que sera, sera...

This photo, taken last night at one of the many Inaugural Balls, pretty much sums up how I feel about blogging at the moment: like it's time to sit it out for a dance or two. Despite your lovely comments in the previous post, I'm not sure yet if I'll return to the blogosphere again at a later date. For now, I bid you adieu... My accordion and I need a little breather.


Photo source: Chicago Tribune photo by Nancy Stone (January 19, 2009) of Alex Smith from the Strolling Strings resting before the band starts playing again at The Illinois Gala.

musing

So I'm feeling a bit ambivalent about this blog lately (in case you couldn't already tell). When it started off and I began receiving comments from literally across the globe, it was a lot of fun. In the blogosphere, however, commenting is a two-way street. In order to receive, you must give. Sadly, I rarely find the time to visit my favorite blogs and comment, thereby inviting others to visit me. The result is circular: no one comments on my blog, and consequently I lose the motivation to continue posting. Frankly, I just like attention. Without it, I'm not terribly inspired to make the time this blog requires.

I'm beginning to realize this was a lovely experiment, but maybe not my piece de resistance. I'd hoped for a forum to display some of my photos as I learn the art of photography. But time and other limitations have severely hampered my picture-taking of late, and I've failed to post much material. I hesitate to post too many details about my wedding, as I want most of it to be a surprise to our guests. And if You're not going to share details about Your wedding, what's the point of a wedding blog?

With that said, I invite your thoughts [...that would be novel on this blog of late!...] Is this little lovely even worth the web space it takes up?

Photo source: My own - taken of seaweed on Singing Beach in Manchester.

zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

I've had the darndest time falling asleep - and staying asleep - the past two nights.

Today is 102 days from Our Wedding Day, 8 days from our closing day on our new home, and 11 days from our moving day and our couples' shower with friends here in Chicago.

In 25 days I have my first dress fitting. I'm supposed to be svelte by then...

In 30 days we leave for Mexico to celebrate our dear friends' destination wedding. Before we go, I have six depositions to cover. Immediately after we return, I have two more.

In 40 days, The Fiancé and I will be in Boston for our nephew's ("The Godchild's") christening. Five days later, Bailee has surgery scheduled for a minor [but terribly disgusting] growth on her back that needs to be removed and biopsied. And her breath stinks, so she's getting her teeth cleaned too.

In 52 days, we head to Indianapolis for our food-tasting for the wedding reception and plan to stop by City Hall to get our marriage license. The next day, my sister will throw a luncheon shower for my Indy girlfriends and I'll hopefully do a trial run of my hair and make-up [if I find a hair-stylist by then...] Some time that weekend, we need to chat with our priest about the ceremony...

In 59 days, my dear girlfriends will descend on Chicago for a fun-filled bachelorette weekend... Seven days later, I head to Indianapolis for my friend Abbie's bachelorette (her wedding takes place 3 weeks after ours!). Six days after that, The Fiancé and I head back to Boston with my parents, sister, and brother-in-law for the full-family-meeting and our final wedding shower. Somewhere in there, I go to trial for my asylum client... no small task, and decidedly more weighty than any of the events above. I sometimes can't sleep at all thinking of that case.

And in 104 days, The Fiancé and I will climb onto a plane bound for Belize. We will be married. And I maybe, just maybe, will finally fall asleep absent visions of count-downs and to-do lists that have plagued my sleep the past two nights. Maybe. Just maybe.

mea culpa

I know. I know. I have been a terribly delinquent blogger lately. This thing called life keeps getting in the way of my hobbies.

Anywho, know that I'm still here, albeit less frequently. Inspiration is hard to come by when it's a whopping 7 degrees outside and Spring (and our wedding) seem like they are incomprehensibly far away. Today, the inside of my nose actually crystallized as I was walking to the train to come to work. Now, if that doesn't scream "CHICAGO IN WINTER" I'm not sure what does. I truly think the deep freeze is passing through to my brain and sapping all creativity.

