Eileen and Justin's Wedding

At 11:00am yesterday morning, I walked down the aisle, remembering not to step too quickly and smile gracefully even though I was a little nervous. "What?" you readers are thinking. "Did you and Dan elope?" Nope. I was a bridesmaid. My friend from childhood, Eileen, and her new husband Justin got married yesterday, in a beautiful ceremony followed by a fun-filled and special reception (note: the food, particularly the chocolate coated macaroons and the espresso bar were huge hits. Just thinking of the sweet coconut cookie dipped in a latte makes me hungry). Eileen looked great. Not because of her beaded white dress or long lace veil. But because she had the bridal glow, the glow of happiness. And I felt really honored to be a part of the wedding. I've known Eileen since elementary school, and we've had more than our fair share of skinned knees and elbows courtesy of rollerblading injuries. (check out my post after her bridal shower for more details). It's a pretty amazing feeling to watch someone you've known the majority of your life, who's been a constant through so much of the memorable growing up years, go through a major rite of passage. I hope my wedding has a similar warm and special aura. Although I don't know if any dessert could compare to those macaroons.

On Blogging

With 100 posts behind me and 1.5 million hits (thanks readers!), I decided to devote a post to blogging itself. I started the blog last summer (2007), under the name Sunflowers and Intuitions (I love the beautiful, friendly sunflowers). But writing about ruminations was more difficult than I thought, and I let my online diary drift off into the mighty blogosphere. But in July, after the initial engagement excited was waning and the reality of planning a wedding was setting in, I knew I needed an outlet. And so the blog was reborn under a new name. Having a theme helps the writing process, and there is usually one aspect of the wedding I can talk about at any given moment. Blogging can be scary. You never know if the words you type somehow get miscommunicated to your readers, or, like any other type of writing, if your readers will think your words are too deep, too shallow, too pretentious, too silly. That's the risk of writing...you put yourself out there. But the rewards are there too, when someone comments on a post, or a friend or family member says they really enjoyed a certain theme I discussed. And the personal rewards too--every post I publish feels like a minor achievement. With blogging comes a chance to be creative with words, to vent frustrations, to think about what marriage actually means. Many of my family members and friends have told me that having a blog to read connects them to us and our wedding process, even though they are a plane ride away. When I started blogging, I didn't envision that. I guess when you take a chance, the benefits can often surprise you.

Shades of White

A few weekends ago, I made another wedding purchase: a veil. Dan's sisters had both used the same veil in their weddings, and they lent it to me to wear as well. I liked the idea of handing something down from wedding to wedding, but when I went to the bridal boutique to try on their veil with my dress, it didn't match! In my naivete, I had just assumed white was white, and their classically elegant, egg-shell colored veil would work with my ivory dress. Boy, was I wrong. It clashed. I was disappointed, not to wear their veil. But I went back to the drawing board, or bridal dress shop rather. Finding another veil wasn't that hard...and actually the two veils are very similar in style, just not color. And so the story ends on a happy note. But I share this little segment of my wedding planning process for the two lessons I learned from it: never make assumptions, and there are many, many shades of white.

Stress Busters

So, I was reading an article yesterday on managing the stress of planning a wedding. I really liked one idea, so much so that Dan and I had implemented it, even before I saw this piece. The idea was to schedule times where wedding talk is banned..the article suggested whole weekends at a time, but we have taken it more gradually to not discuss any nuptial details past 11pm or Saturday nights and Sunday mornings. Not that we talk about the wedding the rest of the week, but that time is forbidden. I like that, because it emphasizes that there is a life outside of the wedding, there are still things to think about, talk about, and do together.

Recession Wedding

Every morning, I get dressed while listening to NPR's market report. As I pick what sweater to wear and apply mascara and foundation, I hear about the job losses and auto industry bailout and sacrifices people are making in these difficult economic times. When I think about our wedding in the context of this global recession, it puts the choices about cakes and bands into better perspective. Sometimes I feel guilty having a nice wedding when people nationwide are worried where their next paycheck is coming from. It's somewhat illogical--if I cut back on the dessert or music, our nation's fiscal problems won't be solved and everyone's 401Ks won't reverse their steep downward spiral. But I keep coming back to a thought I've had over the last few months--having a beautiful wedding is a gift, something to be grateful for, something to appreciate and not take for granted. Sometimes when I talk to potential vendors, I get annoyed. They all make me feel like I NEED to buy this or have that--otherwise my wedding won't be complete. I feel cheap if I don't succomb to their suggestions, and a spend thrift if I do. But then I think again--these vendors, too, are a product of our economic slump and are also hoping to get a few extra bucks through my business.

Piece of (Cup) Cake

Last Tuesday, Dan and I and my friend Hannah went to Hello Cupcake, a trendy cupcake confectionary in Dupont Circle, to sample cupcakes. After splitting six kinds between us, we were completely stuffed with sugary goodness, but had made some progress on what flavors would work for our dessert. (My favorite was a vanilla cake with creamy lemon icing. YUM). But as we tasted and rated cupcakes, Dan and I were also dealing with something not so sweet. Last week was the first time where there was a difference of opinions between various stakeholders in the wedding. It was over the band, whether to go for the original one we'd found once we realized the band would take up more space on the dance floor than we'd envisioned. I'll spare you the details, but I was a little frustrated and sad with the experience. Not because I was really set on one particular band--I was fairly neutral on this issue--but because I hate when people are disappointed. But as the issue is resolving itself--we found another great band--I did some real thinking about the wedding. What I want out of it. And really, what I want more than anything, is the day itself, and the planning preceding it, to be as enjoyable, conflict-free, and relaxed as possible. But that may not always happen. And when stressors arise and people disagree, I want to realize it's okay, that these things will slowly, gradually work themselves out.

Croatia, We're A'Coming

So we've chosen a honeymoon destination: Croatia. Its glistening beaches, historical sites, and pristine national parks have beckoned. My blog readers agree, as they picked this Eastern European country on a survey I conducted a few months back. On Saturday night, Dan and I waited in a Barnes and Noble to see Slum Dog Millionaire (the 8pm showing was sold out, so we settled for the 10pm. It was worth the 2-hour bookstore browse. Great movie!), where we paged through several guide books. The never dormant travel bug in me awakened with a frenzy, excited to read about this secluded beach or that famous local restaurant. Dan shares my love of international travel, and I soon saw him drift deeper into the books, dreaming of a scuba dive off a Croatian beach. We bought one book, a glossy covered Frommer's guide that includes several itineries and lists of the best shorelines, diving spots, hotels, and hiking. Let the travel planning begin!

Six Months Away

As I was watching Sunday afternoon football with friends, someone pointed out to me that our wedding is six months away. June 7. It's hard to believe that a warm, late spring wedding is on the way, considering Washington is blanketed with winterness--biting winds and cold nights. But before you know it, the spring, and our wedding day, will arrive. We're a season away from getting hitched. We've been engaged for seven months, and with six months to go, we're past the halfway point. When I realized I only had six months to get everything into gear, I momentarily panicked. But then I remembered that I had checked off all the items included in the 6-9 prenuptial period, according to a checklist which I ripped out of a bridal magazine and taped to our fridge door. So I calmed down. As we walked home from our friends' place, Dan reassured me with promises of building more spreadsheets so we could organize exactly what we needed to do.  I laughed. Anyway who knows Dan's affinity for Microsoft Excel and any other organizational tools would chuckle too. But then, as we continued our walk in the bitter cold, I started thinking a bit bigger: in six months, I'll be a wife. I'll have a husband. It's pretty amazing. 

Trend Setter

Don't have too much time now, but I just realized I'm a trend setter. On my way to work today, I glimpsed at a front page headline on the Washington Post Express. It read "Sunny Outlook: Style experts say bright yellow will be hot in 2009." Check out the full article here. (Scroll to page 31). Did I not pick the yellow-and-white color scheme for our wedding a month or so ago? This blog is proof! Surely my own color preferences didn't influence the fashion world...or did they?

A Tale of Two Wallets

There's a Trader Joe's about a block from my office, where I often go after work to buy groceries for dinner. About six months ago, I was there on such a shopping excursion. I was in line, waiting as the cashier scanned all my items and asked for me to swipe my credit card. I reached into my brown messenger bag in search of my wallet. I felt a book, my cell phone, and various flavors of lip gloss, but no wallet. Panic set in. Where could it be? Suddenly I imagined someone sneaking into my office, stealing the wallet, and traveling halfway around the world, charging everything to my plastic. The cashier asked again for my card. "I don't have it," I said. "That's OK. No big deal" she said, taking the brown paper bag filled with the night's dinner contents away from me. "It's not OK," I said, either out loud or to myself, to this day I can't remember. "My wallet's gone. Someone's over in Europe spending my hard-earned cash." (OK, the second part I definitely didn't say out loud). After she took the bag of groceries, I sprinted back to the office, where sure enough I spotted my wallet, completely in tact and locked away in a desk drawer. By that point, I decided to avoid a second Trader Joe's trip and so we scavaged for dinner. Fast forward to yesterday. I'm back in line at Trader Joe's, about to pay when my wallet again cannot be found. I pause for a second, remembering that I had opened by wallet for change to buy an afternoon candy bar and had again, locked it up in the desk drawer, rather than put it back in my purse. I asked the cashier to hold my food--which they can do, FYI--and ran back to the office. Sure enough, it was safe and sound in my office. I returned to the store, paid for and collected my groceries, and had a nice dinner. Aha, the wonders of mindfulness. Maybe these two stories have nothing to do with weddings, but as the rabbi told us in our second meeting with him last week, use proven solutions or strategies for new problems. A pause, a deep breath, a moment of calm, could make a world of difference.

