Shortest and Longest Trip *Ever*

Wow, I'm tired. Here's what happened last night.

Around 9:30 (Utah time) I bought a bunch of junk food at a gas station while filling up so I could stay awake on my way back home. Josh likes to drink energy drinks to keep him awake, but for me, it's always been chewing. On the way up I took down an entire bag of sonic ice. It was glorious, but I also had to have the heater on the whole way up. On the way back down, it was chips, twizzlers, and bubble gum. I learned that nothing is as effective as ice.

I made it to Fillmore before I just had to pull over or die, so I pulled over. I figured I'd sleep for maybe 30 minutes and then jump back onto the interstate. At 12:32 am (my time) I woke up completely frozen and stiff. It was flippin' chilly outside! I forgot that Utah gets cold at night even during the summer, so I was completely surprised by how miserable I was as I straightened the seat and turned the car back on.

From there, it was almost a straight shot home. I stopped in Cedar City to gas up at the Love's. I love Love's because it's huge, brightly lit, and always busy. It makes me feel a little bit safer to be around a bunch of strangers. But this time, Love's was totally empty! I was afraid the store was closed, but luckily it wasn't. I think it was around 2 or 2:30 so nobody was in it but me and a couple of creeper guys. I bought a cup of ice and hurried outta there.

On the way back to the interstate, I switched on my dying phone and listened to one of the most hilarious voicemails I've ever heard. I hope Rachel decides to blog about Jonathan's Ambien experience last night, because he drunk dialed and started singing and slurring on my answering machine. It made me just cry, it was so funny.

Then my phone died. That sucked.

The rest of the trip also sucked. I get really bored while driving long-distance and that makes me sleepy. The ice kept me going until after the gorge, and then I just kinda had to suck it up for the last stretch. So I did, but it felt like the longest trip in the world. Once I got into town around 5 (my time), I filled up one last time just to make sure my mom had a full tank before I returned the car. Rhonda's a thirsty beast, btw.

Anyhoo, then I plugged in my phone and collapsed into bed. And I'm still tired. The End.

Marriage Shouldn't Be This Tough

So more drama over more reception plans tonight. I was so tired of explaining and arguing and explaining some more (my mom especially needs a lot of explaining for her to understand), that I tried to convince Josh to let me just cancel the whole stupid thing. He tried a "compromise" and said we could maybe have one in Utah and none in Vegas. Like that wouldn't piss off everyone I know. I hate receptions; I hate everything about them. I just want to marry some random dude--why do we have to throw an expensive, stressful party over it? Gah!

Night of the Endless Receptions

So yesterday at 5:00 a.m. I woke up very startlingly from a terribly vivid nightmare. I don't often dream, I rarely remember them, and this is the first nightmare in recollection that featured me as the helpless victim to a crime. I am never the victim in my dreams.

Anyhoo, this awful, horrible, frightening nightmare woke me up at 5:00 a.m. and I was so shaken from it that I couldn't get back to sleep. So I stayed away for the next five hours, got ready for work, and left at 9:30. I got stuck at work for an hour and a half longer than I normally am because two walk-ins wanted to be fitted. I was ecstatic to dress them because I LOVE fitting men for tuxes, but that meant Becca (my ride) had to wait a really long time in the back sewing room for me to finish helping them because I couldn't leave the manager there by herself. That sucked for Becca and I felt so bad that it kinda sucked for me too. Then it really sucked for the both of us when we tried to get onto the 15 and found out there was a horrible accident on Sahara (there's always an accident on Sahara) and it was rush-hour and we weren't moving. We didn't move for about an hour but then we got home in 45 min after that, so it was all good, I guess.

The point of my rambling is that work was very long and busy and I had been up for a very long time. I was tired and my feet hurt and I could have eaten an entire horse (not the meat because that's gross, but all four of his horseshoes, easily) by the time I got home. Good thing I found out that three of my family's friends had their receptions that night.

So instead of sitting down and taking off my shoes, I wolfed down some food and raced out to Rhonda, where I was whisked off along with my parents and a couple-a spare sisters to the first reception.

