Tomboy Turned Bride

i am my mother's daughter

2010-05-31T18:08:00.001-07:00

in sixth grade, my class put on a play about nursery rhymes. in the bible belt, that's how you make children on the cusp of puberty feel incredibly guilty about every naughty thought they have. i was mother hubbard - complete with stuffed animal hound. hot, right? well, suck it. i nailed it. i stole the damn show. but that's not the point. after the play, my mother comes up to me and says, "ooooh, why don't you like michael? he's really cuuuute." first of all, gross, right? he was 12; 13 at best. secondly, he was NOT cute. he was tall and gangly and some parts were bigger than they should be -- his NOSE, people. jeez.

flash forward nearly 20 years. guess what? michael is HOT. i mean like movie star hot. damn you, mothers, for always being right.

i'm reminded of this because henry rollins popped in my head today. old hank is a feast on the eyes with a voice that sounds like he's munched on construction-grade gravel for breakfast. sexy. i recalled being into rollins band in college when hank was trying his best not to be hot. i was all badass wearing cut-offs and striped tights and an L7 t-shirt...all borrowed from my roommate who was about thirty shades more badass than i. i came home one weekend listening to rollins band on tape in my car. my mom was with me. when "liar" came on, she said, "oooooh! i love this song! he's SOOooooOOO cute!" gah! first of all, he's not "cute", mother! he's a bad mf-er. not CUTE.

yeah so today i saw this.

damn her for being right all the time.

i love you, mommy.

honeymoon' - thailand days 6 - 9 (koh phi phi -> chiang mai)

2010-03-25T10:37:00.000-07:00

at the start of our trip, i tempted the gods. i made some proclamation about my guts of steel and being able to handle authentic thai food. there may have been some maniacal laughter. well, sick bastards that they are, those gods proceeded to serve a dish of words for me to gobble up. i was overcome with some fluke stomach bug on the last night of our stay in koh phi phi. this lasted into our third day in chiang mai. while i do love to sit around and watch reruns of 'law and order' and 'house,' i'm a much bigger fan of exploring the city i am visiting when i paid a trillion dollars to get there. i'm slightly exaggerating. it was only a million. okay a thousand. whatever.

my poor husband. here we are on our honeymoon and i'm writhing in pain and clutching at my abdomen every other five minutes. every other five minute interval was spent taking a hot shower (no tub!) in the hopes i could relax my seized stomach muscles and get some rest. it was lovely. for both of us. and with all this stomach buggery, NOT A SINGLE POUND WAS LOST. seriously?! how is that even possible?

FINALLY, on day ten of our trip (fourth in chiang mai), i was able to move around at a pace more akin to tortoise than slug so we ventured out into the town for longer than an hour. i have absolutely fallen in love with chiang mai. it's dusty and hot but it's also quaint and relaxed and soothing. we walked around town all afternoon. i ordered a MILD northern thai curry for lunch that literally singed my tongue with spice. i have no idea what i was thinking. by the end of the trip i had learned to order EXTRA MILD spice which they translated into NO SPICE. i am of irish and german descent -- and while that gives me the ability to pack away more alcohol than one would think possible, it doesn't fare so well in the spice sensitivity department. it's the cross i bear.

OH! speaking of crosses to bear, guess what else i learned on this trip! i'm literally allergic to the sun. fabulous. you know that big thing that comes out EVERY DAY and is kinda vital to all life on earth. well, apparently my skin hates it. or it hates my skin. whatever. so here i am back at home with even paler skin than when i went to a TROPICAL ISLAND and weighing not a pound less despite the stomach flu and some pretty amazing treks around thailand. oh and i haven't even mentioned my accident yet...

that deserves its own post.

honeymoonin' - koh phi phi - day 4

2010-03-15T04:08:00.000-07:00

things to know about vacation:

- my brother got the good skin genes. i curse him and his olive skin. here i sit with a heat rash and sunburn trying not to look like a human lobster. thank allah for aloe vera gel!
- we have an uncanny sense for picking amazing hotels and resorts. with minimal effort. i do not understand these people who still think they need a travel agent. try mixing a cocktail of tripadvisor + orbitz and shake well. it has worked out pretty damn well for us. we went to tong sai bay (in koh phi phi) today and while i'm sure many find it lovely, we were SO READY to be back in our little resort haven. we immediately jumped off the boat and plopped on the beach for a gin fizz and beer. it totally sucks to be us, braving the popular side of the island with the commonfolk. it's really better we aren't staying there. i'd have to gut a eurotrash hipster every hour in order to deal with the place. i'm not up on thai law but i'm quite sure that's frowned upon....despite mike's belief that the resort next to us is "hostel IV" since we have seen a thousand people go in and NOT A SINGLE SOUL leave.
- the room's mini-bar, while pricey, gets less and less elusive as the days go by. today i decided to answer the call of the champagne bottle in our mini-bar. i've been craving bubbles since i landed but have been unable to find a per-glass offer. so screw it, i'll drink a half-bottle myself. as it turns out, that was the best (insanely expensive) half-bottle of bubbles i've had. also, kinda drunk right now.
- outdoor showers effing rule. seriously, i'm not even sure i will be able to go back to showering indoors. there's a certain danger in outdoor showering. like someone will be able to see you. especially if you're my husband who refrains from pulling the curtain down and putting the towels on the rack to cover his bare ass from passers by. i'm sorry, zeavola guests, for the show you got earlier today. oh, you weren't offended? then i'll be requesting payment for services rendered. he's a pretty boy, i know. he can't convert currency or measurements or time zones. but my god, he's pretty. so pay up, suckas!

tomorrow, we're going snorkeling despite my hatred of oceans and seas and the things that live in them. we're even signed up to WILLINGLY swim with sharks. why do i do this to myself? but then the reward for the price i've paid with all the fear i can muster.....MONKEYS. yep, we're going to monkey island where there are promises of monkeys to play with and love and squeeze and call george. maybe. that's what i heard.

and THEN....

the boy is signed up to get not one but TWO spa treatments before we leave this little slice of heaven. i honestly cannot believe this and fear i have created a massage monster. though i guess there are worse things to have created. i mean he's going to need a 'buddy' to go with him on these spa expeditions i expect (read: dream/hope/pray) he'll be going on.

honeymoonin' - koh phi phi - day 1

2010-03-13T21:47:00.000-08:00

well, five months after getting hitched, we are finally off on our honeymoon. we decided on thailand due to our love of thai food and the hope that there would be plenty of vegan treats for the boy. turns out, native thai food is very ducky and chickeny and only seafoody on islands. i personally enjoy that last part since i'm a 'fake vegetarian' and all.

