The (mostly) anonymous blogger’s predicament

I’ve been blogging since November 28, 2007. 

What started as this internal need to express things to an unbiased audience has morphed into something else.  My blog is where I ponder, where I explore, where I try to figure out who I am and who I will turn out to be.  I’ve opened up my world to complete strangers, and in return have been invited into others’ worlds as well.  This thing we do – blogging, we do it to gain insight, to feel less alone, to make connections with other people who get it.  It’s deeply personal and has become a part of who I am.  So, why then can I not share this part of my life with those who really know me?  My family, my friends – they are completely and totally unaware of this little piece of me.

I remember the night I told my husband about the blog.  We were out to dinner at one of our favorite places.  While we sipped our wine and waited for our table, buzzer in hand, I blurted out “I have a blog.”  I’d kept it secret for a few months, and the secretly practically exploded out of my mouth.  I was afraid he’d be mad or offended that I’d started this venture without his knowledge, but instead he surprised me by being inquisitive about it.  “What do you write about?  Who reads it?  Do you write about me?”

So, while he knows about it and has a general understanding about what it’s all about, he doesn’t know where to find it.  I told him I’d tell him if he really wanted to know, but that – to be perfectly honest – I would feel censored.  So he agreed to let me have my privacy.  And in return, I promised to never write about something that would be damaging to our relationship.

Last night, as I skimmed through Twitter and send tweets to people I’ve never met in person, I had a thought.  I’ve kept this part of me a secret from my friends and family for 805 days. 

Figuring then was as good a time as any, I sat down to talk to B about the Bloggers in Sin City meetup.  I’d mentioned it in passing a few times, but I hadn’t yet expressed my desire to attend.  I broached the subject carefully.

“Remember when I told you about the blogger meetup in Vegas?”

He looked at me, a little squint forming in his eyes.  He knew I wanted something.  So he grinned and said “vaguely.”

“I really want to go.  I mean, sure, I’m nervous.  After all, I’ve never met these people before.  We’re friends on Facebook and we chat on Twitter and we read all about each other’s lives, but we haven’t met.  And I’m not as deeply engrossed in the network as others are, and sure, I might feel as though I were an outsider going in to all of these already-formed friendships.  But I really, really want to go!  So, if I figure out a way to pay for it, can I?”

In the end, after talking a few details, he surprised me again by agreeing that it would be ok for me to go if I figured out how to pay for it.

And then, my 805 day old secret smacked me in the face.

So, this is the (mostly) anonymous blogger’s predicament.  When you decide that you want to do something like this – attend a meetup across the country with people who your friends have never met, let alone enough KNOW OF – how do you explain? 

And, if you’re like me, and would like to be honest yet still retain your privacy, how do you (politely) express the desire to keep your blog to yourself?

And finally, if you’re planning to attend the meet-up, let me know!

I never claimed to be an optimist

Have you ever woken up one morning and thought “I might as well go back to sleep because today is going to be epically shitty?”

I’m having one of those days.

Call it gut instict or a self-fulfilling prophecy, but when I woke up this morning, I was filled with a sense of dread.  And it’s not PMS.  I’m cranky, tired, bored and filled with anxiety. 

I picked a fight with B this morning.  He’s been bugging me lately – lots of it has to do with the fact that I waited on him hand and foot after his surgery and I can’t remember the last time he did anything nice for me – a compliment, an unexpected kiss, a card.  I feel really underappreciated.

Smoke is coming from the hood of my car.  I’m pretty sure I have a leak, as my parking spot had a huge wet spot underneath my car yesterday, and my coolant keeps running low.  Fantastic.  Yet another car repair. 

I stopped for coffee this morning, and while attempting to get back on I-95, a tractor-trailor cut me off and forced me onto the shoulder just before a bridge.  It was hellish trying to get back on the road, and in the process I spilled piping hot coffee on my legs.

They say bad things happen in 3s.  Does this mean I can sigh with relief knowning that this day can only get better from here?

Tell me, when you’re having a shit-tastic day, what do you do to pull yourself out of your funk?

