Friday, October 29, 2010

I F*cking Rule

It's Friday! And it's been waaaay too long since I checked in with you to celebrate how all of us have f*cking ruled in recent days. And really, we could all use more celebrations, so how about we have at it?

Non-wedding related celebration: Yesterday, I gave my first on-camera interview. And yesterday, in preparation for this interview, I took my insecurities and locked them away for about two hours so I could tackle the challenge at hand: namely, nailing that interview.

For some context, as much as I dislike photographs of myself, I despise videos of myself about 1000 times more than photographs. In fact, there is no way to adequately describe the way I want to cringe, run into a dark cave, and cry when I hear my recorded voice, see my facial expressions, and recognize that the camera adds ten pounds (really, the video cameras add ten pounds.) But I held myself together. And I forgave myself for having genuinely gained ten pounds in the last few months (really, I've gained ten pounds and I no longer fit into my wedding dress.) But instead of torturing myself with visions of how the camera is adding twenty pounds to what I looked like a few months ago, I dressed in a flattering-for-the-camera, appropriate-for-my-industry, conservative brown pant suit, I carefully applied impeccable makeup, and I blow-dried my hair into professional perfection.

Unfortunately, as women, our professional credentials are judged based on our looks. This struck me even more clearly than usual when I arrived for the interview and met the other person being filmed for the segment. This gentleman was definitely more than ten or twenty pounds overweight, and I'm pretty sure he wasn't wracked by self-doubt about it before heading to the interview. No - he probably showed up, did his job, and represented his company. Which is exactly what I did too, and so it's entirely absurd that I wasted any mental energy on worrying about my looks over worrying about my talking points. But I f*cking ruled because, instead of handing off this interview to someone else at our firm (which I considered, for a brief minute) I stepped up to the dual challenge of representing myself and my company in a professional, intelligent manner and hopefully managed to further my own career in the process. Screw those ten pounds of doubt. My makeup looked smashing and I relied on my smile and my smarts to cover all traces of my jangling nerves.

Wedding-related celebration: I finalized the website, found a save-the-date program and design, and finally sent the dratted save the date emails. And, once I got past this procrastination hump, it unleashed a productive whirlwind of wedding activity as I contacted a rental company and multiple hotels to inquire about room block rates. Take that, checklist.

How about you? What victories can you celebrate this week, however large or small? When you stand back and review the last few days, what makes you silently cheer to yourself, "heck yeah, I f*cking rule!" Let me know in the comments because, like I said, we all deserve more celebrations in our life. And if we don't cheer for our own victories, however subtle or small, then we're missing a chance to recognize our everyday moments of strength.

Thursday, October 28, 2010

The Invisible Eyes. They Burn

A few hours before sending off our save the dates I had a mini panic attack. Everything was ready to go with our email design and wedsite. Both of them looked polished and the writing had personality and managed to be informative. Jason and I had talked through the design and wording so much that we'd exhausted all other possibilities and were entirely happy with the result. And yet... about three hours before I had planned to send them out, I emailed two girlfriends in a panic. 

"What do you think about the wedsite? Does it look okay? Are the pictures flattering? Oh g-d, you'd tell me if it was terrible, right?"

Both of these girlfriends are honest enough to tell me if the website is terrible. And both of them were honest enough to tell me I was being neurotic and crazy (in the nicest way possible, of course.) Because, despite all my insistence on ease and just getting the d*mn save the dates out already, I'd frozen up. I'd panicked at the sudden realization that people were going to see these things. That our people - including about a ton of people on Jason's guest list who I've never met - are going to be introduced to our non-traditional wedding via our non-traditional wedding website and our email save the date that's covered in giant green flowers. I mean, Southern California residents might know that the giant green flowers are actually succulents, but what about everyone else? What if they think we're just weird and that we don't understand what color flowers are supposed to be? And what if people read our long-debated "about us" section on the website and don't like it because it's not overly gushy? And what if they disapprove of us referring to our wedding venue as a hippie-artist-non-profit location (even if it is)?

What if. What if I was panicking because I suddenly felt 210 invisible pairs of eyes turn on us and our heartfelt wedding plans and wondered what they'd think of our non-traditionalness. It's been easy to craft these wedding plans up until now - we're paying for the wedding ourselves in part so we had the freedom to design a celebration that reflected us and our needs without judgment or compromise. Our financial freedom has given us a real measure of creative freedom. But once we send the save the dates, the wedding is no longer just ours. It's out there for everyone to see. And examine. And judge. And so I panicked, because 210 pairs of eyes can suddenly feel like a lot, when you're laying your love and your very personal wedding plans bare for them to read.

