In case anyone wants an update on the car - it's actually a good thing I ran over that whatever-it-was, since my tires are, all four of them, about to blow. Which is why I'm sitting here three days before my wedding waiting for new tires to be put on my car.

I do not recommend this.

However, this means I can drive on the interstate at the proper speed limit without worrying my spare or my crappy old tires will explode, and there is definitely something to be said for that. I've spent every day since learning the tenuous situation with my remaining 3 tires driving with my arms completely tensed, leaning over like a 98 year old and driving about 45 miles per hour on the highway.

So the car has new tires, and that's good.

Also, my fiance is amazing. A. Maz. Ing. I will tell you why after the wedding, because right now the surprise he informed me of today is a secret. Seekrit. An awesome, amazing seekrit.

I have an awesome amazing seekrit, and that's good.

The weather on Saturday (everyone, please, knock on something wooden), looks perfect. That is good.

We're almost done with most of everything we need to do, and that is very, very good.

Adventures a Week(ish) Before Your Wedding

I've always thought of myself as a semi-capable woman. That is, I feel I am capable, somewhat, of doing a semi-large amount of things. I can jump a car. I can make bread from scratch. I can enjoy scotch.

One of the notable things I can not do is change a tire. You can therefore imagine my dismay when I awoke this cold and rainy morning to this:

Hmm. Something here is not quite right. Wait, what's that?

No, seriously. What is that?

And why is it in my tire? Why isn't it performing the function for which it was designed, which appears to possibly be screwing something into place? Why did it decide (probably sometime last night) to appear in the path of my car tire and cause this unfortunate flattening event?

We may never know.

In any case, though I've been saying for years that my dad or my fiance or my very capable friend Liz should teach me how to change a tire, that has, as yet, not happened. Which is entirely my fault, I admit. I was mostly planning on making it through my entire life without requiring this skill. Indeed, fate has decided that today is the day I will learn to change a tire! Allons-y! What happens when I don't know how to do something that should be a thing I can learn?

Guide me, o wise Internet!

I consulted the book of armaments this website. The website is both funny and informative - perfect! This website will definitely, definitely teach me how to change a flat.

So, I went back outside. The first instruction on the website was to open the trunk. Fantastic, something I already know how to do! I am ahead of the game here, folks. Gifted. Additionally in fortuitousness, because I am getting married next week, I recently emptied all the junk from my trunk (oh yeah) in preparation for taking centerpieces and reception decorations over to our venue. Thus, it was very easy to locate and remove the spare tire, jack, and wrench from the well in the trunk.

I was doing awesome! I am totally capable of doing this! I don't even need a big strong man to come help me, because I am clever and can follow directions!

The second instruction (or perhaps it was first... in any case, I did it right after the trunk thing) was to put the car's emergency brake on. Easy-peasy. Check. I am so good at these manly-things.

However, step three is where things became minorly problematic. I think step three on the website was to loosen (but NOT REMOVE) the lug nuts, but before I started in on this I checked the little jack door that the jack is supposed to fit into (my car's frame is mostly plastic. The jack door covers the part that will actually support the jack near each wheel. I am making up the name for the "jack door." It may be called the shnargle plodge, but jack door seems more likely). It... seems... rusted.

See, about ten years ago, this particular schnargle plodge jack door fell off my car while I was driving around one day. Experts (aka my dad) figured this wasn't a huge problem - they don't make this car anymore and we probably would't find a replacement for it, and the only thing that would really be adversely effected was the car's resale value when I inevitably upgraded to a new car in a year or two. Um, oops.

Fast forward to ten years later... apparently the thing the jack door was covering did not enjoy those ten Wisconsin winters and all that road salt and muck, because it's kind of rusty. I called my dad (ssshhhh, I gave in) and explained the situation - was this safe? He said it would be fine as long as it's not mushy.

It's not mushy. Onward to real Step 3 - loosening the lug nuts! I'd really been looking forward to this part, so I grabbed the wrench thing and looked at it, which seemed like a good place to start.

Mmm. Wrenchy.

Wait a second, let's look at that again...

I did not believe this wrench (the website reminds me that the technical term is "tire iron." I definitely knew that) was going to work on those PHILLIPS HEAD SCREWS holding the wheel together. Whose idea was this? Where's the screwdriver wrench for this situation?

