I haven't heard back from Fiona, my wedding coordinator, to an email that I sent her on the 21st. This has me a tiny bit worried. Though I know she is probably just really busy with her coordinating of summer weddings, it did get me to start thinking about what would happen if she really did disappear. A majority of guests have already bought their travel packages and the invitations are steps away from being printed. Either I would have to find a new wedding coordinator (not too hard - I know for a fact there is another company that does weddings at the beach club site) or we would all travel over there and do it ourselves. I think someone, maybe Anderson, could get certified as a minister over the Internet (a la Joey on "Friends"). Lee could be Jam Masta DJ for the night. Sy could cook up a mean Atkins-friendly buffet. Let's see - minister, music, and food. Ah - alcohol...well, we would just raid the local supermarket and give Adrian a chance to show off his newly acquired bartending skills. If you can drink a Long Island iced tea or a limey margarita, then you'll be fine. Or we could get my dad behind the bar - he was once a bartender in his earlier days. Okay, we could do it...but let's hope Fiona gets back to me soon. Let someone else worry about the logistics, so we can just have fun.

I've had two perfect days in recent memory, each composed of different activities with completely different people.  I'm not sure what makes a perfect day for you, but I think after analyzing my last two perfect days, mine start with an awakening out of bed with no expectations for a day that eventually turns into greatness.  This, for me, is the most important ingredient.  Say that I know tomorrow I'm going to go on a grand shopping spree with girlfriends - probably won't turn into one of my perfect days because I would already have expectations for it.  But say I wake up in Chicago with nothing to do one day - then, Katie and I head to our friend Emilee's fantastic four-star gym and spend many hours there before heading off to eat a very late Italian lunch complete with covered open-air tables in the rain which is then followed by a return home to guilty pleasure television with pizza and gossip.  Perfect.  Or say that Adrian and I wake up this past Sunday, notice that the sun is shining oh so brightly outside, and decide to walk from our house up to the Marina and then east through Fisherman's Wharf and down the Embarcadero to our favorite deli south of Market where we share lunch outside.  After visiting the brand-new Borders down that way and buying some books, we head home to relax, grocery shop, and stay up late.  Perfect.

I am 29 years old (okay, not yet exactly, but I think it sounds better than 28) and I don't know what I want to do when I grow up. I am done with not working - I have perfected my pre-wifely duties to the point where I can dust a room while a load of laundry is in the washer and chicken is cooking in the crock pot. I am ready for my next job. Not a career, but a job. I don't think I'll ever have a career - I don't think most of my generation has careers. They have jobs, and I want one. But the trouble is, I don't know what job I want and that basically sucks. There's all these wonderful job search websites, but if you don't know what "keyword" or "job title" to type in, they aren't going to do me a speck of good. So I sit in front of the computer frustrated and confused. Adrian and I have talked about me going back to school since that seems to be the direction a lot of my fellow peers are going in and succeeding. But once again, I don't know what I would go back to school for. People say do what you love - I love to read, watch movies, shop, and organize. Honestly, I don't see many courses offered in these eclectic arts. Plus, I don't need courses in them because I do them so well already. If you can feel my vexation, you wouldn't even know the half of it. You would need to talk to me in person to learn all about my guilt issues and my dependence issues. No time to get into those here...I need to go see if Craigslist has added any new listings.

A long time ago, Adrian and I stayed at the Doubletree Hotel in San Jose. When we checked in, it was late at night and the lobby was deserted except for these little step-stools in front of the pay phone and also in front of the main desk. We were a bit confused, and then even more so when we noticed another stool in the elevator. We didn't know what to make of them until the next morning when we went downstairs and saw a convention of little people (I'm not sure what the politically correct term is for them, so I'm going with "little people"). They were everywhere and some were using the stools to perform daily functions that us tall people don't think twice about doing. Well, the weird thing is that last night while driving the streets of Burlingame as we headed to a movie, I noticed that the man in the car next to us was a little person. Not so weird, I know...but then we parked and walked around and saw that they were everywhere again! We figured that the Hyatt across from the theatre was having another convention. Why we have run into this phenomenon twice in our lives, I do not know, but it is quite blog-worthy.