Save the Date! and the whales! and Ferris!

Our Save-the-Dates turned out so beautifully, and Stephanie from Stelie Designs has been an absolute dream to work with. I had a vision and a budget at the beginning of the process, and she has managed to exceed my expectations (that's a major understatement - and I had high expectations!) while staying within the budget. Thank you so much, Stephanie!!

That's Stephanie's original graphic, which has turned out to be inspiration for a lot of the wedding - autumn, Ithaca, apples, nature... you get the picture. We don't want the wedding to be formal but still want it to feel refined, so I thought the paper products should reflect that feeling. We went with a 4x6 postcard for environmental and financial reasons (and are doing the same for RSVPs). After many font searches (thanks, dafont.com!) and text tweaks, here's what we came up with:

blurry computer-screen version; close-up of cream recycled paper. Both images/designs property of Stelie Designs.

I was a little irked that the postage rates went up right before we sent these out (my fault... I was out of town forever), but let's be honest - we wouldn't have saved a big chunk of change. And as it turned out, we got to use these... which go great with our farmers' market theme!

A few perverted friends made comments about the stamps, and that's just fine with me. source

Get ready for the branch graphic to explode on the invitations!

How did you choose your invitations? Did you shop for them, DIY, or have them custom-made?

Baby's first DIY!

I have grand dreams of wedding craftiness: centerpieces/table number signs, pretty invitation mailing labels (my handwriting won't cut it, but calligraphy is just too expensive), throwies for the paper lanterns, out-of-town bags, table assignment board, cake toppers, chuppah, non-floral boutonnieres, and a few other things. I hope I'll be able to complete all of these, because I think they'll really add a lot to the meaning of the event - and, as a bonus, they might save some money. A little. And anyway, I'm going to make Tim do the throwies and the chuppah. Bwahahahaha! Also, since we have a farmers' market theme (more on that later, but I'm going for a sort of "rustic elegance" vibe), a lot of handmade touches will fit right in. Here are two pictures I found that I'd like to try semi-recreating:

centerpiece inspiration from The Knot; table assignment chalkboard - source unknown

Since I'm in a creative field, I sometimes get a little cocky and overestimate my abilities to create non-musical art. I do have a good eye for color and design, and I have very definite opinions. So that's helpful... at least in this instance! But the sad truth is that I'm klutzy, and I also have a tendency to rush through projects because I get nervous about how much time I'm "wasting" on them rather than practicing or cleaning or other "productive" things. My recently-implemented tactic (major props to my friend Amy) is twofold: start with the small/easy stuff, and more importantly, do things in small and manageable batches.

So far I've stained 25 mini chalkboards ($0.75 each at AC Moore for double-sided, wood-framed 5x7 boards) to put the table names/ numbers/ drawings on. (I think I'm going to enlist Tim, the resident cartoonist and doodler, to draw pictures of various fruits and veggies instead of having table numbers or written names. Is that too... um... corny? Ha! Sorry. Couldn't help myself. But really - too cutesy?) 

My other project a couple weeks back was to clean the labels off the 17 jelly jars I have so far (to put votives in), and wrapping the threaded tops with twine. I then tied the twine in a knot and finished it off by adding a thin purple-ribbon bow. I thought this would be really easy (and maybe it should have been), but my big ol' viola-player hands are not so dextrous when I'm trying to do delicate things. (Insert viola joke.) It was really hard to incorporate the bows into the twine without it unraveling and looking like a total mess, and I also had to figure out what length of ribbon to cut - I didn't want to skimp, but I also didn't want to cut off huge lengths in the end when I realized they were way too long. Little things, but it did take me a while to get into a rhythm. Here's the semi-finished product:

I had an idea for boutonnieres to incorporate drumstick allium and fiddleheads... cue "awwww." Unfortunately, those will both be out of season come October. So my options are:

 -order silk ones (kind of hard to find)

-use some of my grandma's bead flowers, some of which will also go into my headpiece

-use dried flora (just like Martha!)

