iPhone, Videographer and Ice Skates

My week can best be described by three words: iPhone, videographer and ice skates; an interesting combination I am sure you will agree. I am also positive that you are wondering how at least two of the three have anything to do with my wedding and/or weddings in general. Therefore, sit back, put your feet up, fix yourself a beverage (before you put your feet up), and relax while I fill you in on the comings and goings of the last few days.

First off... my cell phone died. Yes I know I have put this poor electronic device through the ringer (pun intended) – dropping it, losing it, soaking it, forgetting to charge it (etc...), but I do feel that it should last longer than just over a year... regardless of the means I use to torture it.

Therefore, as this is the year 2009 and I cannot commute back and forth to Toronto without a cell phone, my future husband, Mr. Brandon R.M. Fulton was put in charge of taking my phone to Rogers and getting it fixed – Ha! That was a pipe dream; apparently it would cost roughly the equivalent value of an IMF loan for a small country to fix (read: look at and blink).  Consequently, Brandon made an executive decision and when I returned home that evening, to ponder my phoneless life, to what did my wondering eyes did appear, but a miniature iPhone and 3 gigabytes free.

December 6, 2008 - Whitby Santa Clause Parade...

What came next?  He proposed!  What a Year!

Now as many know I am Scottish (read: cheap) and accordingly this purchase got my veins pumping, but after being reassured (and this is ridiculous) that it was cheaper by half to get an iPhone than fix the piece of …. that I owned it was the obvious solution. Therefore, Brandon and I (because my fiancé was going to cry himself to sleep at night if he didn’t get one too) are the proud owners of two bouncing twin iPhones.

This relates to the wedding for several reasons, the first of which is that I actually have time to return e-mails! This may not seem earth shattering to some, but to anyone who has done the bride shtick in the twenty-first century, it is gold. Therefore, to future husbands-to-be my biggest suggestion (read: your life saver) would be to get your future wife-to-be a cell phone that allows her to e-mail, Google (yes Google… I know, I know) and basically organize her life… you will be gold (read: may get dinner cooked for you once a week after the wedding).

Our Santa Hats... He must love me!

Still at Whitby Santa Clause Parade (2008)

However, the ownership of an iPhone comes with a certain level of responsibility (read: Brandon cannot seem to put the thing down!). Therefore, that evening when we met with our soon to be videographer (JM Productions) and wedding planner (Instyle Weddings) it was virtually impossible to drag his attention to the foreground and the task at hand… mind you (and I love her and she is an incredibly hard worker so this is meant completely positively) our wedding planner and him had a beautiful bonding session over the joys of an iPhone and all the applications (beer pong anyone?).

This conversation has brought me to the next word to describe my week… videographer. This has been a point of contention for me as (reference my previous note) I am Scottish (read: cheap may not quite describe it…). Therefore, it was a massive debate whether to go all out and hire one. I have asked everyone – from co-workers, to random GO Train passengers, to my dental hygienist and every single person said that it was a good idea and/or they regretted not having one at their own wedding. My final decision was made with the assistance of my GO Train Buddy/co-worker Denise (you’ll remember her as the one who helped me find Cindy from Michigan (tear… I love Cindy). Denise said that she loved her wedding video, and that it was (gulp) the only video she has of her grandparents smiling and dancing before they passed away… (sniffle). So there you go folks, were there really any other options?

The meeting with the videographer was enjoyable.  Megan, Brandon and Brandon’s iPhone accompanied me (I think we should name it…) to the appointment and it was great. Jonathan (the videographer) seems extremely thorough and I have to say I loved the videos he has done for other people so I am thinking I will love the video he does for us (crossing fingers…). Tamara (the wedding planner) as I said joined us at the appointment and as per usual she was delightful (read: extremely well organized and a good source of entertainment for Brandon). Actually Tamara has offered to be the “iPhone Bearer” at the wedding… [Brandon – if we require an iPhone bearer at the wedding… just assume you are going to be very lonely at the ceremony).

Nathan Phillips Square - Cavalcade of Lights

... not falling on my butt here!

(December 6, 2008)

So that brings me to the concluding descriptor for my week: ice skates. The truth is that I haven’t used them this season yet, but that is coming – tomorrow night in fact. This weekend is the one year anniversary since Brandon proposed! Yes that is right – one year! I cannot believe how fast time has flown by. It is almost surreal that in 288 days Brandon and I will be husband, wife, and iPhone? hmmmm…. Now as I will explain in perhaps my next post Brandon proposed to me at Nathan Phillips Square during the Cavalcade of Lights (picture perfect snow = lovely). Therefore, we are going back this weekend sans snow (thankfully!) to go skating and celebrate that we have survived one year of engagement (iPhone may need to be left at home… for those who are curious I do not abuse my privileges when it comes to the phone because I am perfect… just to avoid any confusion you may have). I am really excited about our plans as there is nothing prettier than the Square decorated with thousands of lights and millions of people whirling around me as I fall on my butt over and over again … oh winter in Canada! Even sitting here typing this I am getting excited – there is nothing like Christmas + wedding planning that gets me ready to bounce (read: looking like I have a nervous twitch by continuously looking at my engagement ring and smiling/laughing/vibrating/dreaming of the future).

They've Procreated!

Okay I lied. I said the next post was going to be about Brandon's branch of the Unit... and I guess it is... kind of (sorry Jason, sorry Sue, sorry everyone else! Your turn is coming soon :-)). Specifically, tonight's post is an important announcement about the old married pair in our wedding party - Bridesmaid Lorraine and Groomsman Lanny... well really it isn't about them either as this post is about, and please provide a drum roll if you will, the birth of their (gulp, tear, sniffle) child on November 24 at 10:45 am. Mom is doing well.

