...
...4...
...The calm before the storm is full of rainbows and unicorns (perhaps that valium was stronger than bridezilla imagined!!) - Today is the last day before THE BIG DAY (copyWright 2013) that isn't packed full of various obligations and appointments. Tomorrow, for better or worse, I get my wedding pants back from the alterationist, meaning I'll be free to finalize and/or just actually make informed decisions about my shoes, shirt and... service? Oh I mean, accessories. In the meantime, Andrew and I will be picking up the key to our beautiful new home(!), thus unleashing the floodgates of moving activities long held in abeyance. Oh and, no biggie, but two back-to-back dance lessons. Well, the lessons are next to each other, within the lesson, I will be allowed to dance facing my partners, but I digress. Thursday is the day that all the relatives from all corners of the globes and varieties of genetic and biological connection to us the happy couple arrive. En mass. In separate cars.
I'll also be holding my version of a "wedding shower," which may look to some more like a "wedding rose water spritz." I'll be at Boston's Pizza with Molly, my witness (maid of honor in legalese, since she's no longer a maid and matron really does sound so stuffy!). She'll be bringing her four month old Emma, who will clearly be the life of the party. I will be sporting some manner of silly head dress, and buying myself an equally silly drink. This will be novel in and of itself, since I don't actually drink more than a few times a year. I used to have a truly staggering Irish tolerance and taste for obscure and quality liquors. These days are long behind me. Now, I am assuming any libations shall be selected on the basis of the following criteria (1) the color, (2) the attractiveness of the associated glassware, (3) just how funny and silly the name sounds to me. Maybe I'll let Emma pick my drink, since she really shouldn't be drinking these days.
Oh and of course there's Friday, which features a pre-wedding "rehearsal" dinner that may well out-cost and rival the size of our actual wedding (Andrew's family is almost entirely flying in, so it is becoming a partial destination wedding, with lots of weekend celebrations and lingering stays for other hiking and dancing plans!). Then Saturday... well... I'll be insane(r) by then whether I think I will or not.
Really, it's rather funny. I don't feel all that stressed out at this point. We both have managed to keep it low key, space the planning and to-dos over the course of this last year, and keep ourselves pretty practical and focused on the fun parts without getting too swept up into the marital frenzy. I really love just how us this wedding is going to be. But I am noticing that maybe I'm a little less likely to sleep all the way through a night, as much as I could credit part of that to my delightful truffle pig's snortles, we have been seeing each other through about four allergies seasons now, so I don't think he gets all of the credit for my morning flights to the couch. And maybe my stomach is just a little unsettled. And maaaaaaybe, sometimes I'm not totally focused or perfectly pleasant at work. Just maybe.
Ah well, definitely less of a full on AAAAAAA than the Bar Exam so far, thank goodness. If you really want to lower divorce rates in this country, I'd strongly suggest an equally rigorous three day battery of tests before the license is granted. Trust me, no matter what I do and what secret fantasies of mooching off an undetermined patron to pursue "my art" (because my life is, naturally, art), I will be holding onto my WSBA membership after all the energy put into receiving it. Besides, I had to deposit half of my soul back when I got the license, and I'd hate to lose that.
Today, there's nothing scheduled. Which is not to say there's nothing to do. Really, it actually means that all the little niggling details I need to handle in life and in wedding should get handled today. For instance, I desperately need to do the minutes for our Collaborative Law Board Meeting. And, as I will officially be a member of PeaceHealth's Institutional Review Board as of April 10th, I need to complete the final module of the NIH course you have to complete before then. And finalize the wedding playlist (which is now an hour too long after being a paltry waaay too short! I love my music too much). Aaand schedule the movers for our new place. And print our vows/contract on nice paper for future framing. And figure out exactly how my name gets changed since there actually was not a place on the wedding license or certificate to specify that. This is very unlike a dissolution, in which the name change is right on the decree. And... oh yeah... work! Oh yeah!