the first leg of our trip is being spent on the island of koh phi phi at a posh resort called zeavola. after a night in phuket, we were so ready to be here. on our first full day here, the boy stepped outside of his comfort zone and got not only a massage but (also!) a facial and was quite upset that i was not into the body wrap. seriously, who is this person? certainly not the man to whom i would propose a massage at home and his reply would be, "i don't need to relax."

so we get our thai massages and not having had one before, my mind kept racing with thoughts. like these:

"excuse me, miss. i'm not sure my knee is suppose to turn 90 degrees in the opposite direction."
"why yes, i would like my elbow to touch my ear."
"i can now add 'human pretzel' to the list of alternate careers should i ever get laid off."
"thank god i can't tweet this shit."
"is my foot suppose to go there?"
"it's hard to relax when my thigh is being detached from my hip."
"my god, tiny woman. how ARE you doing that?!"
"i didn't even know that could pop!"

despite the myriad of alarming thoughts, i have to say that was the best massage i've ever had in my life. it was also a good first one for the boy who likes to do things to the extreme. thai massage is definitely the extreme of the genre.

next up, sunset cruise to bamboo island.

ringin' it in

2010-01-02T13:50:00.000-08:00

this year presented many challenges, the least of which was planning a many-thousand dollar party for us and 150 of our dearest friends and loved ones. 2009 was a great year in that it is the year in which the past seven years were honored in a display of love and joy and friendship. but other than that joyous day and all the awesome parties that accompanied it (there were MANY), it was a pretty nasty year. cancer scares and grandparent losses and family issues. it wasn't pretty.

but the one thing that we learned in this year, roller coaster that it was, was who our friends are and just how many of them there are. many many folks at our wedding commented on the fact that we have some pretty amazing people in our lives and each of them loves us unconditionally. we'd look around and think, "holy smokes. you're right. these bitches rock!" and i'd tack on, "and if they rock this hard and love me, then i must REALLY rock." i'm modest like that.

so in this end of last year and beginning of the new year post, i'm not gonna tick off the memorable moments. the list is just too long. the most memorable moments i've had this year are the ones in which old friends were cherished, new friends were made, and my best friend became my husband. the song we danced to at our wedding perfectly illustrates this. enjoy.

Ships Made of Wood
The Town Pants

I won't lead you won't follow
Come on up here and stand beside me
We'll just keep doing what we're doing
And the world will come around you'll see
Ain't no use in worrying about
How much more work we can do
And I know if I'm the last one standing
I can look around and I'll see you

There are ships made of wood
And there are ships that sail the sea
But the best ship is the friendship
That there is 'tween you and me
It's sailed through stormy weather
Navigated foreign seas
And you know if you're the last one standing
You can look around and you'll see me

I'm happy where I am these days
Still frustrated in so many ways
I know a breeze is blowing
But I feel no movement for so many days
I can see the stars
But how long from here to there I can't say
But I can take some solace
Knowing I'll have you to talk to along the way

Sometimes we all forget
It's the journey and not the destination
That makes all the difference
When you finally pull into the last station
It's not what you do it's who you know
And I am very glad that I know you
It's been my mistake not to
But I hope it's not to late for me to show you

click this doodad to buy it on iTunes ->

charmed, i'm sure

2009-11-28T19:37:00.000-08:00

as you enter into adulthood and your friends start pairing up and splitting off from the herd, you hear the phrase, "you just know" a lot. i used to think this phrase was akin to equine excrement. "like HOW do you know? what is it you feel or sense or something?" i would ask. the answer was always smoke and mirrors, "well, ummmm. i can't describe it. you just know."

well, i'm here to tell you how you know, single folks. when the universe folds tab A and slot B together in harmony, that is when you know. i know what you're thinking. "what the hell does that mean? this is helpful?!" let me give you some examples.

1. first date at chinese restaurant. fortune cookie says "stop searching forever. happiness is just next to you." your date says "the chair next to you is empty." hilarity ensues. you get that same fortune no less than 742 times over the next couple of years. you start to suspect fortune cookie writers are stalking you.

2. you get upgraded at every vacation rental you rent together to a ludicrous degree.

"you ordered the studio garden suite but we are painting it so we'll give you the top floor four bedroom with views at no extra charge." - vancouver, bc

"i hope you like being remote. we gave you the bungalow furthest away from civilization." - the whitsunday, queensland, australia

"you didn't order a room with a view of the harbour bridge but you just can't stay in sydney without it. here you go. on us." - duh

seriously. it's to the point where we kind of expect to get upgraded.

3. finding vendors for your wedding is easy and comfortable. and each one of them is mind-bogglingly fastastic. as in, i am sad i am no longer getting married because i so enjoyed knowing these people and getting to talk to them on a regular basis.

first we found our chef. luis makes the me most mouth watering vegan entries. he came to our home and cooked our tasting menu for us. by the end of the meal, i was seriously contemplating trading mike in, rod wanted to steal him, and jen actually tried to kidnap him. in the end, we decided it would be best if he just come teach us a cooking class. then we'd be able to spend time with him again AND eating would be involved. and then there's eden, the catering coordinator. eden kept me sane. she helped me more than i ever expected her to. she took charge of overseeing the entire shindig, the thought of which had been causing me a significant amount of head pain for the better part of the year. in short, she saved me either a murder charge or a hospital stay.

next we found our florist. lidia is the kind of woman you want to be friends with. she's relaxed and no-nonsense. from the beginning, i would tell her exactly what i was and was not into. her demeanor gives you the comfort you need to tell her what you really think. for example: "if you put roses near me, i'll vomit. i'm not kidding." at our wedding and afterwards, the first thing everyone said to me was, "WOW! your flowers were gorgeous!" and they were. they were everything i'd ever hoped for and more. i really do want to be friends with lidia. i've asked mike how often is too often to order professional arrangements just so i can stay in touch with her. i think he's scared to answer.

finally we found our photographers, jo and dave. jo and dave are supremely talented. like jaw-dropping talented. but to be fair, we didn't find them. our friend, scott, so highly recommended them that i think he'd have stopped speaking to us if we hadn't called them...and with good reason. this husband and wife team is so warm and friendly and gets to know their clients so well that their clients become their friends. in fact, we invited them to our rehearsal dinner to meet all the friends and family. and on the wedding day, they captured magic that only the work can speak for.

engagement session

wedding sneak preview

wedding pics

so there ya go, single folk. that's how ya "just know." things fall into place. it's not to say there aren't hard times. this is real life, after all. there is real work to be done. but there are some things that are so easy and carefree and right that you're left with a warm feeling that yes, this is truly where you are suppose to be.

