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Fall wedding, fall colors. Likes: reds, purples, deep oranges. Dislikes: bright yellows, too much filler, anything that resembles a weed.
#1 Maybe a bit big and far too many leaves, but I like the colors.
#2 I like the overall colors in this one and I think the size is about right.
#3 I mostly like the combination of reds and purples here.
#4 Maybe I should just forget the whole thing and go all (red) berries!
I have an appointment with the florist this afternoon to start discussing options. She asked that I bring pictures of everything — my dress, the bridesmaid dresses, centerpiece ideas, my colors and anything that has ever caught my eye. I think it’s a really good sign that she wants to see the cohesive picture in order to best help me pick my flowers.
I also hope she has a tray of martinis and a pile of grilled cheese sandwiches, but that might be expecting a little too much from my florist.
- While delicious, grande soy no-water chais are not food. I should really stop substituting them for breakfast because I’m always hungry an hour later. Also, at almost five bucks a pop, by the end of the month I’ll have basically drank away a pair of shoes. SHOES, people.
- Speaking of shoes, I’ve been a total slacker with updating my “Wearing” and “Wanting” shoes. Sorry about that. When I switched jobs I saved all the images of shoes I actually owned on a disk. That disk sat in a bag in my car up until last weekend when Michael got tired of looking at it. Now the disk is sitting in the bag in the upstairs hallway. Maybe by next month I’ll actually, you know, take it out.
- Have you visited The Winning Pitch lately? Do you know it’s updated three times a week with random topics that interest fabulous women?
- DJ or wedding band? That’s what we’re trying to decide right now. Michael is pro-band, I’m pro-DJ. Here’s why: DJs can’t really mess up the music, they cost less and they’re only one mouth to feed. I understand the appeal of a band, but it’s got to be a great band in my opinion. I’ve been listening to samples online and usually just feel ehh about them.
- I want to write a book. I really do. I think if I wrote a book it would probably be in the chick lit genre (how many of you just rolled your eyes?) because, well, I’m girly. I’m not really sure how to get the ball rolling. If I wrote a book, would you read it?
- Every morning Kodiak gets two biscuits with his breakfast. He usually hides them in a corner, behind a door or under the couch until later in the evening when he unearths them and eats them up. This morning I noticed that he hadn’t eaten the biscuits from yesterday, so I didn’t give him two new ones. Clearly agitated about it, he nudged me repeatedly as I put the new biscuits back in their container.
“Mom,” Michael said, using the ‘Kodiak Voice’, “Mom, I’m saving those in case of a recession. Mom, give me my biscuits!”
I didn’t oblige. He can eat the ones from yesterday. I swear, if Kodiak was a person he’d be a little old lady who saves bottle caps and pieces of string.
Hello? Is anyone out there? Where have you all gone? I’m feel like you all disappeared.
I also had another wedding nightmare last night. This time my hair was a frizzy mess and my mom told me to get over it, my dress was some gray thing and people were standing in the aisle while I was trying to walk down it. Then, as we were trying to say our vows, people were talking and getting up to leave. I actually thought to myself, “This has to be a dream. I’ll wake up.” But I didn’t wake up. Instead, Dream Molly started yelling at her guests to sit back down and wait till everything was over.
I cannot tell you how happy I was when I actually did wake up.
So, um, yes. Really. Where have you all been?
- You’re really annoying when you talk on the phone. Your voice gets all squeaky and you sound like you don’t know what you’re talking about. By now, you should know what you’re talking about.
- I don’t understand why people are obsessed with you. Your stories make me want to rip my eyes out and use them as bowling balls. You’re self-centered, a bad dresser and boring.
- I couldn’t have made this transformation without you. You keep me motivated just by knowing you’re coming to pick me up and you make me laugh through each exhausting hour. I can see the change in you even if you don’t believe me. You look great.
- I know you’re bored, but I’m so happy you’ve been around on gchat. I miss you like crazy and love that you pop up at random times during the day and make me laugh. You have become a beautiful and unique woman and I really am proud of you. But I wouldn’t mind if you threw out the green sweater.
- Just when I think I’m going to lose it, you make a comment about wearing funny t-shirts to my wedding to piss off my mother-in-law. You are one of the funniest and brightest people I know and I’m pretending that you are going to live here forever because the alternative makes me sad.
