Small Lake City and the Name Game

I apologize for not writing for a couple of weeks.  Its been wedding drama left right and center.

Occasionally I will use the term, "Small Lake City," to refer to my hometown when 6 degrees of separation seems like a severe understatement.  It seems like everyone knows someone you know.  I had one boyfriend who lived out of town and everytime we got on a plane leaving Utah, I knew at least one other passenger.  This seemed comical to a guy from the East Coast. 

Two weeks ago I flew into planning mode again to appease my anxiety.  I began with the photographer.  My mother and I went to interview one, Duston Todd, who was highly creative and edgy, but my gut said to move on.  I began to call others.  I realize that I'm a bit jaded by names after working at a children's hosptial.  It seems that all Destiny's, Celesitial's, or Nevaeh's (Heaven backwards) are destined for a sexual assault, Brooklyn's have some sort of congenital heart defect, and Ashley's usually overdose.  Rule of thumb I've learned is the funkier the spelling of the name, the worse the medical diagnosis.  With this being said, a photographer with two first names caught my supersition-salt-throwing-avoiding-black-cats kind of sense.  Like I said, I moved on.  The names got worse, but the creativity got better.

Pepper Nix.  Great photographer.  Already booked.  She spent 45 minutes one Saturday morning giving me advice to help me find THE photographer and then went on about flowers, lighting, invitations, etc.  She was amazing to the point that I sent her a thank you note.  She led met to Davina Fear.  This woman rocked.  Mom and I met with her and I booked her on the spot.  (Yes, these are all their birth names.) 

With the contract signed and deposit check written, Mom and I celebrated with a glass of wine.  About an hour and a half later when Mom had left and I was settling into the couch, Davina was back at my door.  She was distraught.  She had pitched to another bride days before and promised to wait a certain amount of time, but had gotten caught up in my excitement and booked with me for the same day.  Ethics vs. legal vs. emotions vs. logic all played out as I invited her in to debrief.  I wasn't certain if my role was to play social worker, friend, customer, legal advisor, or what so mostly I listened andreframed.

A rough 24 hours passed and she called thanking me and reassuring me that she would honor her contract and do my wedding.  Phew!  With that done, I began to move onto the flowers.  Met Shawn, booked him on the spot.  (How can you resist a male florist who says, "Oh goodie!" when you tell them you are going to book them?) 

Then the band issue the following day came up.  I investigated a few bands.  For the most part, musicians are flakey (including my brother).  With my type A personality the contract of, "If I don't show up, I don't get paid," doesn't work for me.  My fiance was against my first choice because they sounded schmaltzy.  (Interesting word, it makes me think of an accordian player in a powder blue tux.)  But then the others were flakes.  I found J.D. Moffet.  Great guy.  Turns out we had all sorts of connections in Small Lake.  For example:  my grandmother and his mother in law are best friends, he taught my brother guitar, he played at my uncle's funeral, he knows the anesthesiology dept at work very well.  I went to see them play and we booked.  He said he had a tenative engagement scheduled for the same night, but we were practically family so it really wasn't a question.

He called the next day telling me about his experience cancelling the other party.  When he told them he had another engagement at Log Haven the reply was, "Unbelievable!  First she gets my photographer and now she got my band!"

Whoever this bride is, I'm certain she hates my guts.

 

Super so Far

In the tarot deck, number 17 is The Star.  I generally like this card when I read for people.  Its simple message is duty vs. authenticity.  Its a battle every one of us faces over and over again throughout our lives.  However, sometimes the timing is exquisite.

My brother has been on the straight and narrow.  Now that he is not playing my roommate, I can be a bit more objective.  He has escaped the drama of an engagement that never should have happened, landed a nice place down town, has been really successful at work, became more emotionally invested in the family, and even bought a great set of wheels.  Wouldn't you know that once he became stable, fate would twist the plot?

I don't think anyone truly dreams of some of the jobs we end up in.  No one ever grows up and says, "I always wanted to be an accountant."  Usually little kids say things like fire fighters, veterinarians, or a rock star.  My brother fell into that last fantasy.  He pursued music most of his life whether it was the piano, trombone, drums, or guitar.  He has talent.  He's been in many bands.  For the past while he has settled for playing covers for a loyal audience at the local meat market.  He has a good time and it's easy for him.

Last Sunday he got a phone call to audition for a band that is close to signing and got offered a position.  If he joins he will be giving up the security of a "grown up" life as he will be on the road a lot.  He came over to my parents to talk out the process the next night.  "Angst" doesn't even begin to describe what he was going though.  The music sounds like something he wrote.  The style is his.  It is a now or never kind of deal. 

His life has been great up until now, but it holds the promise of what dreams are made of.  Ironically, the name of the band is, "Super so Far." 

www.supersofar.com

Retro Fit

The past two days I've been home.  Its given me time to nap, play with Edgar, dwell on the wedding details, and reinvent the comforts I knew 20 years ago.

