The Texas Two Step

Phone exchanges with and messages from the bachelor in Texas for his mancation–which included A&M v. Miami football game, beef, and allegedly no strippers this past weekend.

Call No. 1
Fiance: Hey, I’m in Houston. At the airport now. Oh, here comes (best man).
Me: Cool. Tell him I said hi. Have fun!

Call No. 2 (roughly three hours later)
Fiance: Hey! We’re hanging out in the hotel watching McNeil Lehrer Hour. We’re wild!
Me: Holy god. And why do you keep calling me from your bachelor weekend?!

Call No. 3 (voicemail roughly three hours later)
Fiance: Hey! So you need to cheer for the Aggies tomorrow because I made a bet that if we lose the wedding’s off. Funny, right?! (If a s**t-eating grin made a sound it would be transcribed here.)

Call No. 4 (voicemail left roughly three minutes after that)
Me: Oh you’re hilarious! A real hardy har har that one! You know the bigger gamble is that I would actually find that joke funny 34 days before our wedding. And stop calling me!

Call No. 5 (roughly one hour after the Aggies got their rears handed to them by Miami)
Fiance: OK, so I figured out a loophole. I will now re-propose to you. [Bridal Bird], will you marry me?

Call No. 6 (voicemail left later that night)
Me: Yes, I will marry you. You’re lucky.

Football, Brisket, and Strippers, Oh My!

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= (half-hearted) bridal eyeroll

As we speak, my fiance is en route to Texas for his bachelor party weekend–his mancation as it were. I’m keeping myself deliberately fuzzy on the details, but it will apparently involve going to the A&M-Miami game (in a coincidence, his best man is a Miami grad), eating copious amounts of beef from old favorite Luling City Market and/or newcomer Snow’s, and perhaps a visit to a gentlemens establishment in Bryan-College Station called the Silk Stocking that is referred to colloquially as “The Dirty Sock.” He claims the latter isn’t happening–and it really isn’t his style anyway–but as I said, “Hey, when in Rome…go check out the aqueducts.”

I’m genuinely not too worried about this manly chicanery. I remain confident that the Aggies will break his heart, the brisket will clog his heart, and the strippers will have names like “Heart” and he’ll come home to me happily.

Pumpkins Haven’t Made Me This Happy Since “Tonight, Tonight”

When I was a kid, I was never a huge fall fan. Even though my birthday is in late September, I found the change from summer too heavily tainted by its association with having to wear shoes again, and going to bed earlier, and heading back to school. (Specifically, heading back to math class.) It wasn’t until college that I came to appreciate fall because it brought Clemson football. And beer. And beer while watching Clemson football. Now I love it, because it means not only Clemson football and beer, but good hair, and excellent merch at the farmers market, and sweaters, and Halloween and Octoberfest parties, and oysters, and bonfires, and good movies offering respite from summer’s cinematic stupidity, and cuddling in closer on walks through the city, and the lighting turning to a softer glow with fluttering shadows from the leaves. There’s no more stunning season in D.C. than fall.

This year though, the promise of fall has meant much more, on account of the October 25 wedding and all. But with the pressing business and anxiety surrounding the campaign and the conventions this summer, our impending nuptials had remained in the abstract for me. It was always a day coming eventually, when fall rolls around. “We’ve still got a ways to go,” I’d say, or “Oh, it’s a good three months yet. Not until fall.” Until yesterday, when I pulled into a grocery store parking lot and saw pumpkins and chrysanthemums on display for the first time this year. “It’s fall,” I thought, standing there in front of them. Which means the wedding is happening, er, now. Specifically, 36 days, 23 hours, and 15 minutes from now as I write this. Knowing that it’s finally happening after 12 months of abstract anticipation? That feeling is Clemson football, beer, good hair, excellent merch at the farmers market, sweaters, Halloween and Octoberfest parties, oysters, bonfires, good movies, cuddling in closer on walks, and a softer glow with fluttering shadows from the leaves.

I’ll let the Pumpkins sing us out, with their fitting talk of the “resolute urgency of now.”

