I’ve known Rosa a long time, and I was honored when she allowed me to be her wedding coordinator (which is my dream job, hands down, no doubt about it...)
She went to my wedding, and luckily it went smoothly enough that she trusted me with one of the most important days of her life. Below are some of the details, moments, and decor that I took pictures of that day. And unlike event coordinating, I am not so great at photography, but I wanted to share these images with you anyways. Enjoy!
Beautiful pew decorations that Rosa made.
Ceremony as seen from the balcony upstairs.
The lovely couple.
One of my favorite moments in the ceremony- the attendees are blessing/praying for the couple. Beautiful moment.
Table numbers designed/created by me, and they’re available in my Etsy store.
The head/sweetheart table. I love the beautiful silver chargers.
The Northern Hills Golf Club banquet hall was decorated with many gorgeous trees.
Simple & elegant centerpieces fit the theme and the season.
Centerpiece that was on the buffet table.
Very unique cardbox that I am sure will be a momento of their wedding day.
Seating chart I created that matched their table numbers.
Oh my gosh, the cake was to die for. So delicious.
Very detailed groom’s cake. Love this cake!
More pictures will come soon after Rosa (hopefully!) sends me some of her professional pictures. Congrats Rosa & Mark! May you have a blessed marriage, and have a blast on your honeymoon. Thanks so much for letting me be a part of your wedding day.
However, I got charged $1.99 for it, but that’s okay since those extra 50-cents go to Goodwill, which I happen to puffy heart. (AKA- Love- a lot)
I hadn’t been to Goodwill in awhile, and that was mainly because I was becoming a pack-rat. And then I have these moments (usually on the weekends, when you know, I’m supposed to be relaxing) where I completely flip out and something like this happens…
Me: Daniel, we have too much stuff. Let’s declutter. (usually I say this at 9 am on a Saturday morning)
Daniel: What do you mean “we”? You’re the one that keeps buying crap.
Me: <Alarmed look> What? What’s that supposed to mean? (here’s the point where my lower lip starts quivering)
Daniel: It means you’re the one that buys crap. <Insert exasperated look>
Me: Bet you don’t mind when she buys crap. (oh, it’s on!)
Daniel: Who’s she?
Me: You know. Her. The other one.
Daniel: What?
Me: I’m gonna pack up stuff to give to Goodwill.
Daniel: Didn’t you just buy that stuff from Goodwill? Who’s she?
Me: Bet you wouldn’t get mad at her.
Daniel: I’m lost.
Me: Me too. Can you help me clean?
Daniel: Um, ok.
I paraphrased, but you get the point. And no, my husband isn’t cheating on me, but I always take the conversation there. He forgot bread at the grocery store? He wouldn’t have forgot it for her. He leaves the toilet seat up. Never, ever would fathom doing that to her. Anyway.
Point being that my own fear of clutter and no closet space has led me to keep my Goodwill adventures in check. Now I go like once a month, whereas before I was going like twice a week.
I think drugs would be an easier habit to break because it made me sad not to go to Goodwill. Very. And apparently delusional as well. (love ya D!)
I went last week, not looking for anything in particular when I saw it.
For only $1.49, I couldn’t pass it up.
And neither could Pee Wee as evidenced below:
Hhmm, I wonder if I could pee on this. I think I could, why not? This is America.
It has no green stuff though. Wait, I am colorblind and don’t know what green is. I think I am going to pee on it.
And yes, that is a Longhorn/UT sweater. It’s cold, and it’s my college, so there.
I usually see these types of trees at Easter. They look much the same, except with hanging eggs and bunnies. You know, real creative stuff.
But I had big dreams for my little tree. I wanted a tree for my office that I could decorate without having the husband interfere. This meant three colors: aqua, lime, and hot pink. A truly GIRLY tree that would be ALL mine. And that didn’t require lights because I just don’t have an outlet to spare with all my chargers and gadgets.
I set out to Dollar Tree which is my source for all things great in life (right, Ashley?) and I came up empty handed. They have NOTHING left in the cute and little ornament department. Except those ugly mini-dog ornaments that don’t look like dogs at all. They look like brown mini-rocks with eyes drawn on by a 3-year old.
Next, I went to Wal-Mart, which of course had stuff (helloooo, it’s Wal-Mart) but it wasn’t as cheap as I’d like. But, I am impatient, so I bought it anyway.
I bought white garland, 8 aqua jewels, 6 hot pink ornaments, and 6 sparkly green stars. And for the topper, a starburst/snowflake ornament. I had a blue sweater-ish dust rag from Dollar Tree on hand that I had just washed to cover the base (I didn’t want to spray paint it so I could easily switch out ribbons/colors/etc.) and a snowflake pin I bought for a quarter at Wal-Mart a few years ago.
And here she is:
I love the way it looks in my office when I have candles lit and the light catches the sparkles on the ornaments!
