And fortunately I got all the fuchsia dye scrubbed off in the nick of time

I made a silk charmeuse shawl for each of my bridesmaids.

I've left the image size large, so if you're interested, you can click on them and see details.

It was a labor of love. And a big part of why I was so stressed leading up to the wedding.

I'm glad I did it, and I'd do it over again in a second. But it was a tremendous amount of work, and I was working on them right up to the wedding. Literally.

Here I am, early morning Saturday, September 27. Stretching them out to photograph. Actually, I was ironing them one last time before putting them in gift bags. And Nick was taking photos.

I have photos of some of my bridesmaids wearing them, and I'll get those organized and posted as well.

The reason I was working until the end is as follows. I knew I'd wanted to make their gifts, but my textile class didn't start until the beginning of September. I needed the screen printing equipment in the studio.

Plus, quite frankly, I needed the studio space. Because they were 22"x90" - almost two feet wide and seven and a half feet long.

Big. Times six.

So class began, and I had an imagine that I wanted to screen print onto each of them. You'll see on each the same flower - very similar to the floral design on my invitations.
But I also wanted each one to be unique, since my friends have such varied personalities and styles. And I needed to make sure that the style of each of these was different than something I'd previously given them.
I did what I could at home - some of the pole wrapping, steaming, washing out. I got as much of the prep and clean up work as I could done outside of class time, so I could be as efficient as possible with the studio hours. But still I was there in the studio Wednesday before the wedding, screening, dyeing, messing up my hands. And getting chastised for it.

But you don't really know how they're going to turn out. So you plan one way, and then once you've washed it and ironed it, you look at it again to figure out what kind of layer to do next, so that the personality turns out in the way you want it to.

If that makes sense.
So it was an evolving, shifting process - the designiong, the thinking, the doing, the rethinking, the adding. If I weren't me, it might've gone faster and smoother. But I am.
I think everyone really liked them, and I think I got colors and personalities right. Me, I loved them all, and I was so very excited to give them to my dear, dear friends.

Seriously. I'd gotten orange and pink bags, and printed cards with each of their names on them, with the same design as my invitations. I was honestly jumping up and down giddy giving them their presents.
I included a detail shot of this black one, in the hopes that you can see the flower detail. It didn't come out well in this photo, but it's really shiny and glowy. And it has secret fuchsia flowers sprinkled on it.

Rehearsal dinner! Edifices (Edifi?)! Cocktails! Fruit by the Foot!

I know this picture is from a distance, but hopefully you can make out the white chocolate replica of the Capitol building that Nick is handing to his friend.

On a side bar, I'm just going to begin at the beginning. I was thinking about beginning with the trip and working back, but didn't want to be hampered by the effect of living backwards.

Plus, the wedding weekend was honest-to-God the funnest weekend of my entire life. I've been aching to relive it.

I'm sure everyone feels this way, but I just had the best time. Our friends are so hilarious, and interesting, and entertaining. With this group, your face hurts after a couple hours, you laugh so much.

So, the chocolate Capitol was our prize for the people who traveled the furthest. We giggled every time we thought about it. We couldn't wait to give this prize.

They said they got it all the way back to Warsaw intact, which really is quite impressive.

We got all our prizes at Costco,and they were all some kind of candy. The one in the following picture is a chocolate Pentagon. Costco turns out to have all these fantastic molded chocolates. We're going to make sure to go around President's Day so we can get busts of George Washington and Abe Lincoln.

I'm not kidding.

So, we gave this dark chocolate Pentagon out for "most unusual profession" - which went to Nick's friend who is an opera singer. He has an extraordinary voice - really deep - and sang a couple songs with the band at our wedding. Amazing.
We gave out two prizes for the people with the same wedding anniversary. Maude and Dan, and Jordan and his wife (who couldn't come, and so he brought his incredibly beautiful, poised, amazing oldest daughter, who is just such an utter delight).
We gave a prize for the couple who had been married the longest - which turned out to be our old family friend (and Internet minister) and his wife - 52 years!

He also won the prize for "most recently ordained Internet minister" - but only by a couple months. It turns out Maude's dad had become one to officiate at a wedding a couple months prior.

We also gave our fabulous friend Jen the "most likely to have a cocktail named after her" prize. The prize was a huge box of five million packs of gum. I don't have a picture of her graciously accepting.

