The 12408 hour wedding

The final chapter

2012-10-03T22:04:00.001-07:00

Today. Today marks the 1 month to go mark. This time in approximately 720 hours I’ll be almost smack bang in the middle of having tied the knot. And I’m in total denial about it. I feel like if I admit to how close it is, I’m going to lose my shit again. As much as I want to marry my Fiance, the love of my life, I know that I’m really going to miss this process.

The best way I know how to describe the feeling, is when you’re reading a really good book that you can’t put down. Late nights spent reading in bed, when you can’t keep your eyes open but you can’t bear to put the book away mid chapter. A bitter sweet feeling as the equilibrium shifts the moment you cross that half way point, you have read more pages than you have left and although you’re eager to get to the end, you’re also acutely aware that ‘the end’ is nigh as the pages become thinner and thinner. The book you’ve become so attached to, the characters that have filled your psyche for a duration of time, will be finished, closed, and stowed away. Until you find a new book.

So that’s where we are at. We’re speed reading through this last chapter, the most exciting and eventful one of all. Lots happening and lots to do. How easy it would be to go off the rails now, but we’ve come too far. Just have to keep it together for a little longer.

Fiance remarks at how calm I appear. I don’t know how to respond. I think I’m hibernating in my own anxiety. Perhaps I’m removing myself from the process as a way of shielding myself from the impact of its impending absence. There could be numerous psychological explanations for how I’m currently feeling. Truth be told, I’m actually a little exhausted. I think the shoe episode really took it out of me.

It may also be that RSVP week has just closed. Mostly without a hitch, besides a few, last minute broken relationships that have thrown a spanner in the works for some guests scrambling to replace their ‘plus ones’.

Back to my clever book analogy, I have actually come to a conclusion of sorts. We actually need very few things in order to solemnize our nuptials. I need 1) a groom b) some rings c) a celebrant d) a couple of witnesses. That’s it. The rest is totally incidental! And I have those things. So we’re pretty much sorted. And that, beloved readers, is just how far I have compartmentalized my real thoughts.

My dress, an incidental, is almost finished after a brief fitting yesterday, cut short by my spontaneous and completely out of the blue, little moment of weakness in the legs - to this end I believe I was thoroughly talked into by the crazy dress lady. She gave me a red snake and made me sit down and drink water from a purple plastic wine goblet while she fanned me with my train - definitely a moment I won’t forget anytime soon.

Once I had been extracted from the dress and been somewhat composed, it was time for another lecture on nutrition. Although this one was different from the last, “what not to eat”, instead “what TO eat” to maintain the cm’s in the final few weeks whilst dealing with “nervy tummy”. For those playing along at home, the bride diet plan for the last few weeks leading up to the wedding consists of the following:
Breakfast – porridge and banana
Snack – a strawberry and coconut milk smoothie
Lunch – a “nice” Chicken and Hommus sandwich
Dinner – Some nice organic chicken with some lemon and some coconut oil.
Snack – coconut oil. Cook with it, eat it on its own, bathe in it.

So much more than just a dress shop. I think it’s a sort of verbal disclaimer for them in the event that you continue to lose weight, struck down with nervy tummy syndrome and ruin the fitting of the boning and therefore rendering your dress non-couture.

Plenty of excitement to be had in the upcoming weeks, and I’m likely to forget the things that I’ve been meaning to share with other brides to be, or just single chicks that might get married one day. These are things that no one tells you, well no one told me, and although it’s nice to be on your own journey of discovery, here’s a heads up on a few things anyway:

1.    The bit of your left finger, closest to your hand, is actually quite a fatty area. If you lose weight, your finger will lose weight and you’re engagement ring will become loose.
2.    Tiffany’s want 21 days to clean and polish a ring. Albens Master Jewellers will do it in 2 hours.
3.    Don’t expect to ‘feel’ a certain way when you find your dress.
4.    Don’t expect to ‘feel’ a certain way at any point apart from desperate to marry your best friend.
5.    It’s best not to have to many expectations on anything at all, take it as it comes and deal with it in the best way you know how.
6.    No one cares about your wedding as much as you do. Get that straight from the start.
7.    Bridal shoes are ugly. In general, stay away from anything that gives itself the ‘bridal’ label, it’s going to be old fashioned and overpriced. You can find a pair of earrings that will be perfect without getting them from the ‘bridal’ section. That’s where all the shit, ugly stuff lives.
8.    Surround yourself with a good team of suppliers and trust them to do their job.
9.    Not everyone understands RSVP date. They just don’t. Be prepared for this.
10.    Have a makeup trial and a hair trial early. Don’t leave it until the last minute.
11.    Remember at all times that you only need a few ingredients to actually make It happen, it’s about you and your Fiance embarking on a beautiful new chapter together.

So as we are hurtled into the remaining weeks, I’m going to take some of my own advice, stop being a serious slow learner, stay safely inside the bubble and maybe never come out. Oh, and stock up on coconut oil.

To be continued….

Tiny Bogans, trials and tribulations

2012-09-06T06:23:00.000-07:00

Ahem. Hi. I see it’s been a while since my last blog post. I know I harp on about it, but seriously? September? Really? I feel like we're in some kind of cartoon when something magically appears or disappears like magic with a little ‘poof’ sound and a cloud of smoke and everyone left behind just stands there with a look of disbelief on their face. If I’m completely honest with you all, I actually started writing this post in August, early August, so I apologise in advance for the disjointed ramblings to follow.

Things that have materialised since last blog include:

-          Invitations and most returned RSVP’s
-          Bonbonniere gift tags
-          Wedding bands
-          A shoe order
-          A small problem with alcohol
-          A small family drama

Things that have disappeared include:

-          My sanity
-          Time, oh dear john, so much time
-          A few packets of mint slice from the secret office stash

Amongst other things…

I believe some, if not all, of the new things have largely contributed to the disappearance of those items on the second list. See previous post re: paperjams and juxtapositions . Oh, and the alcohol problem may have been a pre-existing condition but there was a definite flare up.

I’d like to point out at this time, that I’m fine again, mostly back to normal after what was quite a spectacular mental breakdown. Like, I completely lost my shit. I can’t really pin it on one particular thing that brought it on, and I definitely didn’t see it coming but boy did it come, really in the space of one particularly busy and irritating afternoon at work. Possibly wasn’t helped by the decision to blow off the gym and spend some quality time with my old friend - red wine, in conjunction with an offsite meeting, also of the particularly irritating kind.

Anyway, like I said, it came on quickly, and by the time I’d hopped in my car and left work to the time I’d driven to the petrol station just a couple of minutes away, the waterworks had started. From that point on I pretty much became on emotional wreck, stood there sobbing, in the rain while I filled up my car with its premium unleaded.

I cried the entire way home in a hysterical sobbing sort of way, not even caring about the sideways glances I was getting from the cars stuck in peak hour traffic next to me. I need a sign that I can just put up in times like those: “Meltdown in progress, feel free to stare but approach with caution.” A loyal BM met me at home after receiving my distress call, interrupting my flailing around the house trying to disguise my horrid, blotchy face. We agreed that my face was not a quick fix and headed for the nearest wine bar with a dim and ambient atmosphere. I cheered up for some time and we ate and drank some wonderful morsels and drops, but, after much prodding from BM to “just lose it, just fall apart!” I very much obliged. By the time I went to pay the bill, the tears were again involuntarily running down my cheeks, provoking a very polite and cautious “are you ok?” whispered from the waiter. “She’s fine. She’s getting married,” offered BM. “Oh.” Came the response like that was a completely acceptable excuse for my irrational, persistent and very public falling apart spectacular. Getting married = behave like a complete dickwit and get away with it 100% of the time.

To this point, I had diagnosed myself with mild bubble invasion. Remedy: get the f back in the bubble, repair puncture and reinforce vortex, carry on, and never, never leave bubble ever again. Ever. Totally realistic way of dealing with things I know.

Anyway, a lot of time has passed since that little bump in the road, and we (me) are now seriously considering our strategy as the finish line approaches (and much more mentally stable). Will it be a sprint finish? Or more of a controlled, relaxed stroll with perhaps a bit of skipping thrown in as a testament to our pure delight as we revel in the lead up.

Truth be told, we have certainly had a few little hurdles to overcome in the last few months. Definitely nothing major, but somewhat significant to an emotionally fragile poppet bride. Now we are through it for the most part, I can look back and wonder what all the fuss was about.

A trip down south for a hair trial resulted in mild panic after a cold roller set was applied in order to achieve a ‘glam’ look as opposed to steering my “dry and porous” tresses down a more boho path – not me (according to this complete stranger).

The scene, set in the ghetto part of Busselton in a home salon, involved a small child, recently returned from a trip to the tip with his father. We were unsure whether they had gone to the tip to dispose of things or in order to acquire some new possessions, but after the hairdresser told me the best places in the South West to hang out at bulk rubbish collection time, we had more of an idea. We were given another clue when the child beat down the door to the salon, bursting with excitement to share with his mother the new addition to the toy pile. A small rocking chair complete with foot stool. A demonstration of just exactly how the chair rocked ensued, and the small child instantly revealed himself for what he was. A tiny bogan. Any doubts were quelled when BM ventured into the main residence later to use the loo and came across the tiny bogan, perched at the kitchen bench eating dip, for lunch. I imagined he would subsequently adjourn to the living area to practice the art of reclining in his new street verge chic, mini rocking chair, imitating the behaviour of his father whom BM suggested bore an uncanny resemblance to the serial killer guy from Wolf Creek.

Needless to say, the trial was less than a resounding success. I would need to be finding myself a new hairdresser with 3 months to go. What do they say about the best laid plans?

Anyway, time has moved on, stress levels have fluctuated and I’ve landed myself an awesome replacement hairdresser who totally ‘gets’ it.

The shoes have now arrived. As have some other bridesmaids bits and pieces with packages arriving daily at reception and most of the admin staff predicting the intended recipient of the package before the courier has uttered my name. In fact their complete outfits are now ready to go. We just don’t know if they fit yet. My dress is currently in production with the calico toile having now been fitted, accompanied by a couple of stern lectures about weight loss and diet. That’s the thing about a couture dress. It’s made to fit. Exactly. No room for any weight loss or weight gain. As per my previous post, at an initial dress appointment/interview it was expressly stated to me that I had 3 months to get to my desired weight/shape. I did lose some weight, I think (mostly from the boob area – awesome), but after having made the mistake of mentioning it to the girl at my measurements appointment, I was going to have to pay more attention to what my body was or was not doing. I made some fly away comment about eating/not eating which she picked up on straight away “Have you lost weight???” she snapped? Caught off guard by her violent outburst I stuttered “I – I – I I don’t know? Maybe?” “Well are you stable now??” came her reply. “Ummmm, yes?” i really wouldn’t have a clue, my body does what it wants. I can exercise religiously and have the cleanest diet ever and put on but tuck in to the secret biscuit stash at work on the daily, and exist quite happily on the red wine diet and appear quite boney. Body and I have a mutual agreement, it does what it wants and i do what i want. We live together happily and harmoniously like that without causing each other too much grief. “Well”, dress lady continued “stay away from creamy pastas. And coffee.” I looked at her in disbelief, it may be a little too late to be giving me diet tips love considering a) I’m a 30 year old woman and b) I’ve already exceeded my time period allowed to me by your boss to get into desired shape! So this is it and you’ll have to work with it! She then added the exceptionally helpful advice “although chocolate just seems to go straight through you when you’re getting married...” F’in SWEEEETTT. Mint slice here I come. Music to my hips! Ha. Luckily I have chosen a dress that is slightly more forgiving around the problem areas just in case all that chocolate doesn’t happen to “go straight through me”.

All in all the last few months have probably been the most difficult since Wedding arrived on the scene. Stress does come into play and it effects all of us in very different ways. I’ve discovered I’m the one who has it all under control, which I do. And now I’m not sure if I’m actually stressed because I’m stressed or if I’m stressed because everyone is expecting me to be stressed. I’m just not sure. In fact it’s quite fortunate that we’re almost there with the planning, as I’m beginning to lose all ability to make a decision at all.

So much has happened that I know I just really haven’t done this blog justice. You have missed out on some very important and funny stories but I just don’t have TIME to fit it all in. I promise I will endeavour to be more punctual with my blogs in the remaining months. Yes MONTHS. As in 1 and a bit.

All I can say is that those of you out there who know an impending bride to be. Look after her. She is fragile even if she won’t admit it. She won’t ask for help. She doesn’t need help. She needs compassion and understanding and a packet of chocolate biscuits.

Paper jams and juxtapositions

2012-07-04T06:41:00.001-07:00

Well this might just be it peeps. I’m starting to doubt if I’ll ever have time to blog again before the ‘Big Day’ as everyone has started referring to, well, the big day. Things have well and truly spiralled out of control, as I knew they would from the minute we crossed the six month threshold. We’re now staring in the face of 4 months to go. 4 measly months.

We’re well and truly into the ‘fun’ stuff now, the nitty gritty, and still getting that same panicked reaction from everyone I meet, when they ask “when is the wedding?” and I reply, “November.” And they reply, “Wow, that’s soon!” The worst is when you get that reaction from prospective suppliers, partnered with a sort of grimace on their face like and that noise that goes with it like “Sheesh (insert grimace) (pause for effect). Soon. (stern face).” Oh come on! It’s not that soon! I’m not the lady looking for her wedding dress 9 days before the “big day”. Everything is absolutely 100% totally ON TRACK!! Woooooo.

To be honest, I was starting to get a little incey bit panicked for a while there. Not sure why. I think it was that other invisible line of end of financial year, starting to book things in at work for August, September, October….yeah it gets really real.

Also, I have been rendered completely incapable of having a conversation with anyone at all which does not somehow end up with me making it about, well, me and the wedding. I know I’m doing it, but I can’t help it. And I know it annoys everyone, I can sense their eyes glaze over (if we are face to face) or the sudden lack of eye contact as they busy themselves with something, anything, else. If we are on the phone, it’s an audible eye roll and a bit of a sigh, like here we go again. I’m sorry to all my friends and family for this, I can’t help it, and I don’t expect it will improve. So either avoid me at all costs, or suck it up. You have been warned.

I have busied myself making the ancillary parts to the invitations; info sheets, rsvp cards, hand drawn maps and labels while I await the arrival of the pièce de résistance letterpress. The most beautiful pieces of paper I have ever seen in my life, which had me close to weeing my pants (along with the bridesmaid dresses) as I made that amazing discovery a few months ago.

During this process, I discovered a few things about myself. As I ran back and forth to the big printer in the office, trying to execute some sort of convert operation, I realised that, firstly, I was starting to lose the plot. Not helped by the fact that I fucked up more than once with the upside down back to front issues involved when one is double sided printing. Oh yeah, and that’s only after I had already printed and guillotined at least half of the little buggers without remembering I was meant to double side print first. Bah! Admin migraine ensuing.