Now there was debate as to what was going to come out... boy, girl, Pindrop, Monkey, Extra-Terrestrial (I had concerns...), but what came out was beautiful and just as the poll predicted - it's a boy (pass the blue cigars)! Therefore, I would like to welcome to the non-official wedding party of my heart Mr. Carter Landon Gray, weighing in at an impressive 6 lbs, 13 ozs.

My first reaction was to cry. I am a bit of a dork, we all know that, but it was rather exciting in an overwhelming kind of a way... I cannot imagine if I had been on the whole "I'm a parent now" end of the equation - I would have been a wreck!

The Unit: Lorraine (AKA The New Mom!) is the lovely lady on the left... 

Now for those of you who are wondering where the pictures are... well they are not here. I can steal one off of Facebook, but that isn't really the same and besides that I want to ask permission first... therefore expect a picture at some point between now and the next 18 years (if Lorraine and Lanny say no, I nonetheless figure I will have spoiled Carter enough by the time he reaches the age of majority that he will let me post his picture).  FYI though to prepare you… I cried when I saw him (via a picture), primarily because unlike a number of new borns he does not have the squished "extra-terrestrial" look that they sometimes get... not that they are less cute, but realistically when they have that style going on they are not quite recognizable as humans.

I feel sad that I haven't had an opportunity to do any baby research for this aside from point out that both Carter's first and middle names are apparently popular boy names for 2009 in Canada (for more information please visit: http://www.thinkbabynames.com/popular/1/canada). The list is actually fascinating to look at, i.e. did anyone realize that Jaxon with an X was popular this year? I would never have guessed that in a million years, but nonetheless it ranked in the top 100 and when you are dealing with a population over 30 million you have to assume that there are going to be a lot of Jaxon's running around as a result.

However, as my Googling managed to remind/impress upon me it doesn't really matter if you end up as a "Jackson" with an X because if you think of some of the weird and wonderful handles that celebrities have forced upon their children over the years anything short of "Kangaroo Lad" should make you happy. 

Take for instance Jason Lee's son "Pilot Inspektor" - I mean seriously how do you go to school and socialize with others with a name like that... what's your nickname? Pie? Pek? P.I.? 

Or what about Sylvester Stallone's offspring (brace yourself) - Sage Moonblood.  Honestly, how much do you have to hate your child to name him/her something like that?  And besides when you name a child you have to think about what their name would look like on letter head... for example:

Sage P. Moonblood Accountants and Vampires at Large

Don't worry we only suck your blood, not your money.

Basically I don't even have a further comment on the letterhead, I feel it speaks for itself.

Or even Penn from the comedy duo Penn and Teller, can you guess for one second what his child is named?  I bet you can't... He named his child Moxie Crimefighter - frankly that's a lot of pressure... I don't advocate violence or being a criminal, but I think with a name like that you're trying to set your kid up to be Spiderman, Superman, Wonder Woman, or (as you all know) my all time favourite Batman.  PLUS in addition to having to fight crime you need to do it with moxie?  I don't think any psychiatrist can help with that kind of pressure! 

Now between the Inspektors, the Moonbloods, the Crimefighters, and the wacky names we are more familar with (as per the tabloid television filling the airwaves) such as Coco, Ocean, Apple, and Blanket (etc... etc... etc...) you have to wonder how we still manage to have room and appreciation for the Carters, Landons, Ethans, and Johns of this world... but thankfully we still do (for more information please visit: http://www.cracked.com/article_15765_20-most-bizarre-celebrity-baby-names.html), which is why I am giving Lorraine and Lanny two thumbs up on name choice!

For those that are curious, and as I said I haven't really had the opportunity to do much research (cough), tonight I learned that Carter means pretty much what it says it does "driver of a cart". It is of English origin and often used as a last name, but lately (as is proven by the top 100 list) it is becoming a common first name... I found the meaning of the name Landon interesting as it is also English, but instead means "from the long hill". 

Pre-Carter... One of Their Last Nights of Rest for the Next 18-ish Years...

Lorraine and Lanny

Okay... it is late and while I napped for eons when I got home from work, which is why I am up now, I feel it is time to stop my Googling for the evening.  Nevertheless, I wish to end on the high note of excitement and promise a new baby brings to the world and how pleased/excited I am that I will be able to watch Lorraine and Lanny raise Carter – even if it is a "long hill"…

Brandon and I both send you our love and please know that we are here for you if you need anything!

On Hold...

I am sitting in my bedroom on hold with product support for Medtronic Canada (Diabetes hotline) and they are telling me that my wait time will be up to (and potentially more than) one hour; this is one of the moments in one's life when crying seems like the best option. Therefore, instead of staring at the wall or playing a game of Solitaire (which now that I have said it I am itching to do) I figured I would write a post and try to catch everyone up on "life after the dress". So much has happened (even before we went to Pennsylvania) and I feel the need to recap the comings and goings of the last few weeks before I can get back into wedding related conversation.

Now "life after the dress" may sound a little like the climax has come and gone and everything is downhill, but frankly I haven't had a lot of time to kick back and relax. First, as many have heard and I have been quick to mention, I had the dreaded Swine (don't wish it upon my worst enemy), but have no fear I survived and you will too (if and when you get it). Literally I came back from Pennsylvania and the next thing I knew I was sick as a dog and in bed quarantined in the guest room of my house. At this time I would like to extend a special shout out to my family for being absolutely fantastic and impressively zealous towards the sanitation of me and everything I came in contact with (I practically had a love affair with Purell and Kleenex).

My Wonderful Family!

Speaking of hand sanitizer, can I ask... is there anyone out there that is really annoyed with themselves they did not buy stock in a) whatever pharmaceutical company develops and produces TamiFlu, and, b) hand sanitizer? I just keep thinking the entire wedding, house, car and first child could have been bankrolled if I had thought strategically and bought stock in such entities. However, hindsight is always 20/20 and therefore I will not dwell... you know me I never obsess... (cough, cough, drove to PA for a dress). Better yet the Government of Canada could have bought stock... think about the debt recovery plan.