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similar to my grandma's. source

I'm actually shamelessly copying Martha on the "base" of the boutonnieres, but since my sewing skills are slightly beneath those of my cat, I cast my line into the Etsy universe. User KollectionbyKetura answered my Alchemy wishes and is making the leaves for me! Even better, she lives just a few hours from me, so I don't have to feel too bad about the environmental toll of shipping something so tiny a long way.

If I don't succeed in incorporating the allium and fiddleheads into the boutonnieres, fret not... they can still exist in all their cheesy glory on the guys' ties! We're having custom ties made by (you guessed it) Etsy seller Jes Switaj, who said she'd be happy to create a new silkscreen with that design. 

Are any of you obsessed with personal touches but less talented at carrying them out yourself? How are you incorporating these details into your wedding?

10.5 is the loneliest number.

After my accident, I was dismayed to discover that my left foot (formerly a size 10, just like my right foot) had decided to become a size 10.5. Now, you know how when you turn a shoe over at a store to check the price, it usually also says something like "6-10; 11" too? That means the shoes come in half sizes from 6 to 10. And then skip to 11. For some reason, women who wear a 10.5 are SOL. Huh? I can more easily understand stopping at size 10, or even just offering whole sizes. But "6-10; 11" always confounded me, and now it makes me just plain cranky.

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Zappos, Piperlime, Endless, Nordstrom, and even--I'm a little embarrassed to say--the Bible-happy Sierra Trading Post (religion is cool; I just think it's a little weird they put it right in their mission statement... so to speak) have all provided me with the wondrous "search-by-size" option. And they have more 10.5s than a corrupt Olympic judge! (groan...)

Some of these sites even have a heel height search, which is pretty sweet. At least a few of them generously offer free shipping and/or free returns. Awesome! The sad fact is that I don't often find well-fitting shoes when I'm shopping in brick-and-mortar stores anymore, and I also usually can't buy cheap shoes because they're just so bad for my ankle. In the process of buying many, many new pairs of shoes to experiment with (all in the interest of my health, of course...), I've discovered that kitten heels and moderate wedges are best for me because they offer sturdy support, aren't too tall, and take a little pressure off the $#&^ ankle.

Since I have such a hard time finding shoes, they were accessory priority #1 after figuring out my dress. Alas, I'm still hunting for the perfect pair. I don't have too many style constraints - I can't, considering I have to worry about the heel height, type of heel (not too skinny), and of course, the size! European sizes seem to work well for me, too.

Here are a few pairs I found while browsing Zappos the other night:

beige - Bandolino; red - Stuart Weitzman; pewter and gold - La Canadienne. All from Zappos.

And here are some I discovered at Nordstrom.com:

cream, red, and purple - Linea Paolo; red with bow - Bruno Magli. All from Nordstrom.

I actually ordered the purple suede ones, which look like they'll very closely match the purple bridesmaids' dresses (more on that later) and the purple on my dress. The site says they run narrow, though, so I'd like to try on a few sizes. Unfortunately, Nordstrom doesn't offer free shipping for that small an order, so I ordered the 10.5 and am keeping my fingers crossed.

Do you have constraints that are making shoe (or other) shopping less fun than it should be?

Say heck yeah to the dress!

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The idea of a bridal salon has always scared the crap out of me. I see pictures like this and my heart starts beating really fast... and not in a good way.

I usually prefer shopping by myself, so the idea of having one person assigned to me kind of gave me hives. And since I'm several sizes larger than the usual sample sizes (I'm 5'10" and a size 16), I couldn't imagine it being exactly an ego boost having to hold the dresses up in front of me because they wouldn't fit over my hips.

