I have booked Friday off work. It’s my first day off alone since… yeesh, probably since before Hannah was born.

I timed it to coincide with the kids having the day off school so that I could register them in a daycamp and so I’d have until 5 to myself (instead of having to pick kids up at 3:30.) I have been anticipating this day off for about three weeks now.

Naturally my kids are going to contract H1N1 between tonight and Friday morning and need to stay home on Friday.

About 15% of their school’s population has it. Rachel tells me that yesterday her class had 9 kids in it. The next day it was up to 10. Yay!

I am planning my wedding. We are leaving feminism week behind (for a little while at least), so we don’t have to get into my feminist marriage issues. Not to worry, as a divorcée, I have plenty of personal issues with marriage too. I spent some time yesterday quite seriously trying to convince Ian to take my last name. He pretends the request is only ridiculous because my maiden name is ridiculous. And I- oops, it’s not feminism week.

I don’t know, maybe we’ll hyphenate and then we can each just go by our own last names and only have it matter for legal documents.

More fun: I am planning my dress. It is going to be a belly-dance cabaret style dress. I am going to make it myself in ivory and copper and then I will be able to wear it again for belly dance performances. Glorious.

The dress is a good reason to overcome my personal marriage misgivings. This sounds superficial, but seriously people it’s going to be ivory and copper. Also what’s going to make it all worthwhile is comedy. I’m going to spend the day in character, making little stomping motions and using the whiny voice to decree, “It’s my special day,” at hilariously inappropriate moments. Like when someone says, “That cake was delicious. I’m going for seconds.”  (But it’s my special day.)  Or “Your daughters look adorable.” (It’s my special day.)  Or, “it looks like it might rain.” (It’s my special day.)

Woah, every time I make those jokes I wonder if I’ve gone far enough that I’m the only one who thinks it’s funny. And that makes it funnier than ever.

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P.S. Now it’s feminism week at the Vagabond Queen royal caravan. And she’s funnier than I am.