Also not assisting in any way, was the fact that every time I selected print from the manual feed tray and then proceeded to sprint (in highish heels) to the printer just 5 metres away to load the paper and then wait for the printer to ‘warm up’ and then usually fail to detect the paper at all and have a small meltdown, that the State Manager would curiously extract himself from his glass office and more often than not end up standing directly next to me, wondering why his memo hadn’t printed. Me, a fairly hideous liar at the best of times, more than likely had the most pained look on my face as I attempted to hide the fact that I was not only wasting company resources but a fair chunk of my time as well as I loitered for minutes at a time around the hunk of old crap printer, waiting, watching and randomly jabbing at unresponsive buttons that did nothing, NOTHING, to expediate the process.

Oh hang on, here we go, choom, choom, choom, yay! Printing. Beep beep beep. Oh shit. Paper jam. Why does the paper never jam when you’re just doing run of the mill work stuff? In my experience, it only ever jams when you’re doing personal shit. It’s like work ethic gods cursing you from their ergonomically designed chairs up in work ethic heaven. Damn you work ethic gods, gimme a break. I need to get this shit done while the boss is eating his stinky tuna and salad.

Enter paper jam from hell. A Marketing Manager, a Receptionist later, some heavy labour involving separating the printer bit from the paper feederer bit and smashing them back together at least ten times, the paper jam debacle is over. Enter next debacle – guillotining. I didn’t go to admin school. Instead, I wasted a large portion of my life chasing down some interchangeable, elusive dream of which a pre-requisite was a pretty useless university degree. It taught me nothing in the way of practical skills that would one day, unbeknownst to me, be a fairly major pre cursor to making your own ancillary invitation bits and pieces! Short story, guillotines are the quickest way to lose your mind. They’re usually as blunt as bat shit and after I had spent countless minutes trying all manner of ways to calculate and formulate a way to create a straight line, it is just not possible. Not possible.
Admin is not healthy, everyone that is not highly trained in this discipline should stay away, especially brides to be. Don’t do it. There are people that can help. It’s not worth it.

Ahhhh.

Then, we decided to go suit shopping. A task that had been pushed aside, neglected and bumped at every opportunity. Needless to say, it wasn’t at the top of Fiance’s to do list, and it would be like “yeah we’ll do it when we get time. Oh look this weekend is reallllly busy - we have to sleep in, get coffee, make breakfast and watch TV. Can’t fit it in. Maybe next weekend?”

So we finally found the time to go. We just kind of breezed our way into the city. I had done some initial research of course but, given the time lapse, I had misplaced my piece of paper in amongst all the shoe clipping (which have largely taken over my entire life). So the first stop was the only stop that I actually knew of off the top of my head. Problem. Closed . Couldn’t get near it. Shittety do da, shittety da, my oh my what a shittedy day, not many suits coming our way, shittedy do da, shittedy da.

Ok google (still unsure how people existed without it) show me the way! Great, one suit shop in town I have heard of even remotely, has to be in the tardus arcade which no one, not even someone who spent a year working in it (me), could ever find there way around with its tunnels and levels that make no sense. Somehow we managed to find the food court on level 3 and the shop conveniently located opposite to it, even though the shop number would have it located on level 1, phaseII. Anyway, in between discovering some sort of snot like substance on my dress, and talking to the most helpful suit expert ever, turns out Fiancé could literally click his fingers and make everything simple. First suit he tried was perfect. Done. Shit, it’s really that easy?

So, after a few high fives, and in my complete and utter disbelief at how the random snot got onto my dress, we decided to have another crack at wedding band shopping. Fiancé, still coming off his suit finding success, waltzes in with an air of confidence, and within 10 minutes, we were signing up for his gorgeous wedding band to match. OMG. So deliriously happy. Not only have we just ticked two major things off the fiancé to do list, but this man has just singlehandedly and effortlessly, brought me back to a more peaceful wedding planning reality… and way of life…peace is restored and life is again as it should be. For now.

Time and shoes

2012-06-21T05:58:00.004-07:00

So it appears that Fiance and I have now entered something known to those in the bridal business as the Wedding time vortex. This scenario applies really only to those bride and grooms to be who had previously entered a voluntary state of wedding hibernation. The down time has been nice. There was a period there – albeit brief, where we just got to sit back and bask in the highly organised, not to mention sweet, loving glory of engagement. That time is now is a distant memory, as we transition into the “holy shit where did the time go” phase.

The “holy shit where did the time go” or HSWDTTG phase is not something that comes in peace. It is like a version of some kind of commando personal trainer who yells a lot. I don’t like people yelling at me. It alarms and disarms me. In saying that, HSWDTTG did kind of creep up on me, but in an obvious way if that makes sense. Looking back, the best way for me to describe it, would be reminiscent of playing hide and seek with my niece and nephew. After I count to ten, twice, he goes to hide but usually in the same place that I had hid previously or in an alternative but still fairly visible hiding place. Although I can pretty much see him straight away, I pretend not to for a while, until my niece comes bouncing alongside me nearly bursting at the seams with excitement, frustrated with my inability to see the obvious nephew, if I ever ask “where could he be??” she usually tells me. Straight out. Like “Where is Oscar? I can’t see him anywhere!” Izzy: “He’s over there!”

It’s sort of been the same with wedding. Although most people I have spoken to over the last few months have done the obligatory check in with the wedding plans, it has never been in an invasive manner or enough to jolt me out of my wedding slumber and into motion again. It goes like this, them: “How are the wedding plans going?” Me: “Good.” And we move on to other things. And it’s been like that in my mind too. I think of something or see something, acknowledge it, and then put it away on the wedding shelf in my mind. Well, I think the shelf got full, or something was put on awkwardly, because a couple of weeks ago, everything came spilling out and down and now it’s really all in a bit of a mess.

I can’t recall the single moment that set everything (back) in motion but everything sort of started to happen at once. Correspondence with the Celebrant, booking a hair trial, starting to think about invitations and then the kicker, ordering the invitations. Well, for someone to print details on your invitation, you kind of need to know them. Of course, we knew the venue and the time and the date. We also have a bus booked. But it was the small things like wishing well v gift registry and rsvp collection and self addressed stamped envelopes that really got things moving. Now my personality tends to be a little bit on the addictive side at the best of times, add to that a good portion of easily distracted and well, that’s me in a nutshell. A very crowded, dizzy, creative space that lacks cohesion at times but seems to have a nice, hard exterior that keeps it altogether. So I’m the nut. I’m probably most like a walnut. Pretty tough shell to get through, weird looking on the inside with all these different chambers that all branch off in different directions.

Anyway, so I get set about finding a Gift Registry. Although we have lived together for pretty much the entire duration of our relationship, give or take a few weeks at the start and then a couple of days in between that were complete torture (sorry MOB), we seem to find ourselves quite the traditionalists when it comes to gift giving. It’s a precarious little issue. Some people can be offended to be asked for money, but some people prefer it. So we’ve toed the line on this one. It stems from that feeling of giving gifts ourselves. Everyone is different and you want to feel comfortable and happy with the process of giving a gift, should you, of course, choose to give one at all!

Oh god, how could I forget? That in between all this craziness, a honeymoon was being planned, booked and partially paid for!! That, my friends, is a whole other story in itself but got pretty stressful and unbelievable there for a short time. One word of advice to those thinking of booking a European Ski Holiday Adventure/Honeymoon – Get. In. Early. And start saving. Now.

And with that, I got sucked up into a big, fat wedding cloud. Invitations got ordered without any major hiccups besides a fat looking letter ‘B’ and a similarly strange looking ‘D’. Made two variations to the offending B and D and then settled on the first option.

Spent two, ok maybe three, days browsing through some amazing gifts on the registry. Decided that most of our guests wouldn’t be too keen on gifting us a $700 luxury quilt set. Spent another two days choosing more appropriate gifts. Looked at some shoes for bridesmaids. Got distracted by the Tiffany’s website to find gifts for bridesmaids. Decided that they would be ok with me not buying them a $5000 bracelet. I had my first go at delegating something! It worked well and I thought I might try it again down the track. Looked at more shoes. Bought some paper for rsvp cards. Changed my mind about it in the car on the way home. Had an amazing idea for place cards. Started designing place cards. Changed my mind about them the next day. Remembered we haven’t organised wedding rings yet. Re-tiled our bathroom. Looked at more shoes. Filled out our Notice of Intention to Marry. Found some really lovely ideas for vows. Put ticks on a page next to order of ceremony. Spoke to the bus people about pick up locations. Got freaked out about jewellery. Got over it. Shoes. Emailed the florist. She didn’t respond within two days. Followed up florist. She responded. Decided florist is amazing. Grouted the bathroom. Rang wedding dress people to make sure sample dress would be around at the time of the measurements fitting. Started to freak out that my dress hasn’t even been started yet. Got over it. Got introduced to someone as “getting married soon”. They asked when. I told them. They said “oh wow, that is soon.” Ordered a hair accessory.

Yep, it is soon. It seems like there is still a lot to do, but to be honest, If my main concern is shoes, then we are doing ok. Things will start to fall into place in their natural order and I know I can do it all without an Excel spreadsheet telling me what and when. I’m very proud of that.

Shedding for the Wedding

2012-05-31T06:07:00.005-07:00

Every bride dreams of her big day from a young age. Somewhere, a long time ago, a younger version of me planted a wedding seed in my own head. The little seed came with preconceived inherent ideas of what Wedding would be like, what we would eat and, of course, the dress. Poor, little, innocent BB had no idea what was really in store when the seed finally came to fruition and exploded in my head.

The last couple of months have been a bit of a crazy whirlwind. Milestones are flying past at break neck speed. We’ve past the six month to go mark and in a couple of days, we reach our one year Engagey anniversary. As soon as we reached the 6 month mark, time seemed to speed up. I’m almost at the point where I can see a big Masterchef clock counting down in minutes and seconds above my head wherever I go. The Wedding train is well and truly hurtling towards us and, whilst I’m still enjoying the ride, there’s not too many more stops left before we will arrive at our matrimonial destination. Add to this overwhelming, super powered time vacuum, a new player has entered the game.

Engagey was first, my darling Engagey, so young and fun, of course we have Wedding who has been present throughout, and now we have the Moon. The Moon has been loitering for some time, existing more as a vague and fluid concept rather than something with real presence. But once Moon arrived on the scene, it certainly asserted itself in an undeniable fashion and firmly entrenched itself in our lives. Moon is amazing. It holds such promise for both of us and, at times, can overshadow even Wedding. More on Moon another time.

http://shine.yahoo.com/love-sex/brides-8217-extreme-wedding-preparations-nose-tube-diet-173800919.html

But the issue at hand is one I’m sure is quite common amongst most brides. We gotta whip that bridal booty into shape! Must start “Shedding for the Wedding.” For me, the moment took place over 6 months ago, in a time filled with excitement and joy - the day I found my dress. Sitting in the boutique, listening to the lady explain the details and the schedule of the dress making process, the exultation and jubilation soon turned to anxiety when she suddenly stopped, and asked me one simple question... “How are you feeling at the moment?” Easy! “I feel amazing! Overjoyed! Super excited!” I replied. “No, love….how are you feeling? As in about yourself.” Now, say this out loud whilst looking in a mirror, peering down your own nose at yourself. With a slow glance up and down that sears through your clothes and leaves you naked, ask yourself “how are you feeeeeeeeling?”

Suddenly, I felt stripped and vulnerable as my self-esteem started to seep slowly from my being. In that look she gave me, that slow scan of my body - she could see every lump, bump and dimple, she could smell the calories I’d consumed at lunch, and she immediately knew that I was a girl who was partial to a good meal and great wine, not to mention the occasional beer. I looked at MOB for support, reassurance that I hadn’t been living in some parallel universe where I was a fatty boomba. She looked back at me, sensing my panic, she understood what was going on, and gave me a nod of encouragement. Eventually I replied cautiously… “Good?” now completely unsure if that was the right answer. Well, I was good. Now I feel like shit. Ha.

“Do you plan to lose much weight or perhaps just tone up?”
“I’m not really sure…I guess I’ll tone up a bit.”
“Great well we can give you until July to do what you need to do before we take your measurements. Is that enough time for you?”
“Yep.” Shit.

So, 6 months down the track, I now have 1 month left until July when I need to walk my svelte, toned self back into that boutique for another round of ego battering. Can not wait. The problem is, how the F do I do it. I’m already quite an active person. My week looks a little bit like this. Monday 5:30pm - freestyle Spin class, Tuesday 6:00pm - RPM, Wednesday 5:30pm - Ashtanga Yoga, Thursday 5:30pm – RPM, Friday 5:00pm - Pump. Add to this, brisk walks or runs with two very lively Staffy’s 7 days a week, rain, hail or shine. There’s even the occasional Saturday morning run or another class thrown in there. At one stage, I was doing double sessions, hitting the gym up at lunch time or walking through the park when the weather permitted. I got tired of that pretty quickly.

Then I stumbled across a story about a woman who had stuck a feeding tube down her nose in order to shed a few unwanted kilos before her big day. OMG. This is pure insanity. It involves the “patients” carrying around a solution in a bag, which delivers fats, protein, and water (no carbs) through the nasogastric tube into the stomach. Patients consume about 800 calories a day, and no actual food ever passes their lips over the 10-day period.

source: http://shine.yahoo.com/love-sex/brides-8217-extreme-wedding-preparations-nose-tube-diet-173800919.html

A doctor speaking out against this idiotic diet put forward some alternative solutions for a quick weight loss: “Why not a medically induced coma/anesthesia for weight loss?” he wonders. Why not a10 day cocaine binge? Which he suggests would work just as well, and probably be more fun.
So, whilst every bride wants to look amazing on her wedding day, it could be that last chance to show off a hot rig before it is wreaked havoc upon by childbirth or a job in administration, coupled with a stubborn metabolism that shows no signs of ever getting back to those carefree, eat what you want, nothing will happen days.

But guess what? A skeleton in a big, ill-fitting dress is not pretty, sexy or beautiful. Like marriage itself, maintaining a healthy weight is long term, there’s no quick fix, and no cheat sheet that doesn’t come without kidney damage, headaches, dizziness, vitamin deficiencies and dehydration.

Yesterday I had two chocolate biscuits.

The thing is, there’s enough to stress about other than how many calories are in a cup of green tea. The last thing anyone is ever going to think of the bride at her wedding is that she would’ve looked soooo much better carrying a little less junk in the trunk.

Bridal Olympics

2012-05-02T03:54:00.002-07:00

The last couple of months of engagement have been blissful as our little life carries on pretty much on track. This is what we wanted, the time to sit back and enjoy just being engaged. Not that there is a lot of ‘sitting back’ going on. As I said, life continues on its own trajectory, and we find ourselves pretty preoccupied with day to day life at the moment. However, there is a sense of looming for me. It’s coming.

As the time ticks by, the milestones are reached and things continued to be metaphorically ticked from the list, it feels like Wedding is building swell, a mega force, and I’m caught in the undertow as it drags me out to sea, quietly and peacefully.

I find myself in quiet moments, at times, absolutely terrified of the magnitude of the task and the occasion ahead. In a few days time, we’ll find ourselves at the 6 month mark. That’s 6 months to go. 6 months is such a short time when converted to wedding hours. And even though I’ve earnt myself the tag of ‘relatively organised bride’, I’m apparently not in the upper echelons of the ‘ultra organised bride’. Which sounds distinctly like a challenge to me. About time I stepped it up a notch.

