Wedding

The Bachelorette: A Party & A Promise (or Two)

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The spreadLast weekend, my girlfriends threw me a bachelorette party. I was chauffeured by my friend Shannon to a local winery that was hosting an evening of live music and wine-tasting. They also had a food truck there with BBQ, but maid of honor Melissa and her cohorts had provided such an incredible spread—chicken salad croissants, fresh strawberries and grapes, veggies and hummus, delicious cupcakes with pink frosting and “pearls”—we never went near the truck. I was provided with the requisite tiara and a hot pink boa and gifted a basket filled with wedding-day-support supplies. We drank wine, we danced, we played a surprisingly difficult game where we had to guess whether a particular title belonged to a nail polish or a porn flick.

Should it really be that tough to tell the difference?

IMG_1299The weather was pitch perfect, the setting beautiful. As the sun dropped, the mountains in the distance shaded periwinkle, navy, then black. The band played until 10, and as darkness fell, my last wild fling as a single gal drew to a close.

I was home by 11 PM.

I suppose that’s what happens when you’re a forty-something first-time bride.

But I think the early and—naughty nail polish labels notwithstanding—generally tame nature of the evening was less about, ah, advanced age than it was a lack of a sense of urgency.

Feathered ring popA bachelorette party gives you permission, of sorts, to be silly, cut loose, dance with abandon. I did my best! I felt like a princess (glittery crown and Royal Feathered Ring Pop included), and everything about the evening made me feel special–the details of the decorations, the generosity of my friends, the graciousness of those who danced with me even when the music was unfamiliar to us all. I was awed and deeply grateful.

GirlfriendsI also, though, had a moment while I was out on the dance floor, when I felt a strange sense of peace. I realized that, beyond the boa, the evening felt so, well, normal. There wasn’t any sense this was some last hurrah, no pressure that I’d better enjoy hanging with my girlfriends now because everything was going to change, no worry that I might never have fun like this again.

girlfriendsOf the women who celebrated with me, one or two of them have been married nigh onto twenty years. A couple have been married one or four or six years. Some have been through tough divorces and remarried, others have never tied the knot. One is in a long-term committed relationship, while another recently said, “I don’t date. When would I date? I have all this other stuff I want to do.” One is thinking about trying Match.com again. One is engaged. Another is embarking solo on a journey of self-discovery filled with travels near and far. Several just returned from trips to places like Canada and Croatia. Most live local-ish, but my girlhood gal pal Sherry drove all the way from Georgia for the weekend.

image22So here’s what I know: My girlfriends all have rich, layered, complex lives. Yet no matter what the state of our romantic relationships, or where we find ourselves hanging our hats, we still get together and laugh. Drink wine. Talk about books. Share recipes and relationship stories and pictures of kids and pets. We hike up mountains and dance to 80s music. We’ve done it all before, and I have no reason to think anything else but that we’ll do it all again. There might not be a tiara involved, but if the universe is willing, we’ll have many more fun-filled evenings and heart-to-hearts.

And I’m so, so grateful for that, too.

Steve and I have talked at length about the vows we’ll make to one another.  I’ve been thinking, too, about the vows I want to make to myself. At the top of the list:

  • Make at least a couple of girlfriends dates a month. Honoring and investing in friendships outside the marriage enriches life and spreads the happiness wealth.
Girlfriends!

Girlfriends!

Other vows I make to myself, in support of a loving and lasting marriage:

  • Travel somewhere by myself at least once a year. It doesn’t have to be a big trip, but it keeps things fresh, because Steve and I will have new stories to tell one another. And it’s good for me to remember I can be solo and self-reliant. I want to bring a whole person, always, to our union.
  • Do something that scares me at least once a week. It doesn’t have to be scary to anyone else (cold-calling anyone makes me tremble), but again—sometimes it’s a little too easy to let a willing partner “rescue” you from the hard stuff, and while it’s good to need someone, it’s not good to become overly dependent.
  • Make mental and physical space for quiet reflection. I am a better and nicer person (and a better partner and more present listener) when I journal, lose myself in a workout, or both.
  • Write and make art: if I’m not doing either, I have lost a piece of myself somewhere, which means Steve will have lost a piece of me, too.
  • Embrace change. Might as well. It’s inevitable. 🙂

Nineteen days and counting. Hoo boy.

My bridal partySpecial thanks to my bridal party Melissa (right of me), DB, and Sherry for an awesome evening and many years of wonderful friendship!

