Wedding Week Recaps: The Wedding Day

I was fully prepared to not sleep a wink the night before the wedding. But I slept like a baby, y’all. I was passed out and snoring by midnight.

I even hit snooze when the alarm went off the next morning, but once I realized what day it was, I was pretty much up and ready to go. Mom and I got breakfast at Tupelo Honey, my absolute favorite place for breakfast anywhere. Too bad I was too nervous to eat more than half of my plate.

Then, we proceeded to run the errands necessary to getting Dustin’s wedding gift. Mad props to the Wachovia in downtown Asheville that let me know how to get a check cashed even though I’m not a Wachovia customer (sign the check over to your Mom, who DOES bank with Wachovia, and get her to cash it for you). Extra mad props to the folks (especially LeeAnn) at the AT&T store at 1408 Patton Avenue for going the extra mile to help me get Dustin’s brand spanking new Windows 7 Phone (I got him the Samsung Focus, ’cause it’s kind of awesome).

He’s in love with it. Like crazy.

Next was hair. So we parked in a parking garage with an incredibly adorable senior citizen with no teeth as its attendant, and walked down to Ananda’s. Haven King is my stylist there (I say this as if I make regular 9-hour drives to get my hair cut…) and y’all. She’s amazing. No joke. I came in with a random assortment of vintage photos for my trial back in June, and she went to work. It’s like she read my mind. And when I was there for the wedding, she made it better. She did the back of my hair a little differently and it’s like my whole head was transformed, yet she didn’t stray from the feminine, completely vintage ‘do I wanted. And more, she made my Mom and I laugh, which was a BIG bonus. Haven, turtle, you are a darling and I’m in love with you and your awesome frocks and Fryes.

And I can’t believe it, but in the whole 2 hours I was sitting in her chair, this is the only picture we took of my hair. I call this the “7 year old prepares for church” look:Behold! Curly hair that’s been brushed out, globbed with good product, straightened, and then curled again. Also, pudgy cheeks.

My makeup appt. was next, so I hauled my rear and my mom’s rear across downtown Asheville to Makeup at the Grove Arcade, where a veritable rock star rolled in and did my face in all of 45 seconds. It was amazing. Mendy Hoffman. Look her up. Book her to brush your face with her goodness.

And this iPhone photo does no justice at all to the gorgeousness that was my wedding face. It should be noted that the lipstick Mendy mixed up for me perfectly matched my pomegranate margarita I drank at dinner after the wedding. ‘Nuff said. Note: when you book your wedding vendors, get cheerful, funny, rock stars like Haven and Mendy. They will relax you, get you to laugh, and inspire you to feel generally awesome. I sincerely believe in hiring people that bring nothing but good joo-joo to your day.

So after makeup is when things almost went downhill. I seriously underestimated how much time I should have allotted between makeup and the start of our ceremony (travel time, ceremony set-up, etc.). Thank the good Lord for Jean at The Farm, my Mom, and supremely fabulous family for shoving Reese’s cups in my mouth while avoiding my lipstick (another note: if you get hypoglycemic easily, do not skip lunch); for setting things up for me; for reminding me to breathe. I was rushing around so much that Regina had to remind me that I would probably want photos of my Mom helping me into my dress. Oh, yeah. Whoops.

So that was the only part of the day in which things felt *bad.* But it didn’t last very long. At all. Soon, I was all dressed up and pretty, and my mother-in-law was walking in with the gift Dustin got for me. There may have been some tears. Just sayin’.

I peeked out the door of the dressing room and saw the family waiting for the ceremony to start. I got a glimpse of my Dad, who I think gave me a thumbs up or something equally cheesy. He came in the dressing room with me, and there were definitely tears then. I’m such a Daddy’s girl. AND a Mamma’s girl. Is that even allowed? It was beginning to hit me. I am getting married. And my Dad thinks I’m beautiful. And my mom is already crying. Ho-ly geez.

