Bread Crumbs Will Cause Our Divorce

February 27, 2007 at 12:14 pm (Already divorced, Food, Wedding planning)

Now that Jaclyn and I alter use of the bed—please read our recent post Killing Your Conscience to catch up on our “sleeping” situation—I am left with Jaclyn’s bread crumbs.

Since we’ve lived together, I’ve caught Jaclyn eating in the bed almost regularly. Every time, I kindly request she enjoy her crackers and sandwiches elsewhere—food in your own bed, hotel beds excluded, is just gross. (Bad habit from childhood when my mom told me at bedtime I had to go to bed but I didn’t have to go to sleep. As a teenager I did all homework, art projects, and yes, eating, on my bed.  I’m even writing this post on the bed!)

“Okay,” she always replies, “I won’t eat in the bed anymore.”

Like a little kid, she ignores my demands and commits the disgusting act again. Normally, I shrug it off and wipe off the crumbs. But this morning, I was especially perturbed.

It’s 2 a.m. I’m resting peacefully when I roll over and all of a sudden, I feel this sharp pain in my side. It’s a giant piece of granola or something of that texture family. The thing burrowed itself in my skin and hurt like heck. I wanted to pour water on Jaclyn I was so mad. But I didn’t. I flicked it off the bed and went back to sleep. (it was likely kitty litter tracked on the bed by Thurman’s paw – eeeww.  Besides, it is almost always tea or fruit or soup and I use a napkin!)

I mentioned the incident to Jaclyn. To which she replied: “I’m sorry. I won’t do it again.”

She later told me a childhood story. Jaclyn was seven and was entertaining one of her brother’s girlfriends. She reached under her pillow and pulled out a piece of bacon, offering it to the teenaged girl. The brother’s girlfriend said “no” to the bacon kept under a little girl’s pillow. I wonder why? (Look, the bacon was from that morning.  And my brother used to hide ham in his room so there is family precedent.) 

 

So, perhaps it’s not Jaclyn’s fault. Maybe her genetic coding calls for food in the bed. If so, we might be getting separate beds later on in our marriage. (Between cats and crumbs, we must sound like a couple of slobs.  Eating in bed is a bad habit – I know this.  Fred, I’m sorry, I won’t do it again.)

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Killing Your Conscience (this could get personal)

February 25, 2007 at 8:44 pm (Already divorced, Wedding planning, maronite)

As some of you may know, Fred is going through RCIA (Rite of Christian Initiation for Adults) and plans to enter into the Catholic Church at Easter this year.   Last Sunday Fred declared his intentions to join the Catholic Church in our parish, and this past Saturday, we, along with a few hundred other people in the community, went to the Cathedral of the Assumption  for the Rite of Election/Call to Continuing Conversion led by Archbishop Kelly.

Since we have been going through marriage preparation and RCIA, there has been a lot examination into our respective pasts.  We heard a speech in class last week by Father Corapi, a priest who had his share of impure living previous to taking Holy Orders, where he discussed the weakening and execution of moral consciousness.  Fred and I were shifting uncomfortably in our seats as many of the things he mentioned we were only too happy to partake in when we were younger .

Conscience is not an independent entity; it does not operate in a vacuum.  The Second Vatican Council mentioned conscience more than seventy times, never without a modifying term: “well-formed conscience, mal-formed conscience; you must form your conscience, etc.” Conscience is not to be construed as one’s mere ideas and opinions, or whatever vagrant and morally vacuous thoughts race through one’s mind. A lot of people would take the position that, well, if it’s good for you, fine, but there is another truth good for me, but there is no absolute truth. There is no objective moral good and evil. Whatever is convenient, whatever fits in with your contemporary lifestyle, however disordered and degenerated it may be. “Conscience is a judgment of reason whereby the human person recognizes the moral quality of a concrete act that he is going to perform, is in the process of performing, or has already completed” (Catechism of the Catholic Church #1778). It must be grounded in truth, formed to truth. For Catholics that is Church teaching in faith and morals.

In a nutshell: You abuse your conscience by repeated immoral acts until eventually “bad” no longer feels bad and morality becomes subjective and meaningless. If you abuse your conscience, you will eventually kill it.

My grandmother is fond of saying, ”people today want you to think right is wrong and wrong is right.” I used to roll my eyes at that and spew a bunch of cultural relativist mumbo jumbo.  Here lately, I am starting to grasp what she was saying and see the wisdom in integrating it into our lives and our marriage.   

Since we are “living in sin,”  we have decided that lent is the perfect season to start making an adjustment to our living situation and personal relations.  Without getting into the nitty gritty, lets just say we are living in separate areas of the house and taking cold showers.

Do we feel better for it?  It is hard (and weird) to admit this, but we do.  Both of us have indeed been killing our conscience over the past few years and are on a mission to get them back and functioning.

Catholic guilt can be a doozy!

