hot mess

The 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.

I hired Julie The Wedding Planner 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.

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.

pomp and circumstance

Well, 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?"

In short, yes.

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.

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.

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.

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 The Fucking Weather 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.

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.

aaaand we're off

The 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!

Did I put the RSVP card on the refrigerator? What's it to you?

they're out there

INVITATIONS 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.

spitting fire

I’m so mad I almost can’t write this post. Almost.

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.

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.

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.)

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.”

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.

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.

Cut to this morning. At 8 AM, the Mister received an email from his mother which says:

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.

[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…]

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.

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.

springtime, please

I got back from my lovely San Francisco trip Monday and have been mostly worthless since then. Seriously. I have skipped half of my classes this week, done very little of my reading, generally failed to study for the ethics portion of the bar exam which I have to take on Saturday, and hadn't worked out until this morning. I think I'm experiencing some serious end-of-winter ennui, coupled with a bad case of senioritis. Too bad spring won't come to the frozen arctic wasteland I'm currently stuck in for another 2 months or so, and I still need to, you know, graduate.

So the invitations lady sent more paper samples. I still don't like them. (Seriously, is emerald really that weird?) But you know what else I don't like? Not having them done. So I just went with it. Whatever. Ideally, I'd like for invitations to go out next weekend, so you know, no time for pussy-footing around.

And the officiant lady emailed me to be like "so...about that wedding thing..." and I emailed her back to be like "yeah, we should do that." So I guess that's done.

The other day I was talking to the Mister, and he said something to the effect of "I really can't wait until this wedding planning stuff is over." Which I wholeheartedly agree with, but I also wonder what the hell I'll obsess over next. Also, wtf? He's ready for it to be over? As though he's been doing a lot of the planning? Though maybe it's more of a commentary on life with me through the process...

soon as I settle, I better be able to move on

So this weekend, the Mister and I headed back to the city where we're getting married for wall-to-wall wedding action. It was so exhausting that, even though it's well after noon, I'm still laying in my pajamas in my bed.

First, we met with a possible officiant. This woman was, how shall I say, weird. She seemed perfectly nice, but she also is clearly a crazy cat lady, you know? I also don't know how the hell we could find someone else at this point, and I feel confident that if we scripted everything out she'd do it just how we want, so how much does it matter? The Mister and I both left sort of feeling blah--we'd hoped that we'd have some sort of "connection" for lack of a better word (and for the infection of Rock of Love into my brain) and we didn't. We're up against the wall as far as time and distance, so we'll probably just hire her. Settle number one.

Second, we had our first caterer's tasting. The food was delicious, so I am quite pleased. But we had asked last-minute to change the potatoes, and that wasn't reflected (though the old-style potatoes were pretty good). Also, we didn't get to taste the bread or the appetizers. Whatever, I'm settling.

Third, I had my first dress fitting. The alterations man (seamster?) is fantastic. He clearly knows what he's doing, but he also just just fun and entertaining. Also, I've been working out a lot and eating reasonably well (until this weekend, where I was sick and back home---so of course I couldn't work out or eat anything except the MOST disgusting foods imaginable) so the dress fits SO much better than it did last time I tried it on, before Thanksgiving. So that went well, until he started pinning my bustle. My dress has a fair amount of stuff going on, and it turns out, when you want that stuff to not be on the floor, it looks slightly odd. As in, WOW, that's a lot of fabric. On my ass. Awesome. He tried a couple different things, but you know, there's only so much you can do. It looks like you're hiking your dress up because YOU'RE HIKING YOUR DRESS UP. Sigh. Settle number three.

Fourth, we went to the tux place. Here, we did not settle. (I need to put in a plug here for family-owned and operated businesses. We ended up going to two locations of the same store and being waiting on two different guys whose names were on the door and nowhere else in the wedding industry have I been so well-taken care of.) In fact, the Mister ended up getting such a good deal on a tux, he bought one (or should I say, his mother bought it for him. I think she was just so pleased to be invited along, she started dropping plastic). And let me tell you, if you have never seen the very tall, very dashing, freckle-faced young Aryan man you love in a tuxedo, you are missing out on one of the great pleasures in life. I know he felt a little silly, what with his mom and me watching him, but man...ladies go crazy for a sharp-dressed man.

