Thursday, December 31, 2009

Happy New Year!

I finished the best book I read in 2009 last night, a super fun mystery called The Sweetness at the Bottom of the Pie. It's about this 11 year old mad scientist named Flavia in 1950 England, a sleuth who would set Poirot's remaining hair on fire. Think I Capture the Castle meets Martha Grimes. I adored it. There's a sequel in March! Whee!

I'm not really making New Year's resolutions besides just "be a better person" (and also maybe "talk on the phone more") but I am making weekend resolutions. They are:

order some wedding photos

sew the button onto my black wide-leg jeans so I can wear them again

get a haircut (? maybe. this is ambitious. haircuts take me a long time to build up to. my hair is driving me crazy, but on the other hand, you have to talk to the person cutting your hair, which really takes me six months to save energy and conversation topics for)

go to Brooklyn General Store, pick out some rich green ornate floral fabric, and sew a throw pillow cover to complete transformation of living room into Victoria magazine haven

If for some reason I have oodles of time leftover I'd also like ("like" being a relative term meant more to describe how I would feel after said task was accomplished) to scrub out the fridge, but I will probably knit instead.*

*This post would make a lot more sense if I told you that among my lovely Christmas gifts I received yarn, knitting needles, and a sewing machine.

Tuesday, December 22, 2009

Noggity nog

It's Christmas! That is to say, it's my last day of work till Tuesday and I'm heading out of NYC tonight. Merry holidays, everybody!! See you soon!

Monday, December 21, 2009

Gullible is written on the ceiling

I sense a conflict in our marriage at some point in the future because Chris likes to live near the ocean and I now want to move as far inland as humanly possible.

(I'm reading a book about an asteroid hitting the moon and knocking it really close to Earth which throws all the tides out of whack and within the first day tsunamis swallow Alaska, Hawaii, San Francisco, Boston, Miami, and yes, New York. The rest of the world is affected, too, of course, but all communications are down so they don't really know yet. I started feeling queasy around about the part where the narrator's mom looks up her editors on the list of dead and yep, they're all on it.)

My problem is that I find all these disaster books and movies entirely too believable for my own good. I read more of the book on the subway this morning and walking through the Manhattan streets afterwards I spookily felt like the world was indeed ending...because I had to pick my way through piles of slush. I'm stopping on the way home to get canned foods and bottled water!

Although if a tsunami gets me right away I guess I won't need to worry about that.

Don't worry: I'll never, ever watch 2012.

Friday, December 18, 2009

Wish I was there!

Weekend plans

Tonight, dinner with Chris and Shelby followed by His Girl Friday at the BAM

Cleaning house, maybe d(r)o(pp)ing (off) laundry, finishing up Christmas shopping, and cozying around the apartment before heading into Manhattan to meet Chris and some of his bffs for the Saints game on Saturday night

Present-wrapping party and reading various manuscripts on Sunday, but not before I peruse the Rodarte for Target collection online!

I think it's supposed to snow. Should be a nice weekend.

Wednesday, December 16, 2009

Commencing gum-chewing

I never thought I'd say this, but I am really looking forward to going running this weekend, I don't care how cold it is outside.

In our new office the holiday cookie table is (a) replenished daily and (b) on the other side of my cubicle wall.

Tuesday, December 15, 2009

things that publishers do


read hundreds of really terrible manuscripts looking for your manuscript in which they see a glimmer of hope.

then they gird their loins and prepare their pitch (a pitch honed by reading "in their spare time" what else is being published both by their house and others) and persuade their colleagues in editorial that yes, they know how to fix it; and, if it then passes committee muster, doubly persuade their colleagues in sales, marketing, finance, inventory, etc that yes, it will sell.

then they do a lot of negotiating back and forth between the agent and the contracts department until it is all signed up. of principal concern these days are the e-book rights. agents seem to think these should belong with them. publishers feel that because it is the exact same thing as the printed page it is exactly the same as, say, a paperback edition. you can click on the three (front-page, i might add) recent nytimes articles linked in my previous post that talk about this ongoing battle. it's easy for the layman to ignore, but it's a really big deal right now.

then they edit the book. this involves careful examination of
prose (wordiness, run-on sentences, repeated words, word choice, on and on and on)
any ONE of these things being off can ruin a book. any ONE. look at breaking dawn. remember the intensely mixed reaction that hugely-anticipated book got? i don't work for little, brown, but rumor in the industry has it that stephenie meyer was too big a deal--her book was needed too quickly and she was too touchy about edits--for breaking dawn to get the edit it needed. think how much more satisfying it could have been. look at her fifth book, which was supposed to be twilight from edward's p.o.v., and how it got leaked onto the internet pre-editing and how, embarrassed, she withdrew it from publication. editors do so much. so much. i swear, if you could read the first draft next to the published draft...

there's a common mistake made that assumes that picture books, because they are short, are much easier and the editor doesn't have to do anything. FALSE. i personally don't like to edit picture books because they are so tough. the text is so sparse (or should be; another common mistake: really effing wordy picture books) that every word needs to be perfect and needs to perfectly interplay with the art. picture books? really, really hard.

back to editors. they oversee the book through the production process. a vastly abridged list of what this entails includes:

taking the heat for the author's lateness in delivering at bimonthly, uncomfortable production meetings

presenting (aka PITCHING) the book (again) to sales and marketing at any number of pre-pub meetings
(subtext: maintaining a popular and trusted in-house persona so that when you say something is really good, they believe you)

reading and re-reading the manuscript each time it routes up from copyediting and never assuming that the proofreader is all-knowing. case in point: my current ms, which apparently had a moron for a copyeditor. i'm catching typos, orphans, and echoes on nearly every page. I'M NOT the one who should be catching this. but you can never be too careful. that's why i read every pass.

brainstorming jacket ideas (based on marketplace knowledge and a honed aesthetic sensibility) and writing them up for the design department

maintaining a friendly relationship with the design department so that when you ask for something to be redesigned for the umpteenth time because you don't feel the title font is bold enough, they do it

not being afraid to sacrifice your friendly relationship with the design department to go to bat for a redesign because you know the jacket is the be-all and end-all of a book's commercial chances

looking excruciatingly closely at every detail of the book's page design and recommending that, say, the leading be expanded so the type looks more readable; should the margins be a percentage point narrower?; does that flourish by the page number look too girly for this boy book? can't the chapter headers look more special? and on and on and on

going over each and every sketch to make sure that what's being depicted matches what's described in the text

standing (no chairs) in a tiny brightly lit room for an hour and a half with the designer and production manager to analyze the colors in the book proofs and recommend "add red in the boy's face." "subtract yellow in the quilt." "pump up the black in the kitchen table." etc to make sure the final book matches the artist's original art colors as closely as humanly possible. repeat, for each book, times at least three.

talking to the author each and every day for months on end

snagging your incredibly overworked marketing manager in the elevator to boast that this one author is super web-savvy and listing off all the proactive steps s/he's taken in the hopes of getting an extra dollar tossed at the book's web marketing

i'm really tired and i think i've managed to describe, oh, a tuesday afternoon. i'll stop now. i won't even mention our salaries. i've been working in publishing since 2004. i still use one whole paycheck a month for rent. 2010 is what? the week after next?

books need publishers. do me a favor. next time you buy a book, don't buy it from amazon. i'm saying this as someone currently racked with guilt for thoughtlessly purchasing several christmas gifts from amazon. i get it. they're cheaper. so is walmart. but is walmart all you want left?