Cost breakdown:
Tree- $2
Ornaments- $7 (20 ornaments + topper)
Garland- $3.50
All other items on hand- $0
Total= $12.50
Not bad for a cute tree that required minimal effort to make into something tres chic!
I confessed, rather bashfully, that at that point I had gained 8 pounds since my wedding 2 months prior.
And now I must confess, extremely bashfully, that the 8 pounds has officially morphed into 17.
SEVENTEEN.
17 freakin’ pounds that took me from November 2008-March 2009 to lose.
Here I go again.
Ugh.
I love watching shows like The Biggest Loser and thinking that the contestants totally rock the weight loss thing. I admire their determination, their perseverance, and their hot new looks come finale time. Yet, I never see those qualities in myself.
So, I’ll just end this post here (without any fluff, pun intended) to just be accountable to all of my wonderful readers. I need accountability in some form or fashion. I use Weight Watchers Online, so it’s kind of easy to blow off the “you’ve gained!” message each Saturday since it’s just an online thing.
In the next few weeks, expect to see some cool recipes (WW friendly!), weekly weigh-in updates on Saturdays, and of course, my random musings and DIY stuff.
Tomorrow I am super stoked to show you all an awesome wreath I made! Be back tomorrow. Smooches!
But I do mourn the wicked. I mourn that Wicked is over, for me, for now anyway.
Without giving away any major spoilers, I will say that I have heard about Wicked for awhile. Kandis is obsessed with the play, Faith has seen it and I think read the book, and millions of people have become obsessed with Wicked. People have the songs memorized and it has an almost cult like status.
I didn’t see why.
Now I see why.
I have never heard anything bad about the play, nor the book, though like anything in life, there’s always a critic. Or forty. You know what I mean right? My expectations for the play weren’t sky high nor super low, all I wanted was to feel like my first ever Broadway play (yes, on BROADWAY in NYC!) was worth the $134 it cost me. Easy peasy. We arrive at the Gershwin, and the theater kinda underwhelmed me. But again, you don’t go to these things for the theater, you go for the show. Got it.
We went to our seats, and I was also really surprised at how close, yet far we were. For Wicked, I don’t think I’d want to be super close up because I think I’d miss something, so I was happy we were far, yet cozy. I just completely contradicted myself, I think, so just go with it. Nod your head. We’re cool? Point being- good seats.
Not so good- the temperature. It was hot. I am from Texas, and I know hot. I live in hot everyday. It was HOT. The NJ & Delaware peeps were just peachy, and I was like a sweaty, hot mess. Hot as in temp, not hot looking because I was shiny, and by golly I really hate being shiny. Hate. Eventually I stopped sweating. Note to all of you- do not drink copious amounts of alcohol the night before seeing a Broadway play. Yeah. Not classy.
I am looking around feeling like a total kid and then it starts. I see Galinda (Glinda…? She changes her name so I can’t keep it all straight) and then I hear…
Singing. Lots and lots of singing. They were singing their sentences. I felt slight panic because I will say it- I do not like musicals. Somewhere along the way, I failed to read/acknowledge/realize that Wicked is a um, musical. Where they sing.
A lot. Loudly.
Luckily, Wicked has joined Grease in being a musical I actually enjoy, if not love. The set was amazing, the costumes were detailed and perfect, the singing was so spot on that I was convinced it must be a CD. Yes, a CD. As in, they were lip-syncing. Look, I’ve been to too many Britney Spears shows to think that people actually sing live- I wasn’t born yesterday.
But alas, they sing. And BOY can they sing. The song Defying Gravity gave me chills and Popular was stuck in my head for days. Days. Worse than the damn Party in the USA song by Miley Cyrus.
Here are some pictures I took (yes, illegally…don’t judge me) before and after the show.
Amazing! It was worth the $134 for the 3 hour show. There was an intermission, and I basically managed to get drunk during the intermission. Yes, drunk at a Broadway show. I put the ass in classy, folks.
Brittany and I were on a vacation, and during vacation (or any day ending in “y”) we like to be total lushes. We went to the bar and they had no foo-foo drinks. None. Crap. We waited in line, we need wanted alcohol, so I ordered Jack & Coke. My love affair with Jack is pretty new, and we’re still in that hot and heavy stage that you go through when you start dating someone new- all lusty and needy. Then the bartender tells me the price.
Bartender: “Nine.”
Me: “Five…?”
Bartender: “Nine.”
Me: <crap> *forks over $10 bill*
Bartender: Awkward silent moment.
Me: “Can I have my $1?”
Bartender: *throws me my $1 bill*
That was an expensive drink. You wanna know what else? It was served in a dixie cup (size wise). DIXIE CUP. Brittany got the same thing, and she hated her drink, so me being the good friend drank it for her. What are friends for?