In Ottawa - Peter Mansbridge and I

Once I had recovered from my illness (which thankfully I did not get as badly as some – my best wishes to all those who have been seriously ill and to their families – it is not easy and I only wish you the best) it was off to Ottawa for the Governor General's Order of Canada Mentorship Program 2009 of which I am a participant (for more information visit: www.gg.ca). I will not go into great detail in relation to the program, as this is a wedding blog and I am assuming you are here for wedding related information, but there is one anecdote I wish to share from my trip, which I hope you will find humourous... or if nothing else shake your head and say "Oh Marie!".

One of the fantastic experiences that I had an opportunity to take part in was the launch of Veterans' Week at the Senate. Following the ceremony we met with the Speaker of the Senate (Noel Kinsella, for more information visit: http://sen.parl.gc.ca/nkinsella/English/Biography-e.htm). When His Honour entered the room I stood, but in the process of standing I managed to knock over my water bottle (which I had placed on the floor to be respectful). My water bottle (not caring obviously about my sense of pride) decided to roll in front of His Honour practically tripping him in the process. Now, one could imagine my sheer horror at that experience as within seconds of meeting the man I practically break his neck and end up on the 11 o’clock news as the idiot who nearly took him out. However, as a true man of grace he picked up my water bottle, refrained from commenting on my red face and continued along his way to the head of the table.

Upon reaching the head of the table he sat down (as did I) and turned to me. This was a moment of uncertainty and sheer panic as I was afraid I was about to receive a lecture on proper Senate etiquette from the SPEAKER OF THE SENATE. After he had inquired about my name, he proceeded to ask if I knew where I was (uh oh...). After a few quick answers (and the redness in my poor face steadily increasing), he asked me “no, where are you right now?” to which I answered as politely as I could, “a chair?” Apparently that answer was correct (thank God), but there was more to the story than that. Once I had provided my answer it was explained to me that the chair I was sitting in was none other than the chair Barak Obama had sat in when he was in Canada in February! Yes that is right folks – Barak and I are chair buddies (how cool is that?). Having shared what I consider the greatest story ever (but trust me the horror of nearly tripping the man will never be far from my mind), I will return to wedding related conversation.

The Chair!

In “life after the dress”, dresses are still a hot topic as bridesmaids dresses are next on the chopping block. Thus far I have been out shopping twice; once with my sister and mom and once with my entire Unit. It has been hard to find the right dress so far (there’s a surprise) and while I am not prepared to drag my lovely ladies to Pennsylvania I want them to be as happy with their dresses as I am with mine – therefore our next project will be finding the perfect bridesmaid dresses. An experience which I am sure will be a source of endless amusement... so far we are rather focused on finding a wedding dress for Lorraine to try on (just for fun) from the “it’s not too late” section (PS Just for clarification: she is married).

The Unit!

 Now I think I have caught up everyone on my “life after the dress” (or at least a summary – the last few weeks have been crazy!). My next post will be about Brandon’s crew as thus far I haven’t had a chance to fill everyone in on the who’s who of Brandon’s group... I do have to say, now that I have finished this post, it is hard to write about “life after the dress”, but perhaps it is time to bring forward a new era... dreaming about someone answering the phone!

My Soon to be Family

(PS Megan took the pictures - pretty good eh?)

Diary of a Wedding Dress Shopper (Part Three)

Is it weird that I just spent fifteen minutes “Googling” Adam West, Batman and television serials? Frankly, the fact I have just spent my Saturday night searching for interesting tidbits proves what I have been saying about Google being an enabler of time wasting. Think, instead of Googling for information about a 1960s television series I could have devoted that time to actually working on the third (and potentially – I haven’t decided yet) final instalment of “Diary of a Wedding Dress Shopper” – some may find this delay a good thing. However, in the interest of ending the hate mail (I am a tease apparently) I feel it is time to conclude my saga (or at any rate try to) – mwhahaha, mwhahaha, mwhahaha.

She puts up with me!  Thanks Mom

Additionally, in the interest of demonstrating how committed I am to finishing my tale I will not share all the information I gained during my fifteen minutes of Googling relating to Bewitched, I Dream of Jeannie, Petticoat Junction, and a few other 1960 television serials (including obviously Batman). I have learned so much, but yet I will not bore everyone with the wondrous Wikipedian knowledge I have gained in the last fifteen minutes... sigh (it is really more like forty-five minutes, but let us not dwell on that).

Nonetheless, where was I...? Right! I remember...

“Holy Nuptials, Batman!” Sue, Mom, Megan and Mallory were all holding a collective breath as I was about to make my grand entrance in the dress I had travelled approximately 379.04 miles (610.005 749 76 kilometres if you are curious, http://www.onlineconversion.com/length_common.htm) to find... now obviously I didn’t hang around inside the change room as the last thing I wanted was for people to suffocate, but I have to say I was a little nervous. The pressure was intense; this was the dress; this was the dress I had dreamed about; this was the dress that was going to make my mom cry; this was the dress that was going to make me jump around ecstatically; this was the dress that Brandon would see me in when he says I do; this was a big moment; in fact this might be the moment (yes I am stalling – I am all for drawing out the anticipation, how’s it working?).

 

On The Road...

(Left to Right) 1) We're Almost Here! 

