Weddings, Parties, and Other Things with which I Have Love-Hate Relationships

Everyone has a blog.

Blog, blog, blog.

Not everyone who has a blog posts with any regularity.

I, apparently, am one of those. I’m not a born writer, and unless I have something awesome going on, I don’t normally feel like going through the effort of writing a blog post.

That being said, I DO have something awesome going on now. I’ll be shifting from full-time to part-time at my day job in a few weeks (or moths, it’s not exactly clear at the moment), and that is a very good thing. I’ve been exhausted and stressed out, and far too much of my workaday life has consisted of things that I don’t actually want to do, ever. Like talking to people, and going to parties where I’m expected to “network”. Ugh. Give me a darkened room and some design software any day.

In light of my upcoming increase in free time, I’m going to try to do more of what I truly love, which is designing personalized stationery. I’m revamping my Etsy shop and posting some invitations that I’ve come up with on my own, but what I really want to do is work with individuals to design stationery–be it wedding invitations, note cards, business correspondence, whatever–that’s unique to each person (or couple). My shop is very small at the moment, but I’ll be adding more to it!

I’ve been designing things since I was a little girl and my mom bought me a copy of Print Shop Deluxe Ensemble on CD ROM. Actually it might have been on actual floppy disks. It was that long ago. Just after I graduated from college, my friends Meg and Bob asked me to design the stationery for their wedding, and it was love. I don’t have the original files for those invitations anymore, or I’d post them here.

I DO, however, have these files (all names and specifics are fictional, of course).

Anyway, spread the word, I’ll be on the lookout for exciting new projects in the next couple of weeks!

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Conversations with Lobsterface: Don’t Cut My Leg Off

Lobsterface: “Don’t cut my leg off, ok?”

Me: “Dude, if it’s a choice between your leg or your life, guess what? I’m cutting your damn leg off. End of story.”

Lobsterface: “Don’t cut my leg off!”

Me: “Chances are you won’t even be awake.”

Lobsterface: “I KNOW! That’s what scares me!”

Me: “This issue is closed.”

Lobsterface: “Don’t cut my leg off.”

We have this conversation at least once a week, ever since that episode of Grey’s Anatomy where Callie cuts off Arizona’s leg to save her damn life and now she’s all pissy about it.

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Pagan Weddings and Unholy Dance Parties

And we’re back! If you haven’t already, you should go read about the adventures leading up to our wedding.

And while I’m at it, you should read this post that Thomas wrote years ago, before he even knew I existed. Then you should compare and contrast his dream wedding with our actual wedding. Like you’re in eighth grade. I always hated those questions on tests. “Compare and contrast The Three Little Pigs and Dostoevsky’s Crime and Punishment. Compare and contrast A Tale of Two Cities and Season One of Buffy The Vampire Slayer.” So pointless. But I’d totally read that essay. The one about vampires, not pigs.

Sorry. I’m on a lot of cold medicine.

So. When last we met, we were just about to head into Union Station to get married. First, I must rhapsodize about Union Station in downtown Utica, NY.

Utica is not an awesome place to live.

I live here because my family is here and Thomas and I both have great jobs that we love can tolerate without crying too much. It’s cold in the winter and hot in the summer and despite being home to several colleges and universities, the art scene here is a bit lacking. But we do have some decent architecture (and rather fantastic Italian food). Union Station was built in 1914 and it’s gorgeous. The whole interior is white marble and sparkly lights. It’s totally out of place among the burned-out former factories that surround it. Virtually every couple that gets married in or around Utica has photos taken there (there were three weddings there when we had our first meeting with our photographers), but I’d never heard of an actual wedding inside the train station. We decided to hold it there because neither of us really wanted it to be in a church, it was free, it’s roaring-twenties awesome, and our reception hall was actually inside the train station to begin with. So yay.

Before the wedding started we were all hanging out in this random lobby sort of area on the 2nd floor of the station. I was spying on our guests as they filtered in.

Spyin'

That was a huge waste of time. It was way too early in the evening for people to be picking fights. We should have started handing out alcohol much earlier than we did.

