All posts tagged “wedding planning

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Wedding : Lost, One Mind.



Somewhere around three weeks before our wedding, I lost my mind.


If anyone’s seen it, I would very much like it back.


The last time I remember being okay was for Yay NY! The next week was so chock full of WEDDING the stress adrenaline obliterated any faint traces of a hangover.


And so it would be until October. (Because yes, our honeymoon was at least as stressful as the wedding, if not more so.)


The task-juggling was so bad that from waking till sleep I did not waste a breath on anything that wasn’t “productive”. I might as well have had my To Do lists tattooed on the inside of my eyelids.


It sounds awful but it felt like I was flying. I have never before gotten SO MUCH DONE. For once in my life I had a single clear cut purpose. WEDDING. Oh, and keeping the rest of my [our] lives afloat.


That was the hard part.


As the scales tipped more and more in favor of WEDDING, I started to get a wee bit absentminded about other things. I’d forget to pay a bill here or there. Things at work would fall between the cracks.


One night when I attempted to slow down for a moment, as we were watching TV a commercial came on and while I was staring at it, a million and one things running through my brain, I completely lost my mind.


I turned to Scott and asked him what show we were watching, because honest to god, I could not for the life of me remember back to a moment earlier. He thought I was kidding and began laughing at me, while I struggled to overcome the greatest brain fart in the history of my existence.


But I couldn’t remember. He had to tell me. It was terrifying.


I thought immediately after the wedding my mind would come back. I mean, ALL THE THINGS are off the calendar and the To Do list.


And then when this didn’t happen right away I figured it would just take a bit of adjustment.


Well now it’s January, and yesterday morning I flat out forgot about a dentist appointment until it was too late to go.


Scott said everyone does that kind of thing occasionally.


Not me. I’ve never done something like that in my life.


It’s been nearly four months.


I’d like my mind back.

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Wedding : Dress Search Part 2

Read Part 1 here


So we left off with me having left The Bridal Garden with two dresses on my mind. As soon as I saw the pictures from Kerri, I knew.


2011-02-14 2011-02-15

Elizabeth Fillmore


2011-02-15 2011-02-16

Junko Yoshioka


Serious note to ladies who are shopping – even if it’s not allowed, take pictures. I was shocked by how what I thought looked fabulous on—the Elizabeth Fillmore in the first pictures—did not photograph quite so. Body dysmorphia FTLoss.


Scott and I were at brunch for Valentine’s Day when these arrived in my inbox and I was so excited about the pictures I may have a) accidentally showed him, and b) spent a significant amount of time forwarding them to interested parties.


Another note to ladies who are shopping – if you accidentally show your fiancé a photo of the dress, with or without you in it, he absolutely will not remember it come the wedding. (Unless he is some kind of whore for fashion with the memory of an elephant.) And as an interesting sidebar to those of you already marrieds, asking your fiancé to remember and describe your dress is a really hilarious game to play—and win. Thinking this was a sad WIC cliché after reading it in UK Cosmo, I asked Scott while on the plane home from our honeymoon. Even he, who generally notices clothes and has an eye for them, was way way off.


So I loved the dress, but there was still the matter of the price.


And my own indecisiveness.



The dress was also dirty, and though it mostly fit, it would need some altering. I wasn’t prepared for the cost ($250! for cleaning, and $275! for alterations) associated with those either. So I brought another friend, this one with some dress cleaning/altering experience—Beverly Hills Bloomingdales FTW.


And then I made an appointment at the salon my friend Aimee’s dress came from. (Because yes, she had bought her dress back in September, the day after we went shopping together. And I’d hate her for it, except she wound up having waaay more dress drama than me in the end.)


It was there that I tried on a bunch of dresses I never would have except they were the only things in my price range/size. Because uh yea, I’m not a Kirstie Kelly for Disney Bridal kinda girl. Or so I thought.


Much like David’s Bridal (or so I hear – I never did get to go into a David’s), the Disney Princess line was surprisingly okay.


