30 Days: Day One - Candy Countdown Calendar

Remember when I promised you a craft, and then in my next post, said I didn't have one?

Remember when I told you never to believe anything I say?

This is going to blow your mind... Today is day one of the thirty days to a Winter Wonderland.

I know, I know... I bet you thought I wouldn't do it, didn't you? Guess that will teach you to never underestimate the element of surprise! So then, without further delay, here is the first craft that I produced on my path to a Winter Wonderland.

There is a reason why the first project is a candy calendar. In fact, there are two: #1: Candy is cheap after Halloween  thus leaving a sizable amount of my budget in tact. #2: You are working hard on these crafts (you know, if you do them) so after every craft you complete, boom: candy reward. Feel free to hang this calendar in your craft space, so that no-one else knows you have candy available.

To begin, here are my materials... aside from the candy, I already had everything:

1. 12 Muslin Tea Bags - Mine came from the Atlantic Spice Co.
2. Spray Adhesive
3. Cardstock for use as stencils
4. Cardboard
5. Paint - I used wood paint, but Fabric Paint would also work well
6. Stamps, embellishments
7. Candy
8. Cricut to cut stencils (or you could free hand with a sharpie, or use an actual stencil)
9. Yarn or Jute to hang the finished product.
10. (optional) Goo Gone to clean the spray adhesive off your hands because you are a messy Marvin.

Steps:

1. I used the cricut to cut out stencils for me. I used a 2" scale and that worked perfectly. If you wanted, you could freehand the numbers with a sharpie, or paintbrush... my hand isn't steady enough for that, but if yours is, skip down to step 5.

2.After cutting the numbers, I used the spray adhesive to get them sticky (remember to do this on the WRONG side of the stencil). Once you affix the stencil to the bag, you should wait a minute or two, making sure it stuck in all the right places. Keep in mind that you must spray down the o's inside your 6, 8, 9, and 10's, or you will end up with a snowman for an 8.

3. After stuffing each bag with a piece of cardboard to keep the paint from seaping through, I dabbed on the paint, little by little with a sponge brush. For a more distressed look, you can use less paint to achieve a worn, antiqued feel. I let this dry overnight, so that the paint wouldn't seep out, but you could hurry the process along by using a hair dryer or something.

4. Remove the stencils carefully.

5. Voilà! You now have numbered bags!

6. Jazz up your bags with stamps, rhinestones, stickers, iron-on snowflakes, whatever you have that goes with your theme. I wanted mine to fit in with the whole winter wonderland thing, but you could just as easily make it Scandinavian, red and white, Whoville, Christmas Plaid, whatever you want. The point is: get creative and use things that you have on hand.

7. Fill! Use that candy I told you to buy on November 1st, and fill 'em up. As much as you want. Keep in mind, there are 30 days to a Winter Wonderland, so you'll want to pace yourself in order to maintain your candy stash (hide in a sneaky spot away from kids and dogs and husbands - try underneath a bag of frozen veggies in the freezer... you know that no-one is lifting those up!)

8. To hang your bags, use something strong: Jute, thick yarn, you get the idea. Keep in mind that the weight of the bags will make your "rope" slack, so when your first secure your rope, keep it taught. If you have a mantel, that's a great place! If the only open space happens to be a bookshelf in your craft room, that's fine too.

9. I spaced my bags 2-3 inches apart, but I'm nearly 100% certain it does not matter at all.

10. Stand back and marvel at the cuteness. Take a picture, post it online. Reward yourself, day one is done!

 

Total Cost: $3.75

Remaining Budget: $96.25

The Wedding: Part II - Replanning (Weds. - Fri.)

Wednesday was the day that my Mom and I had originally planned on going to Maine. But with her power still out (and with the chaos that created) she decided it would be best for her to stay at home one more day to really get everything at home taken care of, especially because they planned on staying in Maine for a week after the wedding. So then I was on my own. Dan had decided to keep the dogs with him since the UConn game was rescheduled from Thursday night to Saturday – the first plan was that I would take them because he would be at work all day and then at the game all night on Thursday. But after the National Guard got stationed in Rentschler field to requisition and then distribute supplies after Irene, the game needed to be changed. Yet one more example of Irene changing plans.

It’s not really my style to take all day to pack, get ready and then to not leave by a certain time, but I decided that it was better to take my time and make sure I didn’t forget anything. I had about a million things on at least ten different lists and it seemed like every item was paramount to the success of my wedding.

