I walked down the aisle, tears streaming, eyes reddening, unable to look at my father without a fresh waterfall starting. I just [...]]]> Today’s the day that Brian and I have been married 10 whole years! To read how we met, click here. To read the first part of our wedding day story, click on yesterday’s post.

I walked down the aisle, tears streaming, eyes reddening, unable to look at my father without a fresh waterfall starting. I just concentrated on that man standing at the altar in his tux (it always comes back to the tux, doesn’t it?). Somehow, I got to the front of the church, heard the priest greet the crowd we are gathered here today…

We had gathered the people nearest and dearest to us. Our family, our friends our dearly beloved had come to witness our new life starting together. The thought of it brought fresh tears to my eyes. (Lest you begin to worry, I cry at Hallmark commercials, so the enduring waterworks on the biggest day of my life were not unexpected.) The music was simple – a guitar and 2 voices. The flowers were lovely – daisies, daisies and more daisies. Everyone looked lovely. There’s a wonderful picture of the whole church laughing, although I can’t recall what they’re laughing at.

The mass was wonderful and meaningful and perfect. The altar was adorned with the flower girls’ baskets of daisies. Our best man sang the communion song. The music and readings were traditional and beautiful. It may be the one time in recorded history where I was strictly traditional. We took a bow after our first married kiss. (At least I did, Brian may have been more restrained.)

We left the church and the day’s rain swept away over the horizon, revealing a gorgeous, sultry summer afternoon. We went to the reception hall and took more pictures. The flower girls wilted in the heat, but were revived with the judicious application of ginger ales. The bridesmaids were similarly rejuvenated with glasses of champagne. Someone called me “Mrs. Carvin” and I looked around for my mother-in-law. (Still do, actually.)

As the cocktail hour was set to begin, the skies clouded over again and our guests were treated to a fabulous lightning show, as if Mother Nature herself was wishing us well. We skipped the receiving line and talked with each guest during the cocktail hour instead. Around the ballroom, tables were set with names like George and Gracie, Antony and Cleopatra and Hepburn and Tracy. (No one was “stuck” at Table 217.) The rule was that the couple didn’t have to be married, but couldn’t have been divorced from each other. We sat at Westley and Buttercup.

The dinner was fabulous, the cake divine. Our friends and former professors DJ’ed the dancing portion of our evening, spinning the oldies and getting everyone on the dance floor. We left in a cloud of bubbles blown by our guests and whisked away to the honeymoon suite. I got that (now heavy and sweaty) dress off and realized I’d left my overnight bag down in one of the anterooms off the ballroom. My gracious groom trekked back down to retrieve it for me.

The next morning, we met family and friends in the private dining room the hotel had set up for us. I wore a blue housecoat and bedroom slippers to prove that I was now an old married lady. The housecoat had been a gift from one of my uncles who was scandalized by his wife’s choice of a gift negligee at my bridal shower. I don’t think I’ve worn that housecoat since, but it’s in the attic.

We had another mass back at the house (it being Sunday after all) and headed south on our honeymoon.

And we’ve lived happily ever after.

We picked the date because it had been my grandparents’ anniversary. That, and it was over Labor Day weekend, leaving lots of time for out-of-town guests to hang [...]]]> Tomorrow, Brian and I celebrate our 10^th wedding anniversary, because we apparently got married in utero. If you want to read about how we met, see yesterday’s post.

We picked the date because it had been my grandparents’ anniversary. That, and it was over Labor Day weekend, leaving lots of time for out-of-town guests to hang out with us. September 2, 2000 dawned slightly gray and a little bit rainy, but I didn’t have time for that. My cousin and maid of honor and I hopped into the car and split to go pick up the other 3 bridesmaids and get to the hair salon.

Of course, between my friend’s house and the hotel where the last 2 members of our party were staying, the car began to billow out smoke. We hopped out of the car, convinced it was about to blow. Then we remembered Tiffany’s dress was in the car and decided we’d all go in together to get it (all for one and one for all and all that.) Dad swung by with the other car (turns out the van was very low on oil, hence the smoke) and we raced across town and back to get the girls and get prettified.

By the time we got back to the house, all 5 flower girls were there, in their matching dresses, eating lunch. One of my favorite pictures is of them sitting at the kitchen island wearing my dad’s old shirts backwards like smocks so they didn’t spill on their dresses. Theoretically, I ate something before putting my dress on.

And the dress! I knew exactly what I wanted when I went shopping for it. A short-sleeved, Basque-waisted dress with a sweetheart neckline and absolutely NO TULLE. So of course, I got a long (lace) sleeved dress with a tulle ballgown skirt. Naturally. But it was covered in embroidered daisies and I was a little, ahem, obsessed with daisies at the time.

We took pictures outside and inside then got ready to get into the limo. That’s when the skies opened up. It rained so hard I’m pretty sure I saw Noah paddle by in his ark! We got to the church with hairdos intact and waited (and waited and waited) for the big moment.

