Today you’re making the kind of choice only adults make, the choice to tie the well-being of yourself as a single person to the success of yourself as part of a couple.  This is a big day!

From this day forward, you’ll have someone with whom to share the tiny moments that form a life.  You’ll be building a joint history with someone who is as much a main character as you are.  You’ll be frustrated beyond comprehension at the tiny things you have to give up, then grateful beyond words to have this person — this person who made the same choice you did — right next to you.

There will be times you’ll wonder if you made the right choice, if an easier partner might have come your way if you hadn’t.  You’ll worry that you’re not meant to be married.  Marriage is hard.

But c’mon, anything worth anything is hard, right?  Maybe not always difficult, but worthy of being cherished.  Perhaps it’s just my increasing age, but I feel loss much more acutely now than ever before.  I look at you and know that someday soon, I won’t get to see you as often as we’d like.  We’re at that point today, when all that stands between us and a girls’ lunch is schedules.  What happens when we have to surmount miles, too?

We’ll figure it out.  “No miles of any measure can separate your soul from mine,” said John Mu.  That’s us.

And you’ll find your way through your marriage, too, I don’t doubt, so you shouldn’t doubt either.  I don’t doubt you’re with the right man or making the right choice at the right time with the right reasons.

“A friend is someone who knows the song in your heart and can sing it back to you when you have forgotten the words.” — Anonymous

So enjoy today.  Enjoy, breathe, feel – that’s my advice.  When things don’t go as you expected, remember you’re building memories here, made up of experiences, and every single thing that happens enriches.  Memories, after all, are more like movies than snapshots.  What fun is a movie without drama?

I’m going to let better writers than I wrap this up.  Know that I love you.  Know that you’re wonderful.  Enjoy the heck out of your day.

There is one friend in the life of each of us who seems not a separate person, however dear and beloved, but an expansion, an interpretation, of one’s self, the very meaning of one’s soul.  — Edith Wharton

“We must be willing to let go of the life we have planned, so as to have the life that is waiting for us.” — E. M. Forster

“To fall in love is easy, even to remain in it is not difficult; our human loneliness is cause enough. But it is a hard quest worth making to find a comrade through whose steady presence one becomes steadily the person one desires to be.” –Anna Louise Strong

Trouble is part of your life, and if you don’t share it, you don’t give the person who loves you enough chance to love you enough.  — Dinah Shore

Hi, Sweets –

With five days to go until your big day, I wanted to take a moment to share my love, give you whatever advice I can think of, and tell you what it’s like from this side of the aisle, so to speak.

First, let’s talk about this “big day” thing.  Your wedding day is all at once a Very Big Day and Just The Beginning – we know this.  Despite my, ahem, previous experience, I found that my wedding day was both much more and much less than I expected: I was much, much, MUCH more overwhelmed by the love of my people and much less stressed or panicked or freaked about the stuff.  Sure, I had to take a few moments to gather myself, but that’s just me.  Our wedding day was wonderful, but looking back from my almost-anniversary, I can say with complete honesty: it was just the beginning.

The next year will be one of the most exhilarating and frustrating of your life, rife with questioning, cursing, and thanking the universe for this choice you made.  In a year, you’ll look back and see your wedding day as a fantastic bon voyage, and that’s the way it should be.

You know I love you.  You know I’ve found in you a soul-mate (and yes, I’m using that silly word because it’s appropriate here in a way I never thought it appropriate to describe my relationship with my husband).  We’re so different, you and I, yet so deeply connected that it doesn’t matter that we have very little history in common.  We don’t need it.  I value your feedback over almost anyone else’s, a shocking revelation when you consider I’ve known everyone else whom I trust for most of my life, and you only three years.

But this isn’t supposed to be about me.  It’s about you (and I could not love you anymore than I do, but this face makes me reconsider the idea – I love this face).

So I’ll say the thing I always say when I have to describe how much you mean to me: until I met you, I didn’t realize the power and necessity of female friendship.  You have a way of making people feel safe and understood; the ability to be honest and upfront yet supportive; a willingness to lay it all out – to anyone on anything – that continues to inspire those of us lucky enough to be your friend.  You inspire me just by being yourself.  I love you.

And I love you who you are with him.  I love the way you fit — even in maddening ways that drive each of you nuts.  I love that you balance his freneticness while he gives you focus.  I love that you each push each other to be committed, to grow, to be just a little bit more yourselves but in the context of a partnership.  He makes you laugh; you make him settled.  Through the craziness of your relationship, I have never really doubted that you would end up together, and I’m so glad my intuition played out.

Of course, given how similar your husband and I are, it’s a bit self-serving to tell you you’re perfect together. (But I will!)

My advice for this week: feel every moment, wonderful or otherwise.  When someone says something that makes you want to throw something, think, “This is my life!”  When you’re surprised or overwhelmed or so happy you can’t smile any wider, think, “This is my life.”  When you take that man’s hand and declare your loyalty and commitment in front of your people, think, “THIS IS MY LIFE.”

It’s strange to be on this side of the whole getting married thing.  A year ago I was frantic with stress over all the little things I didn’t do.  You calmed me down and helped me get through.  Our wedding day was fantastic because my #1 coping mechanism was to send people to you, in fact.  I knew without a doubt that you would take care of me.  So this time, when it’s your wedding day, remember to lean on your people.  Remember that we all want to help because you’ve helped all of us, at some point, some time.  Let us take care of you, if only for a day, mkay? {And congrats on creating a shindig that is so you two, it’s awesome!}

Enjoy yourself, laugh, and take every moment for what they create: the beginning of this next part of your life.

