It is dark and rainy here today, the kind of day where you just want to eat biscuits. Or chocolate. Or chocolate biscuits. Thank goodness for the news that Prince William and Kate Middleton are engaged! It has given me something cheery and totally frivolous to think about. (I know, weddings aren’t frivolous to the people that are in them, or planning them. But I have a feeling I won’t be involved in this one.) I, of course, am old enough to remember VERY well the summer that Charles and Diana got married: we watched the wedding in our living room in Cape Cod, on this tiny little black and white TV, and were all mad-crazy about the Dress, the Carriage, the whole Fairy Tale. Which, as well all know, turned out to be not exactly that. But what marriage is? I personally cannot think of any, mostly because fairy tales usually end with a kiss instead of beginning with one.

You know what marriage is, really? Not wedding cake, or engagement parties, or even what appetizer or napkins you serve at the reception. It’s holding your tongue when your spouse does something that drives you SO INSANE, like leaving their shoes in the middle of the kitchen, or clumps of food in the dish drain. It’s knowing when to just Let Something Go, because you’ve had a bad day, or they have, and you know things will get better, eventually. It’s the silly things, like the fact that my parents have been married over forty years and my dad will still look at me when my mom does something perplexing, saying “I have no control over what she does,” and then giggle, like it’s a big joke I’ll never get. It’s knowing that one of you is better at cleaning the bathroom, and the other can fix the computer, and while in a perfect world you’d both do these things equally well, this world just ain’t perfect. It’s agreeing to watch car racing or Grey’s Anatomy, even when you REALLY don’t want to, and getting up with a crying baby when you’re exhausted because you know the other person is even more tired than you are. It’s messy and stupid and hard and hilarious, and once you add kids in? Forget it. Even crazier. So personally, I am ALWAYS impressed when people are together for awhile (eight years for Will and Kate, I think?) and know each other well, have lived together and STILL want to take that leap. It’s a big one, requiring a lot of faith and just as much humor. Good for them. And yes, I WILL be up early watching the wedding in real time. And probably crying. I am that much of a sap.

In other news, I’m entering this new world I previously did not know existed: that of Preschool Mom. This weekend, I made play-doh. Later this week, I am baking and then volunteering for a bake sale. When on earth did I get so domestic? Wasn’t it just yesterday I was skipping class, drinking Mountain Dew, and getting into trouble? Is this the same person you WANT pricing your brownies for a fundraiser? Maybe it’s because I still live in my hometown that I am so aware of this. The road that leads to my daughter’s preschool goes RIGHT by my high school, so it’s like my worlds, past and present, are colliding on a daily basis. Somehow, I’m forty and someone’s mother. How did THAT happen? The other day I was driving when “Once in a Lifetime,” by the Talking Heads came on—a song I listened to a lot in high school—and I finally GOT that part about, “And you may ask yourself: well, how did I get here?” It’s like, I know, logically. But it just seems so strange.

You know what’s even stranger? That I have the sneaking suspicion I have already written about that Talking Heads quote, but my memory is SO bad because I am NO LONGER a teenager that I am not sure. Sigh. Double sigh. Get me a Mountain Dew and something to feel angsty about, please. STAT!

*reads back over entry*

Oh, man, this is a real mismash, isn’t it? How did I go from royal weddings to the Talking Heads? Such is the beauty of the blog, I guess. Just like life and writing, it doesn’t matter how you get there. Just that you do. Or something like that.

Have a good night, everyone!