So, I've decided to go retro. Now that the wedding is over (thereby rendering this blog passe), I have done what most in today's age would deem unthinkable: I have purchased a journal. The real kind. The kind one writes in. You know, with a pen.
I have said my peace with this blog, and the experiment is over. My takeaways? Well, for starters, it was cathartic and, at times, fun; however, more often than not, I felt plagued to write something witty. I would wake up in the night suddenly feeling as if I had forgotten to do something...oh, yeah, post a blog entry. Once something ceases to be fun and starts feeling like an obligation, it's time to let go.
My apologies to my four diligent readers, but I'm closing up shop. I wish all brides planning their weddings the best of luck and I hope that some of my posts will be helpful to you.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to write in my new diary (where there will undoubtedly be far more cursing and rambling incoherent thoughts - I can't wait)!
Sunday, May 8, 2011
Monday, April 25, 2011
Can't sleep...again
Why is it that one's mind focuses on the most random things while desperately trying to sleep? Once again, I awoke in the middle of the night with thoughts of work, looking for new work, writing this blog, laundry, finishing the wedding thank you notes, etc.
The thing that most plagued me, however, was: I should learn to play the guitar, or find a voice teacher to get my voice back into shape, or sit down with my old piano books...and then knowing that I won't. There are some days where I do, but most I just watch.
Doing laundry now. Then off to work. Then to the dentist. Ah, that's why I don't play guitar or piano and haven't gone back to singing. Life kinda gets in the way. And why must weekends fly by so quickly? I don't know how people with children do it.
Well, this was an uninspired post. I have no humor today...
The thing that most plagued me, however, was: I should learn to play the guitar, or find a voice teacher to get my voice back into shape, or sit down with my old piano books...and then knowing that I won't. There are some days where I do, but most I just watch.
Doing laundry now. Then off to work. Then to the dentist. Ah, that's why I don't play guitar or piano and haven't gone back to singing. Life kinda gets in the way. And why must weekends fly by so quickly? I don't know how people with children do it.
Well, this was an uninspired post. I have no humor today...
Tuesday, April 12, 2011
Mr. Laslovich and the models on TV
Every now and then one gets on a subway car and is promptly met with a whole lotta crazy. Today was my lucky day.
Unlike yesterday, the "7" train showed up this morning quickly and with relatively few passengers. Lulled into thinking that this was a humble apology extended by the MTA for yesterday's stellar performance, I was pleased...until I realized that the lack of people was due entirely to a schizophrenic man, clearly on hiatus from taking his meds.
As I have mentioned before, my husband and I go to the gym before heading off to work. This morning I boldly decided to run 2 miles for my cardio portion of the workout. By the time I started my commute, my hips were throbbing and my lower back felt suspiciously stiff. Dilemma: A) do I scoot onto a different car to avoid aggressive crazy man, or B) do I rest my weary bones in the only seat available, located directly in front of him? I chose B, of course.
As I nestle into my corner seat (prime!) with my nose buried in my Kindle, Crazy Man - let's call him Gil - mumbles to me, "You and the models you watch on TV...you're stupid; your TV is taking over the world." Granted, I have a large, flat screen TV, but I wouldn't go so far as to say it's taking over the world. Gil then turns his attention to the stunning young woman sitting across from me reading Cosmo, "And you, with your technology...technology is taking over the world." Um, Gil, not to interrupt your rant, but I feel oddly compelled to defend myself as the geek with the technology, but I'll let it go. This time.
Finally, we hit the Hunter's Point stop. Enter "Mr. Laslovich," the poor schmuck. This unfortunate guy, a well-dressed executive leaving the privileged paradise known as Long Island, stumbles right into Gil's lair. Agitated, Gil shouts in his face, "Damn you, Mr. Laslovich and your duffel bag." Apparently, this Mr. Laslovich owns a mysterious blue duffel bag that he keeps high in his closet. The contents? Body parts. I can see why Gil is distressed - I'd be upset, too, if my nemesis harbored severed limbs in his closet.
Eventually, Gil begins to silently pray. Mr. Laslovich shrugs and pulls out a newspaper. I resume my literary adventure. Pretty Cosmo girl applies some lip gloss.
All is right with the world.
Unlike yesterday, the "7" train showed up this morning quickly and with relatively few passengers. Lulled into thinking that this was a humble apology extended by the MTA for yesterday's stellar performance, I was pleased...until I realized that the lack of people was due entirely to a schizophrenic man, clearly on hiatus from taking his meds.
As I have mentioned before, my husband and I go to the gym before heading off to work. This morning I boldly decided to run 2 miles for my cardio portion of the workout. By the time I started my commute, my hips were throbbing and my lower back felt suspiciously stiff. Dilemma: A) do I scoot onto a different car to avoid aggressive crazy man, or B) do I rest my weary bones in the only seat available, located directly in front of him? I chose B, of course.
As I nestle into my corner seat (prime!) with my nose buried in my Kindle, Crazy Man - let's call him Gil - mumbles to me, "You and the models you watch on TV...you're stupid; your TV is taking over the world." Granted, I have a large, flat screen TV, but I wouldn't go so far as to say it's taking over the world. Gil then turns his attention to the stunning young woman sitting across from me reading Cosmo, "And you, with your technology...technology is taking over the world." Um, Gil, not to interrupt your rant, but I feel oddly compelled to defend myself as the geek with the technology, but I'll let it go. This time.
Finally, we hit the Hunter's Point stop. Enter "Mr. Laslovich," the poor schmuck. This unfortunate guy, a well-dressed executive leaving the privileged paradise known as Long Island, stumbles right into Gil's lair. Agitated, Gil shouts in his face, "Damn you, Mr. Laslovich and your duffel bag." Apparently, this Mr. Laslovich owns a mysterious blue duffel bag that he keeps high in his closet. The contents? Body parts. I can see why Gil is distressed - I'd be upset, too, if my nemesis harbored severed limbs in his closet.
Eventually, Gil begins to silently pray. Mr. Laslovich shrugs and pulls out a newspaper. I resume my literary adventure. Pretty Cosmo girl applies some lip gloss.
All is right with the world.
Monday, April 11, 2011
Beware of pick-pockets at all times; they are all around you
Today was another thrilling ride on ye old "7" line.
Due to damage to the track, we are going to totally shaft your morning.