Quarterlife Crisis v 2.0

Oh, how cute was I back in 2005?  22 years old.  Just graduated with honors.  Finishing up an internship in advertising and marketing.  Thinking big things and looking for big money.  I had a full-blown, bona-fide quarterlife crisis, wherein I questioned everything:  my worth, my potential, my bank account, my love life, myself.

Everything fell completely apart before it eventually fell together.  Things settled down.  I found a job (albeit, one I hated with the fire of 1,000 burning suns), health insurance (even if it was totally shitty) and my boyfriend and I managed to stay together.  A few months after it all became calmer, I looked back with a laugh and thought “Thank God I escaped that fiasco!”

Oh, how smug was I back in 2005?  If I could, I’d stare down Stacey of 2005 and then slap that smug, contrite bitch in the face.

Because now?  Staring down 27?  Now it’s on like Donkey Kong: Quarterlife Crisis v 2.0.

Picture this:  Last week, while at work, I was struggling to catch up from a few days off.  My husband had just had surgery to repair a pretty ugly hernia, and I was coming off of two days of grueling nurse duty.  I hadn’t slept much, and my work to-do list was beginning to look ugly.  I didn’t so much as glance as TMZ.com or check my Gmail account for fear that ONE! MORE! THING! would find its way onto my desk.  So I divided and conquered.  I made that to-do list my bitch and I got it all taken care of.  Then it all blew up spectacularly in my face. 

Something in my head kept saying “The road to hell is paved with good intentions”.

I went home on Friday feeling utterly WEARY and EXHAUSTED.  I had a friend over for dinner and I drank four (FOUR!) glasses of wine.  When I woke up on Saturday, I decided to sit down and enjoy a little bit of television.  And it was there, on my couch in my living room, wearing my black yoga pants and a sorority t-shirt from 2003 that I had an epiphany. 

I am not fulfilled.

Sure, I’m happy.  I have a roof over my head, enough money to pay the bills and eat well, a loving and hilarious husband, and pets I adore.  I have friends who care about me, and a pretty awesome shoe and handbag collection.  But other than that?  It’s just not enough.

I struggled with that realization, while my husband was in another room watching SportsCenter.  So I decided to do the right thing and be honest with him.  I walked slowly toward him, carefully phrasing my thoughts in my  head.

He looked up from his latest issue of Men’s Health, took one look at my strained face and said “what’s wrong?”

I sat down in front of him and let it all come flooding out – this is not enough for me.  I am worth more.  I want adventure!  I’m tired of this town and it’s chains.  Don’t you want more for us?  I know we could have a more fulfilled life somewhere else!

I was surprised to hear him say that he agrees.

“Sure, babe.  This is not what I pictured for us for FOREVER.”

Ahhh.  The utter feel of relief.  We’re on the same page.

So, in a nutshell, we’ve decided to make some pretty brave changes in our lives.  The completely manic side of me says “oooh, let’s move!  Boston!  Or Philly!  Or Charleston!  ANYWHERE BUT HERE!”  The more logical side of me says “But there’s things to consider:  like friends, family, and our house that would need to be sold.”

You know, all those things that are stressful enough to shatter your dreams into a thousand, tiny pieces.

But I’m going to start small:  research places I’d love to live.  See what the job market there is like.  We’re going to make some much needed updates to our home, on the off chance that we’ll be able to sell it faster than seems feasible.

So now friends, I ask you:  Have you ever had a Quarterlife Crisis?  And also, what cities do you love that you think I should look into?

Another goodbye

She woke up in her sister’s house and checked the clock: 6:17 a.m.  Climbing out of the covers, she reached over to ruffle the dog’s fur.  She stretched her legs over the side of the bed and put on her slippers.  January 13, 2010.  Another day, another funeral.

They drove to the funeral home, chatting along the way.  Mostly they talked about their family and how many people have succumbed to cancer.  This one – their uncle – died from a heart attack brought on by the flu.  He was older, sure.  But his death was unexpected.

She looked around the room, seeing her mom’s brothers and sisters.  These people are like strangers to her.  She thinks to herself “which one will die next?  Will I ever see these people again?”