This little jam did in fact make me feel like a princess. Probably because it’s like, what, an exact replica of Belle’s gold dress? But even for a 28 year old, getting to dress up for five minutes as Belle one last time was pretty awesome.


And then I realized, uh yea, I don’t want to be Belle for my wedding.


Next came a couple womp, womp dresses that were not from Kirstie Kelly, but are proof that sometimes things (usually the ones that didn’t make it out of the fitting room), can look just plain shitty.


P2250106-1 P2250104-1


I actually didn’t mind the first one, but it was too “trendy” for me. I hate to use that word because I think trendiness can save one from decision overload—there’s no greater validation or safety than “everyone else doing it”—but part of the allure of the Junko Yoshioka was that no one else had it. Short of making something custom or finding something vintage (and believe you me, I searched in every dark corner of the interwebs—despite longing for a story like Meg’s, I couldn’t bring myself to actually pound the pavement), how impossibly awesome to have a dress that you cannot find on a single “real wedding” blog post anywhere?!


But then, there came the dress that made me reconsider everything.


It was unlike anything I’d ever thought I wanted. Covered in beading. Flowy, not structured. And well, inspired by Princess Jasmine.


But it reminded me of this.


And come on, that is a truly great moment.


As a girl who once [seriously] considered spending $6,000 to have her wedding here and just sit on the floor and eat Chinese takeout, the easy comfort of this dress suddenly seemed like a forgotten necessity,


And then there was the price.


Dress + cleaning + alterations, for a total number exactly matching my max budget.


It was a very nice deal, and all the salesladies were just about bouncing off the walls with excitement, though of course you can never tell if that’s authentic or just put on to make the sale.


It was all so very tempting…


But I wasn’t thrilled with how I looked in the pictures, and regardless, I had one more appointment with Flora (which is the style name of the Junko Yoshioka), and 2 more friend’s opinions to gauge.


So I left behind Princess Jasmine, and put on my best big girl bargaining pants.


And bargain I did. I put on Flora, my friends fell in love, and I got that saleslady to knock $500 off the price (with only a little crying). Of course there was still cleaning and alterations, and I COMPLETELY forgot about sales tax until my credit card was out of my wallet. But this was my dress and I just didn’t want to look anymore. (That, and bargaining down money that’s going to a non-profit felt sort of wrong.)


My initial budget was an arbitrary and seemingly high number. But, as anyone can tell you, I am a Clothes Person, so putting some financial focus on The Dress seemed like the right thing to do. On the other hand, I am a Bargain Person, and so I also had the pipe dream that I’d be about to somehow conjure a $13,000 couture gown out of thin air for about $300. Because that’s how I roll.


So I was feeling a little down on myself for going over budget while forking over my Visa, when my friend Maureen observed (Maureen is getting married in August and clearly she will not be having any issues because she is far wiser than I), that based on the original number on the price tag, I was getting the dress at 80% off.




P1010018-1  P1010043-1
how awesome is the foreign dude (he was! I’m not just making assumptions!) trying to shop amidst the madness?


Epilogue: The memory of Jasmine did not go quietly into the night. In fact, I spent the entire evening after buying Flora wondering if I made a mistake. I set up an eBay saved search and even wound up trying on some Sue Wong wannabe Jasmine’s while helping Maureen at the Battle of the Brides. Thankfully, by the time a reasonably sized, reasonably priced Jasmine turned up on eBay, I had come to my senses and didn’t buy it.

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Wedding : Dress Search Part 1

So I am generally inclined to (some might say “over-“) analyze things. It is unquestioningly my first and strongest instinct, but I am starting to wonder just how often giving in to it can take the fun out of life…


For example, I’ve come to the conclusion that, if I want to write about our wedding and honeymoon (and I do!), I should probably stop mentally wailing, “but what does it all mean?” and just continue telling the process and the day like it was.


And maybe when I’m done, I’ll know what it all means.


buttons down the back, which at one point in my life I
had to have


So dress shopping. In many ways it was a microcosm of the entire process.