So while I was packing things in my car, the rental company was unpacking things at the fairgrounds. They thought the field was dry enough to set up the tent, but they knew that their truck would get stuck in the mud on the road. The man in charge thanked my grandfather for taking him down in the Jeep (not what I would have done) and couldn’t believe the damage… apparently Irene forgot to stop in Portland whilst on her hell-bent scheme to ruin everything in her path.

I missed the call from my Nana giving me the bad news, I was in the shower. I’m glad that I missed it, because I think it would have been a hard conversation for both of us to have. When I finally did get a hold of her, she was up at the fairgrounds in the Craft Center, directing the rental men. She wanted to know where I would like the dance floor. Too wrapped up in thinking about the fact that the wedding wouldn’t be in the field, I completely overlooked the fact that we no longer needed a dance floor… which was too bad, because I could have saved us $600.

Everything was getting moved in, and the situation was now out of my hands. I tried to picture the inside of the craft center in my head, but I had never seen it when it wasn’t loaded with vendors selling their crafts. Originally, when I booked the fairgrounds for Plan B, I had asked for the Natural Resource Center. In the summer of 2010, my Nana and I went inside and looked around and figured that the resource center was the best option, we never even bothered to look inside the craft center. However, a few months before the wedding when I called to confirm my $200 Plan B, Kathy said “you’ve got the craft center, that’s where we host events because it’s a good sized space that is close to the bathrooms.” Since I had always banked on a beautiful day, I never thought anything of that little switcheroo… until that Wednesday before the wedding.

I continued to pack my car and cross items off of my list. I had to make an unplanned trip back to Columbia to pick up the welcome bags, and the jeep was filling up quickly. I suppose it was around 3 or 4 by the time I finally left Manchester, but I was by myself with no space to stop for any more treasures, so I knew the trip would be a quick one.

Four hours later I was opening the door to the farmhouse feeling an absolute laundry list of emotions; scared that it would be over soon, hopeful that I could get back to my normal life, still disappointed and scorned about the storm and the venue change… you get the idea. Fortunately, Nana had beer on ice and a corkscrew ready. It was too late to go down to the river and scope the storm damage, and we didn’t go up to the fairgrounds either… we just sat sipping and stewing. I worried incessantly about the river and the fact that even though we had a dry spot for the wedding, we didn’t necessarily have a plan for Saturday. As of that night, Saco Bound still hadn’t opened up the river to canoes and I wasn’t sure whether or not we would be able to host the weenie roast. Things seemed pretty bleak and uncertain on Wednesday night. Thank God for the alcohol that relaxed me into a very short night’s sleep.

Thursday was a big day. My Mom, Dad, Uncle and brother were all coming up and I was finally going to scope out the situation at the River and up at the fairgrounds. I woke up at 7 and put on my “Maine Wedding attire” as Dan came to call it. It seems I had spent many working wedding weekends in Maine wearing the same pink sports bra, grey t-shirt and black Nike shorts. After a quick breakfast, we headed up to the fairgrounds for Tex’s daily walk, and to finally examine the new wedding venue.

When the doors opened and I walked in, my jaw must have dropped. It was a combination of the cement floor, tacky fluorescent lighting and swirl ceiling that got me at first. But in the long run, what really caused me to furrow my brow was the lattice paneling all over the walls. It was as if someone literally decided to vomit lattice everywhere, but not in a nice “covered with beautiful blooming roses” kind of way. My heart sunk immediately. I couldn’t tolerate it… it just reminded me too much of the Elks Club downstairs in Willimantic. I didn’t actually cry, but I was right on the brink. My mind was blank and I had no idea how I could make it pretty…

And then we went down to the River.

The water had all receded back to a fairly normal level and it looked decent down there. Granted, there were about ten million trees down and everything was covered in a layer of silt from where the river had risen up to, but I could still see the beauty. The weenie roast could still happen.

That was all about 30 seconds before my Grandfather tried to drive us up the very small hill into the main cookout area. The Jeep just kept slipping and tearing up the grass. He must have tried 4 times to get up this world’s smallest hill. All I could think was “WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! YOU’RE TEARING UP THE GRASS!” I’m not sure what came over him… usually he is a very careful man who thinks strategically about everything. Maybe he didn’t realize how bad the tracks would look; maybe he thought it was manly to be out spinnin’ tires and kickin’ up mud. Or maybe he felt so defeated by the storm and what it had done to his land, to his granddaughter’s wedding that he just needed a win over Mother Nature and her small hill.

