Archive for the ‘The Wedding’ Category

Mr. and Mrs.

(wait for it)

Dr. Awesome.

Yes, this is both a declaration of our marriage (which so far, wedding included is absolutely incredible and more details will be forthcoming eventually) and a declaration of a winner of the naming contest. However, the commenter was anonymous, so I’ll need y’all to be honest and I’ll need the original submitter to shoot me an email. And just fyi to that anonymous poster, 4 of the 5 names he was choosing between were your 4. Slappy came in at a very very close second.

So anyways, we’re off to Maui tomorrow. I’ll probably jump on with pictures and nonsense some, but mostly, I’m just going to go enjoy my honeymoon.

Ha, our marriage license has my name spelled incorrectly. How we didn’t notice it until this morning is somewhat, well, no it’s not surprising, it’s just really freaking funny.

ha.

haha.

hahahahahaha.

Off to get married (or at least someone named Kathnyn is….)

I’ve almost deleted the title like 3 times because I feel like I’m jinxing the hell out of myself.

I was going to blog about the drama that went on in my family today (involving boyfriends and breakups over phones and fights in hotel lobbies), but I decided to skip right over the funny and go right to the mushy. I’m getting married in like 18 hours, it’s my party and I’ll try to make you cry if I want to.

I don’t get to make a toast at my own wedding (well, I could, but since my grandfather got ahold of the mic at my sister’s wedding and tried to sell of his remaining grandchildren it is a very closed mic reception), but there are some things I’d like to say so I thought this might be a good place to do it.

Before I met TF, my life was not on a set course. I had no direction, I had no passion for really anything. I was lonely and I was cynical. Next Saturday night will be 4 years since we met and I can’t help but think that someone somewhere had a hand in this.

I took a job at the last minute on the recommendation of a college friend and instead of just a summer job, I found my soul mate. I found a person that completes me better than I ever imagined possible. I found someone who I’ve given my whole heart to and have never looked back. I found someone who allows me to be my best, and still loves me when I’m my worst. I found a future, I found a home and I found my path in life.

I don’t know what tomorrow will bring (okay, I know what tomorrow literally will bring, I’m speaking figuratively here), but I know that I have a person by my side who I want to spend the rest of my life with and whom I can’t imagine spending another day without. I have a love that before TF I didn’t believe existed and I’m constantly amazed at how it continues to grow each day.

I am not scared, or anxious about getting married tomorrow because nothing feels more right than this. I can’t wait to begin this next chapter in my life because I know that my best friend will be there with me, each step along the way. He is my true north, my past and my future.

And I know everything won’t go perfectly tomorrow, but if at the end of the day we’re officially married, then there’s really just no way that I can’t imagine a day better than that.

Thank you all for coming along for the ride and don’t expect a blog tomorrow night. I suspect I’ll be busy.

So things have calmed down some. First, I should clarify, we’re not getting married until Sunday, so I’ve got a whole more day of alternating relaxing and freaking out before the wedding.

The rehearsal was the textbook definition of insanity. The MIL threw a small fit because she was standing on the opposite side as she had been standing on during her daughter’s wedding and somehow no one ever thought to mention that then her daughter was the bride, where as this time, her son is the groom. There are a lot of educated people in my family and no one thought of this. Frightening. But also, just trying to coordinate 20 people at once was pure chaos. Not to mention that in true family style, most of my family already had drinks in their hands.

And then there was leaving behind the gifts for the flower girl and ring bearer, also known as the only two people who absolutely HAD to have gifts last night because they are 6 or under and you do not promise presents and not deliver. So we had to drive to TF’s sister’s house, where the nanny was home, but wouldn’t answer the door, so I had to open one of the windows and crawl in to get the gifts. It was awesome. We were an hour late to our own rehearsal dinner.

The dinner itself ended up being really nice. Super nice restaurant, our photographer came (long story, but he was great) and I only almost killed my future MIL five or six times. We had a truly great time and I think pretty much everyone enjoyed themselves.

