Engagement Photos

Well, because I wanted to post something and I feel like I should post more pictures.  Hopefully this will outweigh the really long text posts I have a tendency to write.  (Remember those high school days of "500 word essays"?  Never a problem for me.  Not once.)  So I have cut and paste the photo from Arden's Blog.

Oh, the happiness.  We have it.

Click for a larger version.  I can't wait to marry this man. :)

Wedding Vows: Mean what you say, Say what you mean

My "Month le Weddings" is coming to a close, and I have now attended three of them.  It's been very interesting going to all three weddings; all three of the brides I had grown up with in church, all of us in our small town Baptist raisin's, and yet our wedding are so very different.  One good thing about being the final wedding of the year for my Hillabee Baptist people is that I get to steal ideas from the other brides; so far, namely my cousin, Mary Katherine.  Her wedding was the closest to what I want mine to be.  She's definitely helped me out in the unity candle decision-crunch (I'm stealing her idea of doing communion); I'm also much more comfortable with my wedding reception time-frame I had in mind (both our weddings will be four hours from start of ceremony to leaving reception, and I didn't get bored at hers).  The biggest thing I've decided to play copy-cat on though is that she and her fiancee used the traditional vows and added onto them with personal vows.  Of course, I cried like a fool and thought it was the sweetest thing I'd ever seen.  I called Bobby on the way to the reception and asked him if we, too, could write our own vows on top of the traditional vows; he made some comment about them including a clause involving a 25-pound bass, but nevertheless he agreed.

Why I thought it would be a good idea to add on another item on the to-do list and one that's emotional to boot, I'm not entirely sure.  So, here I am.  My first concern was that I didn't want to make it overly English-essay-esque.  I have a tendency to write and speak with a flourish whether that flourish is needed or not; I feel that I can convey myself better when I think about and choose my words to do just that.  On the other hand, I don't want to write woodenly or plainly because that's not me.  My concern is more that I'll get too caught up in writing to sound pretty rather than writing to tell my husband and God what I intend to do in this marriage.

Which leads us to my second problem- what exactly do I want to say?  We decided to keep the traditional vows because they do cover all the bases- richer or poorer, sickness and health, as long as you both shall live.  All these things are very important, and when I started thinking about what I wanted to add onto, I became concerned that I wouldn't have anything valid to add onto that.  That was a fleeting thought, though, and I know that I do have some things I'd like to tell Bobby in front of everyone, things like how much of an answered prayer he is to me, how he's my adventurer, my life partner.  These are well and good, but then I arrived back at what I want to promise?  At first I thought nice and sweet things, like "I promise to tell you I love you every day" (which I do), but it doesn't feel like enough.  At some point the sweet thoughts turned into meaningful thoughts that led to thoughts that "Ah, yes, now we're getting somewhere" (metacognition's a wily sucker).  Things occurred to me like "I promise to work for our marriage, to communicate and compromise and build trust", which are all things I think are important for a marriage.  It's nice to say you'll go visit Italy, but you have to make arrangements to get there.

The more I thought about all these nice things I want to promise him that I'll do for him, the more it began to occur to me that these aren't just words that I'm saying to make my wedding extra squishy and happy.  It has already occurred to me that the traditional vows are just that, "vows."  The word "vow" means to "earnestly promise or pledge something" or to "promise to a god or saint".  I'm not just saying these things to Bobby; I'm saying them to God.  It's one thing to haphazardly pledge to a behavior with a person- "Sure, let's do lunch" or "I'll let you pick out the dog" or "You can come stay with me when you're in town".  We make flippant comments about doing things for people, and these aren't "solemn promises made to a god or deity" but those wedding vows are.  So when I started thinking about the things I was going to stand in front of people and God and Bobby and say, I realized that I better not say anything I wasn't committed to doing.  I was already committed to not leaving him because he loses his job, or desert him because he gets cancer, or give myself to another man.  Those are the big choices that you make many, many little choices that lead up to such.  The vows I'm thinking of are harder, because there the ones that call me to roll over and hug him and apologize before I fall asleep because I'm wrong.  These are the ones that cause me to question myself when I think I'm entitled to fuss at him for driving badly.  They're the vows that make me get and stay right with God so that I can be a better wife to him.  These are the vows that make me shut up and quick trying to sort out who's right and who's wrong and treat him with love and respect.  And really that's all I'm wanting to say.  I want to define more clearly for myself and for Bobby how I'm going to make that journey to Italy.  "I promise to love you" is an astronomically broad statement.  What are the specific things I'm going to do to act out that love for him?  What things will I do late at night and when I'm ill and when my pride's in the way?  What am I willing to promise and pledge to him that'll make the kind of wife I want to be to him?  That's what I want to say.

