Bridal magazines calling my name again...

I was looking up a friend's registry information online yesterday when very suddenly I realized I'd been missing out these past few months. Sure, we've been wedding planning. But wedding obsessing? I haven't quite gotten into that yet. Until yesterday. Evidence #1: Justin and Cara's Wedding Webpage!

I realized there are colors to get into with awful, affected names like "mango" and "honey" designed so that you don't know what the hell color you are even talking about. There are chatrooms! And of course my favorite - the wedding webpage where I can make sure that everyone, even randoms just passing by, know that J and I are getting married. You'll notice that in the wedding attendants section I've completely left the names of the groomsmen off. That's because when I got to that section, my energy had begun to give way to a lethargy and lack of creativity and I started to wonder if this is what the priest meant when he said planning a big, extravagant wedding, putting all your energy into it and nothing else - is "sinful."

This stained t-shirt for that yummy take out?

I was listening to a report on NPR today that featured cotton - where it comes from, how it's farmed, and I was reminded of a particular spot of my education I truly loved. I was never a history scholar. Dates and names escape me. For example, the part I loved the most in all of my history education was when we learned about the old world (date?) explorers (names?) who traveled to various countries (specifically?) and traded their wares for whatever the specialty was at that particular destination. I especially loved when countries would trade things for tea and spices. I mean, tea and spices were golden. Everybody wanted to go to the countries with tea and spices and get themselves some of that shit. With my current financial situation being, well, sub-par, I was thinking this would be an excellent tactic to take on. Trading. But I've got nothing as good as tea and spices in my house, or within my grasp. Since we don't want to revisit that period where I got all neurotic about making soap, there is nothing I produce. Nothing that the country of me can offer as tender in the trading game. If old "New Yorker" magazines could get me a delicious burrito for dinner tonight though, I'd be in.