In case you were curious

I don't know if you guys have been following what's happening in publishing, but if I had to sum it up in one word, that word would be apocalypse.

So the next time someone asks me about the Kindle, I'm probably going to stick my fingers in my ears and sing "La la la I'M NOT LISTENING." Just because, you know, I enjoy reading books, digitally or not, and I'm starting to think it won't be much longer that you'll be getting them in an edited, designed, quality fashion if everyone keeps conspiring to put publishers out of business.

"So what is it that an editor, like, does?"

I want to clarify that I'm not some stick in the mud backwater type of person who believes that the only true book is a printed book and that e-books should just go away. E-books are great. Hooray! Finally! E-books are here! No, I'm reacting to the fact that Amazon has decided that books should cost $9.99. That pricing is unsustainable. It's hurting everyone: authors, retailers, publishers, and in the long run, even consumers who are getting used to that unrealistic sticker price. To those who say that the e-book revolution means we won't need publishers anymore, well: I hope you enjoy reading all those unedited books. Really. I'll be sitting back cackling in an armchair stockpiled with Jane Austens. (Perhaps these exquisitely designed ones.) Unemployed, probably, but cackling.

Friday, December 11, 2009

Personal day

Social security office*, DMV, Target, Old Navy, Marshall's, Burlington Coat Factory, and DSW later, this finally official Mrs. is watching Ferris Bueller and taking a nap on the couch.

*After all that agonizing, nothing could have been easier. Big clean office, no lines, nice lady at counter who let me keep all my names, dude spritzing everything the second everyone touched it, hand sanitizer everywhere. Who knew!

Tuesday, December 8, 2009

My Thanksgiving pies

White potato (yes, they are sweet, not savory) with homemade raspberry sauce.

Tuesday, December 1, 2009

Tempest in a teacup

Why is this Tiger Woods thing such big news? It's clearly PRIVATE. And also NOT THAT INTERESTING. Media, you deserve to fail.

Wednesday, November 25, 2009

The piemaker

Thank you, all, for the good sewing tips. I will follow them in the new year! In the meantime I am excited to plunge into the holidays. Tonight I'm baking a pie for the first time without my mom. I'm making her white potato pie recipe to take to Chris's aunt's for Thanksgiving. Keep your fingers crossed for me!

Oh -- Shelby, Chris, and I got matching new phones. They are very fancy and smart, darling. Perhaps I will even be able to blog from it over the holiday weekend.

Happy Turkey Day!

Thursday, November 19, 2009

I think I would like to learn to sew

Flower arranging is too expensive of a hobby; if I knitted I would only knit scarves and everyone already has enough scarves; I stare at a computer screen all day so I'd like to put InDesign and Illustrator off to the future.

But if I sewed, I could make simple, streamlined, Parisienne-esque clothes. Skirts and tops and dresses and such.

What are the next steps?

Tuesday, November 17, 2009

Last night's autumnal dinner

Pork loin in crockpot with quartered onions and other mysterious fixings of Chris's doings. Turned on low heat at noon, served at 8 pm. Perfect.
Delicata squash cut in half lengthwise and adorned with pats of butter and salt and freshly ground pepper. Baked at 400 degrees for 25 minutes. Delicious.
Frozen brussels sprouts spread on cookie sheet, drizzled with olive oil and sprinkled with cubed pancetta. Baked in the same oven with the squash. Yum!

Monday, November 16, 2009

We can never go back to Manderley again...

On Saturday I watched Rebecca on the couch with the green fuzzy blanket. I had never seen it before (Rebecca, not the blanket). I really enjoyed it, from pretty Joan Fontaine to amazing Olivier (even if they didn't have any chemistry) to scenery-chomping Judith Anderson to the costumes and interior design of MANDERLEY. The house is the star! I recapped the whole movie to Chris over wings and fried pickles at a new place in our hood.

Hitchcock rules.*

*That farting Rear Window sketch on SNL, however, does not.

Wednesday, November 11, 2009

They have a special chef for campus visit days

My alma mater flew me out for the weekend to talk to students about my career field. It was surreal in the sense that it was NOT surreal. Being on campus felt very normal. It felt like just yesterday that I walked up those stairs, used that bathroom (sorry to mention it, but they were exactly the same and I was amused), swung through that door, smelled that cafeteria (a much grosser reference than the restrooms, trust me)*. I sat in on one of my favorite professor's classes, and had dinner at another favorite professor's house. I also got to see two of my best friends for a few hours each. It was a lovely four-day weekend, despite missing Chris.

Still, it was a little weird hearing about what a "success" I am and telling those kids what they should do if they want to go into my career field when really I wanted to tell them to run far, far away. Especially now that I am ... back.

But I also know that I need to think positively. The direction this tends to take is that of total distraction. In other words, I am really excited about the new rug that's coming this weekend. Rugrugrugrugrug! Yippee! Yay for registry credits! And I'm excited for a quiet weekend at home with Chris. Sleeping! Movies! Yoga! More sleeping!

*Chris's young cousin actually visited the school a few days before I was there. She wrote me an email saying how much she enjoyed her visit and also mentioned that the food was really good.

I just didn't have the heart to tell her that the food was really good when I visited as a prospie, too. I am, after all, rooting for her to go there.

Thursday, November 5, 2009


This blog posted about one of my favorite books from childhood. You've got to check it out! Oh, how I wish I knew where our copy is.

Wednesday, November 4, 2009

Smart ladies who like pretty things

I have this lovely friend, I call her Cole. In college she was my editor-in-chief for a while, then later we took the toughest English class ever, the infamous American Survey. Then she graduated and moved back east...and later I did the same. Now here we are, both living in New York City.

When we get together and our husbands are yammering on about football, do we turn to each other and discuss the poetry of William Carlos Williams? Do we recap the academic and professional hurdles we are presently experiencing? Do we share book recommendations and ponder life's big questions?

Well,  sometimes.

But usually it's more like: "My wishlist for fall includes a man's watch, a pair of red buckled flats, and some really soft tweedy pants for work." "That sounds awesome! I found the perfect nude nail polish, you would love it--OPI Barefoot in Barcelona. Meanwhile, I really want a pair of leopard print heels." "Oh, I saw some at DSW--let's look up the link!"


