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?

Happy Turkey Weekend!

We hope you have a wonderful Thanksgiving that is full of family, friends, and of course food (the last part is from Brandon).

My money is on the turkey....

The Unit:

A phrase that has appeared in several of my previous "ramblings" is "The Unit" and thus far this phrase has gone unexplained, a situation I wish to correct, right here, right now. However, before I provide an explanation I feel it is important to first define what "The Unit" is not before explaining what "The Unit" is. Therefore, please indulge the following... 

"The Unit" is Not:

... a reference to the CBS television show that went off the air tragically because the network failed to capitalize on a show featuring hot guys in army uniforms (genius I say, genius) (for more information please visit: http://www.cbs.com/primetime/the_unit/ - they really are hot!);

...a form/method of measurement (i.e. one unit of blood... or better yet one unit of alcohol);

...a music group (i.e. "G-Unit");

...a synthpunk band from San Francisco from 1978 to 1984 ("The Units");

...an enzyme cavity; and/or,

...an indie pop album by the Australian band "Regurgitator" (yes, they are named Regurgitator and yes I would like tickets to one of their concerts purely because they are called “Regurgitator”... I wonder if Gravol is a sponsor?).

My Bridesmaids (Wedding Party Party, September 18, 2009)

Now that I have clarified what "The Unit" is not, I would like to clarify what it is... "The Unit" refers to the gang of ladies I am lucky to have support me during the 11 months (eek 11 months!) left before my wedding day... AKA: My Bridesmaids. Therefore, "The Unit" is a term meaning friend and support system and while there is no Wikipedia article that demonstrates this fact just take my word for it... mind you I wouldn't mind being supported by a troop of hot guys in uniform (friend or foe) so perhaps we can hope for a looser definition in the future.

The history of the term (so you don't think I am some crazy, militaristic loon) relates back to a simple conversation I had with "The Unit" at the Wedding Party Party. During the course of the evening I referred to everyone in the Wedding Party as a cohesive group a "Unit" if you will... Now for some reason this turn of phrase sparked concern (errr... terror) for my bridesmaids as for some reason images of me with a whip and a box of invitations to be put together flitted through their heads (not quite sugarplums, but hey it works for me... what is the saying, "absolute power corrupts absolutely"?). Nonetheless, it has warmed to all (by hook or by crook, cough...) and I couldn't be happier with the name [as who knows I may really be a crazy, militaristic loon after all].

And now I would like to introduce you to the group of ladies I am pleased to say comprise "The Unit" (in no particular order):

Megan (Maid of Honour or in keeping with my crazy, militaristic loon side - Lt. General): Megan has been my sister, friend, enemy, confidant, life support and everything in between pretty much since she was born (there was some doubt earlier in this decade, but it has all been resolved) and that is why she is going to stand beside me as my Maid of Honour – we share friendship, as well as a gene pool;

Sisters!  Toronto Wedding Show (February 2009)

Elizabeth (Rear Admiral - she travels a lot so that's why she's Navy as opposed to Army): Elizabeth and I met at the felt board on our first day of kindergarten and no matter how far we travel we always come back to the same spot - friendship (err... I don't really travel she does, but for the purposes of my ego let's say we);

We've come a LONG way from the felt board Lady!

Lorraine (Major-General): Having been friends for just over 5 years I have to be honest we met because of chicken (ahh the Swiss), but formed a lasting friendship because of her willingness to put up with Brandon (oh and because of laughter, friendship and me giving her directions… poor girl).

Is it a Monkey?  Is it a Pindrop?  No (we hope!) it's a Baby!

Mallory (Major General): Whether we are fending off Stratfordian Pirates or in elementary school lip-synching to "I Can't Wait to be King" Mallory's support and friendship has never been far from hand and she can’t run away from it no matter how far she runs (and I mean she can REALLY run far!).

Maybe we should give you a moment?

Now that I have introduced "The Unit" I would like to add a couple of other add ons to my contingent that cannot be omitted despite their gender, location or species... they are as follows:

Laura (Queen Mum): Being the head of the female branch of my family my mom performs every job from Chief Cook and Bottle Washer to Medic... (tear);

Robert (Admiral): Being the head of the male branch of my family he too performs every job from Quartermaster to Latrine Duty... (I love you guys);

They must love me...

