So Stoker has been helping me edit Rachmaninov's Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini, the music that I'll walk down the aisle to. We used some Sony program that came on my Vaio laptop which I bought in 2001. We normalized the levels because it goes a little haywire in the middle of the section that we want to use. You know what section I'm talking about, the really beautiful triumphant part (because as we all know, marriage is a triumph!). If you know my mom, you'll know that this is the most beautiful piece of music ever written.
Anyway, Stoker is having a bad night because he's been sick. He caught something on the flight home from Phoenix. He took some Benadryl or something, he's all out of sorts, and I stand by my assertion that antihistamines are mood altering drugs (not that anyone is fighting me on this). I know from experience. It's why I stopped taking Claritin. I have horrible allergies, I'm allergic to everything, but I'd rather have an exhausting sneezing fit (they sometimes last an hour), rather than being pissed off at everyone I know and love for absolutely no logical reason. Poor Stoker. It will be good when we finally move to AZ and have our own space. My family, bless their hearts (and bless Stoker's heart, and your heart -- whoever you are, wherever you are), are probably sick of me, because even without the mood altering drugs I still have horrible mood swings. Like I need drugs to accomplish that.
Anyhoo (I had to say "anyhoo" that time because I already started a paragraph with "anyway," I'm a really clever writer like that). We've also been picking the music for when we walk back down the aisle together (have you seen The Cutting Edge? Exactly like that scene where they're picking the music for their ice skating duet). I think we'll use "Baby Elephant Walk."
p.s. I'm going to go make a Toaster Strudel for Stoker, I know it will cheer him up. Like that story I heard about the grouchy neighbor, when I was a kid (not that Stoker is grouchy). You know the one, where the really bright empathetic kid says he'd make a cake for the grouchy neighbor . . . maybe I'm making this up.