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.

bear market or bear blanket?

The Fiancé and I are shopping for a home together right now. We can't decide whether to buy or rent. The irony is how difficult this decision - whether to buy, what to buy, where to buy - has become, when viewed in contrast to the decision to marry each other. The Fiancé actually gets the credit for pointing this out. According to him, "I guess I should feel good that I'm way more torn about whether to buy than whether we should get married."

Ummm.... YEAH... Anyway.

I, for one, am not that perplexed about the real estate decision [I mean, I am, but at the end of the day we'll live with whatever choice we make]. More critical to me, is the decorating decisions that shall follow.

You see, The Fiancé and I don't technically live together yet. We each have a fully furnished apartment. Which means that in no small amount of time, we have to blend. Not just lives, but furniture. And, more frightening to me: We have to agree on a design aesthetic. [What? This doesn't keep You up at night?!] Maybe some people don't worry about this. They. Are not me.

Because, Dear Readers, let's look at the evidence... During the recent election, The Fiancé proclaimed that this was the coolest couch ever:

As if that's not enough, it's important for You to understand one thing about our differing personalities: I, like to update, redecorate, buy new. Often.

The Fiancé? Likes to keep things forever. So, while I may buy a lovely couch and tire of it in 5-7 years, The Fiancé and his beloved taxidermy?! Yeah, we might have that forever. See why I lay awake at night?

to be or not to be?

So I bought this dress recently from BCBG, thinking it was a rehearsal dinner contender... And it arrived... and it's cute... but it is not right for the rehearsal. First of all, it's yellow. And yes, I knew this when I bought it. But I thought, "oh maybe..." But my colors are green and black. Not yellow. And I don't think I want to be yellow at my rehearsal dinner afterall, regardless of the prettiness of the frock. But I still think I like the dress. Not love. Like. And in this economy, should I keep a dress I like, not love, for an unknown event? It might be good for the wedding of a friend in the Spring. But it's a silk/wool blend, so it needs to be a brisk day when I wear it, lest I itch my stomach off.

Thus, I need your votes - to keep, or not to keep... that is the question... And if "to keep," then for what, pray tell?

(front)
(back)

Vote in the comments section...

WEEEEEEEEEEE!

I want a wii Fit. 'Nough said. This is me hoola-hooping to my heart's content if I get one:
WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!

dear so-and-so

Amy Jean over at The Relentless Bride provided one of the most helpful posts (I think) here and I'm reposting, because (1) I'm a lazy blogger today... [which translates to a busy attorney]; and (2) this way I selfishly can store this information for myself for later use... Hope other brides find it as helpful as I do! Thanks TRB!

morning delight

I heart Etsy.

I can no longer recall when I stumbled across this site-better-known-as-bliss, but it had to be some time during this Wedding Saga. A variety of blogs cite to Etsy as a source of all things unique, handmade, beautiful. My real obsession over Etzy stems from the fact that it far exceeds wedding-related items. There are a ton of interesting new clothing designers. Today, the featured seller - larimeloom - is re-donk-u-lous. Her stuff is striking its its creativity. Check her out. But don't buy up everything - leave a few peices for me...

*gasp* this last piece... wow. I want.

busted

There's a little shoe shine/shoe repair shop right by the train stop I disembark from every morning. I've walked by it almost every weekday for almost two years. Today, I actually went inside for the first time. My mission: to see if they could repair a beloved pair of boots whose zipper has lost their way.

This, my friends, is momentous. See, in years of old, I would have simply discarded the boots and bought new ones. It was hard to justify in this instance, however, because the boots are relatively unscathed, save the errant zipper. And I really like them. I am trying to be more "green." You know: reuse, recycle, some-other-"r"-I-can't-remember...? So I figured why discard when I can repair?

There was this darling little man behind the counter, who treated my patent leather stiletto boot as if it was an objet d'art [...I sort of agree...] He picked it up so gently, turned it around, thumbed over the zipper, nodded appraisingly... And declared it would be no problem to fix before Thanksgiving [What, you don't wear stilettos to Turkey Dinner?]

I smiled appreciatively, my heart filled with warmth at the ease of this transaction and the vision of my soon-to-be-just-like-new-boot.

Till he said, "Thirty dollars."

Wh-what?! He was joking, right? Thirty bucks for a new zipper?! Mother effer.

For thirty dollars, I could do some damage at DSW! For thirty dollars, I could make a whole new boot myself.

Oy.

Too bad I like those boots... I honestly stood there for a moment. Paralyzed. Looking at my reflection in the beautiful patent leather...

"O-kay..." I said tentatively. It's just $30, right?

