Breathing Space

I promise I will write about the reception. I swear. I will do it. Just not yet…

A week after we were married, we moved. Stupidly, we decided to take our honeymoon in November when I am sure we won’t think it a stupid idea. So, three short days after saying “I do” in the honey pot, I walked back into my office. DO NOT MAKE THE SAME MISTAKE!!!! It was foolish. Stupid, and completely took away my wedding bliss buzz. Ride the bliss wave as long as you possibly can!!! Maybe the fall will be harder when you get back, the wedding hangover more severe, but dammit, just go for it.

On the bright side of being home (no bright side to work) instead of say Hawaii, which was getting blown around by Hurricane Floyd or the Caribbean, which was getting slammed by Hurricane Dean, or even parts of Mexico that Dean was aiming for, we were safely in Venice Beach. Boo! Hiss!! It’s home! But, a neighbor nicely pointed out that while we were getting hitched, a bigger, larger, greater apartment was being painted down the hall from ours, and it was available to rent.

We quickly called the landlord, and before I could say “Pack my stuff again?” my husband was moving boxes down the hall. It was as painless as a move can be. No packing involved since you can just walk your stuff down the hall. We didn’t empty drawers; we carried them twenty feet to the north full of stuff. Pad plates? Please. I stacked them in empty wedding gift boxes and walked slowly down the hall.

The best parts about the new apartment? Let’s see… where do I start…. There is a door on the bedroom! Shocking, I know, but we had a loft bedroom before which might be great for a bachelor, but two people with completely different schedules? Let’s say hell might be similar. And a bathroom right next door to the bedroom! We had to walk down the loft stairs to get to the bathroom before, and when you have puke coming up, stairs are the last thing you want to navigate. The kitchen actually has counter space and room to store things. We had to supplement with shelves, but they work in the room and even look kind of nice. The only thing that makes up for the piece of shit electric stove (I still dream of a gas one) is the view of the ocean from the kitchen window. It makes the day better to start by seeing the sand and the sea while drinking juice.

With the broiling heat of summer, the fact we have windows on two sides of the apartment creates a wonderful breeze. We actually sleep with a down comforter! In AUGUST!! Best of all, we have a loft that is an office, which means all the other parts of the house are used for what they were designed. Kitchen table nook? Filled with table and chairs for eating. Living room? Couch and TV for lounging. Bedroom? Bed and dressers for dressing, sleeping and getting busy. The bathroom? Well, there’s even a linen closet in there!

Needless to say, I love our new apartment. We even have two parking spaces which, in Venice in the summer, is almost like having a pot of gold. I feel like I can finally breathe in the new space. We can both fit, and best of all, we can both grow.

It’s so much better than this.
My husband and brother working side-by-side in the old place. Note the dining table next to the couch, next to the desks, next to the kitchen plus the bookshelf OUTSIDE of the kitchen with kitchen stuff. Thankfully, all part of the past.

The Honey Pot

Like most brides, I think our wedding was wonderful. We were surrounded by family and close, amazing friends who came in from everywhere (Germany, Colorado, California, Massachusetts, Virginia, New York , a 19-hour drive from Wisconsin!, Arizona and more places). It was like being in a honey pot –surrounded by so much love and support. My mom and I joke about the honey pot – being surrounded by love. I feel like that when my mom is in town, and I have her and my husband (!) with me. A wedding is the mack-daddy of honey pots.

My beautiful cousins (who could wear whatever they wanted in the pink/orange/red family) served as bridesmaids and nieces and a best friend's daughter were our flower girls/pink princesses.

Talk about laid-back, the groomsmen were chosen that week. His brother, his oldest friend, my brother, my cousin-in-law, plus a nephew for the ring "helper."

I don't even know where to start recounting our wedding. It's so much to take in and experience. It felt like a whirlwind - like time was on fast-forward. People told me to videotape it because I wouldn't remember much of it. We didn't, but I do remember the main parts of it. I had fun. In fact, I had a blast. I was grinning from ear to ear all day. I was nervous waiting to walk down the aisle, the first and only time during the whole process. I could hear the violin, and then people cheering for my husband. We asked our family and friends to call us to the wedding with nicknames, pet names and our own names. It was amazing to hear my husband's name being called, to see him enter into the garden, and say, "I can't hear you!" The crowd loved it, and cheered louder.

After I entered, he kissed me. Whoops....

My dad, my mom and I waited in the wings for my name to be called. The crowd let out whoops of joy, calling my name and the nervousness I felt earlier disappeared. I entered the garden between my parents, and was flooded with love and jubilation. I was smack in the middle of the honey pot, and life couldn't have been grander. My future husband stood in front of me, my parents were beside me and my closest friends and family plus my new family surrounded me. It was, to use a cliche, heaven on earth.