She sits near the back, standing up to hug relatives she hadn’t seen in years.  Each time, they said to her “We haven’t seen you in forever – my, how you’ve grown.”  Then, inevitably: “We hear you got married.  How’s married life?”  She put on her best smile and said “It’s great.”  Then she’d sit back down and check her phone, noticing her husband still hadn’t called.

The pastor spoke of her uncle, saying “He was a family man, and he kept family close to his heart.”  She watched as her family cried for their loved one – a husband, a father, a grandfather.  The pastor advised all in attendance: “Stay close to your family.  Support your family.  Keep family foremost in your heart, like he did.”  She sat between her two sisters – the nice one, the crazy one – and thought “sometimes, a wedge is driven so far that there’s no going back.”

Later that night, as she drove 170 miles home, she checked her phone again.  Still no calls.  She drove on, thinking of her mom, her dad, and all the other family members long since gone.

Her tears fell, unseen and unheard by anyone.  Her heart ached for understanding and compassion. 

Her burdens are too great, her baggage is too heavy.  There is no one to call who will possibly understand.

She turned her phone off, wiped the tears from her cheeks, and drove on.

How to waste a vacation

This has been my first full week back at work since Dec 14 – 18.  I had a much anticipated two week vacation at the end of December.  As it turns out, there’s lots of things you figure out after two weeks with pretty much no major responsibilities.

1.  You will not clean your house “from top to bottom” as planned.  No – instead, you’ll do a cursory cleaning of the bathrooms, and a little light dusting.  Then you’ll call it a day and move on to other activities.

2.  There should be plenty of time to do the following:  organize photos on laptop, download new music, call all your bill companies to notify them of your name change, paint the living room, organize your closets.  Sadly, it’s funny how none of that gets done.

3.  There’s only so much tv you can watch.  No, SERIOUSLY. 

4.  You will consume four – FOUR – bottles of wine.  By yourself.  You will also gain 3 pounds.

5.  Cooking three meals a day is so overrated.  The time spent washing all those dishes is a waste!

6.  No matter how much you love him, inevitably, at some point your husband WILL get on your nerves.

7.  You will be so hungry for human contact that you will go to the grocery store.  You will browse the aisles slowly, taking in other people’s conversations – just so you hear ANYONE’S voice other than your own or your husband’s – or that of your dogs barking.

8.  Sleeping in is not possible.  Even while on vacation, you will wake up at 7 a.m.

9.  There is no point in showering when you don’t have anyone to see.

10.  Pilates?  What’s that?  And where in my schedule do I fit that between incessant channel changing, magazine reading, and napping?

As it turns out, I was more than ready to come back to work after those two weeks off.  And, just as I expected, this week has drained me of my will to live.  Thank God it’s Friday. 

Now where can I get a glass of wine?

So long, 2009. It was – umm, rough – knowin’ ya.

Hmm.  Hello there. *peeks around the corner, finds blog, and blows dust off of it*

Sorry for just up and disappearing for 2+ weeks.  It’s just that I was on vacation, boycotting Christmas, swearing at the radio (which still played Christmas music after December 25, thankyouverymuch) and generally being a grump.  I guess you can say I was “in a funk”.  So.  I got drunk with my funk and decided to forget about life for a while.

But I’m back now.  And I would just like you to know - I AM SO HAPPY that 2009 is over.

It’s not that it was a bad year, it’s just that – well, it was a long one.  A recessiony one.  A broke one.   So I’m more than happy to give it the middle finger and say “nice knowin’ ya!”

January should have been my cue that things weren’t going to be easy.  After all, Cookie developed seizures and our heater broke.  Then my oldest sister decided to regress to childlike behavior. 

In February I turned 26, and almost lost my relationship with B.  The only thing I could do was apologize and resolve to not be such a stupid, careless idiot.  Luckily he forgave me and we managed to put the pieces back together.

In March I got down to the wedding nitty-gritty and attempted to pick out bridesmaid dresses.  Cue annoyance and frustration.  B got one awful case of the flu, which also showed me that I might not be such a bad mom after all.  We got the news that two of B’s uncles died within a week. 

