DIY wedding

I promise not to turn this into a wedding blog, but as that particular event is occupying about 98.7 percent of my brain power these days, it could get very wedding-y here at the Daily Bacon.

Just a warning.

Anyway, I like to be crafty, so I'm currently scouting DIY projects for the ceremony and reception. So far, I have decided to make my veil using the tulle from my mom's veil. I also am planning to make a version of these awesome Ann Wood cake topper birds.



So friggin' cute, but expensive and really difficult to come by, as Ann apparently isn't really producing much these days.

We are collecting jars from friends over the next few months to use as hanging votive holders during the ceremony. We're planning to have the service under the trees in the yard of the venue, so votive candles hanging from the tree branches will be lovely.

Meanwhile, Etsy is saving my life. So far, I've ordered the corsages and boutonnieres for the wedding party there. Those links are only approximations because I'm having the artists make them in our colors (light green and dark brown). I'm also looking there for thank-you gifts and other decorations. It's a little addictive.

We're headed to Memphis this weekend to get a good look at the venue and to meet with a cake vendor. I want to do a tiered cupcake display instead of a traditional wedding cake because a) cupcakes rock and b) cupcakes are cheaper. Plus, I can get a lot of different kinds rather than just a couple of kinds of cake.

That is enough wedding for now. Stop yawning.

Deck the halls

We finally have a deck! It took weeks of meetings with six different companies to get what we wanted at the price we wanted, but it was worth the wait. Exterior Design + Deck did an exquisite job. They showed up on time, they left on time, they didn't annoy us and they didn't cut corners. It's the first time I've ever encountered a contractor that didn't make me want to kill them.

Hot Pants and I went to Lowe's last night to get chairs for our new back porch. These photos aren't the finished product because we have since put on a tin roof and are planning to install a porch swing, but they give you the idea.

Imagine a porch swing attached to that roof. The pattern on the railing is called Chippendale.

That roof has been covered with tin and makes a lovely sound when it rains.

Stop asking me that

This is how a typical conversation goes when someone finds out I got engaged week ago:

Person: Wow! Congratulations! When's the wedding?
Me: September 26th.
Person: You set a date already? That's fast!
Me: (head explodes)

Then I have to spend five minutes explaining that we want an outdoor wedding, which means we have to hold it this fall or next spring and neither of us wants to wait a year to get married because we've lived together for a year and a half and it's just silly to take 12 months to plan what will be a small wedding. Blah, blah, blah.

Seriously? Why, why, why, why do people ask me when the wedding is and then express surprise when I can answer the question? Are you asking me with the assumption that I'll just shrug? Because that's stupid. It'd be one thing if the question was "Have you set a date yet?" or "Do you know when you're getting married yet?" But NO.

Sigh.

Bitch session over.

Hopping up and down excitedly beginning.

I bought a dress! I bought a dress! I bought a dress! It's so beautiful! Yay!

Don't you dare say "That was fast!" I will fuck you up.
_____
On a completely unrelated note, you might remember my Lament of the Shattered Green Mug. A few months after that unfortunate incident, my friend Christina bought me a replacement mug. Well, one of the feline trio knocked it off a table last night and broke it into beautiful little green shards. Waaaaaaaaaaah.

The Snuggie cometh

They arrived today, complete with reading lights. Snuggie is spelled A-W-E-S-O-M-E.

Super-Secret Love Maneuver

I noticed Hot Pants' heart was beating rather rapidly Saturday morning as we cuddled in bed, trying to go back to sleep because 8:30 is too goddamn early to get up on the weekend. I didn't think much of it, figuring the coffee he'd had the night before was quickening his pulse. I went downstairs to visit with our out-of-town guests and to eat the remnants of the cake from the previous night's dinner. After about 20 minutes, he asked if I could please come upstairs for just a minute.

When we got upstairs, he asked me to pull up the Web site for SongFight!, the online songwriting competition he runs. This is what I saw. I looked over and saw that he had placed an open ring box on the bed next to me. Inside was the most beautiful sapphire and diamond ring I have ever seen, made just for me based on what I had said I wanted in an engagement ring. I immediately burst into tears and got all flustered. He and his friends had all written songs just for the proposal, all sitting there waiting for me to listen. My mind was racing.

"Which one should I listen to first?" I said between sniffs.
"Uh, mine?" John said, smiling.

I clicked play and listened to him singing about how much he loves me. At the end of the song he sings "Will you marry me?" I nodded vigorously, unable to speak properly. He slid the ring on my finger. Perfect.

