Weddingbee Blog

I’ll get this out of the way: it is really sad that there was a volcanic eruption and ash it bad for the lungs and not good for air travel. No one is happy that there is ash-air abound. I am sorry if you are stuck in ash-land. No, not Ashland, Oregon where the Shakespeare Festival is held (thanks, elementary school!), but ash-land. Note hyphen.

So, back to being selfish.

Ash is stopping flights and that’s making it hard to get certain flowers. Why do I know this? It’s because I’m still going through post-wedding-depression and keep up with this stuff even after over 2 years of being married. Mr. GB forgives me, or rather, doesn’t know I’m still doing this and would probably be horrified if he knew. Thankfully, he doesn’t read my blog because he says I’m horribly cryptic and when I was traveling Europe with my landlord before we were dating, he read it and felt miserable. I’m glad I cut that off early. This is also why I can tell you really embarrassing stories about him. Because he doesn’t know.

When I build my time machine, I’m going to go back in time and take this bouquet from Mrs. Cowboy Boot and then go further back in time to my wedding. It’s a complicated plan, but it just might work…

So what do you do when your dream flowers are unavailable?
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I’m laying it all out on the table. I’ve changed my engagement ring setting TWICE. Yea, that’s right. I’m an insensitive, unsentimental jerk-face. Not a jerk, a jerk-face.

I know there are people who have the perfect ring, their dream ring, or their ring is juts the best ring ever because it’s their engagement ring. But what do you do when you don’t like your ring, or maybe you just want to change it?

Honey, I know I said I wanted Cartier… but this is not what I had in mind.

I’m one of those people. I’m like the ocean—ever moving/changing. And if you wanna be on it, you gotta roll with it. If you don’t, I will swallow you whole and no one will ever see you again until your bloated body floats somewhere downstream. Me, master of imagery. Am I attached to my ring?
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Reading Weddingbee always makes me really really friggin’ guilty. Mostly because I know I’m still around and reading it and not saying anything. I’m going to attribute this to my life being so boring that only people who have absolutely nothing better to do would read about my life. I think between the choice of cleaning the litter box and reading about my day to day life, most peoples’ cats would be very happy. You can use this as a threat if you want your SO to scoop poop. “Don’t MAKE me read her post aloud!”

Ooo! Treasure!!

I never shared my meeting Mr. GB story because it’s boring. We went to college, I set him up with his last girlfriend (we’re all still friends), I moved to Japan, I came back, we got together. I didn’t steal him, I didn’t charm him, we just started hanging out when I moved back and it happened. In fact, I had never even considered the possibility of dating him - he was that ginger kid that would argue with me about Soul Calibur (grr!).

He said I was ’out of his league’ until he saw the kinds of people I dated and then figured I had no standards and just went for it. Did I also mention that he thought I was BLAND? Yes, he used the word bland. All you guys out there who want to sweep a girl off her feet need to take a lesson from Mr. GB. He is obviously the pinnacle of romance. And I never shared my proposal story because… well, he never proposed. *gasp*
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So, it has been two years since Mr. GB and I said our ridiculous vows and got married. So how have things changed?

We look so sweet!

Well, Mr. GB still lives in constant fear of being kanchoed when going up stairs, so I can safely say our relationship is pretty much the same. We did move from our cute place in Lake Merritt to a larger, cuter place in the Castro… still on the top floor for optimal butt poking opportunities, of course!
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After the wedding I had my dress cleaned, put it neatly in a bag, and then threw it on the floor in the back of my closet, heaped into a little pile. I thought I might sell it one day, but Mr. GB is sentimental and doesn’t want me to. I’m not attached to much; even cards that I give to Mr. GB I hand to him with the trash bag in hand so that after he reads it, I can toss it. I’m sweet, I know.