 

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Wedding Week Recaps: Before the Wedding

I can’t believe our wedding week is over! And yes, the week of Thanksgiving shall always be our wedding week. How awesome is that?

So let’s just jump in, shall we? We drove up to Asheville on the Thursday before our wedding, because we had to get our wedding license before the wedding on Monday. And that’s the first thing we did on Friday morning.

The Register of Deeds is in a really gorgeous old building, which of course, we didn’t take any good photos of from the inside. We were kind of excited to be all legal and whatnot.To celebrate, we shopped downtown Asheville. We stocked up on spices, bread dipping herbs, and Dustin’s favorite Butcher’s Rub from the Spice and Tea Exchange. We also picked up this lovely print from Woolworth Walk:

We had to have it. I mean, c’mon. We’re English majors. I’m crazy in love with typewriters (hello typewriter key jewelry!). And that middle row of keys there? Totally our new monogram. How sad is it that 2 tech nerds didn’t notice the first 3 letters of the 2nd row on a QWERTY keyboard are our monogram? It’s meant to be.

By then, it was only nearing 11 am, so we decided to head over to 12 Bones Smokehouse, which was amazing. And I’m glad we got there early, because as we were leaving around noon, the line was crazy. And not just ’cause Obama ate there. Although that’s pretty awesome, too. They also had this hanging up in the bathroom, right next to a trick mirror that made my butt look small and cute:This cracked me up. And it wasn’t just ’cause I was getting married in a few days.

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We Did It!

We’re married!

And it only took us 2 years and a trip to Asheville to do it.

And y’all. Oh my goodness. It feels so good to be married. I’m Dustin’s wife. He’s my husband. We’re MARRIED!

And we’ve got tons of pictures to show you, and lots of stories to tell. And as soon as I get our house straightened and our laundry washed and the dishes put up, I can’t wait to sit down and tell you all about it.

But for now, here’s just a little sneak peak of our big day:We are so in love.

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This Is It!

So you know how they tell you that you’ll be completely a big ball of nerves before your wedding? It’s totally true.

The complete anxiety is a thousand times worse when you’re PMS-ing. Just saying.

But through losing something every day (photo charms, boots, my debit card), crying at the drop of a hat, being mildly disappointed that I’m missing out on “normal” wedding stuff, and mild panic attacks when I let myself think too much about what’s going to go down in the next couple of days, I’m stoked beyond words.

Dustin and I tried on our wedding rings the other day, you know, just to see ’em, and it was pure joy.

So, it seems like this is it.

I made my fascinators.

My brooch bouquet, a painstaking project I almost abandoned, is blissfully and beautifully complete. The Thanksgiving menu is made. I even knit a garter just for my own little self (note: probably not the best idea to start your first lacework piece just a week out from your wedding).  I’ve made “welcome to our wedding” bags for our family.

These are complete with an “Our Favorite Places” booklet, and an informational booklet with addresses, directions, and phone numbers. Hair and makeup appointments are confirmed. I decorated my shoes all cute and silly:I made monogrammed vintage hankies to put in the ladies’ programsOur ceremony is written, our vows practiced. Our custom ring bowl is made, and our rings are waiting to be tied into it.

And most of all? I’m completely ready to marry the most perfect man in the world.

Bring it on, November 22nd, I’m ready.

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I love birdcage veils. Always have. I first saw them watching old movies on TCM, and I fell in love with the sight of gorgeous silver screen sirens, usually weeping behind a black birdcage veil, dabbing their eyes with a delicate hanky. Faye Dunaway in Chinatown. She’s not exactly delicate, and she isn’t dabbing, but I couldn’t actually find an image of the film noir damsel in distress I have in my memory.

I wore two vintage birdcage veil / hat combos for my boudoir photos, and I knew I’d wear a birdcage veil on my wedding day.