Scary Hair

The last hair cut I had was about three months ago, the day of our engagement party. But it was only a trimming of my split ends. And my last visit before then had also been a few months. It was an effort to grow my hair long so come wedding day, it would fall in cascading soft curls down my upper back. Yeah, I don't see that happening. Right now, my hair is a few inches past my shoulders. In my standards, that's really long. And it doesn't go straight down the more it grows. It grows out. I manage my mane with products, potions, and pony tail holders to reduce the frizzing--to some avail. But with Christmas coming up, I am worried that my hair is starting to resemble a wintery pine tree. (I can hear you readers thinking two things to yourself right now: that I'm judging myself too harshly and I don't even celebrate Christmas. Both are true, but not the point). So, I given up the idea of long, romantic locks in favor of, well, something shorter. I don't have too many more details at this point, although I may confer with my hair dresser when I go for my appointment in the next few weeks. I'm also coming to terms right now that I may just never be a long-haired gal. And you know what--I am making my peace with that.

In Limbo

On Thursday, Dan and I and 16 of my closest relatives were carving our way through an enormous and tasty Thanksgiving meal, we all went around the table, saying what we were thankful for. It's an old tradition at our Thanksgiving. I had an easy thing to say this year: our engagement and upcoming wedding. I retold the story of the early morning proposal to my close relatives--most of whom had already heard how the event transpired but gracefully let me relive the glory. Looking back to moment we got engaged makes me happily nostalgic, and looking ahead to the wedding and married life fosters feelings of excitement and anticipation. But what about the present? The engagement, the in limbo period. It's our first Thanksgiving as fiances--and our last. It's a weird feeling--we're not quite married but are we really single? I found myself hesitating over that very question a few weeks ago, as I was filling out forms at the doctor's office. I know my life won't change too much immediately after we get hitched...I mean, we already live together and we'll still have our separate nights out on occasion post marriage. But there is some shedding, some chapters closing and others slowly emerging during this engagement era.  

Something Sweet

So, a fun part of the wedding planning has descended upon us: dessert selections. We opted for cupcakes, going along with our subtly cheerful and whimsical nuptial theme. Plus these treats are delicious and easy to serve. Luckily cupcake mania hit DC in the last year, with several stores like Hello Cupcake and Georgetown Cupcake setting up shop quicker than a batch of their products rises in the oven. The gourmet flavors range from red velvet, banana vanilla, coconut, raspberry, and peanut butter swirl. All are topped with a kind of sweet, creamy icing and smothered in sprinkles or small candies. There are millions of deep chocolately varieties too, but as neither of us is huge fans of this ever popular flavor, we may have to forego it. Of course, we cannot serve our guests something without properly testing it out first, so I'm starting to book a few tasting sessions. Yum! As I type I am starting to crave a vanilla cupcake topped with a mild lemon icing and yellow sprinkles. Stay tuned for our tasting adventures.

Happy Anniversary

The clock reads 11:12pm. Our four-year anniversary from our first date is slowly fading away. I'm a little sad, the same sort of sadness when your birthday ends and you have to wait a whole 364 days to celebrate again. But also excited. As a surprise, Dan bought us tickets to see Cirque de Soliel (too tired to google the spelling...but you know what I mean). And who says after four years romance is dead?!? And, of course, I feel a bit nostalgic. Anniversaries do that to you, I suppose. I showed up to our first date in a purple cowl neck sweater and black ankle boots (I know. My memory scares me too). My mother dropped me off at the Dupont metro--I was living with my parents briefly during that time--and Dan and I walked to Front Page for beers. After two drinks on an empty stomach, my nerves were gone and we were chatting. Dan broke out pictures of his niece (Nice move, right) and we headed on over to Sushi Taro for dinner. It was the day before Thanksgiving, and per usual, I was juggling too many balls. I was trying to make plans with a high school friend (I even called her house to check in our her flight status. What a social blunder!) Luckily, Dan didn't mind and we ate and talked some more. At the risk of too much corniness, I'll sign off here. Four years later!

Wedding Planning in My Sleep

In the middle of the night last night, I jolted up from sleep. I touched my forehead to feel a thin layer of sweat right below my hair line. Before glancing to the clock to see what ridiculously early time it was, I forced my eyes shut. Luckily, I returned to sleep almost immediately.
I had a nightmare. No, it wasn't your typical nightmare of being chased by a robber or something. It was the bride-to-be version. In this nightmare, it was my wedding day, and I had forgotten one crucial detail: to arrange seat assignments. I remembered that morning, and quickly got on the phone with my mother. Before I knew it, she was driving me up to an art store to buy paper tabs on which to write our guests' names. Some unknown random third cousin was also in the car. I couldn't find a yellowish shade of paper to match the wedding's colors, so I settled for plain white. I bought as many as I could find, and then rushed back into the car. I was already late for my hair appointment. As my mother dropped me off there, she promised to place every guest at a table, and then write their name and table number on the white seat card. In a very short amount of time. And she still had to get ready herself. I don't know how the dream ended: I woke up sweating. Then I remembered my wedding is seven months away. In that time, I can surely find time to make table assignments. With that reassurance, I fell back into a deep sleep.

Shower Time

Growing up, I was part of the neighborhood group. A bunch of skinny, knee-scapped kids who were always seeking an adventure, and usually one that required a ton of physical activity. Roller blade hockey was a popular choice, or hitting the tennis balls at a nearby cement courts, or a fierce game of kickball in a grassy backyard. When the weather was bad, we did turn on the Nintendo and invade kitchen shelves for oatmeal creme pies. I used to really love those cookies. Slowly that group of kids has grown up, with several of its members entering a different kind of union: marriage. For others of us, like my friend Eileen and I, the wedding is on the way. Eileen's is first. And so this weekend, we had a bridal shower/co-ed dinner party for her. The shower itself was a ton of fun--brunch at a yummy and charming restaurant, mani/pedis at my local nail salon, and then back to the apartment for bellinis (check them out--delicious), fruit tart, and gifts exchange. After the shower, we brought the significant others along for dinner (minus Dan, who was just coming in from a work trip to South Africa. He was not jet-lagged, just very very tired). It was the perfect weekend, just hanging out like old times. Only now, I didn't come back home with blood streaming down my legs, courtesy of a hockey injury. I had raspberry colored toes instead. Maturity is over-rated, isn't it?

At the Movies

This week, I did some serious movie catch up. Wednesday night, I curled up in sweats and watched Katherine Heigl drive herself crazy as the world's perfect bridesmaid in 27 Dresses. Last night was Rachel Getting Married on the big screen, starring Anne Hathway as a recovering addict going to her sister's wedding. Needless to say, family tension ensues. Rachel Getting Married made me nauseous, literally. The filming was purposely wobbly, to give an aura of friction and unease. But I enjoyed both films, the light-hearted romantic comedy and the serious, stomach upsetting family drama. Since I got engaged, I've been especially interested to see marriage in the movies. Anything is possible. With unlimited budgets, fictional characters, and complete control over the weather, filmmakers can create any sort of wedding they choose. To me, it's pure entertainment. I don't watch these movies to take notes; I watch to see the fantasy unfold. And the behind-the-scenes preparations. Sure, I've been to my fair share of weddings, but I've never been so intimately involved in their planning. There's something satisfying about watching the brides, their families and their fiances tackle any prenumptial stress...and then somehow get through it and have a meaningful day. Sure, it is the movies, not real life, but this escape into fiction makes me more excited for reality.

Want What You Have

I watch as the green leaves morph into their more colorful autumn shades of bright yellows and crimsoms. The crispness of the season intoxicates me. Maybe a fall wedding would have been a better choice? And even though I can't wait to wear my wedding dress, when I look through magazines, I can't help but think that maybe a different style would have suited me nicer. The grass is always a bit greener, precisely because it's not your grass. And while second guessing is second nature, it's not really productive. It's easy to lose sight of the fact that you like what you have and lust for what's missing. It's a real skill to admire someone else's idea or dress or venue or wedding cake without then looking disappointedly to your own decisions. On the other hand, criticizing other people's color schemes or dinner menus only to make yourself feel better is also counterproductive. All of this is human nature coupled with a competitive wedding industry that pins nuptial events against one another. As I watch the multi-colored leaves spiral down to the ground and dream of a fall wedding, I am guilty of it too. But then I think of the warm spring months, the feeling of rebirth as soft green buds grow on tree branches, and I know what I have is pretty darn good too!

