Archive for February, 2010

Weird Day

Today was weird.  The highlights:

I had a mammogram.

I ate a sausage mcmuffin.

The company I used to work for was bought out/taken over/whatever you want to call it.

I helped make the decision to carry a new dress designer at the shop where I work.

I helped a 51 year old woman find the wedding dress of her dreams.

I came home to find my back door wide open.

I cooked a roasted cauliflower and caramelized onion tart that may be one of the most delicious things I’ve ever prepared.

Weird.  Tomorrow should be more normal.


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The Big Squeeze

I’m having my boobs squeezed tomorrow morning.

Yup, I’m 30 years old, and I’m having my first mammogram.  It’s way early, by most standards, and according to the recommendations released late last year?  I most likely shouldn’t even be thinking about it at this point.

So why am I having the test done?

Well, about a year and a half ago, my mom was diagnosed with breast cancer.  Six months later, my dad was diagnosed with prostate cancer.  All four of my grandparents died of cancer – breast, colon, prostate, and lymphatic.  I’d say my family history dictates that I have to be as diligent as possible, as early as possible.

The reason I’m beginning my screening with a mammogram is simple – it’s the most common cancer among women, my mother had it, and my paternal grandmother died of it.   That’s right – my dad’s mom.  So I’ve got a significant history on both sides, and that scares the bejesus out of me.   I’m pretty much resigned to the fact that I will have cancer at some point in my life.  All I can really do is hope to find it early and treat it effectively.  It’s scary, though.

And I’m nervous about tomorrow.  I wish I could be more relaxed about it, but I can’t.  I’m really nervous.

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Why I Do…Part Deux

Last fall, I worked with an awesome bride.  She was quirky and sweet, beautiful and fun.  She found a gorgeous wedding dress – an empire waist style that perfectly suited her frame.  Her parents couldn’t have been more complimentary, and they wanted her to order the gown on her first visit, but she wanted a couple of days to think about it.  I wasn’t worried about not seeing her again…she made another appointment and handed me her card, which had her name and the subtitle “teacher, blogger, geek.”

She kept her appointment, she ordered her dress, and she wrote a glowing review of our shop, and of me, on her blog.  I felt so lucky to have had the opportunity to work with her, and I couldn’t wait for her gown to come in so that I could see her again.

Shortly before Christmas, we got a call from her dad.  He accused us of stealing $2500 from him by fraudulently charging his credit card.  He threatened to cancel their order.  When my boss pulled out his receipt and called him, he immediately backed off.  Strangely enough, he couldn’t have been nicer to her, but he dodged her questions, and he requested that once the gown came in, we call him.  We were not to call his daughter.

We thought maybe the wedding was off, and this made me sad.  My Google Reader still showed updates to her blog, and I was very confused one day when she referenced being happily engaged.  What was going on here?

I revised my thoughts on what had happened – I was over-thinking this, right?  Clearly, the bride had put down another deposit, her father didn’t recognize the vendor name, he mistakenly thought it was a charge from us, and he was embarrassed.  He didn’t want to admit to his daughter that he accused her dress shop of stealing from him.  Okay, so all is well and we keep moving forward.

A couple of weeks ago, the dress came in, and it was stunning.  I could not WAIT to see the beautiful bride in her beautiful dress.  My boss called the dad, and he made arrangements to come pick up the dress…yes, that was weird, but we thought maybe he was going to surprise her with it.  Wouldn’t that be sweet?

Then I saw a facebook status update from the bride.  “Looks like I’ll be making my wedding dress” she wrote.  My stomach flipped over, and I immediately commented, “Why?  What’s up?”  No response.

Today I mentioned the  strange comment at work, and my boss suggested I call the bride.  After all, we may have talked to her father, and he may have paid for the gown, but our contract was with her.  We should make sure that everything is okay on her end.

It’s not okay.  She’s estranged from her parents.  They don’t approve of her fiance.  They’ve cut her off.  They’re providing no money for the wedding.  They’re keeping her wedding gown.

The entire situation makes me sick to my stomach.  She deserves that beautiful dress.  She thanked me, in tears, over the phone this afternoon for giving her the last great memory of her parents.  The day she found her dress was the last good time she had with them.  I want so badly to give her what she deserves, and to give a big fat EFF YOU to her parents, but specifically to her father.  For accusing us, for threatening us, for his faux-apology, for lying to us, for pulling the wool over our eyes, and for taking this away from his daughter.

I’m working on it.  I will fix this for her.  I think I can.

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