tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-51322690199253346752024-03-14T00:02:57.994-04:00Kate Gets MarriedKatehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15698362897902024745noreply@blogger.comBlogger66125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5132269019925334675.post-33298949737476122612009-09-13T22:11:00.001-04:002009-09-13T22:15:26.851-04:00better later than never?So the husband and I have begun our <a href="http://kategetsalife.blogspot.com/2009/09/road-trippin.html">epic roadtrip</a> and I, like a chump, left the disc of wedding photos at home. So six weeks from now I'll post more. Sorry.Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15698362897902024745noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5132269019925334675.post-90755118531325096152009-09-08T22:25:00.006-04:002009-09-08T22:47:11.490-04:00better late than never- the ceremonySo, as I might have mentioned, I bawled through the entire ceremony. I was a basketcase. My sister was a basketcase. My husband was...crying. As far as I can tell, everyone cried. For better or worse, it was that kind of wedding. (I like to think it was because it was the most heartfelt, touching wedding anybody has ever attended, but who knows. Crying's a bit contagious, as it turns out.) <br /><br />This is me, coming down the aisle. I promise that I am pleased about being led down the aisle and do not think I am instead being led to a firing squad.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ZBM9mRTDMBs/SqcUfR-U3wI/AAAAAAAAAGk/WMeEAogVmw0/s1600-h/nye219.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ZBM9mRTDMBs/SqcUfR-U3wI/AAAAAAAAAGk/WMeEAogVmw0/s320/nye219.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5379290807550664450" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ZBM9mRTDMBs/SqcUf4g9ZOI/AAAAAAAAAGs/Wffo1yELb3E/s1600-h/nye232.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ZBM9mRTDMBs/SqcUf4g9ZOI/AAAAAAAAAGs/Wffo1yELb3E/s320/nye232.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5379290817896473826" /></a><br /><br />But I was happy, promise. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ZBM9mRTDMBs/SqcWL7-gQbI/AAAAAAAAAG0/ZRPXj6O-cAU/s1600-h/nye254.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ZBM9mRTDMBs/SqcWL7-gQbI/AAAAAAAAAG0/ZRPXj6O-cAU/s320/nye254.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5379292674251571634" /></a><br /><br /><br />Because the tent flaps were up and it was a blustery, rainy day turned into a lovely evening, the wind was blowing quite a bit. I think, on the whole, that was good--it prevented a lot of the sweating that was otherwise inevitable from the bridal party. It made my veil whip around quite a bit, though, which at the time I found sort of hilariously annoying, but in photographs is quite dramatic.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ZBM9mRTDMBs/SqcWMrndGaI/AAAAAAAAAHE/Xh-UQWqOPf8/s1600-h/nye267.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ZBM9mRTDMBs/SqcWMrndGaI/AAAAAAAAAHE/Xh-UQWqOPf8/s320/nye267.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5379292687039797666" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ZBM9mRTDMBs/SqcWMWLFV8I/AAAAAAAAAG8/kRQ96FU_gi8/s1600-h/nye265.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ZBM9mRTDMBs/SqcWMWLFV8I/AAAAAAAAAG8/kRQ96FU_gi8/s320/nye265.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5379292681283655618" /></a><br /><br />All in all, the ceremony was everything I wanted it to be: short but not too short, sweet, heartfelt, non-religious, and meaningful (at least to us).Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15698362897902024745noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5132269019925334675.post-21468929233264354472009-09-08T22:05:00.006-04:002009-09-08T22:22:32.652-04:00better late than never- part IISo the idea was that the hubs and I would do photos separately before the ceremony with our respective halves of the bridal party and our families, so that during the cocktail hour we'd do photos with the two of us and whomever else. (As I said before, we went real old school and didn't see each other before the ceremony.) Anyway, I was thinking we'd do photos in the main square of our hometown and outside the museum where we got married (which has lovely grounds). Unfortunately, it started raining that afternoon and this is one of about 4 photos we got outside before the skies opened up:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ZBM9mRTDMBs/SqcPVBeQ7gI/AAAAAAAAAGM/Pzqhc9qX4Yk/s1600-h/nye113.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ZBM9mRTDMBs/SqcPVBeQ7gI/AAAAAAAAAGM/Pzqhc9qX4Yk/s320/nye113.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5379285133764390402" /></a><br />(That's my bridesman, Phil, on the end there. Plus, my sister and the other bridesmaid, Liz, that you've seen already.) <br /><br />And this is us, about 30 seconds later, running out of the rain:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ZBM9mRTDMBs/SqcPV0qGnYI/AAAAAAAAAGU/D9qCO8Waxpg/s1600-h/nye119.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ZBM9mRTDMBs/SqcPV0qGnYI/AAAAAAAAAGU/D9qCO8Waxpg/s320/nye119.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5379285147504254338" /></a><br /><br /><br />Luckily, my photographer is super creative and took the opportunity to take some sweet dramatic shots in an nearby alley with some cover. Unluckily, where it also reeked of urine. <br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ZBM9mRTDMBs/SqcQrGeC5FI/AAAAAAAAAGc/MUet2wHDOz0/s1600-h/nye123.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ZBM9mRTDMBs/SqcQrGeC5FI/AAAAAAAAAGc/MUet2wHDOz0/s320/nye123.