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On Your Wedding Day

Posted on April 22, 2010. Filed under: Uncategorized |

Today is your big day, though not for the reasons people might first believe.  It’s not your big day because you get to wear a beautiful dress, or because you’ll feel like a bride, or even because your nearest and dearest have come from all over to be with you.  It’s not your big day because you’re probably throwing the biggest event you’ll ever throw.  It’s not your big day because your vision will come to life, because your details will be perfect, or because the whole shebang will unfold just as you planned.

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

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In defense of weddings

Posted on December 1, 2009. Filed under: Uncategorized |

I’ve kept my mouth shut for a long time (hard to believe, I know), but I have to say it: there is nothing wrong with wanting (and having) a really nice wedding, whatever your definition of nice may be. 

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.}

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A Bee’s Life: Cheese edition

Posted on August 27, 2009. Filed under: Uncategorized |

Hey, y’all.  I have to tell you, I’m really excited about this series because I really had no idea how this WB blogging thing worked when I applied, so I hope you get some insight into how it all works.

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.

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It’s time.

Posted on July 10, 2009. Filed under: Uncategorized |

I was nervous.  Oh, so nervous.

After my hair was done,

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my makeup was on,

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I’d chosen jewelry,

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sent a few last minute messages,

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and grabbed my flowers,

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it was time.

Nine months of angst and soul-searching since he asked me to marry him, two years after I met him at a bar, and finally coming to terms with my past and the whole purpose of this wedding thing, it was time.

“Four minutes,” she said.  I thought I might vomit.

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Photo by my father

“The men are down there,” he assured me.  I regretted not taking a potty break.

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Photo by my father

“The music’s playing,” she said.  I wanted to pass out.

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“We’re off.  We love you,” they told me, just before smiling and heading down the hill – together, simply because I asked.  My stomach was in my throat.

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“Can we go now?  It’s time for the flower petals!”  I kissed my niece and sister and sent them on their way.  My hands were shaking.

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Suddenly, the decision to walk myself down the aisle didn’t seem like such a great idea.  Sure, the symbolism was clear, but I hadn’t anticipated not being able to move.

I prayed. “Dear God, I can’t do this.  I don’t think I’m up to it.  I can’t be a great wife and a great person and everything this marriage deserves.  And all of these people… they’ve worked so hard, spent so much money, been so amazing.  How am I worth all of this?  I don’t think I can do this.”

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I was going to cry.  And then, I heard the first few bars of my favorite song. “Sweet Pea, Apple of my eye….”

Played by my talented and supportive little brother, that song makes me smile, every time.  I call my husband, my cat, and any adorable little kid, “sweet pea.”

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And that was it.  That was my moment.  My happy song, my people waiting, my almost-husband at the end of the trek, and I was standing alone with myself.  If all of these people had faith in me, then so would I.  So I took a deep breath, and I took a step.   1555

And then another.

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And then another.

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And I was there.  It was time.

Marisa's Wedding and Rudy's Graduation 2009 030

Photo by my father.

Next up: our ceremony.

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

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My people, part I

Posted on July 9, 2009. Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: |

Up until a few years ago, I’d never really been a fan of women.  Frankly, they scared me.  A few bad break-ups (the friendship kind) in high school and college, a few intimidating (or, let’s be honest, silly) girlfriends of good male friends, a few too many snarky comments – I was done.  I had a few male friends and my mom. That was it.

And then, at a very low point in my life, I met L.  She was my vet, actually, one of many vets I’d had in my life, but for some reason, meeting her changed my life.  She was so funny and smart and sweet, and for just a second, I wondered what it would be like to be friends with her.

And then I was.

Since those days, more than two years ago, she’s moved on to bigger cities and better dreams, and I miss her all the time.  But she boarded a flight and bought a dress and traveled all the way across the country for little ol’ me.  And I needed her.

Because she, too, laughs with her whole body.

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Because she jumps in to help without a second thought.

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Because my life is a little bit brighter, a little bit happier, when she’s in it.  Her laugh makes me laugh,

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her smile makes me smile,

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her infectious enthusiasm makes my heart sing. Um, literally.

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And through her, I met J.  She is, quite simply, a sister to me.  A woman with very few personal boundaries, she makes everyone feel a little bit more honest, a little bit more normal, a little bit like you’re not alone.  Okay, a lot.  When she’s around, I don’t worry.  Let me repeat.  I. Don’t. Worry.  I know she loves me and has my best interests at heart, and I trust her completely.  This emotional honesty thing you all like about me?  I learned it from her.

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And I love this face.

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And this one.

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And especially this slightly mischievous one.  I love everything about her.

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As part of the husband deal, I got his sister, who is hilarious and talented and super sweet.  They look nothing alike, but act so similarly that I can’t help but love her.  Not only did she check in periodically and offer her errand-running services, she offered to make our bouquets… and WOW. (More on that later.)