And so, because we are comfortable with expressing our frivolous sides, we have started a blog together. You can find us posting now and again at pretty bird, smart bird.

Friday, October 30, 2009

Tuesday, October 27, 2009

Terrible Tuesdays

I think I'm getting sick. Plus I just shot down an aspiring writer who cold called me, because there is nothing that annoys me more than being cold called. And now I feel bad for being curt, but I would feel worse if I had to review their terrible manuscript. Because manuscripts that come from people who don't know better than to cold call editors are inevitably terrible. But because I have the world's biggest guilt complex, I do feel bad for telling them to Google "How to find a literary agent." Even though that is, frankly, good advice. It's raining out and all I want to do is go home and eat chicken noodle soup under a flannel blanket and go back to sleep.

I'm sorry, aspiring author, okay? You sound like a nice person and I hope I didn't dash your hopes. But you shouldn't call editors and say someone gave you her name and then not be able to answer the editor's question as to who gave you her name. You shouldn't call editors, period, especially ones you don't know (that's bad manners); most of them are not phone people. Especially not on Tuesdays.

Update. I did a Google search of my own and used the handy call log feature to call back and get their email address. I then typed up tips and pasted some links and sent it.


Monday, October 26, 2009

Blue skies

I was a little bit of a pill this weekend. But I have such a sweet husband. Last night I loved sitting next to him on the couch and reading manuscripts (well, the first part, anyway) and trying to keep my drooping eyes open long enough for the Yankees to win the pennant.

Friday, October 23, 2009

Little Miss Muffin

Chris and I are super excited to have Liz visiting us this weekend. She is going to a photo convention at the Javits Center. Although, judging by the photos below, I don't know what on earth anyone's got left to teach this lady.

Of course we wish the beautiful squidgie in the pics and her big brother and their dad were visiting too, but we are also excited to get some Lizzy time.

Then Chris, Shelby, and I are having lunch with my dad on Sunday. Yay!

Happy weekend, lovelies!

Thursday, October 22, 2009

"So they gave the werewolf their baby?! Dudes, what?!"

I was going to post a hilarious chain of emails consisting mostly of straight-faced quotes from the Wikipedia entries on Twilight, but I don't want to make my Twi-hard loved ones sad, so I won't. Hey, I'll admit it! I raced through Books 1 and 2! I understand the appeal!

BUT, you have got to confess that when you boil the plot of Breaking Dawn down to encyclopedic entries, it is really quite amusing. (After you get over the horror, that is.)

(The email exchange was sparked by one person sending a link to a site where people who have actually christened their child Renesmee can upload a picture, and by another person's befuddlement as to where the name Renesmee came from.)

Tuesday, October 20, 2009

Internet ban

More coats I'm not allowed to get:

All via Fred Flare.

Plaid mad

Now that I can't buy wedding magazines anymore, I find myself returning to the shelter mag section, which is of course bereft of Domino. Elle Decor, Metropolitan Home, and Vogue Living are too schwanky...Fresh Home and House Beautiful weren't up to snuff this month...the British magazines are just too expensive. In desperation I picked up Country Living. And you know what? I think it's as close to Domino as you're going to get. With cozy recipes to boot. Reader, I bought it.

I have already been on an idle plaid-lookout since I saw this one navy-and-red coat at H&M (I am not, however, allowed to buy any coats unless they contain goose-down according to Chris, who is sick of me shivering through each and every winter). Then this Country Living photo spread made me want EVERYYYYTHING plaid. Plaid plaid plaid!

If you type plaid a lot of times it starts to look really weird.

Friday, October 16, 2009

Isn't she Louvrely

Day 3 of our honeymoon. That's all for this week--happy weekend.

After the Louvre we climbed most of the Eiffel Tower. Chris snapped this photo because I didn't like dangling my hand over the edge.

Thursday, October 15, 2009

Aerial shot

I saw these cool photos on Black Eiffel and had to share. The photographer is named Cade Martin.

Wednesday, October 14, 2009

The Grownup's hour

Read on honeymoon:

Still on reading list:

Tuesday, October 13, 2009


Day 2 we got up and took the subway to Montmartre. We took the funicular (sp?) up the steps to the Sacre Coeur. The view of Paris was amazing.

After walking around Montmartre, including a mercifully quick swing by the surprisingly kitschy-sleazy Moulin Rouge, we walked down the steps and took the Metro to the Marais. We shopped, ate tomato quiches standing up in a delicious street market, lounged in the park at the center of Place des Vosges, and just generally enjoyed the sights. Then we walked home along the Seine again.

After a relaxing foot soak in the tub, we headed out for dinner,, I believe in the Latin Quarter.

Monday, October 12, 2009

The honeymooners

Our hotel in Paris was wonderful (Chris found it--he did all the planning). It was called the Hotel du Pantheon. They gave us a lovely quiet room near the top with a fantastic view of the Pantheon because we were on our honeymoon.

We were walking distance from wonderful stuff--the Notre Dame, La Sainte-Chappelle, Shakespeare & Co, even (our first day) the Eiffel Tower. Okay, in retrospect not really the last one, but with nothing to do and hours till check in, we sure did leave our suitcases at the hotel desk and walk to the Eiffel Tower. Crazy walking NYC fools. Taking a nap on the lawn underneath it is one of my favorite memories of the trip.

This doesn't need to be so HARD.

They could NOT make changing your name any more difficult. Presumably people have been getting married for hundreds of years, yes? Does anyone have any recommendations as to how on earth you can keep both your middle name and your maiden name as middle names? Presumably children christened with two middle names get around this somehow, yes?

Update: I have to stop researching this today. I was reading this message board and getting irate at some of the commenters. How dare you tell someone to get over their wish to keep both their middle name and their maiden name? Why do we live in a society that is so rigidly built around having only three names? If I want to be Jane Anne Doe Smith, that should be an option! I have to put this problem to the side for now; it's making me heartsick.

Sunday, October 11, 2009

Wedding recap: invitations

I was pretty proud of our invitations. Shelby and I designed them (that is to say, Shelby did the work while I loomed over her shoulder being picky) and I had them printed at a letterpress printer called Mercurio Brothers in California. Letterpress was a splurge, but with Mercurio, it was vastly more affordable than even digitally printed invites were with some other companies. I survived a writer's conference I had been dreading and I got a hefty honorarium, so I put that check toward the invites, and I'm glad I did.

Our wedding didn't really have a color scheme (um, "bright"?) but we did wind up repeating marigold (orange-yellow) and charcoal gray in several places (gray for the men's suits; marigold for their ties, for some of the flowers--more on that later--and for the ribbon used to tie the favors and the bar tablecloths). So our invites focused on these colors. I wanted them to look both elegant and countryside-lovely. Shelby chose the two fonts, which were beautiful; we used these everywhere, including on the program and the favors (more on that later).

