Wedding Wednesday: MARRIED, MARRIED, MARRIED!

Ah! Gracious me, so much to tell, so little time. I’ll warn you here, what you’re about to encounter is an epic novel of Russian proportions (minus the borscht) so buckle in. Maybe get some tea or a snack or something. The combined efforts of a busy spell at work and a broken computer are making it hard for me to find time to write and I wanted to finish blogging about our wedding before like, our 14th anniversary (8/16/28! Start shoppin’!) so I decided I’d just write out the rest of the story in one long, rambly, wordy, dramatic post.

Trigger Warning: Oversharing.

Who’s excited! No one? COOL! Let’s goooo.

 SATURDAY, AUGUST 16 – 2:45 IN THE PM: We open on the corner of King and Duke Streets in downtown Lancaster, PA. Our heroes are standing on opposite side of an historic bank, just out of view from one another. The photographer counts down three…two…one and they walk towards each other for a moment known to the Wedding Industrial Complex as “The First Look.”  I’ll shut myself up and let this photo do the talking for that whole scene.

Brian’s grin! Gah, he’s the best.

Nice tush, too.

After the first look we walked around the block, stopping now and again to pose for romantic photos and then met our wedding part at Lancaster Central Market which, in case you’ve forgotten, is the World’s Oldest Continually Operated Indoor Farmer’s Market!!

How good-looking are these people?

I’ll answer that for you: VERY.

We were posing along the exterior of the market, which faces the windows of a number of shops and restaurants, inside of which were shoppers, diners and drinkers, all of whom became totally engrossed in our photo sesh. This one bar had floor-ceiling windows and all the patrons crowded around the windows and waved at us and clapped and one lady came out the door and said “I’m so sorry to bother you but I love your gown!” and I was like YAAAAAAS and realized I was finally living the day I’d been dreaming about my whole life.

The day I marry my one true love! Psh, no. The day I walk around town looking drop dead gorgeous and commanding the attention of everyone in my wake. This was my Kate Middleton Moment, guys. And I enjoyed EVERY SECOND OF IT.

After wedding party photos we met our immediate families at the Hamilton Club for portraits. By now it was 4 PM and the wedding was set to begin at 5. We were worried that guests would be late, but instead a number had arrived early and were already there when we arrived and I got a little thrown off, both overwhelmed by the realization that all of our loved ones would soon be surrounding us and simultaneously being upset that said loved ones were seeing me in my dress before the ceremony, because I’m the President of Vainslvania and wanted to blow everyone’s MINDS when I walked in the door. On top of that there was some hullabaloo surrounding a missing boutonniere situation and we were all getting a little worn out from posing and the mood went from excitement to anxiety in about 2.2 seconds flat. We snuck inside to where the venue had this really gorgeous private room kind of tucked away under the staircase where we could hide out while guests arrived and once again, we killed time and calmed our nerves by calling on our our new spirit guide, Ellen Degeneres.

Heads Up forever and always. I remember my hands were shaking so badly I could barely hold the phone straight!

And then! Bummm bum BUMMMM it was 5 PM. MARRYIN’ TIME.  I’m not going to make a single joke or sarcastic comment about our wedding ceremony. It was, and I mean this, perfect. We spent a lot of time thinking about how our ceremony would look and were so proud, really, of the results. It was very important for us for this ceremony to truly feel like a representation of us as a couple and as two families coming together. Our ceremony was entirely secular which was both freeing and challenging. We were very lucky that our families did not pressure us to do any sort of religious or traditional rituals, instead allowing us to celebrate our commitment in our own way, but the freedom of a nontraditional ceremony means there are almost too many options. Structure can be good!

Thankfully Jayne, our amazing officiate, met with us and talked us through a bunch of options and helped us to form a ceremony that we felt was really personal, intimate and meaningful. The room was set up beautifully, with just enough room that it felt cozy, even with 140 guests.

Our friend Amy played music for the ceremony using just her iPod and the building’s sound system. I would have been fainting with nerves over such a responsibility but she was as cool as an entire farm of cucumbers the whole time. We have rad friends!

Our families and wedding party entered first, to the Vitamin String Quartet cover of Home by Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic  Zeroes, which you can listen to here! And then, to the swells of All You Need is Love, as played by the London Royal Philharmonic Orchestra, my future husband and I walked arm in arm, towards our future together.

Walking the aisle together was one of the best decisions we made. Leading up to the wedding I stressed a lot (shock) about the aisle entrance. Tradition has the bride escorted by her father, but for a number of reasons I won’t go into here, as some are too personal and the rest involve phrases I’m trying to tone down on, like “patriarchal ownership,” it just didn’t feel right for me, personally. I thought about walking in with both parents or on my own, even, until someone suggested we walk in together and it just felt like the perfect choice. Brian was the first to jump at the idea, actually, and I quickly followed.

After the wedding I was talking to a friend of mine who was recently engaged and he said that his fiancé, who also has a complex dad story, was very moved to see that we walked together. She said she didn’t even realize you could do that!

Aside from how right it felt for us I’m happy that we were able to share that with other people and that our choice might be helpful for someone else. Planning a wedding when you have a little family baggage can feel really hard and lonely and upsetting. It’s easy to think back on friends “perfect” weddings and compare yourself to them but you have to remember that you never know the whole story, that every family is different. And with that, to remember that your wedding doesn’t have to look like theirs! You can walk the aisle with your dad, your mom, your cat, by yourself, on a scooter, with your partner, with your child, with a highly evolved robot…or you could just not even walk an aisle at all!

I’m getting a little side-tracked and soap-boxy but I just didn’t want to let that go unsaid. On the off chance that this is ever read by someone who’s feeling sad or stressed about wedding planning and family, you’re not alone! Do your best to ignore the stress and stop comparing yourself to other people and try to focus on what feels right for you.

For us that was walking the aisle together. One thing that Brian and I love about marriage is being a team and it felt really special to enter that room as a united front. We were in this together.

Jayne said a few welcoming words and then my brother brought down the house with the most utterly perfect five minute monologue of all time. Shakespeare was spinning in his grave y’all. In lieu of where a priest might give a homily or personal statement, we asked Michael if he would be willing to tell the story of our relationship and he eagerly agreed. He didn’t practice it during the rehearsal so it would be a surprise for all during the ceremony and hoo boy, he hit it OUT OF THE PARK. He weaved together personal stories from Brian and from me, memories shared by our parents and siblings and turned our ordinary tale into a love story for the ages.  I will cherish this speech forever. He had me in tears within seconds and by the end of his talk, all of our guests had joined me.

After Michael’s speech, our friends Melissa and Brandon, who are an adorable couple themselves, read selections from the poem I LIKE YOU by Soandol Stoddard Warburg:

I like you and I know why.

I like you because you are a good person to like.

I like you because when I tell you something special, you know it’s

special

And you remember it a long, long time.

You say, “Remember when you told me something special?”

And both of us remember

When I think something is important

you think it’s important too

We have good ideas

When I say something funny, you laugh

I think I’m funny and you think I’m funny too

You know how to be silly

That’s why I like you

Boy are you ever silly

I never met anybody sillier than me till I met you

I like you because you know when it’s time to stop being silly

Maybe day after tomorrow

Maybe never

If you go away, then I go away too

I like you because if we go away together

And if we are in Grand Central Station

And if I get lost

Then you are the one that is yelling for me

If we had some hats and some flags and some fire engines

We could be a HOLIDAY

We could be a CELEBRATION

We could be a WHOLE PARADE

Even if it was the 999th of July

Even if it was August

Even if it was way down at the bottom of November

Even if it was no place particular in January

I would go on choosing you

And you would go on choosing me

Over and over again

That’s how it would happen every time

They alternated verses and perfectly captured the sweet, silly, sentimental nature of the poem which summed up perfectly what Michael’s speech had revealed about our relationship.  Apparently we just really like each other.

 

And then, the reason for the whole party: our wedding vows!  We had worked with Jayne to construct personal vows each of us saying the same half-dozen promises to one another. Brian went first and barely made it through “I Brian, take you Elizabeth” before he was completely choked up and crying.

I’d never seen Brian cry. Emily later told me she can’t remember ever seeing him cry and she’s known him for 22 years!

At this point, everyone was sobbing. Brian, me, Jayne who was supposed to be running this show could barely keep it together and all of our guests were sniffling away. At one point Brian choked out a sweet line and someone out in the seats moaned “Oh god” before just openly bursting into loud weeping and it was just the moment of levity needed to help me keep it slightly together and make it through my own vows without completely losing every sense of cool.

This photo cracks me up, hankies all around!

PS: I am also crying right now writing this, just FYI.

We exchanged rings and grabbed hands and an uncle later told me that the room could sense our excitement; that we just looked at each other like giddy fools “Pronounce us married already! Let’s kiss!”

Jayne announced that by the powers vested in her by the state of Pennsylvania – not invested, a fact I just learned at the rehearsal! – we were legally married and Brian kissed the bride.

MARRIED!!!!

When we were first engaged I had a few vague of ideas of how I would want our wedding to look but there was ONE thing I knew for certain I wanted: to recess down the aisle, husband and wife, to Beyonce’s Crazy in Love. And I am happy to say, that dream came true.

Here’s a link to the video in case you want to read the rest of this while jamming out. Come on, you know you do!

After the ceremony, the wedding party returned to our little cove under the staircase to chill out for a few moments while the rest of the group went upstairs for the cocktail hour and I will spoil the suspense by telling you that we did NOT play Heads Up. We partied!

The staff had set up a whole table with our hot appetizers and cheese plate and most importantly booze. We popped champagne and toasted and were all kind of giddy and goofy.

For my bridal shower, Kathleen had given me a ruffly white apron (“is this a sex apron?!” I asked, enthusiastically) which she told me was “as a joke, but also serious” …not for sex (but it could be!) but to protect my wedding dress from the inevitable spills. We brought it with us to the wedding and broke it out to take a funny picture. Kathleen tied it onto me and for some reason there was a stray piece of fabric in the mix, which she tossed over her shoulder in an afterthought. Who has time for this pointless fabric!

Suddenly there was a commotion! I turned around and find Kathleen holding up the piece of fabric which is now ON FIRE.

Like…Katniss Everdeen ON FIRE.

It turns out that she’d tossed it right over her shoulder onto an open candle! Everyone simultaneously laughed and panicked. Someone suggested she stomp on it…but that would involve throwing it on the 200-year-old carpet, which seemed foolish and someone else tried to open the windows but again, 200 year-old-windows aren’t that easy to open and we all just shouted and laughed and Kathleen just stood there, frozen, holding onto the flaming remnants of my sex apron until finally someone poured a glass of water on it which was a surprisingly simple solution that took us a while to get to.

The whole thing couldn’t have been more than 20 seconds but it felt so much longer and oh my god it was the funniest moment ever. Sadly but probably actually happily, our photographers joined us in panicking instead of photographing the scene which like, as a rational human I obviously recognize as appropriate behavior but man…that would have made for some epic candid photography.

We did get this gem. True love.

The apron may have been mostly a joke but legit was a lifesaver as I was able to then stand at the appetizer table and shove mini crab cakes and chicken bites into my face with wild abandon and not worry about staining my dress.

After that, Brian and I were able to sneak into the Hamilton Club’s duckpin bowling alley for a few amazing photos…

Exhibit A!

…and then we all joined our guests for the cocktail hour which was and I don’t mean this as a metaphor, I mean it for real, a complete blur. I think I just blacked out and went onto auto pilot. I was SO HAPPPY to see everyone but SO STRESSED OUT about saying hi to everyone and making sure I accurately conveyed just how honored I was to have them there and I kept worrying about slighting people or spending too much time talking to one person and not enough to another and so if anyone currently reading this was at our wedding and I didn’t already say it: OMG THANK YOU FOR BEING THERE!! I do hope you had fun.