Kathy (AWOL): From Pathfinders to Swiss, Kathy is a true friend… despite the fact she has taken off for the beautiful mountains of BC she is not far from my mind (I miss you Kathy);

Doesn't she make a beautiful bride?  (Kathy's Wedding - July 2006)

Piper (Private): Piper is definitely in the wedding party even if my mother is still opposed to the plan and his not so human status may create a few obstacles to the overall success of my getting up the aisle (he will want my bouquet guaranteed). Nevertheless, Private Piper cannot be left out as he serves as the Court Jester and performs the supply end of the supply and demand chain of Dad’s latrine duty.

Fashion Forward?  Look at how the blue brings out his fur...

Coming Next Spring - "Barking Up The Fashion Tree: Queer Eye for the Straight Dog"

Now that you have been formally introduced to "The Unit" it is time to say good night; it is Friday and while I may be the General of this rag-tag team of Army/Navy/Deserters I always have zero energy on Friday nights. However, if you take anything from this posting please keep the following in mind: I am looking for a team of hot guys in uniform to support me (love you ladies and all, but really don’t you think the wedding might be more fun?)... mind you I guess I could settle for a guy I love to pieces and wouldn’t trade for a million bucks (he does wear a uniform after all!). 

Now for those of you who are concerned that I have forgotten Brandon's crew, don't worry.

There will be a description to follow soon.

An Ode to Cindy from Michigan

Searching for the right wedding dress is not a simple task. I have heard rumours of girls putting a dress on and just "knowing"... well it hasn't been that simple for me and there is one reason for that and one reason alone: THE INTERNET. I think the Internet may be the worst invention for weddings since the credit card - and this is not an exaggeration. Think about this for a minute - instead of being limited and therefore content with the selection available in your local stores every bride now settles into her computer chair and starts GOOGLING (another problem as the solution to everything is, "oh I'll figure that out, I'll just Google it). What happens when one starts Googling and surfing the web? Well one finds a beautiful dress and naturally "assumes" that it will not be difficult to find locally, regionally, provincially, nationally or internationally... therefore today's blog is my tale of trying to find the dress of my dreams (anyone up for a short jaunt to Korea or perhaps Peru?).

My initial discovery that this wasn't going to be as easy as I imagined came to light when I went to try on dresses for the first time with my mom and sister. We arrived at the bridal store picture in hand and were all set to start trying dresses on - SPECIFICALLY THE ONE I HAD FOUND ON THE INTERNET... but nope, I found out that while they may carry the designer of the dress they do not carry the actual dress itself... urgh and sigh. That being said I tried on a number of dresses, several of which were beautiful and left with a lot to think about. The problem was that I couldn't forget about the dress, THE dress that I had found on the Internet. I just kept wondering what it would look like... would it be similar, would I look awful, would it make my mom start to cry when she saw me wearing it, would I feel like a million bucks, would Brandon fall in love with me a little more when he saw it?

A Shopping We Will Go...

The good ole days (before finding out that dress shopping is not quite that simple)

Therefore, I printed off the listing of every store in Ontario carrying this designer and started phoning... from Thunder Bay to Renfrew, Ontario I called. Some stores were really helpful, some were plain rude, and others well... we will just leave it at that. Finally, I exhausted all of Ontario and was traumatized to realize that while all were willing to order the dress for me; none had the dress in stock so I could try it on before spending a nice car down payment to see what it looked like. Who buys a dress without trying it on?


My next step was to print off the listings for New York State and Pennsylvania - I assumed this would be a synch! So once more I started calling, I called about 60% of New York and about 40% of Pennsylvania and was about to give up my will to use a telephone (blackened finger tips from dialling, broken nails, inner ear damage, etc...; I am sure you can imagine the sorry state I was in), until... I hit upon a winner. Please find below a short re-creation of my conversation (please note that this is relatively accurate and not been altered for publication):

Marie: "Hi, do you have x* dress, by Maggie Sottero in stock?"


Wanda (sales girl): "Ummmm... let me go check" [puts phone down and I can hear ruffling of paper and things moving around], "no we don't have it, but has anyone told you about "Maggie on Tour?"


Marie: "Maggie on Tour? No, I have only called 120 dress stores why would anyone mention MAGGIE ON TOUR to me?


Wanda: "Well Sugar [yes I was called sugar, ironic no?] it works like this, you pay between $50 to $100 and Maggie sends the dress to the store in question for you to try on, if you like it order one in your size, colour etc... And basically Bob's your uncle [well he's actually my father, but who am I to criticize]".


Marie: "YEAH! Do they offer this in Canada?"


Wanda: "Errr no..."


Marie: "Figures - Pennsylvania here I come!" [not Hollywood, but it works anyway].

