I recently made a post about the Columbia Tower (our reception venue) washrooms on my other blog. I invite you to check it out. It really doesn't have anything to do with the planning process but it's still relevant and frankly....who'd wanna miss out on a post about washrooms.
When I think about garters I think, “Do I really want a lacy rubber band wrapped around my thigh during the ceremony, dinner and dance, only to be removed publicly?”
The answer is no, no I do not.
I realize it's just the male equivalent of the bride throwing her bouquet to the unmarried ladies, but I can't help but ask myself, "Is this really a fair trade?" I throw a bouquet of flowers, and Dex gets to sling-shot my undergarment across the room?
The only way I'm going to participate in this is if a) Dex pulls a Hansel and plays fair, orb) my garter belt comes with a hip flask (cause that's freaking awesome and I, obviously, benefit from it.)
April 15th, 2008
Anyone who knows me well, knows that I'm not a fan of chocolate and I rarely eat cake. In fact, one might say I even dislike cake.
Especially birthday cake.
| Candles aren't "festive", they are a warning beacon, pillars of contaminated doom!
I believe my dislike for cake surfaced when I was invited to Brandy Smythe's 6th birthday party. Her mother ushered us into a bright sunny kitchen, and from where I was sitting, rays of beautiful sunshine were spilling through the windows and shinning down on a glorious pink cake. Brandy proceeded to blow out the candles, and what was once the beautiful ray of sunshine, soon became a spit-light. Yep. I saw Brandy's spit particles launch across the cake and settle snuggly into sticky icing.
From that day on I have always dreaded the part when the birthday girl/boy blows out the candles. Candles aren't festive, they are a warning beacon, pillars of contaminated doom! I cringe as a piece is handed to me, and I cringe even more when I'm forced to eat it. I don't know what it is, but a host/hostness will never take no for an answer, “Ohhh come oonnn, Lahhnnii...it's bad luck not to have a piece of cake!”
I realize there will be no candles on my wedding cake, thus no spit-light, but Brandy Smythe's birthday has forever left a bad taste in my mouth.
Story still applies...Last weekend we went ::gulp :: cake tasting. Dex had his game face on from the minute he woke up. This was by far his favorite part of the planning. I, on the other hand, was fearing every calorie. I mean, it's bad enough that I don't particularly like cake, but hello!!! Someone's trying to look fabulous for September 20th!! Shoving copious amounts of sugary sponge into my mouth isn't going to help!!
"Ohhh come oonnn, Lahhnnii...it's bad luck not to taste your cake before you buy it!"
Pfft.
Our coordinator picked us up around 1:30pm and drove us to the bakery. Bart (our baker) placed a tray of various sample in front of us. Actually that's putting it lightly...here's the list...
Old Fashion Lemon Citron Cake White Cake with Preserves Classical Chocolate Cake Chocolate Cake with Preserves Poppy Seed Citron Spice Carrot Cake Princess Torte Creamsicle Red Velvet Cake Citron Cake Lemon Raspberry Cake Chocolate Lover Truffle Torte Banana Chocolate Gateau Dark and White Chocolate Raspberry Gateau Strawberries and crème Pineapple Passion Peach Passion Jamaican Rum Torte White Chocolate and Raspberry Torte Triple Beerry Torte Tiramisu Classic New York Style Cheesecake
I left Bart's bakery with a headache and an extra 5 lbs but, boy-oh-boy, was it worth it! I may not be a birthday cake fan, but wedding cakes?? We're about to go way back. I'm not sure why, but they taste SO much better than birthday cake.
I won't tell you which flavors we decided on, but I will say this...you won't find any of Dex or my spit on your piece of cake.
...unless of course you do something to piss me off. Like pee in a plant, or go streaking across the dance-floor (I'm looking at YOU, Quentin!)
April 1st, 2008
This weekend we book a photographer.
A daunting task.
We've narrowed it down to three photographers. We based it on style (correction...I based it on style, Dex based it on cost). I think I've browsed close to 100 different photographer's sites. And I won't lie...I had no idea how difficult this would be. The packages alone are enough to stump me. What's the difference between a traditional album, a coffee table style book and an "art book".
Is "art book" fancy talk for "scrap book"?
I asked one photographer's assistant to explain the differences to me... but let's be honest....she's not here to help me. Her job is to make the most expensive package seem like the ONLY one we should even be considering.
Now I know I shouldn't be cheap when it comes to a photographer. In fact, the most common tid-bit of advice offered from friends is this:
"Allocate a good chunk of your budget to photos."
And even though I STILL think it's more important to have an open bar than good pictures...I'm taking their advice to heart.
So here is what I've done. I've taken the pricing sheets from all 3 photographers. Spread them side by side, and cross referenced the pricing. The next step? Wait for Johann Carl Gauss to get home so that he can figure out what really is the biggest bang for our buck.
It seems to be a good system for Dex and me. I research, find what I like, narrow it down, pass it off, and he calculates the cost. I'm sure I could do it, but I find anything to do with numbers soooo borrring!
If it were solely up to me, I'd go with the photographer with the cutest sounding name, "Lady Bug Photography"? Umm...pppshaa? Heck yes I want a ladybug to take my picture!!
