Tag Archives: wedding

There’s no going back now!

Dozens of licked envelopes and cursive-penned addresses later, most of our save-the-dates (There are still a few addresses we need to obtain.) are in the hands of the US Postal Service and on their way to people we love in Ohio, Indiana, Tennessee, Massachusetts, Maryland, Colorado, Virginia, Pennsylvania, Oklahoma, North Carolina and South Carolina – whew, that’s a lot of places!

Thinking of these little wedding notices being dispersed across the country to our friends and family, I am simultaneously giddy with excitement and somewhat overwhelmed by the gravity of what sending these save-the-dates represents. I have no apprehensions whatsoever about marrying my best friend; what feels weighty to me is knowing we are officially asking more than 100 people to decide that our wedding day is important enough to set this date aside , forgo other plans and potentially travel several hours to spend it with us. I think it is really hitting me what we’re asking of everyone. Though I know that not everyone who is invited will come, those who do come will be making sacrifices of time and money to be with us and that’s both overwhelming and extremely meaningful.

More than anything, though, I feel extremely lucky. What a gift it is that we have so many people who mean so much to us. What a wonderful thing to have friends and family scattered all over the country. And what a ridiculously exciting thought that our wedding will be an occasion to bring many of them together.

Ending sentimental musings now.

Today’s post is brought to you by Capt. Obvious

Planning a wedding in one state that is going to take place in another state 1,000 miles away is not easy.

I always knew planning a wedding would be a monumental task. Virtually any bride will tell you there is so much more involved than could ever seem possible (linens and heel heights and fish-or-chicken, oh my!). Add to the mix a distance of about half a dozen states and it gets even more interesting.

When we got engaged, we discussed where we should exchange our vows: our new state of Wisconsin; my home state of Tennessee; his home state of Ohio; our most recent home state, and the state in which we met, North Carolina; or a random state in the continental U.S. that has nothing to do with either of us (Hey, why not? We’re considering so many options as it is!).
Having only recently moved to Wisconsin from North Carolina, we decided it didn’t really make sense to get married here; we have only the newest of friends, acquaintances and coworkers here. Though I grew up in East Tennessee, I really don’t have a hometown there since I lived all over the eastern portion of the state, from Knoxville to Oak Ridge to Crossville. So it didn’t really make sense to marry there. Ohio was a possibility, but it would be far away for many people. The more we thought about it and the more we talked it over, North Carolina really made the most sense. We each lived there for a few years, we met there, I still have family members there (What up to my sister/MOH Rose and my brother/Groomsman James!) and so many of our friends live either there or in neighboring South Carolina. I didn’t realize at the time that making the decision to get married in North Carolina would be the easiest part of the process of getting married there.

Fast forward to now and – though I can’t imagine marrying anywhere else – I have a whole new appreciation for the concept of getting married in the state in which you live. Most of the difficulties of out-of-state planning lie in not getting to meet with vendors in person or see possible venues with my own eyes.

Once we had opted to get married in North Carolina came the all-important decision of where to hold our ceremony. Though I had semi-regularly attended a church I really enjoyed, I never joined and didn’t know the ministers personally. Russ and I attended a couple of different churches a time or two, but we were never regulars at any one place. And it was important for me to be married in a church. I know God can be – and is – anywhere, but I just appreciate the idea of cementing our union within the walls of a place that is holy. So the search for the perfect church commenced.

Unfortunately, many churches have strict regulations about who can be married within their facilities, requiring either a general affiliation with a religion or denomination or, more specifically, a membership there. It proved difficult to find a church that embraced non-members and seemed welcoming of any couple who wished to be married there. Thankfully, many web searches and phone calls later, we found just that. Likewise, after lots of surfing the web and e-mails and phone calls, we found an equally perfect reception venue just a few blocks away.

