Dream a little dream

This morning I woke up out of a dream about the wedding. It was very strong and got me thinking about other dreams of similar intensity and obvious subject matter. By the time I had gone through this thought process I had forgotten the dream, it had slipped back into my subconscious - the elusive little critter! No doubt it will pop back into my mind later this afternoon and confound me.

Late last week I had a great wedding dream: I was in a game show in which contestants had to dive underwater in an eight metre pool and retrieve items from a series of post-box-like compartments. I watched the contestant before me win the key to the Special Box through a luck-of-the-draw process and then he dived down, found the box that fitted the key he had been given and discovered a huge wad of cash. The Special Box was supposed to be for things that would be most prized by the contestant.

When it was my turn, first round I won the key to a box that contained some things I intuitively knew were relevant, but that I now don't remember. Second round I, too, won the key to the Special Box. Down I went, down, down, right to the bottom. I found the box and opened it with the key. The first thing I saw was a huge manuscript, like a modern publishing manuscript, not a monk's parchment. I pulled that out and put it on the tray I had for carrying my stash, thinking, "Maybe the thing of value is in the words of the manuscript..." Then looking back in all I could see were everyday items - little tubes of hair products, jars of gourmet foods and spice pastes. I was pulling them out, going through them all trying to find the thing in the box that was of the most value since I obviously couldn't get all this crap back up to the surface in the one trip I was allowed. I was also becoming conscious of having been underwater for a while and that my breath was beginning to run out. I burrowed deeper under the valueless products, which were by now tumbling everywhere, and on the bottom of the box I found an engagement ring and a wedding ring in simple white gold with a small solitaire stone. I was momentarily confused because they weren't my wedding ring and engagement ring and my first thought was just for their monetary value, but, der Freddy, it was a dream, of course they were symbolic. So, by now out of breath and beginning to panic a little in the dream, I loaded the rings onto the tray with the manuscript (and maybe a cheeky jar or two of truffle paste, you can take the girl out of the kitchen, but... ) and headed to the surface, taking great care not to drop the rings back down into the depths of the pool. I woke up just before I broke the surface. Nice lesson, non?

My Nana died three years ago. She was such a fun and beautiful lady and  huge source of inspiration for me. One night I dreamt I visited my grandparents' former family home, the site of many happy childhood memories. My Popa had died a few years previously, but he had been a fanatical gardener like so many of the rest of the family, and always had a beautiful garden. I got to the gate in the dream and saw that all the garden was brown, withered and dead and I was confused and a little upset. I woke up, it was very early morning, and ten minutes later my Mum rang me to tell me that Nana had died in her sleep overnight.

So, dreams, eh!? Sometimes prophetic, sometimes hugely symbolic and sometimes just a clearing house for the day's activities (I am hardly about to write romantically about the stressed out dreams I had about the Resale Royalty Scheme for Artists and ensuring equitable payments for artists under an agency sales method last week. They were just pure processing). Whatever. They are never boring and a really good one will stay with you all day and make the world feel a little different as you move through it.

Wifey

 

There's a thought process that's been preoccupying my few precious moments of navel gazing lately, and it's been gatecrashing my brain when I've been busy with other things: I am going to be a wife, I am going to have a husband.

That's even about as complex as it gets, no more words than that, but it's not a freak out or Oh-my-God-what-am-I-doing, it comes through with a sense of wonderment. As I've written before, even as a child I declared I would never get married. That attitude softened as I got older, but only now, at 42, am I really going to do it. The sense of being about to cross a threshold into another state is very strong right now. In the past I have been guilty of spouting the line, maybe even believing, "It's only a piece of paper, it doesn't mean anything." Hey Former-self, wise up! It does mean something. It means a very great deal.

I remember that on my first date with Charles, almost two and a half years ago, while he was talking and I was listening and watching, the thought popped into my head, "This is a man I could marry." As conscious as that. How cheeky! But I mostly noted it because I had never had that thought before about anyone else, ever. 

