Mawidge is what bwings us togedder

I start school exactly three weeks from today. I'm chomping at the bit here.

So my brother's married now. He's currently spending the week in Maui for his honeymoon. Lucky dog. Marriage is the question of the hour (or month, or year). To marry, or not to marry--there's the rub. Actually, this isn't my question. This is the question of those million or so ladies at the reception that kept asking if I was next, or assuring me that it was now my turn. Of course, Beth stood up in the wedding opposite me and she was a beautiful sight, so I suppose the question made some sense. I'm getting a tiny bit sick of hearing it, though. I think it's the assumption that bothers me. They have no idea what state my relationship is in. No clue as to my personal beliefs, priorities, or intentions. Yet they assume I'm getting married. I'm not even engaged.

Now before I make it sound like I don't love Beth a great deal and the thought of marriage never crosses my mind, I'm going to stop ranting here. This is not the place to go on about my relationship and its future. This is Rob's Writing Pains, not Rob's Relationship Pains. Such a blog would involve so serious an investment of time that breathing would have to go into my schedule in pencil.

Anyway, yea! for Dave and Lisa. And yea for homemade canolli and éclairs--and some damn good wedding cake too. (Did I blow the diet? With glee.)

One of these days, maybe I'll have some writing news for ya. Until then...

'Nuf said.