The three receptions were all very nice, but at each one I spoke with at least two people who asked me if I was getting ideas from all the reception set-ups. Not really, I thought. Why would I want to use someone else's ideas? What--did they think I'd be calling up the groom the next day to find out if I could borrow their twinkle lights? Maybe I should have brought a notebook and jotted down some themes, I don't know. I thought I was there to offer my support of the new couple, but I guess not. I was supposed to be working. Don't they know that's Bob and Nicole's job? Goodness.

IOU

Dear Becca,

You made a bet with me that I couldn't clean our entire room by myself. You even bet me ten bucks that I couldn't clean it. You went to sleep laughing at my pathetic attempts to make a dent in your huge piles of unorganized laundry and your stack-o-stuff in the closet, on the desk, on your dresser. Well you're quite literally snoring in bed right now, and I'm sitting in a perfectly spotless room. I took a break to talk to Josh, but other than that, I sorted, organized, and filled two trash bags with all kinds of your junk all night. By the way, you're a full-fledged packrat. Some things are meant to be thrown away--trust me. Just let go of those old achievement days awards. You were ten. Times have changed.

I even made time to organize my mail and change my sheets. My laundry's washing right now and I think I'll take a shower before trying to go to bed. You're gonna be surprised when you wake up. Don't bother looking for those popsicle sticks; I threw them away. You'll thank me in a couple of weeks when you realize you never use them. You're welcome.

You owe me ten bucks.

Blue Badge of Stupid

So at work last Friday I was walking through the wedding dresses to get to the front desk, and the racks are positioned really close together, so I was squeezing through rather quickly to avoid getting claustrophobic. I was going so quickly, it seems, that I failed to notice the rack of bowties hanging up on the wall, the one with hooks that jut out two inches. My arm noticed them. It took a few days, but I finally have a gigantic bruise on my left arm. It's seriously huge and kinda awesome. After Bertha you'd think I'd be extra cautious. Nah. I like my badges of stupid.

Tuxedo Trials

So Josh picked me up after work on Saturday and we drove to Men's Wearhouse to rent him a tux before racing to Allyse's reception an hour late. I know, I know: I work at I&A Tuxedos, why did I go to Men's Wearhouse? Well, I shopped around a lot and did some rather exhaustive research on tuxedo rentals, and MW was the most satisfying. (I&A certainly has more quality items in a wider variety, but their prices show for it.)

Anyhoo, Josh let me pick out silver accessories instead of yellow because they look more wedding-ish and will match a yellow boutonniere really well. He looks great. He let me pick out the tuxedo-style laydown shirt. He let me pick flat-front instead of pleated pants (he'll look more flattering in flat-front, being so thin). He let me pick the 2-button notch, satin lapel, Calvin Klein, super 100 tuxedo jacket. He let me pick the shiny tuxedo shoes and the long tie over the bowtie. He let me pick the solid tie over the diamonds, and the herringbone vest over the dots (he tragically shot down the paisley--that would have looked incredible). He let me choose everything but the cufflinks because he thought if he asked for cufflinks, they would charge him extra. Silly Josh. I'll call tomorrow and ask them to add the silver, pearlized cufflinks to the outfit.

I'm so glad Josh picked out a tuxedo that complements him so well. He has great taste.

Reception Schemes!

So I was blogging two minutes ago (it's always feast or famine when I write: first I write nothing for two weeks and then I blog a bunch) and I thought about all the reception stuff we've got going on. First off, I haven't yet given up on convincing Josh to just elope with me. He's still adamant that he wants a reception, but it's totally acceptable to send out marriage announcements and a few, carefully selected sealing invitations without tacking a whole reception onto it. I know it's rude to deny good, kind friends the opportunity to celebrate with us and wish us well on our life journey or whatever, but the effort, expense, and ordeal of putting on a reception has never seemed worth it to me. I've lived through all of my sisters' receptions and known throughout all that it was never, ever worth it. When you witness your kind, sweet role models turn into sobbing bridezillas, you see the error in wedding receptions.

Anyhoo, because Josh has yet to see the light, here's what we've done so far:

We're both working on our guest lists. As I mentioned in my last blog, I have to completely revamp my list. It will most definitely exceed my invitation limit. Must make more invitations with imaginary money.

