Here Come the Maids!

As time went by in our engagement, Mr. Alexander and I started getting antsy about when we would choose and tell our friends and family that we wanted to be in the wedding party. For him, this task would be super easy, as he has five brothers. That's right kids. Five. Growing up, he had a built in basketball and soccer team. It was only natural that as an adult, he would have a built in wedding party. Notifying his brothers and my one teenaged brother would be a cinch.
I was not so fortunate as to have a built in bridal party. Not a single sister in the bunch. Although when I was little, I would try to dress up my brother in my old doll clothes, in complete denial as to his gender. Excuse me, I specifically ordered a sister and got totally denied.
To my surprise, fifteen years later God finally deliver me a sister. Mr. Alexanders' middle brother had gotten married a couple of years ago, and his wife, Vieve, and I had gotten to be great friends over the course of their dating and their engagement process. She is my first sister, and as such, would be burdened with being my maid- um, matron- of honor.
When I asked her, she had one hesitation. She hates being called a matron as it ages her. When she thinks of a matron, she imagines an old spinster with a wart on her nose. This would not do, as Vieve is clearly young and vivacious. So, to solve the problem, we called her 1st maid or head hoe. Long story with that one. Bascially it boils down to that age old saying "Bros before Hoes". Since Mr. Alexander's party is clearly all bros, we giggle when we proclaim Vieve as a married woman head hoe. Who knew alliteration could be such fun!
The other "hoes" were quick to follow. Dancer friends of mine who have always had my back, and me them. Girls who have known my relationship with Mr. Alexander and have been so supportive and loving towards him. To them, he's just one of the girls.

Neva, a dancer friend who graduated from a prestigious university as an Aerospace Engineer, made the deans list, and she's beautiful and one of the sweetest people you will ever meet. She has a huge family full of love and is the perfect older sister to all of them.

Mandy. Oh Mandy. Graduated from UCSD as a bio major, has a personality that the Grinch would be hardpressed not to love, and finds the fun in every situation. She is one of my favorite people in all the world to have an adventure with. Super pretty with perfect hair.

Charmaine has been a friend of mine for ten years. We have similar families, had the same major in college, and I cried when she decided to apply to different ones than me. For ten years, I have seen her more days than I have seen my brother. Ask anyone, she is gorgeous and has pretty big brown eyes.

Karen is the youngest of the bunch but probably acts like more of an adult than all of us. She is completly brillant, graduating college in just over three years. Her laugh is infectious, and we have had many a conversation over our latest food crazes. She has a perfect smile, and of course, she is beautiful.

Jessica was a fast friend when we met at college. She is a bubbly redhead, and has a joke ready at the drop of a dime. We have cried together often, our lungs begging for oxygen as we just cannot stop laughing. She is an amazing dancer, and so so pretty. Mr. Alexander likes to call her Little Jessica. She stands at an amzaing 5 foot 1. A whole inch and a half taller than her older sister. But, a critical inch.

Whew! Almost done. Louise is the last of the maids. She is also a photographer for our wedding, so she is in double duty. For almost two years, she has been a comisterating co-worker at a popular coffee company that we worked part time at for some extra cash, and for the free coffee to satisfy the addiction. Louise is the ultimate easy going girl that gets along with everyone. She has beauty, humor, intelligence, and she is a wonderful photographer.

And, I didn't really tell you about Vieve. The head hoe graduated from Pepperdine! She married her high school sweetheart, a man who really worked to earn her affection. Vieve is gorgeous, with a perfect ballerina body, from years of training. She is the perfect sister, and so supportive.

I am super lucky to have these ladies by my side. I can't wait for you to get to know them- and our adventures- as they unfold. The only real thing I have to worry about is looking as great as all of them in the pictures!

