Get Me to the Church on Time

Here's a helpful hint to all you brides-to-be who might one day stumble upon this entry:

It is not a good idea to get locked out of your apartment the day before your wedding while 12 small wedding cakes are sitting in the back of your car and it's 85­­° outside.

And because I am a generous soul, here's another great tip:

Don't wait until two days before your wedding to try and wax your legs at home, because even if you get out of bed extra early to give yourself time to take care of an extensive grooming routine, you will not have time. This will be directly due to the fact that your phone will ring approximately every 10 minutes, beginning at 8:20 a.m. You will spend 1 1/2 hours warming the wax in the microwave, getting two strips done, then the phone will ring and by the time you handle whatever issue sparked the call, the wax will be hardened and you will have to start the whole process over again, until you finally lose patience and plan to shave the morning of the wedding, razor burn be damned, because after 90 minutes of this cycle, you will have one shin done.

The last part of last week was simultaneously the fastest and slowest three days of my life. In the week leading up to Wednesday, I kept saying to Hulio that I felt pretty good about the status of everything and was pretty sure that I'd be able to get it all done with no real problem in the two days I'd arranged to take off work prior to the actual day of the wedding.

Tip #3: If you think you'll need two days to do the last minute stuff with the help of two friends, your fiance and his friend, and 4 family members, assume you'll need 4 days with the help of two friends because your fiance and his friend will have their own not-very-clearly-defined agenda and your family members will need so much attention that they are not so much a help as you'd have thought they might be. This is not because they don't care, but rather because they care so much and want to make sure that your day is perfect, when you yourself would settle for happening. It is also because it is possible that your moms are more emotionally overwrought at this point than you are.

So Wednesday, I got up even earlier than I do when I go to work. I made breakfast and ate, then I gathered my grooming materials to do the various little things I'd been intending to get done for the past week, mostly involving hair removal, but after 90 minutes of the wax-phone-microwave shuffle, I was too frustrated to keep it up. Time to move on to my next task: wrapping gifts. First, the groomsmen's gifts, then Ash's little sister's birthday gifts and his cousin's birthday gift, and also the little wedding gift we'd gotten for his little sister. My plan was to throw a little paper over them, slap a ribbon on it and call it a day so that I could run out to the mall and buy a gift for Ash's stepsister on my way to pick up Luneray from the airport, and maybe if I really kept to the schedule, I'd have time to stop at Michael's and Joann's for the last minute supplies before I went to the airport.

And you'd think I would remember how EVERY CHRISTMAS I think, "Oh, I've only got ten gifts to wrap, I can do that in an hour or so", and then I find myself sitting at the table four hours later with two more gifts to go and I am so sick of cellophane tape and wrapping paper that I never want to give anyone another gift ever again unless they promised to wrap it themselves. But no. Nooooooooo. Instead, I kept wrapping gifts and wrapping gifts and answering the phone and all of a sudden, I realized that Luneray's flight would be arriving in half an hour and I needed to go.

So it was off to the airport where I encountered a poorly signed and very confusing detour to the short term parking garage that nearly unhinged me-- if you're going to make a detour go through the exit gates and then into the parking lot via a secret back exit, you should probably put up a sign explaining that at some point. I bet the parking lot guys are incredibly sick of people pulling up to their lanes in various stages of confusion and annoyance because they've been following the detour signs carefully and all of a sudden they have no choice but to keep going toward the sign that says "Airport Exit". I recognized Luneray standing at the baggage claim from at least 100 yards away, even though her back was to me, and even though it's been nearly two years since I last saw her, and seeing her standing there made me wish we didn't live so damned far apart.

I am going to fast forward this story past the trips to the post office, to Joann's, and whatever else we did-- partially because it's not interesting and partially because I don't really remember any of the detail already.This is about the point where things just started blurring together for me. I'll also skip over most of the story of how my sister called me from my mom's car to tell me that they were on Random Street, just passing the intersection of Unknown Avenue, and could I give them directions on how to get back to the highway? Quick! What lane should they be in? Should they turn onto Unheard-of Street? What? I don't have all of the streets of Our Fair City memorized, including lane changes and hopefully also potential closures due to construction? GOD! In fact, I'll also skip over the group dinner at the Mexican restaurant in our neighborhood, all the way up to the point where I took my apartment ring off of my key ring and gave it to Hulio so that she and Luneray could go back to our apartment and let themselves in to start working on favors while Ash and I led my parents back to the highway so that they could get back to their hotel.

Having seen the parents safely off to their hotel, we hurried back to work on the little last minute stuff: favors, placecards, assembling cake stands, cutting out the liners, and getting all of the decoration stuff packed up to be taken to the hall the next day. Hulio and Luneray were already busily twisting small handfuls of mints and chocolates into tiny squares of tulle. Placecards were produced-- or to be more accurace, placecandles, since we put everyone's name on a small white candle to be placed at their seat. And this is where things start truly blurring together for me.

I know that we ran into a couple of snags that couldn't be remedied until Michael's opened the next day. I think it had something to do with running out of ribbon or tulle or something, but... honestly, from this point until the start of the ceremony, most things are a big blur with isolated moments that are super clear.

Thursday, I know we went to Michaels, and I remember Luneray trying to find out if they carried earthquake gel for putting the cake stands together. I also know we picked up the cakes and loaded all 12 in the back of the Matrix. But the next really clear thing in my memory is the moment when I realized we were locked out of the apartment.

Remember that bit a couple paragraphs back when I mentioned that I'd given my key to Hulio and Luneray to let themselves into the apartment? By the time I made it back to the apartment, this little fact had slipped my mind. And as it turned out, they'd thoughtfully decided to leave the key on our entertainment center, right next to the front door, so that they'd remember to give it back to me.

Oops.

We tried to pick our lock with a credit card-- a tactic successfully employed by me and Hulio after I got locked out of a college apartment (we never left the deadbolt off after discovering that unsettling little fact)-- but the door is built to thwart such efforts. Stupid security. An emergency call was placed to Ash, who was at that very moment, pulling up to the airport to pick up his sister and his cousin. Promises were secured to come straight back as quickly as possible. Another call was made to my mother, who was waiting for us to pick her up at her hotel and take her to the reception hall to decorate, and additional promises were secured to call the reception hall and let them know we'd be later than expected.