Just in case my spatial awareness was totally off, I tried to match the hexagonal tire iron to the round, tiny, Phillips head screws.

This does not compute.

It was time to get real. I went inside, got my tool box because like I said, I am a semi-capable woman and all semi-capable women have tool boxes. I found my Phillips screwdriver, put on some not-a-skirt-for-wearing-to-work clothes, and went back outside.

(Actually, let's pause for a moment - why did Ford not supply me with a screwdriver for this situation? They must have known I would be at home when my very first flat occurred and not somewhere on the side of the road in the 'hood. Onward.)

Like all semi-capable women, I keep my tool box on the stove (no, I don't).

So back outside I went. I got the spare tire out of the trunk again. I got out the tire iron and the jack. I then approached the tire with the Phillips screwdriver.

Oh. Oh my.

What the heck are those? Upon closer inspection, what I had from afar (standing, crouching slightly) assumed to be Philips screws were actually screws that resemble screws you occasionally find on bathroom stalls, which require a special tool to remove so hooligan children don't disassemble bathroom stalls around semi-capable women. I do not have this special tool.

I texted my dad a photo and he replied, "Oh... that's a problem."

 This is not the right tool.

 Also not the right tool.

The struggle.

Now I'm inside, calling my awesome down-the-street repair shop and a tow, waiting for my knight in shining armor to arrive on his magnificent steed (aka: my fiance on his bike) to rescue me. I do have to go to the post office today. Somehow, I need to salvage what should have been a triumphant moment of capable-womanhood.

Guess I'll have some tea, watch Doctor Who, and make some more bunting.

You can never have too much bunting.

I understand the appeal of bachelorette parties!

Because we're really getting down to it in terms of how quickly the wedding is approaching (FIVE WEEKS OMG), things have officially Started Happening. The first of the things that happened was my bachelorette party.

I should share that I did not want a bachelorette party.

I did not want a wedding shower either, but that's happening next weekend. If it's half as awesome as my bachelorette party, it'll be the greatest wedding shower ever.

Despite not being terribly interested in having a bachelorette party, I was informed that too bad, we love you and you are getting a bachelorette party. This caused a slight panic while I envisioned embarrassing outfits, being ceremoniously handed underpants in very public places, being encouraged to approach random strange men and offer lollipops, all while hanging out awkwardly with people you don't know very well... most of those things did not happen.

Most notably (duh), your own bachelorette party is the best thing ever because you know EVERYONE THERE. Why this did not occur to me before realizing all these amazingly awesome people I know and love were in one place is beyond me, but I was very quickly reassured by the fact that I really do have excellent taste in friends.

Look how beautiful my bridesmaids are!

Not only are these ladies extra-awesome, but they know me well enough to know that no, I do not want to do any of those things I mentioned up there that I was dreading, and if forced to do so, things would get awkward and not so fun.

First of all, my bachelorette party was superhero themed.

Superhero. Themed. Bachelorette. Party.

Check out the cake! This didn't emerge until well into the evening and I said it then under the influence of love and alcohol, and I'll say it again now... that cake tasted like My Little (sparkle) Ponies. It was delicious, and tasted like... well, like My Little Ponies would taste, if they were a cake flavor. Sparkly, sparkly pony cake.

Imagine that picture being a flavor of cake. No, really.

My point is that it was delicious.

Because my friends know me well and are awesome, instead of all the things I'd been mildly dreading, we went on a local distillery tour and sampled delicious spirits, after which I was given underpants in public. Since we'd just been on the distillery tour, there several reasons I didn't mind the public gifting of underpants.

After the distillery tour and dinner (when the underpants happened and I did my very, very best to ignore the bros behind me whistling, a lot), I was told there was an activity. I did not know what this activity was, but had joked for a long time with my sister that if I ever had a bachelorette party, we should skip the strip club and just go bowling or something.

The activity was... bowling!!