After what felt like 4 seconds but my sources confirm was nearly 40 minutes, it was time to go back downstairs for dinner and dancing. Brian and I followed along behind everyone else and as they sat, we took a moment to peek into the reception room and it looked INSANE. Our florist/cousin/hero/goddess Angie had transformed the space into the bright yet cozy yet classy joint we were envisioning. Instead of big centerpieces, each table had a few stems in mini-vases, stacked atop old books. Each table number was actually a complex math equation as thought out by Brian and designed by our friend Jamie and the whole room was just a magical explosion of nerdiness and beautiful flowers and LOVE.

We did NOT do those bridal party entrances where everyone gets introduced and then does a “funny” entrance like, the sprinkler or the shopping cart because I think those are cheesy as all get-out and under no uncertain circumstances was anyone to do ANYTHING of the sort at our classy wedding. Normally here I’d say something like “but it’s fine if you like those!” as a risk of offending anyone but I’ll stay right here on my mean girl throne and settle on agree to disagree on this one, that shit’s the worst.

Brian and I entered the room to James Brown’s “I Feel Good” and then quickly segued into the longest 2.5 minutes of our whole entire lives: the first dance. We danced for TWO AND A HALF FULL MINUTES to Norah Jones’ cover of The Nearness of You and you guys, it was hella awkward. Like, painfully awkward. As we were planning the wedding, Brian kept saying we needed to keep our dance short and I must have been drunk because I guaranteed that 2.5 minutes is totally fine and short and doable and I was dead wrong. About three seconds into the song it dawned on me how long we’d be standing there, swaying clumsily in front of our family and friends who would enjoy it long enough to snap a good ‘gram or two and then politely sit there for the rest of the time, picking at their salads and praying for it to end.

At least that’s what was going through my mind. PRO TIP TO THE MAX: keep your dance shorttttt. SO SHORT.  Like, take the length you think is appropriate, cut it in half and then divide by 8. THAT SHORT. Or, don’t even do one! If I could go back in time and take my own “don’t worry about tradition!” advice…I don’t know that we’d even do a first dance. We really only did it for the pictures and the tradition and so we could have “a song.” I mean the photos are pretty…

…obvi.

And our friend made us a sweet print with the lyrics to “our song” on it, which we shall cherish, but looking back now with the wisdom of TWO WHOLE MONTHS of marriage under my satin belt…meh. We didn’t do parent dances and almost wish we’d been bold enough to just scrap forced slow dances altogether. So staged! Who slow dances??? Why is that even a tradition?! After the 2.5 minutes of torture were over, Brian made a really cute speech thanking everyone for coming and tossing out a few cool math jokes and maybe we should have stuck to joking and talking rather than the foxtrot.

It didn’t ruin the wedding or anything but just keepin’ it real.

OH MY GOD THE ONLY THING LONGER THAN OUR FIRST DANCE IS THIS BLOGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG.

We sat down to dinner and realized that the salads, which were supposed to have been plated, were not yet on the tables (sacre bleu!) and also that the bar was closed, due to a minor miscommunication between myself and the waitstaff. I flew into a legit panic that everyone was having a terrible time, thinking we were forcing them to a dry, saladless wedding and they were going to go home and complain about how bad everything was and I kind of hyperventilated a little bit and fluttered around the room and found the coordinator and she opened the bar and the salads came out.0003 seconds later and SURPRISE, when I talked to my friends after the wedding, literally ZERO of them even noticed the salads or the bar and all my worrying was for naught. Que sorpresa!

Also we only served beer, wine and champagne because the full bar package was more than we could/wanted to spend and I was so nervous the whole time that people would think we were cheap …and then I remembered that we are kind of cheap and that beer, wine and champagne is PERFECTLY acceptable and everyone seemed to get tipsy and have a good time but I know there is still a chance that someone out there in the world went home and complained about how lame we are for not having liquor and I am OK with that fact. I really am! So there’s another pro tip (how many tips is this? 457?): Stop worrying about what people are thinking!  Are you enjoying yourself and happy with the choices you’ve made? GREAT. Otherwise, stuff it. Just do whatever works for you and you won’t make everyone happy and it’s fine and if you don’t feel like paying to serve full liquor bar…just don’t! And anyone who gets legit mad and upset about that is probably a butthead and WHO CARES what they think!

Ok obviously I’m still not fully over my anxiety that people think I’m cheap and talked about me behind my back post-wedding but I DO stand by our decision, I really do!!!!

Annddddd I’m running this train right off the rails.

Salads were served. Booze was poured. Speeches were given!  Both Brian’s best man Vapo and my Person of Distinction Maggie – we both decided that “Maid of Honor” is a sexist term that harkens back to a time when women were only valued for their sexual purity and marital status (oh wait! That’s still happening!) and therefore Margie got her own cool, non-gendered title. (we’re so annoying!!)  – gave adorable, sweet, heartfelt, perfect speeches that had everyone laughing and crying and their speeches perfectly embodied us as a couple and the two special people we’d chosen to speak for us.

Vai’s was rehearsed, structured and quick witted.

Marge’s was off the cuff, sentimental and charming and ended with her raising an imaginary champagne glass, as she’d walked up empty-handed, and everyone in the room cracked up.

Both were totally rad.

During the dinner hour I remained a neurotic mess – I was so worried about getting around to every table and saying hello to every person and thanking everyone and in the midst of all that worrying I kept stressing that I wasn’t living in the moment enough. Everyone tells you how fast your wedding goes and to just “enjoy the moment!” and they are SO RIGHT but it’s so much easier said than done. I managed to get to every table just as the DJ was firing up his…laptop? Spinner materials? I don’t what DJ’s do. I stood by the dance floor nervously watching people tentatively start to dance – a half-dozen or so came out for the first song, a few more for the second and then suddenly the familiar strains of Whitney Houston’s “I Wanna Dance With Somebody” echoed throughout the room and my friend grabbed my hands and yelled “this is our jam!!!” and people just started swarming onto the dancefloor and I looked around me and the floor was PACKED and everyone was boogying and all the worry just whooshed right out of my fingertips and out into the world and finally, I was living in the moment.

I don’t think I left the dance floor for the next three hours. Nor did the majority of our guests! I knew our friends would bring it, they always do, but FAMILY you guys! Aunts, uncles, cousins…tearing the roof of the place. I was impressed. The HoBag & McKeon families know how to get down. I’ll hold off from posting any incriminating photos here on the internet (don’t worry everyone, I’ll still put them on facebook!) but you can trust me that the moves, ohhhh they were smooth.

I bopped around from song to song, dancing with this group or that group and Brian – less of a dance machine than I – popped in from time to time to get his groove on and spent the rest of his time chatting with friends and hanging out at the bar and the DJ played THE BEST JAMS and we crowd surfed! I had forgotten that Brian’s track buddies, who are an amazing group of guys and always just down to have a good time, have a tradition at Goat weddings (their mascot is the goat. Intimidating!!) of lifting the groom up above their heads and throwing him up in the air yelling “Goats! Goats! Goats! Goats!”

And THEN they grab the unsuspecting bride and lift HER up in the air and if I thought that wandering around town waving at strangers was fun, I could never have dreamed how great it would be to be boosted up in the air by a bunch of cute boys, everyone around me chanting “Liz! Liz! Liz! Liz!”

God I love attention.

At 10:30 PM our reception came to an end, like all good things to do, so we took the party over to a bar by the hotel called Annie Bailey’s, where Person of Distinction Margepants had reserved a few tables for us. Brian and I came in a little bit after everyone and were immediately fed several shots and several beers and then we settled into a booth in the back and were able to relax and catch up with pals and get our drank on. Eventually our group began to thin and around 1 AM or so we made our way back to the hotel where we did not even remotely consummate our marriage, for all you pervs out there wondering. Big snaps to anyone who manages to have intercourse on their wedding night…and double snaps if anyone climaxes.  All our exhausted bodies managed was to change out of our fancy gear, scroll through the #hottwedding feed and pass out.

ROMANCE!!!!

Sunday morning we woke up to a weather reflective of our moods – grey, misty and cool. The party was over. Whompity whomp! Some of my aunts and uncles had very generously organized a brunch for out of town guests at the hotel, so we were able to spend the morning saying goodbye to everyone, catching up on any gossip from the night before and devouring bacon and coffee like it was our last day on earth. It was the perfect way to end our perfect wedding and I think I only cried like…seventeen times. Ok, thirty, max.

And then we went to my mom’s house and took a NAP and opened presents and cried some more and ate sandwiches and drove back to Brooklyn and consummated the HELL out of our marriage (highfive!) and went off on our Big Gay Nude Minimoon and the rest, as they say is history. Now we’re just a couple of boring old marrieds who won’t stop talking about their wedding and get over it already!

Bring on eternity, world. WE’RE READY!

PS: As always, all photos are credit Kylene Lynn Photography. And I can’t emphasize this enough…Lancaster couples, HIRE HER!

PSS: If you’d like to catch up on the rest of our wedding day because you have literally nothing better to do with your time…maybe you’re like, in jail or an Ebola quarantine or something, I don’t know…you can find them all HERE!

PSSSSSSS: Thank you all for following along with our nuptial journey. It was SO FUN!!

Wedding Wednesday: TODAY’S THE DAY!

Hell-OH. So there was no Wedding Wednesday last week. Boo hoo, I’m sure. As I mentioned, my laptop has gone to live on a farm upstate where he can run and play with his friends all the time so I’ve had a leetle trouble with le blogging. I almost panicked and came in early to work last week to blog but then I remembered that no one cares and I can just chill and it was, in all honesty, a great victory in the eternal battle of Rational Liz vs Crazy Liz so hoorah. The world spins on

Hokay, so, where were we? Oh yes! After 10 months,15 days and approximately 7 hours of waiting, planning, freaking, check-writing, blog-reading, manic arm-toning, and lots of love, August 16, 2014 had finally arrived. Ding a ling DING! The morning was dreamy – a cloudless blue sky, a light breeze and a complete lack of humidity betraying the lat summer date.

Wedding. Day. Was. HERE!!!

We’re almost to the good parts so I’ll do my best to just zip through the highlights of the first half of the day. Buckle up!

BREAKFAST OF CHAMPIONS:

After sleeping all the way until SEVEN AM I roused the gals out of bed and Mo, Kathleen, Marge and I popped across the street to the Lancaster Central Market  for a little brekkie. FUN FACT, Lancaster Central Market is the oldest continually operated indoor farmer’s market in America.

Serious claim to fame right there.

It’s actually an amazing market and I could spend hours going into further detail but that is not even remotely the point of this story. Maggie had purchased these Bride and Maid of Honor buttons for the bachelorette party and we both managed to a) not lose them and b) haul them all the way to Lanc for the wedding, so we pinned them on our tops for breakfast. (Bernie received that hat as a Christmas gift from her cute siblings and I have a feeling she’ll be tha-rilled with me for posting a photo of her in a baseball cap. I think she looks adorable!)

Our pins were just the flair we needed to be the belles of the market.  At every stand we visited, people asked when the wedding day was and we joyfully exclaimed “IT’S TODAY!!” At the coffee stand, two sweet ladies reminded me not to forget to eat and I took them up on their advice by rocking it over to the deli stand (holla S. Clyde Weaver!) where the other 3 gals got breakfast sammies like normal humans and I of course got a gigantor turkey sub…my very last hoagie as a single lady!!!

(My brother cleverly pointed out that they’re no longer “ho”-gies but “Scott-gies.” Get it?! #zing.)

The women working the deli counter were hilarious and SO excited when they learned it was my wedding day. They literally whooped it up, clapping and cheering and causing a scene. I loved it!

They didn’t give us free breakfast, though. Whomp. But who am I kidding, my ‘maids (gross) bought my hoagie for me because it was MY DAY so I can’t really complain.