My wish for you is this: may you find – in him and your marriage – the calm you’ve been seeking without the boundaries you’ve feared.  May you never take for granted the fantasticness of new beginnings or wonderfulness of old understandings.  May you find in each other the reason to be better at being yourselves.  And may you love each other — even when you don’t like each other.

With all my love,

Me

More specifically, how do you decide which photos to actually display?

Step 1: Do nothing.  Wait until your fabulous parents send you a photo they thoughtfully converted to canvas, mounted and framed as your Christmas gift.  Then feel terrible that you haven’t sent anyone else wedding pictures and frantically try to pick a few to send as Christmas gifts.  On the day before you have to mail said gifts across the country.

Step 2: Freak out.  How do you choose pictures of yourself to send to other people?  Narcissism, much?

Step 3: Calm down.  Remember that this was a big event for both families and of course they’d like photographic evidence, if only to embarrass you by showing your future children at some future date.  Choose the least goofy family pictures for printing. 

Then print one goofy one specifically to embarrass your brother at a specific future date.

Step 4: Freak out.  Family photos were an easy choice, but don’t parents also like portraits of the married couple? My favorites are the (you guessed it) cheesy pics like this:

or this:

… but I’m thinking our parents might like more formal shots, like this:

Step 5: Back to calm. You can do this. Even an indecisive person like you can do this.  Really.

Step 6: Freak out.  Now that your parents have sent you the one really awesome wedding pic, it looks very lonely as the only thing hanging on your very large, very bare wall (or it would if you could find the picture hangers and convince your husband to put a hole in the wall, but that’s another story).  You need to frame and hang more photos to go on the newly-christened photo wall.  The only thing worse than picking photos for your family is picking photos of yourself.

Step 7: Calm down.  Remember that you blog for a really fantastic wedding blog filled with decisive peeps who will help you choose which pics to frame (and maybe remind you that you’re supposed to put up photos of yourselves on your wedding day, narcissism or not).

This is the photo that my parents converted to canvas:

It’s perfect.  Help me decide what pictures to hang around it.

Option 1: All black and white. All people. All silly.

Option 2: Just us. Mostly silly. Mostly color.

What do you think? {Note to Weddingbee: please insert a poll with three options: “All black and white.  All people.  All silly.” and “Just us.  Mostly silly.  Mostly color.” and “Other (give me the scoop in the comments!)”  Gracias.}

Oooh, one last question: should I send people flattering (framed) pictures of themselves?  I know that I never have decent pictures of myself (well, until this photographic extravaganza), but I’m also not sure I would display one… so what do you think?

Okay, okay, TWO last questions: I’m leaning toward small-ish 4×6 prints so that our faces don’t jump at you when you visit our home. Thoughts?

All photography by Angela Herzog of Angela Herzog Photography (www.angelaherzogphotography.com) unless otherwise noted. See this post for more details.

I know, I know, I’m preaching to the choir here, but it must be said.  By me.  So I can get it off my chest and move on.

Do you know what I’m talking about? 

You find out someone’s engaged and congratulate them, and the first thing they say is, “But don’t worry, we don’t want a real wedding.”  Or someone mentions a wedding and everyone else tells stories of people who were so ____ (insert desirable trait here, like “in love” or “practical” or “not into what other people think”) that they didn’t have a wedding, they just went to the courthouse.  Everyone else croons, “Oh, how wonderful” and then feels compelled to talk about how they wished they’d done that.

Not me.

I don’t wish for one minute that we didn’t have a wedding.  Despite the cost, the frustration, the confusion in my own head about why and what and how, it was worth it.  Completely worth it.  Our people came together and celebrated with us.  We wore clothes that made us feel good and important and special.  Sure, they’re just clothes, but don’t you dress up for important occasions like baptisms and graduations and for heaven’s sakes, first dates?

There’s something romantic about being so wrapped up in each other you don’t care who’s with you to celebrate your nuptials – and certainly if that’s your thing, I think it’s awesome – but there’s something romantic, too, about putting up with all manner of ridiculousness and drama to be able to enjoy one day that’s just about your relationship.  Not you, or you and your husband, but your relationships with each other, with your families, between families.

Sometimes I look back and I think, “We could have gone on a really fabulous vacation for the money we spent.”  Other times, “Gosh, everyone else spent so much money, too, just on being here.”  And I do sometimes wish we could say we were so ready to get on with our lives that we just did the paperwork and moved on.

But I’m not a “do the paperwork” kind of girl.  I’m a sentimental one who clearly was not ready to be married when we were first engaged.  Being engaged, planning a wedding, getting through the drama and the frustration and the questioning of, well, everything – I needed all those things to be good at being married.

Being engaged was good training for being married.  We built the skills we use every day: negotiation, trust, choosing appropriate times, silence (for me) and active listening (for him).

Getting married doesn’t necessarily require a wedding, but going through the process certainly enhanced our marriage, and I don’t regret it.

So when I hear about how romantic or practical or sane it was that someone didn’t need to bother with a wedding, I’m glad for them.  And then I pipe up, briefly, to say that we really enjoyed being surrounded by our families and friends when we decided to give away our single lives (wocka, wocka) and that it was worth every penny.