And obviously, choose which of these beautiful shoes I'd like to wear. I'm torn between the crazy heeled black ones (they make me think of dribbles of gourmet oil or chocolate at a fancy restaurant) or the blue and white ones. Although The April First ones would have been great yesterday: yes that's a shoe on a ball with a horsetail instead of a heel.
...
... 3...
...Let the Wedding Wackiness Commence on Full Blast! Or perhaps not. Really still lingering on the uvea of that nice eye of the storm yesterday, so far. I was quite accomplished yesterday, in my own self-congratulatory opinion. I have all of the necessary forms to change my name in the future (dear god, they make this challenging, but I cannot not be Ms. wRIGHT ... the name is just way too awesome not to steal). Incidentally, that yellowish green packet came with the wedding license and is a guide to family law in Washington - almost all of which is a total downer about divorce, DV, and so on, by the way (love you Washington!). I sent out a major email with the schedule and task apportionment to all our wedding volunteers. I passed another module of my IRB training with one more to go before my first meeting. And I made the music happen!!
I have a workable playlist that has carouseled through a daily cycle binges and purges to reach my anticipated time slot, and mix of just about every kind of dance. There's an emphasis on swingable stuff, I'll admit. The nice thing about having an East Coast swing lesson is that newbies can do EC to pretty much anything. It's a versatile dance that blends into foxtrots and west coasts pretty easily. And, if you obstinately want to triple step to a waltz or a samba, then my blessings to ya. I populated the list largely with east coasts, west coasts (which conveniently blend with blues), and salsas. There are also a good showing of rumbas, tangos, a few cha-chas, one hustle, one samba (because I darn well like the song even if two people will even attempt to dance to it), one african ant-eater ritual, and maybe a bolero. Oh and some night club two steps.
I love the night clubs. Although they just sound like a couple of country ballads, the two I remember off the top of my head both have particular meaning attached to them. I Hope You Dance was actually a gift from my mom to me and Andrew. The lyrics elucidate wishes that one will never lose a sense of wonder, adventure, or hope; and of course about choosing to dance whenever there is an option of sitting it out or dancing. My mom first heard the song just before I went away to college and, although this was long before my ballroom days, she immediately thought of me whenever she heard it. I believe it was her send-off song and one that helped her let me hop into that car and drive off to the East Coast again and again and again to grab life by the tooshie and goose it quite properly. The words themselves are inspirational, but it's much more about the connection with that all-embracing hope and support that I feel when I hear this song and think of my mom.
The second one has a bit quirkier of a story: when my sister was a teenager, she had a marvelous friend who - never mind that he was slowly coming to grips with his own homosexuality at the time - insisted he was going to marry me based on some form of Chinese fortune he'd interpreted as mandating such. At the time I spent a lot of time as the little-sister mascot of my sister's social events (with the sobriquet of ADEEEEEEEELEEEEYAH, which was certainly not of my own invention or desire), so it was an ongoing running joke that expanded over time to my embarrassed delight. Not that I wanted to marry him, but I rather enjoyed being the focal point of a good inside joke that wasn't entirely at my expense. And, really, since he and my sister were either invited to or crashed (with my secret consent) most of my sparse social events and parties, I do think that he was certainly also my friend. A year after they started college, I visited him in Seattle and he told me that he'd found the perfect song for us, before putting on Shania Twain's You're Still the One. For the remainder of college, our intermittent visits were peppered with his following me around crooning parts of the chorus to me. He's still one of my sister's best friends, a favorite of my nephews, and a heart-breakingly sweet guy to boot. I'm a little sad that I never quite managed to invite him to the wedding personally, but there was a lot of shuffling around trying to get addresses and, of course, I've lost my side of the wedding invites years ago. He lives far away, so probably would not have come. Not sure if I really ought to be playing our song at my wedding to another man, but somehow, it feels appropriate to me.