Accidents

Five years ago, I was in a car accident.  My friend, Brandon, was visiting from Kentucky and he and I were going to head down to my hometown to go to church and spend time with my family.  It was a hot Sunday morning in June, very dry, no genuine rain in weeks.  Fun fact I've learned from growing up in Alabama is that when roads are continuously heated, oil from the asphalt rises up and sits on the road.  (In other words, Alabama is so hot it makes the roads bleed.)  As we were leaving my apartment, it started to rain a bit.  As anyone who has taken basic physical science knows, water and oil don't mix, so when the roads are hot enough to bleed and it rains, the rain sits on top of the water.  Less than a couple miles from my apartment, traveling on the interstate in three lanes of traffic, this was indeed the case.  A powder-blue van hit a patch of oil and water and spun across all three lanes.  I stomped the breaks, hands clutched to the steering wheel, the whole nine yards.  A maroon older model Honda Civic was apparently following me too closely, as when I stopped, he slammed into my back bumper causing Brandon's Ale-8 drink spewing all over the car.  Fortunately no one was hurt; my car bumper absorbed a vast majority of the impact, but the maroon Civic was completely totaled.

Months later, I was driving to class, on the same interstate, and a car stopped short behind me, as cars often do in morning traffic.  I borderline panicked.  It took me a few moments of breathing hard, shaking, crying, to realize that it felt so familiar from the Civic back in June.  While I wasn't physically hurt in the accident, I hadn't realized at the time exactly how much it fried my nerves.  Looking back now, I don't even remember if I saw the Civic rear-end me or just felt it; either way, I felt the same way- all the panic and fear when I was actually hit, back to haunt me in a completely safe situation.

In a seemingly unrelated tangent, I love the show Gene Simmons Family Jewels, a reality program about the famous rocker and his not-wife and two children.  The newest season started this past week, and, apparently, things are at a boiling point for Gene and Shannon.  In the first few minutes of the episode, Gene's at a business dinner with a few men and scantily-clad ladies, and Shannon and the children at home waiting for Gene to arrive.  Later on, while getting ready for bed, Shannon receives a text message and then starts searching for something on the computer.  It's not necessary to point out that I don't know these people; my life will not change and nothing will be different if their un-marriage doesn't work out.  But sitting in front of my computer, safe and sound watching this tv clip, my stomach goes in knots, my heart races, the fear and dread well up inside me when Shannon pulls up a picture of Gene leaving the restaurant with the scantily-clad women on each arm.

Years ago, I was in a different kind of wreck.  Just like knowing the oil and water on the road was trepidous, I knew that the boyfriend was up to something at least inappropriate.  I don't know how I knew, other than I just did.  I was rear-ended at 50 mph, however, by the instant messenger log (and subsequent pictures, facebook messages, texts, etc.) I found that confirmed that it was, officially, an Accident.  The difference between that Sunday morning in June and that Thursday afternoon in February is that I was actually hurt the latter time.  I was in an emotional full-body cast, with no cute little Sharpie signatures on my healing heart.  Two years later, just watching someone on the screen makes me remember what it was like to have that car stop short behind me in traffic that morning.  It wasn't my fiancee in that picture; that car didn't hit me.  But it sure felt like it that first time someone came too close to my car again.  Months after the wreck, I would get physically sick while trying to log on to his facebook account or looking through his phone while he slept.  It still makes my heart race thinking about it, but it's not nearly as bad.  I sit in my office now, safe, and loved, and nowhere near a car, much less an accident.

My little sisters were in a car accident a few months back, and my younger sister, whose car side was hit by another, told me a few weeks ago that she still jumps and panics when someone stops short on her side now.  I told her I understood, and I did; I also told her that those feelings go away.  It'll be a while; it was over a year before I wouldn't jump when someone came to close to my bumper.  Now I barely notice.  I don't panic looking at Bobby's phone; I don't worry when he doesn't answer the phone; I know the password to his facebook account.  Every once in a while, I'm reminded of what it's like to be in that car accident again, but those once in a while's are fewer and far between.  Some day they won't happen at all.  I blame this on a fiancee who hides nothing, who never stops short behind me.  I drive with my eyes closed, knowing that someday, seeing other people's car accidents won't take notice.  I'm safe now- my own accidents be damned.

AWP: Lessons #12, 13, 14, *and* 15

I am beginning to understand why people elope.

