I have a really hard time finding things to write about lately. You would assume that the closer you get to an actual wedding date, the more you would have to do. When in reality there is a weird lull that occcurs between the beginning and the end of marriage...I meant the end of wedding planning, but I think the original comment is pretty true as well. Anyhoo...
Let's do some updates: my invitations are in my possession, the majority of the addresses are also in my possession, I have ordered stamps, and I am really excited about how the invites turned out. In my attempt to make my wedding English themed, I have tried really hard to keep the invitation aspect under control. If I had an unlimited budget, I would go crazy on the paper aspect of my wedding. I love calligraphy and letterpress and clever wording and all that is a wedding invitation. However, I feel like I have hit the highpoints of the invitations that meant the most to me, so I am happy with the end product. You will all be receiving them soon!
My dress should be in Rogers by the beginning of April. I am very excited about this concept and glad that when I try it on this time around, I will be at least a little thinner than I was the first time around. All good things.
Cody and I took engagement pictures last Wednesday with Jeremy Cavness out of Bentonville. We had a lot of fun and are really excited to see the pictures. The entire engagement pictures idea was a bit daunting to me at the beginning. Trying to capture love within a still shot seems to be a task that usually leads to 900 pictures of people kissing in different outfits. Neither Cody or myself are into the kissing picture idea, and I feel like we still had a good time and captured some of our own personality and style...hopefully.
In other news that does not have to do directly with my wedding, my best friend Katie is recently engaged to her boy toy A.J. I am super excited and happy for both of them. I think they will make an awesome married couple and seem to be on the path to many years of happiness together. I have known Katie since literally we were like 5 years old. Our paths crossed again in high school and we hit it off as the best of friends. It seems like yesterday I was illegally driving her car down 6th street to visit our friend Art and get into all of the trouble we could find. I appreciate friends like Katie and I am very happy she has a found a guy as nice as A.J. It is so weird to me the way life ends up. I would have never guessed as a sophomore in high school Katie and I would be in the situations we are in (engaged, careers, houses, adult lifes). I am glad to have a friend still around who experienced high school with me. In a way Katie and I will be forever a part of the halls of Southside High School, despite the fact that we have both moved far beyond those years. It's good to have old friends to recount the times that were good. Hopefully, there will be many more years to recount in the future.
On a purely selfish note, I am happy Katie got engaged because I get to relive the wedding planning experience from the outside in and I am a little relieved about that. Good luck to you, my friend!
T minus three months until I am officially hitched. Woohoo!
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
Saturday, March 6, 2010
"Scars are souvenirs you never lose..."
I think it's interesting the way things that seem so inconsequential at one point in your life sometimes find their way back into the picture years later. Allow me to explain...
When I was in 9th grade, I was quite the studious youngster, as some of you can probably imagine. I made all A's. I followed every request of my teachers regardless of how silly or unnecessary it might have seemed. I studied. I worried if I did badly on a test. I was a model student (By the way, I was the type of student I assumed I would have a classroom full of one day as an educator. Not true.). One night after a basketball game, I went home to begin my homework. It ended up being around 10:30p.m. when I decided that I wanted an apple to eat as I frantically tried to study for my Civics test that was scheduled for the next day. I went downstairs after everyone else in my house had already gone to bed and sliced an apple using an apple cutter. The slices of the apple did not clearly separate from the cutter, so I flipped it over and preceded to tap each of the apple slices out. Unfortunately, I tapped too hard and sliced the edge of my middle finger of my left hand off. And when I say off, I mean off. Not good.
I remember seeing a lot of blood and part of my finger laying on the plate amidst a half sliced apple. I knew the situation was bad and probably needed some sort of medical attention considering the amount of blood that was literally pouring from me. However, being the one in a million 14 year old that I was, the only thought that ran through my head was "don't make too much noise because if my mom walks in here, I will have to go to the emergency room." Mind you, I didn't want to go to the emergency room because I needed to study for my Civics test. What in the world was I thinking? Even I think I was crazy looking back on the situation. I decided to wrap a roll of paper towels around my hand and just ignore my finger issue. I studied for that test and eventually fell asleep with still an entire roll of paper towels on my wound.
The next morning I woke up to a blood soaked stack of paper towels still wrapped around my poor finger. I had to wet them to be able to pull them away from my finger. Beneath the mess of crimson towels was the bone of my middle finger still slowly dripping blood. I remember literally crying from the pain but still making sure not to let on that my finger was as injured as it was, so as not to miss my Civics test...
