Of Course “I Do”!


It was perfect.  I am at a loss for words.  So much love, generosity, friendship, camaraderie, memories, laughs, hugs, tears… it was the most amazing whirlwind that I will never forget.

And now I must go track down my amazingly wonderful husband (!!) as we have an afternoon at the Williamsburg Spa to look forward to!

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It’s Here!

I decided I did not want my last post to be about something so negative.

It’s 1:03am on the morning of May 2nd, 2010.  It’s the morning of my wedding day.  My dress is hung up on the closet door.  Everything is perfect.

Tonight we were surrounded by our amazing, wonderful friends at an Irish pub in Old Town called Pat Troy’s.  We danced. We sang.  We drank beer.  We hugged.  We laughed.

This wedding has been two years in the making, and it still hasn’t dawned on me that later today I am marrying my best friend and my other part of me.

Words cannot express how I’m feeling right now.  Elated. Happy. Relaxed.  Nervous.  Oblivious.  It’s a pretty incredible feeling.  I have been doing my best not too rush anything.  I have been trying to stay in the moment and enjoy this weekend; take each event as it comes.

There’s not much else to say.

I love you, Patrick.

Here we go.

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Okay, I Lied…

…I do have one more post in me before our wedding.  It’s not a particularly happy topic.  Over the past month or so, I’ve been fighting the urge to contact my mother.  I’ve written about her before, at length; our rocky relationship the basis for many a blog post.

In an effort to prevent me from doing something so epically stupid as to re-establish contact with my mother, Patrick had me write a letter to her and send it to him instead.

Before I share it, I want to share some valuable links that maybe other people can benefit from.  I’m not looking for pity.  I can only hope that if anyone sees themselves in this kind of situation, or knows of someone who is, that they will do something.

I have spent years trying to outrun the ghost that is my mother, along with her years of alcoholism and abuse.  It has cast a self-loathing shadow over so many things that I have done that, as an adult, there are many days I struggle to function on the most basic of emotional levels.

If you feel like this is something you relate to, please, reach out.  Talk to someone.  Remove yourself from the situation.  No one has the right to be abused.

If you abuse alcohol or find yourself giving into abusive tendencies, it’s never too late to help yourself.  Alcoholism and anger can happen to good people.  The people in your life love you; don’t push them away.

http://www.aa.org/ — Alcoholics Anonymous
http://www.preventchildabuse.org/index.shtml — Prevent Child Abuse America
http://www.ndvh.org/ — National Domestic Violence Hotline

***

Mom,

I wanted to wait until some time had past before contacting you.  This isn’t to attempt to rebuild our relationship, as I think you and I both know we are past that point.  There are some things I wanted to say, however, but I wanted to wait until the anger and hurt I have wasn’t so fresh.I have written and rewritten this letter so many times over the past few hours.  I’ve tried to be diplomatic.  I’ve tried thinking rationally.  I’ve tried to explain my feelings clearly.  I’m failing.  The reality is that the pain is still as fresh as the day I heard your first nasty voicemail telling me good luck with my life. Continue reading

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Ten Days

Our wedding rings.

I’m forcing myself to write this entry because, considering how much is going on right now, I’m not sure when I’m going to get another chance to write before we get married…

..in TEN DAYS.

I can’t believe it’s already here.  In a mere ten days, I will be a Mrs.  It’s strange that for so long it felt like this day would never get here, and now it’s right around the corner.

These last few weeks leading up to The Big Day have been adventurous.  I was dumped by my florist because they decided they no longer liked Sundays. They might as well have broken up with me via Post-it Note.  I almost smothered the florist at Balducci’s, when I was searching for a replacement, because when I told her all I wanted was a white and green bouquet she kept pushing pink.  Seriously.

“You need color. How about pink?”

“No. I don’t like pink. I just want ivory roses and green berries.”

“Okay… so how about pink?”

“Really, just the roses and berries will be fine.”

“…pink?”

She became exasperated with me, the bride who didn’t want pink… like I was committing some sort of crime by wanting something simple and devoid of the usual bouquet staples.

Every time I pointed to something I liked, she would look at me like I was crazy, and then wave her hand in my face saying,  “No, no, no…” The whole episode ended with her in a huff, telling me to come back with pictures of what I wanted, and giggling to her coworkers about how ridiculous I was.  “A bouquet with NO pink? She crazy.”