Today, my older sister, my youngest sister, my future sister-in-law, and three of my good friends and I went to Disneyland. I wore mickey ears with a veil (bought for me) all day, we met up with some family at lunch and just had a damned good time. One of the things that Chiari robbed from me was the right to ride roller coasters. It’s just not a good idea to let your head bang on things when your brain is under a lot of pressure. Since the surgery, I have been cleared to ride them as tolerated and though I was hesitant, the very first ride of the day was Space Mountain. Admittedly, it jostled my neck a lot, in fact, it was enough that I didn’t go near the Rocky Mountain Railroad or Matterhorn because I knew where my limit was, but it was still great. We had a really nice dinner and drinks at the Rainforest Cafe and fun lingerie gifts to boot. Really, just the nicest day I could’ve imagined. I know some of you are probably thinking that that is a lame bachelorette party, but it was exactly what I wanted. I drank myself into oblivion in college, I have sowed those wild oats, so just being with friends, having a care-free, hassle-free, errand-free day was exactly what I wanted and what I got. It was the picture of awesome.

The Fiance on the other hand, was driven to Vegas for the night. They got a late start and had a small car SNAFU when the car wouldn’t start, which they thought was because of the starter, but ended up being because there was a silent alarm on the car and when it goes off, the car doesn’t start. It took them a while to figure this out (that’s the obvious downside of a silent alarm) and then they were on the road again. He’s been there for about 7 hours now and I’m not going to lie, I’m scared for him. Hopefully he’ll be returning to his Hooter’s hotel room sometime soon to stop drinking and get some rest, but I know that that’s unlikely. I also know that I’ll be infinitely less stressed out when he’s safely back in Los Angeles tomorrow. But be proud of me because I haven’t called him once since he got there and you have no idea how much restraint that’s taken. Much more than I believed I had.

Tomorrow (Saturday) is manicures and pedicures, then lunch with the sisters, then Sex and the City movie and then a family dinner with my Grandma, Aunt, Uncle, Dad, Step-mom, Mom, Sister and younger Sister. It’s going to be an odd group, but a nice last meal before the wedding on Sunday. Everything else is ready for Sunday and I’m just beside myself with excitement over it. TF gave a beautiful speech at the rehearsal dinner which made everyone (my father included) tear up and just reminds me how much I love him.

I can’t even begin to explain to you how amazing it is to know that I’m getting married in 41 hours. 41 hours and I’ll be someone’s wife, and not just anyone’s, but my other half, my best friend and the greatest guy I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing. I can’t even put these emotions into words or coherent thoughts, I’m just beside myself with excitement. I simply cannot wait for Sunday to be here.

Since 7 this morning (after going to sleep at 3), I have:

-Received 13 phone calls (this whole thing worked better when I started and had received only 8 phone calls, but I’m not going to fudge facts for the sake of a more cohesive, numerically ordered blog)
-Made 7 other phone calls
-Written 6 wedding related emails
-Scheduled 5 finger or toenail related appointments
-Left 4 messages on answering machines
-Written 3 checks
-Played 2 rounds of mario kart (what? I needed a break)
-Taken 1 yeast infection pill (yea, that’s right, all my inhibitions are gone people and hi, body? could you just quit on me A LITTLE MORE PLEASE?)
-Written precisely 0 of the thank you cards I need to write.

Getting married is an awful lot of work.

Sorry friends, no decision has been made yet. I’ve been trying to nag just a little bit, but frankly our lives have been remarkable different kinds of crazy-ass busy today and no amount of nagging would’ve give us more hours in the day to get everything done. Apparently the past week of having nothing to do was really just to relax us so that today could pistol-whip the crap out of us.

I just spent the better part of 6 hours wrapping boxes of chocolates more or less by myself. My sister did a few, but most of those had to be re-wrapped after (and not just because I’m neurotic, but because it looked like I let someone with a mental disability wrap them and that’s not so much the theme I was aiming for) and she went to bed before I was even half-way done. They’re now all wrapped but so help me God if anyone (read: The MIL) says or thinks a single negative syllable about them, I’ll shove the box right down their (her) throat.