It was both fun and not fun. I had high hopes and a small budget. The hopes got smaller and the budget bigger. I overanalyzed everything and eventually went with my gut, but continued second-guess the whole thing until the moment I put on the dress the day of the wedding.


I love me some clothes. Especially party dresses. But wedding dresses as a genre? Ew.


I took a while of casual looking (I think if I’d actually gotten married in ‘08 or ‘09 I would’ve been screwed) before I even found one I liked.


It was this:



Spose di Gio

I still like this dress. And eventually I began to like other dresses too. If you’re reading this before I delete my tumblr*, you can see them here:


The Spose di Gio dream died when I saw a few pictures of actual people wearing the dress and it was not quite so ethereal and pink and lovely. And it wasn’t exactly all over ebay/preownedweddingdresses/oncewed/etc (my plan to make an expensive dress work) either.


This was okay because despite intended to buy online, I knew I wanted the experience of going to stores and trying stuff on.


So in September last year my friend Aimee, her mom, and I went to go do that. It was almost a year to the day of what would become my wedding date, but I didn’t know that at the time. Neither Aimee nor I knew where or when we were getting married, something we were learning got us totally snubbed as brides. At my suggestion, we went to Lovely in the West Village because they had a bunch of eco-friendly type designers that looked very Aimee. Lovely was less than lovely, and we both forgot our cameras. (I’ll just leave it at that. If you want an actual review of the service, I can give you a private one.)


nm-HG0013_Metal-Taffeta-Strapless-aNicole Miller 


I tried on this Nicole Miller, which I thereon considered my if-I-really-can’t-find-anything-else-there’s-always-this-dress until I actually bought a dress. It actually would’ve been a great choice for Costa Rica, even though I could mentally here my mother rolling in her grave over how it was “wrinkled.” But it holds its value! Secondhand deals were not to be found on this dress, even though about a million people have gotten married in it.


After my less than lovely experience, I laid off the dress hunt until February when we had formed a solid foundation of venue + photographer. Then I took a friend to the place I really wanted to go—The Bridal Garden. The Bridal Garden is a non-profit in NYC that accepts donated dresses from designers and brides and resells them with the proceeds going to NYC public schools. As we tried to support nonprofits and small businesses as much as possible in the wedding, I thought the idea of getting my dress there was so, so SWEET. Plus the service is more Marshalls than Kleinfeld’s. As in, you get to pull dresses yourself to try on. Perfect for a control freak like me.


There was also the glimmer of the possibility of Oscar de la Renta awaiting me. You see, that was one of two childhood wedding dreams: a Tahiti honeymoon and an OdlR dress. Oscar, it occurred to me, was attainable through the power of Ebay (don’t bother with the other sites: Oscar brides can’t bear to drop the prices that low), but I found myself passing up $600 dresses because though they might have been Oscar but they just weren’t me…


So I went into the Bridal Garden with an open mind, and began to just try random stuff on. No beading, no sequins, no ballgowns, no sheaths. Mermaids, trumpets, preferably some straps or sleeves. There was a Rivini that fit none of this criteria, but it was so Art Deco slinky… And there was an Elizabeth Fillmore that seemed like the perfect size. Not too cocktail dress and not too wedding cupcake.,,


And then, the saleslady, who was treating me like her personal Barbie, started handing me Junko Yoshioka’s. It was like the designer had just, oh, dropped off the entire runway collection and they happened to all fit me like a glove. (Except for the being about a foot too long part.) It was both fun and emotionally exhausting trying them all on (fitting into clothes is something I do not take for granted, having struggled with just that for most of my adolescence). We snuck as many pictures as we could, mostly of the silly ones:


2011-02-11 14.19.47(1)

Junko Yoshioka


And then there came the last dress. It took us a few minutes to figure out how it worked (not that that was a surprise after the cape). But once we got it on, I sort of looked in the mirror and said, hmph. It didn’t have the buttons down the back I always wanted. But then again, it wasn’t like anything I had ever pictured. And yet, it was kind of—ok, very—me. (This is sounding like how I feel about Scott.)


