Having just returned from a long weekend away in Dunsborough, where we will be married in approximately 8806 hours, all manner of emotions have begun to take over. At the moment, it’s mostly genuine excitement coupled with an acute awareness at how fast 8806 hours will disappear. It’s really not a long time when you break it down like that, but it’s a hell of a lot longer than the event itself – and that’s what this blog is all about. Acknowledging the journey that we are on, and appreciating that it’s so much more than the 8 hours or so in which all this work, planning and insanity will finally culminate. THE. BIG. DAY.
So, after lamenting the loss of Engagey and enjoying a short intermission in Wedding proceedings for a couple of weeks, I dragged out the awe inspiring pile of Wedding magazines gifted to me from MOH very early on in our engagement and packed them into the car, along with our two furry children and a milk crate full of booze, a sample size of Engagey’s most rewarding legacy.
We were Dunno bound. Not really with any major wedding planning activities in the pipeline, but for a short visit to recharge our batteries and to get the vibe of what the town and the region will be like for our impending nuptials. Frickin busy if this weekend was anything to go by. Better get those save the dates out sooner rather than later.
I had previously tried to make appointments with some suppliers that are already on the team, due to the busy time of year, I was only able to meet with one. The DJ. And he didn’t disappoint. I suggested we catch up for a cold beverage or two just to break the ice, put a name to a face and have a more in depth conversation about what we wanted and what he could provide. We decided to meet at his place just between Dunno and Yalls (Yallingup.) The directions I was given were reminiscent of a wild goose chase/ treasure hunt and Fiance and I were filled with both intrigue and intrepidation at meeting a stranger in the middle of nowhere. Follow the yellow brick road and take the 2nd turn on the right after the gravel road starts, look for the rainbow valley sign on the fence then keep driving past the house of terrors until you see the white guitar on the fence, then follow it down to the surfboard cut in half that directs you to my studio. Fiance and I shared a nervous giggle, thankful that we had brought a 4wd vehicle for this little adventure.
The DJ greeted us warmly and welcomed us into his studio – a bush shack/shed surrounded by trees and only 7kms from the beach converted into his own little creative space. We entered through the kitchen and he led us into a room filled with intruments and all his gear. He also had a special little semi sound proof room for his drums, cos “I’m a drummer – that’s what I do”. I literally tripped and stumbled over my words, as well as a set of bongo drums, taken aback by the amount of fun I could have in that room and clearly struggling to hold myself back from having my own impromptu jam session. Step away from the instruments. Fiance, knowing me and my penchant for creating magical entertainment all too well, instantly sensed my inherent desire to kidnap DJ, lock him in a cupboard and take over his studio for two or three days.
We spent the next half hour or so talking about options for our wedding, one of which included the offer of an after party in a nearby beach car park, at which DJ would bring along his ‘DJ mobile’ pop the roof and spin the decks well into the morning, suggesting that we could then walk back to town if we weren’t “too messy” or do a deal with the dunno taxi service and have people shuttled back to town intermittently as sunrise approached. We would just have to let him know a few hours beforehand so he could arrange some of his “crew” to get down there with generators and the like. “We’ll let you know…” Fiance and I responded, not wanting to upset the very musical, slightly eccentric apple cart.
He also suggested keeping the eating and other wedding formalities to a minimum in order to maximise time for dancing, everyone wedding supplier has their own little agenda to push don’t they! Hey, who knows – we might just turn the entire wedding into a dance party yet!
We lunched on the balcony at Wise Winery the following day, soaking up those famous views across to Geographe Bay and also the goings on on the lawn below as someone elses wedding was in the initial stages of set up. We wandered down after lunch to check it out a little closer and talk logistics. In doing so we were greeted by a man, resting on a speaker. “Are you thinking of getting married here?” he asked, beads of sweat forming on his brow seemingly from recent physical exertion, although I could only count one speaker having been set up. “We ARE getting married here”, I responded. “OK, cool…do you need a DJ?”, ah I see. “No, we already have a DJ, why? Are you a DJ?” “Yes, I’m DJ Damon. Who are you having?” We told him. “Wow, he is like the best DJ in the region.” “Wow, that’s a nice thing for you to say of one of your competitors!” “Yeah he is like a real DJ. He’s awesome.” We went on to recount the story of our recent visit to the studio. “Wow, really? You went to his studio?!” We clearly didn’t realise the preceding reputation of DJ before our visit but we are now very confident that we have selected a quality addition to team Wedding, and he is sure to be a hit…if he can keep me away from his percussion.
Monday, October 31, 2011
Wednesday, October 19, 2011
Engagey...