Tomorrow seems like it’s going to be more of the same, or rather, the beginning of the real chaos to come. I have 8 trillion phone calls to make, things to finish up, thank you notes to write, things to pack and otherwise just crap to organize before my mom gets here at 11 to finish the chocolate boxes with labels/flourishes. And then we’re driving across town and at 4 we have the rehearsal, followed by the rehearsal dinner.

And then Friday I’m spending the day at Disneyland with a bunch of friends for my bachelorette party while The Fiance is being whisked away on his super-secret bachelor party which is giving me panic attacks every 10 to 20 seconds. I have a great fear of being headline news and the one that keeps flashing in my mind has to do with something terrible happening to him the day before our wedding. I trust him completely, it’s his brother, brother-in-law and every other person who he might encounter that I don’t trust. To say that I am worried would be and understatement.

I want him to have a great time, I just want him to be safe, and there’s just nothing at all I can do to be sure of that. And oh, have I mentioned that I’m a control freak? Because this? this is exactly the kind of situation that stresses me out to no end. I want to call and threaten everyone involved to within an inch of their life, but I know that it will do no good and I know it’s not my place. I realize that I sound like a crazy person right now, but you’re just going to have to take my word that it’s all really well intentioned.

There are other things that I could rant about, but I think I won’t. Most of this is going to blow over and hopefully be a part of the past I completely forget about. I know that the days to come are going to be some of the most stressful, but also happiest and most precious and exciting of my life, so I’m going to try really hard to let go and enjoy them. Trying, not promising.

(Okay, again, if you want to participate in the the contest I’ll accept entries (as comments on that post) until Tuesday at midnight Pacific Time)

Oy.

Everyone keeps telling me that I’m way too calm for someone getting married in less than a week. And the truth is, I cycle. I have moments of pure serenity where I just know everything is going to be fine. Like when we picked up the table signs, a small detail that caused a catastrophic calamity and they were pretty much perfect. That was a great great moment. And then I have moments of pure psychosis where I woe-is-me myself about mostly the boob.

To be perfectly honest, pretty much all the wedding stuff is taken care of. I mean, tomorrow, the only thing we’re doing is buying a gift for TF’s nephew and then finding something to occupy our time so we don’t have to talk to the MIL until dinner. I’m sure somewhere in there we’ll be plotting a way to deal with the 20,000 last minute traditions she’s come up with in the past few days, but for the most part, we’ll fart around Los Angeles like we’ve been doing. I’m thinking we can make it to 3 movies in 3 days if we plan things right tomorrow.

See? Not stressed. Not even at the prospect of having a rather unpleasant conversation with the MIL about how we do not want to follow the Jewish tradition of having our parents stand at the front with us during the ceremony. This will go over badly, but really, if that’s the biggest issue we cross with her (I’m sure it won’t be), then things are rocking.

Now, all that said, the boob trauma is just getting me down. I’m trying, so very very much, to keep my chin up, but seriously, it’s getting to me. Today it did some good leaking again, which is just not okay and I put another call into the doctor, just so that people on both sides of the country were aware of my displeasure. Seriously. There must be something else I can do.

And moreover, I really can’t let this go in a way that lets me off the hook. I’m angry at myself. I’m angry at the doctor. I’m angry at my body. This isn’t fair. And I realize how 1st grade that sounds because it is, but seriously, I asked all the right questions, I made it crystal clear that I needed to be healed by now and was given a multitude of assurances that I would be, so really, what the hell? Why, 6 weeks after surgery, is my boob still leaking bright yellow fluid? Why is this in any way okay? How is it possible that there’s nothing I can do besides squeeze myself into tiny sports bras with wads of gauze in them?

I cannot stop thinking about it because I know that this isn’t just going to go away. That’s just not how things work here. I do hope that it’s healed for at least part of my honeymoon, but I’ve come to terms with the fact that it’s likely not going to heal before then. Which means a number of things. It means my wedding night will involve a sports bra (totally sexy, I know). It means that I can’t wear most of the bathing suits I have for Hawaii, and it means I can’t snorkle, or swim or do anything involving getting an opening into my boob wet. And I know that in 20 years, I’m going to think back to my wedding night and remember that damned sports bra. I know I’m going to remember this trauma and I’m pissed to hell about it because IT’S JUST NOT FAIR. See, stress. Much stress.