Well, when Mr. GB and I decided to move, my friend Lydia exclaimed that she would love to take photos in our soon to be empty flat because the light in the unit is amazing. It’s true—the light is very nice, but I hate photos… but I like Lydia more than I hate photos. Ah, the downside of having friends and people you like—you’re willing to do things you dislike in order to make them happy or help them out. Reluctantly, I pulled out my neglected dress, prayed to the heavens that it would fit, and dragged my unwilling body in front of her camera to let her steal my soul.

Although I hate photos of myself, Lydia always manages to make me not look completely stupid, although mildly stupid cannot be helped. And it doesn’t hurt that Frances is the cutest dog ever.

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The one thing we always kept in mind while planning our wedding was the feel. That was the most important thing for us - not how I looked, nor the details of the ceremony. We didn’t even have a rehearsal or plan a ceremony until about 10 minutes before we went out. We didn’t want everything to look meticulously planned; we wanted it to feel like we threw it all together and it was just totally casual and relaxed. That means… all those details we put together, really didn’t stand out. But that’s what I wanted. I didn’t want anyone to feel like our wedding was a museum of amazing little details, I wanted people to sit back and relax as if this was just a normal get together.

So these are how our details came together to create our mellow, laid back atmosphere. No one will ever know how I agonized over every single freakin’ detail and searched high and low for the perfect _____ that seemed so easy when on the table.

Remember those pillows that I had my friend/slave sew for me? They went on the benches next to the parasols and the palmier cookies we had put together. They don’t know that it took hours the night before  to prepare these cookies.

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One year and some number of months ago, I got married to my ginger-kid and then didn’t talk about it. So here I am, older, not wiser (I may have lost more marbles since then) and trying to piece together my day and share it with you.

I’ll spare the details of the cocktail hour, as I was getting changed and apparently Mr. GB was making the rounds talking to everyone. I have no knowledge of what happened, just some photographic evidence of people being happy, eating, drinking, and taking photos of themselves…

If you couldn’t tell, I lived with these girls in Japan, and they actually stayed with us in the hotel the night before and the night of our wedding. That’s how Mr. GB and I roll—we had a sleepover with friends on our wedding night!!
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Mr. GB and I are that couple. That couple that your kids love to see because our house is filled to the brim with candy and has all the coolest toys. We buy kids whatever they want, spoil them rotten, and then send them home pouting and saying “but THEY let me do _____!! How come you’re not as cool as they are!?” Mr. GB claims he’s going to designate a wall in our house as the “art” wall, where he’ll let the kids draw all over it and send them home with the supplies to make art at their own house. Wrong wrong wrong!

However, we don’t want children of our own. It comes as a shock to most of our friends and family, and they’ve been hearing it for years, but still believe we’ll change our mind. We have our reasons - usually we like to lightheartedly say, “Can you imagine Mr. GB’s huge nose on my tiny featured face? We can’t have children knowing they’d have to go through life with a face like that!” Sometimes I say, “Because it hurts. A lot.” But honestly, we have many real reasons for our decision, many of which are easily dismissed with “just wait, you’ll come around.”

As we’ve been married longer and more people around us are having kids, most of our friends don’t bother; they figure it’ll happen eventually. But strangers/people we’re not as close to think there is actually something psychologically, emotionally wrong with me. I’m a soul-less monster and a disgrace as a woman for not wanting children. I should be handing in my vagina and resigning. They have even taken it as an attack on them that we don’t want children; they get defensive and angry.

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It’s been a really long time since I’ve posted, but I swear I have something relevant to post about.

Something you may or may not know is that during the entire 18 months that we planned our wedding, (we planned for a hella* long time) Mr. GB was unemployed. I have mentioned that he did as much planning as I did, he was at every meeting, did every craft with me, and was actually the point of contact for all our vendors. Well, he had no freakin’ excuse not to be there because he didn’t have anywhere else to be! But seeing as our wedding was no longer able to rely on Mr. GB having any regular income, we blew our budget on buying our home (and decorating, because I can’t stop myself) and our wedding.

