In other news, I met two important people this week: Stephen, or as I like to call him, The Famous Stephen. The Famous Stephen is the man who's going to make my wedding dress. As you can see from the photo below, I'm no willowy size 6 bride! And not meaning to disparage anyone's anything, larger women in wedding dresses can sometimes look like a Rubic's cube in white satin. The Famous Stephen is going to fix that. As he put it when I left, I'll look like I've lost 30 pounds.
It's all, I gather, in the bodice. Now, I'm not completely unknowledgeable about fashion design and the history of dress design. I can probably get within 15 years the date of most dresses made after 1750. But when Stephen started to say, "Oh, well of course that was only in style for eight years," and you just know he could tell you which eight years... I'm well & truly out of my depth.
He's now going to start making a toile (a muslin version of the dress) for me to try on. Bless you, Famous Stephen. That's all I can say. (Ooh, and he's going to come up with something for Coffee Jones, aka The Crone of Honour!)
Other important meeting? I met My Surgeon this week. Dr. Castellanos -- he looks like a bunch of famous people, the only one I can think of now is Pedro Almodovar, the Spanish director. I know -- too obscure. I'll keep thinking about it.
Anyway, he would have whisked me into an operating room on the spot if it weren't that this would be seen (by the insurance companies, at the very least) as premature. So, even though he doesn't think any test will show my gallbladder, he's going to do some more investigation. Next up: a contrast study of my upper G.I.
But of course, none of that happens until after Starman and I get back from England. We leave on Monday! Which means the next 58 hours are jam-packed. Gotta go now to the local township meeting to discuss our washed-out road!