'She likes caulk.'

I went to see 27 Dresses with my friend Amanda this afternoon. I guess she's become my romantic comedy movie watcher friend when I can't drag hubby. The movie was pretty good. The dialog fell flat a few times, almost like the screenwriter didn't go back to polish it up, but there were some great moments and even funnier one-liners. For example, the main character Jane, who is the owner of the 27 bridesmaid dresses, tells reporter Kevin (hottie James Mardsen) how dedicated and happy she was to fulfill her duties as bridesmaid each and every 27 times, including caulking a fountain for one of the ceremonies. Kevin then says into his voice recorder, "She likes caulk." Very raunchy and funny. Somewhat predictable. It was a good girls movie.

This movie made me think back to my own wedding. Among my favorite memories is my blessed potty break. My gown was pretty voluminous, with many layers of petticoats, tulle, and silk and this long sash the length of my very long train. All these things makes it hard not to a)sit on the toilet, and b)dip some part of your dress in the toilet, which is why every bride must recruit a potty person or two, if they are available. They lift your dress and steer you...yes, steer you to the toilet. I recruited one of my older sisters for the task, and as I recall she'd already had plenty of experience helping my sister when she got married (her dress, I believe, was even larger than mine). Into the handicap stall we went. The thing about those stalls is that although they may be big enough for a bride, her dress, and her potty entourage, the toilet is always squished up against the side of the stall so other occupants may hold onto the handle bars on the wall. But this setup doesn't make it easy for the bride and very big dress. There were lots of giggles, and I just about peeped my dress, but eventually I plunked down on the toilet...almost missing the thing. In case you're wondering: I have only one bridesmaid dress in my closet. And it's not ugly.

I'm neglectful, but a fine writer

You'd think with a new year I would be resolved to write here everyday. Guess what? I'm human, and honestly I didn't have anything to write about. Well, that's probably not true, nor would I want you to believe I'm that boring that, in a span of 18 days, nothing happens in my life. (Regretfully, I think it's true.)

For the new year, I've made a rather extensive resolution list. Among the resolutions are yoga and writing more (beyond the job-related prose), so to help me along with these missions, I purchased two books: Om Yoga and The Pocket Muse. Both books are well crafted and I think they will help me with my new year's quest. So far: yoga 3, writing 0. (Writing: 1, if you count this blog entry.) Not too bad, but not particularly a good start. But I do have the whole rest of the year.

One thing that will help progress the writing front: a new computer, a laptop. In coming months, I may be purchasing this beauty. (I say may because my husband or I sometimes change our minds, so invariably, when it comes to something we thought we had decided, we back out. Not particularly strong suit, but then again, you can't say that we make rash decisions. That's a mark of maturity, some would say. I think it's a mark of an indecisive mind. Bad trait, I think.) For a while now, I've often felt that if I had a laptop (with wireless connectivity) that I could easily tote with me, sit on the couch with, curl up in bed with, I'd be a far better and more motivated writer, churning out prose by the page. If that does happen, well, I expect the biggest audience will be the fine one, two, three, maybe five of you who actually take the time to read this blog. If that's the case, it's my family, so don't they have to tell you what fine writer you are no matter what kind of crap you churn out?