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.