We raced our buns (double meaning for both butts and sandwiches) back across the street to the Marriott just in time to meet the hair and makeup team. Which was just two people but it sounds cool when you say you have a team, you know?

SO FANCY, YOU ALREADY KNOW:

We gals had our hair and/or makeup done by two local women who came recommended via a girlfriend of mine who’d been married earlier in the year. They both do hair/makeup on the side, specializing in weddings and they were just great. G-R-E-A-T. Professional, friendly, efficient and way more affordable than salons, which (like basically all vendors) jack up their prices the second you say “wedding.” After the fiasco of my first trial, I would never find anyone (dramatic much?) but after meeting these two earlier in the summer, just totally hit it off. They are both GEMS.

If you’re a Lancaster area bride, holler at me on FB or email and I’ll send their info!

While we got our hair did we rocked it to a playlist curated by MOH Marge that consisted primarily of 90’s pop one-hit wonders (remember Evan and Jaron, you guys???), boy bands, Beyonce and Katy Perry – AKA all my favorite musicians – and sipped on mimosas dressed up all fanclylike for the occasion.

Ensembles c/o my cute friend Leah!

Awesome as our team was, Bernie Beans decided to have her hair done at her regular salon, so she slipped out around 9 AM for her appointment. When it was approaching noon and she still hadn’t returned, I suspected something may be amiss…

“A LITTLE BIT ON” 

(This is, unfortch, not the vehicle discussed in this story but IS a pretty solid representation of the driver…)

While we were getting gussied up, Brian went for a long run (of course he did) with his sister Emily, who is an amazing runner, his groomsman Brandon and my brother Michael. Apparently as they’re out and about jogging around  town Michael mentions that, after picking up the girls from the train station the night before, he may have left Bernie’s car…and I quote…”a little bit on.”

“A little bit on”? How does that work exactly, Michael?

Now I’m no motor head but I’m pretttttty sure that car batteries don’t run on a spectrum – they’re on or they’re off. There’s not really a middle ground.

We may never know the degree to which the car was left running but it was at the very least “a little bit” because when Bernice went out to drive to the hair salon the batter was a whole lot bit 100% dead.

Go team go!

My mom called my uncle, who drove her to the salon and back. We were sitting in the hotel suite waiting for her to come back when she called my sister’s cell phone, trying to get a hold of Michael. No one wanted to tell me what was going on because they didn’t want me to worry about it – apparently Kathleen had run into my mom in the lobby earlier and knew the whole time! – but the cat was out of the bag and Bernie was late to get her makeup done because she was with my uncle in the parking garage, trying to jump start her car.

It is a cliche that something will go wrong on your wedding day – but something you never could have expected or planned for. HELLO THAT THING!!!

I wasn’t worried, really, I was mostly just kind of mad because it was VERY IMPORTANT TO ME that we stick to the schedule for the day (shocking) and now everything was running late and why did the car have to be jump started this very moment? Was the car walking down the aisle at 5 PM THAT VERY EVENING. I don’t think so. It could sit and die in the parking garage for all of eternity for all I cared…it was MY DAY.

Mild exaggeration but barely.  I’m the worst.

Long story long, Michael came back (FINALLY, AMEN!) and helped my uncle jump start the car and Bernie got her makeup done and all was well and we were ready with hours to kill. HA!

SANDWICHES!

We ordered sandwiches! I had a chicken Cesar wrap! No point to this, just thought I’d mention it.

AH, SILKY SILKY NOW

I took a shower before breakfast but for some reason forgot to shave my legs, a fact I didn’t realize until after I’d had my makeup done, but before my hair. Yes, my dress was floor length but I figured I owed it to Brian not to roll into our wedding night with cactus thighs. He has the rest of his life to experience that hotness.

And so I found myself in full face, including false eyelashes squatting in the tub because I was afraid to turn on the shower head and ruin my makeup, frantically shaving my legs and, oh yes, bikini zone, on my wedding day.

Pro Tip To Mah Ladies: DON’T DO THIS.

DENIM ON DENIM

The morning of the wedding, Maureen, Maggie, Kathleen and I all donned button down chambray shirts – totally unplanned! Adorbz, I know. Emily had spent the morning with the boys, crushing them in the 5K I’m sure, and then came to the suite for hair and lunch and girlie time. She didn’t have a chambray but luckily I had an extra, so I gave her mine.

“Now we’re sisters who share clothes!” she said.

Andddd I cried.

SISTERS!!!

This goofy denimy photo is one of my favorite from the day. Marge has the faux laugh on LOCK.

HEADS UP SEVEN UP 

As I mentioned, I maybe could have cooled it just a pinch on being such a schedule monster, as we found ourselves fully styled and fed and made-up and defuzzed in our no-no zones with over an hour until the photographer was due to arrive. I was beginning to get a little antsy and, shall we say, snippy (my cousin Terianne knows what I mean…sorrrrrry TA!), so some genius angel suggested we relax by playing a game. And not just any game, but the greatest App creation of our time: Heads Up.

And so we ladies whiled down the last few hours of my single life Heads’ing it up. We didn’t keep score but let’s just go ahead and say my team won.

Because, and I’m not sure I mentioned this yet but, it was MY DAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY.

KYLENE, ON THE SCENE

Poet, don’t know it, etc.

Suddenly it was 2:45 PM and the time had ARRIVED! Despite the fact we’d just spent the last hour chillaxin and maxin all cool, when our photographer arrived, everything was a blur. Hang the gown! Artfully lay out the earrings! Did someone pack my lipstick?

Bernie and Marge helped me into my dress.

I slipped into my accessories.

And checked myself out.

The best part of a wedding day is how you can be just totally vain and into staring at yourself all day long. Why can’t life be like that all the time?! (Oh right, I don’t look that good all the time…)

Meanwhile, upstairs, Kylene’s second shooter Kathy was hanging with the boys as they mulled over a complex ironing situation.

Fixed their ties.

And pinned their boutonnieres.

(Hi Angie!!!)

Then, with a champagne toast…

And a final once-over in the mirror…

It was GO time!

The gals stayed in the suite to get into their dresses, the boys did…what did they do?…and Brian and I set off into the sun for the big reveal! Our first moment together, on our WEDDING DAY! It was as meaningful and exciting and emotional as I’d imagine it to be but…I guess you’ll just have to wait until next week for the rest of that tale.

See you then!

xoxox Liz Scottgie

* PS: all photos c/o Kylene Lynne Photography except the champagne & heads up photos which are c/o Margepantaloons and the picture of Michael which is c/o his facebook page but I’m pretty sure I took it (?) and the shaving cream and sandwich which are obviously stock photos I found on the internet. Oh and the hoagie which is c/o me and the dumb selfie of me getting my hair-did, also c/o me. Basically the first half are c/o us amateurs and then all the gorgeous ones toward the end are profesh. You get it.

OK BYE!!!

Wedding Wednesday: One Day More!

The day before our wedding my eyes popped open maniacally at the stroke of 5 AM. The sense of calm that had hung over the previous days had been replaced by low level buzz of anxious anticipation. A feeling akin, I must imagine, to waking up on Christmas Eve with just one present left to purchase – the excitement of the holiday being so near mixed with the light panic of the important task left unfinished.I passed the hours until my family woke up chugging coffee, pacing around the house and doing planks, in hopes that some light core exercise might calm my nerves and also transform me to Gisele Bundchen in under 24 hours.

Spoiler alert: it did neither.

I have now seemingly blacked out the next several hours. I remember we packed gift bags into boxes and made a bunch of piles and knowing me, I probably ate some kind of eggs for breakfast but the next moment I remember, it is coming on noon and my mom is asking me to take a look at the wine she plans to bring to the hotel suite and I’m snapping “I don’t care! You just make a call! Pack it all! Or none! I can’t look at that wine right now, I don’t care!”

It was not my finest moment. But also not my worst!

Unsolicited Expert Tip for Brides: Remember, your mom is probably just trying to be helpful and doesn’t mean to get on your nerves, treat her with some grace!

Unsolicited Expert Tip for Moms: Remember, your daughter is probably just a little anxious and does’t mean to snap at you, treat her with some grace!

We moved past our drama and the group scattered to all four corners of, um, Lancaster Pennsylvania. Bernie, Michael, Marge and Aunt Katy headed into the city to check into the Lancaster Marriott, where we’d all be camped out for the weekend, and run some last minute errands, while Brian and I snuck off for lunch at a cool restaurant called Aussie and the Fox for our final romantical date as a non-married couple.

Months before the wedding we settled on the plan to set aside a few hours just for us on Friday and it was one of the best ideas we’ve ever had. EVER. Another piece of Unsolicited Expert Advice: do this! Try to find a little time in the days leading up to the wedding for just you and your partner to take a quiet minute and recharge – a meal, a walk, a stealthy makeout sesh, whatever. Maybe have some lunchtime wine and a gigantic sandwich, which will surely reverse all positive effects of your morning plankfest but hey, it’s your wedding weekend. You deserve it! This was one of my favorite parts of the weekend. We talked about what we were most excited about in marriage, at the wedding and what we were nervous about, too. Brian even let me take that cute picture of him and normally he finds it annoying when I try to papparazo him during meals!

Imagine that.

Extra glad for this brief moment of calm and wine and Australian food because as soon as we finished, suddenly EVERYTHING. WAS. HAPPENING. We met the rest of our family back at the hotel, where none of our rooms were ready for check-in and we were one of SIX wedding parties dropping off welcome bags at the front desk. We had rented a hospitality suite for the weekend (best money we spent, truly!), which blessedly was open and ready for us to get into. No sooner had we dropped our bags in the suite, than people started to arrive.

First on the scene: bridesmaid / facebook wife Maureen, who kindly devoted her whole birthday weekend to #hottwedding festivities. She’s a gem. As a bridesmaid/birthday/10 Year Facebook Marriage and Friendship Anniversary gift I’d made her a photo book with memories of our romantic life together. I had it shipped to my office and showed it to my assistant, Margaret, and we both gleefully clapped over how nice it was and how it was “totally going to make Maureen cry.

WHY would this make us happy? Like, yes the hope was for good tears but what is with the goal of “I’m going to make someone I love WEEP in front of me.”

HUGE NEWS she totally wept. So did I. I gave her this gift while she was doing her makeup in the suite’s beautiful bathroom and I sat on the toilet while she sat on the sink counter and flipped through our shared memories and we both totally heaved and sobbed and sputtered “I love you so much!” and laughed about how ridiculous it all was, us hiding in the bathroom crying like a couple of weirdos. It was another of my favorite moments of the weekend.

So favorite, I’m tearing up right now reminiscing on it. Get it together, Hobag!

While Mo and I were sobbing away in the lavatory, my brother took my mom’s car to the train station to pick up my girlfriends who had taken the train down from NYC – bridesmaid Kathleen, stationary designer/wonderperson Jamie and ceremony musician Amy. This is an important, Chekovian note for you to keep in mind for later.

Don’t forget: Michael drives Bernie’s car on Friday evening.

DUN DUN DUNNNN.

And so! Bridesmaids and groomsmen are arriving. Brian’s parents! My dad! Aunts and uncles! Barely anyone’s rooms are ready for check-in! We take turns running back and forth from the 6th floor suite to the lobby to see if our rooms are ready. On one trip I run into a former high school classmate in the elevator. It turns out another E-town grad was getting married in Lancaster that very evening and a whole host of kids I hadn’t seen in 10 years were also staying in the Marriott. I ran into another the following morning and it gave me a perverse sense of pleasure to have all these random high school people milling around and me be able to announce to them “I’M GETTING MARRIED!!”

Adding to the It’s a Small World Disney Ride of it all, our photographer (Kylene! The bestest!) also photographed this kid’s wedding! What are the odds? Probably pretty good, honestly, it’s not that big a town but still. BUT STILL.

