Wedding Wednesday: MARRIED, MARRIED, MARRIED!

Ah! Gracious me, so much to tell, so little time. I'll warn you here, what you're about to encounter is an epic novel of Russian proportions (minus the borscht) so buckle in. Maybe get some tea or a snack or something. The combined efforts of a busy spell at work and a broken computer are making it hard for me to find time to write and I wanted to finish blogging about our wedding before like, our 14th anniversary (8/16/28! Start shoppin'!) so I decided I'd just write out the rest of the story in one long, rambly, wordy, dramatic post. Trigger Warning: Oversharing.

Who's excited! No one? COOL! Let's goooo.

 SATURDAY, AUGUST 16 - 2:45 IN THE PM: We open on the corner of King and Duke Streets in downtown Lancaster, PA. Our heroes are standing on opposite side of an historic bank, just out of view from one another. The photographer counts down three...two...one and they walk towards each other for a moment known to the Wedding Industrial Complex as "The First Look."  I'll shut myself up and let this photo do the talking for that whole scene.

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Brian’s grin! Gah, he’s the best.

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Nice tush, too.

After the first look we walked around the block, stopping now and again to pose for romantic photos and then met our wedding part at Lancaster Central Market which, in case you’ve forgotten, is the World’s Oldest Continually Operated Indoor Farmer’s Market!!

How good-looking are these people?

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I’ll answer that for you: VERY.

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We were posing along the exterior of the market, which faces the windows of a number of shops and restaurants, inside of which were shoppers, diners and drinkers, all of whom became totally engrossed in our photo sesh. This one bar had floor-ceiling windows and all the patrons crowded around the windows and waved at us and clapped and one lady came out the door and said “I’m so sorry to bother you but I love your gown!” and I was like YAAAAAAS and realized I was finally living the day I’d been dreaming about my whole life.

The day I marry my one true love! Psh, no. The day I walk around town looking drop dead gorgeous and commanding the attention of everyone in my wake. This was my Kate Middleton Moment, guys. And I enjoyed EVERY SECOND OF IT.

After wedding party photos we met our immediate families at the Hamilton Club for portraits. By now it was 4 PM and the wedding was set to begin at 5. We were worried that guests would be late, but instead a number had arrived early and were already there when we arrived and I got a little thrown off, both overwhelmed by the realization that all of our loved ones would soon be surrounding us and simultaneously being upset that said loved ones were seeing me in my dress before the ceremony, because I’m the President of Vainslvania and wanted to blow everyone’s MINDS when I walked in the door. On top of that there was some hullabaloo surrounding a missing boutonniere situation and we were all getting a little worn out from posing and the mood went from excitement to anxiety in about 2.2 seconds flat. We snuck inside to where the venue had this really gorgeous private room kind of tucked away under the staircase where we could hide out while guests arrived and once again, we killed time and calmed our nerves by calling on our our new spirit guide, Ellen Degeneres.

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Heads Up forever and always. I remember my hands were shaking so badly I could barely hold the phone straight!

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And then! Bummm bum BUMMMM it was 5 PM. MARRYIN’ TIME.  I’m not going to make a single joke or sarcastic comment about our wedding ceremony. It was, and I mean this, perfect. We spent a lot of time thinking about how our ceremony would look and were so proud, really, of the results. It was very important for us for this ceremony to truly feel like a representation of us as a couple and as two families coming together. Our ceremony was entirely secular which was both freeing and challenging. We were very lucky that our families did not pressure us to do any sort of religious or traditional rituals, instead allowing us to celebrate our commitment in our own way, but the freedom of a nontraditional ceremony means there are almost too many options. Structure can be good!

Thankfully Jayne, our amazing officiate, met with us and talked us through a bunch of options and helped us to form a ceremony that we felt was really personal, intimate and meaningful. The room was set up beautifully, with just enough room that it felt cozy, even with 140 guests.

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Our friend Amy played music for the ceremony using just her iPod and the building’s sound system. I would have been fainting with nerves over such a responsibility but she was as cool as an entire farm of cucumbers the whole time. We have rad friends!

Our families and wedding party entered first, to the Vitamin String Quartet cover of Home by Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic  Zeroes, which you can listen to here! And then, to the swells of All You Need is Love, as played by the London Royal Philharmonic Orchestra, my future husband and I walked arm in arm, towards our future together.

Walking the aisle together was one of the best decisions we made. Leading up to the wedding I stressed a lot (shock) about the aisle entrance. Tradition has the bride escorted by her father, but for a number of reasons I won’t go into here, as some are too personal and the rest involve phrases I’m trying to tone down on, like “patriarchal ownership,” it just didn’t feel right for me, personally. I thought about walking in with both parents or on my own, even, until someone suggested we walk in together and it just felt like the perfect choice. Brian was the first to jump at the idea, actually, and I quickly followed.

After the wedding I was talking to a friend of mine who was recently engaged and he said that his fiancé, who also has a complex dad story, was very moved to see that we walked together. She said she didn’t even realize you could do that!

Aside from how right it felt for us I’m happy that we were able to share that with other people and that our choice might be helpful for someone else. Planning a wedding when you have a little family baggage can feel really hard and lonely and upsetting. It’s easy to think back on friends “perfect” weddings and compare yourself to them but you have to remember that you never know the whole story, that every family is different. And with that, to remember that your wedding doesn’t have to look like theirs! You can walk the aisle with your dad, your mom, your cat, by yourself, on a scooter, with your partner, with your child, with a highly evolved robot…or you could just not even walk an aisle at all!

I’m getting a little side-tracked and soap-boxy but I just didn’t want to let that go unsaid. On the off chance that this is ever read by someone who’s feeling sad or stressed about wedding planning and family, you’re not alone! Do your best to ignore the stress and stop comparing yourself to other people and try to focus on what feels right for you.

For us that was walking the aisle together. One thing that Brian and I love about marriage is being a team and it felt really special to enter that room as a united front. We were in this together.

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Jayne said a few welcoming words and then my brother brought down the house with the most utterly perfect five minute monologue of all time. Shakespeare was spinning in his grave y’all. In lieu of where a priest might give a homily or personal statement, we asked Michael if he would be willing to tell the story of our relationship and he eagerly agreed. He didn’t practice it during the rehearsal so it would be a surprise for all during the ceremony and hoo boy, he hit it OUT OF THE PARK. He weaved together personal stories from Brian and from me, memories shared by our parents and siblings and turned our ordinary tale into a love story for the ages.  I will cherish this speech forever. He had me in tears within seconds and by the end of his talk, all of our guests had joined me.

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After Michael’s speech, our friends Melissa and Brandon, who are an adorable couple themselves, read selections from the poem I LIKE YOU by Soandol Stoddard Warburg:

I like you and I know why.

I like you because you are a good person to like.

I like you because when I tell you something special, you know it’s

special

And you remember it a long, long time.

You say, “Remember when you told me something special?”

And both of us remember

When I think something is important

you think it’s important too

We have good ideas

When I say something funny, you laugh

I think I’m funny and you think I’m funny too

You know how to be silly

That’s why I like you

Boy are you ever silly

I never met anybody sillier than me till I met you

I like you because you know when it’s time to stop being silly

Maybe day after tomorrow

Maybe never

If you go away, then I go away too

I like you because if we go away together

And if we are in Grand Central Station

And if I get lost

Then you are the one that is yelling for me

If we had some hats and some flags and some fire engines

We could be a HOLIDAY

We could be a CELEBRATION

We could be a WHOLE PARADE

Even if it was the 999th of July

Even if it was August

Even if it was way down at the bottom of November

Even if it was no place particular in January

I would go on choosing you

And you would go on choosing me

Over and over again

That’s how it would happen every time

They alternated verses and perfectly captured the sweet, silly, sentimental nature of the poem which summed up perfectly what Michael’s speech had revealed about our relationship.  Apparently we just really like each other.

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And then, the reason for the whole party: our wedding vows!  We had worked with Jayne to construct personal vows each of us saying the same half-dozen promises to one another. Brian went first and barely made it through “I Brian, take you Elizabeth” before he was completely choked up and crying.

I'd never seen Brian cry. Emily later told me she can’t remember ever seeing him cry and she’s known him for 22 years!

At this point, everyone was sobbing. Brian, me, Jayne who was supposed to be running this show could barely keep it together and all of our guests were sniffling away. At one point Brian choked out a sweet line and someone out in the seats moaned “Oh god” before just openly bursting into loud weeping and it was just the moment of levity needed to help me keep it slightly together and make it through my own vows without completely losing every sense of cool.

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This photo cracks me up, hankies all around!

PS: I am also crying right now writing this, just FYI.

We exchanged rings and grabbed hands and an uncle later told me that the room could sense our excitement; that we just looked at each other like giddy fools “Pronounce us married already! Let’s kiss!”

Jayne announced that by the powers vested in her by the state of Pennsylvania – not invested, a fact I just learned at the rehearsal! – we were legally married and Brian kissed the bride.

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MARRIED!!!!

When we were first engaged I had a few vague of ideas of how I would want our wedding to look but there was ONE thing I knew for certain I wanted: to recess down the aisle, husband and wife, to Beyonce’s Crazy in Love. And I am happy to say, that dream came true.

Here’s a link to the video in case you want to read the rest of this while jamming out. Come on, you know you do!

After the ceremony, the wedding party returned to our little cove under the staircase to chill out for a few moments while the rest of the group went upstairs for the cocktail hour and I will spoil the suspense by telling you that we did NOT play Heads Up. We partied!

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The staff had set up a whole table with our hot appetizers and cheese plate and most importantly booze. We popped champagne and toasted and were all kind of giddy and goofy.

For my bridal shower, Kathleen had given me a ruffly white apron (“is this a sex apron?!” I asked, enthusiastically) which she told me was “as a joke, but also serious” …not for sex (but it could be!) but to protect my wedding dress from the inevitable spills. We brought it with us to the wedding and broke it out to take a funny picture. Kathleen tied it onto me and for some reason there was a stray piece of fabric in the mix, which she tossed over her shoulder in an afterthought. Who has time for this pointless fabric!

Suddenly there was a commotion! I turned around and find Kathleen holding up the piece of fabric which is now ON FIRE.

Like…Katniss Everdeen ON FIRE.

It turns out that she’d tossed it right over her shoulder onto an open candle! Everyone simultaneously laughed and panicked. Someone suggested she stomp on it…but that would involve throwing it on the 200-year-old carpet, which seemed foolish and someone else tried to open the windows but again, 200 year-old-windows aren’t that easy to open and we all just shouted and laughed and Kathleen just stood there, frozen, holding onto the flaming remnants of my sex apron until finally someone poured a glass of water on it which was a surprisingly simple solution that took us a while to get to.

The whole thing couldn’t have been more than 20 seconds but it felt so much longer and oh my god it was the funniest moment ever. Sadly but probably actually happily, our photographers joined us in panicking instead of photographing the scene which like, as a rational human I obviously recognize as appropriate behavior but man…that would have made for some epic candid photography.

We did get this gem. True love.

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The apron may have been mostly a joke but legit was a lifesaver as I was able to then stand at the appetizer table and shove mini crab cakes and chicken bites into my face with wild abandon and not worry about staining my dress.

After that, Brian and I were able to sneak into the Hamilton Club’s duckpin bowling alley for a few amazing photos…

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Exhibit A!

…and then we all joined our guests for the cocktail hour which was and I don’t mean this as a metaphor, I mean it for real, a complete blur. I think I just blacked out and went onto auto pilot. I was SO HAPPPY to see everyone but SO STRESSED OUT about saying hi to everyone and making sure I accurately conveyed just how honored I was to have them there and I kept worrying about slighting people or spending too much time talking to one person and not enough to another and so if anyone currently reading this was at our wedding and I didn’t already say it: OMG THANK YOU FOR BEING THERE!! I do hope you had fun.

After what felt like 4 seconds but my sources confirm was nearly 40 minutes, it was time to go back downstairs for dinner and dancing. Brian and I followed along behind everyone else and as they sat, we took a moment to peek into the reception room and it looked INSANE. Our florist/cousin/hero/goddess Angie had transformed the space into the bright yet cozy yet classy joint we were envisioning. Instead of big centerpieces, each table had a few stems in mini-vases, stacked atop old books. Each table number was actually a complex math equation as thought out by Brian and designed by our friend Jamie and the whole room was just a magical explosion of nerdiness and beautiful flowers and LOVE.

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We did NOT do those bridal party entrances where everyone gets introduced and then does a “funny” entrance like, the sprinkler or the shopping cart because I think those are cheesy as all get-out and under no uncertain circumstances was anyone to do ANYTHING of the sort at our classy wedding. Normally here I’d say something like “but it’s fine if you like those!” as a risk of offending anyone but I’ll stay right here on my mean girl throne and settle on agree to disagree on this one, that shit’s the worst.

Brian and I entered the room to James Brown’s “I Feel Good” and then quickly segued into the longest 2.5 minutes of our whole entire lives: the first dance. We danced for TWO AND A HALF FULL MINUTES to Norah Jones’ cover of The Nearness of You and you guys, it was hella awkward. Like, painfully awkward. As we were planning the wedding, Brian kept saying we needed to keep our dance short and I must have been drunk because I guaranteed that 2.5 minutes is totally fine and short and doable and I was dead wrong. About three seconds into the song it dawned on me how long we’d be standing there, swaying clumsily in front of our family and friends who would enjoy it long enough to snap a good ‘gram or two and then politely sit there for the rest of the time, picking at their salads and praying for it to end.

At least that’s what was going through my mind. PRO TIP TO THE MAX: keep your dance shorttttt. SO SHORT.  Like, take the length you think is appropriate, cut it in half and then divide by 8. THAT SHORT. Or, don’t even do one! If I could go back in time and take my own “don’t worry about tradition!” advice…I don’t know that we’d even do a first dance. We really only did it for the pictures and the tradition and so we could have “a song.” I mean the photos are pretty…

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…obvi.

And our friend made us a sweet print with the lyrics to “our song” on it, which we shall cherish, but looking back now with the wisdom of TWO WHOLE MONTHS of marriage under my satin belt…meh. We didn’t do parent dances and almost wish we’d been bold enough to just scrap forced slow dances altogether. So staged! Who slow dances??? Why is that even a tradition?! After the 2.5 minutes of torture were over, Brian made a really cute speech thanking everyone for coming and tossing out a few cool math jokes and maybe we should have stuck to joking and talking rather than the foxtrot.

It didn’t ruin the wedding or anything but just keepin' it real.