2) Intriguing Combination... Next Stop "Big Woodies II: Bibles and Playboys

I walked out of the change room with my eyes closed, my heart beating, and my palms sweating. I stepped up onto the raised platform (trying a wedding dress on is all about the raised platform) and turned toward the mirror and slowly cracked open my eyes and the moment I had waited for through all the phone calls, the Googling, the day dreaming, the frustration, and anticipation was absolutely, completely and totally CRAP. I looked ridiculous. In fact I looked more than ridiculous, I looked like a burlesque show girl with no taste and a bad costume designer – and most notably one that was about to throw up from the embarrassment of having to tell people this story. I would almost go so far as to say that I looked like I had hired Barbara Eden’s costume designer Gwen Wakeling to come up with my wedding dress (yes, okay I cracked, I had to slip in some of the information I have learned this evening – did you know that viewers of I Dream of Jeannie only saw Jeannie’s naval three times during the five seasons the show aired? By the way, Ms. Wakeling did design a great costume for a genie... just not a bride. Okay I am done the information spewing, for now... (for more information please visit: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/I_Dream_of_Jeannie)).

Therefore, I was left with a choice – One: I could pretend to love the dress to save face and not seem insane, or Two: I could try on the dress I noticed on the poster outside the store and see if I could see past the blob of fabric I was currently wearing and the fact that everyone was trying to be incredibly positive about the dress that was supposedly of my dreams. However, before I could do that I needed to stare at myself in the mirror for a half an hour to ensure myself that the dress I was wearing was actually the one on the Internet (frankly I couldn’t tell for sure – it looked completely different!).

 Good Friends Last Forever (and Go Miles)

I went into the change room and started laughing. Megan was laughing too and as she helped me out of the dress we shared a moment of sisterhood again when she started breathing a sigh of relief that I had said NO to the dress... just say no kids, just say no.

Now that you have heard the shocking truth that I hated the dress I had tracked across the Eastern Seaboard to find and had waxed poetic about to everyone, I will tell you another little secret... when I was walking into the store I saw a dress on a poster in the window and thought to myself... “Self that dress is beautiful”. In fact I saw myself in that dress and I saw Brandon crying. However, I assumed that was “pre-buyers” remorse and just the nervous anticipation of seeing MY dress. In Part Two of my saga you may remember that I referred to the dress that Megan and Mallory had the store staff grab, well that was the dress from the poster and now I was going to try it on again (the first time I didn’t really pay attention).

 It would be a great picture...

if it wasn't for the York sweater (Love You Mugs)

I am thinking you can probably guess the ending, so I will just say that it wasn’t a purple, size thirty pant suit. In fact it was everything I had hoped for. It was a cross between... urgh, I guess I can’t say. However, what I can say is that this was THE dress and it was making me smile, my mom weep, and I am hoping Brandon fall in love with me a little more than he has already (Sue promised me up and down that this is true and she lives with the guy so I have to believe her) – this was THE dress. It was the clichéd moment television and the movies continuously promote and I loved every second.

 It is Mine!

Within a short window of time (after the dress was pried off me) I paid and we embarked on the rest of our journey... Chili’s Grill and Bar for supper, Super 8 Hotel, Mallory overhearing wild and crazy sex fanatics next door (Megan and I slept soundly right through), Cracker Barrel (yummy!) and then Millcreek Mall for shopping! While at the Mall Megan and I were innocently strolling around Macy’s when out of nowhere we spotted another shopper who looked suspicious... suspiciously like our Aunt Deb (in fact it was). Aunt Deb, Aunt Donna and Aunt Deanne were part of a cross-border shopping bus trip and were currently at the Mall doing some last minute shopping before they headed home. Funny how small the world really is, eh? With another stop at an outlet in Buffalo and the longest line EVER crossing the border we made it home, safe and sound.

 Family (Left to Right): Megan, Aunt Deb, Me, Aunt Donna and Aunt Deanne

HOWEVER, this is not my last Pennsylvania trip; in fact I have another to look forward to in the spring when I go and pick up my dress. MY DRESS. I have tried to rationalize what happened; because truthfully I really loved the other dress when I saw it on the Internet – in fact I would have bet you cold, hard cash that it was perfect for me. But I guess you can’t judge a book by its cover, and that dress was fit for no one (even Elizabeth Montgomery couldn’t have nosed twitched that dress away). So I pulled a Bewitched styled Darrin swap (check out the website for explanation if you don’t get this reference - hint there were two Darrins: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bewitched) and the dress of my dreams became entirely different, but at the same time entirely perfect.

I guess this is the ending of my saga (darn I wish I could draw it out more... perhaps I could discuss Green Acres and the Beverly Hillbillies? Or perhaps not). I would like to say thanks to Terry Mullin for lending us her vehicle to go, Sue for driving over 1200 kilometres in search of a dress I didn’t buy, Denise and Elizabeth (Cuthbertson) for supporting my insanity at work, Mallory and Megan for being my Unit members in Pennsylvania (Megan special shout out for helping me in the change room – that was above and beyond the call – let me just say that insulin pumps complicate things), Elizabeth (Smith) and Lorraine for being my Unit members in Whitby, Tamara for encouraging me, Cindy for deep-throating the "secret designer" telephone number, Aliesha for selling me the dress, my Dad for just laughing and telling us to have a good time, my Mom for crying (and not accusing me of being psychotic), and most importantly Brandon for telling me that I could wear a burlap sack and he would still marry me with a smile on his face and love in his heart. I cannot wait until September 18th... I now have the dress of my dreams; I just had to go to Pennsylvania to find it.

 Two days of solid shopping... What else did you expect?

(PS If you want to know more about 1960s television please feel free to e-mail me as (like normal) I am a wealth of useless information - Did you know that Petticoat Junction, The Beverly Hillbillies and Green Acres all took place in the same fictional universe?  For more information visit: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Petticoat_Junction.  Thanks Google (as per usual) ;-)

Diary of a Wedding Dress Shopper (Part Two)

Previously on Marie's Ridiculous Ramblings... Marie and her posse were last seen in Greensburg, Pennsylvania searching for the elusive wedding dress Marie has been hunting, like a dog in the night, for months and months and months. However, when this crazy crew of consumers arrived at the bridal store, a measly 300 plus miles from home "The Dress" was nowhere to be found. Now please stay tuned as we join our intrepid shoppers in their valiant search for "The Dress"...