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Together with my mom, who understands me better than I do,

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and my sister, who is the slightly more fun and significantly more stylish version of me,

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they got me through the day before and of our wedding.

I wrote them thank you notes…

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and I hugged them…

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and I gave them vintage purses and little makeup bags and many, many apologies… when all along I should have just said, “I love you.”

Without my mom, there would be no me (literally, but also emotionally).  Without my sister, there would be no wedding (since she goaded me into going out the night I met my husband). And without him, I wouldn’t know SIL. Without L, I wouldn’t know J, and without J, I wouldn’t be sane.  And if I’d never met L, I wouldn’t have discovered the wonderful world of women… and I NEVER would have had the guts to blog.

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And without you all, I wouldn’t feel like my life is held safe surrounded by this silken web of connections with women.  When I need something, even just to share, you are there.  I love you, too.

But don’t worry, I won’t grab your boobies.

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Someday, I’ll share this story with my daughter (or, hell, maybe my son).  Trust women, I will say, because you are one of them, and in their love you will find peace. (Okay, maybe not appropriate for a son, but there are always girls needing to hear that, don’t you think?)

And that’s how I got through the morning of our wedding… by leaning very heavily on this group of women.  And I wouldn’t have had it any other way.

Female friendships that work are relationships in which women help each other to belong to themselves.
— Louise Bernikow

Want more Cheese?

Part I: And It Begins

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.

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And it begins….

Posted on July 8, 2009. Filed under: Uncategorized |

{Note: I’m changing themes for the duration of my recaps because I have no patience with resizing pictures and I don’t want them to be cropped by my current theme, which I much preferred.}

I’m a jealous person.  I know, I know, not the most flattering of personality traits, but since honesty is one of the better of those, I may as well admit it.

I went to a wedding just two weeks after ours, and though it was surprisingly just like ours (funny what they say about imitation), I was a bit jealous.  That couple did very little of their own planning, and I thought about how nice it would be to just walk into a well-planned wedding.

I saw the lovely Mrs. Meatball’s pics and I was OH, so very jealous.  She looks like the cutest and happiest freaking fairy (I say that with love!) and I wanted to be just like her.  Just like that.  Exactly like that.

But then I got a sneak peak at a few of our pictures and I remembered: Oh, THAT’S who I am.  I’m the loud mouth who laughs with her whole body.

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I’m the nutcase whose every thought crosses her face – flattering or otherwise.2127 BW

I’m the one who hugged her mom so tight,

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laughed so hard,

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danced so much,

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ate every bite on her plate

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and smiled at her husband all night (or is that lust?).

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That’s me.

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And him?  He’s the cutie pie who dances a jig when he’s all dressed up.

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He’s the man who fully admitted wanting to pass out from the stress of standing in front of all of those people.

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He’s the fella who noticed how much fun I was having dancing with my brother and so he just had to cut in.

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And we’re the couple so happy with our lives that we couldn’t help but want to host our own wedding,

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at our own home,

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on our own street.

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Because we love our neighbors, almost all of whom joined us for the party, even those who had to be helped up the street or helped home afterward.

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And we love our families, our people who traveled hundreds of miles — and then another twenty between our house and Home Depot — and smiled while cleaning and hugged while helping.

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And we love our friends, who traveled and sweated and calmed a stressed out woman down by taking over the directing and the executing and the scheduling.

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And then they danced.

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That’s us.

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And this was our wedding.

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Consider this the beginning of my recaps. As you can see, they won’t be organized in any rational fashion.  You know the story, because you’re living it.  Guy meets girl, proposes, much planning and freaking out ensues, then culminates in a wedding filled with carefully and lovingly executed details and stunning coordination.  Except that I’m not much good at details, and the coordination was anything but stunning, so instead, I’m going to share our story in the way that feels best… which I’m going to figure out as I go.

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.

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Message from the Bee-roadcast System: MyPublisher.com promo

Posted on July 5, 2009. Filed under: Uncategorized |

Hey, all.  Remember me?  I was the one who blogged about Twister and going to Brazil.  And then y’all gave me your input on photo books because you’re so sweet.  {And then I might have fallen on the face of the blog-earth because I haven’t gotten my recaps together.  Yup, that’s me.}

I just downloaded the software from MyPublisher and those lovely folks sent me a promo code good for a free book. Yup, just for giving them my email address.

So go.  Go now.  The code I got is good until July 20th.  And they emailed me a different code two weeks ago that’s valid until tomorrow.  So for the price of two books, I can get two different layouts… a total of four books for a hair under $60.

You can thank me later.

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Because it may take me a while to get to recaps…

Posted on June 30, 2009. Filed under: Uncategorized |

Lest you think I have abandoned my blog responsibilities (a hilarious thought, really, since this is all completely optional and unpaid), hop on over to my new blog where I will prove that I have not dropped off the face of the earth… or that if I have, I found a place with an internet connection.

