Scarlett Pages

Finally a Bride

When I started this blog, I included the category "Always a Bridesmaid..." (as in "Always a bridesmaid, never a bride) because it rather summed up the bulk of my romantic life. "Happily ever after," in the traditional form, complete with engagement ring, white dress, and big day, or any other form, seemed to be something that just wasn't meant for me. For a while I was the woman guys dated before. Before they decided to marry their ex-girlfriends, before they met the "love of their life," before they came out of the closet. 

Then there were the times I knocked myself out trying to make the wrong relationship work, putting up with behavior I shouldn't have because I was desperate not to be alone, because of some misguided belief that relationships take work and this was just part of that work. After each of these experiences, I would go the other direction, swearing off men, reinstating my rather high standards (because what had lowering them got me?), and generally daring any man to just try and date me. 

And while I've always known I wanted to get married, I was never the type of girl to fantasize about my "perfect" wedding. Of course I have some thoughts about what I'd like, but waiting until the ripe old age of 36 to get married has done nothing so much as shown me the amount of work and expense that goes into these "perfect" weddings. I've always been a very practical person (sometimes too much so) and it just seems like a lot of time, effort, and money. Plus, I've seen those "Bridezilla" reality shows and I really don't want to turn into that for the sake of a single day. It seems that far too often the obsession with having this one perfect day overshadows everything, including the reason you're supposed to be getting married in the first place: to join your life together with the person you love. As all the relationship experts on daytime talk shows say: Better to focus on having the perfect marriage, instead of putting all the focus on having the perfect wedding. 

Even my long-held desire to get married was really just a desire to be settled in a loving, stable relationship. I found that once I had that, my need to "make it official" decreased. Plus I'm just contrary enough to like the idea of having a "partner" rather than the traditional "husband." 

But life, love, and circumstances have had their way with me and I find myself looking forward to marrying my wonderful man in exactly one week. Being older and wiser (we hope), having lived together for nearly two years now, and planning a very small ceremony at the registrar's office, there is perhaps a bit less over-the-top excitement as we go about our day-to-day lives. But it is exciting nonetheless. I can't wait to wear my ring, to see my man dressed up in a suit and tie, to add his surname to mine. 

I have been truly blessed to find such a wonderful, loving man with whom to spend my life. 

Reading the Paper

I have a lot of free time right now and I seem to spend a portion of every day reading The New York Times online. Not the important current events, like what's happening in the Democratic primaries or in cyclone-ravaged Myanmar, of course. That's what the headlines are for, right? No, I tend to concentrate on the human interest stories and features in the art, real estate, and style sections. Even when I was a journalism major in college, I was a feature writer, so at least I'm consistent. 

Occasionally I see some news from the old neighborhood. Just yesterday yet another construction crane fell to the New York city street a mere five blocks from where I used to live. Did I mention that the news from the old neighb is seldom good? But I guess that's the nature of news.  

I read some of the book review, though I find just as many potential books for my night table just by reading the feature stories or noting a particular contributor's name. The weekend magazine usually has some good stuff and the "Modern Love" column also publishes a wide variety of interesting personal stories. This week's entry, by a college junior who's boyfriend dropped out during their freshman year and, despite being from Queens and afraid of the dark, decided to give up his apartment to be homeless and live in the local woods, had a line that made me laugh out loud: 

"Several months earlier, Terry had given me the book “Into the Wild” for Valentine’s Day (because nothing says “I love you” like the story of a young man starving to death in the Alaskan wilderness). That should have been a clue."

Hysterical. I read her piece and wondered "was I able to write this well when I was her age?" Sadly, probably not. On the few occasions I've looked up some of my old feature stories from the college paper, reading them has been absolutely cringe inducing. Then again, the same goes for some of the crap I had to write as a corporate communications functionary. Ahh, self-loathing... I mean, criticism. The bane of the writer! 

I did learn something important in today's paper: the rich are suffering from the economic downturn too! Those rich wives are having to spend less, going eight weeks between hair appointments instead of six. GASP! Some are even having to stop highlighting their hair! Their husbands are having to sell off parts of their expensive watch collections and limit themselves to charter jets rather than private planes. What is the world coming to! Pardon me while I go cry these rich bitches an effin' river. 

At least I'm well-informed. Until tomorrow. 

I Don't Have a Chiropractor...

But my horse does. 

Yes, that's right. There are horse chiropractors now. Who knew? 

After sorting out his feet with a new farrier here in England, we noticed that my gelding Pintea still seemed a bit unbalanced. So Van called in the chiropractor. After his first adjustment, there was an immediate difference. Pintea has been much livelier and developed the annoying habit of making the stable staff chase him around the field when it was time to return to his stall. 