The saleslady quoted me a price I couldn’t really afford. And I can’t make decisions that fast anyway. There were no promises the dress would still be there without a $100 hold on it (because yes, if I’m having trouble with the price I’m going to drop $100 to hold it). But I figured if it were my dress, and I already knew it was, it wasn’t going anywhere. If another girl my exact size with my exact taste walked in and had to have it then she deserved it anyway.


So my intrepid friend Kerri promised to send me the photos she had taken, and we left as I continued to ponder dresses and budgets and dresses. Waiting for the photos was excruciating, as I impatiently wondered if the dresses really looked like I had seen in my head.


 To be continued…


*I always intended to make my inspiration Tumblr (oh life before Pinterest) private, but couldn’t figure out how. I hate having uncredited images posted anywhere.

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Wedding : Live Blogging

Over the weekend, I was optimistically looking at my list of posts to write, as though I’d have time to write posts this week. They are time-consuming, picture-heavy, labor-intensive posts like “dress shopping” and “our invites.”

They will have to wait.

As I looked at the list of wedding things, I thought, I can’t write about any of this shit. I’m too busy living it.

But I miss blogging, (and I miss reading blogs! feeling so out of the loop), and I do feel compelled to somehow capture the emotions of these days leading up to the one with the thing that’s all I can think about. (Funny how this blog started for the pretty, and is now way more emotion that pretty.)

So I’m gonna live blog is for y’all.

I hope.

No pictures, barely any editing, just thoughts and feelings as they happen.






Tues PM:

Sometime on Monday, I realized how batshit crazy Scott and I are. Who, WHO has a soup to nuts DIY wedding when you’re both working full time, and you have zero family involved and no bridal party either. Granted, at this point, friends have stepped in in pretty life-saving ways, but there is just. so. much. to. do. And no one but us to do it. I’ve taken Friday off work, and am teetering on taking tomorrow too. Scott was planning on taking any days off. GAAAAHHH.




Wed AM:

Wedding planning makes me happy. Happy in that bone tired, I didn’t even know it was possible to get this much done in a day, I think I’m going to collapse, but I see a faint glimmer of hope on the horizon. If this was my day job, I think I’d be really happy. I love running/coordinating events. Of course I also love having a life, so if it were my day job I’d be sad for other reasons, such as having to work on Saturdays. But it is interesting, to observe and acknowledge the things that make you happy even as you feel that they’re slowly killing you.




Wed PM:

I had a bridal moment at my bachelorette. Bachelorette parties are not typically designed with the “bachelorette” in question in mind, are they? Mine was kind of. And kind of not. Kind of a lot of what I said here.




Thurs AM:

When we were at the end of our rope, venue-search-wise, I had a running joke about renting out one of my favorite places on earth—Marble House in Newport, RI—and since its rental fee was just about our entire budget, having everyone come lie on the floor and eat Chinese food in their PJ’s.


Over a year later, that still sounds like one hell of a plan to me. Our venue is not quite Marble House, but if the pizza truck doesn’t show up, and the chairs don’t show up, and I split my dress…


I’ll get over it.




Yoga and a manicure is a pretty magically relaxing combination, though it loses some effectiveness in conjunction with iced coffee.




Following work emails from an insane client like a reality tv show train wreck feels like a distant cloud looming over the happy, but I can’t stop myself. I want my boss to not stress over this the way I shouldn’t stress over the wedding.




We have a lot to do tonite. 😉


And I’m still amped up on the coffee I had at 11am.


Also, we need to write vows.





This is what $500 gets you in booze in NY. It seemed like a lot in the car and less in the kitchen. I think it will be enough in the bellies of our guests.




I have recurring nightmares about packing like a lunatic and being late to the airport. That is what this is like.


All I need is one more day.




