More on that Wedding: A Rainy Ceremony

The skies have opened

The skies opened and it began to rain.  It wasn't pouring, but it wasn't just a drizzle either.  I started freaking out a little (no, a lot), thinking I had jinxed myself for being so arrogant toward nature and weather.  Multiple times in the planning process I had said, "The wedding is in August, it's not going to rain."  We waited about 5 minutes in case the rain decided to let up, but it didn't, so we started out wet procession down the aisle.

Guests question how waterproof their shelter is

The wedding party was hidden behind shrubbery, so I couldn't see what was going on, but as each bridesmaid walked down the aisle, there were eruptions of applause and (dare I say it) "woo"ing.  I hate when ceremonies are messy or too informal, and I had no idea how I had ended up with a guest list of "woo"-ers.

Bridesmaids tread carefully

Soon it was my turn to walk down the aisle.  The aisle included wooden stairs and a grassy slope, and my dress clung to the wet terrain.  My dad kept telling me to slow down, and I wanted to somewhat jokingly tell him, "I'm getting married, you can't tell me what to do anymore!" but of course I was crying and couldn't say anything.  Not to mention, focusing on getting down the aisle without falling or getting stuck in the grass was enough of a challenge.  I could here people laughing at me, which I thought was a little unfair, but I also got the applause and "woo"s.  Caitlin later told me that they were laughing because I looked so cute crying, and I also later learned that the applause was directed toward each bridesmaid for successfully making it down the slip-and-slide hill.

Father walks a tearful bride down the aisle

  Ken's all like, "Dang, that's my girl!"

The ceremony was a blur, but here is what I did notice: I couldn't look at Ken at all or I would completely lose it.  I am a big crier.  The audience was covered by plant matter under a pergola, but it did drip through a little and picked up throughout the service as the water kept coming down.  In the end, everyone was wet.  Elyse Gellert played a piece ("Be Thou My Vision", my favorite hymn) on violin, Ken's father read a bit of Song of Solomon, and the audience erupted with laughter after the line "For, lo, the winter is past; The rain is over and gone."  My grandmother read a poem, which had made my cry during the rehearsal, and then Pastor Tim (from my home church in Northport) got down to business.

"I can do this!"

Pastor Tim made some clever jokes about the rain, and then asked me if I wanted him to skip the homily due to the weather.  I didn't answer.  I didn't want him to skip it--I wasn't going to wear this dress again anyway, so what did it matter if I  was getting ruined--but I couldn't answer for this wet audience.  Tim then turned to the guests and asked the same questions.  "No, do the homily!" they said, and then chanted "Homily! Homily!"

The young ladies are given colorful umbrellas

I don't remember much of the homily, because the more I listened to anything, the more I cried.  We finally got to the vows and blessing of the rings, and I kicked myself for opting for so much "repeat after me" in the service.  Why did I think I could say so many words out loud in what was sure to be a heightened emotional state?

Ashley chokes back tears during vows

When all was said and done, and sealed with a kiss, we marched our way to the reception area that was technically outside but covered.

Happily Ever After starts NOW!

Wedding Day: Getting Ready

Well, I guess it's time I filled you in on the wedding day itself.

Caitlin woke up early and came over.  We set up as much as we could, then ran out of things to do as much of the doing was contingent on tables being set up.  We went to get coffee.  I ordered 2 lattes, one to drink there and one to take back with me, even though we would have coffee in the room were we were to get ready.

Next, Ken and some bros came by and, along with some ladies, we set up some of the larger decor.  When that was finished, Ken and I practiced our dance on the dance floor.  It still wasn't perfect, but it was good enough!  Besides, people would have been drinking for hours by the time we danced, and we were sure it would look even better to the inebriated.

Ceremony Seating

Dinner Seating Assignments

Merch Table

Then it was time to for the bridesmaids and mommies to start getting ready.  I'll gloss over most of this part, but include a few photos.

Getting

Ready

During this time, many friends and family members came up to say hello or help with the set up, and it was all greatly appreciated.

There was a possibility of rain that day, but the skies looked completely clear until about 4 o'clock when guests began to arrive for the cocktail hour.  While I was getting my hair done, my hairdresser tired to reassure me that the ominous clouds did not carry rain, but I was skeptical.

Guests Arrive to Ominous Skies

I was beginning to get very nervous about the whole idea of getting married, regardless of rain, so I waited as long as I could to put my dress on.  It seemed like once the dress was on, it was all going to happen.

The bow is tied

The bridesmaids and I took a few group photos, and then went downstairs to line up for the ceremony...

....which was exactly when it started to rain.

Too Excited to Sleep!

It's 4:50 AM, and I am not going to be getting back to sleep.  I woke up, realized that I hadn't checked to see if my veil is in the dry cleaning bag with my wedding dress, and that little bit of worry was more than enough to keep me up from now until I collapse, exhausted, tonight.

It's still too soon to start getting ready.  I am getting married (in just over 12 hours!) at a vineyard, and am staying on the property in a suite above the gift shop.  My sisters were scheduled to stay with me last night, but then we rethought having 3 of us squeeze into a double bed.  As it wouldn't feel right having one sister with me and not the other, we decided to all get a good night's sleep in our own beds.  I'm sure Lindsay is grateful--I shared a bed with her the previous night, and she told me she had had to build a pillow wall between us to keep me from cuddling her.  However, since I am all alone on this property in the middle of Oregon wine country (emphasis on country), there is no way I'm getting up and moving around while it's still dark.  The suite has huge, curtain-less windows in the living room, and I am honestly too scared to turn all the lights on and start moving around.  Who knows what is lurking in this country.  I don't really want to jinx myself by mentioning which phantasmic creatures I'm thinking of, but it's the stuff of urban legends and, well, zombies.  It's really just zombies and hook men.

So under the careful watch of Lamsicle, my stuffed animal lamb that I got in college and who looked so sad and lonely on my bed in Seattle that I just had to put one more thing in the car, I am quietly typing this in the bedroom with the curtains drawn until daylight starts peeking over the hills.

