The Wedding Gown

Moment of truth: Having being engaged for almost three years and never have the chance to actually wear my dress is kind of wearing me out. I don't want to sound like whiny ditsy girl whose goal of life is to have a 'magical' fantastic extravagant wedding day with my prince charming riding in a chariots pulled by white sparkling horses with a party that is the talk of the century, but being engaged for so long is really is not normal.
But, oh well, since we have some issues moving on to the 'W' day, we are still engaged.
Not yet married.
And not yet have a date (just in case anyone asks. Seems like it is the most asked question there is about our relationship. And I'm not being bitchy, just informational).

We are postponing because we are waiting for my boyfriend's greencard, which apparently costs us three years of our non-wed lives already.
I bought my dress ages ago, before knowing that we'll have to wait. There was a sale going on, so I just bought it. Only to find, two days later, in the lawyer's office, that my boyfriend has to stay single until he gets his greencard.

Then the wedding gown store had another sale. Then another sale then another sale. Then another sale.

And once in a while I took a peek at my dress. Making sure that the color is still white and that there's no brown spots whatsoever. And I'm thanking my taste for picking a classic kind of dress, not the trendy looking ones which style might only last a few months, or maybe a year. Top. I made sure that everything is still intact, keeping the mental image of how I looked in it and how I really liked it. Man, I really don't know when the big day is and if the wedding gown can make it. And in what state will it be by then. Darn it.

Sometimes sadness came rushing in, but I never the kind who sulks at corner of my room wondering why life is hard. Because hardship makes one's soul more sustainable. It is just part of life. Just like Virginia Woolfs, hardship brings mental strength, if not inspirations. Although I don't want to have bipolar disorder and then drown myself.

My sweet boyfriend said sorry once in a while when he sees me looking a bit down. On which I smile at him and said, that it's okay and that it's not no one's fault.

Then the other day, I saw, yet another commercial on TV. The store is having... guess what... yet another sale. So I told my boyfriend, "Do you know what I'm gonna do with my wedding gown after the wedding day?"
"What?"
"I'm going to sell it back home. And give you back the money, after all you bought my that dress" (Note: it is old custom. Long story. We were keeping the parents happy. Well, mine, actually).
"What? Oh... yeah... that's right, we have a wedding gown already for you. You know, you don't have to wear that one. Once we are moving on and actually getting married, we'll get another one. Don't worry about the old one, Hunny".
Then he gave me a peck on the cheek and a hug.

I stood there. In the middle of the kitchen. Tears welled up and throat was closing in. Simply because, I have been hanging on that dress with my dear life, with my prayers. Because he bought that dress. Not his parents. He bought me the dress. Damn it! And, maybe without knowing, he released my burden.
And I thought, hardship also proves one's true character. And I'm winning a lottery with this one.

Sunday Afternoon Nap

Look what surprise my boyfriend sent me about 10 minutes ago.

It's a Sunday afternoon. What else can one do?

People are giving us free dog food. Pedigree did, Petco gave us coupons of free food.
My boyfriend's church member gave us a humongous bag of dog food.
I guess now I'm in the circle of the fellowship of adopting pet parents.

By the way, I was driving out of my house complex to work this morning and I put on Michael Franks' Down in Brazil. Though the trees are bald and I'm wearing a wool coat and a sweater underneath. For three and a half minute, I felt like it's summer and I was walking by a beach.
Sigh,... that song is a masterpiece.
I'm going to Brazil one day, and I'm going to see if it actually takes a day to walk a mile.

The Dog

Having spent the last month barely blog or even give news to anyone, here I am.
Full of dog hair, sitting in front of my notebook.
My sweet boyfriend almost 'gave' me a dog for my birthday, and I said, no way, I'm gonna purchase it with our credit card, so that this dog will surely be 'ours' (instead of mine) and he will have to also take care of it.
So, I did. I adopted a dog. A sad looking dog from the Humane society. I picked the one that no one wanted, the one that has been in the pound for quite a while, the one that's older (since the puppies are hot sale). And I adopted instead of buying from a pet store because the price that we paid was actually a donation to the humane society, so that they can keep saving and taking care of neglected animals. So,... shame on you who bought pets from a pet store. For your information, more than 4 millions animals were euthanized each year in the US. (In this case, also, shame on Paris Hilton. She bought hers from a store).
Anyway, on a lighter note, the dog is a riot. He likes car ride and walking a lot.
I seriously think he's mental. He barks on school buses and the garbage trucks. He has breath issue that we need to take care. Seriously.
We need to take him to the vet to get his teeth cleaned, because, boy, the breath is a killer.
I don't think he had a good past, since he is very timid at times. But I think sooner than later he would understand, that I don't hit.
So he doesn't have to close his eyes in terrors when I raise my hands. Or be jumpy all the time and not let anyone touch his tail.
It's a hassle really. Having a dog. And it's a mess. And it's costly.
But I guess, having no family here makes one feels kinda lonely at times.
Although my boyfriend is almost always around, but he's busy sometimes.
I just realize that Bandit, the dog, does fill the hole I feel of having no company.
Because he would come to me when I'm alone. And the he would stand on his two feet. Then I'd pick him up.
And he'd lick my face. And I would say how stinky his mouth is, and threaten to take him to the doctor.
Then he would lick me again.
Then this time, I'd just hold my breath and bear with it.
Then he would put his cheek on my cheek.
And I would start slowly moving, doing a little tip toe dance.
And start singing silly songs about dogs (Like "Bandit, gug guk guk, kemari, guk guk guk...")
And he would cling still, enjoying being held.
And I would do a slow dance and hum in the middle of my big empty bedroom enjoying holding him while we are sealing each other's loneliness.