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH... After calling approximately one million, trillion, gazillion dress stores, planning two different trips to Pennsylvania, diligently dialing on the GO Train, and celebrating the kindness, generosity and very existence of Cindy from Michigan (FYI Still love Cindy from Michigan) this should be easy... and therefore the fact the dress could not be located had to be a joke. I had dragged four people to Pennsylvania and now there was a clear threat that I was going home empty handed (hang on, even typing this saga out is making me dizzy, deep breath).

So Cute!  Mom and Sue at a rest stop in Pennsylvania

Why did I worry?  As this experience reminded me I should never stress about my friends/family being mad or annoyed because like the intrepid shoppers/people they are *NOTHING* stops them. In fact Megan and Mallory took this opportunity to scope out other dress options in the store, while the store’s staff searched high and low for "The Dress".

To kill time I started trying dresses on and to my aid came my trusty, dusty sister. There are certain times when you need a friend, but there are other times when you need a sister and climbing into a wedding dresses amid the layers of satin, lace, and organza, half naked with an insulin pump dangling between your legs is definitely a time when you need a sister. For those of you have yet to experience the thrill of getting into a wedding dress head first I personally liken it to the experience of being born; granted my own recollection of that experience is limited (errr non-existent), but attempting to climb through the fabric and enter the world is rather awkward/exposing, if you will... and to this end you cannot do it on your own - just like there have to at least be two people involved in the whole being born process.

My Unit Members!

Nevertheless, the whole dress process is not as safe as people may suggest - in fact I would say it is hazardous, not only to the pocket book, but to the bride’s safety. I know this from personal experience, as, while manoeuvring into the dress, I was attacked. It was traumatic.  I was whiny.  And as the mental horror of the experience has lasted with me I feel it is worth telling my tale to others in order to offer protection and guidance for future would-be brides.

Therefore, please read my traumatic tale of trying on trousseau (yeah for dictionary.com): (SCARY MUSIC) Marie Greig - AGE 25 - VICTIM - Dress ATTACK: While innocently trying on dresses I assumed I was safe from harm, a fact that is important to me as I am a very careful person – I always stand back of the yellow line, I brake when the light is amber, I never rip the mattress tag off, well you get the point (and now you think I am a loser, but that is entirely irrelevant to this tale). Nonetheless, the attack was sneaky and devious as while I was under the cloak of fabric belonging to a dress that weighed approximately the same amount as an entourage of elephants I saw stars – BANG! – POW! – ZOKK! – CRASH! – KABOOM! (sorry still on the Batman kick...). One second I had my arms in the air and the dress was sliding down nicely and the next – SLICE! The ribbing inside the dress carved up my forehead with a near life threatening wound (tear)... even now the horror of the moment is more than I can handle. Okay, I might be exaggerating with the whole life threatening thing, but really it hurt and while some may say I acted like a baby (cough, everyone), I nonetheless wore this badge of survival on my forehead for MANY, MANY days after. I also have to say it provided my family members with an endless source of entertainment as yet another “Mariestrophe” occurred (kind of like a catastrophe with a dash of Marie thrown in for excitement).  Therefore, BRIDES BEWARE - DRESS SHOPPING IS NOT AS SAFE AS THE RETAILERS WOULD LEAD YOU TO BELIEVE!

Drum Roll Please...

Despite my injury and the stress of my missing dress, trying on the dresses was entertaining and the constant banter of my crew provided a least a source of comfort for my frazzled nears (WHERE IS THE DRESS?). Mallory and Megan in their kind hearted efforts even had the store’s staff pull a dress that I had noticed on a poster in the window when I was entering, but honestly I could not focus, I could only think about MY dress...

Despite my stress I have to say that the sales consultant helping me was incredible; seriously she may be one of my new favourite people (if you are in the neighbourhood of Greensburg, Pennsylvania and need a wedding gown make sure to visit Aliesha Pocratsky - like me she is getting married in Fall 2010 and accordingly we had lots in common and she understood my stress to a T). That is why it makes perfect sense that the one person who could help me was another bride and she truly.  In fact she lived up to the name of my change room (Happiness) when she entered with “THE DRESS” in her hands... INSERT JOY AND TRIUMPH.

Don’t get jealous Cindy... I sense an ode to Aliesha in the future...

The moment was here I was going to try on the dress of my dreams (why were my hands sweating?). Megan and I entered the change room and I slipped into the dress with excitement building by the second. Sue, Mallory and my Mom waited in the change area for my grand entrance and everyone held their breath...

War Wound and Happiness... Interesting Combination...

So what happened? Was it the moment I had waited for? Did I love the dress and buy it instantly? Did it really look like the size 30 purple pant suit I had dreaded? Did Bicycle Bill show up to offer his suggestions on this season’s formal wear? Well the answers to all the above will have to wait, as it is bed time (man, sleep really puts a cramp on my blogging style). If only someone would pay me to stay at home and bore all my friends and family with my tales of weddingness- “Holy Nuptials, Batman!”

Diary of a Wedding Dress Shopper (Part One)

When it is 4:30 in the morning and my alarm clock goes off, I typically liken the experience to the “thrill” of having one’s teeth removed by a three-sheets-to-wind, cell phone texting chimpanzee (please note: I have not gained this knowledge from personal experience). However, this morning the pain typically associated with waking up is almost non-existent, as the BIG day is here: Wedding Dress Shopping Day!