Yesterday was amazing.  I woke up completely hung over from dinner Thursday night in Portland.  I was drinking in advance, as I wasn't going to drink at the rehearsal dinner or the wedding, but in no way needed to drink as much as I did.  I was supposed to be up earlier yesterday to finish some work, but slept late and then couldn't really function until I drank a gallon or two of water and threw up a little.  First reprimanding myself for dropping the organizational ball, I soon realized that it was good that I had.  I wasn't up at 6:00 collating and highlighting itineraries, but the disorganization loosened me up enough to put me in an amazing mood all day.  I felt as if I had just learned the true meaning of Christmas (Jesus, love and family, not presents).   I was just so happy to be in a hotel suite with my mom, dad and little sister (Caitlin hadn't arrived yet), and knew that almost everyone I love is going to be at my wedding tomorrow.  What's really important about this weekend isn't my perfectly timed itinerary.  It's that I am really happy and really fortunate to have such an incredible family and such and incredible future family and (in my opinion) THE MOST AMAZING future husband.

Enough sentiments--let me tell you another highlight from yesterday.

While driving from Portland to my aunt's house in Silverton (1 hour) to pick up all our decorations (her house had been our staging area over the last month), and then to the venue in Dayton (1 hour), Ken's cousin called to see if a T-Rex lawn sculpture would get a thumbs up or a thumbs down as his wedding gift to us.

"Amazing, yes, we want that," I said.  "How tall is it?"

"About 3 to 4 feet," Ken's cousin Paul, who I had not met yet, told me.

"Yeah, that will fit in the car."  We are borrowing our Seattle-based aunt Susan's SUV because we knew our minicooper would not be a big help to us this weekend.

"Ken, you want a 4-foot T-Rex, right?" I double-checked.

"Yeah!"

"Yes!" I told Paul.

A few minutes later, Paul's mom Aunt Liz called.

"Are you seriously sure you want this?" she asked.  "It's really big."  And really stupid, I'm sure she was thinking.

I assured her we did, but I thanked her for being responsible.

So one of MANY highlights of our wedding will be the 3 to 4 foot T-Rex sitting a the head table.   It conveniently goes with our centerpieces, which consist of lavender flowers, handmade wood table numbers and white spray painted plastic dinosaurs.

Well, I think it's that time.  5:30.  Time to start getting ready.  Just because I now know the true meaning of weddings, it doesn't mean I'm not going to stick to my schedule.

Bring Your A Game

Northwest Wedding Fest will be hosting baggo and horseshoe competitions, in which the winner of each will win a custom trophy.  That's right, a trophy!  So bring your A game, and think carefully of who your partner will be.

This could be yours!

Headed to Oregon!

This morning, we are headed down to Portland to meet up with our families.  I'll be getting mani-pedis with Lindsay, my favorite little sister and Maid of Honor, and an airbrush tan with my mom. 

The good news was that I woke up to NO emails (aside from an iTunes receipt for the purchase of A Brave New World, the audio book to which Ken and I will listen on our way down) or texts.  The less-than-good-news was that for the second time in a row, I woke up at 4 AM, and this time couldn't get back to sleep. 

I have a 5-page timeline to get me through this weekend, and if we stick to schedule, I'll have a little time to post some updates.  So, hopefully more to come!

My Wedding is Really Soon

It's true.  It's in a just a couple of days!

I've been very busy and have thus not posted, but will try to at least throw a couple of posts up for you to enjoy.

I am home from work this afternoon packing and finalizing the timeline.  My forehead is all red because I just got my eyebrows waxed, and I just finished our Merch Table sign.  Our wedding is going to have a Merch Table.

Sweet Sign for Merch Table

And here is the Merch!

Northwest Wedding Fest Tee

(Don't worry, it's a free Merch Table)


Other highlights include etched TROPHIES for the baggo and horse shoe champions of the evening! 

Signs that I am Aging

I have absolutely no desire to go wine tasting again today.  I have gone on multi-day Napa and Sonoma trips before, but I really don't feel like I can handle this anymore.  Drinking was much easier in college.

A second indicator that I am older is my perception of what is slutty.  I got a dress for this weekend with a very deep neck with a mesh thing over it. I pulled it out and asked "Doesn't this scream 'bachelorette'?"

"No, that just screams 'adult'."

Someone else described it as "business slutty".

The Second Morning

Waking up on day two of the bachelorette party hurts much more than the first.

Yesterday, we watched Pitch Perfect in the party van, practiced our own a cappella numbers over wine and lunch, then performed for our tour guide at the next winery.

Fancy dinner at a French restaurant followed by karaoke at a not fancy place where I drank more than my share of champagne.

I awake on my bachelorette morning...

After little sleep (my flight was delayed two hours and I got in at 11:30) and even less for Lindsay (she got in at 2:40, and is on east coast time) I awake to the start of my bachelorette party.

SFO is doing construction and has closed a runway, so I hope the girls flying in this morning are only a little delayed.

We are at Caitlin's new apartment in San Franisco. It's really nice and well decorated. Caitlin was proud to tell me that she and Paul had thrown out most of their trinkets, which I think has paid off.

So who's coming?
Me and my two sisters
Steph, Sarah, Lucia and Bear from my college a cappella group.
Kelsey and Ali, our cousins (who are sisters), from Seattle and CA respectively.
Gillian, my second cousin-in-law from Oregon.
And Theresa, my friend from Northport who now lives in Seattle, and Lauren and Savannah, Tess's friends from college who are now my friends from Seattle.

And Caitlin is going to drive us all around in a rented van!

Bachelorette Weekend

It's time for my Napa bachelorette weekend! I will be blogging on my iPhone from the road, so you can blame any typos or incoherence that occur on that and not on the wine.

I'm in the airport waiting for my flight to SFO watching a documentary about Thai prostitutes to get me in the bachelorette spirit.

In my bags are more dresses than I can wear in 3 days but I wanted options, new sandals, a cappella sheet music and candy for our goody bags.  The bags will also include custom wine classes, but those are with Caitlin.

