Sonnet 87

I’ve come to the conclusion that I really, really want my work events to be over already.  When they are, it means the following things:

1. The election is a) approaching or 2) already over; if you look to the right you’ll see who I want to win; here’s why.
2. It’ll be mid-November and that means the holidays will be upon us, which will lead to 1) little brother Mathgeek dropping by for a visit during Thanksgiving and b) time to decorate the apartment (which I think I will do this year).
3. We’ll be halfway to December, which means dress shopping!
4. Which leads to the New Year, in which IP and I will finalize our invites an A-list, buy all necessary materials, and then DIY our invites.
5. I will be job-hunting full time.

Hopefully the arrival of mid-November will lead to more blog posts.  I have a book list which I’ve been working on since last weekend — in the meantime, I’ve finished another book (hmm, should head over to B&N to be some more . . .).  I really, really want to use this blog post as a way to complain about my job, but I know that it wouldn’t be smart at all.  So, some random stuff.

• Material that I wrote for one of my final papers in grad school is being used on a thread about Barack Obama and religion.  How my paper ended up involved I have no clue — there’s absolutely nothing about Obama in the thread by the time my paper gets mentioned (and I am much too busy to scan more than several pages of the argument).  I did, however, get a kick out of reading my writing.  I kicked all kinds of ass when talking about medieval/Renaissance English literature.  I’m also a bit tickled with the poster’s assertion that my writing is more focused than an esteemed cultural critic’s.  I’d welcome with open arms the opportunity to become so focused again.  Why?  Because it’s fun, intellectually stimulating, and I don’t give a rat’s ass about people’s food allergies.
• I have made some friends in the bridal world and have begun to hang out with them.  It spares my friends who are not getting married and my poor fiancé from having to hear me harp about origami flowers and wedding cake.  Perhaps it will also save this blog from a 24/7 wedding emporium kind of feel!
• The Red Wings are headed to DC this year; a friend tells me he can get me primo tickets to the game, but only if he gets to come along with Dorkus, IP and me.  Since my friend is very cool and IP and him get along great, he’d be more than welcome even if we didn’t have the ticket hook-up.  Yes, I will wear my Ozzie jersey, dammit!
• An uncle of IP’s is coming to stay with us for a few days while he attends a local event.  It’s always nice to get to know IP’s family a bit better.  Given our own long-distance relationship and IP’s distance from family members, it’s nice to have the opportunity to talk with everyone.

When IP and I moved in together, Verizon told us that no, we could not carry over IP’s old phone number (considering we’re in the same goddamn building, I don’t know why not, but it is fucking Verizon we’re talking about here); we were forced to get a new number. A new number that someone had (very obviously) recently disconnected.

Thus ensued more than a few months of people asking for Raquel Lopez (fakey, fakey, fakey name). Every single goddamn day seemed to be another call for Raquel: the vet, her doctor, her friends, her debt collectors, her local representative trying to get re-elected. We patiently told people that they had the wrong number, and to please take us off of their lists if applicable. During this, an image of Raquel began to form for us: older, sort of a hippie, kind of a space cadet, doesn’t really do well with this whole adult-pay-your-bills thing even though she’s nearing retirement age. The calls seemed to peter out after a while, and we got to the point where phone calls were for us eight times out of 10.

No more, however. As election season has dragged on (boy, how it’s dragging!) the calls have started again. Raquel is a staunch Democrat (and highly prolific in acquiring debt, it seems)—we’ve received many calls asking Raquel to volunteer her time to the Obama campaign. Calls were starting to come in at 8:30am on the weekends—and if you know IP and me, you know we are not up and about at 8:30am on weekends. After a marked increase in the volume of calls for Raquel, we finally searched for her online and located two email addresses, two phone numbers, and her home address. IP contacted her last weekend.

Raquel claims to no longer know the number, let alone give it out, which I found this extremely unlikely as the Obama calls started pretty late in this election game (whenever I donate, I submit our phone number off one digit in order to avoid said calls); I have a feeing Raquel’s been giving away her old number in order to avoid the umpteen calls we’ve been receiving by default. If anything, she hasn’t taken the trouble to update her friends and business contacts. Additionally, she found it “disconcerting” that we would be able to find her information online. To that I answer:

Google. It works.

IP communicated to Raquel that he would be passing along the numbers that he had for her to the callers (debt collection agencies included); Raquel could do nothing but agree. She acknowledged that it was probably very frustrating, but it goes beyond that for me—it’s infuriating, especially when I inform a caller that they have the wrong number and they insist that it’s correct.