By the time everything was back on track and we'd arrived at the reception hall, I had only enough time to help carry stuff in and give some vague instruction as to what to do with all of the things I'd collected for decoration, because I'd made an appointment to have a manicure and pedicure with my mom before the rehersal. When I made the appointment, it seemed that I'd have plenty of time to do it all, but let me tell you, getting locked out of the apartment really put a crimp in the schedule.

I'd never had a pedicure before, and I didn't have very high expectations, since I've had manicures and never really felt that they were all that. The idea of having this appointment was really more about doing something nice for my mom and getting to spend a little time with just the two of us. I honestly can't remember the last time that we got to spend any really time alone together, without my sister or my father.

People! Why didn't anyone ever tell me how fantastic a pedicure feels?? It was so relaxing and soothing. And almost three weeks later, my toenails look great, much better results than when I do it all myself.

And then things are kind of blurred again. We went to the church, there was some instruction as to where to go, when to walk, what music would be played when, and it was all kind of fun, but low key. I was in the vestibule of the church with my girls and my dad and the music was playing and one by one the girls had gone down the aisle and then I stepped into the doorway to wait for my cue... and I saw Ash standing at the altar, waiting for me, watching the doorway, and my heart skipped a beat and HOLY COW. I will never forget that moment. That thrill of excitement that this amazing man is going to marry me.

The rehersal dinner was held at an Italian restaurant. Our little party took up the entire back corner, and it was a companionable night. The groomsmen and ushers seemed to like the monogrammed cufflinks that we chose for them after much solemn deliberation, and the girls liked the white sapphire earrings we had made for them. And suddenly, the night was over-- for me, anyway. Luneray and I headed back to go to bed while Ash and his boys went out for the bachelor party, promising to be back not-too-late, on pain of being woken by an angry bride at the crack of dawn the next morning.

Dearly Beloved

My Last Post as a Single Woman

Four days. FOUR DAYS!!! Four days!!!

I am so excited, I could just burst. Things are mostly finished except for little stuff like making favors and placecards. Our wedding rings were delivered to Ash's mother's house on Saturday, and now I'm fixated on the idea that she might forget them. This is, of course, ridiculous, but I actually dreamed about it Saturday night.

One of the things that I'm really looking forward to is the arrival of Luneray, who I haven't seen since 2005. I'm so happy that she's able to come for the wedding, and extra happy that she'll be here for a few days before so that we get to spend some time together. It sucks that there's most of a country between the two of us. It would be so great to meet at the pub for a pint or two, or maybe to go to a festival or a museum, or even just to hang out on someone's couch together. Naja, who knows what might happen in the future?

Lots of other family and friends are going to start drifting in on Wednesday, so it's going to get crazy fast. But the good kind of crazy, you know?

I AM SO EXCITED!!!!

This is going to be such a great time. I get to marry the most amazing man on the planet, the one who was made for me AND I get to have a huge party AND most of the people we love will be there, surrounding us with love and well-wishes AND there's a pretty dress involved?! FANTASTIC!!

Surprise!

I was standing at a collegue's desk, looking at a spreadsheet with her, when the little Outlook notification box popped up on her screen. You know, the one where it gives you a little preview of the message so that you can decide where on the scale of Comparative Importance that email falls and either open it, ignore it, or delete it right away? Weeeellll, the subject line on the email was "Katze's Shower".

Kristi quickly clicked it off the screen, and I acted all nonchalant, as though I hadn't even noticed the little box RIGHT IN THE MIDDLE OF HER SCREEN with my name on it.

In the car on the way home from work, I told Ash that I thought I'd spoiled a surprise. He piped up, "Yeah, it's on Friday."

"What?! How do you know about it?"

"Oh, I'm invited."*

So then, today walked into my manager's cube and he had a card right on the middle of his desk. A card with a big white wedding dress on it. He grabbed a file folder and jammed the card inside it, very non-nonchalantly. And he got the most stricken look on his face. Again, I acted like I hadn't actually noticed his strange behavior, asked the question that had brought me to his cube to begin with, and went back to my cube, where I laughed silently until my stomach hurt. It was just too cute and funny, especially because he spoiled the last surprise party that they threw for me-- sort of.

See, the morning after my swearing in ceremony at the Federal Court, I was sitting at my desk, eating a chocolate donut and reading email when he wandered over and started talking to me and my former cube neighbor and at one point in the conversation, he made a joking remark that I just thought I was special because I got a chocolate ca-- donut. CHOCOLATE DONUT. And I just looked at him all bug eyed because it was a very, very strange thing to say, especially because he got all red in the face. But then, Mike is a very awkward person sometimes, one of those people who says things that probably sounded funnier in his head, or tries to get in on a running joke just a few minutes after it loses its hilarity. So I didn't think about it too much. Later that afternoon, Angela came into my cube aisle and asked us to come over to the common area in our department for a quick meeting. I picked up a pad of paper and a pen and wandered the couple of aisles over to the common area where I stood talking to someone for at least a minute before I even noticed the chocolate cake with "Congratulations Katze!" in sparkly white letters.

I was floored. And touched! I certainly wasn't expecting any sort of a party-- though in retrospect, I probably should have, because we celebrate everything in our department. It's a fun-lovin' group. In fact, I think I probably work for the best department in the company, overall. Sure, there are some people I like more than others, but for the most part, the group is fairly supportive and cooperative.**

So anyway, I hadn't actually expected them to throw me a shower. It really just didn't enter my mind. But again, I guess I should have known that they would, because not only do we celebrate everything, we've thrown a couple of baby showers since I started. No one in the department has gotten married since I started, but we've had two babies born so far and a third is on the way about 5 or 6 weeks after my wedding. And now that I know but am pretending not to know, I had a very funny day. I kept overhearing snippets of conversation with my name in it and once I witnessed another little email popup while I was helping someone with a termination clause. I hope I've been a convincing actress because I certainly don't want to spoil their fun by ruining the surprise.

*Have I mentioned that Ash is temping at the company where I work for a few weeks? He's in a different department, but as it turns out, on the same floor. It's kind of cool and kind of weird at the same time. I bet it will feel really strange again when his temp assignment is over or he gets a permanent position.
**It's also overwhelmingly female. We only have five men out of a total of twenty four employees. I wonder if that has anything to do with the positive atmosphere? But then again, large groups of women can be far more competitive and cutthroat, so maybe it's just a lucky fluke.