- Each of you are important to me in different ways and when you all get together it’s going to be awesome. You are six of my most favorite people in the whole world and I’m honored that you will be standing next to me.
- I know you’re going to cry when you see me in my dress. And then I’m going to cry because you’re crying. Put extra tissues in your pocket.
- I may snap at you or get frustrated, but I really value your opinion. Your advice thus far has been great and it’s meant so much that you’ve been able to share some of the big planning moments with me. You understand my reaction to stress and know when to let me cry it out and when to tell me to get over it. I’m glad you can keep me in check. Please bring the ginger tea with you in October, just in case.
- You’ve been known to fart of me, tickle me, pinch me, grab at me, slap my butt, make faces at me and act like a big doof. Sometimes all in the same day. But despite all that, I still kind of like you. Well, maybe more than like. I think I’ll keep you.
Same girl, same dress, different body.
When I started, the goal was to be a skinny bride. But that’s changed. I still want to be a skinny bride, but I also want to be a healthy woman for the rest of my life. I should have done this gym thing years ago.
This post isn’t meant to be a gloating “look at me!” type thing, but I’m posting it because I’m really proud of myself for getting as far as I have. Often I feel like I write for you, my wonderful readers, but today I’m writing for me.
Keep it up, Molly! I’m so very proud of you.
“It’s Disney-themed,” Carley said as she stirred the pasta.
Jenna’s hand froze mid-air, the vegetable peeler poised over the cucumber. “I’m sorry,” she laughed. “Did you just say your wedding is going to be Disney-themed?”
“Mmm hmm. I’m really going to miss pasta,” Carley replied wistfully. “No more carbs until after ‘I Do!'”
Who was this alien standing in her kitchen, Jenna wondered. “Car, seriously? Disney? As in, Someday my prince will come?”
“No, silly. I’m thinking more When you wish upon a star.”
Friends ever since the day Jenna moved to Oakbrook Meadows, Illinois. She stood nervously in the doorway of Mrs. Kitchner’s 1st grade class, clutching her Dark Crystal lunchbox.
“Class, this is Jenna Matthews,” Mrs. Kitchner said, wiping Elmer’s glue on her pants.
“Hiiii, Jenna,” the class chimed in unison.
“Jenna, you’ll sit here, next to Carley,” she said, leading her over to a girl with a long red ponytail. “Carley, please show Jenna where we keep the crayons.”
“I like the blue crayon best,” said Carley.
“I like the pink crayon,” Jenna said.
“Me too,” replied Carley. “I like the pink crayon best.”
Jenna and Carley, Carley and Jenna. Known as best friends up through high school, the two were never apart. They sat next to each other at every birthday party, slept over each other’s houses every weekend and shared their clothes. Everything they did, they did together. Except for getting their periods. Jenna got hers first the summer before eighth grade. Carley told everyone she got hers too, but it wasn’t until the fall that she really needed those Always pads she carried in her backpack.
Carley Chameleon, Jenna called her. Always changing her opinions, her clothes or her hair based on what others were doing. It didn’t surprise Jenna when in high school, Carley was suddenly interested in ice hockey, then video games, then chemistry–depending on who she was dating. It never bothered Jenna too much because when they were together, Carley was Carley. The Carley that liked strawberry ice cream slightly melted, who could rollerskate circles around anyone and had the best collection of Bonne Bell Lip Smackers. If she wanted to put on an ugly jersey and cheer for a sport she didn’t get, Jenna couldn’t care less.
The two parted ways for college, Jenna making her way to Boston University to study English while Carley picked Oklahoma State for the sororities. “It doesn’t matter what I chose for a major, Jen,” she explained. “It’s all about who you meet along the way.”
The sound of her cell phone broke Jenna’s concentration. She knew who it was before she even looked. Carley, back from her trip to Florida. Which boyfriend and she gone with? Tim? Benjamin?
“I’m getting married, Jen!” Carley squealed into the phone.
“Oh yeah, what’s this one’s name?” Jenna said brushing the toast crumbs from her laptop, thinking that Mr. Florida was yet another “perfect” boy who Carley swore she was going to marry.
“Keith! His name is Keith. Remember? I told you about him. He’s a Sigma and I met him at a highlighter party last semester and Jen you should see the ring! It’s so sparkly and it’s a princess cut. “A princess for my princess,” he said. He got on his knee right in front of Cinderella’s Castle and I couldn’t even speak! Jenna, say something!”