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5379286612574397522" /></a><br /><br />Luckily again, however, it stopped raining by ceremony time, meaning that the sides of the tent where we were married could be opened up a bit to show some of the beautiful green gardens that were the whole reason I chose the location in the first place. Ceremony photos soon to follow...<br /><br />(Again, photos courtesy <a href="http://amandaeganphoto.com">Amanda Egan</a>. You can click to see a larger version.)Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15698362897902024745noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5132269019925334675.post-9205428942419521452009-09-08T18:04:00.011-04:002009-09-08T18:38:04.609-04:00better late than never- part I<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ZBM9mRTDMBs/SqbV8D1lEBI/AAAAAAAAAFM/XNAp4qTcoi4/s1600-h/nye013.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ZBM9mRTDMBs/SqbV8D1lEBI/AAAAAAAAAFM/XNAp4qTcoi4/s320/nye013.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5379222032739536914" /></a><br />We started the day with mimosas. What?<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ZBM9mRTDMBs/SqbYILRRwWI/AAAAAAAAAFc/hAcDSZBrch0/s1600-h/nye033.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ZBM9mRTDMBs/SqbYILRRwWI/AAAAAAAAAFc/hAcDSZBrch0/s320/nye033.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5379224439916446050" /></a><br />Mimosas and make up. Luckily, I guess, the make up artist wasn't drinking. She was, however, under the influence of some serious pain meds. (The lovely and talented Heidi fell the night before The Big Day and jacked up her knee. She was determined enough to come do up our faces anyway and her husband drove her and carried her not insubstantial stash of face paints up to our hotel room.) Anyway, regardless of what sorts of substances she may or may not have been on, she did a great job.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ZBM9mRTDMBs/SqbaNtjBPkI/AAAAAAAAAFs/N_lrUYRZoTc/s1600-h/nye045.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ZBM9mRTDMBs/SqbaNtjBPkI/AAAAAAAAAFs/N_lrUYRZoTc/s320/nye045.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5379226734040268354" /></a> <br />The hubs and I agreed to exchange cards on the day of the wedding, rather than gifts or anything, in part because we weren't going to see each other before the ceremony. <br /><br />We bought each other the same card. Seriously. From two different stores. It's not even a wedding card! (Outside text: YOU ARE AWESOME. Inside: And by "awesome," I mean "totally awesome.") If that's not a damn omen, I don't know what is. <br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ZBM9mRTDMBs/SqbZfESw7iI/AAAAAAAAAFk/UtZi22K-r3E/s1600-h/nye057.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ZBM9mRTDMBs/SqbZfESw7iI/AAAAAAAAAFk/UtZi22K-r3E/s320/nye057.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5379225932692254242" /></a><br />This is my sister. Isn't she irritatingly pretty? Anyway, you can see behind her there my other bridesmaid and <a href="http://cincyeventplanning.com/">Julie the Wedding Planner</a> attempting to zip her into her dress. It was a little touch and go there for a minute, but I can assure you she got in and stayed in and along the way <span style="font-style:italic;">someone</span> pronounced her breasts "totally perfect." <br /><br />Throughout this portion of the day, I was getting pretty antsy. I mean, I was having fun and enjoying the company of my friends and photographers and planners and whatnot, but there's a lot of "let's get this show on the road" in me that I just can't break. So anyway, I was excited to get in the dress.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ZBM9mRTDMBs/SqbbSwX-H7I/AAAAAAAAAF0/YPivVq8bEaE/s1600-h/nye064.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ZBM9mRTDMBs/SqbbSwX-H7I/AAAAAAAAAF0/YPivVq8bEaE/s320/nye064.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5379227920210206642" /></a><br />I post this photo mostly because I think the looks on my bridesmaids' faces are hilarious. Like my dress has sprouted three heads or something. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ZBM9mRTDMBs/SqbcQa81gbI/AAAAAAAAAF8/i24_fPReR_8/s1600-h/nye065.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ZBM9mRTDMBs/SqbcQa81gbI/AAAAAAAAAF8/i24_fPReR_8/s320/nye065.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5379228979611140530" /></a><br />These are my momma's hands, getting me all zipped up.<br /><br /><br /><br />And this...this is more or less the final look. <br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ZBM9mRTDMBs/SqbcQ5T7_bI/AAAAAAAAAGE/Qc_52esMxsQ/s1600-h/nye088.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ZBM9mRTDMBs/SqbcQ5T7_bI/AAAAAAAAAGE/Qc_52esMxsQ/s320/nye088.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5379228987761098162" /></a><br /><br />More to come, honest.<br /><br />(All photos courtesy of the incomparable <a href="http://www.amandaeganphoto.com">Amanda Egan</a>.)Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15698362897902024745noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5132269019925334675.post-28823215658250022712009-07-08T22:02:00.001-04:002009-07-08T22:04:32.118-04:00I haven't forgotten youHonest! All the photos just got posted to my photog's website this week, and I'm waiting on my (unwatermarked) CD full of 'em, at which point I'll start posting again with full on recaps. But looking through all the photos again has made me remember how seriously AWESOME the wedding was.Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15698362897902024745noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5132269019925334675.post-16766693272974493972009-05-30T14:11:00.001-04:002009-05-30T14:12:45.023-04:00mmmThis is how I feel when I think back on the wedding day. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ZBM9mRTDMBs/SiF2-vGI3VI/AAAAAAAAADY/FvZjY6GhoTM/s1600-h/mmm.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ZBM9mRTDMBs/SiF2-vGI3VI/AAAAAAAAADY/FvZjY6GhoTM/s320/mmm.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5341681453204299090" /></a>Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15698362897902024745noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5132269019925334675.post-54931172787551712292009-05-22T17:49:00.003-04:002009-05-22T17:52:28.097-04:00this is the (sixth) day of my lifeIn part for the Mister, but also because it's a lovely little song...<br /><br /><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zwFS69nA-1w">click it. really.</a><br /><br />These things take forever; I especially am slow.Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15698362897902024745noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5132269019925334675.post-81650326455310030662009-05-21T08:07:00.005-04:002009-05-21T08:12:46.882-04:00with this ring...<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ZBM9mRTDMBs/ShVEWEfWqRI/AAAAAAAAADQ/aHP5z5aTwZc/s1600-h/with+this+ring.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ZBM9mRTDMBs/ShVEWEfWqRI/AAAAAAAAADQ/aHP5z5aTwZc/s320/with+this+ring.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5338248079270652178" /></a><br /><br />This is one of only three pro photos I have currently...more coming, I promise. I'd like to do a photo story with my impressions of the day, so I'm going to hold off for those photos. <br /><br />We're just back from our "mini-moon" and today's D-Day where we have to rejoin the real world: I start bar classes, and he goes back to work. I also plan to blog a little bit about totally non-wedding-related topics, so if you'd like to follow me after I finish up here, you can at <a href="http://kategetsalife.blogspot.com/">Kate Gets A Life</a>.Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15698362897902024745noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5132269019925334675.post-63560485969314176862009-05-17T06:14:00.003-04:002009-05-17T06:19:57.545-04:00TOTALLY MARRIEDWell, I have been married for all of about 11.5 hours!!!!!!!! AAAH!! (I am only blogging because I am a crazy person and cannot sleep. The Hubs is still in bed, and given how tired he was, I wouldn't be surprised if he sleeps another 6 hours.) <br /><br />Everything went PERFECTLY. Seriously. I didn't think that that was a thing that happened to people, but it totally did. Maybe perfectly is too strong--it did rain in the afternoon, so we had the ceremony in the tent, but they opened it up to the garden and it was totally lovely. <br /><br />People ate the delicious food and they drank the delicious booze and they danced and danced and danced and danced. And by "people" I do of course mean "yours truly." <br /><br />Highlights: who am I kidding? It was like one big highlight reel.Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15698362897902024745noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5132269019925334675.post-12809198749602548362009-05-13T10:46:00.002-04:002009-05-13T11:05:38.262-04:00hot messThe fact is that I'm a pretty neurotic person. I don't handle stress all that well. And I've been pretty stressed out. Combine this with the fact that I'm not one of those girls who's been compiling a wedding binder since my 6th birthday, and I'm going to tell you something: hiring a wedding planner was not an optional expense. <br /><br />I hired <a href="http://www.cincyeventplanning.com/">Julie The Wedding Planner</a> last summer, after I had booked the location and picked a caterer. (Thus we had already sprung for the premium bar package, and as far as The Mister was concerned, wedding planning was over.) For about 9 months, I felt a little silly about having hired her. She did give some great recommendations, but mostly stuff I probably could have found on that swirling, frightening abyss: The Knot. I underutilized her.<br /><br />In the last month, though, Julie's shown exactly why I hired her. For example, yesterday The Location Lady emailed me to say that we have to decide whether to have the ceremony outside or in the tent by Thursday at 3, because that's when she sets it up. As of right now, the weather forecast is calling for scattered thunderstorms. (Apparently my wishing is less effective all the sudden? I don't know, but I'm not pleased.) Given that, I was resigning myself to a tent wedding, and was kind of upset about it. Julie calls this morning and tells me that she talked to The Location Lady, and that she had told her just to set it up in the tent and that if the sun's shining, she'll move the chairs. WHAT A SIMPLE SOLUTION.Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15698362897902024745noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5132269019925334675.post-36431128650187235542009-05-10T10:22:00.004-04:002009-05-10T10:35:07.829-04:00pomp and circumstanceWell, I graduated from law school yesterday. It sort of went out, as they say, not with a bang, but with a whimper. I guess most phases of your life do. So I met a ton of my friends' family members, and I was always "This is Kate. She's the one getting married next week," followed by looks of concern or amazement and "so, are you ready/excited/stressed out about it?" <br /><br />In short, yes. <br /><br />I basically blocked all wedding planning out for the last couple days, and have just been doing graduation stuff. By graduation stuff, I mean, for example, drinking a fancy bottle of champagne, getting each of my parents to take me to a different fancy restaurant (divorce = TWO CHRISTMASES!), teaching my dad flip cup, oh and...you know, graduating. <br /><br />But graduation's over now. I am a law school graduate. (Or at least I will be in a month when grades come back and they can certify that I did, indeed, graduate.) And that means facing facts: the wedding is in six days. IT'S ON. <br /><br />Somehow, despite the fact that the Mister and I have been engaged for well over two years, the fact that it's six days away is CRAZYTOWN.