There were a few pieces enclosed: the invite and response card, both letterpressed; a map that Shelby drew and scanned and I printed (individually, and they were double-sided, which meant each had to be fed through twice. And then I cut them with a paper cutter, and then Shelby neatened those cuts with her exacto blade. If I could do it over again, I would pay the extra whatever to have them printed!); and a brunch invitation (the latter two not letterpressed). Originally the brunch invitation was going to be a white design printed on the marigold background, but the printer expressed reservations about being able to match the yellow, so we wound up just going with gray on white. I was worried this was too funereal but Shelby and I made a gray-and-white sign for the guest book at the wedding, which we matted on a marigold background, so in my head, everything ties together.

I tied the pieces together (erm, literally, in this case) with orange-marigold raffia that I bought at JamPaper on Fifth Ave. You can just see the response card in this photo. Its design was identical to the brunch invite.

I didn't use an inner envelope thinking that by flaunting tradition I was being eco-friendly. Some of our invites, though, arrived at their destination with the ink having bled or smudged. If I could go back in time, I would use inner envelopes after all. I worked so hard on these that it breaks my heart that some of our guests got damaged ones.

I addressed the envelopes using a thin pen nib and white calligraphy ink. This was one of my favorite things to do out of the whole wedding planning process, even when the last pen nib got scratchy and I went through ten envelopes just trying to get my grandparents' envelope to look nice. The response cards were stamped with our address, a stamp I had made by LoveToCreateStamps on Etsy. I also stamped our address on the back flap of the return envelope.

I was kind of sad to mail them, I must admit! In fact, Chris had to take them to the post office for me!

Our love is here to stay

Our first night in Paris we walked from our hotel to the Notre Dame and thence into the outskirts of the Marais, where we had dinner. Along the way we strolled by the Seine.

Friday, October 9, 2009

Peachy keen

I thought I would DIE if I couldn't buy this dress. (We are on a shopping hold at the moment in our household, so even the fact that ModCloth is comparable in cuteness to Anthropologie, but at a quarter of the price, doesn't really fly.)

Then I saw that the lace doesn't continue onto the back, so I guess I won't die, but I WILL have to take to my bed with a hankie and smelling salts.

Moving right along, footloose and fancy free!

I changed my mind; I think I'd like to wait for the official photos to do more wedding recaps, PLUS I think everyone is tired of hearing about weddings. I'm going to make this blog a little more casual, a little more "pretty things" and "books I'm reading" and "funny things that happened to me on the subway" and "what I baked this weekend."

Also, I joined Twitter, so if you are on, follow me at lauralovesbooks.

Wednesday, October 7, 2009

Wedding recap: site.

I might as well get the wedding recaps out of the way so I can start with the business of the rest of my life :) Since the wedding, I've cut myself off from wedding blogs cold turkey. It's 99% a massive relief, but there's a little part of myself that's kind of wistful about seeing how various other bloggers' weddings turned out. When we landed in Charlotte from Paris, I saw that the new Martha Stewart Weddings was out, so of course I had to look to see if Grace from Design*Sponge's wedding was featured (it was, and it was gorgeous, and confirmed my decision to stop reading wedding blogs: there are an infinite number of perfect weddings, and I'm just going to sit back and be happy with my own) and Chris had a minor fit when he saw that I was reading a wedding magazine.

Wow, how many more times can I type the word "wedding" in one paragraph?

So most of the photos I'm putting up are borrowed from friends' Facebook albums; I'll credit our official photographer when I use hers. We took Chris's laptop to France and our first hotel had free wireless, so of course we had to log on at the end of each day to see what people were posting :) Sometimes the Internet is fun, after all.

I'll start with choosing our location. It's a bit blurry to remember--this was summer 2008--but we decided on Virginia because to do it in New York City meant all our families would have to travel; East Hampton, where Chris's mom lives, was a bit too pricey for us; and northern Maine, where Chris's dad's family lives, is very remote and would be difficult to travel to. Still, it was a tough call because all of those places would make lovely wedding settings. (We didn't consider a destination wedding for one second--it just wasn't something we wanted to do.)

Once we decided upon Virginia, it took us a few months to stumble across Lake Ritchie. We checked out various plantations, manor homes, bed & breakfasts, and other wedding "plug-and-play" sites, as Chris termed them. They all shared whopping price tags and a certain blandness that we weren't crazy about. Then Kristen, our photographer, mentioned Lake Ritchie to my mom. She had shot a wedding there that had been gorgeous even though it had poured rain. We drove out one early fall weekend to check it out, and we were convinced fairly quickly.

All that's there is a lake and a pavilion with a kitchen and two bathrooms, so it's definitely a Bring In The Troops kind of location. It's not something with a website--it's a lady who rents out the family land now and again. But it was gorgeous. It was exactly the unpretentious, naturally beautiful setting we had hoped for, wanting to show all our guests just what we love about Virginia.

We rented a tent, tables and chairs, brought in a caterer, and had our cake delivered. Otherwise, the wedding was put together by me and Chris, our families and bridal party, and run by the amazing Cole & Jeremy, two of our best friends. We couldn't have done it without them. To anyone planning your own wedding: you DO need a Day-Of Coordinator. I resisted that idea too, thinking I could do it all myself, but without Cole there, I would have been a nervous wreck. And so many of our other friends chipped in that day, too, helping to set up and take down. Thanks, guys. I would do the same for you in a heartbeat, even though I wish you hadn't had to lift a finger.

Finally--we were so lucky (blessed, honestly) with the most beautiful weather. It was a sunny, blue-skied day in the mid-70s, not a cloud to be seen. According to the news anchors the days leading into it there was a 0% chance of rain, which would have relieved my mind considerably if I hadn't already made the decision not to worry about it. Hooray for sunny outdoor weddings!

And for ravishing sunsets!

Saturday, October 3, 2009

In the meantime...

Before I get back to steadier posting, our photographer posted a sneak peek of our wedding photos on her blog...if you are interested, of course.

Thursday, October 1, 2009


*Well, in airport purgatory in Charlotte. But back on US soil, that is to say. What an awesome trip. Details soon.

Sunday, September 20, 2009


Moments that stand out:

Waking up after a restless night to the sunniest, most cloudless-blue-sky morning I've ever seen. Being so awed and grateful for such exquisite weather.

My mom making me green tea and scrambled eggs with spinach for breakfast, and having me to sit down and peel some peaches for her when I started nervously fussing around. Later that day, my mom bringing in lit candle and a bud vase filled with extra flowers from my bouquet to the bathroom where I was doing my makeup.

Driving up past all our guests who were walking from the parking area, and having the best man blow me a kiss when he realized I was in that car.

