Makeout pictures for the weekend

As promised, here are some wedding photos that you haven't seen yet. Warning: you might start rolling your eyes just a little bit.

(all photos by Julie Dreelin of Beach Productions)




Happy weekend, everyone! Hope it's full of kisses. ;-)


PS... I've moved! Catch up on my daily adventures at The Freckled Citizen!

PSA (what's a little embarrassment among spouses?)

A good way to tell that you've married the right person is if he brings you crabcakes and a bottle of champagne to the beach ON A TRAY. Just saying.


...swoon...

Three years later...

The epitome of the perfect Sunday: sleeping in, making breakfast, slowly sipping coffee while digging into the Sunday Times, planning meals, buying the week's groceries and flowers, exercising, and then settling in for a night at home. Sigh...

We've been blessed to receive gifts in the mail nearly every day for the past two weeks. My favorite gifts so far have been gifts of family significance (goes without saying) or thematic gifts. For example, one kind person bought us every single vase off one of our registries, and in the card wished us a lifetime of flowers. One kind person sent us everything we'll need in order to roast meat to succulent perfection. Tonight, we're taking advantage of both things. We're surrounded by fresh flowers, and we're planning a very special dinner.

See, three years ago tonight, we met each other. Completely randomly. In a bar. Not really on our best behavior. Okay, not on my best behavior. But after being mentally manhandled all night, T inexplicably kissed me on the sidewalk anyway. And it was much better than I thought it (he?) would be. And just like that, the guy I'd probably never see again became the guy I had to see again.

You know those moments when you accidentally give yourself away, and then immediately hate yourself for it? That was me, slipping up and making a little sound in spite of myself during the kiss. Cover blown. Shell crumbled.

Two nights later, I called up that strange preppy guy in pink to announce that A) I had a bottle of wine, and B) I was coming over to watch baseball, which my non-cable-subscribing self assumed was on at a moment's notice to anyone who owned more than rabbit ears. There wasn't a game on that night, as it turned out, but it didn't even matter.

So three years ago tonight, I shared a couple of drinks with someone who in just four weeks from today, I will be marrying. To celebrate, we're using our divine roasting pan to cook a fabulous dinner and have a quiet night at home, surrounded by fresh flowers. We're opening a really special bottle of wine. And guess what's on TV tonight? Red Sox - Yankees.

April 26, 2006 - April 26, 2009: Life coming full circle.

Feminists fall in love, too

Feministing is one of my daily reads. As such, I've come to admire and respect founder Jessica Valenti, now a published author and fixture on the college speaking circuit. Valenti has been engaged for several months now, and has written in several places about the process of being a feminist and planning a wedding, something that seems to many to be an oxymoron. In this piece for the Guardian, Valenti offers an eloquent recap of the process for her thus far, and the response her engagement has elicited from some conservatives ("You've Never Met a Bridezilla Like a Feminist Bridezilla") to fellow feminists who believed Valenti had compromised her values by wanting to be married (she "seem[ed] to find flaws with patriarchy, but fail[ed] to find a way to bring it down"). The value in having this discussion in multiple mediums is enormous, and digging into feminism, romantic partnership, and structural conditions is something that I could do all day long. What these serious discussions come down to is the same bottom line that fluffier wedding-based reads bring up for me: do what makes you and your partner happy. That's it. That's all.

Being a feminist and planning a wedding embodies much more than whether or not you're wearing a white dress (I am) or changing your name (I'm not) or being given away by someone (both my parents, thank you). Being a feminist and planning a wedding is about your relationship and your partnership, and incidentally how you choose to celebrate (both raucously and tenderly, for us, and with donations to a same-sex marriage fund in lieu of favors, because we feel extraordinarily lucky that we're able to marry at all). Trevor and I are equal partners through and through, and I think our wedding will celebrate that fact. Our campaign logo is fun and memorable, but is quite literal in the statement that it makes. Adams Hanger '09. Separate entities joined on a ticket. Distinct identities embarking on a journey together. (Remember a Council Between Equals?)

I like the kind of wedding that celebrates how stubbornly independent the two of us are, while not diminishing for a second that we're also madly in love with each other. I like the kind of marriage that kind of wedding will kick off. And maybe I do have a set of 12 glasses on my living room floor right now with an etched family monogram that will never be ours, sent by someone who didn't quite get it. These things will happen, and if I get fed up enough I can call my future mother-in-law, who never changed her name, for advice. That small hassle, though? Totally worth it. Because I get to marry the only person who's ever made me excited about the idea of marriage, and because he's every bit as equal-opportunity and well-adjusted and unpossessive and excited to be married as I am. Is he "garnishing his testicles" for "letting" me keep my name, as someone wrote about Valenti's fiance? Hardly. Trust me.

It's funny to me how much we can fuss about the way other people decide to get married. If we're going to fuss about it, let's fuss about those who aren't even allowed the option. That's the real deal. Me? I'm just a feminist co-hosting a big 'ol beach party and shacking up with her favorite guy for the rest of her life.