But my girlfriends calmed me down and reminded me that our site is smart, well-designed, and actually informative. And they reminded me that I'd been procrastinating for a month and that I just needed to send the darn things already. And suddenly, I realized why I've been procrastinating: because once I send this save the date, our wedding becomes real. It becomes boisterous and noisy as the email replies and excited phone calls and opinions start rolling in. But what I forgot about that noise is all the joy and excitement it expresses. In my panic, I didn't think about how our one email finally allowed our community to rally, en masse, to tell us how much we are loved and how much they are looking forward to our wedding. 

We haven't received a mean reply yet.  Which is probably because our community is awesome and supportive and just the sort of people we're excited to surround ourselves with on our wedding day. The fear of judgment was definitely strong, but it's been powerful to be reminded that their acceptance, love, and support is even stronger.

Monday, October 25, 2010

Wedding Cheese

Unfortunately, I'm not talking about that sort of delicious cheese today (mmm cheese). Instead, I'm talking about engagement photo cheese. And the wedding wedsite cheese. And the sort of kissy, gaze-into-my-eyes posed photos that go hand in hand (pun indented) with wedding-related announcements. Because these sorts of things make my skin crawl. Maybe it comes from my years as an independent single lady, but I still don't love the public celebration of schmoop that happens leading up to weddings (on the wedding day, however... totally acceptable. Obviously). And engagement photos, partially because they're so polished looking, feel like my old online dating days when I'd screech "Did he get a professional to take his dating profile picture? Is that a headshot? Noooooooo!" I always preferred context and honesty. Maybe a picture of him with his friends. Maybe a snapshot at the beach. It didn't matter, so long as it hinted at a person who had real experiences, a personality, and looked cute enough without a professional's help.

Part of my issue with engagement photos as wedding advertisements has been that a) they seem contrived and b) they also seem to focus on the wrong thing. Because to me, a wedding isn't a MeMeMe or UsUsUs day of running around downtown Los Angeles gazing longingly into each others' eyes (which we did during our photo shoot. And which was a lot of indulgent fun).  If that's what were important to us about a wedding, we'd elope. Instead, for us, a wedding is about a ceremony and an amazing celebration that's much bigger than our individual or coupled desires. We've been warned that there won't be much schmoop time, except for our 15 minutes alone after the ceremony, because we'll be both hosting a celebration and partying our little feet off to the music. This is about building a new family. This is about sharing something with them. This is about having and excuse to see so many people who matter to us, in a way that we'll probably never have an excuse for again. It's not about us and our schmoop.

And yet, we decided to put our schmoop front and center in our save the date and wedsite, since we have some really great, albeit schmoopy, engagement photos that actually capture something of who we are and places in Los Angeles that we love. Yes, there might have been more kissing than usual, but there was probably the same amount of hand holding as on any other day.  And, as much as I wanted to dismiss engagement photos as cheesy, I'm realizing that it's nice to have a few decent photos so our far flung families can all exclaim "why, he's such a handsome man/pretty woman, I can't wait to meet him/her in person." And so, despite having never loved the idea of plastering our schmoop all over our save the dates or our wedding website, that's exactly what I did. Because it was easy. And at this point, easy trumps almost everything else. 

Photo by Rachel Chapman Art in the Union Station train tunnels

Wednesday, October 20, 2010

Taking Pride in Our Weddings

Early in school, I learned that, even if my teachers appreciated my intelligence, the other students didn't. Knowing the right answer might get me a gold star in class but it also got me ignored on the recess yard. And so, I figured out that schoolyard politics were safer if I downplayed my test scores, my grades, my SATs, and pretty much any academic or extracurricular accomplishment. I noticed that my brilliant friends somehow lost their wittiest edge around their boyfriends. I learned that many women were rewarded romantically for when they hung on their boyfriends' words but not necessarily when they interjected too many contrary opinions. In other words, I learned that I was supposed to keep quiet.