OH MY GOD THE ONLY THING LONGER THAN OUR FIRST DANCE IS THIS BLOGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG.

We sat down to dinner and realized that the salads, which were supposed to have been plated, were not yet on the tables (sacre bleu!) and also that the bar was closed, due to a minor miscommunication between myself and the waitstaff. I flew into a legit panic that everyone was having a terrible time, thinking we were forcing them to a dry, saladless wedding and they were going to go home and complain about how bad everything was and I kind of hyperventilated a little bit and fluttered around the room and found the coordinator and she opened the bar and the salads came out.0003 seconds later and SURPRISE, when I talked to my friends after the wedding, literally ZERO of them even noticed the salads or the bar and all my worrying was for naught. Que sorpresa!

Also we only served beer, wine and champagne because the full bar package was more than we could/wanted to spend and I was so nervous the whole time that people would think we were cheap …and then I remembered that we are kind of cheap and that beer, wine and champagne is PERFECTLY acceptable and everyone seemed to get tipsy and have a good time but I know there is still a chance that someone out there in the world went home and complained about how lame we are for not having liquor and I am OK with that fact. I really am! So there’s another pro tip (how many tips is this? 457?): Stop worrying about what people are thinking!  Are you enjoying yourself and happy with the choices you've made? GREAT. Otherwise, stuff it. Just do whatever works for you and you won’t make everyone happy and it’s fine and if you don't feel like paying to serve full liquor bar…just don’t! And anyone who gets legit mad and upset about that is probably a butthead and WHO CARES what they think!

Ok obviously I’m still not fully over my anxiety that people think I’m cheap and talked about me behind my back post-wedding but I DO stand by our decision, I really do!!!!

Annddddd I’m running this train right off the rails.

Salads were served. Booze was poured. Speeches were given!  Both Brian’s best man Vapo and my Person of Distinction Maggie - we both decided that “Maid of Honor” is a sexist term that harkens back to a time when women were only valued for their sexual purity and marital status (oh wait! That’s still happening!) and therefore Margie got her own cool, non-gendered title. (we’re so annoying!!)  - gave adorable, sweet, heartfelt, perfect speeches that had everyone laughing and crying and their speeches perfectly embodied us as a couple and the two special people we’d chosen to speak for us.

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Vai’s was rehearsed, structured and quick witted.

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Marge’s was off the cuff, sentimental and charming and ended with her raising an imaginary champagne glass, as she’d walked up empty-handed, and everyone in the room cracked up.

Both were totally rad.

During the dinner hour I remained a neurotic mess – I was so worried about getting around to every table and saying hello to every person and thanking everyone and in the midst of all that worrying I kept stressing that I wasn’t living in the moment enough. Everyone tells you how fast your wedding goes and to just “enjoy the moment!” and they are SO RIGHT but it’s so much easier said than done. I managed to get to every table just as the DJ was firing up his…laptop? Spinner materials? I don’t what DJ’s do. I stood by the dance floor nervously watching people tentatively start to dance – a half-dozen or so came out for the first song, a few more for the second and then suddenly the familiar strains of Whitney Houston’s “I Wanna Dance With Somebody” echoed throughout the room and my friend grabbed my hands and yelled “this is our jam!!!” and people just started swarming onto the dancefloor and I looked around me and the floor was PACKED and everyone was boogying and all the worry just whooshed right out of my fingertips and out into the world and finally, I was living in the moment.

I don’t think I left the dance floor for the next three hours. Nor did the majority of our guests! I knew our friends would bring it, they always do, but FAMILY you guys! Aunts, uncles, cousins...tearing the roof of the place. I was impressed. The HoBag & McKeon families know how to get down. I'll hold off from posting any incriminating photos here on the internet (don't worry everyone, I'll still put them on facebook!) but you can trust me that the moves, ohhhh they were smooth.

I bopped around from song to song, dancing with this group or that group and Brian – less of a dance machine than I – popped in from time to time to get his groove on and spent the rest of his time chatting with friends and hanging out at the bar and the DJ played THE BEST JAMS and we crowd surfed! I had forgotten that Brian’s track buddies, who are an amazing group of guys and always just down to have a good time, have a tradition at Goat weddings (their mascot is the goat. Intimidating!!) of lifting the groom up above their heads and throwing him up in the air yelling “Goats! Goats! Goats! Goats!”

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And THEN they grab the unsuspecting bride and lift HER up in the air and if I thought that wandering around town waving at strangers was fun, I could never have dreamed how great it would be to be boosted up in the air by a bunch of cute boys, everyone around me chanting “Liz! Liz! Liz! Liz!”

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God I love attention.

At 10:30 PM our reception came to an end, like all good things to do, so we took the party over to a bar by the hotel called Annie Bailey’s, where Person of Distinction Margepants had reserved a few tables for us. Brian and I came in a little bit after everyone and were immediately fed several shots and several beers and then we settled into a booth in the back and were able to relax and catch up with pals and get our drank on. Eventually our group began to thin and around 1 AM or so we made our way back to the hotel where we did not even remotely consummate our marriage, for all you pervs out there wondering. Big snaps to anyone who manages to have intercourse on their wedding night…and double snaps if anyone climaxes.  All our exhausted bodies managed was to change out of our fancy gear, scroll through the #hottwedding feed and pass out.

ROMANCE!!!!

Sunday morning we woke up to a weather reflective of our moods – grey, misty and cool. The party was over. Whompity whomp! Some of my aunts and uncles had very generously organized a brunch for out of town guests at the hotel, so we were able to spend the morning saying goodbye to everyone, catching up on any gossip from the night before and devouring bacon and coffee like it was our last day on earth. It was the perfect way to end our perfect wedding and I think I only cried like...seventeen times. Ok, thirty, max.

And then we went to my mom's house and took a NAP and opened presents and cried some more and ate sandwiches and drove back to Brooklyn and consummated the HELL out of our marriage (highfive!) and went off on our Big Gay Nude Minimoon and the rest, as they say is history. Now we're just a couple of boring old marrieds who won't stop talking about their wedding and get over it already!

Bring on eternity, world. WE'RE READY!

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PS: As always, all photos are credit Kylene Lynn Photography. And I can't emphasize this enough...Lancaster couples, HIRE HER!

PSS: If you'd like to catch up on the rest of our wedding day because you have literally nothing better to do with your time...maybe you're like, in jail or an Ebola quarantine or something, I don't know...you can find them all HERE!

PSSSSSSS: Thank you all for following along with our nuptial journey. It was SO FUN!!

Wedding Wednesday: TODAY'S THE DAY!

Hell-OH. So there was no Wedding Wednesday last week. Boo hoo, I'm sure. As I mentioned, my laptop has gone to live on a farm upstate where he can run and play with his friends all the time so I've had a leetle trouble with le blogging. I almost panicked and came in early to work last week to blog but then I remembered that no one cares and I can just chill and it was, in all honesty, a great victory in the eternal battle of Rational Liz vs Crazy Liz so hoorah. The world spins on

Hokay, so, where were we? Oh yes! After 10 months,15 days and approximately 7 hours of waiting, planning, freaking, check-writing, blog-reading, manic arm-toning, and lots of love, August 16, 2014 had finally arrived. Ding a ling DING! The morning was dreamy - a cloudless blue sky, a light breeze and a complete lack of humidity betraying the lat summer date.

Wedding. Day. Was. HERE!!!

We're almost to the good parts so I'll do my best to just zip through the highlights of the first half of the day. Buckle up!

BREAKFAST OF CHAMPIONS:20140816_083657

After sleeping all the way until SEVEN AM I roused the gals out of bed and Mo, Kathleen, Marge and I popped across the street to the Lancaster Central Market  for a little brekkie. FUN FACT, Lancaster Central Market is the oldest continually operated indoor farmer's market in America.

Serious claim to fame right there.

It's actually an amazing market and I could spend hours going into further detail but that is not even remotely the point of this story. Maggie had purchased these Bride and Maid of Honor buttons for the bachelorette party and we both managed to a) not lose them and b) haul them all the way to Lanc for the wedding, so we pinned them on our tops for breakfast. (Bernie received that hat as a Christmas gift from her cute siblings and I have a feeling she'll be tha-rilled with me for posting a photo of her in a baseball cap. I think she looks adorable!)

Our pins were just the flair we needed to be the belles of the market.  At every stand we visited, people asked when the wedding day was and we joyfully exclaimed "IT'S TODAY!!" At the coffee stand, two sweet ladies reminded me not to forget to eat and I took them up on their advice by rocking it over to the deli stand (holla S. Clyde Weaver!) where the other 3 gals got breakfast sammies like normal humans and I of course got a gigantor turkey sub...my very last hoagie as a single lady!!!

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(My brother cleverly pointed out that they're no longer "ho"-gies but "Scott-gies." Get it?! #zing.)

The women working the deli counter were hilarious and SO excited when they learned it was my wedding day. They literally whooped it up, clapping and cheering and causing a scene. I loved it!

They didn't give us free breakfast, though. Whomp. But who am I kidding, my 'maids (gross) bought my hoagie for me because it was MY DAY so I can't really complain.

We raced our buns (double meaning for both butts and sandwiches) back across the street to the Marriott just in time to meet the hair and makeup team. Which was just two people but it sounds cool when you say you have a team, you know?

SO FANCY, YOU ALREADY KNOW:

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We gals had our hair and/or makeup done by two local women who came recommended via a girlfriend of mine who'd been married earlier in the year. They both do hair/makeup on the side, specializing in weddings and they were just great. G-R-E-A-T. Professional, friendly, efficient and way more affordable than salons, which (like basically all vendors) jack up their prices the second you say "wedding." After the fiasco of my first trial, I would never find anyone (dramatic much?) but after meeting these two earlier in the summer, just totally hit it off. They are both GEMS.

If you're a Lancaster area bride, holler at me on FB or email and I'll send their info!

While we got our hair did we rocked it to a playlist curated by MOH Marge that consisted primarily of 90's pop one-hit wonders (remember Evan and Jaron, you guys???), boy bands, Beyonce and Katy Perry - AKA all my favorite musicians - and sipped on mimosas dressed up all fanclylike for the occasion.

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Ensembles c/o my cute friend Leah!

Awesome as our team was, Bernie Beans decided to have her hair done at her regular salon, so she slipped out around 9 AM for her appointment. When it was approaching noon and she still hadn't returned, I suspected something may be amiss...

"A LITTLE BIT ON" 

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(This is, unfortch, not the vehicle discussed in this story but IS a pretty solid representation of the driver...)

While we were getting gussied up, Brian went for a long run (of course he did) with his sister Emily, who is an amazing runner, his groomsman Brandon and my brother Michael. Apparently as they're out and about jogging around  town Michael mentions that, after picking up the girls from the train station the night before, he may have left Bernie's car...and I quote..."a little bit on."

"A little bit on"? How does that work exactly, Michael?

Now I'm no motor head but I'm pretttttty sure that car batteries don't run on a spectrum - they're on or they're off. There's not really a middle ground.

We may never know the degree to which the car was left running but it was at the very least "a little bit" because when Bernice went out to drive to the hair salon the batter was a whole lot bit 100% dead.

Go team go!

My mom called my uncle, who drove her to the salon and back. We were sitting in the hotel suite waiting for her to come back when she called my sister's cell phone, trying to get a hold of Michael. No one wanted to tell me what was going on because they didn't want me to worry about it - apparently Kathleen had run into my mom in the lobby earlier and knew the whole time! - but the cat was out of the bag and Bernie was late to get her makeup done because she was with my uncle in the parking garage, trying to jump start her car.

It is a cliche that something will go wrong on your wedding day - but something you never could have expected or planned for. HELLO THAT THING!!!

I wasn't worried, really, I was mostly just kind of mad because it was VERY IMPORTANT TO ME that we stick to the schedule for the day (shocking) and now everything was running late and why did the car have to be jump started this very moment? Was the car walking down the aisle at 5 PM THAT VERY EVENING. I don't think so. It could sit and die in the parking garage for all of eternity for all I cared...it was MY DAY.

Mild exaggeration but barely.  I'm the worst.

Long story long, Michael came back (FINALLY, AMEN!) and helped my uncle jump start the car and Bernie got her makeup done and all was well and we were ready with hours to kill. HA!

SANDWICHES!

We ordered sandwiches! I had a chicken Cesar wrap! No point to this, just thought I'd mention it.

AH, SILKY SILKY NOW

I took a shower before breakfast but for some reason forgot to shave my legs, a fact I didn't realize until after I'd had my makeup done, but before my hair. Yes, my dress was floor length but I figured I owed it to Brian not to roll into our wedding night with cactus thighs. He has the rest of his life to experience that hotness.

And so I found myself in full face, including false eyelashes squatting in the tub because I was afraid to turn on the shower head and ruin my makeup, frantically shaving my legs and, oh yes, bikini zone, on my wedding day.

Pro Tip To Mah Ladies: DON'T DO THIS.

DENIM ON DENIM

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The morning of the wedding, Maureen, Maggie, Kathleen and I all donned button down chambray shirts - totally unplanned! Adorbz, I know. Emily had spent the morning with the boys, crushing them in the 5K I'm sure, and then came to the suite for hair and lunch and girlie time. She didn't have a chambray but luckily I had an extra, so I gave her mine.

"Now we're sisters who share clothes!" she said.

Andddd I cried.

SISTERS!!!

This goofy denimy photo is one of my favorite from the day. Marge has the faux laugh on LOCK.

HEADS UP SEVEN UP 

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As I mentioned, I maybe could have cooled it just a pinch on being such a schedule monster, as we found ourselves fully styled and fed and made-up and defuzzed in our no-no zones with over an hour until the photographer was due to arrive. I was beginning to get a little antsy and, shall we say, snippy (my cousin Terianne knows what I mean...sorrrrrry TA!), so some genius angel suggested we relax by playing a game. And not just any game, but the greatest App creation of our time: Heads Up.

And so we ladies whiled down the last few hours of my single life Heads'ing it up. We didn't keep score but let's just go ahead and say my team won.

Because, and I'm not sure I mentioned this yet but, it was MY DAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY.

KYLENE, ON THE SCENE

Poet, don't know it, etc.

Suddenly it was 2:45 PM and the time had ARRIVED! Despite the fact we'd just spent the last hour chillaxin and maxin all cool, when our photographer arrived, everything was a blur. Hang the gown! Artfully lay out the earrings! Did someone pack my lipstick?

Bernie and Marge helped me into my dress.

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I slipped into my accessories.

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And checked myself out.