It’s funny that no matter where you are, or with whom, Wedding is always a popular and familiar topic of conversation. Just today, while at a training course with a grand total of 3 people, I struck common ground with both other participants on the topic of bridesmaids dresses. One lady told me her daughter had recently become engaged, opening up a plethora of conversation topics for the duration of the 3 day course, the other – a bridesmaid herself, caught deep in the midst of (seemingly not unusual) bridesmaid dress angst. At work, my boss is attending a wedding in a few weeks time and is quite close to the bride and her planning process. We have some friends who are getting married just a week before us, so wedding chit chat and the exchange of experiences and feelings to date is fairly prevalent whenever we get the chance to catch up. I have an old colleague that has recently become engaged and is scrambling to organise a wedding by October. She likes to contact me via Facebook to ask me all manner of wedding planning questions ranging from quite specific to very random. Add to this, the thousands of people we come into contact with over the course of each week, who are already married and relish the opportunity to impart their own wisdom and experience, regardless of their connection to myself or fiancé. So, even if I wanted to escape from the wedding mania, I can’t.

While we’re on the topic, I’ve decided that wedding planning should be a sport in the next Olympics. I’m ready for London if they’re keen. Even better, it should get an Olympics all of its own. The Bridal Olympics. You have to agree, it would be a spectacle filled with fierce competition from brides to be, who are in well and truly under the influence of acquired situational narcissism, battling it out for the best venue, best DJ, best dress, best flowers, best honeymoon, bridal waltz, bonbonierres, bridesmaid shoes, hens night, etc.

Of course, everyone thinks their wedding will be/was the best and that’s completely 100% understandable, that’s how it should be, but I’ve certainly come across some brides who are particularly aggressive and somewhat standoffish at the same time when in the company of another bride to be. I’m sorry but I just don’t get it. There’s plenty of weddings to go around, and the only thing you should be worried about, is that you are totally in love with yours.

I recently asked a friend of mine if she had experienced a similar thing when she was in the bride to be boat over 4 years ago. She said she didn’t really have any immediate friends getting married at the same time as her but that she knew where I was coming from. She said she had felt a similar thing from married woman, who would ask her how the planning was going only to turn their noses up and make disapproving noises and accompanying faces when she replied, not what they did/had, and so, therefore, not the best she could do.

OK, I’m not completely innocent here. I can’t say I haven’t raised an eyebrow or two when I’ve been privy to the details of the impending nuptials of my acquaintances that weren’t 100% to my taste. It’s hard not to judge when you’re so deeply entrenched in orchestrating your own dream day. Of course, tastes and budgets differ and that’s absolutely fine. It’s when someone steps up the plate to question my vision that I start to get a bit irked. Especially when the person in question is a) not a close friend b) very very different c) unaware that they are very very different and persistent in trying to play the game at a higher level than their intelligence and skill will allow. This particular person came to me for advice, somewhat at a loss of where to start, as all BTB’s can understand. At first I felt humbled by her plea for help, that she chose me to come to for advice, she must’ve heard about my ‘relatively organised bride’ ranking, word had spread, I get that. First things first, I told her she had to start with a venue. It was to be the cornerstone for the rest of her planning, especially since this particular case was dealing with a tight timeframe. I was sceptical she would find one in such a short time but she replied almost straight away. “Found one!” Hmm, this instantly aroused my suspicions. Booking a venue in Perth 5 months out? Obvs onto a winner.

As the conversation continued, she asked if I would share a sort of checklist with her, to make sure she had covered off “all the main things” in her initial jottings down/ripped out to do list from her ‘Cosmo Bride’. Of course, I obliged, more than happy to share my tailor made spreadsheet with her. I questioned leaving all of the figures in there, what does it matter if someone else knows my budget? But decided to take out the cost of a few big ticket items, including my dress. Luckily. Her response came moments later… “You’re paying over 4K for a photographer??????” Oh dear. Deary, deary me. Oh dear. Thank god I took the price of the dress out. You see, I wasn’t dealing with a knowledgeable bride to be and I don’t know her well enough to have a category for her but I soon realised that if we were in the Bridal Olympics, she would be in the Special Bridal Olympics. A completely different event altogether, and it would be completely unfair for me to compete with her. Of course I would win, but I soon realised weren’t on a level playing field.

This was despite her best efforts to try to get me to later send her some pics of my bridesmaids dresses so she could “get some ideas. Don’t worry I’m not going to copy them.” Unfortunately, right at that moment, our server crashed and I was unable to send her the entire blueprint and game plan for our wedding for her “not to copy”.

She continued on over the subsequent days and weeks with more questions as to the progress of my planning and asked if I was ‘stressed’ amongst other things. I replied in earnest, telling her that I was loving the process and that I had recently had a marvellous realisation that I was falling in love with fiancé all over again, caught up only in the fact that soon I would be standing side by side with the man I love, looking into his eyes, and pledging a lifelong commitment. And that honestly underpins every decision I make for wedding from this point forth. I play our selected bridal waltz song every now and then, and it sends me crazy with excitement. I can now see the day clearly, how it will be and, most importantly, my fiancé will become my husband. She assured me she agreed and felt EXACTLY the same, that when she thought about her fiancé, she felt all “mushy”. Hmmm, mushy. Not exactly the words I would use (ever) but that’s it. That’s the essence of the whole thing. No matter what you’re budget, you’re timing, or how badly you’ve been ripped off by your photographer, the thing that all of us have in common is the feeling of excitement at beginning the next chapter with your favourite person. In the meantime, it’s game on bitches.

Red, i see red, i see red, i see red, i see red.

2012-03-29T06:48:00.001-07:00

Find a heart that will love you at your worst, and arms that will hold you at your weakest. I think I have found that heart and it’s definitely got two of those arms attached. I feel extremely lucky and blessed. I can whole heartedly say that now that Engagey and Wedding are on the scene, I have magically fallen in love with Fiance all over again. Perhaps it’s being surrounded by cake and flowers all the time that does it. Who knows. But as Wedding hurtles toward us at break neck speed, it pays to take some time out to reflect on the relationship, what it means now and what we are in for post wedding.

More and more these days we are faced with friends and loved ones in the midst of relationship dramas. Add to this the seemingly never ending stories of friends of friends and complete strangers alike, going through whirlwind marriage break ups to rival even that of Kim Kardashian, you have to wonder where and why it all goes wrong.

I don’t know if I’m just ultra sensitive to it given my current state of wedding mania but it seems to be nearly weekly that I’m hearing of a called off engagement, a quickie divorce, or simply the breakdown of a long term relationship. Although I’m guessing it never ‘simply’ at all.

Did these girls go through the same thing I’m going through? Experiencing overwhelming feelings of love for their partner combined with an insatiable desire to make them happy forever?

Lord knows no relationship is easy. Times get tough and arguments get had. That’s just a given when two people share their life, bed, breakfast etc. If we were all the same, that life would be insanely boring. And I for one am an absolute stickler for a good argument. I love it. I find one of Fiances most frustrating traits is his inability and therefore resolute refusal to indulge me one single out and out screaming match. It drives me crazy. The moment he senses an difficult moment is brewing, he becomes a clam. I become a fierce dragon and he becomes a clam. A smart clam that knows anything he says will be twisted and manipulated and misconstrued just to maximise the ferocity and duration of precious argument time. Well I have news for you my molluscular companion, you’re friend Ronan Keating is wrong this time. You don’t say it best when you say nothing at all, at all. You say it worst when you say nothing at all. Your silence is fuel to the fire. But still, I have to pull out all the stops and come out with some outrageous, embellished statements in order to extract any kind of response from him. But usually it’s just silence. “JUST FIGHT WITH ME GODDAMMIT!!” I am going to make chowder out of you.

I have sneaky strategy, based on building the pressure slowly. I guess it’s a bit like fishing. Start with a little bit of bait. No bites. More bait. No bites. Maybe throw some fishy burley in to encourage a bit more action. Hmmmm. Be patient, he will bite eventually. Hide the hook so he won’t see it coming, frame the argument in such a way that he will no longer be able to maintain his stubborn silence. Because we all know that silence does not constitute any kind of defence. Argue your innocence. It’s the only way through this. You know what? Fuck it, I hate fishing, don’t have the patience for it. I’m going in for the kill, time to ramp this baby up. So the pressure builds in the form of ridiculous, conniving remarks now crafted with one goal in mind. Bang. I’ve broken him down. He finally responds. But it’s always in this preposterous, high pitched whingey voice and the words tumble out of his mouth so fast that the punctuation and the oxygen is left behind. Words spilling over, drowning me in outlandish decibels. “OMG – shut up!” Fiance’s second most annoying trait. But it is effective. Mission accomplished. I do not wish to pursue the argument any further for two reasons; a) I’ve already won b) the noise and the speed of said noise is so unbelievably irritating, I’d actually prefer the clam treatment. Sometimes it’s actually hard to keep a straight face after the squeaky speedy argumentative fiancé appears.

Some other soccer wags and I have discussed perhaps introducing a card system into the house, much like those used by the referee during a match to warn and discipline offending players. After years of careful observation, it seems that once they’ve fouled on the pitch and aroused the attention of the ref, they undergo this amazing transformation into the nicest guy in the world, instantly showering the opposing, downtrodden player with affection in the form of hugs, back pats and hand shakes. “Sorry mate, sorry, I’m sorry – you right? Didn’t mean to hurt you mate. Come here and give us a hug. You right? You’re alright. See ref, he’s fine. I didn’t do anything wrong ref. Let me explain to you what happened.” The biggest production ensues to try to convince the ref they didn’t mean it, it was an accident. It usually doesn’t work and the ref flashes his yellow card in their face, regardless of their Oscar worthy performance, at which point they skulk off muttering obscenities under their breath. Yellow means you have been naughty and if you do it again you can’t play anymore. Two yellows equals a red. Red is bad. There is no coming back from a red. Red equals sin bin to go and think about what you’ve done. Sometimes, if you’re really naughty, you can get a red straight away with no yellow warnings.

source

So, as long suffering wags, I could see how this method could be more effective than my current argument inducing strategy. You’ve pissed me off so you get a yellow. Cue pleading and begging for forgiveness (as per above) . Yellow cards trumps a clam. Or if it’s really bad, no argument, red card, get out of my face. Or maybe just get out. Which leads me to believe that perhaps a few red cards have been involved in all these break ups lately. Whether they are the result of a single act or the culmination of several yellow card warnings.

Every relationship needs a few yellow cards now and then, but repeat offences are not tolerated. Anyway, the yellows in our house are largely infrequent and mostly for made up offences. The moral of the ramblings today is to maintain an acute awareness of where you are both at, all of the time. You have to keep checking in and checking up on the health of your mojo. It's so precious. Ignoring it will make it go away. People change and people grow, keep rediscovering each other and grow together. Be conscious that it is probably not a fairy tale. It’s not meant to be. It’s having a hand to hold tightly along the journey, a hand that is attached to the arm that will hold you at your weakest which is powered by that heart. The heart that will love you at your worst.

with a bit of a mind flip, you're into the time slip...

2012-03-06T04:41:00.002-08:00

Hi. This is awkward. It’s been a while. It’s not that you haven’t been in my thoughts. You have been. Every day. Ok, that’s a lie, maybe every second day. If not once a week. God it’s been forever hasn’t it? I feel like such a bad blogger. Like I’ve abandoned you. Like I’ve abandoned myself. Because, at the end of the day, this really is nothing more than a self indulgent monologue. So really, that’s a good thing. Like I haven’t needed to have a chat to myself. Pah, as if. I talk to myself all the time. I have the BEST chats with myself. Until I get annoying. And then it’s back to awkward, nothing more awkward than the moment you realise you’ve pissed yourself off, nowhere to hide from that.

OK truth be told, I’ve got another excuse. I’ve been growing my nails, which makes typing a little difficult, which in turn makes me thoroughly question my need to blog. So please excuse any typos from this point forward. Nails.

I can tell you that Wedding is progressing in leaps and bounds. I’m actually growing weary of people asking me how the wedding plans are going as I can’t remember the last time I laid an actual finger on the wedding plan. Other than that time I glanced at my budget with overwhelming confidence that it was completely and utterly under control. Eek. I hate money. Actually no, that’s ridiculous. I love money, but when it’s in spreadsheet form showing money spent against money owed, and one amount is disproportionately higher, money gets a bit tedious. When it comes to wedding, I like to say money schmoney. Pfft. Money? Money schmoney.

It’s not like there is an actual blue print plan of wedding. It’s not like a house plan. I like to think of it as a masterpiece in progress. It constantly evolves and transforms itself at every turn/day/mood. It’s always lovely though. It reminds me of a recent episode of ‘Grand Designs’ in which the family was building this sustainable, crazy, amazing house based on the design that lived only in the patriarchs head. The timeframe wasn’t locked in, nor the budget. It was just this thing that they all had to have, the family completely got it, completely trusted in dads vision and that, eventually, he would create something so unbelievable. So, after 5 years they had a remarkable home kind of nearly on the way to being finished and a bit over budget. Meh. Budget smudget.

It’s been nice to have this time to sit back and bask in our betrothal. It’s the whole reason why we chose not to rush the nuptials - to avoid feeling unnecessary stress or pressure. I mean I don’t begin to profess that this process is without its stress, but it’s necessary stress. They are inherently different. But I’m totally in a time slip.

I’m subscribed to a few wedding blogs, one of which in particular is very, very good and therefore tends to become a sort of black hole in the universe for me. I can lose hours on this site. I’ve also taken to getting overly excited by incidentals. And I mean breathless with excitement. Giddy almost. It’s pathetic. But it’s so fun. My Achilles heel at the moment would have to be flower girls. OMG THEY ARE SO CUTE. One day I spent nearly two hours beside myself with excitement copy and pasting random flower girls and emailing them to MOB one at a time. A few days later it was flowers. Poor MOB. I get excited.

The day I found potential bridesmaids dresses? I very nearly wee’d in my pants. I sat in my chair at work almost convulsing with excitement. It can get lonely though. It’s not really a feeling that can be translated to other non-obsessed-by-anything-wedding types. They’ll just kind of glance at it and go “Meh – yeah it’s nice”. “Nice. Nice?” seriously. “Nice? It’s amaaaaaazing, it’s the most gorgeous little page boy outfit/ seating plan/invitation I have EVER seen.” Omg, invitations!? How can one little white piece of card with dove grey writing on it, be so god damn adorable? Ridiculous but its where I’m at, alone. Funny, it has taken me a while to realise how little this means to everyone else who’s not me. It is a very solo project, but that’s ok. I still love it.

I’m only slightly concerned that I have actually lost track of time and keep telling people its 9 months when it’s actually 8. Hopefully I’ll catch up as the day gets closer. I’ll make up the time somehow. Hopefully not in my dreams. The ones where its 4:30pm on our wedding day and we’re not at our ceremony yet and we’ve just realised the photographer hasn’t turned up. No.

