Yet Another Confession About Weddings
I laughed at these wedding magazines, and implicitly, at the women who read them, until this year.
I laughed at these wedding magazines, and implicitly, at the women who read them, until this year.
At least you aren’t sweating bullets because you put one through a relation on the very afternoon Hercule Poirot stopped by.
A perfect amount of quiet time, for reconnection and reflection…except that my thoughts were absolute nonsense.
I have never felt lacking in amazing theatre, and neither should you.
As cheesy as it sounds, I sometimes ask myself, “What would Superman do?”
I relished when a substitute teacher would do roll call and I’d prepare to say, “It’s pronounced ‘Carlisle’.”
I asked my boyfriend, “Are we bad protestors?”
My fourth confession: I don’t talk about this.
My fellow bridesmaids call me Mary Poppins for my bag full of supplies.
Confession, and the elements that make up Reconciliation, became my safety net.