We were done with the formal photo shoot and upstairs before most of the guests started arriving, so we had some time to kill.

Me, Beth and a little Kate-on-Kate action. Also, boobs.

Molly and her Sailor Boy

After a lot of mother-corralling, bouquet-finding, vow-reviewing and line-assembling, it was time to march down the really long aisle. I was freaking out about my Merry Maids walking too slowly and the short processional piece running out before my dad and I made it to the end. This is me encouraging them to step smartly.

My dad was going, "I'm so proud of her..." to random passers-by.

Speaking of random passers-by, we didn’t reserve the train station in any way, shape or form, so trains were still coming in and going out the whole time we were weddinging. People were still milling about with luggage and harried expressions on their faces. It was fine with us, really. Part of the charm of the place is that it’s not just a showpiece, it actually is a working train station. We even had to wait until after the DMV closed to set up the chairs and stuff for the ceremony.

I think, in this picture, my dad is trying to hold my fingers down so that I’d stop flipping off my wedding party. I reminded him that I had a whole other hand. Jeez Dad, basic anatomy.

Dad should know better than to try to control my behavior by now.

And then we were off!

Struttin'

If you did what I told you and read Thomas’ account of his dream wedding, you’ll expect there to be some sort of power ballad involved. There was not, but our incredible, adolescent cellists (they were all literally fourteen years old) learned Enter Sandman by Metallica for the Groom and Groomspeople’s processional.

I’m so jealous, when I was fourteen the most ambitious thing I was doing was experimenting with sparkly blue eyeshadow.

But I rocked the sparkly blue eyeshadow.

Very dramatic right now.

After all that prodding, my Merry Maids veritably sprinted down the aisle, so my dad and I got there a little bit too early.

So we started dancing around to the rest of Cello Suite 1.

Weepy already.

Thomas' ring is ridiculously heavy.I'm glad I didn't drop it, it might have dented the floor.

Thomas and I both have Irish blood in our veins, so we chose to have a Highland handfasting ceremony. We didn’t observe many traditions (I had nothing blue or old, we didn’t read 1st Corinthians, we didn’t have a bouquet or garter toss, we didn’t even have a wedding cake), but this tradition is one that I’d always wanted to incorporate into my wedding, so incorporate it we did.

Fastin' our hands. Very amusing.

I'm not sure what was distracting Thomas and Josh here.

Smoochin'

Friends of ours in the audience later told us that we kissed for an unbelievable amount of time. I believe them.

...

...

Coming up for air...

Thomas tried to dip me. It didn't go so well.

And then we were married!

We marched back down the aisle to the train-boarding region where we had started. There was much loud rejoicing while my dad was trying to say grace before dinner and tell everyone that they weren’t supposed to wait for us to finish taking family photos before they started eating, drinking and generally making fools of themselves.

Lucky Kate got paired up with sexy groomsmaid, Amber.

Hugs!

More hugs!

A gratuitous flowers-and-tattoos picture.

There are a TON of photos of me grabbing my own boobs. I'm only showing you one. Sorry. Not really.

As part of my family’s Welcome-Thomas-Into-The-Madness efforts, they officially invited him to our very own made-up holiday that was invented just so that we have an excuse to spend more time together than we already do, Be Nice To Cousins Day. Seriously, they made him an invitation on notebook paper and everything.

We're exactly as crazy as we look.

Thomas’ family was just as welcoming to me, though. I must say.

It's nice to be close to one's inlaws.

Also, Thomas’ dad proves untrue the statement, “No man is an island.”

This is my mama. Isn't she pretty?

And then we were on to the eating, the drinking and the merrymaking. It was all way too much fun. I need to throw another wedding just for the party afterward. Anyone want to donate to the cause? You can come dance with us!

I believe this was Old Time Rock and Roll.

This is a Wiswell thing.

It started about ten years ago.

The story involves candy canes, Christmas, getting locked out and a complete lack of access to cable TV.

And old Shania Twain CDs.

I have no idea what's happening here. I'm sure it involves the open bar.

