Terraforming.

My Pemberley shoes from The American Duchess, painted and embellished.

I've slipped into nesting mode as I move into my third trimester. I've been painting and organizing, and fixing things that have been perfectly fine as is up until now. Now, the whole house bugs me, and everything needs to be changed.  We purged YEARS' worth of clutter and had a huge yard sale the weekend before last, made some money and got rid of 8 years of accumulated thingamabobs.  I always feel like I'm being judged by people when they paw through our stuff, but I got a lot of compliments on my good-taste, which was gratifying.  We got rid of some furniture, tons of useless china, linens and cleaned out the entire attic of its contents, all of which were put there when we moved in 2004 and haven't budged since. I figured if we lived without them for as long as we have, we don't need them.

I'm home, on leave from work, and I sit here and think about everything that needs to be fixed before baby comes.  And it's getting close already!  I'm terrified. We still have to attack the baby's room, but that is going to require some major changes, including some new wallboard, new flooring and a heating source. We have less than three months. :::GAAAHHH:::

Baby has been doing well. He's a kickedy little bugger--squirming around inside me like no tomorrow. At this point he weighs a little over two pounds, and in the pictures on babycenter, he looks a lot bigger than he feels inside me. I'm definitely showing now.  I've gone out and furnished myself with a few pairs of maternity jeans and some other clothes. I won't lie, the jeans are a joke, they have this wide elastic band that never stays up, so I spend my whole day walking around holding my pants up.  I find that my yoga pants seem to work better, I may look like I just got out of bed when I'm out in public, but at least I'm not holding the back of my pants up while trying to push a shopping carriage. It's so embarrassing.

I have now experienced the whole edema in the foot thing, and have had my feet looking like cabbage-patch kids feet. I've also gotten to enjoy the new array of soreness and cramping in places I didn't know had muscles to cramp.  Heat rash comes up quite easily and I sleep sometimes for twelve hours straight.  My migraines are tapering, but I still have 'slam' days when I just feel absolutely awful. Some other days, I am okay for most of the day.

So as the review below reveals, we are consolidating our spaces and finding ways to organize our stuff so we can dismantle the second room and empty it for Baby J.  Slowly, my perfect craft and sewing room is vanishing. It's sad, but also exciting.

We have picked a name. Alexander Stephen. Alexander is a name we both love and happens to be Dan's grandfather's name, and Stephen is in honour of my papa. My father's name was Istvan, the Hungarian version of Stephen.

I attended the ORS retreat again this year, and it was really fun.  I wasn't exactly in the most mobile of modes, and didn't do the things I'd hope to do, like try archery or take walks or swim. But I got to hang out with my favourite crowd, and just being around these women was so fortifying.  Here's a video of some photos taken during the event:

Anyway, just a quick update for now. I'll post something more comprehensive sooner or later. Sorry for the slowness... I'm just so damned... pregnant. :)

Happy %$#@& Birthday, Hungarican Chick.

Today is my birthday.  Be prepared for whining. I whine on my birthday. Birthdays for me are something I have come to dread—because there’s the selfish expectation, and then the disappointing reality. And it’s rarely a day where I am not finding myself upset by being forgotten by certain people, and upset at myself for feeling negative when others are doing things to make it a good day for me.  I know that the people who apparently matter won’t change; they will continue to forget my birthday, or treat it like it’s any other day. I really hate it when someone doesn’t really think about it, and then in the last-minute, does something as an afterthought—or simply out of a sense of obligation. I’d rather they do nothing and not even mention it.  I cannot stop myself from being hurt by all these things, year after year after year. Even at 41, I let myself get hurt by it.

Mind you, this began years ago in childhood, where my birthday was perpetually an afterthought. When I hit my 20s, it was forgotten constantly. And in the past decade, My birthday has mostly consisted of last-minute calls from someone who had to be reminded by someone else that this was my birthday; but most of the time, no acknowledgement at all. My family then gets all upset when *I* don’t make a big fuss about their ‘special’ days either. Hm.

A part of me wants to just hide at home and not be given any reminder that this is my birthday, and there’s a part of me that secretly and selfishly desires to be treated like queen for a day; to get a cake and have the people I love all around me paying me special attention just like I see other families and friends do. But when they do, I’m just embarrassed by it all and I am made anxious by all the attention.  I truly, truly, truly HATE my birthday. I hate the fuss, but want the fuss. I hate the forgetting, but wish everyone would just forget it. It’s a horrid divided feeling that I want to just go away.  When the day is over, I’ve secretly cried at least twice.