We picked out our wedding playlist from my iTunes. I had 6.9 hours of wedding music for Josh to sift through and choose what he liked but then I accidentally erased it. Smooth, genius. So we chose songs together. I'm actually listening to the playlist right now, a comfortable 2.2 hours of 90s cliche love songs. Good stuff, wedding music.

Our sealing room was booked months ago. We got the big room that seats 60, so 30-ish couples are gonna be crammed in there with us. I have to consult my parents to determine which people would be most offended by not being invited to the sealing. Everyone and their dog (Josh, my parents, Heather, the rest of my married sisters, my dog Indy...) shot down my wish for only our parents to be present. A private, sacred ceremony is not to be. Ah well, who needs it? (Lone violin playing mournfully in the distance...)

We have our table decorations! A little borrowing here, some small purchases there, and they are done. Flowers to be added at a later date.

Location! Backyard is officially nixed after Nicole and my mom stressed the fiasco of parking space. Our neighborhood has a zillion cars (the house on the corner alone has four cars perpetually parked near it) and no space to put them on, so our neighbors might lynch my parents if we tried to squeeze an entire wedding party onto the streets. My mom goes tomorrow to scope out other outside locations. A few backyards are available, and I'd love to have an outside reception because then we can light real candles. Hooray!

Rachel will make cake. I'm not sure if I'd prefer cupcakes. They seem easier. Nobody really likes cake anyway.

Dress is purchased. Silly thing is gonna cost more for alterations because I have a surprisingly squat torso and remarkably round "birthing" hips. I simply baffled the seamstress at my fitting, which always does some good things for my self esteem. I go back in two weeks to check on the progress and see if there's something to be done about my poor body shape. Or rather, something to be done to the dress to conceal my body shape. Whichever. Semantics.

Invitations are made. Depending on whether we need to make more or not, we should be sending out the beautiful, hand-crafted works of art (all made by The Amazing Bob, of course) at the end of the month. They're actually really simple because we designed them that way, and I just love them.

I think that's it. What else is there? Outside decorations? Nicole's job. Food? Mom, Nicole, Rachel, Bob. Lights? Bob. Speakers? Rachel. Photography? Bob and Dad. At this point, I think it's safest to step back and watch the womenfolk work. They don't need my interference anyway and frankly I'm afraid of stressing them out. I'll just focus on making the guest list and saving up honeymoon money.

40 days to go.

Allyse's Reception

Holy crud! I haven't posted since the end of July. I suck at this.

Here's life now:

Allyse is married. Hooray! People kept coming up to me at the reception to offer their condolences that she beat me at getting married. Apparently it's significant that my younger sister married six weeks before I did. Good to know.

My mom's family met Josh. Josh met my mom's family. Despite the comically dramatic differences in height, I think they all are a little more comfortable with each other. That's good. Don't my aunts look just like my mom, Josh? They all laugh the same too. We call them the three witches.

I got a lame blister on the back of my foot for wearing heels for the lame two hours of the reception. Lame. But the shoes were gorgeous, so it was a labor of love. Or a beauty is pain thing. I forget which cliche I'm trying to relate here.

The people that showed up for the reception opened my eyes to the scope of the number of people we're gonna need to invite to our own reception. Not that I don't want to invite simply everyone, mind, but I thought it would be presumptuous to send invitations to vague family friends or people I haven't seen since I was ten. Apparently it's rude not to. I forgot just how many family friends we knew in old wards that would fully expect us to invite them to our humble reception. So we may have to make some more invitations, darn it.

Chocolate fountains are DELICIOUS! I was against them because of how messy they are (reference note here to Heather's reception), but as I was poison-checking all the food, I couldn't believe how awesomely awesome molten chocolate is. How could I have forgotten the awesomely awesome awesomeness of liquid gold? Must rethink reception food...

So basically the whole night was busy and crowded and lovely. I'm so happy Allyse and Richard could have such a nice reception. And I learned a lot about the junk I'm supposed to have planned. This is yet another reason why I don't want a reception. (Ironically I'm having two. Why, God?) Planning is dumb and expensive and stressful.

Thank heavens for sisters who like crafts and stuff. I'll just sit back and let them plan the reception of their dreams.