Last night we received two calls in a row from the same Democratic group asking for Raquel. I initially informed them that she was no longer at this number and asked to be removed from their list; the gentleman on the other line informed me that Raquel had provided this number, so he must be right. I said nope, he was wrong, please remove us. Promising to do so, the gentleman hung up. Ten minutes later as IP and I are talking they call again. IP answers, informing the group that they just called and we told them that Raquel is not at this number. IP offers to pass along her information, logging into his mail account as his does so. While he’s doing this, I realize my BlackBerry is buzzing; I check my email to see a forwarded email from IP regarding the whole Raquel debacle.

In recent weeks, Raquel’s lost her dog twice. Two times people have called to report that they’ve found the dog (so obviously she hasn’t changed her dog’s tags). The most recent incident was Monday morning, with the dog’s hero calling at 8:30am (grrr!). IP, after unsuccessfully trying to give Raquel’s number to the caller, emails Raquel to ask her if she’s lost her dog and to let her know her dog has been found. Raquel writes back and informs IP that she’s out of state and has a dog sitter watching her dog—the dog should be at home asleep, safe and sound. She will check the tags, though. The tone of her email is kind of panicky at this point—the dog sitter isn’t doing much of a good job.

IP’s only comment in his email to me?

Hilarious.

Three reasons why I’m happy to not have to endure daytime TV at the gym on a regular basis:

1. Sitcoms like the abhorrent Kings of Queens and Everybody Loves Raymond on TBS (I hate Ray Romano and Patricia Heaton with the passion of a thousand burning suns; ditto Leah Remini)
2. Bonnie Hunt talking to and hugging creepy Elmo from Sesame Street (is that supposed to be endearing and quirky? and why does Elmo make me fear for my supposedly immortal soul?)
3. Inane interviews with talentless celebrities (who are these people? and why am I supposed to care? and why must everyone be so skinny?)

Getting a TV would be good for one thing: Wii play.  A day working from home with a TV on would fry my brain; IP would come home to a soulless husk of a fianceé.

This long weekend has been relaxing and beautiful, just what I needed before I tackle two back-to-back work projects. There’s one down, though, and it was supposed to be the most stressful (knock on wood): we survived it just fine. During the entire project, I would look at the snooty academics I’m forced to deal with and just think: Dude, you’re paying for my wedding. I never realized that y’all look like dollar signs!

I find myself less and less annoyed by people’s idiocies. I find myself less and less concerned about getting everything “perfect” and making sure that our customers are “beyond happy.” I just don’t have the time or energy to make sure that the guy who likes Coke gets a Coke instead of a Pepsi. Our vendor sells Pepsi. I believe that procuring Cokes is the responsibility of the customer at this point, no? I’m very much through with rushing around, trying to find a solution — if it’s a participant’s fuck up, it’s not my problem. Sure, I’ll help within the reasonable, expected scope of my job, but I’m done with going above and beyond, and it’s very, very liberating. It’s also nice to go home and not be stressed at all about these things. Woot! I don’t think I’ve reached a point where I can honestly say that staying at my current position is now easy-peasy thanks to my new attitude, but it will help me get through the fall.

The long weekend, though, wasn’t work-focused at all. On Saturday, IP and I worked to secure little brother Mathgeek’s Amtrak ticket to visit us during Thanksgiving. I’m unsure of what Mathgeek will want to do while he’s here (hell, he’s at one of the most rigorous, exclusive colleges on the planet — if he wants to sleep, he can sleep), but we’ll figure something out soon enough. I asked him to think about what he may like to see in DC but he’s one of those kids who had a DC field trip in school, so he’s been there, done that. As for Thanksgiving dinner, we’ll go traditional if Mathgeek wants — we get as far as pumpkin pie, IP and I do, and then make whatever the hell else we want.

Following Mathgeek’s visit with be a visit in December from Mom and Dorkus for dress shopping. I think I’ve already detailed my excitement over that.  Whee!

IP and I took the time this weekend to host a bar night, hit the gym, do some reading and writing, spend some time outside, and sleep. I was able to go for a four-miler yesterday afternoon, enjoying the setting sun and the cooler temperatures. I’ve finished yet another Jasper Fforde novel this weekend, leaving me sans-Fforde until a new tome of his comes out; in the meantime, I can pick up Sarah Vowell’s latest with the handy, dandy 15% off coupon that Barnes and Nobel sent me. When I finished the book this morning, I realized I needed to take a break and update this year’s book list; the list has about six books to be added to it, so I need to get hopping. Will I do it sometime soon, though? I certainly hope so.