That meant no honeymoon. Instead, we went on our minimoon to Tokyo to visit friends, get a post-nuptial puppy**, and eat. Mainly eat. Eat things to make me gain the pounds that I’m supposed to gain over the next 40 years of marriage in about a week. No point in hiding what Mr. GB would have to lie next to for the rest of his life; I’ll all about ruing the mystique early. Like peeing with the door open, I generally do that within a week of dating someone… usually when they’re brushing their teeth and can’t escape. I know, I’m so romantic.

People seemed to pity us and kept telling us they felt bad we weren’t going on a honeymoon. They felt terrible asking where we were going, only to find out we weren’t going anywhere. We got a lot of those, “Oh…. but… you’ll have PLENTY of time later!” comments trying to throw out a ladder of sunshine from the deep ditch they felt they had fallen into.

Honestly, I can’t imagine having done it any other way.
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And the engraving, right… This photo is older but my ring has been so abused and dinged up that it looked awful. I guess I could Photoshop a new one in the future, but for now, this is all I have!

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Our anniversary came and went. Actually, we lived it twice as we were on a plane and flew back in time. A perfect anniversary, spent in airports, mid-air, and then jet lagged… we are truly a romantic couple, as I wore yoga pants and the ugliest, but most comfortable, most likely dirty shirt I could find for our 9-hour flight. I’m just that sexy, it shines through the stench. This was a precursor to the permanent state of comfy clothing and unshowered wife that he would come home to every day.

We still have a lot of wedding stuff just lying about the house, in drawers, under and in the credenza, in the garage… it’s there to remind me of our perfect day, not at all because I’m disgustingly lazy. So lazy, that we didn’t actually get our one-year cake until last Saturday. It’s only a little bit over two months late.

We opted not to save some of our cake since it would take up precious space that would normally go to freezer-burned chicken, fish sticks, and frozen pizza. That, and my sister told me the heartwarming story where she had our mother save her cake topper, but found out that it was lovingly eaten by my father the next morning with some coffee. Thankfully, Nora, our baker, offers to make couples a 1-year anniversary cake, which we gladly accepted. Of course it was lovely, particularly after we ate some tasty leftover lasagna that some friends had brought over. A fitting meal for our late anniversary, I think.

a very poor close up image
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There is no way to say this delicately, but it has to be said.

I wanted to have all my hair ripped off pre-wedding. Yes, all of it. I wanted to be smooth and aerodynamic, so that should I need to fly or swim faster than someone else, I would have an edge.

if challenged to a slip ’n slide contest, I’d totally rock you
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Despite the rain the day before, it actually turned out to be a gorgeous, cloudless day .. and we had to break out the parasols and fans for everyone!

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Yea, I know, I spend too much time looking at their website. But if you’re looking for the perfect bridal set, just something for your honeymoon… or because you are narcissistic and want to look at yourself in the mirror in hot lingerie, check out Agent Provocateur’s Online Sale!

Agent Provocateur

I really think they should be sending me kick-backs at this point.

I’ve been trying to ignore it, but it’s impossible.

I knew this would happen…. I’m obsessed with wedding planning.

Admittedly, I was the one who adamantly did NOT want to have a wedding, being forced to have an intervention from Mr. GB and my mother about how I HAD to have one or I’d regret it… I knew why. Because if I let myself start looking, I’d never be able to let go. I can’t stop myself from staring at wedding websites, blogs, photographer links, beautiful designs and thinking how I could integrate that into a gorgeous wedding. Dreaming up DIY projects and thinking up themes that are different and interesting only to look down at my left hand and think “dammit, I’m already married. $(#)!@#!!”

I do have a friend who is getting married next year and doesn’t want to plan it, so I’m getting my planning fix vicariously through her… but after that? All my friends are married or not getting married in the near future. Where will I get my next fix? I need a wedding-dealer, I imagine some shady alley where a couple passes me an envelope of cash for me to call vendors and send them swatches.
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