When I was engaged, I felt the unspoken pressure to make excuses for having a real wedding, to blame my parents or my husband or my family’s traditions for making me go through with it.  For a while I even tried to convince myself that I had no choice.  But I did, and clearly it was my choice, since my sweet husband would have gone along with whatever made me happy.  And I’m glad I chose our wedding.

Wedding are awesome and I’m not afraid to say so.  Because it needs to be said, don’t you think?

{Disclaimer: if you don’t want a “real wedding,” that’s great, too.  I’ve been there.  But if you do, if you really do, don’t feel the need to hide it.  You’re not a Bridezilla for wanting a wedding, even if you want your bridesmaids to match and your hair done just so.  “Bridezilla” is about your attitude, not your choices.  You can not care one bit about details and still be a Bridezilla if you’re mean or thoughtless about it all.}

When zipped into it’s curves, I felt like a bride…

Like a sassy bride…

Like a curvy, sassy, silly bride…

Like a curvy, sassy, silly, happy bride…

Like myself.

I didn’t ever feel like I was playing dress-up.  How easy that could have been, to feel like I was a player in my own life, wearing a dress that wasn’t me.

But it was.  Lucky for me, I can’t help but be me.

I paid $250 for it on Ebay because I was too cheap to pay full price – at David’s Bridal.  I don’t know about you, but I laugh every time I think about my unwillingness to pay full retail at a place known for inexpensive wedding dresses.

If that isn’t me….

So please don’t think that your wedding dress will only be magical if you spend a ton of money.  Set a budget, decide to blow it by no more than 10%, and try on every dress in the store if you have to.  Really.  I don’t think I ever would have chosen my dress out of a picture. 

{Photo taken by the lovely alterations woman at David’s Bridal}

I had to put it on, crack a joke about feeling like Ursula (you know, the sea witch with the frothy water at her feet), and dance around.  Kinda like this.

I waffled and debated and texted my bff a never-ending string of “what if’s” and “I don’t know’s” and “what do I do’s?”  I ordered the dress on eBay and debated reselling it.  I stuck it in my closet, figuring I’d deal with it some other time.

{Photo taken by my mother not long after telling me to look fierce or something.  This will teach her never to do that again, I’m sure.}

Six months later, I unzipped the bag, put the dress on, and I knew.  Maybe I’d been too caught up in the details before, too stressed by the drama, too overwhelmed by the life-changing realization that this was going to be a little less my life soon, a little more ours.

I don’t know, but I felt the magic.

So I forked over another $350 to make it mine, to have it taken in here and hemmed a bit there, to have an incredibly expensive (well, to me) bazillion point bustle put in, a bustle that allowed me to run and jump and shake my booty (all of which I did in the store, to the great amusement of everyone).

And then the magic was mine.  Because after the alterations, this sassy thing was tailored to my body, only mine, and only then.  It would forevermore be uniquely suited to one slice of time in my life.

I wore this dress when I hugged my mama so tight,

laughed with my favorite women,

took a walk with my people,

{Photo by my father. Note the look of terror on my face.}

said a prayer,

walked some more,

got to hold hands with this man,

this wonderful man who makes me laugh,

and is so sexy,

and so smart to choose me to be his wife.    

It was with me when I joined my life with someone else’s

and danced with some people,

some really special people,

before starting the rest of my life with my favorite man.

This dress and I, we’ve had some fantastically good times.

We’re close.  And though we may not ever be reunited, and certainly not on a day as important in my life as that one, we’ll always be close.  I’ll always remember it as the dress I wore when I felt most loved, most happy, and most ready to be someone’s wife.

And the one that made my curves look like this:

So if I might offer (yes, more) unsolicited advice for you sweeties out there freaking out about your dress situation, it’s this: yes, it’s stressful.  I’ve been there.  And yes, you’ll hear from everyone that when you find it, you’ll know.  But if you’re afraid you found “the one” at a $5k price point (woman, WHY are you trying on $5k dresses if that’s not in your budget?), or that you’ve found three possibilities, or that maybe you’ll never find the one, take heart.

You will.  At any price point.  You will find a dress that will be with you on the day you get married.  It will be, quite frankly, any of the dresses you pick today. (See how that works?)  Your happiness and joy at finally getting to marry that handsome man of yours will overshadow any “lace or puffy or flowy or fitted” angst.

So for now, just make sure it fits and feels at least a little bit like something you’d choose for some other fabulous occasion (picture it in another color if you must).  Then hang tight.  You will make the right choice, I just know you will, because it’s your life and your body and there’s no wrong choice, mkay?

Ohhhh, you want details?  Here you go:

David’s Bridal style P9345, regular price $499, in a size 6 with significant alterations.  I’m a very busty, very curvy, very short woman (32F/ 5’0”) and I thought it looked (ahem) fabulous on me.  The bustle was a 12-pointer (or something crazy) recommended by the alterations manager and well worth the cost.  You can see it best in this picture.

Or maybe this one.

Or maybe here:

I wore a gorgeous veil and fascinator made for me by the beautiful Mrs. Seabreeze.  You can get your very own at her website, Kasia Fink Veils, and you should most definitely get one just like mine (the “Marisa,” thankyouverymuch)!

My hair was done by Tabitha Davis from Salon Barnes & Barnes on Market  Square in Knoxville.  She was absolutely wonderful, calm and sweet and incredibly talented.  And she did this:

More pictures from my hair trial here for all you short-haired brides Googling “short hair sassy bridal style” or something similar. Smoochies!