To counteract the loss of months, I’ve actually put myself on a new timeline. Wedding will be signed and sealed by September, to allow for other seemingly endless social engagements and activities to overtake that month and the next. So I’ve effectively discounted them from the timeline. They’re gone. So I think I also need to adjust how many hours are left and, in turn, the name of this blog. I’ll have to get around to that later. But there are so many other FUN things to do, like listen to potential ceremony songs over and over again. Seriously, I have three candidates, and I can not split them. Listening to them more, just makes me love them more, and I get a bit teary at times, which can draw some curious attention. Especially when I’m teary in the car on the way to work. People must think I really hate my job to be crying on the way to work. No, no, no, they clearly don’t know me - I usually do that on the way home.

Another favourite past time of mine currently while I’m afforded such luxury, is honeymoon planning. Now THAT is fun. Dreaming of exotic locations where we have nothing to do except be Mr and Mrs, but that’s a whole new story. I promise I won’t leave it so long this time.

love hurts

2012-01-28T00:45:00.000-08:00

Sometimes you need to find the time to just breathe. I’ve found some time today to visit the beach to do some blogging and some breathing, alone yet surrounded by eerily calm activity. It’s early. Early birds seem to be calm, happy people. Maybe it’s because they are still half asleep. I’ve been drawn to the coast today, like an ant drawn to Jackson and Mika’s food bowl. It’s forecast to be 41 degrees today and it’s overcast and humid. I’ve scurried here like an ant with lots of other ants. But the difference is, I’m a waterproof ant.

We're all very ant like at times in our lives. Rushing around seemingly without purpose and without any sense of rationality, always so busy. You never see an ant just chilling out do you? Kicking back, putting his little ant feet up? Unless it’s a queen ant. They get plenty of time to lie about, and that’s probably why they live 2.5 times longer than your regular worker ant. Stress = short life span. So sometimes it’s nice to just breathe, and blog, at the beach.
So, big news. I've had a wedding breakthrough. The dress. Has arrived. In my life. After a long, arduous search, I have found THE dress. Or maybe she found me. It has been a search fraught with the full gamut of emotions and was nothing like how I thought it would be.

The unofficial search began about a day after Fiancé and I became engaged, followed by a couple more serious shopping trips, which although amazing and fun, served only to further complicate and cloud the concept in my head. I purposely left a visit to this particular boutique until other options were exhausted knowing it was going to test the top end of my budget.

The process started with an interview and a full disclosure of how much I was willing to spend before I was even allowed to think about trying anything on. It came complete with a woman who spoke only in adjectives. I'm just beginning to feel like I can speak and write again with vigour after seeing this woman on three separate occasions. She left me drained. I had no adjectives. She had stolen them all from me in some bizarre act of adjective osmosis.

She explained that she would begin by trying on some ‘amazing’ shapes on me so that my body could speak to her. My body would speak to her and she would translate what it said to the dresses and we would have a solution. She was the dress whisperer. Seemed perfectly simple to me, body obliging. Hopefully Jenny could keep her mouth shut in all of this.

A brief was given via my wedding scrapbook. A visual feast of tulle and satin moulded into 'amazing shapes'. Unfortunately, the adjective stealing dress whisperer informed me that the cupboard was essentially void of anything vaguely my concept. They would have to design something specifically for me. She made it sound like they had always intended to create a gown just like the one I was describing, but I know better. I had inspired her. I was her muse.

Just now as I sit here at the beach, breathing and trying to find some peace on the grass under the shade of an old, straggly tree surrounded by no one, a thin lady has sought me out, sitting too close for my comfort talking to the voices in her head. She edges closer and closer to me.

The conversation continues. I guess we all have our own internal commentary but sometimes it makes its way to the outside. Who am I to judge? I sit here documenting my every thought and go on to publish it. The only difference is, mine are consciously shared with an audience. I believe this woman’s public commentary is largely involuntary and is shared with an imaginary audience. I wonder if she was once perfectly sane and then started planning a wedding and lost her mind.
More than likely.

So, as I was saying, I would have to wait for my concept to be designed before I could try it on. So I waited. Patiently.

Nearly a month later, I was back. And this time I was able to try on another amazing shape which very closely resembled the image that had previously existed only in my mind. However, they had been unable to completely finish it in time for my appointment; the bodice was entirely full of pins. I would have to use my imagination and do my best at looking amazing without being stabbed by one of the 235 pins. I succeeded with the first. I didn’t need much imagination, even in its unfinished form, it was clear that this dress was really speaking my language, the translation had obviously been clear. The dress whisperer had woven her adjective laden magic. I was falling in love all over again.

They say that love hurts. Love scars, love wounds and mars. And my dress love was going to hurt me beyond the pins that had stabbed me deep into the upper abdomen during that first fitting. I always like the most expensive things. I don’t mean too, it always just seems to turn out like that. It’s not fair. I very rarely go for it though, usually settling for something more with a more realistic price tag, achieving the same objective. I’d have to do some serious soul searching and book cooking before I could commit to the dress whisperer.

I sought advice from people who had been in the same situation and those who hadn’t. Close friends and family, and complete strangers. The response across the board was largely favourable and I started to feel less sick in the stomach. Fiancé gave me his support, figuring that the acceptance of Dress would give him long term bargaining power to procure things he wanted up to the same value. But I was sleepless and stressed and ant like. An angry, sad, excited, little ant.

As I said, I’d normally continue looking for something more conservatively priced, something less nice which would do the job. But this was my wedding dress we’re talking about. It’s not something you can go back and settle for. Well some can. Not me. Now, after some time has passed I can justify it to you in three or four different ways. My coping mechanisms have kicked in and I’m able to argue strongly in favour of Dress.

Of course, I asked adjective lady what the dress was called before committing to the purchase. She revealed that Dress was so new; she was yet to be named. Perfect. This was music to my ears. Perhaps they would let me name her. She was designed for me after all. I explained that I would purchase Dress if they named her after me. She chortled at the suggestion. My name is obviously not ridiculous enough to name a wedding dress after. I’m sure if my name was Fililaylia they would be more than obliging.

I had returned to the store 2 days later to see Dress in a more finished form before she flew to Sydney. I still loved her. Dress whisperer drowned me in adjectives, “the bow will be just a little bit more…adorable, gorgeous, charming, lovely, beautiful, delicious, cute, amazing, stunning, pretty, striking, perfect, glamorous, elegant etc etc.”

It was her. I’d found her. I don’t get to see her again until July, when my measurements will be taken. This date was determined by the dress whisperer asking me how long I would need to get skinny. She didn’t say it like that but that’s what she meant. “How are you feeling?” she queried. I looked at my mum for the answer. The truth is, I had been feeling pretty good, until then. She assured me she meant nothing by it but simply that it’s common for brides to go on some crazy diet or new exercise plan and end up having to pay for extra alterations accordingly. July was the latest I could go without effecting the timeline too badly. Jenny will be upset. She really has to go this time. At least for 6 months. So it seems no wonder that stress sets in. If I don’t maintain my weight from July – November, I’ll be looking at extra alts and extra $$’s. But it’s not actually as bad as it sounds, we’re talking in excess of 3cms, and I have until July to get where I need to be, and stay there. Piece of cake. Gluten, fat, sugar and carb free cake.

The Bride Stripped Bare

2012-01-17T05:13:00.000-08:00

I should really turn this into a vide blog, or at least carry around one of those little voice recorder things with me. I feel like I’m doing all of you such a disservice by simply relying on my memory and allowing my subconscious and my conscience to edit out the bits that aren’t so amazing. Because anyone who is here or has been here knows it’s not always fun. People piss you off. Sometimes a little bit and sometimes a lot. The degree of which varies depending on the subject and, more importantly, depending on the person and their relative proximity to the event and to your life.

Now, I make no apology for being an over analysing drama queen, it helped me to achieve remarkable results in English Literature at school and would have perhaps made me a very good lawyer in a previous life. In fact, it would probably have made me a very good one in this life also, had I not grown bored after that first year law/finance. I remember when I made that decision to tottle off and study law after my first 2 years studying Commerce at another institution. I was walking down the stairs to my car after a particularly uninteresting something and it hit me. I think I called my mum straight away to tell her the news. “I’m going to study law mum.” To which I received the standard mum reply – “fabulous,as long as it makes you happy.” Well, sorry mum, turns out it didn’t make me very happy at all. Although it would have perhaps made me very rich eventually – at the time it made me very bored and fearful that if I continued, I could count on that being a characteristic of my life along with depression, cynicism and a great deal of stress. That and I couldn’t decide on a specialist area – Commercial Law? Too boring. Family Law? Too sad. Criminal law? Too psycho. I think the ones that continue on to finish their entire law degree, which takes about 15 years to complete in full, with the same mindset as me without any real niche as such end up being those personal injury lawyers that you see advertised on those really bad ads on TV and on the back of the yellow pages.

Anyway, I digress (not like me), but my point is that there is so much going on the in wedding sub plot that is not always visible or acknowledged in the daily rehearsal. It’s the other characters, some of which may not fully understand their role or know the best way to play it. The ones that haven’t rehearsed before or the ones who forget their lines. Sometimes they want a bigger part or more lines. And they all have their own unique story to tell.

But imagine if a movie went into great detail to develop every character and went to great lengths to incorporate each characters story and they all had the same amount of lines to speak. How would you tell who the main characters were? And how would the movie have any meaning at all? At the same time, it wouldn’t be a very interesting movie if you heard from no one but the protagonists.

So not only are you playing the main role as bride and groom in this amazing wedding story, but we also find ourselves challenged with the role of writer and director, confronted with so many sub plots and managing them in the best way we know how. All the while, the undercurrent of wedding is to remain fun and exciting. This is no mean feat when there are so many feelings, sentiments, emotions out of your control that have come to be through miscellaneous unrelated events.

If I can reflect back to the start of this journey, I’m overcome with emotion. The people we’ve met along the way, the conversations we’ve had, the decisions we’ve made – might seem so simple, but has given me deep insight into so much more. I’ve learnt things about myself but more importantly, other people. It’s all about the people, some strangers and some so very close to me. Perceptions, on both sides perhaps, challenged in such a confronting way.

I’ve found allies and support in the most unexpected places and it’s a beautiful thing. Wedding has already given me so much. So many special moments and the provoking of many thoughts. I love every up and I love every down. The downs are where you find the best lessons and the most growth. All of this, AND the best is yet to come!

Down to business...

2012-01-04T05:39:00.000-08:00

It’s been a while since my last post. I have no excuse other than I haven’t quite felt coherent enough to put something together. That, and I haven’t had one particular topic to share with you. Wedding is still very much almost always front of mind, but sometimes other life things get in the way. Not only are we (me) planning a wedding, we are also renovating our villa in preparation for sale later this year, and I’m in the midst of starting a little side venture marketing business. (http://www.facebook.com/pages/Pure-MPRD/254134344649795 for those who are interested!)

The business is much like the wedding at the moment – a work in progress that takes up a lot of my time and energy. In fact, at this very point in time wedding could even regard business as some sort of nemesis. They could be best friends in some other life, but for now, they are very much competing for my attention and I can’t choose a favourite. I imagine that it is similar to having children and being asked which one you love more. You see, I love different things about each of them. In some respects they are polar opposites but they also share some fundamental characteristics. Most importantly, they are both teaching me things.

I have wondered on occasion if I could have perhaps planned wedding in much the same fashion as business. And on occasion, I have mused that perhaps I have in many ways. There has been a loose plan for both, which in time will be tightened up as we work towards some strategic objectives for both business and wedding.

It is a well know business myth that 90% of businesses fail within their first year. More often than not, this failure can be attributed to bankruptcy and/or bad planning. I also wonder if the same principles apply and if badly planned (or unplanned) weddings also fail within their first year. Not a risk I’m willing (or able apparently) to take.

So it’s time to get serious.

Truth be told, I’m actually starting to feel a little anxious. Time is ticking. Driving home from the beach a couple of days ago, it suddenly smacked me upside the head. In exactly 11 months and 3 hours time, I would be walking down the aisle. 11 months. Not a long time in wedding hours. Shit. God. Shit. Refer to this post for a refresher on wedding time: http://www.the12408hourwedding.blogspot.com/2011/11/ceeeeleebrant-good-times-come-on.html

People tell me I shouldn’t be worried, that I have heaps of time and that I appear to be stupidly organised.

Hearing about other disorganised wedding plans puts me at ease somewhat, but it’s short lived when I realise these people are from another planet. I refer to a colleague of mine who is to be married in early March. She is yet to book a florist, spent the week before Christmas buying wedding shoes. She is also hassling my baker extraordinaire FILTB to make her a wedding cake, choosing to place her first call to him in the chaotic last days before Christmas. The thing is, she seems fine. Not a sign or symptom of panic in the girl whatsoever. I do my very best to avoid wedding talk with her as a) I’m not interested, but b) I get stressed FOR her.

As I mentioned though, we’re not very alike. She bubbled over with excitement today, exclaiming how excited she was that she had found her wedding ring in the Boxing Day sales and it was a real bargain. I don’t think Tiffany’s has a Boxing Day sale.

So compared with this girl, I look like the mother Theresa of wedding planning. My wedding will love me forever and her wedding will want to change its name and runaway as soon as it’s old enough. It may never forgive her.

But I still have a lot to do. Even more so since I have reclaimed control over the only 2 things that Fiancé was in charge of. Honeymoon and suits are now back on my list. Leaving him to organise…well...nothing. Apparently his proposal was his one and only contribution to this process. I guess that deserves some credit.

Fiance occassionally throws around names like control freak, but his plans so far for organising his suit etc, well, there aren't any. His idea was just to let the guys wear whatever they want. So, thats a no. Control freak or not. I know he just says things like that so I will take over, but it works. Little shit. The honeymoon we can work on together, but after a brief meeting with Fiance’s Swiss uncle over Christmas which went something like this “Oh when you come to Switzerland for your honeymoon, WE can go here and WE can go there and then WE’LL go to this place and watch some soccer match and then I can take you here etc etc”. Luckily, at the time, he was speaking in Swiss and Fiance only translated for me later, at which point I knew for sure how crucial my involvement in the honeymoon planning process will be.

So there’s absolutely no more coasting along. It’s business time. Oops no - I mean its wedding time? It’s wedding business time. Look wedding and business are just going to have to learn to get along. They are, after all, almost in the same stage of their respective planning processes. Both have a structure, key personnel and their relevant experience defined, a rough description of the product/service, we have a vague idea of both current market position and the potential for growth and the objectives for each in the short and long term, funds have been sought and allocated. We have a few decisions left to make. Pesky, little decisions. SO many decisions! And no dress.

It’s like the calm before the storm. But like the storm we had here in Perth last night. The one that I had no idea was coming. The one that woke me in the middle of night and kept me awake while it lashed its wind, lightning, hail and rain around the place. So I wonder when I will have a complete melt down. Hopefully soon so I can tick it off the list and move on. Planning for the unplanned, planning for amazing and planning not to fail. What could possibly go wrong?