Once I have a good bought of boo-hooing about that, I usually regain my perspective, re-pack my wound, and get on with my day. And this happens, oh, like every hour. It’s exhausting and not terribly productive, I realize, but the more I try not to deal with these feelings, the more they come vomiting out of my mind.

So that’s how things are going, if you were curious. Right now, you really never know what you’re going to get.

First, the contest. Already so many hilariously wonderful entries, but keep ‘em coming. I don’t know if he’s looked at any today, but I’m laughing my ass off at some of y’all.

So yesterday TF and I went and got our marriage license and then had a bunch of shopping to do. Just as an aside, boy do you buy a lot of gifts for other people for your own wedding. This seems strange to me. But anyways, we stopped in at Tiffany’s and got my ring cleaned, then bought the groomsmen’s gifts (after TF finally decided on something, after calling me to ask whether or not I realized that the gifts were given out at the rehearsal dinner. Um, yes, I knew that. Perhaps that’s why I’ve been nagging you incessantly about it?). There was a break for food at one point and a few more gifts here and there (almost 75 dollars worth of thank you notes, but hey, did you know that there’s just no freaking reason to pay 7.50 per card unless it’s lined in platinum with diamond studs? We did too and caught that mistake before it had a chance to happen) and then we headed home.

The MIL was making dinner (though she’s on a health kick and currently makes eating a miserable experience because did you know that has CARBS in it? The only thing I can imagine to be worse than the MIL is the MIL on a diet. She’s a raving lunatic and she’s hungry, so she’s a grouchy raving lunatic) and we were looking to be pretty close to on time to the 7pm dinner. Except that we didn’t know how to get home.

So I headed out and found a fairly big street, and anyone familiar with Los Angeles can agree that Pico is a big street. But it just wasn’t hitting either of the freeways we needed. After about 15 minutes of me insisting that we weren’t going the “wrong” way, just the maybe not most-right way, I finally turned the car around and oh hey, found the freeway, running in exactly the opposite direction I had been driving in. Oopsies.

So we got home an hour later, and 30 minutes late for dinner. The MIL was not happy, much ranting insued. But not before the valet downstairs (yes, their condo has valet parking, I know) called to let me know that my car wouldn’t start, despite the fact that I had just driven it all around Los Angeles (and Englewood and several other similar neighborhoods, not to mention across the country). I went down to try and sure enough, when I turned the key, it chugged a little and then clicked really loudly. Ruh-Roh.

So TF and one of the valet guys pushed the car to a spot and we checked out the battery and such. The MIL called down no less than 5 times asking if we were going to eat dinner before calling AAA, and even though we told her yes each time, she had to call back just to be sure. I almost threw myself on my hot car engine at one point.

But we did eat dinner. And a nice one to boot. After dinner I called AAA (where I have been a member for over 60 years) and got someone to come out. It was the battery and now, for the rather small feel of 113 bucks, I have a brand spanking new battery including a 6 year warranty (that’s like a challenge, you know I can kill it faster than that). 6 years is an impressive warranty, I mean, in 6 years I’ll be over 30, living somewhere else, probably with a child. My battery is going to see some pretty impressive things. Or at least, it’s going to get me a free replacement if it doesn’t.

And that was more or less the tale of the least complicated car problem I’ve had. Including the 3 car accidents, the blown out tire, the um, 6 other flat tires and the scrape plate that has been completely torn off by the New Orleans off-roading I do on residential streets. To be honest, it was kind of refreshing to have something go wrong in a normal way. You know, it didn’t like shoot the battery into the middle of the street or altogether forget how to steer or break properly, so in the end, I think I definitely came out on top (yea, that’s what she said, I know).

And now just a meeting with the Rabbi, a meeting with the minister, paying for the cake, getting the cake topper, finishing the table signs (a kinkos bumblefuck just waiting to happen) and you know, every other detail. It’s almost here and I’m so freaking excited I can’t even begin to tell you. But I’ll try. Just not tonight.