I remember walking down the steps into the vestibule of the church. I remember looking at my dad, watching him pull the veil over my face. I remember my high school drama teacher arriving seconds before I walked down the aisle. And I remember not being able to see any of the faces in the full church because of the tears pouring down my face, effectively removing any makeup I may have been wearing up to that point.

I also remember seeing Brian standing there at the altar, looking like he might just puke from nerves or float away from happiness (it was a toss-up, really.) And I remember knowing that I had made the right choice.

To be continued…

I first laid eyes on him across a smoky dance floor in Paris. I was wearing a scarlet evening gown slit up to my ears, he looked incredibly dapper in his classic black tux. As soon [...]]]> Brian and I will be celebrating our 10th wedding anniversary this week. This story is part of how that happened.

I first laid eyes on him across a smoky dance floor in Paris. I was wearing a scarlet evening gown slit up to my ears, he looked incredibly dapper in his classic black tux. As soon as I saw him, I knew – this was the man I would spend the rest of my life with…

Actually, that’s not how it happened AT ALL. We met in the grubby studio of our college radio station some evening in the fall of our freshman year. I was behind the board (technically behind the dj who was behind the board) when Brian walked into the room. I was almost too busy flirting with the training director to notice the tall guy who walked in. I do remember thinking to myself “Gee, that’s the biggest dork I’ve ever seen.”
In my defense, he was wearing the most stereotypical version of the 90s whit e guy uniform EVER – white tee shirt with Calvin and Hobbes, grimy baseball cap, loose-fit jeans. Come on. In his defense, it WAS the 90s and I may or may not have been wearing an honest-to-God flannel shirt at the time.

We didn’t actually start dating for well over a year – spring of sophomore year. Our friends had a big hand in getting us together. Basically every last one of them told us we’d better start going out or they’d never speak to either of us again. (It may have had something to do with long, mooning conversations about “Oh I like him sooooo much” and “I wonder if she really likes me?” I’d have stopped being friends with me too.)

I do remember the evening it all changed for me though, when Brian went from being a great friend to someone I really thought I could you know, LIKE. The radio station held a Valentine’s Day dance every year. Somehow, I got it into my head that I was going to (how do I put this? My mother and mother-in-law both read this blog) “turn the head” of the guy I liked once and for all (same guy I was flirting with back in paragraph 2). I found an old costume in the theatre loft – God only knows what show it was from. It was black “satin” with a sequin and rhinestone dragon splayed across the front and it was slit hip-high. It was about a size too small. (I was thin enough not to mind wearing a dress a size too small.) It was held together with safety pins and Velcro. ( was moderately more nervous about the intefrity of the safety pins and Velcro.) There is no photographic evidence of my ever wearing this dress, so don’t bother to ask.

I showed up at the dance and Mr. Flirty wasn’t there. I was so bummed. I decided to hang out with my friends and have some fun before I stalked, er hunted, er, um, found him. The DJs (two professors who ended up DJ-ing our wedding) announced it was time for the Twist Contest. I shouted out in my most demure voice (somewhat akin to a fog horn) “Gary, I can’t twist in this dress!” Gary responded “Missy, that dress is the reason we’re having a twist contest!”

I declined to twist but shortly after that there was a slow dance played. Brian asked me to dance. Hoo-boy did I get some nasty looks from his girlfriend. (Yes he was going out with someone else at the time, no she was not a fan of our slow dance.) I can’t tell you why, but that night it sort of clicked for me – hey Brian’s not so bad. The tux he was wearing helped.

For the next few weeks, the pressure from our friends was ON. We spent every Tuesday and Thursday together (I managed a magical schedule that only had classes Monday, Wednesday and Friday that semester). We started a radio show together. Our friends intentionally didn’t sit next to either of us so that when the other came into the dining hall, the only seat left was next to the other.

After a few more weeks of this near-constant onslaught, we figured out that – duh!! – we should really be going out. And the rest, as they say, is history.

Breakfast commenced and then we [...]]]> It’s Abby’s first day of school again. She was in our room at 5:45 because she was so excited. Being a good girl, she silently climbed in bed between us and lay there quietly (if not restfully) until 6:00 at which point she stage-whispered “Daddy, get up. It’s time for school.”

Breakfast commenced and then we headed outside for annual first-day-of-school picture taking. You can see she took the whole thing very seriously.

We got a couple of nice(ish) shots and then we had an attack from an Abby-shaped Silly Monster! (To get a sense of it, click through the slideshow as fast as possible.)

Once we got to school, it was “See ya, Mommy! Good bye, Daddy!” and off to play in the purple room. As it should be.

Abby, Mom and I piled into the car [...]]]> Wednesday was a long day. It started out innocently enough, what with getting Abby signed up for swim lessons and successfully navigating lunch. But then I got caught up in updating a PowerPoint deck and almost didn’t notice when it was time to leave for the airport.

