I'm Just Sitting Here Eating My Tasti D-Lite and Wondering...

Are chocolate sprinkles supposed to taste like chocolate?

Because when I eat them, all I can taste is sugar.

And if they are supposed to taste like chocolate, then what are rainbow sprinkles supposed to taste like?

Fruit?

Some Very Small Things

Morning in the apartment. Outside, it is raining. Only the kitchen light is on. Somewhere in the apartment, I can hear the puppy playing. She is so sweet. She smells like cookies, someone said the other day, and I think they are right.

In the sink, a few wine glasses, a dirty dish.

Near the door, the umbrella.

In the aftermath of the wedding, which was such a big thing, it seems I have developed an obsession with the small things.

Like the way the milk swirls in my cup of coffee.

The shadow of spiceboy in bed while he sleeps.

The quiet of the streets on a rainy morning.

The small things are such a relief sometimes, aren't they?

But now I must get ready for work. Take a shower. Pin up my hair. Put on my black skirt. Grab my umbrella. Start my day.

Happy Wednesday.

What I Need

1. A vacation

2. A good night’s sleep in my own bed

3. A puppy who poops in her designated pooping area and not whatever corner she deems poop-worthy at the moment

4. A weekend during which I do not have to drive on gridlocked highways, across crowded bridges, or through really long smelly tunnels

5. Five minutes alone with my husband

6. A vacation

The Wedding Roller Coaster

What is perfect?

The perfect job.
The perfect couple.
The perfect body.
The perfect apartment.

The perfect wedding.

I’ve been thinking a lot about perfect lately—probably b/c I’ve just taken a ride on the wedding roller coaster, and nothing perpetuates false notions of perfection more than the wedding roller coaster. It takes you on a high-speed, loop-d-loop, non-stop ride of hugs, kisses, presents, cakes and compliments.

The truth is, I’ve never been a fan of roller coasters. I’m more of a slow and steady type of gal.

That said, I tried as hard as I could to arm myself against my inner bride, that insistent little bitch who wants everything to be perfect. But when you have a wedding, there are so many people surrounding you all of the time asking things like how do you feel?! Aren’t you soooo happy?! Isn’t it great?! that it’s really hard to keep perspective.

Sometime during the week before the wedding, I paid my admission and hopped on the wedding roller coaster. And before I knew it, I was throwing my arms up in the air and enjoying the free-fall, screaming with glee: I’m a bride! I’m a bride! I’m a bride! Everything is perfect, perfect, perfect!

I tried to fight it, but I was powerless against it, dear readers. But it’s HARD not to get caught up in all of the hoopla. Especially when the hoopla is about you. And the strange thing is, I didn’t even realize I was on the wedding rollercoaster until I had to get off.

So I’ve spent the last couple of weeks trying to give myself a reality check.

It’s quite hard coming down from all that fuss and fanfare, which makes the first few steps off of the wedding roller coaster wobbly ones, at best. As spiceboy put it last week: we had a nice little break from reality for a minute there, didn’t we? And we did. But the re-entry into everyday life is really tough. And if you’re not taking a honeymoon right away, which we aren’t, it’s definitely enough to bum you out for more than a few days.

spiceboy and I are going through a bummy period, for sure. The wedding glow so evident in the pictures has worn off, and for the last few days, we’ve just been slumping around the apartment, cleaning up puppy poop, and feeling very blah.

So that’s it. The wedding was a blast. But life goes back to being NOT a blast very quickly. There are bills to pay. Decisions to make. Family stuff to deal with. Work stuff to deal with.

And that’s okay.

Are things good right now? Yes, they are. Are they perfect? No fucking way, man. And I'm not sure I know anyone who can say their life is perfect. Except for Betty. Think about it. All she does is eat, play, and sleep. And when she poops, she has two silly humans who are there to clean it up for her. That's kinda perfect.

The more I think about it, the more I believe that there is no definite, infinite state of perfection. And it confuses me as to why we are conditioned to think there is. I think perfect happens in the tiniest of moments, when you’re least expecting it. And I think it’s these tiny moments that make all of the rest of life seem very clear. Perfect is about slowing down long enough to enjoy it for a moment or two before letting it go again. Perfect is taking a deep breath and looking at the right now and loving it. Perfect is fleeting and fantastic, and it keeps you hanging on for the next time. It’s the snapshots in your mind that make you laugh out loud or hug yourself or break out in goosebumps when you think of them.