As soon as I thaw out [soon] I will resume regular posting. This could be in a couple hours, could be a few days. Who knows. Like sunshine in December in Chicago, you never know when (and if) it's gonna appear.

if only I invested in Geico

Today's chuckle:

"Beware of geeks bearing formulas."
- Warren Buffett

I'm in a two-day legal seminar on financial accounting for dummies [I mean lawyers]. Apropo of current times, no? [Ironic, considering I registered for this seminar in June... I wish I was so insightful with all of the investments I made in June...]

Our lecturer shared this quote earlier today. Maybe I'm giving away my latent nerdiness, but I think it's hysterical. Especially if you read the New York Times.

a priest drives by a CVS...

"There's the CVS I go to. They have this delightful little Minute Clinic - you can see a nurse practitioner without an appointment. Very convenient," says Fr. Noah, our priest, as we drive by the CVS near his home after taking him out to dinner this past Saturday night.

"Yes, well, it's both good and bad," says The Fiancé. "The Minute Clinic is also where the thief who stole Bailee's Bride's wallet charged up about $200 in drugs."

"Oh, how horrible!" exclaims Fr. Noah.

Conversation about the mediocrity of thieves ensues.

"You know though, the Minute Clinic is very convenient," Fr. Noah reiterates some time later. "I called my doctor - he's an internist, lovely fellow, very bright, professor at I.U. - in January and asked for an appointment? He couldn't fit me in till March!"

We all agree with the difficulties in obtaining physician's appointments. I think to myself, wow - the doctor turned away his priest? Note to self: don't do that when priest calls for legal help.

"See, the Minute Clinic, you can walk right in. Get your prescription filled and everything." This man clearly loves this place. "When my doctor told me I'd have to wait three months to get an appointment with him, I told him, 'Thank goodness us priests don't require appointments for last rites. Wouldn't that be unfortunate.'" Deadpan.

Did I mention I love this man and can't wait to hear his homily at our wedding?!

Priest: 1 point.
Doctor: zero.

gobble gobble

In honor of Thanksgiving, I'd thought I'd share this gorgeous wedding board designed by Tastefully Entertaining. If The Fiancé wasn't convinced Fall was the season of death, I very well could be getting married this month [seven months is enough time to plan a wedding, no?]. But what am I thankful for? The ability to pig out instead! [Okay, and a few other things...]

Have a happy, healthy and restful holiday, everyone - see you on the other side.

musings

Last night when he arrived home, one of the first things out of The Fiancé's mouth was "So what's this deal with Jennifer Aniston saying something about Angelina Jolie?"

With the exception of our mutual love of The Hills, it's safe to say I am the celebrity gossip whore, whereas The Fiancé, by contrast, would rather spend his time studying the macroeconomics of developing nations.

Thus, upon his inquiry (literally five minutes after opening the door!), two things were reinforced in my heart: (1) I love him; and (2) The fact that this tidbit of celebrity gossip has penetrated his pop-culture awareness means this. is. really. big. news.

And, upon further reflection (I had a long ride on the train this morning...), I've concluded that it should be. I, for one, entirely agree with Ms. Aniston. The poor dear had her man stolen right out from under her, and if that weren't enough, she has to see him parade his brood of children around the world with his new love on every magazine, and, has to read about how he fell in love...with someone else... while he was still married to her! ["Uncool" is not the first word that comes to my mind...]

I recall reading (years ago...) that Brad and Jen (when they were married) said something about not believing that any relationship is meant to last forever. In their [humble, yet studied] opinion, one should just enjoy the moment, for time and love and sentiments can change. They didn't know if they'd be together forever. But they figured they were meant for each other at that particular time in their lives.

Hmm.

I've been around long enough to know that everyone does, and everyone should, have differing opinions on romantic love. Nonetheless, I can say that I am thankful for two things: One, that I have found someone who is as scandalized by this very public conversation between Jen and Angie as I am, largely because of his (and thus, our) opinions on love; and

Two, and more importantly, that I have found someone that shares my belief that there is such a thing as a soul mate. And when you find them, you promise to each other to not only love one another for the particular time period, but interminably into the future.

what's that They say about hindsight...