So I hang up the phone and begin to make plans for the great sojourn as I like to call it. We set a date to go and everything is just sailing along until Wanda calls back and says that the dress is backordered until sometime in 2015 (well that might be an exaggeration) and beyond that the sample size is about the right size for a Barbie (and Barbie I am not). So where does that leave me you ask? Basically back at square zero, but with a date set to go to Pennsylvania... what's a girl to do?


Well the girl mopes for a few days, contemplates giving up, but then suddenly gets a renewed sense of direction. So I started making more calls and more calls. I started calling stores in Montreal to see if perhaps our neighbours to the East might open more doors for me, but alas... they did not. In fact I felt a little slammed shut on a few time; the worst phone call thus far was with one of those stores. The woman answered the phone with this huge string of French (still no idea what she said) and I trying to be polite said "parlez-vous Anglais?". To which her reply was another string of French, from which I discerned that no she does not speak English, nor why would she want to. Nonetheless, I gave it the old college try and started to explain in my own halted grade eleven French what I was looking for... to be fair there were a lot of ummms, errrs, and a few quietly mumbled swear words in the sentence as I tried to communicate in broken sentences. This lasted for about 3-4 minutes until the woman finally interrupted me and made a statement I will remember for the rest of my life: "this is going to take forever, what is it that you are looking for?" In perfect, unaccented English - SERIOUSLY!

Brandon and I during our recent Montreal trip...

see no hard feelings (well kind of!)

Obviously I didn't find what I was looking for at that store, nor did the rest of Quebec pan out, but I still had two things on my side - desperation and a picture from the Internet of a beautiful dress... (DARN YOU INTERNET!). So I again took a day off to ponder my situation and then felt a renewed sense of inspiration as I hadn't called ALL of New York State or Pennsylvania and there are a couple of other states close at hand, Michigan for example. There is still hope. 

So I began once more. However this time I was assisted by my delightful co-worker Denise who felt equally (?) determined to find this dress for me. So we began again and again and again. We kept the drive going and on the GO Train we started making more calls from our luxurious seat in the stair case practically sitting on top of each other (Denise was the scribe and I was the caller). She dictated phone numbers and we dialled and dialled. From Ann Arbour to the moon we kept searching until we struck gold with Cindy** from Michigan.


Now before I explain about striking gold I would like to detail the reason I did not call the designer directly to see if they could help - I couldn't get the telephone number. Apparently the way it works is the dress stores are the only ones really able to call designers directly as I guess (for reasons such as this) the designer does not want to be inundated with calls (some customer service!). I had heard about this legendary number in hushed whispers and Morse Code, but never actually had heard it - it was as mysterious as the Loch Ness Monster, but perhaps more elusive... until Cindy entered my life.


I explained my situation to Cindy and with Denise and I holding baited breaths along with the rest of our growing GO Train audience she repeated another sentence I will remember for the rest of my life, "ummm... I am not supposed to tell you this and don't tell anyone where you got it, but... call 1-XXX-XXX-XXXX and they can tell you who has the dress - JUST DON'T TELL ANYONE OR I WILL GET FIRED!" - She "deep throated" out the location of my future wedding dress! I love you Cindy!


EUREKA!


Obviously I accepted the number graciously and with trembling hands dialled. I was connected and within 5 minutes had the location of the dress. I called and they were delightful. So as a result of my family's great patience with my nuttiness (my dad Googled it and found a telephone number, but it is in Peru, so I think I would rather avoid calling that...), Denise's dedication, Mallory's willingness to drive to PA, Mom and Megan's efforts to find similar dresses, and my own Internet searches (cough, cough) and of course my forth coming long distance bill, I am heading to Pennsylvania to see the dress. Mind you, knowing my luck I will get there and it will be purple, size 30 and a pant suit, but we will cross that bridge when and if it comes.

How the men in my life felt about my search!

(FYI This is Amandeep (my sister's beau) and Brandon having their heads knocked in

by none other than my Dad... that's familial love if I have ever seen it before)

I guess I can thank the Internet for one thing... this story (but that is all we can thank the Internet for mind you). I will keep you posted on the search and our trip... hopefully I will return with a dress that makes me smile, my mom weep and Brandon fall in love with me a little more than he has already... keep your fingers crossed!

* Cannot provide dress name as do not want to ruin wedding day by virtue of the Googleability of the dress... ARRRRGGGGH THE INTERNET (eek now I sound like a Stratfordian Pirate...).
** Name has been altered to protect identity as per agreement made in desperation.