It's a bittersweet symphony - and there's no dress singing to me now

2011-12-04T01:19:00.001-08:00

The lack of blogging over the last couple of weeks does not mean that nothing has been happening. In fact, Wedding continues to gather steam, albeit in a lovely ethereal type way. The most elegant rolling boulder you have ever seen, Wedding doesn’t go about its business in a steam rolling type fashion, it leaves no path of destruction. Instead she glides, almost floating above the earth leaving only a trail of liquid nitrogen and fairy dust in its wake. The motion can be compared to one of those marble-sphere water features, purposeful and yet peaceful.

Yes, it all continues to go smoothly. But like any well run production, Wedding is not dissimilar to that good old analogy of the graceful swan gliding along the river, so graceful and effortless to its audience, but paddling along like crazy underneath the water. At this point, and depending on the day, Wedding occupies probably about 55 – 60% of my brain capacity. Maybe 70% at times. For those of you who don’t know me that well, that’s quite a lot. It is really quite entrenched in my day to day life. My record run of consecutive ‘Wedding free days’ is probably about 3. Max. At a stretch.

Sometimes, it’s a great excuse for an escape from the less than satisfying activities offered by the daily bill paying facility – work. I imagine there plenty of brides to be out there in the same boat. Productivity is at an all time low. Not particularly bothered with reports, strategies or spread sheets, but in a way, Wedding in itself is really a research project. Everyone knows how important research is. It’s crucial really. Without it, we’d have badly planned, expensive, ill informed, uncoordinated weddings taking place all over the country. My employer doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, they take comfort in the fact that Wedding is on the horizon, assuming that its mere existence will be enough to keep me anchored right where I am without too much excess ambition, and definitely no scope for just pulling the plug. They are of the opinion that I “won’t be going anywhere” simply because I have a wedding to pay for.

Wedding to them, is like a form of collateral. A security bond that will prevent me from suddenly seeking alternative employment. They seem all too aware of the power of Wedding, and have assumed (pretty accurately) that a bride-to-be will think of nothing else but her impending nuptials.

It sounds bad. But before you suggest that I need to go to ‘life rehab’ I must stress that it’s not an all-consuming process. It’s like the marble sphere, purposeful and peaceful. And it might just be a quick look on the internet, a moment of insane spontaneous online bonbonniere shopping (I literally went all the way through to the checkout page) or a brief wedding related conversation. It’s not like every day is filled with intensive wedding planning. The planning has just simply reached a very complicated and labour intensive stage. It’s time for dress shopping.

OMG, dress shopping. It’s like a rollercoaster of emotion. Mostly exciting with a peppering of hope and optimism, but balanced with feelings of disappointment, anxiety and fear. The search for ‘the dress’ that’s been years in the making in your imagination. My little wedding scrapbook which accompanies me to any wedding related appointment invites remarks such as “Oh, look an organised bride”, leaving me to question what the unorganised bride looks like and how many categories of bride there actually are. Anyway, ‘organised bride’ comes with a book that contains cut outs of gowns, cropped creations of tulle, beads and satin, flowers, cakes and miscellaneous.

But it never receives the attention it deserves. In my limited experience, the shop attendant does a quick initiation, sizing you up to the type of dress that they think that you want. Which is pretty hard when they’ve know you for 3 seconds.

As I’ve mentioned in previous posts, I’ve tried on some amazing gorgeous dresses, and I’m sure if I was having 8, at least one would get a Guernsey. But I only get to choose one. It’s so shit. I’m not one of those people that have a definite and disciplined idea of things. I don’t have a favourite food – I like lots of food. Favourite movie? No. Don’t have a favourite. Colour? Well I like lots of colours. I can’t pick just one and call it my favourite. That wouldn’t be fair. In fact it would be impossible. I don’t have favourites. I like variety. And I like what I like. And I like it because I like it. I’m inherently ambivalent.

I dabbled in this kind of work back in my uni days. Women’s fashion. I know the qualifying questions that you’re supposed to ask, to get into someone’s psyche (a scary place in a world full of body dysmorphic disorders) to find out what they like about the item/dress/skirt etc but more importantly what they don’t like about it, so you can totter off and find them the perfect thing. It’s getting them to sell to themselves essentially with you only having to string a few buzz words together in any combination like ‘amazing’, ‘shape’, ‘gorgeous’, ‘tiny’, ‘stunning’, ‘length’, ‘proportion’ so on and so forth.

And so I stand, sometimes on a box, in front of a big mirror in a variety of gowns in varying shades of white and ivory, and stare blankly back at myself, and when we exceed the allowed time of awkward silence, I’m interrogated as to what I don’t like about it.

More awkward silence and blank stares ensue. I don’t dislike it. It’s just not my dress. Not much you can do about that. No amount of buzz words will change it.

“It’s lovely; I like it more than the last one I tried?” But that doesn’t mean I’m going to shell out thousands of dollars for something ‘nice’ that I could wear, if I was having 8 other wedding dresses. But even then, I might not. I’m really not good at this constructive feedback game. Because I know in my heart of hearts, that despite their best efforts and the exhaustive and repetitive process of squeezing in and out of layers of silk, lace, taffeta, and tulle, they just don’t have ‘my dress’.

You’re meant to get ‘that’ feeling, the one of knowing that it’s your dress. And that’s what all the brides say. But when you don’t get it, you start to question whether you ever will. So you go home, put yourself back together with some wine glue and start again, plan the next appointment, and get stupidly excited all over again. It's such an amazing, fun experience with a side of heartbreak. It's like going out for the most delicious, extravagant, expensive dinner and then walking out of the restaurant starving hungry, with an empty feeling and then you have to go to Macca's on the way home. A bittersweet symphony.

Bridesmaid’s dresses on the other hand has been a completely different story. A result of persistent research, searching for something which was a vague idea in my head, proved so so fruitful when one day just prior to wedding hour (lunch), I stumbled across the most stunning, perfect things that so honestly reflected everything I had been imagining and looking for without being able to verbalise.
The hardest thing about the BMD’s is coordinating times with a long distance MOH for a first try on, and the fact that they cost just slightly more than her own wedding dress (which we have since established will not be involved in any future benchmarking process due to a set of unique and uncanny circumstances!).

Other than that, it’s a win. Well a point on the board anyway. We still have to decide on the actual style, the embellishments and the colour. But what could be so hard about that? I’ll just pick my ‘favourite’ colour right? Uh oh.

The Blinker Effect

2011-11-17T19:22:00.001-08:00

Nothing major to report this week on the wedding front. Or perhaps wedding is now so entrenched in my day to day that nothing really seems ‘interesting’ or newsworthy anymore. I actually opened up a new blog post a couple of days ago ready to go with an update. As I sat at my computer, the usually frenzied keyboard attack was not forthcoming, nothing had bubbled to the surface during the course of wedding related events in the last couple of weeks. Oh my. Could it be? I’m organizing the shit out of this wedding. And I’m doing it in a very relaxed, stealth like manner.

Even Fiancé followed up last night… “You haven’t done a blog this week.” Perhaps I’m internalizing. I guess we’ll find out. Or maybe I’m just coming to terms with the task at hand, and feeling quite comfortable with where we are at with it all, with most of the major things taken care of.

I’ve taken quite a ruthless, systematic approach to organizing wedding. I made a list, developed a budget, lobbied for funding, and then went about sourcing potential suppliers, with much success. It’s like a domino effect. Once you get started by locking in the venue, the rest flows from there. One by one, things get knocked over, ticked off the list.

For the most part, I’ve really just locked things in, paid the deposits and then moved on, there really is still a few details that may need working out. But I’m banking on it all coming together when the universe deems it a relevant time. There is a natural order of things.

In the last week I have found some potential bridesmaid dresses. This was a fairly big milestone for me having had something in my head but having no idea where I would find it. I shouldn’t have been concerned. Facebook showed me the way. I spent one whole day breathless with excitement and anticipation. I was chomping at the bit to get down to the stockist and whack 3 x dresses on hold immediately. That’s what I do. Make a decision, and act on it. Without a whole lot of consideration or rational thought. That whole concept of ‘sleeping on it’ is a foreign one to me, I much prefer spontaneous, immediate decision making. Let’s just say I trust my instincts. And life’s too short. And whatever other cliché you can think of to support my argument.

If MOH didn’t live 2 hours away, I dare say we’d have another thing on its way to being ticked off the list by now. It’s more than likely a blessing in disguise. Having to schedule appointments and lock in times with everyone forces me to have some time away from it and to “sleep on it” I guess. In fact, I’ve now slept on it for 3 nights. And I’m feeling slightly more calm about the situation. But I still want those dresses. Now.
Oh and I now also have a hair stylist. I based this decision on (another) recommendation, and the fact that she had a website. I felt that this gave her an edge over others I had contacted and allowed me to scrutinize her skills by looking at a huge range of images. Basically, I have a fervent appreciation of people who exhibit sharp business acumen, foresight and organization. She deserves my business.

But I do believe there is such a thing as being too organized! And there is a downside. That is that you live in fear of seeing something better and more perfect than what you already have. Even if you stop looking, being in the wedding realm, you are bound to be exposed to these things. Is there such a thing as wedding blinkers? Like horses wear when they are racing so the other horses don’t make them angry or put them off their game?

Many racehorse trainers believe that blinkers keep the horse focused on what is in front of him or her, encouraging him/her to pay attention to the race rather than other distractions, such as crowds. Or other wedding/bridesmaid dresses/flowers/hair stylists.

Yes, I’m definitely going to need some blinkers.

Especially when it comes to the wedding dress. I’m reluctant to fall in love with anything too early for this very reason. The blinker effect. I won’t, however, be leaving it to the very last minute! I heard of a bride this week who has just found her perfect gown, with 11 days to go until her big day. 11. Days. God, there’s that breathless, anxious feeling again, OMG I’m stressed FOR her!

I will not be faced with this scenario. I’ve already identified about 8 dresses that I have developed feelings for. Without even trying them on. Oh god. How am I going to pick JUST ONE?? Perhaps, we should’ve considered an Eastern style wedding where celebrations extend over 8 days. Then I could have 8 dresses.
So the approach to wedding dress is a matter of carefully considered timing. I need to take a measured, considered approach that leaves enough time for dress to be made if need be, and time for ample fittings – to keep up with the ‘shedding for the wedding’ activities – without creeping into the danger zone.

So the wedding ball rolls on, gathering momentum in a calm, collected and ladylike manner.

Ceeeeleebrant good times! Come On!

2011-11-08T22:02:00.000-08:00

As the clock runs down from the 1 year mark, I have felt a shift in my planning from the light hearted, fun stuff to the down to business, serious end of the spectrum. Of course it’s still a relatively long time to go to the everyday human being on the street. 1 year. Plenty of time to get organised one would think. But it’s not long in Wedding Time. To put it into simple terms, a 24 hour day for the normal, everyday, non-bride-to-be would equate to approximately 3 days in Wedding time. They just go faster when you are going through something like this. Therefore, I now have less than 121 actual ‘Wedding Time’ days left before the ‘BIG’ day.

One of the reasons that we choose our date, was to allow enough time to organise the wedding WITHOUT having to stress or be stuck with a less than impressive list of suppliers/venues etc. Granted, the planning still takes up a large chunk of my psyche on the daily but our (my) decisions are considered and well informed. I know that a lot of people have organized their own wedding in ridiculously short amounts of time, I don’t know why you would choose to rush it unless you were:
a) Pregnant
b) Close to having a Visa expire
c) Hoping to trap someone into a loveless marriage before they realized you were a complete psychopath.

But I digress. There has definitely been a shift in my approach to the planning at this point. It’s no longer a case of having plenty of time, it’s starting to get a little more serious than that.

I think the turning point was finally deciding on a celebrant. This has been an interesting one. For Fiance and I, it was really simply a matter of necessity and nothing more. We hadn’t really placed a lot of importance on the role of this person. For followers of Wedding though, it has been a pertinent point of interest. I remember it being raised by MOB when the idea of Wedding was only in its infancy. She had been speaking with my Nan about it. ?. It is now even, perhaps, in the lower echelons of FAWQ (frequently asked wedding questions). Which was, initially, hard for me to understand.

image courtesy of Blakeney Photography via www.mrbg.com.au

The intentions of interested parties, however, seems absolutely justified now that I have begun to dig a little deeper into the realms of Celebrantcy. It’s one of those subjects, where you only ever seem to hear the horror stories, only one of which I’ve actually witnessed.

Apparently the Celebrant at an Aunts wedding, had such a thick Scottish accent that no one could understand a word he was saying. Perhaps they should’ve all had a few drinks before the ceremony as, in my experience, the more intoxicated you are, the easier it is to understand the Scots.

At MOH’s wedding, there was a case of the old vow switcheroo, not that anyone would have known any different had it not been rectified by the Groom, but certainly not ideal for the happy couple!

I’ve heard stories of celebrants and even their Catholic counterparts forgetting the names of the bride and/or groom, using the ceremony to push their own agendas (religious or not), telling bad jokes and just generally being awkward and weird.

So, unless you actually happen to know someone who is legally entitled to officiate over a wedding and sign off on all the paper work, how do you choose? And why does it matter?

Our (my) initial thoughts were that it didn’t really matter at all. As long as they could speak that should be fine and I’d also prefer someone who didn’t resemble a troll so as not to ruin any wedding photos. After all, all they have to do is say “Hey, what’s up ya’ll? So you want to get married? That’s cool. Do you both want to get married? Awesome. Alright then, you’re married. Just sign here and here and off you go. Have fun kids.” Right? Then we can all go and have a drink, a bit to eat and a dance. Apparently, that’s not how it’s done.

My initial searches proved fruitless. The problem with these celebrant people, is that they all still appear to have real lives of their own. Which means that your wedding will have to fit in with things like family holidays, the unexpected success of other commercial business ventures, overseas trips etc. Being a celebrant is obviously more of a part time income supplement, rather than a full time career, making it difficult to find one that isn’t shit, that doesn’t have something better to do.

As with most of our (my) decisions thus far, this one was also based on referral. And it seems to be working out jolly good so far. Good people like working with good people, and since these people see hundreds of weddings each year, they are certainly more qualified than me to say who is proficient in their chosen part-time field, and who is not. So, on recommendation from our amazing DJ, who was referred from our amazing venue, I contacted Carla, a local Dunsborough celebrant. Although we are yet to meet face to face, it’s so far so good!

It wasn’t until Carla sent through some Ceremony and reading samples, that my attitude towards the whole thing shifted ever so slightly. During wedding hour (lunch) at work I began to read through the extensive materials she had emailed across.

Some of it was nothing out of the ordinary, the usual traditional stuff that you always hear at weddings, usually in the movies. I continued to read. Reading, reading, reading, sniffle, reading, tear, reading. OMG, this is good shit. Something hit me. It was the story of fiancé and I. Right there on the computer screen in front of me. “OMG, that’s it!” Such simple, beautiful words. And suddenly it all becomes a little bit more real and grown up. Less about getting a nice, shiny new ring and more about what it signifies.

It’s so easy to get lost in Wedding time, to get caught up in flowers and bonbonierres, that it’s just so refreshing to be smacked across the face with a big fat reminder of why you’re actually doing it all in the first place.