Engagey… I miss you. You were only a part of my life for 4 months, but you were an all consuming force to be reckoned with. And I reckoned with you. You were reckoning. And I reckon I will look back on our time together fondly. Engagey, you taught me things. Important things. Things I could never know had you not been in my life. Things about myself, things about others and things about things.
I have learnt that ‘over catering’ runs in the family. I seem to have inherited this little characteristic, exhibiting tell tale symptoms quite early on in the Engagey planning process. Being a proud owner of the ‘over catering’ gene, however, led me to discover that I could fit 41 cartons of beer into a Rav 4. No more, no less. One more carton and I think the Ravster would have had a complete meltdown and quite literally snapped into two.
I learnt who my most important allies will be for Wedding. No big suprises there. One of these allies will be a small bottle of Rescue Remedy. For Shiz.
Then I learnt that I still need my mummy. One slightly shaky phone call to MOB and 30 mins later she arrives on the scene, armed with an abundance of wine and champagne and 2 seven layer dips. She was my rescue remedy until the champagne kicked in.
It’s probable that when Wedding finally arrives, I’m going to feel 300 times worse than pre-engagey with an overwhelming and unexplainable wave of paralyzing anxiety, but at least I’ll be able to recognize the signs early and grab a MOB and a MOH and self medicate accordingly.
Engagey will live on in our garden, so long as the Summer is not too harsh and I remember to water the herbs that once adorned her. But otherwise she is forever gone from my daily life.
But the sun has continued to rise and with it comes the whispers of something beautiful, something big. Wedding whispers, soft and sweet.
Thursday, October 6, 2011
NBS - 'not being stressed' ta
One thing that many people associate with weddings is stress. Wedding stress, amongst other things, is the pre cursor to a bad case of bridezillaitis. However, Wedding stress IS NOT an inherent characteristic of all wedding plans. And guess what?? I’M NOT STRESSED.
I’m relatively immune to stress as I know it at this point in my life. Being in a high pressure jobs for a great deal of my career, dealing with non-existent lead times, deadlines, deadlines and more deadlines. Annnnnd Relying on incompetent suppliers for the most part to achieve said deadlines.
Mortgage stress? Well we don’t fit the technical definition but needless to say having to pay the mortgage isn’t the most favouritest part of my life. Sometimes having to think about disposable income and the way in which it is spent, can be stressful.
Stress fractures? Right at this moment (which is the only moment that you and I have FYI) the only repetitive stress of the foot striking the ground I’m likely to experience is through an impromptu interpretive dance fiesta. I performed one on the weekend and I seem to be fine.
Apparently there are 4 different types of stress that people experience:
Eustress – a good kind of stress that ‘provides immediate strength’. People experience Eustress at points of increased physical activity, enthusiasm and creativity. Comes in handy when motivation and inspiration are needed. Do you know what else comes in handy when motivation and inspiration are needed? Booze.
Distress – negative stress brought about my constant readjustments or alterations in routine. This may be acute or chronic. It doesn’t sound nice at all.
Hyperstress – occurs when an individual is pushed beyond what he or she can handle. This little chestnut is likely to result from being overloaded or overworked. Could perhaps occur during and after an office relocation when you have endured weeks of the sound of cheap masking tape shrieking as it’s ripped from its little cardboard spindle, never ending email instructions on how to pack boxes, left behind a 4th floor view over West Perth and Subiaco and found yourself in a red pimple of an office in a marketing ‘bunker’ with no natural light directly opposite ‘meeting room 3’ which may now be renamed the ‘Golden Palace’, ‘Yummy House’, or ‘The Miso Room’ due to the insistence of the admin girls to claim it as their lunch room when they are sharing a nice, aromatic Chinese lunch together.
Hypostress – is funnily enough the opposite of hyperstress. This occurs when an individual is bored or unchallenged, restless and unsinspired. Can’t say I haven’t been here before but with the recent distractions of post graduate study and pre-nuptial programs, this is definitely not a box that I fit neatly into.
Ahhhhhhh. So loving not being stressed.
The best part of Not Being Stressed or NBS as it will for here ever after be known, is dealing with the fact that everyone you know expects you to succumb. I don’t get it. It’s like your under this perpetual scrutiny of anyone who knows you going “oh. Yeah. Look out. Here she goes. She’s about to crack. Must be all the wedding stress”. Seriously people. Just. Back. Off. Phhheeewwwwww. I’m FINE. NOT STRESSED. Can pretend to be if that WOULD MAKE YOU HAPPY. But a combination of good planning, unparalleled organisational skills, an amazing support network, yoga and red wine protects my nervous system from such breakdowns.
