aLL Ur WedDiNZ R beLoNG 2 uS

After much gnashing of teeth, I have started to look at different, more affordable venues. Bucksteep is lovely, I just don't want a $25,000 wedding. That is beyond ridiculous.

Here are some of the new places. All in the Berkshires area. Predominantly. 

1. the lodge at the camp. Like getting married on Salute Your Shorts, only slightly classier. And less Canadian. 

2. The modern dance festival, "dawning of the age of Aquarius" stage ceremony/barn reception option

3. The venue that is exactly like Bucksteep, but seemingly cheaper. Hopefully.

4. The super-granola place

Quite honestly, ANY of these would be lovely. I just want a bonfire and some dinner. If I get married to Dave, well then, perfect!
 

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Clumsy

Clumsy.


Clumsy. Say it and listen to that word. Form the syllables yourself and, there you have it, is my wedding planning experience.

I'm not built with the frills and dreams. I came to be engaged by happy accident- meeting some man in tights in the woods. 

This weekend I had a screaming fit with Dave. I'm aware that much of it has to do with feeling inadequate. People don't look at me and think, "wife". I'm not sure they look at me and think "woman" necessarily. I don't need or want that to define me. But I want to be able to plan a goddamn wedding. 

Still I feel tinny, small, rifling through page after page of wedding options. 

Honestly, all I want to do is talk to my mom. I have many comparable outlets, friends, family. But I want my mom. She never expected me to get married. I don't think she wanted me to. 

I think a large piece of me wants to ask her if it's ok that I fell in love?

That I became a teacher instead of a transient actress?

That I grow my hair long? That I want to have children? All these stupid, trivial things that add up to this.

I still only want to make her proud. 

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"Climb every Mountaindew"

I drank diet Mountain Dew around 10 o'clock this evening. I am full of the brightest ideas. It is however, a three day work week, so I suppose I can power through. My only serious problem with lack of sleep days?....

Voracious appetite. Scary. Tired = hungry. Not good.

So, like every will-be bride, I am looking to lose weight. Nearly the entirety of the internet knows I lost 12lbs this summer (insert Rocky training montage here). Most of this was due to a strict diet change. Between the application process at Bank Street (which I assure you, is epic. Like 12 written pages epic) work, and the non-matriculated graduate level course work I'm doing, I've been getting a little stressed. Put the monetary woes of FAFSA, a handfasting, and this loan hopeful woman is leaning towards the bread products. And ice cream. 

So between September and now I've put on around 5 lbs, take it or leave it. This only, ironically adds to my stress.

But, I have a plan of action (insert dramatic, sweeping cape moment here).

Starting next Sunday, I am back on my nutrition program (similar to what I did this summer). I already do kettlebell class twice a week, and some weight training. I'm adding back in the running, because I'm going to run this half marathon in Queens this March . I haven't signed up yet (I'll cough up the money next month) but I did sign up for this 10K next month!  I ran 6 miles today, and it was rough, but I have confidence that it will get easier. I'm going to start training for the half marathon this week as well.

And I'm also going to fiddle more.

How does Cat de-stress, you ask? Why, by scheduling EVERY MOMENT so the choices are clear!

We'll see how far my ambitions can take me. 
(insert heroic stance)

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All those dreams, like fireflies

I have an interview for Grad School on the 28th. I'm very excited about it actually. After this, I will find out relatively quickly if I can matriculate or not, and actually pursue my degree. If everything pans out, and I can indeed head in that direction, I can let a little more life shine through the academia.

It's hard to be excited about being engaged sometimes. It's hard because I feel like I must work towards more imminent goals. Is that strange? I don't see the goal of engagement being my wedding day or handfasting. I see the goal as the turning point into a different adulthood. The goal of "starting grad school" seems more important.

