all for 'aught

this is pretty stupid of me, but i only realized a few weeks ago that a decade was actually ending. it seemed like a much bigger deal in 1999—we were leaving a whole century behind. and of course there was a chance that the sky might fall at the stroke of midnight.

comparatively, the prospect of 2010 is a bit of a snooze.

except apparently everyone hated the 'aughts. it was the worst decade in decades, according to many. i've never liked year-in-reviews (or is it years-in-review?), or decade-in-reviews. i find them depressing for reasons i can't fully explain. maybe because they underline how fleeting time is? or because if it's time to rehash the year, it means a long, cold winter is ahead? not sure. and i was avoiding all decade-in-review material this time around until a week ago when i picked up AM New York on my way into the F train. a big chunk of it was devoted to timelines of what happened between 2000 and now. i have to say, most of it was pretty bad. with the exception of technology, nearly everything sucked. no wonder everyone i know is eagerly awaiting the arrival of 2010.

i can't say the 'aughts were all bad for me, though they did encompass the meat of my 20s, which were oh-so-painful and often times embarrassing. (the 1990s encompassed most of my teen years and while they had their equally tragicomic moments, i was just a kid—humiliation and confusion was to be expected.) i spent my 20s as a supposed adult, living on my own, starting my career. and also—many, many times—being a complete idiot.

anyway, against my better judgment i tried to recount the highlights from the last almost-10 years of my life. i came up with the following:

- i lived in six different apartments for varying amounts of time

- i had a total of nine different roommates (one of whom i married, so perhaps he doesn't count) and managed to live on my own for a year and a half
- i had four different jobs, plus a few freelance gigs on the side; i got laid off from one and quit two
- i traveled to florida four times; california twice; boston, baltimore, montana, and aruba once
- i was in three weddings (four if you count my own)
- i witnessed two Yankee World Series victories, one heartbreaking World Series defeat, one epic collapse and many lackluster playoff losses; i also attended many awesome games in two different Yankee Stadiums—and ran a 5K in one

- i started a blog

- i said goodbye to my beagle Breeze

- i turned 30

- i voted for Hillary

- i got a passport

- i got married

and that's all i could come up with. am i forgetting things? were my 20s that bleak? so now i hate the 'aughts, too.

no, not really. they're certainly ending much better than they started. (i distinctly remember spending New Year's Eve in 1999 at my parents' house, on the couch, just me and my dog—my parents had a party to go to—watching the Peter Jennings ABC News millennium special. i told myself i was content but really i was so lonely it hurt.) i have much to be happy about right now and, better yet, much to look forward to.

hopefully, we all do.

mbm

merry & bright

merry christmas!

mbm

part four: after (honeymoon)

where we parked it for at least a portion of every day

there's a foot of snow on the ground and the windchill outside is nineteen degrees. seems like a good time to reminisce about the honeymoon.

our flight to Aruba was at seven in the morning the Monday after the wedding. we set the alarm for three-thirty in order to be ready when the car service arrived. the only way i'll get up at three-thirty in the morning for anything is if it's for my honeymoon, so that worked out well.

it was all very exciting because not only were we going to Aruba for nine days at the end of November, we were finally getting stamps on our passports. it seemed like everyone we knew had already traveled extensively outside the country, and there we were, with naked passports. how lame were we? but four-and-a-half hours in the air later that morning, we were passport virgins no more. we had, in fact, an awesome little stamp that said Bon Bini! which means 'welcome' in Aruba. lovely.

we had decided on Aruba as our honeymoon spot because everyone we spoke to who's been there absolutely raved about it. and we noticed nearly all of them went back, some many times. it's also out of the path of hurricanes, so the weather is nearly always perfect—hot, sunny, low humidity with a nice constant breeze—and the entire island is safe. the people who live and work there are consistently rated among the world's friendliest (Aruba's official tagline is "One Happy Island") and oh, you can drink the water.

once we arrived, i think it took us about three minutes to know that we'd made the right decision. it was as beautiful as everyone said it would be, our hotel was breathtaking and god it felt nice to be somewhere warm! i could literally write for pages and pages about all our adventures and funny stories but i'm going to reel it in and include just some highlights:

- on our first evening in Aruba, once we were checked in and got the lay of the land, we sat on a pier by the hotel and had our first honeymoon drinks. i was enraptured by the sunset on the water—had never seen it done that way before—and my husband was sound asleep in his deck chair. i watched him for a while and realized that i, too, was tired to my bones. we went up to our room as soon as the sun dropped below the horizon line and fell asleep before seven-thirty. not the most exotic way to begin a honeymoon but oh—the sleep was glorious.