Things I Miss, In No Particular Order

It’s the start of my second month on the campaign/convention trail. Here’s what I’m bitching and moaning about missing to my deputy campaign director, Cat Who Lives in the House I’m Staying in and Comes In and Watches Me Work All Day.

“Look, this is the exact same way Carville came up with his ‘92 strategy. And not to be snippy but we’re not going to get those poll numbers moving in the right direction if you don’t gets ta scratching the belly.”

* The way my fiance smiles at me every morning when he wakes up.
* The way my dog smiles at me every morning when I wake up.
* Doing the Times crossword with my fiance. Over the phone isn’t nearly as much fun, although he did keep me from going nuts trying to remember who George Washington’s portraitist was last night.
* Taxis.
* Meze, Cafe du Parc, and the Dupont Farmers Market.
* Saturday afternoon movies at E Street.
* Waking up in my own bed.
* Having someone there when I wake up in it in the middle of the night with nightmares.
* Getting dressed up for work. Actually, going to an office in general. God help me, I miss going to an office.
* Cooking in my kitchen.
* Reading the print copy of the Post.
* Jogging over the Taft Bridge.
* Vegetables that aren’t fried and then served with a side of butter and bacon.
* Not caring about polling numbers.
* Not having to have a PoliSci 101 conversation with everyone and their brother who finds out I’m here working for a campaign.
* Not having to care when someone tells me that they’re not voting for Obama.
* People who at least attempt to veil their racism.
* Bookstores outnumbering tanning salons.
* Watching my fiance tie his tie in the morning.
* 9:30 Club, Bourbon, my balcony for having a drink.
* My girls.
* Being goofy with my guy.
* Passing the spot where we’ll have our wedding reception every day.
* Kissing, kissing, kissing.
* Sighing with happiness.

That’s all for now. I’ll be wallowing in self-pity for the rest of the night. And scratching the cat’s belly.

UPDATE: In case you’re wondering what my smiling pooch looks like…

Things I Would Blog About If I Had Time

* D.C. declined to give us a marriage license because we had our blood tests 35 days ago and they expire after 30 days. This is awesome because I specifically explained to them 36 days ago that I would be traveling and asked if this was a problem. I was told no, not at all. It clearly brought great pleasure to the Jabba the Hutt bureaucrat who informed us it would in fact be quite a problem.

* The marriage license office is next to the domestic violence center in the courthouse. I find this odd.

* I learned last week that I am having a very merry un-bachelorette party thrown for me in D.C. in a few weeks. How perfect is it? Well here’s the text on the invite: “Please join us for a champagne-kissed, not-to-be-missed, plastic peter-free to-do for our favorite bride-to-be!” My girls, they know me well.

* I am about to becoming an aunt again, as my sister/matron of honor has just gone into labor!

BB Readers Know It’s Never Good When They See Marie…

* 27 straight work days of 12-16 hours

* 2 political conventions, 1 week of out-of-state campaigning, 1 phenomenal wedding

* 3,000 airline miles, give or take

* 2,000 emails, give or take

* 135 professional blog posts

* 10 professional blog videoposts

* 1 on-camera interview with another media outlet

* 4 “You’ve got to be %&# kidding me,” moments (2 euphoric, 2 upset)

* 3 brief cases of the sniffles (2 euphoric, 1 upset)

* 30 delicious Miller Lites, 3 evil vodka tonics

* $2,005.83 in reimbursable expenses

* 4 days off at home now

* 30 days of out-of-state campaigning to follow

Fair and Balanced Bridal Bird Convention Coverage

I am in Minneapolis/St. Paul.

There are a bunch of Republicans here. Not, however, “packing” the Xcel Center as Fox News has been claiming (unless one-fifth of the delegates are so white that they’ve been rendered invisible).

A Republican female senator (governor? I knew she was someone but couldn’t remember who) asked me how I cover a convention in 4 1/2 inch heels. “Very carefully,” I replied. House Minority Leader John Boehner said I have good hair. “I see, well, thank you,” I replied.

I have 48 more hours.