Another challenge of dj-ing for a wedding would turn out to be that I like an awful lot of depressing, morbid, or promiscuously suggestive music. I'm quite pleased with myself for somehow creating a mostly upbeat and romantic set. And, yes, Oh Chihuaha is totally a romantic song (I plead the - I love it and it reminds me of the Blue Moon). Also, the salsa version of Bohemian Rhapsody and the swing version of White Wedding... obviously. Hey, it is my wedding after all.
Meanwhile, Andrew may have spent his last night ever at his old monkey house in Seattle. He's bringing as much as his Pathfinder can fit to move into the new place today, and will get another load tomorrow. How strange to realize I may never be in that house or see those people, his revolving door of roommates, again. A true transition upon which to reflect with more than a modicum of relief.
...
...2 ...
Truth be told (to the extent that such a protean thing as truth could ever possibly be caged in oral expressions): the closer I get to the event, the calmer and more chill I feel about the whole thing. I'm definitely somebody who plans out both her saving up and her freaking out to be distributed in small painless chunks. Sure that means I live just shy of homeless person in order to stay debt free and build up savings. Sure, it means I was totally "AAAAAHHH" about planning a whole wedding a few months ago, but it does pay off for me sometimes when the future decides to careen headfirst into the present. All is well and, well, if it isn't then I'm ready to ride the chaos and turn it into a funny story later. Most of my married friends do get an odd kick out of telling me their wedding horror stories, so I would hate to miss out on tradition.
 |
| I do not have to wear this! |
Our last first-dance lessons also went well last night. Nate has blessedly given up on reminding me to dance with some kind of - oh I don't know -technique and is constraining himself to helpful suggestions such as maybe flopping one's free hand around like it has fallen asleep is not what I'll want for any future pictures. I haven't exactly decided in which dance I'll fall on my ass yet, but I'm ear-marking a few spots where it is most likely. Fortunately, that will just whet the crowd's appetite in this context, I am sure. +Molly Tasanasanta and+Marcus Tasanasanta are now renting out the Majestic floor space for Zumba classes, so they happened in to see the final pieces, making them a member of the elite few who got previews. While mostly distracted by zumba hordes, they still managed to give me my required couple of hugs and hellos, so no Zumbafans had to get hurt in further efforts to acquire these things. I'm excited to think we might start running into each other again after lessons. How very 2007! My father, of course, helpfully has contracted a cold, which he insists I won't get because obviously I've been sick so often that i must have already had it! Brilliant logic, of course. I'm sure I'll be fine - cough cough.
We also gained ingress to the new place yesterday and Andrew - who will be referred to in a loud and excited voice as "MY LUUUUVAAAH" for the next couple of days until we're official - has already set up our utilities, brought in some clothes and realized that after all the moving, he doesn't really think his dresser fits in the space. What would moving be without such joys?
Anyways, aside from a work out at the Y and my wedding rose-spritz with Molly, I'm feeling a bit of a regular day coming on with hints here and there of the regular madness and mayhem.
...
... 1 ...
And I didn't even go the full nine yards. Instead of attending much of the increasingly large birthday dinner for my Great Uncle Ralph (a surprise dinner for an extended uncle who is more like a brother to my mother and her siblings), and instead of seeing my dad and aunts, and instead of seeing my future in-laws (all of whom got in yesterday and many of whom were with Andrew last night), I had already scheduled myself for my wedding rose-water-spritz with Molly and baby Emma. For my mandatory girly drink I may have flinched and backed away from some of the more insane concoctions. I opted instead for a blend of girly-enough and nostalgic by ordering a Tuaca Lemon Drop. It satisfied me in several ways: (1) the martini glass is one of my favorite glasses, (2) the flavor is sufficiently tart not to over-treacle my sensitive taste buds, (3) Tuaca, a brandy liquer infused with citrus and vanilla, used to be one of my favorite liqueurs (4) it was sufficient for sipping over a period of hours and never quite strong enough to make my head spin.
