On Monday Bec and I went shopping for the hardiest, sturdiest piece of spandex that we could lay our hands on. It was the only thing that lay between me and wedding dress disasterville.
Whoah. Those things are merciless. And getting into them is something akin to trying to squeeze yourself into a sausage casing.
Our relationship also reached new heights. Now I love my sister-in-law, but I can't say I ever imagined being naked with her in a dressing room, or having her with her arms around my jiggling waist while I jumped, in an attempt to get it up to my armpits.
Finally, after about an hour of squishing my fat into all sorts of places I never imagined it could go, we settled on a horrific beige number that started at my knees and ended up at my chest and gave me a butt from a cabbage patch doll.
Last night was the big reveal. Kristen and Bec showed up to do battle. After a mere few minutes of pulling and tugging we managed to get the zip up. Goal #1 achieved. And while I didn't quite look like the stuffed sausage that was last time, it would be fair to say that there still stands a couple of kg between now and being able to breathe, eat, drink or move with any ease on my wedding day.
So Kristen took bad cop. Running every day from now to then, lettuce and water for the next two weeks, Bec slap her hand if she goes anywhere near real food. Bec went for the more optimistic "Oh well, it is the evening, and everyone knows you're skinnier in the morning. So as long as you don't gain any weight over Christmas, we should be okay..."
So blogger world, have a fabulous Christmas, and think of me and my sister-in-law slapping my hand every time I divert from the salad bowl when you're having that second helping of cheesecake :)
Thursday, December 24, 2009
Monday, December 21, 2009
Enough Already! A Confession
I had been pulled aside by previous brides and warned about it but I had never thought it would happen to me. I had put in down to people who had a combination of long engagements and/or bridezilla like tendencies.
But now I'm ready to confess. Over the last week it's hit me with a vengeance.
I hate our wedding.
Don't get me wrong. I love my fiance. Love that I'm marrying him. Completely ready to spend the rest of my life with him. But our wedding? Completely, totally, utterly, over it.
Last night Josh and I went out for dinner, ostensibly to have a break from the big W. All we ended up doing was paying someone else to cook a meal for us while we fought about the final nit picky details.
The songs. The order of the service. Our parents meeting. There was sulking, pouting, tears and tense silence. And that was just me. Yes, I'm 27 years old and I can still pout with the best three year old out there. Especially when it comes to things that four months ago I said I didn't care about, but actually, guess what? That only meant I didn't care about them if you picked the same things that I would have, but since you haven't, I really care!
The longest, and most intense conversation was about our parents meeting (which they haven't before). Josh's family doesn't fly in until early the morning before our wedding (as in 1am) so we just have the day before to sort something out.
I was thinking a nice casual coffee. Somewhere nice and central where everyone can just show up, have a drink and meet, before we get on with the 101 other things we have to do that day. Deep meaningful conversation is what the rehearsal dinner is for, or so I thought.
Josh decided he wants to host a breakfast at our house. An affair that quickly reached 20+ people. We talked about it for about half an hour, both of us getting more and more frustrated with each other as the other person makes absolutely no sense to us.
Then I was walking to work this morning and I had a revelation.
We think about things completely differently.
COMPLETELY.
It's not like I wasn't aware of it previously, but I suddenly realised the full extent of it.
It looks something like this:
Josh: Josh in an apron standing over a bbq frying bacon and eggs. People arrive, people talk, people go.
Kara: Josh's family flies in at 1am which means they aren't going to get to bed before 2am? How on earth are we going to get them at our house by 9am? And they generally don't run to time anyway, and we have a tight schedule already on Wednesday to get everything done, and they don't have rental cars so how are we going to get them all to and from our house? And we have to be at Erskine at 10am to drop everything off, and if they're running late then I'll (and my Mum and sisters) pretty much be leaving before we even start eating which will look really rude, and we don't even have that many plates and that's 20 peoples' worth of food that I have to buy and clean up after, and who's going to clean up if I have to leave before people are finished? and from Erskine we have to go to the florist and from the florist we have to go to the suit fitting which is going to take like two hours because none of the groomsmen are from NZ and from the suit fitting we have to go to the rehearsal and from rehearsal we have to go to the dinner. And if they haven't cleaned up properly and I'm going to get home from my rehearsal dinner and spend the night before my wedding cleaning my house because the landlord is coming to stay and paint the lounge while we're on our honeymoon!
Hence our big issues last night: Josh - why is she freaking out, this is not a big deal? Kara - AAAARGGGGGHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
So yes blogger world I have run out of wedding grace. I do not want to have another conversation about seating plans, songs, orders of service, shoes, dresses that don't fit, seating plans, seating plans, runsheets or the logistics of our wedding. Ever again.
I. Just. Want. To. Get. Married.
Can anyone else relate?
But now I'm ready to confess. Over the last week it's hit me with a vengeance.
I hate our wedding.
Don't get me wrong. I love my fiance. Love that I'm marrying him. Completely ready to spend the rest of my life with him. But our wedding? Completely, totally, utterly, over it.
Last night Josh and I went out for dinner, ostensibly to have a break from the big W. All we ended up doing was paying someone else to cook a meal for us while we fought about the final nit picky details.
The songs. The order of the service. Our parents meeting. There was sulking, pouting, tears and tense silence. And that was just me. Yes, I'm 27 years old and I can still pout with the best three year old out there. Especially when it comes to things that four months ago I said I didn't care about, but actually, guess what? That only meant I didn't care about them if you picked the same things that I would have, but since you haven't, I really care!
The longest, and most intense conversation was about our parents meeting (which they haven't before). Josh's family doesn't fly in until early the morning before our wedding (as in 1am) so we just have the day before to sort something out.
I was thinking a nice casual coffee. Somewhere nice and central where everyone can just show up, have a drink and meet, before we get on with the 101 other things we have to do that day. Deep meaningful conversation is what the rehearsal dinner is for, or so I thought.
Josh decided he wants to host a breakfast at our house. An affair that quickly reached 20+ people. We talked about it for about half an hour, both of us getting more and more frustrated with each other as the other person makes absolutely no sense to us.
Then I was walking to work this morning and I had a revelation.
We think about things completely differently.
COMPLETELY.
It's not like I wasn't aware of it previously, but I suddenly realised the full extent of it.
It looks something like this:
Josh: Josh in an apron standing over a bbq frying bacon and eggs. People arrive, people talk, people go.
Kara: Josh's family flies in at 1am which means they aren't going to get to bed before 2am? How on earth are we going to get them at our house by 9am? And they generally don't run to time anyway, and we have a tight schedule already on Wednesday to get everything done, and they don't have rental cars so how are we going to get them all to and from our house? And we have to be at Erskine at 10am to drop everything off, and if they're running late then I'll (and my Mum and sisters) pretty much be leaving before we even start eating which will look really rude, and we don't even have that many plates and that's 20 peoples' worth of food that I have to buy and clean up after, and who's going to clean up if I have to leave before people are finished? and from Erskine we have to go to the florist and from the florist we have to go to the suit fitting which is going to take like two hours because none of the groomsmen are from NZ and from the suit fitting we have to go to the rehearsal and from rehearsal we have to go to the dinner. And if they haven't cleaned up properly and I'm going to get home from my rehearsal dinner and spend the night before my wedding cleaning my house because the landlord is coming to stay and paint the lounge while we're on our honeymoon!
Hence our big issues last night: Josh - why is she freaking out, this is not a big deal? Kara - AAAARGGGGGHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
So yes blogger world I have run out of wedding grace. I do not want to have another conversation about seating plans, songs, orders of service, shoes, dresses that don't fit, seating plans, seating plans, runsheets or the logistics of our wedding. Ever again.
I. Just. Want. To. Get. Married.
Can anyone else relate?
Thursday, December 17, 2009
In Three Weeks...
This time in three weeks and one hour someone else will be putting more makeup on my face than I would usually wear in a month.
This time in three weeks and two hours my bridesmaids will be lacing me into a corset so tight that most of my internal organs will be wrapping themselves around my spine.
In three weeks and three hours I will be getting ready to leave for the church and quite possibly knocking back a glass of bubbles while trying to remember how to breathe.
In three weeks and four hours I will be standing in front of 150+ people pledging my life to Josh for as long as we both shall live.
Three weeks and eight hours will be total insanity as Josh's family introduces Assyrian dancing to my somewhat co-ordinately challenged family.
Three weeks and ten hours my brother and sister are going to bring the house down with the best speech of the night.
Twelve hours the kids will be conked out under tables as Josh and I have our first dance.
And in three weeks and 14 hours I will get to go home with my amazing incredible adorable husband (and never have to do another seating plan for as long as I live!) :)
Tuesday, December 15, 2009
For All You Tyra Banks / America's Next Top Model Fans Out There
Check out one of the perks of my job... (still tbc though if I'm actually going to get to go)
Friday, December 11, 2009
The Week of Wedding Disasters
Welcome to the week of apocolyptic wedding disasters. I knew it had to be coming.
Instead of telling you the whole sad sorry story, I'll go with one.
My wedding dress.
I bought my wedding dress in Sydney but had to bring it back to Wellington to be altered. At the recommendation of the store back in Sydney I took it to the one place I didn't want to, Brides on Thorndon.
Anyone who's ever lived in Wellington will know what I'm talking about. The ladies (and I use that term loosely) have a hard earned and well deserved reputation for being sobbish, rude, arrogant, unhelpful, patronising and generally turning on of the most fun shopping trips of your life into a real downer. Unfortunately, they also have the best range of dresses and tailors to make alterations.
I tried everywhere I could think of to find someone to alter my dress, but alas, everyone else in the city who would handle the complexity was long since booked and so I was forced in November to avail myself of their services.
I was on even worse footing than the average punter to begin with since I hadn't even bought my dress from them so they had no reason to be civil. But I bit my tongue while I was measured and pinched and eyes rolled as I tried to explain what I wanted and generally made to feel like a big nuisance. I figured that to get my dress down well I could just suck it up.
Then I Tuesday I show up for my next fitting.
We (I'd made Bec and Kristen come with me because I didn't want to face them alone again) showed up on time. Unfortunately, the tailoress wasn't quite so keen. Snooty Boss woman informed us she wasn't here but would be back "sometime". No apology, no "would you like to reschedule?", no "I'll give her a call and see how far away she is". Just the stare of evil.
Why don't you just try on your dress? Came next. My dress was thrown into a dressing room and we were left to it. No offer of help or assistance.
With Bec and Kristen both in there with me, seven minutes and large amounts of puffing, pinching, tugging, pulling, straining, sucking and a few impolite words later, we came to the same conclusion. My previously too big dress had been taken down about two sizes instead of the one it needed.
The full length mirror revealed my previously gorgeous dress now looked like a sausage casing about to split. Dancing, eating, sitting, deep breathing all no longer an option for my wedding day.
I'm standing in the middle of the salon. All three staff have mysteriously disappeared. Oh wait. Someone is doing some ironing in the backroom, the other two are standing contemptuously about three metres away looking at me like I'm the spawn of the Bride of Frankenstein.
One deigns to yell "You've got it on crooked!" Well honey you try squeezing your body into a size 6 wedding dress when you are not and see how straight you manage to get it on!
Then the tailoress waltzes in with someone else and they all get into a huddle whispering and the words "crooked" "oh well didn't even buy it from us" "bit tight" and the the insinuation that I must have been busy
between the last fitting and now make their way to my ears. I think that Bec is about to hit someone.
That is the last I see of the tailoress. She disappears, never bothering to ask if I'm happy with any of the alternations or even whether I'm enjoying having my spleen wrapped around my spine.
Then we find that Bec's veil isn't quite right with my dress so I'm going to need to buy one. Well, even that was too much bother. Pouty saleswoman were plainly not feeling the need to make any money because after Miss Pouty #2 stomped around muttering and threw one at Bec, we decided we'd just help outselves.
By the end of 50 minutes we'd all had enough. I wasn't happy but since the compression of my internal organs was plainly my own fault for eating too many pies in the last couple of weeks, rather than Stacey making an error and taking it in too much, it was obvious that we weren't going to be getting any joy from them. All I wanted to do was just give them the money and take my dress and go so that I never ever had to come anywhere near the horrible place again.
Anyway upshot is that my dress can't really taken out without risking ruining it so in the next four weeks I either need to lose a rib or about eight pounds, give or take a kidney because I hear you only need one of those to live.
This blog is brought to you by the letters B and T and all the lettuce I'll be living it up on for Christmas.
Instead of telling you the whole sad sorry story, I'll go with one.
My wedding dress.
I bought my wedding dress in Sydney but had to bring it back to Wellington to be altered. At the recommendation of the store back in Sydney I took it to the one place I didn't want to, Brides on Thorndon.
Anyone who's ever lived in Wellington will know what I'm talking about. The ladies (and I use that term loosely) have a hard earned and well deserved reputation for being sobbish, rude, arrogant, unhelpful, patronising and generally turning on of the most fun shopping trips of your life into a real downer. Unfortunately, they also have the best range of dresses and tailors to make alterations.
I tried everywhere I could think of to find someone to alter my dress, but alas, everyone else in the city who would handle the complexity was long since booked and so I was forced in November to avail myself of their services.
I was on even worse footing than the average punter to begin with since I hadn't even bought my dress from them so they had no reason to be civil. But I bit my tongue while I was measured and pinched and eyes rolled as I tried to explain what I wanted and generally made to feel like a big nuisance. I figured that to get my dress down well I could just suck it up.
Then I Tuesday I show up for my next fitting.
We (I'd made Bec and Kristen come with me because I didn't want to face them alone again) showed up on time. Unfortunately, the tailoress wasn't quite so keen. Snooty Boss woman informed us she wasn't here but would be back "sometime". No apology, no "would you like to reschedule?", no "I'll give her a call and see how far away she is". Just the stare of evil.
Why don't you just try on your dress? Came next. My dress was thrown into a dressing room and we were left to it. No offer of help or assistance.
With Bec and Kristen both in there with me, seven minutes and large amounts of puffing, pinching, tugging, pulling, straining, sucking and a few impolite words later, we came to the same conclusion. My previously too big dress had been taken down about two sizes instead of the one it needed.
The full length mirror revealed my previously gorgeous dress now looked like a sausage casing about to split. Dancing, eating, sitting, deep breathing all no longer an option for my wedding day.
I'm standing in the middle of the salon. All three staff have mysteriously disappeared. Oh wait. Someone is doing some ironing in the backroom, the other two are standing contemptuously about three metres away looking at me like I'm the spawn of the Bride of Frankenstein.
One deigns to yell "You've got it on crooked!" Well honey you try squeezing your body into a size 6 wedding dress when you are not and see how straight you manage to get it on!
Then the tailoress waltzes in with someone else and they all get into a huddle whispering and the words "crooked" "oh well didn't even buy it from us" "bit tight" and the the insinuation that I must have been busy
between the last fitting and now make their way to my ears. I think that Bec is about to hit someone.
That is the last I see of the tailoress. She disappears, never bothering to ask if I'm happy with any of the alternations or even whether I'm enjoying having my spleen wrapped around my spine.
Then we find that Bec's veil isn't quite right with my dress so I'm going to need to buy one. Well, even that was too much bother. Pouty saleswoman were plainly not feeling the need to make any money because after Miss Pouty #2 stomped around muttering and threw one at Bec, we decided we'd just help outselves.
By the end of 50 minutes we'd all had enough. I wasn't happy but since the compression of my internal organs was plainly my own fault for eating too many pies in the last couple of weeks, rather than Stacey making an error and taking it in too much, it was obvious that we weren't going to be getting any joy from them. All I wanted to do was just give them the money and take my dress and go so that I never ever had to come anywhere near the horrible place again.
Anyway upshot is that my dress can't really taken out without risking ruining it so in the next four weeks I either need to lose a rib or about eight pounds, give or take a kidney because I hear you only need one of those to live.
This blog is brought to you by the letters B and T and all the lettuce I'll be living it up on for Christmas.
Wednesday, December 09, 2009
Honeymoon Reading
In less than a month I am going to be blissed out somewhere (hopefully bathed in sunshine) on my honeymoon. Three weeks! I can't remember the last time that I had three weeks or uninterrupted nothing stretching out in front of me (save the occasional change of location), all my holidays are always built around a mass of activities all jumpled on top of one another, and if I'm in charge, generally a day by day itinerary in Excel to boot.
So of course, with all good holidays, the plan is to take a stack of books almost as tall as I am to indulge in by the pool, in the hammock and on the plane.
The Girl Who Kicked the Hornet's Nest - Stieg Larsson
True Blue - David Baldacci
The Spire - Richard North Patterson
Even - Andrew Grant
The Sweet By and By - Rachel Hauck & Sara Evans
White Picket Fences - Susan Meissner
Hotel on the Corner of Bitter and Sweet - Jamie Ford
And the first of that series by Stephanie Meyer which for the life of me I can't remember at this very instance, but I should because it's plastered over practically every billboard in town. I'm also determined to start that massive big series by Diana Gabaldon.
However, I need at least ten more and I'm woefully lacking in non-fiction. I'll read pretty much anything except fantasy/sci-fi. So please, help me out, what were your favourite books in 2009? Name, title and short synopsis would be awesome - and if I pick one of yours, then you can have your pick of one of my favourite books of 2009 that I'll list pre-Christmas :)
So of course, with all good holidays, the plan is to take a stack of books almost as tall as I am to indulge in by the pool, in the hammock and on the plane.
The Girl Who Kicked the Hornet's Nest - Stieg Larsson
True Blue - David Baldacci
The Spire - Richard North Patterson
Even - Andrew Grant
The Sweet By and By - Rachel Hauck & Sara Evans
White Picket Fences - Susan Meissner
Hotel on the Corner of Bitter and Sweet - Jamie Ford
And the first of that series by Stephanie Meyer which for the life of me I can't remember at this very instance, but I should because it's plastered over practically every billboard in town. I'm also determined to start that massive big series by Diana Gabaldon.
However, I need at least ten more and I'm woefully lacking in non-fiction. I'll read pretty much anything except fantasy/sci-fi. So please, help me out, what were your favourite books in 2009? Name, title and short synopsis would be awesome - and if I pick one of yours, then you can have your pick of one of my favourite books of 2009 that I'll list pre-Christmas :)
Monday, December 07, 2009
My Crazy Fiance
So on Tuesday night Josh and I crammed in two pre-wedding sessions into one so went quite late (I'll do a whole separate blog on pre-marraige counselling later!).
This week Josh is staying with our friends Bryce and Liv and by the time he had dropped me home and gotten back to Bryce and Liv's it was almost 11.30pm.
Unexpectedly, Bryce and Liv have had a new front door put in during the day (it had been meant to happen months ago and apparently the builder randomly decided Tuesday was a good day to do it). Liv had left it open, Bryce had locked it forgetting Josh was staying and Josh doesn't have a key. He texts Bryce, no response. He tries banging on their bedroom windows, no response (they've both being sick and so were out to it).
So, instead of ringing Bryce, or coming back to my place with it's nice warm spare bedroom, the silly monkey decides he'll just SLEEP IN THE CAR. In 3 degrees and 100km hour winds on the top of a hill! After an hour, during which the car is being rocked by the wind and he is curled up in a foetal position in the backseat shivering, he works out this probably wasn't the best plan. Still being too stubborn to admit this, he doesn't think "this is insane. I'm going to wake Bryce up/go home" instead he gets mad at me for taking the tarp out of the boot so he couldn't use it as a blanket and does nothing, but freezes for the next six hours.
Liv wakes up at 5.30, realises Josh isn't there and goes "Oh my gosh, I bet Bryce locked the front door and Josh couldn't get in" woke up Bryce who found Josh's text on his phone, and went looking and finds Josh in the car almost hypothermic who managed to explain between chattering teeth that he "didn't want to disturb anyone."
I get back from a set of meetings to find four text messages from poor Liv apologising backward and forward for locking my poor baby out in the cold, but I'm mad at my martyr of a fiance who had about ten people he could have called, a key to my place which has a spare room and instead chose to do his best to freeze to death!
All the girls I talk to go "What?! That's crazy!" while all the guys shrug their shoulders and go "Yup, I probably would have done the same thing." I am madly crazily in love with this guy but this is one of those situations where I just go "huh?" Can anyone explain this man reasoning to me? Or share another Mars/Venus story?
This week Josh is staying with our friends Bryce and Liv and by the time he had dropped me home and gotten back to Bryce and Liv's it was almost 11.30pm.
Unexpectedly, Bryce and Liv have had a new front door put in during the day (it had been meant to happen months ago and apparently the builder randomly decided Tuesday was a good day to do it). Liv had left it open, Bryce had locked it forgetting Josh was staying and Josh doesn't have a key. He texts Bryce, no response. He tries banging on their bedroom windows, no response (they've both being sick and so were out to it).
So, instead of ringing Bryce, or coming back to my place with it's nice warm spare bedroom, the silly monkey decides he'll just SLEEP IN THE CAR. In 3 degrees and 100km hour winds on the top of a hill! After an hour, during which the car is being rocked by the wind and he is curled up in a foetal position in the backseat shivering, he works out this probably wasn't the best plan. Still being too stubborn to admit this, he doesn't think "this is insane. I'm going to wake Bryce up/go home" instead he gets mad at me for taking the tarp out of the boot so he couldn't use it as a blanket and does nothing, but freezes for the next six hours.
Liv wakes up at 5.30, realises Josh isn't there and goes "Oh my gosh, I bet Bryce locked the front door and Josh couldn't get in" woke up Bryce who found Josh's text on his phone, and went looking and finds Josh in the car almost hypothermic who managed to explain between chattering teeth that he "didn't want to disturb anyone."
I get back from a set of meetings to find four text messages from poor Liv apologising backward and forward for locking my poor baby out in the cold, but I'm mad at my martyr of a fiance who had about ten people he could have called, a key to my place which has a spare room and instead chose to do his best to freeze to death!
All the girls I talk to go "What?! That's crazy!" while all the guys shrug their shoulders and go "Yup, I probably would have done the same thing." I am madly crazily in love with this guy but this is one of those situations where I just go "huh?" Can anyone explain this man reasoning to me? Or share another Mars/Venus story?
Friday, December 04, 2009
When A Yes Really Means "Possibly But Only If I Feel Like It And Nothing Better Comes Up"
I've possibly ranted about this before. In fact, given that it's one of my pet peeves I'd say the odds are good, so a few of you probably know what I'm about to say.
Let me set the scene. I'm a pretty busy person. I have a job, a fiance and a wedding to plan. In between working late nights, pre-marriage sessions and wedding prep I also have various church commitments, like to see my friends and family and occasionally blow the dust off my laptop to write a word or four.
Between now and Christmas I have three free evenings left. Which was fine, I was happy with all of the commitments. I have a bit of a rule which is basically, if I've said I'll be at something, then I will be. If a better option comes up later, then I'm not going to trade you in and I'm not going to leave you hanging for weeks so I can keep my options open. The only exception is if something work related comes up that I just can't excape. Working for the PM there is always that possibility, but I think it's happened maybe once.
If something really big somes up that clashes (like a really important church meeting or the work Christmas party) then I might see if there's anyway that I can reschedule to manage both. But always far in advance, I'm not going to drop it on you at the last minute. Honestly? I just think that's really rude.
Which brings me to today. Weeks ago, a few friends and I arranged to catch up for dinner tonight. We're all busy people and don't get to see each other that often so we it was scheduled a long time in advance to make sure everyone could make it. Everyone said they could, we locked it in the diaries and nothing more was heard until today.
Then early afternoon the emails start. Sorry, actually have something else I need to be at. Sorry, already had a few big nights this week and don't really feel like going out again tonight. Sorry, spent too much money this week so can't really afford it.
This is the point where I pretty much lose all sense of charity. For me it's in the same category as constantly being late - it shows a total lack of respect for the other person's time. I turned down being somewhere else tonight for you but obviously I'm the only one who actually gives a monkey's for keeping a commitment to being where I say I'm going to be, when I say I'm going to do so and the rest of you's yes is more of a "tentative but I'll let you know on the day if I feel like it".
Then, THEN, the thing that really causes me to lose it, is that if I try and communicate this, it's my problem for being Type A and anally retentive and I just need to chill out and then they get snitty and well, we all know girls well enough to know it's all down hill from there. The thing is I don't have a problem if people can't make something or if things come up and they need to reschedule, I'm just asking for a bit of consideration and giving me enough notice so that I can try and redo my plans. It's too late now to accept the other invitation that I turned down, Josh has made plans with the guys that I'm hardly going to ask him to cancel because my friends have bailed and so now instead of a dinner that I've been looking forward to for ages, my Friday night is suddenly an empty chasm.
Of course like any other anally retentive bride I could log-on to marthastewartweddings.com and start doing my table seating plan, or finally finish unpacking the last of our boxes, or a squillion other boring domestic/wedding related tasks but I was really looking forward to having some FUN!
I guess the biggest thing is that while these people matter to me, it feels like I don't matter nearly as much to them. So for all of you relaxed go-with-the-flow, plans aren't confirmed until you're actually sitting at the table, you just need to chill out people, that's what you're telling us structured, busy people who have put a priority on getting to spend time with you when you bail on something that has been on the cards for ages with four hours notice.
Maybe I'm completely overreacting and partially delusional but so far I can't come up with any other interpretation that is any better. Anyone else got any thoughts? I'd especially love to hear the viewpoint of people like my friends (who are genuinely great people) who really don't get what the problem is.
Let me set the scene. I'm a pretty busy person. I have a job, a fiance and a wedding to plan. In between working late nights, pre-marriage sessions and wedding prep I also have various church commitments, like to see my friends and family and occasionally blow the dust off my laptop to write a word or four.
Between now and Christmas I have three free evenings left. Which was fine, I was happy with all of the commitments. I have a bit of a rule which is basically, if I've said I'll be at something, then I will be. If a better option comes up later, then I'm not going to trade you in and I'm not going to leave you hanging for weeks so I can keep my options open. The only exception is if something work related comes up that I just can't excape. Working for the PM there is always that possibility, but I think it's happened maybe once.
If something really big somes up that clashes (like a really important church meeting or the work Christmas party) then I might see if there's anyway that I can reschedule to manage both. But always far in advance, I'm not going to drop it on you at the last minute. Honestly? I just think that's really rude.
Which brings me to today. Weeks ago, a few friends and I arranged to catch up for dinner tonight. We're all busy people and don't get to see each other that often so we it was scheduled a long time in advance to make sure everyone could make it. Everyone said they could, we locked it in the diaries and nothing more was heard until today.
Then early afternoon the emails start. Sorry, actually have something else I need to be at. Sorry, already had a few big nights this week and don't really feel like going out again tonight. Sorry, spent too much money this week so can't really afford it.
This is the point where I pretty much lose all sense of charity. For me it's in the same category as constantly being late - it shows a total lack of respect for the other person's time. I turned down being somewhere else tonight for you but obviously I'm the only one who actually gives a monkey's for keeping a commitment to being where I say I'm going to be, when I say I'm going to do so and the rest of you's yes is more of a "tentative but I'll let you know on the day if I feel like it".
Then, THEN, the thing that really causes me to lose it, is that if I try and communicate this, it's my problem for being Type A and anally retentive and I just need to chill out and then they get snitty and well, we all know girls well enough to know it's all down hill from there. The thing is I don't have a problem if people can't make something or if things come up and they need to reschedule, I'm just asking for a bit of consideration and giving me enough notice so that I can try and redo my plans. It's too late now to accept the other invitation that I turned down, Josh has made plans with the guys that I'm hardly going to ask him to cancel because my friends have bailed and so now instead of a dinner that I've been looking forward to for ages, my Friday night is suddenly an empty chasm.
Of course like any other anally retentive bride I could log-on to marthastewartweddings.com and start doing my table seating plan, or finally finish unpacking the last of our boxes, or a squillion other boring domestic/wedding related tasks but I was really looking forward to having some FUN!
I guess the biggest thing is that while these people matter to me, it feels like I don't matter nearly as much to them. So for all of you relaxed go-with-the-flow, plans aren't confirmed until you're actually sitting at the table, you just need to chill out people, that's what you're telling us structured, busy people who have put a priority on getting to spend time with you when you bail on something that has been on the cards for ages with four hours notice.
Maybe I'm completely overreacting and partially delusional but so far I can't come up with any other interpretation that is any better. Anyone else got any thoughts? I'd especially love to hear the viewpoint of people like my friends (who are genuinely great people) who really don't get what the problem is.
Thursday, December 03, 2009
Friday Night Lights cont
For those of you still waiting for what the big surprise was - I've now updated Monday's post with the photos :)
Tuesday, December 01, 2009
Letting Go...
Yesterday I got rejected by the agent that I met in Colorado. The timing wasn't great. I'd sent my submission from my work email as Gmail had been having a mare that day and refusing to attach anything. So it's 9am in the morning and I'm sitting in a management team meeting and suddenly the Crackberry does its little dance and up flashes his email. I glance down and ka bang. Smacked right across the back of the head in front of six other people, without any of them even realising it.
There's nothing quite like having your heart churning with disappointment but the luxury of only about two seconds to snap out of it and get your head back into the meeting that you're actually being paid to attend.
It was a very nice rejection email advising me to "see this not as discouragement, but as a challenge" and then mooted something that has been at the back of my mind for the last few months. Maybe it's time to move on. Maybe it's time to stop flogging the (dearly loved) dead horse that is my first manuscript and start afresh with something new. Maybe its time is still to come, but after two years and rejections aplenty it's time to move on like it never will. I don't want to be one of those writers who, a decade from now, has never written anything else because gosh darnit I'm going to sell my first manuscript if it kills me and every agent and editor is mysteriously felled by a sudden case of food poisoning when I'm at their table at a conference.
It's a scary thing, putting three years of your life in a box and onto a shelf. Three years of drafting, then rewriting, then editing, then critiquing. Three years of sweat, tears and probably a few pounds added onto each thigh from chocolate consumption. Three years of creating and building and nurturing your characters. Of taking the critiques and the criticism on the chin and working and reworking and reworking, hoping that one day it will be good enough. Of having some people believe in it fiercely while others tear it to shreds. Of slowly realising that everyone is right - publication takes more than a great book. It takes a great book to meet the right agent/editor at the right time. And I'm not even claiming mine is anything close to that.
Thinking back to my days as a triathlete, it's pretty much exactly like putting in all the hard work, all the training, all the hard yeards, the early mornins, the long sessions in sleet and snow when everyone else is tucked up in bed, starting a race but, for whatever reason, never making it to the finishing line. Sure there might be other races. Sure maybe one day I'll be good enough to win one. But I really thought it might be this one!
And not only is that one going on the shelf, but two others as well. It's really hard to gather up much enthusiasm to write the sequels to a book that is probably never going to see the light of day. I'm pretty sure I'll come back to the third one, it's done really well in contests and I still really love the idea but I just need a break from the same cast for awhile. I adore them, but I need to take a break so I can come back and write it like the previous two never existed.
It would be easy to look back and think "well that was a total waste of my time" but it wasn't. I've learnt so much - about writing, about publishing, about doing something that I never thought I could - writing an entire manuscript. Not to mention the incredible people that I've met and connections that I've made.
And there's also something exciting and liberating right here. A blank page. New characters, new places, new situations, new twists and turns and voices and endings. No more rewriting the same chapter sixteen times. No more editing the same scene for weeks on end. A break from contests and rejections, at least for awhile. A new set of possibilities.
I have no idea what my new story is going to be about. I have a few half formed ones bouncing around in my head. I have a couple of semi formed characters with possibilities. A line that sounds like it could be a winner if it found the right home. That's all.
So blogger world, sometime soon I'm going to do something that I haven't done on my Mac for a really long time.
File. New.
Besides, I'll have a new name soon so that feels like reason enough for a new book and who knows? Maybe Kara Isaac will channel some sort of writing muse that this Kara never had :)
There's nothing quite like having your heart churning with disappointment but the luxury of only about two seconds to snap out of it and get your head back into the meeting that you're actually being paid to attend.
It was a very nice rejection email advising me to "see this not as discouragement, but as a challenge" and then mooted something that has been at the back of my mind for the last few months. Maybe it's time to move on. Maybe it's time to stop flogging the (dearly loved) dead horse that is my first manuscript and start afresh with something new. Maybe its time is still to come, but after two years and rejections aplenty it's time to move on like it never will. I don't want to be one of those writers who, a decade from now, has never written anything else because gosh darnit I'm going to sell my first manuscript if it kills me and every agent and editor is mysteriously felled by a sudden case of food poisoning when I'm at their table at a conference.
It's a scary thing, putting three years of your life in a box and onto a shelf. Three years of drafting, then rewriting, then editing, then critiquing. Three years of sweat, tears and probably a few pounds added onto each thigh from chocolate consumption. Three years of creating and building and nurturing your characters. Of taking the critiques and the criticism on the chin and working and reworking and reworking, hoping that one day it will be good enough. Of having some people believe in it fiercely while others tear it to shreds. Of slowly realising that everyone is right - publication takes more than a great book. It takes a great book to meet the right agent/editor at the right time. And I'm not even claiming mine is anything close to that.
Thinking back to my days as a triathlete, it's pretty much exactly like putting in all the hard work, all the training, all the hard yeards, the early mornins, the long sessions in sleet and snow when everyone else is tucked up in bed, starting a race but, for whatever reason, never making it to the finishing line. Sure there might be other races. Sure maybe one day I'll be good enough to win one. But I really thought it might be this one!
And not only is that one going on the shelf, but two others as well. It's really hard to gather up much enthusiasm to write the sequels to a book that is probably never going to see the light of day. I'm pretty sure I'll come back to the third one, it's done really well in contests and I still really love the idea but I just need a break from the same cast for awhile. I adore them, but I need to take a break so I can come back and write it like the previous two never existed.
It would be easy to look back and think "well that was a total waste of my time" but it wasn't. I've learnt so much - about writing, about publishing, about doing something that I never thought I could - writing an entire manuscript. Not to mention the incredible people that I've met and connections that I've made.
And there's also something exciting and liberating right here. A blank page. New characters, new places, new situations, new twists and turns and voices and endings. No more rewriting the same chapter sixteen times. No more editing the same scene for weeks on end. A break from contests and rejections, at least for awhile. A new set of possibilities.
I have no idea what my new story is going to be about. I have a few half formed ones bouncing around in my head. I have a couple of semi formed characters with possibilities. A line that sounds like it could be a winner if it found the right home. That's all.
So blogger world, sometime soon I'm going to do something that I haven't done on my Mac for a really long time.
File. New.
Besides, I'll have a new name soon so that feels like reason enough for a new book and who knows? Maybe Kara Isaac will channel some sort of writing muse that this Kara never had :)
Monday, November 30, 2009
Friday Night Lights
I'm at home. Saturday was my hen's party and so I'd made a date with my sister-in-law, bridesmaid and all round fun person to hang out since my brother was out of town for the night. I also had a date with an enormous batch of brownies :)
So I get home. Change from work gear into slob gear (aka trackpants, slippers and a really ugly polar fleece that I've had since last millennia) and pull all the brownie ingredients out (aka two boxes of Betty Crocker and some eggs).
Then Bec texts; "Your engagement present is here. Come over and get it!"
Kara: "I'm at home. I thought you were coming here?."
Bec: "No, you need to come here to get it."
Kara: "I'm making a brownie!"
Bec: "You can make it here."
Kara: "Can't you bring the present with you when you come here?"
Bec: "Just come and bring the brownie with you."
Kara: "I can't bring it. It's all mixed up in the bowl!"
Bec: "Come on. It's really really cool!"
Kara: "But are we coming back here."
Bec: "Yup, no worries."
Kara: "Okay, I'll be there soon."
Now my sister-in-law is one of the most easy going people in the world so it should have struck me as odd that she was being so high maintenance. Especially when the last time I was being so high maintenance to her was the night my brother proposed and I was the lynch pin of some complicated ruse involving keys that he had left behind that I couldn't pick up, she had to bring to me!
I did start getting suss in the car on the way over because I couldn't think of anything the present could possibly be that would mean she couldn't bring it to me, but that I had to go to her, especially when she had the bigger car! At one point I almost turned around to go home and get changed, thinking that maybe my hen's night was actually starting on Friday night and my and my slippers and polar fleece were about to get humiliated. Then I started wondering if they'd bought us some trick present, like some huge hideous piece of art. And then I gave up because it was Friday and all I wanted to do was bake brownies and eat batter, not unravel the inner gift workings of my brother and sister-in-law's minds.
So I get to their house, and Bec opens the door (note the gorgeous polar fleece - proving that this was not a night I was expecting any cameras to be nearby!).
In the centre of the lounge there's this long thin TV box, and now I'm definitely thinking it's some ugly art because I knew that unless Bec and Christian had won Lotto and not breathed a word, there was no way it was a TV.
So with Bec dancing around wielding a camera and chating "Open it, open it, open it", and me now convinced it must be a hideous piece of abstract art because nothing else could fit in there, I opened the box and screamed a scream that I only hope I can manage if some maniac with a knife is chasing me because it would send them to their knees...
So I get home. Change from work gear into slob gear (aka trackpants, slippers and a really ugly polar fleece that I've had since last millennia) and pull all the brownie ingredients out (aka two boxes of Betty Crocker and some eggs).
Then Bec texts; "Your engagement present is here. Come over and get it!"
Kara: "I'm at home. I thought you were coming here?."
Bec: "No, you need to come here to get it."
Kara: "I'm making a brownie!"
Bec: "You can make it here."
Kara: "Can't you bring the present with you when you come here?"
Bec: "Just come and bring the brownie with you."
Kara: "I can't bring it. It's all mixed up in the bowl!"
Bec: "Come on. It's really really cool!"
Kara: "But are we coming back here."
Bec: "Yup, no worries."
Kara: "Okay, I'll be there soon."
Now my sister-in-law is one of the most easy going people in the world so it should have struck me as odd that she was being so high maintenance. Especially when the last time I was being so high maintenance to her was the night my brother proposed and I was the lynch pin of some complicated ruse involving keys that he had left behind that I couldn't pick up, she had to bring to me!
I did start getting suss in the car on the way over because I couldn't think of anything the present could possibly be that would mean she couldn't bring it to me, but that I had to go to her, especially when she had the bigger car! At one point I almost turned around to go home and get changed, thinking that maybe my hen's night was actually starting on Friday night and my and my slippers and polar fleece were about to get humiliated. Then I started wondering if they'd bought us some trick present, like some huge hideous piece of art. And then I gave up because it was Friday and all I wanted to do was bake brownies and eat batter, not unravel the inner gift workings of my brother and sister-in-law's minds.
So I get to their house, and Bec opens the door (note the gorgeous polar fleece - proving that this was not a night I was expecting any cameras to be nearby!).
In the centre of the lounge there's this long thin TV box, and now I'm definitely thinking it's some ugly art because I knew that unless Bec and Christian had won Lotto and not breathed a word, there was no way it was a TV.
So with Bec dancing around wielding a camera and chating "Open it, open it, open it", and me now convinced it must be a hideous piece of abstract art because nothing else could fit in there, I opened the box and screamed a scream that I only hope I can manage if some maniac with a knife is chasing me because it would send them to their knees...
This is my little sister Melly who lives in Australia
This is how far I jumped back when I saw her
This is me still hyperventalating two minutes later
And this is my scheming sister-in-law Bec who arranged the whole thing :)
Monday, November 23, 2009
Blending Tradition
Before I met Josh, one thing that I never thought about was marrying someone from a significantly different culture than mine. Sure I thought that I might marry an Australian, hoped for an Irishman (favourite accent) and could see myself being swept off my feet by some dashing American but it never, ever, occurred to me that I would be marrying into the Middle Eastern equivalent of My Big Fat Greek Wedding.
It's great and I love it even though I sometimes get overwhelmed by the sheer exhuberance and intensity of it all. I love the Assyrian culture and their warmth and openness and hospitality and focus on family and community. And man do the put those of us with sedate Anglo-Saxon backgrounds people to shame when it comes to how to party and celebrate. If you've seen the photos of our engagement party, you know exactly what I'm talking about.
The thing that we've been talking about, ever since we got engaged, is given that our cultures do things so differently, how do we make this both our wedding? How do we take the best of the celebratory Assyrian culture and blend it with the more traditional and create something that is uniquely ours. How do you mix the 600-1000 all singing all dancing, with the Christian ceremony and 150 sit down meal.
The one thing that I've learned as we've weaved our way in and out and around a number of traditions is never say never when it comes to your wedding. If there was one thing that I would have always thought I would have been non-negotiable on it's this - the opening of the church doors and the first time Josh seeing me being when I walk through those doors, on my Dad's arm, and down the aisle. Friends and family on both sides, Josh standing up front with the minister, the soaring church ceiling, the whole shebang.
But Josh's family has this tradition where the grooms family and friends pick up the bride from the bride's house. Much like my engagement party, I haven't quite got my head around this yet, but suffice to say it involves a lot of singing, a lot of dancing, a lot of noise, the mixing of both families, some form of feast and then the bride and groom head to the ceremony together.
So, there are two questions. Firstly - are we going to try and do this? Am I prepared to give up my thing about the first time Josh seeing me being at the church and my wedding day looking a whole lot different than I ever imagined? And, if we do, how? My parents don't live in Wellington, so it would mean asking some friends if we can borrow their house for about 150 strangers (to them) to sing and dance through. It would mean inconveniencing their neighbours (they block the street with the dancing procession). How do we get all the Australians to wherever it would be and then to the church (on time)? How do we make it work with the rest of the day? Who do we involve from my side? How do my parents feel about it?
So far we've reached a tentative yes on the first. It sounds like fun, an after our engagement party, I'm happy to admit most of their traditions are way more joyous than ours and this symbol of two families joining beats the mothers lighting the union candle by a long shot (no offence to those of you who did). As for the logistics. I have absolutely no idea how we're going to make it happen. But if you check back in early February their will hopefully be some awesome photos!
What about you? Been in, or at, any weddings with some traditions that you'd never known existed before? How did they work out?
It's great and I love it even though I sometimes get overwhelmed by the sheer exhuberance and intensity of it all. I love the Assyrian culture and their warmth and openness and hospitality and focus on family and community. And man do the put those of us with sedate Anglo-Saxon backgrounds people to shame when it comes to how to party and celebrate. If you've seen the photos of our engagement party, you know exactly what I'm talking about.
The thing that we've been talking about, ever since we got engaged, is given that our cultures do things so differently, how do we make this both our wedding? How do we take the best of the celebratory Assyrian culture and blend it with the more traditional and create something that is uniquely ours. How do you mix the 600-1000 all singing all dancing, with the Christian ceremony and 150 sit down meal.
The one thing that I've learned as we've weaved our way in and out and around a number of traditions is never say never when it comes to your wedding. If there was one thing that I would have always thought I would have been non-negotiable on it's this - the opening of the church doors and the first time Josh seeing me being when I walk through those doors, on my Dad's arm, and down the aisle. Friends and family on both sides, Josh standing up front with the minister, the soaring church ceiling, the whole shebang.
But Josh's family has this tradition where the grooms family and friends pick up the bride from the bride's house. Much like my engagement party, I haven't quite got my head around this yet, but suffice to say it involves a lot of singing, a lot of dancing, a lot of noise, the mixing of both families, some form of feast and then the bride and groom head to the ceremony together.
So, there are two questions. Firstly - are we going to try and do this? Am I prepared to give up my thing about the first time Josh seeing me being at the church and my wedding day looking a whole lot different than I ever imagined? And, if we do, how? My parents don't live in Wellington, so it would mean asking some friends if we can borrow their house for about 150 strangers (to them) to sing and dance through. It would mean inconveniencing their neighbours (they block the street with the dancing procession). How do we get all the Australians to wherever it would be and then to the church (on time)? How do we make it work with the rest of the day? Who do we involve from my side? How do my parents feel about it?
So far we've reached a tentative yes on the first. It sounds like fun, an after our engagement party, I'm happy to admit most of their traditions are way more joyous than ours and this symbol of two families joining beats the mothers lighting the union candle by a long shot (no offence to those of you who did). As for the logistics. I have absolutely no idea how we're going to make it happen. But if you check back in early February their will hopefully be some awesome photos!
What about you? Been in, or at, any weddings with some traditions that you'd never known existed before? How did they work out?
Thursday, November 19, 2009
Gone!
I realise that I've been pretty quiet for the last few days. The reason? Well beyond the wedding dress meltdown, I was getting my manuscript ready to send off to both the editor and agent that I met at the ACFW Confernce.
I was determined to gt it to them in less than two months post conference (you hear all the time about writers who get requests a conferences for proposals or manuscripts who never follow through and you just want to kick them for squandering such a great opportunity). So as soon as I got some feedback back from my critiquer in the US I got stuck in. And Jaime had already sent hers so I couldn't let the team down!
This was the first time she'd seen it "relocated" to the US and pretty much all of her suggestions revolved around phrases that I thought everyone used, but apparently people living in the US don't! Holiday becomes vacation, rang becomes called and don't even get me started on trying to translate phrases like "spat the dummy", "lost the plot" and "back on form"!!!!
Then yesterday evening I finally reached a point where I thought it was ready to go. The hard thing about proposals is you know that it will never be perfect when it's sent into the ether. Despite having proof read it 435 times somewhere there will be a spelling mistake, despite having rewritten the synopsis about 200 times, the next time you read it, you will find another way to make it stronger, and despite having being anally retentive in your formatting, something will happen to it in cyber space that will make it look at the other end like you let a toddler loose in the font and font size functions.
There will always be something. But if you wait until you reach perfection, it's never going anywhere, so instead what you're aiming for a close enough to greatness whoever is on the other end will forgive the occasional mispelt word, or missed comma or that weird paragraph will TNR 12 has somehow morphed into Arial 8 and keep reading anyway.
So it's gone. With a deep breath and a prayer it got sent out into the big wide world last night. And Josh and I went out and gorged ourselves on garlic naan and butter chicken to celebrate.
I've heard back form the agent saying that they probably won't get back to me until January. I would imagine that it will be even longer for the editor. So worst case scenario - between now and my next set of rejections I'm going to acquire a husband and have a luxury Pacific Island honeymoon :)
Honestly, I have no idea what I'm going to do if I get another two solid rejections from here. But that's something that, right now, is sitting squarely in the "think about post-wedding, post-honeymoon, upon return to "real" life in 2010" basket!
I was determined to gt it to them in less than two months post conference (you hear all the time about writers who get requests a conferences for proposals or manuscripts who never follow through and you just want to kick them for squandering such a great opportunity). So as soon as I got some feedback back from my critiquer in the US I got stuck in. And Jaime had already sent hers so I couldn't let the team down!
This was the first time she'd seen it "relocated" to the US and pretty much all of her suggestions revolved around phrases that I thought everyone used, but apparently people living in the US don't! Holiday becomes vacation, rang becomes called and don't even get me started on trying to translate phrases like "spat the dummy", "lost the plot" and "back on form"!!!!
Then yesterday evening I finally reached a point where I thought it was ready to go. The hard thing about proposals is you know that it will never be perfect when it's sent into the ether. Despite having proof read it 435 times somewhere there will be a spelling mistake, despite having rewritten the synopsis about 200 times, the next time you read it, you will find another way to make it stronger, and despite having being anally retentive in your formatting, something will happen to it in cyber space that will make it look at the other end like you let a toddler loose in the font and font size functions.
There will always be something. But if you wait until you reach perfection, it's never going anywhere, so instead what you're aiming for a close enough to greatness whoever is on the other end will forgive the occasional mispelt word, or missed comma or that weird paragraph will TNR 12 has somehow morphed into Arial 8 and keep reading anyway.
So it's gone. With a deep breath and a prayer it got sent out into the big wide world last night. And Josh and I went out and gorged ourselves on garlic naan and butter chicken to celebrate.
I've heard back form the agent saying that they probably won't get back to me until January. I would imagine that it will be even longer for the editor. So worst case scenario - between now and my next set of rejections I'm going to acquire a husband and have a luxury Pacific Island honeymoon :)
Honestly, I have no idea what I'm going to do if I get another two solid rejections from here. But that's something that, right now, is sitting squarely in the "think about post-wedding, post-honeymoon, upon return to "real" life in 2010" basket!
Saturday, November 14, 2009
The Dress
I have a confession to make.
I don't love my wedding dress.
There.
I've said it.
Quite possibly committed the ultimate wedding hari kari and am about to have cupid stab me with his arrow.
Now don't get me wrong. I don't dislike it. I even like it. I just don't have that warm goey feeling that this little girl princess part of me was always expecting when she looked in the mirror and saw the dress that she was going to walk up the aisle in.
Want to know what the problem is? Apart from it being nothing like the dress I always imagined I would wear (I always thought I'd go more for sophisticaled and elegant and this one is definitely more on the froo froo princessy side) The real problem? It's that I found my dream dress and did the pragmatic thing instead of the princess thing.
I did. I found my dream Maggie Sorrato dress in Sydney in June (the same day I found this one) and fell in love. But it was $2000 more than this one and, at the end of the day, I just couldn't justify spending that much money on a dress for one day. And this dress, well sure it wasn't all my dreams come true, but it was gorgeous in its own way, and everyone else loved it, and I didn't not like it and it was on S A L E.
And I know that I made the right decision, and it's not that this isn't a beautiful dress, and once I have hair and makeup and everything I'm sure it will all be fine, and since only three other people saw me in the dream dress it's not like anyone else knows what to compare it to, but the really spoilt part of me just really wishes that that was the dress I was wearing on 7 January.
Actually what I really wish is that I could have a fitting and be excited about what I'm wearing instead of looking around the bridal salon and wishing that I could have a do-over!
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