The rehearsal was set to begin at 4 PM and by 3:30 my nerves were at an all time high. Not for the wedding, mind you – I was still fully on board with marrying Brian and being committed fo lyfe, but I was in no way prepared for how I would feel once ALL THE PEOPLE started to arrive. This hosting, I guess you’d call it, was actually, for me, the very most stressful part of the whole wedding. Trying to spend time with everyone there, knowing they’d come just for us. Worrying that people were feeling neglected or not having fun. Did I spend enough time talking to my new in-laws? I haven’t seen my dad all summer and he’s telling me about his recent vacation and I’m only half listening because all the groomsmen just walked in and my uncle is sitting in the corner by himself and tomorrow is Maureen’s birthday and my brother’s room still isn’t ready for check in.

Anddd this was just our families and wedding party! Tomorrow’s Main Event would be like 6 times more people.

Ho. Ly. Crap.

Somehow admid the chaos, which I think was actually mostly just imagined chaos inside my own brain, we rounded up the wedding party and our families and walked the pretty two-block walk over to the wedding venue and rehearsed and it all went fine. It went FINE! I cried the entire rehearsal – good tears! – and though I never quite calmed the whole way down, the act of rehearsing, of seeing how the ceremony would proceed and getting positive feedback on our choice of readings and vows helped bring me back to earth and center me. It was all going to be OK!

LET THE PARTY BEGIN!!

We bopped it back to the hotel and hung around the suite for a while- we popped open bottles of wine and champagne and gave gifts to our family and wedding parties. Instead of going the traditional route of giving the same gift to all members of the party, we gave each of our attendants (ugh, I hate that word) gifts that were unique to them, that we knew (or hoped!) they’d like. I’ll do a whole separate post about this because I am VERY SMUG and proud of the gifts we gave and I want everyone to know how thoughtful and great we are.  But here’s a sneak peek:

That’s right folks: more free books! (But also other nice things that we paid for. I swear!)

Ok where were we? Oh yes: DINNER TIME! Our rehearsal dinner was very intimate – just our parents, siblings, officiant and the wedding party along with their significant others, a total of 23 people. We did have beer, wine and some snacks in the hospitality suite for any out of town guests but did not open up the dinner to everyone. We did this for a number of reasons – a main one was budget yes, but also we wanted to have a little time to spend with just our parents and the people we’d chosen to stand beside us. OF COURSE I felt guilty not inviting out of town guests to the dinner, because I feel guilty about literally everything, all the time, and these people had travelled all the way to see me and was it rude not to invite them to dinner? Possibly! But buried in here is another lesson I learned/Unsolicited Expert Tip: You don’t “owe” your wedding guests anything except a wedding and even that doesn’t have to look like what tradition would dictate. These people travelled to Pennsylvania (hypothetically! or wherever!) for YOU and your partner because they love you and want to see you take this big step OR maybe because they feel guilty and obliged to be there but either way, they are there of their own accord and they love you and are happy just to be there and as long as you are gracious and warm, that’s all they need. I hope, anyway.

Ok lesson over. But this long ass recap? STILL GOING!!!

We held our rehearsal dinner at a super cute place in Lancaster called Commonwealth on Queen. By day they are a coffee shop / cafe and by night, they provide space and catering for private parties or events. We really wanted the night to feel like an intimate dinner party – but without anyone having to cook or open their home. Well, someone did cook, obviously but we paid them to do it. CoQ is about a five minute walk from the Marriott (best part of our downtown city wedding, everything was within walking distance! No worries about shuttles, cabs or drunk driving. Drunk walking, though…another story.) Apparently the third Friday of every month is Live Music Friday (or something like that…I’m too lazy to look it up) in downtown Lancaster. And they are NOT hurting for participants. Essentially every other sidewalk square housed some sort of performer of increasingly questionable musical skill. As we walked the five short blocks from the hotel to the dinner venue we were serenaded by the sounds of a one man troubadour band, several saxophonists andat least four steel drummers. A disco ball inexplicably flashed in the window of the local noodle shop. In the parking lot of my mom’s office, a Fleetwood Mac cover band scratchily warbled “thunder only happens when it’s raining…” while across the street, a man with an accordion lingered in the shadows of a parking garage.

Whether he was a sanctioned member of Free Music Friday or just a creep, we may never know for sure.

It was the most magical five minute walk of my lifetime, and I think at least one of our guests believed us when we said we hired the musicians as part of our wedding weekend, to liven up the rehearsal dinner commute.

The restaurant was perfection. They set up a long table at front of house with beer, wine and BOMB appetizers – all sourced from local farms and vendors! –  including antipasta, some kind of cucumbers stuffed with dip situation, mozerrella caprese skewers and these white bean crostini that I still dream about.

Here are some photos taken by our sweet friend Ankita (betrothed of the Best Man!) to illustrate this story:

Father of the Groom, Father of the Bride, Laurie! 

Maureen, Jayne (my mom’s bestie who also officiated our wedding), Brian’s mama, Amy (in a dress I’m not sure I complimented night-of but girl, dat dress!) & Jamie

Best man Vai & groomsman Adam

Adam, Sandy, Kathleen & Vai 

Almost married!! 

Super cute venue made xxxxxtra cute with the addition of amazing banner hand made by Maureen. She texted me earlier in the week “if one was to have a banner on their wedding day, what would it say? asking for a friend…” haha. We then proceeded to have a conversation about her “friend” and this “banner” and I don’t know how that imaginary person felt about their imaginary banner but this real life friend LOVED her banner. 

As you can see from these photos, the restaurant has big glass windows (as opposed to what, Liz, concrete windows?) on all sides looking out onto the intersections of Queen and Walnut Streets – geographical details which surely mean nothing to 99.9 percent of you (hi to the other .1, Bernie & Angie!) but it’s a relatively bustling area of downtown. As we sophisticatedly sipped vino and noshed on appetizers, a commotion gathered outside of the window. We’re still not entirely sure what went down but from the best of our collective guesses, a (likely inebriated) man in a purple car (stuffed with so much stuff, he may have lived in it) attempted to turn the wrong way down one way Queen Street, blocking traffic including a HISTORICAL TROLLEY. Lancaster, I love ya. Also somehow involved: a well-dressed businessman type driving a black SUV, now pulled over cattycorner from the restaurant and US service member dressed in full camo and driving a big white pickup truck. Cops raced to the scene…on bicycles.

BICYCLES!

Purple car man was out of his vehicle and pacing around. White truck Army dude was talking to bike cops. Businessman just leaned against his SUV.

Somehow the trolley navigated the mess and pulled away, much to the mutual dismay of the 23 members of our wedding party, now gathered around the window, faces pressed to the glass. This was the most exciting thing any of us had seen since the finale of Braking Bad. Soon some cops in motor vehicles arrived and the poor bicyclists – first on the scene! – were sent back to whence they came…probably patrolling Free Music Friday and making sure faux Stevie Nicks didn’t get too out of control on her keyboard. Inside, we all huddled together, coming up with theories on what was going down.

Who was driving drunk? Was someone on drugs? Was the US Army somehow involved or was that just a lone soldier, caught up in this hot mess? The world may never know!

This picture makes me laugh SO HARD. Here we see our friend Melissa (who will play an important role in our ceremony the next day, stay tuned for THAT novella to come) giving her version of the events – “he veered to the left!” she seems to be saying- while behind the gaggle of ladies, Brian’s sister’s boyfriend Andrew gives his play-by-play, including some very emphatic hand motions. I look stoned. Bernie looks startled (and FOXAY in that dress, might I add) while Kathleen ignores all the drama and makes love to the camera. Werk it girl!

A slightly more frame-worth op of the same crew.

Kathleen, Maid of Honor Margepants, Melissa, BRIDE OBVI DUH and Bernie, continuing to kill it in that dress 

The excitement died down and we all sat for dinner. The venue had two long tables set up and served dinner family style – steak with pesto, eggplant parm, polenta and grilled summer squash. The centerpieces were made by a local florist, too!

GORGEOUS! 

Don’t worry, we took them with us when we left.

PS: I love my friends. 

After dinner, dessert was spread out on the front table – mini brownies and cookies, coffee, tea and the MOST AMAZING mascarpone parfaits, layered with fresh berries. I had two. So wild of me, I KNOW. Maureen and I sat and caught up with my dad and his partner Laurie – Mo regaled them with tales of her competitive figure skating career – and the rest of our crew was able to move from their dinner seats and keep mingling.

The restaurant was closed to the public for the evening, but the doors were unlocked and they didn’t hang any signage indicating that it was a private event, so throughout the evening people would wander in off the street, hoping to get a table. Instead of stressing me out, this made me feel fancy and exclusive and I am shamed to admit the great pleasure I took in turning people away.

“Ohhhh, I’m so sorry, this is a private party” I’d say, with a condescending smirk. “I don’t think you’re on the list.”

In all earnestness, though, and with no accompanying Mean Girls gifs, the whole dinner was just so fun and again, genuinely relaxing. I was still worrying about getting in enough time with everyone and making sure people were having a good time but for the most part, I felt like I was able to chat with all my peeps and enjoy the food. It really had the dinner party feel we were hoping for and we’re so grateful to The Scotts for hosting and Bernie for her help getting it set up and Commonwealth on Queen for the beautiful meal! And to those idiots for crashing their cars and providing endless hilarity to us all!

After dinner we trucked it back to the hotel, heaps of leftover alcohol in hand, and partied it UP in the hospitality suite. Some friends from out of town had arrived while we were at the rehearsal and they met us back at the hotel after having dinner at a place called  Yorgo’s which is a restaurant but I always confuse with Yorgey’s, which is the dry cleaners. This has zero point zero percent to do with this story, I just think it’s a little weird to have both a Yorgo’s and a Yorgey’s in the same town, you know?

Back at the hotel  the booze was flowing and we kicked off our shoes and Amy put on a party playlist and cousins arrived from all over – New Hampshire! Atlanta! Upstate New York! – and it WAS SO MUCH FUN. I managed to repress most of my “is everyone having a good time” anxiety (thanks to my dear friend champagne, probably) and just soak up the love and good energy and ooof it was the best. At about 11 PM, my sweet Brian tapped out around to retire to his own room – he is much more the introvert in our relationship, so thinking of how tired I was at this point – as a person who thrives on group energy –  I can not imagine how exhausted he must have been. Homeboy was done for the day. I followed suit around 12:30 or so. Bernie and I were shacking up together in a room adjoining the party suite (nontraditional as we sort of are, B and I decided to spend the night before the wedding apart, it felt romantic!), so our group very kindly took the rest of the fest down to the hotel lobby, save my delightful bridesmaids who took the “maid” part literally and cleaned everything up, so when I awoke on my BIG DAYYYYYY the suite was sparkling and clean and calm. It was a gesture that reminded me for the 80 zillionth time why I was so #blessed to have these women alongside me for the weekend.

And That. Was. The. Day! What a long story! I would make a self deprecating remark like “thanks for reading, I’m sure you’re bored” but as part of my Love Yourself 30’s, I’ve decided I don’t CARE if you’re bored, I loved writing this and reliving the day so I’m not even going to end with a joke!

Ok. ONE JOKE: Why didn’t the lifeguard save the hippie?

He was too far out, maaan!

hahaha GET IT! It’s so funny! My friend Kamran g-chats me every day with some of the world’s corniest jokes, so if you liked that comic styling, there’s pahlenty more where that came from.

Thank you for tuning in to this edition of One Awkward Wedding Wednesday. Liz Hott, over & out!

Wedding Wednesday: It Begins!

The first Wedding Wednesday, whee! I barely know where to begin, so I’m taking a tip from my gal Maria von Trapp neé Ranier and starting at the very beginning.

A very good place to start!

