Fevered Rants of a Frantic Bride on Dust Bunny Haven

A lovely thing

Tue, 10 Jun 2008 20:16:14 -0800

http://www.epochvideoproductions.com/Site/Home.html

Ben and I weren’t actually planning on doing the whole wedding video thing. At the time it seemed frivolous, like something we’d be unlikely to ever watch. But since it was offered, how could we refuse? And now I’m so glad we decided to go for it. After crying through the first viewing like the sentimental sop that I am, I managed to pull it together enough to watch it through again and I was overwhelmed by all the memories and emotions the video brought back. Pictures are great but they have not brought me back to that day the way this video did. It was pretty amazing.

Let me know what you think!

The ghost in the corner of my room

Sun, 01 Jun 2008 20:16:11 -0800

Sometimes it seems to glow with it’s own light. Other times, like last night, it seems to suck all the light into it, making it a dark, shadowy figure over by the door, hanging off the door. I’ve become almost obsessive about not brushing against it as I walk past. Whenever I’m in the bedroom, my eyes are automatically drawn to it like a television set, and while I haven’t seen it move of it’s own accord yet, I suspect that after I fall asleep at night, it rustles over to me and whispers things in my ear. “You’re day is over and now there’s nothing left to look forward to”, “You have no other plans for your life”, “You have to get me cleaned soon or those muddy foot prints and that lipstick smudge will stain permanently”. It could be that’s why I’m having trouble sleeping these days and all the sleep I get is accompanied by boring dreams of me working at an office, filing the same paper over and over again, or me walking down a hallway, then walking down that hallway again, then again.

I wouldn’t say I miss the pre-wedding days exactly. I remember the moments of freak-out, the angry phone calls and the constant feeling of anxiety, which mutated into nausea towards the end. But at least then I was working for something that was important to me, and headed towards an achievable goal. Back then I spent a lot of time browsing through the wedding section of craigslist and repeatedly came across the term “Trash the dress”. Do you know about this trend? I suspected at the time that it was a conspiracy of the wedding industry attempting to limit the number of second had dresses being sold. The idea is that you have your wedding day, then after you return from the honeymoon, you hire a photographer to take pictures of you destroying your wedding gown. Women paint a mural in it, or go to fields of greasy old broken down cars and lounge around in them, or go swimming in the ocean, and I even came across a frightening photograph of a women wearing a dress that’s on fire. I was completely disgusted by “trash the dress”. I thought it was horribly irresponsible and wasteful until I read an article written by some TTD photographers who said that generally after a shoot the dress isn’t so damaged that a good cleaning wouldn’t fix it (unless of course you were the women who set the thing on fire). And the fact is the pictures that result from these photo sessions are absolutely breathtaking. I understood it better when I considered it from an artist’s perspective, but I still didn’t understand why brides felt compelled to ruin dresses that could be donated, or saved or sold. After two weeks of having it stare at me from the corner of my bedroom, it’s become mind-bogglingly clear, and I want that dress destroyed. I want to dowse it in gasoline and watch it explode. I want to tie it around a boulder and hurl it off a cliff into the ocean, I want to abandon it across some railroad tracks, or down a urine soaked alley of San Francisco. I want it so thoroughly out of my life that it’s not even an object anymore, it’s an unrecognizable shred of something that used to exist.

Before anyone starts getting nervous, let me assure you that this is just a desire, not a plan. I realize that actually chucking my wedding gown in front of a moving BART train would, and should, make people a little concerned about my sanity. If I were reading this a month ago, I know I would wonder about the person writing it. And even now my cognitive powers fall a little short of grasping why this impulse is so strong. But I’m smart enough to know that it’s massively idiotic to ruin anything that could pay for at least one months rent should I decide to sell it someday. Still, before I get it cleaned, I might take it for another whirl. Visit the farmers market, go for a run on the beach, wait at a bus-stop for awhile (actually taking the bus would be torture though), buy an ice cream cone, walk across the Golden Gate bridge, go do my laundry (“Hey, I was out of clean clothes, ok?”). Sometimes I think people need a little more surreality in their lives.

