The Blaura Wedding


Weddings go by too fast. Already I'm only recalling pieces in my mind. But to summarize, I think we threw a pretty good party.

I wish I had more pictures, but seeing as I just got back last night (at 1:30 am, and headed off to work this morning), I'll have to post more later on. Thanks to those who have already forwarded their pictures, Snapfish is going to be getting some money from me this month.


Since it's so hard to recap your own wedding (I'm sure the first words out of every bride's mouth are "It was so beautiful" -- well, it was). The setting was amazing, the food was delicious, the ambiance was special. So vague, but it you had been there, I think you would agree.


With the Oscar's coming up, and the Grammy's finished last night, I'm inspired and think the following is the right thing to do. Imagine me on a big stage in full gown glamor, holding an obnoxiously large statuette of linked wedding rings that has been inscribed with "Best Wedding of the Year."

I would like to thank David's family for being so supportive of our dream wedding, and for making the long trip out from New York, Long Island, and Boston. I'm glad we finally got our two families together.

I would like to thank my family for coming together for me. Having both of my parents near me once again meant so much. And my sister and brothers made for the best looking bridal party on record! Not to mention their willingness to put up with my frantic demands for last minute help, they helped iron out (literally and figuratively) some little kinks. Thanks Myra and Paul for making the trek to Colorado and representing the Minnesota crew. Thanks to Carolyn with the final touches.

To the decorating crew--Ilze and Mike, thanks for devoting your Saturday to my demands (the place would not have been transformed without you!), and Lance and Lance Jr. (even though there were some funny mistakes with the place cards, you helped me out tremendously!).

To the demolition crew--Gavin and Lauren for spearheading the chucking of the decor. I know there were others who helped with tear down, and thank you for making it so effecient. I especially liked the part where I got to leave and didn't have to help!

And to some VIPs--Robert, for a beautiful job of handling the ceremony; Candace, for your gorgeous handwriting and for creating the impetus to try Argentinian steak (yeah Beef Club); Yuan for photographing the wedding free of charge (can't wait to see how they turned out!); the readers, Erin, Chris, Stu, and Kiki; Mom, Debby, Jannean, and Ilze for working on decorations weeks in advance, and seeing through a crazy lady's vision; Sun, for handing out programs; Justin, for overcoming shyness to take everyone's picture for the guestbook...

[the background music is starting up, meaning, the speech has gone too long]

And finally, to my new husband David, without whose love none of this night would have been possible. I love you and can't wait for the next adventure!

What is the World Coming To?

Something has been bothering me for weeks. It's not constant; just when I see the advertisements drive by on a bus, or interrupt my valuable television viewing time. Each time these cross my path, I can't help but wonder why we need to see every possible version of a storyline. Book, movie, action figure, and don't forget the musical.

I would have never imagined that Edward Scissorhands and Legally Blonde would be candidates for musicals, let alone the winning candidates. Think of all the other movies that would have suited this genre better. I just can't imagine a man wearing scissor gloves night after night while singing about cutting hair and shrubbery. Even worse, I can't imagine that people want to pay to see this. Do they expect the experience to enrich their lives? Really?

And Legally Blonde: The Musical must have sprung from the choreographed scene "Bend and Snap." Bend me over and spank me, I think it's a terrible idea.

I like to think of the musical as the little sister of opera. I love opera, and I take it very seriously. I don't take lil' sis as seriously, but there is a soft place in my heart for it mostly because it encapsulates the word "music." Some very important work has come out of the musical stage, and it's one of those things that makes you feel warm and fuzzy inside just because it's so American. Well, not anymore. I don't want to associate with it. I don't see how music from either of these features will ever enter the repertoire of great music. In fact, this whole situation disconcerts me so much that I'm afraid no good music can ever be written again. All the good music has been written; that's the only excuse for this mess.

The hills aren't so alive with the sound of music anymore.

It's Not Easy Being Caffeine Free

When I was younger I thought all children grew up to get jobs and drink coffee in the morning. Coffee drinking seemed to be a right of passage into the "real" world. If you didn't drink coffee, you didn't know what was up. And since I was a youngster with a tender tongue and no taste for coffee, I used my taste buds as a guage for how far I had to go.