He had his follow up appointment yesterday and made many funny faces to indicate his pleasure while the chiropractor worked on his back. Horses love to be scratched behind their withers and along the mane — places they can't reach themselves. In the field you can often see two horses standing next to each other and using their teeth to scratch each other. Much as a dog will make a circular motion with a leg when you scratch its favorite spot, horses will stretch their necks and work their lips into odd expressions to indicate their pleasure.

Grooming Pintea later that afternoon, it was clear he was enjoying the attention. He's such a lovely horse, with so much personality and goodness. These photos are just priceless.

    

What Can I Say? I LIKED the Sex and the City Movie

So I went to see the Sex and the City movie on Wednesday night. I was well-aware of the backlash about this movie, the stories of how the actresses didn't get along, the reviews that had sneaked out criticizing every aspect of it. I was prepared for it to be a train wreck, but I was still determined to see it.

You know, it was a perfect good film and I really enjoyed it. I don't know what the critics are bitching about--although they all seem to be reading from the same page of notes: too long, lots of unnecessary fashion montages, no surprises, obvious product placement, Michael Patrick King can't make the jump from television to the big screen, blah, blah, blah. Personally, I think most of the critics had made up their minds before viewing a frame of the movie. And if even one of them had popped out an original thought, I might--might--take it seriously. 

What exactly were they expecting? This isn't some Anthony Minghella masterpiece or indy-art house film. It's a movie based on a television show for heaven's sake. It's an entertainment. I lived in New York for almost a decade and I'll be the first to tell you that SATC takes a kernel of truth about life in NYC and glams it up to an unrealistic degree. I think that's pretty obvious, even to the die-hard fans of the show. People like to live vicariously through the characters precisely because life isn't a series of endless free afternoons sipping cosmos and buying Manolos. Trust me, no one would want to watch a show that recreated my dating life in the city. 

As far as the fashion montages, A) they weren't that long and B) hello? this is "Sex and the City!" You might have noticed that the characters are pre-occupied with... uh... fashion? Frankly, I didn't think that the montages of Carrie trying on her 80s fashions or wedding gowns took away from the movie; in fact, I felt they served a purpose in the story. 

And product placement? Again, this is "Sex and the City." Who in their right mind would think that fashion labels wouldn't be prominent? I really could care less that Louis Vuitton was mentioned a few times. (Although I really do hate the new theme song, "Labels or Love," performed by Fergie. Horrendous. Makes me want to put an ice pick in my ear just to make the pain stop. If you visit the movie website and click on Soundtrack, you too can experience the pain.)

While admittedly the movie didn't break any new ground, it updated all the characters' stories in what I felt was a satisfying way. What can I say? I cried. A lot. 

Yes, I have a tendency to cry at movies. Yes, I'm currently lacking gal pals and feeling a bit lonely. Yes, I find myself wistfully longing for the fantasy ideal of being single in New York once again, for the sense of possibility I always felt there. But I do realize that this is a movie. It's not real life. It's entertainment. And I was entertained. 

So maybe the critics need to adjust their expectations just a tiny bit, huh?

 

Ooopsy-Daisy!

I had to avoid the computer all day yesterday and most of today. Why?

Because I fell off my horse.

Yep. I'm an idiot. Haven't done that since I was at least 17 (and that itself was nearly 20 years ago). As Van says, it's not the falling off that's hard, so much as the hitting the ground. Luckily I hit the ground on my very well-padded posterior. And while it isn't giving me the satisfaction of bruising up nicely, it definitely hurts--particularly when I have to walk fast. [Hold up, my ass is broken!]

It was one of those totally stupid things. I'm using a new saddle (a really nice Pathfinder endurance saddle that Van put aside for me to use) and despite adjusting the stirrup leathers correctly, the saddle seemed to be sitting off to the right. So I was already unbalanced a bit overall, but it didn't seem like a major thing. But then we started to canter and I immediately lost my right stirrup during the trot. I was busy trying to pull Pintea back and he at the same time was swinging his head around his knees after a bug of some sort and next thing I know, ass over tea kettle onto the ground. I even managed to tear out a few clumps of poor Pintea's mane while I was trying to right myself.

Of course Pintea stopped with zero problem--good thing since I was lying in the path right in front of him--and set about the task of eating the luscious grass at hand.