Walking down the aisle and being so eager to get to Chris, and my dad gently pulling my arm, telling me to slow down and let everyone look at me.

Looking at our minister, Steph, during her message, and feeling like my vision was hazed over--then looking back at Chris through a literal rosy glow, like a soft lens filter in a movie from the '70s. Feeling oddly like the three of us were in a golden bubble.

Old-fashioned bi-planes from the Flying Circus on the farm next door buzzing overhead during my vows, and saying them anyway though I knew no one but Chris and Steph would hear me, because I didn't want Chris to have to wait.

Being taken by surprise by the birdseed pelting, even though I made up all the bags.

Having so much fun taking photographs after the ceremony--one of my favorite hours of the wedding. Who knew?

Our first dance, to a song we switched to the day of the wedding. So pretty. Surprised at how short it seemed. And, later that night and all day today, having that song and all the ones we danced to run through my head like a soundtrack.

The toasts, which were so ... beautiful ... a word that doesn't seem strong enough.

Dancing with my brother, sister, and bridesmaids to a song I don't remember; being so joyful to see everyone having so much fun.

Late in the evening, glancing past the dance floor into the kitchen and seeing one of the catering staff dancing around by herself to "Twist and Shout."

Rounding the corner after our exit to "The Ballad of John and Yoko" only to find our friends from New York shaving-creaming our car.

Saying "my husband" to the hotel lobby clerk.

It was the most wonderful day and the most perfect wedding ... I am so happy. Now we are off to France. Thank you so much to all of you for reading, and to all of you who made the day what it was--you know who you are.

Love love love.

Thursday, September 10, 2009


Our photographer just relaunched her website. It looks amazing! Check it out.

As well as being talented, she is such a sweet lady; we met with her on the Sunday after my bridal shower, just a few hours after Herriot was put to sleep. She was so kind about the fact that I was a teary mess. She's also the person who told us about our location in the first place. I highly recommend her to DC area brides. Kristen Gardner at

We're down into the single digits...nine days to go.

Monday, September 7, 2009

Smell you later.

I have a kind of bad memory, which is to say I can remember all sorts of inconsequential things (such as when we are driving through Chris's hometown this weekend and we look down toward the bagel place and Chris goes "Oh look, there's Liev Schreiber. And that chick he's married to." and I say, "Naomi Watts. They're not married. They have two kids, Sasha and Sam." It's like, why does that garbage take up space in my head while when my sister will say, "Remember when we were kids and we played ___" [see, I can't even remember the EXAMPLE] and I'll have no idea.

What was I talking about?

Oh, right. I don't remember things very well. But we were visiting Chris's mom this weekend and I stole a little bit of her Crabtree & Evelyn shampoo and the smell right away took me back to my childhood bedroom. Crazy painted walls with brushstrokes in mint, peach, pink, yellow. My Ikea dresser top, with its lace doily. On top of the dresser, two little talcum powders that my aunt had brought me from Crabtree & Evelyn. Smelling exactly like the shampoo. Which is to say, delectable.

Isn't it so amazing how one little smell will transport you so instantly?

Another example: certain deoderants take you right back to the summer you used them. Secret Powder Fresh: high school summer working at Wolf Trap. Teen Spirit: freshman year of college. Etc.

Twelve days to go to the wedding and I alternate between on the one hand zen and excited and on the other to having crazy nightmares, literally. (Saturday night: dress nightmare. Sunday night: rings nightmare.) Overall, I really can't wait. But my posts from now through my return in October may be just as disjointed as this one, I'll warn you now.

In conclusion, Chris has been watching Dollhouse for work, and it's a really terrible show. It manages to rip off two of my faves, Alias and Dark Angel ... ripping off all their worst qualities, that is. Remember Eliza Dushku in Bring It On? Yeah, apparently that was the best performance of her career. Dude. Geez. Awful.

Thursday, September 3, 2009

Oh, Internets.

I had to leave a response to a question my cousin asked me on Facebook, and on her Facebook page she had voted "No" in a "Will you reelect Obama?" poll, and I couldn't help it, I clicked "Yes," and now it shows up on my wall for all my conservative relatives to see, and my wedding is in two weeks and a day. Gahhh.

I had an awesome time in the Twin Cities--speaking of Facebook, I'm waiting for a certain person (Sarah) to post pics to Facebook so I can provide hilarious recaps.

Friday, August 28, 2009

Heels kicking up!

My workplace is mostly female, but once upon a time we had one amiable boy among us, and when he got engaged and his wedding date drew near we thought it would be HILARIOUS if all us girls took him to Hooters for his "bachelorette" party. And we did, and it was awesomely fun, and spawned a tradition whereby whenever any of us got a new job or had a wedding date approaching we'd take her (like I said, there was only one boy) to Hooters for some wings and $2.50 Bud Lights.

Last night was my turn, and this morning I've got the headache (and the balloons) to prove it.

And in what is extending into an entire bachelorette weekend, tonight I am off to the Midwest for a college girl reunion, complete with makeup trial, Mall of America shopping, and ... other things I don't know about since apparently all of the email planning exchanges have deliberately excluded me. I can't WAIT!

Thursday, August 27, 2009


The perfect beach wedding dress, don't you think? Click the photo for detailing. Via Erin Ever After.

Still three and a half weeks to go. Time is moving so slowly!

Tuesday, August 25, 2009

Glass slippers.

These are the shoes I first saw in a magazine that made me want pale blue shoes for my wedding.

Ten months and many shoe shopping sites later, I gave up on that idea. I couldn't find shoes in a blue that pleased me, and this specific pair are Christian Louboutins (which is translated in English as "way out of my price range").

Instead I bought silver ones from Macy's in a sinfully exact knockoff style. The heel is much shorter and there's a strap across the ankle and they are, as I said, silver and not blue, but the toe design is ridiculously, probably illegally, similar. I love them so much I don't mind that they poke out slightly from under my dress.

Three and a half weeks!

Photo via Elizabeth Anne Designs.

Somewhere, my teenage self just fainted.

When I was a young teenager...I forget how old...maybe 12 to 14 or 13 to 15 or so...anyway, there was a period in my adolescence where, don't laugh, but I loved Robert Redford. I watched almost every single one of his movies, and if you name one of his movies right now I can tell you what year it's from without looking it up. I know what his three kids are named, what high school he went to, what college he dropped out of, etc...I was ridiculous. I laugh to think about it, amused by the fact that had I been born 20 years earlier, all the other '70s girls around me would have shared my starry eyes.

Six days before our wedding, Chris and I are running in the Race for the Cure in the morning (see my earlier post). That afternoon the Brooklyn Academy of Music, to which I got Chris a membership for Christmas, is sponsoring four screenings: Out of Africa, The Natural, The Electric Horseman, and The Way We Were. With post-screening interviews attended by the Sundance Kid himself.