Well, the coffee never caught on at the party that is my mouth. When I do drink it, I must dowse it with sugar and cream, and can you really call that drinking coffee? I certainly don't, although Starbucks makes a killing off of it.

So, either I have still not grown up, or my whole theory about coffee drinking was a complete childhood misunderstanding. I wish to argue that my instincts were not as far off as you might think. I don't think non-coffee drinkers get the same respect as coffee drinkers do.

The first time I met my fiance's parents, they were so shocked I didn't drink coffee that I was afraid they were going to kick me out. While drinking a glass of orange juice, I read an article taped to their fridge about all the benefits a cup of coffee can give you. Funny, it didn't mention any of the bad. I still wonder if, every time I pass up a cup of coffee in front of them if they question my worth.

And just this morning, I went into the kitchen at work to get some hot water for some tea. The hot water dispenser at the cooler was only spewing out tepid water, and the hot water tap on the old coffee maker has been broken for months. I went to complain that there are no amenities for the non coffee drinkers (the coffee lovers in this office just got a brand new espresso machine, ooh la la)...tea drinkers have to work so much harder to get what they want. I should not have complained, and boy, was I put in my place. There's always the microwave, and some people do not have enough time to listen to every little tea drinker's complaint.

So, if you are a tea drinker, or perhaps you need some hot water for your insta-oatmeal, do what you can for now, and take comfort in the knowledge that one day we will be recognized!

Thanks for Sharing

It has been suggested that I blog about both boogers and Oscar. So now I will relate how this morning I wiped an eye booger from Oscar's eye.

He was sitting on the couch. I sat next to him. His black fur gleamed in the early morning light, and he opened his mouth in a wide yawn as if to take in as much of it as he could. Suddenly he thought he heard something behind me, and he stretched his head up to see over my shoulder. It was then that I saw it; a dull blob in the corner of his eye, a blackish Oscar eye booger.

He continued to be interested in some noise behind my back, as I reached up with my thumb to his eye. He jerked his head back, too concentrated on the scene behind me to allow his owner to perform doggie hygiene on him. But I just dug in, but not too hard. It doesn't take much to get an eye booger to stick to your finger. By now, Oscar knew what I was doing and he took interest. He likes to make sure I got it all out by sniffing my fingers and licking them. That's right--Oscar eats his eye boogers.

And what was behing my back that kept him so captivated while I did my best to release him from eye booger hell? David. That's all...I mean, David!, the very interesting man on the other side of the room who had 10 minutes earlier given Oscar a brand new squeaky toy. We love David. Maybe he has more toys up his sleeve.

Getting Bored

I'm so tired of coming to this blog and reading about my wedding. Other people must be getting sick of it too. So, unless something really major comes up (or if people genuinely seem interested in every little wedding detail), no more mention of the day I completely relinquish my single status.

What else is going on with me, though? School starts again next week and I'm eagerly looking forward to tax season. I should get lots of tax dollars back, thanks to my student status.

Sheesh, I am boring. This is why I've been avoiding this blogging place. I want you all to believe that if I had any interesting bit of knowledge, an epiphany of some sort, or just a plain ol' good story, that this is the first place I would put it. I've hit a dry spell. My apologies. I will return as soon as I can.

Backup Plan

In case of another freak snow storm the weekend of the wedding, it might be good to have a backup plan. I don't think most people will be willing to trek back out to Colorado for a postponement date, so maybe on the second try elopement will be best.

And since I can't imagine getting married in some stuffy judge's office, why not head to Vegas? They have lots of themed weddings to keep the event fun. Some of my favorite options are getting married at Paris, Las Vegas, 50 stories up in the air in a reconstructed Eiffel Tower; on a Venetian gondola on Lake Las Vegas, complete (I imagine) with a singing gondolier; in a helicopter over the Grand Canyon; or on a pirate ship. Doesn't that sound fun? I almost wish I had gone this route to begin with. Oh well, too late, unless the snow does come.

Have a Happy

Where to start?

Happy New Year: I haven't yet had the pleasure of writing 2006 and catching my mistake. This was much more common in the era of check writing. I might never catch on to 2007...