Okay, so this wasn't the announcement, but it certainly should have been. Instead, the entirely competent and kindly conductor did manage to bellow several times over, "Beware of pick-pockets at all times; they are all around you!"
First, is this Dickensian England? No, it's Queens, and I guarantee that Oliver Twist and the Artful Dodger are nowhere to be found. Perverts, on the other hand, abound! Twist and Dodge - that's what one has to do in this scenario, because this city is loaded with guys that live for overly crowded subway cars so that they may rub against unsuspecting women for kicks. Take my wallet, just leave my ass alone.
Second, "they are all around you"? I love how the MTA can seriously inconvenience thousands of straphangers, while simultaneously inducing mass paranoia. Pick-pockets are lurking behind every corner; suspicious packages, presumably teeming with explosives, are waiting to detonate all over the city; and backpacks and other large containers are subject to random search, as they undoubtedly contain anthrax, Ebola or ricin (hey, Lord only knows what women carry in those multiple bags of theirs). It's a wonder I leave my apartment.
Actually, I bitch, but the whole fiasco ended on an amusing note: After about 10 minutes of being in a near-embrace with a man to whom I am not married, I peel myself away at my stop and he says, "Your hair smells really good." He wasn't pervy, weird or creepy. His bag appeared to be of normal size. He tried to keep a respectable distance (a monumental feat, considering). All-in-all, he was just a nice guy striving to make the best of an awkward situation...and my hair does smell good.
Due to damage to the track, we are going to totally shaft your morning.
Okay, so this wasn't the announcement, but it certainly should have been. Instead, the entirely competent and kindly conductor did manage to bellow several times over, "Beware of pick-pockets at all times; they are all around you!"
First, is this Dickensian England? No, it's Queens, and I guarantee that Oliver Twist and the Artful Dodger are nowhere to be found. Perverts, on the other hand, abound! Twist and Dodge - that's what one has to do in this scenario, because this city is loaded with guys that live for overly crowded subway cars so that they may rub against unsuspecting women for kicks. Take my wallet, just leave my ass alone.
Second, "they are all around you"? I love how the MTA can seriously inconvenience thousands of straphangers, while simultaneously inducing mass paranoia. Pick-pockets are lurking behind every corner; suspicious packages, presumably teeming with explosives, are waiting to detonate all over the city; and backpacks and other large containers are subject to random search, as they undoubtedly contain anthrax, Ebola or ricin (hey, Lord only knows what women carry in those multiple bags of theirs). It's a wonder I leave my apartment.
Actually, I bitch, but the whole fiasco ended on an amusing note: After about 10 minutes of being in a near-embrace with a man to whom I am not married, I peel myself away at my stop and he says, "Your hair smells really good." He wasn't pervy, weird or creepy. His bag appeared to be of normal size. He tried to keep a respectable distance (a monumental feat, considering). All-in-all, he was just a nice guy striving to make the best of an awkward situation...and my hair does smell good.
Sunday, March 20, 2011
Freshman 15, Newlwed 20
A few months before my wedding, a well-meaning colleague announced, "You've lost a ton of weight." I hadn't realized that I had evolved into an Orca and we now had to discuss my weight loss in tonnage...
Like most couples, we were trying to lose weight before our wedding. And, like most couples, we enjoyed eating everything in sight during our honeymoon. The problem, however, falls in the timing of our wedding: 10/23. Two weeks after returning from the all-you-can-eat honeymoon, we celebrated Thanksgiving, the all-you-can-eat holiday. And then came the full swing of the holiday season, resulting in some significant heft. I'll need to lose roughly 13 pounds - oh, sorry, tons - to get back to my pre-wedding weight.
Why does no one mention this? We received no warning regarding this phenomenon, and yet when I mentioned it to two fairly recent newlyweds, they nodded knowingly and then commiserated with me.
Well, let this post serve as the warning:
Dear affianced,
I know planning a wedding can be stressful, dredging up emotions that you have spent the majority of your adult life trying to ignore, rationalize or exorcise. Have no fear: it will all be over soon and you will have a great time at your wedding. Then you'll honeymoon and have an even better time; you'll eat, drink and throw caution (not to mention money) to the wind.
Then you'll come home and adjust to married life. You'll start to feel comforted by the lack of wedding planning stress. And you'll celebrate. You'll be pleased with your commitment to your new spouse. And you'll celebrate. You'll tuck away your wedding finery and revel in the pictures where you both looked so happy. And you'll celebrate.
Then, one morning, you'll attempt to zip your favorite pants and - good God - it's painful. You've celebrated. A lot. And that is okay...the pants are merely the symbol of a good time and a happy life. Now it's just time to revel it in. Good luck!
Now, it's off to the gym and to the grocery store (where salt & vinegar Pringles will not magically find its way into my basket).
Like most couples, we were trying to lose weight before our wedding. And, like most couples, we enjoyed eating everything in sight during our honeymoon. The problem, however, falls in the timing of our wedding: 10/23. Two weeks after returning from the all-you-can-eat honeymoon, we celebrated Thanksgiving, the all-you-can-eat holiday. And then came the full swing of the holiday season, resulting in some significant heft. I'll need to lose roughly 13 pounds - oh, sorry, tons - to get back to my pre-wedding weight.
Why does no one mention this? We received no warning regarding this phenomenon, and yet when I mentioned it to two fairly recent newlyweds, they nodded knowingly and then commiserated with me.
Well, let this post serve as the warning:
Dear affianced,
I know planning a wedding can be stressful, dredging up emotions that you have spent the majority of your adult life trying to ignore, rationalize or exorcise. Have no fear: it will all be over soon and you will have a great time at your wedding. Then you'll honeymoon and have an even better time; you'll eat, drink and throw caution (not to mention money) to the wind.
Then you'll come home and adjust to married life. You'll start to feel comforted by the lack of wedding planning stress. And you'll celebrate. You'll be pleased with your commitment to your new spouse. And you'll celebrate. You'll tuck away your wedding finery and revel in the pictures where you both looked so happy. And you'll celebrate.
Then, one morning, you'll attempt to zip your favorite pants and - good God - it's painful. You've celebrated. A lot. And that is okay...the pants are merely the symbol of a good time and a happy life. Now it's just time to revel it in. Good luck!