The minivan is all packed and I didn’t get any pics of the insanity of the house first. Ahh well.


And I would post the pic of the minivan, but my phone is freaking out. Because you know, I don’t need it today or anything.




The liveblogging thing is not so easy when you have no words.


Instead, some pictures of my day:











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Weekend : Exercises in Team Building



A very early, sleepy morning at the County Clerk getting our marriage license… 

This weekend Scott almost bought a company.

And I achieved wedding zen.

It doesn’t feel exactly how I thought it would, but I knew it was there when I was got more and more excited about the prospect of taking huge steps towards getting our real lives off the ground.

I mean, that’s the whole point of the whole marriage thing, right?

Supporting and encouraging, or even dragging kicking and screaming, each other into
bigger and better (or smaller and happier) things.

At least that’s what I keep reading in the blogosphere.

To see Mr. Big Ideas actually take steps towards making something happen felt huge.

Because this is my blog and I have to give myself proper credit, I will tell the story in brief. The whole thing started with him saying “T-shirt line “Fake Name” is closing because the owners don’t have enough time and want to focus on family. If it weren’t for everything we’ve got going on right now, I wish I could like, buy them out,” to which I replied, “Fuck the wedding. How much do they want for it?”

And so ensued two days of enthusiasm and negotiations. And even though it didn’t work out, giving it a shot made me seriously giddy.

I felt like I was following my gut the entire time (what a novel and amazing way to make choices), and that we were hashing things out as a team. Bananas.

If marriage is more of this, sign me up.


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Wedding : Guestbook

Less than two weeks and insane pre-wedding insanity reigns strong over here. That, and massive decision fatigue. So I need more of your opinions! Today’s topic is guestbooks!


Which option is your favorite?


1) The postcard guestbook.

My existing collection of postcards get written on and tossed into a vintage suitcase.

Difficulty Level: 1 – We have all these things already.


pc: R P Scissors


2) The greeting card guestbook.

My grandparents collection of vintage greeting cards get written on and tossed into a vintage suitcase.

Difficulty Level: 2 – We have everything, but I’ll need to go through the cards and pick out appropriate ones? If there even are that many blanks/anniversary cards. Is it too awkward to have a Christmas card guestbook? Yes? Okay.


 3postcards pc: Gardening by Trial and Error


3) The Shutterfly-esque guestbook.

I spend a couple hours sticking our engagement photos in a template and have it printed. It probably won’t look nearly as good as Rachelle’s does below.

Difficulty Level: 3 – Will take a few hours to create.


305740556 pc: Oh Deerio! 
Yay Rachelle!


4) The poster guestbook.

Scott designs a poster based on our invites, etc. and everyone can sign.

Difficulty Level: 4 – He has to design this, and then we have to get it printed somewhere because it’s too late to have it screenprinted now.



pc: A Practical Wedding: Danielle & Matt



Okay… go, comment!

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Wedding : Sharing

This is for all of my “real life” friends, who I’ve tried not to burden with my crap. Maybe this will help to explain why.


Your wedding might not be a show, but it is a production.


Chances are, it’s probably not going to happen on its own. Instead, it’s going to take months of keeping seemingly thousands of balls in the air, from venue to caterer to invitations to placecards to underpants. Seriously, I’ve been searching the ends of the earth for the right pair of affordable Spanx.


When we first started this process, I was determined to streamline, and avoid this level of nonsense the Kn*t to-do lists proclaim as the norm. We decided to have a small guest list, a pizza truck, no DJ, no cake, etc.


But for everything that we cut back or out, there was somewhere that I bit off the maximum amount that I could chew without vomiting—providing our own tableware, glassware, linens; hand-producing invitations of epic proportions; renting a house where everyone could crash; writing our own ceremony; buying a wedding dress that entailed three fittings and Spanx. (I thought the dress fit when I bought it!! Why does it still take three fittings?!?!)


And so, I have found myself—me, who never wanted a wedding to take over my life—living and breathing The Wedding.