A Lesson in Flexibility

For about five years, yoga was my go-to hobby. A vinyasa, or flow, yoga class had everything: a chance to relax my wandering mind, energize my body, separate myself from my day and my stares at a computer screen, and slowly feel myself easing slightly deeper into difficult stretches. In January, I took a plunge and registered for a 33-hour yoga teacher training course, which I loved. But then in April, as a lingering pain in my leg worsened, yoga became off-limits. No longer could I enjoy the quick down-ard dog to plank to cobra sequence, or the peaceful calm I felt after a strenuous class (Yes, in a previous life I have done PR for a yoga studio). And so until now, I've been pretty much away from the yoga class. But recently, because I've healed somewhat, I've now been allowed to go back to a very gentle class, with no flow but graceful poses nonetheless. I've now found softer, slower classes. There're different, but yoga is yoga. As I stretch my back in a bridge pose or relieve my hamstrings with my legs up the wall, I remembered how much I missed it. And sure enough, when I leave class now, I find that good ole natural yoga high again!

Red, Blue, or Yellow??

I sit at home, switching between different news stations to find the latest scoop on which state voted blue or red. Every presidential election day is slow and anticipation filled, with intermittent news bursting in. So I decide to step away from the TV for a few minutes, and ponder over my wedding color scheme. Trading, momentarily, the historic election for some thoughts on flowers. (OK, fine, it's on in the background...). Recently, we chose a cheerful yellow and a crisp white as the our wedding colors, with hints of green sprinkled in. I had considered every one of the rainbow's shades, but thought yellow was warm, a bit funky, yet still sophisticated. I had a bright yellow room growing up, and since my bedroom was the furthest east in the house, every morning the sun would stream in and light it up. When I was 14, I painted the yellow walls over with a soft baby blue, and even though I liked the change, I still felt a kinship with my original sunny hue. I feel a bit of relief, having made a decision, talked with a florist, and gotten her thoughts on bouquets and center pieces. Now, I move forward, onto food and photographers. But before anything else: back to the TV.

Saturn Return

I didn't know this until Monday, but there is a regular astronomical occurrence that occurs in a person's life at between age 27-30 and again at 58-60 and then again at 86-88. The planet Saturn takes about 29 years to orbit the sun; the time when it comes back to the exact place it was when a person was born is called Saturn Return. Saturn is associated with challenge, fear, doubt, confusion, unwanted burdens and hard lessons--just to name a few fun facts about this planet. The saturn's return is like a rite of passage, when people who are approaching their dreaded 30th birthday analyze their professional and personal situations. Saturn shines a brilliantly bright beam on your whole life. If someone is happy with an aspect of their lives, they may show more commitment to it--like getting married or earning a promotion at work. If you're not satisfied with something, Saturn will not let you hide from it. Saturn is a time of change. A time of taking responsibility. You may moving further into things, or retreat and find a new course. Either way, it can be exhausting. Shedding an old layer of skin is painful. So my advice to my fellow Saturn Returners...it's okay if you're overwhelmed with this time in your life. You are not alone. And answers will slowly make their way toward you.

It's Been 10 Years

What to wear? My new shimmery fuchsia top with skinny black pants and suede boots?No, too much. A ruffly black shirt, dark jeans, the same suede boots and a thin, turquoise-and-silver necklace seemed more casually cool. As my friend Amanda and I drove up to the hotel, a small butterfly grew in my stomach. Who is actually going to be here?
I wasn't really sure whether to go to the reunion. In fact, I might have not gone at all if I hadn't had a chance run-in with Amanda earlier that week who gave me the specifics and raised my curiosity. Where have people really been up to these last 10 years? (honestly, I knew a fair amount about the generalities...the advent of facebook answered a lot of those questions. But learning how people became their adult selves, how they morphed out of high school awkwardness requires face-to-face interaction). But once Amanda and I hopped out of the car, we ran into some people we knew, people we were excited to see, and my butterfly disappeared. I was sipping cocktails, fielding questions about my nuptials (like I said, facebook gives you plenty of basics from which to form a chit-chat), updating people on and remembering old times. I was learning about my former classmates' jobs and love lives (and in a few cases, children), and slowly realized that I wasn't in high school anymore. I wasn't even close. Ten years is a while. But as I came to terms with this closed part of my life, I also felt excited for the many chapters left to open.

I'm All In

I held my two cards close, and looked over my cheat sheet. A full house beats a straight, right? And what about a flush? Or two of a kind? I held onto one of my black chips, considering my next move. This Saturday I learned poker. Texas hold 'em, to be more specific, even though I have no idea what why it's named that. At at a dinner with a few friends, after we polished off a meal of salmon garnished with spiced cranberries and savory butternut squash, we decided to play a round of poker. It turned out to be only one round, which took almost two hours. Dan used to venture out to poker on Thursday nights with some guy friends, but in recent months the game has died down as people have moved away, stay late at work, or have more family responsibilities. I never knew what really went on there. I learned early not to ask how he fared...I hate losing money and the thought of walking away with $20 or $30 less in your wallet pains me. Plus, he could never answer my general questions of how his friends and their significant others were doing. "We don't really talk about that" he would say. But on Saturday, when people were suggesting a game, I was curious. I dropped $3 into the pot and slowly learned the rules. It was so much fun! Not only because I came in second overall, and was able to get my three bucks back, plus two more. I was intrigued with when to fold, when to stay, and when to raise. How to conform your face into a blank slate, so your opponents don't know if you have a royal flush or nothing at all. (I need to work on my poker face; whenever I would get a good hand, I'd squeal in excitement). I finally got a glimpse of what happens at on poker night.

A Different Arrangement

This morning as I was getting dressed, I turned on the radio to NPR. After a short segment on last night's final debate, a man came on the air waves talking about how he met his wife. No, not at a bar or through mutual friends or online. His parents picked. Arranged marriages seem crazy to me and my Western-minded beliefs. You find love in someone, date for a while, and gradually discover more and more about the person. It's like a picture that you begin to see more clearly---you learn their favorite sandwich is tuna fish with avocado on toasted wheat, that they can't stand the sound of slurping or early mornings, and that they fold laundry like a champion but shudder at the thought of cleaning the bathroom. (and of course, you learn about some more important things as well, like their life dreams and whatnot). Once the picture comes into a good view, then you--and you alone--decide that this is the ONE. Tossing this process aside and handing mom the reins--not really an option! But I was engrossed in listening to this couple, married now for six years, with a child, say how it worked for them. And it did. It's not a process of finding that special person, but working with the one you have. It reminds me of that old song "Love the One You're With." Falling in love, for them, happened after their marriage, as they starting spending every day and night together. What I really liked about this story was how the couple constantly worked to build a good relationship. As someone who met my future husband on my own time, my premarital relationship might be more developed. But any way you cultivate a marriage, it needs a lot of H20 and TLC. This couple had that.

Introducing Monkeys' Wedding

And now, when the wedding date and venue and other logistics need to be captured, I introduce to you, blog readers, our wedding Web site: The Monkeys' Wedding. Unlike my blog, which chronicles the emotions that fill the day-to-day, this static page will be a one-stop resource for those wanting the facts. Okay, there is a bit of color affixed within the site too, as evidenced by its unusual name (credit duly given to Dan...to read how a certain agile jungle animal inspired the title, go to the site). As someone with no graphic design background, I enjoyed uploading images, moving text around, and making the site look kinda nice. I don't know when wedding Web sites came into vogue, but now many people I know create an electronic page while they simultaneously pick out paper invitations and firm up the mailing address of their neighborhood friend, a person they may have known for years, but never even bothered to send a letter. The wedding invitation industry, like the magazine and newspaper and to a lesser degree book empires, is realizing that to succeed, it probably needs an electronic option. But print isn't totally outdated...yet. As with any of these traditionally paper-based products, I wonder in 30 years will paper wedding invitations be a thing of the past??? Will Dan and I date ourselves in years to come because we sent snail mail invites?

Remember to Save the Date

As another part of the homework these days, we're researching save-the-dates. A save-the-date, according to the wedding magazines, can be a more fun, funny card, with pictures and doodles and quotables; whereas the wedding invitation itself is generally more formal. I like the idea of adding some color and funkiness to the cards. So, again, I turn to my favorite, most accessible resource: the World Wide Web. There, as you google "save-the-date" hundreds of sites showcasing various examples of these cards pop up. Some include a picture of the soon-to-be married couple, some (against the advice of the magazines) are more fancy and could almost be mistaken for a wedding invitation itself, some are floral, some incorporate polka-dots or a month calendar with the said date circled in a bright shade. What surprised me the most during my research was what other parties now require a save-the-date. A drawing of a young teen reading from the Torah asked for you to remember his upcoming Bar Mitzvah. A fire engine red card with the outlines of white hearts announced an adolescent girl's 16th birthday. I was shocked. Beforehand, I was even slightly considering not sending save-the-dates, feeling I could rely on two more powerful communications systems: word of mouth and e-mail. But with flight prices soaring, we decided to add snail mail as another way to spread the word. So, the card search continues...