Chris just got us tickets to The Electric Horseman (our guess as to the least crowded, although knowing Brooklyn...I mean, the All the President's Men screening on Saturday, our first choice, sold out in a matter of minutes).

I am so totally marrying the perfect man. What a cool way to kick off our wedding week.


I can't type captions because I'm too choked up! My grandparents with their first great-grandchild, Lucia Marie.

Friday, August 21, 2009


In the time since I wrote my earlier lighthearted posts, I've gotten some sad news. Someone in my extended family-by-marriage has been diagnosed with ovarian cancer, someone with three young children.

I've been more than fortunate in my life not to have had anyone directly related to me diagnosed with cancer. But I've seen it hit lives all around me. My fiance's dear father passed away of a brain tumor. My former roommate's mother lost her battle with breast cancer last summer. My stepdad's beloved first wife also died of cancer. A work friend quit her job this summer to move closer to her mother, also suffering from cancer...and a close college friend saw her mother through chemo and mastectomies for breast cancer while meanwhile debating her own options, having been told she too has the gene. She's not yet 30.

What an evil, horrifying plague that is darkening the lives of so many.

I was already signed up for my second year of the Race for the Cure, but I had set my fundraising goal rather low, feeling worried about asking people for money in a year in which I am also asking them to travel to my wedding. I no longer feel sheepish.

Please donate to the cause of curing cancer. I will be running on Sept. 13 in honor of all of the people mentioned above. Your support, even if it is only $1, will hopefully help in defeating this terrible curse. If you are debating between a wedding gift and this, I would rather have this! It's got to be stopped.

Ring a ding ding!


we got our rings last night! For some reason Chris's ring in particular makes me super giddy. I think it's the same thing that happened to my friend Traci, where she said seeing her fiance try on rings was really incredible.

This is really happening!

(That's what my dad said last night when I told him we had rented a port-a-potty for the site. "Can't back out now!" :-p)

What generation gap?

My grandfather (born 1925) just gave my grandmother (born 1933) a laptop for their wedding anniversary (fifty-...fifth? I can't recall!). Now she is wireless.

I remember when she first got a computer and it cracked me up that my Nanny was better than me at Freecell. Now she's better than me at Facebook.

Happy Friday :)

Thursday, August 20, 2009

Before the Boleyn girls.

I've never read a Philippa Gregory, but I just saw a review for her new book, The White Queen, from the perspective of Elizabeth Woodville, the sister-in-law of Richard III (a mystery I've always been fascinated by)...I think I might be saving some Borders coupons for this one.

Wednesday, August 19, 2009

Just dance.

What a weekend!

On Friday Liz and the kids arrived. We tromped around the neighborhood, getting slushy ices and winding up in a playground with a sprinkler for A-man, or should I say, Captain Green Arrow (his Friday persona). Indian take-out for dinner and lots of snuggling with my squidgie-girl. Right now there's this thing that she does--she gives a little sidelong grin and starts wiggling her shoulders and her little diapered bottom. Sometimes she does it when music's playing, sometimes she does it when you say, "Dance, Taylor!" and sometimes she just does it for fun, but any way you slice it it's the cutest thing I've ever seen. She's also discovered a hard "k" sound and likes to say "Ka-ka" which, due to its similarity to another word, sets her brother off in hysterical giggles. Austin laughing hard is also one of the cutest things I know.

Saturday we said sad but excited goodbyes, for the next time we'll be together is at the wedding (which is one month from today...had to mention it). Then it was off to the airport to pick up Lion.

Lunch at a Mexican restaurant complete with strawberry margaritas...followed by Erin Brockovich on the VCR for old times sake, a soothing backdrop to tequila-fueled naps. Then we drove out to Coney Island, took pictures that are now, I sadly suspect, in the hands of someone felonious, walked around Prospect Park, had dinner in a pub, and snapped more (also lost) photos of the view of Manhattan from the Brooklyn Promenade.

Up the next morning and drove to Massachussetts for an amazing wedding. Atop a mountain, with views of trees and rivers and under a sun whose blaze reflected the happiness of the crowd, my old, good friend Derek married the most special girl, someone absolutely perfect for him (and he for her). The wedding set new standards in taste and elegance, from the green and white palette to the repeated use of two simple fonts in each printed material, to the way the bride and groom incorporated their family's Italian and Armenian language and traditions into moments throughout the night. For instance, as a surprise to everyone and in honor of Derek's late beloved uncle, they brought a belly dancer to perform for the crowd, which was incredible. And I got to jump around the dance floor to Lady Gaga, so the evening was DEFINITELY a success. (Especially for whomever made off with Lion's camera, sigh. But, like the story of the rabbi and the poor man's cow, it may all be for a reason. Better her camera than her wallet.)

The next day we piled into the car (our party now including Sarah) and toured Amherst, Northampton, and all of Connecticut. We made it to LaGuardia in good time for Erika's flight and I've spent the last couple days enjoying a lovely visit with Sarah. Pizza, cupcakes, and the Brooklyn Bridge last night.

And now there's only one month to go! So much to fill the time between then--a trip to Minneapolis to see some of my girls, the Race for the Cure in Central Park (more on that soon), and to-do list, list, list. The future's so bright, I gotta wear shades!

Tuesday, August 18, 2009

Career path.

shelby: oh man
here's a cool cake
me: pretty awesome
i should learn to bake
shelby: hehe yeah
then zach and I can work with you
me: excellent plan
i'll get started when it's not so hot

Friday, August 14, 2009

Five weeks from tomorrow.

Five times seven is, what...thirty-five? So, thirty-six days till our wedding. Holy. Cow.

Almost all of the big stuff is, knock on wood, done...but there are still a lot of little details to clear up. We'll get there. I've been crossing one thing off my list every two days or so. Yesterday we buckled down and just chose ceremony songs over email--enough with the dithering. We still need wedding bands. (We've been to like five jewelers at this point.) However, even if we tie string around each other's fingers, we'll be there and the minister will be there and everyone should be getting fed. What more do you need?

A really nice weekend about to start...a visit from Liz and the kiddos; Erika flies in tomorrow; Sunday we drive up to Massachussetts for Derek's wedding; Sarah comes to stay from Monday through Thursday.

Happy Friday!

Monday, August 10, 2009

Sweet Herriot.

Herriot this past spring, under the weeping cherry tree.

A few weeks ago, in early/mid-July, my mom gave me the sad news that our family dog, Herriot, was "declining," in the words of the vet. At 13, she was older than most golden retrievers get to be. She had long since stopped using stairs, and now she wasn't eating, wasn't going outside. It might only be a few weeks, the vet warned.

I cried for a couple of days, but I had been trying to prepare myself for a few months. Every time I visited my mom, I would spend time petting Herriot, sitting outside with her and taking pictures of her. Still, that preparation didn't make the news any easier.

