Tag Archives: wedding

It crawls…it creeps… No, it’s not The Blob. It just looks like a wedding threw up in here.

Wedding planning is overtaking my apartment.

It’s creeping its way into every nook and cranny and over top of every clean surface. What was once a guest room is now no longer recognizable as such. There are hand-painted signs laid out to dry. Miscellaneous bottles of paint, stickers, yarn, spools of ribbon, leaving a trail of pretty color winding behind them. There’s the collection of various glass bottles that I don’t even know if I need or not, but I can’t bear to part with. There’s craft glue and floral tape and pins as far as the eye can see. It’s madness, I tell you.

I’m not sure what I would do if I actually had any visitors. How to explain the doilies spread across the living room floor? Or the board game with its guts spilled out next to the doilies? Or the fact that you have to squeeze your cup of coffee in amidst various crating accouterments onto the coffee table. Coffee table it is no longer. It is now the permanent keeper of crocheted bits and bobs and strands of this and that and about five skeins of yarn in different colors. How to explain there’s no bed in which to sleep in the guest room? I’m sorry, dear guest, that bed is currently occupied with pieces of wood, boxes of favors and wedding-day shoes. I’m sure you’ll understand.

And please, please, pay no attention to the large piece of cardboard on which it looks like a craft project died a messy, dirty death, spilling its purple blood everywhere.

Hey, Mr. DJ

Lest I forget in the craze of shoe shopping and accessory hunting, I should mention that I am way, way excited about the plans for our reception. And that is largely due to one singular, solitary soul: the man behind the turntables, the giver of the music, the DJ.

The DJ was one of the earliest vendors we booked, basically as soon as we had a venue. After some good ol’ Internet searches, some e-mailing back and forth with a couple of different DJs and then a phone call with the one who interested us the most, we were good to go. And now I can rest easy knowing I will not be resting easy at our reception. I’ll have a reason to get up on the dance floor and shake what my mama gave me.

Every bride has a list of must-haves for their day. As I’ve stated earlier, flowers ain’t one of ’em for me. Music, on the other hand, is. For serious. When I envision my wedding, I envision one kick-booty party with lots of great tunes (You know…some good ’80s rock, some pop-tastic hits and a little Bublé thrown in for good measure.) and lotsa cuttin’ of some rugs. Seriously, I want those rugs to be shredded by the end of the night.

I’m singing a Queen song in my head. And maybe also a little bit out loud. (I found shoes!)

Yep, that’s right, I have an uber-famous Queen song stuck in my head, and no, ladies and gents, this time it is not Fat Bottomed Girls. While I do consider FBG to be somewhat of an anthem for myself and my comrades with the ample derrières, this time that song is not applicable. …Though I do anxiously await its rotation in a jukebox (Do these actually still exist??) in a crowded bar one day in my future so I can belt its lyrics at the top of my lungs. I do love so love belting that tune. But I digress.

The Queen song I find myself singing these days is none other than the good ol’ in-your-face-losers anthem We Are the Champions. And I’m singing it from the point of view of the royal we. Because really we is just me. But I am no less a champion in my royal we-ness. No, I am every bit a champion. In what way, you ask? Because I found my wedding shoes!!

Yes, dozens of department stores and fancy shmancy retail shoe chains and innumerable web searches later, I am the proud owner of the prettiest wedding shoes in all the land. I’ll admit, I might be the slightest bit biased. But really, they are pretty stellar. They’re a rich, glorious, drool-worthy deep purple – a royal purple, some might even say. They’re not too tall and not too short but just the absolute perfect height for dress-to-floor optimization. They’re decadent satin with soft, subtle detailing. Can you tell I’m in shoe love?

Ok, ok, without further ado, here’s the shoe! (Yes, I’m a dork; I’m well aware that rhymed!)

The Nina Fulvia:

No shoes. Where’s the purple love?

Disappointingly, I must report I am still shoe-less. And let’s face it, that’s just not going to work. I can’t be a barefoot bride. I mean, I am from East Tennessee and all, but seriously, I plan on channeling that side of me when I have a couple of drinks and start drawling my vowels to everyone’s amusement. I don’t need to be barefoot too. It’s all about moderation, people.

I didn’t realize I was asking a lot when I started searching for a purple heel. I realize white, ivory, silver and gold evening/wedding shoes are going to be way more prevalent than my particular favorite color of the rainbow, but sheesh, no department stores in Wisconsin or Illinois seem to carry pumps in plum or violet or lavender or indigo.