I don't even remember that stupid test. I don't know what I made on it (I would guess an A). I don't even know what the subject matter is we were covering. But I do remember my apple massacre. I still look down at my hand and have to giggle at the memory of me as a 14 year old. However, I never paid too much attention to the scar until I got engaged. Now every time I sprawl my left hand out in front of some female onlooker I don't look at my ring for long. Instead, I look at that stupid middle finger all curved and uneven. It bothers me. It will be in pictures for the rest of my life. A digital memory of adolescent Katy. It's weird.
It's strange to me that on the same hand there can be so many stories that tell so much about me. There is my discoloration on top of my hand from me rubbing a pencil eraser across it until it burned my skin off in 3rd grade (my long time crush was doing the same thing. Peer pressure, dang it.) There's my swollen knuckle from where I broke my finger playing basketball in the 8th grade. There's my curved pinky finger from popping my fingers for years. And now there's a ring on the one finger on my hand that I have not cut open or jammed or broken or done something to. And now that finger tells a story of the past 5 years of Cody and me. My left hand encompasses years of my life and now will always stand as a symbol of my life with Cody.
When I cut my finger off, I couldn't see far enough ahead of me to know that the emergency room could have reattached my finger to avoid me cringing 9 years later at the sight of my left hand. Although the older I get the more I realize it's the scars you don't take the time to avoid that end up meaning the most to you. Here's to a flawless ring finger amidst the stories of the scars on my hands. Perhaps I spared my ring finger from erasers and apple cutters because I knew there would be a purpose for it eventually.
It's too late to be blogging.
When I was in 9th grade, I was quite the studious youngster, as some of you can probably imagine. I made all A's. I followed every request of my teachers regardless of how silly or unnecessary it might have seemed. I studied. I worried if I did badly on a test. I was a model student (By the way, I was the type of student I assumed I would have a classroom full of one day as an educator. Not true.). One night after a basketball game, I went home to begin my homework. It ended up being around 10:30p.m. when I decided that I wanted an apple to eat as I frantically tried to study for my Civics test that was scheduled for the next day. I went downstairs after everyone else in my house had already gone to bed and sliced an apple using an apple cutter. The slices of the apple did not clearly separate from the cutter, so I flipped it over and preceded to tap each of the apple slices out. Unfortunately, I tapped too hard and sliced the edge of my middle finger of my left hand off. And when I say off, I mean off. Not good.
I remember seeing a lot of blood and part of my finger laying on the plate amidst a half sliced apple. I knew the situation was bad and probably needed some sort of medical attention considering the amount of blood that was literally pouring from me. However, being the one in a million 14 year old that I was, the only thought that ran through my head was "don't make too much noise because if my mom walks in here, I will have to go to the emergency room." Mind you, I didn't want to go to the emergency room because I needed to study for my Civics test. What in the world was I thinking? Even I think I was crazy looking back on the situation. I decided to wrap a roll of paper towels around my hand and just ignore my finger issue. I studied for that test and eventually fell asleep with still an entire roll of paper towels on my wound.
The next morning I woke up to a blood soaked stack of paper towels still wrapped around my poor finger. I had to wet them to be able to pull them away from my finger. Beneath the mess of crimson towels was the bone of my middle finger still slowly dripping blood. I remember literally crying from the pain but still making sure not to let on that my finger was as injured as it was, so as not to miss my Civics test...
I don't even remember that stupid test. I don't know what I made on it (I would guess an A). I don't even know what the subject matter is we were covering. But I do remember my apple massacre. I still look down at my hand and have to giggle at the memory of me as a 14 year old. However, I never paid too much attention to the scar until I got engaged. Now every time I sprawl my left hand out in front of some female onlooker I don't look at my ring for long. Instead, I look at that stupid middle finger all curved and uneven. It bothers me. It will be in pictures for the rest of my life. A digital memory of adolescent Katy. It's weird.
It's strange to me that on the same hand there can be so many stories that tell so much about me. There is my discoloration on top of my hand from me rubbing a pencil eraser across it until it burned my skin off in 3rd grade (my long time crush was doing the same thing. Peer pressure, dang it.) There's my swollen knuckle from where I broke my finger playing basketball in the 8th grade. There's my curved pinky finger from popping my fingers for years. And now there's a ring on the one finger on my hand that I have not cut open or jammed or broken or done something to. And now that finger tells a story of the past 5 years of Cody and me. My left hand encompasses years of my life and now will always stand as a symbol of my life with Cody.
