11 posts tagged “wedding”

Wedding planning continues apace, with our vows chosen (we went for the traditional required statements, and that's it. Why make people sick having to listen to you promise to make peanut butter and jelly sandwiches every second Tuesday for life?) and everything important booked. The dressmaker for the bridesmaids dresses is popping over to the house for a chat on Sunday and that just leaves the flower girls' dresses which I'm not remotely worried about.

Talk about grown up, though. My mother-in-law was chatting to the eldest bridesmaid, Georgia, about the day. She's 7. Going on 45.

MIL:            Are you looking forward to being a bridesmaid?
Georgia:     Of course!
MIL:            What sort of dress would you like?
Georgia:     Whatever Alex wants us to wear.

I liked the kid anyway, she's beautiful, smart and thoughtful which is a winning combination in anyone, but now I like her even more.

Last night we also went to see a diamond setter / ring designer / jeweller who's a friend of the family. MIL has - with tremendous generosity - offered me part of a multi-gemstone ring for me to make part of my wedding ring. Which means if it works I'll have a row of diamonds, eternity ring style, on one side and a plain band on the other, so I can wear it as bling or more muted as I choose. He's studying it now to see if it can be done. Even if I can't, I'll be eternally grateful that she offered - it's not about the diamonds but the sentiment. What a way to show that I'm part of the family; she offered it to me because the ring was left to her by one of Ashley's favourite relatives who adored him.

I also met his wonderfully mad aunt at the weekend, who is just brilliant. She's a headteacher at a private boarding school and her husband is equally lovely. They have ducks! And a gorgeous cat! Plus she's an amazing cook and has a sense of humour about everything. What's not to like? She was going to play the harp at the wedding but can't get the instrument down to Oxford which is such a shame.

Sometimes, despite all the aggravation life and hormones can throw at me, I do know I am one of luckiest people on earth.

It's been a schizophrenic few days. The balance of dealing with Internet mentalists and yet at the same time having the work I've done over the last few months being positively recognised by peer publications has been a heady one. Mainly I've decided to enjoy the good and use the bad as an impetus to hit the gym or, failing that much energy, at least go for a brisk walk at lunchtime to clear my head.

Wedding plans are now basically under control. The bridesmaids dresses are the main issue left, with various quotes from dressmakers littering my notebooks; I'm still waiting to hear from the most likely party. £90 from one (minus materials) but I can't call her until October. £160 (including materials) from another - eek! £200-£300 from a third - say what?! One of my bridesmaids helpfully and supportingly labelled the colour I'd chosen as 'shit brown' so I know she's never going to wear hers again anyway, so what do I care if they're completely perfect? Truth is, I don't. I want the women themselves to be comfortable and feel happy about their appearance. Beyond that, it's only so much excess frippery. My mother-in-law is slightly worried about the little girls but I am sure that decent flower girl dresses will be found.

Also the hairdresser hasn't got back to me yet but then I did take an age to reply to her last email. You get what you give.

And I have to call the florist...

Other than that, photographer, food, wedding dress, cake, etc are all go. We do have to find a free date for the rabbi and priest to meet, as the priest is travelling a great deal this summer and isn't around for much time before the wedding. They want to discuss our expectations and construct a beautiful blessing for us, which I'm really very excited about. I dare say that at least will be unique to us. Not that I care about being unique - I just want everything to mean something to both of us.

Speaking of which, we still don't have a first dance or even mutually adored song that is even vaguely wedding-appropriate. Suggestions could not possibly hurt...

 Meanwhile we schlepped down to Southend-on-Sea last night to attend a shiva - my second. Prayers were lengthy and conducted by a very sweet and earnest young Rabbi who explained the significance of the Kaddish and how it is more valuable an expression of faith even than the Shema. "Because you are saying at this most difficult time that Hashem knows best". A rather lovely thing to say, I thought. I met some more of Ash's extended family who all seemed very nice and did their best to hide their appraising looks. I was wearing my cross which probably raised a few eyebrows but if it did it happened when my back was turned, so all's well.