(Note to people who work in retail. Try to wait until someone is out of ear shot before slamming them.)

Then there was the famous hives episode which has finally concluded.  Starting last Wednesday evening my body just decided to explode.  It started with just a few itchy spots, which blossomed overnight into my worst nightmare.

I woke up Thursday morning covered in hives, itching like crazy. I ended up leaving work within two hours because whatever was happening to me became aggressive, and I began to have trouble breathing.

I had a severe allergic reaction to something unknown that resulted in FIVE DAYS of chronic hives that covered me from head to toe.  Nothing would stop the madness either, as whatever was happening to me seemed impervious to any sort of over the counter allergy medication.  It laughed in the face of Benadryl. And chortled at Zyrtec.   In the past week I’ve been to the ER three times, had four shots, and filled seven different prescriptions.

I think my favorite part of the whole hives debacle was Sunday night though.  At that point, I had so many hives on my body, they had joined forces and formed one Super Hive.  I was miserable, blotchy, and itchy.  Strung out on anti-anxiety medication (thank you, GW Hospital ER nurse!) and Prednisone, I sat in a bath for two hours to find relief.  During this time, Patrick put on some tunes and kept me company.  I soaked in the tub, smoked Marlboro menthol lights, and sang along to “Wonderwall” by Oasis in an over-enthusiastic medicated stupor.

I bet that mental image makes you wish you were marrying me. Patrick’s a lucky guy, am I right?

Anyway, thankfully all that hive-y goodness is behind me.

Man, this is really romantic for the last-post-before-the-wedding post, isn’t it?

Well, it doesn’t matter.  A week from today, people will be arriving for the wedding, starting with my brother.  It will kick off a weekend of friends, family, and fun. And that Sunday, I’ll be marrying the love of my life.

You know, for awhile there I was wondering if this day would ever come.  We kept having to move it or change it, which became disheartening after awhile.  But it is all working out as it should.  It all feels right.  It’s all coming together.

Anyway, I have a pile of to do lists with items that need, well, doing, so I must scram.

See you on the flip side…

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Protected: Something of a Life Makeover, Revisited…

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Pants on Fire

Okay! Fine! I lied yesterday!

I didn’t “almost glue my hand to the television remote and Horatio (left)”.  There’s no almost about it.  I glued myself to Horatio’s head and the television remote at the same time.

Okay, that’s still lying.

I simultaneously glued myself to Horatio with my left hand, the remote with my right hand, Clover’s foot (right) with my right foot, and a piece of paper with my left foot, while assembling parts of our centerpieces.    It wasn’t even a small amount of glue either.  We were really stuck.

Oh well.  Now you know.  I promise not to lie again.

At least it’s not as bad as the time I glued part of my hand to Patrick’s face while he was sleeping.  In my defense, I was able to detach myself without waking him up!

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Twenty Four Days

In about a week, Patrick and I will reach a milestone — we will have been engaged for two years.  When we got engaged, we always knew we would have a long engagement, but it ended up being a little longer than anticipated.  We would set a date and move it time and time again.

Sometimes it was due to a change in priorities; we were moving to DC, switching jobs, and other things of that nature.  Other times the circumstances were not so pleasant, and moving the date was a tough choice to make.  We knew it would happen when it was meant to, but to be honest, it was always a far off affair.

Now it’s here.  Like, seriously here.  HERE here.  In the past two weeks we’ve picked up our marriage license, met with our officiant, and handed my dress off to a sweet woman in Herndon for alterations.  Tomorrow Patrick is heading off for his bachelor mancation, and I have a shower of my own this weekend.

It’s weird because while intellectually I know the wedding is a very short time away, I don’t think it has quite hit me yet.  The past 48 hours have been spent with me nose deep in wedding projects I had been putting off for quite some time.  I’ve been writing up schedules, drawing diagrams for set up, and making “must have” photo lists.

I even almost glued my hand to the television remote and Horatio, our dog, at the same time, last night, while gluing ribbon onto our vases for the centerpieces.  I wish I was exaggerating, but I’m not.  Not even a little bit.  (Whoops?)

Either way, regardless as to whether I finally catch on that our wedding is less than a month away, friends will start arriving in 20 days, I will be a Mrs. with a hyphenated name in 24 days.

In the meantime, I am going to try not to glue myself to anything.

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