Finally, I had hoped to meet up with the invitations lady. It didn't happen. I wanted to go to a paper store with her because we're still having what I will term "communications issues" about what emerald green means. Since last time we talked about paper it took me 2 months to see anything, and the invites need to go out in three weeks, I decided--you guessed it--to settle for a color that wasn't quite right. I emailed the inivitations lady to tell her as much, and she says that she got some more samples and is sending them to me today. Fingers crossed this means that my custom invites are actually...you know, what I wanted.

I must say, I am really looking forward to the day when we can go home...just to go home. (AND WHEN WE DO, WE'LL BE TOTALLY MARRIED. Weird.)

105 days

We're almost at the 100 day mark. That's frightening. I mean, it shouldn't be, because we've been engaged now for over two years. But it is anyway.

So about the Great Family Musician Debacle: my cousin emailed me back with a very sweet, very long email explaining that he would not be able to play at my wedding because he will not be able to come to my wedding. Apparently he and his wife scheduled a family vacation for that week and it's nonrefundable and whatever. I'm obviously bummed about it, but you know, that's how it goes. Plus that puts us two people closer to hitting the "under 100 guests" mark! Bright side, I shall find you!

The Mister and I are planning to go home over the first weekend of my spring break, so we should have plenty of wedding-planning frenzy to report on then. (As an aside, my "spring" break is in February. It's nonsense. In fact, the university doesn't even believe it themselves, and it's technically termed "Winter Break." Lame. Regardless, I'm going to San Fransciso for a few days--my first trip to the west coast!--so if you have a list of must-see attractions, or don't-bother tourist traps, leave them in the comments. Pretty please.) However, until then, I'm in sort of a lull: I've got the big pieces in place, but the little stuff is still too far out to deal with.

another marathon begins

Much like the Mister and I had a Thanksgiving Marathon, we're now on day two of our Christmas marathon. Luckily it's a bit more spread out (we have a week down here rather than four days) but still. Thus far: engagement photos and florist meeting; cookie-baking at the future in-law's place, lunch with mom and step-sister. Still to come: meeting with the invitations lady; drinks with a college friend, the Mister's family's neighborhood Christmas party, Christmas with my mom's side, my dad's side, and the Mister's family. It's daunting to say the least. However, as I am done with finals and very nearly done with law school altogether, I am pleased as punch.

The engagement photos went okay, I think. As I've mentioned before, we're not the most photogenic couple of all time. We brought along our precious mutt, and she was on her absolute worst behavior. I mean, seriously, she's often obnoxious, but this was a new low. She fears water, so at least I've never had to worry about her being wet. After a few attempts at getting her in shots, I gave up and was going to tie her to a tree. This involved me letting go of her for a second, and as soon as I did, she jumped in the lake after some ducks. An ice-covered lake. In December. Can't get her to get in Lake Michigan with the other dogs on the dog beach in Chicago, but she'll jump in a below-zero body of water six months later. What a dumbass. So anyway, she spent most of the shoot curled up in the warm car in some towels we luckily brought along. After that, I think it went a little better. We'll see when I get the proofs. I was definitely relieved that we seem to get along well with the photographer. We had never met her, which is always nerve-wracking, but sort of the only thing you can do when you're planning long-distance like we are.

This morning my mom and I met with the florist, who I had also never met. She was pretty fantastic. Probably my favorite wedding vendor thus far. She asked me to send her some photos of stuff I liked, and she seemed to get my vision better than even I do. She was just talking about different stuff she could do, and every time she said anything, it was better and better. At this point, there's not a ton we need to do, but it was so exciting to have someone "validate" what I've been dreaming up. Plus, she likes my other vendors and that's always good to hear independently. I kind of just want to be friends with her, but I feel like that's creepy. And as annoying a bride I can be, I do NOT need to add "creepy" to my list of self-adjectives.

FINALLY, it's happened to me...