I first started looking online at Watters dresses. For my brother and sister-in-law's wedding in November 2007, I wore a really nice bridesmaid dress from them that was almost too long! (Granted, I ordered an extra-long, but it was still pretty exciting.) Some of the dresses I was looking at:

all images from watters.com

You might notice a theme: A-line with straps and a V-type neckline. Nope, no strapless for me. I love the idea of being able to wear a normal bra... I just can't handle any other contraptions for more than a few hours. So that left me with far fewer options, and I extended my search to bridesmaids' dresses. These very simple silhouettes work much better for me, anyway - basically, I know what works for my body, and although I know I might discover something surprising if I went and tried on a zillion dresses, it just wasn't worth it to me.

But none of these dresses really did anything for me, besides make me feel like I was boring and predictable. :-(  I knew they'd look fine on me, but they just weren't "different" enough. The other factors have to do with my job: one, I have to dress formally a *lot* and... well... I'm kind of over looking awesome while feeling kind of uncomfortable; and two, if I'm going to have something custom-made that I love, why not get something I'll wear for a performance later on? I don't subscribe to the notion that I'll want to keep it "special" - I mean, if I play a concert wearing my wedding dress, won't that feel special?

Anyway, that's where offbeatbride.com stepped in and saved the day, introducing me to the ultra-fabulous Chrissy Wai-Ching. I went nuts.

I looked at some of her dresses (OK, stalked all of them for several weeks while e-mailing back and forth with Chrissy, all before Tim and I were officially engaged) and decided that the Pandereta would work best for me, but not strapless. 

source: indie bride's Wai-Ching repository on Kodak Gallery (requires password)

Then I thought her signature embroidery would look best on me if it were around the waist and bust, going all the way around - which made her also-signature back ties seem a little excessive for my simple vision.

ibid.

I decided that I'd like the embroidery to be really dense, with my favorite colors - dark shades of purple, red, and teal - and that I'd like kickpleats in the back with the same colors.

ibid.

Finally, I thought that with those colors, a darker, richer champagne color would look better for the base of the dress (as well as on my skin). Here's what Chrissy whipped up, but with the kickpleats sketched in the front so I could see them:

image/design property of Chrissy Wai-Ching

There have been a few more tweaks that I'll keep a surprise until I've had my fitting in July. I know it's far from traditional, but it's very me - much like my ring (coming soon). What do you think?

Do you shudder at the thought of bridal salons, was it the best shopping experience of your life, or do you fall somewhere in between? Please share your dress stories!

Our story, part 5: to the gorges and beyond

Fast forward: after living together for 5 years in Boston, both of us were feeling ready for a change. Both Tim and I were doing reasonably well in the Boston area, but that translates to a lot of driving... for us, 100,000+ miles on a shared car over 3 years. 

1: A car just like our noble little Saturn, but their hubcaps look a whole lot better. source

2: the Storrow 500 in Boston... an all-too-familiar sight. source

There's a very long story related to Tim's doctorate of musical arts from Yale, but suffice it to say that the process was frustrating and difficult. Because he was ABD but couldn't formally call himself that (part of said long story), he had a hard time even getting interviews for academic jobs. Finally, in fall 2006, he went to give his final recital and oral exams. He immediately found out he had passed and was told he'd receive his degree at commencement in May. YAY!

That smile says, "Finally!!!"

Over the winter, he started the process of applying for a few more percussion faculty jobs that had opened up around the country (there are only 2 or 3 a year, in a good year). One of these jobs was at Cornell University in Ithaca, NY (an Ivy League school, which was ideal for a smarty pants wanting to work with other smarty pantses). He was one of three candidates invited to interview on campus... but unfortunately, he felt like he completely bombed the interview and lecture-recital. In fact, he was so depressed about it that he took a detour to Cooperstown on the drive back to Boston.

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We both tried to forget about it (yeah right), but the next month was complete hell knowing that he might hear any day. He thought he had no chance but was still clinging to one little bit of hope. In April, I went to Amsterdam for a performance competition. An unfortunate turn of events led to my getting the flu and lying in bed the whole trip, waiting for him to Skype me. But one day, I was so bored that I couldn't wait for him to get home. I called his cell phone from Skype (terrible connection) when I knew he'd be driving home from work.

Once... no answer.

Twice... no answer.

