the anxiety of influence

Every time I try to blog about my wedding stuff, it all sounds so boring that I end up posting something else entirely. Does anyone really need to read about the debate over resetting my wedding band? Or the big wedding shoe dilemma? Or the fact that the wedding planner has gone totally MIA and I'm half-expecting to call the restaurant one of these days and just hear an operator tell me the number is no longer connected? 

Well, maybe that last bit might interest some folks (seriously, Lukka, where are you? Are you off at some hipster convention checking out the latest too-tight denim wear? Or are you in gay Paris promoting the slow food movement with benefit concerts? Cuz I need to know whether we can throw lavender at my wedding. This is serious stuff, mister fancy pants), but the other decisions I need to make are pretty low on the interest meter. Somewhere around the 'I ate a cheese sandwich' blog post level.

But here is one mildly amusing tidbit: for some time now I have been picturing lots of cakes on cake platters instead of a tiered wedding cake for the reception. I've been hunting through all the blogs and mags to find an image of what I want but with little success. And then a couple nights ago, while I was putting on my PJs, I bothered to turn my head three inches to the right and saw the framed print of one of my favorite Thiebaud paintings:

Oh, right...that image of lots of cakes on cake platters. Tee hee indeed. I'm starting to wonder now about the inspiration behind those haystacks I want strategically positioned throughout the reception area and that pool of water filled with water lilies. Hmm...

and in the center ring...

Yes, we bought a leash for our cat. The best part is that when we first put the harness on him, Henry just fell over. It was like putting a blanket on a bird cage. And pretty much whenever he got confused by the whole process (like when the leash ran out or he wanted to turn around), he just fell over. This so goes against any claims I could ever make about wanting to end the exploitation of animals for human enjoyment. 

And apologies for the quality of the video - all the good ones have audio of me going 'oh my f*ing god, this is so adorable'. I figured I would spare you all that nonsense. And this is the first video of the set when hen was still getting his leash legs.

the art of losing

The mister and I spent part of the night choosing a reading for the wedding. In an effort not to exclude anything after the 1st century CE, I pulled out my old Norton Anthology from my college days. I happened upon one of my favorites which I think I first read in high school, and which, many years later, the miso sent to me in an email. And isn't it just lovely to find someone who sends you poetry in an email? We won't be using it in the wedding but I did think it worth sharing:

One Art
by Elizabeth Bishop
The art of losing isn't hard to master; so many things seem filled with the intent to be lost that their loss is no disaster. Lose something every day. Accept the fluster of lost door keys, the hour badly spent. The art of losing isn't hard to master. Then practice losing farther, losing faster: places, and names, and where it was you meant  to travel. None of these will bring disaster. I lost my mother's watch. And look! my last, or next-to-last, of three loved houses went. The art of losing isn't hard to master. I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster, some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent. I miss them, but it wasn't a disaster. --Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture I love) I shan't have lied. It's evident the art of losing's not too hard to master though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster.

purty like a picture in a magazine

I'm going to blog more in a little bit about some weddin' stuff, but I just want to give a quick shout out to notoriousmle. Her wedding last weekend could have been straight off the pages of snippet&ink. I had these moments during the whole event - from ceremony, to dinner, to dancing - where I just wanted to take a snapshot and put it in an email to her (as we did in her pre-wedding days) with the subject line 'check out this awesome wedding! you should do this!' 

I seriously cannot wait to find the pictures from last weekend up on stylemepretty with a string of comments along the lines of: 'OMG, I love it! What a beautiful bride!' Or part of an Instyle 'real wedding' segment. damned thing was an inspiration, it was.

It also gives me hope that even us mere mortals with budgets can have blog-worthy weddings without totally losing our shit. Everyone wins!

But in all seriousness, it was lovely, and she was lovely, and it was totally worth the 18 bug bites I have all over my ankles (I would only fake walk barefoot over ant hills for you, my dear). 

Here's some of my favorite shots from the night...

I still think of sheryl crow when I hear about our escrow

In the past four weeks me and the miso bought a house, lost our cat to cancer, and traveled back to the east coast all but one weekend. I am exhausted. Physically, mentally, spiritually - you name it, it's tired. My current fantasies involve a hotel with robes and an ocean and a patio. I get to hide away for a week and when I emerge everything has been packed and moved, unwanted furniture has been sold, the wedding is planned, the dress fits like a glove, and that tightness in my chest when I think about Finn has finally loosened. When I'm feeling really gluttonous, I add graded final exams and a tan.

All that has happened in the past month has, at the very least, made tonight all the better: this is the third night in a row that the miso and I have cooked a healthy dinner, done dishes together, and settled down for the evening with a cup of tea to do our own research. The fact that I currently do not have any pending itineraries is heaven.

The other upside of all this insanity is that the miso has been there and I've gotten to see him in crisis mode and major life event mode and dancing mode and I'll be the strong one here mode. Not to get too mushy here, folks, but that boy rocks my world and is my rock. And it's been amazing to know before we get all married and stuff that he really is that stand-up guy I thought he was in any and every situation.

With this past month behind us, I now have everything that needs to be done in our remaining two months on the west coast. And I will readily confess to being a total wimp about it all. When my parents dropped me off at the airport last Saturday (after the best wedding of the best friend a girl could have) and gave me the ol' "see you at your wedding in August cuz we're moving to China in a couple weeks," I straight up lost it. They pulled away, I gave the skycap a wad of ones, and my face exploded. I felt like I was boarding a plane to go back to more than I could handle. It was like every aspect of my life decided to come into the ring at once and I couldn't tap out. And it's all good stuff - amazing stuff. My first house with my first (and last) husband, my wedding, even my research paper that I get to deliver in Venice. These are all good things and I'm not moaning about them. I just kinda wish these major life events had been doled out a little more evenly.

For now I'm taking it a day at a time. I'm just going to enjoy my tea and draft some emails and think about my new home (okay, it's technically the mortgage lender's new home, but in thirty years, baby, that two bedroom is ALL ours) and a name for Henry's new best bud who will keep him company on those cold Cambridge nights.