A Cambodian/Hawaiian/American/rustic chic/temple weddings

About a month ago, I found out on Facebook that my soul mate companion Sister Ang was finally coming to America to marry the guy who has been wanting to marry her for some 6 years.  It's a long, roller coaster-y love story where at one point she was oblivious to his affections, another closer to annoyed and borderline repulsed, shortly followed by willing, then eager, and now enamored and destined for eternity.

I 100% invited myself to the wedding and dubbed myself the official bride helper.  Nary and Ammon had a huge Cambodian wedding (in the eyes of the Cambodians) slash engagement party (as designed by the couple) before they left Phnom Phen so the bride wasn't too concerned with little traditional details like having special wedding jewelry and shoes, and being pampered with pedicures and lingerie.  The groom was mostly just stereotypically oblivious to a lot of these things, things like having something to eat for breakfast on the morning of the wedding and sending out invitations to people before a week prior to the wedding...or at all in some cases.  C'est la vie, right? Or as the Thais would say it: arai goh dai! Whatevs.

The sealing was lovely. I got to be an escort for the second time, which is really special for me.  The sealer was one of the best I've ever heard, maybe because I'm new to this wife thing and finally have some context for marriage advice.  He talked about all parts of the ceremony, which is quick as it is a blur, especially for the bride and groom.  He talked about promises and blessings and the power of these, and he talked about the importance of receiving your spouse, for everything they are and are not, and giving yourself to them as the focus of your efforts.  "You don't see eternity by looking at yourself , but when you look at your spouse," or something like that. I have for a long time not quite understood why in the LDS ceremony, the woman promises to give herself to the man, but the same is not said in return.  As the sealer talked, it clicked that when a man holds the priesthood, he has already promised to give himself to whatever is under his stewardship, which might be a church calling, but is very much a family and especially a wife.  Since women do not make any similar promises to God about giving themselves to others prior to a sealing, this is their chance.  Both husband and wife are asked to promise to receive their spouse, a new thing for everyone. A new responsibility and opportunity to be blessed.  God always has blessings for us that we have to decide to receive or not. Marriage, and the companionship, example, and stewardship that comes along with it, is one of those blessings. We choose to receive it (i.e. him or her) for better or worse, in sickness and health , yada yada yada. And the more fully we receive, the more full our blessings and more rich our  injection as a family unit.

The reception was luau style, meaning starting at 1pm and was filled with food.  The groom is half Hawaiian (I'm convinced 1/4 Polynesian must be the prettiest ace combo I've ever seen, btw) and his sister, likely a Pinterest fan, strung colorful bunting and paper butterflies around the backyard, which, by the way, was also my dream back yard full of fruit trees, a trellis shaded patio and a soft lawn.

I love my Nary and I'm so happy to get to be there at many stops along her love roller coaster, especially this one.  Ammon is a good man, and he will love her and give her as much independence as much as every woman needs.

The coast, the beach, the shore. [April]

I secretly want to work for It's Just Lunch, that personal dating service that is always advertised in in-flight magazines. I believe in low pressure social introductions engineered by a thoughtful and unbiased third party who has a knack for knowing who will get along.  Let's just say I had some inspiration and though it has not yet bloomed into romance, a friendship has been formed, and who knows!

And I went to the Oregon Coast.  I can't say it enough: I love a white sky against white crashing waves.  Little kids who are somehow not too freezing to enjoy the waves makes it better.  Bonfire on the beach is also a plus, even if there is sand in my roasted corn on the cob and the potatoes in my tinfoil dinner are always just a little underdone.

Tilamook factory was not underwhelming, necessarily, but I've been on some way cooler food manufacturing tours. Several of my food donors could make a buck if they would just build observation windows and sell their off-product on-site.  Ice cream and cheese may be more exciting than soup or potatoes, sure, but I'm telling you, if they built it, people would come.

Chicago in a day

Sometimes you wake up at four in the morning thinking you're going to San Francisco. And then sometimes you end up in Chicago.