What would my ideal birthday be? A day that shows that someone listened to me, and paid attention to what I love the most—and shown an effort to fulfill that wish—not do what’s convenient for *them*. I wish to be surrounded by people who will not hurt me, or turn the day into a drama-fest about them; make me feel like their presence or efforts are an inconvenience, or like they’d rather be elsewhere.  I want to feel precious and loved and not like an afterthought. To feel special, I guess. Most of the time I do not—by my own doing in some cases, and by the way my loved ones treat me in others.

So my solution is to grump out on my birthday. To hope everyone will leave me alone, and still be sad that they do. It’s inevitable. Unless the poles reverse, pigs learn to fly,  and my family learns to give a crap about things like this, and get together in Brussels to throw me a huge regency ball with all my friends, and shower me with gifts of sidesaddles and chocolate , I will probably never be happy. LOL!

Today is probably closest to the most tolerable birthday I can have. No muss and fuss (in great quantities). My coworkers want to take me out to lunch, which is okay. They don’t go nuts, they take me where *I* want, which is always a plus, instead of taking me where they want (I have an in-law who insists on doing something for me on my birthday, asks me where I want to go, and then when the day comes, her husband exclaims that he doesn’t want to go there, and we end up going where he wants—where he proceeds to complain incessantly and dominate the conversation the whole time).  My husband is then going to take me to our favourite local restaurant where I can eat my Escargots à la Bourguignonne and a decadent dessert (maybe with a candle, maybe not) and then it’s homeward bound for bed and the rest of my week.

Today, I got lots of wishes on Facebook from friends and not-so-close-friends. It was sweet, especially from the people who I adore. I know people think the facebook birthday reminder is an exercise in thoughtlessness, but I don’t think that at least with my friends, that their wishes are in any way insincere, and for a day where I spend most of it on the edge of tears because my family doesn’t give a crap and never has, it is fortifying and touching that so many people I care about really want me to have a happy day. It’s humbling.

To top today off, Mary Robinette Kowal, author and someone I look up to, organized a month of letter-writing that went viral recently, and someone obviously said something about my upcoming birthday, and even though I am not an active participant in this letter-writing initiative, I have received a flow of lovely cards from all of my Regency friends which really touched me very deeply. It was so sweet to have all this post waiting for me filled with scripted wishes. :D

So happy birthday to me I guess. One year older. Yay.

Aaaanywhoo... Progress on my riding habit... Stalled. I sewed in the rest of the lining last night, and did so sitting on the sofa watching TV. All I had left was the collar area, and I sewed it too tightly. I’ll have to release the seam and resew so that it doesn’t distort the back, which it did. Annoying.

Also, the barn owner, Dee let me have a child’s 14” English all-purpose saddle she had lying about not being used. I will use it for S2’s girls when they come to ride Tag.  When she gave it to me, it was in this shape: 

Now, after a vigourous cleaning, it looks like this: 

How cute is that itty-bitty saddle? Teehee!  The saddle is cheap, but it’s fine. It has a tiny little fleece saddle-pad and very shabby leathers I’ll eventually replace. I put new stirrups on it.

My horse is throwing his winter coat, and he gets SO fuzzy. Last night I combed a pony off of him.  Look how long his fur is:

Sorry the pictures are so dark. My cell phone camera kind of sucks.

Annnnyway, that’s it for my birthday rant. You all have a lovely Wednesday.

The Oregon Regency Society Feast of the Twelfth Night.

Okay, so it wasn’t exactly ON the twelfth night, but we have to be flexible. It was an event which turned out to be exactly the sort of experience I had in mind when I started throwing together ideas of what the Oregon Regency Society could be. Oddly, it wasn’t just the grand sparkling balls with live music that really ended up *really* tickling my fancy (which they do, quite a bit); but it was an intimate table of one and twenty; with easy conversation, laughter and friendship. Something about the food, the wine, the increasing ease and comfort of the conversation, and the new acquaintances that you very quickly feel akin to with the assistance of victuals and spirits ;)

The McLean House in West Linn was wonderful. A small 20s house; meticulously refinished and cared for, is a perfect venue for so many things! If you are looking for something classic and beautiful… this is the place.

Oh, but Saturday was a dream. It went too quickly and ended far too early. I think, had we not been limited by the venue’s hours, we would have laughed and danced and played games until the wee hours of the morning. Nobody even had a chance to try the silhouette vellum I made… but nonetheless, even the shortened evening was such a delight.