The Fiancé came home tonight and asked me if I felt "used" in light of the most recent post...

And I realized...

...AHH! The horror!!! I do!

Ouch. Can I delete it?!

Too late.

Let's just hope some new visitors stop by because of it! Ahh, the incestuous world of blogging and the things we do to be a part of it. I suppose deleting it would defy some code that I don't know about.

Anyway.

Back to our regularly scheduled programming...

Tomorrow night: We return to the scene...Pre Cana meeting, part deux! Stay tuned!

remember why today is a big deal

" Democracy is…the conviction that there are extraordinary possibilities in ordinary people. "

— Harry Emerson Fosdick

it's all begins in Ireland

I bet You didn't know Halloween originated in Ireland, did You? If You did, Bravo You! If not, I consider it my duty as an Irish bride to impart knowledge upon You, so settle in and read the story, and consider Yourself edumacated for the day:

Halloween's origins date back to the ancient Celtic festival of Samhain (pronounced sow-in).

The Celts, who lived 2,000 years ago in the area that is now Ireland, the United Kingdom, and northern France, celebrated their new year on November 1. This day marked the end of summer and the harvest and the beginning of the dark, cold winter, a time of year that was often associated with human death [The Fiancé couldn't agree more!]. Celts believed that on the night before the new year, the boundary between the worlds of the living and the dead became blurred. On the night of October 31, they celebrated Samhain, when it was believed that the ghosts of the dead returned to earth. In addition to causing trouble and damaging crops, Celts thought that the presence of the otherworldly spirits made it easier for the Druids, or Celtic priests, to make predictions about the future. For a people entirely dependent on the volatile natural world, these prophecies were an important source of comfort and direction during the long, dark winter.

To commemorate the event, Druids built huge sacred bonfires, where the people gathered to burn crops and animals as sacrifices to the Celtic deities.

During the celebration, the Celts wore costumes, typically consisting of animal heads and skins [this makes my Miss Muffett costume seem even more inappropriate...hmmm], and attempted to tell each other's fortunes. When the celebration was over, they re-lit their hearth fires, which they had extinguished earlier that evening, from the sacred bonfire to help protect them during the coming winter.

By the 800s, the influence of Christianity had spread into Celtic lands. In the seventh century, Pope Boniface IV designated November 1 All Saints' Day, a time to honor saints and martyrs. It is widely believed today that the pope was attempting to replace the Celtic festival of the dead with a related, but church-sanctioned holiday. The celebration was also called All-hallows or All-hallowmas (from Middle English Alholowmesse meaning All Saints' Day) and the night before it, the night of Samhain, began to be called All-hallows Eve and, eventually, Halloween. Even later, in A.D. 1000, the church would make November 2 All Souls' Day, a day to honor the dead. It was celebrated similarly to Samhain, with big bonfires, parades, and dressing up in costumes as saints, angels, and devils. Together, the three celebrations, the eve of All Saints', All Saints', and All Souls', were called Hallowmas.

text source: history.com

photo source: Boo-keh

hump day

Ever had one of those weeks that you would pay a million dollars just for it to be over? Yeah, um, me neither. Alas, it's only Wednesday morning... we're still inching our way over the hump.

I pray we'll be sliding toward Friday soon...

photo source: Cordan

serenity now

In stark contrast to yesterday's post [I never said I wasn't a whole host of contradictions], today I stumbled across a delightful little blog examining the ways in which we can simplify our life and our style.

I adore the author's perspective (and her photos), especially her most recent post, wherein she highlights the upside [yes, there is one!] to the current home crisis:

"Hard times make houses into homes. I’m hoping we’ll see less of city banker style: perfectly good houses extended and interior designed to death and then sold on to make big fat profits. Bring on the recession. Houses are reverting from assets to homes: they have skips outside because owners are staying put instead of making a fast buck and moving on."