And so with that, without giving too much away (especially to my fellow brides to be), I’ll leave you with these words:

“One of the beautiful things about marriage is that whilst two lives unite to become one, you do not lose yourself in the other, you find yourself.”

Tear. Sniffle. Tear.

It's business time - Dunno Part II

2011-11-01T21:10:00.000-07:00

We love Dunsborough. So much so that every time we visit, we spend a great deal of time discussing when and how we can move there. This time I have decided I will become a full time writer. I’ll wake up early, walk the dogs along the beach, have an organically grown and locally sourced breakfast of berries and free range eggs, then I’ll head out to the balcony where I will spend the day ‘working’, overlooking the ocean. After a mid-morning nap.

Alternatively, we’ll open a wine bar/coffee shop that appeals to a gentrified crowd, sick of the young hooligans that now seem to have overrun similar ventures in town. Dean from Busso will not frequent our establishment. Preferring instead to loiter in and around the more ordinary watering holes where he feels completely at ease soliciting unsuspecting Perthites and other weekenders for money “for a set of boobs for this chick I have known for like 10 years. Well you know, I promised that I’d buy her a set of tits, so every time we head out, I ask people to help.” He explains, thrusting a middy glass containing a few measly bucks under our noses. We stared back at him in disbelief. I wanted to tell Dean that me and my friends didn’t speak bogan, or reveal to him that a good way to raise money was to get a friggin job, however being on unfamiliar turf, we chose instead to give him some loose change, hoping that he would be satisfied and scamper away, leaving us to pick up our jaws from the sodden carpet and pretend that never happened. But it just seemed to encourage him. What is that? When people have no comprehension of the fact that their presence is not required or desired? Dean went on to hassle our friends about why they were not yet engaged. The wench with the small tits piped up “OMG, I sell diamonds! I’ll do you a deal. I work at Garden City, come see me.” What? So you do have a job? Good on you for that. Obviously you don’t sell enough diamonds to buy yourself a pair of tits though.

These seem like the kind of people that might want to try and crash our wedding after party at castle rock car park with our DJ mate.

Anyway, if the wine bar thing didn’t work out, I’m sure we could find something else to do in town. There already appears to be a sufficient number of surf shops and clothing boutiques, bakeries and coffee shops. Our neighbours out at Dunsborough Lakes already had the mobile rock climbing wall business covered, so that was out.

After a particularly interesting cultural exchange whilst dining at Wise the previous day, when our French waiter served Fiance an interesting looking dessert plated in such a way, that the kitchen had described simply as ‘Viking Pussy’ and suggested that Frenchie use this expression when presenting the food. “My English is not so known but the kitchen people tell me that you might try this before. It is how you say – Viking Pussy? So I hope you enjoy.” He later was told what he had just said and spent the rest of the afternoon apologising profusely. “I’m sorry. Thank you for apologising me,” He said. Sooo, Fiance suggested that perhaps I could simply return to my university days and become a waitress. I could after all speak and understand English, which doesn’t appear to be a mandatory requirement in the industry but it can’t hurt.

Event coordinator? Wedding planner? A liaison for engaged Perthies getting married down south. Wedding celebrants seem to be pretty popular down here – how hard could that be? Yoga instructor? But my favourite is to become an artist and find a place on the Yallingup hills and wile my days away painting sunsets and writing screen plays. It shouldn’t be too much of a problem that i have no talent in either of those areas.

I guess it happens when you go on holidays. And that’s why we go. To escape to somewhere amazing that has the power to make you want to uproot your entire life and relocate there immediately. It’s a powerful thing.

One of the big pluses about Dunsborough for us, is the picturesque beaches, especially the one that, when the tide goes out, exposes the shallow sand bank and the many little ‘islands’ that can be walked out to. Especially handy when you have two crazy, overly sociable Staffys. Ingenious of us to walk them out there through calf deep water and then let them loose, water locked, so they couldn’t run away.

They loved it, frolicking through the shallow water, chasing the seagulls, forgetting the water and finding themselves in way too deep, sploosh! Jackson stopped every now and then to pluck a starfish from the shallow water or chew on a piece of seaweed. Until he spotted another dog on the beach that he thought he might like to say hello to. He stopped. He looked at the dog, then looked back at us, a plan formulating in his little pea sized brain. Pity he was surrounded by deep blue water. He looked at us again, then went for it. Swimming for his life, his stumpy little Staffy legs doggy paddling like they’d never doggy paddled before. Fiance sprang into Staffy rescue mode as little Jackson became less and less buoyant by the second. We’ll never know if he would’ve made it to shore or not, I think it would have been a miracle.

So, although it wasn’t an overly productive trip wedding plan wise, it re-established for us why we love the place so much and why we couldn't find a more awesome place to get married. It’s not hard to figure out why everyone who lives there is ridiculously happy and friendly. Figuring out how we can become a permanent part of the scenery is slightly more difficult!

8806 hours to go – Dunno Part I

2011-10-31T07:02:00.000-07:00

Having just returned from a long weekend away in Dunsborough, where we will be married in approximately 8806 hours, all manner of emotions have begun to take over. At the moment, it’s mostly genuine excitement coupled with an acute awareness at how fast 8806 hours will disappear. It’s really not a long time when you break it down like that, but it’s a hell of a lot longer than the event itself – and that’s what this blog is all about. Acknowledging the journey that we are on, and appreciating that it’s so much more than the 8 hours or so in which all this work, planning and insanity will finally culminate. THE. BIG. DAY.

So, after lamenting the loss of Engagey and enjoying a short intermission in Wedding proceedings for a couple of weeks, I dragged out the awe inspiring pile of Wedding magazines gifted to me from MOH very early on in our engagement and packed them into the car, along with our two furry children and a milk crate full of booze, a sample size of Engagey’s most rewarding legacy.

We were Dunno bound. Not really with any major wedding planning activities in the pipeline, but for a short visit to recharge our batteries and to get the vibe of what the town and the region will be like for our impending nuptials. Frickin busy if this weekend was anything to go by. Better get those save the dates out sooner rather than later.

I had previously tried to make appointments with some suppliers that are already on the team, due to the busy time of year, I was only able to meet with one. The DJ. And he didn’t disappoint. I suggested we catch up for a cold beverage or two just to break the ice, put a name to a face and have a more in depth conversation about what we wanted and what he could provide. We decided to meet at his place just between Dunno and Yalls (Yallingup.) The directions I was given were reminiscent of a wild goose chase/ treasure hunt and Fiance and I were filled with both intrigue and intrepidation at meeting a stranger in the middle of nowhere. Follow the yellow brick road and take the 2nd turn on the right after the gravel road starts, look for the rainbow valley sign on the fence then keep driving past the house of terrors until you see the white guitar on the fence, then follow it down to the surfboard cut in half that directs you to my studio. Fiance and I shared a nervous giggle, thankful that we had brought a 4wd vehicle for this little adventure.

The DJ greeted us warmly and welcomed us into his studio – a bush shack/shed surrounded by trees and only 7kms from the beach converted into his own little creative space. We entered through the kitchen and he led us into a room filled with intruments and all his gear. He also had a special little semi sound proof room for his drums, cos “I’m a drummer – that’s what I do”. I literally tripped and stumbled over my words, as well as a set of bongo drums, taken aback by the amount of fun I could have in that room and clearly struggling to hold myself back from having my own impromptu jam session. Step away from the instruments. Fiance, knowing me and my penchant for creating magical entertainment all too well, instantly sensed my inherent desire to kidnap DJ, lock him in a cupboard and take over his studio for two or three days.

We spent the next half hour or so talking about options for our wedding, one of which included the offer of an after party in a nearby beach car park, at which DJ would bring along his ‘DJ mobile’ pop the roof and spin the decks well into the morning, suggesting that we could then walk back to town if we weren’t “too messy” or do a deal with the dunno taxi service and have people shuttled back to town intermittently as sunrise approached. We would just have to let him know a few hours beforehand so he could arrange some of his “crew” to get down there with generators and the like. “We’ll let you know…” Fiance and I responded, not wanting to upset the very musical, slightly eccentric apple cart.

He also suggested keeping the eating and other wedding formalities to a minimum in order to maximise time for dancing, everyone wedding supplier has their own little agenda to push don’t they! Hey, who knows – we might just turn the entire wedding into a dance party yet!

We lunched on the balcony at Wise Winery the following day, soaking up those famous views across to Geographe Bay and also the goings on on the lawn below as someone elses wedding was in the initial stages of set up. We wandered down after lunch to check it out a little closer and talk logistics. In doing so we were greeted by a man, resting on a speaker. “Are you thinking of getting married here?” he asked, beads of sweat forming on his brow seemingly from recent physical exertion, although I could only count one speaker having been set up. “We ARE getting married here”, I responded. “OK, cool…do you need a DJ?”, ah I see. “No, we already have a DJ, why? Are you a DJ?” “Yes, I’m DJ Damon. Who are you having?” We told him. “Wow, he is like the best DJ in the region.” “Wow, that’s a nice thing for you to say of one of your competitors!” “Yeah he is like a real DJ. He’s awesome.” We went on to recount the story of our recent visit to the studio. “Wow, really? You went to his studio?!” We clearly didn’t realise the preceding reputation of DJ before our visit but we are now very confident that we have selected a quality addition to team Wedding, and he is sure to be a hit…if he can keep me away from his percussion.

Engagey...

2011-10-19T22:00:00.000-07:00

Engagey… I miss you. You were only a part of my life for 4 months, but you were an all consuming force to be reckoned with. And I reckoned with you. You were reckoning. And I reckon I will look back on our time together fondly.

Engagey, you taught me things. Important things. Things I could never know had you not been in my life. Things about myself, things about others and things about things.

I have learnt that ‘over catering’ runs in the family. I seem to have inherited this little characteristic, exhibiting tell tale symptoms quite early on in the Engagey planning process. Being a proud owner of the ‘over catering’ gene, however, led me to discover that I could fit 41 cartons of beer into a Rav 4. No more, no less. One more carton and I think the Ravster would have had a complete meltdown and quite literally snapped into two.

I learnt who my most important allies will be for Wedding. No big suprises there. One of these allies will be a small bottle of Rescue Remedy. For Shiz.

I was able to hold off on the excessive pressure building as a result of Engagey up until about 3 hours before. Then the flood gates opened as I became a little withdrawn, confused, experienced a severe lack of concentration and perhaps became slightly irritable.

Then I learnt that I still need my mummy. One slightly shaky phone call to MOB and 30 mins later she arrives on the scene, armed with an abundance of wine and champagne and 2 seven layer dips. She was my rescue remedy until the champagne kicked in.

It’s probable that when Wedding finally arrives, I’m going to feel 300 times worse than pre-engagey with an overwhelming and unexplainable wave of paralyzing anxiety, but at least I’ll be able to recognize the signs early and grab a MOB and a MOH and self medicate accordingly.

Engagey will live on in our garden, so long as the Summer is not too harsh and I remember to water the herbs that once adorned her. But otherwise she is forever gone from my daily life.

But the sun has continued to rise and with it comes the whispers of something beautiful, something big. Wedding whispers, soft and sweet.

NBS - 'not being stressed' ta

2011-10-06T08:12:00.000-07:00

One thing that many people associate with weddings is stress. Wedding stress, amongst other things, is the pre cursor to a bad case of bridezillaitis. However, Wedding stress IS NOT an inherent characteristic of all wedding plans. And guess what?? I’M NOT STRESSED.

I’m relatively immune to stress as I know it at this point in my life. Being in a high pressure jobs for a great deal of my career, dealing with non-existent lead times, deadlines, deadlines and more deadlines. Annnnnd Relying on incompetent suppliers for the most part to achieve said deadlines.

Mortgage stress? Well we don’t fit the technical definition but needless to say having to pay the mortgage isn’t the most favouritest part of my life. Sometimes having to think about disposable income and the way in which it is spent, can be stressful.

Stress fractures? Right at this moment (which is the only moment that you and I have FYI) the only repetitive stress of the foot striking the ground I’m likely to experience is through an impromptu interpretive dance fiesta. I performed one on the weekend and I seem to be fine.

Apparently there are 4 different types of stress that people experience:

Eustress – a good kind of stress that ‘provides immediate strength’. People experience Eustress at points of increased physical activity, enthusiasm and creativity. Comes in handy when motivation and inspiration are needed. Do you know what else comes in handy when motivation and inspiration are needed? Booze.

Distress – negative stress brought about my constant readjustments or alterations in routine. This may be acute or chronic. It doesn’t sound nice at all.

Hyperstress – occurs when an individual is pushed beyond what he or she can handle. This little chestnut is likely to result from being overloaded or overworked. Could perhaps occur during and after an office relocation when you have endured weeks of the sound of cheap masking tape shrieking as it’s ripped from its little cardboard spindle, never ending email instructions on how to pack boxes, left behind a 4th floor view over West Perth and Subiaco and found yourself in a red pimple of an office in a marketing ‘bunker’ with no natural light directly opposite ‘meeting room 3’ which may now be renamed the ‘Golden Palace’, ‘Yummy House’, or ‘The Miso Room’ due to the insistence of the admin girls to claim it as their lunch room when they are sharing a nice, aromatic Chinese lunch together.

Hypostress – is funnily enough the opposite of hyperstress. This occurs when an individual is bored or unchallenged, restless and unsinspired. Can’t say I haven’t been here before but with the recent distractions of post graduate study and pre-nuptial programs, this is definitely not a box that I fit neatly into.

Ahhhhhhh. So loving not being stressed.

The best part of Not Being Stressed or NBS as it will for here ever after be known, is dealing with the fact that everyone you know expects you to succumb. I don’t get it. It’s like your under this perpetual scrutiny of anyone who knows you going “oh. Yeah. Look out. Here she goes. She’s about to crack. Must be all the wedding stress”. Seriously people. Just. Back. Off. Phhheeewwwwww. I’m FINE. NOT STRESSED. Can pretend to be if that WOULD MAKE YOU HAPPY. But a combination of good planning, unparalleled organisational skills, an amazing support network, yoga and red wine protects my nervous system from such breakdowns.

And hey, I’ve totally been there. I have lived through ‘Bells Palsy’ amongst other things - as most of my close friends would know – not an easy thing, and not an amazing thing, not a life threatening thing but not a fun thing, and not something you want to go through more than once,but, something that once you have had, know that its more than likely may strike again at some stage or another.

It’s basically a nasty little virus that attacks your cranial nerve, resulting in partial facial paralysis for a period of time. In my case, it was about 3 weeks. That’s 3 weeks of not being able to fully or even partially close my left eye or even control or have any movement in my the left side of my face whatsoever. The cause is unknown, although, some might say as is the case with any virus it would be some issue with the central nervous system and the immune system succumbing to the virus and allowing the inflammation of a nerve that most of you wouldn’t even know existed. I sure as shit didn't.

Now I can say that I was in a fairly high state of stress when I woke up one day and noticed that my eyes were shutting at different speeds, that later on that day I had no feeling and no control over one side of my mouth and that even later on that night when the left side of my face completely ‘dropped’ and I thought I was having a stroke at the tender age of 28. I just wanted to go to bed, thinking that I just needed a good nights sleep but knowing that it was so much more serious than that.