A table of one and twenty people; a meal served up by Chef Stephanie the Second that was unparalleled... my goodness. I have asked her to provide me a final list of the full menu, because I want everyone to know exactly how much work she did, and how skilled she is, and the sheer extent of what was brought to our table. The meals were also delivered by the irascible ‘footmen’ “Jonkins” and “Timothy” who were stars in their own right—keeping us entertained with their little act. After a couple of glasses of wine, guests were shouting… “Jonkins! Timothy! Wine boy… Jonkins! Where is the wine?”

Stephanie the Second was the star of the night who wanted to hide in the kitchen. She protested as I dragged her out of the kitchen to receive the accolades she deserved from the guests. I have heard (and exclaim myself) nothing but gushing praise of her efforts. The funny part is, she is self-critical. She texted me yesterday and stated that it wasn’t as ‘elaborate’ as she’d hoped… but for those at the table, we found it a luxurious banquet; indulgent and delicious. There wasn’t one thing that passed over the table that wasn’t absolutely delicious. Whenever we thought, wow, that was an amazing meal, more dishes would come parading out. OMG… it was insane. Sunday, I was in a pancreatic coma at home, lying like some overstuffed pig on the sofa, still groaning from the overindulgence of the feast. LOL.

After dinner we did some very simple dances and played whist. Everyone had a lovely time, everyone’s costumes were stellar, and there was SUCH good company. Again, I had no time to do my hair up or put makeup on… I had just enough time to throw on my ‘frankencorset’ and my old white gown with the old overlay on it to hide my inappropriately bulging cleavage… and to rush down to greet the guests.

Anyway… I am satisfied. This is the experience I was looking for back in 2007 when I started thinking: Hmm… Maybe I should create a Regency group…. So we can do regency things. This experience from Saturday... that is what I was aiming for. It was bliss. Thanks Steph II. ;)

Preparations are underway...

Kay Demlow of Lavender's Green Costuming has put together a delightful event at an old church in Hillsboro for tomorrow. It's from five to eight PM. She has kindly provided me a table to sell some of my things. So I have put together a little collection of my many office specials, and I have gathered up all the trinkets and such I have lying around and I am making some pretty cards with my little sheep from the prior post. I'm very excited. It's my first table at a fair or such, I hope they sell. :)

And for the first time in a while, I'd like to wish you all Happy Friday!

A Saturday Oregon Outing

I have been tossing around the idea of setting up a full 'Regency Retreat' weekend sometime in 2011 for the Oregon Regency Society and any other folks who are interested in participating. It's been a project I've been dabbling with for a few months. I thought about 2010 first, but realized that the Jane Austen Society of North America were having their big shindig up here in Oregon in 2010, and I didn't want to compete with that event. They have folks coming from all over the country for their yearly general meeting... they'll host a ball and have folks in costume all during the event. So I thought the following year, I'd offer an event that is all-regency, all weekend and offer workshops, like lace-making and embroidery... sewing, penmanship perhaps, and all number of lovely activities; and I have wanted to find a setting that would be at least a little bit appropriate, with lots of garden space and relaxing features to make it worthwhile for participants.

So on my hunt for retreat centers, I found Menucha. This place is in my top three of possible venues for the retreat. The other is Cedar Ridge; whose owner never followed up on my query by sending the requisite information; and the last is the Chateau at the Oregon Caves, which is really cool because we can rent the whole lodge for ourselves... the only downside is that it's clear down near the California state line. I'm still working on it.

I'd been meaning to check out Menucha for months, but each time I arranged for a viewing, something would come up and I couldn't go. I think the manager got impatient with me, frankly. So Saturday, Hubby and I, on some weird whim, got in the car and decided we finally wanted to go see Crown Point. I've lived in Oregon going on seven years and I've never been to Crown Point (not to mention other 'must-see' locations like Crater Lake and such), I know, ridiculous. It's really not very far from Portland at all. I was surprised how close it was to our neck of the woods too.

Oregon's History is young. It's earliest settlement was Astoria--a tiny city on the mouth of the Columbia River where it opens up to the Pacific. This settlement; hugely Scandinavian by heritage appeared smack in the middle of the Regency period, very early 1800s--just around the time whem Lewis & Clark came tromping through to see the coast. I'm too lazy and uninspired to research it all, frankly. But Oregon does have a few nice little 'historic' spots that feature the state's incredible natural treasures. Oregon, and much of the Northwest goes 'big' on things. The trees are taller, the rivers wider, the volcanoes soaring... it's a place where nature is generous in her heapings of beauty. The Columbia Gorge is one of those really awe-inspiringly beautiful spots. And you can get a really great view of it as the Columbia leaves Hood River and winds its serpentine way towards the Pacific, meeting with Portland and the Willamette River as it does.