Perfect imperfections

Fri, 23 May 2008 20:15:29 -0800

My favorite mistakes from May 2nd. I think all of these made the day even better:

How the car I was in got lost on the way to both the rehearsal AND the wedding, in the exact same way!!! (I think my stepdad was horrified. I thought it was funny)
-How I almost tripped on my way down the gravel slope to the bridge that marked the beginning of the aisle and my MOH was having a time trying to keep from slipping and sliding down that slope as well
-How the changing room at the gardens was tiny and filled with tables and chairs, making it almost impossible for me to move around in my wedding gown when there were always about 6 other people in there (and about 20 people at the door trying to get in)
-How the ringbearer, bored at the beginning of the path (aisle) to the amphitheater, decided to entertain himself by throwing handfuls of gravel on my train (he actually meant to throw them into the creek, but he’s two and doesn’t have great aim yet)
-How the flowergirl continued to throw petals on the ground after she’d made it to the front, and kept at it throughout the entire ceremony
-How the ringbearer, fascinated by the little bows on his pillow, couldn’t stop pulling on them and ended up dropping first Ben’s ring (along the aisle), and then my ring (up at the front). That’s right, we put the real rings on there. In hindsight, it was sort of a crazy thing to do.
-How, after we left that night, chaos reigned and the most random people ended up with the most random stuff in their cars, despite the carefully crafted plans and duties I gave to everyone the night before.
-How no one wanted to dance with me when the “advice dance” started. Ben had this huge line going halfway down the building and I was up there dancing with myself, trying to look pathetic enough that someone would step up and rescue me. Jarrod, my little brother, finally did.
-How the best man and one of the groomsmen invented this “new and better” way to blow bubbles and ended up spitting bubble solution all over my face several times during the last dance

And my very favorite of the night:
-How I lost my brand new wedding lipstick and because I never went up to claim it (I didn’t know it was mine!) it was used to write on the windows of our car. We didn’t actually realize this until we were leaving for our honeymoon and I looked at the windows and thought “You know, that color looks familiar…”

What’s a wedding without a ton of goofy stories?

The great unveiling

Tue, 20 May 2008 20:14:31 -0800

In January of 2002 I was a sophomore in college. It would be two and a half years until I met my future husband and an additional three and a half before I married him. And yet, this is about the time my grandmother happily announced to me that she had bought my wedding gift. “I’m going to leave it under my nightstand and put a note on it so that in case I die, people will know who it’s for” “But Grandma, how do you know I’m ever going to get married?”. She never answered that one. Over the years, when my mind wasn’t occupied with various other things, sometimes I would ponder what it was that was sitting under my grandma’s nightstand waiting for my wedding day. I’ve always thought it was probably some sort of fancy bible.

Sunday afternoon, after a good nights sleep in our own bed, Ben and I decided it was time to open our wedding gifts. Wedding magazines and guides always say that a couple should register for more gifts than they have guests, so I felt bad breaking the rules and registering for fewer. As it turns out, this was ok as many of our guests decided to give us gifts off the registry, money, and cards, all of which were awesome. As my mom had predicted, it was just like Christmas. No, actually, it was just like being a kid at Christmas, except I doubt there are many kids that would get so excited about mixing bowls, iron skillets and camping stoves. To add a little surreality to the situation, Ben and I received a few unsigned and puzzling gifts. One turned out to be a mail organizer hand painted with large pink flowers and vines. I kept this by my side, joyfully basking in the mystery of the thing. Someone else left us an unsigned card with a very generous gift inside. My only wish is that these people, if they had desired to remain unknown, had signed their gifts “The Phantom” or maybe “Kilroy was here” so we didn’t have to feel obligated to track down the mysterious gift givers to thank them. I hate to think of some aunt or uncle out there feeling bad about not receiving a thank you card, never knowing that it was because they failed to tell us who their gift was from.

There was one gift that kept catching my eye while we opened cards and waded through packing material. It’s paper fragile and the bow huge and slightly worn. When I got a little closer to it, I noticed the strong smell of my grandma’s perfume. We opened it carefully, and lifted the lid off of the Styrofoam box. My mind expected to see golden letters spelling out “Holy Bible” so it took me a second to take in what I was seeing. It was a little yellow tea set painted with flowers. On the bottom of every piece it says “Crystal Cathedral, 1970-2002.” along with a line from Corinthians 13:4-8. Ben and I are looking forward to dressing up in our nice clothes and sending her a picture of us using it. To my slight disappointment, we’re pretty sure the card attached to her gift wasn’t 6 years old. Although I suppose one could make the argument that she just correctly guessed that the name of my future husband would be Ben.