I finally found shoes. Only other brides could recognize how monumentally AWESOME this is. I have been looking for appropriate wedding shoes literally since I bought my dress. In February. Yes, 9 months ago. And not just, like, oh, I'm at a shoe store looking for sneakers, I should see if they have wedding shoes too. (Though, I admit, there was some of that too.) Like, actively looking. Scanning Zappos for any new postings. Constantly. Driving my bridesmaids crazy asking questions like "Is this too skanky?" "Would I wish I were dead if I were wearing these?" "I can't spend more on my shoes than I did on my dress, right?" and "I've lost all perspective: these are really ugly, aren't they?"

Why was finding a pair of shoes so hard? Well, for one thing, the Mister is an entire foot taller than me. I'd prefer not to look like a munchin at the altar, so high, high heels are a must. On the other hand, I'd also prefer not to wish I had cut my feet off at the ankles rather than subject myself to the torture of those high, high heels, so I was thinking a platform would be nice. Extra height, less heel. Win-win. Except that classy platforms are so much harder to find than I thought. So, so, so much harder.

On top of that, I haven't actually seen my dress since February, and I keep forgetting things about it. Like what exact color it is. (I bought it at the Running of the Brides, so there wasn't exactly a tag or an order or something.) Which makes buying white/off white shoes hard. The beading on the dress is a pewtery silver, which means gold is out as is super-bright shiny silver. My bridesmaids are wearing emerald green, so that was an option. I also thought blue might be nice (for my something blue), but I didn't want a navy or baby blue; if I was going to go blue, I wanted a sapphire to look nice with the emerald. Maybe that's crazy, but you know what? Fuck it, it's my wedding.

Anyway, after nine months of searching, I think I've found them. Of course, I need to see them in person to be sure, but I think this is it.



Now I can move on to obsessing about whether they need some sort of brooch or shoe clip on the toe! Excellent!

Wait, why?

One of the things I'm trying super-hard to do throughout this process is to ask myself why I want certain things. For instance, until last month I was growing my hair out because I believed brides had long hair. Check out any wedding website, and you will see lots of brides growing out their hair for the big day.



Carrie Underwood here is sort of the holy grail of wedding hair. And I'll admit, it's lovely. So lovely that I, too, began growing my hair out.

Here's the thing, though. My hair looks bad long. I mean, not BAD-bad, but like, it just looks much better short. I like it better short. The Mister even likes it better short (and, from what I understand, dudes typically like longer hair).

So here I am, growing my hair out because I think it's what I'm supposed to do despite the fact that the dude I'm marrying and I both think I look better when it's not that way. Isn't that about the most absurd thing you've ever heard?

It happens to me all the time with this wedding planning nonsense. The most recent example is cake. I don't particularly like cake. I mean, it's fine, and a good cake is great, but a mediocre cake (which most wedding cakes are, frankly--and certainly all of the ones we could afford are) is just not worth getting excited about. The Mister, however, loves cheesecake. I like it a lot more than regular cake. And there's a bakery in Cincinnati, where we're getting married, that does nothing but cheesecake. And they even do cheesecakes that look pretty much just like regular cakes. And yet, I still had this feeling like I should do a regular cake instead. WHY?! WHY DO I FEEL LIKE THIS?!

I am trying to train myself to recognize this feeling and fight it. It's MY wedding, right? It should be what I want, what I care about? Not just what I'm supposed to do? Right? In this spirit, I cut my hair. I am getting the damn cheesecake. And I'm not going to even think about getting extensions, Carrie Underwood!

p.s. photos!

Check, check, check

So we're in the crunch zone of time where I have been booking things right and left. The Mister and I have had a long engagement and for literally about a year and a half, I did nothing. I mean, I looked at wedding magazines and blogs, and I fantasized about what all I wanted (and obviously couldn't afford). But most places weren't even ready to talk to a bride more than two years from her wedding date, and I wasn't ready to commit to any particular vendor that early anyway. I think of this period as making up for the fact that, until that date, I hadn't really thought about what my wedding might be like. At all. I definitely wasn't that girl when I was little who had the big poufy dress all picked out. I crammed a lifetime of wedding fantasies into two years. It was a sort of sickening time.

Anyway, that time has passed, and now it falls on me to actually make decisions. In the span of the last two weeks we've picked (1) an officiant, (2) a photographer-avoiding a potential familial landmine maybe I'll talk about later (3) a florist, and (4) a D.J.

All of this makes me think I'd have been better off getting married 2 years ago. Le sigh, too late.