253 Days, 21 Hours, 54 Minutes

Well! I know it's been a while since I've posted, but things are speeding along here. And by "things" I mean time, and by "speeding along" I mean HOW IS IT ALMOST FEBRUARY.

So far we have found a photographer, reception venue, and caterer. We've picked out our wedding party, asked someone to officiate, started a playlist, and made up a draft of a guest list. We're working on a website and have talked about what we want to register for: 10,000 plastic balls to make our home into a ball bit. And a stand mixer.

After all that work, I'm proud to say that according to all the checklists, we are only two months behind schedule.

...Huh. I thought that listing everything we've done would make me feel better, but it really hasn't.

Also I added a countdown to our website. It has turned out to be a huge mistake.



Image via Cottage in the Oaks.

Penny Shoes

So, ziss is vhen ve talk about ze traditions of my people, ze Germans. Some uzzer day ve vill discuss ze Irish side off mein family, but now you must go to fetch your strudel and your lederhosen, for ve are learning all about ze hochzeitsschuhe!

Sie sind wunderschon, nicht wahr?

Hochzeitsschuhe means wedding shoes, which the German bride will traditionally pay for with the thousands of pfennigs she collects during her engagement.

Which would be fine, if anybody still paid with cash. Over the three months we've been engaged, I've managed to dig up 263 pennies from couch cushions and the Take a Penny, Leave a Penny jar at the convenience store. It should feel like an accomplishment to collect 263 of anything, but I'm still a long way off; you can't even find a pair of shoes at Goodwill for less than $5. Sure, I could exchange a few twenties for all the pennies I want, but ZAT VOULD BE CHEATING, AND YOU KNOW WHAT HERR BELSNICKEL DOES TO ZE NAUGHTY, CHEATING KINDER.

You'd think this would be easier. I'm marrying someone who looks at coins for a living.

I have nine months left before the wedding.* By August you may find me on Venice Beach, performing a little dance in my wooden clogs with a cardboard sign that reads, "Pennies only, please." And as they pass, the nice people will say, "Pennies aren't obsolete yet?" and the mean people will be like, "Nice knee socks, loser."

"Herr Belsnickel vill get you, you vicked dummen kopf!" I'll try to shout after them, but I'll probably be too out of breath. Clog dancing is hard, guys.

Assuming I can scrounge up enough pennies to buy some shoes, there is a second part of the tradition: Before setting off down the aisle, the bride's mother tucks a sprig of dill and a pinch of salt in the right hochzeitsschuh. However, I think I'll probably skip that part. I don't much fancy setting off on our honeymoon with der Pickle Foot.



*HOLY CRAP I ONLY HAVE NINE MONTHS BEFORE MY WEDDING!!


Image via Becuo.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME.

"Tomorrow was her birthday, and she was thinking how fast the years went by, how old she was getting, and how little she seemed to have accomplished. Almost twenty-five and nothing to show for it.”

-Little Women

But enough with the depressing stuff. 

Tomorrow is my birthday, which I take very seriously. But not just mine -- I get overly excited about all birthdays. Anyone who doesn't make a big deal of their birthday is a fool, A DAMNED FOOL!

First off, the birthday person should never go to work. Or school. Or doctor's appointments. Or jury duty. Or anything. However, not everyone can ditch all responsibilities on their birthday, which is a real shame. The fault really lies with the employer. Friends, if you run a business, surprise your employees with a cake the day before their birthday, then surprise them again with a DAY OFF. They'll be so happy they'll probably work twice as hard the day after.*

You know who doesn't make a big deal of his birthday? The fiance. He just sort of shrugs whenever I bring it up, so it's up to me to put candles in his pancakes and fashion him a construction paper crown and make him promise not to take it off all day and hop around singing made-up birthday songs and throwing glitter in the air and wearing myself out just to get him to give a crap about the annual celebration of the day he came into the world.

Of course, on my birthday he's always out of town on a mandatory business trip. He leaves me a present to open and then takes me somewhere special when he gets back so that my birthday lasts the whole month(!). I know it sounds sad to spend your birthday by yourself, but sometimes it's kinda nice and weirdly relaxing to be alone on a day that's meant for indulgence and celebration of YOU. Especially if you're an introvert who finds being around other human people exhausting. Sometimes I tell people I'm hanging out with someone just so they won't feel bad and offer to keep me company, when really I just relax best by myself. When Bill gets back from his trip I'll drag him and our friends out to karaoke, but in the meantime, here's my plan:

I'm gonna sleep in real late. Probably wake up stuffy because I have a cold, like I always do the first week of January. I was planning to make some toast and tea, but maybe I'll walk over to the diner around the corner where they make the best potatoes I've ever eaten and where I have the best chance of becoming a regular (aside from Taco Bell).

"Oh -- do you need to see my ID?" I'll ask, waving it about all languid and coy. 

"Nope!" they'll say as they walk away. "Order up!" Or something else diner-y.

"But how will you know it's my biiirthdaaay?" I'll whisper. So full of wist.

Anyway. Then I'm going to pick up some contact solution because I need it, a Dr. Pepper because I want it, and some Lemonheads because I'm going to the movies (After a greasy lunch at Five Guys. Does my life revolve a little too much around food?). My fifteen-year-old sister was too cool to go see the new Hunger Games with me at Thanksgiving, so tomorrow I'm going to see a matinee showing by myself and THEN we'll see who's cool!

It's still her. She's way cooler than I ever was.**

No matter! After that I really want to find a place where I can just hang out with a whole mess of puppies. There isn't a pet store at the mall, and my "rent birthday puppies" search gave me nothing. Sometimes they have dogs at That Fish Place, but it's really hit or miss. Mostly they just have...fish, which are harder to pet. Plus, then I'd smell fishy for the rest of the day.