Crazy eyes

Mr. Alexander and I both come from "broken homes". Our parents split up early on in our lives, and have re-married. I don't think either of us would have it any other way. My family and extended family is pretty large. His family on every side is so large it puts mine to shame.
Bbbuuuutttt......
Neither of us had any idea exactly how big the family was until we sat down to make a tentative guest list. We listed every "branch" of the family tree, then our siblings, aunts, uncles, and cousins. No one under the age of 16. No one that would need to be defined as someone that has been "removed" or second, third, or however it is all that family tree stuff works.
If you take this list of people and pretend that it is jelly beans in a jar, try to guess the number. just try.
Nope.
Higher.
Wrong again.
This list, with NO FRIENDS was 130 people.
That meant that if we wanted to allow our siblings to invite their significant others, or have our nephew attend (he is only 10), our wedding could quickly balloon to 200 people!
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In the meantime...

I should tell you that Mr. Alexander is not a fan of what we would call crowds. Once we went to the San Diego county fair and I thought that the vein on his forehead might burst out of frustration. He is normally a gentle man, but crowds make him incomfortable and jittery. Like when a horse gets nervous and the look in their eye says "stay back you animals". Mr. Alexander's eyes dart around and he hates the pressure he feels from so many people so close.
So it goes without saying that a wedding with 200 people would make him react in a similar manner.
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Back to the list...

My darling fiancee looked at me with crazy eyes- a mixture of fear, disbelief, imploring me to comfort him. He did not find it. He looked into the face of his fiancee, the wonderful woman who agreed to marry him and saw the same face!

I wonder how many times over the next nine months we will look at each other, and then up to the sky and ask God, "now what?"

200 people is something that we did not imagine would occur. I know the answer will come soon. My man is a problem solver, I am creative, and our God always has answers to give.

For now, I decided we would blame it on the parents. :)

Thanks Anyways, Martha.

After the announcements went out, Mr. Alexander thought we could take a break for a little bit. What he didn't know, however, was that I was at the peak of my wedding magazine addiction. Which made wedding planning mode go into hyper-overdrive. Which meant that a break was not a viable option for my sad fiancee....
According to all of the magazine articles, we needed a bugdet. Create a budget, make a date. This is what "they" say. So, as a diligent follower of the wedding planning cult, I decided we needed a budget and a saving plan. Which, of course, Mr. Alexander did not understand why.
At this point, I feel the need to reveal more about Mr. Alexander to you. He is one of 5 boys. Yes, that is right, 5. No girls. His poor Mother and Step-mother (who get along fabuously), were always surrounded by boys. To make matters even more filled with testosterone, their only grandchild is also a boy. This all plays into my point on why Mr. Alexander did not understand why we needed a savings plan and a budget to stick to. Quite simply put, he has never resided in Girl Land, and has never had to. Ask him how much a catalytic converter costs, he can tell you. A new hockey stick with a four degree angle, sure he can tell you. How much a bouquet of flowers costs- nothing. He will guess, shrug his shoulders, and go back to watching the Angels play on Fox Sports West.
We sat down together one afternoon and I played with numbers while he got increasingly annoyed. His eyes darted around, looking for a way out, but he just did not have one. Chores were done, there was nothing to fix, and there was nothing on TV. A victory for me.
"Babe", he said. "Why are we doing this right now when we don't know how much money we will have, or if our parents can help?"
Good question. With all the grace of Ms. Stewart herself, I answered. "We need to figure out where we are going to have the wedding, and we cannot do that until we know how much money we have to spend on it, or what areas of the wedding we want to cut corners on, while others, more important, are going to have more money devoted to them". I was very proud of how I could almost quote the articles I had seen directly.
I then presented him with a budget calculator I had downloaded from theknot.com. It laid out, based on a $15,000, $20,000, or $50,000 wedding, what percentages of your budget are typically allocated to the varied expenses. For example, 10% of your budget (at least) is spent on The Wedding Dress. Mr. Alexander looked at the sheet, at me, and back at the sheet.
"You think we are going to spend $50,000 on a wedding?"
This is what he took from it? Which I then asked him. Which he then responded, this is stupid. We don't even know how much money we will have and you want to plan the wedding?
... I reminded myself that he has not resided in Girl Land ever, but I could feel my face get hot.
"You don't get it, all the magazines say we have to do this, everything says this is how we start, we only have fifteen months until we want to get married, and that is not alot of time, you just don't know because you are not a girl, and a wedding is a girl thing and it is so important to me, and if you don't want to take it seriously, then don't I will do it myself-"
He cut me off here. My thoughts had become disorganized, jumbled, crazy even. Mr. Alexander gave me The Look. The one that said, Babe, you are acting crazy and there is no way to deal with it. Then, he crossed his arms. Bad Sign.
I calmly got up, grabbed paper and a pen, and went into my room and closed the door.
And cried.
To be honest, I had no idea how we were going to find the money to pay for this blessed event. Mr. Alexander is much better with budgeting and saving than I am, so I had hoped he would be the backbone on this one. But, I had never told him that. I assummed that he would just get it. Bad future-wife.
Thankfully Mr.Alexander has gotten patient with age. He gave me about ten minutes to think and compose myself and then came in. He apologized, explained himself, and gave me a hug. I then explained my realization, and we sat together while he thought it over.
He then took us through our montly budgets, and we came up with a savings plan for a newly established wedding account. At this point, I had another realization. Although the magazines have great ideas, shiny pictures, and present clues on where to start, they aren't us. Mr. Alexander and I have our own way of doing things that have served us well for the last few years. Why change?
It was around this time where the addiction to the magazines began to stop. We had each other, and I had a wedding planner time calender to look at for reference. We could take it from there.
Thanks anyways Martha.