let's do the time warp...again

2009-11-10T08:44:00.000-08:00

as it turns out, it's quite difficult to plan a wedding without the help of a coordinating professional. there are lists. there are shopping trips. (did i mention i love to shop? well, that's because i don't.) there are overzealous plans. there are militant fiance's chasing you down with lists and schedules.

in all of this flurry, one must also retain employment as the wedding industry is probably the most lucrative there is. say you're getting married and every price triples. it's quite obnoxious.

so here we are, two weeks after my wedding with you having no idea how we got there, how it went, or if we gave up and ran to reno to elope. i know you're just beside yourself. so to ease your mind and to clear my many drafts, i'm going to be posting all the stories i only wish i'd had time to post during the planning and scheduling and scurrying of it all. enjoy.

paparazzi

2009-07-12T21:45:00.001-07:00

Way back in early July, we spent the day meeting our wedding photographers and walking around our neighborhood taking pictures. Our photographers are amazing. Really and truly. They were recommended by our dear friends, Scott and Hilary, after we saw their wedding photos. They truly captured the warmth and uniqueness of the day with most of the guests oblivious to the fact a camera was there. Allegro Photography is Jo and David Lee. Jo and David are a husband and wife team formerly of the Bay Area. They have relocated to Boston so all of our communication was via email or phone. We met them the day of our engagement session.

Michael and I had picked some sites we'd always thought were beautiful. We also picked places that reminded us of the early days of our relationship. Those days were filled with hearts fluttering, hand holding, and carefree roaming around The Mission District. We look back on them now and all of the images are cast in a romantic glow.

In order to proceed with this story, you'll need a bit of background about me, Michael, and each of our relationship's with cameras. I was born to be in front of a camera. If I had a nickel for every picture of me, Oprah would be the #2 media mogul of the world. Michael, on the other hand, is camera-phobic. When a camera appears, he runs. If his retreat isn't swift enough and he is forced into the situation, his face contorts into a disdainful (borderline serial killer) grimace. We could not be more opposite in this regard. As such, our preparations for the day were very different.

I spent the day prior to our shoot shopping for a new pair of jeans and a cute top to wear. Found and found! Michael was given strict instructions to find a solid color that would match coral - grey or white or navy - because we were advised that black wouldn't be the best color to pair with my top. He came home with two olive shirts, a grey patterned shirt, and a navy and white checkerboard shirt. When I tried on my shirt to show him, he said, "I thought you got coral!" Turns out, he thought coral was blue. Wha?! See what I have to deal with, people.

Morning of, we meet Jo and David. We are dressed in coral and grey (because Michael got up at 8AM and ran to Target to get grey or white even though I didn't ask him to...primarily because I thought he'd screw it up again.) We ask Jo and David how we look or if they have suggestions. They are taken aback because apparently people don't ask their opinion about this normally. I find this odd. So they eye us up and down and express concern over MY shirt. I put on the sell and convince them I should keep it and we turn the focus to Mike. They tell him to try a black shirt. Black. The boy has no less than 854 black shirts in his closet. I can feel the daggers. I avoid eye contact.

Michael changes and we set about our day of photography. We meander from our garden to our front stoop over to Dolores Park. Then off to our favorite coffee shop, one we frequented when we first met and Michael lived around the corner from it. From there, we head to one of the most beautiful murals I've ever seen, the Mission Pool. I'm from an area of the country where the community pool is a non-descript government building that smells of chlorine and bleach. Not something that is truly a work of art.

We head back towards the park and stop on a street corner. As we walk, Jo and David snap pics. It's like we're being followed by the paparazzi. We joke that we're going to shave our heads and bash some car windows with umbrellas. We end the day at a historic mural in The Castro of the Market Street Railway but not before we return to our home to try to capture shots of our furry roommates, Smokey and Elmer. Smokey is the Angie of cats. Elmer is the Mike. So yeah, there are no shots of Elmer.

The day was so fun and surprisingly not painful for Mike. The shots are gorgeous and truly represent who we are and what we are about - home. We wanted to showcase our home at this time of our lives. When we look back on these images later in life, we want to recall when we lived in a city with quirky murals on the side of swimming pools and convenience stores. We want to remember the coffee shop we frequent once a year but the owner still knows our names and our order. We want to remember our psycho cat who no one believes exists because they've never seen him or seen a picture of him. Finally, we wanted these photos to be the exclamation point on the courtship that led to our wedding.

Mission accomplished.

small japanese villages beware

2009-07-01T19:01:00.000-07:00

[there's nothing i loathe more than bloggers who start off each post with "omg, i suck. i haven't updated in eons." we have RSS. we know. move on. yes, i realize i'm effectively doing the same. suck it.]

so anyways, i have a few bits of bridal trivia to give ya then i'm off for another month of silence as i try not to slit my wrists or wring the neck of my fiancee as we march towards The Happiest Day of Our Lives (TM).

i busted my bridezilla cherry about a month ago. (lovely, right?) i was having a meeting with two of my non-bridesmaids. they were contemplating the best course of action. one course of action directly affected the outcome i was counting on. so i busted it out.

"that's great and all but you WILL make this happen. i hate to say it BUT...

IT'S

WEDDING."

they bristled and took a sip of their wine and found a way to make it work. if you're going to bust out the bridezilla and expect to retain friendships, i *highly* recommend having wine on hand.

soon after said bridezilla moment, i had a minor meltdown. turns out when you've been ignoring your impending nuptials and then suddenly realize you're getting married in FOUR months, you have sort of a mental breakdown. and by sort of, i mean total.

mike had been away visiting family. upon returning, he attempted to bring clarity to our to-do list for The Big Day over a nice dinner date night. about halfway through the dinner, one of us had a breakdown. something about an idea for favors. something about not being heard. something that sounded like a healthy mixture of whining and crying.

and after i dried my tears, we devised a sane plan to tackle the next 16 weeks of our lives. holy crap, 16 weeks does not sound like a long time.

fast forward to my bi-weekly therapy session. my therapist, whom i love and adore and would probably have committed murder without, had listened to me recant the breakdown tha transpired a few nights before. then she says, "oh how exciting! this is the only time in your life you'll be planning such a joyous day! how wonderful."

then it hit me. what the hell am i bitching and moaning and breaking down about? this is a party, for pete's sake. nobody gives a crap about what color the linens are or if they get a gift bag with a walking map in it. it's about the fun. the camaraderie. the food. the booze. those things are already covered. it's smooth sailing from here on out. take a breath and enjoy this time.

and if anyone complains about lack of m&ms on The Big Day, i'll cut a bitch.

it does not boast, it is not proud...

