bring it

Break Dancer
Originally uploaded by zunehmen

...on! Another tidbit from this past weekend... There was a brief display of attempted break-dancing by a few aspiring female breakers... which caused The Fiancé and I no small amount of *joy* as we both simultaneously had the same thought:

We have a friend who has recently taken up break-dancing.

Said friend has been known to read this blog.

The gauntlet is hereby thrown.

We can't wait to see You - and You know who You are - break it down at Our Wedding. You hereby have 6 1/2 months to prepare. We. Can't. Wait.

xoxo
Us.

all in the name of love

This past weekend The Fiancé and I attended a wedding. This is not a momentous occasion. I mean, it's not like it was our wedding or something (read: momentous). Yet, since becoming engaged, weddings have taken on a whole new life. It used to be: You went (late), You prayed (if you weren't hung over), You drank (regardless), You danced (like a diva), You went home (tipsy). Now it goes something more like this:

You go (on time);
You scour the wedding program (hmmm...nice font; I like that song...);
You listen to the music and decide if You could incorporate any of the following:
(a) the singer (is she Catholic?),
(b) the song (can we do secular music...?), or maybe
(c) the instrument (I like strings...);
You listen to the readings and decide if You like them (I mean, seriously, did You ever care before?);
You critique the sermon (funny guy! Can we get him?);
You attend reception and do all of the following:
(a) look at the flowers,
(b) think about the food (steak, Yum!... wonder if Dad will pop for steak...),
(c) note the size of the guest list (holy cow this is a massive party... her poor dad...),
(d) think about ideas You might steal (that, this, ooo, and maybe thaaaat....),
(e) try to remember songs the band plays that everyone actually dances to (Living on a Prayer),
(f) note what the alcohol is instead of just blindly consume it (wow, open bar...I like, I like...),
and finally,
You go home,
EXHAUSTED ... as if you have just been married yourself.

Oh, and I forgot one thing about that whole "looking at the flowers at the reception..." You don't exactly just look at them... You kinda maybe sorta ask The Fiancé to take pictures of the centerpieces because You both agree they're simple but well-done, just the vibe You're going for. I repeat, You ask The Fiancé to take pictures of the centerpieces. And, amazing man that he is, he does it. At a wedding where You are a guest. The same Fiancé who previously toted a semi-automatic rifle around Iraq and Afghanistan when he served in the Army, yep, that same one... is now taking pictures of centerpieces. *sigh* You feel wholly responsible for your joint-sudden-decline-into-photographic-nonsense the next day as You scroll through your pictures of the night and realize You have equal pics people and flora...

But, the centerpieces are quite nice, no...?

r.i.p. damask

I'm not sure when, but at some point in this design adventure we're calling My Wedding, I stumbled across a print known as "damask". Now, if you've never heard of damask, you're not alone (neither had I two months ago...). If you have heard of it, you're probably (1) engaged; (2) married; (3) a wedding planner; or (4) been sucked into the abyss of a "Whose Wedding is it Anyway?" marathon. Anyway, that black-and-white swirly print in the photo above is what the billion dollar wedding industry calls damask.

Fairly soon after stumbling across this product of Damascus (seriously, it is - I looked it up), I decided that it totally worked with my black-white-and-green color scheme, and therefore, I had to have it. My Wedding Planner furiously began finding all-things-damask (frames, linens, small children wrapped in fabric, etc.) Merrily we went on our way, creating the vision of My Wedding with what-I-envisioned-to-be classy little damask accents to and fro.

Till last night anyway. When The Fiancé came home to a dining room table littered with Save the Date ideas - only one of which was damask. Guess which one he said, "Absolutely no" to? Mmm hmm. The damask one (oh, and the damask fabric swatch and the damask picture frame My Wedding Planner had sent along as inspiration...). And the funny thing? I actually felt relieved. After all the photos and ideas of beautiful damask things, I realized that I had been trying really hard to love damask. I had. But, well, it's damask. And if you know me... I. am. not. damask.

When I called my mother this morning to discuss Save the Dates (seriously, some mornings I wonder what happened to my formerly illustrious life), she seemed quite pleased with the summary elimination of all-things-damask. Apparently she was not a fan either. Here I had been, floating on my little damask-covered-island, with no one to tell me I didn't quite fit in. Thank heavens The Fiancé has no self-censor. His "absolutely no" burst from his mouth before the thought "maybe she really likes it" even crossed his mind. Thanks, Honey.

So, today, we bow our heads and take a moment to remember My Wedding that never was: the damask one. R.I.P. Damask.

subtlety is my specialty

I wonder if a certain sister [read: mine] and brother-in-law would permit The Fiancé and I to depart the reception in their cute little Porsche convertible with a cute little sign tacked on...? Sorta like this one, maybe [inserting certain black Boxster in place of white vintage model] ... Just an idea ... in case they're reading this blog ...