The hardest/saddest part for me was having to rely on pictures to make the decision to go with these spaces for our big day. My wonderful sister acted as my eyes and ears and met with the points of contact at the church and the reception venue, and she provided pictures and detailed accounts – which included a great deal of praise for the sites – but it was still somewhat bittersweet. It was so wonderful to find such perfect places, but it was strange knowing I couldn’t see, touch and smell them myself and probably wouldn’t until the wedding day or shortly before.

*insert excited squealing noises here* – The countdown has officially begun.

I’m getting married six months from today. In 183 days. (Don’t worry, I only know that because of our knot.com site. I’m not actually keeping a count. …Yet.) Picture me squealing with excitement. ‘Cause that’s what I’m doing right now.

I always knew I wouldn’t want a super long engagement. Likewise I always knew that would mean working overtime to get things accomplished in that shorter time frame. But I’m ok with that. Because the alternative – a prolonged engagement – would stress me out even more, if that’s at all possible. Let me attempt to explain. I’m slightly crazy, and a large chunk of my zaniness (Doesn’t zany just sound cuter? I like to imagine that my crazy is kind of cute – like an adorable, endearing little trait. Others might disagree.) is my proclivity to stress.

We’re not just talking slight anxiousness. We’re talking full-blown, all-consuming, thought-dominating, sometimes-physically-manifesting stress. I’m the person who assumes something terrible has happened to you if you don’t answer your cell phone right away, the person who believes in her gut the laws of nature are skewed to inevitably bring doom and gloom and the person who believes failure is more of a guarantee than success. Just call me Miss Skeptismo. (I’ll be selling “The World is Ending Tomorrow” shirts at a great wedding-special price, if anyone is interested.) Anyway, all that is to explain that the longer the engagement, the longer I would get to stress. And show everybody my full-blown crazy. And, by proxy, make everybody else crazy – not exactly pleasant thoughts. Hence, the desire for a shorter engagement.

Still, it’s wild to think we’re already two months into this whole engagement business and we only have six short little months to go. Six months to figure out the reception menu, to put together a playlist of jammin’ tunes to which to dance the night away, to figure out ceremony music, to figure out the ceremony period, to decide on decorations and those pesky flowers. And wedding bands. And engagement photos. And hair and makeup. And what the heck the Mister and his guys are going to wear. Fingers are crossed it’s something that matches and does not include denim.

A dress is a dress is a dress

Just call me one happy bride. No, I didn’t win an all-expenses-paid honeymoon vacay to a sunny, faraway island. I didn’t get a call from David Tutera saying he would love nothing more than to feature my wedding as his first in North Carolina on his uber-fabulous television show My Fair Wedding. I didn’t wake up with luxurious locks of long hair cascading down my shoulders that would make planning a wedding ‘do a dream. No, ladies and gentlemen, I’m filled with bridal bliss because my bridesmaids will now be clothed for my big day. Not only will they be clothed (Shocker for those of you who thought my friends and I were nudists, I know.), but they’ll be looking pretty spiffy, if I do say so myself.

As with virtually all the decisions involving this grand affair, I have flip-flopped on bridesmaid dresses more than a seal on hot pavement. Or John Kerry on all those important political issues (Har, har, har. Man, those John Kerry jokes used to kill. Circa 2005. Sorry, I’ll try to update my frames of reference.) Each day, I wanted something different for my lovely ladies’ attire. One day I would want all the girls to wear the exact same dress. Ok, most days I wanted all the girls to wear the exact same dress. Because I’m me, and I’m all into matchiness and symmetry and all that jazz. But then some days I would subscribe to the more modern theory of each bridesmaid wearing a different dress per her preferences and body type in the same color. Because hey, everybody’s doing it these days. And then I’d go back to not caring that everybody’s doing it and not caring about dresses that suit each girl’s taste (Just kidding, ladies!) and I’d remember once again just how much I love matchiness.  I really love matchiness.