In April, I found myself struggling with the fact that my brother won’t speak to me.  The control freak in me found it necessary to find a way to control friendships, so I decided to come up with some rules for how you know a friendship is toxic.  And I tackled the hardest (for me) wedding problem:  flowers.

In May, I learned that weddings really do bring out the crazy in friends and family.  Then, I unexpectedly ran into my former step-sister while running wedding errands.  Needless to say, the event was uncomfortable and left me feeling angry. 

In June, I dealt with my feelings towards B’s mom.  Coming to terms with the fact that we will never be close (or even get along) was hard to deal with.  Then I had a bit of a breakdown from stress, leading me to say screw it to everything.  After a couple of days, I confessed that my life is far from perfect and sort of explained where my head was.  Finding myself thinking a lot about where I am now, and naturally, where I started out, I reflected on home and what it means to me. 

In July, I tackled the topic of tact among friends while discussing money.  I also discovered that I’m pretty conservative in regards to it (perhaps the only thing I’m conservative about at all).  Later on, while thinking more and more about my upcoming wedding, I reflected upon my brother, yet again.  Finally, I learned that I cannot control what happened or what he chooses, but I can decide to let it go. 

In August, I revealed my name and joined Twitter.  I dealt with office politics.  I faced a little bit of cold feet.  I found my ex-stepMONSTER on Facebook.  I struggled to find faith – in myself and in my future. 

In September, I decided to join the Day Zero Project.  It gave me an outlet for cultivating growth and positivity, and something to focus on after my wedding.   

In October, a friend who I’d given up on came crawling back.  I found myself struggling with what to forgive and what to forget.  I celebrated my impending nuptials with an awesome bachelorette party. 

In November, I struggled to relax admist all the last-minute wedding prep.  Then, four days before my wedding, I decided to take one last look in the rearview mirror at my childhood, and let it all go.  I got married.  And it was beautiful.  I went to Cozumel, and waited to find out if I still had a job.  Luckily, I did. 

And finally, in December, I found out that as soon as you get married, everyone wants to know when you’re going to have a baby.  I came to terms with my fear and ambivalence, and decided that it’s ok to be unsure of when we will be ready to be parents. 

So, see?  2009?  Kinda rough, but also kind of awesome.  First of all, I married my handsome, hilarious best friend.  I uncovered a little bit more of who I am and what makes me tick.  I changed my last name and gave up on the childhood regrets and bitterness. 

More than ever, I’m ready to take the world by the balls.  I’m ready for new experiences, laughter, and steps in the right direction.  And that’s more than anyone can ever ask for.

To baby or not to baby? That is everyone’s question.

So.  We’ve been married for one month today. 

You know what’s great about life as a newlywed?  Lots of things:  I can’t stop calling him husband, or giggling flirtatiously when he calls me “wifey”.  It really does feel different.  I’m more in love with him than I’ve ever been.  We finally feel like our own little family.  We have lots of friends that support us and call us “Mr. and Mrs.”, which I can’t get enough of.  We still reminisce about the wedding day.  We’re happy.

You know what’s not so awesome about being a newlywed?  ALL THE QUESTIONS.

Are you keeping your maiden name?  Are you filing joint taxes?  Did you combine your bank accounts?  Does your husband want you to quit your job now?

First of all, whoa.  Second of all, mind your own business.  And finally – really?  What is this?  1955?

But the one question that really, REALLY gets under my skin and also kind of makes me nervous?

WHEN ARE YOU GOING TO HAVE A BABY?

(And when someone asks me that, it really does feel like that – all bold and caps lock-ish.)

I kind of feel like sitting back, taking a big motherfucking sip of my wine and saying “you know, not that it’s any of your business, but – wait, yeah – it’s just not any of your business.”

I know people mean well.  I know they are just curious.  It’s just whoa.  Like, all of a sudden, because we finally up and got married and made this relationship legal, it’s like the next thing we have to do is hop into bed naked and seriously make a baby. 

And it’s all around me.  Girlfriends getting knocked up.  Having cute kids.  Kids that I love and adore.  Kids that I like to give back to mom and dad when they start to cry.

