Weddingbee Blog

My preliminary exams (otherwise known as: a gate-keeping mechanism, a necessary evil, an unnecessary evil, hazing for first year students who hold Master’s) are one week from today. All hands are on deck. Eyelids are being propped open by toothpicks at midnight, so they might read one more critical essay. Books are being consumed like Oreos. Alternate Plan B careers are being rapidly brainstormed by colleagues (culinary school? reality TV? baby-maker? brewmaster? cheesemonger? librarian?). Facebook, blogging, and television are out. Reminders to shower, exercise, and eat meals are in. But really, exercise is out. Let’s be serious here.

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Oh spring. Harbinger of bunnies and butterflies and blue bonnets. This is the time of year that I like to go outside, stretch my limbs up to the sun, and go back inside until November.

I’ve mentioned my allergy to fragrances. But I’m also allergic to trees, weeds, pollen, mold, dust, dust mites, cats, dogs, horses, and hay. An outdoorswoman I am not. Nature and I have a bit of a tumultuous relationship. Although my allergies stay with me year-round, they’re always the worst during spring and early summer.

Who’s ready for a spring/early summer wedding?!

If you are a fellow allergy-sufferer, you know too well the havoc an attack can wreak on your body. It is terrible. The puffy face, the leaking nose, the red, itchy eyes. The day after an allergy attack I experience what I call an allergy hangover. My body is exhausted and I feel drained and loopy.

I used to suffer full-blown allergy attacks monthly, if not weekly (daily in April/May). Luckily, I rarely have allergy attacks anymore, maybe a few a year. Still, my dress doesn’t have pockets to hold my tissues so let’s review some anti-allergy strategies.
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J.Crew, I am onto you! Oh, am I onto you. OH-ho-ho, am I. onto. you. You and your sneaky ways.

First they introduced the gauziest, loveliest little dress, one that would be perfect for our flower girl. It cost more than I wanted to spend, and I hemmed and I hawwed and finally bit the bullet just as sizes and colors started disappearing from their stock.

Bea Dress

I justified the cost because the ring bearers are wearing clothes they already own. I’d apologize to them but I know they don’t care.

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I’ve mentioned that I’m not crafty, right? Once or twice?

I wonder if artistry skips a generation. Make that two. My grandmother? Crocheted the loveliest blankets. My uncle? Wove Nantucket Baskets (self-taught). Me? *crickets*

Enough with pontificating on my feelings of inadequacy. My mom recently revealed a project she’d been working on for a while. It’s a wooden box to hold wedding memorabilia (and cards from well-wishers at our reception too!).

I was speechless when she showed me. She is amazing. I am amazed. (I may have even shown sentiment.) I’m not sure my photos do it justice, but I’ll try.

Here’s the tour:
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Last week was my Spring Break. Over the weekend I took time off from tequila shots, hopped off my mechanical bull, and went dress shopping with three of my four bridesmaids.

Sistah Chipz and I are notoriously bad shoppers. We get hungry and cranky if we have to go to more than one store. So, we decided to keep it simple and head to the J.Crew. Luckily our local J.Crew has a wedding section!

We started off with some pho (pho sho).

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Waaay back when we were newly affianced, we discussed making our own invitations. I even went so far as to order paper samples from Paper =Source.

I can sense what you’re thinking: “C’mon PChipz. C’mon. Get your head out of your ass.”

Fair enough. We quickly realized we lacked the necessary talent (and time) for such a complicated endeavor. So we sought the help of a brilliant artist. We’re in the midst of finalizing the proof, so for now I’ll leave you with a sneaky peaky.

You may be able to guess the artist (she’s not exactly a stranger to the ‘bee). I must say, she’s as talented as she is snappy.
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A long time ago, we settled on the idea of ceremony program fans. Fans! Nothing says easy-breezy like some card stock glued to a Popsicle stick (that’s all I’d have to do, right?).

Source

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