<br /><br />Good news: while the ten day forecast 4 days ago was calling for showers on the wedding day, the new forecast calls for a high of 80, low of 60, partly sunny. In short: my ideal day. Or as <a href="http://www.thefuckingweather.com">The Fucking Weather</a> would say "80? IT'S FUCKING NICE." I believe that I can wish for good weather and it will happen. (See, e.g., my trip to the Virgin Islands with the Mister's family. During hurricane season. When the forecast was calling for terrible storms all week. And it barely rained on our first day there and not again after. You're welcome, St. Thomas.) Thus, my time wishing for perfect wedding day weather is paying off. <br /><br />So, today, I recover from my graduation weekend, make lots of lists of things I MUST REMEMBER TO PACK, nap if I'm lucky, actually pack--inevitably forgetting lots of things, and try to relax. Tomorrow, I hit the road for my hometown and get down to the business of getting married.Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15698362897902024745noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5132269019925334675.post-22475172666075183302009-05-07T16:03:00.004-04:002009-05-07T16:17:35.034-04:00the hubHere's the problem: I have lots of very nice people willing to help me in this last 10 days. However, I also have a zillion people emailing me to ask me questions or finalize details or whatever. For me to email one of those very nice people to ask them to take care of whatever needs taken care of takes as long as it would take for me to just respond to the original email. Either that or they need some info which, of course, I have and no one else does. <br /><br />(I spent like 3 minutes trying to make the last clause of that last sentence work with "I'm the only one who has" or "I'm the only haver of" or some such....English grammar is so tricky.) <br /><br />Anyway, when The Mister and are cutting that cake, and I can look around at all our friends and family--with only the dancing to go--that's when I will enjoy all this wedding business.Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15698362897902024745noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5132269019925334675.post-72459026945398234102009-05-01T21:45:00.004-04:002009-05-01T22:37:48.140-04:00blog-worthyI feel like there are a million things to say and yet no creative juice to say them. This week--no, this month has left me tapped out. Hopefully more to come soon. We shall see.Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15698362897902024745noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5132269019925334675.post-45662957284150775732009-04-20T15:59:00.003-04:002009-04-20T16:09:51.165-04:00on and on and onSo, I sort of apologize for my lack of regular posting. I only sort of apologize because I've entered what The Mister refers to as "finals freak out mode" and what could be referred to as "wedding freak out mode" and thus, this blog isn't exactly high on my priority list. Sorry, suckers.<br /><br />The poll on my sailor's mouth has closed. The vote was 10-1 in favor of "Who gives a shit?" and as it turns out, the 1 "My sensitive ears!" vote was by my bridesmaid who-direct quote here- "thought it was funny." So apparently no one is offended and I will continue to curse with abandon. <br /><br />My shower was this weekend. It was lovely. Lots of people came who I thought wouldn't, and a few people didn't who I thought would. I guess that's how it always goes. I was so happy to see everyone that I almost didn't notice how exhausting it is to be the center of attention all that time. But seriously, it was very touching to me how many great women there are in my life and how they all are so excited about my marrying The Mister.<br /><br />We also met with the caterer, the location lady, and the wedding planner. There was a lot of "what should we do about x?" followed by the three of them discussing, turning to me and the Mister for a response and us saying something like "uuuh...whatever you think?" and their agreeing that that whatever they decided what the right choice. In short: exactly what we needed. I was sort of feeling silly about hiring a wedding planner given that a lot of the stuff I did on my own, but I will say in that hour she more than made it all worth it. <br /><br />I also had my second (and final!) dress fitting. It turns out my shoulders are uneven. So that's good to know, in case I ever wanted to be self-conscious about something new. <br /><br />P.S. Has anyone seen a guestbook idea that they love? And that wouldn't be ridiculously pricey? Your help is much appreciated.Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15698362897902024745noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5132269019925334675.post-41836790152001220002009-04-12T21:41:00.005-04:002009-04-13T12:58:18.104-04:00fraying around the edgesWell, the RSVPs just keep coming. So far: 62 yes, 17 no, and 41 not yet replieds. (This breakdown despite the fact that they were due today. Not one of member of my mom's side of the family has sent in the card. Seriously? It's not that hard people. You write your name and how many people are in your party. Then you put it in the envelope and into the mailbox. NOT THAT HARD.) Anyway, it's actually great because it makes me really excited to come home and check the mail. Who might have responded today?? Will any gifts have arrived? (Nevermind the fact that I know exactly which gifts have been purchased off the registry seeing as I check it compulsively. It's still exciting to get boxes.)