Hear Ye, Hear Ye!

It turns out that there is an important decision to make when you get engaged. No, its not creating a profile on theknot.com. For Mr. Alexander and myself, the first decision was how we were going to tell our friends and family about the engagment.
It must be said that Mr. Alexander and I are both from larger families as well as blended families. (This is the incredibly PC term for divoriced and re-married parents). For us, the announcement had the possiblility of running the course of our engagement if we chose to tell relatives as we saw them at various birthday parties, weddings, and holidays. I took to the internet to decipher my options.
According to the be all end all etiquette queen Martha Stewart, simply declaring that you are engaged is not the best option. One should choose to host a party where friends and relatives can be brought together, celebrating this happy occasion and kicking off the wedding planning. In decades past, you also had the option of sending out an announcement in the mail, as well as submitting it to the local paper. However, Ms.Stewart cautioned, in today's society, this is an outdated option. Yes, a party was the way to go.
I immediately went to Mr. Alexander with my findings....Who is not the most comfortable person in large groups, or parties.... And told him my idea of having an engagment party for our close friends and family. Would you believe it, he had a deflection for my every suggestion. Where would we hold it? How many people would go? Who is going to pay for such a party?
Damn him, his great common sense and party aversions!
What would we do then? How could we spread the news throughout this great nation as well as avoid the stigma of "outdated"?
...We sent out announcements. But, in an effort to still be ourselves, we designed a postcard on Snapfish. A postcard with all fun and silly pictures of us that showed our personalities together. And, if that were not enough, we added a tag line along the bottom. A wonderful quote by the most famous philospher in all history. A serious man who thought deeply on all subjects. A man with a giant, curly, white beard, so you know he's serious.

"Love is a grave mental disease".

...Mr. Alexander and I agree wholeheartedly.

