10. Buy a bridal magazine.
9. Go into a bridal store.
8. Spend too much money on silly prefab details.
7. Buy anything the WIC (Wedding Industrial Complex) tells me is vital to having a real wedding, unless it's something I LIKE (ie: I do want a pretty white dress).
6. Let my family change my mind about something just because it's not what they want (although I will listen to and respect their opinions).
5. Get freaked out over things that don't really matter.
4. Listen to anyone who tells me I can't do something myself, that I should just hire a professional.
3. Listen to anyone who tells me I'm not doing it the right way.
2. Forget that our goal is to have a fun, special day with our loved ones.
1. Forget that the whole reason a wedding is being planned at all is because I'm going to marry the man I love.**
*Notice that I use the word plan, not swear. There might be moments of weakness where I cave and do exactly these things. For example, I found myself in Wal-Mart yesterday ogling little bubble containers shaped like champagne glasses, and I'm pretty sure that falls under #8.
**This is an exception to the above note. I don't just plan not to do this, I PROMISE.
Thursday, December 31, 2009
Wednesday, December 30, 2009
About Us
So I suppose writing two posts in one day with zero people reading my blog is a little pointless (after all, anything multiplied by zero is...zero). However, I have lots of thoughts running around, and this is a slow week for me (I teach various things around town, and therefore get school holidays off. Whee!). So, with that in mind, I thought I'd do a little obligatory "About Us" post. Well, I guess it's more "About Me" since I'm the one writing this, but the Boy gets some credit here, too. Since it's a blog about our wedding, and all.
Okay, so, little bit of background about the both of us in general. We're both theatre majors; we met doing a production of a 18th century British musical comedy called "The Beggar's Opera". He was playing Peachum; I was playing Filch. Now, for the general population who have no idea what that means...he was playing an underhanded old crime lord in a white wig who was both sleazy and highly amusing; I was playing a twelve-year-old pickpocket boy that worked for him. Yes, boy. This would be much funnier to you if you knew just how large my breasts actually ARE (ace bandages around the chest are not comfortable to sing in). To this day I have no earthly idea what possessed that director to cast a very buxom woman as a little boy when all the female roles in the play are prostitutes, but he did, and I'm glad, because that's how I met the Boy.
We did not date right away. Ooooh no. What happened is this: I fell head over heels in love with him immediately. I was 19, he was 26, and he just wasn't that interested in me. Thankfully I never came right out and declared my love to his face back then; I just mooned over him a lot and quietly accepted the fact that he was somewhat of a bad boy who would never look twice at little miss 4.0 me. He liked rap, I liked Broadway showtunes. He was the quintessential "cool dude" in our little colony of theatre kids; I was the girl who sat in her room crocheting and watching reruns of Will & Grace. (I'm actually not nearly as boring as I'm painting myself to be, but this was a little bit of a withdrawn period in my life).
So, I dated a couple of guys. They were fine. They were not my Prince Charming, because the Boy was my Prince Charming, and no matter how I tried to forget about him, no one else lived up. Even when I was dating other guys and trying to be happy that the Boy had become my friend, I was way, WAY too excited about that friendship and still got kind of giggly and made up excuses for him when he skipped the classes we shared to go do various bad boy things. And let me clarify briefly that I was not in love with the "bad boy" that I keep talking about; this was his image, but I knew from the moment I met him that there was another man underneath, and THAT was the man I loved.
And then, lo and behold! The Boy actually asks me over to his house to hang out! There were a few weeks of OMGWTFBBQSQUEEEEE on my part, which I really, REALLY tried to hide on the inside because I knew he was a skittish one around relationships and I didn't want to scare him off. Unfortunately...women in general scared him away if they tried to get too serious. Especially nice ones. On top of that, I was leaving town in six months. Needless to say, it didn't exactly work out that time around.
I did my student teaching. I got involved in the theatre community in my hometown, where I had moved back to. I went out with my girlfriends and they constantly tried to hook me up with other guys and get over the Boy, and I made a very valiant effort. But I missed him every single day, until the day we finally got back in touch (a year after I'd moved) and decided to make another go at it.
We've been together ever since then, and I've watched the traces of his former "cool dude" persona fade away. Granted, he's still incredibly cool. But I've learned that he's also a huge nerd, like me. And he's also a huge sap about some things, like me. And we can watch The Muppet Show together for hours and laugh and read aloud to one another and go through horrible hardships and struggle with being miles apart (although there are fewer miles now than there were), and through it all we're more unbelievably in love than either of us ever dreamed we could be.