It’s a lot. And it’s something I feel guilty about, and hesitant to share/admit to my “real life” friends. In the limited amount of time I have to talk to them, I want to hear about them, not rehash my current struggles with Spanx. There just isn’t enough time for that.


I also struggle with deciphering who genuinely wants to hear about the wedding and who is just being polite and so I have brushed everyone off instead. In my own emotional experience, weddings can stir up huge issues for people, and while it should be their own responsibility to steer a convo away from something they don’t care to discuss, I would rather not talk about it at all than risk offending someone.


See Sharon’s post about handling people’s interest in your planning process for more insights into what has gone on in my brain.


I’ve also fallen victim to the mainstream portrayals of wedding planning (read: Bridezillas) that paint a horrible portrait of the brides enlisting family and friends to embark on craft projects and other pre-wedding details, showcasing the helpers bitching and moaning to the drill sergeant bride about all the work they’re doing. Yet, on the other side of the equation is the notion of being left out of the wedding fun…


And lastly, part of my hesitance to share has also been due to my clinging to the element of surprise. I’ve never been to a wedding that was DIT, not “thrown” for the guests, and so I’m kind of flying blind here. Is it really OK that 50% of my guests won’t drive/walk up and go “wow” (or just, you know, “hey, neat”) because they’ve been there all day decorating?


All of this has led to one or more friends expressing that they feel “out of the loop,” with my life. As I do with theirs. And I feel kinda shitty about that, but I’m starting to wonder if it isn’t inevitable? Weddings, like babies, consume vast amounts of physical and emotional resources, including the most valuable one of all—time.


[This is not to say that I think marriage (or even kids, once they get to be more manageable?) is a dividing line. People who say that, or leave people out of social circles once they’re married, are full of crap. Marriage does not make a couple inseparable or book up their social calendar for the next 50 years. A wedding might, but after that? Personally, I cannot wait to have time to reconnect with people again. Watch out, cause I’m going to be the most enthusiastic friend ever.]


So what do we do when weddings eat up our lives and we don’t want to burden our friends and families with incessant chatter about that which is consuming our lives?


We blog about it instead. And if we’re lucky, we find a community of like-minded women who get it, and want to talk about these things. (Am I wrong to compare this to AA, cancer support groups, grieving widows?) But in accepting this support group, are we unwittingly alienating our “in real life” friends and family?


I think I might be. But with two weeks to go, I have no choice but to ask for down and dirty help. Logistically, this thing just isn’t going to happen without it. It’s scary, but I’m doing it, and I hope people will understand what’s taken me so long.

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Weekend : #YayNY and #Irene

There is nothing quite like a joining of forces between Team Practical and a hurricane to realign one’s priorities.

With three weeks until the wedding it has been painfully obvious that I am deep in the throes of Planning. The kind of Type-A checklist-driven-the-world-revolves-around-my-wedding, right? planning that I would seriously fault myself for if it wasn’t so damn common.

Enter Yay New York and Hurricane Irene, poised to knock me right off my feet (and schedule).




Making time for the Yay New York party in the midst of our madness was non-negotiable, but I hadn’t really had time to get excited about it until I was sitting at my desk Thursday morning. I had been too busy being up picking out an outfit and shaving my legs at 1am, dragging myself to yoga at 10am, and slogging through the rain with 3 outfits (yoga/work/party) worth of crap at 11am to even think about what the point of it all was.


Once I started reading Meg’s live-blogging, I found myself hit by not excitement over partying and raising money for a good cause (well maybe a little of that), but by what really mattered—the very personal impact of the day on the couples getting married. For the first time, something I have read over and over, but had never felt for myself, hit home: We are so, so privileged to have the option to marry. And I am so thrilled/relieved/proud to be living in a state that is *finally* extending that right to everyone.


Philosophically, I’ve always been a supporter of gay marriage, but I’ve never been able to shake the feeling that it’s not my place to fight for it. But Meg managed to convince me otherwise both in her writing that day, and in her thank you speech that night—which I wish I could quote to you all, because the lady is even more eloquent, funny, and persuasive in person than advertised.