We will assemble the bags tonight or tomorrow morning while watching the home movies Lindsay is bringing (my mom recently converted all the old VHS's to DVD), and buy snacks for the car.  We may practice a few group numbers so we can wow everyone at karaoke tomorrow night.

And Ken just texted me to let me know our wedding rings arrived! We were sent some samples from his aunt, a jeweler, and I have to wait all weekend to see them!

Hot Yoga

A Yoga studio recently opened in my neighborhood and gives a free week to all new guests.   I was intrigued.  Called CorePower Yoga, this studio advertises hot yoga classes, and presumably does some kind of core work.  The "power" aspect could be anything.

On Sunday, before attending my local farmers market, I walked in for my first free class.  I went for the unheated beginner level since Yoga gurus come off as pretentious elitists and I didn't want to embarrass myself with the intermediate students.

The building is very nice, as was the woman at the counter.  She told me I could borrow a mat and a towel for free on my first day--on my second day, I would be charged $2.  I borrowed the mat, but told her I had my own towel.  Their towels looked kind of big anyway, and I only need something to wipe my face, not dry off after a shower.

"The locker room is upstairs," she told me. 

"Oh, I don't have a lock with me, can I bring my bag into the class?"

"We lock the door to the locker room during class.  You're things will be safe."

"Okay," I said, and sure enough, in the locker room (on which I didn't actually see a door), was a sign telling users that "People who practice yoga don't steal!"  Whether or not the room had a door, or a locked door, I had no doubt that the sign would ward off any potential thieves so I left my cell phone and wallet under the careful watch of the sign, and headed downstairs.

The class was in a huge studio and was about a third to a quarter full.  Most of the women did not look like your typical svelte, lulu-lemon-adorned yogi, so I felt comfortable, and the class level was not overly difficult.  I thought I could probably try the next level up, so on Monday after work I went to "CorePower Yoga 2 - Heated Power Yoga."

Again, I brought my sweat towel, a raggy hand-towel that I need to replace, but still didn't have a mat.  I checked out the ones they sell in the store, but quickly decided that I would borrow one today and buy my own mat at Target for less than the $74 price they offered.  Pretending I didn't see the $2 Mat Rental sign, I took one out of its cubby and scurried upstairs to the locker room.  There wasn't a "no stealing" sign downstairs, so I'm sure Karma will not get me for that.

I walked into class, which was quite full, and put my mess of a towel down at the top of my mat.  I noticed someone had done that at the beginner class, and I had followed suit when my sweaty palms would no longer hold my down-dog in place without slipping.  I looked around.  Everyone else had full-sized towels.  Then I remembered the large towels the studio rents.

"Oh no," I wondered, never having gone to hot yoga before.  "What is going to happen to me?"

The teacher came in, and the room heated up.  I started wishing that I, too, had on booty work-out shorts like some of the others in the room.  After the "core" section, which is thankfully short, I had transformed from a human into a waterfall.  Perspiration was pouring down my face, legs and arms.  I saw that others had little sweat rivers cascading off their bodies.   It was like being in a rain forest.  By the end of class, my contacts started falling out because my face was so wet.

I left completely drenched.  Thankfully, it was a warm day so I didn't worry about walking home wet, but I imagine in the winter, I'll have to change out of my sweat clothes for fear of them freezing in place on me.  I checked out the prices of the tank tops they sold, and again decided I would get these and my booty shorts from Target.

Paranoia

Some of you probably remember when I first started using a standing desk.  Two years ago, my dad continuously sent the family articles about how "office chairs are killing us", which lead to me reading all the New York Times articles on backs, sitting, and its effect on health, and culminated in me building a standing desk at work out of cardboard boxes.  When I told my dad, he let me know that he has a similar model himself. 

I brought my standing desk across the country (not the actual boxes, just the idea), and for the first month of my job explained, "No, I don't have back problems, but I don't expect to get them, either.  This is preventative, and I am going to live forever," until the standing desk became commonplace, but to my disappointment, has not caught on around the workplace.

My mom recently recommended a diet she has been doing that requires you to eat fruits, vegetables, beans and a limited amount of whole grains, starchy vegetables and nuts for 90% of your food, and 10% can be other (meat, chocolate, wine).  I read the book (my mom didn't), and it told me that, like my office chair, these "other" foods are killing me.  Animal products and processed foods are also destroying the environment.  I went on to read Food, Inc, a book of essays by various journalists, organic farmers, and activist group leaders, telling me just how bad our food system is to the planet, poor farmers, poor countries, and our own bodies. 

Aside from wine, I have only eaten fruits, vegetables, beans, and a limited amount of nuts (I'm holding out on the whole grains and starchy veggies for now, as I know that will be the only thing I'll want to eat) since starting the book a week and a half ago.  Then, I started composting and buying the most dangerous foods organic.  Today, I am going to the farmers market.

Note for you East-Coasters:  In Washington, composting is like recycling.  There is a "yard waste" bin and you just throw your food garbage in it.  The difficult part is that I don't want a closed bin for it in the apartment because it will get so gross, and I don't want to leave it out in a bowl because it will attract bugs.  My solution is to keep it in a bowl (easily washable) and take it out twice daily, in the morning before I leave for work and at night before I go to bed.  Not only am I helping the environment, but I am getting more exercise on the stairs.

I bookmarked references to other interesting food system and diet books, and after finishing Grant, will probably circle back to those and get increasingly paranoid about food, what it is doing to me, and what it is doing to the world.  We'll see how far I go with this.

Wedding Updates

Well, it certainly has been a while.

A large contributor to my absence has been, you guessed it, wedding planning!  The other parts are training for various half marathons and reading some incredible page turners like Team of Rivals, followed by Narrative of the Life of Frederick Douglass, an American Slave, and rounder out with Grant.  I departed 1/3 way through Grant (after the fall of Vicksburg) to read books on food and food policy, and will soon circle back to the Civil War and then Reconstruction.

But for now, I'll share some wedding plans with you.

Finally, almost everything is done or planned or in the works aside from the decor we are making ourselves.  There are probably one or two more things--I don't have my check-list out--but it's pretty much organized.

