Friday, July 29

To Happen or Not to Happen

I have been very good about not being a bridezilla.  However.  This is the random-thought list of things I'd like to happen or not happen on my wedding day:

No one trips while walking down the aisle.  My 12 year old sister is very concerned over this, and now I am too.

I look as pretty as every. single. stinkin'. bride. on Arden, our photographer's, blog.  I haven't discerned yet whether every bride looks ravishing on their wedding day, if it's just Arden's crazy photography skills, or excellent hair and makeup people, but as long as it's mostly the first or second reason, I'm solid.

Bobby does not smush cake in my face.

The ceremony music goes off without a hitch.

The pre-ceremony guest seating music is as impressive as I think it will be.  I'm using eight tracks from the Royal Wedding album, and they are particularly... royal.  Combine that with the tall ceiling and stain-glass windows, and I'm thinking it's a homerun.

The cake shows up perfect, the food tastes lovely, the chairs and tables are all set up, and the eating part of the reception goes as smoothly as planned.

Minus the blue, with square tiers, and you get the idea.

 I somehow lose all my self-consciousness about my smile or at least do not think about it too much while taking pictures.  The closer we get to the wedding, the more I think about it and the more I hope that I'll be happy with my pictures despite my life-long self-esteem issues with such.

Bobby and I get through our vows without bursting into tears or laughter.

I do not pass out from nerves in the foyer.

Everyone likes my reception music as much as I do.  I've spent more time on that than almost anything except my attire, and I really hope people dance and love it.

I actually get sleep the night before.

Bobby is not stressed and is the happy, Joe Cool I remember before we started this madness and get to see every once in a while.

My dad makes it through the day without needing an IV to replace fluids lost by tears.

Someone besides my 17-year-old sister catches the bouquet.

There is photographic evidence of my 12-year-old sister sticking her tongue out like Gene Simmons.  Seriously, her school principal sticks his tongue out at her to get her to do the same.
There are bridal shower pictures, and then there are bridal shower pictures.

Everyone loves my scrapbook. (Which, they should.)

My family... behaves themselves, and remembers that it is my wedding.

My cousin and step-sister, who will both be eight months pregnant, do not go into labor.  Lord, if I may have one medically-related prayer on this day, let it be this one.

No one spikes the punch.

My soon-to-be sister-in-law isn't frightened away by all the crazy women that will swarm her.

Last but not least, if any bad thing happens, I am unaware of it until after returning safely from the honeymoon.

Wednesday, July 20

Save-the-Date Postcards

I'm mainly doing this for a lovely friend of mine, but I also think it'd be handy for anyone else who finds my do-it-yourself-ing worthy.

Save-the-Date Postcard Instructions
You will need:
-Printed 4X6 pictures, however many save-the-dates you plan on sending out plus 3 or 4 extra (for mistakes).  Usually about 10-20 cents per picture, depending on where you have them printed or if you print them at home.

-White or light colored card stock- Estimate three save-the-dates per page, but usually cardstock can be purchased in packages of 250 pages.  Usually about $10.

-Glue dots, at least one box, maybe two.  I can't emphasize these enough for all types of art projects.  I get mine at Hobby Lobby, but you can probably get them at Michael's as well. $4-8.

-Postcard stamp.  Also found at Hobby Lobby. $12.

-Stamp ink pad.  Of course, also at Hobby Lobby; just make sure you get one as big as the postcard stamp. $10.

-Paper trimmer.  Hobby Lobby, again. $7.  You can use scissors for this process, but it'll take literally three times the amount of time versus using paper trimmer.  This little baby is also invaluable if you have any other paper projects you're doing yourself (invitations, reply-cards, scrapbook, matting pictures, etc.)

-Postage.   Postcard stamp postage is much cheaper than regular postage at $.29.  Oh, but that's just $.15 difference you say; call me back when you've bought $.44 postage for all your save-the-dates, invitations, and reply cards.  If you only invited 50 households, that is only saving $7.50 in postage with use of postcards, but don't forget about envelope cost as well.