Not just any bowling, however, this was bowling at the Holler House. The Holler House is a Milwaukee institution. It's a house bar with a two-lane bowling alley in the basement (the oldest operating bowling alley in the country, since 1908). There are pin boys who set up your pins, the bar is run by a 90 year old woman and her 70 year old daughter, and there are bras hanging all over the ceiling. The fire marshal actually shut the place down briefly a few years ago because the bras were a hazard - evidently the threat has been neutralized, because the Holler House is open and the bras are still proudly displayed.

Evidently I neglected to take a picture of the ceiling bras, but that's me with my super-bachelorette cape and some of the amazing random dress-up clothes the Holler House has for you to try on when you have imbibed enough. The downstairs bowling alley, while small and crooked, is the best.

As if this awesome wasn't enough, when I got home from the bachelorette party before going out to our favorite local with my fiance and some of the lads, a friend of ours had the most amazing gift for me. As you might recall, back in 2008 when I went to Ireland last, I dropped my DSLR lens-first on a smallish mountain. Ever since, the autofocus has not worked. I have horrible eyesight and manual focus is nearly impossible for me. This friend... had an extra Nikon DSLR autofocus lens... and gave it to me. I can't even... oh my god.

Beorn is the handsomest. And I love, love, love this lens.

PLA, Indiana Comic Con, Indy Beer, and Wedding Stuff

Well. Many apologies for all this delay and not-posting and nonsense. It's totally sad that the sad, sad attic post has been on the top of this blog for so long (and the situation is still sad and dumb). I've been quite busy over here. I went to a librarian conference in Indianapolis, which was awesome.

One of the best things about the librarian conference (Public Library Association Conference - also known to those of us in the know as "PLA") was the free stuff. You guys, there was a giant exhibit hall full of people trying to sell libraries things like furniture and books and software. Being the second-lowest ranking person possible to be approved from my library to attend aforementioned conference, I was absolutely not the audience for most of these things. However, because I was chatty and charming and wearing my pinstripey librarian pants and had my most I'm-totally-influential-smile on, I got things like stress balls from an open-source library management system (which, to be fair, my library does have) and tote bags. From. Everyone. Observe:

Seriously. Posters. Tote bags. Bookmarks. Pens. Nail files (weirdest campaign ever, particularly since I was offered a nail file and the male friend I was with was not - take note, ALA officer candidates. Guys want nail files, too. Or maybe they don't. Joe wasn't clear, but we agreed it was definitely weird). Pin-buttons with cats on them (CATS). I also met several authors, who were there on behalf of their publishers for the most part, but all were really delightful and great. Gene Luen Yang, Rainbow Rowell, and John Green, were (predictably) very, very awesome.

Gene Luen Yang also wrote and illustrated American Born Chinese, which is really, really great. You should read it.

This is the line waiting for the John Green lunch. YA Librarians LOVE John Green.

He was awesome, and said so many very nice things about my profession. I am so very not worthy, John Green.

This book comes out in two weeks - I am so excited, I seriously contemplated standing at the Little, Brown booth and just reading it for two days. I did not, but I did open to one page that said (SPOILER ALERT)... "18 Hours Later..."

I hope I didn't ruin it for you.

PLA was held in Indianapolis this year. Having never been there, it was pretty neat to visit! Lots of art-deco architecture, and I did a Shamrock Run around this awesome monument. Also, the Big Ten tournament was in Indianapolis that weekend, so it was difficult to find a place not stuffed to the gills with Hawkeyes fans or Badger fans or Buckeye fans. But I eventually did find myself a nice cozy little corner pub to find a local Indy IPA (Flat 12 Brewery, which we also visited on the way out of town - they are awesome! They have a beer named for a Spinal Tap quote, which I'll let you go sniff out if you are so inclined).

Librarians are nerds. The Detroit Public Library has a 3D printer and made a Dalek. Which I could identify because I am definitely not also a nerd.

They also have a TARDIS, which is really very awesome, but whatever.

In related news, it was a big week in Indianapolis. Not only was PLA happening alongside the Big Ten tournament, but so was INDIANA COMIC CON.

You may or may not be aware that I. Love. Comic. Conventions. If I had known this was going on, I would have packed very different clothing, in many ways. I didn't even go inside Indiana Comic Con (because I am a professional who does not take advantage of geographical coincidences), but I still got to meet The Doctor. He gave me a Jelly Baby. It was much less creepy than it sounds.