Congrats, Jessica. And you know what? Congrats, me! (Us, I mean us.)

Happy Friday, everyone.

I know I want to marry T when...

...we are making dinner together.

I used to banish partners from the kitchen. Couldn't deal with the way they took up too much space, got in the way of my movements, were always, magically, exactly in the way. How is that possible, to always be in the wrong place? It was my domain. Get outoutout!

But it's the F-Word's space, too. He's okay playing second fiddle there. He asks me what to chop and what he can do next. More than that, I actually let him help. I've never been good at letting someone help before. He washes greens, sears meat, pours wine, and turns up the music. He doesn't mind that my grand plans of food-shopping and working out all have to happen before we can even begin to cook. He's okay with dinner at 9.

So am I. And I'm okay with him, all up in my space, forever.

And.... baaack!

You know, every time we're feeling the sinking economy, wondering if we're better off using wedding $ to move somewhere else to take happier but lower-paying jobs, or being just plain impatient, we bring up just running to Vegas and getting married.

But Election Night? In the middle of that beautiful moment, together and looking ahead? Pure joy. If Albuquerque were Vegas, I'd have a wedding ring on my finger right now. Just saying.

"Your Kiss is on my List"

I love Halloween. Throughout college in Boston, my best girls and I were known for our annual Halloween party, a tradition we planned all year long. In New Mexico, I kept the tradition going for graduate school, and forced compliance of the costume rule with the dreaded "prop box" if anyone dared show up in street clothes. A little later, one of my favorite neighborhoods in downtown Albuquerque became the center of Halloween for me. As planners, my gals and I wrote about the role of the holiday to the street's sense of community. It's truly something to be seen, with each yard decorated to the nines and the street packed so full of trick-or-treaters there are lines to walk up to each house.

This year in Dallas, I'm far away from that favorite street of mine, and even farther from my college glory days haunts. But the f-word and I are doing our part to be festive. Since he routinely gets comparisons to a variety of famous people (see exhibits A, B, and C) - whereas I only ever get one - we decided that I might as well throw on a mustache and go all out, as the sidekick to his favorite lookalike. So we're Hall and Oates tonight. "No Can Do," you say? Well you can, I assure you, as long as you're willing to look completely ridiculous while doing it.

Thinking about costumes reminds me of calling my sister when we changed our wedding plans. Before I could get out the details, she said, "You're getting married in costume, aren't you?" HA! But I have to admit, I love the idea. Wearing something outlandish, all the guests wearing masks, lavish decor? I think it's the only way I could go big for a wedding. Casual, seaside nuptials... or an extravagant costume wedding. That sounds about right. :-) I wonder how many folks out there are getting married tomorrow at a traditional, sumptuous fall wedding, but going all-out with costumes tonight for their rehearsal? Anyone, anyone? Because I'm jealous.

This one's for you, T:

My "YES!"

We have a tough time keeping secrets from one another, which played out in funny ways leading up to our engagement. I knew when Trevor first met with a jeweler to start designing my engagement ring; I knew when he picked out the stone; I knew when the ring was finished and he hid it somewhere in our apartment.

Two big things we did manage to keep a secret. For Trevor, it was the final design of the ring. And for me, it was a little gift that I had made for him. I like thinking that Trevor's the only guy I know who received some accessories of his own after proposing marriage.

These suckers are a pain to photograph, but here they are: cufflinks with "YES!" engraved on the back. He wears them to work all the time, which I love... a reminder of his own, kind of like this gorgeous ring on my finger.

And he already knows he's getting another set engraved with "I Do" come May.

My wedding smell

I found my wedding day perfume.

Normally I smell very fresh/green/herbal/fruity, but I've been searching for a floral fragrance for the wedding that will take me back to that day every time I smell it. There's something romantic about a wedding day perfume that really appeals to me, and I have strong memory associations with certain scents.

I knew Marc Jacobs Perfume was the one as soon as I smelled it. Gardenias are my absolute favorite floral smell; they remind me of home, and I'd already considered wearing one in my hair for the wedding anyway.

I've been sneaking sprays of it every time I go shopping, and it already makes me feel dreamy and happy. Divine.

The best proposal(s) possible

Everyone wants to know the engagement story. How did it happen? What did he say? Was it a surprise?

The truth is that the way Trevor proposed was perfectly us, but there are little details that will forever be ours alone. I like it that way.

Here are three things that I wake up every day knowing without a doubt:

• Saying yes was the biggest no-brainer of all time
• We feel like the happiest and luckiest couple on the planet
• The best thing about being engaged is that Trevor proposes to me every single day

He really does.

Every single day since he asked me to marry him for the very first time, he has proposed all over again. Some days it's right before bed. Some days it's first thing in the morning. Some days it's during a movie. Some days it's across a room. One day it was in the middle of an annoying disagreement, to make a point, and it was the cutest thing ever. He asks me differently every single day.

And every single day I say yes. That's how lucky I am.