Hmmm...

Once I get back home, the real fun starts, by which I mean dinner. I went grocery shopping today with no plan in mind; I just let the aisles speak to me. And you know what they said? They said, "Carrie ... all you need is cheeeese." And I said, "You're right, aisles, but my gall bladder will hate me if I eat only cheese, and remember two years ago when I went to the emergency room because I thought I had appendicitis but really I'd just eaten that poorly during Birthday Week?" And the aisles said, "Oh, yeah ... that sounds embarrassing. Alright, maybe pick up a vegetable or something." 

But I did better than that. I bought mushrooms for escargot-style-mushrooms, blackberries because they seemed reasonably priced, a thing of lettuce, a loaf of French bread and a hunk of brie (naturally), and a miniature lemon meringue pie, just the right size for a birthday girl. Although I forgot to buy birthday candles so I might pop a tea candle in the meringue. We'll see how that goes. 

After dinner it's time to Treat Mah Self even more -- foot bath, wedding magazines, and I'll-say-"Friends"-because-it-seems-more-adult-but-let's-be-honest-I'm-probably-gonna-end-up-watching-Harry-Potter. And, of course, opening the little pile of cards and presents my lovely family and sweetheart sent me. I know at least one of them is a book, which means I'll end the night cozied up in bed reading, happy as can be -- the same way I've ended every other birthday.

So maybe I am twenty-five and don't have much to show for it. At least I've learned how to spend a kick-ass birthday.

*Or stagger in all bloated and hungover, depending how hearty they party. Personally, I'm a work-twice-as-hard kinda lady, but I will most definitely wear my tiara at least until February.

**Incidentally, her birthday was yesterday. HOORAY!! 

How to Get Your Body Wedding-Ready

IT'S JANUARY 2ND, LADIES. TIME TO GET BUNS OF STEEL!

Every bride wants her guests to talk about how happy and in love she looks on her wedding day, right?

WRONG. The only comments a woman wants to hear when she walks down the aisle are "Did you see her calves?" and "Look! No arm jiggle!" and "Damn, girl. DAT ASS."

A fabulous body starts in the kitchen, so go in there right now and throw out all your food. All of it. You don't need it anymore. Jog to the store and buy SlimFast. Buy a whole crate. Jog home with it. Faster. Faster!

Now that you've eliminated extraneous caloric intake, you're ready to start a killer workout regimen. Start out with a fourteen-mile warm-up run, then perform the following exercises to blast those problem areas:

Tummy Tree Huggers
Whittle your waist with side hugs. Practice outside with a tree to work on your tan while you exercise!
1. Stand with the tree on your right side, two feet away from you, feet shoulder width apart.
2. Stretch both arms out to the side and lean from the waist toward the tree.
3. Wrap your arm around the tree. Smile for the imaginary camera. Say, "We're so glad you could make it! Did you try the canapes?" Return to start.
4. Perform 80 reps each side.

Bending Over Backwards
Work your core and strengthen your back with the medicine ball toss. Great practice for the bouquet!
1. Squat with feet shoulder width apart. Hold medicine ball at chest height, arms straight.
2. With one quick motion, hoist the medicine ball over your head and throw it as far as you can behind you.*

*Note: For safety purposes, make sure nothing is in back of you and call out, "Catch, bitches!" before you toss.

Walking on Egg Shells
Tone legs and calves without bulking up. We're not going for thunder thighs, ladies!
1. Crack five dozen eggs in half, discard the insides, and line the shells up on the floor in the shape of a spiral with the domes facing up.
2. On tiptoe, walk along the shells and mentally prepare yourself for the dance of trying not to offend a hundred different people with the cut of your dress, the wording of your vows, or the color of the tablecloths.
3. If you crack any of the shells, your marriage will have fifty years bad luck.

Wave(rs) Good-Bye 
Slim down and firm up those arms. If you have bat wings, your fiance will stop loving you.
1. Hoist the weight of all the expectations of society, your family, your ancestors, and strangers on the internet over your head. Hold for the rest of your life.
2. Cry softly in the shower.

Repeat these exercises three times a day until your wedding and you'll be looking great for the big day! If you're having trouble staying motivated, just remember that once you say "I do," you'll never have to diet again. Now, isn't that worth getting married?


Image via The Daily Mail.

Resolutions

I'm setting low standards for this year. If I find myself married and living somewhere other than a gutter next December 31, I'll consider it a pretty good year.

I usually don't make resolutions because I know that February will find me just as slovenly and undisciplined as ever. But I've got a storm of opinions coming my way over the next year, and I need to develop a thicker skin if I hope to plan a wedding and avoid a nervous breakdown. Someone is going to think my dress is weird or the invitations are tacky or the food is fine, I guess, but not what they would choose. It's just going to happen, and I would like very much not to agonize over it.

So as my resolution, I am declaring an embargo on caring about other people's dumb opinions.* Because that's some nonsense, and you know my feelings about nonsense. What I do want this year is to do some cool stuff, marry Bill with all our favorite people there, then do more cool stuff. Someone who hates fun will probably show up and try to put a downer on the party, but there will be way more people shouting, "Look how happy they are!" and "Damn, these are some bangin' tacos!" and "I LITERALLY CANNOT STOP SHAKIN' IT."

Alternatively, we could just hire a bouncer to keep out all the haters. Problem solved, and I don't have to grow or evolve as a person - and that's what this holiday is all about.

Happy New Year, friends.



*Flattering opinions will be taken under review.