The Devil is in the Details

A recent email conversation with a friend:

"I know that it's your big day...but I have only Star Wars stamps.
If it bothers you, I'll make a special trip to the post office so that I can RSVP with a more, ahem, appropriate postal art?"

"My impulse is to ask if there really are people who would care about that sort of thing... and then I immediately realized that, yes, there are. And that's why everything bridal is so effing expensive. I, however, care only about *getting* the RSVP... in fact, please feel free to RSVP via the website and don't bother with stamps or anything."

"Well, I figured you wouldn't mind, and Ash might actually find it funny. But I thought I'd ask just in case someone else was dealing with the RSVPs--someone who really cares about this sort of thing."

Two days later...

"So I paid attention to this only because you asked this question, and I'm pleased to report to you that, thus far, fully 40% of our RSVPs have been stamped with some Star Wars character. I don't know what that says about our friends... ;-)"

"I had a discussion with some of my colleagues to determine which Star Wars stamp was most appropriate for a wedding RSVP. :)"

My friends are awesome.

Crunch Time, Part 2

Last year at this time, every conversation started like this:

"Katze! Hey, how are you? Did you get your bar results back yet? No? When will they come out?"

Somewhere around June of this year, most of my conversations began to start off like this:

"Katze! Hey, how are you? How are the wedding plans coming? Are you excited?"

The last thing I ever wanted was to become That Bride. I was at a party with Ash last summer and it was one of those parties where the men go off together and the women hang out in the kitchen. I knew only a handful of the people at the party, mostly men, and I didn't even know any of them very well, but I had gotten this big pep talk from Ash about meeting new people, so I was bound and determined not to just hang on Ash's arm all night and be bored and anxious. I joined the ladies in the kitchen with a glass of wine in my hand (ahhhh, social lubricant). The topic of conversation? Weddings. One girl's upcoming wedding, another's recent wedding, another's wedding later that year, guest lists, caterers, flowers, colors, blah blah blah blah blah insignificant details that no one should get so worked up over blah blah menu choices blah blah blah favors blah blah linens blah blah gahhhhhhrrrrrgggggggggeiiiiiiiiiiiiiii, there isn't enough wine in this house to make me want to continue this conversation. *

The thing is, it's very hard not to get sucked into the wedding vortex. It would be very easy to let myself get consumed by the sheer volume of stuff to do, and I don't even care what color the table napkins are. In fact, a week ago, the length of my to-do list, which includes several things, all of which must be done NOW NOW NOW and which are truly important-- necessary, even.

Which meant that everytime I'd end up in a small talk kind of situation-- being in the elevator with a coworker, for example-- I'd find my blood pressure rising involuntarily at the inevitable query. How are the wedding plans going? NOT NEARLY WELL ENOUGH, THANKS FOR ASKING, WOULD YOU LIKE TO HELP ME ADDRESS ENVELOPES, FIND A SEAMSTRESS, PICK AN ENGAGEMENT PHOTO FOR OUR GUESTBOOK, ARRANGE FOR A SOUND SYSTEM, PICK OUT THE DESIGNS FOR THE CAKES, wait! Where are you going?? I was just getting started!

The biggest thing that we hadn't done yet, as of last Monday at any rate, was to get our invitations out. I'd already spent several hours hand addressing the envelopes for the RSVPs and for the invitations themselves, but as of Sunday night when we went to bed, I think I was only 2/3 finished. I hadn't made the final edits to the text, set up the template, or even found the exact right ink for the starry tree (the same one I used for the Save the Date cards). I'd bought a DIY invitation kit from Target-- ivory with an ivory pearl border. My original vision involved using a matching pearlized ink to put the tree at the top of each invitation, with the text centered directly under. The only problem is that no matter how shiny or pearly or opaque an ink claimed to be, it simply could not be seen unless you held the paper just so under a bright light.

Hulio and I discussed this problem at length in the week leading up to our visit to Ash's sister, Elizabeth. Once we got there, Elizabeth got in on the action, and the next thing you know, we were wandering the aisles of a Hobby Lobby** somewhere on the outskirts of the city, pondering whether or not a hair dryer would work in place of the $20 heater for melting embossing powder. Just as we were about to give up, we found an ink different from any of the others I'd seen in my multiple trips to various craft stores: dark blue with a gold underlay. I wasn't exactly sold on the idea-- I figured it would clash with the pearl borders-- but since I wasn't exactly brimming with other, superior inspirations that would make Martha Stewart cry with a mixture of awe and jealousy, I bought the ink and figured we'd give it a whirl.

Monday night, I spent the better part of the evening cruising wedding invitation websites, trying to polish the wording. One site in particular provided us with hours of entertainment over the past several weeks, as we read the cheesiest and most obnoxious examples of rhymed couplets full of puns for various wedding "themes".

They turned out better than I expected.




Ash and I were up waaaay past our bedtimes, but we got the invitations out, hallelujah! Because, see, we have to get the final headcount to the caterer, ummmm... right after Labor Day. I swear to you, I didn't mean to procrastinate and put things off to the last minute, I really didn't. It's just that somewhere along the way, what with recovering from the accident, dealing with the insurance company, dealing with getting the new car, going to physical therapy, and trying to dig out from the enormous pile of gifts that have been arriving ever since Ash's family held a wedding shower for us about a week after the accident, we just got a little behind schedule.

The seamstress was turning out to be a sticky little problem, too. Back in My Hometown, I know of a couple of people who could either do the alterations for me or would know someone who could. Here, I hit several dead ends with the handful of recommendations I was able to garner from the few people I know who have gotten married here-- lots of retired seamstresses, and I mean, really now, how could someone pass up the golden opportunity to come out of retirement and hem my wedding gown? I just don't understand people at all.

Finally, I lucked into a conversation with someone who had ended up with a hideously missized David's Bridal bridesmaids gown that required extensive renovation, and lo and behold, she used a woman who she described as nothing less than a miracle worker, and an affordable one, to boot.


I am ALL ABOUT affordable miracles.