It has been quite a surreal process planning a wedding with a groom who is on the other side of the planet. Charles found out his divorce had finally come through when he returned to Montreal from his last trip here to look after me post-surgery. We haven't had a minute together in the last three and a half months to discuss it in person or squeeze hands with excitement. But tonight he and his children arrive, after 48 hours of travelling. At least with me being in a post-CIAF daze we'll all be similarly zombiefied and I am grateful for how busy it is at work right now, my impatience to be at the airport to pick them up is rewarded with the rapid passing of time.

Last night as I was making up my bed with fresh sheets, I was amusing myself with the thought that one more sleep and I would be sharing the bed with my husband-to-be. It was good to be conscious of doing something for 'us', as opposed to 'me', with 'him' 'over there'. For me this is actually going to be one of my biggest challenges in my new marriage: the Us-ness. This won't be helped by still being long-distance until my Canadian residency is approved, but as a long-time Little Miss Independent, even in my last long-term relationship (I purchased a house on my own in that one and it was a seven and a half year relationship), being more mindful of Us is a habit I'm going to have to get into. My selfish single-girl ways just won't cut it. There are also two fantastic children involved in this relationship, so you may begin to get the picture of why I have made Change the overarching theme of this blog.

Charles has definitely already proven his sticking power in our relationship: two years long-distance and travelling halfway across the globe to nurse me back to health twice have already fulfilled most of the out-of-the-box marriage vows I can think of. I'm hoping I can be just as good at Wifing for him.

Save the dates = Save your ass

Sometimes DIY should be rephrased DIYH, as in Do In Your Head. Amirite?

Last weekend, already a little panicked at the lateness of it all, I settled in to begin what I believed would be the final assault on my mountain of wedding invitations. All I had to do was print the black text on the inside and whack 'em through the sewing machine, right? Pfft!

Was it because it was the first day of Mercury retrograde? Was it Murphy's Law? Was I over-confident and needed to be taken down a peg or two? Whatever the reason, my beloved printer refused to cooperate. In fact it just plain wouldn't even turn on. Look at that, it's just turned two years old. Look at me, cocking a suspicious eyebrow in the direction of planned obsolescence again (you cheeky minx, you!) A quick Google revealed no new Canon printer available on the market took the type of ink I had just spent $124 on. Sigh! So I dashed into work and printed the text off there, only to realise too late that I had used a custom font that was not installed on my work computer. Cue a brief Bridezilla moment since I'd just 'ruined' all 50 of my coloured invite templates. Whose stoopid idea was it to hand make the stoopid wedding invitations anyway!? *kick dirt*

But today, thanks to some mid-week after work stealth printing raids on the office printer (using my own stash of aforementioned ink, I might add), the appropriation of a guillotine and a public holiday Friday, I'm back on track. Just as well, because the six week mark was clearly the week when the out of towners figured that if they hadn't heard from me again they were uninvited, I have fielded a few queries and allayed some fears.

The moral dear DIY(H) brides? No, it's not start the invites earlier! Don't be ridiculous! (cough! this may not be sound advice, cough!) You are a real person and you are far too busy! No, it is communicate and don't stress too much. Save the date notifications just saved my ass. Imagine if I was relying on the invites to be people's first indication there was a wedding on! And while I would be lying if I said I wasn't anxious about finishing the invites this week, I'm pretty sure I didn't let it get the better of me. There were no teary scenes at least. And really, with only three months to pull this thing off I think we are doing pretty well on the lack-of-drama front.

And so, with Exhibits A, B, C & D before you, I hope to even get some of these babies in the Saturday post tomorrow after a bit of hand finishing. Next up: the decorations. What could possibly go wrong?

Saving things for best

I've had a couple of conversations in the last week or so about the notion of 'saving things for best' and whether people live with and use their treasures every day, or if they keep them shut away in a cupboard waiting for special occasions.

One dear friend was discussing the cutlery set she got as a wedding gift—very ex-y, very lovely—and how her mum freaked when she found out she was using it every day. As it was a wedding gift, apparently she wasn't meant to use it much. My friend conceded that she was probably going too far when she occasionally used the knives as makeshift screwdrivers, but she loved the cutlery—it added special to the everyday, was a bit of luxury in her otherwise 'starving-artist' life, and it pleased her to use it. Also, because it was such good quality, it was standing up to daily use.