As I stood, reciting the vows I wrote for my husband, I looked into his eyes, and the rest of the people melted away. It was just us, together, saying how much we love each other, how important we are to each other and how excited we are to take this journey together.

And then, bam! We were married! And the party started, and the chaos kicked back in as people moved from the garden to the tent and the photographer gathered the wedding party together for more pictures. I never saw the tent before everyone walked in. In fact, I never saw the garden until I walked in. The flowers that were supposed to decorate the alter were missing. The sake and cups for the sake ceremony were missing. And none of it mattered. It all looked beautiful and worked out perfectly.

We're married!!!

More on the reception later....

The Breck Girls

My bachelorette weekend was everything I imagined and more. I feel incredibly blessed to have such a great posse of women in my life. A huge thank you to all of you who made my last single-girl trip one for the memory books.

We might be older, but we’re still fun….


Heading up the mountain for the shortest hike ever.

Pre-dinner Breck Girls. It was waaaayyy to light out for us.

We even had a sponsor from Kentucky who put on my super panties. (No idea why this pic isn't bigger.)

Walking up the street for some danicing.

Getting ready to "throw my panties to the wind." It's a Mexican tradition that we've completely bastardized. Rumor has it the panties are supposed to be sexy, not super-sized.

Growing-Up. Sort of.

We are 16 days from the wedding. I know because my registry at Crate and Barrel tells me so. And yes, when I am bored, I look to see what people have bought and not bought.

My stress level is amazingly low right now. I think there is a pulse of adrenaline flowing through me like a steady drip of an IV, but I am used to that now. There is enough in my system to keep me from falling back asleep when I accidentally wake at 6am, but not so much my hands jitter from it. I try to take it as it comes.

Tomorrow, I jet-off to Colorado for my bachelorette weekend. My friend Krista has been incredible with spear-heading the event, planning it, emailing the 10 women to coordinate things plus letting us use her family’s condo in Keystone. It’s not exactly Vegas, but I’m not exactly 25. I picked Colorado over Vegas partly because I knew more of my friends could make it, but mostly because I like Colorado more than Vegas.

I know they have some craziness planned for Saturday night. We’ll be hitting the streets of Breckinridge, and I’m guessing, since it is off-season, we will be a sight. There are no drunken spring-breakers to compete with. I told them no veil, no penis necklaces and no list of men I have to kiss or get underwear from. When did I get so old?

On a trip to Boulder a few years ago, we went to my favorite used clothing store where I always score things like Prada shoes. On this particular trip, I found a navy, marabou bolero. And I had to have it. In some small place in my brain, I thought I would wear it out in LA. It was fabulous.

Little did I know how fabulous… later that night, after way too many car bombs (the drink, not the explosive), the bolero became a prop in a series of modeling shots. Let’s just say it took on a life of its’ own. So, in honor of that night, I decided that I am wearing this gem for my big night out on Saturday. I can’t decide if I should take it a little classier with a just a plain white tank, or a little cheesier (does it get more cheesy than a marabou bolero?) with a gold tube top, jeans and gold sandals. I am bringing both get-ups so they can choose.

My friends like costumes so I am thinking (naively) that I am beating them to the punch. Plus, I’ve NEVER worn the jacket except for our modeling shoot. It’s amazing how easily women can entertain themselves. So, if you happen to be in Breckinridge this weekend and see a woman with a marabou bolero on, stop and say hello.

Dewy vs. Shine

A bride should glow. She should look dewy and fresh like spring time. Or so the make-up artist at Barney’s decided. He said I should have a little shimmer on my upper cheeks so that when I turned just so, the light would catch and I’d look like I was glowing. He charges $300 for wedding day make-up so clearly, he should know how to look on a wedding day. The woman my mom has lined up for me in North Carolina charges $45. I mean, it’s North Carolina and not Los Angeles, but I decided I didn’t trust an NC make-up artist especially if she’s so cheap. Did anyone hear that bullet go into my foot?

Hair, I will pay for. I will live if it looks a little funny because honestly, I can’t do my hair to save my life unless we are talking a pony tail. But make-up? Make-up is like art. I’ve even been complemented on my make-up.

So, when we were at Barney’s last weekend, I decided to handle the make-up issue. I headed over to the Sue Devitt counter, who makes really nice make-up, and let Daniel take over my face. He took a whopping hour and a half to put on my wedding day face (including starting, removing everything and starting again). I looked, if I may say so, radiant. He did my eyes in this glimmering gold, but not Goldfinger gold. Just elegant with a chocolate brown liner and lush, thick black lashes. My lips were painted a bright, YSL red (their color was better – loved that he wasn’t limited by his own brand). My cheeks glowed and shimmered.

I happily purchased the items that weren’t in my make-up arsenal ($195 later the $45 NC make-up artist was sounding okay) and headed home.

