A sentimental schmuck -- in other words, a newly minted bride-to-be
There were about one billion moments from the past two weeks that I'd like to remember forever. I have a terrible memory though, so undoubtedly at least several million of them have already slipped out of mind. But there are a few things worth putting down on paper (well, cyber paper) for safe keeping.
The Florida trip was an amazing week. Of course, the biggest star of the week was my birthday and the proposal. I'll get to that in a second. But first, it's important to understand the mood of our trip. It was pure relaxation. No agenda. No place to be. No must-sees. No tourist traps. We the two of us -- and the family we stayed with -- eating, lounging, laughing, talking, playing games, and generally enjoying life. We stayed at his Grandmother's adorable house in Orange City for three nights, the last of which was my birthday and the proposal. But each day was great. We ate out, we played dominoes, we heard family stories and the details of his Grandma's upcoming trip to Nova Scotia. During the days, Jimmy and I drove an hour to the beach to lay in the sun and dodge the rain (and the sharks! We had to evacuate the water twice!). We didn't think about much besides reapplying suntan lotion and our dinner possibilities.
On my birthday, we spent the day in New Smyrna on a nearly private beach. The sun stayed out all day, besides one hour when we ate lunch at a winery. We drove home to shower and -- I thought-- collect his grandma for dinner, but she decline to come, knowing what Jimmy was planning. We drove back to the beach and ate at the same place, since we liked it so much. After dinner, we walked along the beach, and I knew it was coming. Jimmy seemed nervous, and I had noticed enough clues in the previous month to suspect he might propose. The way he did it was totally spontaneous, and therefore, very unpolished and a bit awkward; just the way I'd like it. Had he read me a poem or made a statement of love, I'd have gagged.
It happened like this: we wanted to get a little higher to see the colors in the sky in the west, where the sun was setting beyond the line of hotels. We spotted an old red lifeguard chair, and I suggested we sneak up and sit in it. He agreed. As I started to climb up the ladder, he said, "First I have one question... Will you marry me?" He got down on a knee and stuck out the ring box. He had a big smile on his face -- I think he was pretty proud of the moment he produced. I said, "Are you serious?" then did I 180 and told him I'd thought he might do that. I hugged him and started to cry a little. He said, "Can I get an answer?" I laughed, and said I'd forgottn I had to do that, but YES!
So that's the story. The vacation just got better and better from there... The next two nights we stayed alone in a hotel along the beach of Singer Island. Those were probably the best two days, both of us flushed with the excitment of the engagement and the promise of several more empty days of beach time. Then we drove to Deerfield Beach and stayed with his Uncle for two more nights in a three-story townhouse on A1A. We went to a Fourth of July party filled with odd characters (read: gay guys and drunk middle-aged housewives). We watched the fireworks on the beach. We talked about our wedding, deciding on some important things. We want to get married May 20. We want it to be a happy, joyful, colorful, fun affair. We want to invite everyone we love.
Since we got engaged, it has been hard for me not to think about the wedding. I think a lifetime of never considering my future wedding has caught up with me, and I'm making up for lost fantasies now. But it's not so much daydreaming, as actually trying to figure things out. I'd never considered where I'd want to get married, what kind of service I'd have, who would be in the wedding, what we'd eat at dinner, what colors I want or how much money I can afford to spend. It's scary to think of how much there is to do, and have no clue where you're supposed to start, or what traditions you should follow and which you should ignore, or what decision is going to hurt someone's feelings.
I spent the last three days in New York with the family book club, and it was a highly emotional weekend. My mother and I fluctuated from gleefully discussing the details of the wedding to wanting to kill each other over control issues. My Aunt and cousin left New York early when my uncle had to have emergency surgery on his colon. We visited Ground Zero and St. Paul's, the church just steps away from there where thousands of volunteers prayed and stayed able to dig through the rubble of the two buildings. It was a sad low. But the highs -- eating amazing food at Gotham Bar and Grill and Rosa Mexicano, attending a musical at Lincoln Center, listening to my mother and her sisters banter and giggle like 12-year-olds -- were so high.
Now, I'm happy to be home. I feel like I need to be here. I have a lot to do. I have a new beat coming at work, hopefully (fingers crossed) this week. And I have a wedding to plan. I want to stay excited about this process, and not becoming overly stressed or concerned or worried about the money and the details. It's hard, believe me. Even for me, a non-girlie girl, a person who never cared much for fussing over veils and cake frosting. When it's your wedding, you find you suddenly have an interest in everything. But like I said, I want to stay grounded, to remember to relax and enjoy this. And when times get tough, I'll think of my new happy place -- a New Smyrna beach at twilight, the sky pink and blue, my babe down on one knee, and the breeze off the Atlanta rich with the scent of the salty sea.