Stand On Ceremony…

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ceremony planningLast Sunday Steve and I sat down to chat about the contents of our actual wedding ceremony (oh, that). We’d had the pleasure of meeting with our officiant, my former youth minister Paul, back in the spring. He’d given us some information about the traditional order of service and vows, and we’d chatted about some of our plans for readings and ceremony music then. But we’d had yet to sit down and look at his notes and our notes and really think about what we wanted to say to each other, word by word, other than “I do.”

Steve refilled his coffee, I my tea, and we sat across from one another at the dining room table, with a view of the park across the street from our new home. The sun shone through the window where a cat had taken up residence, and the dog lay on the floor between our feet. I was prepared for lots of mushy sentiments and maybe even some teariness. What could be more romantic than spending a Sunday morning planning your wedding ceremony with the love of your life?

Actually, it turned out to be kind of like writing a syllabus.

Those outside of academia may not relate to the comparison, so allow me to borrow from my father’s description (he taught chemistry for over 40 years): writing a syllabus is kind of like putting together a puzzle. You have goals for the course, and you have all these pieces that need to be part of the course to help students reach the goals (readings, papers, etc.). You have to figure out how to fit all those pieces together in a logical order that will engage students and “flow.”

Both Steve and I are equal parts traditional and unconventional, so we want our ceremony to reflect that balance, honoring tradition while also making things our own. We debated where it made the most sense to insert the unity flower ceremony—before or after the readings? Close to or far removed from the vows? As we discussed edits and possible orders of the readings we’ve selected, we realized we had to consider where people would stand and traffic patterns, too. We even drew a map to help us figure it out.mapping the ceremony

We’re not academics for nothing.

We did have some fun thinking about our music selections, though much of that was for the reception rather than the ceremony. Who knew you could Google “good cake-cutting songs” (well, who knew you needed one?) and actually get multiple top-20 lists? I wasn’t sure whether to be more amused or horrified that Pat Benatar’s “Hit Me with Your Best Shot” was not only a popular choice for cake-cutting but also bouquet-tossing. Um, ouch?

I’d originally thought Steve and I might write our own vows, having recalled that my brother and sister-in-law had done so. I recalled one phrase from theirs I liked in particular: instead of claiming “until death do us part” (so morbid), they’d said “until the stars fall from the sky.” I offered that phrasing to Steve, but he wasn’t buying it.

“I can’t say that,” he said.

His outright rejection surprised me. “Why not? It’s so poetic.”

“I’m too much of a realist to say that. I don’t think I’ll still be around when the stars fall from the sky, so I can’t promise that.”

PerseidsI kind of hope our world doesn’t implode in my lifetime either, so I understood his reasoning—though I still love the metaphor. In retrospect, I suppose I could have reminded him that the stars (again, metaphorically speaking) just fell from the sky last week during the Perseids meteor shower. Then again, maybe an annual event isn’t the best image to evoke for a lifetime promise.

We hadn’t known, until we perused the materials from our officiant, that there were four or five sets of traditional vows from which to choose. Some didn’t suit us, but several had language we found appealing. Instead of composing our own vows from scratch, we’ve selected one of the traditional sets, with a minor tweak or two. We’re writing something ourselves for our unity ceremony (and lest you’re wondering, it does NOT include sand). We were also quite taken with something we saw at the wedding we attended a few weeks ago: the bride and groom each wrote a brief letter to one another prior to the wedding, and the rabbi read the statements aloud as part of the ceremony. We’re hoping to incorporate a similar ritual if possible, though the key to doing so will be having our officiant participate, because if I tried to read a letter myself, I’d dissolve into a blubbering mess.

Our morning meeting wasn’t absent romance altogether: we shared some sweet smiles and hand squeezes as we talked about what to say in our unity ceremony, and I did get a little teary as Steve and I read bits of the passages about love we’ve chosen aloud to one another. The truth is I choke up, some days, merely thinking about a moment in our ceremony—walking down the aisle with my dad, exchanging rings with Steve, saying our vows. I have no idea how I’m going to get through the day itself without multiple iterations of tears.

I’m headed out later today to do a trial run with my makeup artist. Guess I’d better ask her about that industrial-strength waterproof mascara.

We're licensed to wed!

We’re licensed to wed!

