank is, so eat that, Becky. They gave us approximate measurements from the house as to where the septic tank would be. We dug there. They were wrong. Eat that again, Becky. The original owners didn’t even know where the septic tank was and they installed it, so HA!

I know, that was so mature of me. I want to be sorry, but I’m giggling like a child, and I suck at lying. And in a very childlike manner, I would also like to announce that she started it.

Anywhomaburger, while my mom and Aunt Bev were digging a hole in the particular spot where the original owners thought it would be, this happened. My mom was in charge of digging, and Aunt Bev was in charge of using a hammer to pound metal rods into the ground to see if she would run into something solid. I guess my mom was worried about Aunt Bev using a hammer, because she proceeded to say the following.

“Use the side. (of the hammer)” Aunt Bev does this and starts pounding away merrily. My mom’s next response?

“Watch your face!” Folks, I felt like I needed to take away anything sharp, pointy, or metal, and replace them with tiny tools Ala Lorelai Gilmore. Come to think of it, that probably would not have been anywhere near the worst idea in the world.

And on a similar note, I wonder what my mom would have said had Aunt Bev been using power tools. The world may never know, but in case this does happen, I will be sure to report it, therefore, the world will know.

Aunt Bev came out unscathed and the snark just kept on coming. After all this went down, I sat on my Spongebob chair and mentioned how everything looked like the movie Holes, what with eight holes now in a small area of our yard. This is when my mom pointed out that she once had a dream where she was married to Shia Lebouef and he was a great, amazing man and husband.

Let’s stop here to recap. Shia is in his early 20s and my mom is in her 50s. Apparently they were the same age in a dream. I don’t ask questions about such things. That would be stupid.

Anyway, with my sarcasm and whit toward marriage and dating, I asked my mom how having a dream about being married was actually a dream. Aunt Bev replied with, “dating someone your own age is always a nightmare (at our age). Dating someone thirty years younger is the dream.” Touche, Aunt Bev, touche.

From here, I made a smart ass comment about dating people thirty years younger than you, and how odd that is. Aunt Bev came right back with, “That’s the dream; it’s better not to date anybody.” I love you, Aunt Bev, especially when, directly after this, you pointed out that you shouldn’t talk like that because you’re going to mess up my dating life. But it’s okay, because I already know a lot of men are jerks and don’t have a dating life by choice because, well, boys are jerks, so it’s so not your fault. Feel free to say more funny things.

After digging so far and seeing that obviously there was now another motion picture worthy hole and still no septic tank, my mom and Aunt Bev threw in the towel for the day. As we went into the house, my mom commented that, once we find this septic tank, we better mark the area and mark it well so we never lose it again. Among the suggestions of things we could mark it with presented by yours truly, were:

- A garden flag
- Dancing munchkins in technicolor outfits, holding umbrellas and pom-poms
- A brightly colored sign with an arrow that shouts "I AM HERE!"

Wait, let’s go back to that second one. Dancing munchkins in technicolor outfits, holding umbrellas and pom-poms. Apparently I wanted to make our yard OZ, minus the yellow brick road. I’ll have you know this is still my favorite idea, because cute, dancing munchkins is so up my alley, but it was vetoed. This makes me sad.

Day three rolled around and I figured things couldn’t get weirder, and no more people could possibly get involved in this. Then I woke up.

My mom and Aunt Bev had been out dealing with her car again, and when they returned, they decided to re-collaborate and figure out how they were going to find this septic tank. The idea had come up the day before that they go rent a metal detector since we were told by the original owners who put the tank in that the lid was metal. It was a 50/50 on if we should believe anyone when it came to anything about our septic tank, because we had five wrong people so far, and then the three of us had no luck on our own, but we decided we’d take what we could get at this point.

After asking our neighbor, therefore getting another person involved, we found out that the older than time neighbors who had tried helping us the day before, and who were also the parent-in-laws of said new person involved, had one. Said new helpful neighbor went and got it and came over to try and help find the septic tank. Now we have ten people involved. In case you lost count, I will chronicle everyone for you in no particular order.