The great thing about this woman is that she came to my house. In the evening. At my convenience. She brought her little box and a stepping block, I climbed into the dress, she started pinning and measuring, and 20 minutes later, she sailed out the door with my dress, leaving me with a bill to be paid upon delivery of the dress the first week of September. For hemming the dress, reshaping the bodice, shortening the straps, fixing the broken fastener and adding a bustle, she is charging me only $90. I was very recently charged almost that much to have four pairs of dress pants hemmed at a local dry cleaner***

And the funny thing is, now that I got those two big things off my to do list, everything seems managable again. But the to do list is still three pages long...




* So I guess I'm a dirty hypocrite for writing this blog entry, but then, if you don't want to read this, hitting "Next Blog" is a lot less socially awkward than extricating myself from that little hen party was.

**The aisles and aisles of Sunday School supplies probably shouldn't have surprised me, since apparently, much like Chik-fil-et, they are closed on Sundays to allow their employees to worship and spend time with their families. Still, I was a little mystified at first as to why so many items seemed to have religious overtones in a craft store.

*** I'm pretty sure I got ripped off. Last time I choose convenience above all else.

Crunch Time, Part 1

Last Friday morning, Ash and I took the morning off work and appeared before the clerk in the Marriage License Bureau. We signed some papers, paid a fee, raised our right hands and swore that we appeared of our own free will and desired to be married.

We celebrated with hot dogs and Limonata from the cleverly named restaurant in the Cathedral downtown. Then we walked a few blocks and visited the jeweler who made my engagement ring. He remembered us, which surprised me, but at the same time, didn't. He patiently paged through catalogs and their own design files until I found just the right pattern for my ring, then he tweaked the design to fit my tiny fingers and cast several different wax molds in variations on the design so that I could try each of them until it was exactly right. My band will be about 4.8 mm wide, with a delicate design of vines and leaves. Ash's turned out to be a lot easier. It was really only a question of which width he wanted, since he'd already decided on a plain platinum band in the half round design. The rings will be made for us and we'll go for a fitting in a few weeks.

For the first time in months, it really seems *real*. We're getting married! No kidding! And it's not that I thought we were only pretending, it's just that it seemed like one of those things that's going to happen *eventually*, *someday*. And now I'm so excited that I can barely stand it. I can't wait!

And yet, I wish I had more time before the wedding, because I feel so overwhelmed with all the things that are left to do. I've been replaying the advice that I got from Catherine way back when we first got engaged, reminding myself that no matter what goes wrong that day, we'll still end up married, and that's what matters. It's helped me keep perspective over the past several months. Nonetheless, I still think I've crossed into the black pit of wedding obsession. I am quickly losing my ability to think about anything at all other than things I've got to do for the wedding. This is a bad thing, because I'm working two jobs right now and neither of them is the sort of job where you can perform your duties while your mind is wandering around out there somewhere.

What Is This Strange Feeling?

I do believe it's a sense of accomplishment. And not because of the bar exam. I rode that high for about three days, but now I'm on to my real life, and I have been seriously busy.

I'm officially working in my new job and it's been an interesting week. I've done something new every day. On the one hand, that's so awesome! I'm learning a ton and gaining a bunch of new skills, my days fly by, and I'm getting to know a lot of people in other departments. On the other hand, this is so stressful! I'm completely outside my comfort zone, I never quite know exactly what I'm doing, it's difficult to get a good routine going, and I'm pulled in several different directions. On the third hand (what on earth is in the drinking water here that I'm growing extra appendages?), I'm not really doing the things that I'm "supposed" to do in this job. Most of the time, I don't mind. It never hurts to get a reputation as a team player, nor does it hurt to learn skills outside your job parameters. In fact, I'd think those are two very good things. And I'm getting face time with the department head.

What's really strange to me is that there's been a subtle shift in my... status within the department. I can't really articulate it, but I overheard someone telling one of the other newbies that if they had questions, they could ask Mary, Sarah, or Katze. To understand exactly what that means, you need to know this: Mary and Sarah are two long time employees of My Company who are widely considered to be among the most knowledgeable people in the department. And suddenly I've joined their ranks?

Back when I first moved out of my parents' house and got a "real job" for the first time, I was dogged by the feeling that I was playing dress up-- that I was, if you will, a fake grown-up. Some small part of me kept an eye out over my shoulder for the people who were going to see through my disguise and call me out in front of everyone. "HEY!" they'd yell, "YOU! YOU'RE NOT AN ADULT! GO TO YOUR ROOM AND STAY THERE, YOUNG LADY! YOU'RE GROUNDED FOR IMPERSONATING A GROWN UP!" It wore off, eventually. But in the last week, I've felt echoes of that feeling once again. For example, today I took a form to my manager because it needed a company signature on it, and she told me to sign it myself. Who decided that it was a good idea to give me so much responsibility? What if I mess it up? What if they find out that I don't know what I'm doing? And of course that's ridiculous: they gave me responsibility because I can handle it, they know I don't know what I'm doing yet, but they have reason to believe that I'll be able to learn it, and if I mess up, the world won't come to a screeching halt. In fact, all evidence suggests that if I own up to my mistake, fix it or get help to fix it, and take time to figure out how to keep it from happening again, they'll be perfectly understanding. So I squelch that stupid voice whenever it pops up. Still, the vague feeling of cognitive dissonance remains.

Last night, I finished assembling the Save the Date cards for the wedding. Tonight I finished addressing all of the ones I have current addresses for-- there are about 12 or 13 that I still have to track down. Each one has been stamped and they are ready to go into the mailbox tomorrow. It feels so good to check one thing off the wedding to do list. I'm also going to order the bridesmaids' dresses either tomorrow or Friday. Next we have to schedule our engagement session, find hotels and book blocks of rooms, and pick out the men's tuxes. I'm feeling so much less overwhelmed by the whole process, but I cannot wait for the wedding to get here. I think it's going to be so much fun, and I can't wait to see all of our friends and family together. And it goes without saying that I cannot WAIT to be married to Ash. We went to look at wedding bands last weekend, and seeing the ring on his hand made it all feel so much more real, sort of like seeing myself in the wedding dress did. I just wanted to run around the mall yelling "WE'RE GETTING MARRIED". I thought my heart would swell up and burst right out of my chest I was so happy.

