This weekend, I helped celebrate one of my best friend’s thirtieth birthday parties.  The cake matches her dress and her list-addicted personality.  The drinks were her very own (see the cocktail menu photo).  I bonded with her sister, who lives all of three minutes from where we’ll be living in Austin.  The Suitor was away in Boston for a camp reunion.  More on his being away up next.  First, photos >>

I am not a planner. I don’t like choosing the venue, planning and studying the details.  I’m not built that way.  I just want to show up and have it all done, good enough.  Nice enough.  That’s fine by me.  When I get married, I cannot imagine obsessing over any details, beyond the menu.  The rest will fall into place.  I’m anything but a control freak.  Lazy.  Much better word to describe me.  It’s why, in part, I think I get along so well with my friends, and with The Suitor.  Though he doesn’t really like to plan either.  It’s why we haven’t decided what we’re doing for our wedding.  A brunch.  A wine tasting dinner.  A vineyard.  We have no idea.  And I’m okay with that.  I refuse to stress over a wedding.

Yesterday, I spent the entire day in a warehouse, sorting through furniture.  What will we take with us to Austin?  We sorted it out, though nothing is as I want it.  Mismatched furniture.  Something of his, a bit of mine.  Nothing goes.  It’s thrown together.  But there’s no sense in buying new furniture for a rental.  There really should be more design shows and books on furnishing a rental. Design is one thing I don’t want to be lazy about.  Home, for me, needs to be comforting and serene.  A place that soothes me.  And it doesn’t just come down to the voices I hear at the end of the day when I walk in the door.  It comes down to color, mood, and balance.  Lighting.  My surroundings influence my productivity and happiness.  And since I’ll soon be vacating my surroundings and all that I know, I hope home is at least “me.”  But that’s not how I should be thinking.  Home should be “us.”  I’m working on trying to be less selfish.  But it’s hard!  Man floppy leather sofas!  Everything is a compromise, except for myself.  I’m not compromising that.