Burlap & BBQ: A Tale of Wedding Planning and Awkward Photos

As much as I've always tried to picture it, it's still kind of wild to think that I am getting married in 3 1/2 months. I should be better at picturing it. I mean, I've binge-watched "Say Yes the the Dress" and seen "Married at First Sight" which naturally are the major stepping stones for marital bliss.  And yet, as it gets closer upon us, it feels more and more surreal that I could get to be there, with A, under a whimsical arch, with every person in the world that we cherish right there with us. That this magical barn will light up for us beneath a smeared pink and yellow sky, and we will have to -gasp- dance in front of hundreds of people. It all seems like something six-year old Kristen read about it in one of her books, with unruly ringlets behind my back, thinking about wearing the softest, most beautiful white dress. It doesn't quite match up to the Kristen I am now, who is messy, drinks too much coffee and has dog hair in crevices of her old couch that should never be explored.

There are a lot of things I thought would be different. Things you can't really be prepared for until it is happening. Here are some of the things that have surprised me:

1) The Photos

Now, let me first admit that it is cool having 94 photos of you in fancy clothing with a guy like A, who makes you look small and is so charming with his ginger beard. That being said, the number of times I had to grab A's face/chin during photos, and him mine, was downright foreign. We stared into each others' eyes so much, I practically smacked his forehead by the end out of sheer dizziness from his green irises. We also did a lot of cheesy stances we never would do in real life, and I actually wore a little make-up, so we were definitely playing "dress-up".  It basically was like taking prom photos, except for these were artsy versions where you pretend there is a bird in the background you're staring at. Really, we were sweating profusely in the heat of an Austin October and I wanted to ask A if he brought scissors so I could cut my pants off of me and let my legs just breathe.

When we got the photos though, it was amazingly awesome. WAY more exciting than I had expected. We had beautiful light silhouetting us, tons of options for me to pick which picture I looked skinniest in, and only about half the photos had one or both of us making special faces. It was for sure a "win" in the wedding list column for photos. Now, what in the world we DO with these photos, that I don't know. At least later on we can look at them in a photo book or something and think, wow, we wore a lot of flannel......

2) The Budget

Let me just say, the wedding world is an INDUSTRY. I still can't believe people have the audacity to charge so much for things. Florists charging $100/foot for a decorated arch! It is unreal. This is especially wild when your entire adult life you have had scant more than that in your savings at any given time. Something that helped was A's friend's comment, while on speakerphone. He said, "People want to come celebrate you, and it is selfish not to give them a party and meal to honor you." It reminded us that, though having a wedding is exorbitant, and we could educate a lot of poor children for the amount of it (something that is my go-to conversion for guilt), we can keep it simple while still accepting that we have to feed over two hundred people, and I can wear a pretty dress, and we can have delicious craft beer without being the most selfish people in the entire world. It has also been fun to think of ways to dodge a lot of money traps, like flowers. We are going to order through Trader Joe's and keep it very simple with their mixed bouquets. Luckily, having your wedding in a barn pretty makes anything fancy seem ridiculous, so it's much easier to not get pulled into having fancy table cloths or real china on the tables. Plastic is so hip, right? We will just compost the rest of our life to make-up for the landfill residue....

3) The Decisions

My kind of decision is what to watch on my Roku on a weeknight, while eating dinner in bed snuggled comfortably in my ginormous sweatpants. Really painting a picture for you, huh? Literally the only TV shows I regularly watch are The Office and Gilmore Girls....just those....over and over....since 2001. So, decisions might not be my thing. I especially struggle with disappointing people. I want these decisions to make everyone happy, and I have had to learn to accept that they just can't. People are going to disagree with how A and I want to do things, and what our values are, but we have to just smile, accept their criticism, and hold firm to what we believe is right for us.

A has actually been great at helping me make decisions. When I got caught up in a Hobby Lobby frenzy and panicked about wanting to buy miniature cowbells as "gifts" for the guests, he gently guided me off the trinket ledge and encouraged me to stop. I have had to decide on colors, vacations, decorations, themes, and had to consider things I never have thought about before....like what kind of bride am I? (I still don't know the answer to this one.) How will I have cupcakes while still shoving cake into A's face? Do we allow children at the wedding, or not? It can be exhausting.....but then again, I guess these problems are about as annoying as when a skinny person says it's hard having a metabolism that's so fast she has to eat every two hours or she'll faint.....So I just smile, make the decision, and remember how adorable A will look in his old-fashioned suit, watching me come out of barn doors....That is at least the one decision I know I will want to make over and over-saying yes to that man and walking toward him on our wedding day as one, and walking back as two.