I've also officially started packing. The first box is full and labelled. I put my bar review materials up for sale and started a list of things that I'm going to post on craigslist before we move. I even remembered to pick up the address change cards from the post office and filled them out. I'll throw them in the mailbox tomorrow when I mail the save the date cards.

Right now, I feel so on the ball, it almost seems like I could conquer the world.

Priorities In Order? Check.

How did it go, you ask?

I wouldn't say that it was the worst two days of my life, but it definitely ranks in the Top 10. I felt that this administration was significantly harder than the summer administration. In particular-- and maybe it's just me, since I can't really quantify why I feel this way-- I thought the MBE was very, very different in tone, in question structure, and in content than last time. Fallout from the whole "PMBR is stealing our questions" thing?

But who cares? I found my wedding dress!

I swear to you, I didn't intend to actually buy anything. Hulio and I had planned to try on dresses to see which style(s) suit me best, and then I wanted to buy it online, either via Craigslist (Oh Motherlode of All Things Good and Often Cheap), or direct from the Chinese sweatshops that supply gowns to retailers here in the U.S., thanks to the magic of eBay. So I didn't even make any special monetary arrangements or take along my checkbook when we headed out on Friday morning.

But let me back up.

I took the bar on Tuesday and Wednesday. On Thursday morning, I got up early, did my dishes, ate breakfast, packed my suitcase, gathered my dirty laundry, cleaned my bedroom and bathroom, changed the cat's litter and washed her food and water bowls, loaded the suitcase and laundry (God, I love free washing machines!) into the car, drove over to Ash's, where I picked up the materials for my Save the Dates, my invitations, and my laptop, plus my library books, drove over to the library to return those books and pick up the stuff that I had on hold there. I was on the road by 2 p.m., and I drove almost straight through, in a hurry to get to My Hometown in time to surprise my grandmother at their Thursday night fellowship group. She's had two knee replacements in the past year or so, and they recently found a massive infection in her newest knee, so she was hauled in for not-quite-an-emergency-but-you-really-don't-want-to-wait surgery, and now she's in the midst of a very intense course of antibiotics. Once the infection gets stomped by drugs, she has to go back for another knee. You can imagine how happy this makes her, especially since she's in her 80's, so this is not exactly minor surgery for her. The last two hours of the drive involved a driving rainstorm with gusting wind, and you can imagine how happy that made me.

Nonetheless, I was up bright and early Friday morning to meet Hulio for a daylong trek to look for The Perfect Dress. We hit my favorite place for breakfast first, and I gorged on a crepe with turkey, mushrooms, and avocado, doused in Hollandaise. Mmmmm... mushrooms... hollandaise... I simply don't understand people who skip breakfast. How could you miss out on a meal with so many delicious possibilities? And then we were off to the store where her sister had bought a wedding dress years earlier. We wanted to start there for several reasons, including it's location in the local "wedding district", the fact that it's a locally owned business, and the insane number of gowns on the premises. It seemed like a good strategic decision.

I was a little apprehensive about this part of the wedding planning, having learned a lot about the industry and its deceptive practices in my research, and having heard many, many stories by other women I know who were treated unbelievably badly by the staff at wedding shops. The practices are nearly unbelievable in their nastiness and dishonesty, with the attitude seeming to be "Repeat customers? We don't need no steenking repeat customers!". But I know that not every business is run that way, and I heard some wonderful stories (though, it is worth noting, not nearly as many as the bad stories) about kind salespeople and lovely dresses at decent prices as well. I hoped for goodness and didn't stress it too much, because, hey! I wasn't going to buy a dress yet, anyway!

We were assigned to a saleswoman and she led us back through the racks-- the rows and rows and rows of racks!-- of dresses, asking about the wedding date and location and my budget. I told her that I didn't want to spend much more than $400-- a ridiculously low amount of money for a wedding dress. She didn't bat an eye. Instead, she said, "Well, then let's start with this rack here", and showed us to a rack of discontinued samples that were being sold at clearance. Excellent! Poised at the head of the very long row of plastic sheathed dresses, she asked me what kind of dress I had in mind, and I, never having been the kind of girl who dreamed about her wedding and planned the exact details years before she got engaged, answered "Not strapless." I thought about it for a moment and added "And no huge train." "Okay!" she answered, and we all dove into the racks.

I could not believe how heavy the dresses were. I mean, I sort of knew that they are basically a huge mound of fabric held together with a few tons of beads and sequins and such, but it didn't really sink in until I was feeling the ache in my arms before we were half way down the first rack.
Wow, are there some ugly dresses out there. Hulio and I have a pact: no butt bows, ever. And it is our sworn duty as best friends to smack the other across the face, ridicule her in front of others, even rip the nasty thing off if necessary. Therefore, there was lots of superfluous giggling whenever we saw a butt bow. Several times, we got all excited about a fabric or a detail only to have the image shattered when we pulled the dress from the rack only to find that it had some other fatal flaw. Still, in short order we'd pulled about six dresses from the rack and handed them over to our saleswoman. By that time, my arms were tired and the dresses were starting to look a little alike, so the executive decision was made to try on what we had and take it from there.

Back in the dressing room, the saleswoman complimented my breasts (Me: "Hehehe. Thanks! They're natural!" No, not really. I mean, yes, they really are natural, but I didn't say that. I just laughed and mumbled something non-commital.), and helped me put on the first dress... and I couldn't get it off fast enough. It was, ummmm, a little slinkier than I'd planned to wear for my church wedding. After that, though, we found something we liked about every dress, but none was perfect. If only I could have the fabric from #2 and the neckline from #3 and the skirt from #4... I stepped into the last of the batch and Hulio helped the saleswoman muscle the bodice closed and I turned on the pedestal toward the mirror, and suddenly I was a bride.

I looked at Hulio and said "I am so getting married!" and she said "Yes, you are!" and I started to cry and then the saleswoman brought out a veil and headpiece to try on and holy cow y'all, I am going to get married in just a few months! And I'm going to wear this gorgeous dress! As Hulio put it, it's exactly like me, exactly the sort of thing I would wear. The outside is organza with tiny little beaded flowers all down the bodice and into the skirt. There is a row of buttons down the back and a modest train with more tiny flowers all cascading along the folds.

