Blonde, brunette, and bridal

Hey friends, thanks for all the positive feedback on my new coif! I started highlighting my hair when I was in eighth grade, so for the past nine years I've been completely out of touch with my natural color. I'd been toying with the idea of killing the highlights for a couple of years, but I never had the cajones (if you will) to do it until now. And I mean it's not like a grew a pair over night or anything, it's just that I suddenly found myself with fewer Benjamins than balls, so my hand was forced. My stylist told me that I'd be shocked and might hate the change initially, but I was happy with the color as soon as I walked out of the salon. My parents, on the other hand, are still having trouble looking me in the eyes. I figure if they really couldn't live without the blonde, they'd contribute to the salon fund, but I ain't seen a dime of that money, so natural I shall remain.

And speaking of funds! This post is brought to you by a break from an all-day marathon of copywriting, teacher certifying, and being generally discontent about the state of things. But I won't get into that now, because blogging is supposed to be my escape. And escape we shall into the comfortable world of wedding planning.

My engaged best friend Jordan flew in from Nashville on Sunday so she could go wedding dress shopping with her first momma (that's her mom), her second momma (that's my mom), and her maid of honor (that's me). The dress she's seriously considering is only available from a handful of shops around the country, one of which is conveniently located in Big D. We spent almost two hours at the shop ooohing and ahhhing over Jordan's sartorial selections, half-planning her ceremony, and discussing our own philosophies on everything from outdoor weddings to bridesmaid couture. (I don't believe in them and I like cocktail length dresses, in case you were wondering.) By the end of the trip I was so ready for my turn in front of the 180-degree mirror that my left ring finger ached. But, like a good MOH does, I waited until I got home to indulge my wedding fantasies. The result? Two more wedding-themed subscriptions on Google Reader and one boyfriend who'll eventually get so sick of my prodding and not-so-subtle hints that he'll eventually pop the question just to get me to shut up (at least in theory).

Of course, things could always go terribly awry like they did in the newest episode of my favorite wedding show, in which the dumb groom planned a surprise wedding for his bride BEFORE THEY WERE EVEN ENGAGED. He didn't ask her to marry him until the night before their wedding (of course, he used a $20,000 ring to do it, so maybe that's why she went along with his stupid plan). I mentioned this example to Sean as a warning, because if I don't get to take engagement pictures, go to cake tastings, make centerpieces, choose the bridesmaids' dresses, tour venues, create "play" and "no play" lists, or try on dresses, I'm going to say "no." My sweet beau said he'd scratch the surprise wedding idea off his list immediately. It's compromises like these that make me sure that nothing but the cold, clammy hand of death will ever do us part.