I collect vintage glasses. I've used them for years, but I've really gone into overdrive hoarding them for my wedding reception. If you go 'down the oppy', on a good day you can really score and in the end, apart from my time, it is actually going to be cheaper to buy them this way than hire ugly ones. However, I always feel a great sense of responsibility with vintage items. I get really upset if I break a vintage glass or stain a vintage dress soon after I have purchased it. Sure, I can talk myself through it, but my grief is over the fact that something beautiful and delicate has had a long life, sometimes 50 or 60 years, and then—bam!—two weeks with me and it's cactus! Yikes!

Some of my most treasured possessions are my nana's and my grandma's tea sets. They're all mixed in together now and I generally can't remember which was whose, but it is really important for me to know I have them, even though I only lay eyes on them once a month or so because, yes, I keep them in a cupboard. I have lived in my house for over three and a half years and I only remember using them once in that whole time. In fact, I think it was a house guest who took them out to use, not knowing. However, I have decided to bring them out to use at the wedding and I was discussing this with my fiancé the other day. Yes, they may get broken (alright, maybe I'll leave my favourite set at home, it's the blue one, pictured above), but really, if I can't find a better reason to use something that I save for best than to use it at our wedding, then what am I waiting for? By having them there, in use, it will be a little like having Nana and Grandma there, too. That's a thought that makes me very happy. If any of them get broken, well, it was for a good cause, and surely that is a better way for them to meet their demise than if I break one dusting it for the fifteenth time since I last used it?

Blathering on about this notion over Skype last weekend, my beloved piped up with, "There's a blog post for you!" Given that I've just turned 42 and have never been married before, it's moments like that that make me realise I have been saving myself for best, too.

But tell me, do you use your precious things, do you squirrel them away, or are you, like me, trying to overcome your tendencies?


PS On a related topic, one of my favourite posts on Bek Misic's beautiful blog, Traces, deals with a Buddhist teacher's notion of a glass already being broken and being able to appreciate things when you are with them and not holding attachment when they are gone. It's a great post—go check it out!

Is there a 12-step program for Etsy addiction?

My name is Beverley Mitchell and I am an Etsy addict.

There. I've said it. The whole world knows (well, the three of you who are reading, but y'know, anyone could know if they bothered to check ...)

It started out with just a few gifts for friends and family, here, there. Then, frustrated with missing out on things I really wanted in eBay auctions, I started to prefer the surety of an outright purchase rather than bidding for vintage items, even if it did mean paying a slight premium: if I paid, I got it, end of story. Instant gratification plus postage delay.

Then things got kinda crazy. Obsession set in. It doesn't help that I live in a regional centre where, if your proclivities run to the slightly eccentric like mine, you can't just walk into the shopping mall and get that perfect thang for an upcoming event. Yes, I shop for vintage on a pretty regular basis around town, but it's a lottery. Etsy gives a better chance of success in the search.

And then the killer blow: I got engaged. I would love to know what percentage of Etsy's turnover is wedding related. Hell, even the search stats would be mind-blowing I'm sure. Plus, once married, I will apply for permanent residency in my beloved's home country - Canada. Cue the hunt for a whole new wardrobe to guard against the cold. My vintage tropical sun dresses that are so perfect for Cairns just won't cut it in a Montreal winter, so it's lucky I am stockpiling a substantial wardrobe there already even though it is probably about 15 months until I am likely to move. I have also purchased all our wedding decorations, my wedding dress and a vintage map pdf to use on our invitations on Etsy. Ob.Sessed!

And then to crank it up one notch further, I opened a shop. This has actually been a blessing in disguise. Now, instead of spending hours a night trawling favourite shops or searching for knee-length 50s skirts with a 26-27 inch waist, I am sneaking a peek at my shop stats - visits, favourites, listing views, watching the difference it makes when I list new things or someone else puts one of my items in a treasury. This is good because it stops me spending money. I also have an excuse now to buy the great things I see in op shops that don't fit or suit me: "Oh, I'll just get it for the shop," is my new enabling phrase.