Some Sweet Nostalgia

Almost six years ago, I found myself in a small riverboat in Vietnam's Mekong Delta. The air was hot and muggy, and as I turned from side to side, I embraced my tropical surroundings, complete with patches of palm trees. Four months before and fresh out of college, I had moved to Japan for as an assistant high school English teacher job. Vietnam would be my first taste of Southeast Asia, although I would be back to traipse in the northern Thai countryside (by foot and by elephant), visit Cambodia's Angkor Watt and reminders of the Khmer Rouge genocide, practice yoga in the Himalayan foothills, and taste Chinese delicacies in Taipei's night market. And then there was my foreign life in Japan too...meeting my students for dinners and letting them practice their burgeoning English, slurping green tea and eating sushi off the conveyer belt, and climbing to the peak of Mt. Fuiji at sunrise. But I particularly remember the Vietnam trip, probably because it was my first foray from Narita airport. Sitting in that boat, I had that "the world is my oyster" sensation, which was helped by a flexible work schedule and no other responsibities. I remember exploring Hanoi with my new friend at the time, Chelsea, an another English teacher from California. We found a cosy coffee shop there, where we played checkers and ate coconut sticky rice with mangoes. Then we flew to Ho Chi Minh, where the temperature and intensity grew. In between crawling in the claustrophic Chu-Chi tunnels and buying bootlegged $1CDs from countless street vendors, we would stay up late, talking about our pasts, our futures, our dreams, and our fears (mine is squirrels! I hate them!). Whenever I think about that trip, I get sad. Because it's impossible to relive. Work responsibilities are heavier and saving pennies is more important. The future feels somehow closer. I'm sure I'll keep traveling, but as I enter into marriage, I've lost some of that innocence. I'm more grown-up.

My Homework

So, after the engagement party, I've been on a bit of a wedding planning lull. Instead, I traveled to suburban Connecticut for an early autumn wedding; greeted the Jewish New Year with family, friends, and food; and cheered as the Redskins carved their way to a 4-1 start. My eyes moved away from the bridal magazines and to Don't Let's Go to the Dogs Tonight, a poetic memoir of a young women growing up in what was then Rhodesia. (highly recommend it). But just as gradually as the colder days are usurping the summer heat, I'm getting back in planning mode. In preparation for a meeting with a florist in two weeks, I've begun thinking colors. With wedding attendants in black attire, I'm imagining soft hues. Light shades. I spent some part of last night flipping again through the shiny magazines, dog earring bouquets I thought looked nice. Pale yellow flowers got my attention. Lilac and other purple relatives did too. So did a blackberry-flavored assortment. (But I'm not sure if it's just because I really like blackberries...or the idea of fruit in a traditionally flower-only decoration). Colors aren't as simple as I thought. If you care about consistency (which I do, to some degree), domino-effect type questions squirt up. Should the color of the flowers match the wedding stationery, as one guide book calls the Save-the-Date, wedding invitation, and thank-you cards? The wedding Web site? The cake (which is another thing I'm doing my research on now...)? You get the point: Colors are key.

Beauty's Only Skin Deep, Right?

Honesty time: I am poring over my skin these days. Each day in the mirror, as I squirt out a bit of face wash and begin to work it into a lather, I take note of my skin. Where are the red blemishes I must conquer--first with soap, then acne cream, then--after everything is fully absorbed--foundation make-up? I'll search for the patchy dry spots and rub moisturizing cream all over them. Vanity, I know, isn't attractive. But it's somewhat unavoidable. And when your wedding day is nearing--a day where you pay a lot of money for good photographs and where your friends, family, and that occassional random relative no one remembered inviting come to watch YOU--you pay a bit more attention. But it's more than that...Not only is the bride looked at constantly on her wedding day--both live and in pictures for the rest of her life--but the bride is SUPPOSED to look stunning. It's part of the story. Part of the fairy tale romance with the woman is always beautiful. Do I sound cynical? I guess I am a bit...A woman has the right to not look her best (whatever that means...beauty is subjective anyway), even on her wedding day. But even as I write this, I don't want to look bad. I want the creamy skin and the styled hair and the detailed accessories. And even 8 months out, I am beginning to buy more creams and take closer note of my skin. Does that make my anti-feminist? I don't think so; I have the choice to look nice too, ya know. But does it make me a bit vain: maybe a little.

Happy New Year!

The Jewish Rosh Hashanah festivities are upon us. Filled with golden honey poured over slices of shiny red-skinned apples, noodly kugel and doughy challah, and celebrating and reciting prayers with family and friends. The cool breeze of autumn is slowly replacing the almost relentless summer humidity and students are suiting up for their first days of school. It's football season, again, too, with every team hopeful for a long, winning record. Anything is possible, it seems. And so, in between my mouthfuls of comfy New Year food and sitting at shul, listening to the sound of the blaring shofar, I start to think of the year that has just passed me by, and the one coming right up. This last year has been, for lack of a better word, eventful. As I reflect on my 5:00 am engagement, our weekend away to celebrate alone and then all the wonderful calls, e-mails, hugs, cards, and other forms of well wishes from family and friends, I feel very happy. Then I turn my head to the next year, which will undoubtedly offer more excitement (and more planning) as our nuptials draw nearer and nearer. June will be here before you know it, many people have told me, and I believe them. But as much as the new year is a time of celebration, of bonding with family and looking forward to a new beginning, of endless possibilities, it is a time of reflection. Of thinking of how you may have wronged others, or yourself, in the previous year and repenting and trying to make right in the year to come. A new year isn't only a fresh start, but also an improvement on you lived the year before. That's why, next week, I'll put aside the savory foods and fast for a day. Remembering the wrongs and trying to make this next year--and all the exciting promise it holds--a bit sweeter.

Making Your Own Waves

And now, for my second guest writer, I bring you my friend Anne, who married her husband in a small, unique ceremony.

On June 1, 2002, I married Kevin Andrew Hurst in a simple ceremony at a B&B in Manteo, North Carolina. For recent college grads, our wedding was a bit unconventional:

*We didn’t have a first dance (in fact, there was no dancing);
*I didn’t wear a veil;
*Kevin didn’t wear a tuxedo;
*I did not go to a salon and have my hair and makeup done;
*We didn’t have flower arrangements besides the daisies I chose for my bouquet at the florist the day before;
*We did not have a DJ (though we did hire a local couple who played the violin and the mandolin);
*We did not have a complex, tiered cake (Kevin doesn’t like cake); and
*We did not register for anything.

But you know what? Our wedding was perfect—for us.

We did not want our parents pouring money into an event that lasts a single day. And being frugal (okay, cheap), we wanted to save our money for traveling and purchasing a house. I’ve never been much of a girly girl and Kevin dreads crowds so a small, intimate wedding was logical. The B&B had an onsite wedding coordinator who made all the arrangements. Kevin picked out a seer sucker suit from Banana Republic and I found a simple linen J Crew number (before their wedding collections!). Of course, it was difficult to tell friends and extended family that we were just having immediate family at our wedding. There were some hurt feelings, but most of our social network was supportive, realizing it was our wedding and we should choose the framework for it.

The wedding weekend felt like a family vacation at the beach and was low key. Since our families had not spent time together, it allowed them to get to know each other. We had several dinners together and had leisurely breakfasts on the B&B’s veranda. After the wedding ceremony, we listened to the string musicians, sipped champagne, and munched on sushi in the B&B’s sun-dappled courtyard as Kevin’s nephews tumbled around on the ground. Then we walked to a nearby restaurant and had a lovely meal. The following day, Kevin and I had a beach picnic and biked around the island exploring its historic, moss-covered neighborhoods, a perfect coda to our wedding weekend, and so very “Anne and Kevin.”

Having a small, intimate wedding is not for everyone, but far too often, I hear my friends say, “oh I wish I would have done what you did.” Hearing this makes me sad because a wedding should be about the couple and should reflect their unique style. I think Kevin and I achieved that with our wedding. You should, too!

For Now, A Wedding Guest

I am sitting at a computer in hotel's business center in New Canaan, Connecticut. My parents, Dan, and I drove up 1-95 last night for a friend's wedding later on today. I really can't wait for the festivities. For a lot of reasons. I lived down the street from the groom growing up--he and his brothers and sister were such an integral part of childhood. Going to a wedding of a friend who you'd play kickball with and roller bladed in the neighborhood streets has a special sense of nostalgia. Plus, I always love an opportunity to wear my favorite knee-length, flowy, turquoise dress with silver rhinestones embroidered on the straps...and matching blue shoes and a shiny silver hand bag. But also, as I've ventured into this crazy wedding planning process, I've gained appreciation for what really goes into making such an affair come to life. It reminds me of an article on music I wrote for work: One of the world's most beloved composers, Beethoven, was deaf when he wrote Sympathy No. 9. To enjoy this musical selection, a listener does not have to know that Beethoven couldn't actually hear the notes he was writing. But if you know the whole story and have a better glimpse of the process, you may enjoy the music just a bit more. The end result may be a bit sweeter.

Climb Every Mountain

Okay, I know what you're thinking: I am Sound of Music obsessed. This is the second time I've borrowed my blog title from the 1960s movie chronicling the musically inclined Van Trapp Family's escape from Austria on the brink of World War II. What can I say: it's a good film.