I started calling everyone I could think of, but not many people were answering their phones. I was particularly pissed my parents weren't picking up. I began making plans with some folks to go to a celebratory brunch at our favorite spot, Radial Cafe. We got dressed and got in the car to go to Radial but John didn't stop the car at the restaurant, instead driving in a big circle and getting on the interstate.

"Are my parents in town?" I asked incredulously.
"No, they are not in town," he answered with a grin on his face.

I tried not to ask any more questions, even though I had no idea what was happening or where we were going. The aquarium? The CNN center? Wren's Nest? He made a joke about going to Six Flags, but we were headed south on the interstate, not west. The airport! I thought. I asked if he had flown in Chippendales dancers to congratulate me. Or a marching band? Do I get a performance? I babbled to keep my mind from spinning. I know whose faces I was hoping to see, but I didn't want to get my hopes up.

We arrived and stood in the receiving area with dozens of other people, all of whom had no idea what had just happened. So, I took it upon myself to tell them. We had time to kill, after all. And then I saw the faces of my mom and dad topping the escalator from the gates area. I squeaked out an "Eek!" and ran toward them, collapsing in hugs and tears.

"I was hoping it was going to be you!" I said excitedly.

They were all smiles. So was HP.

We got in the car and drove back to Radial Cafe. I saw a familiar car in the parking lot. It belonged to my friend, Chris, who lives in Jackson, Miss.

"No way!" I yelled, jumping out of the car and running toward the restaurant's back door. I could see in the window my aunt and cousin from Tennessee, friends from Chattanooga and friends from here in Atlanta. I pulled at the door handle, but it was locked.

"Let me in!" I yelled.

They couldn't open the door, either. Arg! I ran around the restaurant and through the throngs of brunch eaters to the back of the restaurant, where sat 30 of my friends and family members waiting to celebrate with us. They had all known HP's plans for two weeks or more and hadn't even hinted that something was going on. Some told me they didn't answer the phone for fear that morning for fear of tipping me off to the plan.

We hugged and giggled and talked and visited. Plates of grits, eggs, tofu hash, biscuits and bagels came out, filling the room with delicious smells. I sat and looked around in amazement at how many people were there just for me, just because they love me, even if it meant driving five hours or more to get there.

More crying.

It was truly the most perfect day of my entire life. I had many of the wonderful people in my life around me. And I had the man I love next to me, promising to be right there next to me for the rest of my life.

Thanks, baby. You did good.

Click, click

One of my earliest memories is my father snapping away on his Konica camera as I played in the pussy willow tree in the backyard of our tiny house, the same tree my grandfather had nursed from a sapling when my mom was little. Dad always had a camera with him and never missed an opportunity to get a shot of a V-shaped flock of geese or a stunning sunset across the Mississippi River.

After years of clicking away on the shutter, Dad has finally has set up a Web site where people can buy his beautiful art. Even if you're not in the market for some photography, it's a nice way to pass 15 or 20 minutes.

Reasons I feel old

1. It is almost physically impossible for me to stay awake past midnight and sleep past 8:30 a.m.

2. My knees hurt after a low-impact game of Ultimate Frisbee.

3. I have no desire whatsoever to stand at concerts or sporting events.

4. The thought of getting drunk is too exhausting to even bother with more than one drink at parties.

5. Gray. Hairs.

6. I am turning 30 in four months.

7. I hurt my lower back turning on the shower last week.

The cult of Snuggie

The New York Times had quite the hysterical piece over the weekend about the infamous Snuggie. The Blanket with Sleeves! has achieved such a following that it's lead to Snuggie pub crawls, Snuggie satire and Snuggie raps.

And the company that created the Snuggie has sold 4 million of what amounts to a fleece Jedi warrior costume, which makes them the most brilliant marketers EVER. (I totally want one RIGHT NOW. Seriously. Buy me one. Please?)

Maybe next we'll see some sort of Snuggie Con for those who have shelled out the $19.95 (plus $7.95 S&H). Or a a Snuggie smack down on the WWE. Or a Snuggie Olympic sport (fastest reader?). Or a Project Runway challenge featuring the Snuggie. The possibilities are endless.

Faces of the recession

Slate.com has started a new Flickr group for folks to submit photos illustrating the shithole known as the economy. Enjoy?

Warning! Warning!

They arrived at my office this morning. They'll probably be in your office soon, too, taking over your brainwaves, making you think about nothing except chocolatey-minty goodness and gooey-caramely tastiness and chocolatey-peanut buttery yumminess. Run! Run while you still can! It's too late for me, but you can still save yourself!

Happy March!

The snow started coming down a couple of hours ago and it's already collecting in a lovely, picturesque way. As this is the first snow this winter, I can hardly contain myself.