Category: good eats

Thoughts at less than a week to the "big day"

I promise to get back to regularly scheduled snarkery soon, but I just gotta get through this week.

We are down to less than a week until I get…(holy crap) married.

Here’s the thing, I feel pretty calm. It seems like everyone around me (mostly work folks) desperately want me to display full-blown anxiety. Like my freak out would somehow validate them?

Oh, I’m sure that this calm feeling won’t last through the weekend. We’re down to where the “small stuff” gets sweated. Where you find out if the people you paid a not-insubstantial amount of money will actually step up to the plate.

So far, I’ve managed not to be a bridezilla. Ok, to be fair, I was *prepared* to lose my shizz on Saturday for my latest dress fitting. The folks just don’t seem to be getting it. The seamstress had the audacity to tell me that the top wasn’t too large, I was just “not used to wearing a strapless dress”.

I informed her, in no uncertain terms, that I would NOT be spending my wedding day tugging at my dress. So they fixed it.

On this past Saturday, I was prepared to take the dress home, but for this weird pucker in the seam at my hips. I said “that needs to be fixed” and the lady helping me said “oh no, you just need to smooth it”. I said no, she said smooth. This went on for a while.

After a bit, the owner came over (she hadn’t been privy to the no/smooth conversation) and said “hey, it looks like this fits great…oh, except for THAT” and pointed RIGHT at the pucker-in-contention.

Then she ordered her minions to fix it.

Heh.

No need to bridezilla when the owner of the shop (who puts her name on my dress) can do my dirty work!

And that’s not the half of it…

Am I worried that the lackadaisical new owners of the reception location will not pull it off? Sure. But there is little I can do about it at this point. We have to, as The Good Man says, “play through”.

Will I feel the intensity of the event when, starting Friday, our nearest and dearest start arriving? Sure. Family always ups the ante.

But included in those nearest and dearest are my best friend and my two goddaughters. For how ever worried I could be, I can look into the faces of my two baby girls and smile. Because being with them is what matters. And having my best friend to hold my hand. Oh, and having her help me into my bustier and Spanx.

I already promised her I’d try not to be too sweaty. I’m a real good friend, huh?

I’m not going to jinx myself by saying “oh everything is perfect!!” It can’t be.

But The Good Man and me…we’ll just play through.

It’s the foundation of our relationship.

And at the end of the day, if I end up married to him, then the day was a rousing success. No matter what else happens.

Oh..and cake! That always helps…

Watery eyes, sweating and that "whooooo" sound in…

3….2…..1…..

“Adam Lagesse, 25, a produce manager for H.E.B., a supermarket chain out of Austin, Texas, bites into a green chile pod Wednesday as he and other Texas grocers toured a field in Salem, N.M., north of Hatch. They were learning how the green chile industry operates so they can better market the vegetable grown in New Mexico to their consumers.”

From the Las Cruces Sun News.

Strategy.

Yes, planning session. Must have.

Approach. Direction. Map out the route. Implement. Execute.

Yup. Vital.

Necessary.

What’s that? Work? No, no, I’m not talking about work.

Food. At the baseball game. Tonight. Yup. The Good Man and I are currently engaged in a lengthy instant message conversation planning this out.

What needs to be consumed. Where it’s located. How to obtain efficiently.

Nice.

BTW, I learned this blitz strategy from my Mom. Attending the NM State Fair.

“Ok, we start out in the Spanish Village for a burrito…then across the way to the Native American Village for fry bread and honey…Mom needs a corndog…Karen wants funnel cake…”

You know the drill.

Hey, I learned from the best.

Dreaming of a Cha-Cha bowl now (bless you Orlando Cepeda!)…

Photo source.

By contrast

Wednesday night, at Sears Fine Food, in the great city of San Francisco…

Over kick ass eats, starting with an avocado and crab salad, while discussing the day, life, so on, I say to my fiancée, “I think I’m a little bit in love with my new handbag.” I pick it up and show it to him.

He replies, “Yeah, you seem to be happy with it,” and turns back to the Giants baseball game playing over the bar.

Thursday afternoon, at Wahoo’s Fish Tacos, deep in the heart of Silicon Valley…

Over taquitos and spicy beans, I say to one of my closest girlfriends, “I think I’m a little bit in love with my new handbag.” I pick it up and show it to her.

She stretches out her arms and makes a “gimme gimme” gesture with her hands.

I hand it to her. “Kenneth Cole,” I say, “on *major* sale at Macy’s.”

She plunges her face into the supple leather and inhales deeply. “God, I love that smell,” she says.

And as she hands it back to me, she says, “THAT is a great bag.”

Moral of the story?

Know your audience.