But I digress. My purpose with this post is not to tout the movie, but to reflect on how important it is to meet challenges head on, to try something new and when it's hard...to keep going. A few weeks ago, my father embarked on a nearly week-long, 60 mile trek in California's Yosemite National Park (elev: 8,000 ft and higher). Every morning, he'd wake up at the campsite, and after a hearty breakfast (the food, apparently, was to die for), load up his 30-pound backpack and hike across some of the country's prettiest passages. Under clear, cloudless skies he'd pass by navy crystalline lakes and spy wild deer prancing in their natural habitat. At night, the sun would drop, chilling the air and forcing him to bundle up in hats and gloves for an appetizing dinner meal.

My brother, too, adventured this summer. A timid traveller, he bit the proverbial bullet and flew over to Israel for a two-week Birthright tour. There, he rode camels in the Negev desert, floated in the salty Dead Sea, watched the sun creep into the sky from the top of Masada, and relaxed on the Tel Aviv beaches.

When I talked to them both about their experiences, saw their pictures and heard their stories, I thought that I too needed to take leaps sometimes. Try the untried. Go onto unchartered territory. Fear nothing. What should I do, I thought. A total physical adventure is off limits right now, thanks to a persistent leg injury. But then I thought of something so painfully obvious, I am embarassed it wasn't at the top of my mind. Getting married! Not planning a wedding and thinking of flowers and guest lists, but actually embarking on a lifelong commitment with someone. For me, it's untried and unchartered. It's perfect. And, if the smiles on my dad and brother's face after their respective trips are any indicator--it's that new things, even if they're tough at times, are really rewarding.

A Great Conversation Piece

On Tuesday, I met with a financial consultant at work to discuss my 401k plan. Before you knew it, the conversation on stocks and bonds had evolved into a chat about wedding flowers and cakes. Where are you getting married, she wanted to know. When? Then she went into some of her family's wedding day disasters. Once, the hair stylist assumed that a Friday wedding fell on Saturday, and when the miscommunication was uncovered (apparently late in the game), she was no longer available to twist hair and pin up barrettes. A replacement was quickly found and hired. In a similar story, a cousin's make up artist was a no show and the financial consultant herself (the one relaying the story to me) had to fill in. She was a self-claimed cosmetic novice but in the end, she rose to the challenge and applied the bride's eye shadow, mascara, and blush perfectly. Her point in telling me these stories was to ease nerves (hey, small things happen) and maybe give herself a pat on the back, but I left a little horrified, worrying that my cosmetician would bail and my hair would be a jumbled mess.
This story certainly does not stand alone. Ever since I became a bride-to-be, I have talked shop to complete strangers: traveller next to me on air planes, people in an professional development class I took, other future brides as we tried on wedding gowns, and even a waitress when I was asking for the bill (that was particularly awkward...I asked her opinion on the name of our burgeoning wedding web site, and she looked at me like I had lost my mind. Dan wanted to crawl under the dinner table). Yes, sometimes it's really helpful. My doctor, for one, recommended the band we're using, and the woman on the plane listed some bridal dress stores. In certain instances, it's just plain fun, watching strangers think back to their own nuptials before offering sweet tips. But other times, it's probably best to just give the waitress a tip, and keep her out of the wedding dialogue.

A Snapshot of the Crazy Cousins

At our engagement party, I heard my dad yelling for me to come downstairs. I was fixing my hair and reapplying some lip gloss when he announced it's time for the cousins' picture. And so, I raced down stairs to join the ranks of the cousins, who were already assorted in age order. Luckily, it was easy for me to fit in. I am the oldest.

***

This cousins' photo began probably 15 years ago, when my six cousins, brother, and me--in chronological order from the date of our births--affixed ourselves on a sofa and smiled for a series of cameras, each held by an adoring aunt or grandmother. I was around 13, and my youngest cousin was 4. Over the years, relatives snapped a few other pictures of us eight cousins squeezed onto a couch (finding a seat got progressively harder to do as we got older). Even more photos survive of us at various stages of childhood, running through the Bethany Beach waves or eating creamy Vanilla Fudge at Candy Kitchen. It's been a while since the eight of us were all together. First off, Bethany Beach has gotten way too built up. The ocean waves are ridiculously overcrowded. Although it's probably more because each of us is searching, journeying, dreaming, and studying, and those activities usually involve some geographic dispersion. But it's nice that at times like an engagement party, all of us can find our place in the chronological line, ready to be photographed.

Happily Exhausted

I sit here by my home computer, my eyes heavy with tiredness. I debated blogging tonight. I'm pretty exhausted, and not 100% mindful right now. But I wanted to capture the now, the raw emotion. So I sit and begin to write.
***
This weekend was our family engagement party, where relatives from both sides flew, drove, or trained in to celebrate our pending nuptials at my aunt and uncle's house last night. It was so wonderful. And when I just typed my last sentence, I felt frustrated. Wonderful doesn't capture it. Amazing. Touching. Unforgettable. There's something truly special celebrating with both the people I've known my whole life, and with the people I've grown so close to over Dan and my years together. And having them--Dan's family and my family--begin to form strong bonds with one another. So I'm signing off now, to relax and prepare the mundane after the sublime: Monday morning.

Planning Apart

This post is the first in the series by guest writers, people whose wedding experiences and perspectives are different than my own. Read below to hear of my friend Jennifer's story planning her wedding with her groom-to-be was stationed overseas.

I recently returned from my baby brother’s wedding in Berkeley – he and his bride put on a very personal, personable event, and it was a joy to see him marry someone so unflinchingly right for him. He & I have always been close, and I’ve become good friends with his girlfriend – now wife – over the years as well. This was especially the case as we planned our respective weddings, as each of us did so solo while our future spouses were studying or stationed overseas during most of the planning phase. So seeing them bring their plans to fruition has naturally had me thinking again about my own wedding planning experience.

My husband proposed about four weeks before he left for a 5-month overseas rotation, and we got married a month after he returned. Was it easier making all of the decisions and arrangements more or less on my own? Yes. Was it harder? Yes. Did things go more smoothly having a single person as the sole performer of research, tester of cakes, designer of invitations? Yes. Was it also a rockier ride having no back-up? Yes. Did I feel close to him, attuned to the emotional import of the event, something to reflect our love for each other and our values? Yes. Did I feel like I was planning a wedding for one, something that was to meet a certain feel & vision (mine), regardless of its content? Yes. Did I love my role as planner? Yes. Did I resent it monstrously? Oh yes.

Let me explain. Very likely, these are poles that all prospective brides – and who knows, maybe grooms – shift between, one way or another; but the long distance factor certainly exacerbated them for me. Moving through the checklists & timelines focused my attention away from worrying about him, and the fact of the wedding was a very real reward looming at the end of my husband’s deployment. But at times, planning for it was also one more burden to bear while he was away, on top of his away-ness & the drudgeries of day-to-day life (“You mean I have to take out the garbage every week *and* plan this epic event?”). Phone calls were few & far between. Discussing wedding details & decisions was tremendously helpful sometimes, insofar as it turned our attention away from the difficulty of the instant (“This is hard – I miss you – are you safe?”) & toward something positive and light. Yet of course it also felt spectacularly shallow at times (“Riots, violence, whatever – I’m thinking that the flowers should be peachy-orange and soft green, not yellowy-orange”). It was a difficult balance to strike at times – consulting him & keeping him in the loop, yet not overburdening him with minutiae, and knowing when to move ahead even if I hadn’t had his input. (I’m not talking just aesthetic decisions, of course, but also financial questions, and potentially touchy issues of family politics – yow!) More important, and sometimes more difficult, was knowing when to not even touch on the wedding in a phone call or email, and simply ask what I could about his experiences, his concerns, the distressing or uplifting sight he may have seen that day.

Ultimately, I tried to bear in mind that working on our wedding in a reflective, meaningful way – planning the sort of event that we would both relish – was a concrete way of expressing my investment in our relationship at a time when I couldn’t necessarily invest in the usual ways. I’m positive that my husband appreciated it, because he said so often & enthusiastically, and because he loved what came out of that planning. But of course I’d be stretching the truth if I said I had this elevated mindset all of the time. Sometimes it was just fun – that giddy, intoxicating “O my god I just *love* this dress” feeling that is the sole purview of a bride-to-be, and sometimes just a pure and simple, well, pain in the ass.

Back to my brother & sister-in-law. During the course of many a wine-tinged phone call, she shared just these feelings about her own planning process with me (as I had with her). And they too had a lovely, quirky, memorable weekend of it – as do most brides & grooms, or so my experience has been. So being a long-distance bride is yes, a factor in how the wedding comes to fruition, but not so fundamental a one as knowing & loving your partner well, or bearing in mind the joyousness of the occasion.

