12 days of Christmas

I always knew that B is a creative guy, but this Christmas, he outdid himself and really impressed me with his thoughtfulness and creativity. On December 13 (aka the first day of Christmas), he gave me a single book with the Twas the Night Before Christmas poem--with a cat twist. The next day, he gave me 2 hair clips. On the third day, he gave me 3 travel-size lotions.

On the fourth day (4 flower pins/hair ties), I realized what was going on. It was so exciting to have a new gift to open every day, and I never knew what the gift was going to be or when it was going to appear. Other gifts included 5 pairs of socks, 6 votive candles, 7 letter-sealing stickers, 8 nail polishes, 9 personalized note cards, 10 toe separators (well, 2 toe separators, one for each foot--for all 10 toes), 11 golf balls, and 12 colored gel pens.

The twelve days of Christmas ended on Christmas Eve, but B gave even more gifts on Christmas Day! A sweater, a coat, a new bathrobe and pajamas, and lots of fun stocking stickers (Italy stickers, a little cat figurine, and other fun goodies).

It was a great Christmas.

Simplify simplify simplify

Every month or two, I realize that our home is disorganized and full of clutter, and then B and I spend many hours trying to whip it into shape. This realization usually comes right before we have people over. It's ok to live among the clutter if it's just the two of you hanging out in your pajamas and watching an I Love New York marathon on VH1 and eating Ben and Jerry's straight out of the container. But you don't want your friends and family coming over and mentally comparing your home to the monkey pit at the zoo.

Maybe my priorities are messed up--maybe I should try to clean a little every day and stay on top of the clutter situation--nip it in the bud. But I'm the kind of girl who occasionally realizes--while I'm brushing my teeth before bedtime--that I've gone the entire day without brushing my hair. Is it reasonable to expect that I should be proactive about cleaning the house when I can't even remember to detangle my own hair?

(I just realized that I haven't brushed my hair today. However--and if you've never had thick hair, you will think I'm crazy, and if you do have thick hair, you will be nodding in agreement at my next statement--I can't actually brush my hair right now. Well, I can try, and I can brush my way through most of it, but my hair is so thick that I cannot entirely remove all of the tangles. Even if, by some miracle, I am able to get my brush through all of my hair, the tangles form almost immediately. I have made a hair appointment for next week to have my hair thinned, but until then, it's bun season.)

Anyway. Back to cleaning.

Part of our problem comes from traveling clutter. Traveling clutter is stuff that does not belong anywhere, so you continue to move it to different places in your home with the hope that someone else will either throw it away or hide it so you don't have to think about it anymore. Examples of traveling clutter in our home include:

• Pieces of granite that we rescued from the leftover bin while on a trip to Vermont. We took their trash, transported it many miles to our own home, and now have no idea what to do with it. B has a strange sentimental attachment to the rock chunks so I can't throw them out, but I don't think that they make the nicest decorational items for a bedside table in our guest room, either.
• Organizational shelving from The Container Store. Everything from that store costs twice what you think it should, so once you buy it, you can never bring yourself to throw it out, even if you don't need it anymore. I bought something like 4 of these double-drawer shelving units for our pantry, but now we have Ikea shelving that does a way better job. What to do with the TCS shelving? No idea.
• Magazines. Oh, the magazines. When your frequent flier miles are about to expire, the airline sends you a message saying, "Don't let your miles go to waste! Get free magazine subscriptions!" You convince yourself that you will read 8 magazines a month for an entire year. And then they arrive in the mail and you don't open a single one, and you stack them on whatever flat surface area you can find until your blanket chest is covered in magazines, and the idea of opening it to add or remove an item is so daunting that you would rather go cold than figure out what to do with the magazines.

I've decided to take back control. I'm not going to clean my house every day, and I have come to accept having books strewn about in every room. But I'm throwing away those magazines! The Puritan voice in my head says, "But you haven't even taken them out of their plastic wrappers! You haven't opened any of them!" But I don't care! You have to draw the line somewhere, and in my life, there isn't room for Domino, Lucky, Jane (Jane! Unloved, cancelled magazine, how can I throw you out unread?! Surely I will be punished for this blasphemous decision but I suspect the former editors would applaud my "A girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do" attitude), and even Martha Stewart. Farewell, literary flotsam! Hello, simplification!

Food snobbery

I am an unlikely candidate for a food snob. I spent my childhood avoiding all foods of the vegetable variety. It took me over an hour to eat dinner every night because I was so distracted by everything going on around me and couldn't sit still. Food was more like fuel than anything else.

As I got older, I became more adventurous and started trying foods that I had never heard of or that I had been scared to try, and I discovered that I enjoyed them. Travel, especially international travel, provides excellent opportunities to broaden your food horizons because you're already in an adventurous mindset. When I traveled, I found myself trying foods that I wouldn't have touched with a ten-foot pole when I was younger, and I brought the adventurous spirit home with me and continued to embrace new and different foods.

As my food horizons broadened, my cooking knowledge improved. When you're feeling adventurous, a recipe that involves ginger isn't as daunting as it used to be. I found myself making dishes that I never would have had the guts to order in a restaurant, and then I found myself ordering similar dishes when I was out. Then I realized that I could cook food that tasted better than the food I could get at a restaurant, and I started wanting to eat only at restaurants that offered meals that I couldn't or wouldn't make on my own. And I started not wanting to go to restaurants that served food that wasn't as good as my own.

That's when I realized that I am a food snob.

I sniff at restaurants that serve frozen food or that feel the need to coat every dish on their menu with a thick slab of cheese or so much salt that I am thirsty for days afterward. If I am faced with the option of eating home-cooked food or restaurant food, I would choose home-cooked food 9 times out of 10, unless I was looking for the convenience of being served a meal--or if the restaurant offered a wonderful meal.

Unfortunately, there is always a problem with the restaurants that offer wonderful meals. B and I were at a four-star steakhouse in a nearby town a few weeks ago, and I kept saying throughout the meal, "I don't know why we don't come here more often! This food is so good! This restaurant is great!" Then we got the check. And we remembered why we don't go there often.

Farewell, worst day ever

I have declared yesterday to be the worst day ever. Perhaps the worst 2 days ever, or more accurately, the worst 24-hour span ever.

Yesterday started fine, but the threats of a winter storm made me decide to leave work early. My one o'clock meeting was cancelled, but my noontime gathering of friends to read an old radio script was a highlight of the day and I just couldn't miss it. In hindsight, perhaps we should have postponed our fun.

I hit the road a little after 1, around the same time as everyone else in the state. The traffic reports at the time were reassuring, but what I was seeing with my own eyes was not. I moved about 6 car lengths in an hour--and we're not talking on the highway or even on the roadway--I was still at the top of the driveway of my office park.

Hours went by and progress did not improve significantly. Soon it was dark, and I had barely made it halfway down the hill. At this point, the traffic reports were starting to reflect a negative situation on the highways, but I thought I had invested so much in my commute and if I turned around, I might have to wait in the same long line at a later point in the day. I decided to stick with it.

And stick with it, I did. After about 6 hours, I made it to the real road. At 8 hours (after having moved 100 meters at most), I noticed that my car was acting funny. I realized that the red light that kept popping on and off on my dashboard was actually a low-battery warning. And I realized that the lights in my car (as well as my headlights) were dimming and then brightening and then dimming again. I am not a mechanic, but I knew that something was wrong.

I called B, and he said I had to turn around and go back to work. "Go back?!" I said, "I spent 8 hours trying to get here!" He explained that the symptoms indicated a failing alternator, and I might not have much time left before my car died. I didn't want it to go in the middle of the street, so I took his advice and went back. I still hadn't been making any progress on the road, so it was somewhat liberating to drive a whopping 10 miles per hour to get back up to my building, even if it was through 6 inches of snow.

I found lots of coworkers who had seen the unmoving line of cars and decided to wait out the storm at work. At least I wasn't alone. I made my way up to my office to try to figure out a plan. I have AAA, but not the premium program, so I could have my car towed only 3 miles, not all the way to my house (note to self: will be upgrading to the premium plan pronto--it allows up to 100 miles of free towing). So if I was going to have my car towed, where would I tow it to? And could a tow truck even make it through the gridlocked traffic?

As it turned out, it didn't matter because the AAA number was busy every time I called, and at that point, I still wasn't sure what I wanted to do with my car. Technically, it was still running, so a tow might not even be necessary if I was going to take it to the garage up the street. I prepared myself mentally to sleep at the office until one of my coworkers who waited out the storm and who lives in a neighboring town from mine kindly offered to drive me home--so nice! We left around 10, and by that time, traffic had cleared up considerably (though the roads were not in great shape because the plows had been unable to get through the gridlocked traffic to plow them). I was home by 11:30 or so.

B had a slightly easier travel adventure, even though he was making his way home from NYC. Yesterday morning, I watched the travel forecasts, and they said that NYC would be a mess by lunchtime--I knew there was no way that his plane was going to leave the ground. I called him around 10 and told him to get on a train, and he was able to hop the 1 o'clock train. And thank goodness he did--all of the flights were cancelled.

When his train reached the city, he hopped the commuter rail out to our town, and I was supposed to be there to pick him up. Needless to say, that didn't happen. Luckily, one of his coworkers lives in town and was home and has a 4x4 truck--his coworker picked him up from the train station and drove him home, and he was back well before 8.

So we both got home last night--but neither of our cars did. Mine was at work, and B's was at the airport. We planned to get a cab to the train station to take the commuter rail into the city and then make our way to the airport, but all of the cabs were booked. I had the idea of taking an airport shuttle, and they were able to squeeze us onto a van--hooray! The driver was perplexed to see that we didn't have any bags until we explained our situation.

We picked up B's car and then stopped at a store to buy a new battery for my car, a transaction complicated by my coupon and the sales man's inadequate understanding of fractions. Then we made our way to my office building (I can't look at those roads in the same way) and located my car under a big pile of snow. Amazingly enough, with a little cough and whimper, she started up, so B pulled her out of the snowbank and then turned her off and went to work on the battery. Within 20 minutes, her new battery was installed, and she roared to life with an enthusiasm not seen in years.

Our next stop was my mechanic. We called him earlier in the day to ask for advice, and he said that even if my alternator wasn't working, my car would make it the 37 miles from where I work to where I live on a new battery. We stopped in and he did a quick test to see if the battery was charging--it was--hooray! The alternator was fine. My six-year-old battery, and the 8 hours of idling, combined with my charging my phone in the car, was the problem. I had actually been planning to buy a new battery, just as soon as B was home and could help me through it. It just happened sooner than either of us planned.

Now we--and both of our cars--are home, recovering and safe, and we're preparing for this weekend's storm. And hoping not to have another worst day ever.

I wanna talk about me

A couple weeks ago, I helped a coworker format the manuscript of his father-in-law's memoir. He had been after his FIL for years to record his memories in one way or another, and putting pen to paper (well, he was more technical than that and used a computer) was how he chose to do it.

I got to thinking about it, and while my life has not been nearly as tumultuous as my coworker's relative (I am, after all, only 25 at heart), I have lived quite a life. I decided it was time to start writing some of it down--on a computer, that is.

The first step was to take a little walk down memory lane, and let me tell you, it was not as easy as I thought it would be. I don't mean that I had trouble remembering--I just didn't want to remember everything! A good story requires some sort of conflict, and going through all of it in my mind at once was overwhelming.

Sitting down to write the first sentence wasn't easy, either. I had been crafting paragraphs in my mind during my ride home, but when I sat down in front of my computer, writer's block set in. I wrote a few sentences but was dissatisfied with their blandness. I forced myself to keep going and write a straight account--even if it was boring and could have come from a user guide--and then I went back and made my sentences more clever sounding.

One great aspect to memoir writing is that you know the entire story from the start, so you can start at any point and write until you get bored, and then you can start on another section, and it's easy to pick up where you leave off. I haven't written much in my memoir, but I started with the night that B and I met--a very happy moment, in hindsight anyway. At the time, he scared me and I vowed to avoid him as much as I could. Luckily for both of us, I didn't keep that vow.

Landlocked for now

It's no secret that I've been bitten by the travel bug, and I've recently been contemplating a trip to Germany to visit Christmas markets. They are outdoor shopping markets full of hand-made Christmas-related goods and fun and festive foods like pretzels and spiced cider and probably sausages (which I could pass on without much regret). Unfortunately for me, the Christmas markets in Germany only happen during December (unlike American radio stations, which think that Christmas begins immediately after you throw out the rotting jack-o-lantern that you carved for Halloween, Germans believe that Christmas should be limited to only one month of celebration). I was seriously tempted to go this year and went as far as researching airfare for sample dates in December. And, not surprisingly--who really wants to go to Germany in December; it's wretchedly cold and dark--airfare was a bargain.

Then I remembered one teeny tiny detail--I had no passport! We mailed them off for renewal the day before Thanksgiving, and I thought the likelihood of receiving them back before January was slim--no chance of an international trip for at least a month. But then we both received our passports in the mail yesterday! It was a turnaround of 19 days, and I am impressed.

However, there isn't any time for a Germany trip. All of our weekends are booked, and the only open timeframe is between Christmas and New Year's, and by then the markets will be closed, and I am certainly not going to Germany in the winter just to wander around and be cold--I can do that for free here at home. And the Auntie Anne's kiosk at the mall has a near-unlimited supply of pretzels should I get a craving.

Luckily, I have our Italy/Greece/Croatia/Germany trip next year to look forward to. And B has been hinting that he might be interested in a trip to Japan afterwards. He also pointed out that there is a Disneyland in Japan. My interest is piqued...

One more Christmas task

The stockings are hung, the lights are up, Gretel is decorated, and the shopping is finished, but one final task remained--writing the Christmas cards. Now that we are married and have collected everyone's addresses, we feel like adults, and adults send Christmas cards.

I love buying Christmas cards. They come in all shapes and sizes and have fun pictures and messages and sometimes there is even glitter (and when there isn't, I have been known to add my own). However, sending cards is not as easy as buying them, so I frequently buy but then do not send them. This slackertude served us well this year, however, because we had almost 50 cards to send and didn't have to buy any.

The hardest part of sending Christmas cards is writing addresses, and we found a shortcut around that hassle--we printed all of the addresses on address labels. If I were really snazzy, I could have done a mail merge to move the addresses from our wedding spreadsheet to Word, but I've never done a mail merge successfully on my own, and I decided that copying and pasting was the faster option.

We printed return address labels for our names (with fun and different clip art--everything is more fun with cheesy clip art), so the only writing to do was inside the cards--febulous! Now the final step is to drop them in the mail and hope everyone likes them. And then buy cards for next year during the post-Christmas sales, of course.

Gretel 2007

This weekend, B and I are buying our Christmas tree.

It's not our first Christmas tree--we got that tree the first year we were dating, back in 2004. B proposed buying a 3' or 4' tree to add some festivity to my apartment. But when I saw the beautiful 7' fir at the store, I just couldn't resist. No surprise there.

All of the ornaments on that tree came from a Target Christmas spree and were plastic (I was living with 3 cats at the time and was concerned that they would break and then eat glass ornaments). The tree might have been sparsely and cheaply decorated, but she was beautiful and we loved her. We decided to name her--and all subsequent trees--Gretel.

Gretel's decorations have improved over the years--we buy ornaments whenever we go on vacation, and we have also been known to stock up on ornaments for next year in the after-Christmas sales. But we still have the plastic snowflakes to remind us of our first tree.

This year, I thought it might be fun to get a live tree in a pot and then plant it somewhere after Christmas. The location of "somewhere" had not been determined--our backyard is teeny and technically not even ours. But I liked the smaller-footprint idea of borrowing a tree and then replanting it, rather than dumping its carcass in the woods. I even found a Christmas tree farm in town that sells potted Christmas trees for much less than I would have expected.

Unfortunately, it's just not going to work out. I did some research online, there are problems galore with my potted-tree plan. First of all, a potted tree can only be in a house for 5-7 days max--and I want the tree to be up for all of December. Second, unless your tree is grown in a pot, its roots were partially destroyed when it was harvested, and the likelihood of the tree surviving that and the shock of suddenly being indoors followed by the shock of suddenly being in the freezing cold is not good, even for the sturdiest of Christmas trees.

I've come up with a compromise--we're going to get a normal-sized cut tree (Gretel), and we're going to get a small (maybe 2') live tree (Gretelette?) that we'll keep inside for December and then will move outside to our back porch (and hope it can survive the sudden cold).

No such thing as a free lunch

The airline wouldn't let me book our tickets because the miles are in B's name, so I gave him the confirmation number, and he called the airline to finish the process. And what a process!

I expected a $15 fee for booking on the phone with an agent. But it turns out that we have to pay all of the taxes and fees associated with the flights--and we are taking a lot of flights! The total cost was around $300 for the two tickets--not quite the freebie flights that I was hoping for! I suppose that a $300 bill is a lot better than a $2,000 bill, but not nearly as boosting to one's bargain-hunter ego as a $15 bill would have been. Chalk it up as a lesson learned--and it's time to amend the cliche: "There's no such thing as a free lunch--or a free flight."

And in other weirdness, they're mailing us paper tickets for the flights. Travel gurus say that you should always have paper tickets because they are the best way to get on another flight if your original flight is cancelled. But honestly--where am I going to store paper airline tickets for the next 9 months? My mind immediately leaps upon the worst-case scenario--what if we lose them? I will have to call the airline and find out if other tickets could be issued to us at check-in. Perhaps I will be grateful for this seeming inconvenience when the time comes.

The joys of awards travel

B's frequent flier miles and hotel points are a perk (perhaps the only perk) of his frequent travel. We recently decided to put them to good use for a European vacation next year.

Since the dollar is currently in a rather sad state, the hotel points are generally best used for European hotels. Our honeymoon hotel rooms would have cost many thousands of dollars had we paid for them out of pocket--but the points allowed us to sleep for free for 13 nights. However, for this trip, we decided to "sacrifice" some of B's hotel points and transfer them to airline miles to allow us to redeem the points for free airline tickets.

The decision to transfer the points is cost-effective because we're flying during a very expensive time. The flights that we need are currently close to $1,000 per person (!!)--way more than I am willing to pay. Paying with points will be a huge cost savings. I thought I had it all figured out. Then I called the airline to book the flights.

The cust serv rep was trying to send us on a flight with connections in Philly (and sometimes Laguardia) and either Germany or Amsterdam--yikes! I said, "It's just so inefficient! I know there are direct flights to Germany!" She kindly agreed to dig deeper and was able to get us on my first-choice flight on the way over. However, the flight back was not so simple.

There were two options--fly with 2 connections (3 flights) in a single day, or have an overnight layover in Germany. "Hrm," I thought, "Germany..." So now we have a layover in Frankfurt, and we'll have the remaining 2 flights the next day. B has predicted that our bags will be lost. However, I think I trust the airline system over the Italian post office.

Speaking of Italy--that's where we're going! Venice, Florence, and Cinque Terre! And then we're going on a cruise through Greece. And I have a lofty goal for this trip--I don't want to check any luggage on the way over. Can our intrepid traveler survive for 2 1/2 weeks with the clothing in a single suitcase? Stay tuned. The packing list is about to get a whole lot shorter.

Oh, the frugality!

Frugality might not be the first word that comes to mind when people think of me (except perhaps with regard to toothpaste and soap).

Take, for instance, this year's holiday decorations--we have a total of 100 lights decorating the outside of our condo (2 strings of 50 lights), and the total cost of the lights was something like $3.68--a reasonable expense. However, the equipment that I bought so I don't have to go outside to plug in and unplug the lights--an outdoor timer and extension cord--came in at about $20. I justified the expenses as cost-saving (the timer will allow us to leave the lights on for a specified period of time each day) and good for the long run (we can continue to use the items year after year). The expenses defy the rules of frugality but they make my life easier and better, so they are worthwhile.

Some items make life happier but can still be purchased on sale, like clothing--I try not to pay full price for clothing because you know it will go on sale at the end of the season.

I recently discovered a way to make my life easier and better without actually spending money--oh, the frugality is amazing! The source of my newfound knowledge? My shower curtain liner.

The water in our town is hard, and it renders my shower curtain liner a tad unpleasant after 2 months or so. And while investing $10 in a new shower curtain liner every 2 months is not a ghastly expenditure, it's annoying--I'd much rather spend that $10 on something else. I tried cleaning it with the scrubby brush that I use to clean the shower, with limited success--well, truth be told, I didn't make much of an effort--I'd rather spend money than add an extra cleaning chore to my routine.

But I had one more idea before I broke down and headed to Target. I noticed washing--and drying!--instructions on the liner. Could the liner actually go in the washing machine and dryer, and would those magical machines leave it looking like new? I decided it was worth a shot.

An hour later, my like-new liner was back hanging in my shower, and I had saved $10 and a trip to the store. The savings almost makes up for my twice-daily marathon showers.

Quirks

At Thanksgiving dinner, my family was discussing quirks--in particular, the quirks of our spouses.

You spend a lot of time with your spouse, and after a while, you're bound to discover idiosyncrasies that were not evident when you first met. These quirks are sometimes endearing, sometimes annoying, but are almost always amusing to others.

B asked what his quirk was (or maybe he didn't, and I just offered the information). In any case--he makes piles. And then he hides them. I remember at my apartment in the city, he had a pile of mail that he was supposed to respond to. One day, the mail disappeared, and I forgot about it. It wasn't until many months later, when I was cleaning my bedroom, that I found the mail--and many other treasures--hiding underneath my bed. Every once in a while, I discover a similar pile in our condo and have to laugh about it.

I asked what my quirk was--it took him a while to think of it, but then B figured it out--I am a curmudgeonly toiletry user. It's not that I'm stingy while I'm using the products--I probably use more toothpaste with every brushing than most (and certainly brush more frequently than does the average bear), but I will hold on to the tube--and continue to squeeze out toothpaste--for days, maybe even weeks longer than most people do. It drives B crazy when he uses my bathroom in the morning and has to figure out how to extract toothpaste from my seemingly empty tube.

Stockpiling and hoarding--all in all, not very bad quirks to have.

The name game

Today I did something that I have been meaning to do for the past 2 months--I changed my name with the social security administration, the DMV, and the passport agency. The process was harder than I thought it would be, though that is partially because we got lost trying to find the social security building (because why would the government make their agencies easy to find).

First stop was social security--destination of the sad, downtrodden, and newly married. My birth certificate is MIA, but the man on the phone said that my passport "should be ok" as proof that I am who I say I am--and he was right. Lucky for my, they had a line that was devoted to name changes, and I filled out all of the paperword ahead of time, so we were in and out in 15 minutes.

Next stop was the DMV--conveniently, right down the street from the social security building. We waited in a line, got an application to fill out, got back in line, got a number, waited for 20 minutes, and then I paid $20 and got my photo taken and surrendered my license and received a temporary license. (An interesting note--the woman told me that I hadn't changed my name with social security yet--I said I just had--she asked for proof--I said that my husband had it--she said it was ok, she trusted me--guess I look trustworthy--but if you're doing a name change, go to SS first).

As we walked out to the car, I realized that I hadn't changed my name on my registration. I remembered from my Florida tenure that the issuing state of your license has to be the same as the state that issues your plates, and I assumed that names have to match, as well. We returned to the building, waited in line, got an application, got back in line, got a number, and waited for another 20 minutes--this time the fee was $15, and I got my new registration.

Next stop--the post office. If get married, you can still renew your passport through the mail if you can send a certified copy of your marriage certificate. Both of our passports are due to expire in the next year or so, so we decided to renew them at the same time. Last weekend, we had new passport photos taken ($16 each! Shocking!), and we filled out the applications and submitted the fees and popped them in envelopes--and the race is on! I wonder which passport will arrive first.

Just as long as they arrive before next September...Viva Italia!

The Thanksgiving project plan

B and I love hosting dinner parties, but this week's dinner party will be a true test of our kitchen skills--we are hosting Thanksgiving for my family. We'll be a party of 9--not too many, not too few--and the preparations have been underway for days now.

This weekend, we whipped the house into shape (though 2 particularly undesirable tasks on the list, vaccuuming and cleaning the bathrooms, have not yet been accomplished) and did our first shopping round (we figured 2 into the plan because you never remember everything the first time around). Last night we picked up a few remaining necessities.

Tomorrow, my KitchenAid mixer will be pushed to its limit, and the spare bowl that B bought me will be very useful. The dessert menu includes whoopie pies, biscotti, and raspberry-cream sandwiches. I'm drooling just thinking of them.

We're also going to peel, cut, and chop as much as we can for the main course, which includes:

• Turkey (of course).
• Gravy. Lots and lots of gravy.
• Mashed potatoes.
• Fruity stuffing and regular (i.e. the kind that comes from a box) stuffing.
• Butternut squash risotto.
• Squash.
• Whipped eggnog sweet potatoes.
• Corn.
• Peas.
• Roasted vegetables (potatoes, carrots, parsnips, and onions).
• Italian-style green beans.

We've had such good luck with brining other meats that we're going to brine our turkey. And we found a yummy sounding recipe for turkey and wild rice soup, so we bought a second brining bag for storing the turkey...well, "carcass" doesn't sound like an appetizing ingredient in a soup recipe, but that's what it is, and it's an important ingredient in the soup. So was the teeny box of $6 wild rice. This soup better be good.

Since this is the biggest meal we've ever cooked, we created a little project plan in Excel so we know the cooking times and temperatures of everything and the bowls to serve our dishes in. I am slightly concerned that we only 4 burners but have 7 items that must be cooked on the stove. However, I am confident that we will achieve the same Thanksgiving miracle that millions of Americans achieve every year and will get our food--while it's still hot--to the table. That table that has, by the way, been set since Saturday.

Too much flexibility is not a good thing...

We received these cutting boards as a wedding gift, and we love them--they're thin and flexible and easy to wash and dry. However, we discovered one of their limitations on Friday night.

B and I were both stuck in terrible (but typical) Friday-night traffic on the way home from work. I got home first and got started on a pizza. We love making home-made pizza--it's just as good as pizza from a restaurant, thanks to our pizza stone, but is a fraction of the price. We buy dough from the grocery store and toss on whatever tomato sauce and cheese is in the house, along with toppings if we have them (red peppers are always a favorite).

As I was rolling out the dough, I could tell it was going to be a good pizza. I stretched the dough extra thin and poured on lots of vodka sauce. The cheese was a combination of monterey jack and white cheddar. The red pepper was thinly sliced to perfection and artfully arranged.

I made the pizza on parchment paper over a cutting board, so I could open the oven and easily slide the pizza and paper onto the pizza stone. Removing the pizza from the oven is a similar process--grab an edge of the parchment paper and slide your crisp perfection onto a cutting board.

And that's where the process broke down. Our fabulous flexible cutting boards, while so efficient and handy for vegetables, were not made for supporting anything, least of all an enormous pizza. I saw the pizza slide out of the oven onto the cutting board that B was holding by the edge and immediately thought, "Something bad is about to happen." Sure enough--the pizza almost made it to the counter before sliding off the (did I mention it's slippery?) cutting board and making an unfortunate *splat* noise as it hit the floor. On the list of items to be grateful for this year--it landed crust-side down.

The moral of the story--know the limitations of your cooking equipment. And laugh when you hit them. At least this kitchen disaster didn't leave us with shattered glass all over our kitchen. :)

The high cost of organization

The wedding is over, and with it goes the wedding-imposed spending freeze, and I have started coming up with occasionally outrageous ways to celebrate the end of a six-month spending moratorium. Additionally, I now can focus my attention on making a cozy and comfortable home. The people at theknot.com have recognized the transition in my life and are sending, fittingly, emails from thenest.com. (For the record, I find them to be annoying but am somehow unable to unsubscribe, so I have started marking them as spam and now no longer receive them.)

One of the areas that has been bothering both B and me for a while is shoes. I know, I know--shoes? How troublesome can they really be? It depends on how many you have and the amount of space you have to store them in. I think it's safe to say that our collection far outstrips our available storage space.

We store my shoes in a rack on the back of our downstairs coat closet, but B's shoes are too big and heavy for the rack and tend to knock the rack off the door (not fun). And the closet is full of tools, coats, winter gear, and a vaccuum, so there isn't room for his shoes inside. We have an unattractive metal rack that I inherited from one of my apartments a few years ago, and it currently stores B's shoes (on the bottom shelves) and my purse and our laptop bags on the top shelf. But it's an open-air metal rack--not exactly a nice decorative accent. And the shoes get in a jumble and look messy all of the time, and it drives me crazy. We need a better solution.

I found this shoe rack online, and it's fabulous--a nice color, excellent storage capacity, and it's even lined with cedar. I checked out comparable options online, and none were as nice, though some did rival the price. The price is of course what I'm having the most trouble with. Can I really spend $250 (with shipping) on a box that only stores shoes? Is the shoe problem $250 worth of bad? And what happens when B's shoe collection exceeds capacity of the box? (Come to think of it, it maybe already has...)

Stay tuned, eager Reader, as the shoe dilemma continues.

Oh, the weather outside is frightful...

Last year, I attempted to meet what seemed like an impossible goal--to finish my Christmas shopping before Thanksgiving. My goal was inspired in part by a nightmarish experience the year before at a local mall one weekend close to Christmas. B and I were stuck in our car in a parking lot for over an hour just trying to get a parking space. I think we were both scarred from the experience, and I vowed to figure out a better way to do my Christmas shopping.

Finishing before most people even start seemed like the best option. True, I might miss out on some sales, but really--is a savings of a few dollars worth the hassle of post-Thanksgiving shopping? I decided not. And since I do a large portion of my shopping online, sales aren't always relevant.

Last year, I didn't finish all of my shopping before Thanksgiving, but I did finish most of it, and having only a minimum amount of shopping to do in the weeks leading up to Christmas was fabulous. I decided it was a Christmas tradition to carry forward into the future.

This year, B and I started our shopping even earlier--in September while we were on our honeymoon. We purchased almost half of our gifts while abroad, leaving us with a small amount of shopping to do when we returned. And I am happy to say that as of today, we are very nearly finished. We have purchased a few gifts that require "finishing touches," but I do not foresee any problems meeting our Thanksgiving deadline.

Oh, and another success--this weekend we wrapped all of our gifts. Now all we need is a tree to put them under. But I guess mid-November is a little early for a Christmas tree...

30 is the new 20

Yesterday, a simple discussion about Italy turned into a "farewell, sweet youth" situation.

Wedding reader extraordinaire LS and I were talking about vacationing in Italy, and then we started talking about the prevalence of cold showers in Italy, and then we acknowledged that our long hair prevents both of us from taking two-minute showers, and we confided that we both intend to keep our hair long. And then LS provided a poignant observation about long hair--"You can get away with it while you're young--and that's almost over for us."

Youth ending!? Or is it? Everyone says that your 30s are the new 20s, though I don't want to relive my early 20s again in a few years, as once was enough for me. I've come a long way since 20. For example:

• I eat vegetables now.
• I carry no credit card debt.
• I own furniture that I purchased and that is not made of particle board.
• My expenditures no longer surpass my income.
• I throw parties at which wine is served out of real wine glasses, not Solo cups.

I suspect that others my age are proud of how far they've come, as well, and none of us wants to regress to a vegetable-free, particle-board, Solo-cup lifestyle. I think that "30 is the new 20" means that your thirties are the time to do what you wanted to do when you were in your 20s, when you didn't know better and couldn't afford "better" anyway. And, of course, the other implication is that you're still young enough to do all of that fun and exciting stuff. And I still feel young enough to do fun and exciting stuff, as long as it doesn't involve kneeling or sitting on the floor for long periods of time because while I still feel youthful and spry, my joints don't lie.

So bring on the long hair, the fun barrettes, and the graphic tees--if you're only young once, you might as well make it last as long as you can.

Post-wedding blues?

While I was planning the wedding, I read about a mysterious funk that comes over brides after the wedding and honeymoon is over, and they have to return to real life. The funk is the post-wedding blues.

The symptoms--anxiety, irritability, and depression--appear as a bride is mourning the end of a tumultuous, self-centered period of her life and has to reconcile that everything is no longer all about her.

I want to put everyone at ease--I am not suffering from the post-wedding blues. I am actually thrilled to return to LBW (life before wedding)--I think my blood pressure has improved since I stopped opening the wedding budget spreadsheet, and I no longer have to worry that the tablemates that I've decided upon will get along during the brunch.

I was actually hoping for several weeks of dullness before the holidays set in, but there is still so much to do that dullness will have to wait till January.

Happy anniversary to us!

Today marked B's and my one-month wedding anniversary. And since we are jet-setters, we each celebrated solo from our respective hotel rooms.

I was called out of town for a real-life documentation emergency (a tech writer runs into only a few of those in her lifetime--best to make the most of it), and B is doing his usual weekly travel, earning hotel points towards our next vacation (which I have already started planning--I am addicted to travel planning).

We celebrated four weeks of wedded bliss on Sunday to make up for what promised to be a long and lackluster anniversary day for both of us. B cooked a lovely dinner and then we packed together--so romantic.

As I hoped, nothing has changed in the last month. We're the same old us and are trying to get back to our regularly scheduled lives, though our house and its collection of styrofoam peanuts and to-do lists is doing its best to keep us busy. We've had some honeymoon and wedding photos developed but have barely had a chance to look at them, let alone decide what to do with them. I'm hoping that life will be back to normal and that all of the to-do lists will be crossed off by the end of the year. That is the deadline that I am setting, anyway.

Oh, and a lesson learned from my trip--when you bring your room service tray into the hallway, either bring your room key with you or prop the door open with the locking mechanism. Above all else, be sure that you are dressed in presentable clothing.

Who is this MH person...

Today, I was faced with a difficult task--signing my new name for the first time.

The blank line was in front of me, and I realized that I haven't even practiced writing my new name--I had no idea how to write a capital H in cursive, let alone the full name. H's are tricky! You have to lift the pen, otherwise your H starts looking more like a U with a monkey bar in the middle. You also have to decide if you're going to use the traditional loop at the top of the first stick of the H or if you're going to to throw your weight behind the minimalist H and go loopless. So many decisions! And I haven't made any of them!

After a couple minutes of confusion and no writing, I wrote the letters as I was taught in the third grade. Consequently, I currently have the signature of a third grader. It's marginally better than the signature on my social security card, which I got when I was 7. I am going to have to do some serious practicing before I get my new license.

Writing my new name is only one of the many challenges that I've encountered. For instance, I don't recognize my own name on email messages. I see emails from this person named MH and wonder who she is. However, I must point out that she has a sparkling wit--I will have to invite her over for tea.

Customer service is so not my forte

This past weekend, B and I had an extended visit at every cook's favorite store. We were there so long that we started joking with the staff that we should put on aprons and start making sales. One of them took the joke further and said that they were desperately seeking seasonal help, and would I like an application. I wavered, and then he said the magic words: "Forty percent discount!" I decided that taking an application couldn't hurt.

I asked if I would be allowed to work only one night per week. He said usually not, but when they're desperate, they will accept it. I asked what the evening hours were. He said you could start at 5, 6, or 7, and your shift usually ends around 11.

I'm torn. I don't want a second job, and I don't need a second job, but a forty-percent discount is tempting! Then again, it's guaranteed that every penny I earn at this second job--and then some--would be immediately sunk back into the store. Plus the idea of working until 11 any night of the week sounds wretched.

I think the application is going to go into the garbage. After I can reconcile throwing away my forty percent discount.

In good health and in bad

This past week featured a momentous occurrence that had not been seen before--both B and I were sick at the same time. The last honeymoon memento that B and I picked up was a French cold.

We've been together for over three years, and I've never had a serious cold in that time. I am blessed with an amazing immune system. B has had a few minor sniffles but nothing serious either. It took French germs to knock us both off our feet.

This weekend, B's cold improved, while mine took a turn for the worse. A doctor's visit uncovered my fear--a minor case of bronchitis. To put my doctor's visit into perspective, the last time I went to the doctor because I was sick was 6 years ago when I had mono, and I diagnosed the illness before I got there--the doctor didn't believe me but tests indicated one of the worst cases he had ever seen--if only I had understood bio, I might have found my calling in the medical industry.

Anyway. I was given a 5-day course of antibiotics that I do not intend to take. Well, not right away, anyway. I will give my body a couple more days to fight this off on its own, and then if there is no improvement, I will take the pills.

The doctor also offered my codeine to help me sleep. Sniff. Thanks but no thanks.

The best photographer in the world

Our wedding photographer did am amazing job with our engagement photos, but she has absolutely blown me away with the wedding photos. She is still editing the photos but was kind enough to create a slide show for us. Wow, wow, and wow. You know you have a great photographer when your already wonderful wedding memories get even better after you see the photos from the event.

Now I have a new addiction--watching my wedding slide show! Thank goodness she chose good music for it!

Things I learned while on my honeymoon

1. You can adopt as many international customs as you want. For example, you can drink chocolate chauds and eat glace every day if you want--even if you're not French.
2. You can drink as much water as you want in Disneyland Paris because you know the bathrooms are not scary.
3. Walking injuries heal. You just have to keep walking.
4. Take Tylenol PM the first few nights you're in a foreign country, or you might find yourself awake for several hours in the middle of the night.
5. Cheese in France does not taste like cheese in the US. Beware of anything with a cheese sauce. On the other hand, anything with a cream sauce is divine.
6. If you walk for miles and miles every day, you can eat ice cream every day. If you don't walk for miles and miles every day, you can still eat ice cream every day.
7. When you get tired of walking, stop in a cafe. Multiple cafe visits per day are acceptable and reasonable.
8. Buy the souvenirs that you want, or you'll later regret not getting them. Don't worry about how you're going to get them home--you'll figure something out. There is no shame in having the "Overweight" tag on your suitcase. It just means you're an efficient packer.
9. Every vacation should include at least one palm tree sighting.
10. Staying in a hotel room with a terrace that overlooks the Mediterranean should be on everyone's life list.
11. When you have to catch a train, make sure you put the alarm clock across the room so you have to get up to turn it off and can't turn it off in bed and then fall back to sleep.
12. The French are young at heart because they are forced to be. They don't believe in escalators--they believe in stairs. And running up and down them through the Metro with luggage because you're late for your train isn't fun. However, catching the train you thought you'd never catch is a fun little boost, even if your hair is unwashed and you look like you've just completed a triathlon. (And perhaps you fit in better that way, anyway.)
13. Limit yourself to 3 chateaux or fewer per vacation.
14. Buy all reading material while in the U.S.
15. Write down all purchases at the end of each day, and organize purchases into categories to make filling out the customs form easier.
16. There is no shame in returning to a store after you've realized that you haven't shopped there sufficiently.
17. There is no such thing as a quick visit to Vieux Nice because you will never be able to find the store that you are looking for when you need it. When you need patisseries, all you can find are frommageries. When you need frommageries, all you can find are caves.
18. Long flights home are made shorter with a good book, plenty of water, and good snacks.
19. Expect to wake up at 4 AM your first morning back in the US. Revel in it. Enjoy all that you can accomplish before 9 AM.
20. Traveling abroad is divine, but there's no place like home.

The multi-day packing process

I spent a large portion of this past weekend packing, or at least organizing with the intent to pack, or at the very least gathering, with the intent to organize and then pack.

The idea behind my honeymoon packing list was that it would simplify packing because I was going to be soooo efficient and smart. Unfortunately, what I didn't realize was that I'm still packing a huge number of items--most are just very small and don't take up a lot of space. But they still have to be acquired or found and then organized with like items and then prioritized.

Priority is important because you have to travel with the idea that all of your checked luggage will be lost and you'll be stranded with only the items that you carried on. Although it seems like it would be glamorous and fabulous to be one of those women who carries on a single lunch-box-sized bag that probably holds only a compact and face spritzer, it's simply not a possibility in an era when stranding passengers on a runway for 8 hours (after an equally long flight) is accepted. You have to plan ahead--you need enough clothing to get you through a few days and enough food to keep your belly from growling until you're allowed to deplane.

I've packed my carry-on rollaboard, and it has exceeded the measly weight limit for a carry-on. The limit is something silly like 12 pounds, and let's face it, a lot of suitcases weigh that much, so you're not able to pack anything other than your suitcase and a pillow and maybe a sweater in case the plane is cold (and what plane isn't cold). Luckily, the weight limit for carry-ons usually isn't enforced.

I've mostly collected the rest of the items that I need to pack but haven't yet distributed them between the two suitcases that we will check--again, care must be taken because even if the worst-case scenario (both bags lost) doesn't occur, there's still a strong possibility that one will be lost, and what a catastrophe if all of your pants happened to be in the bag that is now en route to Madagascar.

Actually, I don't think our airline flies to Madagascar. That is something to comfort myself with.

A successful weekend

This weekend featured many wedding-related successes, including:

A dry run of my waterproof mascara.
I learned that I, too, can wear mascara like a big girl and not end up with raccoon eyes--until I had to take it off. Removing it was a multi-day task. Perhaps the French will not mind the smudged-eye look. Perhaps it will make me look more European. I will have to practice a haggard look and acquire some torn skinny jeans.

An blister-free evening with my wedding shoes.
I wore them for an evening out, and they did not wear my feet out. It is a match made in heaven. Too bad they are white, or I would take them with me to France. Perhaps it is acceptable to wear white shoes after Labor Day in France if they are accompanied by smudgy eyes and torn skinny jeans.

The assembly of our wedding programs.
We've spent more time on those darned wedding programs than anything else (except perhaps my tedious poring-over of the budget--a daily activity). Seven hours of final assembly and they're finished. If you notice any typos, don't tell me.

The completion of the seating chart and place cards.
We shuffled and juggled, and now everyone has a logical place to sit with people that they know or will enjoy meeting.

We said originally that we wanted a 100-person wedding. Our final guest count: 101. Oh yeah.

What do you want to be when you grow up?

(This one's not wedding related.)

Any article that starts with "Jay Gatsby has one" is obviously going to catch my attention. After all, The Great Gatsby is my favorite book.

The article, from the NY Times (registration required) is intriguing--write a life list to capture all that you want to accomplish in your life. From the silly to the sublime, you can use a simple list to figure out what's most important to you.

I've never written an official life list, though I've dabbled in the sport, and I am a seasoned listmaker. I already have a few items to start my list:

1. Write a novel.
2. Live in a foreign country for at least a month.
3. Sew a quilt.
4. Take frame-worthy photographs and hang them in my home.
5. Take art classes.

Now this will be a fun project to work on after the wedding.

The incredible shrinking groom!

This weekend, B and I were discussing his wedding-day wardrobe, and we realized that he didn't yet have a shirt to wear for the big day. He decided he wanted to wear a white button-down shirt with French cuffs--my wedding gift to him was a pair of wedding-themed cufflinks. B is quite the snappy dresser and owns only exciting shirts--there wasn't a single white button-down in his closet, French cuffs or otherwise.

B did have the khaki pants that he'll be wearing--we bought them several months ago at the Banana outlet. However, we weren't so sure that they'd still fit.

Last month when I was feeling responsible and adult-like, I researched life insurance and found out that life insurance companies use 3 levels of health to determine your insurance premium, and I decided that B and I both have to be in the healthiest (aka cheapest) health bracket to keep our premiums down. I told B that we had to do everything in our power to get into the healthiest bracket, at least for the medical exam--it would mean saving thousands of dollars over the life of the insurance plan. He decided to re-examine his eating habits to try to get his BMI into the optimal zone.

And what an overachiever he is! None of his pants fit anymore--they are too baggy. He tried on his wedding-day pants, and they were no exception. We decided that a trip to the outlets was in order to exchange the pants and buy the shirts.

We got him new pants--one inch smaller in the waist but a world of difference--and 2 white shirts with French cuffs. And now our clothing is all set.

And if you're wondering why we bought two, see all posts regarding insurance, back-up plans, and emergency exits. You can never be too prepared!

Dress? Check.

Yesterday was my final dress fitting. I wonder why it's called a "fitting"--you just show up and make sure the dress fits. My dress did fit (phew!).

And my shoes will work with the dress--mostly. They're not ideal, as I knew when I tried on the dress and was told to get a 1" heel, not a 2" heel, but I did the best I could do with the styles that are available and my budget. So what if the dress is a teensy bit shorter than it was designed to be--I'm ok with it. The dress will stay cleaner when walking over hills and dales and other dirty surfaces.

I do have to buy double-sided tape to make sure the neckline (do you call it that for a strapless dress?) stays flat against me. The dress will be fitting like a glove but we don't want to take any risks! We don't want a wardrobe malfunction to be the defining moment of our wedding day.

I'll be picking up my dress a few days before the wedding and transporting it--who knows how--down to my parents' house at some point. Should be an exciting adventure trying to keep it wrinkle free in the car.

Wedding worries

Last night, I picked up our marriage license and confused the town clerk when I basically asked for an insurance policy for the license:

M: What happens if I lose the marriage license?
Clerk: Lose it? You can't lose it. You need it to get married.
M: I know, but what if something happens to it? What if I accidentally set it on fire or something?
Clerk: You're going to burn your marriage license?
M: NO! I just mean...hypoethetically...what do I need to do if it somehow disappears and we need another one? Would there be another 3-day waiting period?
Clerk: No waiting period. I guess we'd make another one for you. Just don't lose it on a weekend.
M: I'll do my best...

Comforting...sort of.

The issue of "Will I lose our marriage license?" falls into the "Issues that won't be resolved until our wedding day" category, along with the very-important question of what to do with my engagement ring during the ceremony. I think I am supposed to wear it on my right ring finger, but it doesn't fit (not even with vigorous pushing will it fit over my knuckle) and would be way too big for my pinky finger. Is it a faux pas to wear it on your left ring finger during the ceremony and do a quick switcheroo afterwards? (Is it bad luck to remove your wedding ring so soon after the cermony??)

Also in the "You have to keep worrying about these issues" list is the attendees list and seating chart. It's looking like we won't receive all of our response cards by the requested due date. I didn't think people would need six weeks to decide if they wanted to come! We've been sending out friendly reminders because we know it's easy to forget to drop your card in the mail. This weekend, we'll juggle all of the names and hope that everyone falls into a table with people that they'll get along with.

Something old, something new...

I've been a cafeteria-style traditionalist for my wedding, picking and choosing the traditions that work for me and skipping the ones that won't work or don't make sense. I decided to keep the "something old, something new, something borrowed, and something blue" tradition. Here are my chosen items.

Something old
This one was easy. My grandmother gave me her pearl necklace for my last birthday, and it will be adorning my neck.

Something new
There are so many new items! My wedding gown, my silly slip, the lovely pearl and blue topaz earrings that Ben bought for me (we already exchanged our wedding gifts to each other--at least we are both equally impatient), my new (non-spraypainted) shoes, a handkerchief my mother bought for me--all new items.

Something borrowed
This one had me stumped, so I asked my mother for a recommendation, and she offered the garter that she wore at her wedding. Yes, I did swear off wearing a garter, but I think it will be ok as long as it isn't fished off and thrown to the crowd.

Something blue
We have lots of blue options. The earrings that Ben bought for me have blue stones, and the handkerchief has blue beading. I also plan to paint one toenail blue (already bought the honeymoon toenail polish)--maybe my fashion-forward sense will start a new trend in St. Tropez.

Putting away the spray paint (for now)

Everyone said that the seating arrangement was going to be the most difficult aspect of the wedding, but the seating arrangement is a close second to my shoe problems.

A few weeks ago, I bought tan ballroom shoes online with the intention of making them work--somehow. If contestants on "Project Runway" can turn ears of corn into haute couture, I figured I could do something with tan shoes.

Unfortunately, the shoe company sent me a wide size, and it just didn't work (my feet aren't small, but they're narrow). I also was having second thoughts about wearing spraypainted shoes at my wedding. I'm all for being crafty and homemade, but spraypainted shoes were too "What Not To Wear" for my tastes.

I decided to make one last trip to the mall last night before resigning myself to the status of too-crafty bride. I went in every shoe store and was overwhelmed with ballet slipper options but underwhelmed with kitten-heel options. All summer shoes were on sale, but the sale status also meant that the size options were limited.

I was preparing myself mentally for an inappropriate shoe--patent leather (don't tell Miss Manners!) or dark silver or blue or who knows what, anything with the right-sized heel, when I found the winner at Lord & Taylor.

The shoes are white with some fun designs and 2" heels--higher than I should get, but it's too late to be choosy. The shoes are comfortable, or at least they were in the store. The true test is this week's dress fitting--if the dress tailor says the shoes will work, I will start the breaking-in process and hope for the best.

There's no such thing as a bad hair day when you have a pillowcase on your head

At my first dress fitting, I bought the pricey wedding gown slip that they recommended because (a) I knew I needed a slip (b) I don't know anything about slips (c) Buying it there meant I didn't have to find it on my own.

The slip is kind of pouffy (when you see my dress, "pouffy" will definitely not be the first word that comes to mind, but the slip isn't like other slips that just sort of hang--this thing could probably walk down the aisle by itself). And having a kind-of pouffy slip means that putting on my dress is going to be more complicated than I originally thought. The slip has to be put on first, and I won't be able to step into my gown while wearing the slip.

And that means that my gown has to come on over my head.

Obviously, dressing me will be a multi-person operation, and it looks like I will be doing the least amount of work:

1. Lift arms.
2. Let dress fall into place magically.
3. Live happily ever after.

My mother, maid of honor, sister, and perhaps any random females who happen to be wandering by the hotel room at that time will be in charge of lifting up the gown (high enough for a statuesque female such as myself to step below it) while trying to keep it as wrinkle free as possible.

Have I mentioned that my hair and make-up will have already been done at this point? There is huge potential for ruined hair, make-up, dress, and morale. No bride wants a lipstick stain on her wedding gown (though we will have a Tide to Go stick and white-out onhand in case of an emergency, or if we have to touch up my shoes).

My mother offered a fabulous suggestion--I will wear a pillowcase on my head while putting on my dress. Luckily, because everyone in the whole world will be helping my put on my dress, there will be no opportunity to capture that magical wedding moment for the wedding album.

Dress sneak peak

Not me in the dress (my elbows are much sharper).

Final fitting next week!

Soundtracking our wedding

Last night, I filled out the DJ questionnaire, containing all-important questions such as, "Will there be a bouquet/garter toss?" and "Who will be toasting?" and "Where are you going on your honeymoon?" The questionnaire also asked for information about song selection.

I don't proclaim to have any musical ability, but my lack of talent does not in any way affect my enthusiasm for music. And that is why I have asked the DJ to incorporate some karaoke-style entertainment, courtesy of the bridal party, into the brunch portion of the day.

Just kidding. ;)

I want the music at our wedding and reception to suit our tastes as well as the tastes of our guests, while still giving our DJ the flexibility to make judgements about what music will appeal to the crowd.

I care most about the ceremony music--the music before the ceremony, the processional music, the music during the ceremony, and the music for the recessional and following receiving line.

For the rest of the day, we gave the DJ a few guidelines (we like Sinatra-style music for the cocktail hour and brunch) and requested a few favs ("Old Cape Cod" has to be played at least once at every Cape Cod wedding). For the dancing portion of the day, I asked the DJ to play music that will appeal to the most people and will get the most people on the dance floor--I think that people our age will still have a good time even if we're not rocking out to JT the whole time.

As for the last song, I left it up to the DJ's discretion--after all, he is the pro. I think we can safely assume that he will read the crowd correctly and play something that will appeal.

An unpolished bride

To polish or not to polish, that is the question. And we're questioning only my fingernails here--of course my toenails will be polished (in fact, they are part of the "something old, something new" tradition, though they are neither old nor new--more about that in a later post, perhaps--ooh, the foreshadowing...).

Here are the reasons in favor of polishing: Everyone expects my fingernails to be polished. Apparently, a special occasion is not a special occasion unless one's fingernails have assumed an unnatural, shiny, sparkly color. Second reason: I do admit that the unnatural, shiny, sparkly color does look nice and, well, polished.

Here are the reasons in favor of not polishing: I'm leaving for a 2-week honeymoon the day after my wedding. Unless I remove the polish the day after, I will have to deal with removing it at some point during the honeymoon because no nail polish, no matter how good it is, looks good past 5-7 days. Unless I want to buy nail polish remover while in France (let's face it, I'd rather wear chipped polish for a week and a half than deal with that translation nightmare), I have to pack the remover. And therein lies the problem.

If you've ever accidentally tipped a bottle of nail polish remover over in the cabinet and found everything smelling of acetone the next day, you'll understand my dilemma. I don't know why, but bottles of nail polish remover are notorious for leaking, even under normal circumstances. What will happen after an airplane trip and a number of clumsy luggage handlers? Even if I pack the nail polish remover in several ziploc bags, there is a risk that all of my clothing and personal items will be covered in nail polish remover by the time I land. Catastrophe!

To polish or not to polish, that remains the question.

Our first wedding gift!

We received a very special package this week--our first wedding gift!

B and I agreed that we wouldn't open any surprise packages without the other present so that we could open all gifts together. That plan proved to be very difficult when I found a mysterious and unexpected box on the doorstop while Ben was still out of town. He was due to arrive later that night, but in the meantime, I was forced to stare at but not open the box. Ok, maybe I peeked in. But I didn't open it. Didn't open it all the way, anyway.

Anyway.

Our first wedding gift was a beautiful All-Clad pan that was so shiny you could see your reflection in the side. We admired it and then put it back in the box and added it to the closet full o' shower gifts.

It's going to be like Christmas when we get home from our honeymoon.

3 showers in one day

My post yesterday did not do justice to my beautiful bridal shower, but the passport catastrophe has been resolved, so I can return to happy thoughts once again.

My MOH and mother planned such a lovely day and even ordered the perfect weather. My mother knew that I had wanted to have ice cream or sorbet at the wedding but wasn't able due to a variety of logistical issues, so she arranged to have ice cream sundaes at the shower--and they were fabulous. I had forgotten my Lactaid pills, but luckily my MOH had plenty on-hand.

The present-opening part of the shower was surprisingly difficult--no one tells you what you're supposed to do, and you just have to learn by watching other brides. And you feel like the spotlight is on you the entire time. I actually took off my sweater, an event that occurs only very rarely as I am frequently cold when everyone around me is warm.

People's gifts were so thoughtful and generous, and I'm overwhelmed and touched by them. Coming home and packing everything in the closet, not to be touched until after the wedding, was difficult, but it seemed like the right thing to do. I suspect I will have a few ways to keep myself occupied until then.

Don't panic! Don't panic!

I had a wonderful bridal shower this weekend with family and friends in attendance--the weather was perfect and the location divine--but then panic (unrelated to the shower) set in this morning, and I feel the need to share/unload it.

I try to keep up to date with travel news because I find the whole industry to be fascinating. Today I was reading an article about passport regulations, and the article mentioned that some countries require your passport to be valid for a certain amount of time after your arrival, or they won't let you enter the country.

My initial thought was, what is the point of having an expiration date if it isn't the real expiration date? But apparently most countries don't agree with me.

The reason that this news was potentially a critical problem is that my passport is due to expire somewhat soon. I applied for it towards the end of 1997 (in preparation for a trip to Europe in 1998). I couldn't remember when I received the passport, but I thought that the expiration date was in December of this year or January or February of next year.

I did a quick internet search but couldn't find anything online about the requirements, so I called the French consulate in Washington, D.C., and they referred me to the French consulate in Boston. A surly sounding woman answered the phone in French but (grudgingly? perhaps a bit) agreed to speak English. I asked how long a U.S. passport had to be valid for me to enter France, and she said it had to be valid for 3 months after the date of entry.

And then I started to panic.

If my passport had a December expiration, I might not be allowed into France. I might not even be allowed on the airplane to leave the country. I had to find out the expiration date pronto.

I left work and rushed home, worried--were my best-laid plans destined to leave me stranded at the airport? I am the type of person who plans for *everything*--how could I have overlooked such a critical part of the trip?

Luckily, my panic was unnecessary. Upon arriving home, I discovered that my passport is in fact good until February of next year--just in time to renew it with my new name.

Huge sighs of relief.

Champagne wishes and caviar dreams

Our honeymoon hotels are not the most luxurious digs in Paris and Nice, but they have won the "best hotel" awards from us because as of today, they are free.

Yes, B has accumulated over 110,000 Starpoints in his extensive travels to allow us 13 free nights in Europe for our honeymoon--amazing. He also reached Platinum status (meaning he has checked in to Starwood hotels more than 26 times in 2007--scary that he reached that milestone before the month of July even started), so we should get an automatic upgrade to the best room available in the hotel throughout our stay. I was hoping that we might possibly get an upgrade anyway if we mention that we are on our honeymoon--I intend to memorize that phrase in French and use it frequently throughout our stay. I can just see it now:

• Ou sont les toilettes? Nous sommes sur notre lune de miel.
• Parlez-vous anglais? Nous sommes sur notre lune de miel.
• Je voudrais la glace. Nous sommes sur notre lune de miel.

So many opportunities to spread the good word.

Spray paint or duct tape

Having spent a lifetime unable to buy normal pants because I am so tall, I was determined to make my height pay off by not having to pay to have my wedding gown hemmed. My wish has come true. Unfortunately (and isn't this the case with wishes that come true), my wish has some unexpected consequences.

Yes, I don't have to have my gown hemmed, but I have to wear a 1" heel--no more, no less, in order for my gown to hit in the right place.

I know from experience (2 1/2 hours spent exclusively at shoe stores at the outlets 2 days ago) that the right shoe is hard to find. I wasn't shopping for wedding-day shoes, but they were in the back of my mind, and I found no contenders.

I know from dance lessons that I need shoes with backs. In fact, the best shoes are ballroom dance shoes because they are made for comfort. And the best place to find dance shoes is online. (Normally, online shoe shopping is just about the worst idea in the world because you need to try on most shoes to know if they're comfortable. But with ballroom dance shoes, they're all comfortable, so there is less of a risk.)

I found more shoe options in the online world, but I didn't find any that I wanted. I found a great site that custom-makes every pair of shoes, so you can choose the heel height and fabric and everything. Unfortunately, the prices were high, and the shoes shipped from China, meaning there is a long waiting period and spendy shipping prices.

The shoe site with free shipping had nice options--unfortunately, all of the low-heeled shoes were in black or tan. According to these sites, brides want 2 1/2" - 3" heels. Sniff.

I ended up ordering the same ballroom shoes I have now, except they're tan colored (the ones I have are black). I didn't want tan-colored shoes, but perhaps something can be done. And by something, I mean spraypaint, glitter, and maybe some rhinestones. Will it look awful? Perhaps. Will it look better than a wedding gown hemmed with duct tape? Probably.

At this point, we just have to go with the better of two evils.

A whole new world of entertainment

I'm not a private investigator, but I'd like to believe that I could be one.

My first foray into intensive online searches was in college, when one of my professor gave the class a list of tricky questions (the one that comes to mind is, "What is that smell when it rains?" but there were other more concrete questions, like questions about female pilots during WWII and questions about newsworthy events in the 20s) and set us loose in the library to find as many (accurate) answers as we could.

That day, I developed a deep and personal love for Google, and that love has continued to grow over the years.

I find that my online searching skills have practical purposes. My friend TA wanted to catch up with an old friend from high school but knew only his name and that he might be a teacher. I found the guy's email address online, and they were able to catch up.

Now before you think that I'm a borderline cyber-stalker, I need to point out that I use my powers for good. Or at least for curiosity. Don't you ever wonder, "Gee, I wonder where so-and-so is now--I wonder what they're up to?" A lot of times, Google knows.

But sometimes Google doesn't know, or it gives you search results for other people with the same name. If you don't have additional filtering criteria, you're out of luck.

Or are you? Recently, I discovered another tool to add to my PI arsenal--www.theknot.com. You can type in someone's first and last names and find out if they registered at any affiliated stores. The listings sometimes include the state in which their wedding took (or will take) place, and that information is very helpful for narrowing down search results when a person has a common name. Sometimes the listing also has the person's wedding date.

A couple weeks ago, my friend LS and I were talking about a guy we used to work with--we heard he got engaged but didn't know anything else. Naturally, I turned to the knot, and I found out that his wedding was in 10 days! Quelle coincidence! I emailed over my congrats and shared my own happy news with him.

So if you find yourself bored, fear not--entertainment awaits at the knot.

Scary dreams put to rest

This weekend I had my trial appointment for hair and make-up, and my scary dreams are now put to rest--the appointment was great, and I am really happy with the outcome.

I had never had my make-up done by a professional, and I was hoping to pick up some tips, but I wasn't facing the mirror and had my eyes closed for a lot of it (it's tough to watch someone put on your eye make-up), so I don't think I learned anything.

I had been concerned about the cleanliness of the make-up tools--for example, I didn't want a mascara brush that had touched someone else's eye to touch my eye, as well. Luckily, the make-up artist had a bag of mascara brushes, and she uses a new brush for every person. And she was disinfecting or wiping off the different brushes and applicator tools as she went, and that made me feel much more comfortable.

The end result was me, just with a bit more make-up than usual, but I think most of it was subtle (except perhaps my eye make-up, but a bride's eyes are supposed to be dramatic).

The hairdo turned out great, too, and I wore it the whole day without even a twinge of a headache. I also took a longish nap (the appointment was at 7:30 AM--too early for a weekend!), and it stayed put without being helmet-head-like. Bravo to the stylist.

I'm very pleased with how my hair and make-up will look for the big day, and I'm so glad I decided to do a trial run--now I know that my hair and make-up will look great.

This weekend, we also finalized our cake order. We're getting a mix of milk chocolate and white chocolate cupcakes, topped with buttercream frosting and a raspberry. Ben chose the flavor for our wedding cake (which will basically just be for show--we'll be cutting the very-small top tier and taking the slightly larger bottom tier home with us for freezing), which will also be milk chocolate with white chocolate frosting. The cake will have a beachy-theme with shells and brown sugar (which is supposed to look like sand).

What's the deal with the title?

You might be wondering about the title of this blog. If you're familiar with Queen, then you're likely familiar with the song.

The song is sort of a running joke between B and me, if you count his suggesting it repeatedly as our recessional song and my greeting his idea with a pointed stare and raised eyebrow as a joke. In other words, I was doing my best to convince him that we need a more appropriate song for our recessional, and that "Another One Bites the Dust" was not the first song we wanted played about us after we got married, no matter how funny it might be.

But that didn't mean I couldn't use it as the title of our wedding blog.

I'm not sure what will happen to the blog after we get married. I've tried to keep most of the posts focused on the wedding to avoid the hour-by-hour life chronical--nobody needs to know how many times I brush my teeth every day.

If I have sufficient material, I might change the focus to newlywed life, though as I mentioned before, I'm hoping nothing will change, so maybe there won't be enough material, and I will end up discussing the antics of love-deprived starlets or how awesome Grey's Anatomy is (I took a quiz on their website and apparently I am most like Callie--I didn't think I liked Callie that much--perhaps I ought to reevaluate that stance).

Anyway. The blog will continue to be a wedding-planning blog until the wedding, and maybe we'll even be able to update it while we're in France. And after that, it's anyone's guess.

Multi-tasking while showering

I usually shower twice every day, in the morning and at night. The evening shower is more to relax and get into the calm, pre-bed mindset, but lately, my evening shower has been serving a functional purpose--well, several purposes.

First of all, the tooth whitening continues. Yes, I started my tooth whitening over a month ago, and I did say that the whitening would take only a week. Unfortunately, it didn't turn out to be that simple.

The first trays did not go all the way up to my gums, and the problem was with the mold that was taken of my mouth that day. (The dentist office was perplexed as to how it happened, and my knowledge of the dental arts is limited, so I couldn't offer an explanation, either.) I had to make another appointment to have another mold taken, and then I had to make another appointment to pick up the new trays and make sure that they fit (they do). And of course my dentist is open only during banking hours, so I had to wait until I could work at home for both appointments.

But now that's done, and I'm back to the whitening process. I've been doing one round (for lack of a better word) per day rather than the optimal two, and some days I have to skip due to user error. (Too much gel in the trays irritates your gums, and it's best to give them time to recover.) I am nearly 2/3 of the way through my gel, but I probably won't use all of it so I can save a tube for touch-up whitening in a year or two.

I wear the trays during my evening shower, and I've recently introduced another activity to shower time--practicing French. A coworker lent me a 1-hour learn-to-speak-French CD that I've been listening to (and practicing along).

If you think speaking French is hard, you really ought to try it while wearing gel-filled trays in your mouth. And if you're like me, you speak your second-learned foreign language with an accent from your first-learned foreign language, so I am speaking French with both Spanish and American accents as well as a tray-induced lisp.

Watch out, France--here I come.

Congrats on your engagement - now face your mortality

An engagement is a milestone to celebrate, but I'm learning that it's also a time to start planning for a future other than your own. In other words, it's a time to face your mortality--and plan for it.

Morbid? Yes. Necessary? Absolutely. Following the there-are-only-two certainties-in-life rule, it's never too early to plan for the future. I'm not advocating buying real estate in the nearby cemetary, but there are a few steps that I need to do to get all of my ducks in a row.

For example, today I passed in paperwork to designate Ben as the primary beneficiary for my 401k account. Before we get married, I plan to roll over the 401k account from my last company into my current account (just to simplify things).

Then there is the matter of wills. Neither of us has a will, but I plan to correct that issue soon. You can buy do-it-yourself will-making software, and it will be sufficient for our purposes. We also have to figure out if it's necessary (and if so, how to do it) to add my name to the title of the condo.

I guess we've avoided these adult responsibilities long enough--they won't be fun, but they will provide peace of mind to both of us, and that's what we're going for.

But--will anything change?

I recently read an article that discussed the concept of a disposable marriage (that wasn't their terminology, but that's how I viewed it). The idea was that if two people get married and then realize that they made a hasty decision and aren't compatible for a lifetime commitment, they can divorce and basically reset their lives as long as they don't have children. I am not endorsing this idea, but one concept that I took away from the article was that most of the people with quickie marriages expected that their lives would change dramatically after they got married.

In one situation, a woman expected her workaholic fiance to suddenly become a 9-to-5er after the honeymoon. Needless to say, her expectations weren't met.

Another woman got married because she thought it was the next logical step in the relationship and that if she got married, all of the problems in the relationship would be fixed. You don't need to be married to know that that is a flawed plan.

It seems to me that if you go into marriage with the expectation that everything will change (the unstated implication here is of course that the changes will be for the better), you are setting yourself up for disaster. If everything doesn't change, you're disappointed. If everything does change, what do you do if you don't like the changes?

I'm not approaching our marriage with the idea that everything will change--in fact, I'm expecting the opposite--that very little will change. Other than financial changes (merging accounts and all of that), nothing else is coming to mind. I asked B for his opinion, and he also thinks that our lives together will continue on as before with very few changes.

Phew.

Wedding dreams

During the first few weeks after B and I got engaged, my nights were characterized by crazy, ridiculous, stressful wedding dreams. I was late to the ceremony. I forgot to eat breakfast. The limo (hello, we're not even getting a limo) broke down. It was, quite simply, nightmarish.

Those first few weeks were the most stressful from a planning perspective, and eventually I calmed down and most of the dreams went away. They still return on occasion, though.

This week, I dreamt that I went to a salon for my trial hair and make-up appointment. The whole point of the trial run is to prevent hair and make-up nightmares from becoming a reality on the big day. But apparently it's been something that has me concerned because sure enough, my stress came out in full force in my dream.

The saddest part of the situation is that in hindsight, the dream wasn't that bad at all. The woman who did my make-up didn't do a good job, and I ended up looking like myself but with a lot of black eyeliner around my eyes. But it felt catastrophic at the time, and I'm pretty certain that I told the woman (in my dream) that she hadn't made me pretty enough. (Yes, I am ducking in embarassment right now.)

Unfortunately for him, B has also been bitten by the bad-wedding-dream bug, and this week he dreamt that he was late for the ceremony. He did point out, however, that he did make it, so the dream technically had a happy ending. My wedding dreams don't have a happy ending, unless you consider the dream ending a happy ending (and it is, though not in any kind of a satisfying way).

Maybe it's like that old theater adage--bad rehearsal, good opening (or whatever it is). Stressful wedding dreams, fabulous wedding day?

The dress has landed

I received the good news yesterday by mail--my dress has arrived safely in the US from its international travels and is almost ready to come home to me. But first, she must be altered.

I called to make an alteration appointment and tried to explain that I would not be bringing my shoes with me because I had not yet purchased shoes. The sample size I tried on just barely touched the floor, and it was a size 12, so the woman who was helping me explained that after my dress was altered to fit around my torso, she would likely hit in the right place and wouldn't need hemming at all. Great! Considering hemming costs 1/4 the price of the dress itself, I was eager to prevent that expense from being added to my budget.

I tried to explain my frugal cleverness to the woman on the phone, saying that I would wear flats, 1" heels, or 2" heels, whatever it takes so the hemline hits in the right place without hemming. She didn't get it. I offered an explanation from the price angle--again, no comprehension. Eventually I gave up and just made an alteration appointment--I have to assume that the seamstress has encountered similarly frugal brides and will understand what I'm saying.

The earliest fitting I could get is in 2 weeks--a bit of a tight squeeze but I have to assume that everything will work out ok. And they said I could come in earlier to try her on, which I might have to do if I start getting homesick for my dress.

My unveiling

Usually, people understand when you decide to skip certain wedding traditions. For example, no one has fallen down crying when I explain that I am not tossing my bouquet. I don't want to put any of my single female friends in a position where they feel like their romantic status is being put on display or questioned. It's hard enough going to events solo--announcing to the whole room that you're alone is way worse.

So there will be no bouquet toss. And obviously there won't be anything garter-related--I've never worn a garter in my life, and my wedding day seems like an inopportune time to don what looks like a rather uncomfortable and purposeless cloth-covered rubber band on my leg.

No one is putting up any arguments to include the bouquet toss and the garter...whatever that tradition is...but the veil seems to be a bit more touchy. Even the women in the bridal shop were horrified that I wasn't planning to wear a veil. "Just wear a small one," they said. "It doesn't have to cover your face--just something to wear in your hair." Apparently, a bride isn't a bride unless she's wearing a veil.

I did some research online, and the website I consulted said that a veil denotes the subordination of a woman to a man, and the lifting of the veil symbolizes male dominance. Eh-heh. If the bride takes the initiative in lifting the veil, she is showing more independence. (More independence than what, one is prompted to ask. More independence than a lowly subordinate female? Or is it an official declaration of equality? This symbolism mumbo-jumbo isn't working for me.)

I haven't tried on any veils, so I can't say for certain that I am anti-veil for myself, but I am definitely opposed to the theory behind the tradition. Wearing a non-functioning veil (one that hangs down your back and doesn't even cover your face) is as close to being a clothing knick-knack as you can get.

And we all know how I feel about knick-knacks.

A packed honeymoon itin

Last night, B and I watched the France edition of the Europe to the Max travel series with host Rudy Maxa. I think there might be a requirement that all travel documentaries feature bad music, and this documentary was certainly not the exception to that rule, but it had lovely cinematography, and I felt like I was in France for 2 hours. The documentary got us both very excited about our trip.

Our itinerary is complete, though I'm sure we'll make changes to it as necessary when we're in France, depending on weather and our moods and any number of other factors. While in Paris, we're doing day trips to the Loire Valley, the Champagne region, Versailles, and maybe Disneyland Paris. While in Nice, we're doing day trips to Monaco, Provence, Biot (a town that makes bubbled glass--what lovely souvenirs to bring home and use every day and remember your honeymoon), Antibes (though if we're carrying a set of glasses, we might have to skip this), and Cannes (maybe--the travel books don't go overboard with praise for this town, so it might be skippable).

We're going to try to visit the major museums and other tourist attractions in each city, but I would rather see Paris from the streets than inside a climate-controlled vault, so I'm ok with keeping our museum visits to a minimum. I just want to walk around and take lots of pictures and try to experience as much of the city as we can.

I recently read an article that said that French winemakers are concerned about this year's harvest. Apparently, it's been raining almost nonstop since April, and the grape vines are growing mold. How sad! On the positive side, it can't rain for 6 months straight, so maybe we can look forward to dryer weather during our stay.

"Just email me your credit card number..."

Part of the reason I want to go to France is to experience a new culture. However, like a lot of Americans, I am finding certain cultural differences to be...frustrating.

For example, several months ago I booked a room in a French hotel (and later cancelled it), and they asked me to confirm the reservation by emailing my credit card number and expiration date. Eh-heh. Je pense que non.

I solved the problem by calling the hotel in France using a phone card I've had since college. The card miraculously still had minutes.

I thought the concept of emailing a credit card was isolated to the security-ignorant hotel, but when I reserved an afternoon excursion touring several chateaux in the Loire Valley, the request to email my credit card number was repeated.

It made me wonder--what are these businesses thinking when they ask me to email a credit card number? More disturbing still--how many other Americans have accommodated the request, putting their identity at risk and risking that all of their funds will be cleaned out while they are on vacation. Obviously a sizeable number have emailed their numbers, or companies would no longer make such absurd demands.

I'd like to step on my soap box for a moment and encourage everyone to never email information that might compromise their identity or financial information. Additionally, I'd like to make a request on behalf of the naive and ask that no one request that anyone email confidential information.

(I've stepped off my soap box--for now.)

I ended up calling the Loire Valley excursion company. The first phone call was interrupted when my phone card ran out of minutes (I retract the previous miracle statement), so I had to call and recharge, earning a whopping 10 minutes for $10 and a $1.50 service charge.

I'd like to step back on my soapbox and ask that all "service charges" and "convenience charges" be renamed to something more apropos, like "annoyance charge" or "gouging charge."

Perhaps someone ought to take away my soapbox. This ranting could go on for a while.

A one-bag mentality

My best friend CDL has mastered the one-bag mentality for traveling. No matter where she goes or how long she's staying, she always manages to pack everything into a single bag and never checks luggage. I, on the other hand, am notorious for overpacking.

Take, for instance, the cruise vacation that B and I took last year. The cruise was 7 days long, and we tacked on an extra two days beforehand to make it a 9-day trip. I fit most of my stuff in one bag, but the bag was Big Suitcase. And she wasn't light. I packed two outfits for every day because I needed daytime wear as well as evening wear (for dressing up for dinner). We also packed water so we wouldn't have to buy it on board or in port. Oh, and we brought some cans of coke. And snacks. And emergency lunches (you never know what you're going to get for food in Mexico and Jamaica).

Several porters commented on the weight of my luggage. I chose to ignore them but have decided perhaps I ought to change my tactics for our honeymoon. We'll be carting our suitcases around a fair amount (at the airports and in the train stations and in transit from Paris to Nice and back again).

I stumbled upon a website dedicated solely to the concept of the one-bag mentality, and I liked the theory behind it. Pack an item and wear it several times--not rocket science, but certainly not a theory I've ever prescribed to.

The site advocates the creation of a packing list, which I've used for a long time, and it simplifies packing a lot. Of course, if your packing list is several pages long, you've defeated the purpose of its creation. The idea is that if an item isn't on the list, you're not allowed to bring it, thus preventing the "Well, maybe I ought to bring [item x]--you never know when you'll need one of those!" conundrum.

I've created my one-page packing list (of course, it's created in Excel, and you can make just about anything in Excel fit on one page--whether the text is legible is a separate issue), and I'm going to try to stick with it when I pack. It won't be easy, but I'll be glad I did it when we land in France and have to schlep our stuff all over the place.

I feel it's necessary to point out that while I agree with the theory, the actuality of not checking luggage is simply not an option. I'll simply...pack less. :)