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The best part of a wedding day is how you can be just totally vain and into staring at yourself all day long. Why can't life be like that all the time?! (Oh right, I don't look that good all the time...)

Meanwhile, upstairs, Kylene's second shooter Kathy was hanging with the boys as they mulled over a complex ironing situation.

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Fixed their ties.

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And pinned their boutonnieres.

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(Hi Angie!!!)

Then, with a champagne toast...

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And a final once-over in the mirror...

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It was GO time!

The gals stayed in the suite to get into their dresses, the boys did...what did they do?...and Brian and I set off into the sun for the big reveal! Our first moment together, on our WEDDING DAY! It was as meaningful and exciting and emotional as I'd imagine it to be but...I guess you'll just have to wait until next week for the rest of that tale.

See you then!

xoxox Liz Scottgie

* PS: all photos c/o Kylene Lynne Photography except the champagne & heads up photos which are c/o Margepantaloons and the picture of Michael which is c/o his facebook page but I'm pretty sure I took it (?) and the shaving cream and sandwich which are obviously stock photos I found on the internet. Oh and the hoagie which is c/o me and the dumb selfie of me getting my hair-did, also c/o me. Basically the first half are c/o us amateurs and then all the gorgeous ones toward the end are profesh. You get it.

OK BYE!!!

Wedding Wednesday: It Begins!

The first Wedding Wednesday, whee! I barely know where to begin, so I’m taking a tip from my gal Maria von Trapp neé Ranier and starting at the very beginning. A very good place to start!

Without further ado, a look back at the final few days leading up to THE day.  When you are wedding planning, everyone likes to give you unsolicited advice and sometimes it is good advice and other times you are like:

And it is important to keep in mind that most of the advice comes from a well meaning place of good and take everything with a grain of salt. Or a lot of salt all over the rim of a large margarita. Whatever works.

One of the best pieces of advice I received from a recently married friend was to try to get as much of the little nitty gritty details out of the way before the last minute, so you could spend those last few days before the wedding enjoying family time and one another instead of being a frazzled monster. I took this advice to heart and I think it paid off. There were OBVI no duh a few moments of stress and some snippy words but overall everything was just calm and fun. It was FUN!

Seriously. Ok enough, Liz, get to the point.

WEDNESDAY:

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#Hottwedding kicked off Wednesday morning, August 13, when the future Mr. Hobags and I hauled booty from Brooklyn to Lancaster, PA in our chariot, which was a rented Kia SUV of some make and  model. I wasn’t really paying attention. Our initial plan until about 2 weeks pre-wedding was to just take the Amtrak, but upon realizing exactly how much crap we had to lug with us, we wisely decided to rent a car – and a big one at that – and it was one of the best decisions we’ve ever made. In our whole lives!

I also fully intended to carry my wedding dress via Amtrak, a prospect that horrified my mom.

“Um, it’s fine,” I reassured her. “I already took it on the 3 train.”

Whoops? When I picked it up from the salon (lol “salon”) I didn’t feel like paying for the taxi all the way home, so I just lugged it on the subway with me. I thought I’d be the talk of the train but no one so much as blinked an eye. Which makes sense. You’d basically have to be a 300 lb male midget wearing a wedding gown while singing “Ain’t No Mountain High Enough” and selling gummy bears for jaded NYC commuters to so much as blink an eye at you.

How’s a bride supposed to get any attention in this town?!

Also my mother helpfully pointed out the irony of refusing to spend $40 on a taxi after shelling out close to a G for a wedding dress but hey! Any savings to the wedding budget count, right?

RIGHT!

Anyway, all of this is just pointless backstory to tell you another pointless fact which is that Brian and I drove a car from Brooklyn to Pennsylvania on the morning of August 13, 2014.

Cool story, bro.

I’ll speed to the good parts.

Our main objective for the day was to acquire a marriage license. In the state of Pennsylvania, you need to apply for a license no more than 60 days and no less than 3 days prior to your wedding date. Because we live out of state and the court is only open on weekdays and also we’re kind of ridiculous, we decided to just push it to the absolute last possible moment instead of taking a vacation day to get it earlier with in that window.

And so, we rolled into the Lancaster County Courthouse at about 1:30 PM on 8/13 a mere 2.5 hours before the legal final deadline to acquire our license.

Should we have been worried about this? Meh. Probably! Were we? Clearly not. I know this doesn’t seem like an example of “do things early so you don’t have to stress,” but if you look at it from another perspective, I think it shows just how oddly calm we were throughouth this whole week. This was like THE ONE THING we had to do for our wedding to count – eff flowers, appetizers, seating charts, this is a legal document – and we just casually made it happen, like a trip to the drug store or something.  Cool cukes, we are.

The whole process actually took much less time than I thought. We sat with a nice, matronly woman from the County Clerk’s house and she asked us a series of questions: middle name, parents’ names, parents places of birth. Being a people-pleasy A student, I kept getting nervous I was answering wrong but she didn’t really seem that concerned about what precise town my dad was born in or whether my mom was “a lawyer…or attorney? They’re the same thing, right?!”

We completed her quick questionnaire, handed over $40 cold hard cash (see! Good thing I didn’t spend it on that taxi!!) and they printed out our marriage license right there. We signed it and boom:  done.  I don’t think they ran any sort of background checks or anything. All we needed to do was have our officiant sign it post-wedding and we’d be officially hitched.

FACT: It is very easy for straight people to get married in this country.

At that point, the clerk turned to me and said, in a between-us-gals tone: “Now, honey, when you go to change your last name…”

No question of if I might, just right on into it. UGH. She was a sweet lady but seemed a little set in the ways of yore.

Which made me all the MORE delighted to spot the couple behind us: two broads.

That’s right, folks. Lined up behind us were two ladies. Brian turned to me and said “Oh I thought you had to bring your fiancé, I didn’t know you could just bring a friend” and I said LESBIANS, MORON and to his defense he had momentarily forgotten that PA is one of the cooler states in the union, offering marriage rights to all consenting adults.

Rock it, PA. Rock it hard.

It took all the power of my being to control my tendencies to be overly intrusive and somewhat offensive in demonstrating my liberal viewpoint and not go up to them an hug them and say “I’M SO HAPPY  YOU ARE HERE, GOOD FOR YOU, LOVE IS LOVE” and start crying and cause a scene.

Also, I would have la-hooooved to see Ms. “now, honey” interact with this couple. The paperwork literally said “Bride” and “Groom.” Do you think she asked which one was which?

Honestly for all I know she’s the most open minded lovely lady in the land and I’m the real asshole – I definitely fall into that “everyone is entitled to an opinion unless I don’t like it” trap from time to time.

I’m the worst, I KNOW.

What else I know is, 2 gals or not, they weren’t the best couple to walk through the doors that day, we were.

OBVIIII.

I then posted the above picture to facebook and spent the majority of the rest of the day watching to see how many “likes” it acquired. 158! But who's counting?

Humility is my middle name.

Brian and I hop-skipped away from the courthouse and met my mom and brother for lunch at the local brewery and for the first of many, many, MANAYYYY times that week we remarked on how surprisingly relaxed we all were.  And we stayed that way. The rest of the day we did ZERO wedding tasks. We went for a run, watched HGTV, read magazines, napped. My mom grilled a delicious dinner, which we casually ate on the back with glasses of wine. It was a treat.

THURSDAY:

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Don’t worry, this part will be short & sweet because Thursday was another calm, easy day. We leaned hard on gender stereotypes – Brian and Michael went golfing, while my mom and I went for manicures with my aunt Katy, who had just arrived from California for the festivities. I spent way too much time waffling  about what color to do my nails – I wanted something bright and festive, but would that be too much? Would it look dated? Should I pick something more simple and “timeless?” I kept thinking about this senior photo my mom has of me in her living room where I’m wearing stacked platform sandals and GREEN NAIL POLISH and how goofy I look. But also, when that photo was taken, that was my jam – tall shoes and hideous nail colors. And my jam now is bright, colorful fingertips. I ain’t no French Mani kinda gal.

So I went for bright! And I'm so glad I did - they totally pop in the photos and make me beyond happy. So here is some unsolicited advice from ME to YOU – who cares if something might be trendy or look dated or be too bright or not bridal or too bridal or whatever. If you like it, just do it. What does “timeless” even mean? I’d rather have bright orange phalanges than do something just because it seems like the “proper” thing to do.

Also no one asks or cares BUT I went for this gel manicure thing which is like, a special kind of nail polish that lasts 3 weeks without chipping and I highly recommend if you are the kind of moron who tends to chip their nails immediately (like moi) but ANOTHER unsolicited piece of advice is that when you’re ready to take it off, you should go to the salon and have them do it for you or else you’ll still have weird gel build-up on your fingernails a full month later. JUST FYI.

The rest of the day was devoted to some final wedding tasks. We alphabetized the escort cards…and realized we’d made a few printing mistakes, whoops. THE WEDDING WAS RUINED!!!!!! Just kidding! We reprinted them!  We put whoopee pies and homemade cookies into gift bags for out of town guests and wrapped gifts for the wedding party and assembled piles to take with us the next day. Margepants arrived from Philly and Bernie grilled us steak and crabcakes for our final pre-wedding feast.

WHAT AN EXCITING DAY!!!

Ok I was also going to include a recap of Friday and the rehearsal dinner but this is already long and boring enough, even for me and I’m the star of the story so I’ma cut it off here. Try to contain yourselves for the next installment which includes me finally losing my cool and snapping at my mom, cops on bikes, champagne and a Fleetwood Mac cover band.

Toodle-oo!

 

One Awkward Month!

Brian and I have officially been married for one month! And, honestly, the only awkward thing is how earnestly cheesy and romantical I've become.

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I can't even bring myself to type "barf." Marriage is ruining me.

Kidding. Kidding. It's the best ever.

Before I ramble on any further - and y'all know I'll be a-ramblin' - a quick note that all photos shared here today are from our professional photographer Kylene Lynn Photography. Kylene is amazing and I'd recommend her in a heartbeat to any Central PA brides-to-be (or grooms-to-be! #gendernorms). If you are going to share any of these in any way like pin them or I don't know, email them to your grandma or whatever, please credit Kylene! NO I am not so vain as to actually think you're going to like, create a whole magazine of my personal wedding photos but I don't know how the internet works and just want to make sure I'm giving credit where credit is due!

OK I'm a psycho. MOVING ON!!

What have I learned in the month we've been married? Well! Did you know that during World War II the US Armed Forces trained a regiment to fight on skis in the traditional Alpine style? This skill was used but once and doesn't actually seem to have been that successful but, the more you know!

I realize this has nothing to do with me, or with Brian, or with marriage but I learned it last week, post-wedding so...it counts?

To be honest, not much has changed in the day-to-day in the last month of our lives. We were already living together (whoops), had a joint checking account, and shared a closet. We've felt "married" for a long time and now it's just legally binding. I'm sure I'll have plenty of ladymag worthy insights on marriage in the months and years to come but for the past 30 days, I've just been enjoying the ride.

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It's so much fun to call Brian my husband. I find any excuse to bring it up - on the phone with random work colleagues, in line at the grocery store, to my coffee cart guy. I especially like putting on a sort of character, the lovingly exasperated wife. This past week I was in a taxi at 6 PM on my way to meet Brian at the airport and my driver asked me what time my flight was.

"Oh, not until 9:15" I said. And then, with a knowing chuckle and a slight shake of the head, "But my husband loves to get to the airport hours early."

Oh, that husband!

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Did I mention he's a part time GQ model?! Like, seriously.

I also enjoy coming up with clever new nicknames playing off husband. I think hubby sounds so cheesy...we can do better. Some gems:

  • Husbo
  • Hubba Bubba
  • Hubarino
  • Hubble Telescope
  • Barney Hubble

and my personal favorite:

L. Ron Hubbard

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I crack myself up.

Honestly, if I have actually learned one thing in the month since we've been married, it is that I really, really and I mean REALLY like looking at photos of myself.

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Oh wait...I already knew that.

I actually think I look like a total goofball in that photo. I'm vain enough to admit I can work it with a grin but the smize? Niet zo much. America's Next Top Model, I ain't.

I have officially decided to change my last name, though I'm planning to continue using my maiden name at work. Though I've gone through zero of the legal steps to make this happen, it has been very fun to gradually transition into my new identity. Receiving birthday cards in the mail this week has been a hilarious example of my general confusion over the matter. I received cards addressed to: Mrs. Elizabeth Scott, Liz Scott (!!!), Elizabeth Hohenadel Scott and Elizabeth Hohenadel/Scott.

I think the Hohenadel - slash - Scott is my favorite and most accurately representing of my current state.

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Why pick one when I can just mix and match! Keep it fresh!

I am planning to do some little recaplets of some wedding business and by recaplets I really mean recap + whatever suffix means XXXXXXTRA long because, let's be real here. I'm going to do these once a week on Wednesdays because Wedding Wednesday is alliterative and like any basic bitch, I love me some alliteration. Also, doing wedding posts once per week allows those who don't care about weddings AT ALL to not read and those who ONLY care about weddings to only read those posts. And, most importantly, it helps me continue my previously stated goal of extending this JUST MARRIED attention as long and strong as I can.

Except this week I'm doing Wedding Tuesday because our anniversary is Tuesday and  twice per week is more than my lazy bones can handle. I guess I could do like...non alliterative wedding posts on Tuesdays from here on out but that's just not as cute. Ugh, life is so hard sometimes. Am I overthinking this whole thing?

NEVER!

Ok so just one more gratuitous smooching shot...

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and, OK FINE a photo of the wedding party...

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and ALRIGHT ALRIIIIGHT, a hilarious dance scene...

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A little bit softer now!

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My brother is the best.

And I'm out of here. Stop begging me to post more wedding photos! I'm going to look like I'm obsessed with myself and my HUSBANDDDD or something! How embarrassing.

Blowing this exit, Liz. Shut it down.

xoxo M(r)s. Elizabeth Hohenadel / Scott

One Awkward Mini-Moon

Guten tag, amigos! Summer is over and it's suddenly 9,000 degrees. Perfect time to reminisce about our lil mini-moon.What is a mini-moon, you ask? Well it is when you take a short trip after your wedding (hence "mini") and then take a long trip later and call the second one your honeymoon so you can justify taking multiple weeks off work and also extending the length of time you can drag attention outta your newlywed situation. No shame in this game.

 

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Look at us mini-mooning. We are so white. My sister commented that all I need is a big floppy hat and I'm basically starring in a Nancy Meyers movie. Later that night I wore white on white. I am taking to this waspy Liz Scott life REAL quick.