- i'd booked the hotel over the summer, when i was still single and using my maiden name. though they had Michael's name in the system too, all the hotel staffers—from the waitresses at our brunch buffet to the guys who set up our beach hut every day—called him Mr. [my maiden name]. it was jarring at first, and i think uncomfortable for Michael (they were calling him by my father's name, basically, which was pretty weird) but then we just kept started laughing about it. i did go to the front desk and ask them to adjust the information in their system, but it never trickled down to the staff. so, for the first nine days of our marriage, he took my name.

- on our third day, we went for a private honeymoon horseback ride in Arikok National Park, which i'd booked a month earlier. the adventure began when the van from the horse ranch picked us up at our hotel and took us on a crazy, bumpy, high-speed ride into the park. our driver was Javier and he also turned out to be our tour guide. we signed release forms and mounted our horses (mine was Antonio, Michael's was Simon) and off we went—without helmets. i hadn't been on a horse since i was about 13 and Michael's experience was equally limited. so we were both nervous wrecks when we began a pretty steep climb up a rocky hill with minimal instruction from Javier. i remember thinking, "i can't die on my honeymoon. that would be ridiculous. i will not fall off this rocky cliff and break every bone in my body." (i'm still amazed that i didn't.) eventually we got to gallop along the beach and that was exhilarating, though i found out later that Michael thought he was a goner. just before we hit the sand his horse tried to walk him into a bunch of huge rocks and while Michael was leaning over to avoid the rocks, the horse took off galloping. i think he still believes Simon was trying to off him.

this was much harder to do than it looks

anyway, the most hilarious part of the day involved my beloved, prized Yankee cap. i wore it throughout the playoffs and World Series and it became my good luck charm. i wore it on the horseback trip and not long into our excursion, Javier complimented me on it, saying he loves the Yanks but can never find any team merchandise on the island. after our ride, as we drank beers at the ranch, Javier and i had some sort of exchange—he spoke fast and his accent was thick and i was still getting over the fact that i'd stepped in a huge pile of horse shit dismounting Antonio—during which much miscommunication occurred and after which i lost my hat to Javier. we were posing for pictures together and he asked if he could pose in my hat and then he walked off with it. Michael said, "you just gave him your hat. he thinks it's his." i said no way, he'd surely bring it back. but Michael saw Javier adjusting the hat to fit his head. "i have to get it back," he said and i told him not to worry about it, just let him have it. but Michael was insistent that i could not give up my lucky hat so easily. so he went and spoke to Javier, who was a little bit heartbroken and probably a little pissed that our supposed "deal" was off.

right before Javier walked off with my hat

he drove us back to the hotel and as i got out of the van i apologized and told him i'd send one to him once i got back to New York. (which i haven't done yet but will try to do next week if i can find an affordable way of sending something to Aruba—i did track down the hat!)

- we spent Thanksgiving night on a sunset catamaran cruise—which is not a bad way at all to spend Turkey Day. we boarded the boat and were seated at a table with a family: mom, dad, two little girls and a baby boy. i turned to Michael before we sat down and muttered, "seriously?" but they turned out to be really great people. the parents were from a town close to where i grew up and the two little girls were adorable and chatty. between the fun conversation, free-flowing champagne, surprisingly decent turkey buffet and the fact that we were on a catamaran in the Caribbean—we had much to be thankful for that night.