The act of publicly claiming our intelligence and accomplishments is a gendered act. Whereas men are oftentimes rewarded for bold ideas, I've often found that women who celebrate their brash smarts and myriad accomplishments are subtly punished. We're somewhat less datable because we're "threatening." Women are "supposed to" be nurturing, supportive, coalition builders whereas popular concepts of masculinity celebrate strength, bold action, and individual initiative. Men are taught to intellectually strut. There's a reason that women still earn about 11 percent less than men with the equivalent experience and work histories, and much of it could be bound up with salary negotiations, or not knowing how to effectively demand our worth. Asking for raises is complicated because, at some level, we've been taught not to brag about how amazing we are, which is absolutely imperative in making our case for salary negotiations. But it's also complicated because women who negotiate are often perceived more unfavorably than those who continue being nurturing, supportive and agreeable about the status quo.

This is certainly a simplification of modern North American gender expectations. And I know a discussion of how women often downplay their accomplishments, salary negotiations, and gender isn't what you necessarily expect from a wedding blog, but bear with me here, because I think it's relevant to our weddings. It's relevant because the act of planning a wedding is culturally undervalued, in part because it's dismissed as "women's work" and in part because none of us are standing up and cheering for our wedding-related accomplishments. We've learned to keep quiet. And, much like with our temerity in salary negotiations, our accomplishments therefore remain undervalued.

Last week, Petite Chablis wrote about a recent job interview, in which was asked about her conference planning experience. She replied by describing her skills and her experience planning small workshops. When the interviewer asked her to describe anything she'd done on a larger scale, she immediately thought of her wedding. But she didn't immediately mention her wedding, because she was smart enough to know better. But then she was brave enough to actually stand behind her incredibly relevant accomplishments and take pride in her wedding planning experience:
"I immediately froze in horror. Oh. My. God.  I just mentioned my WEDDING in a JOB INTERVIEW.  I am so not getting this job. I could hear the skepticism in the interviewer’s voice.  “So … you’re organized because you planned your wedding?”

But I gamely soldiered on, explaining that the event had had almost 150 guests, that I’d made spreadsheets accounting for all RSVPs and meal choices and dietary restrictions, and that the caterer had called us the most organized couple she’d ever worked with.

If I had to take it back I’m not sure I’d mention the wedding again, based solely on the skepticism in the interviewer’s voice.  But I got the job.  And damn it, in retrospect I kind of resent that skepticism and I resent myself for thinking that my experience planning a 150-person event somehow didn’t “count” because it happened to be a wedding. The truth is, I’m now starting to plan an event for my job and the lessons I learned while wedding planning really are helpful."
Well yes, of course these wedding planning lessons are helpful and relevant for a conference-related job, as anyone suffering through wedding planning can attest (and you should really go read the rest of Petite Chablis' post here, because she shares some very smart lessons-learned from her wedding.)  We're all taking a crash course in event planning and learning first-hand why "event planner" is a professional category. But we're generally still too embarrassed - logically so, given how weddings and bridezillas are depicted in popular culture - to publicly take pride in our massive accomplishments here.

Make no mistake, planning a wedding is a huge accomplishment. If I told you that I was coordinating a multi-day offsite event with catered meals, shuttle buses, out of town logistics, event design, a marketing campaign, entertainment, equipment rentals, and collateral materials for 150 people, all for well under $30,000, most people would be impressed... because it's impressive. And if I told them I was managing wildly competing event visions from various Event Advisory Committee members, someone would nod sagely and buy me a stiff drink. In fact, I've done this sort of work for 200-500 attendee corporate events on which I have actual staff support and boss feedback, so I know it's professionally impressive. But it's only impressive until I mention the word "wedding" and clarify that the "Event Advisory Committee" is comprised of us and our parents, at which point most people would dismiss me as a flighty spendthrift woman with tulle-for-brains.

While I understand the impulse to shove our wedding work under the proverbial rug, keeping quiet only further allows our culture to diminish these accomplishments. It further allows people to think that our momentary breakdowns about decor are proof that women are weak and can be broken by silly things like centerpieces,  instead of looking deeper at the way this second job (ie planning a wedding) finally got to be too damn much and how escort cards can just be the final straw in a haystack of impossible expectations and undervalued efforts that finally broke my wedding planning back.

We should be bragging. We should be strutting. We should be taking pride in our weddings as massive accomplishments that speak to our creativity, our thriftiness, our prowess (or at least newfound experience) at diffusing tense family discussions,  and our complex logistical know-how. Planning a wedding is huge, and not just because getting married is a huge emotional step and process. It's huge because planning a wedding itself is a huge responsibility, challenge and accomplishment. And I, for one, am tired of downplaying just how huge this is.