Anyway! In March over Brian's school spring break and my personal spring break that I'm taking even though I have a major book coming out 2 days later (whoops?) (but it's ok b/c it's our HONEYMOOOON!), we're going to do a big adventcha all around Southeast Asia: Thailand, Laos, Vietnam. I mean, we haven't planned one second of it but in our imaginations it is quite the wild and perfect trip.

Any tips?

We knew we wouldn't have the time or energy right after the wedding for our dream vacation, but did want to get away so we planned a little mid-week getaway the week after the wedding to our favorite local beach Fire Island which is the best place on earth because you don't need a car to get there or to get around there. Everyone walks around pulling wagons or riding bikes, everything is casual and relaxed and low key. Fun Fact: Tina Fey has a vacation home in one of the towns there. We have yet to hang out but it should be any day now.

At any rate, Fire Island kind of has two parts - one which is more family oriented, where we've vacationed before with friends - and one that is known as more of a gay party scene. You may have seen this part portrayed in the opening minutes of that HBO movie The Normal Heart and it is AMAZING. Lots of beautiful, oiled up gay men men drinking and cavorting around the seaside. I stopped watching after 20 minutes because I heard it gets sad and (spoiler alert!) Tim Riggins gets AIDS and dies and I just don't see myself coming back from that sort of trauma.

We found a cute little guest house to rent for a few days that had a private deck, a kitchenette and was just a block back from the beach that happened to be on the gay party side in the town of Cherry Grove. A few weeks before the 'moon, we had drinks with a colleague of Brian's, who frequents this side of the island and participates in the festivities and were telling him all about the cute place we rented - close to the beach, the general store and this beautiful wooded forest area.

"Oh yeah. You mean the meat rack!" he replied.

"The what now?!!!?"

Turns out, the "beautiful wooded forest" area just steps from our newlywed cottage connects Cherry Grove with The Pines, the other hot gay party spot and is known as quite the locale for revelers to go get some strange.

It is at this moment I was almost saddened by how open minded Brian and I are. What a dream comedy film this would be. A sheltered young couple goes off on a romantic honeymoon only to find themselves in the midst of a wild gay party week! She accidentally does ecstasy. He ends up covered in body glitter. Shenanigans ensue and they leave the trip a better, happier couple than arrived.

Instead it was just us, two jaded New Yorkers who thought they'd seen it all.

Bring on the Meat Rack!!!

I'll go right ahead and ruin the anticipation by revealing that we did not see anyone getting bajiggity in the forest. We DID however, see about 800 dongs, 900 butts, 50,000 ladybushes and more boobies than a 12-year-old virgin could ever fathom seeing in his whole life. Turns out, Cherry Grove is a nude beach!

And by nude, oh we mean NUDE. There's another nude spot on the other end of the island where we'd vacationed with friends in the past which is frankly, a little underwhelming. Nude bathers have these funny shield things, almost like a tent with no top (even their tents are topless, ho ho!) which still provides privacy despite their lack of apparel. We imagined we'd encounter the same sort of situation but oh no, friends, this was a whole new ball game. And by "ball," I do mean of the male anatomy sort, of which we saw so many, they haunt our dreams.

Bathers in Cherry Grove don't bother with modesty shades. They walk their dogs, stroll the coastline, swim, eat sandwiches, do pushups, hunt for sea shells, anything you might do on a regular beach vacation but naked as the day they were born.

It was...definitely something.

I don't mean to be unkind, I'm sure these were all lovely people but, as with most situations where nudity is approved, none of the participants were people I'd actually want to see nude. NOW, I think all bodies are beautiful and everyone is special but we did not take the subway to the train to the other train to the ferry allll the way out to this sexy gay party island to see a bunch of normal people walking around in the buff. Enough with these reggos - where were all the toned, oiled up young men and porn star lesbians?!

I will ruin any other anticipation by revealing that we did not sunbathe starkers. We briefly considered it but chickened out. I did go topless, how Euro, for about 12 spicy minutes but just couldn't get into the full monty.

Can ladies go full monty or is that just a man thing?

I don't know, guys. I just don't see the appeal of having a bronzed mons pubis, you know? Not to mention all that sand all up in everywhere. I hate to be so American about it but perhaps some parts should just stay covered.

As for the Meat Rack, we didn't even end up entering. And by entering I mean like...walking into the woods, not anything dirty, pervs.

We actually confused the Meat Rack with another wooded plot of land, The Sunken Forest, which is nearly a mile walk from the heart of town, and even further from The Pines. As we trekked through sandy, mosquito filled dunes and wild sea brush in hopes of spotting the infamous Meat Rack I couldn't hep thinking it just seemed like an awful lot of effort to go to for an anonymous BJ.

But, then again, I'm a straight prude who's seen enough Lifetime movies to know you should never go into the forest with a stranger, no matter what fun activities he's promising, so I might not be the Meat Rack's target audience.

It turns out the Meat Rack and the Sunken Forest were entirely unrelated - the Sunken Forest is part of the National Parks service and is very well maintained and family friendly and you can learn about birds and foliage and stuff so that was slightly more my speed.

Here is us in the Sunken Forest...we're so waspy we wear collared shirts even when hiking through national parks/possible illicit wooded sex dens.

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Basically the Meat Rack had the opposite effect on us that it had on the imaginary Midwestern couple of my comedy film dreams. Instead of opening our minds (and legs!) we just kind of got bored with public nudity and went for a nature hike.

SEXYYY.

Andddd that was our mini moon! It actually was super fun. We just laid around and read and ate junk food and drank bloody marys and I got legit tan and I cried on the ferry home because I didn't want it to end and also I am a drama queen. As for the freakydeaky stuff, there's always next time! I've heard that Thailand has lots of ladyboys and sex tourism so maybe we can re-try the racy lifestyle on that visit. I mean, we'll probably just end up like, touring a historical museum or something but you never know! Anything could happen.

How do you say Meat Rack in Thai?!

Off to Google Translate I go! While I am gone, here are some (clothed!) photos from our lil trip if you should so care to see...and why wouldn't you? It is a proven fact that everyone adores looking at photos of someone else's romantic getaway.

 

 

[gallery ids="2972,2973,2974,2975,2976,2977,2978,2979,2980,2982,2983,2984,2985,2988,2989"]

xoxoxoxoxo Mz Hott

Another Awkward Week [8.29.14]: I'm Baaaaack Edition

 weddinggggWell! So yeah, that happened!

#Hottwedding has come and gone and I don't even know where to begin! It was just the best day. The best! The whole weekend was dreamy and perfect. Which is not to say it was fairy-tale flawless, but fun, memorable, exhausting, hilarious, delicious...perfectly perfect and perfectly us. I loved it!

When can we do it again?

I'm in the midst of getting my brain re-combobulated (that's a word?) on all of the weddingy goodness I want to share, but I just wanted to pop back here and say hi!

HIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII!!!!!!!

Also, to reassure you that, though with a new ring and a new last name (I mean, technically...I've not even begun to think about considering the paperwork but we're in the midst of going full-on Liz Scott over here) (more on THAT to come!) (omg!) things here should continue to roll on at their normal bizarre clip.

Case in point: This Vinegar

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After the wedding we spent a few days on Fire Island (muuuuch more on THAT to come, too!) where basically every inch of my flesh was devoured by mosquitoes.

Don't worry, Ebola is not spread via mosquito...I checked.

We got back late Thursday night and didn't have any cortisone cream in the house, so I took to the web in search of home remedies, as I am wont to do, and learned that regular old white vinegar can be a good cure for itchy bug bites. Whaddya know, we have a large bottle right on our pantry shelf!

I went to bed early and put the bottle beside me, in case I needed to reapply during the night. I don't know. It made sense at the time.

The following morning I woke up at the crack of dawn, because my body hates me and hates sleeping past 7 AM, picked up my glass of water and my bottle o'vinegar and stumbled out of the bedroom. First stop: bathroom! I set the water glass on the sink and promptly knocked it over, shattering it all over the floor in the one room in which we are legit always barefoot.

Le sigh.

Thank god we registered for so much glassware - I didn't made it 2 days without breaking anything.

I blearily made my way to the kitchen, got the broom and pan, swept up my disaster and staggered to the kitchen, already exhausted. All that work had made me thirsty, so I picked up the nearest water bottle resting on the counter, unscrewed the top and took a huge swig.

Except...you know where this is going...that bottle was SO not water. It was the big, giant bottle of white vinegar.

Yum.

If you're looking for a surefire way to wake yourself up in the mornings, might I suggest the vinegar chugging method?

On second thought...never mind.

So there you have it. Married? Yes. Together? Certainly not.

Thank you in advance for listening to me talk alllll about the wedding for the next foreseeable future. I know I have but a small window where it is acceptable to obsess over our recent nuptials and I plan on milking every goddamn second of it.

HOORAH!

(PS: photo credit Kylene Lynn Photography, Kylene is the bomb. More about THATTTTTTT, you guessed it, to come.)

xoxoxo Liz Ho...Sco?

One Awkward Wedding: The Final Countown

Oh My

Sweet

Lord

Depending on whether you count today as Day Zero or Day One, the count is either T-8/9 days until #hottwedding. Irregardless of your counting style, August 16 is pretty darn soon. Single digits soon. Deposits due soon. 10 Day Forecast soon.

We have reached THE FINAL COUNTDOWN:

 

My current emotional state is just...weird. Impossible to describe.  Distracted. Impatient. Buzzy. Mildly panicked but much less panicked that one would imagine, considering my natural inclination to panic. I never leave home without my trusty notebook, a gift from a sweet cousin that has been a saving grace over the last month and losing it now would = losing my mind. But as I get closer, there is less and less for me to write in the notebook. Now is the hardest time for me because basically everything is done. Planned, paid for, coordinated, organized, done. All things that I can control are lined up like perfect little mallard ducks and now it's just up to fate to take care of the rest and I'm not great at not running the show.

Por ejemplo, the weather. Despite multiple attempts, I can not (yet!) control the weather. I think if I had a superpower that would be it.

As should surprise zero percent of y'all, I am obsessed with checking the weather. The last thing I do before I go to sleep every night is check the next day's hourly forecast, so I can be prepared. I then check again first thing when I wake up to see if anything has changed. It is insane. Due to this obsession I know oh so well that anything can change at the blink of an eye and sometimes weather.com is just straight up wrong and lying right to your face. There have been multiple occasions where I've been out walking and felt rain drops on my head and my weather app told me "dry conditions would continue." Which... nope! It's raining!!! Are you drunk, weather.com? Are you going to finish that sentence by saying "Dry conditions will continue to not happen because it is now raining?" Otherwise you're just lying to me and I don't like liars.

Basically I think weather.com is just an evil torture tool created by some kind of monster, designed to give neurotic people a sense of control and then constantly toy with their emotions.

Since August 16 showed up on the 10 day yesterday morning - where I checked it at 6:41 AM, the moment my eyes opened - the forecast has said 81 with rain and thunder, 85 and partly cloudy, 83 and sunny (stay that way!!) and 82 with scattered thunderstorms. I know it will change 890978618694 more times between now and then and I know that no matter what it'll be a Tony the Tiger style GRRRRREAT day but I will continue to check every hour on the hour until I'm walking down the aisle.

Other things bringing me mild stress:

  • This zit on my forehead.  Is he going to just hang out there until next Saturday, or is he on his way out? Go away, dude!
  • This weird pain in my inner thigh which is probably just from all the excessive exercise I've been doing in an attempt to channel my anxiety into Madonna arms or is it some kind of glandular malfunction?
  • What I'm going to have for lunch today. This is unrelated to the wedding, I just think about food 24/7
  • Potential family awkwardness/drama/situations at the wedding and remembering to love&accept things for what they are, not what you wish they would be.
  • WHAT IF I FART WHILE I'M WALKING DOWN THE AISLE?! Will the music drown it out?!

But really, I swear on my first edition hardcover of Bossypants, I'm not that stressed! I mean, I'm always stressed anyway, it's kind of my jam, so I imagined that by now I'd be in full scale meltdown mode but really I'm just buzzing right along at my normal level of neurotic. It is surprising and awesome. And if I can plan a wedding with little to no panic, anyone can! I should probably write a book all about stress free wedding planning, now that I'm an expert and it'll become an instant bestseller and I'll be a billionaire and I can move to Tahiti with my husband (!!!) and everyone there will love me so much they'll make me the queen.

That's how life works, right?

I will now make a confession: I will miss wedding planning when it is over and primarily because I will miss the attention. I'm not exaggerating for comedic effect and any bride (or groom!) who denies they, too felt this way, is straight up lying. Planning a wedding gets you 8,000% more attention than usual and it is awesome. Everyone wants to ask you how things are going and hear about it and there's always something to talk about and think about and do and be excited about and I love it. When else am I going to get this much attention? I GUESS if I ever pull off that Queen of Tahiti scenario, which frankly sounds unlikely and then maybe if ever I get pregnant...but that publicity stunt results in me having to care for and keep alive a human child who will then get all the attention that was previously directed at me so I'm not racing into that one. ALSO I read this New York Magazine article that revealed that science has proved that 29 is the most popular year of your life and I'm turning 30 a few weeks post-wedding so basically this is it for me! The end is nigh. I need to just embrace my inner Jenna Maroney and embrace every second of my fleeting wedding planning/age 29 popularity.

 

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Preach it sister.

I should probably be ashamed to admit my true nature but there is clearly no shame in my game around here.

Now I must dash off to refresh weather.com (still saying 83 and sunny! Come on, god, work with me here!) and then wander around the office until I can find someone to ask me about my wedding so I can really just maximize the last 8/9 of my Glory Days.

Ok bye!!!

xoxooxoxoxoxo Liz Ho

 

One Awkward Wedding: One Month to Go!

Our wedding is in ONE MONTH! Un mes! Un mois! Xahar! Though that last one sounds like Dothraki, it’s actually Maltese. Which is apparently a real language! Who knew! Mhux lili, that’s for dang sure! Mhux lili! (That means “not me”in Maltese...obvi!) Whatever language you say it in, one month from today I’ll be hitchin’ my star to the Brian wagon. And I can’t wait!