Without further ado, a look back at the final few days leading up to THE day.  When you are wedding planning, everyone likes to give you unsolicited advice and sometimes it is good advice and other times you are like:

And it is important to keep in mind that most of the advice comes from a well meaning place of good and take everything with a grain of salt. Or a lot of salt all over the rim of a large margarita. Whatever works.

One of the best pieces of advice I received from a recently married friend was to try to get as much of the little nitty gritty details out of the way before the last minute, so you could spend those last few days before the wedding enjoying family time and one another instead of being a frazzled monster. I took this advice to heart and I think it paid off. There were OBVI no duh a few moments of stress and some snippy words but overall everything was just calm and fun. It was FUN!

Seriously. Ok enough, Liz, get to the point.

WEDNESDAY:

#Hottwedding kicked off Wednesday morning, August 13, when the future Mr. Hobags and I hauled booty from Brooklyn to Lancaster, PA in our chariot, which was a rented Kia SUV of some make and  model. I wasn’t really paying attention. Our initial plan until about 2 weeks pre-wedding was to just take the Amtrak, but upon realizing exactly how much crap we had to lug with us, we wisely decided to rent a car – and a big one at that – and it was one of the best decisions we’ve ever made. In our whole lives!

I also fully intended to carry my wedding dress via Amtrak, a prospect that horrified my mom.

“Um, it’s fine,” I reassured her. “I already took it on the 3 train.”

Whoops? When I picked it up from the salon (lol “salon”) I didn’t feel like paying for the taxi all the way home, so I just lugged it on the subway with me. I thought I’d be the talk of the train but no one so much as blinked an eye. Which makes sense. You’d basically have to be a 300 lb male midget wearing a wedding gown while singing “Ain’t No Mountain High Enough” and selling gummy bears for jaded NYC commuters to so much as blink an eye at you.

How’s a bride supposed to get any attention in this town?!

Also my mother helpfully pointed out the irony of refusing to spend $40 on a taxi after shelling out close to a G for a wedding dress but hey! Any savings to the wedding budget count, right?

RIGHT!

Anyway, all of this is just pointless backstory to tell you another pointless fact which is that Brian and I drove a car from Brooklyn to Pennsylvania on the morning of August 13, 2014.

Cool story, bro.

I’ll speed to the good parts.

Our main objective for the day was to acquire a marriage license. In the state of Pennsylvania, you need to apply for a license no more than 60 days and no less than 3 days prior to your wedding date. Because we live out of state and the court is only open on weekdays and also we’re kind of ridiculous, we decided to just push it to the absolute last possible moment instead of taking a vacation day to get it earlier with in that window.

And so, we rolled into the Lancaster County Courthouse at about 1:30 PM on 8/13 a mere 2.5 hours before the legal final deadline to acquire our license.

Should we have been worried about this? Meh. Probably! Were we? Clearly not. I know this doesn’t seem like an example of “do things early so you don’t have to stress,” but if you look at it from another perspective, I think it shows just how oddly calm we were throughouth this whole week. This was like THE ONE THING we had to do for our wedding to count – eff flowers, appetizers, seating charts, this is a legal document – and we just casually made it happen, like a trip to the drug store or something.  Cool cukes, we are.

The whole process actually took much less time than I thought. We sat with a nice, matronly woman from the County Clerk’s house and she asked us a series of questions: middle name, parents’ names, parents places of birth. Being a people-pleasy A student, I kept getting nervous I was answering wrong but she didn’t really seem that concerned about what precise town my dad was born in or whether my mom was “a lawyer…or attorney? They’re the same thing, right?!”

We completed her quick questionnaire, handed over $40 cold hard cash (see! Good thing I didn’t spend it on that taxi!!) and they printed out our marriage license right there. We signed it and boom:  done.  I don’t think they ran any sort of background checks or anything. All we needed to do was have our officiant sign it post-wedding and we’d be officially hitched.

FACT: It is very easy for straight people to get married in this country.

At that point, the clerk turned to me and said, in a between-us-gals tone: “Now, honey, when you go to change your last name…”

No question of if I might, just right on into it. UGH. She was a sweet lady but seemed a little set in the ways of yore.

Which made me all the MORE delighted to spot the couple behind us: two broads.

That’s right, folks. Lined up behind us were two ladies. Brian turned to me and said “Oh I thought you had to bring your fiancé, I didn’t know you could just bring a friend” and I said LESBIANS, MORON and to his defense he had momentarily forgotten that PA is one of the cooler states in the union, offering marriage rights to all consenting adults.

Rock it, PA. Rock it hard.

It took all the power of my being to control my tendencies to be overly intrusive and somewhat offensive in demonstrating my liberal viewpoint and not go up to them an hug them and say “I’M SO HAPPY  YOU ARE HERE, GOOD FOR YOU, LOVE IS LOVE” and start crying and cause a scene.

Also, I would have la-hooooved to see Ms. “now, honey” interact with this couple. The paperwork literally said “Bride” and “Groom.” Do you think she asked which one was which?

Honestly for all I know she’s the most open minded lovely lady in the land and I’m the real asshole – I definitely fall into that “everyone is entitled to an opinion unless I don’t like it” trap from time to time.

I’m the worst, I KNOW.

What else I know is, 2 gals or not, they weren’t the best couple to walk through the doors that day, we were.

OBVIIII.

I then posted the above picture to facebook and spent the majority of the rest of the day watching to see how many “likes” it acquired. 158! But who’s counting?

Humility is my middle name.

Brian and I hop-skipped away from the courthouse and met my mom and brother for lunch at the local brewery and for the first of many, many, MANAYYYY times that week we remarked on how surprisingly relaxed we all were.  And we stayed that way. The rest of the day we did ZERO wedding tasks. We went for a run, watched HGTV, read magazines, napped. My mom grilled a delicious dinner, which we casually ate on the back with glasses of wine. It was a treat.

THURSDAY:

Don’t worry, this part will be short & sweet because Thursday was another calm, easy day. We leaned hard on gender stereotypes – Brian and Michael went golfing, while my mom and I went for manicures with my aunt Katy, who had just arrived from California for the festivities. I spent way too much time waffling  about what color to do my nails – I wanted something bright and festive, but would that be too much? Would it look dated? Should I pick something more simple and “timeless?” I kept thinking about this senior photo my mom has of me in her living room where I’m wearing stacked platform sandals and GREEN NAIL POLISH and how goofy I look. But also, when that photo was taken, that was my jam – tall shoes and hideous nail colors. And my jam now is bright, colorful fingertips. I ain’t no French Mani kinda gal.

So I went for bright! And I’m so glad I did – they totally pop in the photos and make me beyond happy. So here is some unsolicited advice from ME to YOU – who cares if something might be trendy or look dated or be too bright or not bridal or too bridal or whatever. If you like it, just do it. What does “timeless” even mean? I’d rather have bright orange phalanges than do something just because it seems like the “proper” thing to do.

Also no one asks or cares BUT I went for this gel manicure thing which is like, a special kind of nail polish that lasts 3 weeks without chipping and I highly recommend if you are the kind of moron who tends to chip their nails immediately (like moi) but ANOTHER unsolicited piece of advice is that when you’re ready to take it off, you should go to the salon and have them do it for you or else you’ll still have weird gel build-up on your fingernails a full month later. JUST FYI.

The rest of the day was devoted to some final wedding tasks. We alphabetized the escort cards…and realized we’d made a few printing mistakes, whoops. THE WEDDING WAS RUINED!!!!!! Just kidding! We reprinted them!  We put whoopee pies and homemade cookies into gift bags for out of town guests and wrapped gifts for the wedding party and assembled piles to take with us the next day. Margepants arrived from Philly and Bernie grilled us steak and crabcakes for our final pre-wedding feast.

WHAT AN EXCITING DAY!!!

Ok I was also going to include a recap of Friday and the rehearsal dinner but this is already long and boring enough, even for me and I’m the star of the story so I’ma cut it off here. Try to contain yourselves for the next installment which includes me finally losing my cool and snapping at my mom, cops on bikes, champagne and a Fleetwood Mac cover band.

Toodle-oo!

 

One Awkward Month!

Brian and I have officially been married for one month! And, honestly, the only awkward thing is how earnestly cheesy and romantical I’ve become.

I can’t even bring myself to type “barf.” Marriage is ruining me.

Kidding. Kidding. It’s the best ever.

Before I ramble on any further – and y’all know I’ll be a-ramblin’ – a quick note that all photos shared here today are from our professional photographer Kylene Lynn Photography. Kylene is amazing and I’d recommend her in a heartbeat to any Central PA brides-to-be (or grooms-to-be! #gendernorms). If you are going to share any of these in any way like pin them or I don’t know, email them to your grandma or whatever, please credit Kylene! NO I am not so vain as to actually think you’re going to like, create a whole magazine of my personal wedding photos but I don’t know how the internet works and just want to make sure I’m giving credit where credit is due!

OK I’m a psycho. MOVING ON!!

What have I learned in the month we’ve been married? Well! Did you know that during World War II the US Armed Forces trained a regiment to fight on skis in the traditional Alpine style? This skill was used but once and doesn’t actually seem to have been that successful but, the more you know!

I realize this has nothing to do with me, or with Brian, or with marriage but I learned it last week, post-wedding so…it counts?

To be honest, not much has changed in the day-to-day in the last month of our lives. We were already living together (whoops), had a joint checking account, and shared a closet. We’ve felt “married” for a long time and now it’s just legally binding. I’m sure I’ll have plenty of ladymag worthy insights on marriage in the months and years to come but for the past 30 days, I’ve just been enjoying the ride.

It’s so much fun to call Brian my husband. I find any excuse to bring it up – on the phone with random work colleagues, in line at the grocery store, to my coffee cart guy. I especially like putting on a sort of character, the lovingly exasperated wife. This past week I was in a taxi at 6 PM on my way to meet Brian at the airport and my driver asked me what time my flight was.

“Oh, not until 9:15” I said. And then, with a knowing chuckle and a slight shake of the head, “But my husband loves to get to the airport hours early.”

Oh, that husband!

Did I mention he’s a part time GQ model?! Like, seriously.

I also enjoy coming up with clever new nicknames playing off husband. I think hubby sounds so cheesy…we can do better. Some gems:

• Husbo
• Hubba Bubba
• Hubarino
• Hubble Telescope
• Barney Hubble

and my personal favorite:

L. Ron Hubbard

I crack myself up.

Honestly, if I have actually learned one thing in the month since we’ve been married, it is that I really, really and I mean REALLY like looking at photos of myself.

Oh wait…I already knew that.

I actually think I look like a total goofball in that photo. I’m vain enough to admit I can work it with a grin but the smize? Niet zo much. America’s Next Top Model, I ain’t.

I have officially decided to change my last name, though I’m planning to continue using my maiden name at work. Though I’ve gone through zero of the legal steps to make this happen, it has been very fun to gradually transition into my new identity. Receiving birthday cards in the mail this week has been a hilarious example of my general confusion over the matter. I received cards addressed to: Mrs. Elizabeth Scott, Liz Scott (!!!), Elizabeth Hohenadel Scott and Elizabeth Hohenadel/Scott.

I think the Hohenadel – slash – Scott is my favorite and most accurately representing of my current state.

Why pick one when I can just mix and match! Keep it fresh!

I am planning to do some little recaplets of some wedding business and by recaplets I really mean recap + whatever suffix means XXXXXXTRA long because, let’s be real here. I’m going to do these once a week on Wednesdays because Wedding Wednesday is alliterative and like any basic bitch, I love me some alliteration. Also, doing wedding posts once per week allows those who don’t care about weddings AT ALL to not read and those who ONLY care about weddings to only read those posts. And, most importantly, it helps me continue my previously stated goal of extending this JUST MARRIED attention as long and strong as I can.

Except this week I’m doing Wedding Tuesday because our anniversary is Tuesday and  twice per week is more than my lazy bones can handle. I guess I could do like…non alliterative wedding posts on Tuesdays from here on out but that’s just not as cute. Ugh, life is so hard sometimes. Am I overthinking this whole thing?