Step One: Dot the picture.
You'll want to put one glue dot at each corner and the middle of the picture.  Press the appropriate spot of the picture onto the glue dot on the strip, not vice versa.  If you haven't used glue dots before, this may take some getting used to before you can pull the glue dot off the strip without it bunching up or folding over.  Repeat until all corner and center is dotted.

Step Two: Attach dotted picture to cardstock
Lay a piece of card stock down landscape orientation (long side on top and bottom).  Carefully place dotted picture on upper left-hand corner, lining up with both top and side of card stock.  The better you are about lining the picture up with the edge of the paper, the less cutting you will have to do and the less time it will take.  Repeat Step One for another picture; attach the next picture lined up against the left side of the card stock and under the already stuck picture.  Turn the card stock to portrait orientation (short side top and bottom) and place dotted picture on upper left-hand corner, lining up with both top and side of card stock again.  Your card stock page should now look like this:

Side note:  I suggest attaching the pictures to the card stock because it makes them sturdier; since they'll be used as postcards and will be traveling through the postal system without the aid of an envelope, this ensures your precious time and money won't be bent or eaten by some machine.

Step Three: Cut out save-the-date.
Line up the right side of the two joined photos in the paper trimmer and slice.   Then line up and slice the bottom of the solitary photo.  Then the side of the solitary photo, then the final bottom of the two joined photos.  (This was the most efficient way I found to cut them.)

Step Four: Stamp postcard print onto card stock.
Press postcard stamp onto ink pad.  Then press stamp onto card stock side of save-the-date.  Make sure you press firmly and evenly; you may want to practice this on spare card stock to make sure you get the feel down properly.  Also, make sure you're stamping right-side up with the right-side up of the picture; aka, don't turn the picture side over to find the "Postcard" label at the bottom and upside down.

Step Five: Address, attach postage, send into the world!
I just wrote "Hope to see you there!" or "Save the date!" and signed our names in the message section.  Address, stamp, and wait for the phone calls.

Hooray!  Now you have great save-the-dates, everyone sticks them on their fridge and calls you because of how cute and creative they are.  For 50 households, the whole kit and kaboodle is $60.  Light comparison shopping lists save-the-date magnets as $2 each, cards at $1.29 each, and postcards at $1.39 each, and that's not including postage.  Besides, I also got to use *this* picture, taken by the maid of honor, at no cost to me.

Happy Crafting!

Friday, July 15

AWP: Lessons #16-19

Lesson #16: I have a life outside of wedding planning
Seems logical enough, but I would do well to remember it.  Work right now (and by right now, I mean for the last two months) is incredibly slow, so I spend a good portion of my days on the computer playing around with wedding such.  I go home in the evening and think "Okay, what wedding task can I work on right now?"  It makes me incredibly anxious to always feel like I should be doing something, and it's a familiar feeling I used to get at the end of a semester.  I could never give myself a break from studying until after the last final was turned in- surely, there was something more I could cram into my head, more editing to do on that paper, more practice in counseling skills to do.  At the same time right now, though, I am remodeling the walls of the bathroom and, well, living.  You know, crazy stuff, like grocery shopping, cleaning the bathroom, working out, sleeping, all of which has fallen by the wayside due to WEDDING PLANNING.  I'm having to talk myself out of this feeling of constant pressure in order to manage my life and my house, and it's incredibly difficult at times.

Lesson #17: RSVP cards are fantastic
I love getting mail that's not bills, credit card offers, or addressed to people who aren't me.  Typically ALL the mail at our house is for Bobby, and boy does he get a lot of mail.  For the last two weeks though, little RSVP cards are waiting for me almost every afternoon, and I just plain love them.  It's so exciting to see that tiny off-white envelope and run inside to open and see who it's from.  They are a good reminder that, yes, I have actually accomplished things so far and I did actually finish some big thing in wedding planning.  Which brings me to my next lesson...