And then there was the issue of where to get the dress. One of those tried-and-true, this-is-a-bridesmaid-dress-and-you-will-never-ever-wear-it-again websites? Or someplace more hip and cool, not altogether unlike myself (Bahah), like JCrew or Ann Taylor. Throw into the mix the fact that almost every clothing store under the sun that sells threads for the ladies has something to offer: Macy’s, Kohl’s, JCPenney. The list goes on and on. I began sending e-mails so long I’m sure no one was actually read them to all the girls, with links to this really pretty dress and that fun little number. “What do you think of this neckline? How do you feel about tea length versus cocktail length?” I even considered pants for a time. We are getting married in December; I thought it would be a nice gesture if I let my girls have warm legs.

Well, I’m here to say those legs will be cold and covered in goosebumps. After swallowing a few just-make-a-decision pills, I opted for dresses over pants. This wedding is going to be nontraditional in some ways, but not quite that nontraditional. I could see 87-year-old me looking back one day and saying, “Really, Mary? Pants? What were you thinking?” And, let’s be honest, I want to make 87-year-old me happy while I can because I’m probably going to be one crabby old lady. So, dresses it is. But then comes the agonizing decision of long dress versus short dresses. (And if you’ve stopped reading by this point, I completely understand.) I get that longer dresses are the style for fall and winter, but I hate long dresses. Like, a lot. Nobody ever re-wears a long dress. And, in general, they’re less flattering. I want my girls to show their healthy gams! Yep, I just pulled that word out of the 1950s and threw it down. Bam!

Ok, ok, so enough back story. The girls are wearing dresses. The same dress. So that there’s matchiness in the world. And it’s going to be short. And they’re all going to look super cute. And since you were patient enough to make it this far, I unveil to you:


Alfred Sung Bridesmaid Style D470, image courtesy Alfred Sung and toastbridal.com

(Picture it in purple. It’s awesome. For real.)

Les fleurs

Most people who know me know that I’m not short on opinions. Purple is my favorite color. Chartreuse is a funny word and a funny-looking color, if you ask me. What Not to Wear is one of the best things to happen to television and to fashion (No, crazy lady, a tube top is not appropriate past the age of 14.) Our president is kinda hot. If more people listened to Sara Bareilles, Ingrid Michaelson and Brandi Carlisle the world would be a better place. Smoking is gross. Poptarts are gross (Have you ever looked to see how many calories are in those things??). See? I have opinions. Plenty of ’em. And yet, it’s been really interesting to discover with this wedding planning process which things I have opinions about and which ones I really kind of don’t. Flowers, for instance. I feel like I should be filled with excitement about bouquets and boutonnieres and all things flower. And yet, I’m just not.

Don’t get me wrong; I love flowers. I have two beautiful orchids perched on my windowsill at home that make me smile every time I look at them. I get giddy when Russ surprises me with an arrangement of gerber daisies. And when I pass a field dotted with heather or buttercups, I just want to drop everything and run through it, all reckless abandon-like. But when it comes to thinking about wedding flowers, my mind goes blank. I have no opinions. No ideas. No excitement.

When I’ve dreamed of my big day, certain images always popped into my head: a beautiful white dress, friends and family, music and dancing and partying the night away. Flowers have never really entered the equation. In fact, when I see pictures of big bouquets filled with all sorts of flowers whose names I can’t pronounce half the time, my eyes just glaze over. I guess bouquets that make a statement are some people’s thing, but they’re definitely not mine.

And don’t get me started on how freakin’ expensive wedding flowers can be. Geez, louise. It just seems crazy to me to spend hundreds of dollars on arrangements whose purpose is served by being pretty for one day. One day! I mean, I know we could give all the flowers away at the end of the day, but it still seems like such a waste of money.

So now I must decide: Do I do flowers at all? Maybe simple bouquets consisting of one flower? Or can I shirk the tradition of flowers altogether? I mean, will those nearest and dearest to us really care whether there are flowers abounding?

I change my mind almost weekly when I think about alternatives to the traditional floral bouquet. For a little while, I was dead set on hand muffs, since it’ll be a December wedding. Then I thought about fans. And then I remembered, yep, it’s still a December wedding. Now I’m in love with pine cones. Yes, pine cones. Don’t judge me.