I decided my mom needed to see how great the make-up looked so I insisted my fiancé take some pictures of me to email her. In the pictures, my face didn’t look glowing or dewy. I looked like a big, greasy, shiny mess. The flash bounced off my cheek, illuminating it in a bad, non-glowing way.

On the bright side, I stopped to get some tacos for lunch while made up like a bride. Unfortunately, I didn’t have any cash, so I couldn’t get anything. I was getting ready to walk away when the counter guy forced chips and salsa on me for free, insisting that I should have something. It may look shiny, but I looked good enough to get free food. If only it photographs as well.

Lipstick would help deflect from the "dew."

The Earrings

After much searching (mostly online), I found these gorgeous earrings by Dana Kellin at my friend Jessica's shop Chelsea in Boulder. If you're ever there, you should stop in.

I think they are so elegant and pretty and special... and I couldn't be happier that things are finally falling into place!

Now, I only need to find the ring....

The Elusive Shoes

It’s beginning to fall into place. This week, I’ve checked off: shoes, make-up and jewelry (posts to follow).

The shoes eluded me. I’ve looked for shoes in Barney’s, Nordstrom’s (Los Angeles, Austin), small boutiques (Los Angeles, Austin, Boulder), in magazines and on-line where, I thought I found some. They arrived yesterday, and were lovely. Gorgeous. And a size too big. I went into a panic when I couldn’t get on to their website to see if they had a smaller size available. So, last night, in an obsessive fit, I went to DSW, which was fruitless, and Nordstrom Rack, where I found…. TA-DA! My wedding shoes!! Yes, in amongst the piles of crap shoes with missing straps, scuffs and general ugliness, I found the perfect shoes for our wedding location. Low, wedge-heel silver sandals. I never would have looked twice at them in Nordstrom, but at the Rack, I had an open, desperate mind.

They kind of exude Miami grandma, but I swear, they are cute in person. Or at least cute enough. Last night, I thought they were even a little sexy.

I also found of pair of completely cheesy, bride-like flip-flops with pearls on them. Oh, I’m a bride!! I’m a bride!!

Mama Love

Yesterday, I asked my mom if she could think of anything else I needed to get in LA for the wedding since I only have two more weekends here to run errands. She goes, “Like what?” Like paper lanterns people hang in trees or ribbons for center pieces. We have Chinatown and Little India. Did I mention Little Tokyo or the fabric district?

“What for?” she asked. It was then I remembered who I was talking to. My mother, wonderful, loving, caring, funny mom, is not the party giver in my family. She always made the house look pretty for my birthdays. She used to layer three different colored square cloths (emerald green, fuchsia and golden rod) from Japan on our long wooden table. She put bright yellow branches of forsythia in a big vase. It was more natural, and I loved it. She is not into the minute details of weddings or large events even though she has an amazing eye.

For my brother’s wedding, she kind of freaked out. Actually, she completely freaked out. She sprouted horns and a crazy look in her eyes. They kind of glowed with hysteria. At the time, I was working as an event planner in Colorado. I threw weddings as a career.

My brother’s wedding was in the middle of a July afternoon on top of one of the Smoky Mountains. It was decided we should have water for the guests during the ceremony so I suggested we get small water bottles, fill a tub with ice and let people grab them. To which, my mother replied, “Sarah, I don’t want to hear another word out of you.”

Um, okay. Sorry for the completely ridicules, off-the-wall suggestion. Next time I’ll suggest digging a well and making people lower a bucket and haul their own water.

Needless to say, I approached the planning of our wedding with my mom with some trepidation. As the months passed, mom proved the horns a creation from her past boyfriend (luckily out of the picture). She realized that I like spreadsheets. That I make lists of questions. That I am slightly insane when it come to planning. Let’s be honest. I don’t make the big bucks as an executive assistant without some planning. With my brother’s wedding, she felt like she did everything. This time, she feels like she isn’t doing anything, which isn’t true. She follows up on the emails I send her (email! My mom! Checking it regularly!), she calls the people I ask her to immediately.

People look at me like I am crazy when I say that my mom is doing a lot to help me. Like, hello! Moms live for this shit. Most moms might, but not mine. Mine prefers a quiet afternoon canoeing on the lake, floating on our backs in a cove. She prefers a yoga class followed by a night of contra dancing. She prefers going to the movies with me and eating a dinner of popcorn and Junior Mints. But she’s happy to help because I am happy.

Now, if we can just find her some sassy shoes for dancing. She’s not looking for Manolo’s or Jimmy Choo’s. She’s looking for good shoes that will turn and flex and support her feet while looking pretty. She said she’s not wearing her black contra dance shoes with her pink dress, but I said I didn’t care if they made her happy.