Countdown to the wedding: 228 days

Even though Aaron and I are living in separate apartments, there is barely a day that goes by that we don’t see each other for some period of time. I really enjoy his company, but I have also realized that the time we spend together has an educational purpose as well: it has allowed us to learn each other’s quirks and habits so they won’t be such a surprise when we officially move in together in June.

They aren’t big issues, but they could spiral into bigger issues if we didn’t know about them before we moved into together. For example, Aaron does the following little things that I absolutely do not understand:

1. He leaves the doors to his cupboards open
2. When he uses the sink, he gets water EVERYWHERE
3. He doesn’t turn on the lights when he works, so the room feels like a dark cave
4. He doesn’t take out the trash often enough

I asked Aaron about which habits of mine he finds confounding, and this is what he said:

1. I like to go to the gym and then lounge around in my sweaty clothes
2. I like to leave my wet towels on the floor (I claim that I only do this for short periods of time, but he says that it does not matter; it bothers him anyway)
3. I eat dinner foods for breakfast
4. I tend to leave my dishes lying about

The discovery process hasn’t been all about the negative habits. I think it is really endearing the way that Aaron always checks in with me to make sure that I’ve had my multivitamin. And he says that he loves the way I always send thank you notes and holiday cards.

Now if only I can get him to turn on those lights . . .

I accompanied my mom on a Staten Island shopping trip to look for her dress. She found an amazing gown, but didn’t buy it, because it was way more than she wanted to spend. I liked that dress much better than my own, so I realized I should look for a new one.

We stopped at a store down the block. The first dress I tried on was slinky and completely beaded. My mom and sister, who were seated on a couch in front of the dressing room, gasped when I walked out. I felt like a million bucks. Unfortunately, so did the price tag. The gown was better suited for an urban loft wedding, which my wedding so wasn’t going to be, so I moved on.

The peanut gallery gasped again when I walked out in the next gown. It was a mermaid silhouette (tight all the way to my butt), and, miraculously, it didn’t make me look like a house! It was strapless, but with a V-shaped opening.The bodice was ruched, and the skirt flared out quite a bit. It was striking, a real “wow” gown. Only problem: the top of the dress didn’t lay flat, and the seamstress said alterations couldn’t fix that. I’d have to tape the dress to my boobs. Despite this, and the fact that it was more than five times the price of my original dress, it was an option.

I made an appointment at New York’s bridal gown mecca: Kleinfeld. My mom, sister, and friend, Emily, came with me. After asking me about my budget, the saleswoman brought me to a tiny room in the corner. Nothing there was nicer than the wow dress.

I told the saleswoman what I was looking for (basically, everything my charity dress was not). She came back with a lace, mermaid gown. It had a scalloped sweetheart neckline and some beading on top. I tried it on. The saleswoman pulled the inner corset so tight I thought my lungs were going to pop out through my mouth, but damn, did I look shapely. The train was simple and there were satin-covered buttons down the back. Silver thread in the lace made the whole thing sparkle. But was it the one? I needed to think about it.

“If you buy today, you’ll get $300 off,” said the saleswoman.
Way to let me sleep on it.

We took a lunch break. I called my grandma, and she advised me to go with the “wow” dress. My friend, Lindsay, happened to call me, so I asked for her advice. She thought I’d regret buying the trendy wow dress. I definitely didn’t want to make that mistake again!

We went back to Kleinfeld and I tried on the dress there again. I thought something magical would signal to me that it was “the one.” It didn’t happen, but then again, maybe that whole thing is a myth. The fashion director, an excitable, well-groomed fellow, visited me, and gave me a fake bouquet to hold. On went a veil, and I was sold. This dress was far superior to the one sitting in my apartment, and I could really envision myself saying my vows in it. It was scary to put that amount on my credit card, but I was finally, FINALLY happy with my decision.

I’m planning on wearing the charity gown with sneakers and a sweatband to go as a runaway bride for Halloween. That’s a good use for it, right?

Crate & Barrel & Burgundy

Countdown to the wedding: 235 days

There are two major wedding-related updates since last week. First of all, Aaron and I are now considering scrapping the beach honeymoon idea all together and going to Paris. It’s pretty much the exact opposite of what we had originally imagined (lots of sun, lots of water, and no cultural stuff whatsoever). But it is such a romantic destination, and we have places to stay in Burgundy and Bordeaux if we decide to venture outside of the City of Lights. Plus, Aaron has extremely fair skin and the thought of forcing him to stay in the shade to avoid excessive UV radiation on his honeymoon seemed more than a little unfair.

The other update is that we have decided to register at Macy’s and possibly Crate & Barrel. Macy’s is great because their stores can be found across the country, and we can register for items that reflect the numerous price ranges we want to offer our guests. Crate & Barrel is a little trickier. Their inventory is all slightly more expensive than what one would find at Macy’s, and I’m just not sure if their style is right for Aaron and I. Don’t get me wrong; I’ve spent hundreds of hours fawning over their furniture and various objects d’art, but do we really need weird bamboo serving bowls and the like?