We adopted Herriot on Leap Day, 1996. On that day my mom just up and said, "Let's go get a dog." My sister, who was 10 and had been begging for a dog for years, ran out of the house and was in the car with her seatbelt buckled before my mom's lips had closed. We went to the pet store and the front window was filled with balls of golden fluff, a litter of golden retriever pups. Shelby picked our puppy because she was the one who licked Shelby's hand.

It turned out that the pet store had taken them from their mother too young, and our little puppy cried all night for at least a week. We kept her in the kitchen with baby gates and newspapers and mopped up her messes more or less cheerfully because we were so happy to have her. I came up with the name "Herriot" after the vet James Herriot, author of All Creatures Great and Small, which my mom had read out loud to us a while before. Soon she stopped crying, but she never stopped being excitable. Whenever visitors would come to the house, Herriot would jump all over them--and this didn't even stop until a few years ago, when she was too old and sore to jump any more. Even if the guest had been there for a few hours, if he or she reentered the room Herriot would go ballistic all over again. She never bit or barked--she just was so happy to meet someone new or see what she considered an old friend. After a few minutes of jumping she would realize, "Oh yeah! PETTING!" and would flop onto her back with her belly up. She loved having her belly rubbed more than anything.

On her leash she was excitable as well. She would PULL on walks! Our neighbors would frequently see us being yanked along in the wake of Herriot's nose. They also got used to the sight of Herriot sitting on our front stoop, hindquarters on the top step, paws on the bottom step, just like a person. I've never seen another dog sit like this, but then I don't think Herriot thought she was a dog. She was one of us. That's probably why she loved car rides so much--it's not like she was one of those dogs who sit with their heads out the window; she just didn't want to be left behind ever. She knew the words "car ride" and would bolt for the door instantly. If she ever got off her leash and ran off into the woods after a squirrel, all you had to do was open our car door and she'd come running and leap inside, where you could reattach her leash (and dash her hopes). She recognized the sound of my dad's car and would always wait for him at the door when she heard it, jumping and jumping on the glass when she saw him coming up the walk. She also recognized the sound of a tin can opening, because we would pour tuna juice on her dog food. We didn't even have an electric can opener--but she could hear that quiet cranking noise and would come skittering into the kitchen.

She didn't always act smart, though. She never got the hang of "retrieving," for example. She never learned not to drink salt water at the beach, even though it made her sick. She never did figure out that a slightly open door could very easily be pushed all the way. Instead she would stand patiently at the door, scratching at it every 30 seconds or so until the occupants of the room would get annoyed enough to come open the door and let her in. It took her a long time to figure out how to spring onto a bed, too--at least, we thought so, considering that at night she would put her front paws up on the bed and wag her tail expectantly until you pulled her all the way up. Yet sometimes we would come home and sit down on the surprisingly warm and furry couch or bed, so clearly she knew how to get up there to take naps when "the cat was away." :) Speaking of fur, I can't tell you how many vacuum cleaner bags we went through.

Whenever she would lick metal, her lips and jowls would quiver--we called it her fish face and couldn't help but laugh, but she would insist on doing it once in a while, as though she liked the quivering sensation. If she had an allergic reaction to something and got an itchy tongue, she would lick and lick at the carpet or the sidewalk. Another funny thing she would do: if you were sitting in a chair she would come over and push her head under your arm, as though she wanted to see what you were reading--really she just wanted to have her ears scratched. If you were to stop petting her, she would lift up her paw and wait for you to take it. You didn't have to do anything, just hold it. She would sit there patiently while you read your book and held her paw.

After my parents' marriage ended my mom was living in an apartment that didn't allow dogs, and my grandparents kindly took Herriot in. They loved her and she loved them. My Nanny enjoyed brushing her silky coat and taking her for long walks, and all her neighbors would say, "What a beautiful dog!" Nanny loves to say that's how she met all the folks in their new neighborhood, by walking Herriot.

But after a couple of years it was apparent that something was wrong. My mom called me in tears one day to say she was on her way to Nanny's house and they thought they might have to put Herriot to sleep because she was doing so poorly. I had just moved into my own office at work, and I shut my new door and cried hysterically. But the next day--miracle! The vet diagnosed arthritis and put her on medication, and the change was immediate and positive. Not long thereafter, my new stepdad's elderly cat passed away--itself a sad event, but it meant that Herriot could now come back to live with my mom.

She had the best retirement years that a dog could ask for, on a farm with several acres. She ran and frolicked in the fields, sniffed out deer in the woods, lay down in the shade by the fish pond that my stepdad installed for my mom. The house is a ranch house, so not too many stairs for her to navigate.

Early this year she turned 13. All year long whenever I visited I could sadly tell she was an old, old dog. She was losing teeth, and her hearing didn't seem very good. This time, on Friday when we came down for my shower, when I first saw her I instinctively started crying. She had lost so much weight that all her bones stuck out. I kneeled down to pet her, and she tried to get up, and her limbs failed and she just fell on the ground. For a few hours that day I couldn't look at her or pet her because I was so heartsick. The living room is accessed by two short steps. She stood at the top of the steps looking down, wanting to come in to be with everyone. My brother, a tall guy of few words, got up from the couch and lifted her down into the room in his arms. I'll never forget that image.

When I visit my mom I sleep in the back bedroom, the "horse bedroom," and Herriot usually slept in there too--I don't know if she always did whether or not there were visitors. Friday I barely slept because I could hear Herriot all night. For a while I thought she was standing up because I could hear her nails on the floor, but I think she must have been trying to get up and failing. A couple of times I heard "thumps," where she had fallen down again. She licked the carpet for hours. By Saturday evening she had gotten much worse. We were all in the living room watching a movie, Herriot in her preferred spot under the coffee table. She threw up a few times, but eventually there was nothing left for her to throw up, because she hadn't eaten all day. After a while my mom got up and took her outside, where she fell down again.

Heartbroken, we all congregated in the horse bedroom where Herriot had chosen to lie down again. Shelby, Zach, my mom and I sat on the floor, holding her paws. After a while we took turns remembering aloud our favorite Herriot stories. I'm so grateful we had that time all together with her. I hope she knew how loved she was. I think so.

I was bone tired that night after several nights of not much sleep. I drifted off but jerked awake in the night/early morning. Herriot was dry heaving again, followed by panting. After several minutes of listening I turned on the bedside lamp and went and sat on the floor with her, petting her head and holding her paw. She would seem to calm down, and I would get back in bed, but it would start again a few minutes later. I got out of bed a couple more times, interspersed by lying awake worrying--should I sleep on the floor with her? Should I wake my mom? As her attacks seemed to be getting worse, I got Mom out of bed. We both sat with her for a few minutes and her breathing seemed to calm a bit. We tried to get her to stand up but couldn't; finally we were able to get her up and into my mom's bedroom. I went back to bed and cried silently until I fell asleep.