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Update (and Happy Ash Wednesday)

February 22, 2007 at 12:22 am (Wedding planning)

We have not been doing any wedding planning lately.  All we really have left are flowers, tux, and limo and neither of us can get up the enthusiasm right now.

Fred is busy with multiple deadlines and proposals as well as figuring out how to properly set up his business for Uncle Sam. 

Jaclyn is busy with acupuncture patients, work, and interviewing for some new nursing opportunities.

We also listened to a powerful lecture from a priest during RCIA class last Sunday which has made us start looking more seriously at vices and virtues we have been acquiring and ignoring, respectively.

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Valentine’s Day

February 16, 2007 at 9:29 am (Engagement, Holidays, married)

Since Jaclyn had to work the evening of Valentine’s Day, the happy and moderately stressed couple celebrated the holiday last week.

Jaclyn purchased a couple’s massage at Z Salon and Fred lusted after Jaclyn’t massage therapist. (Fred here: I only did what every other man would have done. Please read Rick Reilly’s latest column for precedent.)

Fred bought Jaclyn a Snapfish photobook of their trip to Vegas, finally proving Jaclyn wrong on her conviction that he was never going to do it.

Valentine’s Day was o much more exciting in elementary school where you bought those little themed cards, decorated a shoebox like a mailbox, and opened all the valentines trying to analyze the ones you got from the person you had a crush on –  ”what does this mean? Does s/he like me?”  Somehow the blatant commercialism as an adult brings more cynicism than romance. (Fred here: All I have to say is a couple years ago,  I was given orders to go to Iraq on Valentine’s Day.)

But their is one advantage to all the commercialism – the day after Valenine’s Day all the specialty candy at Godiva goes 50% off. That is a happy holiday!

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Wedding Cake

February 13, 2007 at 12:04 am (Family, Food, Friends and Guests, Wedding Reception, Wedding planning)

The cake was yet another in a list of things I didn’t think I cared about, . . .well, I did care that the thing was tasty, but there was no “plan.”  The cake to me was no big deal and in fact, I didn’t even care if we had a “cut the cake” moment.  My mother was equally ambivalent – she just wanted it to be white “for the photographs.” And Fred just wanted to make sure there was a cake.

 

When the bakers gave us books to look through, we must have said “that’s nice” thirty times.  And they ask more questions than the dress people! Traditional circle or square?  Unique shape?  Fondant or butter-cream? Real or sugared flowers?  What’s your theme?  What are your colors?  Flavor?  Filling?  Fruit?  Some of the cakes I have seen look more like sculpture than dessert!

“It was so much easier when I was young,” one of the baker’s said.  “You just went to the bakery and told them you were getting married, how many guests, and picked chocolate or vanilla.”

I think I put on about five pounds with all of the tasting I did.  One baker gave us a quarter of a cake for each sample and as a result, Fred had to buy a bottle of Pepto Bismol.  

In the end, we chose The Sugar Woods.  The baker (artist) was able to piece all of the dribble my mom and I were spouting into a simple, meaningful design that made me more excited than I ever thought I could be about a cake. She wipped out a sketch that blew us away.  Her shop is actually in her home which is out of town down a winding road in a log cabin.  The studio was filled with baking pans and utensils I have never seen.  Her cakes looked like art but tasted incredible too – I would swear she uses organic ingredients but if not, they are of much higher quality than the bigger places. 

I will keep the design a secret for now, but we are planning on a white vanilla cake with raspberry and lemon filling and a thin layer of meringue flavored butter-cream frosting. 

She may love making cakes, but not as much as we are going to love eating them!

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Anna Nicole Smith and Fred were lovers

February 10, 2007 at 1:55 pm (Already divorced, Friends and Guests, Honeymoon, Wedding planning, married)

As you know, Fred’s ex-girlfriend, Anna Nicole Smith, recently died. Well, we’ve also learned that Fred might be the father of Anna Nicole Smith’s child, an infant.

Fred was a janitor at oil billionaire J. Howard Marshall’s Oklahoma residence. One day when he was mopping the bathroom floor, Fred met Anna Nicole Smith. She was nude. They fell in love and have been having an affair ever since.

Anna Nicole Smith never told anybody because she was embarrassed of Fred. He’s a sweet man, she told reporters the day before her death, but his ears are way too big. When asked if he’s the father of Dannielynn, Anna Nicole Smith would not comment. So, Fred is now throwing his name in the daddy hat with the deceased Marshall—who allegedly froze sperm back in the ’90s—Prince Frederic von Anhalt, Smith’s lawyer Howard K. Stern and Hollywood photographer Larry Birkhead.

Jaclyn said the wedding is off. That’s OK, Fred said, I need to mourn my ex-lover Anna Nicole Smith. “She was such a wonderful person,” Fred says.

None of what you just read is true. And we thank you for reading.