<br /><br />Unfortunately, my level of excitement about wedding planning generally is way lower than my level of excitement about the mail coming everyday. In fact, I find myself ready to have a nervous breakdown just thinking about surviving the next month. Why did I schedule my own wedding one week after law school ends? Why do I hate myself so? Anyway, I am basically unable to think about anything wedding-related because my coping mechanism with being as stressed out and frazzled as I am is the oh-so-helpful "if I don't think about it, it's not happening" technique. Otherwise known as The Ostrich Strategy. It may not be helpful, but at least I'm not crying in the law school computer lab right now. Yet.Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15698362897902024745noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5132269019925334675.post-83998437829895174962009-04-06T14:36:00.003-04:002009-04-06T14:43:53.204-04:00return to the livingWell, friends, I am now well enough to leave my apartment! This is a serious improvement, given that until today I had literally left my apartment only once in the last week: to go to the doctor. And it wasn't until this weekend that I even felt well enough to relocate from the bed to the couch. The flu sucks. <br /><br />So anyway, it occurs to me that I feel like I should be doing a million wedding-related things, and I have no idea what any of those things might be. I am sure that a good bride-to-be would be making lists and checking things off those lists, and furiously sending emails to various people. I, however, am mostly just waiting for it all to be over.Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15698362897902024745noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5132269019925334675.post-83444749294951154442009-04-01T14:06:00.002-04:002009-04-01T14:09:05.462-04:00infectedI have the flu. I think. I finally went to the doctor today and they drew some blood and did a throat swab to rule out some other stuff, but I'm pretty sure it's the flu. Whatever it is, it's miserable.<br /><br />Also, my computer seems to have some sort of crazy virus. And I can't get Spybot or AdAware to run--part of the virus? Sigh. I'm going to have to wait to get my strength back to deal with it.Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15698362897902024745noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5132269019925334675.post-64930952876046398942009-03-29T20:56:00.006-04:002009-03-29T21:12:31.825-04:00liked it, put ring on itI'm back. I'm exhausted, but otherwise unscathed. I have to say, I'm a lucky girl in that I not only have a fantastic husband-elect, but I also have some fantastic friends. Fantastic friends (and a sister) who will travel across a few states and into the arctic tundra that was Chicago this weekend, and whose idea of "flair ware" includes a tiara and awesomely cartoonish light-up "diamond" ring and tiara, but not a penis necklace or cake in sight. (Plus, those broads use the term "flair ware." Seriously.)<br /><br />And because MMC is not only a star RSVP-er, but also a fantastic <a href="http://martagotacamera.blogspot.com/">photographer</a>, I can bring you these:<br /><br />The ring:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ZBM9mRTDMBs/SdAa6ekJfGI/AAAAAAAAADA/ge74v1IuiMY/s1600-h/ring+on+it.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ZBM9mRTDMBs/SdAa6ekJfGI/AAAAAAAAADA/ge74v1IuiMY/s320/ring+on+it.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5318780751863970914" /></a><br /><br />The "groom" of these totally hilarious/amazing bottle costumes. Unfortunately, I don't have a great shot of the "bride"--complete with veil, but suffice it to say I nearly lost my shit at the dinner table when the wine bottles were outfitted. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ZBM9mRTDMBs/SdAbCYpGKSI/AAAAAAAAADI/nmkbTgvQ4gA/s1600-h/groom+bottle.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ZBM9mRTDMBs/SdAbCYpGKSI/AAAAAAAAADI/nmkbTgvQ4gA/s320/groom+bottle.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5318780887713065250" /></a><br /><br />Frankly, nothing too crazy happened. I don't know if that makes mine the best bachelorette party ever or the lamest. I'm going with best.Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15698362897902024745noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5132269019925334675.post-17299133176753477692009-03-28T09:48:00.001-04:002009-03-28T09:53:34.580-04:00last fling before the ringI am sitting here waiting for my friends to arrive for us to embark upon my bachelorette party. Last night at Law School Prom someone let it slip that there is in fact a flag for the car which reads "last fling before the ring." I can only imagine what this means about the other "flair ware." Law Prom was also a great success--fun, boozy, everyone looked good, everyone thought I looked good--what more can a girl ask for? <br /><br />Anyhow, I guess I should get dressed. Bachelorette partying probably requires something other than sweats.Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15698362897902024745noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5132269019925334675.post-56927995972143235962009-03-27T17:12:00.000-04:002009-03-28T09:48:03.529-04:00aaaand we're offThe first RSVP card arrived today!! Congratulations to MMC for getting her reply back in a staggering 45 hours after they were sent! Well done, MMC and the USPS! <br /><br />Did I put the RSVP card on the refrigerator? What's it to you?Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15698362897902024745noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5132269019925334675.post-48561822772288480442009-03-25T16:54:00.000-04:002009-03-25T16:57:01.111-04:00they're out thereINVITATIONS HAVE GONE OUT. I am pleased as punch to have that done. Now just waiting for the flood of little bitty RSVP envelopes to arrive in my mailbox.Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15698362897902024745noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5132269019925334675.post-90133868782662717832009-03-24T20:48:00.000-04:002009-03-25T16:54:54.186-04:00love angel music babySo things have certainly calmed down since last week "shit on my face" as I believe I so eloquently stated last time. I mean, it's not like I got phone calls from my future mother in law, friend with health scare, and employer all saying "JK! GOTCHA!" but I also haven't had anything else happen. And I'm chalking that up as a big ol' victory. Also, I finally had a couple of good workouts. In a row! (Like this morning, when I ran to Gwen Stefani and STILL HAVE THAT FRENCHING HARAJUKU NONSENSE STUCK IN MY HEAD.)<br /><br />We also recieved our second wedding gift! And the first from our registry! (My grandmother previously sent us our <a href="http://kategetsmarried.blogspot.com/2009/01/its-end-of-world-as-we-know-it-and-i.html">knives</a>, but bought them off a discount retailer's website, so it didn't show up in that oh-so-satisfying "Needs: 0 Recieved: 1" kind of way on the Bed, Bath, and Beyond website.) <br /><br />I also recieved an invitation to my bridal shower. I don't fully understand the multiple showers thing. No, that's not true. I understand having a work shower and a regular shower. I understand having one shower in New York and one in California. I do not understand having multiple showers in the same city, really. I mean, can your fiance's aunts really not mingle with your aunts? It seems silly. Particularly when, like me, you have to travel in for each shower. So I told all interested parties to get it together because I'm only showing up for one of these shindigs. Only I tried to sound nicer and more appreciative that anyone would want to hold such a shindig in my honor. <br /><br />Anyway, the invitations for said event arrived this week, and let me say this. It is clear that I did not have anything to do with the picking of these invitations. Which is fine. Actually, it's sort of inadvertently hilarious, I think. They are teal with a sort of pink and cream tea party scene happening on them. Then the lady who is (unbelievably graciously) hosting the shower and her daughter personalized them with a glitter pen and a heart-shaped punch. Seriously. Very sweet. Very....very. My sister has been helping this lady plan and I sort of thought she'd have a little input on the invites, so when I recieved them, I didn't want to say anything to her right away. Instead, I emailed both the co-planners to say I had recieved it, it was "cute," how excited I was and thanking them for planning the whole deal. You know, being polite. It's this weird thing I try sometimes. The following gchat transpired:<br /><br /><blockquote><strong>Chris</strong>: so<br /> i didnt pick the invitation<br /> can you tell? i think you probably can<br /> <strong>me</strong>: hahahahaha<br /> yes<br /> I thought about blogging about it<br /> but decided to hold off until we had that exact conversation<br /> <strong>Chris</strong>: yeah go for it<br /> i got your email and i was like, phew<br /> its cute<br /> then i got the mail<br /> <strong>me</strong>: haha<br /> <strong>Chris</strong>: i mean<br /> <strong>me</strong>: yeah, it's pretty awful<br /> <strong>Chris</strong>: its fine<br /> its fine<br /> it gets the point across<br /> its<br /> um<br /> fine<br /> its fine<br /></blockquote><br /><br />So there you have it, folks. Fine. <br /><br />Also, today my other bridesmaid and I shopped for literally like 7 hours and went to two malls and two free-standing shoe stores. At the second mall, about 6 1/2 hours in, I finally found a pair of shoes to wear to the rehearsal dinner (and, incidentally, with my rehearsal dinner dress to the Law School Prom--yes, that's a thing, because law school is as much like high school as it possibly could be--this Friday) so I am psyched.<br /><br />And because I haven't posted photos in a coon's age, here's the dress:<br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ZBM9mRTDMBs/ScmFFldxNhI/AAAAAAAAACE/boGhQmpgYtI/s1600-h/300111690.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 256px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ZBM9mRTDMBs/ScmFFldxNhI/AAAAAAAAACE/boGhQmpgYtI/s320/300111690.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316927166090393106" /></a><br /><br />and the accompanying shoes (which I think look more light/true red in person):<br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ZBM9mRTDMBs/ScmFmILk9zI/AAAAAAAAACM/9b3cuZxBkqo/s1600-h/PG_BDGORDONA_MERMRPC_PE.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ZBM9mRTDMBs/ScmFmILk9zI/AAAAAAAAACM/9b3cuZxBkqo/s320/PG_BDGORDONA_MERMRPC_PE.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316927725165147954" /></a><br /><br />Cute, right? (Feel free to comment if the answer is "yes" and if not, feel free to keep your damn mouth shut.)<br /><br />P.S. Thanks for voting in the poll over to the right, 5 voters. I am glad I have not offended you. Yet.Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15698362897902024745noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5132269019925334675.post-22281605168088394112009-03-19T20:58:00.000-04:002009-03-19T21:33:56.331-04:00when is this week over???This should be the best week of the year so far. Springtime has more or less come, and one day I got to wear a skirt! With no tights! The sun shined (sometimes)! St. Patrick's Day was Tuesday, and as someone with some Irish heritage, reddish hair (i.e., looks good in green), and a love of beer green or otherwise, I LOVE that holiday. And it's March Madness. I LOVE March Madness. And yet somehow, this week shit all over me. <br /><br />Monday I already posted about. It sucked.<br /><br />Tuesday, the Mister called his mother and gave her the "it's not going to happen speech" which she did not take well. According to her, this wedding is "not just about [us]" and we don't care about her feelings. There's a whole other shitshow of things that were said during and after that conversation that are just CRAZYTOWN but I can't even think about them right now. Suffice it to say, though I am getting my way here, there were many tears shed by at least the two ladies in this fight and though our relationship may be fine, there are definitely a lot of hurt feelings hanging around.<br /><br />Oh, also Tuesday, I learned about a good friend of mine's health scare. And it's, you know, scary. <br /><br />Wednesday night I baked cookies rather than deal with feelings. It was only mildly effective.<br /><br />This morning, I woke up and went to the gym (I know, go me, right?). I had a terrible work out. Terrible. To the point that I felt like I might as well not work out any more because clearly this is not getting any easier or getting me more in shape and I'm destined to be fat and sad forever. I come home and fire up the laptop to check my email and what's the first thing in my inbox, timestamped 9PM Wednesday night? An email from the cochair of the hiring committee of the law firm where I'll be working saying "Are you available for a phone conversation tomorrow [now today since I didn't check email last night]? Please let me know what times will work for you."<br /><br />For those of you who have been living under a rock, the economy BLOWS right now. For those who don't follow the legal market as it relates to this shitty economy, let me just direct you to this: <a href="http://abovethelaw.com/layoffs/">which is not for the faint of heart</a> (I can't read it anymore.) In fact, it's in part because I can't read it anymore that I hadn't heard that my firm laid a bunch of people off last month. But I did of course know that firms are laying people off, delaying start dates, rescinding job offers to 3Ls (third year law students, like myself, who are about to graduate and expected to be starting in September). It's tough out there for a pimp. Or a JD.<br /><br />Anyway, so back to the email this morning. I (obviously) freak the fuck out. Wouldn't you? Aren't you almost panicked reading this? (Unless you know the ending already.) I email the guy, Bob, back to tell him I have a class at 3:30 but otherwise am available to take a call. He emails back to say he'll call me by 1. Fine, I think. 3 hours of the knot in my stomach. I can handle that. 1 comes and goes. At 1:30, I email back to ask if I should still be expecting a call. He emails back quickly to say he'll call within 10 minutes. 30 minutes later, finally, the phone rings. <br /><br />Bob and I exchange pleasantries. Then he gets down to brass tacks. There have been layoffs. The executive committee met last night and decided to delay my start date to January 2010 and cut my salary by nearly 15%. They also decided to rescind the offers to some of the other 3Ls in my class. <br /><br />So, I still have a job. And I still have a high-paying job, frankly. It could be a LOT worse. But I also have to start making (LARGE) loan repayments about 3 months before I'll ever see a reduced paycheck. I have to find a place to live (and presumably pay for that place) for about 6 months before. Oh, and I have to pay for a wedding in the meantime. Awesome.Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15698362897902024745noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5132269019925334675.post-89921269643872541432009-03-16T13:28:00.000-04:002009-03-16T13:33:05.921-04:00spitting fireI’m so mad I almost can’t write this post. Almost.<br /><br />I have often read accounts of other brides being forced to invite people by their parents or their in-laws and pitied said brides. I've often thought how lucky I am to have such an understanding family and future in-laws, unlike those poor, wretched souls. I should have known this would come back to bite me.<br /><br />Two years ago (yes, literally), when the Mister and I first assembled our tentative guest list, I asked both sets of parents if there was anyone in particular they insisted we invite that we might not think of. I was told there surely wasn’t, and that however we wanted to do it was fine. <br /><br />We made a big deal out of trying to keep it as small as possible, but still including all the really important people in our lives. (If it were just up to me, it’d be me, the Mister, and our immediate families on some deserted island. The Mister has a big family and they’re close, though, and so we decided to do it close to home and invite all of them. And I’m pleased we did.) <br /><br />But so apparently The Mister’s Mom took this directive as “FAMILY ONLY, NO BLOOD RELATION, NO CARE,” which it wasn’t. When we said something about The Mister’s cousin’s live-in boyfriend (they’ve been dating for about 6 years or something, and he comes to all the family functions, and as far as I’m concerned, they might as well be married) being invited, she sort of flipped out. She was concerned that she had been spreading the wrong message to the family (which she had) and implied that this was my fault (which it wasn't). In order to placate her, I assured her I’d send her the guest list so she could see what we were thinking and let us know if we had somehow missed someone important. I should have known what I was really saying was “PLEASE, UNIVERSE, SMITE ME.”