So, it looks like I will be ordering these all-important feet candy online and crossing my fingers for the best. It always makes me a little apprehensive to order shoes online, when every pair of shoes fits differently and the perfect fit for me could be anywhere from a 7 to an 8. Thankfully, most companies have fairly decent return policies these days.

In case you were curious, these are some of the heeled beauties that have been making my tail wag.

If money grew on trees and it were a perfect shoe world, I’d be running around (Ok, maybe more like walking very carefully) in a pair of Christian Louboutin heels like these. I’ve had a love affair for red-soled Louboutins for as long as I can remember.

Christian Louboutin suede pumps

Or maybe some Badgley Mischkas like these.

Badgley Mischka Randall

More realistically, I am eyeing shoes like these Ninas.

Nina Reni Purple Metallic Linen


Nina Forbes

I also dig these RSVPs.

RSVP Michaela


RSVP Taran

And I even love these Me Toos that just have a slight wedge to them.

Me Too Stellina

I’m on the hunt for shoes

The shoes. The shoes that will perfectly complete my wedding ensemble. I’m searching for shoes that will make my heart pitter patter and will make clouds part and rays of sunshine beam through and a choir to sing. (Ok, maybe that’s a slight exaggeration. But you get the idea; these shoes are special.)

On one hand, it seems kinda crazy to invest so much energy into one pair of shoes. They’re shoes, for crying out loud. Shoes! But when you think about it, pretty much every other element of a bride and groom’s wedding attire gets a good bit of thought put into it: from the dress and the suit to the bouquet and the boutonniere to the jewels and baubles to adorn them all the way down to their skivvies. When you think about it that way, it seems only natural that shoes should also play a significant role in these theatrical shenanigans.

So, equipped with a mindset that these are important shoes, special shoes, wedding day shoes, I know I have a weighty task before me. They must be the perfect height to complement my dress, they must be comfortable and foremost, they must be fun, fierce and fantastic. No boring shoes here. I want color, I want pop, I want sizzle.

The shoe shopping search – though it has been taking place for months online – will begin in earnest this week. I have at my side my fellow shopping warrior, my sister, and she and I plan to take to the stores in which we’ll find all things heeled and leather- and satin- and vinyl-covered.

My fingers are crossed that I’ll be able to find my glass slipper(s).

Chow

In the milieu of wedding-related excitement, I’m also pumped about our caterer. Many caterers, we found, want to charge a freakin’ arm and a leg to serve up weddin’ day eats. It’s crazy to me how much so many of them are charging. Seriously, at the prices we were hearing, we would’ve had to pick our 10 favorite guests and just feed them and make everybody else stand in a corner. Or, you know, not invite as many people. But that’s no fun.

Thankfully, we found a caterer that charges much more reasonable rates and comes with great recommendations. It sounds like they know how to serve up some tasty dishes, so that’s exciting. And as an added bonus, they (a husband and wife duo) seem super nice. Score.

They are (aside from our photographer) the only vendor we’ve had a chance to meet with in person. This whole planning-a-wedding-from-afar thing has its drawbacks, namely not being able to meet with people face to face. Which kinda stinks, since you’re asking these people to be a part of such an important occasion.

But, all that said, the caterers were among a few vendors we scheduled appointments with the one weekend we’ve been back in North Carolina since we moved to Wisconsin earlier this year, and they definitely impressed us. They allowed us to come into their kitchen and sit and chat for a bit about our ideas. And we just spent a little while getting to know one another. The wife is the face of the company, doing more of the face-to-face business, while the husband works his magic in the kitchen. Though we didn’t get to try any food yet, when I called several people on their list of references, my mouth started watering at the descriptions. Plus, they’ve told us anytime we’re back in town, they’d be glad to do a tasting for us. I can’t wait!

Give me a head with hair, long beautiful hair. (You guys know that song, right? Right?)

So, I’m scared silly about what to do with my short-ish hair on our day of wedded bliss. I am absolutely consumed with envy of gals with layers of luxurious long locks (how’s that for alliteration?!), but my thin strands don’t have the oomph or Pantene-commercial shine to fall romantically down my back. Instead I opt for a length somewhere between chin and shoulders most of the time. I definitely plan to have hair long enough by December to do some sort of pulling back (it can be pulled back into a short knob of a ponytail now), but it’s definitely not going to be anything out of a celebrity wedding ‘dos magazine, I can guarantee that.

In an ideal world, I would have light, bouncy curls of hair cascading down my shoulders. Sorta like this.