And hey, I’ve totally been there. I have lived through ‘Bells Palsy’ amongst other things - as most of my close friends would know – not an easy thing, and not an amazing thing, not a life threatening thing but not a fun thing, and not something you want to go through more than once,but, something that once you have had, know that its more than likely may strike again at some stage or another.
It’s basically a nasty little virus that attacks your cranial nerve, resulting in partial facial paralysis for a period of time. In my case, it was about 3 weeks. That’s 3 weeks of not being able to fully or even partially close my left eye or even control or have any movement in my the left side of my face whatsoever. The cause is unknown, although, some might say as is the case with any virus it would be some issue with the central nervous system and the immune system succumbing to the virus and allowing the inflammation of a nerve that most of you wouldn’t even know existed. I sure as shit didn't.
Now I can say that I was in a fairly high state of stress when I woke up one day and noticed that my eyes were shutting at different speeds, that later on that day I had no feeling and no control over one side of my mouth and that even later on that night when the left side of my face completely ‘dropped’ and I thought I was having a stroke at the tender age of 28. I just wanted to go to bed, thinking that I just needed a good nights sleep but knowing that it was so much more serious than that.
Poor fiancé. Gorgeous fiancé, even then, knowing that something was at least visibly not right, would not tell me that I looked a little strange. Even when I screamed at him. I was stressed. He drove me to emergency – as luck would have it – on a Saturday night. Not ideal. We stayed there for a long time. I was prodded and poked and made an exhibition of to student nurses and doctors. All the while I would like to think I remained relatively calm, although I may have just appeared that way given my inability to control a whole one side of my face. At all. I was diagnosed with Bells Palsy, given the essential survival materials (a course of steroids, some tape to tape my eye closed and some eye drops) and sent home to fend for myself.
I'm sure that even the usually unflappable fiance experience an extreme period of stress knowing that the girl he loved may be not as pretty as she once may have been, for an unknown period of time - maybe forever... He stuck by me. Unconditionally and without reserve. I'm an unbelievably lucky girl to have someone like that so entrenched in my life.
So my idea of stress is a relative and very real thing. Little things are not going to send me facially paralysed. Needless to say, I can be a bit of a control freak but only when I have some control.
Impending engagey allows me such a privilege. I’m not stressed because I’m organised. This does not go down well with other control freaks.
I think I may be a victim of superficial stress, that is to say, I can allow myself to become overly preoccupied with things that are beyond my immediate scope of control. Those things currently include:
- The weather
- The actions of other people
- The perception of my actions/organisational capability to others
- Sugar flowers (watch this space, this is another blog topic altogether)
All in all, I think the result of my current condition of NBS is dealing with the non-recognition of others of my actual level of organisation and their inability to deal with my competence and sensitivity to actual stress. As soon as I feel the slightest sensation of a tightening between the shoulders, a persisting eye twitch, a sore throat or a little bit of moodiness, I’m onto it. My health is of paramount importance to me.
If I’m actually for real stressed, the god lord and baby Jesus and friends will know about it. If I need help, I am not too proud to ask for it, and if I come to you with half of my face hanging off, I think for certain you would’ve already seen it coming.
I’m relatively immune to stress as I know it at this point in my life. Being in a high pressure jobs for a great deal of my career, dealing with non-existent lead times, deadlines, deadlines and more deadlines. Annnnnd Relying on incompetent suppliers for the most part to achieve said deadlines.
Mortgage stress? Well we don’t fit the technical definition but needless to say having to pay the mortgage isn’t the most favouritest part of my life. Sometimes having to think about disposable income and the way in which it is spent, can be stressful.
Stress fractures? Right at this moment (which is the only moment that you and I have FYI) the only repetitive stress of the foot striking the ground I’m likely to experience is through an impromptu interpretive dance fiesta. I performed one on the weekend and I seem to be fine.
Apparently there are 4 different types of stress that people experience:
Eustress – a good kind of stress that ‘provides immediate strength’. People experience Eustress at points of increased physical activity, enthusiasm and creativity. Comes in handy when motivation and inspiration are needed. Do you know what else comes in handy when motivation and inspiration are needed? Booze.
Distress – negative stress brought about my constant readjustments or alterations in routine. This may be acute or chronic. It doesn’t sound nice at all.