The boleros (or shrugs) that you see were made my very own mama, which you can read about here. 

I wore shoes I got on sale at Kohl’s (Mootsies Tootsies, though I can’t find them online anymore), happy pink shoes that held up beautifully over eight hours and gravel and asphalt. (second from right)  Please note Jennifer’s fabulous kicks on the far left – she got them at Dillard’s and I wish I knew the brand so I could get a pair for myself.  Smart Laura in the middle was the only one who went for comfort.  And stability.

Oh, yea, and I wore a long line bra that held my bodacious ta-tas up beautifully but cut into my thighs when I sat down.  Oops.  I forgot that I am much shorter than most women and didn’t think to check for a short-line bra (wocka, wocka).

Who ever said fashion was comfortable?

Next up: my last post.  Maybe.  At least I think so.  Except maybe not.  Because I get very sad when I think of it that way.  Maybe we’ll just call it my last post… for now.

All photography by Angela Herzog of Angela Herzog Photography (www.angelaherzogphotography.com) unless otherwise noted.  Asterisks (*) indicate that post-processing was done by me, and thus, should not be held against her.  See this post for more details.

Late to the party? See previous recaps here:

Part I: And It Begins

Part II: My People, Part I

Part III: It’s Time

Part IV: Our Ceremony

Part V: My People, Part II

Part VI: Celebrate Good Times, COME ON ALREADY!

Part VII: Yummy Yummy For My Tummy

Part VIII: And We Danced

Part IX: The Cheesy, Cheesy Details… with a little bit of sentimentality thrown in

Part X: The One Where Cheese Sucks It Up and Applies Her Own Makeup

The Obamas’ Marriage

If you haven’t read it, go now.  Seriously.  Right now.  It’s mind-blowingly honest and real.  Regardless of your political persuasion, we need more honesty and reality around marriages.  They talk about ups and downs, decisions and families and figuring out how to to make a marriage work with what might be the world’s toughest external factors.

Oh, where to begin to blog about how this story resonated with me? 

A smart, accomplished, ambitious woman figuring out how her husband’s life and desires fit with hers… and being honest about it:

Unlike the wife who smiles tightly and insists everything is fine, Michelle sent a clear series of distress signals not only to her husband but to everyone around her. “Barack and I, we’re doing a lot of talking,” she would say when asked how she was holding up.

A couple with an admittedly happy marriage talking honestly about how hard marriage can be:

Two months later in the Oval Office, I asked the Obamas just how severe their strains had been. “This was sort of the eye-opener to me, that marriage is hard,” the first lady said with a little laugh. “But going into it, no one ever tells you that. They just tell you, ‘Do you love him?’ ‘What’s the dress look like?’ ”

A man worried that if his wife agrees to what he wants, she won’t be happy.  When my husband and I disagree, his biggest worry is that I’m not happy (hello, of COURSE I’m not happy, we’re yelling at each other, buddy!), so this strikes a chord in me:

The first lady looked solemnly at the president. He said: “You know, I mean, I think that it was important for us to work this through. . . . There was no point where I was fearful for our marriage. There were points in time where I was fearful that Michelle just really didn’t — that she would be unhappy.”

This, THIS, this right here is why I blog about all the things that aren’t rainbows and butterflies:

“If my ups and downs, our ups and downs in our marriage can help young couples sort of realize that good marriages take work. . . .” Michelle Obama said a few minutes later in the interview. The image of a flawless relationship is “the last thing that we want to project,” she said. “It’s unfair to the institution of marriage, and it’s unfair for young people who are trying to build something, to project this perfection that doesn’t exist.”

And my favorite, the quote that out of an article filled with oh-my-God-we-ARE-normal-thank-God moments, stuck in my head and settled into my heart with a whoosh of peace:

Michelle Obama accepted that she was not going to have a conventional marriage, that her husband would be away much of the time. “That was me, wanting a certain type of model, and our lives didn’t fit that model,” she told me in an Iowa lunchroom in the summer of 2007. “I just needed the support. It didn’t have to be Barack.”

Tell me honestly (since “honest” seems to be a popular word in this post!), did you love the article as much as I did?  Why?

Have you ever watched well-socialized puppies play?  When they start to get overwhelmed and over-stimulated, they stop.  They take a break, stand very still, and get themselves under control, then they resume playing.  Dogs who don’t speak “dog” well don’t do this and their play deteriorates into real aggression.

That was us.  We’d start a benign conversation about tents and before we knew it, be arguing about who cared more and did more and loved more and… you get the picture.  I wondered, often, how people managed to so easily discuss such big things.

“We talked about when to have kids.”

“We were chatting about our budget.”

“We decided that our dream wedding would be modern yet sentimental, light and funny, but classy.  And we want gold-rimmed stemware.”

You may as well have been saying that you and your beloved, wearing period-appropriate attire, were laid out in a field of freaking wildflowers surrounded by chirping birds and scented breezes and being massaged by magical hands.  Without allergies or bugs or the need to pee.

But we kept trying.  We had Wedding Wednesdays complete with agendas and action items.  I badgered, cajoled, harassed, gave up, gave in…

… and then we got married.  It was a fabulous and overwhelmingly loving kind of day.  Turns out you can have a rocky engagement and still have a great wedding.