Happy Snow Storms: I love the snow, as I have written in this very blog. But this year (or was it last year?), the snow is testing my patience. I missed Christmas because of the mess in Denver. And once I got to Denver, more snow came, nearly ruining my chance to get my act together for the wedding. There is only so much you can do when all the stores are closed. But alas, the snow finally began to melt, and I spent a lovely afternoon at Hobby Lobby, buying wedding decoration supplies, and later, getting high off of paint fumes with my mom. Good times.

Happy One Month to Go: Until the wedding. I keep on wondering if I fit the part. Should I be freaking out about having so much to do? I actually feel calm. Things are magically falling into place. Which makes me wonder...when will it start to go wrong? I'm getting more worried about the weather, especially after the dowsing Denver got over Christmas. But then again, maybe that's all the snow they'll get. Maybe it will all be fine. Maybe maybe maybe it'll be the best combination of weather/planning/luck ever.

Happy Back to Work: Huh? I take it back. So sorry the holidays are over.

Can I Hitch a Ride?

I was planning on going home tomorrow, flying standby, to Colorado. Now, thanks to the snow (which I had been raving about, way to repay the favor, Mr. Snow Maker), I can't go home until after Christmas. Do you realize what this has done to my Christmas spirit? Completely ruined it. I'm crushed. No--melted, into the little raindrops I so despise.

The only way I see out of this is to hitch a ride with Santa on his sleigh on Christmas Eve. Then I would be home in time for brunch with Grandma. But since my Christmas spirit is gone--there is no Santa to hitch a ride with, because he's not real (if you are five and you're reading this, sorry I ruined it, but you are five and reading, so you should probably be curing cancer or something).

My mom told me to make cookies. Yeah, like cookies can give me hugs and presents. It's not the same. Bah Humbug!

Will people stop trying to break into my car? It's getting very expensive. I'm shelling out another $191 because of your antics. What do you think I am, made of money? You made me cry. I don't like giving the mechanic my Christmas bonus. And I don't like you stealing my things. Please stop.

Encouraged

I took my car into the shop this morning, and while waiting for the shuttle to take me to work, I met a therapist who asked me what the heck I was doing out here in ol' CA. And so we got on the topic of my novel. He asked what it was about. I gave him a summary, and he was really interested. He liked the idea, and his imagination started twirling. He even remembered an old movie he liked as a child called Mr. Peabody and the Mermaid, which I will add to my NetFlicks queue shortly.

The most encouraging part was his genuine interest. He even offered to give me his wife's card, who works in publishing. I shyly declined. I'm not ready for that, I told him. I wonder when I will be? Maybe sooner if I keep getting positive feedback like this.

BBBBRRRRRrrrrrrrrr

It's cold outside--for the Bay Area anyway. There was a frost advisory until 10 am this morning. I walked Oscar in the cold, but bundled up against the cold and kept up a quick pace to jump start my inner furnace.

I was prepared for the cold outside (except for the frost on my window, don't know where we put the ice scrapers--never thought we'd need them here!), but I wasn't prepared for the cold inside. Yesterday, I came into work and my desk area was just as cold as the parking garage had been. Today, the coworker across from me said the air conditioning was on when he came in.

I expect to be warm inside when it's cold outside. But right now my fingers are so cold they are moving notably slower. I have to stop periodically and sit on them, or warm them in my armpits. I've been wearing a scarf for two days. In the year and a half since I've been out here, this is the first time I've felt the need to wear a scarf. AND I'M INDOORS!!!

Please, send me a space heater for Christmas.

I Had a Lovely Time

This weekend was a perfect combination of productive and lazy. It started off with an introduction to another sure favorite: the Very Dirty Martini. Thanks Brooke, for calling this drink to my attention. I've always liked pickly things, and now I have a drink in which I can embrace this.

The next day, all hungover and filled with my favorite hangover cure (tomato juice, tasty!), I embarked on the many errands that have been awaiting my attention. I found wedding shoes, and undergarments. I went to IKEA and stocked up on candles for wedding decorations, and even did some Christmas shopping for my nephews. Everywhere I went seemed to be the place to be if you wanted to avoid Christmas shoppers. My day flew by with ease, until I headed back to the city and did battle with traffic. I searched for wedding jewelry with my friend Tony, discovering that my dream look would cost me as much as the budget for the entire wedding. I'll be looking for cheap knockoffs online.

