Feeling: pressed
Listening to: Evanescence - Fields of Innocence
Reading/Watching: Angel s.3

There are times that this journal packs on more pressure than an impending deadline, like a term paper, a concert, an audition or competition.

I've been able to sing in front of people since I was nine years old, but this anonymous bundle of pixels gives me stage fright. Nevertheless, I feel compelled to write something, so here goes.

Yesterday, after much dallying, mon coeur and I drove north to visit my aunt and uncle, and ask them to be our sponsor couple. (It's like this: the Catholic church wants every engaged couple to either go through pre-marriage classes, a weekend retreat, or have sessions with a sponsor couple who will guide you through the process and teach you how marriage works, since we are all stupid and can't figure these things out for ourselves. The classes and retreat both cost money. The sponsoring means we might have to buy dinner sometimes, and get to hang out with a married couple we like and trust. We went with the sponsor thing.)

I actually kind of liked the idea, because it meant an excuse to hang with my (extremely cool) aunt and uncle, who used to do kid-swap with my parents so that I could play with my cousin Marie for a week, and are second to my own parents in closeness. Plus, they're one of those rare couples who've been happily married for 25+ years, yet still play around and tease each other. It seemed fitting to choose them.

Mon coeur is not entirely happy with the Catholic requirements for marriage, such as the need for a sponsor couple at all, when we've got most of the serious subject matter discussed already, without prompting from outside sources. I figure it might help somewhere down the line, and it can't hurt. (Plus, if it bugs him, I'll pay for the gas. So there.)

So after some minor quibbling, we drove up to see them (we'll call them Aunt Sandals and Uncle Ponytail, since I rarely see them without aforementioned accessories), on a thin excuse about "already being in the area" and wanting to "drop by." Then we arrived, and after welcome hugs, I admitted that we hadn't just dropped by, that we had a specific reason for being there, and they began to look a little serious, fearing bad news.

Then I explained the sponsor situation-thingy, and we asked them if they'd be willing to help us. Uncle Ponytail was beaming, and Aunt Sandals stood completely still; I realized after a moment that she had tears in her eyes. Abruptly, I was very glad that we'd driven up there to ask in person, instead of over the phone.

By the end of an evening of chatting, trading stories, and going out for Mexican food with them and Bartok (their son) and Kerry (his fianc�e), I think mon coeur was glad we went up there, too (even though we missed his work party back in Schoolville, for which I am still very, very sorry, love).

...See? More pressure to write than a term paper. And I feel like this entry deserves a C-minus. It only escapes a D by not including song lyrics.

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