Lesson #12:  Simplicity is fallacy

When I set upon adventures in wedding planning, I had intentions of doing it well and simply so that when I arrived on August 13th, I would be happy and as stress-free as possible.  As life, nothing appears to be as simple as it actually is.  For example, the menfolk need tuxes.  My thoughts were, "Okay, I'll look at a few places online, I'll decide where we should go, and Bobby will come help me pick it out."  First off, see the first entry in Lesson #13; that set us back 20 minutes or so, but no big deal.  Then the sales associate tells me the groomsmen will have to pick up their suit the Wednesday before the wedding.  My groomsmen won't be in town by then.  Hell, my groom won't be in town by then.  Two of my menfolk are in Birmingham; two are in Alexander City (hour and a half away); one is in Bowling Green, Kentucky; and one is in New Mexico until the week before the wedding when he'll drive back to Auburn.  I have now had to get on the Jim's Formal Wear website; find retailers in Alexander City, Auburn, and Bowling Green; call the groom to find out how far before the wedding his brother in Bowling Green will be arriving; call the retailers in Alexander City and Auburn to make sure they have the suit jacket style number I need, how much it will cost, and how long before the wedding they need to reserve it.  Still on the to-do list is communicating to the groomsman in New Mexico that he'll need to get his measurements done at a suit/tuxedo rental place, call those into the Auburn store, and pick that up before the wedding and communicating the other information with the two menfolk in Alexander City.  See?  All I needed was to get tuxes rented.  The things about the wedding that have been the most difficult have been the least expected.  Picking out a dress?  That was easy.  Took about 6 hours of leisurely shopping, trying on about 10 dresses, and eventually bought the third dress I tried on.  Buying a bra to go under the dress?  NIGHTMARE.  Picking out the cakes?  Took 10 minutes of looking online.  Wedding showers?  Copious communication between me and six other people to figure out what day, where, what I'm going to wear, whether the gifts should be wrapped or not, guest list, etc.  It is baffling to me.

Lesson #13:  I need a wedding dictionary

So, apparently:

"Tux" and "suit" are different.  A tuxedo has a vest or cummerbund; a suit has neither.  (Whatever.)

When I say "strapless, low-back bra", apparently what I mean is "strapless, low-back bustier".  I assumed if I walked into a lingerie store and said, "Hi; I need a strapless, low-back bra" the sales associate would respond with, "Well, we don't carry that, but how about a strapless, low-back bustier."  We would skip merrily to the dressing room and I would leave with something to wear under my dress.

There is also a difference between "lingerie" and "sleepwear".  Theoretically I understand this, as I have never thought lingerie was something a woman sleeps in.  (Maybe takes off to sleep with someone, but I digress.)  But when "Lingerie" is listed on the Victoria's Secret website under "Sleepwear", I got nothing.  (Seriously, go see for yourself.)

Not to beat the point to death, there is also a difference between 1) bras, 2) corsets, 3) bustiers, 4) undergarments, 5) lingerie, 6) babydolls, 7) teddies, 8) nighties, and 9) garters.  I don't speak French.

Adding "bridal" or "wedding" onto the label for an item immediately adds 10-15% to that item.  Difference between the Bridal bustier at Victoria's Secret and the non-bridal bustier is $10.  The only difference is one is mesh instead of satin, but it's not the cheaper one.

Lesson #14: Be gone with your tiny questions

As with any wedding, there are tons of people involved.  There are those in the trenches, such as myself, my matron of honor, and Bobby.  There are those close to the trenches, like my other bridesmaids, the photographer, caterer, baker, candlestick maker, etc.  Then there are those whose job is important but damn near negligible at this point.  They have precisely one assigned task, and while that task may very important, their one task is a 200-word essay to my dissertation.  I am receiving calls, texts, facebook messages, and questions from others about the most ridiculous things.  For instance, Bobby's dad wants to go ahead and book a block of hotel rooms (this was in May); he asks Bobby how many hotel rooms we need to book.  Bobby asks me.  My part at this point would be to call up the entire wedding party and my family and find out who is staying where.  I have too many other things to be done than to be the Hermes or Paul Revere of this wedding.  Call or facebook them yourself.  Every woman not assigned a dress (read: bridesmaids) has asked me to "approve" their wardrobe choice or to help them pick out their dress or help pick out their color for their dress.  Fine- no white, no black, no gratuitous cleavage, no Satanic symbols.  I cannot answer every. single. little. question. every. person. has. about. the. wedding.  There are some questions that should be fielded to me: what color do you want your bouquet to be?  Can you give me a list of shower invitees?  Legit.  What color is your mother wearing to the wedding?  Not one of those.  Ask her.  I know more about this wedding than anyone else, but you would not call the tri-state manager of Starbucks to find out what time the Starbucks at Inverness Corners closes.  Work it out yourself, people.

On a happy note:

I picked bridesmaids dresses:

I picked out and ordered my hairpiece-thingy:

 

And my garter:

Bobby and I had our engagement photos taken, which turned out even better than expected: http://ardenphoto.squarespace.com/journal/2011/5/20/we-love-engagement-sessions-arden-photography.html .

Lesson #15:  Insert appropriate Queen song here

All in all, I am getting there.  I am stressed, I am tired, I am frazzled, I am sick of calligraphy pens, I want nothing more to do with Victoria's Secret for the time being.  But, by God, come August 13th, I will be there, I will be pretty, I will be happy dammit, and we will have a good time!  Or else!