While I am sure you are perched on the edge of your seat waiting for me to explain what came after 4:30 in the morning I thought it would be best if I provided a one minute recap of the last few months of my wedding dress shopping woes before I detail the rest of my day.

One Minute Wedding Dress Recap:

A Monologue by Marie Elizabeth

Act One, Scene One: [Scene: Nathan Phillips Square – Marie and Brandon] “Yes! Yes! Yes! I will marry you Brandon!”

Act Two, Scene One: [Scene: Home – Marie] “Self, this is easy I’ll search the Internet for wedding dresses, find a designer I like and then go to the store that carries that designer...”

Act Three, Scene One: [Scene: All of GTA – Marie] “What do you mean you don’t have this dress?”

Act Three, Scene Two: [Scene: Eaton Centre at Lunch Hour – Marie] “Ring, Ring... Hello Thunder Bay – Hmpf”

Act Three, Scene Three: [Scene: Eaton Centre at Lunch Hour – Marie] “Ring, Ring... Hello Montreal – Urgh and Sigh”

Act Three, Scene Four: [Scene: Eaton Centre at Lunch Hour – Marie] “Ring, Ring... Hello New York – @#$%^&;*#@!?È”

Act Four, Scene One: [Scene: Home – Marie] “Ring, Ring... Hello Pennsylvania – You mean they can bring the dress into the store for me to try on? (15 minutes elapse) WHAT DO YOU MEAN IT IS BACKORDERED UNTIL 2015?! I GIVE UP! But, I still like the dress....”

Act Five, Scene One: [Scene: GO Train – Marie and Denise] “Ring, Ring... Hello Michigan Bridal... Cindy! You rock! Thanks for the top secret telephone number of the dress designer”

Act Five, Scene Two: [Scene: GO Train – Marie and Denise] “Ring, Ring... Hello MB Bridal... Greensburg Pennsylvania here I come!” (Aside: Yes I do think it is madness going to Pennsylvania for a wedding dress)

The End

So with the intense anticipation of going to see the ever elusive dress I have managed to chase across the Eastern Seaboard I was practically vibrating with excitement when my alarm rang at 4:30 in the morning on October 24, 2009.

Therefore, after a stop to grab Mallory (Sue was driving, mom was riding shot gun and Megan was sharing the backseat with me) and a visit to Tim Hortons (mandatory requirement), we hit the road and head south.

Cracker Barrel Has Its Own Map!  Who Knew?

Our first real pit stop was at the visitor centre just across the New York/Pennsylvania border and if you know anything about me and my family you would know that pit stops mean it is time to take pictures. Accordingly, Sue, Mallory, Mom and myself peacefully gathered by the “WELCOME TO PENNSYLVANIA” sign while Megan fiddled with the self timer on her camera so we could take a group picture.  

Welcome to Pennsylvania Ladies!

From Left to Right: Megan, Sue, Mom, Me and Mallory

UNTIL... Enter 60 year old man dressed in army fatigues with matching trucker hat (where is Queer Eye when you need it?).  Despite everyone’s whispered protests the gentleman took the camera and snapped off a few shots of our smiling crew beside the sign. Now please do not get me wrong, I am not a bad person, nor are my friends/family, but I think everyone felt this situation had one too few teeth for our liking (if you know what I mean).

After the mini-photo shoot our stand in photographer uttered a sentence I will never forget for the rest of my life (please sit if you are not already seated as this may be too much, I would also recommend going to the bathroom), the sentence was and forever will be: “Hi, my name is Bicycle Bill AND Jesus Loves you AND so do I”.  Now as you can imagine this is the moment where the situation got awkward and a few members of our party had to divert themselves to the bathroom to avoid embarrassment, while the rest of us headed to the car at top speed with Bicycle Bill not far behind.

Bicycle Bill

Therefore, with mirth and smiles we packed ourselves back into the car (Bill was not far behind – oddly enough he didn’t ride a bicycle) and departed to our end destination: Greensburg, Pennsylvania (for more information or if you too want to visit Greensburg, please visit: http://www.city.greensburg.pa.us/ or http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Greensburg,_Pennsylvania (if you are more the Wikipedia Type)).

We drove and we drove and finally we arrived in Greensburg, Pennsylvania (we didn’t get lost!). And with 5 minutes to spare (we had a 1 pm appointment) we arrived at MB Bridal (for more information in the event you wish to drive seven plus hours to find a wedding dress, please visit: http://www.mbbride.com/).

 On Time Like a Swiss Clock, errrr... Sue Clock?

The anticipation was building and after a few pictures (as we are total nerds) by the sign we ventured inside to find THE dress.  I was impressed with the store as it had lots of dress options (not that we were there for the options) and the staff was fantastic. First, we were shown to our change room (called the “Happiness Room” – a good sign if I have ever seen one before) and then it was time for the dress to be brought in and for me to try on THE dress of my dreams, a dress that will make me smile and feel beautiful, my mom to weep and Brandon to fall in love with me a little more than he has already... WRONG!

 We’re Here!

The dress was MIA and with my heart tucked securely in my throat I searched through the rack of dresses, panicking the entire time that I would not only have my hopes dashed, but would have to explain to the four busy people I dragged more than seven hours from home that we are back at square one and exactly 379.04 miles away from home... GULP!

So what happens next?  Do I find my dress?  Does it actually end up being size 30, a pantsuit and purple?  Does it make my mom cry?  Do I return from Pennsylvania successful?  Well all those answers will have to wait until next time (which will be tomorrow more than likely – assuming swine flu and all the other events of the past few weeks don’t delay my tale!  Sorry everyone for being slow to post as of late - I know this is edge of your seat excitement – cough).  So in an Adam Westian type way – tune in next time, same wedding website, same crazy wedding blogger.