Abby, Mom and I piled into the car and we booked it to our local regional airport. Abby got eight million kisses as I pulled my luggage out of the car. I checked in, breezed through security and found a seat in the waiting area.

Then my flight got delayed. (Isn’t that always the way?) There was some “equipment trouble” and they assured us they’d get us out to Detroit before morning.

The delay was sufficiently long enough to make me leave the security area and find the ATM. Because all the food options on the gate side (read: a snack bar and some vending machines) only accept cash and a quick inventory of my wallet revealed $6.07, or enough for half a Twix bar. Of course.

At that point I called Brian and asked him to bring me my phone charger, which I had conveniently left at home. He obliged and I got to give Abby another four million kisses when she arrived barefoot and buckled in wearing her sparkliest, pinkest princess dress.

Back through security and onto the plane. The flight was uneventful, except for the gorgeous view of the sunset above he clouds that have been hanging over us lately.

So by the time I wrote this I was in a bar 2 minutes from my hotel room, drinking wine and eating cookies with a good friend of mine.

Totally worth the delay!

It’s funny because I feel like I’m getting back in the swing of [...]]]> I know that the easiest way to keep my blog going is to post something every weekday, even when I don’t think I have anything to write about. So forgive me as I write what is unlikely to be my all-time favorite post.

It’s funny because I feel like I’m getting back in the swing of being a mom again, too. My darling child spent 2 whole weeks with Grandma and Bapa near Lake George, so I was Abby-free for a really long time. (Possibly the longest no-Abby stretch I’ve had since she was born.) And now she’s home from school and needing so much TIME and ATTENTION. It’s like “Who are you and why do you need me to constantly entertain you?”

So we’ve been spending lots of time together, at least until school starts again (in 10 days, not that I’m counting). Yesterday we went grocery shopping together and to the farm stand. Today I took Abby and her babysitter to the playground and then we baked brownies (which are cooling upstairs and smell SO yummy!) We’re finding ways to fill her days and keep her happy, without Mommy forgoing work (entirely) or pulling her hair out.

We’re also having long discussions about why we don’t eat out very meal (mommy just bought a boatload of healthy, yummy groceries) and what happens after Kindergarten (wait, you’re 3. Why are you worried about this, kid??)

I figure I better enjoy this time now, because in 10 short days (not that I’m counting), Abby will be in the Purple Room at school and I’ll have so much less time with her each day. I’ll also likely get a ton more work done.

So I’ve been away for approximately 80 lightyears, having gone to Maine and then to London, Paris, Adelboden and Lucerne before flying home through Zurich. And I know, poor me, to be tired after what amounts to 3 weeks off. [...]]]> OMG, you guys! I still have a blog! And I remembered the password and everything all by myself!

So I’ve been away for approximately 80 lightyears, having gone to Maine and then to London, Paris, Adelboden and Lucerne before flying home through Zurich. And I know, poor me, to be tired after what amounts to 3 weeks off. But dang, I just can’t tour like a 16 year-old any more! I am officially twice as old and probably weigh twice as much as many of my traveling companions. Plus we had an awesome East German tour director whose idea of a good time was running along the quays of Paris to get her group to the Louvre before closing.

So for some reason I am having so much more trouble adjusting to local time here at home than I usually do. It might be because on our whirlwind European adventure, the girls and I had several nights that ended at midnight and started again at five. In any case, I’m beat and have been going to bed old-lady early the past few nights to catch up.

So what’s new with you? Are any of you still out there? What did I miss in the past 3 weeks?

But before I can leave on my next [...]]]> Sooooo. I’m not really back from vacation yet. I’m no longer in Maine, but I’m writing this post from my mother-in-law’s kitchen table. I’m off to Europe on Thursday with a passel of Girl Scouts (pray for me) and Abby’s spending the next 2 weeks at Camp Grandma.

But before I can leave on my next trip, I have some unfinished business to attend to here. On the 22nd, I posted a giveaway of Pesky J. Nixon’s new CD Monkey Business and Mislaid Plans. In a totally random drawing, it turms out that 100% of the commenters won!! Congratulations Kristi and Jan! Email me your mailing address (missy@missylaneous.com) and I’ll get your CD to you. (Jan I’ll toss it over the divider between our cubicles.)

In the meantime, I’ve also scored (as in bought) a pair of tickets to give away  to the upcoming Pesky J. Nixon show on August 15. Here’s the details:

Where: Caffe Lena, Saratoga, NY

When: August 15, 7  p.m.

Who: Pesky J. Nixon, righteous Boston-based folk band in their first headlining gig at Caffe Lena.

How: Leave a comment. That’s it. Say “Hi,” tell me about your day, let me know what the weather’s like, give me a good reason you should get the tickets, whatever.

If there’s any way you can be in Saratoga, NY on August 15, enter to win the tickets. Or buy your own. Winner will be announced Thursday morning, August 5th.

(Good luck and see you at the show!)