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When we had last left off, our cocktail hour was coming to a close, it was getting dark, and the tables were being set by servers for the salad course. Mr. G and I snapped some quick shots in natural light while everyone was seated and dined on Caesar salads.
After the salad, the buffet was opened up for the guests to feast on roast chicken, beef, new potatoes, stuffing, Yorkshire pudding, and vegetarian Indian curry and rice. We rented chafing dishes for the caterers to put the food in and keep the food warm in throughout the night.
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Finally, Mama Bacon and Aunty Bacon were in Chicago, and it was time to get in the rental car and drive out to the Chicago suburbs for what we hoped would be the dress-shopping experience of a lifetime. We started out about 15 minutes late (no surprise, since we aren’t really known for our promptness), then we got stuck in fabulous Chicago traffic at 10:30 AM on a Friday on not one but two highways and the last intersection, before reaching Priscilla of Boston. That’s right—we rolled up 35 minutes late to the appointment.
So we quickly checked in at the front desk and started picking out dresses. I had brought along some printouts of my favorites from the website, but those were quickly tossed aside as we started browsing. I made a beeline for the one dress I’d been pining after for a while, then my mom picked a few, my Aunty Cathy did too, and suddenly we had 10 dresses in the dressing room with my name on them. Sadly, a couple of the samples were too small to fit over my hips, including the dress that I thought was the one, so I shuffled those out for another bride.
Goodbye, lover. (Jewel by Priscilla of Boston)
I know the wedding blog world is totally shunning me right now, but we’re considering not doing a formal send-off at the end of our reception. *gasp!* I know I won’t get photos like these, but I don’t know that I really care.
Remember when MOH Oatmeal and I went huntin’ for some wood? I decided it was time to do something with our findings. So, the other day we made a quick trip to Orchard Supply Hardware and walked away with these items: white paint, paint brushes, and this tool of magic:
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The wood that we found at the ranch was just that…wood from a ranch. Most of it needed some cleaning and sanding, so that’s exactly what we did. On the floor of my apartment. On an old sheet.
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Featured on Weddingbee
All-Inclusion Invitation Suites
“Make an elegant invitation statement without the fuss. Stylish invitation sets with matching envelopes, reception and response cards included.”
msBlossom’s colorful candy buffet was the star of the day!
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We decided early in planning that the first look option was for us. Our ceremony would begin at 6:30 PM and the reception ended at 11 PM. That didn’t leave adequate time for the kind of formal photos we wanted. We both have large families and it would take time to organize and photograph everyone. Doing a first look at 4:45 PM allowed 15 minutes for just us, an hour for formal family photos, and 30 minutes to regroup and collect ourselves for the ceremony.
I researched where the tradition of the groom not seeing the bride until she was walking down the aisle originated, and I found it dated back to arranged marriages.
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Create the honeymoon of your dreams.
Mr. EB sent me the link to this article awhile ago. Brad Feld and his wife, Amy, have a routine in which they “try to—fully clothed—spend four minutes together every morning 100% focused on each other.”
Once both of them are up in the morning, they spend “four minutes” together without computers, books, kids, or other people. Whether it ends up being four or fifteen minutes, it’s the act of taking time out of the morning to be with each other. It’s time spent focusing on each other, reconnecting with each other; and in so doing, they keep their relationship with each other as one of their highest priorities. Due to their busy travel schedules, they often do this by phone or Skype. But they make time to do it every morning.
Mr. EB and I haven’t exactly figured out our morning routines—they’ve been interrupted and hijacked and messed with by all manner of things since we moved in together. And when we do end up awake at the same time in the morning before heading off to work or a run or wherever we might be going, we’re too often focused on our laptops or a book instead of each other.
Well, in an effort to be funny, I made a little mistake. Actually, it’s not a mistake because it was fixed easily enough and our invites look totally badass now. They aren’t so cookie cutter anymore.
Okay…so you want in on my super funny, whoopsie-inducing, joke?
Hive, I’m going to freak out, but before I do that I feel like I have to clue you in on the back story here.
Where to begin? Well, Mr. Giraffe is totally a stud muffin, if you weren’t aware. He always looks good, in whatever he wears, but he mostly wears jeans and T-shirt. One school he subs at lets him wear that exact thing, or else it’s dress pants I got him from Gap (on sale!) and a button down shirt. Suffice it to say, Mr. G is a pretty casual guy. (And by casual, I mean awesome.)