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Guest Information and Bridal Registries

February 9, 2007 at 9:49 am (Engagement, Family, Friends and Guests, Gift Registry, Honeymoon, Wedding planning)

If you will look to the left of the screen, you will see that we started a new page called “for the invited and the interested.”  So far we have a list of several downtown hotels for those who want to make arrangements early, and our bridal registries, The Honeymoon, Honey Fund, and Amazon.  We will be posting maps, airport information, and schedule of events as we get to them.  If you have any questions, please post them here and we will get them answered for you.  We realize you have many choices in selecting an information provider for Fred and Jaclyn’s wedding, and we thank you for choosing gettingmarried.wordpress.com

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10 things I’m looking forward to about marriage

February 7, 2007 at 5:30 pm (Already divorced, Wedding planning, married)

10. Jaclyn will cook dinner more. (Fred will clean up after I make dinner)

9. I’ll look more attractive to hot women because I have a wedding ring. But of course, I’ll turn them all down because I’ll be married to the world’s most beautiful woman.  (I can’t wait to turn down the legions of younger men hoping to get with the older, experienced woman) 

8. My family will no longer pester me about when I’m getting married. (Ditto)

7. Living with Jaclyn will not be a sin. (People won’t continually tell me we are living in sin)

6. I will no longer have to think about how to spell Jaclyn’s last name (Engelsher). (People can actually spell AND pronounce Minnick)

5. I can show up to Jaclyn’s parents unannounced and eat their food. Well, maybe not. But they have to at least let me in and give me a glass of water, because I’m family.  (I won’t have to defend any of Fred’s actions to my parents because they will be able to yell at him like their own son)

4. People won’t try to hook me up with their nieces and daughters.  (People will stop asking me why I’m not married and hearing about all men out there who would be perfect for me)

3. When people ask me to move back to Oklahoma, I can say, “sorry, my wife really likes it here.”  (I get to put Fred on the mortgage)

2. Jaclyn will be my wife.  (I won’t have to use the word “boyfriend” anymore)

1. The tax break. (Controling the refund)

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Thurman, the 25-pound cat

February 3, 2007 at 1:11 pm (Family, Wedding planning)

Hi, my name is Thurman. I was named after Thurman Thomas, the great Oklahoma State Cowboys running back. My daddy named me after him because he felt No. 34 was often overlooked because he played with Barry Sanders. Since I lived in the Humane Society for several months, I was overlooked, too, until mommy and daddy rescued me. As you know, they are getting married soon. I’m excited for them, and they asked me to introduce myself to their friends and family.

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 As you can see, I’m a writer, just like my daddy. Here I’m writing an article for the Cat Times. The story is about the shortage of catnip on the East Coast. Apparently, it’s not been a good growing season for the herb. We’re all licking our paws just to get through the day. Luckily, mommy is a Doctor of Oriental Medicine and she makes a nice replacement.

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 My second job is sleeping. In fact, I sleep 20 hours a day. It’s tough work, especially when your sleeping quarters are so far away from the food bowl and litter box.
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I normally dream about Oklahoma State winning the national championship in something other than women’s softball, men’s golf and wrestling.
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Sometimes, I have nightmares about dogs. There’s this one dog that lives down the hall. I just know he smells me. 
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When I’m on my back, I demand somebody rub my chest. Sleeping is hard work, and I deserve a reward.

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 Well, it was nice talking to you. If you’ll excuse me, I need to sleep.

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My Maid of Honor

February 1, 2007 at 12:30 pm (Engagement, Friends and Guests, Wedding Dress)

On first impression, she didn’t like me very much.

“You didn’t say hello. I thought you were stuck up.”

Of course, she didn’t tell me that until a few years later—after we had been through the usual man troubles and joys; money troubles and joys; and general life troubles and joys that go along with friendship.

Lucky (her real name is Mary Allison—she finds it amusing that a Baptist girl would be given a Catholic Nun’s name) is a cool gal. Like me, she does not define herself by her age and is more focused on enjoying life than what other people think .

She is a rocker at heart. She changes her hair on a whim, will drive 5 hours and back just to see “my boys” (the Velcro Pygmies), throws impromptu parties, and does not let other people deter her from what she wants. She is easy going, but lives by her own rules.

Most importantly, she is loyal, dependable and full of laughter.

Since she is the only Bridesmaid, I told her to pick a dress that would make her happy. Lucky wanted something that looked good and matched my dress. When my mother and I found one, she voiced concern. “I like how it looks on me,” she said, “but this is chiffon and yours is silk, the fabrics don’t match.”

After slugging through a bunch of dresses on-line and in stores, we found the one. Despite the fact we had picked gold and red (good luck marriage colors), the unique “euro cinnamon” color looked so good on her, we scrapped the planned and predictable burgandy/wine dress hue. Lucky asked what color I wanted her to dye her hair for the ceremony to best go with the dress – the saleslady looked confused.

After settling on the dress, she busied herself looking through bachelorette tank tops for the shower/party.  She fully intends on getting me up on stage wearing a veil decorated with phallic symbols as Cam serenades me with “Purple Rain” while giving me a lap dance.

What a great friend.

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