2009-06-06T15:16:00.000-07:00

the man i choose to spend my life with has a memory like an elephant. he routinely pulls an inane reference out of the blue from five years ago and shakes with giggles as i stand there assuming this has something to do with something i did that was entertaining or stupid but have long since forgotten. intentionally.

in the early days of our relationship, i made a comment about how, as children, we all want mail. it's so exciting when something came into the box in your name. there was always something good in that envelope. a birthday card. an invitation to a party. but as an adult, mail is not fun. mail as an adult causes anxiety. too many magazines burning up too many forests. too many bills burning holes in your wallet. so he made a little origami note, filled with loved and folded with care, and mailed it to our apartment. it was insanely sweet. it also got me to check the mail with more frequency for a few weeks. see, i can be trained!

there was a taco bell commercial back then where the wife wanted something gooey and cheesy and crunchy and the poor husband was running all around creation trying to please her. mike turned to me and said, "oh my god, that's YOU! and you're not even pregnant!" apparently, whenever he headed out to the store, he dreaded asking if i'd like anything. now, i honestly do not remember this. (in his mind) i once asked for a cookie so specific in ingredients and size and origin that ever since, he'll ask as he heads out to the store, "would you like a gooey yummy oatmeal cookie from oregon?" in a whiny voice mimicking my own.

a few weeks ago, mike was positively giddy as we ate our breakfast. "oh, you're getting a gift. in the mail! and it's awesome. and i'm rad. and i'm going to score MAJOR points. teeheehee!!" to him, a relationship is a scoreboard. +2 points for taking out the trash. -10 points for asking if these are my fat jeans.

i thought he was kidding. i expected this gift was, in fact, not for me and resembled a robot in disguise to add to his ever-expanding Transformers collection. people, i have been trained to think this because it is most often the case. but no, it *was* for me.

now if i could only get him to remember our wedding date or my birthday.

am i supposed to be this calm?

2009-06-01T18:51:00.000-07:00

Mike and I went to Georgia this past weekend for my Grandmama Skipper's 80th birthday party. I'll spare you the whining about how many calories I consumed (A LOT) in the-deep-fried-and-slathered-in-mayo South and focus more on the incessant questioning.

"How's the wedding coming?"

"Are you over the planning yet?"

"Are you almost done?"

"Are you stressed over the wedding?"

"Are you considering eloping now?"

And so on and so forth. I gotta tell ya. The planning is coming along great. I am totally over it but it's going well. And, as a matter of fact, we *are* almost done. You wouldn't believe the looks I got when I told people this. You'd think I sprouted a third eye on my chin and started doing the hokey pokey. It's enough to make a person downright paranoid.

So now, despite having started my weekend completely calm about my wedding, I am a twisted bundle of nerves. I am convinced now more than ever that we are forgetting something major. Something so critical that the whole day will be ruined. Something that when I realize what it is, I will burst into tears at the horror of having a wedding and reception without it.

So I've started a checklist.

√ Groom

√ Bride

√ Clothing for ceremony

√ Rings

√ Venue

√ Officiant(s)

√ Wedding Music

√ Reception Music

√ Food

√ Sweets

√ Flowers

√ Favors

√ Booze

That's it, right? Or at least it's all anyone ever gives a crap about. And if people don't give a crap about it and we don't give a crap about it, then why would we bother? Am I right? It's not like my mom is one of those obsessed wedding monsters making me wear a garter and forcing me to nearly flash my hoo-ha at my grandpa just to fulfill some weirdo tradition. THANK GOD.

So I think I have a right to be this calm. So don't be surprised, dear readers, when I respond with such nonchalance to your wedding status questions. Unless an offer of valium is involved, then don't be surprised if I'm not "just a tee total basketcase."

weddingmania 2009

2009-05-25T15:18:00.000-07:00

we went to a wedding this weekend, the first we've attended since we started planning our own. i was quite looking forward to this event since i've developed a minor phobia about forgetting important details of our own big day. i semi-regularly wake up in a pool of sweat wondering if i'll show up on october 23rd, walk in the door, and have a wave of "oh shit!" wash over me as i realize i've forgotten underwear or lighting or shoes or something of equal import.

as we were getting dressed for the wedding, mike started asking me all sorts of questions about our own, including:

"do we get to play music as we walk in?"

"at jon and nikki's wedding? ummm no."

"no! at ours. like in wrestling. play music as you enter."

people, this could not more accurately demonstrate the frame of reference i am dealing with here. the man has no concept of weddings, despite having been to about eleventy-hundred in the last six years. so i responded,

"yes, dear. we can play music as we walk in. like in wrestling. or EVERY OTHER WEDDING."

"rad!"

*sigh*

later that night....

"dude! that guy serving the wieners (hors d'oeuvres sausages) looks JUST like the iron sheik! i wonder if we can get him to serve at our wedding! or marry us! that would be awesome!"

i turned to our friends and said, "yeah, we're also gonna walk in to music like in wrestling. we're gonna line y'all up on both sides of the aisle and have you pat us on the back, cheer, and maybe even throw a chair or two."

and *i'm* the redneck. uh huh.

vacation calories don't count, right?

2009-04-27T07:08:00.001-07:00

I've been in North Carolina this weekend for a sweet little ChunkaMonka's first birthday party. Her mama is the type of person who easily throws parties together but it looks like she spent tons of time and money on them. It's kinda sickening in an awe-inspiring kinda way.

I was looking forward to this weekend not only because I got to meet Little Miss Ansley but also because I planned on picking her mama's brain on wedding favor gift bag type stuff. Well, apparently when one has two children, her brain cells are so used up from tending to those two and cooking enough birthday brunch food to feed to an army that when your dearest friend asks for wedding gift bag ideas, you say, "Girl! I don't live in San Francisco. Put some Rice-A-Roni up in that bag and call it a day." Helpful.

Yeah. So needless to say I have no fabulous ideas as nothing sprang forth from the creative fount of Brenda's brain unto me. But I did learn how to make a tutu.

In a pinch, it can double as a veil.

Just look at that posing. Maybe I should rethink my career and consider bridal modeling. I could make the veils and then model them. We're in a recession, people. Two talents for the price of one.

I'm heading back to San Francisco in a few hours. I'm taking with me all the weight I had lost to date. Turns out it was hiding in the biscuits, shrimp grits toast, raspberry coffeecake, queso and margaritas, and sweet tea. Demons! I hope I'm able to leave the strep throat that recently popped up here. Lord knows I don't need that right now.

i hear they have drops for that

2009-04-19T20:25:00.001-07:00

I can't believe it. I took four of my girlfriends to view The Dress. Not a single solitary tear was shed. Not a one. Nothing but dry eyes as far as the eye could see.