A few hours later, my mom touched my foot. It was around 7:30 in the morning, Sunday. "Honey, we're going to take Herriot to the vet. I found one that will open today. Shelby and Zach are going to come too." Chris and I had an appointment set up with our wedding photographer that morning. And, I guess this is cowardly. But I didn't think I could bear to go. I went outside and Herriot was on the pebble gravel next to the car, chin on the ground between her front paws. I sat down on the gravel with her for a few minutes. Then Zach helped lift her into the car.

They buried her next to the fish pond, near where the horses graze on the other side of the fence and where the sun shines and the little waterfall tinkles. I feel so grateful. So grateful that she graced us with her beautiful life, so grateful that she waited for us to be there with her at the end, so glad she had such a happy long life, so glad that my mom lives somewhere where Herriot could be buried. So glad that she's not suffering anymore. She was such a good dog, so filled with love. She didn't have a mean bone in her body. "All dogs go to heaven," Chris said when he was hugging me. I hope the angels are giving her tuna juice in her food dish, rubbing her belly and holding her paw.


I was so blessed with the most beautiful bridal tea on Saturday. My mom, sister, and sister-in-law outdid themselves with planning, crafting, and cooking. Mom had seven teapots with different kinds of tea in each one...assorted cake plates with homemade tea sandwiches...a caprese salad with tomatoes from her garden...a fluffy white coconut cake baked by my stepdad's elderly mother...what seemed like 900 cookies (804 of them eaten by me) baked by two of my cousins...Liz brought chicken salad, ambrosia, pomegranate limeade, and stuff I'm probably forgetting...Mom and Nanny used the excuse to pull out their fina china sets...paper napkins in four different floral prints...Shelby hung streamers and hand-washed all the tea cups and saucers before the party. Liz stayed up for many late nights making favors--handmade tea bags with a note and pink stickers that said "Laura & Chris" on the back and "The Perfect Blend" on the front. She enlisted Chris to write a funny quiz ahead of time that all the guests had to try to answer. Erika, who couldn't be there, spent weeks culling recipes and stories from all my friends and relatives, and decorated every page of a scrapbook for me to put the stories in! Catherine drove three hours from Pennsylvania and her mom drove five hours from North Carolina. I was a ball of happy tears the whole day.

I felt impossibly lavished, but you know what I loved best about it--it was all homemade and handcrafted. It was in my mom's living room and the people who were there were all either family and new family or old friends/old family friends. It wasn't putting on a show. I just felt so loved and special, and I'll never forget it.

There were many lovely things about the whole weekend, in fact. We got in to Liz's house late on Thursday night and stayed up late talking about girly things like makeup and manicures, much to Chris's disgust, I'm sure. On Friday we headed to Virginia and got our marriage license! That night we all drove two hours to the tiny town of Orkney Springs, where they are somehow able to wangle world-class musicians every summer. We saw Bela Fleck and Toumani Diabate, and it was an incredible concert. On Saturday Shelby and I visited the hospital to see our cousin and her new baby, born August 7 and weighing in at 9 lbs 7 oz (!). I tried on my newly-fitted dress with my shoes and my updo. Oh, and I found a stack of Domino magazines for 50 cents each at the antiques mall. Score.

I'll write more about the weekend later, but I just wanted to share what a beautiful bridal shower I was given and how grateful I am to have so much love around me.

Thursday, August 6, 2009

See you Monday.

In three hours and change we are leaving town for a whirlwind weekend of marriage licensing, tent-planning, cake-choosing, photographer-meeting, concert-going, and bridal showering. Isn't it weird how time SLOWS DOWN when you feel like you have patiently waited for something and you're almost there?

Monday, August 3, 2009

All babies, all the time.

For my third baby post of the past 24 hours, please send your good thoughtwaves to my nine-months-and-plus cousin Callie. Her baby girl is apparently super comfy where she is and is delaying her appearance until it dang well suits her!

Happy news.

I almost had a heart attack a few minutes ago.

Email from bridesmaid to Laura: "...Laura? Can you send me your phone number; I have something I need to tell you."
Laura: (Feeling worried) "Sure, here it is!"
Ring ring.
BM: "Is this a bad time?"
Laura: "No, no, I'm so glad to hear your voice! What's up?"
BM: "I'm calling to say I can't -- "
Laura: heart attack heart attack heart attack
BM: "wear that dress after all."
Laura: MASSIVE RELIEF. "Oh my gosh, that's okay! I was so worried you were going to say you couldn't be in the wedding and I would be so sad!"
BM: "And the reason I can't wear it is because I won't be able to fit into it....because I'm pregnant!"
Laura: screams, jumps up and down, shuts office door, screams some more in a whisper, gets off phone, and bursts into tears of happiness!

My oldest friend is having a baby! We used to go to ballet class together when we were under ten years old. I was in her wedding in 2004. I am so happy and excited for her and her husband!

Sunday, August 2, 2009

Get ready for impossible adorable.

This weekend I didn't do any of the chores I set out for myself--laundry, bathroom scrubbing, floor mopping, etc. Instead, yesterday I went to yoga and then we went over to Shelby's to help her move some stuff and pick up her new mattress. Then we went to Williamsburg and had French food and margaritas in a pint glass (not at the same place) and flopped in the grass in McCarren Park and watched the sun go down. Today we got up around 9 and took the train to the Upper West Side and the Cathedral of St. John the Divine, where we met Shelby for church. When we got home around 2, it was raining hard enough that the day seemed to call for pajamas, chai, and watching old VHS tapes on the recently-installed-in-the-bedroom TV. (Chris's mom and stepdad generously gave us a new television for our wedding present, to which Chris has been glued ever since he discovered The Wire the other week. The old TV doesn't get any channels, but it DOES have a built-in VCR and I can see it from my bed. Awesome.) I watched Cold Comfort Farm and Blackadder in regal Anglophile comfort.

The only other task I managed to accomplish today was getting all the photos on our camera onto a computer so I could (I mean, can--still haven't done it) photograph some clothes and shoes I want to sell on eBay, a to-do item leftover since May. At this point in the summer, I doubt anyone's going to be buying my unused sandals. Sigh.

So here you go, some photos of someone a thousand percent cuter than Daniel Radcliffe: our little goddaughter Taylor, soon to be the most adorable flower girl in the history of weddings.

Here I am with Auntie Laura waiting for the guests to arrive for my first birthday party.

I am up waaaayy past my bedtime...but I am so cute that the grownups just can't bear to put me to bed.

Here I am in Herald Square, waiting to be discovered by Baby Gap photographers.

It's Christmas! Is my new stuffed hippo going to eat me, or am I going to eat it??

More first birthday pics...I love sitting with my Uncle Bo-be and playing with his glasses.


What can I say? I'm cute. I can't help it.