Sometimes I just look at him and smile fondly, knowing that NOW he is that man I always saw, that man that was waiting to come out of hiding. And sometimes...sometimes I jump up and down and giggle and squeal because OMG, the coolest guy in school is going to marry me. And both of these feelings are okay, because the only thing that really matters is that we are more perfectly at ease with each other than with any other person on Earth. We've committed to building a life together, and we know it won't always be easy or happy or fun, but it's going to be Us. And it's more than either of us ever dreamed of.
Now, someday I will tell the silly stories of why we are Pistolfish and Sparklefish.
Okay, so, little bit of background about the both of us in general. We're both theatre majors; we met doing a production of a 18th century British musical comedy called "The Beggar's Opera". He was playing Peachum; I was playing Filch. Now, for the general population who have no idea what that means...he was playing an underhanded old crime lord in a white wig who was both sleazy and highly amusing; I was playing a twelve-year-old pickpocket boy that worked for him. Yes, boy. This would be much funnier to you if you knew just how large my breasts actually ARE (ace bandages around the chest are not comfortable to sing in). To this day I have no earthly idea what possessed that director to cast a very buxom woman as a little boy when all the female roles in the play are prostitutes, but he did, and I'm glad, because that's how I met the Boy.
We did not date right away. Ooooh no. What happened is this: I fell head over heels in love with him immediately. I was 19, he was 26, and he just wasn't that interested in me. Thankfully I never came right out and declared my love to his face back then; I just mooned over him a lot and quietly accepted the fact that he was somewhat of a bad boy who would never look twice at little miss 4.0 me. He liked rap, I liked Broadway showtunes. He was the quintessential "cool dude" in our little colony of theatre kids; I was the girl who sat in her room crocheting and watching reruns of Will & Grace. (I'm actually not nearly as boring as I'm painting myself to be, but this was a little bit of a withdrawn period in my life).
So, I dated a couple of guys. They were fine. They were not my Prince Charming, because the Boy was my Prince Charming, and no matter how I tried to forget about him, no one else lived up. Even when I was dating other guys and trying to be happy that the Boy had become my friend, I was way, WAY too excited about that friendship and still got kind of giggly and made up excuses for him when he skipped the classes we shared to go do various bad boy things. And let me clarify briefly that I was not in love with the "bad boy" that I keep talking about; this was his image, but I knew from the moment I met him that there was another man underneath, and THAT was the man I loved.
And then, lo and behold! The Boy actually asks me over to his house to hang out! There were a few weeks of OMGWTFBBQSQUEEEEE on my part, which I really, REALLY tried to hide on the inside because I knew he was a skittish one around relationships and I didn't want to scare him off. Unfortunately...women in general scared him away if they tried to get too serious. Especially nice ones. On top of that, I was leaving town in six months. Needless to say, it didn't exactly work out that time around.
I did my student teaching. I got involved in the theatre community in my hometown, where I had moved back to. I went out with my girlfriends and they constantly tried to hook me up with other guys and get over the Boy, and I made a very valiant effort. But I missed him every single day, until the day we finally got back in touch (a year after I'd moved) and decided to make another go at it.
We've been together ever since then, and I've watched the traces of his former "cool dude" persona fade away. Granted, he's still incredibly cool. But I've learned that he's also a huge nerd, like me. And he's also a huge sap about some things, like me. And we can watch The Muppet Show together for hours and laugh and read aloud to one another and go through horrible hardships and struggle with being miles apart (although there are fewer miles now than there were), and through it all we're more unbelievably in love than either of us ever dreamed we could be.
Sometimes I just look at him and smile fondly, knowing that NOW he is that man I always saw, that man that was waiting to come out of hiding. And sometimes...sometimes I jump up and down and giggle and squeal because OMG, the coolest guy in school is going to marry me. And both of these feelings are okay, because the only thing that really matters is that we are more perfectly at ease with each other than with any other person on Earth. We've committed to building a life together, and we know it won't always be easy or happy or fun, but it's going to be Us. And it's more than either of us ever dreamed of.
Now, someday I will tell the silly stories of why we are Pistolfish and Sparklefish.