- on our seventh day, we rented a jeep and drove ourselves all the way around Aruba. it was definitely the best day of the honeymoon. just the two of us with the top down and 70 square miles of island. Michael did most of the driving—largely off-roading, such a blast—and i snapped about three hundred pictures. everything was so beautiful. we started at the California Lighthouse, drove down the north coast (which is rocky and un-swimmable, but breathtaking.) we stopped at the Natural Bridge (half of which crumbled four years ago) and had an awesome pina colada in a really quirky gift shop/snack stand. we explored some caves, some ruins, many beaches—and accidentally witnessed a woman using a rock formation as a bathroom. (you had to be there.) we ended our day at Baby Beach, which is at the south end of the island—tranquil, relaxing and so pretty. we were starving by that point and had a few hours before our dinner reservation, so we popped into the snack hut there, and met Gilly, Willie and Dennis—three of the nicest older gentleman you'd ever meet. friendly, funny and curious. they even let me inscribe our names on the wall. we arrived back at the hotel just after sunset—windblown, muddy, sunkissed and really psyched. really an amazing day.

we made our mark at Baby Beach

- we met an array of characters throughout our stay, including Isabella, a 1o-year old from Long Island who was on our Jolly Pirate snorkel cruise (replete with open bar and rope swing); Derek, a young guy who was painting the Alta Vista chapel on our jeep tour who bought us each a bottle of water when the guy selling the water couldn't make change for our American money); and a couple we named Muscles and Greta—their beach hut was next to ours all week and Michael and i couldn't help but be fixated with them. they were both in incredible shape (they were clearly not indulging in margaritas, pina coladas, buckets of beer and nachos as we were) and seemingly obsessed with being tan. before the sun got anywhere near their chaise lounges on the beach, they would stand down by the water and face the sun—just so they didn't waste any rays. on our last day we finally actually had a conversation with them and they turned out to be very nice, in addition to being very fit and very tan.

- we also went parasailing and water tubing, spent lots of time floating on rafts in the ocean, lounging on chaises under our hut, eating at fantastic restaurants, walking up and down the beach—and planning our next trip to Aruba. (nearly everyone we encountered who discovered it was our honeymoon told us to come back next November "with a little one!")

so that is that. today is exactly one month since the wedding and while the frenzy has died down and we're back in the trenches of real life, the thrill of being married is still very much there and i'm pretty confident our adventures in Aruba are the first of many, many, many we'll have as husband and wife.

mbm

does this mean i've made it?

If malice or envy were tangible and had a shape, it would be the shape of a boomerang.

—Charley Reese

i received my first bit of "hate mail" last night. well, it wasn't "hate" so much as "nasty" (and poorly worded). apparently me gushing about my wedding reception was offensive to at least one person out there.

the comment rattled me a little, which is embarrassing to admit. because i know better, and because a person can't put her life out there on the interweb and be surprised when some dodo with nothing better to do feels compelled to leave an incoherent comment. i'm sort of asking for it. but i also want everyone to like me, even the dodos.

so after i read the comment i thought that maybe i shouldn't be writing so much about my wedding. maybe it's obnoxious or inappropriate or upsetting to people. then, two seconds later, i realized this is my blog, getting married was a major milestone in my life and if my writing about it bothers people, they're free to click elsewhere.

tomorrow i'll try to finish up with tales from the honeymoon. we had a bunch of great adventures and met so many fascinating people. definitely worth writing about...

mbm

part three: during (the reception)

i know this will sound completely obnoxious and maybe it is, but—our reception totally rocked.

i can’t take any credit for it. the band ran the show and they were phenomenal. beyond. people are still talking about them. the dance floor was packed the entire night. Kate (my amazingly attentive and level-headed maid of honor) told me that at one point she looked around the room and no one was sitting—all the tables were empty. i'd say that's a sign of a good party.

but let me back up.

Michael and i were introduced—first time as a legal unit!—to "We Are the Champions." we had gone back and forth about what song to use for our entrance, but we chose right. it was awesome. our guests were gathered around the perimeter of the dance floor and as the music played we made our way around, high-fiving everyone. come on!

then the band cued up "It Had to Be You," our first dance. the same first dance for which we had taken six dance lessons. for which we had complete choreography, from the first note to the last. we'd practiced our hearts out so we should have been more confident than we actually were. a few things weighed on our minds:

1. we'd never performed in front of a crowd

2. we'd never practiced with live music—only the Harry Connick, Jr. recording via an iPod

3. i'd never danced in my dress

but, hell, not much we could do about any of that now, so as the first notes blared from the band's speakers, we jumped in headfirst.