When I cut my finger off, I couldn't see far enough ahead of me to know that the emergency room could have reattached my finger to avoid me cringing 9 years later at the sight of my left hand. Although the older I get the more I realize it's the scars you don't take the time to avoid that end up meaning the most to you. Here's to a flawless ring finger amidst the stories of the scars on my hands. Perhaps I spared my ring finger from erasers and apple cutters because I knew there would be a purpose for it eventually.
It's too late to be blogging.
Thursday, March 4, 2010
Save the Dates
So, one of my biggest undertakings thus far in the wedding planning process has been my Save the Dates. I feel like they deserve a bit of an explanation for various reasons.
First off, I did not intend on creating save the dates at all. I felt like it's somewhat pretentious of me to think that people need to know months and months in advance when I am getting married so they can be certain to be there. I just don't feel like I have that much pull in this world. However, I was given a surprise 19th birthday party (I am not placing blame on anyone for this) in the basement of my parents' home a few years ago where approximately 8 people showed up. It was painful and awkward and something I vowed to avoid at all costs ever again. There is a part of me that is worried that those doors are going to open for me to walk down that aisle to a church of 8 people (okay there would probably be more than 8). Either way, I want people to come to my wedding. I do.
In the midst of my wedding planning, I have become an avid reader of some wedding blogs. I didn't even know wedding blogs existed before I got engaged, but they are addictive. One day I came across a save the date idea that a groom oddly enough had created. The concept of this couple's STD (haha, I just realized the acronym for save the date is STD. I will be using that from now on!)was What John and Sue will be doing the 189 days leading up to getting married. It was funny. The groom explained his idea was to document their engagement through Facebook status update sort of snippets. It was random stuff they were supposedly doing like starting wedding diets and watching specific TV shows.
I decided the idea was really clever. I then took it a step further and decided to make ours about our relationship leading up to the engagement, rather than the time after we got engaged. I spent a few hours writing it (I loved this part and would suggest anyone else to do the same thing if you want to remember the good stuff about you and your significant other). Cody even got involved and as you would assume thought of some really funny lines. I then had to print them and go through the unbelievable process of proofreading all that junk!
In the end, I love our STD's (hehe). I think they're cute and very Cody and Katyesque. I realized that they became really personal throughout the process though and felt somewhat weird about sending them to acquaintances that I am planning on inviting. I was afraid people who don't closely know Cody and me would be a little freaked out by a card that provides too much information. So if you did not receive a save the date, don't assume that means we're not inviting you to the wedding. I mainly sent the STD's to people that I really felt close to.
If you'd like to see the save the dates my superstar MOH posted some pics of them to her blog at http://theschluter.blogspot.com/. You should defintely go check them out!
First off, I did not intend on creating save the dates at all. I felt like it's somewhat pretentious of me to think that people need to know months and months in advance when I am getting married so they can be certain to be there. I just don't feel like I have that much pull in this world. However, I was given a surprise 19th birthday party (I am not placing blame on anyone for this) in the basement of my parents' home a few years ago where approximately 8 people showed up. It was painful and awkward and something I vowed to avoid at all costs ever again. There is a part of me that is worried that those doors are going to open for me to walk down that aisle to a church of 8 people (okay there would probably be more than 8). Either way, I want people to come to my wedding. I do.
In the midst of my wedding planning, I have become an avid reader of some wedding blogs. I didn't even know wedding blogs existed before I got engaged, but they are addictive. One day I came across a save the date idea that a groom oddly enough had created. The concept of this couple's STD (haha, I just realized the acronym for save the date is STD. I will be using that from now on!)was What John and Sue will be doing the 189 days leading up to getting married. It was funny. The groom explained his idea was to document their engagement through Facebook status update sort of snippets. It was random stuff they were supposedly doing like starting wedding diets and watching specific TV shows.
I decided the idea was really clever. I then took it a step further and decided to make ours about our relationship leading up to the engagement, rather than the time after we got engaged. I spent a few hours writing it (I loved this part and would suggest anyone else to do the same thing if you want to remember the good stuff about you and your significant other). Cody even got involved and as you would assume thought of some really funny lines. I then had to print them and go through the unbelievable process of proofreading all that junk!