And this is all to say – sure, I’d like children.  Definitely one.  Maybe two.  Probably not anymore than that.  I know that I really want a girl, so we’ll try again if my first is a boy.  But you know what?  I’m just not ready.  Neither is my husband.  We’ve talked about it, and we both agree that we have other things we would like to do first, and we’re fine with that.

But deep down inside, part of me wonders – do I just not want a baby now or do I never want a baby?

Here’s the thing.  I know I’m going to be the most miserable, frustrated, cranky pregnant person ever.  I don’t like feeling bloated.  Or nauseous.  And I hate it when I have PMS-y symptoms like sore breasts.  I have a minor case of scoliosis that causes a lot of back discomfort naturally, so can you imagine adding baby weight on top of it?  I do not want to get fat.  Or swollen.  I don’t look forward to “pregnancy mask” – I am too old for zits.  And the worst thing?  (You know, besides the weight gain and possibility of hemorrhoids – yuck!)  YOU GET TO FEEL LIKE THAT FOR 40 WHOLE WEEKS.

And then, the baby comes and it cries.  And you don’t know what it wants.  I don’t even know what colic is, let alone why it’s so awful.  If you want to breastfeed (and trust me, I would – formula is damn expensive!), you have to deal with leaky breasts when you least expect it.  Plus, babies are super expensive.  And that would get in the way of my shoe and handbag addiction.  And you can forget about spontaneous after-dinner drinks with the girls.  Or impromptu shopping trips “just because”.  Because seriously, babies take a long time to get ready for things, and they require a massive amount of shit to accompany them anywhere.

Sure, there are lots of things about babies that I love.  They are cute.  And when my best friend’s son gives me hugs and kisses, I practically melt into a puddle inside.  They’re funny sometimes.  And snuggly.  And they smell great.

So that’s why I’m a little nervous.  I know that I’m not ready now, but I’m not sure that I’ll ever be ready.  And I don’t know how I feel about that.

The reception

Looking back at our wedding, all the other brides were right:  everything happens so fast – it’s all a blur, and then it’s done.  You sit there stunned when it’s all over, and think “did that really just happen?”

So where we left off last – the ceremony was over. 

We took pictures with our families and our bridal party.  As our guests milled about, getting drinks and eating appetizers, I looked around to see who was there.  And the one person I didn’t see?  B’s mom.  So in between shots, I asked him what happened.  He said she didn’t come – she gave him some lame excuse about not being able to make it.  He didn’t seem that bothered by it.  But I was relieved.  Not having to deal with her meant that I could really have fun and not stress over an awkward encounter. 

We entered our reception to “The Way You Make Me Feel” by Michael Jackson.

(I’m still awaiting the digital version of photos from the photographer, so these are the best I can show you right now.)

We were seated at our sweetheart table in front of the fireplace to eat some appetizers and have a drink while people got settled at their tables.

This picture was taken by a friend while set-up was being done.  The tables are missing their runners, which were a damask print – black on white.

A centerpiece and table number.

Then it was time for table hellos.  We made our way from table to table, greeting the people who had come to support us.  I grabbed a glass of water (I was extremely dehydrated!) and mingled about, talking to friends, family, and coworkers.  Eventually, we were seated to enjoy our salads.  Then, it was time for the first dance.  We danced to “Only You Can Love Me This Way” by Keith Urban, and neither one of us particularly enjoyed being in the spotlight for more than three minutes.  But, it was sweet, and B whispered sweet nothings into my ear to make me laugh.  At one point, he stuck his butt out and shook it, then played mine like a guitar.  I think everyone enjoyed a little bit of humor in such an emotional moment.

We were seated again to enjoy brie en crute with raspberries, poached asparagus, goat cheese, crackers, bruschetta and crab dip.  Everyone was served their entree (I had the steak pasta with gorgonzola cheese and roasted tomatoes – B had the chicken marsala).  I enjoyed being at a small table alone with B.  It gave us a chance to speak privately and marvel over the day’s events.  From time to time, people would come over to our table to say hello and tell us how beautiful everything was. 

After dinner was over, I was more than ready to hit the dance floor.  We got it started with “Just Dance” by Lady Gaga, and then it flowed into a medley of other hits, some of which reminded me and my girlfriends of our college days!

