Rachael

So. Not only did I start running, but Lala and I got gym memberships when we got back. We learned that Vancouver is not only about civil rights in marriage, and beautiful views, and extremely nice, helpful people, but it’s about FOOD. We ate at every opportunity, and boy, did we find a lot of those. We’d double back around a block in case we could increase our appetite and hit one more sushi restaurant. Just another scone. A little more gelato. I’ve never been so regularly full before in my life. I forgot what feeling hungry felt like, since I never gave myself a chance.

Then when we got home, we joined 24 Hour Fitness. I haven’t belonged to a gym in more than ten years, and things sure have changed in that time. They didn’t make me sign a contract! It’s month-to-month, which makes me feel better about the potential for flake-age (although we won’t flake, no, not us). Also, it’s pretty high-tech, and that’s a nice change, too. When you’re on one of the myriad cardio-machines, you can plug your iPod phone cord into the machine and choose one of the channels playing on one of the TVs hanging in front of you. Dude, the handles on those machines record your heart rate! That was disappointing, actually, because when I was on the elliptical I thought I was going to DIE my heart was going so fast. Then I looked up and saw that I was in the target fitness heart rate for AN EIGHTY-YEAR OLD MAN. This is true.

Running was a little rough yesterday, I must admit. I went to Mills, as I usually do. It was sunny when I drove up, a few clouds in the sky. I leaned out of the car to put on my running shoes. A few drops spattered my knees. I decided I was Hard Core and started running.

Dude. The rain came. The rain fell in torrents. Rivers. Sheets of water. The iPod was psychic, as it sometimes is (I swear Apple is not paying me for this blog). As I started running and turned the iPod on, the Old 97’s Blinding Sheets of Rain started playing. Then Rufus Wainwright sang about being cold, and then Abigail Washburn sang something about being miserable in the weather, and that’s about when I decided to terminate my run and head back to the car. I was slapped red by then, my legs and arms and face scarlet from the sheer speed of the water drops which were as big as VW bugs.

(It was at this point, when I was thinking about my life and how now that the move and the weddings are over, I can finally obsess on something else, I saw a big sign that said this: RESUME WRITING. My brain went Wow! Okay! I hear you! I will! Then I realized it was a class on writing a resume. Ahem.)

But still, technology and iPods rock. As do big anonymous gyms. (Also, the iPod now makes gyms okay to spend time in. I don’t have to talk to anyone, I don’t have to make eye-contact, and I don’t have to listen to their tunes. Nice.)

So today, no pics because darlin’ Ryan’ has taken care of them for me. Go see her. Yay!

Today’s blog is courtesy of my lovely sister-in-law Won-ju, who sent me these pics. You know, not hiring a photographer for the Big Wedding really worked in that I keep getting sent pics of the night, all of which are better than the ones I have. Yay!

Lala’s mom and Lala. Stylin’.

Dancing the beer bottle.

Hangin’ with the band.

I might have sung a little bit.

The little mama (wearing HER little mama’s shawl) and sister Christy.

Woot! Now, after having discussed my widening booty and tummy publicly on the blog, I actually went out and ran today. Know what? It wasn’t as bad as it had all rights to be. I remember this feeling, though. It’s kind of the Suck-In of exercise. Yay! I feel great! I should do this everyday! And tomorrow, it’s gonna suck eggs.

But I’ll keep it up, I suppose. Registering for the SF Half Marathon today just to keep me going. Yawn. Exercise: I love everything about it except doing it (and sometimes I even like that. The cherry trees are blooming at Mills, and that’s a nice thing to run by.)

While we’re on the subject of my ass, this is one of my favorite pictures from the second wedding. My belly, in this last six months of non-running, has gotten bigger, and I’m not super fond of that part, but my butt has finally gained a little ground, which I’ve been hoping for for years.

Johanna Hickey married us, and boy is she ever the cutest and most loving-est.

Our witnesses! Yay! How cute are Rabbitch and Mandy? Way cute, I’ll tell ya. (I sound rather inane. I don’t mean to. I’m just not all the way unpacked yet, in any sense of the word. My brains are still up in the northwest.)

Married ladies on Granville Island. Did I mention there are cute little dogs EVERYWHERE in Vancouver? There was one there that I swear was the happiest dog I’d ever seen in my life. It almost fell off the pier in happiness.

More tomorrow! I’m going to stretch the photos out for DAYS, I tell ya.