The best part is, it fit. Almost perfectly. The straps-- it has spaghetti straps, if you didn't guess by the lead-in to this sentence-- will need to be shortened by about 1 cm, and I'll probably need a small dart under each armpit. Oh, and one of the little eyehooks is missing. And because it was the discontinued sample, it was $199. Plus sales tax. Original price $1075. I am the Queen of Wedding Bargains.

Hulio helped me start another wedding bargain I've been itching to work on: my Save the Date cards. I bought every package of dark blue cards from the Target clearance section, and scoured the internet for the perfect stamp. The result:
Well, apparently Blogger (Motto: "We put the 'free' in 'are you freaking kidding me?!'") doesn't want you guys to see any of this, so you will just have to trust me for now: they are sweet.

Since I Know You're All on the Edge of Your Seats

We found another place to hold the reception, and in the grand tradition of "door closes, window opens", it's actually a better fit for us. And I owe it all to Craigslist.

I've been watching for wedding dresses on Craigslist, and I saw one that I really liked, so I emailed the girl and we set a time for me to come and see it. I mentioned in the course of the conversation that we were looking for a new place to have our reception and she promptly suggested that we try the place she had planned to have her own reception before she and her fiancee decided that they'd rather elope. She sent me a link to their website, and I was very happy with what I saw. It's in a park in the north of Our Fair City, and the prices are definitely right. I called right away to make an appointment to see the place.

A week ago Sunday, Ash and I drove out to the park through the snow and ice. We waited and waited, walking all the way around the building and peering in the windows, growing more and more impatient, incredulous, and angry with each minute that ticked past our appointment time. We liked what we could see through the windows quite a lot-- it's kind of a faux lodge with a fireplace and hardwood floors and a shiny wood bar. But more than half an hour past the appointment time, with numb feet and hands, we were not feeling particularly... inclined to engage their services. As we walked back to the car, we noticed a poster advertising an upcoming Monte Carlo Night with a phone number for their office on it and promptly dialed it from Ash's cell phone, not really expecting to reach anyone (seeing as we were actually there and could see that no one was in the office). We were grimly delighted to find that the Event Coordinator's voicemail also gave us her cell phone. Ash left a message on the office voicemail and I called the cell number, leaving a polite but somewhat acid message along the lines of "We're here... we've been waiting more than half an hour... wondering where you are."

That Monday, the missing woman called me back and apologized profusely. I guess her excuse was pretty good: one of the other idiot drivers in this city went through a red light and t-boned her car on her way to the park. She, luckily, was unhurt. I must say, I felt really guilty about the voicemail message. I told her that and apologized when I met her in person a few nights later. She was very gracious, laughed and said that it was nothing less than she would have left herself and a good deal nicer than a lot of messages she gets for far lesser "offenses". Anyway, after meeting with her and getting the contract and such to look over, we were very happy and decided to book with them.

That means that the new date is September 21st-- still a Friday. Much like other locations we've called, this one is booked for Saturdays well into the next calendar year. In fact, this was the last Friday date available from September through the end of 2007. A handful of spring and summer dates were still available, but that was too soon to get everything done without killing ourselves. So, it's a September wedding for us!

Next on the list, I'll be meeting with a photographer soon, and Ash and I are going to a tasting at one of the caterers used by the site. The girl whose dress I wanted to buy gave them a rave review when we stopped by this past weekend to try on the dress-- which, unfortunately didn't fit. Now that we've got the hall and the church locked in, I feel much better about this, much less stressed over the planning. I'm actually starting to look forward to it a little! It's turning into bit of a game: find the things that will make it a nice wedding that will reflect our values and personalities for the least amount of money possible. Can we hold a traditional wedding for 100 people with the major trappings for less than $12,000? I do believe we can.

It's Still Going to Happen...

... but maybe or maybe not on the 19th.

On Monday, I called the club back and was told that the GM wasn't in. I spoke to another young man who answered a couple of my questions, took my information, and told me that I could call back later in the week and make arrangements to sign the contract and hand over the deposit this weekend.

On Friday, I called the club to find out what time they'd be open. The GM answered the phone and when I told him my name and the date of my event, he very kindly informed me that I couldn't possibly have my reception there on the 19th because someone else is having their event on the 20th. This, as you can probably imagine, seemed a bit of a non-sequitur to me. I pressed for details.

Explanation #1: "We're in a residential area, so we can't possibly host two weddings in a row." I rather acidly noted that I was quite aware of the nature of the area because I live three blocks away. I left unsaid that this means I know full well that a) the club is directly across from the train tracks, which are far noisier than any wedding reception-- and especially a wedding reception featuring our relatively sedate families-- could ever hope to be, b) the closest neighbor to the club is the public library, which will be closed and therefore not in need of quiet at that hour, and c) while this is, indeed, a residential neighborhood, it is not some collection of quiet lanes and secluded estates-- it is, in fact, full of screaming children and barking dogs whenever the weather is nice. He seemed to be aware that I am aware of these things because he quickly switched to...

Explanation #2: "We can't possibly set up for two weddings in such a short period of time." This also seemed rather spurious to me since the contract specifies that you must end the event by 10 p.m. and break down your stuff and vacate the premises by 11 p.m. I started to point this out, but then Mr. GM made the mistake of telling me that the wedding on the 20th has 120 guests and asking how many mine will have. I dryly remarked that we were looking at a similar number and probably a similar setup. He quickly moved on to...

Explanation #3: "The couple on the 20th is having their ceremony here, too, so we told them that they could have their rehersal here on the 19th." After you already told us that we could have our reception?? I started to cry as I was pointing out all of the things that his employees had assured us of that he was now telling me was just impossible and how upset I was that they were not living up to their reputation. Mr. GM became extremely concerned and asked me if he could make some calls and get back to me. I agreed.

Maybe an hour later, he called back and announced that he had booked us for the 13th. Hey, look at that! A Saturday date had suddenly opened up! I gave him all of my information (again) and he told me that we could come in the next day to sign the contract and give them a deposit. In specific, he said "Davia will be here at 2 o'clock". I replied, "Great, we'll be there at 2 o'clock tomorrow afternoon." He wished me a good day and hung up.