There were, however, some pretty good faces. Behold.

From left to right: Erin, Sabeen, and Whitney with Jen bringin' up the rear

I love Sabeen's bottom lip grazing the floor. Whitney literally saying, "Yaaaaaay!" And Erin looking at me with that look that says, "Girl, I couldn't picture a wedding dress for you. But now I know. This is it." I love that face. I only wish I had thought to take a picture of Jen's face the first time she saw it. Hers was the best. The tears welling up. Cheeks turning red. It was awesome. It was the dress litmus test, if you will.

So that is it. I found the dress. I plunked down an obscene (to me) amount of money. It's a done deal. Now I just gotta work on the body that goes inside the dress.

I survived. Barely.

2009-04-13T10:45:00.001-07:00

The email itinerary I received from the most awesome non-bridesmaid was titled "The Day for Which You Must Rest and Hydrate." Wow. Way to set the expectation that this is going to be The Suck, sister.

We hit four shops in one day all across San Francisco. I tried on no less than 20 dresses of varying lengths, styles, and colors. Did I mention how much I love shopping? I nearly stabbed Jen in the neck when, as we were walking towards the first place, she squealed, "EEEeeeeeEEEeeee! You're going to try on wedding dresses!" while clapping. Yes, clapping. I just shot her a look and she quickly blurted, "Sorry! Can't help it!" "I'm going to need more coffee...or a shot."

The first shop we hit was, by far, the fanciest. In hindsight, I think one should go to this sort of place last as it makes every other shop look like a Goodwill in rural Arkansas. The whole place was light and airy and pretty and ethereal. Our salesgirl was the cutest tiniest thing in the world. I tried on some of the most amazing dresses I'd ever seen. Until that point, I hadn't wanted a "wedding dress" because they are totally a waste of money. Thousands of dollars for a dress you're going to wear once and then try your best to pop out a girl so she can be guilted into wear it again? Nonsense. It's not practical. And I'm nothing if not practical. But then I put on these beautiful gowns. And poof! There went the budget. I thought about the look on Mike's face and wondered which cat would dive first for his eyeballs when they popped right out of his head and rolled onto the floor. I'm betting Smokey.

But we didn't stop at the Ethereal Bridal Heaven. We motored on to a wide array of shops - discount bridal supply, bridesmaid Hell, and finally trunk show Marina shop. Let me tell you now in case you haven't already guessed. I loathed trunk show Marina shop. Here's the thing. I may be called Liz Lemon (lovingly... I think) at work for my biting sarcasm and uncanny ability to point out flaws in my friends in 20 nanoseconds flat. But, I really don't like to hurt the feelings of strangers. And at a trunk show, the designer is right there. Right there where you are trying on a dress that looks NOTHING like anything you would EVER put on but with more beading. One dress actually reminded me of the Barbie doll cake any decent little girl of the 80s longed for. You know that cake. Got that mental picture? Now add popcorn randomly all over it. Yeah. So awkward. And their champagne was HOT. Now, that is just rude. Why bother?

Throughout the day, we stopped, panted, and caught our breaths. We, on more than one occasion, contemplated napping in the car. We high-fived one another for not bringing Those Who Love to Shop with us. We were pretty sure they would call us whiners and we'd be forced to take out our shopping aggressions on them. And we love them despite their misdirection so that would be bad. And likely litigious.

At the end of the day, it was the dress from Ethereal Bridal Heaven that we kept coming back to. The dress that, when I walked out, Jen immediately welled up. The dress that literally cost the amount Rod had used to joke to Mike that I was going to end up spending. So we got in the car, headed towards my house, and devised a plan to sell Mike on this dress. And ya know what? We didn't have to. He sat and listened and watched as we lit up telling him how gorgeous and perfect it was. He stretched, moaned, then calmly said, "We're doing this once. Get what you want. You don't want to regret it." Best. Fiancee. Ever.

And then we rewarded ourselves with mojitos.

Mr. Perfect

2009-04-10T11:11:00.000-07:00

This Sunday is Mike's birthday so I'm planning to take a little vacation from wedding planning and thinking about how much vases and candles cost when ordering 50,000 of them to spend some QT with him. It's like it's my birthday, too!

In honor of the boy turning 31, I thought I'd illustrate just why I keep him around. He amuses the hell out of me. Regularly. And if you can't laugh through life, then what are ya gonna do?

Just this morning, he sent this form email to everyone he knows to get their addresses.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Greetings ,

Apologies for the spam, I'm a tired old man. So, I have managed to trick Angie into marrying me on October 23rd in San Francisco.

In order to lock-her-in for the big day, I need guests.

If you are receiving this email, we would love to have you at the wedding.

Please reply and send back your home address. We will be sending out save-the-date cards as soon as the cats start behaving, the house cleans itself, and Ezekiel keeps quiet for 20 minutes or more.