<br /><br />She called the Mister the afternoon I sent her the guest list to discuss three people she was concerned we’d left off. Two were a couple that the Mister’s parents are friends with, and I’ve literally never met. One was a creepy dude who comes to the big camping trip the Mister’s extended family does every Memorial Day. I guess he’s a family friend, but he seriously skeezes me out. And if there’s something I don’t want to be on my fucking wedding day, it’s skeezed out. Regardless, she began pointing out people on the list who she didn’t think were as worthy of an invitation as these three (all our friends, natch). The Mister politely informed her that the people on the list were close to us, and her suggested additional invitees were not, and, furthermore, should we have room for three more people, there are many people closer to us than they that would be next on the list. However, we didn’t want to invite three more people at all because, as I mentioned earlier, we are trying to keep it as small as possible. <br /><br />In fact, I had a full discussion with the Mister’s Mom a few months ago about the importance to me of keeping it small, and how this strong desire was not just money-related (though obviously that’s a constraining factor too). I want to know and love every single person there. I want to be able to talk to everyone. I want it to feel like a party and not some kind of business meeting. I want there to be a NO RANDOMS ALLOWED policy. And, frankly, I don’t think that’s too much to ask. Not even a little bit. Particularly when I’m paying for the fucking thing. But even if I weren’t. <br /><br />Cut to this morning. At 8 AM, the Mister received an email from his mother which says:<br /><br /><blockquote>Your father and I have talked extensively about the guest list that you sent us. I know that you do not feel compelled to follow the standards of common etiquette, but being old, I feel the need to. Because the wedding is so close to home, there are a few people that we need to invite. If the wedding were in Oshkosh, we could get away with not inviting. I checked the [wedding venue] and see that the tent will hold up to 250 people for a dinner, so space should not be an issue. We will be more than happy to pay for these additional guests. If you need additional to also cover the extra invitations, we will be happy to cover that also. <br /><br />[She then lists 8 additional guests and their mailing addresses, including the couple she wanted to invite over a month ago, but not including the creepy dude. I have not met a single one of them. The Mister hasn’t met at least 2 of them. She then suggests seating arrangements for these guests and closes with…]<br /><br />I am trying to live with your guidelines of keeping it small so you all can get around to talk to everyone. You do not have to feel compelled to talk to these people, that is our job. We will be happy to entertain them. </blockquote><br /><br />ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME? I threw what could charitably be referred to as a temper tantrum about it this morning, making the Mister (who is actually on my side here) mad at me. There are so many things about this that INFURIATE ME. Not the least of which is that apparently I do not feel compelled to “follow the standards of common etiquette.” Oh, and that she doesn’t care at all about what I want for my wedding day. Oh, and that she’s pulling this shit exactly 2 months before the wedding (when the invitations, by the way, have already been printed). Oh, and that she suggests that instead of getting to talk to all the guests like we wanted, we just not do that. Oh, and that insists that they “need” to invite these people WHO I’VE NEVER FUCKING MET. No. That is not a need. That is a want. And that is also not. going. to. happen.Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15698362897902024745noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5132269019925334675.post-27431896610585368712009-03-13T17:22:00.001-04:002009-03-13T17:49:45.908-04:00out of the closet, into the lightSo last week I posted a comment on a "real life" friend's blog (the always hilarious <a href="http://brunsandthebrosephs.blogspot.com/">bruns</a>) without even thinking about it. As soon as it posted, however, I realize: I've outed myself. Bruns and our many other friends who read it have now discovered I have a blog. And not just a blog. A fucking wedding blog. It's humiliating. But nonetheless, welcome friends. I guess I should be pleased to no longer be living a lie. <br /><br />In the spirit of confessions, I have another. I have been tanning. Not a lot. Like, once a week for 8 minutes in the lowest-level bed Tanfastic (yes, it's really called Tanfastic) has to offer. I have only two things to say about this: (1)I actually do believe I have seasonal affective disorder, and this has genuinely improved my mood, and made a couple spots of psoriasis I have notably improved. (2) Fuck all y'all, it's my wedding. If I don't want to look like the corpse bride, I'm not going to. If that means going to the trashiest establishment in town and slinking out like I just stole something, hoping not to run into anyone I know, SO BE IT. At least I'm not getting acrylic nails and blonde highlights. FOR NOW.Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15698362897902024745noreply@blogger.com