Next time, however, I'm just gonna discard, demand new, and say damn it. That's my three letter resolution. I never was very "green" anyway.

snip snip tuck

Yesterday was one of my bosses' birthdays. [I work in a law firm, as an associate. Thus, I have a lot of bosses]. In celebration of his birth, his assistant provided a feast of calories [otherwise known as cookies and brownies and snack mix and candy and fruity bread oh my]. Aside from the one mini-pack of Sweet Tarts I snagged, I managed to walk by this caloric spread 20,000 times yesterday without deviation [his office is near mine; his assistant's spread was placed just steps from my door...] and I. was. so. proud. of. myself.

Then. Today, I come to work, only to discover she has placed the leftovers back out again. As if having to walk by temptation for 10 straight hours yesterday wasn't enough?! Who does she think I am? Gandhi!?! Oy. I can hardly stand to get a glass of water today and risk walking by the sweets and salt and yumminess... I swear those day-old brownies ARE TALKING TO ME. Temptation is a cruel cruel guest.

On a related note, last night I asked The Fiancé if I could have plastic surgery...someday. Just a tummy tuck; we're not talking facial reconstruction here. The thought occurred [not for the first time] when I was in the locker room at my gym, having just completed my obligatory strength routine, followed by a 4.5 mile run [go me!]. I caught sight of myself in the mirror as I attempted to regain normal-coloring in my face [in other words, I prayed the bright red face would diminish so I wouldn't look like I was about to have a heart attack...] Despite the punishment I'd just inflicted on my body and the countless calories I'd surely burned, my stomach refused to accurately reflect what I think it should look like. Yet, a thought occurred to me: this is the best it's gonna get. I'm at my lowest body-fat-percentage since my college soccer-playing days... I am shirking evil-brownies-who-are-calling-my-name... and still there is that stomach staring back at me, mocking the crunches I inflict upon it. Clearly age and children are not going to make this situation better... Thus, my inquiry to The Fiancé: tummy tuck maybe?!

Being the astute man he is, he conceded the decision is mine. Then outlined the reasons for my absurdity and even managed to inflict a good dose of Catholic guilt ("Why would you risk something so unnecessary?")

Did I mention I'm an attorney? I remind You of this as an explanation for how and why I was able to quickly digest and discard his arguments. Until he stumbled across something I hadn't considered: I am more obsessed with my physique lately simply because of the amount of time I'm spending focused on it in my quest to obtain 30-year-old perfection. When, by contrast, I've spent my time in less healthful endeavors (sitting on couch, eating cookies, etc...) as a matter of course, I've hardly cared what my stomach looks like. (And, bless his little heart, he claimed he loves both versions of me- the slob and the obsessor).

Which begs the question: maybe I just shouldn't work out at all. Then I'd be satisfied... maybe even happy... with the mirror's imperfect reflection...

Now about those brownies...

ugh!

I used to think they were hideous and could not understand why anyone would trouble to wear them. Then, in a fit of conformity, I tried a pair on. And suddenly, I got it. It had nothing to do with their inelegance. The fact of the matter was, they were the bloodiest damn things I'd ever put on my feet. And thus, my love affair with Uggs began.

I've even gone so far as to buy my mother a pair.

And while I've only bought three pairs for myself, I can't help but dream of a new pair each year, when the temperature dips below thirty [read: right now], and snow flurries flitter through the sky [read: during my walk home last night].

I can count on one hand the number of things I like about Chicago in the winter. One of them, however, is the ability...dare I say, the necessity ... that one wear Uggs. And though I bought a pair last March [end of year sale, my friends], I can't help but want to run out and buy a new pair this weekend... I mean, us Chicagoans should get something for our wind-burned troubles, no?

Besides, the Uggs of today are a far cry from the Uggs of old.... Today's Uggs are actually cute. That picture? Can You believe it... Is the latest pair of Uggs. UGH!

Boot credit: The Raya by Ugg. Mmmm....

love is patient, love is kind

Before seeing this picture, I'd never heard of the Wayfarer’s Chapel, which sits on the cliffs above the ocean in Los Angeles. The engraved stairs leading up to the alter are breathtaking... if You're in to that sort of thing [which I am].

I love places of worship that introduce unique and novel ways to inspire. This particular photo, in this particular setting, both subtly and impactfully remind me what love and faith, and a wedding (at least our wedding), are really all about.

Source: Photography by Lisa + James

It is difficult to plan a wedding that avoids all the usual clichés and stereotypes. I was speaking with my friends this weekend about whether or not to use First Corinthians, Chapter 13, as one of our readings... I love the reading, but feel as though its message has lost its novelty by overuse in every wedding I've attended the past ten years. Maybe that's just me.

This picture reminds me that there is a beauty in reinvention of what we know and are used to. The challenge is figuring how to incorporate familiar elements into a wedding ceremony in a way that manges to be familiar, but avoids being a cliché... Though, I don't suppose our church will permit engraving "Love is patient..." into its 137-year-old alter, huh?