In the past few weeks, I checked off a major goal on my life list: my work was honored in print. And it didn't just happen once, it happened twice. In the first instance, I was interviewed by an industry trade journal. The article just came out and I read it over and over, marveling at how impressive my professional projects look in a news story. The journalist even wrote back to let me know how "quotable" I was and that she expanded the article to accommodate our conversation. In the second instance, I was contacted by Southern Weddings Magazine to tell me that they wrote about my blog in this month's issue: they included A Los Angeles Love on their list of "the best and brightest prospects in the blogging world." The listed me, ME!, in with Brooklyn Bride, Snippet & Ink, Merci New York, Non Pareil, and Utterly Engaged in their list of top blogs for the Modern Bride. My blog is in print, on the shiny glossy, beautifully printed pages of a stunningly curated national wedding magazine that is trying to re-imagine the visual inspiration and landscape of today's wedding magazines. In one case, my professional work is being publicly praised and, in the other case, my passion-project work is being publicly praised. In both cases, I am still a little bit in awe and feel the shock of my raw accomplishments laid bare, with no real ability to pretend they don't matter or to quickly talk past any reference. Because the references are there, for anyone to see, in print.

I started this blog because I wanted an outlet for my writing. I started this blog because my soul needed something more than the technical aspects of my job to keep me personally nourished and fulfilled. In my job, I am driven to create projects that will move the country from imported diesel and onto clean energy alternatives (really, that's my day job.) But in my life, I was driven create something with words that mattered on a personal level, and hence this blog was born, just as I was embarking on our wedding planning journey. And now I'm at a strange parallel point where both are getting publicly recognized.  And I'm at the strange point where both are possibly "resume worthy." And yet, for a moment, I hesitated to include both on my updated resume. Like Petite Chablis, I know that weddings aren't culturally valued. But also like Petite Chablis, I'm going to be brave enough to claim this accomplishment. Because our weddings are accomplishments. And well-written blogs about weddings are accomplishments. And getting printed in Southern Weddings Magazine is a huge accomplishment.

I am ready to take pride in my wedding, and I hope you're ready to join me too. Because this process really is huge and we all truly deserve three hundred and five pats on the back. At least.

Thursday, October 14, 2010

Hotel Block

I've been developing a list of possible room block hotels for weeks (okay, two months) now. I've poured through trip advisor reviews. I've discovered that most hotels in Los Angeles charge far too much for parking ($22 per night? Um, no.) I've researched normal, non-room block rates to find places that are generally in the $150/night range, to keep things affordable for our guests. (Yes. $150/night is affordable in Los Angeles. And no, we haven't found much that's on the Westside, has relatively positive reviews, and doesn't charge $22 for parking.) We even stopped in one of the possible hotels last weekend, as we checked off one of the items on our Marina Del Rey photo scavenger hunt. In other words, we're at the point where have a genuine list of hotel options. Sure, the list is four hotels long, but it's a list.

But have I picked up the phone and actually call to research room block rates? No, I can't seem to do that. Because that would feel like work, whereas I have a weird love of hotel research (seriously, hotels and maps remind me of travel adventures) that makes hotel research tolerable. But phone calls feel tedious. So instead of doing something useful like calling the hotels' sales departments, I spend my wedding planning time fretting about wedsite headers. No, wedsite headers aren't fun. And wedsite headers aren't remotely important. But I'm okay pretending they're worth my time by suddenly convincing myself that every aspect of our wedding absolutely needs to perfectly express the tone and design concept behind our wedding*... because it's a smidgeon more fun than actual work.

I think I've finally figured out why we all obsess about the pretties. Because they're (marginally) fun, and the rest of this wedding planning stuff is just hard without respite. It's a second job. And playing with photoshop is slightly less tedious than facing up to the fact that I have a second job, and the design also feels tangentially useful. Unfortunately, it's not. But it's the somewhat justifiable distraction I've been craving from the tediousness of actual wedding work.

However, after genuinely distracting ourselves with a date-day full of a scavenger hunt and a nice dinner out (thanks to Groupon for the discount help), I think I'm ready to really tackle hotel options. This weekend. Or maybe next week. After we finish the save the date.

*Hmm. I think I just identified my next empty-task procrastination justification: setting a tone and design concept for our wedding. And maybe even a "brand." Gag.