There was so much dancing and laughing and toasting.  I was encircled by my girlfriends during some old-school Madonna.  We danced to Shout! and I got as low as I could in my wedding dress.  I laughed as I watched B get raised up in the air by some family and friends, then down a drink.  And at one point I caught him staring at his wedding ring with a huge smile on his face.

Then, before we knew it, it was time for speeches and cake cutting.  My two maids of honor went to the front, looking nervous and one of them took a quick swig of her red wine before starting.  They said lovely things about their friendship with me, and of B and I as a couple.  Then, at the end, my favorite moment:  they thanked him for always taking such great care of me, and for always being “the man among women”. 

A friend of B’s, not his best man as the original best man dropped out, stood up to give a speech.  He was holding the microphone upside down, so everyone laughed and corrected him.  But then, he gave the absolute best speech I’ve heard.  He started off by saying that he met B hanging upside down ten feet into a hole.  Their jobs involve this on a daily basis.  He went on to talk about friendship and having someone to pull you out of your darkest holes, and that he was lucky to have that in B, and that he knew that B would do a great job of doing the same for me, and of taking care of my  heart.  I’d managed to not shed a single tear all day, but that just about ruined me!

After hugs and cheers, it was time to cut the cake.  I just knew I’d end up with cake on my face, and I did!  I begged him not to, claiming “it will ruin my makeup!” but he didn’t care.  And in the end, I didn’t either.  There was a moment where I went in to carefully place cake in his mouth and changed my mind and stuffed it up his nose.  We laughed and kissed to cheers.

I finally grabbed a glass of champagne and enjoyed it thoroughly, before going to the bar to grab a second!

And, faster than I ever saw it coming, we started to close things up with the bouquet toss (to “Single Ladies” by Beyonce, naturally) and the garter toss.  My best friend’s mom caught the bouquet!

And luckily, my boss had left by the time the following happened:

I just absolutely love the look on my face.  I’d asked him to be nice, but he IS a man!  And he’d just behaved so well during the entire day.  So of course, as “Shook Me All Night Long” by AC/DC came in, he went in to remove my garter, with his teeth.

Our friends and family formed two lines on either side of the doors and sent us off into the night.  When we reached the truck, we found it decorated by my two maids of honor.  Gifts were piled high in the backseat, and we made our way to the hotel.  We met up with some friends in a room to chat and hang out with those who we didn’t get to speak much to at the wedding.  I had a glass of wine and B had a few beers before we made our way to the suite for the night.

And, most humorously, our night ended as I never would have expected – with B passed out on the bed, and me in a robe, professional makeup, and earrings, eating a to-go box and cake, watching Bride Wars.

When we woke up in the morning, I rolled over and kissed my husband good morning, and pulled back the curtains to let the sunshine in.  We’d done it.  It was all over, and it was an amazing relief.  Now, it was time to go home and pack for the honeymoon!

The ceremony

We were led through the door and down a shaded path toward the gardens.  I could hear the music playing and the sounds of anxious people waiting to see us make our appearance.  I heard laughter, sniffling, murmurs, and shuffling about.  I could hear the click-click of the girls’ heels as they made their way down the sidewalk.  My coordinator was holding the train of my dress and helping me make my way toward the arbor.

All of a sudden, I started to sweat.  This happens to me when I get really, really nervous.  First, my palms got wet.  Then my cleavage felt damp.  Then – oh no! – my armpits.  Oh God, what do I do now?

My bridesmaids gathered in a group near the arbor, and a couple started to cry. 

My coordinator said to me “Are you ok?  I have to leave you here, by yourself now.  I’ll be right up there instructing the girls on what to do.”

“Yes, I’m ok.”

I started to walk in small circles, fanning my armpits.  So classy, Stac!

Then, all of a sudden, I remembered to look up.  The sky!  It was gorgeous!  A mixture of light blue, orange, and gold.  I couldn’t help but smile and think “a miracle”.

The girls looked chilly, but I was hot.  Excruciatingly hot.  I continued to walk in small circles, fanning my body with my bouquet.  I was thinking about a lot of things – my mom and my dad mostly. 