Poor fiancé. Gorgeous fiancé, even then, knowing that something was at least visibly not right, would not tell me that I looked a little strange. Even when I screamed at him. I was stressed. He drove me to emergency – as luck would have it – on a Saturday night. Not ideal. We stayed there for a long time. I was prodded and poked and made an exhibition of to student nurses and doctors. All the while I would like to think I remained relatively calm, although I may have just appeared that way given my inability to control a whole one side of my face. At all. I was diagnosed with Bells Palsy, given the essential survival materials (a course of steroids, some tape to tape my eye closed and some eye drops) and sent home to fend for myself.

I'm sure that even the usually unflappable fiance experience an extreme period of stress knowing that the girl he loved may be not as pretty as she once may have been, for an unknown period of time - maybe forever... He stuck by me. Unconditionally and without reserve. I'm an unbelievably lucky girl to have someone like that so entrenched in my life.

So my idea of stress is a relative and very real thing. Little things are not going to send me facially paralysed. Needless to say, I can be a bit of a control freak but only when I have some control.

Impending engagey allows me such a privilege. I’m not stressed because I’m organised. This does not go down well with other control freaks.

I think I may be a victim of superficial stress, that is to say, I can allow myself to become overly preoccupied with things that are beyond my immediate scope of control. Those things currently include:

- The weather
- The actions of other people
- The perception of my actions/organisational capability to others
- Sugar flowers (watch this space, this is another blog topic altogether)

All in all, I think the result of my current condition of NBS is dealing with the non-recognition of others of my actual level of organisation and their inability to deal with my competence and sensitivity to actual stress. As soon as I feel the slightest sensation of a tightening between the shoulders, a persisting eye twitch, a sore throat or a little bit of moodiness, I’m onto it. My health is of paramount importance to me.

If I’m actually for real stressed, the god lord and baby Jesus and friends will know about it. If I need help, I am not too proud to ask for it, and if I come to you with half of my face hanging off, I think for certain you would’ve already seen it coming.

Répondez s'il vous plaît

2011-09-20T22:52:00.000-07:00

In the context of social invitations RSVP or Rsvp (or either of these with a full stop inserted after each letter) is a request for a response from the invited person. It is derived from the French phrase répondez s'il vous plaît, meaning "Please respond".

With Engagey looming on the horizon, I have currently received a number of replies to our invitation sent some weeks ago. However, the process has been enlightening to say the least and has led me to query to concept of répondez s'il vous plaît and its translation into modern day society.

I must say I was expecting a flurry of activity the minute those invites were hitting letterboxes across Perth and beyond. I had fiancé on standby to accept and respond to calls, text messages and emails with invited guests frothing at the mouth of the very thought of being thought of highly enough to have received an invitation.

To say the very least, we weren’t exactly overwhelmed at the response.

As it stands, we currently have 9 days until the date set for RSVP’s expires and invitations which have been ignored/not responded to will self combust in the lounge rooms, mail piles, on the refrigerators etc around the country leaving behind the stubborn stench of disapproval and a dirty brown stain. Emily Post (an American author famous for her writings on etiquette) will haunt the non responders, eerily reappearing every time a social faux pas is committed. She will loiter eternally in the gaping chasms that have become their social calendars, the ghost of etiquettes past ever present, urging them to respect the RSVP. “Anyone receiving an invitation with an R.S.V.P. on it is obliged to reply....", comes Emily’s haunting whisper.

Granted, RSVP’s are never really as important to you until it is your own function. This, added to the dilution and misinterpretation of the standard throughout time, have left the good old Répondez s'il vous plaît in left sitting in a stark shade of grey, snuggled right up next to negotiating roundabouts and opening the door for a lady. We’re all just a bit confused about it.

In some discussions on sending RSVP invitation to friends there is speculation that response ‘deficits’ can be attributed to those invitees who have misunderstood the RSVP as a request for reply only from those planning to attend.

Some highlights from the whole RSVP process so far include:

- The Man RSVP
Most of fiancés friends seem to have mastered the concept. They are kicking etiquette goals. Emily Post would hold them in very high regard. Especially when compared to the next group.

- The Referred RSVP’s
People who think it is acceptable to tell a fellow invitee that they will be attending without actually telling the actual inviter. These people have a serious issue with their ability to follow instructions and I would be surprised if they could find their way out of a paper bag let alone to the actual physical address of the function they have told a relative or friend of mine that they are/are not attending.

- The Social Media RSVPI didn’t send the invite on facebook so it’d be better if you didn’t rsvp on facebook but hey, you just did. I suppose I should be grateful that you’ve bothered at all unlike the…

- Non repliers
These people are either:

a) keeping their options open for a better offer
b) forgetful
c) rude
d) think they will surprise us by showing up on the night
e) firmly entrenched in Gen Y stuff and are not at all baffled by the concept, that just choose not to conform to social ideals and etiquette schmetiquette really
f) all of the above and I’m betting have never been through this process for themselves

I’ve had cause to contact some non repliers for other purposes during this time and sensing their desperation to completely avoid the topic of Engagey, have innocently queried “Did you get our invitation?” Their beleaguered response, “Yes, thank you. Insert passive non committal response here.” Insert raised eyebrows and eye roll here.

You know people, its fine. Sometimes you can’t make it to things. We know that, and we won’t be offended if you have other plans. We’d just like to know so that we can make adequate arrangements. It’s really that simple. Luckily, over catering features strongly on the agenda of both families, so should you continue to throw caution and the Emily Post Institute Guide Book to the wind, I’m sure we’ll have a spare cucumber sandwich and a copy of the 18th Edition of ETIQUETTE waiting for you.

Lowest prices ARE just the beginning...

2011-09-12T00:35:00.000-07:00

Marriage is the union of two different surnames, in friendship and in love, in order to continue the posterity of the former sages, and to furnish those who shall preside at the sacrifices to heaven and earth, at those in the ancestral temple, and at those at the altars to the spirits of the land and grain. – Confucius.

That all sounds great. So what changes after you get married?

I’m not expecting a whole lot will change for fiancé and I in terms of how our relationship works. We already own a home together which we live in together. We already know how the other reacts to certain behaviors and the remedy for disagreements. These remedies are arranged on a sliding scale in direct correlation to the extent of the disagreement/ undesirable behavior. Eg. A slight raising of the voice precedes a visit to Bunnings for some me time. There really is nothing quite as therapeutic as a big shed filled with tools, nuts and bolts, paint and plants. It’s a place where I can be free from my troubles, distracted, in amongst the latest in DIY render or bathroom tiles. It’s a place to potter and think. I know that I’m not alone.

I considered this just yesterday as I found myself in my local Bunnings - the big orange and green beacon for troubled souls, seeking refuge from their reality, whatever that may be, seemed particularly busy and yet there was an eerie calm. Some patrons are there for a specific purchase, for others it’s a place of asylum.

source: http://www.bunnings.com.au/

This day I took particular comfort in the nuts and bolts aisle, not an aisle I frequent regularly, however, I thoroughly enjoyed the vibe and I think I’ll be back. I must’ve stood there for 20 mins, staring at all the different nuts and bolts, washers and wing nuts. Mind boggling. How can there be a need for all these different sized little bits and pieces, all manufactured out of different materials? It’s crazy. And it had certainly sent a fellow patron crazy. He was loudly muttering to himself as he sifted through the high tensile bolts next to me. I’m not sure if he was speaking to the bolts or to himself. Reciting his little Bunnings mantra.

As I continued to stare vacantly, bolt-washed, a couple wandering up the aisle caught my attention. He – “I need something to do this to this part in the kitchen”. Her “What? How is that going to work?” Him “Don’t. Shut Up.” Her “What? Wait, I have an idea.” Him “Stop. No. Don’t you go getting any ‘ideas’.” Her “But it’s a good idea.” The Bunnings experience is not as enjoyable with a companion. It’s best as a solo activity.

I continued on my journey. I wandered aimlessly and yet with intent. Suddenly ‘remembering’ things that I needed and then becoming distracted by others on my way to find it. I noticed a lot of men with small children. I wondered whether they had escaped the family home voluntarily or whether their wives at home had somehow tricked them into leaving her alone. Maybe she had raised her voice and they had scurried to the car hurriedly, not knowing where they were going until they arrived, another soul drawn to the big orange and green beacon. I mean there were a lot of them. Bunnings should do a marketing campaign around this. Lowest prices ARE just the beginning… they are also keeping relationships intact all over the country!

Although we cannot predict the future, we can be aware of stories and advice from other married couples as well as a few assumptions thrown in for good measure.

I know that my surname will increase from 2 syllables to a whopping 4 in the process of changing from a 7 letter name to an unprecedented 12 letter name.

I am acutely aware that Fiancés Pecs will more than likely turn into ‘moobs’ over time.

I know that we would be ill advised to go to sleep angry after we are married, that it’s all about compromise, that we need to keep the lines of communication open etc etc.

I can only assume that the number one question I will be asked by friends, colleagues and strangers will change from “How are the wedding plans coming along?” to “When are the kiddies coming along?”.

Marriage may change other things as well. But in my view it’s all about the solution. Problems will happen and squabbles will inevitably be had. It’s how you deal with them that counts. My pitch will always be for a little bit of space every now and then. Time to be an individual and perhaps practice a little bit of self development so you can go back to that relationship as a stronger, better and more understanding human being.

And as I returned home from my jaunt to the local big orange and green temple, with 4 brand new bolts with washers to match, a ball of string, some dish cloths, and an attitude adjustment, the world was again as it should be.

Walking on Wedshells

2011-09-05T22:11:00.000-07:00

Being on the bridal train is a special journey. It’s nothing like any other train I’ve ever been on. It doesn’t smell bad and you don’t need to listen to your iPod the whole way and wear sunglasses in a vain attempt to avoid eye contact and, god forbid, conversation with other passengers. Being on the bridal train allows you to sit back and bask in your acquired situational narcissism, in the full knowledge that no one of the other passengers (who are not the bride) can do anything about it.

That’s right –I’ve discovered that a ticket on the bridal train is like a get out of jail free card, you can say or do just about anything pertaining to Wedding and no one has any right of reply whatsoever - even if they disagree. You might catch the occasional exchange of an eye roll or two in response to your idea but I’m yet to come across anyone brave/stupid enough to verbalise their disapproval/disagreement. It’s fascinating.

Back in the real world, my ideas are met with objections, disapprovals and disagreements on a daily basis. But the minute I step foot back onto that bridal train, a blanket of silence descends. I’m greeted with big cheesy grins and lots of enthusiastic head’s nodding up and down. Even when prompted “Do you think that’s a good idea?”, wary fellow passengers exclaim “Yes, sounds amaaaaazing!”, followed by the usual disclaimer “It’s your day, as long as you’re happy.” Translation: “Omg you can’t be serious, that sounds ridiculous but I can’t actually say that to you in case you have a mental breakdown and throw me off the train and I would like to stay on the train it smells nice so I’m just going to agree with you no matter what.”

This is fine, I enjoy being agreed with. It could be dangerous. Things may get slightly out of control. Something like this might happen:

source: http://au.tv.yahoo.com/four-weddings/galleries/photo/-/10090988/episode-three-photos/10092368/

All because everyone was walking on wedshells. What are wedshells? Well, they are special little wedding eggshells, and if you break one a little bridezilla escapes and comes and bites you on the face.

So why do people walk on wedshells? Here are some reasons that I have adapted from some material on borderline personality disorder, which is apparently not too dissimilar to being on the bridal train.

Walking on wedshells describes a sense of feeling it is necessary to maintain an abnormally high level of vigilance, or an unusually high level of caution in a particular situation. You may feel this state of vigilance is necessary because you hope that by being very careful in all that you say and do, their "crazy bridezillarish" behavior might be reduced or avoided.

Everyone walks on wedshells from time to time in order to preserve the peace in their lives. The question becomes, "how much walking on wedshells is good for me and those around me? When does it become dysfunctional and unhealthy?"

If you live with someone who is on the bridal train, walking on wedshells has probably become part of the ‘background’ of your life. During periods of peace and calm, you may find yourself anxiously wondering when the next storm will hit, knowing that it may be unexpected and totally out of the blue.

Like walking on something thin and fragile, you fear that a single misstep or mistake will cause the bridal train to derail. You watch your Bride for signs of approval or disapproval of your every word, every thought, every action, and every behavior.

It is important for you to realize that you are a sane person in an insane situation. You didn’t cause it, you can’t control it and you certainly cannot cure it. You are entitled to a little peace in your life and to your own reality.

So, how do you avoid walking on wedshells?

Speak clearly, calmly and slowly. Maintain YOUR version of reality, while being as validating as possible. Lower your expectations that the Bride is going to act rationally. It isn’t going to happen. At least not overnight.

All in the detail

2011-08-29T23:00:00.000-07:00

Oh sorry, did I say detail. I meant retail. It's all in the retail. The retail detail. I refer, of course, to now famous Engagey and my so far rampaging spending frenzy. It's been fun so far. Some have chortled at my pre planning (it has been in a conceptualisation phase for some 2,064 hours) but it pays to be organised. Especially when you are ordering goods from Thailand, China and, of course, IKEA. And I have encountered a number of stuff ups which have given me grounds to be proud of my organisation. You must always factor in time to account for the stuff ups of others.

First it was cushion inserts from IKEA. Not feeling strong enough to make the trip to the store, I thought I would be smart and order online. Website shows 29 items available. Great, I'll take 20. I'll also take 8 stools, 8 chair pads, and a shit load of floating candles. Done. Now you would think the retail centre of the earth could sort their postage/online retail environment out. No, they have to call you back once they have calculated the specific postage amount, ask if you still want to go ahead and then take payment over the phone! Over the phone! pffft.

Once that little ordeal is finished with, I move onto sourcing cushion covers. This involves a trip to Spotlight, Big W, Lincraft to find the most cost effective way to get these suckers organised. MOB had resigned herself to the fact that her office would be turned into a sweatshop for a weekend while she toiled away cutting, sewing and stitching 24 cushion covers in three different colours yet to be determined. As my sewing skills show no further advancement past sewing on a button (and poorly at that), the only skill I could bring to the table/sweatshop was drinking and entertainment. "I'll bring wine!", I promised poor MOB.

In the meantime, IKEA calls back, they only have 1 cushion in stock in Perth. I can get them from Adelaide or I can wait. Finally, Adelaide becomes a relevant and useful place to me. If nothing else, at least I - all of us - can take that away from this experience.

Yeah, Engagey has been well out of hand for some time now. People think house party and think - easy. Well, i guess it could be. Depending on how fabulous you wanted it to look. Think a few drink tubs and some party pies and sausage rolls - not that fabulous. Think cushion covers and stools, floating candles, solar hanging chinese lanterns, potted herbs in tin cans, punch, sangria, a cocktail on arrival, a new outdoor setting, a busy bee to prune roses and other shrubs, a homemade hanging system displaying photos, a menu of amazing homemade canapes', 30,000 candles, 30,000 jars for candles - getting slightly more fabulous. OK, so i didnt end up getting the outdoor setting and I held off on organising the Michael Buble and Norah Jones tribute duet. Yes, win for me.