The Long Dance: Beginnings & Endings

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On the Eastern Shore

On the Eastern Shore

In the midst of moving, Steve and I broke away from the fray to attend a destination wedding on the Eastern Shore. The ceremony and reception were scheduled for Sunday, part of a weekend-long event spanning Saturday through Monday, as the bride and groom and their families are Jewish. Steve’s former graduate student, Pamela, had gotten engaged to her boyfriend Alex the May before last on commencement day, and Steve, as her primary advisor, had attended a graduation dinner with her family that evening. Steve and I had gotten engaged ourselves only a week or so before the young couple did, so as Pamela wrapped up some additional research that summer, she and Steve traded talk of wedding plans, and he often shared their conversations with me.

After those early moments of comparing notes, we were really looking forward to celebrating the start of Pamela and Alex’s lives as married folk, especially so close to our own nuptials. We booked a room at a charming B&B, packed up suit, tie, and fancy dress, and headed toward the Chesapeake Bay. We drove partway Saturday evening, and around 9 pm or so we stopped for a bathroom break and a Frosty at Wendy’s. While I waited on line in the restroom, I pulled out my phone and called up Facebook. The first post in my feed was from a woman in my high school class, and it read simply “Sad news: my brother David passed away.”

Homecoming with David

Homecoming with David

It took me a moment to register the import of the news, and when I did, I bent forward, the breath physically knocked out of me, trying not to hyperventilate. Her brother was David, one of my dearest high school friends. We’d been in drama club together, and he’d played my husband in L’il Abner when I was in tenth grade. After I left the next year to study abroad in Germany, he wrote me long newsy letters from home. David had already graduated when I returned for my senior year, but he escorted me to my senior Homecoming dance, and he came back and built the sets for our spring production of The Miracle Worker. Another night, we met up with friends, played fifties music, and cut a rug in their living room until the wee hours. David and I never dated, but his was a consistent, solid friendship that spanned most of my high school days and several years beyond.

His death was a shock—he was so young, and hadn’t, to my knowledge, been ill. Our contact in recent years had been limited to Facebook, and I knew there’d been some tough times: a move across the country, the dissolution of a marriage, custody battles. In the past year, though, things seemed good: he was dating a woman he adored, spending time with his daughter, regularly expressing gratitude for all the beauty in his world. What had happened? I’d imagined the weekend as a celebration of beginnings, and suddenly there was this terrible, unexpected, too-soon ending. I returned to Steve shaken and unnerved.

Chuppah overlooking the bay

Chuppah overlooking the bay

We arrived in Cape Charles the next day a little after lunch, found some deli sandwiches, and set about getting ready for the wedding. The ceremony was held outside in a grassy area overlooking the bay. It was hot and humid, but beautiful, the occasional light sea breeze fluttering the white fabric draping the Chuppah. The sun slowly began to drop as the wedding party made their entrances. I choked up when the string quartet played Pachelbel’s Canon, the music I plan to walk in to. The bride and groom looked so happy, so young, as each walked down the aisle arm in arm with their respective sets of parents.

The traditional Jewish ceremony was lovely. I got a little tickled when I realized the rabbi was using hand signals to help Pamela and Alex keep track of the number of circles they’d walked around one another: the bride and groom circle one another seven times before they reach the Chuppah, a ritual believed to represent the intertwining of their lives together. As the rabbi blessed the couple, I was deeply moved by the exhortation that they always remain “startled” by the depth of their love for one another.

Enjoying the cocktail hour

Enjoying the cocktail hour

I cried only once, after the groom’s grandparents followed the newlyweds’ first dance with a dance celebrating their 62nd wedding anniversary, occurring that same date. When grandpa dipped grandma to conclude the dance (more tilt than dip, but the intention was clear), the gesture clutched at my heart. I’d have to live to 107 (Steve to 119) to dance with my beloved on our 62nd wedding anniversary. But seeing the fresh faces and careful steps of the newlyweds followed by the familiar ease and enduring romance of the long-married couple painted a poignant kind of “before and after” of lasting love. It was a strange sort of time warp, the newlyweds both themselves and a memory of their grandparents, the grandparents themselves and a projection of Pamela and Alex’s future. I, too, wanted to be all of them, all at once.

Dancing into the evening

Dancing into the evening

Watching the dancers, it occurred to me that even without the tragic and unwelcome news of David’s death the night before, it wouldn’t have been possible for the weekend to be only about beginnings, because beginnings are also always endings, just as endings are always also beginnings. As T. S. Eliot writes, “What we call the beginning is often the end. And to make an end is to make a beginning. The end is where we start from.” Sometimes a beginning/ending is the result of a loss, a subtraction—a death, a divorce; sometimes, an addition—a move to a new home, marriage to a partner. Whichever element is foremost, beginnings/endings encompass both gratitude and grief. Even the hardest hits bring gifts we could not, in the depths, anticipate; even the greatest gains, strange mourning.