I'm so tired. I'm going to drag my sorry carcass to the gym to try and wake myself up at lunchtime, but I'm keeping going today only by remembering I'm catching up with lovely friends tonight. Here's hoping I don't fall asleep on the pub table.

Okay, I will have a lovely, quite traditional looking cake so I'm not really regretting it, plus my mother practically has an emotional attachment to the cake so I can't change it... but... this is brilliantly gorgeous. It's not a completely new idea, but such elegant execution. Go Naomi!

...and hell, maybe a little alliteration thrown in for free. I've been doing that thing where plans for the future (professional, personal, pipe dreams, you name it) start crystallising in your head and you're poised, one foot on the diving board, ready to spring as soon as the momentum starts to build.

Some things will have to wait until after the wedding because time will not allow (and it'll be more practical that way). Some things will have to start now. I will stop looking for gaps in my day when I can plan to do things and just do them. Promises I made have to be kept (like writing more on a couple of blogs I pledged my -free- services to because it does me as much good as them).

I'm not going to list all of the ambitions here because in my experience over time some become priority and some fall by the wayside and I'm not about to use this blog as a rod to beat myself with if I 'fail' to achieve some (and promptly, in typical Alex style, refuse to acknowledge what I have managed).

In the meantime I'm shuffling gently towards some central goals by doing the small peripheral things that would need to be done at some point anyway and make me feel like I'm taking steps even when I'm still avoiding the main event.

It's an exciting time. As is typical with exciting, happy times, I'm looking for all the things that could go wrong. Secretly knowing that nothing will go wrong - that my relationship is rock solid, that I'm doing well at work, etc. - I am weathering minor bouts of anxiety that tend to centre on one of Ash and I dying or being horribly hurt, but for once in my life I am capable of acknowledging and then moving on from such episodes. If for no other reason than, if I die tomorrow, I'd like to think that by making a small effort every day my contribution to the world will add up overall.

Okay, in the grand scheme of things, I've done very little. But every bit more counts, right?

During the course of planning, I've been trying to think of every possible thing that will make our start in this marriage easier, and generally add to our chances of making a really good go at things. I'm not particularly concerned that we won't, but we might as well address the issues that can shake that solid ground you think you stand on.

Children have been discussed ad nauseam (no morning sickness pun intended) from pregnancy timings to baby names to religion to how involved parents should be... childcare, housing, pets... you name it, we've covered it. Finances? Split down the middle, with a joint account that will serve as a bills-and-future-mortgage-paying account with us each retaining the rest of our salaries, etc in our own separate accounts. Since my parents are giving us the deposit for our first house next year, we've discussed what would be an equitable ownership split that reflects the fact that the main cash is coming from my family but also that he will be paying half the mortgage. It turns out on all these difficult issues, we're completely resolved (well, at least until they take an unexpected turn, I guess).

So, of course, I had to bring up the Last Will and Testament. At the moment, all I have to leave anyone is a bit of jewellery, my depressingly empty bank account and a six-year-old Toyota Yaris. Nice, but nothing worth murdering me for. Still, there are other wishes and requests that should go in your will, and one of those is where we will be buried...

Some time ago, we went on a date / footle / stroll through Highgate cemetary. The historical, overgrown, haunting site is the final resting place of the Rosettis, Karl Marx, Douglas Adams and a great many local residents in one of my favourite parts of London. Among all was a headstone, marked with two names but just one set of dates - obviously the other half of this devoted pairing is preparing to be buried by her husband. Against his name was a tiny, elegant Magen David. Against hers, a cross. Beneath their names were the famous words of Ruth:

Entreat me not to leave you or to turn back from you. Where you go I will go, and where you stay I will stay. Your people will be my people and your God my God. Where you die I will die, and there I will be buried.

On seeing this, I started weeping like a baby. Startled, Ash held me until I could explain.

I was crying because it had suddenly hit home that here was this wonderful man, with whom I fully expected to spend the rest of my life though from whom I'd be permanently parted in death. He would lie in Jewish grounds and I in Christian, separated by who knows what distance.

Of course it shouldn't matter. My body will be so much worm food, and if there is any sort of after death consciousness, presumably physical distance is no barrier to being reunited. But to fight tradition and culture to spend our lives together only to be symbolically parted again after death is like saying that, try as we might to believe it, we weren't right together.