I called Ash and told him about the latest turn of events. Shortly after that, he called me back to remind me that his sister was in another wedding on the 13th. Crap. I totally forgot about that. We talked to Liz that night, and she was extremely understanding. She told us that if it came down to it, she would drop out of the other wedding, but I don't want that and neither does Ash and neither, I'm sure, does she. So it was decided that we would go back to the club and see if they could move us to another Friday or any other date in the general time frame, and if absolutely necessary we would keep the 13th as the date. See, after calling or emailing a whole slew of places, this was the only one we've found that will let us bring in our own caterer, and the exclusive catering contracts are putting the other places around here out of our budget. I refuse to go into debt to pay for this wedding and I won't let our parents contribute so much that it puts them into financial jeopardy, either.

So, on Saturday we walked down the street to the club. And no one was there. I walked across the hall and picked up my books from the library (I love the ability to request books and such online and just pick them up at the local branch.), and then we sat in front of the locked, closed office door for over a half-hour, hope that Davia was just running a little late fading and being replaced by a hot, burning rage.

What the hell is wrong with these people? Hello! We are trying to give you money. A lot of it, considering that you are providing us with nothing other than your rooms, water and electric, and some tables and chairs. We are bringing the food, the workers, the booze, the bartender, the tablecloths, the sound system, the decorations, and everything else that you need!

I left a rather scathing message when we got back to Ash's place, expressing my intense displeasure at this turn of events and requesting that Mr. GM call me at work tomorrow to discuss it, or if he prefers (and frankly, if I were in his shoes, I would definitely prefer), he can call Ash on his cell. We'll see what he has to say about this. Honestly, I don't know that there's anything short of illness or bodily injury requiring a visit to the ER on Davia's part that could excuse this. I really love this facility and want to have my reception there quite a lot. But I don't really want to give my hard earned money to these people anymore.

I've spent a good chunk of time dealing with this already, and tomorrow I get to start making more calls to try and find a backup location in case we can't work things out with the club. Anyone in the area with a suggestion-- unorthodox or off the wall though you may think it is-- please email me and let me know. Or leave a comment.

The thing that I really don't get is that they know that I found them through one of the major wedding websites, on the bulletin board for local brides. Do they not realize that I'm going to turn around and post about this experience and name names when I do so? Do they not care?

It's Really Happening!

We've set a date for the wedding, more or less. I give that qualification only because we are waiting to confirm with the church, but given that I am on the board of trustees at the church and saw the schedule just over a week ago, and the fact that we chose a Friday night, I'm not worried about that.

Yeah, Friday.

Wayyyy back when we first started talking about this in concrete terms, we tossed around the idea of having the reception at the neighborhood club down the street from Ash's place. It's a cute little building and I'd heard good things about holding a reception there. When I called for a price, I was disappointed to learn that it costs about a third more than I budgeted for the hall rental. But after calling around to a million and twelve places, plus researching on the interwebs, the price suddenly seemed downright reasonable, in fact, a bargain. I made an appointment for us to take a look at the inside Saturday morning. I figured that maybe that would make up our minds for us: either it would be dismal and utterly not worth it, or it would be breathtakingly gorgeous and I would fall so in love that I couldn't imagine having the reception anywhere else.

Of course, neither of these happened to be the case.

Luckily, though, it's much closer to the former than the latter, and we like it quite a lot. It's actually very in keeping with my tastes and I love the idea of getting married and celebrating the marriage in the neighborhood where we met, and fell in love, and decided to spend the rest of our lives together. This is a wonderful neighborhood with a close, friendly feel. People say hello to each other, and you get to know your neighbors. During the summer, I would be out jogging and one person after another would call out greetings, and once a man offered me a drink from the garden hose he was using to water the flowers in his front yard, making me laugh. I love it here, and it feels so right to get married in that kind of surroundings.

Unluckily for us, the place is booked. solid. If we wanted to get married there on a Saturday night, we'd have to push it back to the end of November or December. Neither of us wants to wait any longer-- in fact, October seems too far away-- and I especially don't want to get married around the holidays. There's plenty of other stuff going on at that time for everyone, who wants to plan a wedding while shopping and decorating and doing year end stuff at work and all the usual things that make Christmastime so hectic? Also, all of the books and such say that you can expect things to be more expensive around that time, what with competition for halls and caterers and such. Moreover, one of the reasons that we wanted to get married on the date that we originally picked was that we love Fall. We hoped to land in that sweet spot when the leaves are all brilliant colors and the weather is still mild.

The woman from the club went through the book very patiently with us and as it turns out, the date that we wanted had a notation in it as though it had been booked, but without the usual information that accompanies a booking. She advised us to call back on Monday and talk to the club manager and find out for sure. As it turns out, the couple that we passed coming in as we were leaving were on their way in to drop off the deposit for the booking. So close! So far away!

So now we've hit on the idea of moving it back a day and holding it on the Friday before our original date. And in 277 days, I will be Mrs. Ash.

We Finally Found It

My motto-- well, one of them, anyway-- is "when in doubt, look it up." I also tend to believe that if I want something to happen or be true, that it's just a matter of finding a way to make it be true or happen. So when faced with the reality that we could not get the ring we really wanted, I turned to research. And instead of finding a way to make the shiny diamond happen, I just got more and more outraged about the diamond industry, until I started to feel like everytime I saw the ring on my finger, I'd think "DeBeers! in a voice combining the repulsion of Jerry Seinfeld's "Newman!" with the anger of William Shatner's "Khaaaaan!". What can I say? I really resent being manipulated and lied to, and I have a major problem with abusive business practices.

Still, I must admit that I like the way diamonds look. We considered Moissanite, but I was concerned about possible discoloration. Also, we knew that we wanted platinum for our bands, so I was worried that Moissanite wouldn't look white enough when set in platinum. On the other hand, I loved the sparkle and fire of the Moissanite stones I saw in some of the large chain stores. And then there was also the matter of not really knowing what other options we might have. I wanted a white stone, and I wanted it to be sparkly and pretty. It is not important to me that it fool people into thinking that it's a diamond-- in fact, I have no problem telling people exactly why I don't have or want a diamond. I'd even go so far as to say that there's a distinct possibility that I'll have trouble not haranguing people with the fervor of a new convert.