(First, let me preface this post (ha, like I even need to tell you I’m going to preface a post, that’s like my signature blogging move) with a huge thank you. I really had no idea what would happen when I hit “publish” last night. I was so worn down and when I woke up there were 7 encouraging comments. When I checked again tonight (after my car died and I had to call AAA and get a new battery, which was actually the least complicated car thing I’ve ever done), I had 5 more. I cannot begin to tell you how much it means to me to have your support and kindness. I’m not sure how I would make it some days.

Also, for anyone interested, the boob was looking really good this morning, but over the course of about 2 minutes between taking off the little kids bras and getting in the shower, it had already started to drain again. Not great news, but there are still 12 days for this to sort itself out and I’m working really hard to maintain the positive thinking. I just checked the incision and it’s looking really good right now. I’m hoping that if perhaps I get some actual rest tonight rather than staying up until 3 in the morning and getting up at 8 or 9, my body might begin to heal. We’ll see.)

So onto the contest! It has come to my attention that we have a problem that needs solving. I have, for the year I’ve been blogging here, referred to my better half as “The Fiance.” His name is not being disclosed per his request, though he has approved the following contest. Obviously, after 10 days from now, that name will not work. It just won’t make sense. I considered switching to The Husband, but it just seemed bland. I don’t know. I think it needs some spice.

So here’s the deal:

I need a new name for him. I can’t tell you his name, but I can disclose some facts that might help you in your quest. He is in medical school (1 year left), he lives in New Orleans, he’s about to be married to me, he thinks he’s a comedian, but is definitely not, he is the mayor of passive-agressive-land and oh yes, I love him a lot. He is also a handsome devil (a very amazing one who has dropped about 13 pounds in a month! Wowzer!), he hates shopping and he loves fruity girly drinks.

Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to come up with a new code name for The Fiance. No profanity, and if you know his name (cough*NOLA and Pete*cough) you can’t use that to your advantage. The judge will be The Fiance himself, so keep that in mind.

What’s that? A reward? Yes, there is. The winner of this contest will receive a souvenir from our Hawaiian honeymoon and perhaps a little New Orleanian trinket (if the winner is not from New Orleans, I can throw in something Californian in if a NOLA person is crowned). It won’t be anything big, but we will be very grateful, and really, it’s the thought that counts.

I’m going to put a cap on this as running through Tuesday night at midnight California time. Leave all entries as comments to this post (if I post any new blogs I’ll include a link down here, or you can, you know, scroll down the page) so we don’t have to go on a wild goose hunt to find them. The wedding crunch is going to hit something fierce starting on Thursday, so this way we can sort through the entries and post the winner on Wednesday. You can enter once a day until then (so if you catch this Friday night you have 5 chances) and the entry will be chosen based upon whatever weird-ass criteria The Fiance decides. I can’t promise he won’t close his eyes and choose one without looking, but I’m going to encourage him otherwise.

Sound like fun? I think so. So enter, feel free to link it up elsewhere, the more the merrier. I need the brain trust, so bring on the ideas people. Show me your creative juices. Wait, on second thought, keep your juices to yourself.

Good luck!

So yesterday, among a lot of the other things, was the 6 month anniversary of the brain surgery.

I know, I really can’t believe it either. 6 months was this magical mark that my physical therapists set in front of me, saying that thereafter, everything should be healed. And while I didn’t feel any different yesterday, I’m just so freaking glad to have reached this milestone. I am going to Disneyland next week (and I will ride the rides for the first time in 3 years, I’ve been cleared!), I had my hair done today with no pain, put a veil on and it didn’t hurt. I wanted to pinch myself.

Now being 6 months out of this surgery, I can say with complete confidence that it was the best decision I’ve made for myself. It was not easy, it may not be the path that most people would’ve taken, but it was the right one for me. It was elective surgery, but most surgeries are when you get right down to it. The difference was that in my case, the alternative wasn’t death, at least not literally, but it would’ve meant the end of me, the end of who I was, because the pain had taken a greater toll than I realized. It’s only with the hindsight of good health that I realize how bad things had gotten, and just how fortunate I am for having found a wonderful surgeon, having a remarkably supportive Fiance and very minimal complications. I am, without a doubt, incredibly blessed.