“Are you insane?”
To be continued…
…Olay body wash and Lovely perfume, golden blonde hair hiding reddish brown roots, high heeled shoes and ballet flats, strong muscles but pesky arm jiggle, little brown eyes and big full lips, salads and fruit and pizza and ice cream.
…An ear for music, an eye for fashion, a love of reading, a hatred of vacuuming, a daughter, a sister, a friend, a fiancée. A writer, a dreamer, a believer, a skeptic. Compassionate, friendly, attentive, loving, stubborn, emotional, cautious and kind.
…A sucker for new lipgloss, a magazine collector, a maker of piles, an organizer of shoes. Loyal, protective, intelligent, a democrat. A publicist, a blogger, a mother (to a dog!), a gym rat.
…Organized at work and wedding planning, unorganized at home, v-neck shirts and wrap sweaters, perfect-fit jeans and chunky necklaces, nails filed square and toes with chipping polish, Third Eye Blind and Britney Spears.
Who are you?
Michael nudges me in bed. “Molly, are you going to the gym?”
Me: “Grumble, grumble, huh?, grumble.”
Knock, knock, knock.
“Molly, is Jen here?”
At the gym:
“Feeling the burn on the StairMaster today. Woah, I know I did weights yesterday but a weekend away from the gym really effects my cardio. Blah. OK, 20 minutes is enough. I’ll go on the elliptical for the rest of the time. Music isn’t bad in here today, but I like it better when they play 80s rock in the morning. Really gets me going. You’re way too beeeeeeautiful girl, that’s why we will never work. You had me su — huh? In denial? Those aren’t the words! They’re trying to be PC at the gym? Ugh. Just put on some Poison, will ya?
I feel hotter than usual and I’m really thirsty. Time to stop, it’s almost time to leave anyway. Woooah, I feel dizzy. And nauseous. And uh oh, I better lay down. OK, on the mat. Why is the ceiling spinning? I wonder if this mat was wiped down…ew…don’t care. Still dizzy. And hot. Gah.”
In the shower:
“Wash away the mat sweat ewwww. Still feel dizzy. Should I call out? No, we had yesterday off and there will be so. much. email. Sneeze! Oh no. Now I’m sneezing? And ow, that hurt my throat. Blah. Guess I’m calling out.”
Back in bed:
“Michael, stop being annoying. I’m sick! Stop pinching my thighs. That’s not funny! Grrrr. I’m gonna pop you.”
In the afternoon:
“The woman from the church was supposed to leave the door open for us today. Ugh, we better go. But she never confirmed in the email. Oh well, she knows it’s today. I’ll just call to remind her. Hm, answering machine. Hope she gets it. I know she got it, right? I’ll just throw on this baseball cap and we can go. Quick look in mirror? Sure. AH! Ugh, pasty and gross. Do not look in mirror anymore.”
At the church:
“What do you mean the church is locked? Well, jiggle the handle. I can’t believe she didn’t show. I’ll call her again…voicemail! Grrrr. Leave snippy message. Can we at least look in the windows? Boost me up, I’m too short. This must look interesting to anyone driving by. And since when are churches locked? Grrr.”
Back at home:
“I’ll just lay on the couch for a little while and read this great wedding book from my aunt…”
Three hours later:
“Huh? What time is it? 5:45! Time for dinner, I guess!”
“I know you have to use the coupon tonight but can you order from L.L. Bean in the other room? You’re talking over The Millionaire Matchmaker! Shush, it’s a good show. Yes it is!”
The wedding was beautiful. Starting with a rehearsal dinner to die for, and ending with a ceremony that made me cry and a reception that could only be summed up with one word: WOW. I wish I could accurately describe how delicious the duck quesadillas were, how much fun it was to dance to hora with family and strangers alike or how when dancing with Michael thinking about our own wedding, I was so happy I almost couldn’t breathe.
In just over an hour I will be on my way to the station, boarding a train to NYC. This weekend is my cousin’s wedding, a weekend event that is bound to be quite the affair. I cannot wait for great food, amazing music and dancing up a storm in a cute little dress.
I also can’t wait to see Michael in a yarmulke.
And oh yeah, brunch with Clink and M tomorrow. Yay!
Back on Tuesday with lots of pictures.
What are your long weekend plans?