Mom
Myself
Aunt Bev
Becky
2 people we bought the house from
2 older than time neighbors
1 original owner of the house
Neighbor who is the son-in-law of the older than time neighbors

While my mom was rounding up the new helpful neighbor, Aunt Bev was sitting inside with me while I was eating. She happened to look down and notice my ultra-hip old people support hose. I have no idea how she noticed them. It’s not like they were obvious when I was wearing shorts, socks over them, monkey slippers, and they didn’t match my skin color, but alas, she noticed.

She commented on how hot I looked in them. I told her I knew how hot I was, and I know I’ve had a bad run with finding nice guys to date, but I was confident that this new fashion trend was going to pick me up the right guy. She pointed out that it would pick me up someone alright; a old guy who thinks a woman with her own support hose is hot stuff. I told her that I was just trying to be the next Anna Nicole Smith, and that old guys were the only nice guys left because they couldn’t try to force me into sex. Hey, I may be on to something.

For the record, I am so far from hot in those things. Here’s hot way over here, and here I am three galaxies away, waving, but you can’t see me waving because I am too far away. I do try to make them work by working them, though.

After a few minutes, Aunt Bev went outside to join in the fun of using a metal detector without adult supervision. Oh wait, I guess the neighbor guy, although the youngest of the three, counted as the adult. Anyway, I finished up my food and was just getting ready to go out and join when I looked outside. Neighbor guy was holding the metal detector above his head, pointing it towards the sky, with a puzzled look on his face. I didn’t ask.

With a little bit of effort, ten people and three days down, the septic tank was found. You would think this was the end of the story, but you would be incorrect. My mom and Aunt Bev still had to dig down to find the tank. They were told the tank was about four feet into the ground. So dig they did, and when they finally found the tank, it was only about two feet in.

This wouldn’t be all that funny, except the old owner of the house made it a point to tell my mom that he had to have someone hold on to him when he tried to get into the septic tank, so that he didn’t fall in. I know what you’re thinking...why was he trying to get into the septic tank? I’m thinking it too, and the truth is, I was too scarred by the idea of it that I couldn’t even bring myself to ask. I suck at getting information for all of you, guys! I’m sorry.

Also, when you think of a guy having to be held to get down into a hole, do you imagine him with some rope tied to his belt loop as leans forward and falls slowly in the hole while someone else holds on to that rope? That’s just me, isn’t it?

While they tried to figure out exactly how large the lid to the septic tank was, ergo, how far over they had to dig, I sat down on the ground away from the hole, only to have my mom hit the septic tank with the shovel and have it vibrate under me. Obviously, the septic tank was large. I made a mention of this, only to be told by Aunt Bev that I was to enjoy my cheap thrill. Then, she started talking about couples having sex on the washing machine during the spin cycle. I love you, Aunt Bev.

This is the part of the blog where Aunt Bev would like me to tell you, and I took this verbatim and made a note, that, and I quote, she is a “wonderful, slightly older, but doesn’t look it, woman, who is looking for a rich man with one foot in the grave and another on a banana peel.” So if any rich, old guys are looking for a hot, single woman, they are to comment on the blog so that I can tell her it’s a match made in...I can’t even finish this sentence.

In between digging and after digging, we all sat down on the steps and had a heart to heart. By this I mean we talked about marriage, gay guys, fish bullies and Evan Lysacek, in that order. Obviously, all these things go together. Didn’t you know? It’s okay, neither did I.

Somehow, and with us it’s hard to pin down exactly one of the three billion reasons this could have gotten started, Aunt Bev brought up where my mom and her went wrong when it came to men. This had something to do with what we were talking about, which I believe was along the lines of how some people get men who financially take care of them and love and adore them. However, that’s not how I took it, which ended quite awkwardly like this.

Aunt Bev: “Where did we go wrong?”

Me: “You got married in the first place.”

See, Aunt Bev, you’re not teaching me this stuff. I think I’ll point it out to you. Oh, this can’t be good. Twenty four and already making marriage cracks. I promise I will find a way to make you feel better about this at the end of the blog. Somehow.

After I brought the conversation wayward with a downer, I decided to throw in an upper. This, of course, would be gay guys. Who doesn’t love a gay guy? They’re pretty much the most awesome thing ever, which brought me to say that I would marry one in a heartbeat, and he could do whatever he wanted. I just wanted the companionship. My mom and Aunt Bev wholeheartedly agreed.