Cushion covers arrived from Thailand last week, they took about 20 days to get here as they had to go through customs. Problem, only 15 out of 24 had made it. Uh oh. Won't panic have time. Stop and remind myself that they are cushions. But they are the orange ones that are missing and out of the three colours, I really wanted the orange. Oh well. Just before I started this post, another box arrives at reception. I have had everything delivered to work. There isn't too many days that go at the moment by that a parcel/package/box doesnt arrive for me. Our receptionist walks the box to my desk, dumps it and sneers "another dress?". No actually, its my M.I.A cushions covers! I've just opened the box. They are red. Not orangey red. FFS.

Perhaps it's destiny, the universe is speaking to me here. The orange lanterns I wanted from IKEA weren't in stock either. And the outdoor setting I found on Gumtree with the orange cushions was sold right out from under me. I'm thinking orange is out. So what exactly in universe not liking about orange? Let's find out what it could be.

Orange is a power color. It is one of the healing colors. It is said to increase the craving for food. (this could be it - universe knows about jenny). It also stimulates enthusiasm and creativity. Orange means vitality with endurance. People who like orange are usually thoughtful and sincere. Lady luck's color is orange. (This could be it also, Lady Luck and I both wore orange to an event once and haven't seen eye to eye since) I have been told that if a change of any kind is need in life, just burn an orange candle for 7 nights.

Orange Energy
While red is associated with fiery heat, orange is associated with the benign warmth of the sun. A dynamic color to be sure, orange offers a more thoughtful control than explosive red. Curiosity is a driving characteristic of orange, and with it comes exploration of new things.

Put some orange in your life when you want:
- to spice things up when you feel time is dragging
- to become more involved in something
- to increase creativity
- relief from things becoming too serious
(source: http://crystal-cure.com/orange.html)

Red on the other hand:

Red is the warmest of all colors. Red is the color most chosen by extroverts and one of the top picks of males. On the negative side red can mean temper or anger. In China, red is the color of prosperity and joy. Brides wear red and front doors are often painted red. Red is Tuesday's color. Red roses symbolize passionate love. Ruby rings should be worn on the left hand. Red is the color of Mars. This planet is known as the God of War.

Red Energy
Red is associated with fiery heat and warmth. It can also mean danger (burning).
Red is the color of blood, and as such has strong symbolism as life and vitality. It brings focus to the essence of life and living with emphasis on survival. Red is also the color of passion and lust.

Put some red in your life when you want:
- increased enthusiasm and interest
- more energy
- action and confidence to go after your dreams
- protection from fears and anxieties

Red wins. Defo. Thanks universe.

Anyway, I think my rampaging spending spree is petering out. Recent and ongoing purchases are much more considered and rational. Ok well I'm getting there. At the weekend I took a visit to Bunnings (the other retail centre of the universe) in search of standing ice buckets and any other inspiration I could find. I did two laps with a basket, picked up some gardening gloves, went back for a trolley, 2 more laps. Found some standing ice buckets for $50 a piece. Put two in the trolley, walked up and down the aisle 10 more times, removed ice buckets from trolley, found myself wandering aimlessly through the nursery, had a quick chat to myself, and proceeded to the checkout with my trolley and my $1.95 gardening gloves. The sales assistant looked at me quizzingly "Is that it?" he says glancing down at my pink cotton glove purchase. I think I'd walked past him at least two or three times whilst doing bog laps of the store. He knew I was after something else and seemed determined not to let me out of the store without spending at least $100. Maybe thats a store policy. I don't know I don't think I've ever left Bunnings without spending at least that much. "Yes?" I replied. Yes, this is all I need. I'm cured. I'm done. Deco's are for the most part taken care of! For now. Nearly.

Disclaimer: Engagey guests may not actually receive a cocktail on arrival.

Jenny - along for the ride

2011-08-22T22:49:00.000-07:00

I have this friend. Well, we're not really friends, perhaps more aquaintances would be a more accurate description of our relationship. Jenny comes in and out of my life. Sometimes she sticks around for a long time, with me for every bump in the road, every celebration, every waking moment, she's there. At other times, I won't see her for an extended period. She just goes. I don't know where. I can't say I'm unhappy when she's not with me but, at the same time, sometimes she is a big part of my life.

I've called her Jenny, Jen for short, after that annoying, chubby, red head girl on "Winners and Losers" who no one ever really seems to want around but she doesn't get it and clings on anyway. I get the feeling that some of the other characters keep her around for old times sake. It's easier to keep her around rather than go through the trauma of cutting ties and parting ways. I feel exactly the same way about my Jenny.

Except my Jenny isn't actually a person. She's a part of me. She's that flabby, subcutaneous layer of fat that resides between my skin and my abdominal wall.

Piss off Jenny, I hate you.

Needless to say, Jen's not invited to the Engagement Party.

Fiance doesn't like to acknowledge Jen's presence at all. Even when she's staring him right in the face, he pretends he can't see her. I know he can. He also doesn't like the fact that we've named her. Maybe that's because in his mind, she doesn't exist. Or maybe, in his mind, I'm not crazy. Perception is reality people. But my reality is Jenny is real and the time has now come again for her to pack her ugly little suitcase and catch the triglyceride train to burn town.

I'm sure I'm not the only one with a Jenny problem at the moment. I ran into another bride to be at the weekend who is already on a diet in prep for her Engagey. I, myself, recently bought a dress for my Engagey online, always a risk when you're unsure of the sizing and fit. And they only had the one size left. I got it delievered to work yesterday. It sat under my desk all day long, waited for me in the car while I was at the gym with Jenny, and then sat in my bedroom through dinner. I purposely waited until after dinner so I could enjoy what could have well may been my last real meal for sometime.

The moment of truth had arrived. Jenny and I apprehensively pulled on the dress. We all know that moment when the zip goes up, up, up and.........hope upon hope......closes. Phew. It fits. Jenny seems content. I'm happy. We have work to do but it's not a disaster.

Shedding for the wedding seems to be a common activity for brides in the lead up to their big day. So much so that there are now special "bridal boot camps" devised just in case you hadn't been tricked out of all of your money by everyone else in the world yet. If boot camp fails, there's always the cabbage soup diet, the lemon detox diet and a myriad of other high risk, low effectiveness ways in which you can rid yourself of your hard earned.

Jenny and I prefer the gym. And if your own Wedding can't motivate you to get your caboose on that treadmill / spin bike / step / yoga mat, then at least you will have a friend/aquaintance for life.

Rules of Engagement

2011-08-14T06:42:00.000-07:00

Rules of engagement: In military or police operations, the rules of engagement (ROE) determine when, where, and how force shall be used. Such rules are both general and specific, and there have been large variations between cultures throughout history. The rules may be made public, as in a martial law or curfew situation, but are typically only fully known to the force that intends to use them. The ROE should comply with the generally accepted martial law. (Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia)

Rules of Engagement: A sitcom, starring David Spade, that debuted on CBS in 2007. Produced by Adam Sandler's Happy Madison Productions in association with CBS TV and Sony. Now in its 6th season.

Rules of actual engagement? There aren't any that I'm aware of.
Seriously, someone needs to come up with some real life rules of engagement that we can integrate into the day to day life of being engaged. We used to have tradition to lean on to give us a loose framework of how things should run. Since tradition went out the window, along with good manners, good morals, and the ability to merge in peak hour traffic and effectively use roundabouts correctly, we're all flying a bit blind. The intergenerationalism and multiculturalism that (i assume) are features of most weddings, mean that we are dealing with a whole variety of perceptions and interpretations of tradition and varying levels of attachment to this tradition.

OK, so as tradition has taken a backseat over the years (or so people would like to think) it is still very much at the heart of the whole idea of marriage. And it's not a bad thing people! Tradition is not a dirty word. As much as sometimes we dont like to admit it we, as humans, need rules. At least a loose bundle of the social fabric that allows us to interact on a daily basis. In the context of a wedding, its that foundation that the rest can be built on. The pizza base before all the toppings go on, the most essential part that if its not there, you dont have a pizza at all, you just have some tomato sauce and a bit of cheese really.

At the moment, I would say we are just in the process of understanding the recipe for the best dough in order to make ourselves the best base. As previously mentioned, I've already got a couple of toppings set aside ready to go, no cheese.

But i digress. The rules of engagement? where are they? I refer mostly to this engagement party caper which we are in the midst of planning.

Being engaged for some weeks now, a common comment of any wedding /engagement talk is, "who cares what anyone else thinks - its all about the two of you." This is simply not true. OK, so the nitty gritty of betrothal IS about us, but, in my limited experience, it's about balance, trying to keep everyone happy, and graciously accepting advice no matter how misdirected it may be! Its as if, getting engaged opens the flood gates to friends, acquaintences and absolute strangers alike to make outrageous suggestions of what, how, where, when and why. A colleague of Fiances (one I've never met or heard of) just the other day took it upon herself to suggest a song that should definitely be played at our reception, because she likes it and thinks it is a very nice song to be played at a wedding. Instances like this are now not uncommon.

I must point out at this time, that I have become a little (fiercely) protective of Wedding. It's ours and you can't touch it. However, we will share it with a select few.

Apologies for the incoherent and disjointed rambling today. I must explain myself and the reason for this particular post.

Engagement Party has arrived on the scene. We'll call it Engagey for short. Engagey is at this point not causing me to lose sleep, but is has been a bit of a chameleon. At this point, I'm a bit in love with Engagey as it exists in my head. How that is translating into real life is another story. But for the most part it's fun, exciting and

Engagegy is like Weddings little sister, the crazy, carefree one that is a bit of a basketcase but in an affable, easy going way. Wedding is a little more serious and uptight. Wedding could take a leaf from Engagey and vice versa. You can tell they are related but they are both distinctively different.

Apparently, it's not true Engagement etiquette to throw a party but according to "The A-Z of manners and etiquette" there are a few "important" engagement party rules and guidelines to follow including but not limited to:

1. No one should be invited to the engagement party that is not invited to the wedding. - Uh oh. Our Engageys first faux pas. Fiance we have a problem, there is no way we can have 3 soccer teams at Wedding. We are more than likely not abiding by this one - not a good start. More so, Engagey is a good way for guests to lavish gifts upon us and impress us with their cordiality. There is still time for them to fight it out for a spot in the top 80 or so for Wedding.

2. Guests are not expected to bring gifts to an engagement party, but if they do, open them in private or after the party. Don't forget to send thank you notes. Oh yes, by all means they are not expected to bring gifts, but it WILL help secure a place in the aforementioned top 80. And if we dont like the unexpected gift, no one will know cos we'll open it in private and each mark down a score out of 10 which will be considered as a part of a total score for the evening.

3. The bride's father is the first to invite the guests to raise their glass in honor of the bride-and-groom-to-be. The guests will drink a toast to the happy couple. The couple do not drink at this time. - Sweet baby jesus. I'm actually reading these for the first time just now. Looks like we're going to need a comprehensive set of notes to know when and where and under what circumstances we are able to sip our drinks. Sounds like fun.

The groom-to-be says a few words, then offers a toast to honor his bride-to-be and her family.

After his short speech, other guests may propose toasts to the couple and their parents.

zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

Traditionally, the parents of the bride host the engagement party, but there aren't hard and fast rules.

Alternatively, the bride and groom can host it themselves, or a friend or other family member can undertake the hosting duties.

It is not good engagement party etiquette to ask your bestman or matron of honor to host the engagement as they will have other parties to host, don't forget the Bridal Shower and the Bachelor Party. - oh yeah, we won't be forgetting thoooooooosssseee.

6. The style and size of the party depends on your budget and what you prefer. It can be a formal affair with printed invitations and reply cards, a casual backyard barbecue, or anything in between.

Typically, engagement parties are a cocktail event or casual in nature since you want the happy couple to be able to mix and mingle throughout the evening with family and/or friends.

7. For those with especially long engagements, engagement parties are held one to three months after the engagement, and/or about a year before the wedding.

For others it can be held any time more than six months before the wedding.

Well, i asked for it! Geesh. Looks like there are some rules in place. There is no reason you should feel obliged to have a party to celebrate your engagement. its not a requirement, but if you do choose to do so, there are an extensive set of guidelines and etiquette that come along with it. Now is anyone else as confused as me?

Bugger it, screw you etiquette, its all about us anyway.

Wearing Juanita

2011-07-31T22:44:00.000-07:00

The venue was the foundation for the rest of my planning. Most wedding chitter chatter with any girl usually includes the peppering of basic, predictable questions vaguely along the lines of dress, hair, colours etc.
"Do you know what kind of dress you want?" Depends on the Venue/time of year etc. "Flowers?" Are seasonal. "Do you know what you will do with your hair?" Depends on the dress, which depends on the venue..so on and so forth you get the picture. I mean all very well and good having all these amazing ideas but, for me, its a case of being able to understand what, why, when, where and how it all fits together which means having the venue organised complete with a date to match! Now that we have that, we can move on!

And boy did I move, a week later I had a photographer, a DJ, two florists, a potential hairdresser and half a celebrant. They are the basics covered off. I'm guilty of it on occasion but I've gotta say, I'm not a huge fan of leaving it until the last minute. Luckily, I still have 657,000 minutes left to organise the rest of it.

MOB was excited about dress shopping. We kept it on the down low and organised an appointment (last minute) to try on a couple of sneaky wedding dresses. It was a special MOB moment. She's seen it all before when MOH was planning her wedding but I knew she still had some mother of the bridely tears left in her. It was my duty to extract them.

One of the things I'm still struggling with on the whole dress thing...is the names. Do we HAVE to give them a name? They are not people. I want to wear MY dress, I dont want my dress to wear me. So, wow, I tried on some really amazing gowns. With really shitty names. I'm sorry I don't care how beautiful she is, I'm not wearing Juanita. I'm also not wearing Bernadette, Tallulah, Delilah, Dakota, Brooklyn or Jezabel. Jezabel!! Seriously, I would be more than happy to wear JLK3349 in white. Bad news is that this little marketing palava is widespread. I'd call it an epidemic, but it's more than likely pandemic. Like most industries, its seems to be a case of, someone started doing it so we should do it too.

It would be OK if I was allowed to name the dress. In fact maybe someone should get out there and tell these designers and boutiques this little pearl of wisdom. You can have this beautiful gown, its yours, you can even name it, if you want to. I would love to name my own dress. Like when I eventually have children, I'd like to name them too. Its not like the midwife or whatevs is going to deliver the baby, clean it up and hand it to me and go "Congratulations! Meet little Latishia!" noooo, take it back, I want one with a better name.

Anyway, I tried on over 10 dresses. It was tough going. And still no tears from MOB. I was starting to panic. The consultant assured me that we still hadnt pulled out the big guns, if all else failed we could stick a veil on, the veil turns on the waterworks apparently.

But then, a vision in white, i emerged from the fitting room, stood on the box and walah. Finally. Get the woman a tissue, get me out of this thing and lets get out of here! Mission accomplished. Made MOB cry and figured out what I dont want. A few weeks on, the idea of what i do want becomes more and more clear. But I haven't even started thinking of names.