The other day I said to Ken, "It's really nice, I feel like we are getting less stressed as we get closer because we have everything under control."

"I was never stressed."

"Okay, I feel like I am less stressed now."

He agreed that that was fantastic.  So hooray for me for freaking out WELL in advance, and hooray for the less-stressful present.

Today
Ken is currently waiting for his flight at SeaTac International airport, leaving for his bachelor party weekend on Long Island.

Commonly Asked Questions:

Ashley, are you worried about strippers?

No, his dad will be there.  It's a fishing trip.

Wow, isn't that lame?

Yes.

Are you going to have strippers at your bachelorette party?

No.

Is your bachelorette party going to be off-the-hook?

No, not by most standards.  But definitely by my standards!!  My standards, and my hook, are very low.  My weekend (a mere two weekends away) is going to consist of all my favorite things: Wine tasting in Napa (sounds cool so far, right?), pool time, private yoga instruction, Caitlin driving us around in a rented van (a van-van, not a limo or a minivan), Karaoke, and--Spoiler Alert for those attending--printed a cappella sheet music for the car ride!  Yup, and there's where it gets really lame. 

Lame or not, it's my bachelorette party and I can demand that everyone sing a cappella. Fortunately, 6 of the 14 guests were in Counterpoint, Stanford University's most prestigious and only all-female a cappella group, 2 were members of Acoustic Tile, grossly underrated acoustic indie folk-rock band, and 3 were members of Grace Notes, Northport Presbyterian Church's most prestigious and only all-girls youth choir.  (Note: I am double-counting Lindsay and Caitlin and triple-counting myself.  Only 8 are singers.)  Prepare yourself for some feature videos.

What are you going to do while Ken's away?

After this post, I will be drinking wine and watching Lincoln.  

Best Weekend Ever: A Very Sensual Massage

I'd been wanting a massage for months, but didn't feel like making an appointment or spending money, so I waited until I went home and asked mom to set up an appointment for me (I still had to pay).  Mom had heard of a new place in Northport from a coworker, and booked appointments for me and Lindsay on the Saturday I was home.

I waited as long as possible to get out of bed, declining to take a shower in order to stay horizontal longer.  I wasn't feeling amazing after one and a half fishbowls of margaritas (the remaining half had ended up on the table and floor), but knew a massage was a relatively undemanding activity, aside from walking to the car and driving there.  I could probably handle it.

We arrived at the massage place after a grueling 4 minute car ride.  I've always had masseuses that were older than me, but now that I am getting older, the tables have started to turn.  The girls working there were really young.   I'm starting to see why my mom doesn't love massages.  I don't want someone younger and fitter than me touching my body.  Worse, still, one girl looked very familiar.

"Oh, God. Did I go to high school with this girl?"  I didn't even think about that possibility, but it could easily happen in my hometown.  Thankfully, after staring at her face long enough, I determined that I did not know her and felt extremely relieved.

Lindsay and I went to our rooms--mine was called "Water"--and prepared for our massages.  I undressed and got on the table.  At last, my work was done and I could now enjoy lying still in the darkness, which was the only thing that I wanted to do.

The masseuse, we'll call her Jennifer, entered and let me know that she doesn't talk much during sessions.

"Okay," I said.  My head preferred silence, too.

Jennifer started massaging me over the sheets for a little warm up, but then climbed up on the table and onto my back.  I was stunned.  I've never had a masseuse on top of me before.  I've seen this in movies, but not in real life, and certainly not in suburbia.  At one point, while she was pulling my hair, none-the-less, she leaned over so far that I was certain she was going to lay down on me. Do I have a safe-word for this massage? I wondered.

She dismounted after what felt like 15 minutes, and began a more "regular" massage.  It stayed "regular" for about five minutes until she moved down to my butt.  I've had masseuses massage the area where the back meets the butt, but I haven't had full hands grabbing and massaging my ass before, and that's just what she did.  Was this because I told her my lower back was sore?  Is lower back code for butt?  Her hands would leave, massage a different area (like my back), but she always made her way back to my hiney as though it was some sort of magnet.  I began to worry about what would happen when I had to turn over.  This was such a hands-on massage, I feared she was going to grab my boobs.

"Please turn over," she said.

Oh no, I thought.  It's gonna happen.

She started massaging my upper chest, leaving the sheets up to cover me in a respectful manner.  She'd move her hands close, closer, VERY CLOSE, but never actually touched them.  Thank goodness.

Though never completely relaxed, I did feel pretty good as we approached the end of our hour together.  She wrapped up with a few moves, pressed on my stomach, then leaned over and whispered in my ear, "Thank you."

She left me to dress.  I wasn't sure if I could look her in the face as I paid her for this sensual encounter, and I kept my eyes lowered at the register.  I noted that there were a few men in the lobby at this point, and damn, they were about to have a good time. 

Lindsay and I got to the car.  My hangover was completely sweated out.  When the door was shut, I turned to my sister.

"Did your climb on top of you?" I asked.

"Yeah, I thought only Asian girls did that to bad guys!"

"Like in Charlie's Angeles?"

"Uh huh."

"Me too."

We compared notes.  Both of us had a LOT of butt massage, and both were thanked in a sultry whisper at the conclusion.  I felt like I should have been warned about what was going to happen, but I can see myself being a repeat customer.

Best Weekend Ever: The Big Apple

My mom had taken off work Friday so we could hang during the day.

We dropped Ken off at his house so he could hang with his parents, and then ran some errands, went to the gym, and discussed my plans for the weekend.

"The 'check engine' light is on in the van," my mom told me, "so I'll have you and Lindsay share the Camry.  I should really take the car in, but with all of you home, that would be tough."

I don't believe the check engine light normally indicates much of a problem, so I figured we'd be fine.  Plus, I'd be using the "safe" car.

Later that afternoon, I picked up Ken.  We were going to go visit THE BIG CITY.  We both wanted to see our old friends and make sure that they hadn't forgotten us.

No longer used to the fast pace of the east coast, I arrived at Ken's too late and we missed our intended train.  I had hoped to get to the city before Carnegie Hall's work day ended so that I could see everyone in the office, but that wasn't to be and I unfortunately missed a few people (namely Haylee and Cathy).