We’re back! We’re back! Two married ladies, back from honeymoon, fresh out of steam. I’d like to blog for days about what we did, and how much fun we had, but I’m stuck on sleepy, it seems. But here are some highlights of the honeymoon:

We got married in Vancouver. (Yeep! Ding ding! Best part!)
Stayed at the best hotel (The Sylvia) in the best room (802, corner, top floor, surrounding bay view).
Went on a tandem-bike ride in Stanley Park.
Didn’t fall off said bike, probably because Lala was driving.
Ate sushi, cheaply, every single damn day.
Ate a whole crab (thank you, crab).
Ate gelato at frequent turns (OHMYGOD, Casa Gelato has 250 flavors, including durian. Tried that. Avoid it. I had chocolate-basil with nutmeg. There was a pear-gorgonzola flavor, as well as a chocolate-chili that was HOT. Think of it, it was there).
Decided that Mandy and Zak are fabulous, something already known, and the way Zak says "hosed" makes us happy.
Decided that all Canadians are good and nice, and everything is better in Canada, especially in Vancouver (the third most desirable city to live in, according to a new report. Zurich and Geneva are the first two. The US doesn’t have a city in even the top 25, with Honolulu coming in at number 27).
Ate bread and cheese and olives at Granville Island.
Went across the Capilano Bridge.
Drove lots of places and used no gasoline. We think maybe in Canada the gas makes cars fly.
Went to Seattle where we:
Went up in the Space Needle.
Went to the Science Fiction Museum, which made Lala REALLY happy.
Went to Churchmouse which made me REALLY happy.
Had a party at TMK’s house with Ryan and Ann and Rebecca and Janine and Tory and Gingko and Elaine and Bling and had the best time.
Were treated to dinner at Il Fornaio, my new fave.
Drank coffee (twice) at Espresso Vivace, the best I’ve had since Italy.
Went to Pike Place Market.
Visited an alpaca farm, where I bought some fiber for cheap and almost pet an alpaca and kvelled over a 3-day old cria. Went back to Vancouver, where we ate more sushi and watched more sunsets on the beach. Appreciated sunny, perky Canada.

We are now back in dark, rainy, rather grumbly California and unpacking slowly. I think I’ll unpack photos slowly too, for a while, to keep the blog going as I get back up to speed. So here are a couple for ya:

    Lala takes photos. I grin maniacally.

    You asked for it — closer detail on the alpaca shawl.
(Design: sorta my own,  traditional double rose leaf with little bippy thing on the sides. Yarn: old hoarded Cascade Indulgence, two balls.)
Photo courtesy of Rachael Ashe.

It’s legal now.

(Thanks go to Johanna for being our perfect marriage commissioner, Janice and Mandy for being our witnesses, Zak for the blessing (and the first two shots on this page), Rachael Ashe for being the Official Photographer, and Diane and Joan from Full Bloom Flowers, the perfect place to have a wedding.)

    Image borrowed from Christine…. thank you, dear!

It was perfect. We had the best time.

Aren’t those silly things to say? All weddings are perfect, like babies, I should imagine, at least to the bride, and that’s what matters. But I did hear one gal say that it was the most fun wedding she’d ever been to, and she’d been married twice herself.

We’re in Vancouver, and we have another wedding tonight (will that make Lala my second wife?), so I won’t spend too much time online, but I wanted to say hello. Really, this is a thank you to my family and friends, who made it the best time ever. I worked really hard up to the point of the wedding. I’d been running around all day, every off day I had, buying beer and wines and plates and cups and more Cadbury Creme Eggs than could be imagined, but the day itself wasn’t like that.

In fact, the day before wasn’t like that, either. The breakfast was great, and the hot tub/massage combo was a hit. We sat around, not stressed out. Just happy. I was a little worried that I wasn’t stressed out — I must have forgotten something — but Lala wouldn’t let me worry much.

That night we had the rehearsal dinner. It went like this: My sisters brought Zachary’s pizza over and the families met each other and ate pizza off of paper plates in our new house (we were SO proud). We rehearsed like this — Hey, Jodi (our wonderful officiant who even got the online reverend certificate, even though she didn’t really NEED it), stand up at the end of that first song, okay? We’ll walk down on the second song. Cool! More pizza. (It was literally after these few words that Lala’s mom asked "IS there a rehearsal tonight?" and Lala said, "That was it! Done!")

The dads talked Kingston Trio and the moms had a cute-off on the couch. No one knows who won, because we were too busy being happy they were so cute. Then they left and we crashed, with little to no cleanup.

The day of the wedding dawned. I was only nervous whenever I was alone, which wasn’t that often. Otherwise, I was fine. We went to the hall, out in the redwoods, to decorate at about three pm.