The Florida trip was an amazing week. Of course, the biggest star of the week was my birthday and the proposal. I'll get to that in a second. But first, it's important to understand the mood of our trip. It was pure relaxation. No agenda. No place to be. No must-sees. No tourist traps. We the two of us -- and the family we stayed with -- eating, lounging, laughing, talking, playing games, and generally enjoying life. We stayed at his Grandmother's adorable house in Orange City for three nights, the last of which was my birthday and the proposal. But each day was great. We ate out, we played dominoes, we heard family stories and the details of his Grandma's upcoming trip to Nova Scotia. During the days, Jimmy and I drove an hour to the beach to lay in the sun and dodge the rain (and the sharks! We had to evacuate the water twice!). We didn't think about much besides reapplying suntan lotion and our dinner possibilities.
On my birthday, we spent the day in New Smyrna on a nearly private beach. The sun stayed out all day, besides one hour when we ate lunch at a winery. We drove home to shower and -- I thought-- collect his grandma for dinner, but she decline to come, knowing what Jimmy was planning. We drove back to the beach and ate at the same place, since we liked it so much. After dinner, we walked along the beach, and I knew it was coming. Jimmy seemed nervous, and I had noticed enough clues in the previous month to suspect he might propose. The way he did it was totally spontaneous, and therefore, very unpolished and a bit awkward; just the way I'd like it. Had he read me a poem or made a statement of love, I'd have gagged.
It happened like this: we wanted to get a little higher to see the colors in the sky in the west, where the sun was setting beyond the line of hotels. We spotted an old red lifeguard chair, and I suggested we sneak up and sit in it. He agreed. As I started to climb up the ladder, he said, "First I have one question... Will you marry me?" He got down on a knee and stuck out the ring box. He had a big smile on his face -- I think he was pretty proud of the moment he produced. I said, "Are you serious?" then did I 180 and told him I'd thought he might do that. I hugged him and started to cry a little. He said, "Can I get an answer?" I laughed, and said I'd forgottn I had to do that, but YES!
So that's the story. The vacation just got better and better from there... The next two nights we stayed alone in a hotel along the beach of Singer Island. Those were probably the best two days, both of us flushed with the excitment of the engagement and the promise of several more empty days of beach time. Then we drove to Deerfield Beach and stayed with his Uncle for two more nights in a three-story townhouse on A1A. We went to a Fourth of July party filled with odd characters (read: gay guys and drunk middle-aged housewives). We watched the fireworks on the beach. We talked about our wedding, deciding on some important things. We want to get married May 20. We want it to be a happy, joyful, colorful, fun affair. We want to invite everyone we love.
Since we got engaged, it has been hard for me not to think about the wedding. I think a lifetime of never considering my future wedding has caught up with me, and I'm making up for lost fantasies now. But it's not so much daydreaming, as actually trying to figure things out. I'd never considered where I'd want to get married, what kind of service I'd have, who would be in the wedding, what we'd eat at dinner, what colors I want or how much money I can afford to spend. It's scary to think of how much there is to do, and have no clue where you're supposed to start, or what traditions you should follow and which you should ignore, or what decision is going to hurt someone's feelings.
I spent the last three days in New York with the family book club, and it was a highly emotional weekend. My mother and I fluctuated from gleefully discussing the details of the wedding to wanting to kill each other over control issues. My Aunt and cousin left New York early when my uncle had to have emergency surgery on his colon. We visited Ground Zero and St. Paul's, the church just steps away from there where thousands of volunteers prayed and stayed able to dig through the rubble of the two buildings. It was a sad low. But the highs -- eating amazing food at Gotham Bar and Grill and Rosa Mexicano, attending a musical at Lincoln Center, listening to my mother and her sisters banter and giggle like 12-year-olds -- were so high.
Now, I'm happy to be home. I feel like I need to be here. I have a lot to do. I have a new beat coming at work, hopefully (fingers crossed) this week. And I have a wedding to plan. I want to stay excited about this process, and not becoming overly stressed or concerned or worried about the money and the details. It's hard, believe me. Even for me, a non-girlie girl, a person who never cared much for fussing over veils and cake frosting. When it's your wedding, you find you suddenly have an interest in everything. But like I said, I want to stay grounded, to remember to relax and enjoy this. And when times get tough, I'll think of my new happy place -- a New Smyrna beach at twilight, the sky pink and blue, my babe down on one knee, and the breeze off the Atlanta rich with the scent of the salty sea.