More importantly, you can have a rocky engagement and great wedding and rough first few months of marriage and still have a great marriage.  Four months in, we’ve figured it out.  Well, mostly.  A lot of it had to do with the usual culprits: expectations, trust, sharing, and housework.  But then I realized that I have a choice every day to live happily or make a change, and I choose to live happily.  I focused on the bright side during the month of September and it paid off (you can read about it here).

So if you read blogs with couples who have found their joint vision and never spend big money without consensus – and you find that both awesome and horribly depressing because you can’t imagine getting there – take heart.  You can.  Take a deep breath, have faith even if you don’t know in what, and believe.  You love and are loved and you will be okay.  Cut your man some slack for being male, don’t feel bad about deciding things he doesn’t care about anyway, and love your people.

Okay, back to my wedding! 

I waffled and debated and had entirely too many free makeup trials, then decided I would do my own.  Was it cheaper?  No.  I spent more on cosmetic items than I would have paid a makeup artist.  Was it worth it? Absolutely.

Look, we brides often get ridiculed for paying attention to little things that non-brides think are narcissistic at best and evidence of a controlling maniac at worst.  The quickest way to bore a non-bride to tears is to talk about your makeup; somehow hair debates are less annoying, don’t ask me why.

But it’s my face on pictures I will be showing my grandchildren, and while makeup issues are certainly not on par with things like vows and chairs and rings, let’s not minimize them.  In the end, having practiced by bothering to put on makeup every day for months, I was confident in my skills, tools, and products.

My fake picture smile, not so much.

But handling my own makeup made for moments like this one:

And this one:

And diva-ish pictures like this one:

Add that to the fact that I can put on flattering and long-lasting makeup in 15 minutes just in time to throw on heels and run to a big business meeting, and I’ll call this one a success.

Here’s my product list (no links because I have faith in your Google skills… all costs are approximate and based on my faulty memory):

Aveda Inner Light Liquid Foundation: $22, Aveda

Physician’s Formula Powder Palette in Translucent to set the foundation: $10, Walgreens

Nars Blush/ Bronzer duo in Orgasm and Laguna: $37, Sephora. Love.  Love, love, love.  How they devised one color that works on so many skin tones is beyond me.

Smashbox Photo Op Under Eye Brightener: $18, Sephora

Sonia Kashuk concealer in Dusk 21: $10, Target

Sonia Kashuk eyeshadow palette: $14, Target

Maybelline Unstoppable eyeliner in Espresso, set with dark brown eyeshadow: $7, Walgreens

Maybelline Intense XXL Waterproof mascara in Blackest Black: $10.  Wore it to a therapy appointment to try it out and then didn’t cry one. single. time.    A day later, I made an emergency trip to buy eye makeup remover because the stuff would not come off.  This was a good thing on our wedding day.  Not so good on our wedding night.  Or the next morning.

Prestige lip liner in Natural: $3, Walgreens.

Bloom lipstick in Indulge: $10, Dillards.

Sally Hansen Diamond Lip Treatment (gloss) in Royal Romance: $10, Walgreens.

Next up: hair, dress, veil and other attire-related details!

All photography by Angela Herzog of Angela Herzog Photography (www.angelaherzogphotography.com) unless otherwise noted.  Asterisks (*) indicate that post-processing was done by me, and thus, should not be held against her.  See this post for more details.

Late to the party? See previous recaps here:

Part I: And It Begins

Part II: My People, Part I

Part III: It’s Time

Part IV: Our Ceremony

Part V: My People, Part II

Part VI: Celebrate Good Times, COME ON ALREADY!

Part VII: Yummy Yummy For My Tummy

Part VIII: And We Danced

Part IX: The Cheesy, Cheesy Details… with a little bit of sentimentality thrown in

Alas, my DIY skills (and time and dedication, frankly) were lacking, but I did manage to pull together a few really fantastic details at the last minute.  Some were literally at the last minute: I stayed up until 1:00 AM the night before we got married doing the things I just. had. to. do.

Y’all know what I’m saying, yes?  Sometimes, sleep be damned, a woman’s just gotta follow her inner cheese and DIY some stuff.  And if you feel the need, the insane desire to make some stuff that is not strictly required, and you just know that even if nobody else notices, YOU will notice and be just a tiny bit happier, do it.  Throw practicality to the wind and make some stuff (but only if you are confident you can do that and still enjoy your wedding day, mkay?)

Behold, a non-DIY’ers version of DIY:

Little goofy table tents that I loved more than I should have. Loved.  Made them at 1:00 AM and smiled every time I saw them (okay, and every time I pointed them out to people, every one of the hundred times I may have done that because I loved them so much).  My husband and I both have goofy, cheesy souls.

There were multiple versions, some funnier than others (“C’mon, Baby, light my fire. Seriously. Light the candle, please?”). This was my brilliant solution to the quandary of not knowing how to interrupt dinner or dancing to light candles.  Who wants that job?  Nobody!  And even if we could find someone willing, some people (not naming names but they were all in our wedding party) were having WAY too good a time to stop to light candles.  So instead, we deputized our peeps to help us out.

While we’re on the subject of paper goods, let’s take a moment to remember the crossword puzzles. After debating what to do with them, we solved the problem by completely forgetting about them until after the ceremony (forgetfulness as solution, thankyouverymuch).  So we scattered them about between the ceremony and reception and they were well-received.