Rock on,

- Michael and Angie (note: This message was not approved by Angie)

~~~~~~~~~~~~

I love that guy.

red-faced and blubbery

2009-03-31T08:36:00.000-07:00

I don't consider myself the over-emotional type. That is unless I happen to walk into a room where The Notebook is playing. At which point, all hope is lost. I have a Pavlovian response to that movie. It is the one sure proof that I am a girl.

Being that I am not one who emotes at the drop of a hat, I have been quite calm through most of this wedding planning business. When I went to try on dresses, I was more focused on how stinking hot the dressing room was. Can they seriously not put a vent or a fan in there?! Oh I know, let's cover the dressing room not with a door but with a HUGE MICROFIBER CURTAIN. That breathes! When picking flowers, I was all "I dunno. What do you think?" to nearly every question asked by the florist. I mean, it's her JOB. I just pick up whatever strikes my fancy at the corner flower booth. I figure she knows better than me.

This week, I've been quite surprised by how much I have started to tear up. The first occurrence was Jen's fault - yesterday. I don't know why but envisioning myself walking out and looking at Mike at the end of the aisle just got to me. How happy that day will be. How beautiful that moment will be. I'm even starting to well up now.

The second was just a few minutes ago on the phone with our photographer. He started asking what we wanted the day to be. I started explaining how it's all about uniting our families so our ceremony will be pretty small compared to the BIG EFFING PARTY afterwards. As I thought about the joy that will be gushing out all over the place at the uniting of our families, I was overwhelmed and started to choke up. To save myself, I busted out with a joke or two. Humor has saved my mascara on more than one occasion.

After the last two days have started to get to me, I've started wondering what the actual wedding day is going be like. I'm going to be a big old mess! Maybe I should think about matching my accessories to the blotchy pink mess that is sure to be my face. Perhaps I should thumb through back issues of Real Simple to find the best waterproof mascara. Since I'm sure at least one of my girlfriends will have stuffed her bra (what? not everyone has perfect cleavage without help!), I'll make sure there's Puffs Plus in that bosom to blot my tears. I should start writing these tasks down. Maybe this is why folks hire a wedding coordinator. All the little things start to add up, like stuffing your friends' bras with quality tissues.

golden girls

2009-03-29T20:01:00.001-07:00

Everyone needs a friend they can be totally and completely open and honest with. A person who doesn't bat an eyelash when in a high pressure situation you let out a belch because you saw a cucumber in your salad and thought, "oh my god! that looks good!" instead of "oh my god. that is gonna make me feel like crap." A person who knows you well enough to say, "You aren't even listening to me anymore, are you?" when your eyes glaze over and you get lost in your thoughts because she mentioned running which led you to "things that suck" which made you think of "things that don't" and next thing you know you're envisioning Colin Firth in Valmont. What is it about men in knickers? Oh. Sorry. Where was I?

Okay, so get that friend. Got her? Okay. Now put her in charge of finding your wedding dress.

I hate to shop*. My friend, Jen, is also not a fan. We were filling up on sarcasm when they passed out the shopping gene. Being that Jen is that^ type of friend, she is also the perfect person to put in charge of dress shopping. Well, "put" is a strong word. I believe she yanked the reins right outta my hands, saying "Bitch, I'm gettin' this shit done." I think she's living out some dream of being a personal stylist. And being that she always looks divine and my idea of dressing up is wearing clean jeans, I may have thrown the reins at her when she reached for them.

Even though next Saturday is The Dress Shoppe Day of Hell, we set out this Saturday to a recommended boutique in North Beach. The boutique doesn't take appointments and only has two fitting rooms so we figured getting there a bit before closing might actually be wise. Not so much. Apparently, people wait for hours to try on dresses there. If I had known this prior, I wouldn't have even entertained going. The only thing I hate more than shopping is waiting. A shop where you wait with bridezillas. A very frilly corner of HELL.

So we were too late. We filled out appropriate forms, perused some dresses, wrote down the ones we liked for next time, and Jen tried once more to weasel us into a fitting room. After being turned down a second time, she looked at me and said, "I think a margarita and a nap are in order." Fifteen minutes of shopping followed by a margarita and a nap? Seriously, why am I marrying Mike?

*...in a store. With The Public. Shopping on the internet when I should be working and not buying pretty earrings or art is not bad. In fact, it is wonderfully amazing.

^ Look/scroll up. Yeah. That first paragraph. There ya go.

Squealing is for Pigs

2009-03-22T20:39:00.000-07:00

By now it should no longer need stating that I am not a traditional bride. I am not so much a fan of wedding planning. I'm finding the whole continuity of decor thing to be a bit dull and overwhelming. It took me two years to decorate my home. Ya know, that thing I sit in EVERY DAY. And I'm still not done with it. The expectation that a lay person can craft a cohesively designed evening in a matter of months is complete horse hooey. And yes, I do realize there are folks who do this for a living. Do you know how much those bitches cost? It's not like I'm not skilled in making things pretty. It just takes TIME. Ya know, that thing I don't have.

Wow. Sorry about that. Griping about the intricacies of planning is not even why I'm here today. I'm here today to discuss the squeals women get when anyone mentions a wedding. "Ohhhh! You're engaged! EeeEEEeeee!!! Let me see that rock!" I never know what to say to these folks so I just grin and thrust my left hand in their face...when I remember to wear my engagement ring. What?! I'm not a ring person. Get off me.

Gay men also get this squeal. Just this evening, I passed some friends on my way back from the corner grocer. "Oooo! You haven't seen Angie in a while! She's engaged and in the midst of planning her fabulous wedding!" said one to the other. The other looked at me like any good bear would - with that "I really don't want to pretend to care" look. Never one to disappoint, I immediately started out with, "Yes. I hate planning. Why can't I just show up in a pretty dress, say some vows, and have someone pour me a cocktail already?" The bear perked up and then did what EVERY LIVING BREATHING SOUL has done to me since I got engaged....he told me how to do my wedding. Because his sister did it that way and she was sooooo happy. "So you should totally do that." Right. I'll get right on that. Can you repeat? Oh yes, I think I missed that last part.

What. The. Hell. Why does everyone think they should just jump right on in and give me ideas and advice on an event they know nothing about that I've already been planning for four months? Now I totally know how pregnant women feel when complete strangers walk up and start rubbing their bellies. When I get pregnant (not that I'm trying so slow your roll there), I'm getting a shirt made that says, "Touch me and die, bitches." I can't wait to go to Safeway in that shirt. Oooo. Or maybe a knitting store. Oh yeah. Grandmas all over the Bay Area will be scarred. It will be The Awesome(TM). Until then, I'll just grin, thrust, and move on.

Just be gentle with me

2009-03-16T17:17:00.000-07:00

I've been writing for websites for a few years now. Just long enough to have developed a little following. His name is Rod. (Hi Rod!) So I'm used to the kind of instant gratification that comes with writing something, tossing it out for the world to see, and getting immediate feedback. And by feedback I mean accolades and blatant ass-kissing.

This weekend, the boy and I were taking a little holiday from the life that is all work stress, wedding planning, and cracked out cats. We planned to drive to Hollywood to see a punk band that Mike had been waiting 15 years to see. And with life being a steaming pile these days, I felt like I'd been waiting 15 years to have some alone time with my fiancé that didn't involve drooling on a pillow or talk of catering budgets or both at once.