NEVER!

Ok so just one more gratuitous smooching shot…

and, OK FINE a photo of the wedding party…

and ALRIGHT ALRIIIIGHT, a hilarious dance scene…

A little bit softer now!

My brother is the best.

And I’m out of here. Stop begging me to post more wedding photos! I’m going to look like I’m obsessed with myself and my HUSBANDDDD or something! How embarrassing.

Blowing this exit, Liz. Shut it down.

xoxo M(r)s. Elizabeth Hohenadel / Scott

One Awkward Mini-Moon

Guten tag, amigos! Summer is over and it’s suddenly 9,000 degrees. Perfect time to reminisce about our lil mini-moon.What is a mini-moon, you ask? Well it is when you take a short trip after your wedding (hence “mini”) and then take a long trip later and call the second one your honeymoon so you can justify taking multiple weeks off work and also extending the length of time you can drag attention outta your newlywed situation.

No shame in this game.

 

Look at us mini-mooning. We are so white. My sister commented that all I need is a big floppy hat and I’m basically starring in a Nancy Meyers movie. Later that night I wore white on white. I am taking to this waspy Liz Scott life REAL quick.

Anyway! In March over Brian’s school spring break and my personal spring break that I’m taking even though I have a major book coming out 2 days later (whoops?) (but it’s ok b/c it’s our HONEYMOOOON!), we’re going to do a big adventcha all around Southeast Asia: Thailand, Laos, Vietnam. I mean, we haven’t planned one second of it but in our imaginations it is quite the wild and perfect trip.

Any tips?

We knew we wouldn’t have the time or energy right after the wedding for our dream vacation, but did want to get away so we planned a little mid-week getaway the week after the wedding to our favorite local beach Fire Island which is the best place on earth because you don’t need a car to get there or to get around there. Everyone walks around pulling wagons or riding bikes, everything is casual and relaxed and low key. Fun Fact: Tina Fey has a vacation home in one of the towns there. We have yet to hang out but it should be any day now.

At any rate, Fire Island kind of has two parts – one which is more family oriented, where we’ve vacationed before with friends – and one that is known as more of a gay party scene. You may have seen this part portrayed in the opening minutes of that HBO movie The Normal Heart and it is AMAZING. Lots of beautiful, oiled up gay men men drinking and cavorting around the seaside. I stopped watching after 20 minutes because I heard it gets sad and (spoiler alert!) Tim Riggins gets AIDS and dies and I just don’t see myself coming back from that sort of trauma.

We found a cute little guest house to rent for a few days that had a private deck, a kitchenette and was just a block back from the beach that happened to be on the gay party side in the town of Cherry Grove. A few weeks before the ‘moon, we had drinks with a colleague of Brian’s, who frequents this side of the island and participates in the festivities and were telling him all about the cute place we rented – close to the beach, the general store and this beautiful wooded forest area.

“Oh yeah. You mean the meat rack!” he replied.

“The what now?!!!?”

Turns out, the “beautiful wooded forest” area just steps from our newlywed cottage connects Cherry Grove with The Pines, the other hot gay party spot and is known as quite the locale for revelers to go get some strange.

It is at this moment I was almost saddened by how open minded Brian and I are. What a dream comedy film this would be. A sheltered young couple goes off on a romantic honeymoon only to find themselves in the midst of a wild gay party week! She accidentally does ecstasy. He ends up covered in body glitter. Shenanigans ensue and they leave the trip a better, happier couple than arrived.

Instead it was just us, two jaded New Yorkers who thought they’d seen it all.

Bring on the Meat Rack!!!

I’ll go right ahead and ruin the anticipation by revealing that we did not see anyone getting bajiggity in the forest. We DID however, see about 800 dongs, 900 butts, 50,000 ladybushes and more boobies than a 12-year-old virgin could ever fathom seeing in his whole life. Turns out, Cherry Grove is a nude beach!

And by nude, oh we mean NUDE. There’s another nude spot on the other end of the island where we’d vacationed with friends in the past which is frankly, a little underwhelming. Nude bathers have these funny shield things, almost like a tent with no top (even their tents are topless, ho ho!) which still provides privacy despite their lack of apparel. We imagined we’d encounter the same sort of situation but oh no, friends, this was a whole new ball game. And by “ball,” I do mean of the male anatomy sort, of which we saw so many, they haunt our dreams.

Bathers in Cherry Grove don’t bother with modesty shades. They walk their dogs, stroll the coastline, swim, eat sandwiches, do pushups, hunt for sea shells, anything you might do on a regular beach vacation but naked as the day they were born.

It was…definitely something.

I don’t mean to be unkind, I’m sure these were all lovely people but, as with most situations where nudity is approved, none of the participants were people I’d actually want to see nude. NOW, I think all bodies are beautiful and everyone is special but we did not take the subway to the train to the other train to the ferry allll the way out to this sexy gay party island to see a bunch of normal people walking around in the buff. Enough with these reggos – where were all the toned, oiled up young men and porn star lesbians?!

I will ruin any other anticipation by revealing that we did not sunbathe starkers. We briefly considered it but chickened out. I did go topless, how Euro, for about 12 spicy minutes but just couldn’t get into the full monty.

Can ladies go full monty or is that just a man thing?

I don’t know, guys. I just don’t see the appeal of having a bronzed mons pubis, you know? Not to mention all that sand all up in everywhere. I hate to be so American about it but perhaps some parts should just stay covered.

As for the Meat Rack, we didn’t even end up entering. And by entering I mean like…walking into the woods, not anything dirty, pervs.

We actually confused the Meat Rack with another wooded plot of land, The Sunken Forest, which is nearly a mile walk from the heart of town, and even further from The Pines. As we trekked through sandy, mosquito filled dunes and wild sea brush in hopes of spotting the infamous Meat Rack I couldn’t hep thinking it just seemed like an awful lot of effort to go to for an anonymous BJ.

But, then again, I’m a straight prude who’s seen enough Lifetime movies to know you should never go into the forest with a stranger, no matter what fun activities he’s promising, so I might not be the Meat Rack’s target audience.

It turns out the Meat Rack and the Sunken Forest were entirely unrelated – the Sunken Forest is part of the National Parks service and is very well maintained and family friendly and you can learn about birds and foliage and stuff so that was slightly more my speed.

Here is us in the Sunken Forest…we’re so waspy we wear collared shirts even when hiking through national parks/possible illicit wooded sex dens.

Basically the Meat Rack had the opposite effect on us that it had on the imaginary Midwestern couple of my comedy film dreams. Instead of opening our minds (and legs!) we just kind of got bored with public nudity and went for a nature hike.

SEXYYY.

Andddd that was our mini moon! It actually was super fun. We just laid around and read and ate junk food and drank bloody marys and I got legit tan and I cried on the ferry home because I didn’t want it to end and also I am a drama queen. As for the freakydeaky stuff, there’s always next time! I’ve heard that Thailand has lots of ladyboys and sex tourism so maybe we can re-try the racy lifestyle on that visit. I mean, we’ll probably just end up like, touring a historical museum or something but you never know! Anything could happen.

How do you say Meat Rack in Thai?!

Off to Google Translate I go! While I am gone, here are some (clothed!) photos from our lil trip if you should so care to see…and why wouldn’t you? It is a proven fact that everyone adores looking at photos of someone else’s romantic getaway.

 

 

packed & ready to go!

#meatsweats

On the shared deck

Our guest house from the ocean side

people are weird

sunset selfie

umbrella & bloodies. We’re read to go.

shameless beach selfie

Lunch is served!

My Old Man and the Sea

I carried my portable Miz Hott wine glass from my bachelorette everywhere I went ❤

out to dinner!

Our lil house for the week

The Belvedere Guest House for Men – go to their website!! It is straight up NSFW!!!

so sad to leave

xoxoxoxoxo Mz Hott

Another Awkward Week [8.29.14]: I’m Baaaaack Edition

 Well! So yeah, that happened!

#Hottwedding has come and gone and I don’t even know where to begin! It was just the best day. The best! The whole weekend was dreamy and perfect. Which is not to say it was fairy-tale flawless, but fun, memorable, exhausting, hilarious, delicious…perfectly perfect and perfectly us. I loved it!

When can we do it again?

I’m in the midst of getting my brain re-combobulated (that’s a word?) on all of the weddingy goodness I want to share, but I just wanted to pop back here and say hi!

HIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII!!!!!!!

Also, to reassure you that, though with a new ring and a new last name (I mean, technically…I’ve not even begun to think about considering the paperwork but we’re in the midst of going full-on Liz Scott over here) (more on THAT to come!) (omg!) things here should continue to roll on at their normal bizarre clip.

Case in point: This Vinegar

After the wedding we spent a few days on Fire Island (muuuuch more on THAT to come, too!) where basically every inch of my flesh was devoured by mosquitoes.

Don’t worry, Ebola is not spread via mosquito…I checked.

We got back late Thursday night and didn’t have any cortisone cream in the house, so I took to the web in search of home remedies, as I am wont to do, and learned that regular old white vinegar can be a good cure for itchy bug bites. Whaddya know, we have a large bottle right on our pantry shelf!

I went to bed early and put the bottle beside me, in case I needed to reapply during the night. I don’t know. It made sense at the time.

The following morning I woke up at the crack of dawn, because my body hates me and hates sleeping past 7 AM, picked up my glass of water and my bottle o’vinegar and stumbled out of the bedroom. First stop: bathroom! I set the water glass on the sink and promptly knocked it over, shattering it all over the floor in the one room in which we are legit always barefoot.

Le sigh.

Thank god we registered for so much glassware – I didn’t made it 2 days without breaking anything.

I blearily made my way to the kitchen, got the broom and pan, swept up my disaster and staggered to the kitchen, already exhausted. All that work had made me thirsty, so I picked up the nearest water bottle resting on the counter, unscrewed the top and took a huge swig.

Except…you know where this is going…that bottle was SO not water. It was the big, giant bottle of white vinegar.

Yum.

If you’re looking for a surefire way to wake yourself up in the mornings, might I suggest the vinegar chugging method?

On second thought…never mind.

So there you have it. Married? Yes. Together? Certainly not.

Thank you in advance for listening to me talk alllll about the wedding for the next foreseeable future. I know I have but a small window where it is acceptable to obsess over our recent nuptials and I plan on milking every goddamn second of it.

HOORAH!

(PS: photo credit Kylene Lynn Photography, Kylene is the bomb. More about THATTTTTTT, you guessed it, to come.)

xoxoxo Liz Ho…Sco?

One Awkward Wedding: The Final Countown

Oh

My

Sweet

Lord

Depending on whether you count today as Day Zero or Day One, the count is either T-8/9 days until #hottwedding. Irregardless of your counting style, August 16 is pretty darn soon. Single digits soon. Deposits due soon. 10 Day Forecast soon.

We have reached THE FINAL COUNTDOWN:

 

My current emotional state is just…weird. Impossible to describe.  Distracted. Impatient. Buzzy. Mildly panicked but much less panicked that one would imagine, considering my natural inclination to panic. I never leave home without my trusty notebook, a gift from a sweet cousin that has been a saving grace over the last month and losing it now would = losing my mind. But as I get closer, there is less and less for me to write in the notebook. Now is the hardest time for me because basically everything is done. Planned, paid for, coordinated, organized, done. All things that I can control are lined up like perfect little mallard ducks and now it’s just up to fate to take care of the rest and I’m not great at not running the show.

Por ejemplo, the weather. Despite multiple attempts, I can not (yet!) control the weather. I think if I had a superpower that would be it.