In the end, I love our STD's (hehe). I think they're cute and very Cody and Katyesque. I realized that they became really personal throughout the process though and felt somewhat weird about sending them to acquaintances that I am planning on inviting. I was afraid people who don't closely know Cody and me would be a little freaked out by a card that provides too much information. So if you did not receive a save the date, don't assume that means we're not inviting you to the wedding. I mainly sent the STD's to people that I really felt close to.
If you'd like to see the save the dates my superstar MOH posted some pics of them to her blog at http://theschluter.blogspot.com/. You should defintely go check them out!
Thursday, February 11, 2010
Ghosts of Valentine's Day Past
So, I teach 15 year olds on a daily basis. I often have students assume I am much older than I am. I have kids ask me how many children I have. I have kids who think I was born in the 70's (1986 folks!). In other words, I have kids who obviously have a very skewed perception of who I am. It doesn't really bother me that much when someone assumes I am older than I am. I do have an occasional moment where I refer to "Saved by the Bell" or the Spice Girls (yes, I reference the Spice Girls while teaching English) and my kids look at me with the blankest of stares and I realize that I am not 15 years old anymore. But overall, I am still young enough to not worry too much about the age game...most of the time.
Today I was sitting in the gym with about 6 of my 9th grade girls who just recently completed their jr. high basketball season. We were not practicing today so I was just talking to them about different things to do with school. One of my kids asked me what my husband ("I'm not married yet, Emily") was going to get me for Valentine's Day. I realized a couple of things in this moment:
My immediate frustration and correction of the word husband was somewhat unwarranted because in less than 6 months, I will have a husband (who am I?). I also realized that I will probably get flowers for Valentine's Day which is good and great, yet somewhat predictable. I couldn't help but think back to the Valentine's Days Cody and I have spent together where there was so much more than flowers as a gift. And then it happened....
With six 15 year old faces staring back at me, I literally quoted my mother: "Girls, after 5 years of being with the same guy, the gifts only get smaller." It's a phenomenon my mother and I have discussed before regarding how everything that involves extra effort in a relationship shrinks over time. And all of the things that sort of annoy you at the beginning of being together, slowly annoy you to the point of wanting to scream at someone. I don't want to scream at Cody very often. I don't even think he does that many things that annoy me. However, I do have to admit that the super cute things that Cody once did for me on a fairly regular basis have somewhat dwindled. In Cody's defense though, I am certain the extra stuff I used to do for Cody has also become more rare. I think it's human nature to stop working so hard when you realize that what you've got is pretty good.
When I mentioned this deep, philosophical relationship process to my 9th graders, they all looked at me like I was sort of crazy. They are still receiving texts from boys asking them to "go out," which never results in any actual going out. They have never gotten past the point in a relationship where the nice stuff ends. So, in an attempt to not sound like my mom and to not be the overly negative adult, I told the sweetest stories about Cody's past Valentine's Day gift ideas. And we all giggled and laughed and commented about how "hot" my boyfriend is.
The bell eventually rang and the kids left the gym. As one of my students started walking away, she turned to me and said "thank you." I asked her what she was thanking me for and she said "letting us hear about a couple that works." It struck me that a 9th grader could pinpoint that I'm in a relationship that works. Sometimes I get caught up in the big to do of wedding planning and working and coaching and all that is life and forget to just appreciate that I have a good, honest guy that will always come home to me (one day). The same kid told me she liked talking to me because I always seem to know the answers. I felt like such a fraud. I wanted to tell her that I am just as lost as she is. I literally reverted back to Chaffin Junior High on Valentine's Day when everyone got flowers and balloons and teddy bears from some hormone-driven boy they were "going out" with and I never did. I realized in that moment that to 9th graders at the school I teach, I'm the girl who gets the flowers. I am that older person who appears as if they have it figured out. And this is when I felt old. It's not the hypothetical children questions or assumptions that I graduated from high school in the 90's that bother me. But I felt old. I was the 9th grade English teacher that I used to idolize as a 9th garer. It was weird. I don't know what happen to the space between sweaty hand holding and marriage. Either way, perhaps life is about at least looking like you've got it figured out and I was happy to know I had sold the idea to someone, even if they're 15 and very impressionable.