i admit this is the only part of the day that really feels like a blur. i remember nailing the lift during the song intro—and feeling so triumphant about it that i improvised a little and flung my arm in the air as Michael spun me around—and i remember nailing the part where we had to do a grapevine and i had to twirl twice (it was a move that had tripped us up a bunch of times) and ohh that was a great feeling. but the rest feels like i dreamt it.

well, except for the end. that i remember vividly. i did about four spins and Michael dipped me and we ended with a kiss and i was so damn excited and proud that i pumped my fist in the air in celebration... next thing i know, Michael is pulling me to his chest hissing that i, um, had a Janet Jackson moment. (thankfully no one i spoke to said they saw anything other than Michael desperately trying to cover me up. the wedding video footage may show otherwise—i'll know in about six weeks. oops!)

anyway, by all accounts we killed our first dance. other highlights from the reception:

• my father—my inimitable, class act, totally awesome father—gave a speech that knocked everyone's socks off. he accepted my dare and began with, "Mawwage, mawwage is what bwings us togebah tobay." (if you've never seen Princess Bride, you're totally lost right now. serves you right. see that movie!) and the speech only got better from there. Michael's Uncle Joey said he wanted to copy it down and re-use it at his daughter's wedding someday. other people wanted to rent my dad for their events. my friends at work wanted to know what he did for a living that made him such a good public speaker. (actor? no, try accountant.) he was that good. and i was that proud.

• i had e-mailed the bandleader weeks before the wedding to see if they knew "This Must Be the Place (Naive Melody)" by the Talking Heads. Michael and i love that song, it sort of became really special to us in the last year, and i wanted to surprise him with it at the reception. i'd forgotten about it completely until about three-quarters into the reception, when Nick (the bandleader) got on the mic and introduced a song they'd learned just for us. the female vocalist sang the Shawn Colvin version (so beautifully) and Michael and i got to have a second first dance—this one much slower and much more romantic. for three minutes it felt like just the two of us in the room, and it's one of our favorite parts of the reception.

• the band played perfect, must-dance songs the entire night, but when they started "I Gotta Feeling" everyone basically lost their shit. it's not even that great a song, but it's so damn infectious. i just remember bouncing up and down like i was on a pogo stick, screaming the lyrics with my lovely bridesmaid Dolch. Michael hated that song before the wedding; now i catch him singing it all the time.

• even though the band is based in Philadelphia, Nick is a die-hard Yankees fan (that's one of the ways i knew we picked the right band). i put in a special request not long after we booked them—i wanted to end the night with "New York, New York," just like the Yankees do. Nick—who does a kick-ass Frank Sinatra—obliged and the last several minutes of our reception will forever be one of my most cherished memories ever. Michael and i were in the middle of a huge circle, created by all of our guests—many of whom were awesomely imitating the Rockettes—and everyone was singing along at the top of their lungs. i was completely caught up in the moment, flinging my arms about, getting into the lyrics, geeking out like i was still president of my high school drama club. i remember, as the song was ending, just turning around slowly a few times, seeing all the faces, blowing kisses at everyone, feeling as loved and humbled and excited and happy as i've ever felt. (and i think i consumed perhaps one glass of champagne all night—a few sips each from many glasses—so i can't even blame the booze. i was high on life, baby.)

it was the best reception ever. i'm biased, i know. i'm sure every bride says the same thing. but i really think it was. i did not leave the ballroom once. i broke my bustle early on and despite several attempts at safety-pinning the train back where it belonged, it wouldn't stay because i wouldn't stop dancing. (at the end of the night, after the after-party, when we finally got up to the room, i realized i had about eight open and warped safety pins sticking out of the back of my dress—i couldn't stop laughing.)

Michael and i really had the time of our lives that night, the most fun two people can possibly have. we pretty much talked about it non-stop during our honeymoon. which, by the way, was unbelievable....

mbm

part two: during (the ceremony)

about a year ago, once the official wedding planning began, the first thing i took note of and ripped out of Martha Stewart Weddings was the advice of one of the editors: "make your wedding your own." she emphasized the importance of personalizing the big day, making it feel like "you."

having been to dozens of weddings in the last few years, i really, really, really wanted to make ours unique. while a big part of me is very traditional, i have always hated doing things the way everyone else does them and i applied that personal philosophy whole-heartedly to the wedding.

for example:

• i used the creative services of friends to add an extra-special touch to the invites, programs and place cards
• we opted to get married in the same place we were having the reception, so that we could make up the ceremony ourselves
• we got a self-uniting license (available in PA and only a few other states) so that we could have someone who knows and loves us preside over the ceremony
• i wrote a 12-page program to serve as a keepsake for our guests, complete with "fun facts" and a "top five" things to do at our wedding, information about the music we chose, blurbs about our wedding party, and a brief but comprehensive history of our relationship
• i walked down the aisle to an instrumental song from The Royal Tenenbaums
• we traveled two hours on a Thursday night to a cheesy nightclub in Deptford, New Jersey to make sure the band we thought we wanted was the right band
• we took six dance lessons to make our first dance both adventurous and entertaining
• i commissioned a groom's cake with kermit and piggy on the top because The Muppets are one of the many quirky things Michael and i both love

in other words, we put a lot of thought into the whole thing. i admit, at times—many times—i wished we'd eloped. or i wished i wasn't so insane. or i wished it was over already. but it was worth all the hours, all the zits that blossomed on my chin from stress, all the trips to Paper Presentation and time spent on marthastewart.com pilfering ideas from other brides.

so many people, during and after the wedding, told me how personal it seemed. a lot of guests commented on all the little touches and attention to detail. and this made my heart swell, almost as much as when people told me they really felt the love.

because, of course, that was what the day was all about. and, honestly, standing up there in front of a room full of people we're absolutely crazy about, being guided through our ceremony by Ellen, my former college professor and friend-for-life, slipping a ring on Michael's left hand and promising him i'd always be his girl—yeah, you could say that i felt the love, too.

as we shared our first kiss as husband and wife, "You're My Best Friend" by Queen started to play and we walked down the aisle to cheers and applause. we left the room and were handed glasses of champagne before being ushered across the way to the bridal suite where we were alone for a few minutes, during which we hugged and kissed and laughed and said "omigod, omigod" over and over and i'm telling you nothing could have wiped the smiles off our faces, nothing in the whole wide world.

we were married! finally! all the blood, sweat and tears of the last nine years had culminated in something so beautiful it really took our breath away.

and the best part was—we still had a party to go to...

mbm

part one: before

i woke up early the morning of my wedding. (really early, the first time—i woke with a start at one a.m. because i'd forgotten to wash my hair after getting home from the rehearsal dinner. my hairdresser wanted "dirty" hair to work with for the wedding, and i'd promised her i'd wash it the night before, not the morning of. oops. so i got up at one o'clock and washed my hair and went back to bed. slept like a rock.)

i got out of bed, pulled on sweats and a baseball cap and went for a walk/run around my neighborhood in Pennsylvania. (i meant to just walk the whole way, so as to avoid tripping and spraining an ankle or knocking out a few teeth, but the adrenaline was already pumping and so i broke into a run from time to time.) it was chilly, but not freezing and the sky looked exactly the way i hoped it would look the morning of my wedding—not crystal blue and full of sun, but overcast with sunlight filtering through the clouds giving everything a soft, bittersweet look.

i walked to a nearby park, where a bunch of little guys were playing soccer and parents were huddled on the sidelines and on the frozen metal bleachers and coaches yelled at the red- and yellow-jerseyed kids. the adjacent golf course was completely empty and looked so pristine i was tempted to run clear across it, but i resisted. instead, i took a walk through the woods. the park has a so-called nature trail that i've walked along before, which is really nothing more than a cleared path through a bunch of trees, but it's nice. it was muddy as hell and i almost fell a few times and i knew the whole time it wasn't the smartest thing for a bride to do on her wedding day, but i did it anyway (per the usual) and i enjoyed it and i think that walk/run was the best thing i could have done that morning because it made me serene.

it's true: i was completely calm all day. i felt peaceful and together and (not to sound like a hippie) very present the entire eight hours between when we all started getting ready and when my dad walked me down the aisle. i couldn't believe how non-spastic i was—the day before, i'd felt pretty spastic—but on the actual wedding day i did the things everyone told me to do. i took as many opportunities as i could to step back and take it all in. i drove with my dad to Wawa where we got that day's New York Times and New York Daily News to be used as props by the photographer. i called my gram and somehow managed not to cry. i snapped pictures of my friends as they got their hair and make-up done. i walked myself out to the limo when it was time to go and got into the car wearing a 90-inch veil and carrying a five-pound bouquet with no assistance from anyone.