I can’t even remember if we got up the hill or had to go around. From the moment the first splatter of mud got kicked up, I had to hide my head and try not to cry. Suddenly the potential beauty I saw was gone, and the sheer task of cutting up all of the trees that had fallen was an obstacle that could not be overcome. We got back to the farmhouse and I went into the old living room and cried… again. Things looked terrible… I didn’t want to be in the craft center, the camp site at the river looked like a natural disaster area and my imagination was crippled by the overwhelming odds stacked against me.

Luckily at that very point, my Mom showed up.

We rode down to the craft center where I declared how terrible it was, and that I wanted the Natural Resource Center instead. I think that my Mom inspired (or enabled) the determined person inside of me who was sure she could get what she wanted by asking the right way. So we marched up to the front office and asked. Kathy informed us that the entire staff was gone for the day to another fair, and that there was no way we could know before tomorrow. But we would have to find out about which bathrooms we could use, and where our caterer could do their clambake.  The man with those answers was across the street in the camping area.

It must have seemed odd to these three men (who were digging a hole to fix a water line) to see 2 cars with CT plates roll up. It was probably even stranger to them that 2 unusual women popped out with Nancy Sanborn (my Nana). I introduced myself and go right to the point, trying to be as charming as I could, without appearing like a bridezilla. Much to my delight, he said that the caterer could cook nearby and that the closest set of bathrooms was up and running. More importantly, he didn’t seem to care at all… as if he couldn’t figure out why I bothered to ask in the first place.

I wanted to get into the Natural Resource Center and start making plans, taking measurements and trying to figure out how to make the space work.

My Mom said, “Shouldn’t you wait until you get the confirmation that you can actually use it?”

My response to her was, “we WILL get it.”

Even though it had the same ugly floor, ceiling and lighting, I could see much more potential in the Resource Center. The walls were a warm pine and the American flag bunting (although not something I wanted to stay) matched the wedding colors. Ideas were flowing, and not just about the reception. If it was a nice day, we decided that we could have the ceremony outside underneath a big tree on the opposite side of the building.

A note about the tree… From the moment I decided that we could get married underneath its oversized branches, I was hit with a wave of déjà vu. I could have sworn that back at the Fryeburg Fair in 2010 Dan and I were talking about the wedding and I pointed to the Natural Resource Center and said, “There is our Plan B.” He wanted to know why it wasn’t our Plan A, citing the difference in cost and effort. So I said, “the field is beautiful, there are mountains everywhere and trees, it’s much prettier down there…” to which he replied, “There are mountains right there” and pointed towards the mountains standing behind the big tree. 

Back in real time, we had returned to the farmhouse to finish up more projects. My Mom and Nana tied ribbons and tags to mason jars while I finished the ceremony programs and the scrapbooks that would be at each table. Good news poured in as we heard that Saco Bound would finally be allowing their canoes down the river again, so it seemed the weenie roast was on. Out on the porch before dinner, someone pointed out a bus driving by headed up to the fairgrounds…

“That must be them, back from the other fair” someone said, “let’s see if we can catch them!” So in witch-hunt style, my Mom piled back into the Jeep and chased down the bus to meet the decision makers up at the Fairgrounds.

Again, I tried to be charming and to-the-point (a difficult combination for me to accomplish). I asked nicely and sure enough, our lucky streak continued.

“You’re too damn young to be married” the man added after he said agreed to the switch. Not sure it was a compliment, but that’s how I was going to take it.

After dinner we went out to North Conway to see what we could buy to brighten up the new venue. We stopped at Lowes and Walmart and the Christmas Tree Shoppe frantically searching for anything that would inspire me to have more ideas. Our plan was to spend a small fortune on plants to soften the space. With the extra money we now had from cancelling the tent, and the portable restrooms, there really was no reason to hold back. But it was September in Maine and the plants weren’t plentiful. Walmart had mums but they wouldn’t bloom by Sunday, and Lowes only had yellow, we wanted white. 

Our trip was more for planning an attack shopping list on Friday than for actually shopping, so we returned to the house rather empty handed. There were still people who needed to know about the change, I wrote the following e-mail to send to our guests:

“So in case you've been living under a rock the past week, you may have heard that there was a hurricane in New England. The hurricane, along with knocking out power- caused some minor flooding... well let's be serious, it's MAJOR flooding. As of Monday, the field we were going to get married in was underwater. So when the tyrannical rental company refused to wait to deliver our tent until the road dried out, we got the terrible news that they would not set up the tent or the chairs, or any of the other things we needed. So if you ever need party rentals in Maine, I would not recommend One Stop Party Shoppe. Yes, they really spell it that way!

Anyway, long story longer, we are now moving the wedding to the Fryeburg Fairgrounds in the Natural Resource Center. Everything will still take place at the same time, just in a different space. Another difference is that there will be parking available at the Fairgrounds, so you can drive your car to the wedding if you don't want to take the shuttle. All of the shuttles will still leave from the hotels at the same time - and there is a note to remind you of that time in each of the hotels. We still hope to host the weenie roast on Saturday, but if you are not coming by canoe, you will want to drive to the farmhouse (818 Main St in Fryeburg) to get escorted down. Hint: your fuel-friendly four-wheel-drive-less vehicle will not make it!

Also, just so you are aware, the beautiful mountains and rivers I had promised all along will not be visible from inside the natural resource center... I'm doing my best to "beautify" but I guess when you get stuck going with Plan B, beauty tends to take a backseat to practicality. On that note though, feel free to wear your stilettos since sinking into the ground won’t be a concern any longer.

Looking forward to seeing you all soon... and if you find that I am intoxicated when you arrive, you can blame Irene... that nasty bitch.”

My Dad and brother had arrived and were working on a plan of their own to clean up the campsite area in time for the weenie roast. After a round of drinks – or two – we all hit the hay late Thursday night knowing that Friday would be the busiest day thus far in the scheme of wedding planning.

It seemed almost laughable that 2 days before my wedding I was sleeping in the same room as my parents and my brother. We hadn’t done that (even in Maine) for years… maybe 8! Needless to say, it’s not that great to share a room when your parents wake up at the crack of dawn and start yapping to each other. So then, I was awake too, and figured I had better get going. I suited up in my Maine Wedding Attire and had breakfast with the rest of the early risers (something is wrong with my family). At the table, Mom and I finalized our shopping lists then threw on sweatshirts before walking out in the cold (45ᵒF) morning air.

My Mom and I took off to North Conway in a mad quest to find everything we needed, and some stuff we didn’t even know we would need. My Nana was stationed at the farmhouse to make sure the men got to work down at the weenie roast site. They had been given an order by Bridezilla; to cut down some birch trees that I could tie up to the posts in the Resource Center, giving it an outdoors feel.

Over in North Conway, we stormed through Christmas Tree Shop, picking up lanterns and wreaths and tin buckets. From there we hit Walmart and bought fabric, plants and a whole mess of other things that we thought might work. But we really hit the jackpot at Home Depot! They had already marked down all of their summer plants, and we took advantage big time scooping up $5 mandevilla plants, impatients, mums, Montauk daisies, you name it. The only problem with our cache was that it filled the jeep to the max, so we couldn’t fit anything else! Our grocery shopping for the weenie roast and the mixers for the wedding would have to wait.

Lucky for me, my most helpful guests began arriving right as I got to the fairgrounds to unload my booty of plants and lanterns. We swung the doors wide open to the resource center and I started giving orders.

About 2 minutes after they had arrived, our friends Jon and Eric teamed up to break one of the lights in the resource center by throwing a football into it. I ordered them to clean it up, and to be thorough, knowing that women might be walking around in bare feet at the wedding. I guess I didn’t know that thorough for them meant a solid hour and a half sweeping and mopping. Good God!

While the boys cleaned, Amy, Amanda and I got to work moving all of the tables and chairs from the craft center over to the Natural Resource Center. This was without a doubt the hardest work I had done for the wedding, and I was sweating all over the Maine Wedding Attire. In hindsight, I should have ordered the boys to do the moving, while the girls and I could have swept and mopped and had time to do about 10 other things.

Meanwhile, our birch trees still hadn’t arrived, so my Mom went down to the weenie roast site to supervise and make sure it got done. Not long after she left, my old Jeep rolled in, with what looked like a small forest tied to the roof racks.

Soon, more people began to arrive and offer their help; it was chaos! There were almost too many people and not enough tasks. Joey, Dan, Brian, Brendan, Eric and Jon were setting up tables while the girls helped me tie the trees to the posts. Then there were even more helpers! Dad and Mike and the North Windham Sanborns, Tom and Laura and Andy, My Aunt Judy... I mean literally ½ of my family and ½ of Dan’s family just showed up, ready to take orders.

