My Doctrine

I woke up late again this morning. Rob had already left for work, so I was alone -- going about my morning business of making coffee, weighing the pros and cons of showering or getting 20 extra minutes of sleep -- when it appeared.

It possessed a fairly evolved exoskeleton and moved in a slow waddle that shifted the balance of his elephantine body with every step...

I've never been good at dealing with insects or arachnids. I'm indiscriminately afraid of them all and have an unwavering policy on such things. I'm certainly not capable of resolving things passively through a 'catch and release,' so I usually end up throwing a shoe from several feet away just in case the intruder decides to get aggressive -- a preventative attack.

...I stand there frozen, watching the brawny sway of this monster as it lumbers down the hall and approaches the bedroom door. I can't let it reach the carpet. This is do or die. I grab Rob's shoe because it's heavier (and also not my own shoe). I miss. This leaves me one more shoe before I have to start launching my nearby flip flops, which would inflict nothing but a superficial wound and only serve to anger the beast. I thankfully strike and kill on the second toss. Yes!

Now I have to deal with a corpse... I leave the aftermath for Rob when he gets home.

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Something like this

You need better friends...

...to put the kibosh on this.

A recent NYTimes article covers a supposed trend in dictating the dress code of wedding guests. This level of direction doesn't refer to helpful guidelines on the formality of the affair, but borders on a uniform code.

...I'm having flashbacks to parochial school -- standing in the lunch line -- the length of my skirt measured with a yard stick and eyelashes inspected for mascara... before being allowed into your ceremony for which I traveled 500 miles and paid +$800 to witness.

So I ask: where are her friends on this one?

"On the Web site for her January wedding, Mariela Pérez is requesting 'hacienda chic,' which, as interpreted by the bride-to-be, means seersucker suits for men and brightly colored cocktail dresses for women.

Ms. Pérez said that she did not want her guests to show up in dark colors, which she thought would look out of place in a tropical setting. 'I admit it may be a little bit controlling,' she said, 'but I do think it’s my right to want to look around in my wedding and see people looking nice.'"

I don't think it's worth dissecting the many reasons why this is nutso--or questioning her definition of a "right." But I do think it's worth calling out her nearest and dearest for shirking their primary role as bridesmaids, to temper the prima donna.

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They got the invite