I’d originally set out to make one myself, and despite the ample handful of really great tutorials out there for DIY-ing a veil, I just don’t trust my buying/cutting/sewing skills. So I set out to find an affordable alternative. Enter birdcageveils.com. Apparently, this is a little veil shop run through a bridal boutique in Texas. I took a leap of faith with this one. Buying a veil is usually done in person, at a bridal boutique, with several (hundred) more dollars passing hands. I’m in Podunk, MS–there isn’t a bridal boutique, and I don’t have lots of money to spend on a veil. So I went for it. And I ordered the 17″ Russian netting Emma veil for $37. $37. My shoes were more expensive than that.

I’m going to wear it more angled than the image above (click through the Emma link above, and watch the short video at the bottom of the page. That’s how I want it!), and with a much less…feathery…fascinator.

Speaking of fascinators, I am going to make that. I saw one on birdcageveils.com that I really liked, but at $45, I couldn’t bring myself to pay that much for a silk flower. So I’ve ordered pretty white silk flowers, with rhinestone centers, and will be making my own fascinator to clip into my hair and veil. Seems like a perfect compromise since I wasn’t brave enough to tackle sewing my own veil.

Now I just need a delicate hankie and a detective’s office to walk into, and I’ll be set.

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Traditions, My Grandmother, and What November 22nd Can Mean

This is my grandmother, Audris.

She was a teacher for 37 1/2 years. I’m on my third year.

She grew up in rural Mississippi, and play-fought (and probably really fought) with her siblings.

So did I.

One of my most prominent memories of Mamaw is her garden. Always big, always growing. And that dirt. That hot red clay dirt. I don’t remember if this is actually one of Mamaw’s gardens–my other grandmother and aunts always kept gardens, too, but in my memory, this is always what it looked and felt like.  I keep plants in potting soil planters on my back porch.

She knit this hat for me. It’s bright, very gaudy, and not proportional to my giant toddler head. And it’s exactly my taste. I’ve taught myself to knit, and regret that I didn’t take advantage of Mamaw’s needlework skills before her fingers became too arthritic to hold crochet needles.

She’s ferociously stubborn, to a fault, as am I. We disagree bitterly about lots of things. We pick fights. We love to argue for argument’s sake. But we smile as big as we scowl.

This is Mamaw’s husband, Arnold.

He was killed in a hunting accident when my Mom was 10, so I never met him, but I know this about him: he was a pastor, could play any stringed instrument he picked up, encouraged my mother to get all dressed up, then drove her to the mailbox and back after she said she wanted to go somewhere. He was in the Navy during WWII. His nickname was “Red,” because of his red hair and beard. One of my favorite photos of him is one in which he’s dressed as a clown, plucking the strings of a cello.

My grandmother must have loved him deeply, because after he died, she never remarried. I don’t even know if she ever even thought about remarrying.

And this I learned about them just today: they were married November 22, 1951, Thanksgiving Day. Dustin and I will be marrying on the same day, exactly 59 years later.

I don’t believe much in fate or predestination, but I can’t help but feel that there was a little something extra guiding our hands with this one. For all the planning we’ve done, the rearranging, the location-changing, the date, November 22nd, has remained constant. It was the day Dustin proposed in 2008, and it’s been marked on our calendars since soon after that.

Mamaw won’t be able to be there at our wedding. Her health is too bad, and the trip is too far. But this, I feel, is some small gesture, a remembrance of the love she’s experienced in her life. I’m honored to inherit her legacy.

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Kismet, Kate

Dustin got called into a 3-hour training session at work, so I drove up with him. Afterward, I was a mean fiancee, and made him go shoe shopping with me. Out of nowhere, my wedding shoes jumped out and slipped themselves onto my feet.

Hello, Rocket Dog Orients:The store didn’t have the red ones in my size (shame on you, Shoe Carnival!), but I tried on the black pair, and they looked great. And of course, the minute I started looking online for them, I found they also made them in blue(berry, to be specific). Hello, gorgeous.

So which should it be, dear readers o’ mine? Red or Blueberry? I’m completely torn, and both would look great.

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