Now, it's off to the gym and to the grocery store (where salt & vinegar Pringles will not magically find its way into my basket).
Friday, March 18, 2011
Maslow and Laslow Kittyfeld
It's been forever since I've posted and, frankly, it's because I grew weary of writing about weddings. This can't come as a shock, seeing as I have never purported to be a fan of them in the first place. I loved mine. I had fun. Moving on...
Today, I finally saw Maslow - resurrected from what I presumed to be the dead. Who is Maslow? He's a cat that lives in the courtyard behind our building. His brother is Laslow. They were born here two years ago when our building was undergoing some requisite pointing and our awesome Supers built them this Kittie Manse in the backyard. Of course, the Supers call them Heckle and Jeckle, but they'll always be Maslow and Laslow to us (Maslow, stemming from a conversation about the hierarchy of needs and whether it applies to kitties as well as humans; and Laslow as an homage to Laslow Hollyfeld, the elusive character from the film Real Genius).
I will carry my camera to see if I can get a snapshot of either of them - they are crafty little suckers, so this may be tricky .
Why am I writing about this? Well, I can't sleep (a common affliction for me) and, in an effort to lull my mind, I am fixating on the positive elements of my day. The Maslow siting made the top of the list. I haven't seen him for months and thought, sadly, that he had succumbed to the elements.
Yes, the cat was the highlight: it certainly was NOT the pool of vomit I had to traverse as I stepped off the subway car this evening. Ah, St. Patrick's Day: the day I should spend reflecting on the struggles of my people, but instead spend dodging drunken suburban teenagers in the streets of Manhattan and drunken Sunnysiders in Queens. Good times.
Today, I finally saw Maslow - resurrected from what I presumed to be the dead. Who is Maslow? He's a cat that lives in the courtyard behind our building. His brother is Laslow. They were born here two years ago when our building was undergoing some requisite pointing and our awesome Supers built them this Kittie Manse in the backyard. Of course, the Supers call them Heckle and Jeckle, but they'll always be Maslow and Laslow to us (Maslow, stemming from a conversation about the hierarchy of needs and whether it applies to kitties as well as humans; and Laslow as an homage to Laslow Hollyfeld, the elusive character from the film Real Genius).
I will carry my camera to see if I can get a snapshot of either of them - they are crafty little suckers, so this may be tricky .
Why am I writing about this? Well, I can't sleep (a common affliction for me) and, in an effort to lull my mind, I am fixating on the positive elements of my day. The Maslow siting made the top of the list. I haven't seen him for months and thought, sadly, that he had succumbed to the elements.
Yes, the cat was the highlight: it certainly was NOT the pool of vomit I had to traverse as I stepped off the subway car this evening. Ah, St. Patrick's Day: the day I should spend reflecting on the struggles of my people, but instead spend dodging drunken suburban teenagers in the streets of Manhattan and drunken Sunnysiders in Queens. Good times.
Monday, February 21, 2011
Thank yous
I am starting to feel the gnawing guilt that, although I have managed to thank nearly every vendor contracted for our wedding, I have yet to actually thank any of the guests for the gifts they bestowed on us. I am a 'thank you card' person - jeez, I send thank you cards to my dermatologist for disintegrating a persistent pimple and to our Super for snaking the shower drain. Clearly, I can't allow another month go by without sending a card to our guests for participating in what was, hands down, one of the most fun days I have ever had.
When I first spoke with Angie of Milestone Images this time last year (I cannot believe it's been a year), she warned me that 'October is the new June' and that I likely would not have any photos in hand until roughly six months after the event. This didn't bother me; however, I realize in hindsight that it does put a crimp in the plan if one wants to create a cheesy photo thank you card. Luckily Angie, being the truly awesome and professional chick she is, agreed to send me a few pics on the fly so I can whip something up. (Don't get me wrong, she posted a spectacular slideshow a mere 3 days after the wedding; I just don't have soft copies of any of the pics to use for this purpose.)
So, on today's agenda is whipping up a cutsie card, which pangs my husband, who would prefer to create an awesomely creepy card reminiscent of our wedding invitation. As much as I loved collaborating with him on that unique project, it was labor intensive and took us so long that if we endeavored to repeat the act, we would be celebrating our one-year anniversary before a single soul was thanked.
Well, off to admire the work of Angie and cringe at the cookie-cutter templates of Snapfish, Shutterfly, Kodak, etc. which will undoubtedly diminish her fabulous work.
So, on the agenda today is to create a card and place the order.
When I first spoke with Angie of Milestone Images this time last year (I cannot believe it's been a year), she warned me that 'October is the new June' and that I likely would not have any photos in hand until roughly six months after the event. This didn't bother me; however, I realize in hindsight that it does put a crimp in the plan if one wants to create a cheesy photo thank you card. Luckily Angie, being the truly awesome and professional chick she is, agreed to send me a few pics on the fly so I can whip something up. (Don't get me wrong, she posted a spectacular slideshow a mere 3 days after the wedding; I just don't have soft copies of any of the pics to use for this purpose.)
So, on today's agenda is whipping up a cutsie card, which pangs my husband, who would prefer to create an awesomely creepy card reminiscent of our wedding invitation. As much as I loved collaborating with him on that unique project, it was labor intensive and took us so long that if we endeavored to repeat the act, we would be celebrating our one-year anniversary before a single soul was thanked.
Well, off to admire the work of Angie and cringe at the cookie-cutter templates of Snapfish, Shutterfly, Kodak, etc. which will undoubtedly diminish her fabulous work.
So, on the agenda today is to create a card and place the order.
Sunday, January 23, 2011
The Bronx Zoo
A colleague called me on Thursday to tell me that her sister just got engaged and was beginning her search for a locale for the event. After seeing my wedding photo slide show, this colleague didn't hesitate before recommending the Bronx Zoo!
I confess that a part of me felt sad - I wanted to go back and do it all again. (Okay, not all of it, but most of it.) Of course, it also prompted me to recall that we get a free pass for a full year after our event to visit our lemur friends (and the ever-elusive, yet super-cute xiǎo xióng māo (red panda)), and I must take advantage! It was this time last year when we first visited the hall and decided to book it. It was snowing and freezing cold, which happily meant we were practically the only people there (a rarity anywhere in New York City).