Getting through some emails that I owed to people was also necessary, with College Friend L leading the pack as she had deigned to respond to me about a month and a half after I last spoke to her.  Her email was pleasant enough, expressing excitement over my impending nuptials, and then offering to help organize anything for the wedding.  I think I’ve said it before: she was auditioning for the role of Bridesmaid Number Three, which isn’t happening.  She then regaled me with stories of all the guys that she’s into, which makes me once again think to myself: isn’t middle school over already?  I wrote back a perfectly polite email, thanking her for her offer of help but explaining that there will be no bridal shower or bachelorette party—the logistics make it damn near impossible—and trying to give guy advice even though I don’t feel any investment in the friendship or her lovelife.

I of course spent some time wedding planning, mostly researching celebrants and contacting a couple. On Friday I received a call from one celebrant but she put me off almost immediately. She was a tad too sarcastic and was sort of rude when I asked her what would be the best time to call her back — she had reached me at work and of course IP was not present. I’m all for sarcasm but not when I’m thinking about having you perform my ceremony. IP and I are still researching this, so we’ll just have to get back to ya!

I put together an inspiration board (finally) and was very happy to see that I’ve been following something of a pattern when selecting invites, cake designs, and the like: I’m apparently going for a very geometric wedding with origami flowers thrown in for flowery measure. If that doesn’t sound like it works, trust me: it does. Even the mantilla that I like forgoes the classic lace edging for a be-ribboned look. I have to say that the most befuddling thing so far besides the music are the centerpieces — I really don’t know what I want even though a lot of my ideas could work. I also apparently want my hair half-up or completely down (NO UPDOS) on that day with somewhat loose curls, a dress that has a lightly beaded bodice with a full skirt (A-line, no ballroom gowns), and an empire waist is an option but not a necessity. IP gets to choose: navy or tan suit for the men (him, his two brothers, my two brothers, and our fathers).

The rest of today will be spent hitting the gym and grocery shopping; some time should be spent outside, too, before the long weekend finishes slipping away from us.

On Tuesday afternoon, after a long few days at work (yep, few—I had to work on Sunday), I gave my mom a call shortly before IP was due to come home. We started talking about various things, but hit upon their trip to visit me and go gown shopping. “I hope the ticket prices go down soon,” Mom sighed, worry in her voice —she didn’t want to spend an arm and a leg for airline tickets, but she didn’t want anyone else to see me try on wedding dresses before she got her chance (she’s been waiting nearly seven years for this!).

“I know, they were in the $200s last I checked,” I said, surfing over to NWA.com to check once again. “It’d be so nice if they dropped—oooh!” I squealed.

“¿Qué?” Mom asked.

“They’re $143 total right now for the first two weekends in December!”

“Call you sister NOW and make sure we’re good to go on the dates. Then call me back and I’ll give you my credit card number to book the tickets,” my mother said with militaristic efficiency. She clicked off the line and I dialed my sister.

No answer. I sent her a text message: “Tickets in Dec. are $143. Mom wants to buy soon. Sound good?”

Sis writes back almost immediately: “Yeah, sounds good to me!”

I call Dorkus just to make sure all’s well, then call Mom back. “Okay, we’re good,” I said, starting the booking process.

Mom rattles off her credit card number with cool detachment, no doubt thinking about how she’s going to burst into tears when she sees me in the first dress I try on in December.

So my mom and sister will be visiting me in December to go gown shopping. Appointments at three bridal salons have been made and they’re in my calendar. Excuse me while I go all special snowflake on this particular aspect of wedding planning. IP was puzzled by my very girly and un-WordNerd-like reactions when discussing the idea of dress shopping with my mother and sister. “It’s a dress. That you get to wear for six hours. Once. What’s the big deal?” he wondered aloud.

“Yes, it’s just a dress,” I agreed. “But it’s a pretty dress!”

Anyone who’s ever visited this blog when I’m shopping for a wedding guest dress will know that I love to find designer duds at good prices. As a guest, my selection has always been flawless—rave reviews all around, I tell ya (dontcha know, doggone it, mavericks!). I’ve even had a day-of coordinator ask me where I got my dress (eBay, dears, for all your Tocca needs). I have the utmost confidence that I will find a stunning dress, sashay my ass down that aisle, and IP will be beside himself with delight. (Though he claims it’s the bridal undergarments he’s really looking forward to later that evening.) I will look good, damnit. I know that every bride does, but I have this special flair for the event dress that I can’t quite quantify or explain—it’s like I’m able to get into perfect tune with the event even if I had no idea of theme, colors, or dress code. I then rock the dress of my choice like it has never been rocked before (or ever will be again). I shall rock my wedding dress and IP will then understand why I’m so excited to finally go shopping.