As the sun set, and I was bumper to bumper with fellow Bay Areanites (?), my Christmas miracle happened. I looked to the sky and saw flurries. I approached what I saw scientifically, not quite believing what I was seeing. Were the flurries bugs, or ash? Then one fell on my window and melted. SNOW! I was so happy! Just days after remarking the length of time since I had seen snow fall, a few showered my car. Whooo Hooo! Of course, not enough fell to even stick to the road, but I was happy all the same.

It was a wonderful day.

In a Rut

I feel like all I have been blogging about is the wedding and Christmas and drinking. It's really wearing on me, to the point that I'm starting to believe all the hype. I have an alcoholic Christmas wedding problem, or is it that I'm a Christmas alcoholic bride? In any case, the doctors say it's not serious, and that come February 4th, all the symptoms will go away. Strange, though, that the Christmas part will stick that long. Maybe I can get some ointment to clear that up by the end of the month.

Great, now I'm all self-conscious about what I'm writing. I'm not going to get it right. I gotta go ______(Sing Frosty the Snowman/do a seating arrangment/spike the eggnog).

Where's the Snow?

I grew up in Colorado. I lived there for twenty four years straight. I saw snow every winter. A year and a half ago, I moved away from Colorado, and I haven't seen snow since.

I get confused. I feel like I should wake up and see snow, but it never happens. It's cold here in the bay area, but all that comes out of the sky is a veil of mist. Either that or fat blobby rain drops (no, they're not that cute), that soak up the bottoms of my pants, and find thier way in my shoes, get my socks soaked and make me miserable in general.

What season is it? They say it's winter. I see the lawn decorations for Christmas on the lawns. But, if you ask me, having a Santa sleigh pulled by reindeer just doesn't make sense without the snow. I used to go sledding every winter, and I know that when you hit a patch of mud, the sled won't go. I guess Santa is more magic than I can imagine. But magic or no, don't you think he would adjust his outfit for the weather? He's always wearing that heavy coat.

Here is my

Ode to Snow

Falling from the sky,
so slow I can catch you
on my tongue.

You whisper past
my ear.
Patter in the pile

collecting on the ground.
A blanket of individuals.
Rain is all the same;

each drop
stabs
me in the heart.

Ok, so I just made that up, and you definitely won't see that in any anthologies. Now you know why I switched to fiction.

Pray for snow in Oakland.

Nightmare on Wedding Street


Last night I had my first dream about the wedding, and I got upstaged.

Since dreams can come off as boring, I'll try to make this quick. It was the weekend of the wedding, and apparently we had some big group activity planned, which was to attend a football game. After the game, there was a big announcement about a wedding that weekend. I immediately thought they were talking about mine, but up on the stage (I know there's no stage in football), these older women in incredibly ornate wedding dresses made entrance after entrance, and lined up, and sat on chairs and smiled. Turns out those were just the women attending the wedding. Then the bride came out, wearing a copper gown with a gorgeous ivory wrap, and she was truly queen of the moment.

I was sitting in the stands in jeans and a hoodie. No so beautiful, not so queen-like.

Well, at least the worst has already happened. Unless I dream up something more horrific, because let's face it, this wasn't even that bad.

Countdown to Forever

I suddenly realized yesterday that my wedding (David's wedding, THE wedding) is six weeks away. It has very quickly come to a point where I can keep track of just how much time I have left to turn into Bridezilla. I still don't think that will happen (ok, it might, and I'll be sure to keep an electronic diary of that moment).

Getting married shouldn't feel any different than what we have now. We've been living with each other since the day we met (we move fast, eh?, actually he was subletting a room in my apartment), we've communicated every feeling we've ever felt since that time. So on February 4th, we are going to wake up and say "Hello husband," "Hello wife," and that's the only thing that will change, but not really, because we already lovingly refer to each other as Mr. and Mrs., so we won't even have that moment, but then maybe there will be a spark behind his eyes, and I will feel something different, and that will be new, and...and...and -- what? Forever. There will be the next day, and the day after that. Morning after morning of "Hello husband," "Hello wife," and there will be stuff in between, and that will be life.

