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Peeve number one from my morning:
For some inexplicable reason, I stood in the shower this morning, singing, �God didn�t make little green apples, and it don�t rain in Indianapolis in the summertime��
I hate that song. I have no idea why it was stuck in my head. However, regardless of all that, there I was, standing in the shower, singing away.
Peeve number two from my morning:
My next-door-neighbor had his alarm up so loud I could hear it in my bathroom. He lives on the second floor. I live on the first. My bathroom window was closed. Regardless of all that, I stood on the bathmat, drying off and singing the aforementioned horrible song, slowly becoming aware of the incessant innht innht innht innht innht innht innht coming through my walls.
If you need to make it that loud, and have it go on that long, you have a sleep problem, amigo. Please, get some help. No one wants to have to listen to that.
Surprisingly, despite its inauspicious beginnings, my day has gone fairly well.
We had another BARCC meeting last night. A lot of this one was discussion, which is always very interesting. Jeanette had each of us write down a question that we were either afraid of being asked at an engagement or that we had been asked and felt we needed help with an answer for. Several of the questions dealt with the issues around date rape. �Your story didn�t really sound like rape to me. Are you sure you said no loudly enough or emphatically enough for him to understand?� �I don�t understand your story. The attacker in the other story was obviously a bad guy, but the guy in your story seemed nice. How can that be rape?�
It all echoes the Hissyfit discussion and collectively serves to make me angry. Especially because when I hear other people question over and over whether something is really rape, it makes me re-examine my beliefs, which I am generally confident in.
Two different theories were offered, both of which I�d like to write down in here and share, because I think they make the grey area a little less grey and because I don�t want to forget them.
One of the women offered this:
If a woman is approached about having sex and she says yes, no one questions her meaning. She doesn�t have to say yes repeatedly in order to make it happen. Why should she have to say no repeatedly to make it not happen?
Another offered this:
Men, younger men especially, talk about �going past the point where they can control themselves� as an �excuse� for forcing a woman to have sex.
These same young men if in a situation where someone like a parent comes home unexpectedly seem to find a way to tuck in and zip up and deal with it. When they�re willing to respect the boundaries, passing a point of control isn�t a question. Therefore, it shouldn�t be a question if she says no, no matter how far they�ve gone up to that point. Different boundary, same end result.
Ugh. I am becoming the rape soapbox girl.
So�on other fronts�
The Boyfriend and I are going to meet a photographer tonight. We�ll meet a second on Thursday. Neither of them will cost us seven thousand dollars to hire. This is a good thing.
The menus I�ve requested are rolling in, too. Reading them makes me hungry. There�s a lot at stake in choosing the food. All those Italians in my family take their buffets very seriously. But man, I truly had no idea weddings were this expensive. All the caterers I�ve gotten information on have prices that will end up around fifty dollars per person.
That better be one good buffet.
I�m understanding now how women get so wrapped up in the wedding planning that they forget about the marriage. It�s really like having two full-time jobs. I spend my lunchtime calling different vendors, requesting menus and pricing packages and setting up meetings to look at or listen to or taste their products and services. I go home at night and think about flowers and dresses and invitations and music and guest lists and seating arrangements and bridesmaids and weather preparations and menus and photo packages. My mom is planning to invite the Boyfriend�s parents over for dinner so the six of us can talk about budgeting and invites and all the things that the six of us need to have input on together, and I spent 20 minutes today explaining to the Boyfriend and his mom why his sister is not invited to that dinner, and why it�s completely inappropriate to bring her.
Once again, Vegas isn�t such a bad idea�
I know, though, that once I get past these couple big things and have them all set for next year, I can coast and relax and have fun again. The other details don�t require so much effort. I�ll be able to enjoy that part of the planning.
At least, that�s what I keep telling myself.
Tomorrow night, I�m meeting Erica and Bonnie for a girls� night. We�re going to snack on all sorts of yummy foods, soak our feet, give ourselves pedicures and drink the wine Erica brought back from California. I won�t have to make one phone call.
It�s ideas like that one that keep me from going insane. Sorry y�all won�t get to see our pink toes!
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