A couple of weeks ago, I was at the local mall to run some errands and decided to visit a couple of the jewelers and see if I could get some ideas. I picked one at random, walked in, and told the saleswoman who approached me that I was on a fact finding mission. She replied "Oh?" and pulled up a chair. We sat down at the counter together, and I explained to her that we liked the look of the traditional diamond engagement ring, but had serious misgivings about buying one. I didn't go into detail because I didn't want to offend anyone, but she knew exactly what I was talking about, and to my pleasant surprise, she didn't try to talk me out of it. "I assume you've considered a non-conflict diamond?" was the closest she came, and when I told her that yes, we'd thought about Canadian diamonds and decided that we still didn't want to support the diamond industry, she smiled and said "I completely understand" in a way that made me feel that she really did understand and probably even agreed to some extent. She thought about it for a minute, then offered me the name of the independent jewelers that her chain deals with for special order work, commenting that it would probably be best to just cut out the middle man and go straight to the source.

Then we started brainstorming possible stones that we might use, and suddenly she sat up and said "Actually, you should go see the man who did this for me", indicating the ring on her own finger. She wrote down the address and name, and finished by saying "Tell him Andrea Billroth sent you."

It took a little while for our schedules to match up during the business day, but Ash and I finally managed to go see the man that Andrea so kindly recommended. He's a jeweler, but he doesn't have a retail shop. Instead, he does a lot of custom work, and the office/ shop we visited was little more than a small counter separated from his workshop by a wall with a large window in it. We rang the bell, and he buzzed us in, coming out to the front to meet us. He had protective goggles pushed up over his head, and his hands were black from working with the metals. In the background, we could see a young man, presumably his apprentice, working on a broad ring in a white metal of some sort. It was a happy, busy sort of a place, and I had a good feeling just walking in the door.

We told him what we wanted, and he talked to us about some possible options, taking the time to explain pros and cons to us, and never once making it seem like we should rush or like we were taking too much of his time. We really liked the idea of a white sapphire, and he brought out a couple of stones for us to see. It was exactly right: white, sparkly, and pretty, but not a diamond and also not connected to DeBeers. Then he helped us find the right setting for it and even brought out a couple of "dummy" versions so that we could see how it would look with the stone in it.

With his help, we put together a classic Tiffany style ring set with a 1 carat white sapphire. I am so excited to have found something that is pleasing to us aesthetically as well as ethically. He's going to try and have it ready for us before we leave town for Thanksgiving. I can't wait to see what the final product looks like, and I am so anxious to finally wear Ash's ring, and I want to show it off to my family, especially since I may not see them again for quite a few months-- who knows? Maybe not even until just before the wedding at the rate I'm going! I will definitely be sending Ms. Billroth a nice thank you for her wonderful recommendation.

And Why I'm On Cloud Nine Anyway

Saturday evening, I had a rare night off. My first in a week, in fact. I tutored in the morning for a few hours, then I was blissfully free until Sunday afternoon. Ash and I took the opportunity to do something we've been talking about for a while now: we went ring shopping.

Yes, that kind of ring.

Now, I am not a material kind of girl. But I still want a diamond engagement ring. I can't justify it other than to say I just like it. In all my life, I've never envisioned having anything else for my engagement ring. It doesn't have to be enormous or anything, but I want sparkly, my friends. Ash, however, has moral qualms about buying diamonds. I understand that, and I respect his feelings on the matter, but I really want a diamond. So we've been talking about estate diamonds or possibly a Canadian diamond.

We are, however, total babes in the wood when it comes to this stuff. I mean, we know nozzink. So, we thought we'd just go to some random jewelry store and start looking at rings to find a style I (we) like, and kind of find out what's what. We picked a large chain jeweler's and walked through the front door holding hands and being all lovey-dovey and starry eyed-- which, frankly, is how I feel almost all the time when we're together. A very nice saleswoman approached us, and we told her we wanted to look at engagement rings. She very kindly offered us coffee and led us over to a display case full of settings.

The only thing we'd really agreed on was that we both wanted platinum, so she led us to that particular case and invited us to sit down. Aaaaand then we kind of looked at her expectantly, and she looked at us expectantly, and suddenly it dawned on her: "Are you just starting the process, or did you already have a good idea what you want?" Oh, honey, we're complete rubes. Better lead us by the nose here.

She put a traditional Tiffany-style solitaire setting on my finger, then came back with a diamond in a little carrier. As she lifted it out and laid it into the setting so that we could see what it looked like, she oh-so-casually mentioned that this was their "ideal" cut 1 carat diamond, the top of the line, so to speak. And it costs $7900.

My hands started to shake, and all I could think to myself was "Oh God, don't drop the diamond. You will go to jail and never get out because you cannot afford to buy a diamond that costs... about as much as two days of law school." It was totally noticable, too, because the very nice woman took the diamond away from me and stuck to empty settings and pre-set rings after that.

I think we must have been very frustrating customers. We weren't sure what size we wanted, what style setting we wanted, and we certainly didn't know what we wanted in the "four C's". After trying on a couple of rings, we settled on a setting that we liked (the very first one we'd seen), and then we settled on a range of sizes (during which the saleswoman commented-- as has every jeweler I've ever bought a ring from-- on my tiny little fingers). Oh, but we certainly weren't finished! Oh, no, you silly things!

From there, it was off to the diamond room, where we did a little interactive computer thing that let us look at different diamonds in a specified range of colors and clarities. And that's when the shock started to set in for both of us: diamonds are so expensive!

I mean, duh, right? It's not that we expected to get them 2 for $1 or something, but we certainly didn't expect a .8 carat round cut diamond with a fairly, but not entirely colorless ... um, color (I think it was F), and not flawless (I think it was VS1) to cost nearly $5,000. Ash and I looked at each other, and each of us was, I think, relieved to see the other just as shocked.

See, here's the thing: even if we had an extra $5,000 laying around, we both kind of feel like there are at least a thousand other more useful ways to put that much money to use. And I would feel a little queasy about walking around with $5,000 on my hand.

So I don't know what we'll end up doing. But I do know that he makes me happier than I've ever been in my whole life, in ways that I never even thought about before. I am the luckiest woman on Earth to have found someone so utterly perfect for me, so intensely loving and caring. I can't wait to spend the rest of our lives making each other happy ever after.