It's a huge river, and the dams on it provide much of the power for the NW and not to mention California (those moochers). Crown Point sits over a cliff on the Oregon Side (the opposite bank of the river is the state of Washington). It's a little round observation house, screamingly art-deco, that sits on a loop of the switchback road that that clings to the side of the steep hill.

The view is breathtaking.




They have a little gallery and shop and such inside... and hubby thought I was crazy when I got more excited about the lovely 20s walking jacket and suit; and the boots! So pretty.



On our way up, I noticed that Menucha was right near the point, so I called to see if I could get a quick look-see of the facility.

It was wonderful. So far, I'm thinking Menucha might be the place. Its proximity to Portland, its beautiful, peaceful setting, the spaces available (one is particularly pretty)... We shall see. Hubby captured some really pretty pictures of the day, including two from Menucha's gardens which I adore, the flower and the bumble-bee and the cool nasturtium leaves.

Costumey Fun. YAY!

Yes, it's me... Here I am snapping a self-portrait while I'm still fresh; before the arduous Saturday drive down from Mount Hood to downtown Portland--and the hoofing about town that might make my curls frizz or my skin start to shine. I wanted to see what my cap and hat looked like in the bright light of day (our cottage is a bit of a cave sometimes). I'm still in my pajamas here, but who cares. ::snap:: Voila. The new bonnet, still slightly unfinished over my OLD cap (yes, I had NO time to make a new one as I had hoped... but the old one worked just as well, it seems.

As you can see, I 'finished' the spencer coat as I had hoped; well... enough to wear it to the Museum and Tea, but indeed it is unlined (which I am thankful for because it was seventy five degrees outside on Saturday), and when the clock struck midnight on Friday night and I wasn't finished, I decided a glue-gun would serve well enough to hem up a few raw edges, since I didn't have any thread of the same colour anyway... (great planning, Steph!)

All in all, I cannot complain too much. The spencer wore well, and nobody really noticed the pinched pleat in the back, or the lumpy collar. I lost my scarf first thing, it was light silk and it just blew off my shoulders without my ever knowing while I walked down to the Heathman Hotel.

And speaking of... WOW!! I walked into the Heathman Restaurant early, and saw the regular dining room and wasn't very impressed. And then I finally allowed my eyes to linger through a pair of slightly tinted glass doors into their 'tea court' and my jaw fell agape. STUNNING! fully paneled walls, lovely furniture, huge tableau canvases of traditional oils... GORGEOUS!! Oh, and the tea; it was heaven, each with our own pot of the tea of our choice, and the tiered trays of loveliness! We chatted for two hours, and then wandered up the two or so blocks to the Portland Museum to enjoy the exhibit of "La Volupté du Gout" which was a collection of art commissioned by Madame de Pompadour. Oh, the art was lovely; I confess, I do enjoy cherubs and creamy earth tones, however the company alone was worth the whole day. I do enjoy Miss Lauren and Aaron's company so! And not to mention all the others who joined us for this lovely spectacle we made. So there. That was my lovely Saturday.

Today, we went to see mothers and grandmothers, however we did stop on the way to see the new Star Trek movie. I must divulge to all of you that YES I am a geek, and YES I was looking forward to this new flick with delight, and guess what... IT WAS GREAT! I loved, loved, loved it. So well done, so well cast... I was really touched by the role played by Leonard Nimoy--it was like he was passing the torch onto the next generation, so to speak, with his happy approval. The Heroes guy that they cast to play Spock might as well have been built from scratch to take Mr. Nimoy's place... Clones. And Captain Pike... PERFECT! I was riveted and clinging to the edge of my seat the whole time, just trying to see every detail while pouring M&Ms down my pie-hole. I was so gratified by a movie for a change. Anyway, for all Trek fans or non-fans alike, I recommend this movie. Highly!

I have training ALL day tomorrow ::BAARF::. I' m trying to download some audio books so I can secretly listen to them while pretending to pay attention to the 'Charlie-Brown's Parents' Unending Drone. How awful am I? It's nice to have fluffy curls to hide earphones with. Hasta la later.