The honeymoon's over

Sun, 18 May 2008 20:14:10 -0800

After an amazing honeymoon we got home yesterday to discover that our landlords decided to enhance the mail box system by adding a gigantic bookshelf to the landing. This left us with about 1.5 feet of space between shelf and railing with which to maneuver our way to the second flight of steps with our billions of suitcases. awesome. When we walked into the kitchen we noticed a strange and pungent food smell. Then we noticed we couldn’t turn on any lights. Apparently our circuit breakers had been mysteriously tripped two days before. We had to throw out much of the contents of our fridge and freezer. It’s really too bad we didn’t have a pet who could have left us a nice, steaming pile in front of the door. Oh well, maybe next time.

Anyone know of any good one-bedrooms available in San Francisco right now?

My last Friday as a Hubert

Fri, 25 Apr 2008 20:13:22 -0800

Sadly bidding farewell to:
Goobert
Whobert
Boobert
Hudirt

And, of course, my all time favorite,
Pubert

Perspective

Wed, 23 Apr 2008 20:13:15 -0800

Important: picking up my dress
Not important: making sure each bow on every favor is perfectly tied
Important: buying drinks for the wedding
Not important: having a spotless house before the wedding
Important: finishing our song for the first dance
Not important: finishing a huge lists of songs we might possibly want to hear that night
Important: paying all the final bills
Not important: worrying about who my dad is going to sit with at the rehearsal dinner
Important: getting chairs for the musician at the wedding
Not Important: having perfect fingernails for the wedding
Important: eating
Not important: tying ribbon around the bottles of bubble blow

Why do I need reminding of this? Nine more days. Hope I’ll make it…

Adventure at the City Hall

Wed, 09 Apr 2008 20:12:43 -0800

With 23 days left to go, Ben and I decided it might be a good idea to take care of the actual “getting married” side of the giant party we’re throwing. This, after all, is the whole point. You’d be amazed how easy it is to lose sight of that fact. So yesterday we headed out to get our marriage license. We arrived at city hall a little late, got fabulously lost, shyly hung back from the information desk while the receptionist stared at us in an expectant though condescending way and, having been turned in the right direction, half skipped half ran to the county clerks office in an attempt to make it there before they canceled our appointment, stole our $60 and declared us too immature to be wed. While dashing down the dark hallway I remember thinking that I neither felt, nor looked like the adult I planned on being by the time I was ready to obtain a marriage license.

We made it on time and soon we were seated on a bench holding an official-looking form. As Ben filled out his section, we cracked stupid jokes, attempting to ease the tension.

“ok, so what did you say your name was again?”

“After this we should go buy t-shirts that say ’I went to city hall and all I got was this crappy marriage license’.”

“Hey Ben, what if they give us a fishing license by mistake?”

“Look at that couple. They’re getting married here, I bet. Wouldn’t it be funny if we got married in what we’re wearing?” I looked at our raggedy jeans and old t-shirts and had to agree. It hadn’t occurred to me that it might have been proper for us to dress up a little for this occasion. We could have had our picture taken on the marble staircase- Ben and Lela looking like the responsible adults they are. Instead we looked more like a couple of grungy teenagers who decided to cut class that day to get a marriage license. “Hey lady, could you hurry it up? I’m late for gym.”

Then it came time to fill out the Bride section of our form and I lost my mind and forgot how to spell both Minnesota and my father’s first name. Fortunately, Ben kept his cool (as always) and spelled the state out for me, though he couldn’t help me with dad’s name. In my defense, I’d like to say that usually I just write Dad when I’m writing to or about him. When an actual name is needed, I write Randy. I can’t remember the last time I had to write his whole birth name, so I made an educated guess and wrote that. I was nervous when we had to swear that the information on our license was correct. Thank goodness she added “to the best of your knowledge”. The last thing in the world I need right now is to be struck down by lightening for lying about a swear.

I Vow

Sat, 29 Mar 2008 20:12:38 -0800

When did this whole “write your own vows” thing start, anyway? This is a 1960’s thing, right? Begun back in the days of free love and anarchy, when everyone was writing poetry about the colors of their lovers’ auras? But more important than when is why. As in, why am I reading these stupid magazines that are brainwashing me into thinking this is something I ought to do? Lately, while walking to the grocery store, or riding on the bus, I find myself worrying about whether the fact that I don’t want to write my own vows means I don’t love Ben as much as those other brides love their fiances. I know it doesn’t. But those magazines are devious. I can’t even figure out what’s in it for them. It’s not like they’re advertising creative writing classes or something.

