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.