So, this Valentine's Day when those flowers land on my doorstep, I will appreciate that I have a guy who remembers to send flowers. And I will accept that not everything within a relationship has to have bells and whistles...
I sure do love bells, though.
Today I was sitting in the gym with about 6 of my 9th grade girls who just recently completed their jr. high basketball season. We were not practicing today so I was just talking to them about different things to do with school. One of my kids asked me what my husband ("I'm not married yet, Emily") was going to get me for Valentine's Day. I realized a couple of things in this moment:
My immediate frustration and correction of the word husband was somewhat unwarranted because in less than 6 months, I will have a husband (who am I?). I also realized that I will probably get flowers for Valentine's Day which is good and great, yet somewhat predictable. I couldn't help but think back to the Valentine's Days Cody and I have spent together where there was so much more than flowers as a gift. And then it happened....
With six 15 year old faces staring back at me, I literally quoted my mother: "Girls, after 5 years of being with the same guy, the gifts only get smaller." It's a phenomenon my mother and I have discussed before regarding how everything that involves extra effort in a relationship shrinks over time. And all of the things that sort of annoy you at the beginning of being together, slowly annoy you to the point of wanting to scream at someone. I don't want to scream at Cody very often. I don't even think he does that many things that annoy me. However, I do have to admit that the super cute things that Cody once did for me on a fairly regular basis have somewhat dwindled. In Cody's defense though, I am certain the extra stuff I used to do for Cody has also become more rare. I think it's human nature to stop working so hard when you realize that what you've got is pretty good.
When I mentioned this deep, philosophical relationship process to my 9th graders, they all looked at me like I was sort of crazy. They are still receiving texts from boys asking them to "go out," which never results in any actual going out. They have never gotten past the point in a relationship where the nice stuff ends. So, in an attempt to not sound like my mom and to not be the overly negative adult, I told the sweetest stories about Cody's past Valentine's Day gift ideas. And we all giggled and laughed and commented about how "hot" my boyfriend is.
The bell eventually rang and the kids left the gym. As one of my students started walking away, she turned to me and said "thank you." I asked her what she was thanking me for and she said "letting us hear about a couple that works." It struck me that a 9th grader could pinpoint that I'm in a relationship that works. Sometimes I get caught up in the big to do of wedding planning and working and coaching and all that is life and forget to just appreciate that I have a good, honest guy that will always come home to me (one day). The same kid told me she liked talking to me because I always seem to know the answers. I felt like such a fraud. I wanted to tell her that I am just as lost as she is. I literally reverted back to Chaffin Junior High on Valentine's Day when everyone got flowers and balloons and teddy bears from some hormone-driven boy they were "going out" with and I never did. I realized in that moment that to 9th graders at the school I teach, I'm the girl who gets the flowers. I am that older person who appears as if they have it figured out. And this is when I felt old. It's not the hypothetical children questions or assumptions that I graduated from high school in the 90's that bother me. But I felt old. I was the 9th grade English teacher that I used to idolize as a 9th garer. It was weird. I don't know what happen to the space between sweaty hand holding and marriage. Either way, perhaps life is about at least looking like you've got it figured out and I was happy to know I had sold the idea to someone, even if they're 15 and very impressionable.
So, this Valentine's Day when those flowers land on my doorstep, I will appreciate that I have a guy who remembers to send flowers. And I will accept that not everything within a relationship has to have bells and whistles...
I sure do love bells, though.
Monday, January 25, 2010
Yichud's for everyone!
Okay, so I feel as if there are a million things I could update about but I don't really get into capturing every tiny detail about this process. I will tell you this: we began registering, we bought a house (this one will perhaps get an entire entry one day), Cody's attire is 90% certain, and my flowers are chosen and booked.
Beyond these things, I have also decided on a tradition that I assume will begin and end with my wedding experience. I am so very excited about the gathering of people that I hope will take place at my wedding. I want friends and family to gather and talk and laugh and celebrate life and love and all of that good stuff. I want my parents to be proud and happy for what Cody and I have accomplished. I want friends to be reunited after too long. I want all of this. I want my guests to walk away from our wedding feeling like they have truly had a good time. However, I also want Cody and me to walk away from our wedding feeling as if there were some special moments just for me and him. In the craziness of that day, I am certain it will be easy for me (not Cody because nothing stresses him out) to be crazy and flustered and frustrated with the chaos of the entire situation. Because I know I have a tendency to be a bit serious (this is code for mean) under pressure, I have found in the ever-reaching wedding blogosphere (is this a word?) a tradition that I absolutely love the idea of.