The saddest part of the excursion is that I didn't get to see these monkeys:

The worst part was deciding to join up with another whim tripper who had a totally different take on a day in the city than me.  Slow poke Snyder and her "jet lag"/"broken shoes"/"adjusting to a new city" reasons for making me split a $10 cab for a one mile trip down a well walkable city street were toast after a long hour or more. Sorry friend, I'm gonna walk the city on my own for a while, and no, you probably shouldn't have had that Cinnabun, candy, pretzel, chips, and soda on the plane. Enjoy your best ever very pepperoni pizza. I'm going to swank up with a vanilla bean creme brûlée 95 stories high at the Hancock Tower and see what this city is all about.

It seems most of Chicago's big name sites are within walking distance, and the ones that are not are at least visible from the sites that are (I.e. the massively and surprisingly far away Sears tower can be seen throughout the city and other parks and famous buildings from one of the several river and double-decker tour busses).  I opted for the combo architectural river and lake tour (awesome and so worth $30 especially on a perfect weather day like I had) and lots of wandering.

I had one moment of panic on my day trip- about 7pm when my last-minute host (the son of a family friend) informed me that he'd be out on the town until some 3 am. Not wanting to drop $100 plus on a hotel, I started frantically scouring airbnb and couch surfing to find somewhere cheap and public transit accessible to stay the night.  Not 20 minutes later, my MTC companion JoAnna texts me to report that she just landed at O'Hare, in town for her sister's graduation the next day, she saw my post on Facebook and did I need a place to stay.  SAVED!  I spent the evening with the Hunter girls in a trendy Chi-town neighborhood, ate amazing Mexican food, and slept on a safe, comfortable couch.

Good thing, since I spent most of the rest of the day at the airport, trying to get home.

My recommended itinerary for one day in Chicago:

• Take the Blue Line into the city and get off at Clark and Lake.
• Walk east on Lake and marvel at the public transit miracle that is the L
• Head North on Michigan through the Miracle Mile of high end and window shop (I found my dream red lipstick at Saks and the sales lady offered to let me store my bag behind the counter).
• Notice amazing buildings along the way: The Wrigley Building's Sky Bridge, the sand-castle looking Water Tower Building, and famous HQs for places like the Chicago Tribune and Donald Trump)
• Book a ticket for a river tour for later in the day. I quite enjoyed Wendella's 90 minute river and lake tour but I'm sure they are all great.)
• Head to John Hancock tower, not to the Observation Deck but the Signature Lounge. They have a small, reasonably-priced menu, free wifi and spectacular views on all sides.  While you're there look up and book a ticket to something - anything. There are tons of shows, described in detail at theaterinchicago.com, for any taste. Concerts, Broadway, Blue Man Group and Cirque. If nothing else, ask someone for a recommendation for a good comedy club or jazz bar.  I didn't do any of these things on my day in the city but it was not for lack of options or an overwhelming price range. Tickets to some shows started at $10.
• Head back south and go on your river tour
• Continue south to one of the many parks along the water. I ended up at whichever one houses The Bean, a giant, mirrored lump shaped like a bean.
• Wander around the streets west of Michigan and find dinner.  If you have time, take a bus north/west towards the Lakeview or xx neighborhoods, where it feels safe and where people actually live and the variety and quality of restaurants seem to reflect that. Just ask someone on the street which bus to take. Everyone seemed to know how to get around via public transit.
• See your show and turn in for the night!