My excitement, amplified by lack of sleep, grew and grew as we got closer to the city.  In Penn Station, I was ecstatic as I briskly walked over to the uptown C train, passing the Starbucks where I had purchased so many coffees.  Ahh, my old C train!  My old Starbucks!  I got off and practically ran the few block to Carnegie Hall.  Ahh, my old job!  I checked in at the entrance just after 5:30 and then waited around, greeting people as they got off the elevator to leave for the weekend.  Most of them still remembered who I was.

There was finally a lull in elevator traffic, and I went upstairs to see the new offices.  They had been renovated and I had not seen the finished product.  It was beautiful!  Very sleek and modern.

Everything in New York is sleek and modern.  I was a little nervous that I would look out of place given my new Seattle style, but I tried my hardest to look presentable.  I didn't have time to pick up my dry cleaning before I left Seattle, so I was wearing jeans and a second-choice shirt.  I brought my Kate Spade bag that Caitlin had given me for Christmas--a good move, as it received quite a lot of compliments at the office.

The Director of Developement asked if Seattlites were as grungy as I had feared, and I assured her that they (we) are, and admitted that we mostly wear sweatshirts and jeans, with nice boots to "dress it up." Those around me remarked that I still looked nice and that my bag was adorable, and I admitted I had dressed up to impress them.
 I regaled my former coworkers who were still at their desks with tales from the west, and at about 6:30, we left for drinks, gossip, and reminiscence. 

After drinks with Carnegie folk, I headed to get giant margaritas with my old Astoria roommates Tony and Jonathan.

From left to right: Jonathan, Mega Margarita, Ashley

 
As 11 approached and then passed, I realized I needed to get back to Penn Station in order to make the train Lindsay and Ken were catching (Lindsay was coming home from school, and would be the only of the three sober enough to drive).  Millions of people were also trying to get cabs from midtown, where we were, and eventually Tony just stole a cab from a foreign tourist, who quietly said, "that was very rude."  It was very rude, and I felt badly, but was also scared that I would be left alone in the city and in my drunken state did not know if I would get home.

I annoyed the cab driver to no end, asking, "Will we get there in time?!?".  We did.
I just made the train, found Ken and Lindsay, and chattered all the way home about my giant, fishbowl-sized margarita.

Best Weekend Ever: Bagels

We had a layover at LAX, which is the worst airport ever.  Maybe not ever, but it sucks.  There was garbage all over the floor, and in order to get to our connecting terminal, we had to leave security, walk outside (outside!) and go back through security. 

We also had a super bitchy flight attendant.  I had already powered down my phone, but then thought of how amazing it would be if my mom, who was so kindly picking me and Ken up from JFK the following morning, brought us bagels from Country Hot Bagels, a top bagelry in Northport.  We may have the best coffee (We do. It's so good you don't have to put anything in it, nor do you ever want to go to Starbucks to get a sugary drink that covers the taste of coffee.), but Seattle isn't known for its bagels.  It's not that I bought bagels that often in New York, but just knowing that I can't get a good one really makes me want to have one when I can.  When my grandparents from Oregon used to visit us as children, they'd buy a huge bag of bagels on their last day and bring it back on the plane.  I thought it was a little excessive, especially because they'd be stuck with a bag of day-old bagels, but that was before I lived on the west coast.  Day-old New York bagels are still better.  We should start bringing back boxes of pizza as well.

Anyway, the thought of bagels had entered my mind and I just couldn't shake it.  We were still taxiing, so I figured I'd have enough time to send a quick bagel order to mom.   I turned my phone back on and was almost done typing the text when the evil flight attendant came over and bitched at me. 
"Your phone needs to be off.  ALL THE WAY OFF."

"But I need my bagels!"

I pressed "send" and turned the phone off before I finished placing the order.  Luckily, my mom understood my message and one delicious sesame and one delicious cinnamon-raisin bagel, both with cream cheese, were waiting for us in the car at JFK.

Best Weekend Ever (1 of many)

Last weekend, Ken and I went back to New York / Long Island.  We needed to meet with my pastor who is officiating our wedding once more, and tied the visit in with Ken's birthday weekend.

We arrived on Friday morning at 8 AM (it was an overnight flight, and not much sleep was had).  While the plan was descending, the captain came on.

crackle crackle "Uh....we're making our descent...we should be landing at 7:45...a few minutes early." crackle crackle "Current temp is...uh...38 degrees Fahrenheit, three degrees Celsius."

At "38 degrees Fahrenheit", Ken and I looked at each other with disgust.

Getting off the plane, I was already feeling negatively toward the city.  But I wouldn't let the city get the best of me!   I was only going to be there for three days,  I told myself, and I shouldn't be snotty and leave a terrible impression on those who were nice enough to make time to see me.

My pep talk boosted my spirits and energy, and I was super nice all weekend.

More on the Effects of Seattle (Or "How Seattle Has Changed Me: Part II)

When Lindsay came to visit me for her spring break (because she loves me more than any one else, or any place else), we spent a fairly sunny day hitting the tourist points.

Our first stop was the Space Needle, which you can see from the side of my building if not my own window, a short 1.5 mile downhill walk from my apartment.  Lindsay had dressed nicely, while I was wearing jeans, a t-shirt and a blue marmot jacket.  Flashes of Caitlin telling me that I am better than Seattle style came flooding into my brain, and I started apologizing to Lindsay about my poor attire.

"Yeah, I'm dressing more like you did last year, and you're dressing more like me last year," she told me.  Uh oh. 

As we walked, Lindsay noted that I no longer walk as fast. 

"I used to have to push myself to keep up with you in New York.  This is a nice pace."

"Well, we're all in less of a rush here," I told her, and it's true.  I seem to have changed a lot, but possibly not for the better.

The next day, Lindsay, Ken and I piled in the mini and drove down to Oregon for some wedding cake tasting.  While driving, Lindsay said, "You know what is the biggest difference between New York Ashley and Seattle Ashley?"