One thing that has sort of surprised me about this whole wedding planning process is how utterly goopy it’s made me. I’ve gone all soft and romantical. It’s hard to put into words, but over the past few weeks, I’ve noticed myself being sort of hyper aware of my, well, love for Brian. Vomtastic, I know, but I can not be stopped. I get giddy just thinking about him and can’t look at his face without wanting to smooch it. I find everything he does utterly endearing. The other weekend we spent basically 48 straight hours together, just the two of us, no pals or distractions and very little entertainment, save HBOGo, and on Sunday night I looked back with glee thinking how much fun we had together and how much fun we always have together and how profoundly happy that makes me.

Which is probably for the best because I think that’s kind of the point of this whole rigmarole, no? Well, that and the presents, of course.

I kid, I kid!

I was emailing this week with a sweet friend of mine who is a newlywed herself. She and her brand new husband were faced with some scary challenges just moments into their marriage. They’d been home from their honeymoon a week when her husband had some scary, unexpected health problems. He’s mended spectacularly and back up to fighting speed now but their scare brought into stark reminder that the wedding party will end, but what comes after is the real deal.

And even after all they’ve already been through, she gushingly told me “being married is awesome.”

AWESOME!

In an entirely uncharacteristic instance of making someone else’s traumas all about me (hah!), I’ve been thinking a lot about their experience as we lead up to our wedding - and thus, our marriage. Sickness, health, richer, poorer, happier, sadder, in times of trouble and anger and family drama and work crisis and children and bad hair days and stomach bugs that produce results you’d never want another person to be privy to - these are the things that you’re signing up for, what remains after the champagne has been drunk dry, the flowers have wilted and the dress is packed away. It’s important not to lose sight of that. To go through all that, and more, and still wake up every day - or at least most of the days - thinking “THIS IS AWESOME,” that is my hope for our marriage.

And I know that might not always be possible. There may be days or even weeks or months where we’re struggling  and having a hard time waking up feeling awesome and that's OK. But I still can't seem to help myself from melting into a complete and total mushball at the very thought of spending my life, the good, the bad and the hideous, with Brian.

He is the best!

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If sitcoms are anything like real life, it’s only a matter of moments until we’re grouchy and cynical, bickering over the TV remote and the trash can, having sex once a year. I want to remember what it felt like to be totally gushy and mushy and gloopy and romantical, so below are a few points on my main man to look back upon if I've ever begun to question why I've decided to lock it down forever with this particular person.

I hope you brought your own barf bag today, folks! It's about to get realllll nauseating up in here.

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First of all, he is dead sexy. Let me just state the obvious right up front: the man is a Grade A dreamboat and I derive great pleasure from gazing upon his face (and butt!) every day. Those baby blues? The grin? Mmm-mmm-mmm!

(That’s me trying to type out onomatopoeia for sexy / delicious. Nailed it?)

And he makes me laugh and laugh and LAUGH. Brian is so funny. Not in a “HEY EVERYBODY LOOK AT ME!” way, which is great because those people are obnoxious (trust me, I’m one of them) but he is sly and quick and clever and always knows just what to say or do to crack me up.

We love to eavesdrop on people on the street when we’re walking around and make snarky comments about what they’re talking about. It’s so mean but so fun.

He loves to gossip. He’s almost (almost!) as bad as me.

He is so good at his job. He loves math. Like loves it. Remember that teacher in high school who was like “algebraic equations are fun! This geometric formula is SO interesting” and you were like “UM no this is the worst”? Well that guy is Mr. Scott. And now he’s marrying a woman who barely eked her way out of pre-calculus with C’s.

I am still firmly in the “math sux” corner but he’s certainly doing his best to convince me otherwise!

He’s frugal and brilliant with budgets. And hilariously into low-cost alternatives for expensive things. Like, instead of buying new weights, he filled up an old duffel bag with text books and lifts that for strength training. Weirdo!  He wanted to fill the bag with sand but some killjoy didn’t want sand in her house.

He is playful and fun and adventurous. Why lay on the beach when you can toss a frisbee! Why paddle gently in the lake when you can instigate a six-hour jumping competition? Why eat at the same restaurant when you can try a new one or hang out in the same neighborhood when there are dozens of new places in our city to explore.

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He encourages everything I do, whether big or small, weird or serious. He listens to me complain about work, has been a shoulder to lean on during some difficult family times and always motivates me to do bigger and better things.  When I wrote my piece for Vogue, he was refreshing the internet hourly to see if it had posted yet. He trained with me for my half marathon, pushed me to go faster and better and woke up at the crack of dawn in the pouring rain to cheer me on from the sidelines.

He has this funny way of kind of flopping onto the couch when he’s getting comfy at home - legs akimbo, arms crossed on his chest, pillows propped just so that kills me every time. I can’t help myself from jumping on top of him to snuggle up.

He loves to snuggle. He might find that embarrassing that I just told the whole world, it seems a common misconception that men don’t like to cuddle but this guy can snoogle with the best of them.

I love it!

He cares for my family and for his family and for our family that we’re starting together. He has deep, enduring friendships from childhood. He knows the value of close friendships for both of us and works to nurture his and encourages me to do the same.

He is deeply, passionately curious. He’s always reading the news, listening to the radio, trying to learn everything he can about everything. Everything! I’m serious. Just say a word and I swear to G, he’ll start googling it within the second.

He gets extra curious after he’s been drinking, which is equal parts hilarious and (sweetly) annoying, Some people drink and get angry. Some get hungry. Some get sleepy. This guy just gets more inquisitive. Which is adorable unless you’re one of the sleepy ones, sitting next to him in a cab home from a long night as he rattles off his latest curiosities: “I wish I knew more about Ralph Waldo Emerson” or “what do you know about Kyrzkystan?” or “here are 17 fun facts about race relations in South America.”

What?! Stop reading Wikipedia and let me sleep!

But then, by the light of day, I always think it’s cute again. My clever guy!

I will always remember the first time we tentatively tiptoed into a serious future together, talking about raising eventual children...our children. We were eating at this Italian hole-in-the-wall on the Upper West Side after ice skating in Central Park and it was already the cutest date night. Brian told me that the number one thing he would want to pass on to his our children was a spirit of curiosity. And my uterus just exploded. Straight up, like a firework. Not only have I landed a man who is curious himself, but he recognizes it as an important value to pass to future generations?! JACKPOT! I had this vision of Brian and a little tow-headed kid playing with a telescope – I don’t know why it was a telescope, that just seemed like a natural toy for an inquisitive child and their nerd dad – and it was all I could do not to just fling myself across the table and beg me to impregnate me right then and there, atop the ravioli.

Just thinking about it right now, you guys! My ovaries are leaping around in my torso.

He'll make cute babies, too, based on this photo of him as a five year old that I carry around in my wallet like a complete psycho creep.

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LOOK AT THAT FACE!

Also we're talking like, many a year here for these hypothetical nerd children so don't get too excited. The world does not need another mom blog!

Brian loves Asian food, NPR, Larry David, Buzzfeed lists, America’s-Home-Video-style clips of people getting knocked over or otherwise accidentally injured, IPAs, sleeping in, running, The New Yorker, burritos and, best of all, ME!

He lets me know he cares for me and appreciates me in infinite ways every day, through touches, words and thoughtful gestures.

Brian often gets home from work earlier than I do and every night I bustle in the front door, yelling one of the million strange pet names I have for him (buddy, buns, beans, honeybunch, honeybuns, hot pants, cutels, cute magoot, etc) and he comes and meets me in the hall as I’m hanging up my coat and keys and gives me a big fat smooch and I can see it in his face that he’s genuinely excited to see me and to have me home.

It is my favorite part of every single day.

I hope I always remember these things about my BriGuy. And I am excited to learn more lovable things about him over the years ahead.

I can't wait for a lifetime of homecomings and adventures. Of burritos and This American Life and strange homemade contraptions and late night rambles and snuggles and bike rides and pinching that hot booty every chance I can get. I know it won't always be easy. I know we'll face some tough times. But I also know, more than I've ever known anything, especially math, of course, because I barely know any math, that we'll get through it together.

And there is not a single person I would want to go through life with than this studmuffin.

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warned you I'd gone soft! I'm just a grinning fool over here, counting down the days until our wedding and our marriage.

ONE MONTH! BIR AY!* IB LUB HLIS!** O LUNA!***

* Turkish

** Hmong, DUH

*** Romanian. Seriously do you guys not know any foreign languages like, at all?! Get with the program!


 

One Awkward Wedding: Liz Finally Loses Her Mind!

Like sands through the hour glass, so are the days of my wedding planning. Did that make sense to you? No? Me either.

There is no time for sensemaking. NO TIME!!

Our wedding is in 39 days and counting and so much is happening. It’s starting to feel really real in a way that is at once exciting and a tad overwhelming.

And by a tad, I clearly mean a ton. A metric ton! Unless that’s less than a regular ton...I’ve never been one for math and science.

Someone recently commended me on my zen attitude towards wedding planning and I do (honestly!) think I have kept things pretty mellow which is kind of surprising, considering what  a stress monster I usually am. But I’m noticing that as the days slip by faster and faster even I, Zen Bride Extraordinaire, am beginning to lose my cool.

Last night I dreamt that we were in a chapel and they were performing back to back to back weddings and then, suddenly, it was our turn! But, wait! We weren’t ready! Some of the bridesmaids had their hair done. I did not. One bridesmaid had to leave to “go to another thing” and Brian’s parents were missing. I had spaghetti sauce on my wedding dress. There was no music.

Our #Hottwedding was a #Hottmess.

Now I know about as much about dream psychology as I do about metric tonnage (aka nothing) but if I were forced to dig deep and try to decode, I’d go right ahead and say it seems I’m just a pinch worried about getting everything done and not being ready.

For the wedding, at least. I’m totally ready to legally lock it down with Brian. I am going to marry the HELL out of that guy and I can’t wait. It’s going to be awesome! But the wedding is another story. Try as I might to avoid the pressure to make my One Special Day be perfect through and through, I’m turning into a little bit of a crazyperson!

Would anyone like to hear a very insane and long-winded example? No?

TOO BAD, BITCHES. KEEP READING.

Woo, forgive me. Got a little carried away there! But seriously sit back and allow me to regale you with a tale of madness, mayhem and paper products!

LIZ HO VS EMILY POST: ENVELOPES OF DOOM: ELECTRIC BOOGALOO

So! Like I said, must to the surprise of all parties involved, I’ve been pretty cool & calm on all fronts including getting along with mi madre which, if Say Yes to the Dress says anything about real life, is basically a miracle. At this point in the game we should have had about 15 knock-down-drag-out fights renouncing one another as family, her threatening not to come, me screaming back “GOOD, YOU’RE DISINVITED!", both of us in hysterics, but so far, we’ve managed to avoid major arguments.

Weeeeellll except that little tiny one over the invitations.

Not the actual invitations, mind you. Those I’m pleased as punch over. My pal Jamie who is a stellar graphic designer (and available for hire!) (SRSLY email me if you’re looking!) designed our “invitation suite,” as I would call it, if I were the sort of person who used fancy terms like that. They are everything I could have wanted: classy, simple, whimsical, gorgeous.

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AMAZING, RIGHT???!!!!

Oh, and, did I mention cheap? They were so cheap!

Everyone has their priorities in weddings, as in life, on what they think is worth a lot of money and for me, paper products was at the bottom of the list. I like looking at pretty paper and I respect your right to blow the bank on whatever the H you feel like but, the way I see it, that embossed, lined, monogrammed envelope stuffed with 12 different letterpressed cards all tied up in a satin bow and hand addressed by a professional calligrapher are going one place and one place only: the garbage can.

Rough stuff but it is true. I barely remember what most of my friends wedding invites looked like (or birthday invites or baby showers or anything) except in the cases where they were really fancy pants and then I only remember how guilty and horrible I felt when I inevitably chucked them because as much as I love my friends (SO MUCH!) and value their right to fancy invitations, ain’t nobody got space for all that fancy paper.

And YES I know every single aspect of wedding planning is a waste of time and money, duh, but we all pick and choose how to waste our time and money and for  me, this was just not it. Friends and countrymen, feel free to toss these in the garbage can guilt free!

That said, I didn't want the invites to look like actual garbage. Luckily for me, two of my best friends, Jamie and the World Wide Web teamed up to create magic and bring us something that is hella fabulous for UNDER BUDGET. Boomshackalacka. In case you are curious, which you are surely not, but I’ve already started telling this story there’s NO STOPPING ME NOW, we used a Gilt Group coupon for the website Wedding Paper Divas to print our invites, hand designed as a generous gift by Jamie. I would probably never have used this website were it not for the coupon - I cringe at the word “diva,” as it is usually used in a derogatory manner towards women considered to be “difficult,” in a way that is very rarely flipped back on men (am I right, Nicki, or am I right?) BUT sometimes my frugality gets in the way of my morality (I know, I'm the worst) so I couldn't say no to this coupon. And I’m super glad I didn’t. Silly name aside, WPD was beyond professional. They send complimentary samples of their stationery, their customer service was quick and helpful and the quality was A+++.

And our designer was A+++, too! Y'all should hire her. The best way to get a good deal  is to become her friend, because then you get free graphic design and you get to hang out with her and she’s the bomb.com, so it’s kind of like you’re getting paid in the end, really, but if you can’t find a way to worm your way into her life/heart, you could certainly email me for an intro and I bet she’d offer you a fair deal. Just sayinnnn’!

Ok so now we have learned that a) I didn't care much for invites to begin with and b) loved the ones we ended up with so why did c) they lead to the d) most intense melt down of Liz Ho’s Wedding Planning Extravaganza Extraordinaire?

‘Twas not what was inside the envelopes (plain white, came free with the order!) that upset me, you see, ‘twas what was written outside of them.

As I’m sure you can surmise, I was not about to pay for someone to calligraphy (caligraph? is there a verb for this word?) these bad boys, I would have been happy printing them out on a laserjet printer like an uncouth monster but we did still want them to look nice, so my dearest Schmoopster offered to hand-write all 101 addresses. She was very cute about it, sending us samples with different pens and practicing a little bit each night and all was right with the world until we experienced what I am now calling a minor communication breakdown. Others might call it a major meltdown. I'll let you be the judge.

My one and only request with these invitations what that none sent to married couples be addressed in the so-called “traditional” manner, to Mr. and Mrs. Hisfirstname Lastname because that makes my skin crawl. Like, what is that even about? It’s not enough for a woman to take a man’s last name? AND change from a Ms. to a Mrs. when he gets to keep Mr. all along? She also don’t even get her own first name anymore?

I know this is the “proper” way and how Emily Post would do it but I think it’s sexist and stupid, Emily. That bitch is like, 700 years old and not even invited to our wedding so who even cares what she thinks.

Apparently a whole lot of people!