The music changed to “Brighter Than Sunshine” by Aqualung.  That was the girls’ cue to get moving.  One by one, they walked off, through the arbor and down the path, each stopping to smile at me, standing by myself, all by myself, ten feet away.  And then, for about ten seconds while they waited for each girl to get their spots, I had some time to myself.  I said a quick prayer (“Lord, help me not to trip and get completely muddy.  Please let me make it there without doing the ugly cry.”), adjusted my dress and veil, and waited for my music to start.

When it did, I was fine.  Better than fine, actually.  I was happy, overjoyed even!  I didn’t feel the overwhelming urge to sob.  Sure, I wished my parents were there, but I was ok.  I walked carefully down the steps to an instrumental of “Bittersweet Symphony” by The Verve. 

I marched down the aisle by myself, smiling at the assembled guests, taking only a few glances to appreciate the aisle decorations.  I could see B standing at the end, a huge smile on his face.  He was all I saw in that moment.

When I grabbed his hand and stepped up to greet the officiant, he gave my hand a squeeze and said “damn baby, you look sexy!”

The attendants closest to us started to laugh, as did I.

Then, we began.  Our officiant said lovely things about trust and love and fate.  About the coming together of two people as friends and lovers – a team for the rest of our lives.  I could hear sniffling and the soft sounds of crying coming from the audience, but as for us?  We were beaming.  When it came time to turn and face him, I handed my bouquet to my friend and grabbed his hands.  He looked genuinely ecstatic.  He squeezed my hands – a little too hard.  I laughed and said “relax!”

We exchanged vows, saying the most important words in our lifetime – “I do.”

Then, as quickly as it began, it was over.  When the officiant said we could kiss, B backed up a little and motioned for me to come closer, then pulled me in for an embrace and a butt grab.  In front of everyone in attendance!  We kissed about five times, to many applause.

If you look closely in the above picture, you can see the geese starting to take flight.  They flew off right as we were about to kiss!

We turned to face the audience, finally taking in those who came to show their support.  I saw my sister crying and smiling.  I saw coworkers.  I saw friends.  I saw tears and smiles, all proclaiming love for the two of us. 

The music changed to “Beautiful Day” by U2 and we made our way back down the aisle, saying hello to loved ones along the way.

Then, just as we were about to cross back under the arbor, I put my head on B’s shoulder and said “we did it!  We finally did it!”

And it wasn’t until days later, that I finally started thinking about that long walk down the aisle by myself.  I was seriously shocked at my lack of tears or fear or sadness.  Those were probably the only moments in my life where I’ve felt sheer and utter happiness.  And then I had a thought – maybe I wasn’t really all alone.  Maybe I was guided down the aisle by my two guardian angels – my mom and dad.

Next time – The reception, with more photos!

Waking up as a bride

When I woke up on my wedding day, it felt like any other day.  I wasn’t nervous.  I didn’t feel sick.  I wasn’t worried.  What I was?  PISSED.  It was still raining.  Sure, it had slowed to a drizzle, but the sky was grey and depressing.  It was just too much disappointment for me.

Regardless, I had shit to do.  So I slowly rose out of bed, took a shower, dried my hair, packed up my overnight bag, and kissed B.  He was still sleeping, and he looked so cute.  I put on a pretty, white button down shirt and jeans.  I wanted to be comfortable but cute.  I went to the dining room table and painted my nails a lovely shade by OPI called “Lift The Veil.”  A pale, subtle pink – it just looked bridal.  I’d gotten a manicure two days before, but go figure, it chipped all to hell.  So there I was, 7 a.m. on my wedding day, painting my nails.

My MOH who was supposed to pick me up at 7:00 was running late, as per usual.  Grunting with dissatisfaction (we’d discussed the need for her to BE ON TIME), I sat impatiently, waiting for her to just show the fuck up already.  Slowly, people in my house started to rise from their sleep.  First my niece, who was coming with me to my other MOH’s house.  Then her boyfriend, then B’s brother, then B.  As my MOH finally pulled into the driveway, I grabbed my suitcase and bag, and started to head out the door.

“Where’s your dress?” she asked me.

OMG I almost left without my dress and veil!