"Do tell!"

"You're nicer now."

How Seattle Has Changed Me: Part I

For Christmas, Caitlin got me a cute Kate Spade bag that I visibly didn't like.

"What's wrong with you?  It's adorable!" was the general reaction.

"I just don't know if it's my style," I said.

Cait told me that it is exactly my style.  It was cream with little black polka dots.  Cute enough, but I just didn't see it fitting in well on Capitol Hill.

"Well, my style has changed.  I wear a lot of 'jeans/sweatshirts' combos."

Caitlin was horrified.  "What happened to your New York style?"

"It wasn't MY style, I was just blending in."

"Ugg."

"Remember how I used to wear bright colors and had a pink coat in California?  Then traded in my care-free style for darker shades and a more severe tone in NYC?  I'm a chameleon," I told her.

"I thought you were better than that."

That got me thinking that maybe I should be better than that.  I decided to use the purse (when it isn't too rainy--I don't want Kate Spade getting destroyed!), and sometimes I wear suit jackets to work.  But mostly, it's jeans and sweatshirts, jeans and t-shirts, or jeans and t-shirts under a north-face or marmot jacket. 

Seattle has gotten under my skin...and over it...permanently.

A Weekend of Adventures

In the true Washington spirit, Ken and I spent the weekend honing our outdoor adventure skills.

On Saturday, I went to my first running club practice and ran up some hills.  It was great practice for my running future out west, as it seems there are hills and mountains everywhere.

Next, we hosted brunch (not outdoorsy) and walked over to REI (very outdoorsy!) to look at tents, sleeping bags, etc, and more specifically for me to buy one more out-door run outfit.  I only have one pair of long pants and one long-sleeved shirt, but running club meets outside twice a week.

After we returned, we packed up our masks, snorkels and wet suits and drove up to an indoor pool for our first water session of scuba training with one of Ken's friends from work.  Did you know that the first (popular) underwater breathing apparatus, invented by Jacques Cousteau and an associate, was called the Aqua-Lung?  Aqua-Lung is also the name of one of Ken's affiliate companies, AND the brand of wetsuits we wore in the pool.

I learned to check and assemble my gear, clear my mask, how to say "where's the boat?" in Scuba, and how to clear my regulator if it falls.  I learned to clear my mask and regulator both on the surface and in the deep end. 

Once we had mastered these two basic skills, we dried off and headed over to a bar to drink local micro-brew beers. 

Wow, can you get any more Pacific Northwest than that?  Well, we did!  That was only Saturday!

Sunday, Ken and I borrowed some kayaks from Susan and took them for a spin in a Lake Sammamish.  Did you know that kayaks, developed by the Inuits and Aleuts for hunting, were introduced to Europe in the mid 1800's and to the Olympic Games in 1936?  At Lake Sammamish, neither the air nor water was particularly cold, which was pretty impressive to a girl from the east coast.  At this time of year, it could easily be snowing in New York.

The evening concluded with a viewing of Ken's favorite film, The Life Aquatic, which speaks to us much more deeply now that we can properly clear our dive masks.

Strange Brew Fest

Seattle isn't a big metropolis like New York and it doesn't have an endless supply of entertainment within city limits, so we have to look for things to do in the surrounding area.

While riding the ferry to Bainbridge Island, we picked up some literature on "What to do in Seattle (location A on the map below) / Puget Sound Area", and one event we found was a "Strange Brew Fest" in Port Townsend, location B on the map below.  I had recently heard it was a cute town, so we decided to go.

Seattle (Point A) to Port Townsend (Point B)

Lauren, Theresa, Ken and I hit the road and two hours later arrived in the small town of Port Townsend, which claims to be an incorporated city but looks a lot like Northport, the town we grew up in on Long Island. 

We rolled up to absolutely nothing.  There were some small tents outside, but no people.  A few signs told us that the entrance to the brew fest was on a different street, so we followed arrows around the side of a building and arrived at the front of a dingy American Legion building, in need of the repairs for which the strange brew fest raises money.  The people outside were not better off.

American Legion Building, Port Townsend

"Oh my god, we can't go in there."  From the outside, it looked mostly empty aside from a few lumberjack hillbillies hanging around an out of date bar and pool table.

"We didn't drive 2 hours to not go in," Theresa said, and made me go inside.

It turned out that the brew fest was inside the gymnasium past the outer lounge and was pretty well-attended for a Sunday afternoon.  For $5 we got to pick 4 cups of beer from a selection of flavors lining the gym walls ranging from peanut butter cup to burrito.  We walked around the sticky floor, tried many strange beers amongst some strange looking people, and did have a pretty good time.  But things can be really hit or miss in Washington.  You really can't expect anything to be normal. 

Silly Ashley

What stupid things do you do when drinking?

My old "go-to" was to buy Ken expensive gifts when drunk.  I would intentionally pick out a gift before drinking, go have my drink, and then buy him a better gift.

In this fashion, Ken first was gifted with leather coasters at Francis Ford Coppola's Napa winery after the wine tasting.  Had I bought his gift before, he would have just gotten a plastic plate depicting a sea creature.  Next, Ken got the pre-selected boxers PLUS an un-sharpened Japanese sword from Disney's Japan in Epoct following my sake tasting.  Then he received a work of art from a Newport art gallery as "thanks" for proposing to me...after a margarita and a half.  Finally, we both got a Brazilian calf-skin rug (yes, it still has hair) during a brew fest.

I've since moved on from gifting Ken.  We've been buying so many things together, not to mention, we have a joint bank account, so gifts aren't my priority.  The new thing I do after drinking is signing up for running activities.

2 bottles of wine have committed me to two half-marathons (one in Tacoma, not even my city!) and a 14-week training program towards running a half marathon.

Damn, drinking really keeps me in shape.

Wedding Cake!

When Lindsay came to visit, she, Ken and I went on a wedding cake tasting.  It was not the glam experience we expected.  The bakery that was suggested to me was not a bakery, but a bakery counter inside a larger grocery store.