As should surprise zero percent of y’all, I am obsessed with checking the weather. The last thing I do before I go to sleep every night is check the next day’s hourly forecast, so I can be prepared. I then check again first thing when I wake up to see if anything has changed. It is insane. Due to this obsession I know oh so well that anything can change at the blink of an eye and sometimes weather.com is just straight up wrong and lying right to your face. There have been multiple occasions where I’ve been out walking and felt rain drops on my head and my weather app told me “dry conditions would continue.” Which… nope! It’s raining!!! Are you drunk, weather.com? Are you going to finish that sentence by saying “Dry conditions will continue to not happen because it is now raining?” Otherwise you’re just lying to me and I don’t like liars.

Basically I think weather.com is just an evil torture tool created by some kind of monster, designed to give neurotic people a sense of control and then constantly toy with their emotions.

Since August 16 showed up on the 10 day yesterday morning – where I checked it at 6:41 AM, the moment my eyes opened – the forecast has said 81 with rain and thunder, 85 and partly cloudy, 83 and sunny (stay that way!!) and 82 with scattered thunderstorms. I know it will change 890978618694 more times between now and then and I know that no matter what it’ll be a Tony the Tiger style GRRRRREAT day but I will continue to check every hour on the hour until I’m walking down the aisle.

Other things bringing me mild stress:

• This zit on my forehead.  Is he going to just hang out there until next Saturday, or is he on his way out? Go away, dude!
• This weird pain in my inner thigh which is probably just from all the excessive exercise I’ve been doing in an attempt to channel my anxiety into Madonna arms or is it some kind of glandular malfunction?
• What I’m going to have for lunch today. This is unrelated to the wedding, I just think about food 24/7
• Potential family awkwardness/drama/situations at the wedding and remembering to love&accept things for what they are, not what you wish they would be.
• WHAT IF I FART WHILE I’M WALKING DOWN THE AISLE?! Will the music drown it out?!

But really, I swear on my first edition hardcover of Bossypants, I’m not that stressed! I mean, I’m always stressed anyway, it’s kind of my jam, so I imagined that by now I’d be in full scale meltdown mode but really I’m just buzzing right along at my normal level of neurotic. It is surprising and awesome. And if I can plan a wedding with little to no panic, anyone can! I should probably write a book all about stress free wedding planning, now that I’m an expert and it’ll become an instant bestseller and I’ll be a billionaire and I can move to Tahiti with my husband (!!!) and everyone there will love me so much they’ll make me the queen.

That’s how life works, right?

I will now make a confession: I will miss wedding planning when it is over and primarily because I will miss the attention. I’m not exaggerating for comedic effect and any bride (or groom!) who denies they, too felt this way, is straight up lying. Planning a wedding gets you 8,000% more attention than usual and it is awesome. Everyone wants to ask you how things are going and hear about it and there’s always something to talk about and think about and do and be excited about and I love it. When else am I going to get this much attention? I GUESS if I ever pull off that Queen of Tahiti scenario, which frankly sounds unlikely and then maybe if ever I get pregnant…but that publicity stunt results in me having to care for and keep alive a human child who will then get all the attention that was previously directed at me so I’m not racing into that one. ALSO I read this New York Magazine article that revealed that science has proved that 29 is the most popular year of your life and I’m turning 30 a few weeks post-wedding so basically this is it for me! The end is nigh. I need to just embrace my inner Jenna Maroney and embrace every second of my fleeting wedding planning/age 29 popularity.

 

Preach it sister.

I should probably be ashamed to admit my true nature but there is clearly no shame in my game around here.

Now I must dash off to refresh weather.com (still saying 83 and sunny! Come on, god, work with me here!) and then wander around the office until I can find someone to ask me about my wedding so I can really just maximize the last 8/9 of my Glory Days.

Ok bye!!!

xoxooxoxoxoxo Liz Ho

 

One Awkward Wedding: One Month to Go!

Our wedding is in ONE MONTH! Un mes! Un mois! Xahar! Though that last one sounds like Dothraki, it’s actually Maltese. Which is apparently a real language! Who knew! Mhux lili, that’s for dang sure! Mhux lili! (That means “not me”in Maltese…obvi!)

Whatever language you say it in, one month from today I’ll be hitchin’ my star to the Brian wagon. And I can’t wait!

One thing that has sort of surprised me about this whole wedding planning process is how utterly goopy it’s made me. I’ve gone all soft and romantical. It’s hard to put into words, but over the past few weeks, I’ve noticed myself being sort of hyper aware of my, well, love for Brian. Vomtastic, I know, but I can not be stopped. I get giddy just thinking about him and can’t look at his face without wanting to smooch it. I find everything he does utterly endearing. The other weekend we spent basically 48 straight hours together, just the two of us, no pals or distractions and very little entertainment, save HBOGo, and on Sunday night I looked back with glee thinking how much fun we had together and how much fun we always have together and how profoundly happy that makes me.

Which is probably for the best because I think that’s kind of the point of this whole rigmarole, no? Well, that and the presents, of course.

I kid, I kid!

I was emailing this week with a sweet friend of mine who is a newlywed herself. She and her brand new husband were faced with some scary challenges just moments into their marriage. They’d been home from their honeymoon a week when her husband had some scary, unexpected health problems. He’s mended spectacularly and back up to fighting speed now but their scare brought into stark reminder that the wedding party will end, but what comes after is the real deal.

And even after all they’ve already been through, she gushingly told me “being married is awesome.”

AWESOME!

In an entirely uncharacteristic instance of making someone else’s traumas all about me (hah!), I’ve been thinking a lot about their experience as we lead up to our wedding – and thus, our marriage. Sickness, health, richer, poorer, happier, sadder, in times of trouble and anger and family drama and work crisis and children and bad hair days and stomach bugs that produce results you’d never want another person to be privy to – these are the things that you’re signing up for, what remains after the champagne has been drunk dry, the flowers have wilted and the dress is packed away. It’s important not to lose sight of that. To go through all that, and more, and still wake up every day – or at least most of the days – thinking “THIS IS AWESOME,” that is my hope for our marriage.

And I know that might not always be possible. There may be days or even weeks or months where we’re struggling  and having a hard time waking up feeling awesome and that’s OK. But I still can’t seem to help myself from melting into a complete and total mushball at the very thought of spending my life, the good, the bad and the hideous, with Brian.

He is the best!

If sitcoms are anything like real life, it’s only a matter of moments until we’re grouchy and cynical, bickering over the TV remote and the trash can, having sex once a year. I want to remember what it felt like to be totally gushy and mushy and gloopy and romantical, so below are a few points on my main man to look back upon if I’ve ever begun to question why I’ve decided to lock it down forever with this particular person.

I hope you brought your own barf bag today, folks! It’s about to get realllll nauseating up in here.

First of all, he is dead sexy. Let me just state the obvious right up front: the man is a Grade A dreamboat and I derive great pleasure from gazing upon his face (and butt!) every day. Those baby blues? The grin? Mmm-mmm-mmm!

(That’s me trying to type out onomatopoeia for sexy / delicious. Nailed it?)

And he makes me laugh and laugh and LAUGH. Brian is so funny. Not in a “HEY EVERYBODY LOOK AT ME!” way, which is great because those people are obnoxious (trust me, I’m one of them) but he is sly and quick and clever and always knows just what to say or do to crack me up.

We love to eavesdrop on people on the street when we’re walking around and make snarky comments about what they’re talking about. It’s so mean but so fun.

He loves to gossip. He’s almost (almost!) as bad as me.

He is so good at his job. He loves math. Like loves it. Remember that teacher in high school who was like “algebraic equations are fun! This geometric formula is SO interesting” and you were like “UM no this is the worst”? Well that guy is Mr. Scott. And now he’s marrying a woman who barely eked her way out of pre-calculus with C’s.

I am still firmly in the “math sux” corner but he’s certainly doing his best to convince me otherwise!

He’s frugal and brilliant with budgets. And hilariously into low-cost alternatives for expensive things. Like, instead of buying new weights, he filled up an old duffel bag with text books and lifts that for strength training. Weirdo!  He wanted to fill the bag with sand but some killjoy didn’t want sand in her house.

He is playful and fun and adventurous. Why lay on the beach when you can toss a frisbee! Why paddle gently in the lake when you can instigate a six-hour jumping competition? Why eat at the same restaurant when you can try a new one or hang out in the same neighborhood when there are dozens of new places in our city to explore.

He encourages everything I do, whether big or small, weird or serious. He listens to me complain about work, has been a shoulder to lean on during some difficult family times and always motivates me to do bigger and better things.  When I wrote my piece for Vogue, he was refreshing the internet hourly to see if it had posted yet. He trained with me for my half marathon, pushed me to go faster and better and woke up at the crack of dawn in the pouring rain to cheer me on from the sidelines.

He has this funny way of kind of flopping onto the couch when he’s getting comfy at home – legs akimbo, arms crossed on his chest, pillows propped just so that kills me every time. I can’t help myself from jumping on top of him to snuggle up.

He loves to snuggle. He might find that embarrassing that I just told the whole world, it seems a common misconception that men don’t like to cuddle but this guy can snoogle with the best of them.

I love it!

He cares for my family and for his family and for our family that we’re starting together. He has deep, enduring friendships from childhood. He knows the value of close friendships for both of us and works to nurture his and encourages me to do the same.

He is deeply, passionately curious. He’s always reading the news, listening to the radio, trying to learn everything he can about everything. Everything! I’m serious. Just say a word and I swear to G, he’ll start googling it within the second.

He gets extra curious after he’s been drinking, which is equal parts hilarious and (sweetly) annoying, Some people drink and get angry. Some get hungry. Some get sleepy. This guy just gets more inquisitive. Which is adorable unless you’re one of the sleepy ones, sitting next to him in a cab home from a long night as he rattles off his latest curiosities: “I wish I knew more about Ralph Waldo Emerson” or “what do you know about Kyrzkystan?” or “here are 17 fun facts about race relations in South America.”

What?! Stop reading Wikipedia and let me sleep!

But then, by the light of day, I always think it’s cute again. My clever guy!

I will always remember the first time we tentatively tiptoed into a serious future together, talking about raising eventual children…our children. We were eating at this Italian hole-in-the-wall on the Upper West Side after ice skating in Central Park and it was already the cutest date night. Brian told me that the number one thing he would want to pass on to his our children was a spirit of curiosity. And my uterus just exploded. Straight up, like a firework. Not only have I landed a man who is curious himself, but he recognizes it as an important value to pass to future generations?! JACKPOT! I had this vision of Brian and a little tow-headed kid playing with a telescope – I don’t know why it was a telescope, that just seemed like a natural toy for an inquisitive child and their nerd dad – and it was all I could do not to just fling myself across the table and beg me to impregnate me right then and there, atop the ravioli.

Just thinking about it right now, you guys! My ovaries are leaping around in my torso.

He’ll make cute babies, too, based on this photo of him as a five year old that I carry around in my wallet like a complete psycho creep.

LOOK AT THAT FACE!

Also we’re talking like, many a year here for these hypothetical nerd children so don’t get too excited. The world does not need another mom blog!

Brian loves Asian food, NPR, Larry David, Buzzfeed lists, America’s-Home-Video-style clips of people getting knocked over or otherwise accidentally injured, IPAs, sleeping in, running, The New Yorker, burritos and, best of all, ME!

He lets me know he cares for me and appreciates me in infinite ways every day, through touches, words and thoughtful gestures.

Brian often gets home from work earlier than I do and every night I bustle in the front door, yelling one of the million strange pet names I have for him (buddy, buns, beans, honeybunch, honeybuns, hot pants, cutels, cute magoot, etc) and he comes and meets me in the hall as I’m hanging up my coat and keys and gives me a big fat smooch and I can see it in his face that he’s genuinely excited to see me and to have me home.

It is my favorite part of every single day.

I hope I always remember these things about my BriGuy. And I am excited to learn more lovable things about him over the years ahead.