Out of the rain

I'm going to yoga again and it's great.  Just the limber up and calm down I need, with a healthy dose of sweat and spandex thrown in for good measure.  Tonight, I met Maria for a class - I always like going with Maria because we can roll our eyes together at the yogis going for crazy poses and appreciate the Zen of bits of advice - and afterwards we were going to sit and chat at a nearby coffee shop.  We were two strikes (three if you count the behind-construction-lines accidental detour) out when an old lady told us that the Starbucks just closed, and could she trouble us for a ride to the bus station? It's a good 20 minute walk and the sky is so gray there's sure to be a downpour any second.  How awful that my reaction to politely decline to help came in close second to my impulse to close my purse and mentally review everything in my car just in case she was trying to scam me.  The lady was 72 years old and clearly harmless, but I still conversationally quizzed her on the authenticity of her story on the walk back to my car.  Hail started about ten seconds after we got in the car (which barely started due to low fuel and had a backseat full of worthless clutter [3 pairs of shoes, paperwork, sweaty yoga gear, and ingredients for the taco salad I was going to make for the fiesta potluck we had at work today but didn't, to start] just in case she had some sort of weapon on her).  We drove the 10 blocks to the bus stop under bursts of hail and 'Oh Lord!'s from our new friend and received in return the blessing of 'everything we need for trusting and providing, Amen', and the reminder that little old ladies aren't out to get you and sometimes people just need a ride.

Dancing with Orcas [August]

Um, have I mentioned that I saw whales last summer?  Not from land, from tour or at SeaWorld; I saw count 'em FOUR whales, ORCA whales, in fact, some 40 yards away! 


That's me on the left and Orcas right at the front of my kayak

 It all started with Maria's purchase of a sea kayak.  I would say damn her and her always cooler than mine purchases, but this particular buy led to the fulfilling of a dream vacation of mine: kayak camping, so at least today I'm grateful.  Six of us launched from a dock near Olympia (Boston Harbor?) with two potential itineraries, a short, easy route and a longer route that required some against-the-current paddling if we were feeling ambitious.  Lucky that my man knows a thing or two about navigating the high seas (or low seas, whatever the ocean water is in the South Puget Sound).  After a quick potty break on a deserted Native American island (which turned out not to be so deserted- we got pretty well yelled at by a NA standing guard on his speedboat nearby.  No, sir you probably wouldn't come pee on my front doorstep, but my doorstep isn't 12 sq. miles of empty forest.  But whatever.) we opted for the longer route. I only regretted the decision for about a half an hour when 10 strokes seemed to get me nowhere and a quick break meant moving backward. 



We commandeered the only campsite left (the smug kayak Meetup group who made it pretty clear that they were faster/better/more badass than us were relegated to small space near the camp's woodpile.  Suckers.) and I quickly regretted thinking that my sleeping pad was too bulky for my boat's storage space.  (If I've learned one thing about kayaks from this trip it's that the trunk space is beyond spacious.  A sleeping pad fits.  Extra food fits.  A full Coleman stove would fit and a team of immigrants to man breakfast would fit).

Turning in for the night at Jarrel Cove

When we woke up, Russ built us a fire, Trent serenaded us with Sunday hymns on his harmonica (a surefire way to make a Sabbath Day was holy), Porter, Maria and I slowly prepared for the day while Daniel told us that he swears he heard whale sounds in the middle of the night.  Some fellow campers had been whispering about whales in the area the night before but there was no sign of them.  Whales are frequently seen near the San Juan Islands but rarely, if ever, did they congregate in the South Sound. 

Lounging

After convincing my poor arms that another day of paddling wouldn't actually be akin to torture, we headed out, due north, to make our way around the Hartcene Island.  Man alive, the open water is amazing.  I wish I could bottle the blue-gray water against a white or blue or gray sky and unleash it any time I'm feeling sad or frustrated or anything even remotely angry.  Psychologists say that water is a great source of serenity.  I'm on that train. 

Turns out potty breaks are bound for trouble, because on day 2, we parked for lunch - this time on a decidedly open and non-Native American beach- and had to cross 200 yards of barnacles for a semi-secluded squat site. No need to get into TMI, but my feet were hating my bladder.  Now that I think of it, I'm not sure why I didn't have shoes to come along with me.