I, on the other hand, was very confused as to why people kept asking me where my dogs were and what the second one was named.  Apparently some people were loath to share their answers because they thought there’d be a prize (hello, you’re here and I’m about to get you drunk, that’s your prize) and I was too caught up in being married to remember the things.

Thank you notes. I haven’t shared these yet because I love them so much, and sometimes when you love something so much, you just want to keep it to yourself for a while.  Sort of like earlier today when I had an amazing prime rib and a so-so New York strip sharing space on my plate and for some reason I felt compelled to eat the strip first.  Why?  So it’s feelings wouldn’t get hurt?  No, because the prime rib was so freaking good I wanted to savor it.

So, here we go: remember Mrs. Gummibear, she of the pink salt?  Well, in addition to an unmatched attention to detail, the woman can draw.

I was so thrilled!!!  Working from our engagement pictures and never having met us, she still managed to capture our essences quite convincingly.  {My husband’s reaction to seeing it: “You look hot as a cartoon. I look pretty good, too.”  Let’s not tell him I had her pump up his chest just a little, mkay?}

I used the image on my thank you cards…

Me: “Hey, sis, how freaking cool is that???”

My sister: “You’re a dork.”

Me: “I know, isn’t it cool!?!”

I used the image on our reserved seating signs…

Heck, I love the darned thing so much I’m thinking about using it on my new blog’s header.  Thanks, Gummibear!  You rock!!

The Goonies flag flying in front of our house. Does it count as DIY if it’s not really necessary for a wedding?  Say yes!  My husband loves “The Goonies.”  Loves.  And I love my husband.  So when, one week before our wedding we decided that we needed a flag flying, and my husband made the sad eyes and said, “You know what would make me really happy?” then showed me the flag, what could I do but agree to make it? Granted, not the most intelligent of decisions when I still had a sofa slipcover to finish (yes, the bright yellow one in some of our pictures), but hey, he was happy!

The pole is a length of copper pipe because paying $25 for a cheap piece of plastic just because it was labeled “flagpole” was not acceptable.  Nope.  Sorry.  I made the flag from outdoor Sunbrella fabric. It’s still proudly flying today, almost five months later.  And yes, people driving by still slow down to read it.

Signs for the path to our ceremony site. After painting the whole house at least once – including floors in the basement – I am an accomplished painter, thankyouverymuch. My sentimental heart loved that the planks of wood came from an old fence we found on the property.  Lest you think I was capable of a consistent color palette, please know that this paint was leftover from painting trim in the bathroom; when my foam brush failed me, I used my finger.

We may or may not have left the signs up (ahem).  What?  There WAS a wedding here.  Maybe it wasn’t today, but it was here, and we were happy, and remembering is good.

And this is still the halfway point! 

Cake stands. Let’s not get me started on the how unwilling I was to pay a hundred dollars for two cake stands to hold ten buck cakes.  I had a better idea: eleven dollars scored me three big plates, one vase and two dessert glasses from the thrift store.  A little bit of super glue (from the dollar store) and the sweet helpfulness of a stepmom later, we had cake stands.

Flowers! Again, I can’t take credit for these, but my SIL created fantabulous bouquets from flowers I bought at the fresh market and grocery store (and, um, some additional stuff I may or may not have taken from our neighbors’ temporarily vacant house but theywouldhaveletmeifIhadaskedISWEAR – let’s just call these sentimental additions).

See?

Beautiful! What kind of a lucky girl was I to score peonies at a (let’s be honest here) grocery store on the week of our wedding?  Really lucky.  I LOVED them.  My grandmother’s cross wrapped around the stem, together with my mama’s necklace and my other grandmother’s earrings, gave me faith and strength and the feeling of being very literally with the women from whom I come.

As for my sister (the remaining female member of my clan) she kept me laughing.  For heaven’s sake, I have no idea what was so funny, but it was really funny.

This is my sister-in-law slash flower creator:

I love her (and not just because she’s fantastic with flowers).  See?

Mmmm.  Happy flowers.

Oh, yea, my mom beautified the flower girl’s basket with some stuff I had and a fifty cent basket from the thrift store because I flat out refused to pay fifty bucks for a freaking basket just because it was labeled “flower girl basket” (are you sensing a trend here?).  My flowergirl was thrilled and that’s what matters.

And since we’re talking about my mama, let’s not forget that she made me seven (SEVEN!) beauteous shrugs to choose from (seven!). Here are two:

Yea, I make stupid faces when faced with a camera.  And apparently I lack the self-preservation necessary to keep me from posting these on the internet.

Also, she made me this happy little beauty of a clutch from the same silk as the first shrug and it held my lipgloss and Blackberry quite well (what else do you need when you have a MOH who takes care of your every need, caters to your every whim, refills your empty glass?).

Yea, that’s my veil.  Someone was evidently very intent on making sure that some unknown thing about my veil was clear.  Lovely how quickly you forget the details, huh?

My mama also made this ring posy. I mean, really, who says it has to be a pillow? What if your ring bearer isn’t a cute little boy, but rather a really gorgeous almost teenaged niece who needs to be free to hug and primp and do little girl things?  Then you call your mama, rant share your thoughts, and a few days later she mails you this little bit of happiness.  The rings tied onto silk strings and my husband and I just held our palms open to catch them when it was time.