Attention - Poll Results

Please Note: The poll to find out what Brandon should wear under his kilt was a tie across the board.  I will report back on the final decision when the time comes.  Thank you to all who voted.

Scottish Wedding Traditions Uncovered: Yet Another Internet Rant

My inability to make a decision is caused by one thing and one thing alone: the Internet (and yes I can see the irony of complaining about the Internet on the Internet). Frankly my problem with the Internet can be directly attributed to my addition to Google (insert a round of applause for my completion of the first of many steps towards the end of my Google addiction). The root of my Google addition (sounds kind of indecent, eh?) is that I am obsessed with having an abstract thought and then having the ability to immediately open up my web browser and find out what information Google may have to share about the topic.

One of my latest interests (errr... obsessions) is Googling different wedding traditions that I can incorporate into my big day. As we are having a Celtic wedding and are trying to follow all the "rules" this has required a fair amount of research on my part into the history of Scotland and Scottish wedding traditions. While I am Scottish (so is my family conveniently enough) and consider myself fairly knowledgeable about such traditions, I am nonetheless "North Americanized" and therefore need to do research into the topic to ensure accuracy, quality and no legal loop holes (one doesn't want to get married and then find out ten years later the ceremony wasn't legal because in the glow of their pending marital bliss the happy couple decided to use some tradition where a goat can stand in for the Minister (in a pinch of course)!).

Deep and Megan practicing for the wedding...

While I have learned a lot through my research, I nonetheless have to say that in some ways my search has been downright scary as while the term "tradition" is defined by the Oxford English Dictionary as "a custom, opinion, or belief handed down to posterity" (1117), the OED fails to mention the fact that traditions are not always good, and in fact can be quite bad depending on who is at the receiving end of the tradition (tragically in many cases it is the Bride who suffers and ends up in Tibet with only $5 bucks, a lampshade and a TTC transfer stub to her name).

Now before I go any further I have to say that I am a little nervous about providing the results my research to my friends/family, as I believe knowledge is a very powerful weapon and I may (probably will) live to regret sharing what I have learned. Nonetheless, in the name of science I must persevere and spread the knowledge I have gained. [DISCLAIMER: I am explaining these details strictly from an intellectual point of view and do not necessarily wish to be a test dummy for any of the weirder and wilder traditions that I may explain - i.e. Blackening the Bride.]

The first tradition is more romantic in nature as strategically I figured that if Brandon was going to read this post it is best to suggest something beneficial to me right off the top in case he decides not to read the rest (love you Sweetie). This 17th century tradition centres on a broach called the "Luckenbooth" (named because it was sold from locked booths along the Royal Mile). According to scottishweddingtraditions.net this token was typically exchanged between couples upon betrothal (cheaper than an engagement ring – I guess it was before diamonds were forever) and kept until the birth of the first child.  At this time the pin was then attached to the shawl swaddling the baby and served to protect the child from evil spirits. Honestly, I have to say that I prefer my engagement ring, but I don't know how well it protects me and any future children from evil spirits... interested guys perhaps, but not evil spirits... I assume the protection from interested guys is Brandon's ultimate plan and I am left to my own devices to fend off evil spirits.

The second tradition I have to mention is one I find both a little bit awkward and a little bit disturbing, but that is just because I have a foot phobia and the ceremony involves "feet washing" (urgh and sigh). Now before I continue I would first like to apologize to my "Unit" as in theory this would be their job if it were two hundred years ago and we lived in Scotland, but don't worry this is where my North Americaness kicks in and makes having a "feet washing" ceremony not an option. Essentially the bride places her feet in a tub of water and then is surrounded by her "Unit" who proceed to wash her feet (ewwww). While this is occurring a wedding ring is placed in the tub and whoever finds the ring will be the next to get married. At least it is true that misery loves company and to this end the groom (who has been hiding outside the door) is grabbed by the groomsmen and forced to sit in the foot washing tub and is covered with soot, ashes and cinders (I'd have Brandella!) I have yet to figure out the benefit of this custom, but I am sure it is there somewhere... if someone comes up with an idea please let me know ASAP.

Other Scottish traditions involve lots of parties, drinking and general debauchery for all involved (works for me). However, one tradition that was of interest involves dressing the bride up in old curtains and other household materials. The bride is then toured through town with her entourage banging pots and pans announcing the forthcoming marriage - along the way men drop money into the pots in exchange for a kiss from the bride (my kind of party!).

Mind you the dressing up in old curtains is a better alternative to a Scottish stag party where the groom is either dressed up like a pregnant woman (I have no clue why) or partially/completely stripped of his clothes and tied up in front of his house. However, this might be preferred over another Scottish tradition called the "Creeling of the Bridegroom". In this custom a massive basket (AKA creel) is laden with stones and tied to the bridegroom's back. Once the load is in place the bridegroom has to carry it around the entire town until his bride agrees to come out and kiss him... if she refuses... well let's say that the Low Back Clinic might be the groom's only resort (man I can be cruel, but that would be pushing it a little far).

It is important to note that it is not just the Scottish that have weird and wonderful wedding traditions... for example in Korea the groom has his feet beaten with fish prior to the ceremony (enough said).

Another fun tradition is from Germany where friends of the bride and groom kidnap the bride and the groom has to find her... this could be problematic as the search is supposed to start in the pub and frankly I have never seen Brandon exit a pub in the same shape he went into it in... I would be lost forever!

Another interesting one (and Brandon please read this!) is in Taiwan the groom gives the bride 12 presents (sweet deal!) before the wedding... it is like the Twelve Days of Christmas but better as there are no partridges in pear trees or eight maids a milking kicking around (I will take the 5 Golden Rings though if they are up for grabs).

