Posts Tagged ‘weddings’

One year ago today I had stopped worrying about the details, and was fully ready to sprint down the aisle.

I woke up bright and early, full of energy, and thanking God that the derecho hadn’t decided to continue all weekend.

K had sent me this video that morning:

…and I bounced around my room with an enormous smile on my face, listening to it on repeat.

(Listening to it now actually still brings a huge smile to my face.)

In some ways, it feels like the wedding just happened. How could a year have passed already?

In other ways, it feels like we’ve been together forever – in the best way possible.

Over the past year we’ve grown and traveled and loved and adventured.

We’ve argued and made up and laughed and cried (sometimes from laughing so hard) and continued to plan for our life together.

And it’s been simply wonderful.

Happy anniversary, baby.

One year down, a lifetime to go!


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Remember all that worry? All that stress?

Turns out, it was completely unnecessary.

The whole day went smoother than I ever could have imagined, and I learned that at least one “warning” we received was true: the whole celebration simply flew by.

The ceremony went so quickly that I didn’t know why I had ever worried about its length in the first place.

And the reception was the party we’d hoped it would be and more. With the exception of dinner, the dance floor was never empty, and the energy level was incredible.

Leading up to the wedding, friends told us…

…the whole day will be a blur. And it was.

…only you will know if something doesn’t go according to plan. True.

…make sure you get a chance to see the ballroom before the reception starts. So we did.

…take a minute to be together alone between the ceremony and the reception. So we did that as well.

…you won’t get to eat, so don’t expect to. Surprise! You should have seen the way we scarfed down our salmon. (The cake I ate standing up, partly because someone took my chair, but also because sitting to eat would have taken too much time out of my dancing.)

Before we knew it the DJ (who was amazing!) was calling everyone out onto the floor for the last dance, and the hotel staff was clearing off the tables.

So, naturally, we hopped across the lobby for an after party at the hotel bar, and stayed until well after the bartenders left.

There’s another pearl of wisdom that rang true: the adrenaline rush. Normally I’d be exhausted staying out until 3am. But not this time.

This time, it worked.

This time, everything worked absolutely perfectly.

*Photo credits: Facebook friends.

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Remember that stress I was telling you about? Well, I wish I could say it had subsided, but I’d be lying.

And apparently I’m not very good at hiding it either. BNF told me this morning that my face looked like “a bundle of nerves,” which, I suppose, is technically accurate, too.

(Side note: I wish my face also showed him how excited I am. But apparently it can’t multi-task.)

I’ve found that when it comes to wedding stress, like with most things, you can divide reactions into two categories.

First, you have the traditionally supportive group. These are the friends, co-workers, and parents who ask you how you’re doing. And they accept it when you say, “Everything’s going great – I really feel okay.” But they’re also not surprised when you go on a ten minute rant about all the little things that you know no one is going to notice but you.

In fact, sometimes they tell you, “I think you needed that. You looked too calm.

And then you have the other group, who likes to “lighten the mood.”

These are the friends and family who joke, wouldn’t it be funny if [nightmare x] happened? Or, wouldn’t it be funny if so-and-so stood up during the ceremonyI could totally see that happening!

Or, the text message I received from my younger brother (an usher for the wedding) yesterday.

They scheduled me [at work] over the weekend i cant make it…sorry.

Now, did I, for one second, believe that it was true? Of course not.

Do I want to smack him anyway? Maybe just a little bit.

Will it stop him from making jokes right up until the ceremony?

Not a chance.

I just hope he remembers this when it’s his turn.

*A coworker shared her favorite piece of advice: “‘Worry until Thursday,’ because after that you really can’t change much. You just have to let it happen.” So that has been my mantra. 

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When BNF and I got engaged and we started planning the wedding, I heard more advice than I’d bargained for. And occasionally more than I desired.

I was told how hard it would be, and how stressful. I was told how I’d have to do everything on my own, and how there were all these little details that I wouldn’t even think of.

Just wait,” PiC told me, “it’ll be a few days before the wedding and you’ll be writing out all the place cards by hand, while your fiance sits in front of the TV.”

I nodded and smiled, secretly thinking that I would be the one bride who would escape the stress.

After all, wedding planning was my happy place. When I was procrastinating on school work (and really, when wasn’t I?), I looked up table arrangements. When I was bored in class, I emailed vendors and nailed down schedules. And, contrary to PiC’s prediction, it wasn’t just me doing all the work – BNF has been amazing. Not just supportive, but involved.

But now we’re less than 20 days away, and apparently my psyche feels the need to make up for lost stress.

