>There has been movement. The City of Marshall, according to the grapevine, which is currently twisting all over the United States and Southeastern China, has granted us permission to do our reception on the east side of Peter Whetstone Square in the shadow of the Historic Harrison County Courthouse. We do not know yet what will be involved with permits and rules and regulations and such, but we are hopeful that none of it will be cost-prohibitive.

This part I am very excited about because that town square has been the hub of my life since I was a small child. My mom has worked for the county for forty-two years, and I figure I have been going there ALL of my life since I have been going there since I was conceived! When I was in elementary school, if I got sick, and my Aunt Bucky was not available to care for me (she was our one “city” relative), I had to go to Mom’s office to sleep in the toilet on that mega-fun bright orange naugahyde settee. Which is still there, by the way. Holding up like a champ. Why? Because it is supernatural. And everlasting. Maybe I should invite it to my wedding. Or, better yet, I know! I will take a bridal portrait lounging on it, perhaps with someone standing alongside fanning me with a palm branch and feeding me grapes. I can see it now!

Today, I was going to fly down to Austin to shop for little girl dresses with my cousin’s wife, Dana (whom I love), but I decided to be efficient and use the day to purge more things from my life. Things that do not need to make the trip ‘cross town to Chris’ house. Priority one? In which room should I begin? Considerations? Where is there a TV. I never get to watch TV, so this seems like a perfect opportunity to delete things from my dish network DVR, skipping commercials, listening for interesting stories on Oprah. I even think I have some movies recorded there that I have never seen. I could, though, fall back on my favorite packing-and-moving-standbys: When Harry Met Sally or anything with Kevin Costner (pre-Waterworld). You know, like Field Of Dreams or Bull Durham or A Perfect World. Any of those allow me to devote 80% of my ever-wandering attention to the purge and only 20% to the film because I have seen it so many times. I could probably do a one-woman show of When Harry Met Sally. Except for I could not in good conscience exclude Jeff McMahon or my sister Karyn, to whom it means just as much as to me.

Rambling. Please note, for your files, that I have picked a room and set up the TV, but the satellite is not working in that room for some reason. Nuisance. Chris did leave his little DVD player over here, though, so I could do the movie thing in there. You know what I need for a wedding present? That groovy United Artists Studios 110 DVD set of some of their best films, released to celebrate their 90th anniversary. Check it out! http://www.unitedartists90.com/. Seriously cool. And compact. Which is my new favorite thing.

I will go in there, in a minute, and open the drawer of that filing cabinet that has been closed since I moved into this house, with a few notable exceptions (one when I was looking for a box of checks, which, in the age of the electronic funds transfer lasts me 3 years; and another when I was trying to find one particular funny greeting card someone gave me, circa 1997. Yes, I keep your cards). And I wll begin reminiscing and wondering what ever happened to so-and-so. Thankfully, there will not be too much of that because I have kept up with most of you pretty well. Because I like you. Then, I will refill my coffee cup and go back to that room and sit on the bed again, restart the movie and begin to sort through the boxes in that closet. And I will be forced to make some decisions. Keep that unopened box of really cute notecards or donate it to someone who might make use of it and not just preserve it in its original packaging. And which will make me feel better? Hoarding it for myself? Or sharing it with someone else who might not have taken the time and energy to seek it out in the first place? Today, I feel generous. I don’t want to take all my “stuff” with me. I want this to be like the time I left Nashville, in October 2001. When I took with me all that would fit in a 1997 Honda Civic and a few UPS boxes. No boats. No lights. No motor cars. Well, except for the 1997 Honda Civic, of course.

I must get to it. First, I have to choose the film-track. Then refill the coffee cup. Then take the box of Hefty Cinch-Sacks. And it will begin. My new life.