This too.

I know this one was taken during Cotten Eye Joe. It's one of my very favorite photos from the whole day.

Or maybe this one's my favorite. Do I have to choose just one?

This is another possibility. I'm pretty sure they snuck off to do this during Cotton Eye Joe.

As much as I wanted to keep going all night long, I started to lose focus after a while. At one point, our photographers absconded with our rings.

I forgive them.

We had two competing cake toppers, but no cake. One was an heirloom piece given to me by my grandmother.

Awww...

And the other is a modified Christmas ornament that Thomas bought as a memento of how he proposed to me. His exact words were, “I spend a lot of time pretending to be a beast, but you make me feel like a prince.”

AWWWWWW!

You can even see the part of Beast’s head where we ripped out the little ornament hooky thing and forgot to buy paint to touch up his injury.

Anyway, we didn’t have a cake, just a dessert display, so we put out both toppers and they didn’t even have to fight. Which would have been awesome. Belle totally would have taken that dude in the bowtie. I just took some more cold medicine.

This is me contemplating how to get Thomas back to our hotel room. Winkwink, nudgenudge.

I didn’t change my name after our wedding, and I don’t intend to. All of my friends LOVE this, for some reason. We now get cards (and cars, apparently) addressed to Mr. and Mrs. Wiswell.

Dollar store lipstick takes FOREVER to get off car windows. Just so you know.

Tin cans and inflated condoms are so 2010.

Before the wedding, I was obsessing over the artsy-fartsy, pre-ceremony, posed photography. I wanted it to be edgy, but not too snide and self-righteously offbeat just for the sake of being offbeat. You know (You probably don’t know. Nobody else things like this. Or at least I hope not.)? I cared DEEPLY about all of those photos, and I still really do. I absolutely LOVE the way that Chris and Lauren took my initial vision and ran with it. They were absolutely amazing.

But I’m IN love with the pictures from the reception. Really really in love. Every time I look at them I remember the joy and love given to me by the friends and family that are such an integral part of who I am. I just stare at the pictures with this big, stupid grin on my face. I’m insanely happy with the way that our wedding came out and so incredibly grateful to everyone who came together to support us, not just on our wedding day, but through our whole lives as individuals and as a couple.

Thanks, everybody. I love you all 😀

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On The Way To The Wedding

It’s been well over a month since we got married, and I probably should have written this sooner, but let’s be honest. You all know I’m lazy. And I had to deal with Thanksgiving. I slaved away making food for my whole family. I must have made at least two pies.

Anyway. We got married! I’m not even kidding when I tell you it was the most fun I’ve ever had at a wedding. If you’re getting married soon you should ask me for advice because I throw awesome weddings.

See?

Our photographers, the amazing Chris and Lauren of Christopher Morris Photography, took zillions of gorgeous photos (some of them are pretty small here, but you can click on them to see them full-sized), so I’m going to show you our pre-ceremony adventures today and show you the rest of the wedding later this week. Wouldn’t want to overwhelm you.

You’re welcome.

I started out the day by watching Community while I did my own nails. Then, after they dried, I finished prying up the staples on the floor in the Entryway Nobody Uses as an Entryway (which is mostly finished, more on that later). I was constantly catching the hem of my jeans on the raggedy staples and I didn’t want them ripping my dress. So yeah, I was on my hands and knees with freshly-manicured nails, ripping up staples with a multi-tool. On my wedding day. Because that’s how I do. My parents and sisters showed up as I was finishing and just stood there looking at me like I’m crazy.

Honestly, they should be used to this sort of thing by now. Jeez.

Thomas and I got ready together at our house because we like each other and we wanted our wedding day to be just another (but even more awesome) day in the life we had already begun together months earlier when we got engaged. Neither of us saw the point in spending the night apart and hiding from each other until the ceremony. Also, my parents’ house is really far away and it would have just been impractical. Also, also, Thomas almost forgot the rings, so it’s good that I was there to remind him. Or I almost forgot the rings. Something like that. Whatever.

We invited a few of our family members over to hang out with us while we got ready and to drink wine and eat Oreos and pizza before all the hullabaloo began.

Important Hairdo Decisions

Primping

Kate was getting violent very early in the day.

There are a surprising number of photos of Lea pinning on Kevin's boutonniere and of Thomas fiddling with his cufflinks.

Fiddling

We're very close.

Our house really isn’t big enough to hold the whole wedding party, so we met them later to take photos before the ceremony. We started out at a pub near the WWI-era train station where the ceremony was being held. I feel like our formally-clad antics were a bit overwhelming for this blue-collar establishment.

Gettin' boozy

So dashing!

Bein' rowdy

You get hit on WAY less when you're at the bar in a wedding gown. I do not recommend it.

After the bar we made our way down the street toward a bunch of abandoned former manufacturing plants to have more photos taken while we hiked through rubble and rust.

I’m a big nerd about urban decay. Good thing I live in the Rust Belt. Remind me of that the next time I complain about the lack of Thai restaurants within a reasonable driving distance.

Unruly mob

Molly was singing "Stop In The Name Of Love". Apparently.

Loitering

Sisters!

We were thumb wrestling. I was winning.

And then we were smooching.

Just hanging out by some faded wood. NBD.

Such pretty flowers 🙂 If you want my florist's info, let me know!

Blowing kisses. Because we're adorable.

Then we were off to actually get married! I’ll be back later this week with photos of that 😀

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Sunday Floof: Pixel’s Security Blanket

This is Pixel’s favorite toy in all the land. She carries it around with her, brings it to us when she wants to play and sleeps with it snuggled in her arms.

It’s true love.

I think it looks like a dead monkey on a stick.

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Husbands

The guy licking my face is going to be my husband in a matter of months.

In trying to get used to calling Lobsterface “my husband”, the word, in my mind, has gone through somewhat of an evolution.

At first, the word sounded dusty. Stodgy and old, if you will. At twenty-six, I felt that I was far to young to be charged with the care and keeping of a Husband. Husbands were polo-shirt-wearing, golf-playing, Wall-Street-Journal-reading, boring creatures in which I really had no interest.

No offense to you wives who prefer your husbands to be all, or any, of the above. To each her own.

But in the past few months, I’ve started using the term more. When plumbers need to be strongarmed into actually coming and fixing our broken pipes (after two weeks and daily phone calls), wives have more clout than fiancees. So I tell workmen (and women, if we ever encounter any), that I am The Wife. The Lobsterface becomes, by default, The Husband. And so I am getting used to the idea.

I’ve been on board with spending the rest of my life with this attractive, intelligent, amusing man who seems to see those qualities in me for a long while. Now, three months before our wedding, I’m warming to the notion of actually having a Husband, too.

The word, “husband” now brings to mind peace, solidity, companionship and constancy. I no longer feel that becoming “my husband” will turn Lobsterface into someone dull. It helps that we’re planning to get new tattoos together.

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Watching the NYS Channel

I never thought I’d stand up and cheer while watching the New York State channel.

It's a thrill a minute.

Last night, though, both Lobster and I were celebrating after the NYS Senate passed the bill enabling The Gays and The Lesbians to get married here. We’re both SO excited to get married in October, but at the same time we were a little bit sad that not all of our friends had that option in New York.

Instead of buying favors, we’re donating to a marriage equality organization (we’re not sure which one yet), but that really felt, to us, like a drop in the bucket. I know that this country still has a long way to go, in regard to equality for everyone, but I’m so excited that my home state finally recognizes and respects this basic right, regardless the couple’s gender(s). And I REALLY hope that I get invited to several gay weddings.

Invite me! I’m a fabulous wedding guest.

I do feel a little bit bad for Vermont, though. They’re going to loose a lot of business.

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Of Love and Lobsters

After reading over my last post, I’ve decided that I no longer wish to call my Festive Fiancee by his initials, FF. Instead, in the future, I shall be referring to him as Lobster or Lobsterface. This decision is based on the boundless wisdom of Phoebe Buffay.

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