“Sweet Caroline”

I am oddly proud to say that I did NOT cry during my wedding ceremony.  I didn’t cry when I was standing in the back with my dad.  I did not cry when he walked me down the aisle.  I did not cry when he gave me away.  And I did not cry when I said my vows.

It is not because I was not feeling anything that day.  It’s quite the opposite.  You, my faithful readers, have known how long that I have waited and waited and waited for this day.  I was so profoundly happy that day, that I couldn’t cry.  I just wanted to be at the front of the church with my husband.

I did cry, however, at the reception.  When my cousin Meghan and I were younger, we went to church every Saturday evening at St. Mary Parish in Clyde, Ohio (where we were married) with my Grandpa Gene.  And on every single ride to the church, he played us “Sweet Caroline” by Neil Diamond.  Meghan and I knew that song by heart and we sang it at the top of our lungs until we pulled into the church parking lot.

I had asked the DJ at our wedding reception to play “Sweet Caroline” sometime before Grandpa Gene left.  I just wanted him to hear it.  Instead, our DJ called Gramps out to the floor and we danced to the song instead. And my sweet and wonderful Grandpa was a little teary, which in turn, made me lose it.  Thank God that my cousin Meghan came out and started dancing with us. 🙂

I’m not sure why that made me lose it.  Maybe it’s because the stress of the wedding was over and I could relax. Maybe it’s because I was a little buzzed. I think mostly, though, that it’s because I realized how long ago it was that I was singing that song in the truck on the way to church.

 

 

 

The Weekends

I am starting to forget what it was like to have weekends.

I mean, sure, Saturdays and Sundays still roll around at the end of the week, but the weekends are not mine–and truthfully, they haven’t been in months.

As this wedding approaches (40 days away!), the weekends get busier and more hectic.  For instance, here’s a rough sketch of any given weekend.

1. Wake up at 6am so that I actually have time to work out.
2. Eat Breakfast
3. Shower
4. Wake Mike
5. Get in the car so that we can go do something wedding-related.  This could be anywhere between Toledo, Ohio to Pittsburgh, PA.  The good thing is that this means we are seeing our families a lot.
6. Come home.
7. Stress that I don’t have time to clean my freaking house.
8. Go to work Monday through Friday.
9. Start the vicious weekend cycle again.

In other words, there is no rest.  This weekend, however, was actually kind of restful amid the chaos.  On Friday after work, I came home and put on my pajamas.  We spent the rest of the night in front of the TV watching The League.

Saturday was chaos.  Up early to work out, etc. (see above list).

At 10:30, Mom and Dad showed up for breakfast.

12:00, Mom and I got our hair done.

2:30, got back to Brunswick and started talking wedding crap.

3:00, went to Hollo’s for program paper.

4:00, saw that Dad was hooked on a movie.

5:00, started with appetizers for party that night.

5:30, Mom and Dad left.

7:00, my brother Jason and his friend Marc finally rolled in.

7:30, went to our join bachelor/bachelorette party with work friends!!!!

2:30am on Sunday, I drove everyone’s drunk asses home (PS, I was sober!  Yet I still managed to put my foot through a screen door and shoot my brother with a paintball gun).

Exhibit A

The rest of Sunday was for cleaning Matt’s house, rescreening his door (exhibit A), and cleaning my own house.  Oh, and napping.

 

 

A Wedding Rant

Here’s something I found out recently–planning a wedding is obnoxious–almost as obnoxious as Gwyneth Paltrow!  Before I start bitching, I will say that things have been good, and we’re lucky that my wonderful parents are graciously paying for it, and Mike’s wonderful parents are picking up the booze and rehearsal dinner.  We are INCREDIBLY GRATEFUL.

But here’s my wedding rant.  

Invitations.  The place where I got my invitations sent me a wonderful box of goodies with my name and Mike’s name all over the contents.  I took everything over to my grandparents house with the goal to do a marathon invitation stuffing session and get that shit in the email.  Only once I was ready did I realize that they failed to send me the right RSVP envelopes.

So all my RSVP cards would go to a woman named Jenny in New Jersey.  Invitations are on hold.  I haven’t forgotten about you.

Can I also just say that the price of invitations is RIDICULOUS?!  It’s a piece of paper that people will stick on their refrigerator or bulletin board for two months prior to your wedding.  On the day of your wedding, they’ll peel it down, stick it in the cup holder of their car where it will get stained by last week’s coffee, and reference it only to find out how to get to the church and then to the reception.  And then, in the morning, they’ll throw it away.

