My Wedding Day

So I guess I should write about my wedding. But what to write?

That day seemed to be the fastest of my life.
We were at the reception to set up at 8 am.
At 12 we left the almost finished site for lunch and showers.
My tiara had turned yellow for some reason so we stopped by walmart on our way to the church to get ready.
Everything else took longer than expected.
But my hair looked fabulous. Thank you Kimmi!
My photographer was amazing to work with. Amy Bonner.
My only moment of cold feet was when I saw Jacob at the first look and this all became very very real. The feeling was quickly overcome.

The ceremony was done at Colonial Heights by our PBT coach, Archie. And the ceremony was lovely.
During the exchange of the rings, during my turn, Archie said, "Elizabeth, repeat after me. 'Jacob.'"
But I was still trying to get that ring on Jacob's finger. He has large knuckles. After a moment of silence, I realized I had missed something.
"Oh! 'Jacob.' ...can you put the ring on yourself....?"
After Jacob FINALLY managed to get the ring on, I resumed.
"Ok. 'Jacob.'"

The reception was outside at the lovely McKendree United Methodist Church. With string lights over the dance floor, a wispy canopy net over my wedding cake, (made by my mother, Patricia Vahey, who I had to rush to the ER the day before since, as she was trying to level out a layer of the cake, cut her thumb to be deserving of 4 stitches), picnic blankets for seating, do-it-yourself dessert bars featuring s'mores, cheesecake sundaes, and cupcake fondue, pictures of childhood photos hanging from a tree and dancing in the wind, a mason jar chandelier hanging over our guestbook tree. The reception was beautiful.

Our first dance was to Frank Sinatra's Come fly with Me. And we executed the second twirl and the dip perfectly. Thanks to Maan Di, our wonderful dance instructor.

It was a perfect day and I can't wait to see the pictures!!

The Day My Wedding Dress Almost Burned

One would asssume that my first blog post after my wedding would be about my wedding. But I'm afraid my life is too fast paced for that to be the most recent major event....

Jacob, my husband (!!!!), and I were headed back home to Dallas, excited to be home tonight! Little did we realize the adventure that would interrupt our plans.

Driving down the interstate, I heard an odd clicking sound. "Jacob," I asked, "Did you hear that?"
"Yeah, I don't think it's anything to be worried about."
At THAT moment, my car started losing speed. To the point that I was cruising off the interstate at 25mph.
"Hey Jacob. I think that clicking sound WAS something to worry about!" I teased.

We stopped at a gas station and Jacob excused himself to the restroom before we got to the car problems. "Jacob," I called him back, "there seems to be smoke coming from under the hood."
"Well go ahead and pop it."
As we peered over the engine, we saw fire!

I ran into the gas station screaming "MY CAR IS ON FIRE!!!!!"
The man brought me a fire extinguisher to which I replied, "PUT IT OUT PUT IT OUT!!!" By this time the small flame had erupted into something that if on firewood surrounded by stones in the setting in which you would desire a bonfire, would be exciting, out of my engine, however, terrifying.

Jacob grabbed the extinguisher and put out the fire.
But it came back.
So Jacob put it out again.
It did not come back.
Jacob sprayed it again for good measure.

Apparently something had been wrong with the fuel line and the fuel was squirting out under the hood and igniting as it went.
But when we took it to the mechanics, he said that was the only damage and replaced our fuels line. $200 and 5 hours later we were back on the road. Lucky, huh?

Never before have I driven being afraid of my car. Afraid of the road, the rain, stupid people, yes, but never my own car.

After all the stress of the day, I didn't want to stop for the night but get back to Dallas and be home already!!

So we decided to stop at BestBuy to get a new stereo for my car (it had broken a few weeks back) so we could have some entertainment to keep us going.

Pulling off the interstate, we came to a stop getting ready to turn for best buy when flames started billowing out from under my hood.

We jumped out of the car. There was no gas station near by. Jacob ran to a nearby store hoping it would have an extinguisher. It didn't. They called 911.
Meanwhile I grabbed my purse and my wedding dress out of the car and got back.
When Jacob returned he sent me further back.
Sirens punctuated my hysterical sobs.
When the police arrived, I cried, "Why isn't he putting out the fire?"
When the fire fighters arrived, I repetitively sob, "I want it to go out. Make it go out."
After the fire fighters got the flames subdued and tried to get into the hood to saturate the inside, I stopped sobbing and said, "why are they attacking my hood with axes? Are they trying to get inside? I can go pop the hood if they don't know how..."