Sunset on the bay

Sunset on the bay

Dramatic dip or gentle tilt, the dancers must rise back up together to complete the step, and the recovery usually involves a half-spin, a circling back. Eliot again: “…the end of all our exploring will be to arrive where we started and know the place for the first time.”

Perhaps the best we can ask for is to stay out on the dance floor, as Grandpa Simon did that night, until the band stops playing. As long as there’s music, there’s always time for one more dance.

You Know You’ve Found the Right Partner When…

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…you can enjoy each others’ company even while spending hours together flattening out wad after wad (after wad…) of crumpled packing paper.

packing paper

When will it stop?

How did YOU know when you’d found the right partner? Comment below!

Dear readers, we are in the full throes of packing, unpacking, moving, and making final wedding plans. FsFTB will be on hiatus for a week excepting a brief photo update or two.

Then I’ll be back with tales of writing vows, thoughts on taking dance lessons, another update from Steve, and more. We’re sailing into the home stretch! Stay tuned!

Weddings and the Interwebs

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More than once I have wondered, as a 21st-century bride who lived the first third of my life in the 20th-century, what it would have been like to plan a wedding before the advent of the internet.

Easier in some ways, no doubt. For one thing, the sheer volume of wedding ideas on Pinterest alone is near-paralyzing. The more choices you have, the harder it is to make a decision. Malcolm Gladwell illustrates this phenomenon in his bestseller Blink when he describes psychologist Sheena Iyengar’s jam experiment: consumers who had 24 jams to choose from purchased one 3% of the time, but when offered only 6 choices, 30% bought a jar. Other studies have shown how people get caught in an endless loop of serial online dating, seduced by a sense of endless possibilities. The same phenomenon occurs when faced with an apparently endless array of wedding dress or bouquet styles.

contract

Sign here…or?

And then there’s the creepy factor: as soon as I search for, say, “jewelry with blue stones” on Etsy, the ads running down the side of my Facebook feed are filled with…jewelry featuring blue stones. Shortly thereafter, I receive an email on the same subject. I don’t know how much direct (paper) marketing wedding vendors did before the web, but my email inbox overflows with all things bridal. The internet brought with it more items on the bride’s to-do list: TheKnot.com’s recently updated checklists added “Search for (flowers, dresses, centerpieces, etc).” And most couples these days create and maintain the near-requisite wedding website.

And then there are the social media pre-nuptial agreements.

You read that right.

With this Post, I Thee Contract

Shortly after Steve and I got engaged last year, ABC News and Time magazine reported on the rise of social media pre-nuptial agreements. Apparently couples are increasingly creating and signing on to contracts that detail “what they can and can’t post online” and, in many cases, imposing monetary fines for violations (more on that in a moment). Charlotte Alter captured the absurdity of this phenomenon nicely, I thought: “Dating a jerk who cares more about his Facebook than your feelings? Don’t worry! You can get a social media pre-nup to protect your online reputation while you continue to sleep with the callous twit of your dreams.”

Um, why would you want to do either of those things?

I know from experience a person’s online behavior offers considerable insight. I once dated a man whose political and religious beliefs contrasted mine. In person, he discussed those differences rationally, and indicated respect for my point of view. He also had an online avatar he thought was anonymous (not so much) which he used for commenting on articles and websites. Online, when he thought no one was looking, he was irrational, disrespectful, and full of vitriol. Hello—and good-bye—Mr. Hyde.

I’ve also lived the “don’t post any pictures of us together” relationship. A person who won’t claim you as a partner publicly is not a partner you want.

It’s a no-brainer. If you don’t like how your partner treats or represents you on social media while you’re dating or engaged, and you strongly suspect he or she would misrepresent or mistreat you online if the marriage dissolved, maybe you shouldn’t marry that person.

And then there’s those monetary fines: pay your partner $50,000 (choke) if you post an “unflattering photo.” Unless all your finances are completely separate, how is one spouse paying another not the equivalent of playing with Monopoly money? If you later draw upon that money for a mutual expense, haven’t you just created ill-will for no good reason?

Healthy couples don’t contract; they communicate. “Hey honey,” I said to Steve, when I got online to post some photos from one of our beach trips. “I’m going to post some pictures. Which ones do you like? Is this one okay? What about this one?” I thought he looked handsome in all of them, of course. But when he said yes to the first and frowned at the second, I respected his choice.