(Okay, maybe he won’t. But I’ll look good and he knows it.)

So in choosing the bridal salons to visit, my first instinct was to find someone who carried the Pronovias line. While I’m not even 50% sure that I’m going to go with a Pronovias gown, it’s what I want to see first. My first appointment is with a salon that carries Pronovias and a few other designers that I really like; the other two salons carry some designers I’m familiar with but it was the designers I didn’t know that I ended up wanting to see.

Given that we’ve chosen a venue and we’re having an outdoor wedding, narrowing down dresses has been easier. I’ve been focusing mostly on empire and A-line dresses; strapless would be fine, as would wide straps (not so in love with skinny straps). I don’t want a plain A-line—some detailing in the skirt would be nice—and I’m trying to avoid anything that’s too ballroom-y for my tastes. I want to keep the train to a minimum (especially as I don’t want grass stains on it) and would rather my sister or friend not have to bustle it. The J.Crew Daphne would be absolutely perfect and totally me . . . if they still sold it, that is, and I didn’t want to go shopping so badly. (If shopping disappointed me and I could find it on eBay, I would go with this dress; hell, if shopping disappoints me, maybe I’ll get someone to make it for me.)

So yes, I am excited. However, I still have a while to go before my mom and sister show up in DC (and a few work events to get through first). But I will survive, triumph, and make my mother cry with that first dress (unless she hates it—Mom’s not shy about stuff like that).

Obama = Air-conditioned, empty Red Line train in the morning
Biden = Free ride on the bus because the fare machine is broken
McCain = Train offloaded at Judiciary Square
Palin = Metrobus crashing into your apartment

Written and composed by *The* IP, inspired by the following images linked to at the Crown Princess Marie Chantal of Greece message boards:

If the candidates were trains. . .

If the candidates were phones . . .

Do you now see why I love IP so much?

I had what I think qualifies as my first wedding dream last night.  Funny, eh?  I’ve been working on planning the wedding for a little over two months now and it’s taken this long to finally have a wedding-related dream.  Even funnier is that the dream’s setting was not the wedding, but our “rehearsal” dinner (I put rehearsal in quotes because we’re unsure that it’s necessary — we want to do a family dinner, but we’re not sure we’re going to put ourselves, our bridal party, and our families through the motions).

Let me preface this by saying that our photographer woes have been cured — we’ve found someone who does excellent photography and isn’t charging us an arm and a leg. Our photographer not only does weddings, but works in the media, so I feel confident about her as we move forward with our wedding plans. She seems extremely enthusiastic, is already giving me details on how she plans to structure the day, and was straightforward and no-nonsense when we interviewed her over the phone. Overall, she seems very cool.

I had contacted other people, however, in my search to find a photographer. Our photographer was my first choice given her experience, but I did some reaching out to others just in case. One of those photographers emailed me last night to tell me that, yes, he was available on our date. Were we still interested?

I haven’t written him back, but I did have a dream in which he was shooting pics for our rehearsal dinner. I got back proofs from him (which were in the shape of a Pantone color bridge set for some reason) and flipped through them eagerly. There were various shots (all good, by the way) of the bridal part, of IP, of our families. I remember being particularly thrilled about one photo of IP — to me it captured and exuded IP’s personality, which is a combo of warmth and subtle sarcasm. But as I flipped through the photographs, I noticed there weren’t any of me. Why!?

I didn’t figure the mystery out, though, as I woke up at 4:45am; I had to get up at 5am anyway, so I didn’t try to fall asleep again in order to uncover the answer. I’m sure, though, that our photographer will have at least a few photos of me on the wedding day.

Up until a few months ago, I was a registered independent.  I switched over to the Democratic Party when I a) realized I couldn’t vote in the primary (this was never a problem in Michigan, so please forgive my ignorance as a result of lifelong experience with another state’s laws) and 2) moved into our new apartment with IP.  The Clarion Fund has obviously not updated its voter rolls because today I got a copy of their Obsession DVD, which is being used in the final weeks of the campaign as a way to frighten people, make them complacent, and get them to vote for the McCain-Palin ticket so that we ‘mericans will be safe from the weevil terrorists!

Well, Clarion Fund, you wasted a DVD.  I took that sucker in my hands, folded it a few times until the disc broke in half, then tossed it in the garbage — no one will be able to view that copy of your propaganda now.  Fuck you and the horse that drove you here.