Decisions, decisions

I’ll go ahead and apologize to any of you reading my blog who might be looking for non-wedding-related posts. My sincere apologies, but wedding mania has consumed my life. I don’t even know what I did before this.

It seems that wedding planning is really just one ridiculously long laundry list of decisions to be made. Decisions about everything from who would like to see our nuptials take place to whether people prefer veggie lasagna or beef tenderloin.

Here’s a sampling of some of the decisions dominating my life right now:

Invitations. Do I pay $5.7 bajillion dollars for super fancy shmancy invitations that have multiple fonts or boast embossed lettering or calligraphy? Or do I buy cardstock in bulk and start cutting and pasting the old-fashioned way?

Reception. Do I want a spacious, sparkly ballroom in which my guests, my groom and I can feel super swanky as we twirl about and say things like “hello dahling?” Or do I want a barn with questionable indoor heating but is one of those places that makes people say, “This place really has character?”

Wedding dress. Do I want the dress with all the style elements I’ve fallen in love with in the precisely 437 pictures I’ve feasted my eyes upon in magazine pictures and Web sites galore? Or do I want the dress that fits and flatters in all the right ways, even if it’s nothing like I had imagined it to be?

Food. Brunch, lunch or afternoon tea? Plated dinner or buffet? Dessert aplenty or just a wedding cake? What about a groom’s cake? Maybe throw in some cupcakes for good measure?

Or maybe there are happy mediums in all these areas and it doesn’t have to be about extremes. Maybe I can have my wedding cake and eat it too. 🙂

BTW, I did make one decision in the last couple of weeks …

Fun with bar code scanners

Registering for gifts was the perfect distraction from looking at color swatches and calculating numbers. Oh. My. Gosh. Who knew registering could be so fun? It took literally all afternoon on Sunday, and we left the aisles of Milwaukee’s department stores dotted in our beads of sweat and as exhausted as if we had decided to shoot hoops with the Bucks at the Bradley Center (What? I assume that would be pretty exhausting.). But holy crap, was it ever fun.

Like the organized, careful planners that we are (You are correct; we have no friends.), we had done plenty of research ahead of time. We scoured department store websites perusing their selections of flatware, linens and double boilers (Don’t judge me; I really want one!) and narrowed the field of registry prospects to three. Then, in a day-of, last-minute decision, we – gasp! – cut one of the original frontrunners from the lineup. We went with our guts and selected two places we liked the most and that we felt our friends and family would enjoy as well.

We started at locale K, and as we sat at the customer service desk filling out our information and getting the how-to instructions for using the super cool bar code scanner doodad, I felt butterflies. I’m not even going to pretend like I was cool, calm and collected about embarking on this tried-and-true, you’re-really-getting-married activity. But, anyone who knows me wouldn’t expect me to have been anything resembling cool, calm or collected. I’m pretty sure they would all expect me to have reacted just as I was: utterly freaking out with excitement. After being sent away with said scanner in hand (Russ’ hand to be exact. Russ is a techie and an engineer; he was excited to play with an electronic toy.), we hit the aisles stacked with coffee pots, blenders and cutting boards and went to town.

We oohed and aahed over coffee grinders (You know you’re a boring adult when…), food processors and bendy cheese graters (Thank you, Bendy Cheese Grater Inventor. You have finally found a solution to the awkward grater-not-fitting-in-or-over-the-bowl conundrum. I’m pretty sure you deserve one of those beer commercial salutes.). And we zapped away at each item we decided we couldn’t live without. We left store K with a great starting assortment of wish list items and headed for store M.

For as excited as I was sitting down at store K and going over the procedures (Seriously, how hard is it to point and shoot at things you want?), I really starting hyperventilating with glee at store M, which was just a tad bit nicer, and where they treated us like we were their special, honored guests (I don’t blame them; they were excited at the prospect of money being spent in their store.). They ushered us into a lovely, quiet office and spoke to us like we were their most valued customers. Then, once again, we were sent to poke and prod and inspect price stickers with another magical scanner in tow.