And boy were they strong drinks. I basically had a giggle fest during the 2nd half of the play when something happens with Dorothy. Everyone in the theater laughed, but I laughed longer than everyone else. By a lot. Really.
Overall, Wicked was wickedly entertaining, and I think everyone should see it if they have the chance to do so. I don’t want to give away much, but it is basically the story of the Wicked Witch from the Wizard of Oz before the Wizard of Oz. Right? I think. I could be wrong.
I always babble on way too much, so the next NYC post will be about Times Square and THE Empire State Building.
Have you ever seen Wicked? What are your thoughts on the musical?
Onto a happy post. We got to Canal Street. Lemme say that in my head I had a whole vision of what I thought Canal Street was like. I pictured secret tunnels to fake Chanel bags, secret handshakes to get the best purses, and a nice, quiet street lined with shops and everything is orderly.
Not at all what it was really like. Not even close.
When walking up the stairs to the street level from the subway, it started almost instantly. I felt like I was in a third world country. I think I had tourist stamped on my forehead (right above my terror-filled brown eyes), because they swarmed me!
But seriously, like they were right up in my face with their little laminated sheets of purses they had. Some required us to go to a van, and I have seen way too many episodes of CSI, SVU, and other crime shows to be stupid and do that. So, we walked into a shop. I kind of looked around, not too impressed with the ugly purses that were displayed on their walls. And then, it happened…
The chick OPENED THE WALL. Like she went all Chronicles of Narnia on us and opened up the magic wardrobe to reveal knock off jewelry, purses, and sunglasses. <insert angels singing>
It required no secret handshakes, no secret password…nada. She saw a group of girls and opened the wall. We went down some stairs, through a shady looking room with a cardboard floor, and up another flight of stairs, to a closet with all the goods.
Narnia. Word.
The closet, as I shall call it, had lots of stuff. I was on the prowl for a gorgeous fake bag. Not Coach, but like Chanel or something. I didn’t find anything nearly like what I pictured, so I settled for a Tiffany & Co. key necklace knock off and a Coach necklace knock-off. $20 for 2 necklaces that retail would have cost a heck of a lot ($2K for a real Tiffany necklace and $168+ for a Coach). I was happy. We then went back through the secret tunnel and left. I just want to point out that probably all sorts of OSHA laws (in addition to copyright laws) were being broken. But I had my necklaces, so who cares?
Then it continues…people in my face again! Why me? WHY ME??? WHYYYYYYYYYYYYY?
Prada? Louis? Coach? You want Coach? Mill Mill?
Wait, what?
Mill, Mill.
So, now I turn to you, my lovely peeps, and ask who the hell is Mill Mill? Because I don’t know who that is. And if it’s some up and coming it designer, and I missed out on my chance for a faux Mill Mill bag, I will need a stiff drink. I hate to let opportunities pass me by. Enlighten me. BSUMA.
There were guys selling faux bags from their luggage on the sidewalk. From vans. From stores. FROM EVERYWHERE.
Not at all like I pictured. I really thought it reminded me a lot of when I went to Mexico in my childhood, and children were begging by the bridge for nickels or for you to buy gum from them. I don’t mean to insult anyone who works on Canal Street, but seriously, talk about high pressure sales. A used car salesman is friendlier than those folks.
So, then we headed to the Times Square area to grab a bite to eat before seeing Wicked at the Gershwin theater. We didn’t have much time, so we opted for some pizza from a local shop.
Ever watch the Soup Nazi episode of Seinfeld? If you haven’t, you must go watch it, like now. Do not read the rest of this post. Or, if you don’t want to watch the entire 22 minute episode, at least watch this. Please? Thanks.
This is exactly what it was like. We walk into a pizza shop in Times Square (Ray’s Pizza), and they are instantly rude. Jackie asks for cheese, they say they have none, and move onto the next person. Instead of “No soup for you! NEXT!” it was “No cheese for you! NEXT!”
What. The. Hell. She’s PREGNANT you buffoon!! If you don’t have plain cheese, surely she would like something else to eat. YOU BUFFOON! Even I ordered my slice (hawaiian, my absolute fave pizza EVER!) and even then he rolls his eyes at me. Which I think sucks since I am paying $5+ for my slice of cold, mediocre pizza.
Someone else in the group also wanted cheese, (Either Brittany H. or Lauren) and he did the same thing to them, too. Then when we were at the register, the cashier was on the phone and talking- totally blowing us off. DUDE, I need to be on time to see Wicked, get off the freakin’ phone. While you’re at it, make some more cheese pizza.
So, there’s my little quip about NYC pizza. Apparently, Ray’s Pizza is supposed to be the KING of NYC pizza, but I have to say it is a big, fat FAIL. I’ve had better pizza and customer service from Sbarro’s and they’re everywhere.
Ray’s Pizza=FAIL.
No cheese for you! NEXT!
Just kidding. But what is up next is a post on Wicked/ESB/Times Square.