There’s only one way to find out. We are going to Crate & Barrel this afternoon to check out the goods first-hand. And if anyone forces me to buy anything made of bamboo, I swear that I will launch it out the window.

UPDATE: Aaron wasn’t as enamored with their products as he thought he was, and I am relieved. The new plan is to register at Macy’s and then supplement that with products from Williams Sonoma if need be. It’s a tough life

Countdown to the wedding: 242 days

I am pleased to announce that Aaron and I were finally able to figure out how to print off the labels for the Save the Date announcements and send them to my mother after about a million hours of yelling at Excel and another million hours of screaming at the printer. It will be a miracle if we didn’t leave anyone off the list, and a quick look at my spreadsheet tells me that there are at least three people who didn’t make it to the labels.

Oh well. I know that all the silly details finally come together on the big day, like they did for the wedding of my superiors at SassyBean.com, which took place this past weekend. Ever since I started working for the company in August, I’ve seen them try to juggle planning an A-list wedding while launching a book, a website, and a reality TV show for Lifetime (which you will have to watch come January 4th to see me make a fool of myself on national TV).

The ceremony and reception took place at the magical Tavern on the Green in Central Park. Despite its legendary status and fairly touristy location, Aaron and I had never been there before, so we had a lot of fun checking out the Tavern’s amazing décor and beautiful garden. We were a little worried about the weather, but once noontime rolled around the sky cleared up and it turned into the perfect autumn day—sunny, brisk, and beautiful.

Everyone was dressed to the nines and the guest list read like a Who’s Who of television broadcasting. Aaron and I were seated between a CBS anchor and the designer of the bride’s custom-made dress, which was absolutely breathtaking. It was a strapless champagne-colored number, with an antique lace train and matching champagne-colored gloves.

It’s hard for us to attend a wedding now without analyzing every detail of the event, and I was taking notes the entire time. That is, until the buffet opened up, and then we stuffed ourselves with sushi, truffle ravioli, prime rib, and multiple flavors of cake, and couldn’t care a lick about whether the centerpieces were roses or rhubarb.

One detail that meant a lot to me personally were the party favors. Each guest received a takeout box filled with the requisite candy-covered almonds, as well as a card stating that the bride and groom had made a donation to the Susan G. Komen foundation on our behalf. What a poignant gift, one that touched both Aaron and I a great deal.

Last week, Paul’s 86-year-old grandpa, who was married to Paul’s grandma for 64 years, passed away. He had been in and out of hospitals for a few weeks before that, but the thought that he wouldn’t make it to our wedding didn’t cross my mind. Four wakes and a funeral later, the reality is setting in. I pictured Paul’s grandparents winning the game where couples who’ve been married for five years stay on the dance floor, then anyone who hasn’t been married for ten years has to exit, and then it keeps going up by five years til there’s just one couple left. I don’t even want to play that game now.

Of course, the wakes were sad. The silver lining on this very cloudy cloud was that I was seeing people in Paul’s family that I hadn’t seen in years that would be at our wedding, and this was a good reintroduction to those relatives. Now I’ll be able to look at people at our wedding and say, “Oh, hello, Maryann,” or “Joanie, I’m so glad you could make it,” instead of whispering to Paul’s mom, “Okay, which one is that?” And though I’ve felt like I’m part of Paul’s family for a while now, I never felt more a part of it than those couple of days. Each time we entered or left the room in the funeral home, I’d kneel on the bench in front of Paul’s grandpa’s casket with Paul. It was depressing to think that I would probably do this many more times with him, and even more depressing to think that one day, one of us would lose the other (we made a pact to die the same day that day), but it was so comforting to know that we’d have each other for as long as we’re alive to deal with these hard things.

Paul’s sisters’ boyfriends were there, too, and they were so supportive of Amanda and Marissa. Obviously, I was there to support Paul, but I was also there because I knew and loved Paul’s grandpa, and I wanted to be there to support Paul’s parents, uncle, aunt, and the grandkids. After saying our final goodbyes at the burial, everyone was crying…so hard. Paul’s parents hugged each other. Paul’s sisters hugged them. And then Paul joined their circle. I stood on the outside. Then, Marissa held out her arm and welcomed me into their tight cluster. It was probably the warmest feeling I’ve ever had.

My mom had lunch with her sister today. It was the first time the two of them had spent any extended amount of time alone in over a decade. Four years ago, at Thanksgiving, my aunt’s husband engaged 21-year-old me in a politics conversation, even though we’re on opposite ends of the political spectrum. The debate escalated and we said some pretty nasty things to each other. He hasn’t forgiven me and my family’s never been the same. This afternoon, my aunt told my mom that my uncle would not be coming to my wedding.

I adjusted my guest list a few minutes ago to reflect my uncle’s decision and Paul’s grandpa’s passing. It breaks my heart to think how sad Paul’s grandpa would be if he knew he wouldn’t get to attend our wedding, so it’s strange to me that someone who’s a part of my family would opt not to be a part of our day.