I was in registry heaven in this second store. The shelves were dripping in beautiful bakeware, wine glasses and cutlery sets. I was in love. We zapped away at cake stands (!!!), colanders and towels, and it was while there that I realized I made a crucial registry day mistake: I wore heels. By the end of our excursion, I was limping. And Russ was chiding me for wearing heels. Alas, no amount of pain or I-Told-You-Sos from my beloved could disrupt my euphoria.

A euphoria whose crowning moment came when we scanned the bar code for one Artisan Series KitchenAid mixer in the color of … wait for it …  boysenberry! I’m still swooning.

Wedding-induced sensory overload

Wedding planning is simultaneously the most joyous and the most beastly process known to man. You think space shuttle missions, economic recovery initiatives and the prospect of establishing a friendship between the president and Donald Trump are doozies? You have no idea.

First, you have to set a date. And for someone as wishy washy and indecisive as me — let’s just be honest — that’s a terrifying first order of business. Ok, so I guess I skipped a step. The absolute first task was asking our siblings and some very dear friends to be our attendants. But that brings us to the the whole date-setting ordeal. Because in addition to my already tenuous nerves at selecting the date, a date to be written essentially in stone — or taffeta or baby’s breath, more like — heap on the fright I felt at trying to select a date that worked for our families, as well as our eight attendants. And was a date that seemed like it would work for the rest of our friends as well. I’m not kidding in the slightest when I say I didn’t eat or sleep for about the first week of our engagement. But, some dark circles under the eyes and a few pounds lost later (woohoo…dream wedding dress, here I come!), a date was set, and plans are now in motion for a winter wedding.

Make no mistake, however — having a date set is only one of the large early hurdles to be cleared in this wedding marathon. Then comes the guest list, the venue(s), the budget, the weather, the level of formality, the save the dates, the invitations, the photographer, the dress, the bridesmaid dresses, the groom and his attendants’ attire, the flowers, the decor, the music, the cake…seriously, the list goes on and on. I got a little lightheaded just typing all that.

I’m going to curl up into a ball and rock back and forth now.

Wedding planning a go go

My life is filled with wedding blogs and color combinations swirling around in my head and the checking out of books from the library. Who knew there could be so much to think about??

Deep breaths…

Holy wedding planning, batman! Now that we’ve enjoyed all of six days of engaged-ness (betrothedom?), I have plunged with reckless abandon into the abyss that is wedding planning. Who am I kidding — we got engaged on Saturday, I started planning on Sunday. …Or maybe I’ve been doing a teensy bit of planning for, oh, the last six months or so. (I’m a girl! In love with a boy! What do you expect?!)

Though, yes, I had made some important decisions already. (IE: It was a no-brainer who I wanted to stand beside me on my special day.), I definitely had no idea just how overwhelming real-deal, ring-on-the-finger, you-have-to-set-a-wedding-date-now wedding planning can be!

It’s amazing to me that so much has to go into planning something so simple: marrying my best friend. I mean, I guess it doesn’t have to be that way. We could elope. Or we could just invite our parents to join us in a dust-covered room at city hall. Or we could opt not to have a bridal party, not send out invitations and just hope everyone shows up at the right place at the right time, and I could forgo the painstaking process of picking out a dress and, in turn, forgo my one chance to wear the most beautiful white dress ever. Not one of those sounds like an option to me.

We love our friends and family, and we relish in the thought of them taking part in our day. We love each other a whole heck of a lot and, perhaps selfishly, think we deserve a day that’s all about us. And, who am I kidding, I want nothing more than to play dress up and walk down an aisle and proclaim my love to my husband-to-be.

The bridesmaid dresses, the color combinations, the invitations, the save-the-dates, setting a date to put on the save-the-dates!, taking pictures, thinking about reception food — it’s all completely and utterly overwhelming. But I wouldn’t have it any other way.