We were to set out around noon, after ordering the save-the-date cards we'd both been putting off for a month. And before you even think about asking: October 23, 2009. Good thing we're paying money for cards.

I sat down to order as we both discussed the text. Then I noticed the card artist suggested a URL for more information. A website? Who'da thought of that? A person who lives on the Internet? Apparently not. I set to immediately throw a site together just to secure a domain to give to the artist. Did I mention we were leaving in 2 hours? Yeah. So three hours later I'd thrown a site together with minimal information, at least one picture, and almost zero personality. As it turns out, it's quite difficult to be charming and entertaining when someone's all WHEN ARE YOU GETTING IN THE SHOWER in your ear.

Okay. I was done as I could be for the day. I wrote a note to the artist, took a shower, and informed my adoring fan of the new site as we motored down I-5.

Now let me say that I love nothing more than being adored. Look up attention whore in the dictionary and it'll say "see also: Angie." I am also a perfectionist who loathes being wrong. Therefore, I rarely throw anything out into the universe that I am not proud of. Because I rarely throw out crap, I'm also not equipped to deal with the backlash of doing so.

This may be why the only comment from my adoring fan was: "Check out this site some other friend put together. It might give you some ideas." BECAUSE IT'S CLEAR YOU HAVE NONE. See how gentle the nudge was to convince me to rethink things? It caused me to spend the entire evening on Sunday reinventing the site and I'm still not convinced I need to go live with it. That is why he is one awesome fan club, folks. And no, you can't borrow him.

the wheezing wedding planner

2009-03-08T17:23:00.000-07:00

This is only the third weekend this year I have stayed in or near a bed due to cold/flu/sinus-infection nastiness. Yes, the only is sarcastic. Just in case you didn't feel the mallet thwacking your skull.

Despite feeling like my head has been put in a vice and trying like hell to refrain from coughing for fear of going into full-blown wheezing convulsions, Mike and I decided to knock out some wedding to-do items. Conference call with caterer. Settle on final budget. Confirm guest list. Ya know, the things we've been putting off for two months and just realized this morning that we have only seven months until our wedding. We then realized that these next seven months will fly by at Mach 10.

"What's that puff of smoke over there?"

"January and February."

"Uh-oh."

All in all, today's tasks went well. We only screamed at each other twice. In 2 hours. Progress! If anyone ever mentions how wedding planning is "so fun!" around me again, I'm going to pound their head into the closest concrete object. Then Mike will walk up and kick them in the gut. It's called a partnership.

At the start of our planning session today, we hopped on the phone with our caterer to go over some things. At the end of the conversation, she said, "I'll be there the day of the wedding and will help coordinate as much as possible. I'll help you every step of the way. This is overwhelming enough without having a stressful demanding job and no free time and then getting sick on top of all of that."

If same-sex marriage were legal in California, Mike might be in tears right now because I would have asked that woman to marry me right then. But since it's not, I guess we'll stock up on Theraflu and Halls and knock this stuff out one day at a time.

At least wait until you're beneficiary

2009-02-24T10:57:00.000-08:00

God bless a fiancee who is willing to step up and take on a big task. A fiancee who will take a task from a perfectionist is even more blessed, albeit not with common sense.

Although we've secured our reception site, we've put off getting the permit for the ceremony site. If worse came to worst, we could always just use the reception site for the ceremony so there was really no fire under anyone's bum about getting it done. Did I mention that I'm the laziest bride in the free world? Never doubt, people. Never.

A few weeks ago, Mike said he'd be in charge of submitting the permit to the parks service for the beach ceremony so I happily let him take it. Meanwhile, I've been poring over random bits that cost too much that no one will even remember - cake toppers, favors, etc. So a few weeks go by and finally last night we sit down to fill out the form for the beach permit.

M: "Okay. I got the form. I'm on it. I'll fill it out while you eat dinner."

A: "Deal."

M: "List all support equipment. What will we have?"

A: "I dunno. What is support equipment? Just call them tomorrow and ask them what we can and can't have and then we'll fill in the form."

M: "Just list the support equipment. C'mon. Let's (now it's an us) get this done."

A: "I don't know what that means. Call. Them. Tomorrow. Also ask them if we can have an arch at the beach because it doesn't say we can but it doesn't say we can't."

M: "An arch? We don't need an arch."

A: "Look at me. I'm half Irish - half German. I need shade or I will look like a strawberry in all of our pictures."

M: "Then we shouldn't get married outside if you're so fragile."

A: "Seriously? Do you want me to kill you?"

This morning...

M: "So what do I need to ask the park service when I call them?"

*sigh*

Motivation is the name of the game

2009-02-22T22:23:00.000-08:00

We're nearly three months into our engagement. We have a ceremony site, a reception hall, a caterer (almost), and some good leads on photographers and florists. A few weeks ago, I plunked down some cash for magazines and books to help me plan and I've enlisted the troops at least once to assist me in looking through them. That battle plan consisted of a brunch in which Rod, Whitney, Jessica, and I pored over the stack o' media. We spent over an hour gathering inspiration, swapping stories, and partaking in the bloody mary bar. Look, I know my people. They will work for booze. They will drive an hour to sit in a cafe and look at magazines with me for booze. It's called motivation.

Fast forward to last Sunday. It was the first night I was able to sit down on my own to go through this stuff. I gathered together a binder, pens, glue, and magazines. I started clipping bits and organizing them into piles - Trash - Maybe - Love It. While I started this exercise thinking it would make me feel better and give me a sense of accomplishment, it took about 15 minutes for me to become completely overwhelmed. Sure, that's a cute arch but who is gonna make that it? How will we transport it? A Uhaul is just *another* expense to add on to everything else. Great. After a couple of hours of cutting and pasting (MANUALLY), my nerves were frayed. My notebook was filling up and I had no clue what the heck to do next. I thought this would be fun. It's like scrapbooking with magazine articles, right? Oh, but wait. I don't like scrapbooking.

Then, I realized what was missing.

Motivation.

Much better.

Motivation is the key to all good wedding planning.

it's a party over here

2009-02-20T19:53:00.000-08:00

While we were still in Australia, before the world had even SEEN us after our announcement, there were plans afoot for an engagement party. Apparently, our friend Erin had to be told Thanksgiving week to calm down ... that maybe folks should, I dunno, TALK to us before the engagement party planning started. This is the same woman who came up to me a year ago and said, "Could you get married already so I can get my drink on!? We need a good party!"

So when we were back on American soil, the planning commenced. Sabeen was ready to go. Jen (aka Kuz) was poised to be second in command. All I needed to do was give the okay. With the nod given, the girls were off.

Our engagement party was many things. A wine-filled evening at a fantastic vegan/vegetarian restaurant in San Francisco. A party in which both Mike and I were taken care of and happy - quite a feat and fete! A good primer for the craziness that will be a 150-person wedding reception. In fact, as I rounded out the guest list for the engagement party, I asked our cohosts if 75 was too high a number for such a party. I mean, most folks I knew had 75 folks TOTAL at their wedding. Was I setting expectations too high? Was I asking too much? Our girls stated "Poppycock! It's your party!" Well, okay, only Kuz stated such. Sabeen would never use the word 'poppycock.'