The fall itself wasn't so bad, but unfortunately, it triggered one of my dreaded migraines, so I spent the next 24 hours in bed with Van checking me nearly hourly to make sure I was OK. He even went out to get me migraine medication at 9 in the evening and managed to get something even though the pharmacy had already closed. And brought me cheesecake and Coca-cola to cheer me up. Have I mentioned what a wonderful man I have?

Today we had the horse chiropractor come to take a look at our two boys and Pintea did need an bit of an adjustment, so maybe I was completely crazy about the saddle sitting a bit off? I think I'll let my butt and my pride heal a bit more before I take the new and improved Pintea out for a spin.

Snark Alert!

As I have wedding-type things on my mind these days, I took a look at the New York Times' photos of Jenna Bush's wedding. I was frankly surprised by how natural and informal her look was, but it worked. Love the dress. Oscar de la Renta (aka, not in MY price range). Fab-u-lous. And now here comes the snark...

Could cousin Lauren--you know, the model--please pull sister Barbara aside and teach her how to pose? Could she look more awkward? Not to mention the unfortunate placement of her head amidst the giant floral arrangement in photo 2.

Laura's not much better on the posing front. And why are mom and sis so SHINY? What's with those dresses? Do they want to be seen from space?

Bright Shiny Review

Although I've long been intrigued by James Frey's book, A Million Little Pieces, I've purposely avoided buying a copy because I don't like to reward that kind of authorial dishonesty. The man bilked enough people of their money already (and I suppose one of them will eventually pass a worn copy my way).

However, I just read Janet Maslin's review of Frey's new novel, Bright Shiny Morning, and it struck me that it is possibly the best review any author could ever hope for. Maslin has seemingly adopted Frey's writing style for the piece, and while it is not the clearest form of writing (I generally hate it when authors don't use proper punctuation—as if their writing is so far above mere punctuation—and overuse stream of consciousness), it is very effective. I'm completely drawn in, entranced, ready to actually give this book a read. Or at least add it to my Amazon wishlist. I'll probably wait for the paperback anyway.

I hope that Frey's writing lives up to Maslin's.

Back in the Saddle

Before taking up riding, Van spent a lot of time in another type of saddle: a bicycle saddle. An avid cyclist, at one point he was riding an average of 200 miles every week. Eventually, he developed problems with his knees, which is when he turned to riding.

Last Wednesday or Thursday we ventured once again into the abyss that is our storage unit in order to retrieve his bicycles, which were designed to his specifications and fold up, making them easy to store, put in a car, and generally move around. I saw quite a few fold-up bikes in Holland, where many people biked to the train station, took the train, then biked the rest of the way to work. It's a very clever idea and I think, at least in England, Van was probably ahead of his time when he had these made 15-20 years ago.

The bikes were of course in the far reaches of the unit, so we had to once again lug various boxes and bits of furniture out of the way and then fit everything back in like some giant... and very heavy... 3D puzzle. [Van's comment later: "I think if we rearranged things at this point, we could use a smaller unit." While I applaud this effort to save money, I wonder who he thinks is going to help him move all that stuff? Because Scarlett lacks the upper body strength for that particular exercise in masochism. Did I mention that everything is very heavy? And of course I'm not in the best physical shape at the moment.]

The bicycles had spent almost ten years stored in the roof of a barn, so some work and new parts were necessary. But Van got the first one running after a couple hours of work. Here he is on the maiden voyage.

Yesterday, having already been riding for a couple hours, he decided to cycle from home to the stables and back. Twenty-five miles in total. I was tired just from the riding. But he went cycling and seemed no worse for the wear. I feel even more pathetic.

Actually, he's being quite dedicated about getting back in shape—far more than I am. He's avoiding desserts and fried foods, trying to cut back his portions. While I'm cooking more vegetables for us, I have to admit I'm still indulging in the foods I have missed while living in Holland and Romania: doughnuts, cheesecake, Ben & Jerry's ice cream. Not the best, but since Van's dieting hasn't yet extended to pints of bitter, I figure I'm just eating what he's drinking. Right?

Ahh, the logic of the bad dieter! I leave you with a great photo of Van in his former cycling days.

Sadly...

... and probably due to my inconsistent posting and general boringness... no one has participated in my funny English names contest. I'll leave it posted until Friday, just in case anyone is interested.

Sooo, new contest closing date: Friday, 9 May. ENTER NOW!

Bluebell-y Fields Forever

Last weekend Van did something very sweet and took me to a spot where the forest floor is covered with amazing masses of bluebells. It was a "surprise" destination and the only clue I received was "take your camera." He just thought I would enjoy the scene and taking some photos.

I have a lovely man.