Bananagramers

On Sunday morning, Dan and I were back at Big Bear, eating bagels and drinking lattes. Only this time we had our new game with us: bananagrams. A word game similar to boggle or scrabble, all the letter tiles fit inside a yellow banana-shaped case. Sitting at the counter, we spilled all the letters out onto the hard wood, and turned them face down. (Yes, the barista was staring--but only because he was curious. Big Bear is one of those places where you really can whip out board games). After we each picked 21 words, we raced against each other to see who could create a group of intertwining words (like a scrabble board) the fastest. Each time one of us turned our letters into complete, coherent, dictionary-approved words, the person would shout "peal" and both of us would delve into the pool of letters and pick another tile. It's a fast-paced game, and so we were deeply concentrated on our tiles and seeing what words could be made out of them. Only occassionally we'd sip our stevia-sweetened drinks and take bites into our bagel-and-cream cheese sandwiches. It was a clear beautiful day, and even though we were inside, the giant windows gave us a great view of the outdoors. A perfect way to relax from all the wedding planning and just be.

Registration Exhilaration

On a wet, rainy Saturday afternoon, I found myself inside a department store, debating between square and round griddles and other such conundrums. Eyes intently pealed, I was armed and ready--at a moment's notice--to aim the scanner at a certain target. When I would press the yellow button, the bright red scanning light would make contact with the bar code. A beeping sound would chirp when the scanner successfully uploaded the item's information onto our online registration. Whenever I heard that noise, I squealed. Finding each item and adding it to the registry has a sense of satisfaction. A decision made. I have to admit: in my three in-store registering sessions, plus a few more Internet browses, I've gotten quite the hang of it. Five months ago, I couldn't have named all the different pots and pans. Now I can describe the difference between nonstick, stainless steel, copper plated, and full out copper. After looking at a few types of napkin rings on my last venture, I've been noticing them everywhere...I'm sure they existed before, but my untrained eye couldn't pick them up.
***
Registering is creating a giant wishlist. It's practical--I often head to other people's when I am buying gifts. The online component makes it easier for both giver and recipient. It's also fun to roam around the store, choosing between different plates and picture frames. But as I was registering and in looking back on it today, I have a sense of nostalgia. Not for another event in which I registered, because there is no such event, but for when I was a young child and just the idea of presents was exhilarating. I remember, eagerly waiting to rip off multi-colored wrapping paper and see what gifts lay inside. The waiting period would start weeks, sometimes even months before, wondering what my parents would surprise me with. That time was pure anticipation, as I would try to guess what presents I would get. Registering has a more grown-up feel, not only the gifts themselves (I wasn't too into copper plated pots as a child), but the process of picking the presents. Both approaches are fun. But as I write this now, remembering that excitement of gifts as a child, a smile spreads across my face. A childish grin.

A Hairy Endeavor

This weekend, as I was looking over the glossy pages of bridal magazines, a picture of one bride caught my eye. Her bridal costume was complete with her long, wavy-curly hair, pulled up half-way. Her hair was long, falling down to her shoulder blade. I liked the look. It was sharp and romantic at the same time. I glanced at my own curly locks after that viewing the page for a few moments. Hmmm. I could do this. My hair has never crossed past my shoulders--let alone shoulder blades--and for most of my adult life it's been more at my chin. Every few months I think to let it grow long, but as the thick waviness (re: unruliness)begins to creep toward my back, I get frustrated with managing it and call the hair dresser. But maybe now, I could grow it long! I've heard that once you get past the awkward length somewhere between the shoulder and shoulder blade, long hair is easier to style. So, I will try. Even if I don't go for the half-up cascading look, other brides have told me that longer hair equals more options come wedding day. One thing that will hopefully help me stick to this plan is that, post-wedding, I want to chop it back to chin length and donate my cut hair to Locks of Love, an organization that makes wigs for children who have lost their hair because of illness. I have wanted to participate in Locks of Love since my college days, but for reasons mentioned above, my hair has never reached the 10 inch minimum. Think I can do it?.....

Still Hearing the Music

So, last night after I posted my entry, Dan and I did an extensive review of our the band's Web site. Even though it was closing in on 11:30 pm, we played some of their music on the computer, and starting dancing to the hits of the 80s, 90s, and today. Super exciting! It feels a little unreal, moving to the groove of your wedding band in your pajamas. Or sorting through band's repertoire of songs and when you know you have work the next day. After we turned off the computer and went to bed, I started thinking about how my wedding picture was emerging. Sure, right now we're in our PJs, dancing bearfeet, but before you know it, we'll be in our finest, dancing at our wedding, smelling the flowers we picked out and drinking the wine we ordered. And what's amazing is that even as the pieces get filled in, the parts come together, you'll never really know how it is until it's right in front of you! A wedding is not the sum of its parts...it's a whole new creation. It's scary and exciting because you don't know what to expect.

Musical Lessons

So, good news: We heard a band we love. Or, should I say, Dan heard a band. The band search abounds with lessons learned, so read along with pen and paper in hand. It began around 6 weeks ago, when my parents recommended one musical ensemble for us to hire. Dan and I traveled to the 6th and I Synagogue to hear them play at a wedding. We liked them, but decided to look around. To be honest, I wasn't completely sure I wanted to scout out more options. The band would have been good. And with so many other things to think about--wedding-related and other--I thought, lazily, about giving up the search. But I'm glad we didn't. On Sunday night, Dan drove out to the boon docks to hear another band play (why I didn't come along is coming...keep reading), and called me from my girls-weekend away (aha! the reason. but wait. there's more.) to absolutely rave about their songs, their performers, and their performance that night. I was thrilled. And glad we weren't lazy. I was going to accompany him on this sojourn deep into Virginia territory, and Saturday night we were all set to go. I was even in one of my nicer dresses, as not to stand out as the one person not actually invited to the wedding, but just going along to hear the band. But as we went to enter the address into our beloved GPS system, we realized we had read the date wrong. It was actually Sunday. So, I went off with the girls for a relaxing bonding Labor Day, and Dan listened to the band play.

Flower Power

On Monday, I was shopping at Trader Joe's during a lunch break. The flowers at the front of their store caught my attention, particularly the cheerful yellow petaled sunflowers. I bought a bunch of five, and put them in a glass vase right next to my computer. I was dealing with a major work deadline this week (the reason why I haven't posted a blog entry since Tuesday!), and whenever I needed a minute break from the article I was researching, I would stop and just put my nose to the flowers, taking a big sniff. (No, this post is not going to be about taking time to smell flowers, just wait!). It got me thinking about one of my next, more minor wedding chores: flower planning. Now that some of the big things are out of the way, I can turn my attention to the more detailed things. Details stress me, as my few other posts have discussed. The devil is in the details, people say. I think they stress me because while you can see a venue, taste the food, wear a dress, but you can't really imagine what one different decor detail will change about the overall ambiance of a wedding. But, inspired my sunflower purchase, I jumped online to look at a flower vendor a friend had used. Immediately, flowers got fun. Different bouquets, different colors, and the environmentally friend, female-owned shop even offered classes on how to design flower centerpieces. Sign me up! But not quite yet...I'm still enjoying my office sunflowers.

A Time to Learn and Grow

As I sat on the deck of a New Hampshire lake house this weekend, listening to the lapping waters and feeling the warm sun beat down on me, I came across a unique challenge in the Ode magazine issue I was reading: write a six-word memoir. (See here for other people's short phrases. They are really amazing).I was intrigued. As a self-claimed rambler, a chance to explain my live in a mere six words seemed impossible, but I decided to try. And on the plane home, I was thinking of ways to chronicle my experiences in these strict parameters. My own winner is A Time to Learn and Grow, as indicated up above, but my drafts ranged from the geographic--From Prague to Japan to Home--to the yogic--Downward Dog, Sun Salutations, Triangle, Resting. And then there were variations on my winner--A Learning Experience, More than Anything. And of course, the wedding related: Finding a love, planning a life. It's a fun exercise, and gets you thinking about what's really important...and then how to condense these thoughts into six words.

Some of My Favorite Things

Inspired by my coffee date entry, I have been thinking some more of my favorite small pleasures. Here they go, in no particular rational order: browsing through bookstores; soy lattes; The Sound of Music and other familar old movies that you can recite all the words; marathon phone conversations with out-of-town friends; sunflowers; the smell of freshly cut grass; vanilla fudge; nutella; old photo albums; summertime pedicures with cute sandals; Ugg boots in the winter; Tivo-ed Jeopardy; stir-fry tofu dinners; finishing a good book; a glass of water after a long run; yoga class; wearing a new shirt or pair of shoes to work; three-day weekends; a funny joke; a Redskins win; flossing my teeth before bedtime; libraries; sudoku; crossword puzzles; the Sunday paper; back rubs; Greek yogurt; sushi; wandering through Whole Foods; visiting family and friends; laughing until it hurts; leaves changing; flowers blooming; cloudless skies and 75 degree heat, with no humidity...These are some of mine. Agree, disagree? Add your own!!!

Missing Meditation

So I didn't go to my standing meditation class last night. I had no reason, other than a general mixture of laziness and grumpiness. Call it the Monday blues. Sunday night I found myself in bed too late (11:45 PM). My alarm sounded not too long after that--6:20 AM--so I could get up for my early physical therapy before work. By the end of the day (which included a frustrating experience of leaving my wallet at home. I only realized this fact while trying to buy groceries at Trader Joe's for dinner last night) I was a bit tired and grumpy and not up for a meditation class. The prospect of silent sitting seemed more daunting than usual. But now I'm not sure why. Maybe I wanted to distract myself from my feelings of frustration, rather than acknowledging them and try to move on. Maybe I felt I would be more productive at home, playing with my blog, balancing my checkbook, and going to Whole Foods (this time with my wallet.) to buy ravioli for dinner. Whatever the reason, I didn't go....And today, I miss it. I miss that time to myself, to try to relax my wandering, meandering mind. To focus on nothing but my breathing. Recognizing my thoughts and slowly letting them go. So, I am going to try to meditate on my own this week...something I've never done before...