Those are her gorgeous hands, not mine.  Nope, mine were (as they are today) nail bitten and not at all elegant or bridal, but I am irrationally tied to the ability to chew on my nails when grace eludes me.  And hey, a girl’s gotta keep it real.

The music. All you need is a wonderful little brother with a bad*ss Mac and a willingness to buy a bunch of cheesy songs.  Oh, and the sound system your bachelor (not anymore!) husband paid way too much for because apparently blowing out your ears with the awesomeness of action films in surround sound is totally worth it.  Note: we used a laptop rather than an iPod for the sake of robustness and continuity.  Plus, I hear he was able to download songs on the fly via my wireless internet.

Wow, there was more DIY than I thought!  Hang tight, we’re almost there.

And please let’s not overlook the fact that having a backyard wedding at home is, in and of itself, DIY’ing. My husband laid a ton of gravel, we painted almost every wall, renovated the bathroom, landscaped landscaped landscaped… and every bit was worth it.

My dogs chase each other in the same clearing where we pledged our futures to one another. Someday our children will join us.

And every time I want to remember how joy feels, every time I want to remember the love of my people waiting for me, every time I need to remember that I made the choice, the happy and joyful choice, to be with this man, I stand here in this spot, look to the heavens, and say a prayer.

And that, folks, is why I think DIY matters.  You may not make your own invitations or write your own ceremony, but find something you’ll love, something you’ll remember, something that will make you feel good both while you create it and forever in your memories, and do that.   It will be worth it.

All photography by Angela Herzog of Angela Herzog Photography (www.angelaherzogphotography.com) unless otherwise noted.  Asterisks (*) indicate that post-processing was done by me, and thus, should not be held against her.  See this post for more details.

Late to the party? See previous recaps here:

Part I: And It Begins

Part II: My People, Part I

Part III: It’s Time

Part IV: Our Ceremony

Part V: My People, Part II

Part VI: Celebrate Good Times, COME ON ALREADY!

Part VII: Yummy Yummy For My Tummy

Part VIII: And We Danced

So we chose “Islands in the Stream.”  Oh, yea! Dolly (who is pretty loved around these parts) and Kenny singing the cheesiest song ever… and one that we both apparently sang as five year olds.  With heart.

My girls joined in to help detract from the train wreck about to happen.  Smart girls. 

Here we go.

So embarrassing.  Who knew that song was so incredibly long?  Not us, that’s for sure. 

We survived.

My people are dancers, turning every get-together into an excuse to party… but most of my people weren’t at our wedding reception, joining us instead at our hometown reception.  Having grown up in my own family, I didn’t realize not all families are dancers, so I was a little bit sad that our dance floor wasn’t packed with people.

But hey, the people closest to me and it made for some fantastic photo ops.  Always a bright side! 

Check it out:

We sing, too!

Oh, the embarrassment!

Look at the joy on my stepsister’s face!

Me and my best girls:

“I wanna dance!”

I taught my new husband how to two-step.  “See, honey, my parents are doing it.”

He agreed to try and he did great!

… but complained that dancing made his legs hurt.  Wimp! (I say that with love!)

My brother stepped in to show him how it’s done.

And my hubby had to step back in!

He’s thinking he’s pretty awesome.  {And yet again, I’m checking him out… or am I looking at my cleavage?  Hard to tell.}

Note to future brides: if you’re going to serve beer in bottles (easy peasy), CHARGE SOMEONE WITH POURING YOURS INTO A GLASS, FOR HEAVEN’S SAKE.  Then again, who cares?  Not me!

*Happy sigh*  So much fun! You don’t need a packed dance floor or a pricey DJ to have a great wedding reception.  You just need fun-loving peeps and a fantastic little bro willing to manage your playlist.  Isn’t he just the suavest?

We used our home theater speaker system, his laptop, and a really long extension cord.  We didn’t have any problems, and I’m told we even took requests for songs and downloaded them on the fly via my wireless connection.

When I started writing this post I’d planned to end with a lesson: do not hesitate to go with a romantic first dance song, because I often wish we had.  But, as has happened so often during my recap-writing, I remembered how darned fun and completely appropriate our decisions were, and I realize I wouldn’t have had it any other way. 

Sure, it was embarrassing, but we’ve always been willing to laugh at our own expense.  Like the story of our life, the idea was good, the implementation not so perfect, the end result perfectly suited to us.

So do what feels right.  And then enjoy the heck out of it.

All photography by Angela Herzog of Angela Herzog Photography (www.angelaherzogphotography.com) unless otherwise noted.  Asterisks (*) indicate that post-processing was done by me, and thus, should not be held against her.  See this post for more details.

Late to the party? See previous recaps here:

Part I: And It Begins

Part II: My People, Part I

Part III: It’s Time

Part IV: Our Ceremony

Part V: My People, Part II

Part VI: Celebrate Good Times, COME ON ALREADY!

Part VII: Yummy Yummy For My Tummy

It all started with the blogs

I don’t remember when I started reading blogs or how I found Weddingbee, much like I don’t remember learning how to walk or when I ate my first french fry.  I do know that I spent too many hours Googling things like “a simple wedding” and “minimal wedding” and “second wedding.”  I kept finding sites on etiquette (apparently face veils are the prerogative of first-time brides), dealing with children (we had none) and eloping.  But I didn’t want to elope, and I didn’t care about veils – I just wanted the straight story on how little you could do for a wedding and still call it a wedding.  I wanted insight, answers, how-to’s.  I wanted bullet points.