It was also on the snow-drenched bridge that I realized: I had fought so long against the idea of "marriage," but I was finally ready for it: my favorite day of the year (Oct. 23) fell on a Saturday, one of my favorite places in the world (the zoo) had just opened a new event hall, and my favorite person (my now-husband) were all waiting for me - everything as aligned and all I had to do was embrace it. And, so, I did.
Sunday, January 16, 2011
Miss America
Last night we were persuaded to watch the Miss America Pageant. Needless to say, my vow to stop drinking this month came to an abrupt, and necessary, end. I couldn't have made it through such a display without something quashing the fire in the pit of my stomach.
You see, our friend (Dr. Beeyul) is in town and, as he is the voice teacher for Miss Tennessee, we watched in support of him and his blond behemoth. It humbles me, but I have to admit it was awesome entertainment.
First, there is the whole: "What-the-hell! I-can't-believe-this-parade-of-human-flesh-still-exists-AND-they-claim-it's-for-scholarship-money-when-these-bitches-can-CLEARLY-afford-tuition!" factor. (Or, as my husband stated: the human equivalent to the Westminster Dog Show.) It's a car crash from which one cannot avert her eyes.
Second, there is the "talent" portion - and, yes, I put that in quotes. Now, our small audience consisted of 1 current professional opera / music theater singer (and doctorate of music), 3 former professional opera singers, and me, a former professional music theater singer/dancer.
That being said, we gave them major credit for performing on national television, but COME ON! The highlights:
Miss Arkansas busted out two dummies and yodeled the bejusus out of some cowgirl tune. We rewound and watched it 4 times. Hell, I wish we had DVR'd at this house, 'cuz I'd be watching it right now. It was the freakiest thing I have seen in a while and she deserved to win but, alas, she lost to Miss Nebraska. So disappointing.
My husband and his brother, raised in Iowa, are still reeling over Miss Iowa's introduction: "Leading the state in ethanol production, my state gives you gas." Freakin' sweet.
You see, our friend (Dr. Beeyul) is in town and, as he is the voice teacher for Miss Tennessee, we watched in support of him and his blond behemoth. It humbles me, but I have to admit it was awesome entertainment.
First, there is the whole: "What-the-hell! I-can't-believe-this-parade-of-human-flesh-still-exists-AND-they-claim-it's-for-scholarship-money-when-these-bitches-can-CLEARLY-afford-tuition!" factor. (Or, as my husband stated: the human equivalent to the Westminster Dog Show.) It's a car crash from which one cannot avert her eyes.
Second, there is the "talent" portion - and, yes, I put that in quotes. Now, our small audience consisted of 1 current professional opera / music theater singer (and doctorate of music), 3 former professional opera singers, and me, a former professional music theater singer/dancer.
That being said, we gave them major credit for performing on national television, but COME ON! The highlights:
- Miss Washington - whiter than the collective mass of bleached teeth during the opening number - screeched her way through the Motown soul song "Papa Was a Rolling Stone," as made famous by the The Temptations. Seriously.
- Miss Arizona sphincter-blinked her way through "Nessun Dorma,"which takes a big ol' pair, seeing as it was the Pav who first rocked it, and then Aretha who, with 30 minutes of preparation, wailed the hell out of it at the Grammy's when the Pav was too ill to perform. Geez, Miss Arizona needs to choose more appropriate material.
- Miss Delaware blatantly ripped of the choreography from one of the worst/best movies ever produced (and one of my all-time favorites) — "Center Stage" (see Television Without Pity for the best recap of this righteously awful flick). Only it lacked heart, vivacity, and any semblance of technique.
Miss Arkansas busted out two dummies and yodeled the bejusus out of some cowgirl tune. We rewound and watched it 4 times. Hell, I wish we had DVR'd at this house, 'cuz I'd be watching it right now. It was the freakiest thing I have seen in a while and she deserved to win but, alas, she lost to Miss Nebraska. So disappointing.
My husband and his brother, raised in Iowa, are still reeling over Miss Iowa's introduction: "Leading the state in ethanol production, my state gives you gas." Freakin' sweet.
Sunday, January 2, 2011
Get Wed by Fred in the New Year!
So, we spent New Year's Eve at a good friend's house whereby I met a lovely couple from Ireland, who have been dating for 4.5 years. I tell you this because I was instructed by the young woman not to tell her beau that I had been in a relationship for 13 years before getting married. It seems that she would like to get engaged in the near future and this bit of information would serve as encouragement for her man to avoid asking. And, so, I've learned that I am a blight on all single women looking to marry.
Anyway, after being asked several questions about our wedding (and hearing praise for how fun it was), I basked in the glow of once again being the bride. I never thought in a million years I would say this, but I missed it. Now, I could say it's because I'm the youngest of six kids and tend toward narcissism, but that's not true. (At least not in this instance.) I just have such great memories of the day and realize that as we get farther away from October 23rd, there will be fewer opportunities to talk about it. It will be less newsworthy.
Anyway, this reminded me that I still have work to do in the wedding lovefest arena and, so, today I will rave about my brother-in-law, Fred, who officiated...
One of the things were adamant about was having someone we knew marry us. We felt that getting married is an intimate event and, therefore, did not want a stranger standing in front of us and our family & friends purporting to know us. Armed with Google, we learned that one can become an ordained minister - free of charge - through the Universal Life Church. Then, for a fee of $15, one can register as a wedding officiant with the NYC City Clerk's office, which starts with an online (or mailed) application and then a visit to the office during business hours.
That's all it took! So, we asked Fred, who is ultra-cool and possesses a PhD in religion to preside. I cobbled together a ceremony (God bless the Internet!) while Fred composed a fun sing-a-long as an opener and - badda boom, badda bing - we had one hell of a wedding ceremony. It was, without a doubt, the best decision we made. For weeks afterward we received a ton of inquiries about the awesome "priest" who married us. Fred did an amazing job and, two months later, we still have the refrain from his sing-a-long stuck in our heads:
"Hurry up, we're going to the zoo, let's not rush 'I do, I do'!"
Best. Song. Ever.
Anyway, after being asked several questions about our wedding (and hearing praise for how fun it was), I basked in the glow of once again being the bride. I never thought in a million years I would say this, but I missed it. Now, I could say it's because I'm the youngest of six kids and tend toward narcissism, but that's not true. (At least not in this instance.) I just have such great memories of the day and realize that as we get farther away from October 23rd, there will be fewer opportunities to talk about it. It will be less newsworthy.