A Visual Aid

So, today, after much online searching and dress appointments, I picked out my nuptial attire. I won't go into the details of the dress so that it is a surprise come wedding day but I am thrilled about the outfit! Absolutely thrilled! And a part of me thought I'd be sad to no longer go to the stores and consider all sorts of dresses, I'm really mostly excited that I found one that I love (Plus, a little relieved. It does tire after a while). It feels now that I can visualize the wedding coming into some focus. In Rebecca Mead's book, brides often pick out their dresses first, and I can understand why. It's fun, of course, and unlike a guest list or dinner menu, you can choose it all on your own (Even though weddings, and marriage really, are about planning together, occasionally autonomy is nice). But when you try it on, you can REALLY see yourself as you will look on your wedding day. (Of course, today I rolled out of bed, hopped in the shower, sipped coffee at Java House next door, then headed out with my mother to the dress store. On my wedding I imagine the getting ready steps may be a bit more elaborate. But you get the point). I looked in the three-sided mirror, and a bride looked back at me.

A Coffee Date

This weekend, on Saturday morning, Dan and I ventured to a new coffee shop by the name of Big Bear. We sat there for nearly two hours; I read my Rebecca Mead wedding book and he pored over Time magazine and the newspaper. It was a beautiful morning, sunny and cloudness but not humid, to enjoy a soy latte and bagel and cream cheese. That's one thing Dan and I love to do: find a coffee shop on the weekends (since our apartment doesn't have much in the way of outdoor seating), sit, relax, people watch, read the paper, glancing up to tell one another some interesting tidbit from the news or our own observations. From this Saturday in particular, we caught a glimpse of a DC celebrity as Mayor Fenty came in after us to order breakfast. Maybe not the most glamorous activity (the coffee date, that is, not Mayor Fenty. Seeing him was pretty cool), but as much as life is about the big moments--the weddings and whatnot--it is also about the lazy Saturday mornings, the soy lattes and newspaper reads.

Forget Perfect

According to Rebecca Mead, many brides aspire for the absolute perfect wedding day. Perfection is a stress-inducing word. What is perfection anyway? To amend an old adage, perfection is the eyes of the beholder. Every guest might have different expectations about what the ideal wedding could be. For some, a more classic approach is how to go. Others would have it no other way than a beachside wedding with 20 attendees. Learning to let go of everyone else's thoughts is one part of forgetting perfection. But my wedding may also not completely reflect my own idealized version of it. The appetizers may not be as plentiful or varied as I had envisioned, or the flowers may not be the exact shade I had in mind. The list could go on. Some of these are completely out of my control: my cross-country friend may not be able to catch a pricey flight, or my next-door neighbor could have a work emergency...and so they both can't make it. Other things--like the appetizers and flowers I mentioned--could be in my control, but as wedding day approaches, I realize I don't have the time, money, and energy to devote to each individual task and have to prioritize the more important ones. And maybe some main dish or dessert or whatever is perfect to me, but Dan wants a different option. So we compromise, meaning that neither of us has perfection, but we both have things we like a lot. Another abridged saying may be: Nothing's perfect, so why should your wedding be any different?

Some Reading Material

Yesterday after work, I went somewhere I hadn't been in a while: the public library. Over the weekend I realized that I hadn't read a book since my vacation over a month ago. What can I say, I've been busy blogging (and working and wedding planning). Plus, I have a newfound obsession with sudoku. This craze began while relaxing on my said vacation in Belize, relaxing by the pool with pen in hand, thinking of what numbers will fit in which boxes. But even as I advanced from beginner to moderate sudoku puzzles, I began craving a good book to curl up with in bed. So I went to the library. One book I checked out was Rebecca Mead's One Perfect Day: The Selling of the American Wedding, which I opened last night. I was tempted to get another wedding related book, but decided to go with a novel instead. I need some balance. The Selling of the American Wedding is an exploration of why weddings have become such a commercial production...not the most cheerful reading for someone about to throw such an event. But she is a very talented writer, with great attention to detail and a crisp way of articulating her points. So I got into my bed early to read about the wedding industry. And even though the book doesn't have as much of that cozy feeling that a novel might, I found myself intrigued with learning more about this business (more blog posts will go into more detail later...I've only started the second chapter). One thing of note already: this is a business, with different retailers vying for your dollars. Sure, easy enough to realize. But another thing entirely to not be pushed by overeager salespeople. It's their job, their livelihood, but it's our choice.

Some Friendly Ears

This weekend, I did a lot of chatting: a long phone conversation Saturday, a relaxing ramble over Sunday brunch, or a squealing session as I shopped for wedding dresses with a friend (and found a real winner, I am pretty sure. more later). At times, the chats turned to the wedding planning--how it was going and how I felt about the whole process. As I sat down last night to watch the Olympic gymnasts on TV and to read the Sunday paper, I was thinking about friendships. How it is so nice to go on and go with friends about my thoughts on wedding planning--I could pick their brains when I wanted to, but there was never an element of judgment in their voices. And they seemed excited to hear me talk about it. I am careful not to tell everyone and their mother's cousin about our wedding--because these details may not enchant those who aren't directly involved--but when a friend is interested, it can be fun, helpful, and a bit stress relieving to discuss all my plans and confide some of my fears like tripping down the aisle. From my friends, I get the sense that it's not necessarily the all the wedding details that hold their interest, it's how I relate to these details. And that's what keeps me talking.

Oh, Where to Go?

So, here's a fun question: Where to honeymoon? (See my survey at right to actually answer this question). I realize it's a little premature, as we are still at the beginning at this wedding planning process. But we both are avid travelers, and the excitement of even thinking about travails in a far off land is intoxicating. Because we're planning to head off shortly after the big to-do, we're definitely building some R&R time into the honeymoon. But we'll both want to do some exploration too, whether it's sightseeing around a big city, or finding some ecotouristic adventures on the sea or in the mountains. I don't know how the "honeymoon" came to be, but I really like the idea of a couple adventuring together, alone, after tying the knot. Not only because I have an omnipresent travel bug, or because I may need to unwind after planning a wedding, but really because a honeymoon can, in a way, symbolize what a life-long commitment is: a journey together. A honeymoon also reminds me of the Jewish tradition where the bride and groom take 10 or 15 minutes after the ceremony to be alone. Just like these few postnuptial minutes, a honeymoon is a chance for the couple to spend some isolated time together, before celebrating life with everyone they hold dear!

I Walk the Line

Right now I have the image from the movie "Fiddler on the Roof" when Tevye belts out the tune "Tradition!" Right now, I am wading through a lot of cultural norms about weddings--and boy, are there a lot--and picking which ones I want to honor and which ones don't seem to fit with me. Or which ones I want to tweak to fit me. For all brides and grooms, where to draw the line is a personal, and difficult, choice. Example: I didn't have a problem with Dan buying me an engagement ring, even though it could be seen as a modern-day dowry (I know, really taking one for the team here!!!). But rather than my father giving me away, I want both my parents escorting me down the aisle. I'm not set on a bouquet toss, but do like a walk down the aisle in a white dress. As I plan this big event, there is a societal pressure to have the wedding featured in the magazines, with all the associated bells and whistles. It's important for me to tell myself that Dan and I can have whatever wedding we want, we can think about the traditions and choose what we want.

Writer's Block

So I have a case of writer's block. I've entertained a few blog post ideas, but I keep deleting, or saving the drafts for future use. It's the 21 century equivalent of crumpling up scribbled white paper and throwing the balls into the trash can. Writer's block is frustrating. I deal with it at work sometimes, also, as I sit at my desk thinking of how to put together stories. Only now, with this blog, I have to think of ideas and then write them, where usually at work at least the ideas are laid out. Sometimes, an event I went through or a conversation I had or just a random thought I had out of nowhere turns into a blog entry. But sometimes nothing comes. Or when some idea does appear, I start writing, but realize that these words are not really describing what I'm trying to say. And so I delete and look at an intimidating blank screen. I'm realizing that blogging can be hard work. I could just not write, I do have that option. But I have become a bit attached to my cyber diary. And when the ideas spark, when words come together, and blog entry begins to resemble my thoughts inside, it's an exciting feeling. But drawing a blank will be part of the process too. And tonight, I am not sure what I want to write.