Beach together

This photo is mutually approved!

That wasn’t so hard, was it?

Most people know airing dirty laundry or making passive-aggressive comments about a partner is a bad idea in any public forum, be it social media or a backyard social. If it’s an issue, instead of visiting a lawyer for a pre-nup, you might want to see a counselor for professional relationship guidance. Research has shown that couples who offer five positive statements—compliments, expressions of thanks, etc.—for every one critical piece of feedback are more likely to stay together.

World Wired Weird

Everything has its flip side. Planning a wedding sans the web would also be harder in some ways. There would be no wedding website, which–though time-consuming initially–allowed us to streamline our invitations, and relieved some pressure when they were slightly delayed. I’m a bit phone-phobic, so I’m thrilled to be able to communicate with vendors via email. I would miss having access to online craft tutorials and Etsy. And obviously, without the web, I wouldn’t have the opportunity or joy of chronicling this journey on a blog.

We’re gonna skip the social media pre-nup.

Yes, everything has its flip side. For many years I struggled to appreciate the boons of being single. My schedule was my own, I could decorate my home any way I liked, and adopt as many cats as I pleased. 🙂 But I was lonely (cats notwithstanding), and I wanted someone to laugh with, someone to hold me, someone to share my thoughts with, to ask, “How was your day?”

Steve and I haven’t yet walked down the aisle, but one of the gifts  our almost-marriage has already granted is perspective: the understanding it’s all a trade-off. I can more fully appreciate the gifts of the life I’ve led up to now, even as I thrill to the prospect of exchanging those gifts for others. I now, finally, see the whole of my life, as, well, whole.

Here at the crossroads, I look back and I look forward. And everything I see is a brave new world.

DIY Decor: Spinning Flower Cupcake Tower

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wirestandfp5A while back I found this curious object at the consignment store.  I thought it was some kind of office equipment, since it had several clips attached to it, and the three baskets spun around. The baskets looked like flowers with big petals to me, and I thought with some upcycling love it would make a cute cupcake tower for the wedding.

A little research revealed that the object was, in fact, a shoe rack in its previous life. Inspiration comes from curious places sometimes! I set about rehabbing it with a new paint job first.

I disassembled the rack, then sanded the old paint off with steel wool—whoever had painted it the first time hadn’t primed the metal, so the paint came off easily. After priming with an anti-rust primer by Rust-oleum, I spray painted all parts with a Krylon paint in “Ocean Breeze” that adhered to both metal and plastic, since the basket supports were plastic.

Because the baskets were a little deep for cupcakes—I had visions of wedding guests reaching in and accidentally poking fingers in the frosting—they needed a boost, a shelf for the desserts to sit on. I purchased four 8 x 1-inch styro-foam rounds from the floral department at Michaels (four so I could use the first one as a test, which was helpful). I determined the center of each round and using a set of foam carving tools, cut each in half, then carved out a center hollow for the rack’s center pole.

Tools for basket shelves
Marking the center
Cutting the round

After cutting, I painted each of the rounds I planned to use. I’d hoped, at first, that the paint would smooth the surface, but the styro-foam texture showed through. I looked for some pretty papers to cover the rounds, selecting a handmade blue paper with a silver filigree design for the undersides. It was a greater challenge to find something for the tops. Initially, I went with a solid deep coral.

Then, I gathered other supplies for inspiration: beads, trims, ribbons, tulle. To cover the awkwardly-shaped clips anchoring the baskets, I wove strips of orange tulle through the small inner rings of the top and bottom baskets, and strips of cotton polka dot fabric through the middle basket’s inner ring.

After layering the blue-and-silver paper under each round, I then glued the two halves of each together with hot glue. The first coral paper didn’t work, so I searched my stash and came up with two other papers to use for the tops of the rounds: the flower print is from Heidi Grace Designs’ “Cartwheel” collection, the coral print from Michaels’ “Recollections” line, in “Orange Floral.”  Then I wrapped each round with one of two different orange polka dot ribbons (by Offray) and hot glued the ribbons in place.

Gluing the rounds
Paper and ribbon

Then it was time for the finishing touches. I added some tulle and ribbon to the top handle, and dressed up the base with more tulle and turquoise daisy trim. 

And, of course, no cupcake tower would be complete without cupcakes!

Ready for prime time!

Ready for prime time!

For more DIY tips, check out my latest Real Bride Blogger post on bridebook:

“On Pins & Needles (& Ribbon & Glue…): Advice for DIY Brides.”