4) The Partnership

I feel like A and I are in business together. We write up contracts, send emails constantly about dates, times, numbers, and we write checks so much I literally had to order more. I sometimes feel like after this, we should have some kind of brochure or something that advertises and showcases the empire we've erected. Each day we go through this process, I am so, so grateful for his partnership. He has done almost all the contacting, contracts and finalizing of all the big things, while I putter away on my Pinterest board and develop insidious late-night Etsy habits buying monogrammed wooden signs. I have seen many people go through this process of wedding planning, and I'm so grateful that I have a true partner to do this with, who equally dreams about our wedding day, wants to document it, enjoy it, and cherish it. Even if the desire is not equal, he graciously pretends it is, which is basically the same thing. One afternoon, while sorting through addresses and Etsy boxes (which now have become ominous entities squished into my hallway closet) A told me, "I don't know how some women do this alone. It is so sad that men don't care about this stuff, or how important of a day it is."

If possible, I loved him more in that moment than even before.

5) The Perfection of it All

This may have been the craziest three months of my life, but I have fallen more in love with A than I ever could have imagined, and I have felt so blessed to have all the people we love in the world celebrate and encourage our union. It is truly a humbling time, while also being invigorating. And even though A was told he wouldn't have time to eat the BBQ sliders at our wedding (and his mild breakdown afterward), I will find a way to slip him a plate, for all the times he has slipped strength and comfort to me over these past months of crazyiness.


Sometimes we catch ourselves fast forwarding, as all humans do, to the future. A will stare longingly at houses online and moan. We want so badly to be settled and to spend Saturdays fixing up our home. We want to fast forward to the week of our wedding, surrounded by family and friends. We want to fast forward to living together and sharing in that unique level of trust and comfort that comes with that.

But, we have only a few more months to enjoy the 'right now'. The last days I will, God willing, ever live without A, and be able to come home, talk to no one, and have delicious evenings where I am curled up with Amelia,  eating in bed, listening to her weird dog snores in the quiet peace of my own room.

As I think about all that is yet to come, while the rain finally falls from the sky outside and I sip my peppermint tea, I realize that I do want to stay here, in this moment, for a while longer and stare out at the great expanse of joy sprawled out before me these next months. For this is a beautiful, incandescent space to be in. In fact, it is quite what I have waited for all my life.

I will leave you with this quote:

"Appreciate life as it happens. Moments will soon pass and you will wish you had treasured them more."

National Parks and Poop Water

I had you at poop water, didn't I?

Let me start at the beginning. The morning after my "Nerdy 30" party I pulled a very rookie move and thought A and I should start our three week road trip, through six states, early in the morning. Our 7am departure hazily turned into an 11am one, which was executed only after we cleaned up the house, I was given a coffee IV, we hoisted our camping gear into my CRV, and accepted the delightful muffins and Gatorades A's parents gave us and we promptly devoured. Our destinations were chosen based on park awesomness and geographical nearness, a very meticulous decision process, as you can imagine. In the end we chose (in order):        The Grand Canyon-Zion-Bryce Canyon-Capitol Reef-Arches-Grand Tetons.

We drove over 5,000 miles and discovered a LOT about each other.

That first morning, we made an enormous bet. Not a glamorous Vegas bet, with red velvet tables, but the kind of bet where if you lose, you want to curl into a ball in the corner. We not only bet on good weather, open campsites etc, but we bet on each other. He was betting that I did not all of a sudden have a personality change and reveal that I actually HATE the outdoors, and my favorite hobbies suddenly twisted into nagging him excessively, complaining about a lack of technology, and perhaps revealing my dream of being a pop star and serenading him with endless melodic failures while he is forced to smile and tell me I'm talented. I was betting that he would not unfold, like a beautiful origami bird being doused in water, from the man I loved into one who was grumpy, yelled profanities at female drivers, and would comment negatively on the amount of plaid and pigtails that I planned for the duration.

It is wild to think that many married people will have never spent the length of time together that A and I did, which was 24 hours a day, for three weeks. Not only is this a significant chunk of time, it became clear that being in a relationship with your best friend is a crucial component for not wanting to light your partner on fire with a bun-son burner. It's hard to really paint the picture of the level of intimacy, but it helps if you know that A is 6'4" and we stayed in an alleged "two person" backpacking tent suitable only for Tolkien characters. A's feet and head literally touched the tent's interior edges, constantly threatening to pluck open the seams, and we could not both lay on our backs simultaneously. You have to really love someone to commit to that kind of confinement with them, and that's even before I've told you the added elements of sweat, dirt and craft-beer-desperation that was also brewing in the tiny REI-produced cave. Even so, we managed to laugh, smile, and enjoy the beauty of joining nature's slow way of sprawling out the days. Each morning, we felt the sun rise, and listened sleepily as the wind slowly swirled into our tent. At night, we relaxed to the sweet silence of nothing, the dropping temperatures that cause you to deliciously curl into your sleeping bag, and of course, the debilitating fear from the cacophony of snapping snicks outside (which A was convinced must be a bear wanting to lick off his beard oil as a night cap).