i didn't feel like a fairy princess or a movie star or even, necessarily, a bride. i felt like myself—albeit a really dressed-up version of myself—and just really couldn't wait to marry my best friend.

michael and i chose to see each other before the ceremony, so we could enjoy cocktail hour without worrying about taking a million photos. our photographer set up the moment on the golf course behind the country club. michael would be waiting for me and i was to walk up behind him and tap him on the shoulder. the poor guy waited about 30 minutes for me to show up because i had the first of two dress mishaps as soon as i walked outside—less than a minute on the asphalt golf cart path and the bottom of my dress was a black, streaky mess. with the help of my bridesmaids and grandma-in-law, we mostly fixed the situation, but michael was waiting for me the entire time. the photographer kept moving him, because he was chasing the sunlight and by then the sun was sinking rapidly.

but when the moment finally happened, it was magical. there were two videographers and two photographers capturing our every move, but i didn't even care. i was focused on the back of my future husband and wondering what he was feeling and thinking. i'm pretty sure i was trembling a little, i felt like laughing but had a substantial lump in my throat. finally he turned around and we laid eyes on each other and i will carry that moment with me forever. the tears, the giggling, the joy i felt at finally seeing michael after what felt like forever.

just before six o'clock (and after taking a gazillion photos and blowing kisses to the video camera as prompted while silently praying it won't look as cheesy as it felt) we were lined up for the processional and that's when my stomach finally started its half-gainers and triple backflips. just a few minutes earlier i'd been blasting "I Gotta Feeling" on my iPhone in the bridal suite as my bridesmaids and i danced around like total geeks. but standing in the lobby just outside the ballroom, listening to the processional music—whoo boy. the day had been so special and so full and so wonderful already, but now the weight of it was hitting me fully. i was getting married. a huge, monumental, once-in-a-lifetime thing.

thank god i had my sweet and funny dad there to lean on.

mbm

my married life

laughing our heads off in aruba

my first post as a married woman!

i am working on a more lengthy entry about the wedding (it was perfect) and the honeymoon (the most fun nine days i've ever had) but i wanted to give you a quick peek into my married life, so far. because i can't tell you how many times i've cried in the last two weeks—from laughing so hard.

after all the delays and detours and dramas and teeth-gnashing, i do believe michael and i have taken to marriage like ducks to water. yes, it took us a while to get here but man do we love it. we're both giddy and smiley and really, really happy.

of course, this is how newlyweds are supposed to feel, but on sunday morning i took it to another level.

there i was, lounging on the couch nursing a slight hangover from a holiday party we'd gone to the night before. i'd already downed a bagel and was now sipping diet coke (breakfast of champions) when my sleepy husband emerged from the bedroom. i was in slouchy green yoga pants, my college sweatshirt, my glasses and a beige cable knit winter hat that i'd worn to the bagel shop and neglected to remove once i was back home. in other words, i was a sight.

he feigned offense that i hadn't bothered to get him a bagel (which i didn't only because when we got home from the party at 3 am he'd devoured the leftovers in the fridge from our big italian dinner friday night—how could he still be hungry?) and i, playing along, told him "go get your own breakfast!" then, just as i was taking a swig of diet coke, he made a comment regarding getting dressed like me, in sweatpants and a dorky hat, to go out and get himself a bagel.

now, michael is pretty much the most hilarious person i know, but his line yesterday wasn't exactly rip-roaring. it was just something in the way he said it, and the overall goofy mood we've both been in, that made me laugh. or, made me want to laugh.

i tried to swallow the soda in my mouth so that i could crack up freely, but it wouldn't budge. i couldn't get myself not to laugh and unless i wanted to subject myself to death by diet coke, i had to get it out. so i pulled a Mount Vesuvius and sprayed soda all over myself and the couch, which sparked michael to have his own laughing fit and only made me laugh harder.

it was so ridiculous. but this is how life has been for us and i am not complaining. i'm thinking (hoping) that this is what marriage is—living life with someone who can watch you spit up soda and love you all the same.

anyway, wedding details to follow soon.

mbm