Anyway, this reminded me that I still have work to do in the wedding lovefest arena and, so, today I will rave about my brother-in-law, Fred, who officiated...
One of the things were adamant about was having someone we knew marry us. We felt that getting married is an intimate event and, therefore, did not want a stranger standing in front of us and our family & friends purporting to know us. Armed with Google, we learned that one can become an ordained minister - free of charge - through the Universal Life Church. Then, for a fee of $15, one can register as a wedding officiant with the NYC City Clerk's office, which starts with an online (or mailed) application and then a visit to the office during business hours.
That's all it took! So, we asked Fred, who is ultra-cool and possesses a PhD in religion to preside. I cobbled together a ceremony (God bless the Internet!) while Fred composed a fun sing-a-long as an opener and - badda boom, badda bing - we had one hell of a wedding ceremony. It was, without a doubt, the best decision we made. For weeks afterward we received a ton of inquiries about the awesome "priest" who married us. Fred did an amazing job and, two months later, we still have the refrain from his sing-a-long stuck in our heads:
"Hurry up, we're going to the zoo, let's not rush 'I do, I do'!"
Best. Song. Ever.
Monday, December 27, 2010
Snow Day
I am such a dunce. Really. We had a massive blizzard yesterday, which started as soon as we began our journey back from north country. Got home and promptly ran to the grocery store to pick up, well, everything because we live like frat boys and perpetually have nothing in the house, and snuggled in for a long winter's night (sans kerchief, I'm afraid).
This morning, I call the emergency service line at work, which announces that, despite blizzard warnings, the office is open. Defeated, I go about my morning routine foolishly thinking that if I leave a few minutes early, I'll be fine. Remind you, this is early morning and I am entirely sober: what the hell was I thinking? To make matters more ridiculous, I opine, "Don't forget to bust out your knee-high snow boots...oh, and you should wear a skirt to make sure your pants don't get wet." Right - we were beaten with snow and I think that the trusty "7" train, which ceases to run with the slightest hint of precipitation, will safely get me to work. And that a skirt (an article I rarely wear) is an excellent garment, ideal for hurdling snow drifts.
I head outside and *holy crap* there is snow everywhere. I manage to waddle down the street to see the "7" train creeping along the tracks. SWEET - the train is running! By the time I ascend the stairs, which incidentally have not been cleared, and learn from the 50+ people huddled together that there is no Manhattan-bound service and the Flushing-bound side is equally sketchy. So much for NY1 broadcasters, who announced all morning that the "7" was the only line not experiencing difficulty. Ah, the media: long on opinion, yet short on fact.
I waddle back down to ground level and walk headlong up Queens Blvd. (a.k.a. The Boulevard of Death), as the sidewalks are unnavigable. Waiting in the excessively long line yields no results: no buses and no cabs, just relentless wind. I abandon all heroics and stagger home, but not without neighborly assistance: a young man literally gives me a hand traversing the snow mound, and a neighboring Super braces herself on an iron fence while hurling me over the mound she is in the midst of shoveling. The Christmas spirit reigns in Sunnyside, Queens.
So, it's been a snow day. Or I'll be fired. We'll see.
This morning, I call the emergency service line at work, which announces that, despite blizzard warnings, the office is open. Defeated, I go about my morning routine foolishly thinking that if I leave a few minutes early, I'll be fine. Remind you, this is early morning and I am entirely sober: what the hell was I thinking? To make matters more ridiculous, I opine, "Don't forget to bust out your knee-high snow boots...oh, and you should wear a skirt to make sure your pants don't get wet." Right - we were beaten with snow and I think that the trusty "7" train, which ceases to run with the slightest hint of precipitation, will safely get me to work. And that a skirt (an article I rarely wear) is an excellent garment, ideal for hurdling snow drifts.
I head outside and *holy crap* there is snow everywhere. I manage to waddle down the street to see the "7" train creeping along the tracks. SWEET - the train is running! By the time I ascend the stairs, which incidentally have not been cleared, and learn from the 50+ people huddled together that there is no Manhattan-bound service and the Flushing-bound side is equally sketchy. So much for NY1 broadcasters, who announced all morning that the "7" was the only line not experiencing difficulty. Ah, the media: long on opinion, yet short on fact.
I waddle back down to ground level and walk headlong up Queens Blvd. (a.k.a. The Boulevard of Death), as the sidewalks are unnavigable. Waiting in the excessively long line yields no results: no buses and no cabs, just relentless wind. I abandon all heroics and stagger home, but not without neighborly assistance: a young man literally gives me a hand traversing the snow mound, and a neighboring Super braces herself on an iron fence while hurling me over the mound she is in the midst of shoveling. The Christmas spirit reigns in Sunnyside, Queens.
So, it's been a snow day. Or I'll be fired. We'll see.
Friday, December 24, 2010
Happy Festivus...I mean, Christmas
Well, Christmas is here...again. I think I've proven by now that I favor Halloween, but I suppose I can rally the spirit of celebration.
Today we haul ass back up north to party with the fam. In preparation, I headed over to Grand Central Market yesterday afternoon (after being released from the Dark Tower (a.k.a. work) at 1pm). Upon arrival, I was pleasantly surprised to find few patrons; however, mere minutes later, the gates of hell opened and an innumerable number of bodies were swarming the premises.
It was so crowded that I lasted long enough to grab two focaccia breads from Zaro's bakery, dodge a near black eye from guy flailing his arms at Murray's Cheese, and avoid being trampled by some idiot wielding a SUV-style baby carriage (in the Market - really? This was a conscious choice?).
Paltry treats in hand, I abandon my mission and, after riding a monumentally full (and odoriferous) train home, I arrive at the Sunnyside Post Office. Again, I was pleasantly surprised to find only one person preceding me on line. However, by the time I was assisted, the line grew tenfold and people were winding out the door.
Packages retrieved, I journey next to a lovely pastry shop to see if can find some cannolis (or something equally delicious and fattening), but, alas, the pastries had been picked over until there was nothing, save a lone bran muffin.
Defeated, I stagger home. Plop on the couch. And refuse to move for the rest of the evening. Merry Christmas.