This is where I would like everyone to know that if you’re gay and you need to keep up appearances for a job, for your family, etc, I am here to marry you. You can date guys and you don’t have to kiss or sleep with me at all. I’ll just be a super awesome companion.

I think I’m okay with just how dating ad sleazy that came out.

As we were sitting there, I was looking for Teddy the Terrific Toad. TTT is a toad that has his summer home behind our hose. I had just seen him the other day and wanted to be neighborly and say hey. I couldn’t find him, however, and shared my chagrin with the girls. Aunt Bev then told me that her super huge frog that lived in her pond and would kill her Koi fish wasn’t there any longer. She suspects that the two Koi that survived the frog's attacks decided to become bullies just to get revenge on the frog, and then chased him away. I like this theory. A lot. Therefore, I shall share my new motto.

Fish bullies; they make a bad day for frogs.

As the day wore on, we all sat there throwing banter around, until my mom decided to bring up the septic tank again. When she did, she pointed out how excited she was to find it, only she sounded like she was so bored she could cry. I compared her to Evan Lysacek. I think it was warranted. Look, I love, love, love Evan Lysacek, but he’s the least excited, excited person ever. If you don’t believe me, Dancing With the Stars even did a segment where the pieced together every time he said he was excited about something, and by the end of it, the judges were fake sleeping. It was awesome. I can't find it to share on here, but it was still awesome.

This also completes the awesome, with the moral of the story being, if you put in a septic tank, please mark it on your land deed. Unless you want three days of debauchery and a ten person circus, then by all means, don’t. Just remember to alert the new owners of your house that, when they decide to mess with the septic tank, to let you know so you can forget where it is and then come over and watch the shenanigans unfold.

Oh, and Aunt Bev, because I promised I would make you feel better about me and dating, I am going to try, and probably fail here. As for the rest of you, if you like pretty, pretty wedding gowns, then please stick around.

As I’m typing this, the show Girl Meets Gown is on. The one girl was taking a long time picking her color dress, which made me want pick it for her by yelling at the television my choice of color. I didn’t, because obviously this would be dumb, even though I do it all the time during every other show known to man. However, as soon as I realized how dumb this was, I also realized there’s about a zillion different color whites, and I am totally going to be the girl who stands there for three hours just picking a color for my dress. I also realized someone should slap me for this.

This should already start to make you feel better, because my first thought wasn’t, “if I ever get married I’m going to take three hours to pick a dress color.” It was “when I get married.” My second thought was “when I get married, and am 90 in an old people’s home.” My third thought was, “If I get married.” Anyway, telling you all of that is just getting counterproductive.

Because I couldn’t imagine how many different color whites there could possibly be, I decided to go online and start looking at wedding dresses to find out just for the hell of it. I had to know. Then the worst thing possible happened.

I fell in love with a dress. In absolute, complete love. This is great, because I totally have had a boyfriend in the past three years and am so close to get married. Not. I just couldn’t help myself though, I loved it. Then, to top it off, it has lace. I hate lace. If lace went down in a burning ring of fire, I would have been the one to start it, and then I would sit around it with marshmallows singing campfire songs until there was no more lace left in the universe. I wouldn’t even get up to go to the bathroom or anything. There would be no time for that. I’d be too busy killing lace.

Anyway, I decided since you’re my Aunt Bev, and you’ll never believe I found a pretty, lacy, girlie wedding dress, that I would share it with you. I’m positive that, not only won’t they still make this dress when I do get married, but it wouldn’t have been in style for at least five years, but a girl can dream, right? Contrary to popular belief, I would love to get married one day. I just love making fun of the idea of it more.

Before I show you the dress, I shall take you through a saga of all the dresses that I love, until we get to the dress. Come on, you have time for a saga. Grab some food and a drink, sit down, gather round, and enjoy the pretty dresses.