So if my invitations are not incredibly fancy and you are disappointed, I apologize.  But really, what do you care?  On October 27, it’ll be in the trash.

Where do I believe that the money should be spent on a wedding?

BOOZE, Photographer, DJ, Food, Cake.  Because really?  I don’t remember what one invitation looked like, what one bridesmaid bouquet looked like (except for those weddings I was in), what the flower girl wore, what the wedding favors were (although mine are going to rock), or whether or not the chairs had bows on the back.

Good day.

 

So I promised pictures…

And here they are!  If I’m in the grey dress, it’s the wedding.  Blue sweater, bachelorette party, anything else, 3 year anniversary.

A Baby for Good Measure

 

What a Weekend!

UPDATED:

We dance. Oh yes.

Friday, I (helped) buy my boyfriend a gun.

Saturday, my cousin Hilary married her now husband Josh and we had a heckuva time at the wedding.

And Sunday, it was 65 degrees!!!  I ended up running 5.5 miles and walking another 5.5 with my mom and brother’s girlfriend, Katie.  And Mike got to golf.

It was just so much fun.  Check back tonight for some wedding pictures!  Right now, I’m too busy. 😉

 

A Mapper’s Wedding Ring

About three times I week, I lose myself in internet fancy and start staring at big-stoned wedding rings.   I rarely look at men’s rings because frankly, they’re not so exciting.  But I found this one today:

For those of you who may not know me, my boyfriend is a mapper.  Not the Christopher Columbus, track the stars, wear stockings and a three-pointed hat kind of mapper, but rather a real-life one that actually makes maps of Pennsylvania and loves the land.

Which is why he needs to marry me ASAP so I can buy him this ring!  Whatdya say, Mike? 😉

 

Proposal Planners? Are you farking kidding me?

Well, you get two posts today because I just saw this:  There are proposal planners to to help men pop the question.  This almost makes me as mad as hipster marshmallows.

As if paying out the butt for a wedding planner isn’t bad enough (I’ll attack this some other day), now men are to the point where they can’t even plan their own PROPOSALS?!

I blame a combination of the following:

• Women have beat men into thinking that nothing short of a trip to Paris will do.
• Men have become completely unoriginal.
• And if they need a proposal planner because they can’t think of their own unique proposal, they probably don’t want to marry their lady anyway.
• Women desire to document every thing that happens to them with a camera (which you can do for free)
• And men’s complete “bewilderment” of romance.

All said combinations of this are stupid.

Paris is silly.  Men are afraid to be original. And ladies, you do NOT need to pay a photographer or have a proposal planner there to document your proposal!  If your man can’t ask one of his friends or your friends to hang slyly by and snap pictures while he pops the question, then he’s an idiot.

And I don’t care if men are bewildered by romance and don’t understand it.  Women don’t need you to act like the men in romance novels–all that matters is that you put a little thought into it.  If Mike proposed to me over a McDonald’s coffee (which is how we first started hanging out) or on a swing set (where we go to feel like kids again) or one of the places where we met in the middle when I was in NC and he was in PA, well hell.  I’d be happy with that.

Ladies, if you said yes to a planned proposal (which cost between $500 and $1200), let me know so I can come there and give you a mohawk before your wedding.  Think about this–that money could have gone toward your engagement ring, your honeymoon, or starting your new life together.

Despicable.

 

Garters and Bouquets?

So.

This past weekend Mike and I drove to Ohio.  My friend Ashley was getting married.  It was 90 degrees.  Thunderstorms threatened the horizon all morning.  The service was beautiful.

Ashley and Jake had their wedding in Spiegel Grove, which is where President Hayes’ house is, and where he is buried, and where all the most beautiful trees are in Fremont.  It’s a place where everyone takes their prom pictures, where weddings that don’t take place there have photo shoots, and where you can feed squirrels seeds, peanuts, and corn from the palm of your hand.  It’s a sweet little place.

And in an array of lemon yellows and lime greens, Ashley married Jake.  It was so gorgeous.

At the reception, they even had lime beer.  🙂  Chilada style.

And for the record, I caught the bouquet.  And Mike caught the garter.  And all night in my head, I planned my own wedding.  To him.  And I say this only because I know he doesn’t read my blog.

Truth is, I’m waiting patiently to move from housegirlfriend to housewife.  Maybe not so patiently.

More on this later.

Coffee and tiny beauty queens.  Bring it on.