Lesson #18: "Will you forget the head-slicing thing?!"
If you grew up a child of the 1990's, you probably remember this:

If you weren't a child of the 1990's but had more Greek literature than I did, you probably still remember the monster Hydra, the beast who grew three heads for every one that was cut off.  That's how I feel about wedding planning this week.  I mentioned this in a previous blog about how things that should theoretically be simple are not, but now we've taken it a step further into "Why is this continuing to get more complicated as we go along?"
Let's use ordering flowers as an example.  My thought was, "Okay, walk into Whole Foods, I need this many this and that many that, here's a check, we'll pick them up on said date."  This is an excerpt from the email I received from the lovely Ally, head of floral in the Mountain Brook Whole Foods:

My deep blue single stem hydrangea comes in an assortment box with blue, lavender and purple.  The cost each box of 13 count hydrangea stems would be $81.78.  The price is price per case minus a case discount of 10% (90.87-9.09) for buying the whole case.  The problem is these hydrangeas would be an assortment of blue/lavender/purple.

I have not heard back from my wholesaler of flowers in Atlanta as of yet.  They offer the blue hydrangea “masja purple” retail is $8.69 a stem,  minimum of 40 stems, no case discount.. total of $343.60.  I will not know for certain on the hydrangeas until next Monday as my sales person at our wholesaler is unavailable right now but it is on their availability listings they send me.

I am well aware that the majority of this problem is my inexperience in anything to do with flower ordering.  But holy cow, how unaware of the world around me I feel as I try to knock things out only to make them more complicated.   Every so often there will be a break in the clouds and I will accomplish something (insert fanfare) but it is the planning equivalent of driving from Birmingham to Atlanta with a stop at Starbucks, stop for gas, stop for potty break at the state line, hit traffic on I-285, take a phone call from my mom, arrive at location, and turn around and go pick up food and then back to place of sleeping.  However, I will continue to attempt to stab this thing through the heart.

Lesson #19: I will never appreciate four walls and a bed the way I'll appreciate the one in Beach Cottage #4
I always knew I'd be excited about the honeymoon- the first week with my new husband, enjoying each other's company, being on vacation.  The reasons that I'm now excited, however, have taken me completely by surprise:
1.  We. will. be. alone.  Bobby lives in Troy; I live in Birmingham with a roommate.  We are never alone unless I visit him in Troy, which is usually once a month or less, and when I'm there, we only get about 4-5 hours a night together because he's working during the day.  I cannot wait to sleep, eat, watch movies in the cottage, and sit on the beach alone with Bobby.
2.  I can haz the sleep.  That pretty much sums it up.
3.  We will be in a private cottage and will be alone and isolated in order to, well, "be married."  That's detailed enough.
4.  We have one thing planned for the week, and that is to play with the baby tigers at the Gulf Shores Zoo.  It was completely intentional that we have no obligations other than arriving at the cottage, for reasons listed above.
I mean, come on, would *you* want to leave?

Seaside, Florida

Twenty-nine days.  Twenty-nine days.

Tuesday, July 12

The End of an Era

I stole this idea from a friend who passed it along to me, but the joy of this story is that it's never too big for just one more fan.

I discovered Harry Potter when someone's daughter who worked with my mom said I had to read it.  I was in eighth grade at the time, thirteen years old, and a pretty constant book nerd.  My mom bought me a paperback copy of Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone, and I set about the process of reading it.  I only made it a few pages into the first chapter before I got bored, set it down, and wrote it off as another book I'd never finish.  My friend, Judith, found out I had started it and told me I just had to get through the first chapter and then it'd get good.  I skipped "The Boy Who Lived" and settled into chapter two.  Three days later, I came back to Judith and demanded her copy of the next one.  She gladly handed it over, minus the book jacket (she's kinda famous for that "no book jacket" thing).  Two days later, I came back and exchanged Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets for Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Askaban.  Needless to say, I was hooked.