Christine met us there. Let me now add an ode to Christine. (She has pics! Go look and come back…..) She’s been an online friend for a long time, and I’ve met her several times at knit-outs. She’s a florist and offered to help me with my flowers. Lala, because she’s done this before and knows a lot, recommended that we get a wedding handler for the night. Not a planner, really, but someone to steer the wedding around. I asked her if she’d do that for us. She agreed, to my joy.

Then we bought the house, and we ran out of money, and I almost took it back. We were cutting everything — no catered food, no photographer, how could we justify a wrangler?

Then Christine offered to do it for a ridiculously low sum, probably barely covered her gas from Napa, because she’s the best. Then not only was she there, but she smiled the whole time, she brought her daughter Hannah who was maybe my favorite kid ever, and she made the wedding run like, well, like a wedding. She had all those things with her that I hadn’t considered: Beer tubs. Who thinks of beer tubs? Lighters. Nope, I hadn’t thought of those. She brought the glass bowls in which we floated a zillion floating candles I’d bought at Ikea. She brought a little of EVERYTHING, down to and including extra wine. I mean, really.

She worked tirelessly shepherding people and it is truly because of her that we had such a wonderful time. Really. Our families and friends pitched in and did what we and she asked them to do, but it was Christine who knew what was going on the whole time. So, thank you, dear.

Also, special shouts to sisters Christy and Bethany, who came through in SUCH a big way, cooking, building the fire, stocking the fireplace with s’more material (roasted Peeps s’mores make any wedding fun, I’m telling you. Lotsa people said they’d never roasted Peeps in evening wear before). They did EVERYTHING for us, happily, with smiles, appearing to enjoy themselves. Also, they looked GREAT in their wedding duds, dude. And you know how families fight at stressful life events? None of that. That’s because they were COOL, ’cause I was certainly a basket case right before the ceremony.

And Jodi and Kris, whom I’ve dubbed the helpiest helpers ever. They’re the kind of friends who say they’ll help you paint and then they bring you cake AND paint. You know? (Damn, I still have their cake pan. Must give that back soon.) Lala met Jodi and Kris through her late wife, Aura. Jodi and Aura were best friends. Jodi loves who Lala loves, because she’s like that, and she loves me for me, too. So to have Jodi marry us, to read the ceremony for us, was more special to us than we can say. I actually WON’T say any more, because it’s impossible to describe, but to have her there, to have her wife Kris beaming out at us while we were up there, in that gorgeous Kris way, that was something, all right. (Jodi sent us a text message the next day saying she had a verklemptover. Yeah, me too.)

So back to what I was saying before I started thanking people, we decorated. We strung white lights EVERYWHERE in the big ole redwood room, and set out tablecloths (which Christine brought, of course), and set out CCEggs, and watched Christine set  up the bar with nothing more than a blink and two taps of her heels. We split at about five pm, and I started getting ready at home.

Now, I thought two hours would be enough time to get ready for a wedding. I can be out of the house in twenty minutes, usually, and that’s with a shower, coffee, and makeup. Two hours? Nope, just barely made it. By the time my mother and sisters came over, at about five-thirty, I had my hands tangled in my hair and I was shaking all over. Trying to stick bobby pins into thirties hair curls with shaking hands doesn’t work, I’ll have you know. Christy fetched me a drink immediately, bless her. Then they let me get all type A and refuse all offers of help (except for Marama, who did my makeup INCLUDING sticking on my false eyelashes, which my shaking fingers never would have let me do).

It was time to go! I zipped into the dress, the little mama and sisters helping, a very nice memory, put on my veil by myself in the bathroom, ordered people to grab all my luggage, not a very nice memory, but they were nice to my freaked-out self anyway, and got in the car. Yes, it felt as rushed as that sentence.

Driving there was nice, though. Going to meet the person who is the most perfect for me, knowing she was there waiting, that was the best.

When I got there, the family went in, and Christine set Lala and I up on the outsides of the building, away from each other. Lala still hadn’t seen my dress. The music started (Iron and Wine, Such Great Heights). I could hear it, and I knew she could hear it, and I almost fell over. There were big muddy puddles, though, so I didn’t. The second song began, Vasen’s Bridalmarch, and I knew Lala was walking down toward Jodi. Then it was my turn. Hot DAMN, there were a lot of people there. All looking at me. And then my veil got caught on the way down, so I kinda got stuck for a minute, but I seriously almost didn’t remember it later. Then I was there, and Jodi was talking, and I was CRYING, something I totally swore to Lala that I knew I wouldn’t do. I was wrong.

It was the best. Lala looked like Johnny Cash. We got married. The kissing was the best part.

Then, then, then. There were a lot of people to hug and kiss. That’s pretty much what I did for the rest of the night. I didn’t eat, although nice people kept trying to make me. I had one piece of sushi, one chicken wing, part of a levant roll, the bite of wedding cake that Lala fed me, and two bites of Mom’s fruitcake that she made for the groom’s cake. I didn’t even really drink! –I had about six beers, and only about three sips of each before I’d put it down and hug someone else and lose it.

Aside: At the bank the day before, the gal at the counter said she’d had about 450 guests, and only liked ten or twenty of them. At our wedding, we had about 130 people, and we loved them all. That’s way better.

(Lala’s still asleep! I’m still typing! I’ll type till she wakes up….)

The band, The Shut-Ins, were the BIGGEST hit. People loved them. Even more importantly, WE loved them, and Lala and I danced. Before I met her, she didn’t dance. She told me once that she’d probably never dance with me, that she preferred to be IN the band, not in front of it. Welp, she dances with me whenever I ask now, and that night she even came to get me a couple of times. It’s just fun to dance with her. We just mess around and spin and laugh.

Man, how do you recap the best party ever? What else do I remember? The dads giving toasts. The moms, all sweet and beautiful and proud and happy. Lots of really, really attractive people. Forgetting to bring cash for the bartender friend and having to hit up my father-in-law for money (boy, was he sweet about that).

Lots of knitters, yay! Knitters from far away: JStrizzy from Maryland, Anne from Colorado, and Ryan and TMK from Seattle.

Yes, you read that right. Friends, we had The Mysterious K at our party. Dude. Now, THAT’S a party, that’s all I can say.

I danced with my godson while the Whoreshoes did a little do-wop with the band. Oh, and the coolest thing: Christy’s band, Deadpan Alley, comprised of herself on bass and friend Becky on guitar, did a song just for us, as a surprise. It was so frikken cool and unexpected and GREAT.

Wrapping up, because I should and this is long enough, and I have to track down some wifi to post it and I still have a lot of things to do today like getting married again, I’ll end with the end: The sisters got us a hotel room at the Phoenix in the City. Boy, are we glad they did. It meant we didn’t go home, where the temptation to check email and do the dishes would have been too great. The hotel was just right. Thanks, you two.

The next morning, yesterday: Lala was a bit hungover. That was rough on her, but I was pretty okay. We took a shuttle which KEPT STOPPING to pick people up, something we hadn’t budgeted for, timewise. Then we came within minutes of missing our plane, because of screw-ups that I kept making. First I got us to the wrong terminal, thinking we were on Air Canada and not United. That meant a fast walk for MILES. Then we waited at the outside check-in. Nope, can’t do that, since it’s international. Then inside, at the self-check. First, we got in the WRONG self-check, then by the time we got in the right one, and finally made it to the top of the queue, we were 43 minutes before the flight left, and check-in ends 45 minutes before, and they’re not kidding. Called on the phone, they said that we missed the flight and that we’d have to take the next night flight, ten hours later. That’s when I cried, but only for a minute.

Waited in yet another line to confirm our tickets for that night — at least we could check in or something and then go hang out in the City because I would have been SO disappointed to go home after all that. But I managed to talk the rudest airline clerk in the WORLD into helping me — she checked us in on the original flight and took our bags to the tune of specific and shocking abuse, which I cheerfully took. She was doing us a huge favor.

But now we’re here, at the Sylvia, on the beach, on the very top floor, in a corner room, so we literally lie in bed and look right out at English Bay all around us. And it’s perfect. Even the weather is nice, and I find it funny that we had to come to Vancouver to escape the rain.

Man, my wife’s still asleep! Heh. My wife. Hee hee. I love that.

So, anyway. With this exception,  I really won’t be online much again for two weeks. Please don’t mind, and if I should call you, I’m sorry if I don’t — my phone shows Roaming up here, and I’m not sure what that will mean to my cell phone bill. But I AM on honeymoon, and that means we’re supposed to just disappear and be together. So we will. Family, friends, thank you. We love you. Readers: Ditto.

(I only took pics late in the night, and there’s a lot of redeye, but here are a few…. I love Christine’s shot up top the best.)

The cutest moms ever.

More kissing! (I finally, finally remembered my shawl, at the end of the evening….)

Dad! We had a great, if fast, waltz.

La’s family (now mine!)

You can see a little of the dress….. I have so few pics, and none of myself full-length, sorry…..

Us on the plane. That’s the lipstick from the night before. Again MAC rules.