The idea of self-written vows makes me shudder. Probably because it always conjures up images of me standing in front of a huge audience, holding this wrinkled little index card and, in a monotone voice, reading “Ben, I love you more than anything. I will never…(crinkle, crinkle)…get tired of, uh…looking into your eyes. You complete me. the end”. Ok, I could probably do better than that. But I don’t think I could do better than the vows that already exist. These are the vows that have been said for decades. Said by my grandparents and maybe even their parents (not my own, however. They were married in the early 70’s). How arrogant would I have to be to think I could improve them?

If I were to write my own vows, they would never be the sort of vows you could say at a ceremony without people thinking you’re being disrespectful:

Ben, I promise to only lie to you when it’s obvious that I’m doing so. I vow to only try to stick things up your nose when you are awake and capable of stopping me. I promise I will call you “butthead” only when I’m trying to make you laugh and never when I actually think you’re acting like one. I will never force you to wear a creepy mesh tanktop in public, however funny I think it might be. When you barf, I vow to take care of you, instead of run from the room screaming. I promise that if the lyrics allow, I will replace “You” with “Ben” in all the songs I sing whenever you’re around. I solemnly swear I will never, ever post naked pictures of you on the internet.

If we had decided to elope, I might have considered writing my own vows. But I think in the end, I probably still would have tacked on the traditionals. Love, Honor, Cherish, it’s really best to cover all the bases. After all, Ben’s bound to notice I didn’t mention anything about sticking stuff TO his nose…

Flower girl? Check!

Sun, 24 Feb 2008 20:10:52 -0800

Shopping for wedding gowns is an amazing experience. You walk into a little boutique lined with beautiful dresses made of satin, silk and lace, and embroidered with sequins, seed pearls, and little flowers. You know that you’ll be walking out with one of these gowns, if not today than someday soon. It’s exciting and magical. It’s like being a little girl again. Now imagine if you actually were a little girl.

Last December I talked to Ben’s 3 year old little sister, Lucy, about being our flower girl. She’s pretty shy and quiet, and answered with a barely audible “yes” when I asked if she would like us to take her out and buy her a new dress and tie flowers in her hair for the wedding. After I confirmed we’d be doing this, she went racing down the hall where I could hear her excitedly telling her mother all about how I was going to buy her a dress and fix her hair. I knew at that moment that shopping with Lucy was going to one of the highlights of preparing for the wedding.

I was right. Yesterday’s shopping trip was a completely charming. Lucy started glowing the moment we entered the girls dress section of Macy’s. If I could have, I would have had Lucy try on every floufy, puffy, pink dress I could find, but I knew we had one shot at this and if I didn’t find the dress by 5pm, I was going to be shopping alone. Never the less, I think we all got our fill of flouf, especially me and Susan (Ben’s stepmom) who had to battle the tiny buttons and obstinate bows while Lucy skipped, twirled, hopped and danced around the dressing room in a variety of fluffy dresses. Ben spent this time waiting outside, bonding with his youngest sister Cayenne. I might add here that this is the only shopping trip I’ve ever seen Ben enthusiastic about and I think he had a great time admiring Lucy as she modeled each dress for him, and playing “pound on the stroller tray” with Cayenne.

As usually, I had difficulty finding something I thought was right. Everything was either the wrong color, the wrong size or just unattractive. I was getting a little discouraged by 3pm when we decided to try out Neiman Marcus. Two minutes walking around the dress section and I gave the gasp that Ben later said was how I’ve reacted every time I find the perfect thing for the wedding, be it dress, cake or flowers. How embarrasing! Anyway, that was that. The dress. Perfect.

I think the dress we ended up with was rather underwhelming from Lucy’s perspective. It’s ivory and although it still has the organza overlay and some lace detailing, it’s not like the over-the-top dresses she tried on before, with their shimmery skirts, gauzy rose buds and giant pink bows. However, I think both Susan and I agreed that this was far better. This dress is elegant, and super soft inside (“I’m jealous!” Ben said when I called him in to feel the lining after we got home last night) and it’s natural fibers. I feel much better imagining Lucy running around in a soft, breathable dress rather than itchy polyester, which helps to justify the triple figure price tag. We finished yesterday with enough time to not only complete the look with a comfortable pair of leather ballet style shoes and some ivory tights but also to squeeze in a trip to the awesome play ground by Yerba Buena Gardens. Lucy even got to watch some ice skaters practicing for a show! Sometimes I wonder if experiences like this will make planning the wedding such an amazing memory, that my memory of the actual wedding will seem dull in comparison. I guess worse thing have happened, right?