A sample:

    • Is it really okay to seat these relatives over here? Are they too far? Will they feel slighted?
    • What if someone shows up unexpectedly?
    • Will the set-up all go smoothly? Will I know?
    • What if my bridesmaids don’t like their presents? What if the flowers are wilted?
    • What if photos take too long? Or the ceremony takes too long? Am I allowed to give my pastor a time limit? (Note: I actually tried. He smiled, nodded, and gave me a figurative pat on the head.)

Logically and rationally I know that these things will be fine.

And I know that they are not what the wedding is all about. Not by a long shot.

But it is apparently impossible for me to not have something to stress over.

When everyone was giving me this advice, and telling me how stressful it would be, they also shared the “positive” side.

With all that stress you lose, like, five pounds in the month leading up to the wedding.”

Oh really?

Does the cheesecake sitting in my fridge know about this deal?

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A year ago today, I said yes. And it was exhilarating.

In the past year, that feeling has only amplified. I’m at the point where I want to sprint down the aisle, just so I get there faster.

(I won’t, though, because I don’t sprint well in heels.)

And it makes me laugh to think that if you had asked me four years ago whether or not I’d be marrying BNF, I would have responded: “Marry him? I don’t even like him!

I first met BNF in 2008 while playing for my company softball team. He had missed the first couple games, but I’d heard about this supposedly amazing shortstop, so I was naturally curious.

During our first game together – him at short, me at second base – we had a chance early on to make a double play. The batter hit a grounder to BNF, and I quickly moved to cover second, prepared to then throw to first.

But the throw never came.

BNF decided to make the play himself, running over second and throwing to first.

(No one remembers, by the way, if the double play was made.)

I was furious. The shortstop I’d played with in BNF’s absence always threw the ball to me. In my mind, BNF must have thought that just because I’m a girl, I couldn’t handle it! The jerk!

Later on at the bar, I was sitting nearby when I heard him declare to the table, “The thing about women is…

So I turned. “I have to hear this.

Hold on a second,” he told me. “How old are you?”


Okay. You don’t know anything.”

And just like that I thought, well, it’s a good thing I don’t have to hang out with him outside of softball!

Fast forward four years, and I can’t even imagine sprinting down the aisle to anyone else.

And it doesn’t hurt that he now throws the ball to me.

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Food bloggers (the good ones, anyway) always seem to take photos of whatever amazing dish they’ve just made or had. Not only do they describe in such a way that you resolve to try it (or try to make it), but the photo then makes your mouth water.

I, on the other hand, when confronted with food of the amazing and mouth-watering variety, tend to scarf it down (while still savoring, naturally) and not remember photos until all you see are the dregs on the plate.

Example: our wedding menu tasting this past weekend.

          (What you don’t see are three extra utensils underneath that napkin.                 I felt like Leo in Titanic.)

Our venue coordinator suggested taking photos of each dish at the beginning, so we could remember each of the individual options, and we agreed that was a good idea. Then the first course was served.

We tried a grilled corn chowder with crab meat so rich and flavorful that I didn’t want to try anything else. I persevered, though, and tasted a butternut squash soup (meh) and a port-marinated pear salad (so light and refreshing!).

And I would love to show you the photos because the presentation rivaled the taste. But did I think to click before I devoured?

Not a chance.

In fact, the only photos I have are of the potential main courses, because our coordinator specifically reminded me.

As for the cake…please. Like I would have let a camera get in between me and my sweet tooth.

Everyone has told me that you don’t actually get to eat at your own wedding.

After this tasting, however, I am more than prepared to buck that trend.

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When I first saw the beginning of the following commercial, I thought for sure that it would be for a legitimate weight-loss program:

But I’ll see your popular girls, Geico, and raise you one El Jefe.

Earlier in the year I ran into El Jefe at the gym, while I was panting away on the stairmaster. He came over to say hi, and essentially asked why I was torturing myself.

Just getting wedding-ready!” I gasped out.

That was January.

Yesterday we had a baby shower for one of the women in my office. The theme was cupcakes, and the theme was plentiful. Naturally, I grabbed a delightful looking raspberry one. And as I was about to indulge, El Jefe walked by.

Remember you have to fit into your wedding dress!” he stage-whispered.

Unlike the Geico man, there was no way I was giving up that cupcake, so I just laughed it off and waited until I was out of El Jefe’s line of sight before stuffing my face.

I told myself that he didn’t actually mean anything by it (he didn’t); he just thought he was being funny (dad humor).

But apparently he thinks this is our little joke now, because he had a follow up this morning regarding some Krispy Kremes someone had brought into the office. (Joke’s on you, El Jefe, I’m a Dunkin’ Donuts kind of girl!)

I can only hope that his interest in my wedding prep wanes quickly.

Four more months of weight comments by El Jefe is enough to give any girl a complex.

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