I'm half-wondering if my father will make My Big Fat Greek Wedding's "apples and oranges; we all different, but in the end, we all fruit" speech at the wedding. It would be funny. I just also want it to be true. No, I know  it to be true. So I want it to be reflected in the symbols of our death (and isn't burial just a symbol for the living?).

So I was touched beyond words that Ashley has chosen to forego his right to be buried on Jewish consecrated grounds and will, when we get round to actually sorting out our wills, request to be buried in the local council grounds, as will I.

None of these things are, forgive the pun, set in stone. Should be divorce, we can revert to whatever prior choices we like. But as a gesture of a lifetime commitment, it doesn't get much more long term than pledging the circumstances of your burial to someone else.

There are many benefits to my mother-in-law. She loves me, as I do her, we respect each other and sometimes we have a damn good laugh (especially at others in that delightfully bitchy way us Med types have). One of the more unusual ones that came into its own today was her occupation: she's a wedding dress beader.

For 16 years she's been the sole beader for successful UK bridal designer Suzanne Neville.Today I met Suzanne and chose a wedding dress.

I can't say much about the design because Ash reads my blog and I want it to be a surprise (I will promise pics when the time comes!). Suffice to say I went in loving one design and fell in love with another entirely. Almost everything I had insisted on didn't feature on the final dress! What I will say is that I didn't go for that annoyingly repetitive modern strapless puffball dress that looks like Cinderella sat over a loo roll.

Not only is Suzanne's workmanship and detail incredible (you really could wear the dresses inside out) with corsetry so solid even a 32F like me doesn't need a bra, her team are a really warm bunch. By the time the dress was chosen I was the only one not in tears (because I was so excited!), including the woman fitting me who'd met me 45 minutes before for the first time in her life! They're a goodly bunch.

I won't pretend it will be cheap, but the dress is of a classic design that I might one day alter and dye so that it might live another day as an evening dress.

I don't know about every other girl, but for me the dress feels like what I, uniquely, can bring to the day that will surprise and wow Ashley. While I stood in the mirror falling for this corseted wonderment, it was the fact that Ashley would like it that really made me glow.

And now, pass the bucket... sorry folks. Normal cynical service will be resumed shortly.

Sometimes it feels like the treadmill's been turned up to 10 and the incline is increasing and NO ONE'S TELLING YOU WHY.

I am bouncing from such utter, utter joy to such irritating niggly detail-strewn stress that I suspect I am becoming somewhat difficult to live with. Yesterday I growled at my mother for asking one too many wedding questions and there was much grovelling this morning. She forgives me far too easily. Far more easily than I ever forgive myself, for anything at all.

The venue and catering sorted, we're now on the hunt for a band. We found a wonderful jazz band who charge reasonable rates and pack an absolutely brilliant young female singer called Liz Cass (visit her website, it's a rubbish design that doesn't really work but you should be listening, not looking). Sadly, we think her repertoire, while beautiful to us and a handful of the guests with taste, probably won't lead to a rollicking party atmosphere. We need people to dance, otherwise it will all be a bit depressing. So we've switched gears to Funkify (I know, but their performances are more vibrant than their name), provided we can afford them. The quote's on its way.

Meanwhile, I have a staggering quote for hair and make up - a maximum of £275 including a consultation / trial run, travel expenses (to London and Oxford from Gloucestershire). I'm sure that's pretty steep, but on the other hand she looks really, really good. The budget is there for it, if necessary, but I'm going to have to do some digging to find an alternative. I only require a simple up-do for hair - I want it neat, sleek and out of the way where it can't go tangly and unkempt - but I'd like some really good makeup and that's what this lady specialises in. Well, we'll see. I'm dreaming of smoky eyes.

You can see where the details and my scribble bedecked diary are getting on my nerves. But I'm dealing with it, because all that pales into insignificance when you turn over in the morning to be wrapped into a warm snuggle and the love of your life whispering that they adore you.