And that’s what I’m in it for. I’m in it for all of the imperfect moments that will make the perfect ones that much more special.

Puppies and Husbands

So in a little over a week, I’ve acquired a new husband and a new puppy. You already know what the husband looks like, so let’s get the puppy stuff out of the way, shall we?

This is Betty:



She's the newest addition to the House of Spice. She's an eight week old Havanese. She weighs 3.5 lbs. The picture is a bit blurry, because Betty is always doing that adorable puppy wriggle thing, and it's tough to catch her in a still moment.

She's cute, right?

Right.

We're nuts to bring a dog--no matter how small--into a 350 sq ft apartment, right?

Right.

But she's cute!

We are deep in puppy adjustment mode right now, and have already started obsessing over her bowel movements:

Did she poop?
Why won't she poop?
Maybe she needs a new wee-wee pad?
Yay! She pooped!


Yes, wee wee pad is now the most-used word in our vocabulary.

That’s all for now. Have a lovely Tuesday.

P.S.—I still feel very strange referring to spiceboy as my husband

Puppy Love

Some may call it post-wedding psychosis.

Others may call it a serious lapse of judgement.

spiceboy and I call it puppy love.

Her name is Betty. She's an eight-week old Havanese. And at the moment, she weighs about 3 lbs.

More soon.

Back in a New York Groove

It's good to be home.

It feels great to be back--to walk my regular route to work in my ever-unfashionable sneaker/skirt combo, to carry my work shoes in a plastic bag, to stopping to buy blueberries from the fruit guy on the corner, to breathing the stinky New York air.

It's comforting to get back to regular routines. And it's comforting to know that my wedding to-do list has been safely disposed of and I'll never have to look at it again.

So I'm married now. It doesn't really feel any different. Except that I'm very tired and very poor.

Oh, and I've never been more in love with spiceboy than I am right now.

I know--barf, right?

But it's true.

So I guess it's time to show you some pictures, huh? Before I get started, I have to thank our amazing photographer, Man With a Camera, who is not only a dear dear friend, but one of the best damn photographers ever. And he makes me look good, and I love that. So if any of you Pittsburgh readers need a photographer--call him! You won't be sorry. And if any of you New York readers ever need a photographer--call him! That way he'll have to come to Manhattan for a visit.

I also want to thank my most amazing sister, who never left my side through this whole thing, and kept me centered and laughing by making fart noises to entertain me--and who wore the most amazing outfit to my wedding--a green plaid leisure suit! I'll post pics if I can. I miss you already, Drea (pignut).

I also want to thank you, the readers. You've made this whole process incredibly fun for me, and I'm glad that I got to share it with you.

So let's get to it, shall we? I'll do a little chronological narrative for you here:

This is us during the ceremony. Every time I look at this photo, I feel like I'm looking at two of those little people who stand on the top of a wedding cake--well, if they made cake toppers with a white girl and a Chinese guy.

The whole thing still feels totally unreal to me. And could spiceboy be any cuter? I think not.



This is me during the ceremony. I look all sweet and bridey and like I'm totally in the moment, don't I? Well, here's what I was really thinking: Oh my god, I can't breathe, I hope I look normal and that my eyes aren't bugging out of my head. Geez, Rev. Dave sure has a lot of words written down in that tiny little book of his--I wonder how long this is going to take? What if I screw up when I hand off my bouquet? What if I screw up when I say my vows? Gah. Gaaah. Gaaaaaaaaaah!



This is our first kiss. I absolutely could not wipe the smile off of my face. And when we turned to face the crowd and everyone clapped, I thought I would die of happiness.

I know, I know--barf.




Here is a picture of me cracking myself up over something totally inane while spiceboy looks at me like I'm a psycho. This happens whether we are in our wedding finery or in sitting on the futon in our pajamas. It's a totally real moment, and that's why I love this photo.



This is taken on a balcony on the fourth floor of The Mattress Factory, with Pittsburgh in the background.



Same concept as above, only with a kiss instead.



Here we are making our best model faces.



Here is the reception space before everyone went inside. We hung all of the lanterns and the tulle and the spotlights with the help of some wonderful friends--Dear Friend ABS, Man With Camera, Mitch Please, Markie, and my sister.

The flower arrangements were designed by me and put together by my mom and Dear Friend ABS (who, incidentally, is the best MC ever), and the tables were set and decorated by the lovely Spice Crew, who took a night away from Spice World to help us make sure the wedding festivities went off without a hitch.



Here are the Spice Brothers. Aren't they so cute? Notice how Spice Brother is rocking the pinstripe Kenzo suit. Tres chic!



This was taken in the garden just before a HUGE (but short) thunderstorm hit. There were loud claps of thunder and lightning, but the crowd took it well. Every time there was a thunderclap, everyone yelled exaggerated oohs and aahs, then promptly lined up to get themselves another drink. Definitely our kind of guests!



This is a real shot of when it started to pour on us.



The yummy yummy cupcakes my mom made for the wedding. She made 204 cupcakes by hand. They don't look too threatening, right? WRONG! She used nearly 18 POUNDS of butter to make them.



This is our first dance. I didn't even want to do a first dance, but spiceboy talked me into it. We danced to La Vie En Rose by Edith Piaf. It's not our official "song" but we both love it so much, and it seemed very fitting. All in all, I think this was one of my favorite moments of the night. My stomach did that weird swoopy rollercoaster thing through the whole song.

I know. Barf, barf, barf.



So that's it.

Was it a good wedding? It was sooooo a good wedding! It's not going to make it into the next issue of InStyle Weddings or anything, but it was exactly the way we wanted it, and we still can't believe we pulled it off.

So it's Friday morning, almost a week since the wedding, and we are here, just as we've always been, in our 350 sq ft apartment on the Upper East Side of Manhattan, trying to make our relationship work the best way we know how.

What will our first year of marriage bring?

--The hyphenating of our last names? (still under negotiation)
--The purchase of an apartment? (still under discussion)
--Becoming proud parents of a puppy? (under serious consideration)
--Become real proud parents of a bouncing baby? (highly doubtful at this juncture)

Certainly there will be more laughing and more learning--isn't that what marriage is about?

Whatever it is, I can't wait to find out.

Mission Accomplished

So we made it!

We are glowing. And tired. And glowing.

More soon, including pictures.

Happy Monday.

The Only Quiet Time I'll Have Today...

It's 6:45 and I'm wide awake. This is mostly b/c my nervous stomach woke me up. But I'm actually glad--this will be the only alone time I have all day long, so I'm trying to savor it. The good news is that I've crossed about 5 pages off of my to-do list. The bad news is that I still have about 3 more pages to get through by rehearsal time, which is at 4pm at The Mattress Factory, which is where I'm getting married.

It's where I'm getting married.

I'm getting married. In a day. To spiceboy.

The whole thing still blows my fucking mind.

It's so cool.

I am typing this from my childhood bedroom in BEAVER COUNTY, Pennsylvania, which has now been turned into my Mom and Dad's computer room.

I'm having trouble organizing my thoughts today, so I'm just going to babble.

The house smells delicious--like sugar and butter. My mom baked cupcakes for my wedding yesterday. 204 of them, all topped with buttercream icing so delicious you could eat an entire bowl of it by itself. And I would, if my stomach didn't hurt so much from nerves. The cupcakes are lined up downstairs in neat little rows of yellow, lilac, pink and green, and they look like something out of a magazine.

Yesterday, I learned that I screwed up the seating chart--I thought the dinner tables for the reception sat 10-12 people. They only sat 8-10.

Oops.

Last night, my sister and I stayed up until past 1 am, alternately making up the place cards for the tables and making each other laugh.

My sister is the only person on earth who can make me laugh so hard that when I'm taking a sip of water, I'll spit it out all over the floor. And then she'll laugh with me while she helps me clean it up. She is my best friend, she has been a source of constant comfort to me these last weeks, and she has the best heart of just about anyone I know. Just in case I forget to tell her later: I love you, Drea. You're splendid. Thank you for keeping me centered and making me laugh.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to get a cup of coffee and go down to my parents' gorgeous back porch, which looks out over a yard and a field and a stretch of woods. I'm going to sit on the big old wooden porch swing, which my dad's friend made from the wood of an old barn, and I'm going to enjoy this quiet moment.

More later, if I get the chance.

Happy Friday!