I can’t wait for a lifetime of homecomings and adventures. Of burritos and This American Life and strange homemade contraptions and late night rambles and snuggles and bike rides and pinching that hot booty every chance I can get. I know it won’t always be easy. I know we’ll face some tough times. But I also know, more than I’ve ever known anything, especially math, of course, because I barely know any math, that we’ll get through it together.

And there is not a single person I would want to go through life with than this studmuffin.

I warned you I’d gone soft! I’m just a grinning fool over here, counting down the days until our wedding and our marriage.

ONE MONTH! BIR AY!* IB LUB HLIS!** O LUNA!***

* Turkish

** Hmong, DUH

*** Romanian. Seriously do you guys not know any foreign languages like, at all?! Get with the program!

 

One Awkward Wedding: Liz Finally Loses Her Mind!

Like sands through the hour glass, so are the days of my wedding planning.

Did that make sense to you? No? Me either.

There is no time for sensemaking. NO TIME!!

Our wedding is in 39 days and counting and so much is happening. It’s starting to feel really real in a way that is at once exciting and a tad overwhelming.

And by a tad, I clearly mean a ton. A metric ton! Unless that’s less than a regular ton…I’ve never been one for math and science.

Someone recently commended me on my zen attitude towards wedding planning and I do (honestly!) think I have kept things pretty mellow which is kind of surprising, considering what  a stress monster I usually am. But I’m noticing that as the days slip by faster and faster even I, Zen Bride Extraordinaire, am beginning to lose my cool.

Last night I dreamt that we were in a chapel and they were performing back to back to back weddings and then, suddenly, it was our turn! But, wait! We weren’t ready! Some of the bridesmaids had their hair done. I did not. One bridesmaid had to leave to “go to another thing” and Brian’s parents were missing. I had spaghetti sauce on my wedding dress. There was no music.

Our #Hottwedding was a #Hottmess.

Now I know about as much about dream psychology as I do about metric tonnage (aka nothing) but if I were forced to dig deep and try to decode, I’d go right ahead and say it seems I’m just a pinch worried about getting everything done and not being ready.

For the wedding, at least. I’m totally ready to legally lock it down with Brian. I am going to marry the HELL out of that guy and I can’t wait. It’s going to be awesome! But the wedding is another story. Try as I might to avoid the pressure to make my One Special Day be perfect through and through, I’m turning into a little bit of a crazyperson!

Would anyone like to hear a very insane and long-winded example? No?

TOO BAD, BITCHES. KEEP READING.

Woo, forgive me. Got a little carried away there! But seriously sit back and allow me to regale you with a tale of madness, mayhem and paper products!

LIZ HO VS EMILY POST: ENVELOPES OF DOOM: ELECTRIC BOOGALOO

So! Like I said, must to the surprise of all parties involved, I’ve been pretty cool & calm on all fronts including getting along with mi madre which, if Say Yes to the Dress says anything about real life, is basically a miracle. At this point in the game we should have had about 15 knock-down-drag-out fights renouncing one another as family, her threatening not to come, me screaming back “GOOD, YOU’RE DISINVITED!”, both of us in hysterics, but so far, we’ve managed to avoid major arguments.

Weeeeellll except that little tiny one over the invitations.

Not the actual invitations, mind you. Those I’m pleased as punch over. My pal Jamie who is a stellar graphic designer (and available for hire!) (SRSLY email me if you’re looking!) designed our “invitation suite,” as I would call it, if I were the sort of person who used fancy terms like that. They are everything I could have wanted: classy, simple, whimsical, gorgeous.

 

AMAZING, RIGHT???!!!!

Oh, and, did I mention cheap? They were so cheap!

Everyone has their priorities in weddings, as in life, on what they think is worth a lot of money and for me, paper products was at the bottom of the list. I like looking at pretty paper and I respect your right to blow the bank on whatever the H you feel like but, the way I see it, that embossed, lined, monogrammed envelope stuffed with 12 different letterpressed cards all tied up in a satin bow and hand addressed by a professional calligrapher are going one place and one place only: the garbage can.

Rough stuff but it is true. I barely remember what most of my friends wedding invites looked like (or birthday invites or baby showers or anything) except in the cases where they were really fancy pants and then I only remember how guilty and horrible I felt when I inevitably chucked them because as much as I love my friends (SO MUCH!) and value their right to fancy invitations, ain’t nobody got space for all that fancy paper.

And YES I know every single aspect of wedding planning is a waste of time and money, duh, but we all pick and choose how to waste our time and money and for  me, this was just not it. Friends and countrymen, feel free to toss these in the garbage can guilt free!

That said, I didn’t want the invites to look like actual garbage. Luckily for me, two of my best friends, Jamie and the World Wide Web teamed up to create magic and bring us something that is hella fabulous for UNDER BUDGET. Boomshackalacka. In case you are curious, which you are surely not, but I’ve already started telling this story there’s NO STOPPING ME NOW, we used a Gilt Group coupon for the website Wedding Paper Divas to print our invites, hand designed as a generous gift by Jamie. I would probably never have used this website were it not for the coupon – I cringe at the word “diva,” as it is usually used in a derogatory manner towards women considered to be “difficult,” in a way that is very rarely flipped back on men (am I right, Nicki, or am I right?) BUT sometimes my frugality gets in the way of my morality (I know, I’m the worst) so I couldn’t say no to this coupon. And I’m super glad I didn’t. Silly name aside, WPD was beyond professional. They send complimentary samples of their stationery, their customer service was quick and helpful and the quality was A+++.

And our designer was A+++, too! Y’all should hire her. The best way to get a good deal  is to become her friend, because then you get free graphic design and you get to hang out with her and she’s the bomb.com, so it’s kind of like you’re getting paid in the end, really, but if you can’t find a way to worm your way into her life/heart, you could certainly email me for an intro and I bet she’d offer you a fair deal. Just sayinnnn’!

Ok so now we have learned that a) I didn’t care much for invites to begin with and b) loved the ones we ended up with so why did c) they lead to the d) most intense melt down of Liz Ho’s Wedding Planning Extravaganza Extraordinaire?

‘Twas not what was inside the envelopes (plain white, came free with the order!) that upset me, you see, ‘twas what was written outside of them.

As I’m sure you can surmise, I was not about to pay for someone to calligraphy (caligraph? is there a verb for this word?) these bad boys, I would have been happy printing them out on a laserjet printer like an uncouth monster but we did still want them to look nice, so my dearest Schmoopster offered to hand-write all 101 addresses. She was very cute about it, sending us samples with different pens and practicing a little bit each night and all was right with the world until we experienced what I am now calling a minor communication breakdown. Others might call it a major meltdown. I’ll let you be the judge.

My one and only request with these invitations what that none sent to married couples be addressed in the so-called “traditional” manner, to Mr. and Mrs. Hisfirstname Lastname because that makes my skin crawl. Like, what is that even about? It’s not enough for a woman to take a man’s last name? AND change from a Ms. to a Mrs. when he gets to keep Mr. all along? She also don’t even get her own first name anymore?

I know this is the “proper” way and how Emily Post would do it but I think it’s sexist and stupid, Emily. That bitch is like, 700 years old and not even invited to our wedding so who even cares what she thinks.

Apparently a whole lot of people!

Somewhere in this whole process this point was not made clear and it came to my attention after about ⅓ of the invitations were already addressed that they were, in fact, going out in this traditional manner. My mom and I had a huffy, mildly dramatic phone conversation but managed to end on a civil note, with me agreeing that the already written invites could go out as-is, and Schmoops agreeing that any going forward would at least mention the woman’s name on their somewhere, Emily Post be damned, and we hung up, end of story.

J to the K. One of us, I won’t mention any names (women don’t get names, remember?!) (calm down, Liz) could not … ok…would not… let it go. This person was me, obviously. I hung up and stormed around the apartment, fuming, getting more and more upset.I am a feminist! And now I’m sending these misogynistic envelopes all over America! HOW WOULD THAT LOOK?! What would people think?! Just as paper crushes rock, so will these paper envelopes crush my sterling, powerful reputation! This could not go on!

So I took the mature route, called my mom back and oh, the doody hit the fan. I started weeping – and I don’t mean like, gently crying or sniffling, I mean like, tears down my cheeks, hyperventilating, weeping — about feminism and individuality and last names and choice and envelopes and women and identities and demanded that my mom re-do all of the invitations,even the ones she had already written.  I could NOT have my return address associated with a Mr. and Mrs. HisFirstname situation. At one point I actually shrieked “THIS IS MY BRIDEZILLA MOMENT! I AM THROWING DOWN MY BRIDEZILLA CARD AND YOU HAVE TO LISTEN TO ME!”

Oy yoy yoy.

(Spoiler alert: I did start my period the next day so I blame my hysteria on the hormones. But I stand by the subject of my hysteria!)

My mom fired back that it was a silly thing to waste my bridezilla card on, some people like to be addressed in such a manner, that she likes cares about adhering to certain types of tradition, she is helping to fund this wedding so her reputation is on the line too and maaaayyybe, just maybe, I should think about other people’s values as much as I think about my own.

Game, set, match: Bernie.

Loathe as I am to admit it. And oh, I am so loathe. She’s totally right, guys.

And lo, we managed to reach a conclusion. All envelopes already written would remain “proper” as well as those to anyone who might like to be addressed in such a manner, because some people do like tradition and that is ok (it is!), but all others would be a little more progressive.

My sweet  mom, trying so hard to prevent another meltdown took it to the furthest level, addressing married women as Ms. instead of Mrs. or in some cases, completely omitting gendered pronouns at all.

I loved it!

Of course, after all this, I will bet you all a haypenny and a half that not one single solitary person even noticed how they were addressed. And if they did and they were offended, oh well. Please trust that we were just two ladies doing the best we could under the pressures of tradition, the patriarchy, the Wedding Industrial Complex and the most stressful situation in all the land: mothers and daughters planning a wedding together.

We tried! We really, really tried.

I still maintain it was a worthy cause for throwing down my Bridezilla Card. Flowers, playlists, party favors – these things are silly details about one day which will eventually fade into memories in a photo album and therefore not worth truly stressing over. But my anxieties re: the traditional manner of addressing couples reflect something actually life-altering. I have gradually come around to the idea of possibly (probably) (ok, more than likely) taking Brian’s last name, a saga I’ll delve into another time, but I still can’t shake the fear that marriage means sacrificing my personal feminine identity. Elizabeth Scott is one thing. Ms. Scott? I’m still on board. Mrs. Scott, less so. Mrs. Brian Scott?

No way, Jose.

And by Jose, I could mean Jose OR his wife because married ladies don’t get their own first names!

Enough, Liz. ENOUGH!

Like my pal Elsa, I’m letting it go. I understand that women have different ideas of what feels right for them and it is important to honor their decisions and that you can still be married and be a badass individual feminist lady, and names are just names and all that other good stuff and perhaps I need not take everything so seriously all the damn time. And maybe stop reading Jezebel. But I still reserve my right to throw occasional temper tantrums on my road to self enlightenment.

I’ll be sure to send you my mailing address when I get there. Just don’t send any correspondence to Mrs. Brian Scott ;).

And that, my friends, is my tale. What a mess, right? I’m a nutjob.

But other than this, and the dreams, and the nail biting, and the various Google rabbit holes I keep falling into, I’m doing pretty a-ok. I might just survive the next 39 days with my sanity (and relationships!) in tact.

Wish me luck! JK wish my mom luck. And Brian. That poor guy is stuck with this nutjob for LIFE.

Sucks to be himmmm!

The end.

Liz

PS: I am very sorry, I realize this whole post this is probably insanely rude and awkward to talk about/show off wedding invitations because not everyone who reads this is invited.  Believe me, I would have liked to invite the whole wide world but that’s just not a possibility…a post for another time. I’m still too busy barfing with guilt over guest list cuts to discuss it.