Plus, I'll be in Greece in one month and one day! For two weeks! In Athens! And Kefalonia! And on a (free!!) cruise around islands I've never visited!

Can't say completely unfair and ridiculously privileged fairer than that.

I always assumed that at some point in the wedding planning I'd have a massive row with my parents. I never thought it would be over the cake.

I actually can't bear to go into the details again and it's all irrelevant now as we've finally decided to go for fish all round instead of trying to produce another £10,000 out of nowhere to pay for kosher for everyone (thereby avoiding stressing out over the number and kind of cakes). We weren't going to originally as one of the bridesmaids claims such a violent allergy to fish that the smell can set her off. However, she assures me that she can take preventative medicine and should be okay. Obviously, we'll feed her the veggie option...

120 people.
1 hotel in Oxford.
2 nervous breakdowns.

Ashley has been fundamentally, absolutely, magnificently, overwhelmingly amazing. He helps, he calls, he fends off his mother when she gets too enthusiastic and pelts us (lovingly) with phone calls and emails, he mediates between me and my (loving) family and then he clambers into bed with me and night and asks me, brow furrowed, if he's doing enough to help with the planning. And I helplessly laugh at how much he understates his contribution and resort to writing online articles about the anti-male attitudes of the wedding industry and the impossibility of reasonably priced kosher catering.

Meanwhile, said allergic-but-not-that-allergic bridesmaid is kvetching because it's so 'far' out of London (45 miles), while one of my future m-i-l's friends is disappointed because he doesn't get to make the expensive and awkward flight from Boston. Another bridesmaid is having serious family issues that is making her unsure whether she can accept being a bridesmaid... I am more worried about her than the arrangements but anyway it's still early to get the dresses. I'm going for chocolate brown, so we'll need to wait until nearer Autumn.

It's December 14th this year, by the way. I'm still having trouble with the whole concept of having a boyfriend, but I figure around the time we get married it'll sink in.

Yes, I know how that sounds. But after a succession of non-relationships lasting all of 25 minutes, I didn't have anything approaching a proper relationship until long after everyone else I knew or had heard of. That was a disaster, and Ashley, as a friend, helped me get over it. I 'fessed up to an attraction to the boy wonder, but he insisted he had to be with a Jewish girl and didn't think of me that way. I did tell him he was in love with me several times before he realised it in a fit of jealousy when I was on a date with someone else...

Anyway, since then we have fallen deeper in love with a playful intensity bordering on insanity and given that we talk through everything, are horrifyingly honest to each other and treat each other with love and respect, we figure we have as good a chance as anyone - if not better - to make it work.

But I'm still flummoxed by the idea of anyone loving me because I was so very convinced (so very stupidly) that no-one ever would.

Oh, and I have a new job. More on that another time!

To the Greeks and Grecophiles, Kalo Pascha; I hope your egg won every time.

I have one of these on my finger...

Sky News was great fun, all two and a half minutes of it; I had my name on the screen! They pronounced it right without asking! I looked that uniform shade of beige everyone on TV news looks because it turns out they spray the make up on! w00t!

I decided to spend the day looking for ways and reasons to be cheerful. JB and I have lurched from one emotional heart to heart to another; this was partly, I think, prompted by having a small spat over something. But mostly I suspect it was as a result of me spending a lot of time talking about guilt, CBT and depression and other cheerful things with a friend and colleague which just made me want to make sure there's no part of me, good or bad, that JB doesn't know about. It is relieving and important, but draining.

There has also been some negotiation with my parents over numbers for the wedding as they keep pulling relatives out of the closet. I want to keep it fair and offer JB's mum as many guests as my parents have, but it's really hard to pull off the balancing act. It's my friends I keep pulling out to accommodate everyone else! JB has an awful lot of friends whose weddings he's been to and feels obliged to invite even though they're barely in touch. It's frustrating, especially considering we're still not formally engaged, although he tells me he has some half-formed ideas for how to 'surprise' me. Daft romantic, beloved stoat.

Anyway, to paraphrase Ian Dury, here are three reasons to be cheerful.

1) Allison Janney and friends on what a feminist looks like (JB and I both tempted to make "this is what a weasel looks like" video: