A few weeks back, Ty's mom gave me a stack of photos of him throughout the years. I loved going through all of them and seeing what my soon-to-be husband looked like as a baby, a three year old, and during those awkward preteen years. Let me just throw my 100 percent biased opinion out there -- he was stinkin' precious! I hope our children will look like this!
In the midst of our final weeks before the wedding, my best friend, LJ, was inspired (finally) to do something with her wedding pictures. I can hardly believe that was almost a year ago. It feels like two months at the max. So, she posted some pictures on Facebook, in which her photographer captured some truly priceless moments between she and I. Mostly involving the bouquet toss.
It started something like this. All smiles, but considering my linebacker stance, I was preparing to wrestle Lesley to the ground. It's only fair considering her height advantage.
Last night, some of Ty's guy friends rolled into town early for Ty's bachelor weekend, so we thought it was the perfect evening to grab dinner and drinks at Noble Savage. I love the food at Noble Savage. It's unexpectedly gourmet and in complete contrast to the restaurant/bar's atmosphere, and the specials are always delicious.
None of the out of town guys arrived in time to eat, but for the rest of us, the food was spectacular. Is it strange that the soup course is always my favorite? God bless a good soup. For my main course, I ordered the lamb chops and the guys ordered elk, and I began to figure that this entire meal was nothing more than a ploy to butter me up before dropping a bachelor party bomb on me.
"You can't talk to Ty all weekend," Groomsman A said.
I listened as these two single guys explain their reasoning, and then I called malarkey on the whole idea. I'm not a needy phone person. It's not like Ty and I are on the phone with one another all day long, but it's nice to touch base with the man you're going to marry in three weeks. Am I wrong?
I'm sure the husbands on the trip will touch base with wives and children. And I'm sure the single guys will touch base with women throughout the weekend.
But for Ty, this is not just his bachelor party. It is also a hostage situation.
Ty is heading out of town this weekend for his bachelor party. I'm not worried in the least because I happen to be marrying the most trustworthy man on the face of the plant.
But just in case, I coached him that if any of his friends tried to peer pressure him into something he didn't want to do, he should remind them that they're all married and most of them are dads. And if that wasn't incentive enough, I reminded him that body glitter is easily transferable and difficult to get off your skin and clothing.
Really, I trust all the guys with my future husband. I imagine it will be a weekend of numerous canned beers, several country music concerts and a nice float down the Guadalupe River.
All of this reminds me that I never posted about my bachelorette party several weeks ago. We took an overnight trip to Dallas where we did tons of shopping, eating, drinking, etc. Going into the bachelorette party, my hostess asked me if there was anything I didn't want to do. I had a short but very restrictive list: No penis paraphernalia, no veil/headwear, no shots.
And here's how that worked out for me:
A few weeks ago, Ty and I met with our friend and ceremony musician Callie to go over the music for our wedding. Callie is amazing and agreed to put together a string quartet for our big day. I didn't want anything too complicated -- traditional wedding songs, no special music, beautiful and classic and elegant.
It was an appointment like all the others, we talked out the details and then Callie started playing. Immediately, a lump the size of an apple core was in the back of my throat. Sitting in the middle of the First Methodist Bossier youth room, my face got red and my eyes watery.
I didn't get emotional when I met with the baker. Or the florist. Or the photographer. But I managed to underestimate Callie's ability with a violin. Something would have to be done if I didn't want to be a blubbering mess before I even reached Ty. Even happy tears can be ugly, and I've never admitted this before, but I seem to have really big tears. Make me cry sometime and I'll show you. It is the definition of crocodile tears.
In an effort to calm my nerves, I've downloaded all the ceremony music so that I can listen to it religiously for the next few weeks to desensitize myself.
If it doesn't work, please give me a hug, lie to me and tell me you didn't notice.
When I get overly stressed out about minor wedding details like toasting flutes, wedding favors, my hair piece and place cards, I go here. I let the soothing sound of running water wash over me, I take a few breaths and remind myself that I'll soon be spending a week here with my husband ... and no one cares what my toasting flutes look like anyway.
In the past two weeks, I've been to Dallas, Chicago and finally back home again. Ty and I always stay pretty busy, but these past few weeks have been out of control, so our plan for this weekend was complete relaxation. We didn't have any showers. We didn't go out to eat. We didn't see many friends. We didn't really do much of anything besides hang out together around the house.
And a weekend like this usually equates to some quality time in the pool.
And that usually equates to our overly eager, water-loving lab thinking she's invited to lounge in the pool with us.
Lacy can't help it. She was bred to love the water. But I think she's started going a little overboard. She's good at fetching tennis balls and other things that float on the surface of the water, but going after things that sink?
May I say, I apologize in advance for you having to turn your head 90 degrees to watch this video. I don't have a video editor to correct the problem, but I promise it's worth it!
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