I announced myself at the bakery counter, and a young woman--nay, a girl, who was likely not a baker--came to assist us.  She was short, quiet, and did not respond to Ken's humor with the attitude he is accustomed to.

"We want a cake shaped like a dinosaur that breathes fire," Ken began with.

The girl remained deadpan.  Not even a laugh.

She took us to the "consultation room", a small, stark white office behind the registers, and began to consult us.

We looked through two photo albums, and I realized that we should have done some research.  We had no idea what our cake should look like, so we closed the books and put off the design aspect, and went ahead with the tasting.

We sampled cup-cake sized servings of six cakes with six fillings, and narrowed down the selection to our favorites.  We then told her the number of guests expected, and decided on a round (cheaper) versus square cake for economical reasons only.  Then I kindly let Ken pick his favorite flavor combinations.

Ms. Dispassionate suggested that we select different flavors for different layers.  Brilliant!  Here I had thought we would order a second sheet cake of a different flavor, but of course! just switch up the layers!

And here they are:

• Almond Poppy Seed Cake with Lemon Filling
• Banana Cake with Bavarian Creme Filling (my choice)
• Hazelnut Cake with Raspberry Filling

**Start thinking now about what you are going to want to eat.

We still hadn't decided on what the cake would look like, aside from white and round, so Ken suggested we take a look at the examples by the bakery.  Or just go with the original dinosaur plan.

There weren't a lot of cakes on display, but we did find one we both agreed on:

We'll have 3 cakes of each flavor (the bottom tier is actually three separate cakes, so there are 10 cakes in all), plus one "surprise" cake, which will be kept secret to all but the bakers.  We are expecting a lot of guests and a lot of drinking, but everyone will be allotted about two pounds of cake, so they will sober up before leaving the reception.

No, I'm kidding.  We are going with the dinosaur.

St. Patrick's Day

We spent St. Patrick's Day in Portland, where I was signed up to run a 15K with my cousin Emily.

The "Shamrock Run" went alright.  Not great.  I was in no way prepared for the hill that looked like this:

It's a good thing I wasn't, because I may not have left the starting line.

I can't find a picture of the terrifying sight that I beheld as I turned the corner and saw a line of green runners moving their way up 30 degree incline with no end in sight.  The hill, or mountain, went on for what my cousin said was 1.5 miles, but in my opinion was at least 3 miles.   Here is a view from the SKYRIDE that you can take to OHSU (Oregon Health and Science University) at the top, I assume because cars are liable to stall out trying to make it up.  You can kind of see the road, but trust me, when running it is not nearly as flat as it appears in this picture. 

Running on Long Island and in Manhattan did not prepare me for this.

After the race, Emily and I celebrated St. Patrick's day by resting on the couch while the non-runners (Ken and cousin Alex) got their hair cut.  After this, we willed our legs to move in order to go buy Guinness.  I also suggested we get Irish soda bread, but our Portland cousins had never heard of it.  Alex asked if I was talking about a dog.  He heard "Irish S... (incoherent garble)" and his mind led him to "Irish Setter".  Close, but not as tasty.

Ken and I were a little shocked that they didn't know what Irish soda bread was, but we described it and they were willing to try it.  There was a bakery nearby, and Ken and I were sure they would have it in stock on the most Irish day of the year.

Wrong!  When Ken asked if they carried it, the girl at the counter looked at him as if he'd spoken another language.  Gaelic, for example.  This was exactly how our cousins had reacted. 

I was beginning to think that Irish Soda Bread might be an east coast thing, but the fancy grocery store, New Seasons, did carry it and our St. Patrick's Day celebration was saved.

Back in Seattle that evening, the streets were dead.  In Portland, there were plenty of drunk, green-clad revelers on both Saturday and Sunday afternoons, probably half of whom were not familiar with soda bread, but Seattle was a ghost town.  And not even an Irish ghost town.  I was a little disappointed, but I guess that's what you get for leaving the east and their higher Irish populations.

Home Improvements

Ken and I have come a long way since we first moved in to the Seattle apartment with nothing but clothes, boxes, and one chair.  Our newest addition is something that Ken had been scouring Craig's List for for months — a tree-cross section coffee table.

Most of the coffee tables we encountered were too expensive, so we hadn't acquired one until Ken found a guy on Craig's List selling tree cross sections.  He drove almost 2 hours to Shelton, WA and picked out the perfect table top last Saturday.  He then found another guy selling hair-pin legs, and picked up a set on Sunday.  We borrowed a power screwdriver from Lauren and Theresa, in exchange for chocolate covered raisins, and voilà; table.

And now for a photo of the finished product at home in the apartment.  You'll see we've placed the remnants of the tree on top of the remnants of a cow.

We still use a cardboard box as our bedroom side table, but we are clearly moving in the right direction.

The View

We've had a couple of amazing, clear days, and the mountains were out in full force.

Here is my view of Mt. Rainier from work:

And here is my view of the Olympic Mountain Range walking home from my bus stop:

The view from our apartment is just another building, but I'm sure one day will have a view of the mountains.

Wedding Bands

The best part of the wedding has been planned!  We have not one, but TWO bands for the evening.
First, Boy and Bean, a family favorite, will play at cocktail hour and dinner.  After, Renegade StringBand will play for the dessert and dancing.

Boy and Bean has performed at two prior family events and is admired by all who hear them.  This trio plays depression era music, but don't worry, wedding guests will not be depressed listening.

Renegade StringBand is a bluegrass band that promises to play as rowdily as we want (or don't want, but I bet we'll want rowdy) that we found online and are very excited about.

We will still need to find ceremony music, but I'm so happy that we are actually having multiple bands.  Multiple bands was part of our original wedding vision, most of which has not come to fruition.  I'm very very excited about this.

Wedding Dress

Two weekends ago, my mom stopped by Seattle on her way to Hawaii.  I wished I was going to Hawaii with her, but I told her I would settle for a wedding dress.

My mom, aunt, and two Seattle besties, Lauren and Theresa, went on a day-long shopping adventure that brought us to three bridal shops, thirty dresses, and one gown of my dreams.