Grrr.

Third time... "Wendy??"

me: "Hey man!"

him: "grblehasfkjds Ithaca?"

me: "........... huh?"

him: "pifenermkweq Ithaca???"

me (increasingly nervous and excited): "WHAT?"

him: "Do you want to move to Ithaca?"

[much screaming and crying]

Obviously, he'd been offered the job, and of course, I *did* want to move to Ithaca! It didn't take us long to decide on the next step - in the summer of 2007, we said goodbye to Jamaica Plain and Boston, heading to the gorges of Ithaca.

Hemlock Gorge

Have you had to make a big move for your partner's job, or did you opt for long-distance when something came up? Was the decision a no-brainer, or did you agonize over it?

Our story, part 4: Why I'm pretty darn sure he'll take good care of me when I'm old

After hearing that my accident was worse than we'd originally thought, Tim hopped on a bus from Boston to North Adams and drove his woozy girlfriend's rental car to Mass General Hospital in Boston. 

Vicodin... that's some serious stuff.

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I will preface the next section by saying that I ultimately had a very good experience at MGH, but the first few hours there, with several very cocky residents, left something to be desired.

Multiple times, they asked why I had gone to a podunk hospital instead of going to MGH right away. (Um... because the accident didn't happen here? And they didn't realize how bad it was because the equipment is flawed? And, um, by the way, the accident didn't happen here?) The young guy who seemed to be in charge was obviously very excited about the power he had and was doing everything he could to impress his underlings. At one point, he couldn't be bothered to find paper, so he drew a [very rudimentary and unhelpful] picture of my ankle on the cloth sheet. With ballpoint pen.

Anyway, hours after that anatomy lesson, I finally got my scans. It turned out that in addition to multiple fractures in my tibia and fibula, I had completely shattered my talus. (In fact, each time I visited my surgeon the following year, his version of the verb got worse: shattered, crushed, pulverized, turned into smithereens... no joke.)

The next day, I woke up from with 2 stainless steel plates and 15 screws (some titanium, some stainless) that are in my leg to this day. The implants still give me some trouble - this was over 2 years ago - and it's possible that at some point I'll have to have more surgery to remove them and maybe even (PLEASE no!) fuse my ankle. Interestingly enough, I do not set off airport metal detectors, which is pretty surprising given that they're millimeters from the surface of my skin and I can feel them when I touch my leg! I have to say, it doesn't exactly increase my faith in the metal detector technology.

my x-rays

I was on crutches and had a giant Aircast boot for 3 months, and then I used a cane for another 2-3 months. As far as learning to walk again, well... I conveniently forgot that it would be an issue until it actually was one. For some reason (sometimes referred to as denial), I was sure I'd be running up and down stairs and training for my first marathon within days. Um... yeah. Damn, that was hard - especially stairs. They're still tough. 

The Boot.

It's been a really, really long process - physically, of course, but especially emotionally. If Tim hadn't been there for me, I don't know how I would have gotten through it. In an incredible stroke of good luck (or at least karma), we were working together at the American Repertory Theater for two months, so the logistics were much easier than if we'd both been driving our one car all over the Boston area to do our teaching and gigging. Tim gave 

me door-to-door service everywhere, carried all my stuff (there was and always is a lot of it), made sure I was comfortable in my seat wherever we were going, and was always checking up on me. Then when we got home, he carried all his own stuff and mine up 3 flights of stairs, changed my bandages, hand-washed the special socks I had to wear with the Aircast, made me food, helped me bathe, massaged my ankle and leg... you name it, he did it - some just for 3 months, some ongoing. Not the helping me bathe, most of the time. :-D  He did all the grocery shopping and laundry, too (there was no laundry in our building, and we usually share both those duties), until we discovered grocery delivery and wash & fold! Did I mention this went on for over 3 months?