March 25, 2008
This video is funny. Why? It reminds me of Jeff and me when we go shopping for wedding stuff. Sometimes we see something and we.just.dont.get.it.
Please note that the language used is absolutely, positively not safe for work and you should definitely wear headphones while watching and listening.
And, you know this would be ten times less funny if done in America. What’s up with people with British accents being hilarious? I think Jeff and I should start faking British accents when we're out shopping for wedding stuff.
- Lani out
March 21, 2008
Wedding Song
Last night I checked out itunes for a compilation of first dance weddings songs. Most of these recommendations were pretty innocuous:
It Had To Be You - Harry Connick, Jr.
A Moment like this - Kelly Clarkson
Everything I Do (I Do It For You) - Bryan Adams (I know I'm supposed to support fellow Canadians....but...I just can't. Sorry Bryan)
When I Fall In Love - Natalie Cole
But then there were some Disney choices thrown in. Now, I know there are some people out there who are absurdly fanatical about Disney, and that Disney has even come out with a line of Princess-inspired gowns, but I fell conflicted about buying into the whole "Disney Industrial Complex." And besides, is Aladdin’s ‘A Whole New World’ really the song that you want to play for your first dance? If you’re thinking yes, please watch this video and think again:
Shopping for a wedding dress is kind of like buying a car. No matter what you do, it's a bad investment. My mother suggested I buy something that I might consider wearing for another occasion. Right. Cause that will go over smoothly. I mean, it's a good suggestion, Mom. But we all saw what happened when Britney re-used her wedding dress, right?
"Say, nice dress, Britney!....Wait...Haven't we seen that before? What does this mean!! Are you saying you don't value what this dress represents!!??"
Britney might be a bad example, but you see my point, right?
This leaves me no choice but to suck it up and make a bad investment.
So let me tell you about my first solo trip to the bridal shops. First of all, I decided to make the first few trips solo because I am a victim of peer pressure and could easily be persuaded to try on dresses that I know from first glance would look horrible on me.
For example...this?
Dear god. What is that thing?
I mean, I get it... Maybe some people DO look at me and think, "she's got Boy George written all over her! Hook her up with some asymmetrical lace skirt!".
This doesn't mean I don't appreciate the opinions of my friends and family - oh contraire mon frere. I do. But I want to go into the lineup with a selection of dresses that I know I would actually wear.
Makes sense, right?
So anyhow. I arrive at the bridal shop and am blasted by a white haze. It's actually quite blinding. It looks like a cotton ball puked inside the store. White, white and more white.
A woman approaches me and starts to ask me what I'm looking for. I stare at her blankly.
"Hello, miss? Ma'am? Do you speak English? Parlay vu fronsai? Sprekenzee doyche? Parlate Italiano? Hello?"
I shake it off, "Hi!"
I explain to her that I am no dress connoisseur, and that I absolutely have NO eye for fashion. All I know is I want something classic and timeless, that is my only criteria.
She begins to break down the different bottom/top combinations, materials, textures, beading, sequins, jewels, colors and costs. My head begins to spin and I'm suddenly confused. Am I still in the bridal shop or am I riding the Gravitron at Playland.
"Stop", I say, "This is too much information. I'm having an overload."
The nice saleslady says she'll start over. She asks me what I'm looking for. I tell her I have no idea.
"None at all? Really? None"
"I've told you this already. I'm no good with fashion. It's part of the reason I sit in a room all day hiding behind my computer. I'm horrible with fashion. Just horrible." Sparing no expense with the dramatics, I rest the back of my hand across my forehead and flop backwards into a Beauchamp Victorian Parlor Settee, "All these choices..." I say, while fanning myself with an Alfred Angelo 2008 Bridesmaid catalogue.
She frowns and rests her hand on my arm, "Don't worry, honey. We're going to find you something!"
It may have been the best 3 hours I've ever spent with a complete stranger. A Complete stranger, I might add, that within the first 20 minutes of knowing me knew the colour of my underwear. It's a special relationship....a girl and her wedding dress saleslady.
I must have tried on, at least, 20 dresses - and I think I've got it narrowed down to 3 different styles, (all of which look nothing like the above photo.)
And by the way...did the whole "long train" thing start off as a joke? How the heck does one walk down an aisle dragging her dress behind her, without tripping....or feeling like ox-cart. I'm baffled, really.
- Lani Out.
I hope they brought starch
March 13, 2008
The reason I chose to blog about this experience should be quite obvious - I love to blog - give me an excuse and I'll blog away for hours. Also, I'm fairly positive that this journey will be an interesting one, primarily because I have no idea how to plan a wedding. It's enough to put me in panic mode. Scary stuff.
Frightened by my irrational anxiety attacks, my charming and handsome fiancee handed me a bottle of wine, and suggested we hire a wedding coordinator.
Yes. Absolutely. Why didn't I think of that?
It made perfect sense. I was feeling overwhelmed because I knew next to nothing about the city of Seattle. Local wedding vendors? Venues? Boutiques? Couldn't even name one.
So we hired a wedding planner. Her name is Wendy, and we met with her last Monday. She knows her stuff, and has the experience to back it up. She's sharp, funny and super uber organized.
I'm feeling good about this, and I'm actually giddy about our first planning meeting.