In traditional Jewish weddings, the bride and groom steal away for a few minutes after the ceremony is finished and they are alone in a room. It is called a Yichud (I could very well be using this term incorrectly) and the idea is that the bride and groom can presumably be together alone for the first time since they are now married (I'd like to think this is when Jews have sex for the first time, just for the sake of the story). I want to do this (not the have sex in a room moments after I get married part, but the be alone with Cody after the ceremony part). I want for me and Cody to sit and breathe and giggle alone for just a few minutes while the hustle and bustle of the day continues without us. I want to hear his commentary about the ceremony and hold his hand with his wedding band between my fingers and tell him he looks dashing in his recently selected wedding attire and just be for a minute with him to bask in the greatness of that fleeting moment. The older I get the more I realize I run through life like a crazy person and rarely stop to take it all in. Just once and only for a second I want to be forced to take it all in.
So I have decided that Cody and I will steal a little tradition from the Jews. We will sneak off for a moment of reflection so that neither of us look back and wonder where the day went, even though I am certain we will both do that anyway. I think I will put CP in charge of the selection of the sneaking off place. He's always been good at that sort of stuff. Go Jews! Until next time...
Beyond these things, I have also decided on a tradition that I assume will begin and end with my wedding experience. I am so very excited about the gathering of people that I hope will take place at my wedding. I want friends and family to gather and talk and laugh and celebrate life and love and all of that good stuff. I want my parents to be proud and happy for what Cody and I have accomplished. I want friends to be reunited after too long. I want all of this. I want my guests to walk away from our wedding feeling like they have truly had a good time. However, I also want Cody and me to walk away from our wedding feeling as if there were some special moments just for me and him. In the craziness of that day, I am certain it will be easy for me (not Cody because nothing stresses him out) to be crazy and flustered and frustrated with the chaos of the entire situation. Because I know I have a tendency to be a bit serious (this is code for mean) under pressure, I have found in the ever-reaching wedding blogosphere (is this a word?) a tradition that I absolutely love the idea of.
In traditional Jewish weddings, the bride and groom steal away for a few minutes after the ceremony is finished and they are alone in a room. It is called a Yichud (I could very well be using this term incorrectly) and the idea is that the bride and groom can presumably be together alone for the first time since they are now married (I'd like to think this is when Jews have sex for the first time, just for the sake of the story). I want to do this (not the have sex in a room moments after I get married part, but the be alone with Cody after the ceremony part). I want for me and Cody to sit and breathe and giggle alone for just a few minutes while the hustle and bustle of the day continues without us. I want to hear his commentary about the ceremony and hold his hand with his wedding band between my fingers and tell him he looks dashing in his recently selected wedding attire and just be for a minute with him to bask in the greatness of that fleeting moment. The older I get the more I realize I run through life like a crazy person and rarely stop to take it all in. Just once and only for a second I want to be forced to take it all in.
So I have decided that Cody and I will steal a little tradition from the Jews. We will sneak off for a moment of reflection so that neither of us look back and wonder where the day went, even though I am certain we will both do that anyway. I think I will put CP in charge of the selection of the sneaking off place. He's always been good at that sort of stuff. Go Jews! Until next time...
Monday, January 11, 2010
"Not the Bow Type"
I'm sick of planning this wedding. I'm sick of the tiny details that I have to make a decision about, despite the fact that I care nothing about those details. I want other people to tell me what will look the best or sound the best or be the best. And yet, at the exact time I want to make every single decision there is to be made, because let's be honest, I am the best decision maker there is.
On that note, I went to rent chair covers and a dance floor this weekend with my parents. We walked into this store where we were bombarded by chaos of wedding crap everywhere. There was pink and purple and red and every lovey color you could think of attacking me from every direction. There were all of these bubbly, giddy chicks asking for the most cliche crap to set off their cliche weddings. I was a bit overwhelmed and certainly uninterested in the process. At the beginning of this process, I didn't realize my Saturday afternoons would be devoted to chair covers.