Of course, he had his share of grumpiness about it, and we both had to put up with a fair bit of depression surrounding the whole thing. It was really hard to keep everything in perspective, and he was good about gently reminding me that it could have been unspeakably worse, while still commiserating over how much it sucked. A lot of people who didn't see me every day had no idea how bad the injury was. Some people were and still are really wonderful about asking me how I'm doing with it, but Tim had to live with it every day and still does.

He's been my biggest cheerleader through the whole thing and is always trying to get me to work harder at making it better, still remaining totally considerate of the ups and downs. He's so sensitive about it, always running to my defense when someone forgets or doesn't know there's something wrong with me. Even though I already knew he was the guy for me, the way he took care of me sealed the deal.

The day I got rid of my crutches, Heidi-style, we celebrated by going to a Red Sox (my team)/Yankees (his) game at Fenway. I might even grudgingly admit that maybe, just once, he karmically deserved to have his team win.

Ehhhh.... never mind.  source

When did you know your sig. oth. was the one you'd grow old with? Did you grow to feel this way, or was there a specific moment that told you?

Our story, part 3: stage diving, or the end of the ballet career I never had*

In March 2006 I was part of a week-long residency at a museum/theater space in western MA, rehearsing and preparing to play a newly-written opera. One fateful night, before the dress rehearsal started, I put my viola on my seat and went backstage to go to the bathroom. Apparently there was an announcement that the tech guys were going to run through light cues, but there wasn't an intercom backstage, or it wasn't working, or something. Anyway, when I came back out, the theater was pitch-black... guess they were testing their full blackout. :-)  In the commotion of trying to get back to my seat and waiting for them to turn the lights back on, I stepped around what I thought was the conductor's podium... but it was actually the edge of the stage.

Now, this was not your normal stage. The musicians were sitting atop a sort of "reverse pit" that stood six feet above the four-foot stage itself. I stepped into the void and fell once, rolling onto the stage, and fell again to the floor. The whole time, I was yelling, "oh my god oh my god oh my god," and the scene turned to complete pandemonium. People were swearing a blue streak (amazingly, *not* me) and screaming, "turn the *^%(^ lights on! someone just fell!" In a rare moment of lucidity, I held my arms to my chest to protect them, and I ended up falling on my back with my neck cradled by three giant spotlights. Coupled with the moments afterwards, when I saw my friends and colleagues looking down at me with ashen faces (that memory still makes my heart stop), it was the most frightening moment of my life.

It kind of felt like this. source

I'm pretty sure I didn't pass out, or at least not for long. My head kind of hurt, but so did my elbow - and since my priorities are completely out of whack because my arms = my job, I kept flexing my fingers, trying to make sure my hands still worked. I didn't even think to look at my ankle, which was in a big suede boot and therefore certainly not messed up.

Never thought I'd find myself sourcing from here, but if the shirt fits...

Soon, I ended up at the very small local hospital near the museum. The nurses there were amazing about getting me in right away, letting my friends be with me in the room, and just generally making things less scary. They took X-rays, set my broken ankle, and told me I'd be OK to play the performance the next night. Setting it was excruciatingly, horrendously painful - and I'd soon find out why.

At 7 the next morning, I was awakened from my Vicodin-induced slumber by a different doctor from the one I'd seen the night before. He told me that X-rays unfortunately can't capture most of the talus, which is the bone "inside" the ankle that basically allows the joint to move. They had already seen that my tibia and fibula were broken in several places, which is obviously bad but still relatively straightforward to treat. When he looked at the corner of the X-ray, he thought that something might be wrong with my talus. Actually, he was virtually certain, and told me I should go back to Boston right away for CT scans and probable surgery. I made dozens of phone calls - to my parents, Tim (who had been playing a show the night before and not heard about it until very late), and an orthopedic surgeon who is a friend of my parents - trying to convince them that I was fine and could play the opera that night. I could go back to Boston right away the next day! I'd be fine!

The doctor friend was the one who put his foot down (so to speak) and said, "Look. If they're telling you they won't do the surgery at the local hospital, you know this has to be bad."

Next up: why I'm telling you this.

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*And for that, the world is very thankful.