It was a great night. So many people in our California family were in attendance. For the last 9-12 years, we have been touched by so many souls. It was so lovely to see all of them in the same space. To have our friends meet friends they'd only heard of. To have former roommates meet the folks that had supplied many Thanksgiving leftovers of yore.

We were completely exhausted afterwards from catching up with everyone and talking for hours on end. A great primer indeed. I can't begin to thank our cohosts for all the care and thought that was taken to make it a special night that was so considerate of both of our very different personalities. I'm just nervous that our wedding won't live up to the tough act our engagement party is to follow! Thanks, ladies. You are truly the best and I love you dearly.

Procrastination is the name of the game

2009-02-15T17:44:00.000-08:00

Here's what I know about myself. I am really good at telling other people what to do and when to do it. I was trained at an early age as I bossed my little brother around and continued honing my skills as a project manager. See, bossiness is why I am a good project manager. It is also the reason why I am not cut out for planning a huge event where all tasks are solely my (and Mike's to some extent) responsibility. There is no one to delegate to!

The month of December was a big old month of procrastination during which I told myself it was really only two weeks and then Christmas and I couldn't possibly be expected to concentrate while traipsing around The South visiting everyone I know. Since the rest of the world could not hear me saying this to myself, I started saying it out loud. Still, they refused to listen. Did you know that when you get engaged, people start asking you questions about dates and colors and locations IMMEDIATELY?

"Where are you guys getting married? Georgia or California?"

"When do you think you'll be getting hitched? Do you have a date yet?"

"Have you picked out your dress yet?"

Look, people. It was all I could do to get to the jeweler to get a ring before the Christmas holiday. What sort of person gets engaged and has a dress, location, and date within two weeks? Not me. You know this. We did not just meet.

Thankfully, I can call upon my experience as professional maid of honor in these difficult times. It's all about expectation-setting, direct communication, and distraction.

"We don't know yet."

"No. We don't know yet."

"You'll know when we know. It's called a save-the-date card."

"Here, look at this shiny diamond on my finger."

After Christmas and New Year's, I was blessed with my first cold of the new year. I sat at home bundled up with TheraFlu and a stack of rented movies. As I recovered, I received a phone call from my dear friend, Rod.

Rod: "Sooooo, girl. What is going ON with the wedding planning?!"

Ang: "Bitch, I will cut you. Why is everyone all up on my dawg about this event?"

Rod: "Girl, don't cop a 'tude with me. I will only amp it up."

Ang: "True. Okay. What do you want to know?"

Rod: "Like where. Like how. Like when."

Ang: "Rodeo Beach is our dream location. Dunno how. Dunno when but we are big fans of Autumn."

Rod: "Girrrrrrrrrl, you mean Autumn 2009??? You gotta get on this!!!"

Ang: "Did I mention I would cut you?"

Forty-five minutes later, I received another phone call.

Rod: "Okay. Go to this website for your beach. Do you know how cheap it is? And did you know the reception site you mentioned is perfect location-wise?....Is it okay that I jumped in and checked on this stuff?"

Ang: "I love you."

A day later we had a permit to fill out for the ceremony site, an appointment at the one venue we'd discussed, and the name of a caterer who is meant for us. We also had ourselves an Unofficial Wedding Coordinator. The morning after we received all this info, our breakfast conversation went a little something like this.

Mike: "Dude. What can we do to ensure Rod keeps planning and forcing us to do stuff?"

Ang: "There ain't much *I* can do. He likes boys."

Mike: "Do ya think he likes cash?"

Well, that's different.

2009-02-13T11:04:00.000-08:00

Vegan Child and I have been to many weddings. We have been *in* most of them. Given our wide range of experiences, we have a lot of ideas on how to make our ceremony and reception unique. Some of our ideas have panned out. Some have not.

Here's an idea I received in my Inbox morning which made me realize I am marrying a 13-year old girl trapped in a very thin man's body. This was news only because I was sure I was marrying the 13-year old boy trapped in that body.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Subject: Wedding Favors!

I gotta have that!

Engaged!

2009-02-08T10:16:00.000-08:00

Ya know what happens when you've been with someone for six years, five of them living under the same roof? There's little that shocks you. You're not surprised when the glass you were drinking out of just minutes ago is now washed and put away in the cabinet with a tiny droplet of Diet Coke sitting in the sink mocking you by saying, "Well at least he washes dishes! Which is more than I can say for you." You're not shocked when you get a phone call dispensing the woes of a stray kitten only to find that six months later, this is your kitten.

Last November, after a hellacious trial of a year, Vegan Child and I went on a much needed vacation to Australia. We informed our families we would be most thankful if they let us go away to rest

up before we broke out the firearms and started shooting rather than sit at their homes shoveling Tofurkey in our faces. They obliged us and we booked a week at our dream destination, a remote eco-lodge in the Whitsunday Islands off the coast of Queensland. No internet, no cell phone, no news. Only sun and sleep and snorkeling and sleep. We sat around for a week, mingling with the other guests (a sum total of 14 on the busiest day), the staff, and the stingrays. We took a helicopter trip out to The Great Barrier Reef and snorkeled up to giant clams and coral that looked like deer antlers. We played way too much Mario Kart on the DS and came close to beating the island Jenga record. We ate more than our tummies could hold of the fabulous food prepared for us every few hours and drank more wine and beer that week than we had all year. I was a happy girl.

On the last night of our week in paradise, we were down to one other couple (honeymooners) and the hosts on the island. We headed over to cocktail hour around six and sat sipping cocktails while we waited for the sun to go down. The clouds hung in the sky and the sunset wasn't much of a sight. Vegan Child beckoned me out to the beach to "watch the sunset" so I walked out to see if he could magically see something I couldn't from the deck. I joined him on the beach and as suspected, the sky was grey and the sun was nowhere to be found. He turned his back to me and reached into his pocket. Thinking he was reaching for a cigarette, I said, "I'm going back. See ya!" and turned to walk back to the others.

Once the sky settled into night, the clouds cleared and we ate under the stars for the first time in a couple of days. Out in the middle of nowhere, the sky is unbelievable. After dessert, we sat with our necks hanging back, mouths agape at all the stars in the sky. Vegan Child turned and asked me to come out to the beach to get a better view...away from the palm trees. Three glasses of wine deep, I was pointing this way and that and pontificating about constellations and just generally not paying attention to what was going on around me. So when I turned toward Vegan Child and found him down on his knees in the sand, my jaw dropped and for the first time in a while, I was shocked. I saw his mouth moving but I couldn't catch all the words. Something about not playing tennis as much as he had let on and now he couldn't read his speech because it was dark and duh, this was what he was trying to do earlier! I just stood there thinking, "Holy crap. This is really happening." And then, of course I said yes. Living together would be a *little* awkward if I hadn't. We headed back to the table where our hosts broke out the champagne and we toasted and told the story of how we got together, moved in together, and what the hell just happened on the beach 40 feet away. And we basked in the glow of our engagement.