Now that I've painted a picture of us, sweating, smiling, sun burned and finally realizing we have an REI addiction problem, I can segway into the poop water story.

Day One: Five hours and a trivial amount of minutes in.

We stopped at yet another nondescript gas station in New Mexico. It had been hours of staring at cement and concrete as we drive, the sun beating down relentlessly. We decided to stop since I apparently pee every one-two hours. As we went in, I grabbed my canteen, since I, of course, care deeply about the environment and would be appalled to buy anything with-GULP-plastic! As I went into the bathroom, I did a quick scan....multiple stalls, only a mild urine saturation smell, medium-high level grossness of the sink.....somehow this all added up to me thinking it was a fabulous idea to fill up my canteen. Well, as I exited, I felt really good about myself, in a way that middle-class people do when they do basically anything mildly helpful for the planet. As I walked pass the chip assortment I saw A BUYING WATER! I walked up to him, scowling, my eye brows almost touching in judgement, and remarked, "Why are you buying water when you can get it for free?"

He responds, "I don't want dirty gas station water, plus this is cold. It's only one dollar...you can have some, too."

Naturally, I respond very maturely, "I'm not going to drink your bougie water!"    

I feel as though I did something like a strut as I walked out and got back in the passenger side door. As A paid, I listened to the sweet squeak of my canteen lid turning as I took it off, and went for a nice swig of water, when an abhorrent smell violated my nostrils. I pinched my nose in horror. Right then, A opened the driver door and started the car as I examined my canteen further.

I turned to A and asked him, "Does this smell funny?"almost exactly like the clip from "Shit White Girls Say".

A took a sniff, while dutifully watching the road, and his eyes got wide as he responded, "That smells like shit!"

A then gave me the good advice (in theory) of throwing the contents out the window. So, the rest of this story, I can definitely blame on him and society for not teaching me how one properly dispels liquid from a moving vehicle.

Event One: I panicked and rolled down the window, my eyes nearly shut in horror at what I nearly put in my mouth.

Event Two: The window was down half way, my head positioned in the middle, ready to deploy the liquid immediately.

Event Three: I pour all the contents of the canteen out and watch them fly out the window.

Event Four: I watch, mouth gaping in horror, as they fly right back at me, soaking my face and shirt.

Event Five: I turn to look at A, who is now crying.

Four minutes later: A is still dying of laughter, basically convulsing as he grips the steering wheel. I'm not sure if he has been stabbed in the rib or is just mocking me mercilessly and preparing for the years of joy he will get from this event...it was the latter.

Six minutes later: I am now dried off, yet still humiliated and not making eye contact with A, who is clearly turned into Brutus.

Eight minutes later: My arms are tightly folded over my chest, and I'm nearly huffing as I mumble, "Can I please have some of your water."

A erupts in laughter yet again as I reach over to grab his beautiful, crinkly plastic bottle and gulp down what must be the best water I've ever had in my entire life.

Epilogue: I smell for the rest of day, and do not feel bad, as that is what A deserves for giving me such poor advice and then taking such joy in my suffering.

Now you know what happens when you try and save the planet. So think about that, when you cut the six pack holder-thingy to save a dolphin, use less electricity, or bring a reusable bag to the grocery story: It might end with the possibility of you getting dysentery (thankfully I didn't) and a type of humiliation that will be pressed into your relationship for the rest of your days.

But seriously-if you can find a way to load the car, escape the city, and bask in nature with the people you love, go do it. There isn't a day gone by since my return that I haven't wished we were back there, waking up at 4:26 AM to watch the bright, bountiful red and orange hues rise up the spine of the Grand Canyon, or just missing the way that our hammocks rocked when tied to the great pillared pine trees. I am grateful to have done it all with someone who not only can laugh at me (when appropriate, like above anecdote) but who I can also laugh with, through trips and through life.

Let me leave you with one of my favorite nature enthusiast's quotes, who truly knew the sacred  space of nature, and never stopped being an adventurer in it.

"Everybody needs beauty as well as bread, places to play in and pray in, where nature may heal and give strength to body and soul." 

-John Muir

29 is Mighty Fine

Well folks, I am about to be 30.