Today, we must now gather the items I failed to retrieve yesterday, get on a commuter train (damn you, Grand Central), and make our way north.
Dear baby Jesus, on this eve of your birth, please give me the strength.
Today we haul ass back up north to party with the fam. In preparation, I headed over to Grand Central Market yesterday afternoon (after being released from the Dark Tower (a.k.a. work) at 1pm). Upon arrival, I was pleasantly surprised to find few patrons; however, mere minutes later, the gates of hell opened and an innumerable number of bodies were swarming the premises.
It was so crowded that I lasted long enough to grab two focaccia breads from Zaro's bakery, dodge a near black eye from guy flailing his arms at Murray's Cheese, and avoid being trampled by some idiot wielding a SUV-style baby carriage (in the Market - really? This was a conscious choice?).
Paltry treats in hand, I abandon my mission and, after riding a monumentally full (and odoriferous) train home, I arrive at the Sunnyside Post Office. Again, I was pleasantly surprised to find only one person preceding me on line. However, by the time I was assisted, the line grew tenfold and people were winding out the door.
Packages retrieved, I journey next to a lovely pastry shop to see if can find some cannolis (or something equally delicious and fattening), but, alas, the pastries had been picked over until there was nothing, save a lone bran muffin.
Defeated, I stagger home. Plop on the couch. And refuse to move for the rest of the evening. Merry Christmas.
Today, we must now gather the items I failed to retrieve yesterday, get on a commuter train (damn you, Grand Central), and make our way north.
Dear baby Jesus, on this eve of your birth, please give me the strength.
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
Lunar eclipse
As the sun is now peeping into our windows, I realize that our top-down shade in the living room is lowered. I know my husband slept poorly last night (hence laundry morning over gym morning), so perhaps he caught a glimpse? Alas, I am sad I missed it, but I am a grown-up and must suffer the consequences.
Zoning out
These days I feel like staring at a blank wall in total silence. There's been a little too much over-stimuli invading my senses these days: Christmas in New York is a wonderland of crowds, lights, crowds staring at lights, cloying music, cloying crowds chatting loudly over music...I could go on, but y'all get the drift. Hah - at least we don't have snow drifts...yet.
Right now I am relishing in the relative silence of my home at 7.05am. All I hear is the ticky-typing of keys and the howling wind outside. I am also perusing photos of last night's lunar eclipse. Part of me is kicking myself for not clambering outside to view it myself, but the other half of me - you know, the one that has to go to work today - is happy I stayed nestled in bed.
It's laundry day again (didn't I just do that?) and I am happy to report that I have not seen another soul wandering the building. It might be a good day, after all. God bless us, every one.
Right now I am relishing in the relative silence of my home at 7.05am. All I hear is the ticky-typing of keys and the howling wind outside. I am also perusing photos of last night's lunar eclipse. Part of me is kicking myself for not clambering outside to view it myself, but the other half of me - you know, the one that has to go to work today - is happy I stayed nestled in bed.
It's laundry day again (didn't I just do that?) and I am happy to report that I have not seen another soul wandering the building. It might be a good day, after all. God bless us, every one.
Monday, December 13, 2010
I interrupt the lovefest for some needed bitching...
Okay, I'm going to divert my attentions from the wedding lovefest for a little needed bitching. It's currently 7.09am ET and I have slept poorly, so please forgive.
I generally avoid people like the plague. When one lives in NYC, as I do, one is chronically surrounded by...well, everyone. This being the case, I go out of my way to do most activities during off-peak hours. (Sadly, my M-F, 9-5 job precludes me from doing this all the time.)
Anyway, I slept terribly last night and still managed to rouse myself at 6am, so I could go downstairs *in peace* to do my laundry. At 6.15am, I manage to run into four of my neighbors. Three of whom are RETIRED. What the hell? Why can't you people stay tucked into your apartments until after rush hour? I mean, you have ALL DAY to do your laundry, recycle, grocery shop, holiday shop (I could go on), but NOOOOO, you feel the unbridled pull to do all of these chores when the rest of we office schleps are forced do ours.
Deep breaths - good thing it's Monday and I have another long week ahead of me.
Sincerely,
Ebenezer "the Grinch" Scrooge
I generally avoid people like the plague. When one lives in NYC, as I do, one is chronically surrounded by...well, everyone. This being the case, I go out of my way to do most activities during off-peak hours. (Sadly, my M-F, 9-5 job precludes me from doing this all the time.)
Anyway, I slept terribly last night and still managed to rouse myself at 6am, so I could go downstairs *in peace* to do my laundry. At 6.15am, I manage to run into four of my neighbors. Three of whom are RETIRED. What the hell? Why can't you people stay tucked into your apartments until after rush hour? I mean, you have ALL DAY to do your laundry, recycle, grocery shop, holiday shop (I could go on), but NOOOOO, you feel the unbridled pull to do all of these chores when the rest of we office schleps are forced do ours.
Deep breaths - good thing it's Monday and I have another long week ahead of me.
Sincerely,
Ebenezer "the Grinch" Scrooge
Sunday, December 12, 2010
The Bronx Zoo
Yesterday we drove to Poughkeepsie to collect the wedding presents my parents were kind enough to accept on our behalf (ah, the plight of those who live in NYC sans doorman).
En route we passed the Bronx Zoo and, despite the deepest desire to pull in and say hello to our wildlife friends, we soldiered on choosing instead to reminisce about our numerous visits whilst planning the wedding. We were so lucky to be able to host our wedding at such a unique and personally meaningful venue, and love the fact that when we do return we will always have such fond memories.
I have provided much commentary about our experience working with the zoo and it was, overall, fantastic. I definitely think that, as this is a new event space, the staff is experiencing "growing pains," but I can honestly say that they were attentive and flexed their creative muscles to ensure that we had a day that reflected us.
On the day, we were so touched by the effort made by the the staff. First, because they also loved our awesome invitations, they borrowed the design graphic and used it to create the menus. Second, when we entered the the Schiff Hall we were blown away by the decor; they embraced our Halloween overtones and decked the place out accordingly - everything looked elegant and festive. Finally, when the ceremony concluded a member of the catering staff came up to the bridal suite bearing us giant cups filled with our Unity Cocktail beverage (*) as well as a sampling of all the appetizers; we can blissfully say that we did not miss out on a single food item we selected.