Or, I would have hair long enough to twist into a glorious pile atop my head. Like this.

Or semi-piled atop the head and semi-cascading. Like this.

But in reality, I know I can’t pull off these looks. Stylesdowntheaisle.com has some great suggestions for shorter-haired gals like myself.
I do kinda love this.

My favorite image gallery for short styles might just be on brides.com. Like this one, for instance.

And in my dreams of my ‘do, I kinda love the idea of half up, half down. Sorta like this shot of Anna Paquin.

Anna Paquin on http://www.brides.com

Or like this.

Doing some snooping around for short styles has reassured me there might just be hope for me and my short locks yet.

Boy meets girl

*I have this “how we met” synopsis posted on our theknot.com site, but I love our story so stinkin’ much, I’m posting it here too. :)*

Long ago in a land far, far away… oh, wait, different story.

Two years ago, not so far away, in Chapel Hill, N.C. one reserved redhead and one bubbly brunette met over wine at a birthday celebration. The rest, as they say, is history.

Russ and I met two days before my 26th birthday in 2009. I had recently moved to Raleigh, N.C. from South Carolina and was thinking (read: moping about the fact that) I might not be having much of a celebration for my birthday, since I didn’t know very many people in my new state. But my superstar friend Jackie stepped in, waved her magic wand and put together a birthday outing that included my sister Rose, a few of Rose’s and my mutual friends and Jackie’s roommate Mary Beth. Thankfully, Mary Beth also decided to invite a couple of people: her good friends Rachael and Russ.

Russ and I the night we met, along with Rachael on the right

Russ and I met at a little place called West End Wine Bar on Franklin Street in Chapel Hill, and over the course of the evening, we talked and danced (no laughs from the peanut gallery) and got to know one another. A few days later, Russ and I, along with several friends, got together at Jackie’s and Mary Beth’s house for some riveting rounds of trivia. According to some in attendance that evening, it became clear the redhead was smitten when the usually competitive Russ was allegedly seen feeding me answers. I will neither confirm nor deny whether this actually happened.

A first date was set, and I was rather impressed when Russ recommended one of my favorite places, Lime & Basil Vietnamese restaurant. It was probably over the course of devouring this tantalizingly delicious meal of Pho, more than anything, that we realized we shared so much in common — a love of Pho, for one thing; a love of travel; a love of learning, and, of course, a strangely similar sense of humor (read: both are easily amused). Russ continued to score high points with me on that first date, taking me to Top of the Hill for blueberry beer (with real blueberries bobbing up and down in the glass!!) and then to The Varsity theater to see The Hangover. That’s right, no classy flicks for us. Give us tigers, Mike Tyson, stolen babies and teeth pulling any day.

One big slice.

I’m super excited about our wedding cake because I’ve asked my mom to make it. My mouth is watering just thinking about it! I didn’t feel like forking over serious moolah for a cake with questionable delectability (Yep, just made that word up.) But seriously, more often than not, I have not enjoyed the cake served at weddings. And I know good and well my mom makes a mean one.

(How ya like my sweet clipart?)


I looked forward to my birthday each year growing up because I knew something fan-freaking-tastic was coming out of the oven with my name written on it. Heck, I remember my siblings and I persuading mom it was a good idea to bake a cake for no reason at all about once a month. And the icing…oh, don’t even get me started on the icing. Mom’s icing is bonkers it’s so good. And ya know, it doesn’t really matter to me that mom doesn’t have experience decorating. I would rather my cake taste good than look like a million bucks. And with mom behind the batter, it’s sure to be yumtastic.

Mini lessons learned while doing save-the-dates

-I’m not as good of an address-book-maintainer as I originally thought I was. And, as it turns out, having save-the-date recipients’ addresses is kinda important. Apparently knowing someone’s e-mail address, being their friend on Facebook or following them on Twitter will not be of benefit to the post office.

-I’m glad I journal regularly (Yes, I really am that dorky.) and that I make myself write in cursive in it. Otherwise I would have completely forgotten how to pen those loopy letters. I still managed to mess up about, oh, 15 or 20 envelopes because I couldn’t connect a “g” and a “y,” or I wrote the wrong first name or because I stumbled over Polish last names with lots of “z”s.

-On a related note, I have completely forgotten how to make a cursive uppercase Z. My apologies to all my early elementary school teachers.

-On another related note, I’m really glad we decided to get a personalized return address stamp. One address per envelope was a tall enough order.

-If you order more save-the-dates than you actually need, you get to plaster your own refrigerator with your smiling mugs.