The gravity of all of this made me determined to treasure that evening, even when I had a million and one things on my mind and to-do list—from the lovely dinner with my fiance before the party, to getting to see faces (Meg! Zan! Sarah! Rachel! Mary!)  in person(!), to the happy, glow-y dancing in a night that became my de facto bachelorette when my actual party was canceled due to Hurricane Irene.


I momentarily wished I could hear above the awesome music to actually converse in person(!) with these ladies who I virtually chat with all the time, until I realized we could go back to chatting on Friday, but the physical connection of being there dancing, actually together in the same state/city/room, was what was magical that night. And we danced our faces and asses off—not that I was surprised, because MY people are always the ones that dance. If Yay NY was a glimmer of the joy and fun I have waiting for me at my own wedding, then it is going to be so, so worth it. And every single person in love deserves the opportunity to have that, and all that comes after.






Friday morning I woke up slightly hung over, to the news that my Saturday night bachelorette party had been canceled because of Hurricane Irene. (Which Sarah, as awesome as she is, did her best to resurrect for me.) I thought my friends were overreacting just a teensy bit, so I started reading the news. Whereupon my commitment to wedding-planning productivity on my day off gradually dissolved, and by the time Bloomberg announced that transit was shutting down at noon Saturday, I was having a mild panic attack and my canceled bachelorette was the least of my concerns.


I went for a run, trying to quell the physical sensations of anxiety that were gushing through my veins with a persistence I hadn’t felt since the days leading up to having minor surgery last February when I discovered my phobia of anesthesia. “I don’t do natural disasters,” I thought to myself. Whenever shit has gone down in NY, I’ve been in LA or vice versa. And then it occurred to me that maybe my old roommate Kim was the good luck charm, not me, as I had experienced Hurricanes Gloria and Bob right there on Long Island, and of course, as soon as she left the state we had a horrible heat wave, earthquake, and now hurricane…


Why was I so panicked, you ask? This is why:




My beloved, and inappropriately close oak tree, which has weathered Gloria, Bob, and my entire childhood, is nearing the end of its days. I had to stop ignoring this imminent threat last March when a Nor’easter (That came out nowhere! Life is less stressful when you don’t watch the news!), knocked down tons of huge trees in our neighborhood, and Scott insisted, moved ours about 4 inches closer to the house. I denied it, but he was totally right. This big girl has to go.


But, we’re procrastinators, and have a wedding to pay for, so she’s still here.


And so I panicked. All through a Friday planning meeting at our venue (wow, there are a lot of trees there too) with our wedding stage manager, all through a Michael’s shopping trip to pick up things I could craft with no power. And all through Saturday AM’s beach yoga class that for the first time in 2 summers was moved indoors. I panicked through a Trader Joe’s shopping trip which resulted in a shit ton of chocolate-based products, and through a Saturday spent doing everything I could on the computer/internet in case we were out of power for days on end, watching CNN compulsively and downing said chocolate products.


Somewhere in there we also “battened down the hatches,” which resulted in the two of us being covered in so many mosquito bites they made us violent with rage for the whole weekend.


I panicked straight through Saturday night until a 1am brooch bouquet crafting session, until we settled into a sleeping spot that I hoped and prayed was out of the way of a tree branch (doubtful) and passed out from sheer exhaustion at 3am. I promptly woke up at 5am, and panicked through the worst part of the storm until Scott got up and convinced me that everything was really fine by standing outside and smoking.


Twitter confirmed, and finally I was brave enough to go outside and discover this:




I’m calling it a triumph.


What did I learn from all of this? From googling “what to do if a tree falls on your house” and reading the fine print on my homeowners insurance?


I learned that being a homeowner is a game changer. (Being parentless helps too—as I realized when Scott’s mom called him more times last weekend than in the entire 5 years we’ve been together combined.) I am officially a grown up. There’s no way around it. If I don’t stockpile water (in empty tequila bottles), or pack an emergency bag, or pay the homeowners insurance bill at 11pm the night before a hurricane, no one else will.