Not everyone loves Etsy, though. I did peek at the dark netherworlds of the rather bitter sites such as Regretsy, but ya know what? While I concede some points about crappy or inappropriate handmade items, the market will deal with those, and I think I'd rather hang out with the happy people, thanks. There's lots of natural lighting and everyone I've met has been really lovely. Ah, Etsy! It's fun, it's pretty and it's not hurting anything but my PayPal balance. Favourite!

Bridezilla lurks in the heart of every woman

So. One of the big upcoming changes in my life is that I will be getting married soon. Like, in two and a half months soon. I’ve never been a girl to sit around and day dream about “the day I get married”. In fact, when I was little I used to proudly tell my mum that I was “never getting married and never having kids!” But this guy ... this guy is special, this guy is different, and I can’t wait to be married to him.

We have been waiting quite a while for circumstances to be right, so we’ve had plenty of time to work on the big picture – dress, rings, venue, vibe, caterer, etc., etc. – but not the specifics, such as, well, date! Once we had the green light we went through the process of making sure that key people were available on our preferred date (including the groom, who inconveniently lives in Montréal) and are now working out the logistics of it all before we send out the invitations. (Before the etiquettists out there tsk, tsk, the save the dates are out with the interstaters and all the locals know verbally.)

And this is where it gets surprising: I have felt the stirring of my inner Bridezilla already and I am shocked at myself.  

She first reared her ugly head while my dad was here looking after me and we were discussing how many layers of family I was prepared to drill down into on the guest list. Freak out number one was about blowing out the budget when I have to relocate internationally next year and we have a second, Canadian, celebration to throw when Charles’s family is a tightly-knit cast of thousands. Freak out number two was that I really want to have a fairly intimate ceremony, preferably around 65 people max, and the guest list is currently sitting at 94 without cousins. 94?! Do I really know that many people? I guess I, or we, do. My dad gave me a stern father-daughter talk at the time, which I wasn’t in the mood for, but, yes, he was right. He told me to get my priorities in order. My stepmother reinforced this with the sage words, “One thing you will remember about the day is the people and how they wanted to be there for you.” Shucks. 

The next Bridezilla moment was Not. My. Fault. Now there’s a dead giveaway statement if ever I read one. Right from the get-go, pretty much one week into our engagement, we knew where we wanted to get married. We had even had a date booked and a deposit paid for last year, but things didn’t pan out that way. Of course, we were back onto them in a flash when we knew we were good to go, confirmed a suitable date, yada, yada, and then they sent through their new contract. This venue is a seaside venue: ceremony on the beach then a stroll over the grass to the sweetly set tables for a long, leisurely, family-style lunch in the dappled shade of the trees – aaaaah! Except ... they no longer allow glass of any sort whatsoever. Whoa, Nellie! Not only have I been painstakingly collecting vintage glasses by the scores for the table settings (cough, Bridezilla alert, cough!), but actually I don’t feel like paying around about $6,000 for catering and venue hire and then drinking my celebratory wedding bubbles out of acrylic champagne flutes. I refuse to consider that this is anything less than reasonable (cough...)

But, ya know what? It all worked out for the best. A chance call to one of my workmates to get a phone number while I was on leave led to a chat about what I’d been up to, led to discussing the venue debacle and then led to her suggesting a venue that turned out to be perfect. It’s super cute, closer to town for post-revelry taxi fares, is wet weather-proof (essential in the tropics), has a kitchen onsite when the other venue didn’t, and it is $150 for the venue hire for the entire weekend. $150!! I feel like I am cheating them. The venue is a community hall, so when we’re done I will make a donation of equipment or something similar that I think they might need.

In the meantime I just found the budget for another 10 or so guests, so now I just have to get used to the idea of that many people watching me as I go through what will be one of the most emotional moments of my life. It’s been such a long wait I have been joking that my wedding vows are going to be, “I say yes, now where do I sign?” But then again, maybe I’m not actually joking. 

Coming up: Will the bridesmaid be wearing animal print? Will the bride be able to track down the long-lost old friend she wants to have as wedding celebrant? And will the bride ever get to have a meeting with her beloved caterers, and does this in fact even matter since she trusts them enough to just hand over cash and say, “Knock yerselves out”? Stay tuned.