The problem was I wasn’t ready to give them! For nearly two years I had been so focused on the details that I couldn’t step back and delegate to my army of helpers. Luckily, many of them had ideas of their own, and so benches got moved to our new ceremony site, the wedding paraphernalia got set up. My genius idea to add globe lights (last minute purchases that I had Brian make at Target in CT, before they left for Maine) came to fruition when we very carefully hung them up.

To say it was a remarkable amount of help and work would be an understatement. But the sun only stays in the sky for so long, so at 5:00, we closed up the building and gave orders for everyone to meet us at the base of Jockey Cap as we kicked off the festivities by taking a sunset hike.

There wasn’t much time for me to shower or get pretty (like I wanted to) so I had to use my 10 minutes wisely… I showered like a man woman and then headed to the Saco River Motor Lodge (friend headquarters for the weekend) without having plucked my eyebrows, or dried my hair or properly applied makeup, and picked up a big group to bring to Jockey Cap.

The sun was already sinking when we arrived, so instead of waiting, we just began our hike to the top. Most of the climb, we all caught up with each other as I finally had time to enjoy being with my friends. At the top we met up with some of my family, and a few other friends. The sky was clear and the sun was sinking slowly over the mountains, offering a great view and tremendous photo opportunities.

I took a deep breath (as I would many times over the course of the weekend) and tried to soak it all in: the wedding was upon us, my guests had arrived and it was finally time to enjoy it. But as all good things, the moment couldn’t last. It was getting dark and if we didn’t head down, we would be stuck in the woods, unable to see. On the way down I was so glad to hear a few people say what a good view it was, and that it was worth the hike to the top. My Brother held my 80 year old Aunt’s arm and helped guide her when it got really dark. What seemed like another rushed experience to me was hopefully a great way to see Fryeburg for the newbies.

Route 302 Tavern and Smokehouse is the only bar in Fryeburg. Literally. So I planned on having all the guests meet up there after the hike to share beers and appetizers and get in the mood to party. At first glance: they couldn’t handle us – there were simply too many people. But in the go-with-the-flow Maine spirit, the owner decided he could fit us out on the back deck, and suddenly we had our own private outdoor party. It was really quite perfect: we had the starry night sky, plenty of beer and appetizers to feed us all, and to top it all off, the live music being played inside the bar was the perfect volume to hear and sing along, but not so loud as to shut down conversation.

Some of my family still refers to that night at 302 as “Beerfest”. It was great, even if I did go scrambling from table to table trying to say hello to everyone. The best part of the night for my friends was when the bill came. The never-ending pitchers and constant trays of apps for 30 people had come to grand total of $350. My city-dwelling friends couldn’t get over it and made declarations that they would be coming to Maine all the time. The bill got split between 4 generous friends and really made the night feel a little more special to me; because they had acted as hosts – letting Dan and I soak up the good times without adding it to our wedding expense list.

Around midnight we all packed in to a few cars and headed back to our lodging. I had to go to the farmhouse with Dan to pick up the cages and my luggage, and then I dropped Dan off at Friend HQ and finally checked in to my room at the Oxford House.

After a long day rife with activity and alcohol, I thought for sure I would get to sleep in no time. But the bed I had was just too stiff, and it was just too quiet without Dan and the dogs. I finally fell asleep at 2, and woke up every half hour until 6:00 a.m. on Saturday morning.

The Day You've All Been Waiting For!

Today is a day that I have been looking for to for quite a while. It is the day that I finally present to you my new kitchen table and chairs! But first, the back story.

When the Mr. bought this house back in 2008, we moved in with 2 friends and had almost nothing of our own. Both of our friends/new roommates had lived in an apartment before and so we were counting on them to bring many things; a table and chairs being a part of that.

But you see, boys don't always have a very defined sense of style... most of them just don't care. So our friends (both male) brought a sweet glass "table" from the 80's. It was pretty rickety and dangerous to have around (not to mention, downright UGLY) so I declared that we needed better options. Enter the old Butcher Block style table with Caldor chairs. Mr.'s parents had saved it from waaay back when they got their first place. So I brought them into our kitchen thinking that I would reupholster the chairs to give them a look that was a little more 21st century and a little less Shaggy Lion's Mane. But luckily, I was saved from even having to do that much work! The very day that we brought in the table, someone down the street was moving across the country and abandoning half of their stuff. My first Manchester Street Treasures. Erv (a roomie) got a desk and dresser, I got a bookshelf and 6 sturdy oak chairs.

