It's Peru, Baby.

Tito's gone to Lima this weekend, and I'm sad and mopey and lost. He's gone to the British Embassy to pick up the 'Certificate of No Impediment' which will allow us to finally get married. We want to get wed pretty soon, a rather low-key affair with the main reception to follow back in the UK. Here - just me and Tito and the beloved Celica. So yesterday I went shopping for a wedding dress in the central market (classy bird, me). I think I'm going to get a very simple, floor-length strapless gown in a striking iridescent violet-blue. Yes, seriously. Not very traditional, but very me. Nice with silver strappy sandles and lots of iridescent sparkles... ahh, Crystal Barbie, how your memory lingers. Anyways, it will match nicely with Tito's fabulous white suit. Last night I went to a disco so that I wouldn't stay up 'til three watching soppy movies that make me cry, as I did on Friday night, but it didn't cheer me up. It reminded me of being single, of being leered at by horrible blokes, and of bad, sweaty, stinky uni clubs. All I could do was think 'Ooo, if Tito was here, we'd have a laugh dancing to this' and fantasize to myself about seeing him walking towards me. Upon seeing my miserable chops I was advised "Your finance isn't here, so you need to take advantage of that!" by a friend's 18 year old girlfriend. HA! But really, I'm reveling in the misery. I miss that man so much, I'm glad I know how much I need him, love him, adore him. He is my motivation and my inspiration. And... We're getting married sooooon!!! How cool is that?!