And last, but hardly least, we gave a "most toes" prize. This was Nick's idea. Most toes. No explanation. During our Costco foray we happened across a ginormous box of fruit roll-ups called "Fruit by the Foot" and we had our prize.He didn't know it was coming, and we don't know how many times he had to explain that he really only has ten toes. And no, he never had surgery. Born with ten. Really.

Heh.

Year two

Today marks the second anniversary of LG. And I'm glad to be home.

These facts are completely unrelated.

Originally my two-year post was going to be all introspective and here's where I was and here's where I am, etc etc. But one can do that at any point. I'll always have been where I was and I'll always be where I am.

If you know what I mean and that's not too Alice.

So.

I missed the blogging while I was gone, I have to say. I missed the writing, the thinking of how to craft a story, the quiet mental time. And I missed all of you.

It was a long and varied haul home.

Driving to the airport in a taxi yesterday morning, we nearly collided with another car on the highway, because he was driving the wrong way down it, to take a shortcut from his side to an exit on the other. Imagine deciding to cut across 66 and drive a quarter-mile down the wrong side to get to an earlier exit. That's what it would be like. Not as big as the 5 in California, but still, a two or three lane highway each way.

We arrived the requisite two hours early. Way too long.

Security at the Istanbul airport is rather casual, and so the process didn't take long, and we had plenty of time before the flight. However, we only had an hour to transfer in Frankfurt. (And Nina, if you're reading this - we went through Munich on the way, which I forgot to tell you before, so we never looked any further into the restaurant.)

We arrived on time, but sat on the runway waiting for a parking space, which took about 15 minutes. Which meant we were unloading as they were boarding our next flight, but we (really just Nick) thought we could make it.

They then announced we'd all be going through passport control. And then unloaded the entire plane into a long, sectioned bus. This took another 15 minutes.

Up to this point I'd been all, "Fuck! We're never going to make it!"

And Nick had been all, "Don't worry sweetie, we'll make it."

And then the bus and the passport control were the end of his optimism.

We all poured out at the other end, and we rushed to a monitor, hoping for a delay. No delay. Fuck.

And suddenly, this stark contrast between the chaos of Turkey and the phenomenal organization of Germany appeared like a rainbow.

We looked up, and Nick spotted a man with a sign: United 933 to Washington, DC. We followed him at an impressive clip, avoided passport control and some countless number of corridors, and arrived just in time to make our flight.

Seriously, I could have kissed him. With tongue. Except that you're not supposed to do that once you're married. In fact, you're probably not supposed to do that to airport officials at all. Nick got in big trouble for trying to remove his belt before it had crossed the red line exiting from the X-ray machine at the gate.

Verboten. It has to cross the line.

Being Nick, he taunted the guy a little by re-reaching for it as it was still partway on the line. And was re-chastised.

"Sir! It has not yet crossed the red line!"

Wile it's hard to understand why it really fucking matters whether the items is on the line or past it, if we'd been in the US, I know we'd have missed our flight. I've never, ever had an airport official in the US be remotely helpful about getting through security faster to make a connection.

I told the guy who was waiting for us that we were sure we'd miss our flight, and he said "We were worried about the same thing. That's why I'm here."

Wouldn't that make you want to grab his young little freshly-scrubbed face and plant a big smooch on it?

And then we got on the plane, had a number of $6 drinks (free on Lufthansa flights on the way - another yay! for the Deutsch), sat for what felt like the next 25 hours, but was really only 8 or so, met some cool seat-mates, and finally, finally arrived at Dulles.

My dad very kindly collected us, and took us to their house, where my car was parked. And Betty fed us tea and they both oohed and aahed over the carpets Nick got.

And last night we slept in our own bed, and drank water from the tap! when we woke up thirsty, and went for a nice run this morning, and are having a Sunday of living happily ever after.

Or something like that.

I hope this finds you all well. I'm happy to be home.

The Romance Reduction Plan - three easy steps

You may, at some point in your life, find yourself with too much time and romance on your hands.

Maybe you're on your honeymoon. Maybe you're on a holiday. Something of the sort.

Bear in mind that the ternary Romance Reduction Plan (RRP) I'm offering would be practically impossible to orchestrate in advance. I can't imagine how. So in case of too much romance, you will probably have to be creative. But I offer these as suggestions or guidelines.