TahDah! We had a much more suitable kitchen thanks to the old "trash is treasure" theory. Below, our friend Katie models the table as we hosted a Chinese New Year feast. Notice that it doesn't do much for the kitchen.

someone needs curtains and a new floor!

So then as you can see, there was a table and chairs, but it didn't do too much to wow anyone. But as long as our roommates were there, I didn't feel compelled to really do much decorating. After they left last year, I went crazy painting rooms and fixing old things, but I had mostly left the kitchen alone.... Until I met this second generation freebie. My Aunt (who is also awesome at finding and saving Street Treasures) found this pedestal table at her local dump. It had a crack in the base, but otherwise it was pretty solid. She took it home and used it for a while before deciding it wasn't quite her style, so she gave it to my Mom to use in her dining room. It wasn't long after that I declared I would take it home and love it properly.

The table was actually in great shape (aside from the crack and some small surface scratches on the top) I just wanted to darken the stain and then paint the sides and the base white. So I went right to it, and spent forever sanding the top so that my new stain would be uniform.

So the table was finished... that was last May. In the meantime I had purchased some chairs but was never motivated to take care of them. So then I got real busy with the wedding, got married went on a month-long honeymoon, etc. Finally in October, my Mom sent me a craigslist posting of a set of 6 cained back chairs. I wanted them instantly. Apparently, she has sent me the posting wondering if SHE should buy them. Anyway, I gave her my old chairs, bought the cained backs and was excited to get them pretty.

Yah, they were scary looking! But now....

With the new floor, window "treatments", the rug and the exceptionally cute table and chairs... doesn't this kitchen look great? Yes, I think so too.

The Wedding: Part I - Preparations (Fri. - Tues.)

The story of this wedding really begins about 9 days before the wedding itself. It was Friday, and my Mom and I had just arrived in Maine for the weekend to finish up as many last minute projects as we could. My Dad and Uncle were coming later that night and planned on taking care of maintenance at the wedding site and the weenie roast area. We continued to do as many things as we could to get ready for the big weekend that we had spent forever planning for. A lot of that was checking in with the companies that would be providing the most essential wedding items: the booze. In the grocery store we bought local beers to have in a cute red bucket I had bought on the way up at Wal-Mart. As we were strolling through the alcohol aisles, I got a call from the rental company about our delivery. We had requested Thursday, but instead they were going to come on Wednesday. I OK’ed the change (even though I would not be there to supervise) and decided that Nana could definitely handle it herself. Earlier was better, because it would give us more time to set up.

We had been hearing about an impending Hurricane for a while, but I wrote it off. Hurricanes are always blown out of proportion in the Northeast, and then they die out by the time they make it up here. In fact, the Labor Day weekend of 2010 there was going to be a big hurricane in Maine. It ended up raining lightly overnight. Needless to say, I was not worried and I couldn’t understand why everyone else was getting so bent out of shape about it. But as we watched the news on Friday night and Saturday morning, it appeared that Irene was as bad as the meteorologists claimed. And contrary to normal weather patterns, she was actually gaining strength. There was a family down the street hosting a tented wedding, and I felt bad for them. I thought to myself, “Thank God my wedding isn’t today!” who knew that might have been better?

So the flatlander contingent decided it was best to head home on Saturday night and avoid the worst of the storm that was predicted to strike CT around noon on Sunday. We were only 20 minutes outside of Fryeburg when it started to rain, but we made it home without issue. I picked up Dan from his Bachelor party weekend and headed home with my dogs. It was midnight, a week before my wedding, and all was well.

Enter Irene.

When we woke on Sunday morning, our power had already been out for a few hours. It was raining really hard and the wind was forcing itself through the trees. I admit that I was actually a bit scared. They said the worst of the storm would hit around noon, but it was only 8 and it looked bad outside. We have city water, so we weren’t too worried about the outage. Dan and I both took hot showers that morning and since it had been unseasonably cool that weekend, we weren’t concerned about not having AC either.

What I did worry about was getting all the rest of my to-do list done without power. Because of the storm it was pretty dark in the house, and obviously without power I couldn’t sew anything. So I did my best and started working on the jewelry I intended to give to the bridesmaids, and to my cousins who would be my ceremony musicians. The storm howled on outside, but by 4:00 p.m. it was over. We went to bed that night without power. About 800,000 other CT residents were in the same predicament.