Is it good? The outlook is positive. But the thought of forever is a little terrifying. And it's only six weeks away.

Ahhh...Just Sit Back And Rel--

It's my first weekend without homework in 15 weeks. At first, I made a list of all the things I need to do. Then I forgot them all.

I took a nap. And then I decided the house was so dirty I couldn't take it any more. And since no one likes to read about housecleaning, let's give it a code word --"drinking," to trick you into thinking you are reading something interesting.

I "drank" in the bathroom, I "drank" in the living room. I did a lot of "drinking" and I'm finding there are a lot of benefits to "drinking." The house looks better, I feel better, and I think I should "drink" more often. David "drinks" in the kitchen pretty often, so luckily I didn't have to "drink" in there as much. We've been letting things go around the house so much that we've got a "drinking" problem. Having a dog requires that you "drink" more than usual, and I just haven't been able to keep up. But now that I have more time off, I will try to "drink" every day.

I'd like to say that I'm sufficiently drunk, after all the "drinking" I've done tonight, but there's still a lot to be "drank" (?), and I'm getting tired. After all, "drinking" on your hands and knees would wear anyone out. There are still some other places I need to "drink," like in my bedroom. I also might take a shot at "drinking" and driving next time I'm in my car.

Great Tip for Wasting Time

If you're going to be the best time waster you can be, you first need to commit yourself to as many activities as possible. That's what I did yesterday. Even though it was the last day of the semester for me, I still went ahead and scheduled a chapter due date for December 22nd. The phrase "take a break" apparently means nothing to me. In addition, I've also been adding wedding chores, as I like to call them, to my schedule. And of course, these chores must be done next week, but they won't get done until I start panicking over them. Oh yeah, and I still go to work every day on top of that. I'm not as busy as before, but it's enough to keep me going.

So, last night, as I was enjoying a glass of wine and flipping through the channels, I discovered the most ridiculous channel ever. It's called the Reality Channel, run by Fox, so you know everything on it is going to be either inappropriate or unnecessary, but at least mildly entertaining. I saw a commercial for a show about porn stars going to London to put on a Shakespearean play. That's right -- Shakespeare + Porn Stars = Valuable Programming. It brings whole new meaning to this quote from As You Like It: "All the world 's a stage, and all the men and women merely players. They have their exits and their entrances; And one man in his time plays many parts"

Finger Lickin' Weird

We really take fingers for granted. I've been thinking about mine alot, wondering if anyone has ever had the bottom segments of their fingers fused to the middle section, so all they can bend is the top section. You might as well have not bothered growing opposable thumbs at that point, they wouldn't help.

And now I'm having two problems with my fingers: one is my own fault, and the other is the weather's. My fingernails are hideously long. Okay, not so long that I have to sheath them in a special leather casing, but any minute now I'm going to gouge myself with them, and it won't be pretty. It's like I'm walking around with dull knives on the ends of my fingers, and I've always been told dull knives are more dangerous than sharp ones, which technically means I have way more to worry about than Edward Scissorhands.

The second concern of mine is that my fingers are perpetually cold. Well, it's cold outside. I've pulled out the gloves, which is sort of ridiculous considering our low temperatures have been in the 40s, while other parts of the country are forming little ice crystals around their nostrils every time they step outside. But listen here, my fingers are cold inside too. Combined with my dull knives, that makes for some very clumsy and very risky moves. I hope all my apendages survive until I can dig out the clippers.

Monday, Wha-?

This day is pummelling me. I want my weekend back.

On a brighter note, my nephew was born this morning. 5 lbs 14 oz., a little guy. His name is Nathan, with a middle name on its way any day now. My vote is for Christopher; it makes me think of the Hundred Acre Wood.

Welcome Nathan! Sorry to bring you into a world where, unfortunately, Mondays exist. But hey, you'll get used to it. And who knows, maybe you'll become the Monday Master, a guru for those of us who cannot, under our own power, get out of bed and make it to work sooner than fifteen-minutes-late to save our lives (and probably our jobs).

And so far, I see you've got it right Nathan. Babies sleep. A lot. This blogger is jealous.

Love ya kiddo!