Saying, "This is it" while standing on a runway after trying on thirty dresses felt really weird.  It wasn't as though the heavens opened and angels sang when I put this dress on, but I could tell it was "the one."  Like so many other aspects of my wedding, there was one clear correct choice, and that was the one that, while not perfect, had nothing wrong with it.  Most dresses were great, except... This dress, while not my favorite, had no "excepts" when I put it on.

It wasn't the dress I imagined getting, and I don't mean that I was surprised to find that the dress of my dreams was other than what I imagined.  The true dress of my dreams doesn't look good on me.  The dress I bought was the one that looked best on me.  It's not the sleek, stunning dress that I really want, but it is a dress that won't make me feel fat just in case I don't end up looking like a model by the time of my wedding.

And that is kind of how a lot of my wedding planning is going.  Nothing much is going as planned, and few choices jump out as "the perfect thing!", but some choices present themselves as the option with the fewest flaws (like my dress and the venue, and also our apartment, which doesn't have anything to do with our wedding), and I accept them immediately.

I do not have a picture of my dress.  I was getting too picky analyzing the pictures my mom took on her phone, and was quickly banned from looking at them.  If you'd like to see it, you'll either have to ask my mom or wait and see it at the wedding. 

The Ratings Are In

My mom laughed at our apartment. 

That was not the respect I was hoping for.

Nor is it what I expected from my mom.  She thought our Harlem apartment was very nice, and the Seattle Digs is about a million times bigger, it doesn't smell like pot all day, and I haven't seen one empty dime bag on the sidewalk outside!  I also haven't seen anyone get out of their car and pee.  I'm nothing but impressed by this apartment.

Our first overnight guest, Cousin Shaun of Ellensburg, liked it too, and tells us he is going to show up all the time and crash.  I suspect this is because we brought him doughnuts and coffee in the morning and not because we gave him a borrowed twin sized air mattress (without sheets) to sleep on with a Styrofoam addition taken from the table packaging to accommodate his 6 foot 5 frame.  I also suspect it is because we live in Seattle and not Ellensburg. 

I bet my mom would have been more impressed if we'd had doughnuts waiting for her when she arrived.

Assembled table and new curtains

Home Sweet Home

As I mentioned, we recently got a table, and just in time for my mom's visit this weekend!  Mom is stopping by for a day on her way to Hawaii, and with our sweet table (if we get all the pieces), we will impress her with how up-and-coming we are.

We don't have a lot, but mom will see me as a real adult.  Shall we all take a tour of the apartment together now?

Let's go...

We have this table, which may or may not be assembled by Sunday, depending on the incompetency of West Elm.

We have four of these folding chairs from Ikea.  

With those chairs, we can have a couple of people over, and they can eat at the West Elm table instead of the boxes pictured below.

We have this arm chair, that will not be getting the armchair friends he so desperately dreams of until after I buy two round trip tickets to Hawaii for my honeymoon.

And we have this bed.

Ken's final boxes from NY also came this week, so we have this picture,

and this lamp.

 (Did you notice that the Ikea folding chair also doubles as a side table?)

 We also have my contributions!

Birthday Girl

That's right, dedicated readers, today is my birthday.

I've always been very satisfied with my birthdate, as I have a 14% higher chance than the majority of humans to celebrate my birthday on a weekend, due to the national MLK holiday falling on or around my birthday.

This is the first year since high school that I have had to go to work or school (this year, I actually have to do both, since I work at a school) on my birthday.  I've always taken off, or conveniently had off, but as I recently started my job, I don't yet have access to my vacation days.

I don't intend to do this again.  Next year, I'll definitely be on vacation.

If you're reading this now, don't forget to wish me a happy birthday!

Hospitality

My cousin is staying over this week, and I was super excited to finally get the table we ordered so that our establishment would be a little more presentable, but sadly, the table we picked up at West Elm today is missing pieces and so instead of a beautiful stainless steel table in front of our windows, we have a giant table sized box and unassembled parts all over the floor.

My cousin asked if he could sleep on our couch, but "Ken and Ashley's Seattle Digs Motel" is not quite up to par with the "Bontjgan C&C" of lower Harlem.  We have neither couch nor coffee.  All we have is a hard (though pleasantly level) floor and a French press.  I haven't bought any coffee to go in it because I forgot we had the press, plus we have an amazing coffee/doughnut shop a block away.

Rates are definitely lower for the Digs Motel, but I think clientele will pick up once we advertize the doughnuts and coffee that are just steps from their bed.  I mean, floor.

Green Thumb

We were straightening up around the apartment, and I realized I hadn't watered the plant my cousin gave us as a housewarming in a while.  It had stayed pretty green (see image below), so I assumed Ken was probably watering it and between the two of us, we hadn't killed it in the full month we'd had it. 

Well-maintained house plant

I was impressed with its life-span because the plant at my office didn't fare so well. 

My boss gave me a purple orchid (go Huskies) on my first day of work, and after thinking, "Wow, people are so nice here," I thought, "Shit, I'm going to kill this thing in a week."  I have heard orchids are difficult to maintain, and I know nothing about taking care of them.  Within a couple of weeks, all the blossoms and leaves had fallen off.  I kept the dead plant on my desk for another 2-3 weeks because I felt badly throwing out a gift.  I also hoped that it would inexplicably spring back to life despite no access to direct sunlight.  Or water.  Why would I water a dead plant?  Given the oppressive environment, it didn't revive and I finally threw out my potted stem.

Don't worry.  In no way does this imply that I will be a bad pet-owner or mother.  Animals and babies kindly remind you that they need to be watered, while plants are pretty quiet about their needs.

Because of the tragic demise of my orchid, I was pleased that the house plant was staying so green, but was concerned that no one was watering it regularly.  I didn't know how long it would hold up.

I brought it over to the sink, and while filling the pot asked Ken if he'd been watering it and admitted that I wasn't doing a great job.

"Ashley, that plant isn't real."

I dream of NYC

Last night, I had a dream about New York...

Ken and I were waiting for the subway, and when it pulled up, we had to choose between the really crowded car, or the car with the crazy person ranting in it.  The crazy car was less crowded.