Monday morning I learned that my office was without power, so I was happy to have an extra day off to get things done. I drove to my Moms in Columbia, where being out of power is a much bigger ordeal (no water!) and we went over the remaining items on my list. Her sister in Willimantic had power, so we could do some sewing there. Mom also planned on bringing laundry there so I gladly handed over a bunch of to-do’s that required power. I had arranged to meet my friend Amy at the lake and get some sun for a few hours before I had to go to Guilford and pick up my dress.  I still am not sure how Amy was able to make it to CT from Atlanta on the previous Friday night. Diana’s sister Debbie had her flight from AZ canceled on Saturday morning, and was unable to get another flight out until Wednesday night!

So I was sitting out under the sun when I received the call that I didn’t take seriously enough at the time. It was my Mom, she had just gotten off the phone with my Nana who reported that the river had risen to just below the hill in the back of the barn, so my wedding site was surely under at least a foot of water.

Repeat: wedding site under a foot of water.

And to make matters worse, our delivery day of Wednesday now seemed uncomfortably early. My Mom said she had been in touch with the rental company and that they didn’t seem very willing to give us more time to allow the field to dry up. I don’t know why, but I didn’t panic. Maybe I figured the water would recede in time… or maybe, I was so scared and clueless that I couldn’t panic. Yah, I’d say it was the latter. Nevertheless, I remained calm and reported to Dan (via text) and to Amy what had happened because of the hurricane. I was too scared of the anticipated reaction to tell Diana, so I remained calm and sat in the sun pondering my options. There wasn’t a ton of time for pondering because I still needed to be in Guilford by 5 to pick up my dress – the shop would only be open for an hour or two because they didn’t have power either.

I borrowed the Jeep from Dan’s parents and made my way southwest. I called my Nana who seemed fairly calm about the whole rising river thing. That reassured me quite a bit… she said that her and Papa would try and drive down there either that night or tomorrow morning to see just how bad of shape everything was in. She said the water had receded so I took a deep sigh of relief. “It will all be fine” I kept telling myself. The forecast was hot and sunny and I assumed the field would dry out. I also assumed that the rental company would give us a break and reschedule the delivery. I never met a situation that couldn’t be somehow renegotiated and rearranged if you just asked nicely.

With the dress in the back of the Jeep, I drove back to Columbia to drop it with my parents. On Monday night, we went to bed without power once again.

Much to my dismay, my office had power on Tuesday, so I reported for duty. Obviously not a whole lot of work got done. I was on the phone with my Mom, and then the rental company. I was in complete shock when the rental company just outright refused to change the delivery date. I begged and pleaded. I asked if we could contact other renters and switch delivery times with them. But the answer was always no. They were completely unwilling to budge.

So I went in my car and cried. For a long time.

Then I called my Nana and begged for some good news. She said that the road wasn’t in great shape, but the field seemed dry and maybe, just maybe they could set up the tent on Wednesday morning. So I clung to that hope and went back to work.

Apparently at some point, the rental company called my Grandfather and asked him if he thought the road was passable. The rental company then told my Mom and I that Papa said it would be ok.  This gave me great hope because I know my Grandfather well, and he is not the type to give you any glimmer of hope if it isn’t 100% true. So I went on with the day thinking that things might work out.

I planned my speech. It was going to start with me holding up Betsy’s black ribbon that she had given me at my shower. Attached to it was a note that said “hope that the things that go wrong on your day are as insignificant as the things that went wrong for me.” The roll of ribbon was supposed to be wrapped around one of the layers of her cake, but the baker had forgotten to do it. So I would hold up the ribbon, relate that story and then launch into all the things that had gone wrong; from Diana’s myeloma diagnosis to the hotel disasters, rehearsal dinner issues, Hurricane Irene and all of the other little things in between that seemed like a never-ending headache to me. Then, after listing all of those things (which I did write down so I wouldn’t forget) I would smile and say something about how it ended up being a beautiful day (which in my head, I never doubted) and how it made me realize that the important thing was that everyone was able to come, and that no matter what went wrong, Dan stood by me and said, “you worry too much about these little things.” And that when my facebook status said, “you can’t always get what you want” Dan had written, “if you try sometimes you just might find you get what you need… and that’s me.” Right there for everyone in the world with internet access to see.

Surely, everyone would applaud that speech… it was a good one.

But later on that night, back in the real world, we were still wrestling with what to do about the rental company. Apparently, they lied about what my Papa said. Apparently, the truth was that he said he would drive them down Wednesday morning in the Jeep and that they could evaluate whether or not they wanted to drive down with the tents and the rest of the stuff. I wanted to let them drive down and get stuck… so as to teach them a lesson about listening to their customers. But that’s not really the grown-up thing to do, I guess.