Belated Resolutions

Thu, 21 Feb 2008 20:09:56 -0800

While I wait for the nauseatingly foul odors in the kitchen to die down so I can wash more dishes, I thought I’d fill you in on a little secret- I never expected anyone to actually read this blog. My friend, Diana, stated it best when she said “I assume that no one ever talks or thinks about me when I’m not present”. Lately though, it’s come to my attention that people do read this blog. Some leave comments, offer advice, and occasionally kudos, mmmm. But most flit through silently, leaving little evidence that they were ever here except for with counts in my Views. Since I’ve realized this I have begun to feel responsible for the substance of my entries. My only goal when I created a blog was to force myself to start writing again and, thinking no one would read it, I wrote only about what was on my mind at the time. Sadly, pretty much the only thing on my mind lately is the enormous event I’m planning. It’s consuming my thoughts, my time, all my anxiety, and many of the hours when I should be sleeping. Don’t get me wrong, for the most part I’m enjoying this experience however time consuming it’s becoming, but I’m afraid this might have made my blog entries a little dull, or a lot dull. Unbelievably, lethally dull? My mom told me the other day that my stepdad asked her what I was going to do with myself when this thing was over. Ok, I was offended at first. I mean I had a life before this, you know? I was doing other things. But wait, “had” “was doing”, past tense? uh, oh.

So I’m posting here a list of future topics- things I want to explore, goals I want to reach, ideas on which to focus, other than the big day, and places to turn after the dress is retired. Hopefully, these will become topics I can write about when things get tedious, and hopefully they’ll make for slightly more interesting reading than previous posts. Thanks for making me feel like writing! It obligate me to do something fulfilling instead of lazing around the house rereading Lord of the Rings or Harry Potter, which is what I’m inclined to do otherwise.

Lela the Diva
-The secret; bending the universe to my will, mwahahahaha!\
Around the world in, uh, I don’t know, 30-40 years\
to eat meat, or not to eat meat?\
Have I suffered enough that I could be a great artist yet?\
I want a crappy garage band\
capturing Om\
Do I like the education, or the status of grad school?\
It’s not easy being green\
clearing out the demons\
Philosophy, that torrid and torturous love affair of my wild years.\
Anyone up for some spoon bending? Ghost hunting? Mind-reading? Exorcising? JK\
last but not least, FIJI!!!!

If I have to look at one more fork...

Wed, 20 Feb 2008 20:09:37 -0800

I’m going to gouge my eyes out with it.

Ben and I registered last weekend. When I told my mom about it today, she said she thought it would be like making a list for Santa Claus. Exciting, fun and hopeful. Not so much. This year I have had many new and awkward experiences. I have had to strip down to my underwear in front of a number of strangers. I have had to try and eat cake while being attentively watched by a cake consultant sitting right next to me. I have even been corset shopping with my mom and future mother-in-law. But nothing so far has been as awkward as registering for gifts. It’s expensive, it’s tedious if you’re doing it online, and the possibilities are endless! Plates alone present hundreds of options and prices, even if you’re only looking at one store! It’s really mind boggling. Knowing this was going to be a long process, Ben and I started fairly early in the morning and proceeded to take turns being the “oh my gosh, it’s too EXPENSIVE!!!” guy. He took the morning shift, worrying about the absurdly pricey measuring cups and mixing bowls. At lunch I explained (to both of us) that it would be better to register for nicer things that will last longer, and hope that people will put in together. “fewer, nicer gifts, instead of many, inexpensive ones that will have to be replaced in a few years”. Then we got home and I chucked all my advice out the window and proceeded to freak out about the silverware sets that were selling for $49.95 and the pot we wanted that was $240.00. Ben, on the other hand, seemed oddly re-assured by my lunchtime lecture, which forced me to act like the mature, rational adult he thinks I am. After many, MANY hours of deep contemplation about which green dishes we wanted to live with for the rest of our lives, whether cache gold, or alexandra ice silverware were more suitable for our lifestyle, and if it would be appropriate to register for a 24 roll package of toilet paper (sadly, Ben decided it wasn’t) we both began to feel our brains turning to mush and we decided to stop.