I do not need my head to spin any further at the moment. Apparently, although I am increasingly sanguine with each passing minute, the curse of the Bridezilladitz is still heavily upon me. Before getting into Boston's, I "parked" and pulled out my phone to answer an email. I did so blissfully unaware of the fact that my act of "parking" did not include the finality of such sundries as "the parking break." Although the car sat comfortably for a good minute or two, it found itself inspired by the nudge of a zesty zephyr or two and began to roll with the slight slope of the terrain.
Focused on my email, I failed to notice such adventurous vehicular endeavors, and only looked up after becoming perplexed about the source of the faint crunching noise around my car... fortunately it was slight crunching (only that of rubber against tarmac), but may well have become far more than that, considering my car had managed to extricate itself into the middle of the lane, where a car was blessedly stopping to avoid hitting me. It took me a full few seconds-that-felt-like-hours to figure out what on earth was happening and where the car I'd parked next to had gone. It took another eternal second or five for me to retrieve my keys and dutifully drive back into my spot. I'm sure there's a metaphor for my life in there somewhere. I'm just glad I didn't manage to crash a car while technically not driving at all. I spent the rest of the evening paranoid and peeking out of the window to make certain that the car was staying put this time. There may be anchors to lay out in the future.
Most importantly, I got to see Molly for a far more concentrated time than our schedules and other distractions usually allow. Particularly since the wedding crazies are about to amp up and I doubt we'll be able to have much quality time together for those days, it was particularly grounding. There are very few people with whom this little introvert can spend 3 or more hours with at a time and not start blinking a red "battery at critical condition." Nor are there very many people who can always just get it after so many years and so many changes and events in both of our lives. Also, despite all apologies and insistences that Emma "usually isn't this fussy," Emma was - relative to most young 'un's I've encountered - a placid angel. Also, I gots myself some swag including the awesomest apron ever, coconut oil, SOCKS(!!), lotions, and of course pink polka-dotted tissue paper that I may just have to turn into an ad hoc wedding veil.
I did drop in on the last half hour to forty-five minutes of my Great Uncle's surprise birthday dinner. I adore my uncle Ralph, although I rarely see him. He is an enormous teddy bear of a man, one full of old-fashioned stories you'd expect to find in a theatrical production more often than on the street. Still, I will say that a half hour was certainly enough of a time to be at a table of nine people in a restaurant. That makes the proposition of tonight's dinner including roughly 50 people and scheduled to last for about three hours an interesting proposition, but this is why I paced myself last night. And also why I told Andrew that he could spend his last night of bachelorhood building forts with my future second brother in law! They're already off exploring today. While my version of a "bridal shower" was to get a drink with my best friend, Andrew's version of a bachelor party appears to be taking an excursion to nearby abandoned factory, so Zach can take photos (pediatric neurosurgeon by day, marathon-crazed-off-pist-skier by vacation, and art photographer by night... my brothers in law are always unique enough to bear some formal relation to me, of course! Part of the vetting process...).
But yes, last day as a couple living (mostly apart) in sin and our last morning together just passed... In honor of this momentous event, I stayed about a half hour later to linger over caffeine with the LUVAAAAAAAH before heading in to work. In other staying-sane plans, there will be a third YMCA jaunt with Azita (went yesterday and did a funky work-out based on avoiding everything her back injuries told her she shouldn't do), a terrifying mani-pedi experience (I have one thick toenail and two black toe-nails plus dancer callouses... oh and I'm ticklish! Poor pedicurist is about to get a crepuscular tootsie in her face if she's not careful), and an easy work day of filing and flitting purposelessly.
Bring on the nuptial bliss, baby. I'm ready to rock this thing! And then, I guess, maybe pack and unpack my crap and move and fill out paper work and... man, why isn't there a magical wedding fairy who just turns you into a marital unit as soon as you say "I do"?? Like that maturity fairy that forgot to visit me on my 18th birthday... Ah well. For now, let there be family and then let there be dancing!
No comments:
Post a Comment