My girlfriend gave me a very cool photo album.  www.kolo.com  She gave me the basic black album and photo corners.  I actually got caught up a little bit on this task and got through 2003.  As I sorted through the boxes of photos I could discard the ones where I look drunk (but I'm not), the ones where heads are cut off, and the others that really didn't contribute to the photojournalistic style I was going for.  I actually come from a very talented art and photographic family, but I didn't get that gene. 

While attaching the photo corners, I realized that the style of the album was pretty familiar.  My grandmother did a lot of albums. She had 6 kids.  Enough said.  I used to love going through the albums.  Sure the pictures were cool, but the stories and the memories were amazing.  Grandma would tell tales of river adventures with a travel group, her dude ranch experience when she was 16, and all of the family trips to southern Utah were documented. 

My fiance and I are in the process of picking a photographer.  This, by the way, is a nightmare.  When you realize that when all is said and done, all you will have left is a dress and some photos the pressure is on to pick the best you can.  One blessing is, a lot of them include an album they assemble with the photos you choose in the price. 

Ah, well back to the whole retro thing.  Yesterday I found the inspiration to make a crock pot recipe.  I called my parents to invite them to dinner tonight.  It takes hours/days to prepare a "simple no fuss" meal, ironic eh?  When I told my dad I would be making Carolina pulled pork sandwiches (don't know why this even sounds good) he asked how I even had a crock pot.  He hadn't seen one since 1983 when it mysteriously got "lost" in a move.  One of my Aunts gave it to me cleaning out her house years ago.  Its a nice crock pot.  It is beige with pastel pink and blue flowers on the outside and a deep brownish red pot.  Very, very 80's. 

This morning I woke up and had a Pop Tart (something I haven't had since I was in grade school, but it sounded good so I picked them up at the store yesterday).  I then began to assemble the recipe.  "Recipe" is a loose term.  I studied about 12 of them and combined what I thought sounded reasonable without paying attention to the measurements.  Could be good, could be gross.  We'll see in about 8 hours.

Dress Quest, Part Deux

Holy cow, I found one.

It isn't anything like what I thought I would choose.  Not like I was going for a scarlet red or a blush and bashful kind of a setting, but I really didn't think this dress would be the one.  ("Kind of like the groom." the bridal consultant said.)  I would have never had selected my fiancee if we had been dating years back.  (Thank God)

I can't give away too much here as my finacee does read the blog.  The dress is elegant and simple.  It doesn't need one ounce of alteration.  I even bought a veil.  I was dead set against a veil.  I was dead set against white.  I was dead set against beading, lace, a train, etc etc etc.  It was everything I thought I didn't want and yet it suits me.  Ironically I found it at a store called The Perfect Dress. 

One more thing checked off my list, 20,000 more to go...

Dressing to the Twos

They say that when you find "The Dress" you just know it.  You won't want to take it off.  For me, I just need to get past the panic attacks of getting one on.

I began shopping for wedding dresses backwards.  I started in the couture stores (unknowingly) and then scaled back.  It was a drastic mistake.

Today I went to David's Bridal, where I should have gone in the first place.  I have heard either fabulous stories or awful ones out of this discounted store.  My mom and I began by having to register.  Apparently there was a sale going on so the wait was long before you got a chance to work with a "wedding coordinator."  I use this term lightly as they were all females, aged 18-21, in belly tees (with large bellies) and stacked heels.  As we waited, we were instructed to go through the book (not the racks) and turn down the corners on the pages with the dresses I wanted to try on.  We ignored them and began to go through the racks.  My mother cringed when she felt the fabric.  Taffeta vs. silk, tulle vs. organza, lace that looks worse than the neighborhood little old lady's curtains.  Believe me, there is a difference.  However, we both took our tarnished silver spoons out of our mouths and put on a new attitude.

We sat on the bad teal leather couches in front of the mirrored doors/dressing rooms and flourescent lighting.  Brides-to-be pranced around in the dresses as the coordinators placed ribboned veils and tiaras on their heads...most of the time, both, at the same time.  Not my choice of style, but whatever.  The brides were all a good 6-10 years younger than I was, most had tatoos on their shoulders (ever so elegant with a strapless dress), and a few had mothers in either cowboy hats or missing teeth.  We sat there for about 45 minutes watching the costume changes and offering our Statler and Waldorf impressions from the peanut gallery.  There were some good dresses for some of the brides, I will say that.  However, they were all barely 21, a size 2, and looked like they swapped a prom dress for a wedding gown.

As our time drew closer, my Mom and I began to re-evaluate our motives.  We finally decided that our time would be better spent doing taxes or budget reports.  The best thing about the day?  How close it was to Costco so I could get some gas.

Puppy Power

Puppies are marvelous creatures. 

Just when you are having a terrible week at work, they yield perspective.  Their infactuation with the smallest things in the world gives them sheer joy and reminds you that there is more to life than your tiny experience.  This week, Edgar has been a Godsend.