Everyone says registering is the nicest thing you can do for your wedding guests. And I completely understand. It’s the only reason we did it (well, that and I didn’t want to end up with things I had to return because we got multiples or already had one). Had it not been for the very serious advice from married relatives and friends, I never would have done it. Doesn’t it seem more than a little cheeky to offer your guests suggestions on the price range of wedding gifts? How do you not feel awkward thinking about your grandmother’s reaction to the $350 mixer on your registry? Part of me wanted to search through every online store to find the $$$$ items and add them in hopes of easing my discomfort by throwing absurdity into the mix. In a way my mom was right, this experience was like making a list for Santa, except I’m an adult and I know who’s really checking the list this time.

Have your cake and hate it too

Mon, 07 Jan 2008 20:09:10 -0800

Ok, so I’ve spent the whole day trudging through websites. Websites like massive sugar-sludge swamps, trying to suck me down into their frilly world of sweeping fondant “curtains” and powder pink, gumpaste roses. Can I just say that I find the wedding industry more than a little nauseating? If the prices aren’t enough to make me barf (how many slices of cake have you seen that sell for $10 a mouthful?), and I manage to quell my gag reflex during the gooey “isn’t your very special day just soooo romantic?” intro’s to every site, I could never force myself past the mountainous piles of frilly cream, avalanches of flowers, candy starfish, and enormous flocks of oh-so-cute birds that decorate half the cakes out there. From what I could tell, the only alternative to over the top decadence these days is a cold, aloof, perfectly smooth, straight up and down style that looks like the walls of a prison. As dreary as these puritanesque cakes are I find their simplicity much more enticing than the gaudy cakes my three year old self would have chosen back when I was still hoping to be a pink, bunny rabbit when I grew up.

Oh wait, I forgot the new modern style cakes. You know, the kind for the “unique” bride that wants her special day to be different from all those other generic nobodies that want all their weddings to be the same. The wedding industry likes to imply that the world is full of these clone brides and that you alone are out there looking for a creative new option. In case you were wondering, unique cakes aren’t as cool as they sound. They cost a pretty penny more than the pretty penny it takes to buy any wedding cake and they are just as heinous as the fairy princess numbers. Instead of the dangling hearts and silver pearls, these are often painted with neon yellow food coloring, wrapped with hot pink fondant ribbons or bright green polka dots, or my personal favorite, made to look like the bride (the layer cake is the skirt of the sculpture’s wedding gown). I confess that last one was emailed to me, I didn’t just come across it. But I have to say, as creepy as that cake looked, the bride definitely made her cake unique, unlike the frothy, bright eyesores I’ve been gawking at all afternoon.

The Confession

Wed, 02 Jan 2008 20:07:36 -0800

As Ben and I were getting in the car after visiting with his Uncle Mike, one of about a zillion relatives we saw during our trip to Delano last weekend, I told him “I dated you for you. I’m marrying you for your family.”

He just laughed. He must have thought I was joking…

Why must I torture me like this?

Wed, 17 Oct 2007 20:06:05 -0800

As of last night, I have had at least one dream per ex-boyfriend in which I’m engaged to him instead of Ben. Guys I’ve only briefly dated are included in this list. Two exception are a guy I dated briefly in high school (whom I’m expecting an appearance from any night now) and a guy I went on one date with, whom Jessica nicknamed “Dan the man” when at the end of the date, he insisted I pay him back for dinner.

Oddly enough, the list doesn’t ONLY include exes. For example, it also includes my best friend (and maid of honor), which she got a big kick out of when I told her about it the next day. I can say without a moments hesitation that this dream was the best of the lot, because while the marriage wouldn’t have been quite what I expect to have with Ben, I like Diana and I think it would be fun to have her as a life long roommate. And besides, marrying her would be far preferable to marrying any of my ex-boyfriend (no offense to the only one I’m still in communication with).

What’s exceptionally weird about these dreams is how often Ben shows up in them. I’ll be at a party with my fiance, wondering why on earth I decided to marry this guy and feeling generally annoyed and suddenly, Ben will walk into the room, grab a soda, and start watching a movie or something. I’ll pause in the middle of a sentence and stare at him like he’s got some important message written on his forehead. There’s always this feeling of total confusion like “You know, that guy looks awfully familiar. Where have I seen him before?”. Or I’ll be waiting in line at the movie theater, with my future husband, and feeling like this just isn’t right, that I remember actually being in love with the person I was engaged to, and suddenly Ben will walk out of a nearby ice cream store and I’ll think, “now, wait a minute, wasn’t I engaged to THAT guy?”