The firefighters said they were able to save most of our stuff, that we were lucky our stuff is fine and that we are fine.

I will never forget that fear of my car. Those flames. Sitting from afar, I could see lit gas dripping onto the asphalt and chunks of my car falling out as it's supports burned through. And I will also not forget a single one of those idiots who pulled up right beside my BILLOWING, FLAMING, EXPLODING car. Stay back until the light turns, people! Come on!

Sobbing (I did a lot of that), I asked Jacob what we were going to do. He said he didn't know yet. Then I remembered that I am the planner in this family! So I pulled myself together and said, "Officer, we're going to need a tow truck and car rental place."

A few hours later, after my very first police car ride, Jacob and I had reloaded our stuff into our rental (being frequently amazed and grateful at all the things not burned, like my guestbook tree, and the canvas painting my sister made for me) and were on the road again. We stopped for the night in Monroe, LA and arrived in Dallas without further incident noon on Thursday.

The Puterbaughs came over to help up unload our car and now I have a very full living room and no more road trips on the horizon. Thank God.

Bride Problems. Featuring: "What Kind of Bride Loses Her Wedding Dress!?"

I wish I blogged more.
But this wedding planning is NOT helping. I've been running around like the Energizer Bunny on Duracell! (I'm still going but it's getting a little sluggish)

It's getting to the point where I've become known to shout/beg, "I DON'T CARE DO WHATEVER STOP ASKING ME QUESTIONS!" almost arbitrarily.
Like when it was time to decide what we would get the bridal party for dinner right before the wedding. The options on the table were Chic-fil-a, Subway, or an 8-foot sub. And I was supposed to decide on that information alone right then.

I DON'T CARE DO WHATEVER STOP ASKING ME QUESTIONS!

Or even worse faux crises. Those things that you thought was THE END. But then it turned out all right. But my problem with these things is you tell people about them, the stress you had, the dilemmas, the horror, and they say, "Yeah but it all worked out right?" and give you this look like, "So why are you telling me about this thing that isn't a problem?"

"Uh- I- bu- wh- no- IT WAS A PROBLEM FOR ME! EMPATHIZE WITH ME!!"

Oh! And even worse! I LOST MY WEDDING DRESS!
Who does that!?!?!?!

6 months ago we had picked it up from the alteration shop, and thrown it in a black plastic bag until it would get pressed two weeks before the wedding.
Two weeks before the wedding, I went to gather my things to take them for the final fitting and pressing. And I asked my mom where my dress was. She gave me this blank look which you could tell she thought was funny. But it wasn't. When asking where my wedding dress is and your mother gives me a blank look that say "Oh no i have no idea where her dress is but if i say that she will kill me" with the undertone of a smile because, like I said, she thought she was being quite funny or cute or something, rage began to fill my chest. So I constricted my throat so my following words would not burst forth but come slowly, "where. is. it."

"Well, we would have probably put it in Andrea's closet."

So I stormed out of the room, irritated that she had antagonized me so, to Andrea's closet where no such black bag of wedding dress could be found.

Our hour long search began during which I tried very very hard to not lose my composure and break down crying. Because crying never helped anything. Except maybe getting out of a speeding ticket...

It ended with both of us sitting in the living room and my mother saying, "I just don't know where it is."

"But I don't have time to get a new one and get it altered."

"We'll have to go to the store and find something."

And then I lost it. "Someone threw away my wedding dress!" I choked out between my sobs.
I could picture the dump treasure hunter open the black plastic trash bag and pulling out my pristine white wedding dress. A bit of lovely amidst the trash heap.
The sobbing intensified. Probably to the point where we could call it crying.

But crying never solved anything.

So I pulled myself together and said, "it has to be in this house somewhere," banishing the image of the dump.
"I want closets to be COMPLETELY emptied!"
And the search began again. But slowly and without much in the way of hope.

And then a mysterious JC Penney bag surfaced.

Could it be?

It was! My lovely wedding dress!

So it all worked out in the end...

Stupid faux crisis.