I also saw sexy Pyramid Head. I can not even fathom how much time this took to put together. I'm very impressed (and also slightly perplexed about the sexy angle, but hey - awesome).

And some Men In Black!

And Bane. I would like his coat.

Indiana Comic Con people, I can't tell you how much I wish it hadn't been $25 for the remaining two hours of that Friday. I would've been all over that. Maybe someone in there had some back issues of Cassandra Cain Batgirl comics that I'm missing, and I'm going to go ahead and not kick myself for paying the entry fee and going in there to check.

That was my week at PLA, it was really fantastic. I met a lot of awesome other teen librarians who had amazing ideas for stuff to do at libraries. I also met a lot of people dressed up like fictional characters, which, seriously. That same day I met John Green (he did not have time to take pictures with anybody, because librarians love him SO MUCH and the line of us was miles long). It was one of my favorite days. Indianapolis - I wish I hadn't been staying out at the airport. You were fun.

...and I had a total nervous breakdown about the wedding... things are happening.

Things involving ampersands. And there are so many other things that I need to do, and I have no idea how to do them.

Also, we got Beorn one year ago yesterday.

What a happy, good puppy. We made a family with my fiance and I and a puppy.

When Winter Ruins Your Apartment

Well, I was going to tell you about the awesome dream I had about my wedding last night, involving Jon Snow, a weird Westros-themed wedding, and a glass elevator to space. (Literally, here are the notes I wrote to myself:  "Jon Snow, bacon press boomerang, glass elevator to space.")

But I have since found out that our attic is no more. Our attic, for those of you who are not aware, is the reason we tried so hard to get this apartment. It's an amazing 3rd floor space that we'd started making into an awesome sports-gaming-turntable-ing space with a shuffleboard, that was perfect for hanging out and having beers with friends while playing old school NES and listening to records.

A couple months ago, my fiance and I noticed that there was some water damage on our bedroom ceiling. We told our landlord about it, who planned to fix it in the spring - everything in Wisconsin is pretty frozen solid right now.

Then, last week, our ceiling started dripping.

After a few inspections, we learned (today) that the solution was to completely gut our attic space. Our attic LIVING space. The attic living space that we love, the space we use for projects, for playing NES, for hanging out in a big delightful airy space, for watching Doctor Who during thunderstorms, for sitting with our favorite quilt and blogging, for having a place away from everything to think, relax, and reset.

That space, the best thing about where we live, is gone. Likely forever.

I'm being a baby about it, but we're pretty emotionally attached to that space.

We also used that space for most of our storage, and since we had to move everything out of the attic today, we're throwing out a lot of stuff. I'm donating the shoes I trained for and ran my first marathon in to Goodwill. And I'm a jerk, but I don't want to. It hurts my heart.

I had a tough week. I had a minor fender-bender on my way to work in sub-zero temperatures on Monday, which left me shaky all day (though, thankfully - no one was hurt, not even our cars! Not too much). Even leaving that aside, work has been a real challenge this week. I'm getting stressed about the wedding and everything that needs to be done. And now our apartment is full of storage boxes and we can't really walk anywhere.

So! What was good that happened today?

I found about 7 books for our wedding centerpieces (remind me to tell you about our centerpieces later - I think they'll be awesome)!
I got some delicious non-caffeinated tea at a local vendor (it's like I knew I'd need it...)!
I got rid of a lot of stuff that someone else could legitimately get more use out of than I am (except my marathon shoes - I am truly really sad about those. It's not like they'd be in a museum or anything... but they're my MARATHON SHOES)!
Had a delicious lunch with my parents!
It snowed!
I found some lights that look like heads of garlic that I hung in the kitchen and it's pretty adorable!

Onward to Sunday and a bloody mary, please!

Wait... January is HOW many months away from May?

Okay, 2014. Here we are.

I am panicking.

I'm going to make a list of all the wedding things we still need to do and take a picture of it so you can enjoy my panic as well.

In addition to all this, I need to lose about 30 pounds (okay, 15), get my dress altered (both of those in the next two weeks, definitely not happening, which leaves me with the option of being unhappy with how heavy I am on my wedding day in a dress that fits, or getting back to a weight I'm happy with and looking crummy in a dress that doesn't fit), clean the bathroom, do the laundry that has been building up for the past month, remember to not eat junk or eat after 7 pm, come up with some goals for work and accomplish the heck out of them, learn to can things, wash Beorn's gross favorite toy, and somehow chill the eff out.