One theory as to why this is happening is that my brain just wasn’t prepared for me to fall in love so quickly and it’s having a hard time adjusting. It wants to say “Now hold on, weren’t we going to have a few practice marriages first? Just to get a feel for it before trying it with someone you love?”

Second theory is that my subconscious hates me and enjoys watching me muddle through my dreams in utterly lost and helpless confusion.

Another step complete?

Mon, 01 Oct 2007 20:04:27 -0800

I bought my veil yesterday. Or, I guess it might be more accurate to say I bought A veil. It’s very, as my mother would say, frou frou. At first I didn’t care because I’m going to wear it for, what, maybe 2 hours ever? But then I remembered that there will be pictures. hmm.

Still, I bought it. I think that with some work, I can make the thing look a little more like something a normal person would wear. You know, someone who at the age of 26, is no longer fantasizing about being a fairy princess. Besides, it was $15 dollars on craigslist. How could I say no?

My dress found me!

Tue, 28 Aug 2007 20:03:24 -0800

Had Harry Potter been given the opportunity, I’m sure he would have learned as much as possible about wands before his trip to Diagon Alley. He probably would have spent hours and HOURS looking through wand websites, surfing wand designers webpages and boring his friends (if he’d had any) with facts about the practices of the wand industry. He may have formed opinions like mahogany wood is too pretentious, and hawthorne wood too old fashioned, unicorn hair too girly, and ebony is for posers etc. After all this research and comparison shopping he would have arrived at Ollivanders with a pretty good idea about what he wanted. I think he would have gone with Bamboo, 7 inches, dragon heartstring core. Bamboo because it’s so ecofriendly, 7 inches because it’s not too flashy, and dragon heartstrings because dragons are awesome. However, my guess is that regardless of how much research he did before he went into the wand shop, he would have walked out with the same holly and phoenix feather wand he ended up with in the book (despite whatever the price tag read).

This is because the wand chooses the wizard, not the other way around.

After this weekend I’ve reached the conclusion that the same applies to the bridal gown and the bride.

Dumb Dumb da Dumb

Fri, 03 Aug 2007 14:00:23 -0800

This Blog entry was going to be called “Going Bridal” and I was going to share the horror and anguish of the last few days during which Ben , my mother and I have been dealing with reserving our reception venue.

But I think this is better…

Last weekend I had a dream that it was the day of my wedding and I was running very late. I ran into the dressing room, at the ceremony site, where all my Bridesmaids were getting ready and glanced around the room to discover that not only had I forgotten to bring my wedding gown, I had forgotten to buy one. But, whatever, I was just going to have to wear the metallic blue plastic suit jacket and lemon yellow mini-skirt I had put on that morning. What I did seem to be concerned about was that I also neglected to buy myself a veil. Fortunately, there happened to be a roll of tulle in the corner of the room, which I grabbed and stapled to one of those cheap plastic kids tiaras that also happen to be there. The last thing I remember about the dream was dashing out the door towards the ceremony hoping that in last few hours, my mother and Diana had managed to find and purchase a fluffy pink flower girl dress for Lucy.

The night before last I had a dream that Ben and I decided to spend the night before our wedding camping out in the parking lot of a storage rental facility. No reason for it, I guess we just thought it’d be fun. After trying and failing to find a comfortable place to sleep on the gravel in the parking lot, we decided it might be a better idea to sleep INSIDE one of the storage units, which proved to be a little more comfortable. As in all my wedding dreams, the next morning I was running late and sped to the ceremony site, stopping only to buy a bouquet. After I got there, I realized I had never gotten around to hiring a caterer or a florist. At the time I was much more concerned about the lack of flowers than I was about the lack of food so I walked around to the sad empty tables and put one tiny flower from my bouquet on each one, hoping that people would see this as a very tasteful centerpiece, if they saw it at all, as the flowers were about the size of a thumbnail.

I’m glad that my mind freely offers these worst case scenarios, so that I can feel like no matter how badly I screw up during this whole huge wedding project, I’ll never screw up as bad as that nutcase in my dreams.