We look back at our experience and are so grateful for the staff at the zoo. Tim, Keira, and Katherine are creative, flexible, and fun people, dedicated not only to ensuring that you have a wonderful time at your event, but also in the effort to preserve wildlife. What more could we ask for?
* The Unity Cocktail has yet to be mentioned. Since several of our guests were following the blog, I kept certain "surprise" elements a secret. We mentioned this idea to Katherine months before the day, and she loved the idea. After weeks of sampling cocktails, Katherine was instrumental in narrowing down our options. The day before, we dropped in to taste several bourbon-based drinks before deciding on Chapel Hill:
1 1/2 oz. Bourbon
1/2 oz. Triple Sec
1 tbsp. Lemon Juice
It was light, fresh, delicious, and a wonderful way for us to incorporate our parents in the ceremony, plus it served as our Specialty Cocktail for our guests, making it a wonderful way to tie the ceremony into the cocktail hour.
En route we passed the Bronx Zoo and, despite the deepest desire to pull in and say hello to our wildlife friends, we soldiered on choosing instead to reminisce about our numerous visits whilst planning the wedding. We were so lucky to be able to host our wedding at such a unique and personally meaningful venue, and love the fact that when we do return we will always have such fond memories.
I have provided much commentary about our experience working with the zoo and it was, overall, fantastic. I definitely think that, as this is a new event space, the staff is experiencing "growing pains," but I can honestly say that they were attentive and flexed their creative muscles to ensure that we had a day that reflected us.
On the day, we were so touched by the effort made by the the staff. First, because they also loved our awesome invitations, they borrowed the design graphic and used it to create the menus. Second, when we entered the the Schiff Hall we were blown away by the decor; they embraced our Halloween overtones and decked the place out accordingly - everything looked elegant and festive. Finally, when the ceremony concluded a member of the catering staff came up to the bridal suite bearing us giant cups filled with our Unity Cocktail beverage (*) as well as a sampling of all the appetizers; we can blissfully say that we did not miss out on a single food item we selected.
We look back at our experience and are so grateful for the staff at the zoo. Tim, Keira, and Katherine are creative, flexible, and fun people, dedicated not only to ensuring that you have a wonderful time at your event, but also in the effort to preserve wildlife. What more could we ask for?
* The Unity Cocktail has yet to be mentioned. Since several of our guests were following the blog, I kept certain "surprise" elements a secret. We mentioned this idea to Katherine months before the day, and she loved the idea. After weeks of sampling cocktails, Katherine was instrumental in narrowing down our options. The day before, we dropped in to taste several bourbon-based drinks before deciding on Chapel Hill:
1 1/2 oz. Bourbon
1/2 oz. Triple Sec
1 tbsp. Lemon Juice
It was light, fresh, delicious, and a wonderful way for us to incorporate our parents in the ceremony, plus it served as our Specialty Cocktail for our guests, making it a wonderful way to tie the ceremony into the cocktail hour.
Sunday, December 5, 2010
Milestone Images
I can't say enough about Angie Gaul, of Milestone Images. Let's just say she had me at fuckwittage.
Yes, this is the Offbeat Bride article where I first developed my crush on Angie. Upon reading, I knew she was the photographer for us and, so, I frantically checked her calendar to see if she was free on October 23, 2010. I immediately sent her a request and she responded within hours. How can a photographer resist shooting a wedding at the Bronx Zoo?
Anyway, after a few email exchanges, Angie gives me a call in the midst of a terrible blizzard - she was, at the time, working for an upstate paper and was en route to photograph an accident (speaking, of course, on her hands-free cell). Happily, the accident yielded no injuries, so we snuggled in for a breakdown of her wedding package.
Well, we ended up chatting for at least an hour and I fell in love with her whirlwind personality - she is chatty, personable, and generous of spirit. I hung up and wanted her to not only be my photographer, but my friend.
If you are EVER in need of a photographer, I wholeheartedly recommend Angie. She is absolutely the best.
(In keeping with my insistence of avoiding posting overtly personal information about myself or loved ones on this blog, I am not providing a link to the preview shots of my wedding - if you are interested, please comment on this post and I can get you the specifics!)
Yes, this is the Offbeat Bride article where I first developed my crush on Angie. Upon reading, I knew she was the photographer for us and, so, I frantically checked her calendar to see if she was free on October 23, 2010. I immediately sent her a request and she responded within hours. How can a photographer resist shooting a wedding at the Bronx Zoo?
Anyway, after a few email exchanges, Angie gives me a call in the midst of a terrible blizzard - she was, at the time, working for an upstate paper and was en route to photograph an accident (speaking, of course, on her hands-free cell). Happily, the accident yielded no injuries, so we snuggled in for a breakdown of her wedding package.
Well, we ended up chatting for at least an hour and I fell in love with her whirlwind personality - she is chatty, personable, and generous of spirit. I hung up and wanted her to not only be my photographer, but my friend.
If you are EVER in need of a photographer, I wholeheartedly recommend Angie. She is absolutely the best.
(In keeping with my insistence of avoiding posting overtly personal information about myself or loved ones on this blog, I am not providing a link to the preview shots of my wedding - if you are interested, please comment on this post and I can get you the specifics!)
Saturday, December 4, 2010
Nasty Little Cold
Man, this little cold of mine is taking on a life of its own. I've tried to kill it with wine, I've tried to pacify it with pizza, and I've tried denying it even exists (denial is a forté of mine; it's genetic, I think) - all to no avail.
In preparation for all the loot we received for the wedding, we are tackling the kitchen cabinets. Why on Earth do we have a meat dehydrator, anyway? We are getting rid of the old and making room for the new. I'll hack my way through the process and then it's time to begin the online Christmas shopping extravaganza!
Wow, this is a lame-ass post. I just felt the pressing obligation to write; however, my head is so cloudy and I am literally mouth-breathing, so perhaps I shouldn't have bothered? I'm thinking that is the case...
In preparation for all the loot we received for the wedding, we are tackling the kitchen cabinets. Why on Earth do we have a meat dehydrator, anyway? We are getting rid of the old and making room for the new. I'll hack my way through the process and then it's time to begin the online Christmas shopping extravaganza!
Wow, this is a lame-ass post. I just felt the pressing obligation to write; however, my head is so cloudy and I am literally mouth-breathing, so perhaps I shouldn't have bothered? I'm thinking that is the case...