I can't wait to create a home with The Fiancé, rather than just simply buy a house, though I confess that in the beginning of the process, the line between the two is frighteningly thin and hard to draw...

nerd

So, I'll be the first to admit I am no computer geek. I leave that crown to The Fiancé to wear in this little family.

But.

As my love of photography has grown, so too has my annoyance with my PC. Ok, not annoyance. Out. Right. Animosity. It tortures me on a daily basis with it's creepingly slow processing. I try not to smash my fist through the screen every time Adobe Lightroom locks up (which is roughly ONE TIME PER PICTURE that I'm processing). *Sigh* I hate it. I do.

But it's a perfectly good computer. For some things. Like gathering dust. I feel ashamed and guilty to be coveting a new computer as the economy spirals downward and I'm looking face-first into a year of mounting expenses.

However, covet the new Apple MacBook Pro I do. Gawd, I can just picture the speed and grace with which it would surf the Net... develop my pictures... make me happy. I. Want. One. So. Bad. It. Hurts.

fall

Red leaves/ 香山红叶
Originally uploaded by Luo Shaoyang

...The Fiancé calls Fall "the season of death." Yes. Well. It's not for everyone, I guess.

I, on the other hand, *used to* like Fall.

A couple of things have changed my love of Fall: (1) I moved to Chicago, where Fall is just a precursor to Winter. Which is painfully cold, windy and decidedly unfun. (2) I suffer (seriously) from a decreased love of shopping. The latter, I believe, is directly related to the fact that it's now my own money that must be used to purchase new 'school clothes', as opposed to, oh, say, Mom & Dad's. Given that my affection for the season was largely related to the new clothes purchased in anticipation of falling temps, and the fact that I have zero new clothes this year (ok, well, two shirts and one sweater. Oh, and a pair of shoes... but they don't count...), equals Fall stinks.

Now it's just cold. And I have to wear the same stuff from last year. And, like The Fiancé says, everything is dying. I was reminded of this on our drive down to Indy this weekend, which, granted, was beautiful, but also an unavoidable annoucement that soon the trees would be bare. And frankly, it just made me feel cold. And unstylish.

*long pause followed by deep sigh*

Maybe I will suffer through and go do a little shopping after all. I mean, the economy needs my helpful stimulus, right? I'm doing it for the country.

40 years

This weekend The Fiancé and I are heading to my hometown to celebrate my parents' 40th wedding anniversary. I've always felt ridiculously lucky and blessed to have parents who have not only stayed together, but who also seem to really like each other, even after 40 years (or 47, as my mother would correct me, as how can I forget the years of dating through high school and college?!).

Mums (gold) were their flower. By all accounts, the weather that day was gorgeous. My uncle walked my mother down the aisle, because her father had passed away earlier that same year. Their reception was at the American Legion Hall. It was held in the afternoon, with a buffet, no dance. They had a fancy white wedding cake decorated with green and gold, and a chocolate groom's cake. The bridesmaids wore green. Afterwards, my grandmother re-opened my grandfather's bar for evening revelers. According to my mother, they refrained from telling anyone where they were living after the wedding, lest the bed in their new apartment be short-sheeted. They hid their car a town away to avoid it being decorated with beer cans and crepe paper. My father sported black-rimmed glasses and slicked back hair. My mother, a bouffant. He was 23. She, 21.

I love the fact that I will marry my husband 40 years and 6 months after my own parents were wed. I don't know what our flower will be yet, but in April, it won't be mums. The reception will be in a grand, old, gold ballroom in one of the oldest hotels in Indiana. I can't wait for everyone to dance. Even before I heard the details of my parents' wedding [my mothers always been stogy with the pictures], I'd chosen the color green. I want a white cake. And a chocolate (Guinness shaped...?) grooms cake. We're staying in a different, undisclosed, location the night of our wedding to avoid party crashers [who knew we'd be copying my parents in this decision as well!]. My father will probably wear contacts when he walks me down the aisle. And The Fiancé and I will be a ripe *young* age of 31 and 30, respectively.

