It’s a Dance Off

It is easy to claim that Martin and I began our relationship on the dance floor.  Our first time hanging out in Zurich ended with a dance session at Nelson’s, the notorious dive bar with a dance floor in the back. And our first kiss was shared on the same dance floor just a few weeks later…And even more so, our relationship experienced its first bump in the road on a studio dance floor during tango lesions…I couldn’t “follow” and Martin couldn’t stop stepping on my feet.

So one might think that our first dance as husband and wife would be the least of our worries…and maybe technically it is, but just to be sure, we signed up for dance lessons.  One lesson to be exact, with fifteen other soon-to-be married couples, to teach man and wife how to be compatible while moving across a wooden floor without stepping on each other’s feet or yelling.  Or put otherwise, to learn how to duke it out on the dance floor while trying to act in love. 

Our class was on a Sunday morning and we eagerly arrived in the best of moods; it was sunny outside, we had an enjoyable walk to get coffee and we couldn’t have been more in love.  Joining us were the other happy couples who were just as excited and just as in love as we were.  As a side note: when you get engaged, you think that you and your fiancé are the perfect match, you are so in love and so happy that no one else could possibly be experiencing the same thing you are and therefore everyone else must be jealous of your relationship and such.  Or at least that is how it feels.  It took 15 couples sitting around  in a confined space, all on display knowing everyone else in the room was getting married to draw out the competitive nature in us all.  There were plenty of the chest puffing, feather ruffling and countless other animalistic displays occurring in the lounge, trying to prove how much each mate loved one another to make the wait uncomfortable and slightly awkward…such a social study.

The teacher, either unaware or used to the dynamics, was great.  In the course of 90 minutes, she taught us the basic steps to the fox trot and swing.  And while Martin and I laughed and muddled our way through the “slow, slow, quick quicks” and my in ability to “follow” (to be fair I was backed into a wall or two, thereby heightening my senses), we watched as other couples struggled, argued or laughed through their own issues.

Thankfully, unlike the tango lesions, we ended the class still laughing and still liking each other…We even practiced the steps in our kitchen later that night.  And while I would prefer to swing for our first dance and Martin’s heart is set on the fox trot, I am sure we will have a great time…And to guarantee it, we are signing up for another round of lessons before the big show.

All in the Details

With all of the main wedding items booked (e.g. venue, DJ, florist, photographer, etc) and the wedding invitations under way, I began focusing my attention on the details.  You know, those little things that make an event personal and extra special.  I was excited to plan out the seating chart, create a theme for the decorations, select a unique guest book that we would actually enjoy and look at in the future and most importantly (or at least what I have most recently been fixated on), the party favors.

I was looking for that perfect gift that would make our guests smile and think how unique/perfect/special/so “Lisa and Martin” to perfectly summarize and end the evening.  I worried and fretted over this minor detail for at least a month.  I spent hours on Pintrest and Google looking for ideas.  Should we do flavored salts, personalized dice, dominoes, coasters, vintage keys, a donation in our guests names or a simple thank you? 

Martin and I liked the idea of flavored salts, but if salt, what recipe?  How would we tell our guests what to use it on and in?  Would people be able to take it home if they were travelling abroad?  Would I be able to make enough?  Am I living up to my nickname of Frank Jr. by giving flavored salts…eerily close to a salt-lick? – As a side note, my father has a habit of eating salt straight out of the shaker at home and at restaurants particularly after we are seated and before we are served our meals (that and of course with tequila).  And it has been suggested that I am so much like my dad that the ideal present for me would be a salt lick.

With us leaning towards the salt idea, I spent additional hours researching looking for flavored salt recipes and I even spent a Saturday at home trying some out…I was obsessed. I was turning into the person my sister had predicted that I would become.  An overplanner, overstresser and overthinker.

In the end, I had a moment of clarity.  While lying in bed one night I thought back to all of the other favors I had received over the years, looking for additional guidance or ideas…And while I could name a few, on the whole, I had no idea what other brides and grooms had given out at their weddings… Seriously no clue!   And yet I was fretting over what I (meaning “we”) would do…what a waste of time and energy.  How had I been so caught up in just this one thing?  Is this what people mean by “bridezillas?”   I should be more focused on more important things like doing the laundry, going to work and making Martin happy…because isn’t that what matters in the end?

So in the end, I have taken the lazy (or shall I say non-commercial) way out.  With the okay from Martin (because he never really cared to begin with , this being an American only tradition), we have opted to forgo the chaos of crafting, baking, wrapping, labeling and shopping and not do favors at all.  My apologies in advance if you were hoping otherwise.    

My Matron of Honor

Almost five years ago, my sister got married and as her maid of honor, I had the privilege and duty of providing the MOH toast.  I took the job seriously, giving thought to my story and message, drafting up different ideas and constantly editing the speech.  In the end though, I let my emotion take over and I copped out.  My speech was short and sweet but lacked anything truly unique or special…It was the standard high-pitched “I love you so much and am so happy for you” speech that every bridesmaid gives before being overshadowed by the best man.

So with my thoughts again turned towards weddings, I thought it time to give my sister her moment in the sun.  Consider this my belated maid of honor speech Dana.

My sister and I weren’t always best friends, but like good wine and cheese, it took those years of implied imperfections to make something truly unique and special.  And the years leading up to our relationship now were full of so many memories I wouldn’t trade them for the world.

Dana was at times my partner in crime: making potions in the backyard and using mom’s homegrown herbs and spices to make it more authentic; telling scary stories to the younger neighbors about secretly being witches and eating kids; and ganging up on our brother, dressing him up in girls’ clothes and painting his fingernails (although to be fair the fingernails were at his request).

She was (and still is) one of my biggest competitors: always one-uping me in playing sports, in gaining attention from our parents, attracting the opposite sex and generally being a better person.   She was also at time my arch-nemesis, making my life miserable as only older sisters are able to do with such little effort…A mere comment could and would leave me either in tears or looking for a fight, swinging my arms in fury.  I specifically remember a vicious fight over a pair of borrowed white socks on your average Tuesday morning before school. 

By the time I hit high school, Dana was all of the above and more.  She was the focus of my envy.  While I walked the halls, uncomfortable in my own skin, with braces, hormone induced acne and a unibrow, Dana was the epitome of cool.  With her tom boy style, drum playing skills, and love of surfing and snowboarding, Dana was friends with everyone and dated the hottest guy in school…some things will never change as she managed to date and marry the coolest guy at the Lake.

And then we went to college and everything somehow changed.  Call it maturity, nature or just the fact that we didn’t have to live under the same roof, Dana became my friend and confidant above everything else. Granted there were still a few fights, especially when she first moved down to SLO and in with me and my friends…but to be fair I think that was more my residual fear of being in her shadow yet again.  By the time I graduated Cal Poly, Dana and I were once again living under the same roof and I was loving every minute of it.  We could spend the evening in our small converted garage of a home, making dinner, hanging out and acting like complete idiots…the kind of behavior no self respecting person would reveal to the world, but would to their family.

And still to this day, Dana is more than a sister, she is my best friend.  The one I can call to vent to and tell my ridiculous anxieties to, the one I can share my victories with, the one I call for motivation and the one I rely on for support above all else.  I am truly honored to be her sister and be able to share in her life.  I love you!