Somewhere in this whole process this point was not made clear and it came to my attention after about ⅓ of the invitations were already addressed that they were, in fact, going out in this traditional manner. My mom and I had a huffy, mildly dramatic phone conversation but managed to end on a civil note, with me agreeing that the already written invites could go out as-is, and Schmoops agreeing that any going forward would at least mention the woman’s name on their somewhere, Emily Post be damned, and we hung up, end of story.

J to the K. One of us, I won’t mention any names (women don’t get names, remember?!) (calm down, Liz) could not … ok...would not… let it go. This person was me, obviously. I hung up and stormed around the apartment, fuming, getting more and more upset.I am a feminist! And now I’m sending these misogynistic envelopes all over America! HOW WOULD THAT LOOK?! What would people think?! Just as paper crushes rock, so will these paper envelopes crush my sterling, powerful reputation! This could not go on!

So I took the mature route, called my mom back and oh, the doody hit the fan. I started weeping - and I don’t mean like, gently crying or sniffling, I mean like, tears down my cheeks, hyperventilating, weeping -- about feminism and individuality and last names and choice and envelopes and women and identities and demanded that my mom re-do all of the invitations,even the ones she had already written.  I could NOT have my return address associated with a Mr. and Mrs. HisFirstname situation. At one point I actually shrieked “THIS IS MY BRIDEZILLA MOMENT! I AM THROWING DOWN MY BRIDEZILLA CARD AND YOU HAVE TO LISTEN TO ME!”

Oy yoy yoy.

(Spoiler alert: I did start my period the next day so I blame my hysteria on the hormones. But I stand by the subject of my hysteria!)

My mom fired back that it was a silly thing to waste my bridezilla card on, some people like to be addressed in such a manner, that she likes cares about adhering to certain types of tradition, she is helping to fund this wedding so her reputation is on the line too and maaaayyybe, just maybe, I should think about other people’s values as much as I think about my own.

Game, set, match: Bernie.

Loathe as I am to admit it. And oh, I am so loathe. She's totally right, guys.

And lo, we managed to reach a conclusion. All envelopes already written would remain “proper” as well as those to anyone who might like to be addressed in such a manner, because some people do like tradition and that is ok (it is!), but all others would be a little more progressive.

My sweet  mom, trying so hard to prevent another meltdown took it to the furthest level, addressing married women as Ms. instead of Mrs. or in some cases, completely omitting gendered pronouns at all.

I loved it!

Of course, after all this, I will bet you all a haypenny and a half that not one single solitary person even noticed how they were addressed. And if they did and they were offended, oh well. Please trust that we were just two ladies doing the best we could under the pressures of tradition, the patriarchy, the Wedding Industrial Complex and the most stressful situation in all the land: mothers and daughters planning a wedding together.

We tried! We really, really tried.

I still maintain it was a worthy cause for throwing down my Bridezilla Card. Flowers, playlists, party favors - these things are silly details about one day which will eventually fade into memories in a photo album and therefore not worth truly stressing over. But my anxieties re: the traditional manner of addressing couples reflect something actually life-altering. I have gradually come around to the idea of possibly (probably) (ok, more than likely) taking Brian’s last name, a saga I’ll delve into another time, but I still can’t shake the fear that marriage means sacrificing my personal feminine identity. Elizabeth Scott is one thing. Ms. Scott? I’m still on board. Mrs. Scott, less so. Mrs. Brian Scott?

No way, Jose.

And by Jose, I could mean Jose OR his wife because married ladies don’t get their own first names!

Enough, Liz. ENOUGH!

Like my pal Elsa, I’m letting it go. I understand that women have different ideas of what feels right for them and it is important to honor their decisions and that you can still be married and be a badass individual feminist lady, and names are just names and all that other good stuff and perhaps I need not take everything so seriously all the damn time. And maybe stop reading Jezebel. But I still reserve my right to throw occasional temper tantrums on my road to self enlightenment.

I’ll be sure to send you my mailing address when I get there. Just don’t send any correspondence to Mrs. Brian Scott ;).

And that, my friends, is my tale. What a mess, right? I'm a nutjob.

But other than this, and the dreams, and the nail biting, and the various Google rabbit holes I keep falling into, I'm doing pretty a-ok. I might just survive the next 39 days with my sanity (and relationships!) in tact.

Wish me luck! JK wish my mom luck. And Brian. That poor guy is stuck with this nutjob for LIFE.

Sucks to be himmmm!

The end.

Liz

PS: I am very sorry, I realize this whole post this is probably insanely rude and awkward to talk about/show off wedding invitations because not everyone who reads this is invited.  Believe me, I would have liked to invite the whole wide world but that’s just not a possibility...a post for another time. I’m still too busy barfing with guilt over guest list cuts to discuss it.

Another Awkward Week [5.23.14]

Hey buddies! What's up? It's a long weekend, whoop whoop! Well, in America, anyway. Sorry foreigners. Sucks to be you! I'm heading down to Pennsylvania for the weekend,  tomorrow I'm having a bridal shower (for ME!), hosted by my sweet Aunt Lena & cousin Lisa.  I'm so excited! And I'm excited that I'm excited which sounds nuts, but well, that's me. For a while I was being kind of a weirdo about the whole thing - I thought everyone would think I was being really demanding and obnoxious, asking them to drive all the way to PA, when they already have to travel for the wedding, and would I look like I was just trying to get more presents. For someone who purports to LOVE being the center of attention, I'm sort of freaking out now that my moment in the spotlight has finally arrived!

Luckily I have some smart friends and family who reminded me that I am a lunatic and I might need to calm down. That it is OK and not annoying  to be excited about my wedding. That people are travelling not because I'm making them, but because they want to, because they love me, and love Brian and are happy to celebrate our impending union. It's going to be such a lovely day with the most special ladies in my life and I'm already feeling very honored and loved.

And EXCITED. So excited that I've already said that word seventy-five times in just these four paragraphs! Get a thesaurus, Liz.

Fun fact: I have a really hard time saying that word, thesaurus. I always say suh-tharus, instead of the-saur-us. Ha! A few years ago I worked on a book about Roget, the guy who invented the thesaurus and the word was right in the title and every time I had to say it out loud I would get really nervous about messing up and inevitably mess up even worse and it was just horrifying. HORRIFYING! I totally forgot about that until just this moment and now I'm reflexively cringing, so embarrassed for my past self. GAH young Liz. It does NOT get better.

Ok enough rambling about bridal showers and thesarusues (thesauri?) and insanity. Let's take a look at what was keeping it awkward this week.

 

This Dress:

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Worn to Brian's sister's graduation on Sunday and COVERED in coffee.

We drove from NJ to PA early on Sunday morning and packed bagels and to-go coffees with sturdy, closeable lids for the ride.Brian's mom realized just moments after we pulled from the driveway that she had forgotten the roll of paper towels she meant to toss in, just in case anyone spilled.

"No worries!" chirped the grownup adult woman from her perch in the backseat. "We'll be fine!"

I was pretty good for most of the way until just a few miles from the campus, when I precariously propped my coffee mug in my lap without fully closing the lid.

Suddenly, Brian called out from beside me: "Liz! Your mug is tipping!" So I did what any rational person would do when a hot cup of liquid is spilling over on their thighs which is to flail my legs even more causing the spill to go from a minor drip to a full on drenching.

REALLY coulda gone for those paper towels right then.

Saving graces: 'twas a dark dress and I found a stray shout wipe in  my purse! That baby did the trick and more, by the time we made it to graduation the only remaining trace of the incident was a lingering smell of coffee.

Eau de floor of a Starbucks after a long summer's day.

Whilst at said graduation I acquired...

This Sunburn:

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First of the year! Complete with a weird little white stripe across the middle where my necklace was resting.

Happens every season!

I have to be careful this year...I have to somehow make it all summer without kooky tan lines, so I'm not covered in splotches and white patches in all of our wedding photos. I keep meaning to try my bikini top on under my wedding dress to see if I can wear it or need to get a new one. HA! Sounds insane butttt I think it is necessary. Maybe I'll just have someone sew me a dress in the pattern of my wedding gown and wear that all day every day so I have absolutely perfect lines come August 16?

THAT would be insane.

(orrrr would it?!)

This Skirt:

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That is a thick layer of dust...apparently the French Connection in SoHo cleans their dressing rooms about as often as I clean my house. Aka: never.

I visited this store not once but twice in the past week, along with probably every single store in the greater NYC metropolitan area, on an epic quest for the perfect dress for this weekend's festivities. I bought and returned and bought and returned several different options and ordered a few things online - one of which is lost in the mail and one of which is being held at a FedEx facility on 108th Street in Brooklyn. I didn't even know there was a 108th Street in Brooklyn but apparently they is and they are holding hostage a sundress from Piperlime. Can't wait to go pick THAT up.

After all of these shenanigans, I finally caved yesterday and splurged and spent basically all of my discretionary income on a dream dress from Kate Spade that I'd been lusting after for weeks. I've already justified the exorbitant expense,  by promising myself I will wear it at least three times a week until I die so basically this dress has pretty much already paid for itself. In fact, they paid ME! I hope everyone likes it as much as I do cuz y'all are going to be seeing a lot of it.

In other fashion news, check out the shoes I rocked all week...

These Moccasins:

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Yes, friends, that IS my big toe.

You may recall I shared these about a year ago when dat derre rip was juuuusssst beginning and here we are, a full year later and much much rippier (it's a word) and I've yet to throw them out.

I'd get a new pair but I just spent all my money on that dress so...open toed moccasins: the hot trend for spring! You heard it here first!

This Band-aid:

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I'm finally getting serious about my nail/finger biting problem, I can NOT allow myself to have bloody, ragged fingers at our wedding, I just can't.

My thumbies are my weakness, they're just so easy to attack, so all week I've been wrapping my thumbs in band-aids in an attempt to save myself from myself.

Unbeknownst to me I purchased a box of "designer strips" which means these are no ordinary bandages, OH NO, but beautifully ("beautifully") patterned fashion band-aids. So far this week I've rocked bandages that look like they're bedecked in sequins, in black lace, in some kind of modern abstract art, and this one, my favorite, which had teeny tiny photos of models walking the catwalk.

WHO EVEN CAME UP WITH THIS? Why would someone want to wear bandaids with tiny little fashion models on them? They're so small you can't even see what they're wearing! WHYYY is this even a thing that exists in the world and why do I own it.

Kids get Sponge Bob and Dora and grownups get mini little ladies shaking their little tushes on the catwalk. On the catwalk, yeah.

I'm to sexy for my bandaid, to sexy for my bandaid...

IF ONLY there was a designer band-aid for my brain that would make me into less of a weirdo. THE END of this madness, I am outta here. Have a spectacular Memorial Day weekend and if you think I'm not going to be back with a full report from my big weekend, you're drunk. My mom told me it is traditional for the mother of the bride to buy her daughter sexy lingerie soooo that blog post can pretty much write itself.

Smooches!

Liz Ho

 

One Awkward Wedding: Registration Situation

Yesterday marked exactly 4 months until #HottWedding (Hohenadel + Scott…just get on board, I’m making it happen) and I realized it’s been for-ev-errr since I’ve shared any updates on the planning! Mostly because I haven’t really been planning? We’re sort of at a lull in the excitement, between the long-lead and the last-minute. We’ve booked all the big stuff – venue, dress, DJ, etc – and aren’t quite ready to tackle the little deets like place cards and play lists, so most of our planning is just me reading wedding blog after wedding blog and my mom calling me with lists of random details she thought of in the shower and “just wanted to discuss quickly before she forgot” and me being like “Mo-ommmm lay OFF” and getting weepy and Brian wisely just staying out of the way. But it’s all great! Seriously it’s totally great and honestly not even that stressful. Maybe because I’m not actually doing anything? Maybe because we only think weddings need to be stressful because that’s what the Wedding Industrial Complex wants us to believe?

Think on that!

Speaking of the blessed WIC, there is one Knot-approved activity we have thrown ourselves into wholeheartedly: registering. Like most traditional facets of wedding planning, I initially snubbed my nose at the idea of creating a standard registry. We had plenty of STUFF, I thought, and isn't it a little antiquated, to ask for dishes and things in this modern living-in-sin era? We went back and forth on alternative ideas, like a travel registry or creating our own "experience" registry, asking for things like tickets to the NY Opera or the Mets  or forgoing gifts altogether (JK I wish we were that selfless but real talk: nope*) but in the end, none of those ideas really panned out. Travel registries cost money to set up and we have neither the technical skills nor the free time to build our own.

Lo, we threw ourselves headlong into the time honored tradition of Wedding Gift Registering and if there's anything more fun in the world, I've yet to discover it. The power of striding through stores, registry gun in hand**, scanning item after item of silly things you want other people to buy for you? Can I do this all day everyday?!

And so, in a few short weeks, we went from modern minimalists who were going to register for "just a few essentials!" to greedy gift monsters with not one, not two but three traditional registries. Whoops?

Love may be all we need, but it turns out we want everything.

REGISTRY ONE: BED, BATH & BEYOND!

Highlights:

1) I was wearing this outfit, which I only noticed and documented because I realized I wore this outfit the day we were engaged and the day we went looking for venues and now the day we went registering.

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Apparently this is my go-to wedding ensemble. I should just return my gown and walk down the aisle in this ratty yellow cardigan. Save some $$!

2) Realizing that the overzealous registry consultant planned to tag along with us the entirety of our excursion, pointing out every last item in our wake.

Thank the lord Brian politely spoke up, asking him if we could do it on our own. I’m so people-pleasy, I probably would have just silently stewed, registering for every pricey thing he suggested, just so he wouldn’t feel bad.

Crisis averted!

3) The discovery of the As Seen on TV section:

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We need all of this!!!

4) This Frame.

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PLEASE if you own this I do not want to know.

Items I'm most excited about:

This little pitcher shaped like a cow

Onion Goggles (only sort of joking?!)

Cast Iron Skillet - BScott is a big fan of the cast iron!

At BB&B we managed to find most of the things we were looking for, except basics like dishes and silverware. I wanted plain white dishes but Brian said he didn’t like them…he prefers “cream colored dishes.”  Any specific sets you like, champ? No, just “cream colored.” Sure, sure.

And so, we left with a plan to visit some other retailer to finish off our list and then let many a week pass before we were able to make said visit, during which time whenever my mom would casually ask if we’d thought any more about finishing our registry I’d fly off the handle into a dramatic huff “I’M ON IT, MOM, OK?!?!” and that was a special and exciting time for us all.