Mr. Giraffe in his casual clothes, doing his favorite thing ever.
From the start, we decided our wedding would be pretty formal—not super formal, but way fancier than normal for these Giraffes.
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Welcome back to the Bunny Bridal Countdown, hosted by Mrs. Bunny!
When we last left our intrepid heroine, she was one week away from her wedding and had the night of her life bowling a turkey at her bachelorette party.
The week before our wedding was absolute insanity. I won’t give you the play by play because that would take forever, but let’s just say it involved moving both Mr. B and I out of our apartments, designing a newspaper/program from scratch, resolving an issue with our musicians, who had suddenly refused to play the wedding, and attempting to complete about 5 million DIY projects that were only half finished. On top of all of the above, we both worked Monday and Tuesday, racing against the newspaper deadline to file our copy for the next two weeks before we left for our honeymoon.
Fortunately, I had my best friend, Bethany, in town from Japan and MOH Sister Bunny to help me every step of the way.
I also had this little fella:
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I’ve been married twenty months now. Let’s all take a moment to recognize the fantastic-ness of having to stop to count the number of months. Once upon a time, I could have told you in days. Hours. “It’s been five months, three weeks, six days and fifteen hours since I chose this misery. Oh! One more minute down.” I regularly practiced the art of Getting Through.
Do you know the Getting Through strategy? You know, as in, “Today, I just have to get through.”
But no more. Today, I had to count.
I used to write, pre-wedding, about the messiness of my relationships. (G’head, check my archives. Even the ones with the pretty pictures allude to the challenges we survived in getting there.) I then spent the next year writing about the messiness of learning to live up to someone’s expectations and with their quirks and through their relationship-hampering coping mechanisms: my own.
Today I realized we’re pretty much past the growing pains.
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My BFF is no diva, and I’m sure she needs no recognition for being the best pal a girl could have. However, she is my Matron of Honor, and I want her to stand out a little bit.
When I was her Maid of Honor, my bouquet was slightly bigger than the BMs’ but slightly smaller than the bride’s, like this:
Unfortunately, the bouquet I have in mind for myself is kind of…compact. Like…full-bodied, but on the petite side. (Like me. Ha.) So I doubt anyone would notice a discrepancy between the MOH bouquet and the others.
So…how do I give my BFF a little extra MOH oomph?
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Mrs. Scissors is offering free engagement and bridal sessions to Atlanta-area readers. See her add below for details.
My title is a bit of an oxymoron, I know. How can something be a surprise, yet a regular tradition? Well, let me explain.
Surprise #1: Mr. Lace’s family always does a family dance for the bride and groom. We’ve done ’80s songs, ’90s songs and more recently Grease! So, Mr. Lace and I knew they’d plan a dance for us, but we just didn’t know what songs they’d be dancing to. We were so lucky because we’ve had the longest, most complicated dance thus far! All photos courtesy of Hanssie Trainor.
Put your hands up!
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So when we last looked in on our heroine, she had just gotten the idea of embossing lodged in her head…
Right. So that may sound insane. And I admit, it was a bit overly ambitious for someone who didn’t even own a rubber stamp until all of this started. But there it was. And so I went off to Michaels to procure embossing materials. I already had slow-drying ink, so I just needed embossing powder and a heat tool. The first thing I learned is that embossing powder can be difficult to locate in the craft store. The second thing I learned is that is doesn’t seem to come in hot pink, which was my desired color. So I bought some kind of glittery embossing powder and begged the kind lady at Michaels to help me find the (very expensive) heat tool. Confused and slightly lighter in the pocketbook, we finally headed for home.
The first time I tried, I refused to take a picture of the outcome because it was so full of fail. I wasn’t happy with the ink color, and the embossing powder didn’t seem to have stuck to the entire surface of the stamp—possibly because I was having issues tapping the excess powder off of the paper, and it didn’t seem to be going well. So I tried to blow the powder off of the paper and into the container…the container full of embossing powder…glittery embossing powder. In roughly 0.6 seconds the dining room table, the floor, my jeans, and the cat were entirely covered in glitter. And there sat the heat tool like a smoking gun. Literally. Because it was smoking. And I declared the project a fail.
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