Enjoying the Ride

Yesterday morning over spinach omelets and Belgian waffles, Dan's cousin asked me if I was enjoying planning the wedding. I paused a second. To be honest, I don't love event planning. While some people thrive on putting all the pieces of a party together, all these pieces sometimes overwhelm me. Also, my discerning powers aren't fabulous. For example, last week when I was trying on wedding dresses, I loved almost every one. But, as weird as this may sound, I am learning to enjoy the ride. I am learning to focus on one element--like the dress--at a time, but still keep the larger picture in perspective. This process has taught me a lot about myself--how even though the process can be hard, watching it come together can have the same feeling as cooking a meal, only this meal is slightly more expensive and takes about a year longer to make. Like a meal, a wedding is the adding of flavors and spices, the stirring, the heating and cooling, and then the sense of accomplishment when your plate is all dished up. Planning a wedding has opened my world, literally--I am now an active member in the blogosphere. I've also seen some negative sides of me poke through...how sometimes I stress too much about things beyond my control, or in other instances how I acquiesce too easily before considering all options. Good and bad, I'll take them all, as I keep discovering what a ride wedding planning will be.

Dress Obsessed

Last night I took another look at wedding dresses. Unlike the first time I went, I actually had a clue of what I wanted--and the sales woman actually listened to me. Without giving too much away to my future husband (and avid blog reader), I found two styles that I really liked. Two styles completely different from each other. I didn't buy anything, but I really began to home in on what I am looking for. Which is more than half the battle, I think. And, really, I've said it before, but it bears repeating: Wedding dress shopping is so much fun. It's almost like you are transported to a world of silk, satin, and lace for an hour. It's dress-up for adults. But, before whipping out a credit card and making a purchase, mindfulness is key. Even as I pranced around excitedly in the gowns, trying on sashes and shimmery belts (which are very in these days, apparently, and actually pretty cute), I was trying to keep in mind "Do I really want this one? Can I see myself getting MARRIED in it? Is an extra few dollars worth it? Is it too dramatic, and will I feel too center stage?" Of course, these questions make the process a bit longer, but really I have the time, it's a fun experience, it certainly can't hurt to time an extra few seconds asking some mindful questions. Getting married has its stresses, but so far, dress shopping has not been one of them. In some ways, I don't want it to end!

What's for Dinner?

It's a question I get asked at least once a day by my loveable finance, who never has been one to "wing" a meal. In our years together--and especially in the year living together--the division of labor has happened organically, based on each of our interests and skills. Dan, who never misses a wrinkle when ironing shirts, has taken over laundry duty. He also has an extra "neat" gene, so it's more likely you'll find him vacuuming the floors. I, on the other hand, love to watch a meal come together and so have become the unofficial chef in the relationship. When I see my clothes nice and neatly folded, I know my cooking is worth the effort. But sometimes in the middle of the day, when I'm plugging away at work, I suddenly realize I have no idea what's for dinner. A slight panic rushes in. In my few post-college years, I've assembled a small repertoire of dishes, but still, finding something fun, interesting, healthy, and nutritious to cook--that appeals to both of us--can seem like a daunting task. I've thought more than once that this is karma for when, as kids, my brother and I used to complain about whatever dish my mother served up--there was nothing wrong with the meal, it was just fun to whine about it. Somehow, though, an answer always appears. Whether it's something I find at the Trader Joe's right next to work, Dan pitches in on a day when I'm just exhausted, I brainstorm with a friend on cooking ideas, or we just decide to splurge and eat out, I can usually figure something out. And when we sit down to a nice meal at the dinner table (OK, sometimes we eat on the sofa while watching DVDs of The Wire or LOST), I'm glad I toiled over a hot stove.

Ode to Ephie and Leens

Eighty-five years ago today, my grandfather Ephie was born. Unfortunately, he and his better half, my grandmother Lenor (aka "Grandma Leens") passed away some years ago, so I haven't been able to share with them my excitement in finding a life partner. Every rose has its thorn, as the old song goes, and even times of great celebration are tinged with a sadness when you remember those people who are no longer here. But as I've mentioned before, missing people can be a sweet sadness. And there are plenty of wonderful things to miss about my grandparents--how my grandmother used to wait in the hallway outside their apartment after we'd called from the lobby to tell her we were coming up for a visit, or the sweet-and-sour meatballs she'd always make for us because she knew how much everyone, especially my dad, loved them. And always being able to tell someone how she really felt. (Something I appreciate more and more as I realize how my fear of confrontation can sometimes cause problems) And for my grandfather, it was sharing with us his (mostly) original quotations of love and life, all printed up on 3 by 5 inch index cards. Or, if I go back earlier in my childhood, giving us 20 words and paying us a dime for every definition we copied from the dictionary. Or letting us pick a ceramic owl from his massive collection. But more than anything, I miss how they were always there for each other throughout my grandfather's long battle with MS. It's something I miss, and also admire as I embark on a life-long commitment.

WHAT? You're Doing That?

Judging is easy. And when something seems unfamiliar or strange, there is a guilty pleasure associated with criticizing it. A wedding could be the ultimate Judgment Day, people looking at your flowers, your dress, and the menu you choose and thinking "Oh, I would never choose this." These thoughts can be almost subconscious and hard to avoid. And while the judgment scares me a bit, I have come to some peace with it over the last two months. As long as the wedding reflects what Dan and I and a few other VIPs want, then it really doesn't matter what other people think. Of course, I HOPE people like it, but appeasing to everyone's taste is a tall order. But as a guest at many weddings in the next year or two, I'm really trying to incorporate this non-judgmental attitude. Knowing now how much time, work, and money goes into a wedding is making me think twice before criticizing someone else's effort.

Life Right Now

Part of this blog's purpose is to capture what this whole engagement process is like, so that in 30 years I can revisit this time in my life. But I haven't really articulated what my everyday life is like. So here it goes: Dan and I life in a cosy, two-bedroom D.C. apartment. I like to call it shabby chic, a loveable place where the heat only broke down once this winter. We both walk to work, and there are days where we barely cross out of the zip code. The aroma of freshly ground coffee from the small cafe across the street tempts us to stay there and read the newspaper on Saturday afternoons. We shop at a Safeway commonly known as the Soviet Safeway because forget about getting produce on Tuesday nights--better to wait for the new shipment on Wednesdays. But we can always splurge on Whole Foods. OK, there's more than food, I promise. Tranquil Space is my favorite local yoga studio, where I often go for my down-ward dogs, shoulder stands, and plank poses, as well as a bit of peace of mind. The metro takes me pretty much where I want to go; otherwise, I have to catch a ride with Dan, because I sold my car and haven't learned to drive a stick shift yet. There's more than that, of course, but hopefully that paints a picture for all of you readers, and for me when I flip back.

A Restless Mind Is OK

On Monday, I went to my third night meditation class. The whole day long, I was looking forward to spending some time by myself on my cushion. Once I got there, the teacher said that when you find yourself drifting, just label it "thinking" and move on. I had a lot of "thinking" moments, where my mind seemed to move away from my breath and I started pondering about all sorts of things, mostly work and wedding. But being able to label it as such, without any feelings of punishment or wrongdoing, was really helpful. It reminded me of how I can label themes in this blog. Just a very matter-of-fact, conscious action of saying "OK, I am thinking now." And then I could move on. Of course, thoughts would arise again, but there were a few moments of stillness, where all I thought about was the breath. Those moments were great. But perhaps a more important lesson I took away was not to beat myself up if my thoughts drifted. Just acknowledge and go back to the breath, leaving that middle part about blaming yourself out of the equation.

A Matter of Trust

It's more than just a Billy Joel song. Having trust that the wedding will go smoothly is important for me right now. Sure, there's a lot to do, from the big parts like securing a venue to the more minor, detail-oriented tasks such as choosing color schemes, table charts, and songs for the band to play. But it can be a lot more overwhelming if you don't trust yourself and other people helping you plan the big day. And to some degree, even if you double check everything, some things are out of your control. You just have to close your eyes, cross your fingers, and make a leap of faith. Hopefully the lead band singer won't have a cold, the flower shop won't close down, and there's no snow storm in the middle of June. In some ways, a wedding seems like marriage itself. When deciding whom to marry, you can consider all of his or her good qualities, the pros and cons, predict how that person might be like in 20 years, but eventually you need to make a leap of faith. You won't know what the future holds, what surprises might come, but you trust yourself and your partner that being together is the right decision. And that not being together feels wrong somehow.

There is Also a "We"

Ok, maybe the word "we" cannot literally be found in "marriage." But to elaborate a bit more on my last post, marriage is clearly a union, not only of two people but of two families. I am thinking about this union of families now, because Dan and I and my parents just returned from a trip to Chicago to visit his family, a mix of his parents, sister and brother-in-law and their young daughter, aunt, uncle, and cousins. I knew the weekend was a success when my parents were discussing their next trip out there as we boarded the plane to come back. I'm having trouble describing the weekend in words, which is why I broke my rule and am going back into the post and reworking it a bit. While Dan and I chose to marry each other, our families didn't choose to be in-laws. Now they're two groups of relatives interconnected for life simply because sparks flew between their son and daughter at a D.C. bar one night. This randomness could have led to awkwardness and tensions, as can be the case when marriages bring families together, but the weekend didn't have those feelings. It had a kind of magic instead. My parents looking at old picture albums, my dad talking wine with Dan's family, and all of us relaxing by Dan's parents pool while the sun beat down on a hot but beautiful July afternoon. There's something exciting about meeting a new family, discovering their background, their old stories, and then making them your own.