And so we come to...

REGISTRY TWO: MACY'S!

Highlight:

1) Macy's herself.

 Holy shit, gang. Have you ever been into Macy’s Herald Square? That place is enormous! And they sell EVERYTHING. Literally. You want it, you can probably get it at Macy’s. Beds. Car parts, probably. Grass seed. Rifles. Everything. I’m sure you’re all thinking this is obvious but I really never realized just how vast the Macy’s inventory is, or the massive size of their NYC flagship store.  What an amazing place!

We sat down with a consultant, Norma, and were (no jokes here!) highly impressed by their customer service and the many perks they give to people who register there, as well as the expansive amount of items they offer. I knew they had china and glassware but didn’t realize how many electronics they carry too. And many at cheaper prices than Bed, Bath and Beyond!

WHAT A PLACE!!!!

2) The man who came up behind Brian and creepily whispered in his ear “the trick to marriage, just agree with whatever she says” and then wandered away.

Thanks?

3) Visiting the 9th Floor where they sell furniture, rugs, clocks and luggage and the only way you can get there is via this creepy express elevator that drops you off in an abandoned hallway.

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Brian looks nervous. What do you think is scarier, the hallway or the weird lady following him around taking photos?

Probably the 2nd one.

4) The discovery of Stella 34, the Italian restaurant/bar on the 6th floor of Macy’s. Guys. This place is classy as HELL. A wood-fired oven, fully stocked, modern bar, the works. And it was packed to the gills with attractive people at 7 PM on a Tuesday night! Who are these people? Why would you go eat and drink in Macy’s?!

I’m so confused and also I really want to go there? Happy Hour directly next to the Martha Stewart Everyday Linens Collection? I can get down with that.

5) The horrified look on our consultant’s face when we returned, having registered for only plates, wine glasses and a dish soap dispenser.

“Is this it?” she asked, with a tone of abject horror typically expressed on teenage children when their parents reveal they're getting an unexpected divorce.

We assured her we were planning to go home and add on more items, comparing against what we’d already registered for at Bed, Bath and Beyond and she told us she would “stalk us on email” if we didn’t.

Um, yikes?

I tease, but I can’t complain. We were legit very impressed with the whole operation over there at Macy’s and again, I repeat: who knew?! Probably everyone, but not us, so it was a real treat. If you're planning to register for a wedding anytime soon, this joint gets two thumbs way up from the #Hotts

What I"m most excited about:

Le Creuset Dutch Oven - the same one Taylor Swift recently purchased for a fan. TAYLOR! MY SHOWER IS MAY 24TH!!! PLEASE COME AND BRING A LE CREUSET!!! I LOVE YOU!!!!

These Adorable Champagne Flutes

We made good on our promise to finish the registry from home (please don't stalk us, Norma!!!) but still had a few items we wanted to add, namely luggage and power tools, and so...

REGISTRY THREE: AMAZON.COM

Highlights:

1) Creating an entire wedding registry from the comfort of my own home, without having to put on pants or interact with other humans.

2) Feeling gleefully smug over adding tools to our registry. How modern! Breaking expectations and gender norms! Boom.

Lowlights:

UGH AMAZON. 

What I'm most excited about:

Drill, baby, drill!

And now, I do believe, we're set for life. We did leave off a few "Must Have" items that didn't really feel right for our lifestyle, like formal china and crystal and the now ubiquitous Kitchen Aid Mixer. And we added a few things that felt fun and personal, like wine stoppers shaped like owls (I love owls. AND WINE!) and beach towels and about thirteen different pitchers, which Brian and Schmoops both told me was maybe too many pitchers. Too many pitchers? Impossible!

I'm cheesy excited about all of this STUFF. As much as I like to pretend to be a minimalist who's so over tradition, I'm really looking forward to filling our home with beautiful new things, thinking about how we received them from our loved ones as we started our life together. AWW!

If you happen to be the sort of weirdo who takes pleasure in judging other people's wedding registries (like me, for example), feel free to view ours at our website. Judge away!

And as long as you're still reading this, might I ask for a little advice?

  • Do you have any secret kitchen gadgets or tools you LOVE love love?
  • Married people - did you receive anything unexpected you wish you'd thought of for your registry?
  • What kind of blender do you have? I'm totally torn on brands - we're currently registered for the Ninja and I've heard rave reviews from a bunch of people, but also a few naysayers. I've also heard good things about the Breville. Any opinions from the crowd? And don't say Vitamix. I know it's the Cadillac of blenders or whatever (are Cadillacs still cool?) and of course I totally want one,but it's just a little too aspirational at this point. Like, as much as I want to be the kind of person who makes my own organic cashew milk, let's be real. See also: $700.
  • When you buy wedding gifts, do you always go with the registry or forge your own path? People have such strong opinions about this, I'm genuinely curious to hear your thougts!
  • If you do go off-registry, any unique suggestions you're willing to share? THIS shop  is my go-to for wedding presents (SPOILER ALERT to all friends getting married this year!).
  • Do you know how to remove make-up from cotton shirts? This has nothing to do with wedding registries, I'm just curious...

And, as always, I've turned a short post into a Russian novel. The End! Happy Thursday, my fine friends. Thanks for reading - don't you have work to do?!

xoxo Liz

* Obviously gifts are not actually mandatory, guests! If it's a stretch to afford, we'd rather see your faces than a gift-wapped box. TRULY!

**while googling “gift registry gun” to confirm proper terminology I discovered there is a website devoted to registering for actual guns. SWEET lord have mercy on us all.)

Another Awkward Week [3.28.14]

Hey you guys! What's up? How was everyone's week. Mine was very weddingy which is now a real word, in the OED, look it up, fools. Seriously, though, this week was a veritable nuptial extravaganza. Tuesday I went bridesmaid dress shopping and  Wednesday Brian & I went suit shopping (more on both of those below!) and last night I went to a Wedding Expo which was...definitely something! It was a real thing.

Quick backstory, I'm working on this fantastic book coming out in May called Save the Date: The Occasional Mortifications of a Serial Wedding Guest by Jen Dollwhich is amazing. I very rarely actually talk about my books here because I don't want the authors to get like, a google alert and read this and realize what a freak their publicist is BUT I already know that both the author (hi, Jen!) and editor (hi, Ali!) a) read this blog and b) know I'm a total freak so it's all good. Also good? The book, so you should probably just go ahead and pre-order it riiiiiight now.

Jen was invited to attend the New York Magazine Wedding Expo and thought: "who could I invite to join me who is engaged and will do anything for a story and some free wine?" The answer was crystal clear. And thus, Jen & I found ourselves in a chic event space in Chelsea at 4:45 PM on a Thursday sipping white wine and stuffing our tote bags with swag.

 

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The expo was super nice but also suuuuper overwhelming. There were tons of people all about, including one woman whose job it was to walk around in a slinky wedding gown carrying a sign advertising the designer and DJ's playing loud party music and hoardes of women roaming in packs - many of whom brought their baby strollers which, like, I don't judge the carriage before the marriage, you do you, but why did you bring your baby here? I know it's tough to get a sitter but like, is this really the establishment where you want to be carting around a toddler? Possibly no.

Like any trade show there were just booths and booths and booths of vendors and everyone had some kind of treat (macrons! mini cakes! LOBSTER ROLLS!) to lure you to stop and peruse their wares and most also had some kind of opportunity to register for a giveaway, which we did with wild abandon. I can't remember everything I signed up to win but the list included:

  • false eyelashes
  • lingerie
  • cake pops
  • skin treatment
  • a full set of bridesmaid dresses (!)
  • earrings
  • engagement photos
  • dance lessons (!!)

I have yet to receive any calls or emails so I'm assuming I won nothing but I am really holding out hope on those dance lessons.

Just kidding. NIGHTMARE.

Finally we reached that point where we were so overwhelmed with people and stimuli and people that we just sort of crashed and had to run for the door.

I also experience this emotion when visiting art museums or shopping at Forever 21.

I'm really glad we went and do think I saw some valuable stuff, but can't possibly imagine actually going to one of those as an outlet for getting wedding ideas like, right at the beginning. The sheer volume of options and images made my head spin.

Just like Brian and I will spin on the dance floor when we win those tango lessons. Come on, phone, ring, damn it, RING!

Ok, enough. This is already a novel and I've barely even scratched the surface. Let us take a look at what (else!) was keeping it awkward this week:

This Microwave:

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First of all please ignore that pile of cardboard recycling in the corner, I know we need to dispose of that!

Second of all, do take note of the smashed glass on the floor below said microwave. That is the glass tray that came with the microwave, smashed into a zillion little pieces after I knocked it out while removing my microwaveable heating pad because I am 86 years old.

Easy solution: register for a new microwave!

Except: This belongs with the apartment, WHOOPS.

So now I have to track down and purchase a very specific microwave tray lest we lose our security deposit over this.

Luckily I am already pretty skilled in purchasing wholesale kitchen appliance parts thanks to the time I broke a glass shelf in the refrigerator of my first apartment in Brooklyn by dropping a heavy container of leftover Thanksgiving food on it.

Liz Ho: destroying one rental kitchen at a time!

These Dresses:

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Front runners for the bridesmaids! I will give you a WHOLE long and detailed story about the endless search for bridesmaid dresses, made extra endless by my deep passion for over-thinking and making everything 80 billion times more complicated than necessary but for now, a tiny tale.

Kathleen and I went to Bella Bridesmaid in Midtown on Tuesday night to check out some options (it was a really nice boutique with a pretty great selection and good customer service, just FYI if this applies to you) and while we were looking through the racks with our assigned stylist, we suddenly heard the sound of crying coming from one of the dressing rooms.

And by crying I mean like weeping. Like heaving sobs. Like me watching Les Mis hysterics.

I mean...bridesmaid dress shopping is stressful but...? YIKES pull yourself together, man!

It turns out it may have actually been a staff member crying over some kind of personal life drama which makes me feel a little bad for judging but whatever the reason behind the tears, it does not erase how painfully awkward it was for the three of us to resume rifling through brightly colored chiffon, acting like nothing was amiss, to the soundtrack of violent sobbing.

AAAAH.

Also did I make a final decision on bridesmaid dresses yet? Probably! Or not. Just ... don't ask.

This Corner:

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I worked out over lunch the other day and when I came back, managed to spill my entire (full!) water bottle on my office floor, right next to a stack of book boxes. I saw the water encroaching on the box of delicate paper books and panicked, looking around the room for some sort of towel with which I might mop up the spill before it ruined our product.

I got the brilliant idea to use my gym clothes BUT I had my fancy stuff that day and they're all made out of some kind of fancy like, sweat repelling material so they weren't really absorbing the giant lake I created (thanks for nothing, Under Armor) BUT the dirty underwear I had just worn to workout were, in fact, cotton, so I mopped up the spill with a pair of underwear.

It made complete sense at the time, for some reason, but then I though about it later and remembered that in our office we have both a kitchen AND a bathroom, both of which are resplendent with paper towels, products which are designed for the sole purpose of absorbing liquids.

And instead I used my underpants.

WHAT is wrong with me? So very very VERY many things.

I must have been a clutz-o-rama that day because later that evening, I met Brian at ...

This Suit Shop:

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My groom and I went out on an expedition to find a suit for him for our wedding and a co-worker recommended this classy place in SoHo called Suit Supply. She assured us they were known for slim cut suits for slim cut fellows and at a good price point.

And she was right! Despite the semi douche vibe of their website (just...ignore those photos) the place was straight up classy and the customer service was outstanding. They helped Brian find a really REALLY good looking suit  and suggested some matching options for his groomsmen, recommended shoe stores, tie colors, etc.

Meanwhile I just followed Brian around making lascivious comments about his butt. It was weird. I felt like someone's creepy sugardaddy (except let's be real, I'm not paying for this). Like, you always hear stories about rich men taking hot women shopping and then just creepily watching them try on sexy clothes and suddenly I understand the appeal. By the time I half-jokingly but mostly seriously asked Brian to "take off his jacket and sling it over his shoulder like he was in a catalog" I realized I miiiiight be out of control.

But seriously, wedding guests, you're in for a treat with this suit. That booty is A+!

Oh, and also while I was there they offered me a glass of water and OBVIOUSLY I spilled the entire thing on the floor and almost used my scarf to mop it up before anyone saw but luckily someone stopped me before I ruined yet another piece of clothing doing what a paper towel could do so much better.

Then later, I pulled my wallet out of my pocket to put in the stylist's business card and dropped a panty liner on the floor right in front of him. Smooth.

Those were the actual points of this story, but then I got sidetracked being creepy about butts.

You know me!

Shut it down, Liz. Shut it down.

And that's that! What are you guys up to this weekend? I was supposed to go hiking but now it's going to rain all weekend (don't even get me started on you, Mother Nature!) so now we're searching for an indoor urban adventure instead. Any suggestions?

Have the funnest weekend, whatever you do, and if you enter any weird raffles, I sure hope you win!

xoxoxo Liz

One Awkward Wedding: Lemme, Lemme Update You The Sequel: 2 Awkward 2 Updated

Goood  morning, friends. I fear I may have blogged myself right into a corner here with this whole cliffhanger situation. It seems that I implied that I had something interesting to say rather than the truth, which was that I just you know, stopped writing and went to bed. Spoiler alert: this whole story is actually super boring. Oh well, onward!

Previously on Lost:

Lost

Jack was smug, Hurley ate a large jar of ranch dressing, Sawyer called someone by a cute nickname and Liz continued to freak out about her impending wedding.

In early November, Brian and I took a quick jaunt down to Pennsylvania to check out some venues. How did we find these venues, you ask? A little thing called the internet. Look it up! On...the internet.

Before Brian and I were even engaged, I created a secret Google doc titled "Shameful" where I listed wedding venues in New York and PA, with hyperlinks to their websites.

Is this insane? OBVIOUSLY.

But I was primed and ready the moment we got engaged and didn't have to waste any of my precious time so you can just judge on all you want, Judge Reinhold.

A bit of actually helpful advice I can offer to anyone who might someday plan a wedding is to have an idea of your basic framework - how and when and where do you envision your wedding? The ultimate #firstworldproblem is that there are SO VERY MANY options available, so to be able to narrow your choices down without wasting all of your free time is immensely helpful. For us, this meant, of course, REGULAR CLASSY. Any venue that was over our budget or not available in our preferred time frame, we didn't even bother visiting. Why get attached?

This means we passed up on the most amazing barn where my friend is getting married this May - it is part of a Pennsylvania German history museum and you can ride around in an antique carriage and have actual historical re-enactors at your reception! But alas, they were booked for all of 2014. 