I got inspired by A Practical Wedding to start a blog about the whole "wedding planning process". I'm not sure if it'll work, or if anyone will find it remotely interesting, but...hey, it's for me. And if I don't find it interesting, then I'll quit.
The future-hubby and I went out looking at paper goods last night. Which translates to "we went to several office supply stores and I ran around with a pen and a pad of paper comparing prices while he followed around behind and occasionally vetoed things" (I wanted to mail our invitations in manila catalog envelopes. For real. But his metrosexual side came out and vetoed my zany impulsive side. So we settled on white catalog envelopes, instead).
Nothing was actually purchased, except for a cool travel-themed photo album ("Look honey! We can travel all over the world and then put pictures of ourselves in THIS ALBUM!"), but I did get an idea of our budget for invitations. The best prices I got in stores, for envelopes (two sizes) and paper (we're printing out invites and RSVP cards out of the same paper) was right at $60 before tax. I THINK I can do a bit better than that if I do some hardcore comparison shopping online, but compared to the $90+ we would have spent on boxed invites, I'm happy.
The best part about our excursion was that I had a FABULOUS idea for a reception. I was flipping through cool scrapbook paper in Target, wondering what on Earth I could use such cool paper for, when it hit me - have guests make scrapbook pages at the reception! There's always such a lot of downtime in between the actual ceremony and when the bridal party comes back from having photos done, and I'd like the guests to have something fun and constructive to occupy their time with.
Of course, the more I've thought about this idea, the more it seems to be getting complicated. As my Matron of Honor pointed out last night as I was gushing to her on the phone over my fabulous idea...Polaroid cameras aren't made anymore, and those are kind of central to my plan. Of course, they still EXIST, and they're supposed to be returning in 2010, but that doesn't necessarily mean that I can afford to purchase some for use at the reception. So far I've had one friend offer to loan one to me, so we'll see if I can just borrow a bunch.
But still, how cool would it be to be able to put together a scrapbook of the wedding made AT the wedding BY our guests? We probably aren't having alcohol (partly because of my family, but mostly because it's way too expensive and we've always managed to have plenty of fun without booze). And the second most fun thing next to alcohol is scrapbooking*, right?
*For the record, I have actually never done anything remotely akin to scrapbooking in my entire life, so I don't really know if this is true, but I'm sure SOMEONE out there thinks it is.
The future-hubby and I went out looking at paper goods last night. Which translates to "we went to several office supply stores and I ran around with a pen and a pad of paper comparing prices while he followed around behind and occasionally vetoed things" (I wanted to mail our invitations in manila catalog envelopes. For real. But his metrosexual side came out and vetoed my zany impulsive side. So we settled on white catalog envelopes, instead).
Nothing was actually purchased, except for a cool travel-themed photo album ("Look honey! We can travel all over the world and then put pictures of ourselves in THIS ALBUM!"), but I did get an idea of our budget for invitations. The best prices I got in stores, for envelopes (two sizes) and paper (we're printing out invites and RSVP cards out of the same paper) was right at $60 before tax. I THINK I can do a bit better than that if I do some hardcore comparison shopping online, but compared to the $90+ we would have spent on boxed invites, I'm happy.
The best part about our excursion was that I had a FABULOUS idea for a reception. I was flipping through cool scrapbook paper in Target, wondering what on Earth I could use such cool paper for, when it hit me - have guests make scrapbook pages at the reception! There's always such a lot of downtime in between the actual ceremony and when the bridal party comes back from having photos done, and I'd like the guests to have something fun and constructive to occupy their time with.
Of course, the more I've thought about this idea, the more it seems to be getting complicated. As my Matron of Honor pointed out last night as I was gushing to her on the phone over my fabulous idea...Polaroid cameras aren't made anymore, and those are kind of central to my plan. Of course, they still EXIST, and they're supposed to be returning in 2010, but that doesn't necessarily mean that I can afford to purchase some for use at the reception. So far I've had one friend offer to loan one to me, so we'll see if I can just borrow a bunch.
But still, how cool would it be to be able to put together a scrapbook of the wedding made AT the wedding BY our guests? We probably aren't having alcohol (partly because of my family, but mostly because it's way too expensive and we've always managed to have plenty of fun without booze). And the second most fun thing next to alcohol is scrapbooking*, right?
*For the record, I have actually never done anything remotely akin to scrapbooking in my entire life, so I don't really know if this is true, but I'm sure SOMEONE out there thinks it is.
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