Wednesday, December 1, 2010
Giving Thanks
I know, I know...it's been ages since my last post. I have committed the cardinal sin of social media; however, between Thanksgiving and a nasty little cold, I've been otherwise engaged.
Speaking of Thanksgiving, my husband and I took the pilgrimage (get it? Pilgrims!) to my parent's house for the big event. Upon entering their home, I quickly became the unwilling cream to a proverbial Retriever cookie sandwich - a massive Golden Retriever sniffing my crotch and an equally massive Labrador Retriever sniffing my butt. Drink one.
After shooing away these beastly dogs, I am greeted by my father who says, "Love, I've been reading your blog and, I have to say, it's gotten really boring." Drink two.
Several drinks later (and a snuggle with my nieces), I am back on track and ready for the bird.
In all seriousness, though, we spent the greater part of last week compiling a honeymoon picture slideshow, so that we might include it in a special thank you posed to those that attended our wedding. Although I will not include said slideshow here, I will include the text (I was reminded last night during a lecture on social media that there really is no such thing as data privacy, so I choose not to advertise myself any more than necessary). I'll post some discrete pics on a later post, as well as review each city we visited.
*******************************
Speaking of Thanksgiving, my husband and I took the pilgrimage (get it? Pilgrims!) to my parent's house for the big event. Upon entering their home, I quickly became the unwilling cream to a proverbial Retriever cookie sandwich - a massive Golden Retriever sniffing my crotch and an equally massive Labrador Retriever sniffing my butt. Drink one.
After shooing away these beastly dogs, I am greeted by my father who says, "Love, I've been reading your blog and, I have to say, it's gotten really boring." Drink two.
Several drinks later (and a snuggle with my nieces), I am back on track and ready for the bird.
In all seriousness, though, we spent the greater part of last week compiling a honeymoon picture slideshow, so that we might include it in a special thank you posed to those that attended our wedding. Although I will not include said slideshow here, I will include the text (I was reminded last night during a lecture on social media that there really is no such thing as data privacy, so I choose not to advertise myself any more than necessary). I'll post some discrete pics on a later post, as well as review each city we visited.
*******************************
Dear friends and family ~
As we approach Thanksgiving we thought it appropriate to express our gratitude to all of you for being part of our lives and for sharing in our wedding day festivities.
We never thought we would host a wedding celebration and often found ourselves questioning why a couple would devote such time, energy, and money on a single day out of their whole lives. Well, now that we have experienced it, the answer is so clear that we are humbled: the love and good will we felt on that day, and in the days since, has reminded us of life’s importance. To sit in a room surrounded by those you love – eating, drinking, and laughing as we did – is so joyful that it is abundantly obvious to us why such celebrations exist.
Saturday night we sat down with a bottle of champagne to open a letter from the City Clerk containing our marriage certificate. We followed this momentous event by opening wedding cards, and we are not ashamed to admit that we were moved by the sentiments and overwhelming generosity bestowed upon us. Although some of you may blame the bubbly, we can honestly say that our emotions were solely driven by our happiness in knowing we have such wonderful friends and family.
We wish you all a very happy Thanksgiving and look forward to writing each of you personally in the weeks to come.
*******************************
God bless us, every one!Sunday, November 21, 2010
High Voltage Sounds
Our DJ, Vinny from High Voltage Sounds, was recommended to us by some friends and we are so glad we took their advice, as we had a rockin' good time.
Prior to the event we were asked to provide a Music Request List and, as former musicians, we definitely went a little overboard, providing no less than four pages of popular and obscure tunes. Vinny unearthed most, producing one bizarre, yet awesome, set list! (We also encouraged our guests to suggest a song on their RSVP cards.)
I can't begin to tell you what it felt like to sit down and hear Ani DiFranco serenading me while I tucked into my dinner. This shocked me into the moment, thinking, "Wow! I love pumpkin ravioli and Leffe beer and...is that Ani DiFranco?!?!" That is a distinct benefit of hosting one's own party - one gets what one pays for!
The rave review:
Prior to the event we were asked to provide a Music Request List and, as former musicians, we definitely went a little overboard, providing no less than four pages of popular and obscure tunes. Vinny unearthed most, producing one bizarre, yet awesome, set list! (We also encouraged our guests to suggest a song on their RSVP cards.)
I can't begin to tell you what it felt like to sit down and hear Ani DiFranco serenading me while I tucked into my dinner. This shocked me into the moment, thinking, "Wow! I love pumpkin ravioli and Leffe beer and...is that Ani DiFranco?!?!" That is a distinct benefit of hosting one's own party - one gets what one pays for!
The rave review:
- Vinny knew this was a crew of dancing fools and made sure the songs were balanced between upbeats and ballads.
- Brilliantly, Vinny withholds the microphone from the masses, making certain that all requests to speak are cleared by the bride and groom. All drunken sentiments are pre-screened!
- The price is right! I contacted roughly four DJs and HV Sounds was, by far, the most reasonably priced. We may have had to go the extra mile by producing a song list, but wouldn't one want to do that anyway?! I can't imagine hosting a party where the dreadful Taylor Swift is booming over the airwaves. I don't tolerate whiny prepubescent warbling and nor should you.
- Vinny is sometimes difficult to reach by phone, which is usually fine with me, as I prefer e-mail; however, I was a little perturbed when I scheduled a call a few days before the event and Vinny didn't pick up his phone. I left a voice mail message, which he didn't return, but ended up reaching him via e-mail.
- The entrance song we requested was "The Circle of Life" from the Lion King Soundtrack. Now, had the aforementioned conversation occurred, he would have realized that we specifically wanted the wailing Broadway version, but we ended up with the mellow Elton John version. When we picked the song, we laughed hysterically. At the wedding, however, we sighed disappointingly.
- Vinny usually arrives an hour before the event, but I think he and his partner got lost coming to the zoo (an easy thing, given the multiple entrances). As I walked through the hall during the cocktail hour, I absentmindedly murmured aloud, "Hmmm...where's the DJ?" Little did I know this simple comment launched my MOH, Best Man, and Event Coordinator into panic mode. All three were on cell phones faster than a monkey can fling poop. Luckily Vinny was unloading his stuff outside at the moment and all was right in the animal kingdom.
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