Because maybe at first your vacation is perfect. It's all hand holding and sightseeing and fun. The weather is perfect, travel is great, you're getting along amazingly. This goes along for an idyllic week.

Say, however, you're one of these people who gets tired of too much sweetness and romance. Enough, at some point, is enough. What do you do?

I am here to tell you that bringing it to a screeching halt? Easy. Very easy.

Step one: Contract violent diarrhea. Accompany it with a fever and chills, if you like.

I am pretty sure that when Nick proposed he never, ever imagined that one day the petite blonde he fell in love with would be capable of the kind of putrescence he now realizes I can produce. And it wasn't just the paint-peelingly malodorous kind of diarrhea, but the kind that sings with a sound that reaches under doors and through walls to make sure it is heard by your companion and at least three passing birds.

In other words: the humiliatingly hellacious kind.

And not once. But all. Day. Long. For two days. Well, three, but the third day was a lot better.

The improvement on the third day was lucky for two reasons. One, that was the only day we could go to Ephesus, and I wasn't about it miss it, even if I had to dehydrate the shit out of myself (no pun intended) and crawl on my hands and knees to see it. And two, it improved just in time for step two of the RRP.

Step two: Begin menstruating.

This needs no explanation. Could you feel less sexy ever than with the diarrhea and your period?

I think not.

Step three, which is superfluous, but never hurts, when the goal is Reduced Romance: Contract a cold.

You should try to do this just as the diarrhea is pretty much under control and period is in full swing. This little trick will ensure that at no time are fewer than two of your orifices incredibly busy. It's enough, I assure you. Plus, all three together would be too much of a test for the strongest among us.

Other than that, it's all been a Turkish delight - really and truly spectacular.

Although on a side bar, Turkish Delight, while a gorgeous name, is a sweet I truly dislike. If I were naming it, I'd call it Turkish Dread. But that's probably an example of poor marketing.

So anyway.

We fly tomorrow, laden with carpets, evil eye amulets, bags full of filthy clothing, about 87 gajillion digital photos, and incredible memories. Getting sick sucked ass, but as for the rest of it, I couldn't have asked for a better holiday.

And here we are, a little bit exhausted in Istanbul

The Internet room at the hotel is in hot demand. Also, it's hot. And moist. And the connection is slow. So I will be brief.

First, thank you all for the nice comments. It was very fun reading through them. I can't wait to see all the wedding pictures and write about the weekend. It was such a great time.

So.

Istanbul? Is amazing. It's beautiful and historic and stunning and exhausting all at the same time.

I will say this. It's a fantastic trip, but if what you want to do is relax after you get married, you shouldn't come to Istanbul. Particularly not with me. I think Nick has walked more in the past three days than in the last year.

Walking itself is a bit of a challenge, as everything requires a shove through a crowd. And there are 80 gazillion people everywhere. Plus, it seems like at least half of them want you to look at their rugs. Or try their delicious fish.

"Excuse me. Where are you from?"

This is how it begins. And it ends with you being walked to a rug shop. Or offered a menu. Nick doesn't mind it but it makes me very tired.

I must mention that people have been incredibly kind and friendly, and the shopkeepers are quick to offer you tea while you sit and look at their rugs. Even if you don't buy anything, they are unfailingly hospitable.

The second night we were here, we wound up spending a couple hours in a rug shop that Nick wanted to go to. I was so tired, and while it was interesting, was just genuinely too exhausted from the wedding weekend, the travel, and the jet lag to think about making a purchase.

The salesman pushed, but not too hard. He was a great reader of people, at at a certain point, he just stopped. Very friendly, but wasn't going to push me past my limit.

I said I was tired and he said, "You look a little bit exhausted."

That's what I was. A little bit exhausted.

I offered, as explanation, "We just got married on Saturday."

And in my mind I was thinking about all the planning and work and preparation and nervousness leading up to it. And the fun of Friday night, and the running around of Saturday, the fantastic night, and the dancing, and all the wine and champagne and then beer on top of it all, and the staying out till 3 am Sunday morning. And the slogging through the hangover and the packing and the long plane trip and the jet lag.

But you could so clearly see on his face the reason he thought I was tired.

He beamed at us. And said, "Usually, after people get married, it is the man who is tired!"