So I started blogging.  My first attempt was called “A Simple Wedding,” but it didn’t really work. I wasn’t sure I wanted a wedding, wasn’t sure I was ready to get married, wasn’t sure why people were even engaged.  Who was I to tell anyone else how to plan a wedding I wasn’t sure I wanted?  But I kept writing, and soon I found my voice.  I scrapped my first ten posts and launched a new blog when I wrote this post.  For the first time, my words got away from me and helped me find myself.  For the first time, I understood that my perspective would be about the emotional journey of a bride, and more specifically, how you can fail at something once and still try it again. 

My tagline became: “I’ve been there, done that, got the t-shirt (and divorce papers) to prove it. Here I am again, pledging my life to my (new) love with eyes wide open (and heart racing) knowing full well how emotionally traumatic this can end… and doing it anyway.”

Applying to Weddingbee

So I decided to apply to Weddingbee.  I read each post but never commented, and while I loved the DIY aspect, wasn’t much on DIY myself.  I never expected to be accepted.  I mean, c’mon.  I was a divorced non-DIY-er planning a super-cheap wedding at home.  And I wasn’t sure how I felt about weddings.  My budget was vague and tiny, my projects were more home-related than wedding-ish, and my perspective wasn’t all rainbows and butterflies.

When I got the email from Pengy, I honestly didn’t know what to do… because I hadn’t actually gotten around to telling my fiance about this blogging thing I was doing.  Oops.  By that point, my posts had touched on my previous marriage and my own ambivalence, and I was concerned that he wouldn’t want all my honesty out in the real world.  Lucky for me, when I asked him to read my posts (while I glanced over his shoulder and bit my nails nervously), he agreed – and didn’t mind as long as what I wrote was honest.

On honesty and other people

In fact, I get asked pretty often if he reads all my posts, has editorial control, ever gets upset.  While he gets every post in his email (I signed him up), he rarely reads them.  If I write about a topic I’m a little unsure about (like this one on s.e.x.), I will ask him to read and offer to edit, but he’s never taken me up on it. 

Strange, right?  If someone wrote about me, I’d want to read and review.  But when I asked him just now if he ever minded my blogging so honestly about our lives, he replied that he understood early on that blogging was part of my emotional process, that it helped me understand myself and my choices, and if it made me a happier person, he was all for it.  Between you and I, I don’t think he had any idea how many people read my posts and how connected we’d all become. 

I’m also very careful to keep a tight perspective and not offer judgment on anyone but myself.  I’m sure I’ve made mistakes, but if you read my posts, they’re all about me – my thoughts, feelings, screw-ups.  My descriptions of him and his actions are usually pretty balanced and (hopefully) not unflattering.  I’ve never wanted to make anyone feel bad or use this blog as a way to unfairly vent my feelings, so when I write about ANYONE, I imagine reading those words to them myself.  And, like when I called Mrs. Meatball a really cute freaking fairy, I often check with them to make sure they take it in the spirit I intended. 

I may be honest, but I try not to be a jerk.

On why Weddingbee rocks

I found my voice by blogging for this site.  Without it, I wouldn’t have known the comfort of not feeling alone, the value of friendships made online, the power of the written word to unscramble my brain and make other people feel less alone.

I’m an emotional woman and I’ve found my outlet.  I value every comment you’ve ever left me, even the ones questioning my decisions.  I’ve often thought of those of you who have shared your stories and concerns and challenges, wondering how you’re doing and if it all worked out well.  And if the embarrassment of putting my own failings out there has made even one of you feel less alone, as you have done for me, it’s all worth the time (oh, gawd, the HOURS we spend blogging as volunteers… I could have made a fortune at minimum wage by now!) and effort and carpal tunnel (I kid, I kid… mostly).

On finding your own voice

Just try.  Over and over and over again, write about what’s on your mind, and eventually you’ll find yourself.  Write with readers in mind and your writing will improve.  I know this is hard to believe (um, not), but my journal blog was long and meandering and oh, so full of words.  Believe it or not, when I write for readers, I write fewer words, remember to make a point, and keep from spiraling into negativity.  You’re good for me.

And if you’re looking for honesty, accept discomfort.  Not once have I published a raw post and not dreaded reading the comments.  Not once.  Some days I literally cringe and hide my face when I see my post go up (like this one on doubts).  But not once, not one. single. time. have I regretted putting myself out there.  That’s the thing about fears – they dissipate in the light of honesty.  So try it.  You might like it.

One more thing: putting yourself out there doesn’t mean people have to agree.  And if they don’t, that’s okay.  You might learn something, might find a different way of looking at your life, might just close the browser and walk away.  Don’t apologize (unless you were misunderstood), don’t get offended, don’t take it all too seriously.  You live the life you live whether you blog about it or not, right?  If you want input, say you want input, and if you don’t, make that clear.

If you get comments asking you if you know what you’re doing (like this one), don’t assume it’s snark.  Ask yourself what they are really wanting to know, and then answer.  The comments on that post were one of my favorite online conversations.

In closing (finally!)

I didn’t think I’d be accepted to blog at Weddingbee, as a divorced unwilling bride-to-be, but I’ve learned that you just never know what might happen, so you might as well try.  Be honest, be brave, be yourself.

I still blog most days.  You can follow my ongoing battle with myself and my quirks at www.notquitebettycrocker.com.