Project progress... One item down.

So I can now rejoice in knowing I'll at least have a bonnet to wear on Saturday. Feast your eyes on my new lovely stovepipe bonnet. It's adorable, is it not? I made it from my pattern, using buckram and millinery wire to build the frame. It is covered in a lovely gold, scarlet and brown striped silk taffeta. I lined the 'pipe' inside with some leftover white cotton. I also added an assortment of tasteful feathers, including a nice floopy black ostrich feather, and capped the embellishment off with a pennant of a silver-coloured aspen leaf that I got in Denver last September. I layered the ribbons too. So pretty! I cranked this baby out on Sunday. Next project please!

At least if this week ends up being a disaster, I'll have this lovely bonnet to wear on Saturday to the Portland Art Museum. One piece down. I'd like to tackle the spencer next... I'm going to aim for making items I don't have at all first... I have gowns, so the new day gown is the last priority; as are the chemisette and false sleeves. I need a spencer and a hat, and at least a nice froofy, lacy cap with that Mrs. Bennet vibe. I also need to get white ribbon to adorn my parasol too. AND I need to dig up a reticule to carry a Regency lady's essentials; such as the keys to her Jeep, her iPod shuffle, her cell-phone and her credit-card of course. ;)

I watched "Lost in Austen" last night while stitching my buckram; and I have to say, I found it stupid. Sorry, but I did. It was so silly I could barely focus on it, frankly. It was a campy exercise in silliness, and the characters of the book were slaughtered by the screenwriter; all of the things they did were so contrary to their carefully wrought personalities--it was almost insulting. Poor Jane is probably spinning in her grave. I was deeply annoyed by it and could barely finish it, wishing over and over that it would soon end. I shall gladly slip it back into its red envelope and send it back to Netflix. That one gets only one star, and that's only because of Caroline's fantastic hats. The gowns were all quite frumpy looking too, but there were a few pieces that were worthy. All around, I recommend it only if you're want for a period-piece and you need some light entertainment; but frankly, I wasn't all that entertained. Hated it.

A Christmas Flashback

My sister forwarded me some pictures she took during the Snow-tastic week before Christmas, and I am so shocked it's March already! I am going to whine and say that I am glad February is done and overwith. I despise my birthday month, and this year, my birthday was the worst ever on record and I want to forget it ever happened. /whining.

What a winter. ::phew:: We still got a teensy bit a snow last week, but nothing like Christmas. That's a 40-year record for Portland alone... Even my Jeepy Jeep fell victim to the heavy snow because it was so high, the Jeeps high-centered on it. Wow.

I've been busying myself trying to get back into the Oregon Regency Society saddle and organizing some events, and also repairing a defective bonnet for a customer. I have a gown to sew for two people plus I want a new day-gown and I need to finish my new corset, and I don't even know where to begin. My sister is still storing her stuff in the teeny tiny room I use to do my crafts, so there's no room for anything, to cut or sew, because all my other crafts are cluttering up the dining room table--soldering, drawing, bonnet-making... It's horrible. And I'm also considering trying my hand at Belgian bobbin-lacemaking again, but I don't have room for a stand and pillow. :( It's standing in the way of my craftmaking!! ARGH!

I wish she'd come and get her stuff; she has a huge historic home in Florida, with lots of space, we have our very tiny house with limited storage. Sisters are a pain. However... I shouldn't grumble too much; she did after all gift me my much-coveted pasta making attachment for my beloved kitchenaid, and I made lasagne and linguini wheat noodles on Saturday and they are NUMMYLICIOUS! Making pasta is oddly relaxing and fulfilling. I kept folding and rolling, and coming out with these beautiful, neat-edged strips. Happy and tender pasta! Mmm.

We have closed on our refinance (HIP-HIP-HOORAH!) and we now have a decent FIXED rate mortgage at last. I'm so relieved. We also did our taxes on Monday, and are getting a neat little refund, so I'm hoping we'll be able to get the garage done for the husband. I'm happy we got these things done. My company is in layoff mode, and who knows? It's better to be safe than sorry. Having a fixed mortgage is one less worry.

Hubby has been home for about a week and a half. He took training all last week and has taken this week off completely. It was extremely difficult to drag myself out of bed yesterday and today when he was in there all snuggled down in fluffy blankets with the hounds. ::grrr:: He won't be home much longer. :( It's nice to have him here.