It was frightening, and yet liberating, as I finally felt justified in my worrying.


And what did I learn about worrying?


Less chocolate, more vegetables.

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Wedding : Exhaustion



Monday night Scott and I fell asleep on the couch together. At 11pm. (Our usual bedtime is 1:30.) This only after I protested his cuddles by saying, “Don’t talk to me until October.” I lost 2 hours of productivity to this unplanned cuddlefest, plus the motivation to go to yoga this morning because I was all confused by my random sleeping and the horrible, horrible allergies I woke up to.


My panicked, productive side wishes I could say this was a one-time lapse into laziness, but the same thing happened again last night.


I think I’ve hit a wall.


Truthfully, the exhaustion started at work last Friday after a particularly productive week. (But no yoga, I think the skipping my weekday yoga is wreaking havoc.) Suddenly my back felt all twisted out of shape and weak to the point where just staying upright was a chore, and all I wanted was to do was do my work lying flat on the floor. Which, obviously, I couldn’t. Friday felt like the longest day ever, culminating in an awful crowded train ride home that I think got my rage adrenaline going enough that we were able to squeeze a couple errands in when I got home and I didn’t pass out immediately.


Maybe that’s all carrying over into this week?


Or maybe it’s from Sunday, where I worked for twelve solid hours planning and ordering the decorations for the wedding, catching up on blogs, and blogging myself. (Decision fatigue, anyone?)


When did wedding planning and blogging become work?


I guess when I allowed it to make my life so structured that I fight being hugged by my fiancé because “there’s not enough time.”


And yes, I know that that fiancé-hug-related stuff is the point of the whole thing, but it’s so hard for me to switch into that, when Type-A, goal-focused, workaholic me is chomping at the bit 24 hours a day lately.


Anyone else experiencing/have experienced this? Did you feel distanced from your relationship because of all the work?


Right now, I’m clinging to Becca’s post about the emotional reawakening that occurred for her the day of the wedding, while of course, trying to remind myself this might not look like this for me.


Tell me your stories!

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Wedding : Hair

All right ladies, I don’t have time to fuck around. I need help. #TBCB help. Too many decisions, too little time, too much to think about.




So I got it in my head that my dress, which nods to Gibson Girl/Edwardian-ish-ness, would be perfect with a soft, high bun and bangs. I’ve been growing them out since the winter, but I was kind of counting on cutting them.


Without giving the dress totally away (Scott, turn back), here is kind of an idea of what it would look like (albeit with less messy, overgrown bangs):






So then, I was gathering pics of me with bangs last winter, and I wasn’t too thrilled with what I saw. Sigh. Most of the pics were of me in hats, so that’s not too helpful.


Sometimes they look cute:




Sometimes I look 9 years old:


badbangs No, srsly, what’s up with Mayim Bialik in the middle picture?


It’s been a loooong time since I last had to whip up an updo. Like senior prom.


SOOO, if I don’t get bangs – what do I do? I’m pretty confident I can put my hair in a bun, but more than that with all the other shit I’ve got going on that day? Not so sure.


Here’s some of my hair inspiration:




Wow guys, thanks for the opinions, which sadly have served to confuse me more. Some more background. Sadly, I don’t have the hair/makeup savvy friend, and I don’t have the budget to hire anyone, not to mention I’ve never met a stylist who doesn’t overestimate my hair—but despite all this, I’m still considering finding one ASAP.


This thing is, my hair is super fine, super straight and super slippery. Graceful wisps, and tousled curls, and basically anything soft and like an actual Gibson Girl (which I know, is perfect) needs professional help. Except  the professionals never believe that unless they shellac the shit out of it, my hair will only hold a curl or a style for a half hour.


I probably should’ve picked a dress around my hippy hair.


I did some quick and dirty messing with it in case that influences anyone.