Nonetheless, Misty swoops in to tell my parents and me my colors are impossible to order and that I am already way behind on booking all of these things. We proceed to learn about the exhilarating topic of chair covers when Misty has the nerve to ask me if I'd like bows on the back of my chairs. Before I even had a chance to open my mouth all the way, she says, "You don't look like the bow type." What in the heck is that supposed to mean? Am I not the bow type because I don't want a chocolate fountain and fluffy pink crap on every inch of my wedding? Am I not the bow type because I wasn't excited about chair covers on a Saturday? Am I not the bow type because I did not plan my wedding when I was eleven and a half years old and in love with Billy Bob who sat three rows up and to the left of me?
Ugh. Weddings. I don't know what I think about this entire process. The more I thought about my experience with chair covers and Misty's unwarranted analysis of what type of person I am, the more I realized perhaps me not being the bow type is the least of this. Am I even the wedding type? Am I the big white dress type? Am I the all eyes on me type? I don't know. I'm not sure if this wedding is what I (or more importantly we) want, or if it's what everyone else wants so we are doing it too.
Since this experience with chair covers, I have tried to step back from the planning frenzy and find my way back to me and Cody. Because I don't think I alone am the wedding type girl. But that is why I love Cody Prater, because with Cody by my side I realize I am a wedding girl. I am the big white dress, all eyes on me, someone take my picture type of person, because Cody and I together are worth celebrating. I will wear that big white dress and I will wear it as good as, no, better than everybody else. There is one wedding in store for me, God willing, and Cody and I are going to do it upright. Together we are very much worth gathering in the name of love and happiness and all that is good in this world.
So no, Misty, I am NOT the bow type. But for this one day in history, I am going to be that bride that embodies what being a bride is about, whether there are bows involved or not.
On that note, I went to rent chair covers and a dance floor this weekend with my parents. We walked into this store where we were bombarded by chaos of wedding crap everywhere. There was pink and purple and red and every lovey color you could think of attacking me from every direction. There were all of these bubbly, giddy chicks asking for the most cliche crap to set off their cliche weddings. I was a bit overwhelmed and certainly uninterested in the process. At the beginning of this process, I didn't realize my Saturday afternoons would be devoted to chair covers.
Nonetheless, Misty swoops in to tell my parents and me my colors are impossible to order and that I am already way behind on booking all of these things. We proceed to learn about the exhilarating topic of chair covers when Misty has the nerve to ask me if I'd like bows on the back of my chairs. Before I even had a chance to open my mouth all the way, she says, "You don't look like the bow type." What in the heck is that supposed to mean? Am I not the bow type because I don't want a chocolate fountain and fluffy pink crap on every inch of my wedding? Am I not the bow type because I wasn't excited about chair covers on a Saturday? Am I not the bow type because I did not plan my wedding when I was eleven and a half years old and in love with Billy Bob who sat three rows up and to the left of me?
Ugh. Weddings. I don't know what I think about this entire process. The more I thought about my experience with chair covers and Misty's unwarranted analysis of what type of person I am, the more I realized perhaps me not being the bow type is the least of this. Am I even the wedding type? Am I the big white dress type? Am I the all eyes on me type? I don't know. I'm not sure if this wedding is what I (or more importantly we) want, or if it's what everyone else wants so we are doing it too.
Since this experience with chair covers, I have tried to step back from the planning frenzy and find my way back to me and Cody. Because I don't think I alone am the wedding type girl. But that is why I love Cody Prater, because with Cody by my side I realize I am a wedding girl. I am the big white dress, all eyes on me, someone take my picture type of person, because Cody and I together are worth celebrating. I will wear that big white dress and I will wear it as good as, no, better than everybody else. There is one wedding in store for me, God willing, and Cody and I are going to do it upright. Together we are very much worth gathering in the name of love and happiness and all that is good in this world.
So no, Misty, I am NOT the bow type. But for this one day in history, I am going to be that bride that embodies what being a bride is about, whether there are bows involved or not.
Saturday, December 26, 2009
The Ghost of Christmas Past...and Future
So, it snowed in Fort Smith, Arkansas on Christmas Eve this year. That is like the most unlikely occurrence ever. Luckily, I have the most overprotective parents a 23 year old could ask for, and somehow ended up sleeping at my parent's house on Christmas Eve. This is not an unusual thing for me. In fact, I think I stayed a couple of nights last year over Christmas. I had decided no more of that this year. I live all of 3 miles from my parent's home anyway, so I thought I would be an official adult and stay at my duplex but the snow changed my plans. I learned after I graduated high school and went to college that "home" as I knew it before I moved out of that house is never the same again. This year I was again reminded of this.