Today is a blindingly beautiful day in the Portland area. Sunny, blue sky... It's like Spring. Makes me restless. Nothing much more to say. I'm working on illustrations for the next installment of the Maggie's Pastry Caper... I have two images inked but havent' coloured them yet. I'll get there. ;) I think when I finish it, I might bind it up into a booklet and sell it on etsy. We'll see.

Three Years Today.

Today marks the third wedding anniversary for my husband and I. We are still newlyweds. It's sort of strange, because it both feels like it's been forever, and it seems like it was yesterday all at once.

I spent a lot of time planning for the wedding. I made the floral arrangements, hair-pieces for the flower girls, the jewelry gifts, the cake topper and all manner of other things beforehand. My wedding, even with the venue (the Timberline Lodge), cost less that $5500. Believe it or not. That doesn't include the dress, which was $600.

The thing is, you spend all this time planning and planning, being a control freak, making sure everything is just right, and then the day goes flying by so fast, you don't get a chance to take in the end-result. Thank God for the invention of the camera, that's all I have to say.

As weddings go, ours brought its fair share of drama (mostly induced by my very evil mother who just delighted in offending just about every single guest in some way or other). It seems you can never escape having one or two people who are determined to take your special day and to turn it into something about themselves. It's really unavoidable. It's a side effect of having family, I guess.

I was so nervous. All sorts of things went wrong, as they often do. The first thing was that as I arrived with my gown and accessories, my mother took a bag, and disappeared with it, bringing it to the ballroom. It happened to contain some of my more necessary items, like the undergarments and my veil. After someone went all the way back to my house to see if we'd left it there, it was discovered that my mother had ferreted it away and left it there while she and my step-father-in-law went out for a smoke together. She was not in the room when I got dressed.
My mother, during my shower the week of my wedding, told me that I had to choose between her being there and my father being there; it couldn't be both. That was probably one of my most heart-breaking moments, since I had planned for him to walk me down the aisle and to give me away. I had the song picked out for the father-daughter dance. But my parents hadn't bothered to take the full year of advanced notice to make arrangements for my brother's care so they could both attend my wedding. So she put the decision on my shoulders.

They also forced a distant family member into my bridal party last-minute without telling me ahead of time (yet somehow she had a dress of the right colour... Hmmm). She was adorable, and it wasn't really an issue, but it was typical of how a wedding can sometimes be taken from your hands and can become an entity of its own--how your vision and plans often come second place to pleasing others. Sometimes, your wedding can become the avenue for family members to play out their politics, to reinforce grudges, gestures of forgiveness and amending relationships. It's more like two family reunions coming together in a clash; like two highly reactive substances being rent together to create a massive out of control ballooning explosion.

I had nobody to give me away, so Kurt and Michelle, the world's best wedding officiants, recommended that I have the congregation of guests give me away as a collective. That was a great idea. And it kept me from melting down.

The Timberline Lodge is a big tourist draw, and as I was waiting to go down the aisle, a Japanese lady asked that I take a picture with her. I was so flustered I must have looked like a freak in the picture.

My slip-on shoes kept coming off, and I had to descend shallow stairs before I got to the aisle and a gazillion eyes were on me and I'm a notorious faller and stumbler.

My flower girl trucked down the aisle at mach-V.

And then I stepped down the stairs gingerly, reached the bottom unscathed, and then looked up to see my husband-to-be waiting for me.

Everything else just stopped mattering at that point. I saw the love in his eyes as he gazed at me, and I couldn't stop grinning. I floated down the aisle, oblivious to the cello music I'd insisted on, oblivious to the decor, the candles, the bridesmaids, the fidgety flower girls, the photographers who completely ignored my shot-list and took over my wedding... everything. It was just him and me, with Kurt coming in occasionally with some important words.

The reception was such a blur, I hardly remember it. We didn't even have time to eat anything of substance... we were so busy walking around and talking. We did our first dance, and then my husband's parents got up to leave, and my mother took that as a signal to shut things down, and then boom... two hours early, our wedding was over, and I was standing in my gown, barefoot downstairs, wishing the out of town family safe travels.

It was really and finally over. All those months of buildup... poof. Gone.

The next morning, I awoke to my husband saying: "Wow. It looks like someone poured milk in the valleys." My husband, I thought. Standing by the window looking down the mountain. And indeed, it was a crystal clear day on the mountain, and below, mist laced in and out of the clefts of the hills.

Despite all the madness and sadness; I was overcome with this sense of wellbeing; of everything being right with the world.