You will discover a) life doesn’t change much after you’re married, at least wherein fighting and relationship drama is concerned, and b) I really like my dogs and spend entirely too much time with them.

Please join me!

{And yes, I will get to recaps soon, but first I have to pick a few photos to turn into prints to give as gifts at our hometown reception this weekend.  Have I mentioned just how shitty I am at anything requiring decision-making?  Yes, I have. Also, here.  And here.}

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Aw, heck, now what?

Posted on June 22, 2009. Filed under: Uncategorized |

Fabulous photography rocks.

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All photos by Angela Herzog Photography

Too much great photography, though?  Makes my stomach hurt.

We started with more than a thousand images which I narrowed to 120 of my favorites.  After editing, I had 408 really great photos.  Really.  I love them with all my heart.

Um, but now what?  I don’t know what to do next. And trying to figure that out is making me breathe funny and feel hot and overwhelmed.

I do know that I need at least one album PDQ (by the week of the fourth) and a few photographs to give as gifts to our families.

Should I divide the photos into folders like “Ceremony” and “Reception”?  Or “Favorites” and “Super Favorites”?  Should I try to tag photos rather than copy or move them?  Should I use other groups like “To Print” and “For Blog” and “Just Because I Like Them”?

And how do I organize the photo book?  Since I’m also doing a slide show, I’m leaning away from a chronological book, at least for now.  Maybe I need to divide my favorite pictures into “great” (like the one in this post) and “iconic” (like the one of the hubby and I smooching under a really big tree).

Perhaps if I took more pictures in my regular life, I’d be better able to handle this, but my lifelong photo skills are limited to dumping photos in folders dated by month.

Please, share some advice, ol’ buddy ol’ pals o’ mine!

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Our fabulous photographer

Posted on June 21, 2009. Filed under: Uncategorized |

Have I ever told you how we found our photographer?  No?  Well, here goes….

Not long after we were engaged, I found an old box of photos from earlier times in my life (which is a euphemism for my first wedding/ marriage, because I’ve decided it’s time to stop talking about it so much now that the chapter is finally, blessedly, peacefully closed).  My fiance found me sitting on the floor in tears while I struggled to deal with the rush of memories taking over my heart.

Until that point, I didn’t care much about photography, figuring the best experiences were meant to be enjoyed, not captured, and the best memories would always be in my head.  But then I found a picture of my now-deceased grandparents dancing.  And I remembered the long-forgotten drama that raged around our choice of centerpieces; saw myself in all of my youthful naiveté; found my favorite picture of my favorite kid.  I realized that someday I’d want to share my story – the whole story – with my children, and I’d want to show them these pictures as evidence of the life I lived before I met their father.

With newfound appreciation for the merits of photography, I set about finding a photographer stumbled upon a listing for a photographer on Craigslist.  She was looking to expand her portfolio and so offered reduced sitting fees (of course that caught my attention, don’t you know me well enough to know that yet?); I was looking for an inexpensive way to remedy the fact that my beloved and I had perhaps one good (non-goofy) picture of us both. 

When I jumped over to her website, I was stunned.

The colors!  The richness!  The expressions!  At the time her portfolio consisted primarily of children’s pictures, but I figured if she could coax such stunning photos out of kids too young to know how to pose, we had a chance.  I’m a notorious eye-closer (you should see my prom pictures!) and we’re not really a lovey dovey couple.

You can see the results here

 

I’d also like to mention that we weren’t getting along particularly well that day.  We were running late, I couldn’t find a thing to wear, and, well, we just didn’t get along very often at the time.  We’d never spent time in front of a photographer and only the promise of a cold beer got us through the discomfort.  I wondered – even during the shoot – about the point of engagement pictures, the vanity inherent in hiring someone to take photos of you.  Would we even use them?

Then I got the proofs.  We looked happy.  And silly.  And, well, GOOD.  JandMLaughing

There were times during our engagement that I couldn’t imagine being happy and silly and fun again, difficult times when I wasn’t sure we were on the right road.  That picture sat on my desk,  and I’d look at it and think, “Yea, that’s right!  I do look at him like that; we are that good together sometimes.”

And when things were good, and I was dreaming of babies and vacations and days spent doing anything other than painting, I’d smile at the thought that our grandchildren would find these pictures and think, “They were so young!  Don’t I look just like her/ him?  Weird!”

And, of course, you all know by now that I used the heck out of our e-pics as the easiest STD’s ever.

We can all take snapshots, but it takes skill and talent and practice to capture someone’s essence in a one-second glimpse into their lives.  Angela captured ours so effectively there was never any question we’d hire her to shoot our wedding.

All photography by Angela Herzog of Angela Herzog Photography (www.angelaherzogphotography.com) unless otherwise noted.  In later posts, asterisks (*) indicate that post-processing was done by me, and thus, should not be held against her.  Why? Because I opted to save her the post-processing.effort. on pictures I’d need only for this blog.

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    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.

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