I came across this one and automatically loved it. Then I looked at it a couple times and thought, I can’t wear this. It’s everything I hate all in one. It’s bling, it’s tulle that sticks out below the dress line, it’s foofy and bunching and it shows off the ladies...but it’s oh so pretty and so different. I sighed. (Perla D’)

Next, I came across this one, and although I started out just looking at colors, I thought this one could also be a contender. What lost it for me is that it looked a little like a maternity dress, what with not being fitted. I could have even lived with that, but then I noticed the weird lacy thing going on at the bottom. However, I don’t know what kind of wedding I’m going t o have, and if it was a beach wedding, or an outdoor, easy-breezy casual wedding, this would be the perfect dress, and the lace would add a beauty and a touch of elegance to my comfortable, casual, special day.

I realize this is a blog and not written in real time, but I feel the need to, "say excuse me for a moment while I go figure out what the heck I just saw run across the floor." I thought it was a bug, but it was at least five inches long, and I’m not sure I want to know what it is, but I must. If I don’t come back...well, you’d never know because this blog would never get finished.

Please enjoy the music while I am away.

Okay, I’m back and I have no clue what it was because now I can’t find it. It ran so fast and it was so large that I’m now afraid to put my feet on the floor and seriously wondering if I want to sleep out here. I don’t even know if it was a bug. Now I’m gicked out. Oh well, back to the wedding dress saga.

Third, I found this one. It was simple and a little oddly shaped, maybe a little too much for me, but I thought the belt just made it perfect. Then, I saw that the belt was discontinued. I sighed. Then I realized that there’s a million other bridal belts on the market and I could pick any one that I wanted. The dress was still a contender.

I came across this one next and thought I really liked it. At second and third look, I think I just like the belt and the bunching. Other than that, it’s kind of plain and not as elegant as I would like, and I just don’t know if I would be happy in a dress this plain. I put it in the maybe pile.

I came across this one, and I loved the color instantly. I never saw myself in anything but a pure white dress, but I don’t think this dress would be very pretty in white. It’s the color that makes it so very special. I know what you’re thinking, this dress is more plain than the other one, but the material is different so it doesn’t just look like a big, plain bunch of material. It looks elegant and flowing, and I just love it. Especially the flower. It makes my world go round.

This one is about in the same league as the last one, although I think the last one grew on me a little more. This one has the same ruching around the waist as the last one, and a flower, but it has a belt too. I just don’t care for the material as much. It’s that not-as-elegant material.

When I had first started looking, there was a very specific dress I was looking for. Mostly because it was one of the dresses the girl was hemming and hawing over the color of, and I wanted to see how many colors it actually came in. While looking for it, I found this one instead. It’s very similar, just not quite as intense. I don’t think I’d care for it without the belt, but the belt makes it gorgeous.

I later found the dress I was actually looking for. What’s sad is that I don’t love the dress in the picture as much as I did on the girl on television. The way it moved when she walked was so gorgeous and flirty. I really thought I could see myself in it. The girl on the show was also wearing a sage belt with a big bow on the right side, and I found I liked that better as well. Still, though, I love the dress. It’s in my top three.

When I found this dress, I instantly thought it was possible that it would be my dress. It had the same flowing, fun and flirty bottom as the last one, but it was more unique. It was technically strapless because the straps didn’t hold up the dress, but they’re still there sitting elegantly and uniquely on your arms. It’s so carefree, especially with the ruching and the little bit of bling. Correct me if I’m wrong, but doesn’t this dress just scream Alexis, from my novel? It’s so her, and maybe that’s why I liked it, because I'm so attached to her as my character.

Then there’s the gown I fell in love with. When you see this, you’re going to wonder if my brain passed out when I found this dress, or drunkenly stumbled across it, because it looks nothing like any of my other dresses. There’s no big, flowing skirts. There’s no ruching. It’s not as wedding dress like as the other ones as far as being big, solid and over the top. The material is light and feathery and it has my hated lace. But oh, something about this dress stops my heart and I can’t help but be in love with it, even though I can't explain, for the life of me, why I am. Ah, life’s little mysteries.

Saga finished.

So see, Aunt Bev, you have not ruined me from wanting to get married and find love from the things you say. In fact, what started out as just wanting to see how many colors of white there were, turned into me not only falling in love with several dresses, but choosing the one I’d want for my wedding and chronicling why I liked each and every dress.

Oh, and if I never mentioned it, I want to be a wedding planner for a day job, and moonlight as a writer. So I still believe in love out there somewhere, because you can’t plan weddings and write stories without love.