I can't remember precisely what I loved about the story so much as I just loved the story.  The joy of books has always been and will always be the ability to lose myself, to jump from whatever reality I live in to whatever reality I choose.  At this time in my life, my father had just gotten a divorce and was dating someone new, my little brother had just been born to my mom and stepdad, I was living between two parents houses and never comfortable at either home, and I was on a mission to find new friends.  Simply put, they made me happy.

When I returned the third book to Judith, I demanded the fourth.  I was abashed when she told me it hadn't been released yet and wouldn't be for another several months.  Begging my parents for money, I ordered the fourth book to come in with Judith's.  Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire made it into my hands July 10, 2000, unfortunately around ten minutes before my high school freshman orientation started.  I don't remember my high school freshman orientation, because by the end of it, I was on the fourth chapter.  For the next three days, the only thing I did without reading was sleep, shower, and attend band camp.  I blowdried my hair while sitting on the floor and my feet holding the book open.  I ate while reading; there are still pizza stains somewhere around chapter 12.  I read the book on the way to band camp, left it in the car, and picked it up and read on the way home.  The last night, I stayed up until 1am to finish the book, unable to set it down after Harry entered the maze.

The next three books followed the same path.  People would lose contact with me over the days after a book release.  When necessary, I took days off work when a book was released.  Three days before I turned 16, I started the fifth book at 7am in my car before doing charity yard work with my youth group.  I read Sirius's death while sitting in my band director's living room at midnight while babysitting his two children.  At age 19, I laid in my bed at my parents' house and sobbed when Dumbledore died.  That same summer, I bonded with several girls from England who loved it all as much as we did.  At 20, my coworker and I would talk for hours, making lists of the Horcruxes, debating why "love" was so important.  At 21, I have pictures while standing in line at midnight for the seventh book, drinking coffee, enjoying my newly blue-dyed hair, wiggling with anticipation to receive the 7th book.  I once told a boyfriend I'd rather he cheat on me than lose my first-edition, midnight release seventh book (and meant it).  I screamed obscenities at the book and physically beat the page when Dobby died.  I walked down 16th street in downtown Birmingham on my way to work while reading the last chapter of the last book, finishing it while sitting in the lifeguard office of the Campus Rec Center.

At 24 years old with my future husband, I stood at the entrance to the Wizarding World of Harry Potter and cried.  I have loved this story as if it were my love story and loved these people as friends.  I cheered as the Weasley twins soared into the glorious night, I held my breath as Harry grasped the dusty globe.  I read and re-read the long fall from the astronomy tower, sure that I had misread.  I hated Cho, I pitied Neville in St. Mungo's.  I suffered a broken heart as Sirius slipped through the veil.  I sat up all night as Harry, Ron, and Hermoine wandered through the forest for 200 pages.  I skipped forward to make sure Hermoine and Ron's names were at the end of every book and they were alive and well.  I lamented how wrong we were about Snape, and I wished we had known.  I cheered when McGonagall rose the suits of armor, I cried when Kreacher lead the charge with the locket bouncing on his chest, I pitied Neville no longer as he leaped across the lawn into glory, I screamed in delight when "NOT MY DAUGHTER, YOU BITCH" roared across the page.  I lived every moment of the last battle, sure that I, too, had seen the boy that lived survive and save us all.

I can't explain why words on many, many, many pages made me feel as they did.  Chalk it up to good writing skills.  Or maybe it was because the first several books I read at the same age Harry was in them.  Maybe it was because I always associated Harry Potter with my friends; after all, they were always there to talk and theorize, but more than that they were just there, just like those books were.  And maybe, at the end of the day, I just love them.  While sometimes I try to explain to people exactly why I love them the way I do, maybe I just... do.  That's okay too.  Because those who do too... know, too.