Wednesday, October 13, 2010

Letting Go

It's finally hitting me - my wedding isn't going to look "blogworthy." Which I already knew and thought I was okay with, but... apparently it's not as easy to nurture the eff it ethos now as it is to bravely state what you wish you felt. I've been wishing for the emotional ability to disengage from the unnecessary pretties associated with weddings and for the emotional ability to focus in on the few physical details that matter most. And yet, I can't. At least, I can't just yet. Even though my brain knows better, my soul is still a teeny bit wrapped up in believing that a gorgeous wedding is somehow better than a less physically gorgeous event:
  • I can't let go of my idiotic angst about our ugly chairs, nor can I seem to design magical cheapo nature-inspired succulent wedding centerpieces that tie in the black-and-silver chairs with the rustic brick-and-wood backdrop.  I thought I had finally found some chic sliver goblet things in a thrift store that might fit the bill, but I left the store without buying them and missed my "perfect centerpiece" opportunity. Oh, and the succulents I've been trying to grow are wilting anyhow.
  • I cannot seem to make our email save the dates nor our blog-powered wedsite look remotely polished. I cannot integrate our Google-based survey into our wordpress-powered wedsite. And I frankly cannot give a d*mn anymore. In our push to finally send the darn emails already, I'm giving up. I'm waving the white flag. I'm finally admitting that pretty oftentimes has to give way to practicality. I have zero time. Jason has zero time. And I don't want to spend my two hours of non-errand-full weekend time trying to design a "perfect" save the date. 
  • I got a quote on embroidery for our chuppah that would cost us $3,000. Our chuppah idea is the wedding "detail" that matters most to me out of everything, so I'm trying to pick my jaw off the floor and find more affordable, and hopefully just as meaningful, options. (If anyone knows what embroidery should cost or where to go in Los Angeles for help, I'd love your insight please)    
I wish I could throw money at these projects, but our budget is battered. I wish I could throw time at these projects, but time is in even shorter supply than money. And so, I'm finally admitting that I'm not Superwoman, and that whatever we have will be good enough. Good enough is hardly a wedding rallying cry, I know. But good enough will have to do. Ugly chairs will seat all our beautiful family and friends. Ikea planters will win over complexly, beautifully, thrifted centerpieces because with Ikea a) I only need one shopping trip and b) we can transport the planter boxes to the wedding site more easily than 800 mismatched vintage pieces. Our constantcontact/mailchimp/verticalresponse-designed save the date (whichever we can figure out most easily) will do just fine, because it won't get caught in a spam filter and it will have a pretty picture from our engagement shoot. Our wedsite isn't even pretending to be witty or pretty anymore: we just threw up some information and a photo and we're over it. 

I spent a good day debating whether we could just pay someone to make our save-the-date and website troubles go away. But I'm running up against the limit of our practical reality, and that means I'm finally giving up on a lot of pretties. If I've finally said eff it to the pretty website and save the date (because it turns out my DIY skills and patience are more limited than is necessary for weddingland pretty) then my guess is I'll say eff it to dozens more weddingland pretties along the way too. My soul hurts a little bit when I admit this to myself, because I really truly believed I was going to have a super stylish wedding, DIY incompetence and budget notwithstanding.

I haven't read the design-oriented wedding blogs in ages. I thought this distance and my eff it mantras made me immune to their siren call to stylish insanity. Alas, no. Because even if I'd stopped reading those blogs, I've been holding tight to the image they've created, stored deep in my weddinbrain recesses, of what a chic wedding looks like. And my wedding simply can't measure up, visually. I don't have a team of designers. I don't have the time (or frankly, the interest) in DIYing it all myself. And as this reality slowly sinks in, my brain is thanking me for finally, truly, letting go. Their images are undeniably chic and stunning, but me and my wedding are finally learning to content with our messy authenticity.

Monday, October 11, 2010

Lemonade and Lemons

The last month or so has been a roller coaster emotional adventure. We kicked bum to get ready for vacation. We blissed out on our vacation. We were welcomed back from vacation with some rudely deposited cat poop, broken glass, horrifyingly impossible-to-conquer to-do lists, and a very difficult decision. If I've been a little silent these last few weeks, please know that it's because we've been grappling with huge news that is going to entirely reshape our lives and (oh shoot) our wedding. We are ecstatic and completely terrified, all at once. 