As I sat on my newly made bed (thank you mother) Thursday night, I couldn't help but dig through drawers and look at stuff I used to be so intricately connected to. There are trophies and pictures and newspaper articles and tshirts and everything that was once me in that room. It's weird. It's eery. I couldn't help but realize that next year I will no longer be Katy Schrodt. Not that I am the Katy Schrodt that decorates those walls now, but next year I literally will not be Katy Schrodt. I will be married. I will have a new name (if I so choose). I will be part of a new family and have added somebody to my own family. It struck me as really weird. Not scary. Not bad. Just weird. It is odd to me how the memories encapsulated in that bedroom are so far from who I am now. I literally feel like that room is the room of a kid. And I am no longer a kid. I don't talk to those people. I don't play those games. I don't take credit for those acocmplishments. I have new accomplishments and new people. Although, no new games. Either way my time in that room left me a bit nostalgic. I feel like all of the other milestones of my life have been very much predicted long in advance. Marriage is not one that my family or I have ever put a date on. I chose this one on my own. It's a bit unnerving and yet very exciting at the same time. I want to be part of a new family. I want Cody to be part of mine. I'm okay with changing my name (sort of okay) because I know my name does not define me.
Nonethless as I turned out my light and looked up to the ceiling with the fake stars from 1999 that have glowed in the dark above my head for over a decade, I couldn't help but wonder where the time went. I giggled at the thought of all of the nights I went to sleep worrying over an essay due or an upcoming game or other typically high school thoughts. I felt oddly in tune with the students I teach. And oddly old. The world has officially come full circle and I can't decide if I like it or not. The solace I took from my night spent at home is this: there will always be new worries and new obstables and new milestones to remember. I am so appreciative to still have my overly protective parents and irresponsible older brother at home over Christmas. And I am thankful to have a guy like Cody to call my own and put an end to all of the late night star-gazing that often revolved around finding a guy who wasn't a complete idiot. Things are good regardless of what year it is.
Okay, in order to tie this back into my wedding planning, I need a new bridesmaid dress and I am soon to do a cake tasting. That shall suffice =).
As I sat on my newly made bed (thank you mother) Thursday night, I couldn't help but dig through drawers and look at stuff I used to be so intricately connected to. There are trophies and pictures and newspaper articles and tshirts and everything that was once me in that room. It's weird. It's eery. I couldn't help but realize that next year I will no longer be Katy Schrodt. Not that I am the Katy Schrodt that decorates those walls now, but next year I literally will not be Katy Schrodt. I will be married. I will have a new name (if I so choose). I will be part of a new family and have added somebody to my own family. It struck me as really weird. Not scary. Not bad. Just weird. It is odd to me how the memories encapsulated in that bedroom are so far from who I am now. I literally feel like that room is the room of a kid. And I am no longer a kid. I don't talk to those people. I don't play those games. I don't take credit for those acocmplishments. I have new accomplishments and new people. Although, no new games. Either way my time in that room left me a bit nostalgic. I feel like all of the other milestones of my life have been very much predicted long in advance. Marriage is not one that my family or I have ever put a date on. I chose this one on my own. It's a bit unnerving and yet very exciting at the same time. I want to be part of a new family. I want Cody to be part of mine. I'm okay with changing my name (sort of okay) because I know my name does not define me.
Nonethless as I turned out my light and looked up to the ceiling with the fake stars from 1999 that have glowed in the dark above my head for over a decade, I couldn't help but wonder where the time went. I giggled at the thought of all of the nights I went to sleep worrying over an essay due or an upcoming game or other typically high school thoughts. I felt oddly in tune with the students I teach. And oddly old. The world has officially come full circle and I can't decide if I like it or not. The solace I took from my night spent at home is this: there will always be new worries and new obstables and new milestones to remember. I am so appreciative to still have my overly protective parents and irresponsible older brother at home over Christmas. And I am thankful to have a guy like Cody to call my own and put an end to all of the late night star-gazing that often revolved around finding a guy who wasn't a complete idiot. Things are good regardless of what year it is.
Okay, in order to tie this back into my wedding planning, I need a new bridesmaid dress and I am soon to do a cake tasting. That shall suffice =).
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