Baida Jewelers

This ring thing posed a potential issue between me and my betrothed. Why you ask? No problem, I will be happy to fill you in.
It did not fit. Two of my fingers could fit into it. In my everyday life, it is next to impossible for me to find a ring small enough for my tiny fingers. As I type, it is still a little big, and twists aroung on my finger, constantly teasing me.
The problem wasn't that the ring was too big, it was a symptom of the disease. Disease being having it to proudly, yet humbly, show off when I tell everyone I know that we got engaged. Hell, I told people we didn't know.
Mr. Alexander told me that he was going to keep it, and that we would go to the jeweler next weekend. A week? Seven long days without my new shiny symbol of our love? The poor thing sitting in some dark drawer, its sparkle longing to be in the sunlight for all to see?
I fought. Trust me, I fought for it. I did not win. Turns out, he paid for it and wanted to take care of it. Go figure.
Seven days later we headed to Los Angeles to visit our jeweler.... Baida Jewelers if you are curious. Beautiful work, good man, does work for the LAPD, LAFD, and the Bush family. Family owned and operated, and business by word of mouth only. So, if you are in the market... Go see Mr. Baida.
My first meeting with Mr. Baida was eventful. Going to get my ring fitted turned into a two and a half hour event. Somewhere in there, there was a fitting for the ring. Mostly Mr. Baida forced me to try on ring after ring, placing our diamond into numerous settings, charming my eyes and confusing my brain. He wanted to make certain that the ring Mr. Alexander chose was The One. Forever. And, it was. I swear it was.
... Until I saw it. A tiny, delicate band trimmed in pave diamonds with a square halo made of diamonds. My diamond sits highest, on top of the halo. It looked like a piece straight out of the wedding magazines us ladies "shop" for rings in.
I stayed strong. I wanted my ring Mr. Alexander got me. It too was a beautiful ring with filagree patterns etched into the band with the top and bottom trimmed in paves.
... Until I saw the wedding band that went with the halo ring. I mean bands with an "s". This delicate ring showcasing the best of old vintage styles with a modern twist in the setting was punctuated by a diamond studded band on top and bottom of the engagement ring itself. It was like being under a spell. I said I didn't want it, didn't love it as much as the other, but my eyes told a different story. I stared and stared, not looking at Mr. Alexander when he asked me if I was sure. I believe that I nodded but I could not be sure. I was still staring at the monster on my finger.
Bless his heart, he stepped in and told me what I needed to hear to be honest. I could not bear to tell him that I wanted something else. "Babe," he said, "this one honestly looks so much better on your finger, I think we should get it."
I managed to tear my eyes away from my hand long enough to smile at him and say "Thank you". This man knows me better than I know myself sometimes. Although to hear him re-tell this story to our family and friends, he likes to make me sound like a vulture, surveying the ring cases, and zeroing in on a target, swooping it up in a matter of seconds, leaving him no choice.
Whatever the version, I still stare at this ring, amazed by all that it means. The blood, sweat, and tears behind what created all this love.

The Best Laid Plans

It has occured to me that I have not given much information on the day that Mr. Alexander proposed to me, so let me clue you in a little:
Mr. Alexander is not what we call a planner. Yes, when there is a day with things to do, chores to be done, errands to run, we will venture out together with the knowledge that these things are getting accomplished. But plan a date? Plan a vacation? Not his strong suit. So it would make sense that going into a proposal that he would again have a general idea of what would happen, but then "go with the gut" as he likes to say. (So much in fact that this is what he has deemed to be our motto as a couple).
Imagine my surprise when I found out later that this had been planned down to the minute months in advance. Now imagine my laughter when nothing went as expected, thereby reinforcing the belief in going with the gut. I still shake my head when I think about how frustrated he was at various portions of the day, me clueless in the background telling him to relax. Poor thing.
Back to the original point. Mr. Alexander had planned this wonderful day, whisking me away to the beach; walking tidepools, chasing crabs, eating pizza and candy, pretty much all of my favorite things to do in childhood. Things that make you nostalgic for your youth, making you wish that you appreciated that simplicity of life. Making me admire him that much more, love him more completly.
This was all an act of mis-direction. With me distracted, happy, and delirious from my sugar high (hello Pop Rocks!), he managed to sneak all seven of our parents into the hotel we were staying in for the weekend, up to their own room. A room, more importantly, that overlooked the terrace garden that we would make our way through two hours later to get to our restaurant for dinner.
Fast forwarding those two hours, we are now making our way out to dinner fresh from showers and a change of clothes. I noticed that there was a wedding starting at six o'clock in the garden. Immediately he was upset. I assumed it was because he knew I would want to spy on it, and he hates that I love weddings so much. Especially spying on them. At this time, it was 5:45pm, and we are ten steps from the terrace.

Which is now packed with people waiting for the wedding to begin.

HE HAS TO PROPOSE IN FRONT OF ALL OF THEM.

Looking back, I can feel the moment where Mr. Alexander realizes that he is pot-committed, and there is no turning back. If he acts akwardly, I will know something is up. If he tells me we aren't going that way, then his entire plan crumbles. This whole thought process took about 3 seconds. He was going for it.

Half-way through the garden, he pulls me to a stop. He looks me square in the eye and tells me the most wonderful things anyone has ever told me. My heart is beating and I can feel blood rushing to my face, into my ears. Everyone blurs and I can only see him. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out at box.

AN EMPTY BOX.

Now, I am confused. You little worm! Pulling a scene out of Knocked Up? Giving me more promises? Then he makes me close my eyes. I open them and he is on one knee. Asking the most important question. The question I have been waiting for. The man I have loved for so long. Who cares if that box is empty?

..... It wasn't. I just didn't see the ring until ten minutes later. I grabbed that empty box and was crying so hard I couldn't see the ring he placed in there while my eyes were closed!

We heard everyone clapping as we returned to Earth. Turns out the people were informed of what would be taking place, and inconvenient as it was, there was no where else to go. Mr. Alexander made me look up, and there was our family, cheering us on. In our hurry to join them and celebrate, my new fiancee forgot to put the ring on my finger.

So goes the saying, the best laid plans....

Addiction

I am the only daughter in my family. My father's only child, and my Mother's only daughter. So, thinking back, it makes perfect sense that Mother would give me a basket of goodies after I get engaged. How soon is too soon to present your only daughter, the eldest of the family, with a gift to get her excited about the planning process? A day, two, a week?

Bless her heart she waited twenty minutes. Yes, that is correct, and not an exaggeration. Twenty minutes. As I mentioned before, we were joined by all our parents for dinner. Mr. Alexander, my new fiancee, is seated to my right. His parents are beside him. Across the table is my step-mom and my Dad. Then, my step-father and little brother. Lastly, beside me is Mother. She managed to sit though the toasts and the play-by-play of how Mr. Alexander managed to pull the wool over my eyes all day. Finally, she couldn't take it anymore.

In between the sushi and crab appetizer, she leaned in, very close.

"I got you something" she whispered.

"What?" She looked so proud, my interest was bubbling up.

"Wedding magazines!"

Oh. no. Oh-no. Already? Quickly, I thought of how I could appropriately respond to this. I smiled and nodded, then took a drink of my champagne. The smile and nod is a little like the bend and snap. When done correctly, it works every time. This case was no exception.

"You can take them with you back to your room tonight for you and Mr. Alexander to look at." She squeezed my hand.

Thus began a quick forming addiction that ran the first six months of our engagement. Once I opened that first magazine, looking at the glossy pages of designer wedding dresses, peeking at table settings, reading the "real weddings" sections- I was high as a kite. Ideas pouring out of me. Covering my closet wall with them, all sectioned off by type. One portion for dress ideas, one for flowers and color palettes, one for pictures of lustworthy cakes. Truly a junkie, I was lost in the wedding maddness, scouring Target, Barnes & Noble, the grocery store, anywhere for my next fix.

No stone was left unturned. At first, I was like a new user. I had my titles I preferred over others. I liked their well known titles. The Knot, Martha Stewart, Modern Bride. Then, it was no longer enough. The Knot is only published bi-monthly, and Modern Bride isn't as heavy a publication as Martha. So I branched out. I looked at regional publications like San Diego Weddings. Took a chance on the fashion magazine In-Style and their Wedding issues. This one did not disappoint.

It was a dark six months that when I examine the damage I am shocked with how much money is made by these companies. And yet, not suprised. I, like millions of other brides, had been taken on a joy ride, enticed by the mysteries that could be solved within their shiny pages. The only way out was to quit cold turkey.

And just like that, I was finished. The stack of magazines looms underneath my bedside table. It serves as a reminder of a period of fanaticism that for the sake of Mr. Alexander and mine's impending marriage, I could not go back to.

Fun while it lasted.