There is a symbolism and awesomeness that warms my Irish superstitions in being married 40 years after my parents. I wonder when our own children will marry, and where we'll be 40 years from now? As tumultuous as the times we're in right now may seem, how will this year be viewed through the lens of hindsight? Consider the lens through which we can now view the year my parents were married:

On January 14, the Green Bay Packers won Super Bowl II. [Go Pack!]

The Vietnam War was in full force. In fact, on February 13, civil rights disturbances occurred at the University of Wisconsin-Madison, miles from where my parents lived.

On March 16, U.S. Senator Robert F. Kennedy (D-NY) entered the race for the Democratic Party presidential nomination. Three months later, on June 5, he was shot. He died from his injuries the next day.

On April 4, Martin Luther King, Jr. was shot dead. Riots erupted in major American cities for several days afterward.

On April 11, U.S. President Lyndon B. Johnson signs the Civil Rights Act of 1968. [Look how far we've come!]

Amazingly, on July 17, Saddam Hussein became Vice Chairman of the Revolutionary Council in Iraq, after a coup d'état. [His star would rise and reign until December 13, 2003, when he is finally captured by U.S. forces.

On July 25 [my birthday, incidentally], Pope Paul VI published the encyclical entitled Humanae Vitae, condemning birth control. Many American Catholics defy it [then and now...].

On September 7, 150 women protested against the Miss America Pageant, as exploitative of women. It is one of the first large demonstrations of Second Wave Feminism. [Today, we have a former pageant queen running for Vice President.]

On October 12 (the very day my parents were married!), the Games of the XIX Olympiad begin in Mexico City, Mexico. [Forty years later, we celebrated the Olympics in China.]

On November 5, Republican challenger Richard M. Nixon defeats Vice President Hubert Humphrey and American Independent Party candidate George C. Wallace in the U.S. presidential election. [In less than one month, we again have an opportunity to elect our next President.]

In retrospect, it's amazing to me so many things happened in one year. I simply think of 1968 as the year my parents married each other and began what today is my family. So, this weekend we celebrate. Not just a wedding. But 40 years of life together. And for all the fun I poke at the wedding process, I wouldn't have it any other way. Because there are certain events from 1968 that I will gladly emulate. A marriage that spans over 40 years is one of them.

hooray for the nineteenth amendment

Just a reminder that there was a time, not so long ago, where some of Us didn't enjoy the right to vote. Lucky for Us, times have changed. All that is moot, however, if you neglect to register. [In that case, you might as well live in Brunei.]

Please note: in some states, the deadline for registering to vote is soon. As in, the next couple of days. If you don't register, you can't vote.

There are plenty of ways to register online, and look! You're already online!

Learn about your state HERE.

Register HERE or HERE.

make money money money

Given the current state of the economy, maybe we [read: I] should all carry around a little wallet like this one by Trees with Knees...

[The Fiancé will be tickled pink by this post, considering just last night I vainly tried to articulate the reason why we need to go shopping at Nordstroms this weekend during their triple-bonus-points sale (If you have their card, you know what I'm talking about...). Problem: I couldn't come up with one single bloody thing I need to shop for. It was a sad, sad day, my friends.]

it's not my fault

Apparently Forbes magazine has listed my current residence as the most stressful city in the country.

At least now I'll have a response when, in the ensuing months leading up to our blissful wedding date, The Fiancé [or anyone else for that matter] insists that I must relax, that I'm too stressed out.

I can just tell them it's not me [because I am perfect, you see. All things in moderation when it comes to stress levels, et cetera, et cetera... Stop laughing, Dear.]; it's just that I live here:

monogamy is a fickle thing

Today, the New York Times poses a new "remedy"... A Commitment Pill?

I, for one, am not sure I'd want the type partner who only stuck around if they remembered to take their pill. Correction: I am confident I would not.