Thursday, April 28, 2011

Sound it out. It spells just the way it sounds, honey.

My parents took a road trip. To Arkansas.

My dad is a huge railroading fan, and so they went into a model railroad shop.

The shop was having a sale.

Photo courtesy of my mama. I'm impressed she could stop laughing long enough to hold the camera steady.

Tuesday, April 26, 2011

The royal wedding: a primer.

Kate? You and I have a lot in common, both being April brides and all. Honestly? I’m really glad that it’s been more than two weeks since my wedding. It’s only fair that the hubbub around my day has worn off a bit so that you can have your own day in the sun. I hope you don’t think this is presumptuous, but I thought I’d share what I learned during my wedding. You know, so you can make the most of your big day.

Wear flats. Seriously. I wore these Borns and my feet felt happy all night.
Take a nap. I snoozed for about an hour before I started getting my hair and make-up done. It was cool. Otherwise? My parents and I would just have been sitting around looking at each other and being nervous. While I slept, my dad watched Indiana Jones and The Raiders of the Lost Ark. Everybody wins.

Try to talk to everyone. They got dressed up and got babysitters and bought a gift for you.

Try to thank everyone, especially the waitstaff and DJ and all those other folks that often get overlooked but are critical to a successful wedding. One of the best hugs I got all night was from the woman who waited on us during dinner. I wanted to put her in my pocket and take her home.

Make peace with the crazy. I don’t mean to make assumptions about your family or the royal clan, buuuuuut … let’s say you’re me. And a fair number of your extended family has outed themselves as batshit crazy in the last, oh, 10 years. These people will be at your wedding. And batshit crazy generally doesn’t take a holiday, even for important events like weddings. Leave it be. Smile graciously in the face of the batshit crazy, and know that you will have lots to laugh about later with your groom.

Be prepared for the bridal suite. No, I’m not talking about sexytime. I’m talking about snacks and slippers and utensils. Because you will be starving. And even if you’ve been wearing flats, you’ll be delighted to be reunited with your slippers.

Admit defeat early. Know that you cannot host a freakin’ brunch the day after the wedding. Luckily, many wise women advised me that I was smoking crack if I attempted such a thing, and they were right. The day after the wedding, My Guy and I lounged about in the hotel room, eating wedding cake and watching Major League on cable TV. It was perfect. And I had zero desire to see anyone or talk to anyone or smile at anyone except my new husband.

Have fun. When everybody says it goes so fast? Dude. They are so, so right. So be in the moment. And make it fun. We made our grand entrance to Neil Diamond’s “America.” And one of my favorite moments was hearing the low intro build and build … and then hearing my brother cackle in recognition and approval. Was it perfect by magazine standards? Hell no. Was it perfect for us?

Well, my auntie drew an X on my ring finger with a ballpoint pen so that My Guy would know which finger the ring went on.

My Guy flubbed his vows, and so tagged on that he promised to trip over words during important public speeches.

I held my dad’s hand so tightly that he’s just now regaining feeling.

Our sweet officiant got emotional and lost his place in the ceremony.

We were absolutely overwhelmed by the love and support and joy of the people who came out to support us.
So, yes. Yes, it was perfect for us.
Kate? May you also be so lucky.

Friday, April 22, 2011

Photographic evidence to follow, I promise!

You know that scene from A Christmas Story when Ralphie's dad goes to the basement to battle the furnace? And you hear a bunch of profanity, and the voiceover says, "Some men work in oils or clay. My old man's medium was profanity?"

So, that sort of describes my dad, too. My brother and I were exposed to colorful vocabulary from a young age. This probably explains why BFF remembers me as being the very first person she ever knew to drop the f-bomb. Seventh grade, baby.

All of this just provides background for why I cussed walking down the aisle at my wedding.

So, I was dressed. And my dad drove me to the venue, and we sat in the car from a few blocks away so we could watch people going in and gauge when was a good time to make our grand entrance.

We parked the car. We got out of the car. And then we stood in the entryway.

The staff at the venue was all lined up, smiling at us. I had my arm draped in the crook of my dad's arm, and my hand holding his. I guess really, really holding his. Like, cutting off the circulation. He asked if he wanted to hold my hand like that while we walked down the aisle.

I heard the beginning of The Beach Boys' "God Only Knows," the official Seating of the Mamas song, and I felt a strange, emotional twinge. I told my dad that yes, I did want to hold his hand.

I felt calm about marrying My Guy, but I also had this weird anxiety.

Then the processional started. Of course, it was "Don't Stop Believin'."

We started walking.

My Guy and I got married in the round, so all the guests were in a U-shape, facing me as I walked in. The first person I saw was BFF, who promptly put her hand over her mouth and got teary. Then I saw My Guy. Then I realized that allllll these people were loooooooking at meeeee.

I turned to my dad. "Oh, SHIT!"

But we kept walking. And I started crying.

At one point, I started to move my bouquet to hide my face, but then decided that no, that was a bad idea. I was crying for the whole world to see. Maybe my makeup was running. Maybe my fake eyelashes were now stuck to my chin. I had no way of knowing, and nowhere to hide. It was like that dream where you realize you're naked. Except I was wearing a 20-pound wedding dress.

But then we got married and it turns out that my makeup didn't run at all and instead of looking like a giant goob, I just looked like a bride who was happy and in love.

And about the cussing? My dad's comment after the fact was the best.

"Well, you ARE MY daughter."

Sunday, April 17, 2011

And then?

And ... we got married!

And there's so much to write about that I don't even know where to begin. Here's the Cliff Notes version:
  • I cussed while walking down the aisle. Yes, I'm classy like that.
  • The ceremony was absolutely incredible.
  • Lots of people traveled a long, long way to be with us.
  • Some stuff was funny.
  • Some family was insane.
  • We've been hiding from the world for a week.
  • We moved all of the furniture out of my house and have been unpacking our new house.
  • I wouldn't necessarily recommend moving as a honeymoon activity, but it works.

I'll post stories and details. But for now? Here's one of my favorite photos, with a caption courtesy of My Guy.
Cha Cha 5 minutes after the wedding. Letting herself go in record time.*

*For the record? My Guy brought my beloved slippers to the hotel. He obviously knows my idea of luxury.

Thursday, April 7, 2011

The final countdown!

T-minus 44 hours!

The parents are here. The last-minute details are being addressed. And holy crap, we're getting married on Saturday.


We aren't having any attendants - I figured it was a gift I could give my friends. However, I think there will be one rogue attendant.

Most people think of this when they hear the term "flower frog."

But I think at our wedding, the term will conjure something more like this.

!Viva la Krampus!

Non-Krampus image courtesy of, which is an awesome site if you love some vintage tableware. Seriously.

Tuesday, April 5, 2011

Maybe we should get a doggie door.

Doxie looking outside through the torn screen door in his parents' falling-down house.
Doxie showing some ingenuity.
Free doxie!

Time passes.
Doxie remembers he hates outside.
Doxie who can't jump on the bed finds the inner strength and fortitude to hop up to the door ...
... and through the torn screen. Success!

Images courtesy of Ione the iPhone, which I held while hiding in my kitchen to catch the hot doxie action.