On Thursday morning we woke to 8 inches of snow.  I opened the door for him to go out.  He saw the wall of white almost as tall as he is and he backed up with a look on his face like, "Are you crazy, lady? I don't need to pee that bad."  In my bathrobe I grabbed the snow shovel, donned my clogs and began to create a path for him on the deck.  He thought this was nifty.  It fell into the same category like vacuums, mops, and other fun things that run along the floor he can chase and attack.  I literally have bite marks on my Hoover.

He got to the end of the deck and thought this wasn't a big deal.  That was until he fell off the steps with a graceful head plant.  I couldn't help but giggle.  Poor thing.  However, he then figured out he could bound and bound around in the powder!  I decided to take him outside while I shoveled the rest of the driveway and sidewalk.  For 45 minutes my neighbors could hear Edgar growling at the shovel, me yelling his name and then the scrape/dump of the snow off to the side.  It was interrupted every so often by him bounding around.  He finally stopped only because of the immobilizing snowballs gathering on his underbelly and armpits.  (Do dogs have armpits?...well, you know what I'm talking about.)  I did the defrosto dog routine in the sink to melt them after carrying him inside. 

It set a nice tone to my Thursday. 

Another thing I love about Edgar is him dancing for his dinner.  He is the happiest dog I know.  Every night I take a bath as a ritual of self-care.  He usually hangs out in the bathroom with me and curls up on the mat or the pile of clothes.  His newest thing is to chase the drops of water that fall down the sides of the tub.  He paws at them, licks them up, and just watches them intently as they crawl down.  I've begun to enable this behavior and just let the drops fall from my fingertips at the edge.  It makes me smile and the puddles are easy to clean up.

The last thing that I love about him is his ability to cuddle.  He will sleep on top of my chest while I'm lying down on the couch or he'll curl up beside me in bed.  His backbone lining up against my chest and his head on my pillow.  Sounds weird to say that you spoon with your dog, but I'm a brave woman to admit it!  I like his warmth, soft sighs, and mini kicks/barks as he dreams his doggy dreams of finally getting the elusive squirrel (or at least that is what I imagine it to be.) 

Edgar reminds me that there is joy when life is simple.

White Rabbit Mad Hatter Date Setting

The adrenaline has officially worn off.  It was a quick euphoric state for me with the engagement before my panic set in about getting things in place.  The date.  Is it determined by choice or by what is available?  Try the latter.

I began thinking September would be nice.  I checked out the church.  The first hurdle with the Catholic church is all of requirements!  Natural family planning class???  A weekend away for engaged couples??? I doubt my roommate will be my fiance, which in my opinion is a complete waste of a weekend with him.  Nope, I'll get to house with another bride to be.  Good hell.

Ok, so then onto the reception sites.  We began with the 23rd floor.  www.23rdfloor.net  My mother and I began the adventure by first getting lost in the parking garage.  What was even better is that it was the WRONG parking garage (already this place was losing points).  We were at the Utah One Center vs. the Wells Fargo Building.  No worries!  A quick jaunt through the Gallivan center while avoiding the KUTV offices, and we made our way up to the elevators.  We met Ashley, the coordinator, who proceeded to show us the space.  The atrium looks out over lovely industrial west Salt Lake!  Nothing like showing the out of towners a beautiful smoke stack!  Oh, and they also mentioned that since it was facing west it tended to "get a little warm."  Ok, that's an understatement.  The following rooms looked like places to hold board meetings or seminars, not weddings.  We sat in her office after with the caterer while they proceeded to overwhelm us with questions:  plated or buffet?  colors?  signature cocktail?  type of linens?  valet or validations?  We left, without a validation and $4.00 poorer.

We then went to Red Butte Gardens.  www.redbuttegardens.org  Beautiful.  However the hills would be brown in September and it was where my future sister in law got married.  I'm not into repeats especially when her's was so spectacular.  However, the parking was free!

The following Sunday I took my mom and to-be-mother-in-law up to Log Haven.  www.log-haven.com  It was quaint, close to nature, elegant, and intimate.  So far it was my first choice, but they had limited dates left.  We began to ponder October.

Memorial grove was next.  www.utahheritagefoundation.com/memorialhouse/index.php  All I can say is that it was a historical building with a domed roof and poor foliage due to the tornado of '99.  The wedding coordinator was a trip.  She kept saying things like, "The ceremony is all about the love, but the reception is all about the cash and prizes."  We left.

I had already decided against Park City venues simply due to logistics, but my love was interested in Alta.  Seeing that it was an emotional spot for us and he was in Indy, I took our mothers there yesterday for a site visit.  I have no idea what they were selling him over the phone but what I saw was a 1950's nightmare.  Think asbestos ceiling tiles, canned lighting, tacky curtains, and wood paneling covered by Indian rugs.  The vistas were amazing.  But as I toured the lodge I could only think of the Shining. 

We spent the next few hours over wine, my fiance on speaker phone, and lists of pros, cons, and finances.  My love is not known for his decision making ability.  He is options man.  His step father was the one who called the decision about an hour before it was made.

September 16th, Log Haven.  :)