Countdown to the wedding: 249 days

Birthdays have always been extremely important in my family. Even when my parents were short on cash, my mom baked these amazing cakes and carefully wrapped every present we received to make sure that we felt celebrated.

That legacy is both a blessing and a curse. On one hand, I had a very happy childhood punctuated with incredible birthdays, and I enjoy recreating those joyous memories for my friends and loved ones on their birthdays. On the other hand, it can be a little disappointing when the entire world doesn’t stop and worship me on October 6th.

I usually avoid this situation by planning my own birthday festivities, but this year I wanted nothing of the sort. I asked Aaron for one birthday gift: to not have to plan or make any decisions on the day that I turned 23 years old.

Once again, the boy went above and beyond the call of duty. On Friday night we went out to a wonderful meal where we dined on dishes like caviar and crispy duck. After breakfast the next morning, Aaron informed me that I had twenty minutes to pack my overnight bag, but he wouldn’t tell me where we were going. When he told the taxi driver to go to JFK, I knew something interesting was afoot.

At the airport, I found out that we were going to Boston, but once again, I had no idea why we were flying up there. I assumed that we were going to visit Aaron’s brother Quentin and his wife Megan, but Aaron said that we would be doing something else while we were there. Q and Megan picked us up at the airport and dropped us off at our hotel—the ritzy Boston Park Plaza Hotel—along with a box of amazing custards and cupcakes.

It was there that Aaron told me that we were going to . . . drumroll please . . . THE CIRCUS! It sounds silly, but I was jumping up and down I was so excited. I’ve never been to the circus before, but I have always wanted to go. I also have a freakish knowledge of circus-related trivia, which is how I usually beat Aaron at Trivial Pursuit.

We had such a ridiculous time at the circus—I felt like a little kid again. We watched acrobats, tigers, trapeze artists, clowns, motorcyclists, and trained domestic dogs and cats. It was almost too much for us; all of the kids around us must have been on sensory overload.

The next day we went shopping and hung out with Q and Megan at their cute condo in Brookline. It made me really excited to go apartment hunting with Aaron for the place we will live after we get hitched. I’ve been so focused on all of the wedding planning that it’s easy to forget about all of the fun stuff that will happen after we actually get married.

We flew back to JFK Sunday evening and spent the rest of the night relaxing. What an amazing birthday!

The most fun Paul and I have had so far during wedding-planning was at our cake-tasting. I’d probably schedule tastings with more bakers if I didn’t mind lying about still needing a baker (Damn that conscious of mine).

Even though our hall, whenever it’s built, will be providing us with a substantial dessert table–with a chocolate fountain, a flambe station, cheesecakes, Italian pastries, and an ice cream sundae bar–we still want a traditional tiered wedding cake. We started looking for bakers. Who knew that wedding cakes cost $10/slice! We didn’t budget for that (as usual), so we needed to look a little harder.

Tip: Consider any good baker to make your cake, not just wedding cake bakers, because as soon as you say “wedding,” the price for a cake doubles (use this tip for photographers, too!). I once had the most amazing chocolate mousse cake from this bakery in Manhattan, so I called to see if they would make me a wedding cake. Though they haven’t been doing it for decades, Financier Pastries makes wedding cakes! And even though I’m convinced they have the best-tasting goodies in all of New York City, their delicious cakes are just $5/slice.

We went in to talk to the baker, and he had five pieces of cake waiting for us. There was a chocolate-orange one, which we thought we’d hate, a white cake-strawberry one, a white cake-raspberry one, one that I can’t remember, and one that was chocolate ganache, praline mousse, chocolate genoise, and chocolate glaze. They were all SO yummy (even the chocolate-orange one!), but that last one, well, took the cake! Our basic design is three square tiers with white fondant frosting and edible silver pearls that are densely packed at the top, but get more and more spaced out toward the bottom of the cake. Simple and sparkly.

One problem: how do we top off this perfect cake? I definitely didn’t want one of those figurines where the bride is choking or dragging the groom. And I still don’t know if I’m changing my last name, so an initial cake topper wouldn’t work either. While visiting my grandparents one day, I decided to flip through their wedding album. There was a photo of their cake topper, which had a great vintage vibe, but was so timeless, it wouldn’t seem at all out of place in a 2008 wedding. “You don’t still have that, do you?” I asked. My grandmother pointed, and there it was, in a display case. I picked it up. It had definitely seen better days, but since it would be my grandparents 60th anniversary around the time of our wedding, I was so excited to use it.

I compared it to the pristine one in the photo, and then I realized: this was SO not the same cake topper! Not because it had aged, but because it was just completely different! I was duped! Then, my grandparents explained. Their friend had stored their original cake topper in his freezer after their wedding (not sure why…). The topper expanded, then cracked into pieces. Their friend felt so bad about it, he bought them a new one. I’m still not sure why my grandparents display a topper that wasn’t at their wedding, but I’m still thrilled to finally give it its proper place on top of a wedding cake.