Now I know you have all been waiting and wondering why I am tossing in Korean and German traditions when the crème de la crème of Scottish traditions has yet to be explained: The Blackening of the Bride. This is similar to the beginning of the German tradition where friends of the soon-to-be married couple kidnap the bride, but that is where the similarities end (gulp, why am I telling you this again? Right in the name of science and intellectual discovery).  The so-called friends of the bride pour a smelly, sticky, gooey, nasty substance on her, which basically is a combination of eggs, butter, cheese, noodles, fish, sausages and of course carrots (I assume to improve eyesight?). I guess that's what friends are for? No wait, friendship is all about what happens next – following the goo-ification of the bride her friends tour her around town in her sticky state for all to see... (FYI: PAY BACK IS A @#$%&;#?$).

Just remember I like to give hugs...

and try to stop me from giving you one if you "blacken" me

Courtesy of http://traditionscustoms.com/content/strange-wedding-traditions

Just to be fair I have to say that I have held some wedding traditions back and have no intention of sharing, science smience, who was I kidding with all that in the "pursuit of knowledge" crap. If you are curious about the rest of the traditions I may or may not incorporate you will just have to stay tuned until the wedding. 

So do you see what Google/the Internet has done?  Can you tell I am an addict?  Well at least I have achieved the first step on the road to recovery from my Google addiction... hmm... I wonder what the next step is, maybe I should just find out... Yikes - 75.5 million hits, gonna be a long night - Thanks Google :-).
For More Information Please Visit:

• http://www.scottishweddingtraditions.net/traditions.htm
• http://www.worldweddingtraditions.com/locations/west_europe_traditions/scottish_traditions.html
• http://traditionscustoms.com/content/strange-wedding-traditions

PS: 337 More Days!

The Last Thanksgiving

Well that sounds ominous...

While I am not experiencing my "last" Thanksgiving in quite the same manner as our turkey (hopefully at least), I am nonetheless about to embark on my last Thanksgiving as an "unmarried", for in 341 odd days I will be a "married" and thereby sharing Thanksgiving and all subsequent holidays permanently (yikes what will Arbour Day be like?) with another person.

This thought dawned on me today while once more I was zestfully scrubbing the toilet in preparation for our company's arrival - AKA Amandeep and Brandon (Handfastings and Holidays... I get the "Double H" cleaning duty).  Nonetheless, cleaning time bodes well for me as often I do my best thinking when cleaning the bathroom, essentially because I try to avoid thinking about the task at hand.  Therefore, today I had ample opportunity to contemplate my "last" Thanksgiving and my last year as an "unmarried". 

I use the term "unmarried" as I have been dating Brandon for so long that I cannot really classify myself as unattached (AKA single), but at the same time cannot classify myself as 100% linked.  Therefore, I consider myself in some kind of pre-marital limbo - hence the term "unmarried" (somethings are easier to define/explain by what they are not, as opposed to what they are).  Therefore, I feel I need to weigh the fact this is my "last" Thanksgiving carefully just in case I should need to change my mind and run the opposite direction from the alter - one always should have his or her turkeys errr... ducks in a row when contemplating any big decision.

My "last" Thanksgiving... hmmm... I don't really suppose I've had a solo Thanksgiving in eight years, as since I started dating Brandon he has attended each and every one my family has hosted.  Mind you, I don't think I have ever had a solo Thanksgiving in my life, as I have always been surrounded by my family, a few drop in friends and a turkey to be named later. 

BUT... I have to say that since Brandon has joined us for Thanksgiving he has added something extra to the event... Including (but of course not limited to):

1. The fact he complained religiously for the first three years we dated about having to wear his suit to Thanksgiving dinner (my dad ALWAYS wears a suit), but then suddenly stopped complaining and now secretly enjoys his Johnny Cash look (but don't tell him I told you that);
2. The fact we now have limited quantities of turkey/cheese sauce/stuffing/mash potato leftovers.  This adds an exciting element to the subsequent leftover dinner as it turns into a kill or be killed, survivor style experience as my sister and I duke it out with our parents for a taste of what may be left;
3. The fact he always knows when to give me a hug, tease or smile at me;
4. The fact he always helps with the dishes and makes sure everything is cleaned up following the meal (excellent practice for our married life);

And Lastly: The fact he has SLOWLY started breathing during dinner when using my Mom's good china/crystal and has stopped asking for regular dishes (plastic preferred) or paper plates when sitting down at the table - fear of breakage does remarkable things to a person.

However, I cannot evaluate my Thanksgiving experience without thinking of another benefit of Brandon joining in on my Thanksgivings - I get to join in on his!  While we were unable to make "the" dinner this year we did go up to his parents' house to attend one of their family traditions: The Norwood Fair.  While it may not be turkey and stuffing we went on carnival rides (which I love more than anything else, errr... practically), had taffy, chowed down on greasy fries and of course shared lots of laughs with his nephews and niece and a few others that joined in on the fun...

All this being considered I guess the scale is being heavily weighted toward the benefit of my becoming a "married".  However, I guess the final thing to evaluate is the importance of the fact that Brandon has been with me for so long that he remembers everything that has occurred during the last eight Thanksgivings.  He knew my Poppa (who was always close at hand) and he knows how much tradition, family and warmth mean to us... how could I ever opt to share this with anyone else?  Who else could understand?  Who else would I want by my side?  The answer is simple... no one.  And therefore while I head upstairs to shower and dress for my "last" Thanksgiving I am going to approach it with a smile and a skip in my step as this means next year I am officially attached to my best friend and future holiday partner - Brandon (wait till Arbour Day sweetie, it'll be a blow out to remember!).

Thanksgiving 2004 - Brandon, Dad, Me, Mom, Megs and Poppa

PS It has however come to my attention that Santa will visit me for the last time this year... I am not quite sure how I feel about that, in fact this might be a whole other situation that requires debate... Brandon, can you beat the big red guy in a suit?