Hyperstress – occurs when an individual is pushed beyond what he or she can handle. This little chestnut is likely to result from being overloaded or overworked. Could perhaps occur during and after an office relocation when you have endured weeks of the sound of cheap masking tape shrieking as it’s ripped from its little cardboard spindle, never ending email instructions on how to pack boxes, left behind a 4th floor view over West Perth and Subiaco and found yourself in a red pimple of an office in a marketing ‘bunker’ with no natural light directly opposite ‘meeting room 3’ which may now be renamed the ‘Golden Palace’, ‘Yummy House’, or ‘The Miso Room’ due to the insistence of the admin girls to claim it as their lunch room when they are sharing a nice, aromatic Chinese lunch together.
Hypostress – is funnily enough the opposite of hyperstress. This occurs when an individual is bored or unchallenged, restless and unsinspired. Can’t say I haven’t been here before but with the recent distractions of post graduate study and pre-nuptial programs, this is definitely not a box that I fit neatly into.
Ahhhhhhh. So loving not being stressed.
The best part of Not Being Stressed or NBS as it will for here ever after be known, is dealing with the fact that everyone you know expects you to succumb. I don’t get it. It’s like your under this perpetual scrutiny of anyone who knows you going “oh. Yeah. Look out. Here she goes. She’s about to crack. Must be all the wedding stress”. Seriously people. Just. Back. Off. Phhheeewwwwww. I’m FINE. NOT STRESSED. Can pretend to be if that WOULD MAKE YOU HAPPY. But a combination of good planning, unparalleled organisational skills, an amazing support network, yoga and red wine protects my nervous system from such breakdowns.
And hey, I’ve totally been there. I have lived through ‘Bells Palsy’ amongst other things - as most of my close friends would know – not an easy thing, and not an amazing thing, not a life threatening thing but not a fun thing, and not something you want to go through more than once,but, something that once you have had, know that its more than likely may strike again at some stage or another.
It’s basically a nasty little virus that attacks your cranial nerve, resulting in partial facial paralysis for a period of time. In my case, it was about 3 weeks. That’s 3 weeks of not being able to fully or even partially close my left eye or even control or have any movement in my the left side of my face whatsoever. The cause is unknown, although, some might say as is the case with any virus it would be some issue with the central nervous system and the immune system succumbing to the virus and allowing the inflammation of a nerve that most of you wouldn’t even know existed. I sure as shit didn't.
Now I can say that I was in a fairly high state of stress when I woke up one day and noticed that my eyes were shutting at different speeds, that later on that day I had no feeling and no control over one side of my mouth and that even later on that night when the left side of my face completely ‘dropped’ and I thought I was having a stroke at the tender age of 28. I just wanted to go to bed, thinking that I just needed a good nights sleep but knowing that it was so much more serious than that.
Poor fiancé. Gorgeous fiancé, even then, knowing that something was at least visibly not right, would not tell me that I looked a little strange. Even when I screamed at him. I was stressed. He drove me to emergency – as luck would have it – on a Saturday night. Not ideal. We stayed there for a long time. I was prodded and poked and made an exhibition of to student nurses and doctors. All the while I would like to think I remained relatively calm, although I may have just appeared that way given my inability to control a whole one side of my face. At all. I was diagnosed with Bells Palsy, given the essential survival materials (a course of steroids, some tape to tape my eye closed and some eye drops) and sent home to fend for myself.
I'm sure that even the usually unflappable fiance experience an extreme period of stress knowing that the girl he loved may be not as pretty as she once may have been, for an unknown period of time - maybe forever... He stuck by me. Unconditionally and without reserve. I'm an unbelievably lucky girl to have someone like that so entrenched in my life.
So my idea of stress is a relative and very real thing. Little things are not going to send me facially paralysed. Needless to say, I can be a bit of a control freak but only when I have some control.
Impending engagey allows me such a privilege. I’m not stressed because I’m organised. This does not go down well with other control freaks.
I think I may be a victim of superficial stress, that is to say, I can allow myself to become overly preoccupied with things that are beyond my immediate scope of control. Those things currently include:
- The weather
- The actions of other people
- The perception of my actions/organisational capability to others
- Sugar flowers (watch this space, this is another blog topic altogether)
All in all, I think the result of my current condition of NBS is dealing with the non-recognition of others of my actual level of organisation and their inability to deal with my competence and sensitivity to actual stress. As soon as I feel the slightest sensation of a tightening between the shoulders, a persisting eye twitch, a sore throat or a little bit of moodiness, I’m onto it. My health is of paramount importance to me.
If I’m actually for real stressed, the god lord and baby Jesus and friends will know about it. If I need help, I am not too proud to ask for it, and if I come to you with half of my face hanging off, I think for certain you would’ve already seen it coming.
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