So I'll be over here, breathing into a paper bag while I send yet another email to one of the dozen vendor reps who hasn't replied to me all week.

Seriously. If this wedding is anywhere near not-a-disaster, it'll be like that time the Millennium Falcon showed up to catch Luke under cloud city. A small, beautifully-lit miracle.

Things You Learn When You Get Your First Dog

Things I didn't know before I had a dog:

1) Puppies really do love EVERYTHING. They love everything and make any bad day into a good one when they greet you at the door. Literally, puppies love everything. They lick everything they like, and they lick everything.

2) You can be ridiculously proud of a dog that you've trained. The first time Beorn did "high-five," after I taught him, I nearly cried with pride.

3) Dog farts. I'd heard about dog farts before, and even experienced them, but the first time you give your dog a chicken treat that doesn't quiiiiiite agree with his tummy before you put him in his crate and then go to pub trivia for a couple hours... oh goodness, when you get back, you'd better give that room at least an hour to air out. God help you if it's 4 degrees where you live and you are faced with the choice of opening a window and freezing or leaving it closed and hoping the smell dissipates before you die of dog fart inhalation.

4) Our home is in desperate need of protection. Evidently, we live in a terrifying neighborhood, full of hipsters, hipsters with kids, old people, hipsters with old people, and wind. For the record, we never asked for a guard dog. We never trained him to be a guard dog. Nonetheless, according to Beorn, other dogs he sees across the street (thank goodness we live on the second floor and he doesn't have a great view) are a Very Serious Threat. Anyone invited over who steps onto the porch is a serious problem. The nefarious mail-person is a brigand. The downstairs neighbors are seriously suspicious until they get into the house, and then they're our friends. The wind is a phantom poltergeist-monster that will throw things at us all unless Beorn barks it down. Our Christmas Caga Tio is particularly troublesome, and Beorn will bark at it until you show him that the caga tio is literally a log with a face on it. Sometimes he does this adorable under-his-breath-bark, but he's clearly alerting us that SOMETHING IS EXTREMELY AMISS IN OUR ABODE and HE MUST PROTECT THE DEN.

5) Tennis balls are the GREATEST THING EVER INVENTED. Beorn has figured out that if he puts his paw on a tennis ball on our hardwood floor hard enough, the ball will squirt itself off into a random direction where he can chase it. He might be a genius-dog who can make his own fun.

6) Good lord, bacon. BACON! Are you making bacon?! Because if you are, Beorn is losing his mind. He's sitting politely next to you, or perhaps lying on the floor across the kitchen, but he. Is. Losing. His. Mind.

7) Dogs on the television are just as much a threat as those dogs across the street. Potentially lethal. Whatever you do, dogs on TV, don't bark. Or make any noise at all.

8) Maybe this is a fraction of what parents feel. Honestly, when Beorn learns something new that we've been trying to teach him, it's totally ridiculous how proud we are.

9) So this is what it's like to have someone Eager To Please... you. If you give Beorn a toy, he wants you to throw it. If you don't, he will bring it to you and leave it at your feet. If you don't throw it, he will sit, thinking that you want him to do that. If you still don't throw it, he will lie down, thinking you want him to lie down. He will stay there, down, staring at you, wagging his tail, until you acknowledge him and throw Mr. Dinosaur. He tries very hard.

10) If you have a bad day, a dog greeting you at the door for five minutes with a wagging tail and ridiculous grin will make your day infinitely better.

11) It's completely possible to communicate with a dog without words. If Beorn is bummed, we can tell. If he's tired, we can tell. If he's got to go, we can tell. If he's agitated, we can tell. He can tell the same about us. With the possible exception of got to go, which... maybe he can? He wants you to be happy, and seems to think that putting his head and paws on your knees will do that (usually he is right).

This is how Beorn greeted me on New Year's morning. Who could resist?

He's looking at me like that right now, wanting me to throw this felt candy cane stick I got him for Christmas.

He also just farted again.

Oh, puppy.