The age when I probably should be pregnant, at Home Depot, doing a lot of things that romantic comedies tell me are next. I should have my own house (not a rental, as it is currently) and certainly should not have a possum in my hallway wall waking me in the early morning hours and driving my dog to lunacy as she licks the wall in a whimpering frenzy.

Yet, here I am, in Austin, TX, May 22nd, 2016, writing by the light of DOY light strands with fabric bows on a table constructed by a dear friend.

It is hard to believe how much has happened in this little life of mine. How many people I've met, loved, lost and seen blowing in afternoon breezes even years later. I have known for most of my life that I would not do things quickly, or earlier. Much like the Dixie Chicks singing "Taking the Long Way Around" I too, have taken a long, beautiful, muddy path, but oh how how I have loved the joy of my feet getting dirty!

Let me take you back a little....since the last time I wrote you.....I was in love for the second time in my life. It was bright, fiery, and in the end, one that hurt and burned every outer layer of skin I had. It rocked me, the way you've heard Gotye's melancholy voice vibrate through your bones, and I could not eat (I know...shocking), could not sleep, basically all my favorite things. I literally dropped to my knees, asking God why he made me meet that man, made me go through such suffering, why he had to say the things he did about us, about our future.


Then, in the most miraculous way, I got up. Not like a Phoenix or anything mythical, more like a wet cat that has emerged from a rusty drain pipe. I started running again, blasting Taylor Swift, and really thinking about all the things that could have never worked. All the ways he had worn me down in our relationship, taken taken taken from me, and realized that people can be very, very cruel to each other. That, I am blessed to admit, was a first for me. No one I have ever loved, or who has loved me, had ever been so completely, and utterly, cold. Most amazingly though, was finally finding peace that what happened was exactly as it was meant to be. That I was spared from something that never would have been enough, and would have been the slow kind of suffering that is hardest to slip away from.

Turns out, Taylor Swift knows her shit about break-ups....who knew?

So in the fall, I said YES to everything. YES to craft beer, festivals, ACL, trivia, running, wine nights, cuddling with Amelia, football games, flirting with new guys and realizing that life  being single was just as juicy as I remembered in my early 20's, since truthfully, it had been a while since I'd been back in the game.

Except, this time, it was juicier.

Now I really know who I am, and the parts that still do befuddle me, I have grown to love, and encourage all their mischievous ways.

The hardest question for me wasn't, "Will I find love again?" believe it or not. The hardest question was, and remains, "Why do some people have to get their heart broken SO MUCH, when others find their first love when they're young?"

This is a tough one. I will never know the answer. However, I will say this, I have learned, and been humbled by the fact, that everyone has their challenges, no matter what it appears on the outside.

Why did I have to go through TWO major break-ups in one year, while others I knew honeymooned, moved in together, had babies? Perhaps I will never know.

BUT-

I have never felt stronger in my entire life. Women who meet their first love in high school, college, etc. can't know what it feels to take on the world BY YOURSELF after a terrible break-up, one that takes a melon-baller to your insides, scoop by scoop, until you have to fill all those parts of you again.

So, where am I at, in late May, as my 30th birthday looms just a mere three weeks away?

I will say this. I have never, ever felt more terrified, excited and ready for everything life has lying ahead for me. I am more astounded now, than ever,  by the beauty in people, though they can hurt you, and more ready than ever to let the good ones in and trust that God has made me tough enough, and given me enough Beyonce albums, to get through anything in this world.

I have also realized that with family, friends, one pound pup, and running, that one can stare up at all the stars and know that one day, she might just get one, but even if she doesn't, the grass blanket beneath her will always be enough.

I will leave you with one of my favorite poems I wrote when I was 20, on the crumbling cobblestones in Prague, as the apple trees exploded with blooms in April. I like to think that then, I was building strength, for times like this past fall, when I need to be reminded what gumption felt like....and it is sweet to remember the times when I would have given anything in the world to actually know what love feels like.

I have known it three times, and for that I should be grateful. And, hopefully this new one, is the one that I can drape over my shoulders and cradle, for the rest of my days.

Wriding

I have wild horses
panting and pounding
all the angles of me

They are beautifully unhinged
no kind
of saddle to sit upon
I don't wish
to reign them in

The rope leaves marks
 on small hands 
like these
so I watch the dust lift up
like volcanic murmurs
from their gallant rush West
it swirls down my capillaries
until it coats my bones

And I keep
my palms flat, perpetually open
in case my horses grow hungry

They are my lovely fractures
dark and violent riders
only moved by
bloody sunsets
and a hope 
balancing on that tilted axis
leading to the moon:

As it wanes, I cry;
waxes, I implode

My horses follow
the glow
until they have galloped every acre
of Me

I never would dream
of taming
ever maiming
the wild part of me.