Dana Burland

Ben's not home and I partook in more girl scout cookies than planned, so I dig my wedding dress out of the bedroom closet, make a dash for the office and shut the door firmly behind me. I'm not sure the proper bridal etiquette for putting one of these big ol' dresses on, but I can hop in and out of it fast like a fitting fire drill. But of course, once I get it zipped, and everything placed where it's suppose to be, I can't ever just hop out immediately. I just want to be in it for awhile. Ben can't see me though, so eventually I do hop out, zip it back in its bag and bury it back in the depths of the bedroom closet. I could tell you I've done this once, but heck, I do it almost any chance I get. I'd rather not clarify if I meant that related to the girl scout cookie eating or in home dress "fittings"... I can't wait for next Saturday.

While my parents were in town last weekend, they got a glimpse of our yard kitty— Neil . Upon spying on Neil though the best spy spot—the basement window—my mom commented, “either Neil has a bit of a jungle pouch, or Neil is a lady.” Neil? A lady? Couldn’t be. I named him Neil for cryin’ sideways! My gal pal Elena kindly suggested I call her Neilinda. It just doesn’t have the same ring to it. Lady or man, the name “Neil” stays. Just when I had fully coaxed myself back into believing he was a he, Ben bursts my bubble with evidence that suggests otherwise. Neil loves our side yard so much because Neil has babies living behind the shed. While I was out running this morning, he woke up and closed the bedroom window. Our bedroom window is above the best spy spot basement window, and while finagling our old wooden window shut he saw three kittens. KITTENS. Hearing this when I got back from my run sent me into a lady tizzy of paralyzing cuteness, of course. KITTENS!? HOW BIG? HOW ...

You know what I don’t know anything about? Flowers. I needed and wanted some for the wedding but what kinds, how much, and all that jazz, I just didn’t have gobs of opinions on. I started out working with my favorite local grocery store/greenhouse. They’ll be helpful, right? And cheaper since they’re a greenhouse, not a florist, right, right? Wrong, wrong, wrong. They weren’t super helpful in meeting me near my price point, or in suggesting what flowers would work well together for someone who really needed help with that. So after a few weeks of going back and forth I went on my merry way and found a new place to work with. Until Monday. I just finished getting all final payments to vendors squared away when an email from the grocery store/greenhouse popped in my inbox. “Hi, your wedding is soon, are you ready to make you final payment of so so many hundreds of dollars for smelly plants that will die after your big day?” Gulp. I scoured my sent folder for the “thanks, but ...

In a warm, dark studio filled with spandex’ed strangers, I’m laying down next to my mom. We inhale, roll over to the left and look out to the right. I see her beyond my right arm—sprawled out on a neighboring mat, pretzeled up just like I am. I don’t even know how we got into this position—which is a common thought in my Sunday morning yoga class. Some how the instructor got me, my mom and a group of others there. My mom and I are just two girls gettin’ bendy on a rainy morning. Yoga is a weird thing. Some take it so seriously, from the expensive outfits to the audible om’ing and chakra finding. But really, it’s like adult preschool; we’re playing with body awareness, often confusing our lefts and rights then taking a nap at the end. It’s a treat to have my mom with me at my yoga class this Mother’s Day. I’m proud of her flexibility and strength in class; then on the car ride home we giggle and gossip about the girl on the right whose form was awful and the guy with the ponytail ...

Yesterday Ben and I took the day off to hit all our wedding vendors for a final meeting. Wait, let me catch my breath, final meeting before the wedding . Oh my gosh. Ok. We started at our venue chatting with the coordinator there. We hit our caterer up next, who had accidentally made double the order of deli sandwiches needed for another customer so we got a free lunch while we were there. Then we met with our DJ at Panera—which is a great idea unless you forget exactly what your DJ looks like and spend five minutes circling the guy you think it is. Not that that happened to us of course, but yeah, it was the guy we thought it was. Then the photographers—who we love, and not just because they have a corgi, although I embarrassed Ben by asking how their dog is doing. And finally the florist, where we dropped off all our homemade centerpieces. To celebrate our whirlwind of a day and how good we feel with what the wedding will look like, we stopped at Harmony Brewing Company for ...

At 12:30pm on Saturday I was on the living room floor stretching after a run while Ben was on the couch watching TV. Then the house shook. Like, loud clap of thunder, are these walls really secure? shook. It only lasted a second or two, but we felt the earthquake all right. It was an active kind of weekend around here and not just because of our fluke quake. I got that run I mentioned in, which was longer and stronger than I’ve felt in a long time. Ben made himself a batch of homemade waffles while I was out and kindly had a short stack and a few breakfast sausages waiting for me when I returned. Saving your fiancé little meaties. That’s true love. We took advantage of a beautiful day and walked to East Grand Rapids for lunch, stopping to rummage through a lackluster yard sale and to watch a little league lacrosse game. When we got back, I spent some time in the backyard weeding and doing yard clean up while Ben took care of the final wedding shower gift box tear down and started...

I’m strange. I’ve been making my own laundry detergent for a few years now, to the point where it doesn’t seem strange anymore. Well, doesn't seem strange to me or my pal Ashley but likely does to the rest of the world, our significant others included. I posted a recipe for my laundry detergent here a couple of years ago, but it’s changed a bit since then. I still love not buying tubs of unidentifiable blue goop at the grocery store or throwing those tubs away and I still have clean clothes—but now I do even less work to get them that way. Here’s my new laundry recipe: Even Lazier Cheapskate Laundry Detergent (dumbed down from the dumbed down recipe I once used) Ingredients Borax Baking soda Directions 
1. Get yourself a big container. One with a wide mouth easy to reach into is best. 2. Fill it about halfway with equal parts baking soda and borax 3. Pop the lid on it. Shake or stir to combine. Done. The big difference in this recipe from my last is that I do...