Weddingbee Blog

Writing about my secrets is like being asked to say 3 things about yourself but make one a lie. I immediately default to something stupid like how many siblings I have. I’m just not that interesting, so I hope you’re not disappointed.

1. My life’s goal is to ski Tuckerman Ravine. Every May for 5 years I have had every intention of hiking Mount Washington and skiing it but then we get incredibly busy and cancel our plans. Zeb’s done it and I’m coming for it next.

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2. I have saved every piece of clothing since I started high school. It’s a little ridiculous now that my “memory clothes” are taking up the majority of my storage space. The reason I do this is because I wanted my mother to have saved her clothes when the ’70s came back in style. I figure maybe one day my daughter might appreciate my foresight.

3. I crashed a snow mobile. Every year my family would take a winter vacation with my friends’ families. Britt’s father paid for us all to go snow mobiling. Britt’s brothers friends, the guys, all began driving. We had a few other people on the tour with us who were really slowing us down. When the guides split and took us on our own he asked if anyone wanted to switch being the driver. Having the balls of steel that I do, I was the only girl to volunteer and Britt’s brother was banished to the back of our snow mobile. Without the family to slow us down, the guide took off and before I know it we were going about 50 MPH. There was a turn up ahead and when I turned the handle bars we continued traveling straight into a snow bank. Luckily Britt’s brother was used to me embarrassing myself in these ways otherwise I would have been totally mortified (as if I wasn’t already). When the guide was able to dig us out, a groomer came by and put us even more in the ditch.

4. Around this time each year I get a little sad because I could not follow my dream. I was going to be a Rockette y’all. No, seriously, it would have happened…if I wasn’t so damn short. At just under 5’4″ I am persona non grata on the Radio City stage. I seriously considered surgery where they break your shins and place a metal rod in order to add a few inches. I obviously wasn’t thinking about whether or not I could still dance after the surgery. My mother surprised me with a Rockette experience for Christmas 2000. I was taught a class by a Rockette in their practice space at Radio City. It was most certainly the best highlight from my dancing years.

5. I like to smoke an occasional cigar. Also not good for when I do shoot up that extra few inches. It’s probably not the best habit for my asthma, but it’s relaxing and I like it.

6. And, to close out my lame-o secrets, I have a lame-o party trick. I do the Thriller. Whenever my friends have determined that I’ve had just enough to drink they inevitably put on the song. I well hem and haw for about as long as it takes the first chorus to play but then the music eventually breaks down my iron cast wall. I can’t help it. I have to dance. (But for embarrassment’s sake I’m going to spare myself any pictures.) Here’s the thing though— don’t *actually* know the choreography. Or at least I didn’t. My friends would never say anything because they love my many renditions but I lived in fear that someone would come in and blow up my spot. So I learned it. I can now say that I actually know the Thriller. Muahhhh hahahahhahahahah-muaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhh hahahahaha! (That’s the guy laughing at the end if you didn’t gather.)