There are a lot of things I am working on as well. Personal goals, like learning to fiddle and being fit. I want to focus as much as possible on these things, and continue to learn and grow in them. Right now I just feel like a chubby kid, clumsily bowing some tunes and trying not to eat that jam and cream cheese on bread (PS, tonight I did. Although I believe it helped me to crank out the last few pages of my paper draft that's due, oh, TOMORROW).

I am looking forward to the day where I can have all the things I'm working for. I see them in my grasp. It reminds me of being a kid, standing in my backyard with a jar and a prayer, hoping if I were still enough I could catch the evening's fireflies. 

 

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theme = bonfire

This is part of Bucksteep Manor  which is in the Berkshire Mountains in Massachusetts, where my dad is from. This is where I think I'd like to get married. Dave has seen it, and he agrees. It's stunning, and set not too far from the the appalachian trail which we are both quite obsessed with. 

Accommodations are varied, but mostly "rustic" (guests have the choice of camping, if they choose). I am the most excited by the idea of a bonfire. Dave loves starting and tending them, so a bonfire seems appropriate (indeed, during renfaire season, I refer to him as KINGOFTHAFIAHS!).

I have a soft spot for the Berkshires, I used to visit my father's parents every 4th of July for a few days, in Pittsfield. You could see mountains from the window where I slept, and there were train tracks in the backyard. Trains still occasionally went by. If you followed the tracks for a while, you would come upon a little lakeside beach that my father and his siblings played at as children. You could see the public beaches of the lake from his little alcove, but it seemed magically hidden to me, as a child. When my grandparents sold that house it saddened me. 

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Under pressure from my shiny rocks

My ring is one of kind. My fianc� had it designed for me, using heirloom gold (including his great-grandmother's wedding ring, and an Austrian ducat). The stones are held up by a setting of delicate leaves, and the band features a mountain range (we love to hike and camp. Plus we met at the New York Renaissance Faire, which is situated within Sterling Forest. Beyond nerds. You have no idea.)

I could gush on and on about how much I love my engagement ring, but that's not the real reason I'm posting this.

None of my stones are diamonds (emerald and moissanites). And all of them are "created". In a lab. Conflict free. You can read here about the nastiness of the conventional diamond.

I tried to keep it quiet at work, basically due to the fact that I was immediately bombarded with "WHEN are you getting married?!" as soon as my finger refracted a little light. And I sputter, "I don't know".

I am ready to be committed to Dave; I already am. He shares room in my soul. I will wear the white dress, eat the cake, dance the dance, when I have time. There is so much pressure to plan. 

Slowly but surely, I am inching my way in.

 

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Wedding dress

These are my parents and grandparents circa 1983-ish (don't honestly know what year it was). I remember my mom telling me that she got so nervous about her wedding that she lost weight and her dress ended up being too big (as evidenced by the fluffy sleeve I suppose).

When I was little, I remember looking at my mother's wedding photos and thinking she was the most beautiful, ethereal creature I'd ever seen. She had a big white veil, and a bunch of flowers, and a man in a bow-tie (who happened to be my father posing as a boy). 

I look at her now, and I see a real person, other than that faerie creature I recall from the photo album of my youth. Young, slightly frightened, unassuming, unmarred by childbirth, cancer, or heartbreak. 

This dress is in a box in the attic at my father's house. It has been in that box since before I was born, and in a strange way, it has become a time capsule of her hopes, dreams, and aspirations. People always joked about how my mom never shut up about my siblings or me, but we were her life. I am a culmination of my mother's love of dance, of drama, of the beauty in the natural and mundane. I am a culmination of the love she had for my father, for my grandparents, for my uncles and cousins. It is through me and my siblings that she lives on.

I am hoping to forgo the dress appointments, I am hoping that with a little love, and a lot of alteration, I can breathe a little life back into a dream my mother once had. 

It is my hope that when I open this box in the attic, that I can put on this outdated taffeta, and see in myself the ethereal, the slightly frightened, the as yet unmarred. If I'm lucky, I'll see a little of her too.

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