It was just as we were coming up on the southern quarter of the island that other kayakers and boaters seemed to be congregating.  Whales. ORCA WHALES.  Paddle paddle paddle, as fast as my jello arms could bring me.  I had to get near them.  And I did!  There were two whales, putting on a show, frolicking around.  After a while, there was another jumping behind the wake of a speedboat.  What??

A fellow kayaker noted that he's been paddling the south Puget Sound for 15 years and has never seen any Orca pods in the area. 

I'm not going to try to paint a picture of the majesty of these whales in this setting, so unexpected.  It was majestic and amazing and way more incredible than I could try to describe.

So be jealous.  And go kayaking. 

Glamming it up

The day I purchased my wedding dress from the Seattle Wedding Expo, I was supposed to recieve a package from the Limited, where I had ordered a Final Sale dress that took my breath away.  Had I received it on time, I probably wouldn't have looked elsewhere because it's seriously adorable.  It arrived the following Tuesday, looked great on me, fit my body and personality and hung for weeks in competition with my Wedding Expo dress.  Maybe I could wear them both? 


In the end, I chose the Expo dress because it accentuated all the right feminities and took my style up a notch, as should be the case on that One Day 'you're supposed to be the star.'  It has a 50's Hollywood Glam thing going on and after deliberation with friend and hired seamstresses, alterations came easily.  [Alterations by Leanne in Lacey was well worth the drive to Olympia, btw.  She's a bit of an odd bird, but she was a more than fair price and is really talented].  And, as you can tell, with this beauty, I'd still have to find myself some shoulder covering, which just takes away from the dress.  But doesn't it just hang so beautifully?

A month before the wedding I set an appointment with the woman who has done my mom's hair for years, and mine intermittently as I've been around.  I needed a trim anyway and thought it would be a good time to talk out some ideas about how to go glam without having finger curls shellacked to my forehead.  The haircut was a bust, as was the planning conversation, and my sister reminded (slash scolded) me on my vent home that I always regret going to this stylist because she always gives me the same haircut (some variation of 'the Rachel') and I only like it when I've styled it myself, at least 3 weeks after the original cut (the cut looks great today, for what it's worth). 

Enter Christie, my beloved cousin, honorary sister (because she's got 6 brothers) and in this case, personal hair stylist.  Christie beyond saved the day with curlers, spray, and hair pins.  I've gotten more compliments on my hair than anything else, I think.  Because it looked awesome and perfect, that's why.

As for other primping, Seretta got me a gift card for a massage, which I took the Wednesday prior, I got a mani-pedi with Christie, and of course, make-up at Neiman Marcus.

It was surprisingly difficult to set an appointment at the makeup counter for me, Brooke, and Maria.  They expect you to know the companies and which lines you want.  Honestly, don't they all have eyeliner and a 30 shades of red lipstick?  I opted for Bobbi Brown, mostly because I've heard of her and think she's known for a natural look.  My makeup artist was also a bride-to-be, though she and her fiancee were opting for a just them Vegas wedding because her family is Luxembourgish and her man is from South Africa (wtf, I know) so they'll be celebrating on those other continents later this summer.  Totally normal.


I worried less about accessories than I probably should have (or maybe just the right amount since it all turned out). Mia made me some silk hair fascinators to go behind my vision of a sideswept bun. They were vetoed last minute for being too white against my ivory gown, but the gem center was the perfect bling, hot glued to a chiffon flower I had originally purchased with the intention of sending all my friends coordinating flowers to accessorize with (you know, one on a headband, one on a necklace, sash, shoe piece, etc.) but that didn't quite come to fruition in the busyness of other planning.


For jewelry, I seriously lucked out with a very last-minute run to Macy's 10 minutes before they closed.  40% off and just perfect.  I matched my mother-in-law's tennis bracelet (not sure if it's real or not but it sure is sparkly!) and opted out of a necklace.  

I forgot my bridal bouquet at home the entire time. 