I quickly grabbed my dress and veil from the closet and started to pack the car.  B came with us to help load everything up.  And just as we start to get all the dresses in, our husky jumps into the car, on top of the dresses, in the process spilling coffee everywhere.  It was a mess of dog, dog hair, coffee, and everything else that he tracked in on his dirty feet.  Resigning myself to the saying “something always goes wrong” I just threw my hands in the air, pulled the dog out of the car, kissed B and put on my seatbelt.  It was literally out of my hands at this point.

We headed to the salon to get our hair done.  I had not one, but two, mimosas, before I realized that I’d left my veil at my MOH’s house.  Sending her back for it, I noticed my cell phone was ringing.  Seriously?!  Why can’t anyone just leave me alone on today of all days?!

It was my sister – the nice one.  She’d just finished up breakfast with our other sister – the bitchy one.  It was very clear that she wasn’t that happy for me, in fact commenting that she couldn’t believe I hadn’t asked my sisters to be bridesmaids.  Seriously – one of them is 11 years older than me, in her late 30s.  The other is old enough to be my mother.  She’s 19 years older than me.  Bridesmaids?  Are you kidding?  We had a good laugh about her general insanity, and I got back to the task at hand – getting ready for my wedding day.

After paying the bill ($90 for my up-do), we headed out the door and back to the house.  My makeup artist and the other two bridesmaids were arriving.  I sat in the chair and had my face done, then scarfed down some food.  I remember eating half of an “everything” bagel with veggie cream cheese and 2 small biscuits with some chicken salad on them.  So much for avoiding carbs!

I thought we’d have plenty of time to relax, but when you have one bride, five bridesmaids, and a mother of the maid of honor in the same house, everything kind of gets fuzzy and rushed.  But I looked around and noticed how beautiful everyone looked.  And when one of the girls asked me if I was nervous, I said no.  I really wasn’t.  I just couldn’t wait to get there and get everything started. 

I took one final look at myself in the mirror before we walked out the door.  With my hair pulled back, makeup professionally applied, and the longest set of false eyelashes I’ve ever seen, I looked positively bridal.  I looked calm, serene even. 

We loaded up the car, yet again, and made our way to the venue.  But first, we had to fight a tiny bit of traffic, and we’d left 15 minutes behind schedule.  This is just the way things work.  I’m the only person I know who is always on time, and when I put myself in someone else’s hands, I can’t always be on time.  I’m on their time.  So I had to do something I don’t do very well – sit back and relax.  Thanks to my MOH realizing how nuts it was all making me and deciding to speed the whole way there, we managed to get there only a few minutes late.

I stopped off at the reception hall to look at everything, and even with it only half-way set up, I was in amazement.  It looked beautiful and way better than I ever could have hoped.  Then, my cake got delivered.  Everyone OOHed and AHHed over it.  I mean, see for yourself how gorgeous it was:

Bottom tier: chocolate with raspberry filling.  Middle and top tiers: almond with chocolate bavarian creme filling.

Then it was time to get ready.  We made our way to the dressing room, which was tinier than I was hoping it would be.  But no worries!  We popped a bottle of champagne and I sat down to write out a card to B.

Before I knew it, our coordinator was delivering a card for me from him.  And try as I might not to cry, it was pointless.  He started off by calling me the nickname he gave me years ago (Toots), then said how happy he was to be marrying me.  Then he wrote some other things that put my card to shame – things so sweet, I couldn’t bare to share it with anyone.  Things meant only for my eyes, things best left between a husband and wife.  Here we were, 10 years after first getting together, thinking we knew everything in each other’s hearts.  And here I was, left speechless by his love for me.  I couldn’t believe how lucky I was to be marrying him.

After some picture taking, I glanced at the clock.  4:20 p.m.  We were set to leave and begin walking to the garden at any moment. 

Our coordinator showed up with a huge smile on her face and said “Stacey, the sun is out!  All of a sudden, the clouds just broke and you won’t believe it when you see it.  It’s gorgeous out there!”

I grabbed my bouquet, took one last look in the mirror, and made my way out the door. 

Next time:  the ceremony, with pictures!