First, the amazing, jump on the bed and cheer, run around the apartment dancing news: Jason has a new job! And it's not just any old job, it's his dream job at his dream company, doing his dream work. And they headhunted him after finding his comments on a music industry blog. (Seriously, that's how he hit their radar. Maybe all that time commenting on wedding blogs could actually pay off? Hahahahahaha.) We are giddy, both about the job itself and the amazing boost in pride and confidence, especially so soon after last year's soul-crushing layoff.

Next, the slightly terrifying part of that wonderful news: holy cr*p, this is an all-encompassing job. It's the sort of start up company where everyone works late and lives with their iphones permanently attached to their hands. Unfortunately, I already have one of those all-encompassing jobs. So we're in the process of reconfiguring everything now: who does the cooking, the cleaning, the shopping, and (gulp) how we actually take care of this down-to-the-wire wedding planning stuff over the next few months. Especially because both of us have huge, career-changing, incredibly exciting projects that are launching in April... right when we're getting married. So, even though we technically have about six months until the wedding, realistically, we only have about three. I just put together our first official wedding to-do list and EEEEEEEEEEK. I wish we could register for free time.

Lastly, the EFF ME terrifying part of this wonderful news: the sudden and unexpected disappearance of 1/3 of our wedding budget. Yes, you read that correctly: our wedding budget just lost a VERY substantial chunk, and we're scrambling. Although Jason is getting a higher salary now, we'd been planning to finance the wedding with the bonus from his last job. But his dream opportunity arrived without any flexibility on the start date and just six scant weeks before his bonus. As hard as it was to wave goodbye to one third of our wedding budget (sniff), you don't turn down dreams for bonuses. Instead, you readjust, refocus on why you're planning a wedding celebration to begin with, get even more brutal with cost decisions, and thank every deity you know that you've been relatively frugal throughout this process.

So, because this has been a few weeks of lemons and lemonade, of champagne and smooth whiskey to still shaking hands, and of dreams fulfilled and new emerging doubts, I thought I'd end this post with a toast. To life and all the strange turns it takes. To double edged opportunities and the raw hope of future joy. To passionate blog discussions and the happenstance that emerges from them. And to luck and love and the reminding ourselves that it will all work out in the end, even if we have no idea freaking idea how.

So cheers, as I raise a glass of our favorite Vodka Mint Lemonade, which feels appropriate, given the occasion. 

Vodka Mint Lemonade:
  • 1 cup (packed) mint leaves, chopped
  • 2/3 cup sugar
  • 1 cup fresh lemon juice
  • 1 1/2 cups vodka
  • Crushed ice
  • Fresh mint sprigs
Combine chopped mint and sugar in large bowl. Stir in lemon juice and vodka. Cover and refrigerate for at least 30 minutes and up to 2 hours to let flavors really combine. Strain mixture into pitcher. Fill six 6- to 8-ounce glasses with crushed ice. Pour mixture over. Garnish with mint sprigs. Enjoy. Enjoy a lot. 

Tuesday, October 5, 2010


Has anyone else just stopped caring about their wedding? Like, stick your hands in your ears, sing LALALALA I CAN'T HEAR YOU WEDDING right around when you really need to kick your bum into gear?

Last weekend, I finally kicked my bum into gear and went back to our local thift shop. A few weeks ago, I found 10 cute little silver plated containers that were perfect for our succulent centerpiece ideas. Of course, by the time I'd checked on the design idea with Jason and returned to the store, someone else had bought them. Instead of taking this as a sign that I shouldn't procrastinate so much, I took this as a sign that the universe agrees that wedding planning is for the birds. 

Of course, the universe is also sending "get off your lazy bum and DO this already" reminders, but those reminders make me feel guilty, slightly nauseous, and stubbornly contrary enough to ignore them all. We just received a save the date for a wedding that's two weeks before ours. I got a "what's your address?" request from someone who's getting married six week after us, probably because she's on the ball and getting ready to mail save the dates. I refused to reply to her email for two days and buried myself in a fluffy novel instead. I am doing anything and everything except gathering emails, designing our save the date, and getting basic information up on our website. 

So forgive me if posting is light for the next week or so, because posting here reminds me of all the wedding sh*t I shouldn't be procrastinating about. Oh the plus side, I did just email this hotel to ask about honeymoon availability. That counts for something, right? Right?