All dun 'n purdy

Onto the recap

I've been reticent in my blogging lately, which I hate, less for the consistency of publishing and more because the longer I wait, the less I remember and the blurrier the picture I can write with words.  I'm going for a living memoir here, so accuracy and freshness is worth not having a completely fleshed out idea, and I need to remind myself of that.

Until then, I'm in recap mode, namely of my wedding, (including engagement, showers, and preparations) and all the normal life that happened in the meantime.

Goal is to write at least every other day in April so hopefully once the juices get flowing, I'll have made something resembling a habit of keeping record of the life of mine, which now, I'll be sharing with this dapper gent:

Warm jammies, Long day

11:11 pm and today was the most productive sick day ever.  I'm in my Christmas jammies because even though it seems to be warming up and drying out around here (4 straight days of blue blue skies, thank you), I'm still cold under my skin and the only thing that help is flannel/fleece PJs (with the collar popped apparently) and the inch-thick red socks my future Mother-in-Law gave me as a Christmas stocking this year. 

Yes, I have three piles of clean clothes to put away, but it means I got TWO very full loads done today, along with a number of errands that have been clouding up the back of my brain including, but not limited to depositing over $1000 in checks, getting in a quasi-fight with my financial planner about my life insurance policy, finalizing wedding invitations, tables and food with my mom, buying thank you cards and contraceptives, a Bikram yoga class that kicked my butt but sweat out everything toxic in me, and an episode of Lost to top it off. 

And I made my bed. 

Irene

There's this lady I work with at the temple, Irene.  I actually grew up going to church with her, though my only memory of her was that she was old and her husband was dying so we went as a youth group to clean up their house.  It's 15 years later now and she's got that wobbly head thing going on where it always looks like she's nodding in agreement, or maybe trying her hand (head) at a good old fashioned Indian head shake. She's about 4'10", maybe shorter with posture, and has the kind of wrinkles that I love shout that I want some day, because they show a life well-lived.  My mom says wait 'til I'm her age and I'll rethink the beauty of wrinkles, but Irene's skin and small pouf of silvery white hair make me think I could like aging, if I could end up as cute as her. 

I just noticed Irene again tonight, up close towering over her.  I don't think I've ever had 4" on anyone over the age of 10.  It's funny how old people, to me, feel made up, like they're out of a story or a movie or something.  I see the wrinkles and make up stories in my head of years that made them wiser.  Sure, they've had those years, but they've also had things like a pick line up their arm for weeks at a time and husbands dying and a lot of normal days full of dinner and errands.

When I first started at the temple, none of the ladies asked about my love life.  It's considered rude, I guess, to ask a young girl who might just be starving for a life partner about the presence of such a man.  But the first time Irene made the connection that I was a Knudson girl, Wendy's daughter, from her neck of the woods, the first words out of her mouth were 'So, you got a man?'  Tonight when asked questions that I would story up in my head to be answered like Nanny Wendy from Hook, instead, she was matter of fact and to the point.  Dark penciled eyebrows and no messing around. 

Just noticed and am still thinking about it.  I could be pretty happy to end up like Irene. 

Giving Up Explained

When I have something big to blog about, I have a tendency to hold off on updating my blog for a while because I wish I could update chronologically, fully, as things are happening.  I want to update with pictures and witty or thoughtful commentary.  Then I get back-logged and then don't want to post new items out of order.

This season's big news?



Oh, and my fingeres are red now...

Uhh what?

I'm freaking engaged, that's what.  

I met this boy and I love him and we're getting married.  Two months from yesterday.

Now I can post about all the goings-on with some context.

Soundtrack: C'est la Mort by The Civil Wars

This song was recommended to me by YouTube yesterday and I've probably listened to it over 50 times in the last 24 hours.  It's got that desperation of Phantom of the Opera's 'All I Ask Of You' and the sweet sentimental of 'Grow Old with You' from The Wedding Singer.  But it's got these haunting vocals, killer harmonies, and a message that sinks in so deep that I got light-headed the first 15 times on repeat. 

Whatever happens, wherever you go, in life and in death, don't go without me.