It is pointless to dwell on what might have been but...would any of you be interested in dressing in maybe Colonial garb and passing out hors d'oeuvres for a few hours on the evening of August 16? Just, you know, hypothetically.

Another bit of actual advice (I should write a self-help book!) is to seek help of your personal network. In addition to the best wedding planner ever, Bebe Ho, President and CEO of the famed event management firm Schmoopster, Bernie and Beans, Inc, who was all too eager to scout out locations on behalf of her long distance clients, we also sought the wisdom of local friends and family (special shout-out to cousins Angie & Lisa, Aunt Lena & pal Jamie!) who gave us lots and lots of advice and ideas and to those people we are (sincerely!) grateful.

Isn't it amazing how long and long and LONG I can make a story?!

We packed a whole lotta visits into two days in Pennsylvania - we looked at venues spanning the map. Ballrooms, barns, a private room in a restaurant that also had a weird gift shop selling soap and homemade beef jerky, a winery, an art gallery/music space/recording studio/cafe (turned out this place had a bit of an identity problem), a music school, you name it, we probably looked at it.

I put wayyy to much mental energy into agonizing over what to wear while venue hunting. I needed a perfect outfit that conveyed that I was there for business (the love business!) and that I was a serious, sophisticated lady but not SO sophisticated as to appear wealthy and risk them quoting me the fancy person price instead of what I'm more in the market for, which is bargain basement deals. But a sophisticated bargain basement...like Nordstrom Rack!

I went with the shocking and unexpected combo of  jeans, boots and...wait for it...yep, a cardigan. I am nothing if not a creature of habit. Surprise twist, though, they were some on-trend ankle boots so I think I pulled off the Nordstrom Rack look pretty, pretttty well.

My priorities? Oh, they're in order.

Standout moments from our hunt included:

  • The vendor sporting the supple leather vest who spent his entire pitch talking about ways we could make our event "cheaper." Bro, let me give you an unsolicited tip: there are ways to convey that you offer a sound financial value without actually saying "cheap" eleventy five times.
  •  The caterer who nearly sent me onto a long rant about gender stereotypes when he made mention of bringing lager to the groom and pinot grigio to the bride. Bro, let me give YOU and unsolicited tip: don't assume that ladies only drink white wine, OK mon frere? I mean, I DO drink white wine but I don't appreciate being pigenholed.

Good gravy I am annoying.

  • The relatively smug Irish dude (proprietor of said art gallery/music space/recording studio/cafe )who was way too into name-dropping bands he's seen and puffing his "hip" image...and his lithe young assistant who was CAHLEARLY digging his schtick. And possibly getting up on his something that rhymes with schtick ... IF you know what I mean. (What I mean is, I'm pretty sure they were hitting it. Doing it. Knowing one another in a biblical manner. Scandale!)
  •  The chicken ceasar salad I had during our lunch break. This has little to do with the story but I just really, really love ceasar salad.

If loving cesar is wrong...I don't wanna be right.

  •  And ... getting sincere again here...the pleasant and exciting surprise of falling in love with the venue we thought we'd like the least!

Enter: The Hamilton Club!

Does this joint scream REGULAR CLASSY or what?!

The Hamilton Club is a private social club right in downtown Lancaster that, on paper, was everything we said we didn't want. We imagined ourselves somewhere industrial or rustic or otherwise "nontraditional." The phrase "we're so not ballroom people" was thrown around no less than 78 times. The Hamilton Club seemed stuffy and old and boring. But it was surprisingly affordable for the relative formality of the space and Wedding Planner Schmoopaloop totally loved it so we begrudgingly agreed to give it a looksee.

We soon ate our "no ballrooms ever!" hats. Or we ate crow. What do people eat when they say something and then are proven wrong? Their words? Whatever it is, we ate it ALL. The space had everything we didn't know we wanted - it feels like being inside someone's cool old mansion with lots of nooks and crannies to explore. They have more than enough room to accommodate an on-site ceremony, a separate upstairs area for a cocktail hour, an organized and efficient on-site coordinator, private rooms for getting ready, a highly regarded caterer and all (mostly!) within our budget. Plus, it's right downtown so guests can walk from the nearby hotel, saving us from having to sort out any sort of shuttle situation. Cha chingity ching ching!

The coordinator initially struck us as a little too formal and traditional, but the more we told her about the low-key, festive event we envisioned, she instantly got what we were throwing down. She understood that we are working on a shoestring and has been flexible in finding ways to stretch our money a long long way. They had our preferred date available and after a few weeks of back and forth emailing on menus and a few other financial details (see previous entry for emotional state of Liz Ho during this time period) we locked 'er in.

Whoop whoop!

And that is the whole tale. I told you it was a pretty boring story!

Boring or no, there are at least a dozen morals here  including Don't Wear Leather Vests, Be Less Obvious About The Fact That You're Boning Your Boss, Start Wedding Planning Years Before You are Engaged, Turn To Friends and Family for Help, You Can Never Go Wrong With a Cardigan, Listen to Your Mom's Great Ideas, Stop Freaking Out About Everything All The Time Life Always Works Out You Crazy Maniac and, most importantly: Be Open Minded. We ended up doing the total opposite of what we always imagined and we could not be more excited. You may have an idea of what you want (I'll use wedding planning as an example but this moral applies to all of LIFE) in your head, only to see it in person and find it is too small or smells weird or is haunted by the ghost of an old hobo clown.

'Tis possible that what you thought you'd hate, you'd love. And visa versa.

And, in that vein, also think about your priorities. If, for you, the ambiance and feel of the venue is the most important then maybe it's not the place to compromise, to go from industrial to ballroom without looking back. For us, what is most important is bringing our peeps together. There were plenty of funkier, hipper venues out there but they were so beyond our budget, we would have had to cut our guest list more than we already have (a topic which causes me such daily anxiety, I'm almost always on the verge of barfing) and what's the point of having a sexy, trendy, brick-walled, wood-beamed room if you can't fill it with all the people you love?

LIFE! Full of lessons and surprises. What a world, what a world.

So that's the latest on the old wedding sitcheroo. GOOD TIMES!

Thanks, as always, for reading this nonsense. I promise I'll return to our regularly scheduled programming of food spills and uncomfortable social interactions lickety split.

See ya later!

xoxoxo Liz Ho

One Awkward Wedding: Lemme, Lemme Update You

photo

Hot damn we're good looking.

Ok stop reading literally right now if you don't care about wedding nonsense.

Otherwise, buckle up because I have SO MUCH to tell you!

 It is official:  On August 16, 2014 I will become Ms. Has Yet To Decide If She's Changing Her Last Name (more on that later) aka a married lady! Whoop whoop! And we're planning to pull a full Kardashian and sell rights to our photos to the highest bidder so start making your offers now.

Yay! I'm making weird, dumb jokes, because you know I can't handle genuine emotional conversations, so I'll just go ahead and get it out right here at the top: I'm so excited! In 247 days (but who's counting?), I'm getting hitched! To Brian! My favorite guy. He makes me so happy every single day and I honestly can't contain myself from grinning ear to ear like a damn fool at even the slightest thought of calling him my husband. Squee!

Ok, we're done with that.

So. As is customary in all engagements, the moment that Brian popped the question, the world began to pop the other question which was: when? And also the other, other question, which was: where? And thankfully, no one has yet asked the other, other, other question of "why?" so I think pretty much everyone's on board with our impending union.

Phew.

We quickly stepped to planning because we knew a long engagement just wasn't for us. I know it works for some people, but it's just not our style. Because Brian is a teacher,  he has less flexibility in taking time off from work so we pretty immediately zoned in on August 2014 (between his summer teaching gig and the start of the regular school year) or March 2015, during his long Spring break. I was fine with either but ol' Briguy said he didn't want to wait all the way until 2015 to lock this down.

(One more quick interlude to mention how much I like this dude.)

And thus, we had our sights pretty well set on August 2014.

And the rest, they say, is history!

Just kidding, the rest, they say, is many weeks of researching,venue visiting, budgeting, list making and extreme emotional roller coastering.

I know it is gauche to talk about money but it's also gauche to talk about poop and I've never let that stop me, so a quick note on el dinero. I'll go into budgeting in detail another time (who's excited?!) (no one!) but will say here, just in case anyone didn't realize, weddings are motherflipping expensive. Like, SO EXPENSIVE. I always knew they were pretty pricey but now that I'm actually looking into planning one in great detail do I realize the incredible cost that goes into pulling off a wedding.

And I do understand (deeply) that none of these costs are necessary, but we've decided that it is important to us to celebrate our wedding in the so called "traditional" manner and therefore will incur the costs associated with such an event. Just to give you a sense of what we're working with here I've dubbed the term "Regular Classy" which is to say a mid-sized gathering of friends and family for a non denominational ceremony followed by a meal (with adult beverages) and boogieing down in a festively decorated room. She wears white, he wears a suit, toasts are given, tears are shed, badda bing, badda boom: married.

Despite the many hours I've spent reading wedding blogs and attending actual weddings, I honestly didn't have much of a concept of what it cost to pull this sort of spectacle off and let me just tell you, the results are staggering. Hence the emotional rollercoastering. Every time we find something we like we get super excited (UP!!) and then we see the price tag (DOWN!!) and then we become despondent (WAY DOWN!) and decide we're calling the whole thing off and getting married in city hall (SO FAR DOWN!!) and then we have a heart-to-heart and decide no! We love each other! We want to throw a bomb-ass wedding, we'll figure out the money and make it work! And then we're UP UP UP again, repeat, repeat, repeat.

And we're not talking like, releasing humanely raised turtledoves off a yacht in the south of France while Bruno Mars croons live in the background, oh no. Just REGULAR CLASSY in the middle of Pennsylvania and still we're looking at thousands (yes, like 3 zeros) more greenbacks that I ever dreamed of spending.

Blergh!

So gauche as it may be, I can honestly say that money was a very large factor for us when picking where to do this thing. We toyed with the idea of marrying here in our beloved Brooklyn (Go Nets!) but quickly learned that pulling off a wedding in the New York Regional Area is pretty much impossible if you are on our budget range. One venue I reached out to charges $19,000 just to reserve the space. That does not include chairs, tables, decorations, music, food, liquor or doves of ANY kind. The coordinator did say it might include cocktail tables which, for that kind of moolah, better be made out of solid gold or like, human bones.

NINETEEN THOUSAND DOLLARS! For a room! I will never get over that fact for as long as I shall live. And that's probably not even that expensive in the grand scheme of things! What is this world we live in, you guys? What is this world.

(And HERE is where I put the note that if you personally spent that kind of money on your own wedding totally good for you, do your thang. Also: how are you so rich and can I get in on that? Let me make a blanket statement that henceforth, every snarky thing I say about weddings or the WIC is but crazy broke judgmental lady's opinion, don't let me stop you from getting your nuptial onnn in however you see fit.)

And thus, we zeroed our sights on my ancestral homeland of Lancaster County, Pennsylvania. Armed with a date range and the knowledge that we needed to find a venue that fell somewhere within the tricky Venn Diagram of LOW COST and REGULAR CLASSY, we prepared a list of targets, set up appointments and made the arduous journey back to Good Old Pee-Aye.

And that, my friends, is where I will stop my story today. Return tomorrow to get the skinny on exactly what went diggity down on said wedding venue hunt, because this is already basically an epic novel and I'm just vain enough to think that my wedding planning journeys warrant a cliffhanger.

Until then!

Liz Ho

One Awkward Wedding: It Begins

Ok guys, get out your tulle and glue guns: it has begun.

(image via)

I’ve decided that I’ll write from time to time about wedding planning – to have a record of it, to mock it all, to keep myself sane. This is something I’d really, really like to do: I think it will be a unique and fun challenge for me to honestly and humorously portray the myriad of emotions and decisions that go into planning this special event , to look at “That One Perfect Day” © through the skewered lens of a real life Modern Bride.

Here’s the thing, though, much as I’d love to do this, I haven’t been able to start writing it out because I’m embarrassed. How ridiculous is that? I can’t help myself! Some horrible, mean voice inside me tells me that I’m being cheesy, that nobody cares, that "cool" girls shouldn’t allow themselves to get excited about things as antiquated and commercialized as weddings.

I know what you’re thinking: girrrrl, you cray.

And yet: here we are. I don’t know where it comes from, but I feel like there’s almost a dark flipside to the movements away from the Wedding Industrial Complex: in rebelling against the consumerism and conformity of all things wedding we’re being made cynical. That we’re not supposed to become giddy over flower arrangements and diamonds and card stock (OH the card stock!).  That we should be above it all.

There's a very distinct possibility that I'm just overthinking things (for the first time EVER!) but tell me, do you know what I mean?

I’m worried that everyone will find me insufferable, insipid and boring. (You know, since I'm usually so intellectual and deep!) Here she goes again with the wedding talk! That I’ll become a caricature of some kind of bad Rom Com character or worse, the dreaded BRIDEZILLA. I constantly feel the need to apologize for bringing up our wedding in conversation, even with the closest of friends, because I don’t want to appear to be making too big a deal of it all.

All of this is entirely unfounded.  None of my married friends has ever once gotten on my nerves by talking about their weddings. Like, ever. If anything, it’s usually me bringing up the subject, begging to see photos and talk details. All of my friends have been over the moon excited for us – for our marriage and yes, our wedding – and if anything, blog traffic actually spiked when I talked engagements and diamond rings and yet I let that naggy, judgy voice in my head keep me from being truly enthusiastic.

I need to tell that voice to shut it. Posthaste.

There is nothing cheesy about being excited about your wedding. Are weddings overblown, expensive, outdated rituals? PROBABLY! But so is the Superbowl. And Thanksgiving. And people still get pretty fucking excited about those things. It is entirely possible to recognize that there is a difference between One Special Day and one special day. Wanting a long white dress and centerpieces is not selling out.  It is not anti-feminist. It is not lame.

So I’m going to stop apologizing and start celebrating. And writing! Not always, but now and again, always under the label One Awkward Wedding. And the rest of the time, I’ll focus on more important stuff like poop. And hard boiled eggs. And wine! And if people think I'm being stupid and self absorbed and annoying, well, they can skip those posts. And honestly I probably am being pretty stupid and self absorbed and annoying like, all of the time (incredibly vain, obsessed with Taylor Swift, no personal boundaries...yeah, sounds unappealing) but I think I'm actually OK with that.

Enough navel gazing. Let's do this thing!