In the 6 months since the surgery, my coordination has vastly improved, my vision has gotten better (peripheral vision at least, I don’t really wanna talk about the bifocals), and above all else, my head does not hurt all the time. In fact, it doesn’t hurt most of the time. For the first time in as long as I can remember, I have many more days without any head pain, than days with it. I don’t think you can appreciate what a miracle that is until you’ve experienced it, but I feel alive.

I know I’ve said this a lot lately, but I feel like me, like I’ve been given a chance to start over and be the person I was always meant to be. I feel like the person I was a long time ago before the chronic pain. I feel like the person I was before my eyes went haywire and my reflexes got out of sync. I am not rainbows and sunshine, but I never was. But I am happy, and I am not being held down by pain, my life is being dictated by me.

All that said, I realize I’ve also been promising you a post about how you were right and I was wrong, so I’m lumping that together with this anniversary post as they are essentially on the same topic. But let me say first that not all of you were right, in fact, many were wrong wrong wrong, but I won’t point any specific fingers. Except maybe at me.

So back in December, I, for lack of a better word, freaked the fuck out about my hair. Or rather, the lack thereof. It was a combination of hormones (yea, I have some) and just generally being out of control in my life at that point. I wasn’t aloud to take a shower alone, walk down the stairs without a spot, and my head had been shaved. In a moment of weakness, I took control and cut my hair off.

Unfortunately, due to the crashing of my computer earlier this year, and my total laziness in copying The Fiance’s stock of pictures, I don’t have any pictures of my hair pre-surgery. It was about down to the top of my bra clasp strap before the surgery, pretty long for me.

And this is what the surgeon did (sorry, slightly gory…)

All the hair below the tops of my ears was gone. All of it. So this is what I did in retaliation…

I cut the rest of it. And many of you told me not to. You told me to wait. You said that while that part would probably not be long enough to be in an up-do for the wedding, I wouldn’t know until that point came and cutting off my hair was not the solution. And here it comes, get ready because I don’t say this often…

You were right. Which I suppose, hypothetically speaking, makes me, um, wrong.

Oh what a mistake it was. Oh what a mistake. I mean, it worked. I regained some measure of control in my universe and it did grow. In fact, after about 2 months, it looked like this:

Not bad. But not really growing all that quickly.

Today, at 6 months post-op, and 5 1/2 months post-stupid haircut, my hair looks like this:

Yes, it is much longer, but it is not long enough to compensate for all that is missing still.

And here’s where some of you were wrong.

My little hairs, they did not grow quickly. Someone suggested it would grow an inch a month. Lie. Big fat lie. It’s been 6 months and my hair is no where near 6 inches long. In fact, it’s probably barely 3. Don’t believe me? here’s what the underside looks like, taken minutes after the previous picture. I know, you’re jealous, you wish you could rock this hairdo

(note the bug bites on my back. What is the deal?) Yea. 6 inches my ass.

Here’s another picture from today, just in case the light wasn’t good enough in the last picture for you to see that I look like a freak-a-zoid.

It’s bad. Rather bad. Believe me. I can’t wear a normal ponytail without turning a vast number of heads and eliciting more obnoxious comments.

Today was my practice wedding hair appointment and we discovered that there’s just no way to do an up-do. I simply don’t have enough hair to compensate for the fact that 1/3 of my hair is 3 inches long. She mentioned that if I had longer hair on top, we probably could’ve worked around it. Yea yea. And she suggested extensions, but frankly, I’m way too lazy for that.

Instead she did a very lovely half-up curly do that will work perfectly. It’s not what I dreamed of, but I’m learning that weddings require you to set aside some of those things and come down to reality where you realize that can’t have a billion butterflies burst out of the plants at the very moment you kiss, or that the perfect first dance song won’t fall into your lap and subsequently please everyone.

What you should walk away from this experience with is the knowledge that I realize that you’re right, and very wise. I was way totally irrational, and way totally wrong. Oopsies. But, because of this, beginning tomorrow, I’m going to use your wisdom for a contest. So bring your thinking caps, and come back because I need you.

Seriously, based upon my current haircut, I obviously need you something fierce.