I am so angry that this is what people will stoop to to remain in power.  In fact, McCain, Palin and the rest of you Republicans who want to enforce evangelical Christianity on me and then refuse to acknowledge that you’re radical assholes, too?  Fuck you and the horse that drove you here, also.  I’m voting for Obama-Biden and there’s nothing you can do that’ll change my vote.  I may not agree with them on everything, but at least they’re not trying to frighten me into docility.  At least I’m treated like an intelligent voter and not just as small component of a very dumb flock.  And if we’re damn lucky and Obama’s voted in, I will be front and center for his historic inauguration come January.  And I will heartily celebrate the fall of Republican Party.

Take your DVD and shove it, Clarion Fund.

Hah!  See what a I did there, just like almost everyone else?  Some randomness on the debate that Biden won . . .

1) When you choose a VP lingo bingo card to use as a drinking game instead of using it for its intended bingo purposes, please be sure to choose one that does not have the word “taxes” on it.  Because we were far away from a liquor store, IP and I did beer shots instead.  Good thing, too.  I went through three beers in 1.5 hours; IP went through nearly five.  IP noted that, had we used liquor, “we’d be dead by now.”  Agreed.

2) I apparently do one mean Sarah Palin imitation.  I terrorized IP with it all night until he asked me to please stop.  But not before I sexually harassed him with my Palin voice going full force.

3) Should McCain-Palin win, the proud tradition of mispronouncing the word “nuclear” would carry on in the White House.  I am at heart a word nerd: I think I would flee to Mexico not only because my civil rights would face destruction after a McCain-Palin inauguration, but also because my sensibilities would not be able to diagram Palin’s sentences for the next four, eight, 12, or 16 years (please, Flying Spaghetti Monster, no!).

4) Apparently, making observations about the past is not the way to bring about change.  Because you can totally argue for change without context, right?  Right?  Are those crickets I hear?

5) The word “maverick” is one of the most incorrectly and overused terms of the Republican ticket.  Also, if I hear that being a hockey mom is a qualification for being vice president one more time, I assume that I’ll be named to a ticket sometime in the future when my kids are kicking ass on the ice.  Should one of them make the NHL, does that entitle me to become Supreme Commander of the Entire World?  I hope so!

Bring on the next presidential debate.  Are IP and I brave enough to tackle our drinking game with liquor and choose the card that has the word “maverick” on it?  Stay tuned!

The most difficult question I’ve been pondering when it comes to wedding planning is this: the music.

I’m the kind of person who doesn’t get up and dance at weddings.  I prefer the conversation at the table.  As a bride-to-be, I worry that I’ll chafe under the constant attention during the reception, and that I might be encouraged to “lead the party” — something I’d rather leave to my bridesmaids.  Unless I’m a) totally rehearsed and 2) perhaps slightly intoxicated (both things could happen at the wedding — that’s acknowledged), I’ll probably no flail about like a fool (though, yes, I know, the emotions of the day could make me throw caution to the wind).

In considering music, IP and are taking our personalities into account, along with hopes and dreams of our guests (i.e., would they like to dance?).  As a nod to Mexican culture, we stumbled across the idea of having a mariachi band play our wedding.  While the idea is a fabulous one in theory, two problems popped into view right away when considering the execution:

1) It’s cost-prohibitive to have them play the entire reception; hell, two hours is pricey

and

b) The Midwesterners and Northeasterners attending our wedding might really get sick of a mariachi band all night, especially if they’re hoping to dance

I’ve been trying to find a solution that doesn’t involve hiring a band and a DJ, but I’m stumped.  It’d be about $1,400 (maybe a little less) to do both, but that seems like a hefty price to pay for music.  We’re wary of the cost of the mariachi, but we’re also wary of DJs in general — we’ve each been to weddings where the DJ was super-obnoxious and I’ve heard a ton of horror stories about DJs just not listening to requests (the biggest ones I want to avoid: being introduced as Mr. and Mrs. IP [I'm keeping my maiden names and adding IP's last name to mine -- I would want WordNerdia acknowledged], or being introduced as “man and wife” [nothing would make me want to hurt the DJ more]).  Add to that the fact that I’m not much of a booty-shaker to begin with?  Recipe for going way over on music costs.

We could always do the DIY iPod music, but I’ve heard horror stories about that, too.  The reception’s unorganized, there’s no one introducing the couple, no one to announce dances, no one to shepherd the guests.  In theory, a day-of coordinator could at least get guests moving, but I don’t think he/she would be eager to take over DJing duties.  In keeping with the “modest but classy” theme, I worry that the DIY music would make that image crumble quickly — nothing is more immediate than music, and no situation is less fixable on the day of than music.  We’re doing our own invites, but we get countless runs as we try to achieve a design we like.  We only get one shot at the music.

So consider me currently baffled.  I know we need music, but how do we go about providing it?