My Nana was in a panic and calling my Mother and me, back and forth trying to figure out what to do if they couldn’t get down there. Should they drop everything at the farm and we could bring it down later? Should he take the tent down with the guys in the pickup and try to set it up? Could we still cancel the tent? Could I rent a tent from another company that would come and deliver on Saturday? We just kept going around and around with different plans and ideas about how to make this all work.

All I could do was think about all of the people who had worked so hard to make it nice down at my Grandparent’s. All of the sweat that went into getting that field ready, the farmer who agreed to plant rye instead of corn that year. The road. I felt like that strong commitment from everyone around me was tying my hands. How could we not have it in the field after all of that? And so then I would cry again, every time I thought about it.

The one bright spot on the day was that we finally got power back around 3:00 p.m. So when I got home from work I looked online at the weather. It called for rain on Sunday.

At that point, I made the executive decision to have either everything or nothing. “If they can get down there, set up down there… if not, bring everything to the Fairgrounds and we will run with Plan B” I told my Nana. It felt good to make the decision and stop the merry-go-round in my head. But I knew the odds were still were stacked against me. We had the AC on as I climbed into bed on Tuesday night, but I’d be a liar if I told you that I got any sleep.

Honeymoon Days 17 - 19

Day 17

Dan left the hotel bright and early to get to Westinghouse while I took my time heading into Paris. Our hotel had a little breakfast bar, but not with anything that seemed worth eating in my opinion. It was about a mile walk for me to get to the train station, but it wasn’t too hot at the point in the day so the walk seemed nice.

From the station in Orsay to Notre Dame was a 25 minute ride. I wasn’t able to get a seat, but from all of our experiences on trains at this point in the trip, I knew to stand close to the doors where I would at least get a breeze every now and then. Once I got off the train and stood on the street in front of the world’s most famous Cathedral, I was instantly brought back to our 2009 trip and suddenly very sad that Dan wasn’t with me. Yes, we were cranky at this point in the trip and yes; he eats pizza constantly, but at least he would have laughed when I made fun of French people.

After taking a few minutes to talk to a tourist wrangler at an information booth, I bought a ticket to board one of those hop on, hop off tour buses where I plugged my headphones in and listened to the same 10 songs play intermittently with facts about stops we were making or sites we were passing. The tour cost 30 euros, and I think that it was kind of a waste. I would recommend it to people who are traveling alone and don’t like to walk or take local transportation. The facts were very sparse and weren’t anything that I didn’t already know. I did get to see many parts of the city that I hadn’t seen before, but overall it was not a good value.

The most interesting stop I made on the tour bus was in the Sex district… yes, the sex district. I decided to call it that because every other building is a cabaret or strip club. The other half of the buildings are sex toy shops. One was even called the “sexodrome”. I am sorry to report to you that I did not go in any – being American apparently makes you a bit prude, somewhat puritan and awfully embarrassed when confronted with a shop full of pornography. At least that was how I felt when Dan and I walked into “The Love Shop” in Barcelona – also a porn store. But anyway, just up the hill a few blocks was the Sacre Coeur, which seemed ironic to me; a church overlooking the Montmartre porn district, but I guess that’s how they do things in France.

The Sacre Coeur is 404 steps from the street – I know this because I counted. It was hard to count because every 30 steps or so, some beggar or knock-off purse salesman or bracelet maker or girl with a clipboard (I still don’t know who these people are, but they always run from the police so I assume it’s not good) would be grabbing my arm. I mean literally grabbing my arm! I didn’t tell Dan this because I was afraid that he would say I couldn’t go out by myself the next day. Anyway, I got to the top and the church was very nice – but you couldn’t take pictures. Go Figure. The real reason why tourists climb the 404 steps is to see the views of the city, which were fantastic.

Back down at street level, I wandered through the garment district where I was thrilled to find all kinds of fabric and buttons and trims. They also did not want you taking pictures in their stores. Luckily after the letdown of not being able to shoot photos anywhere, I found the cheap shoe area and bought another pair. They are exceptionally cute and a size too small, but I couldn’t help myself.

After walking into many shoe shops only to learn that they didn’t have anything cute in a size 40, I decided to give up and go back to the hotel. The train back was a much longer and hotter ride, but I had managed to grab a seat this time around and amused myself by looking at the pictures from Maine that were on my small digital camera.

Dan finally waltzed in at around 7 and told me to hurry up and get ready so we could go out to dinner with his co-workers. We met up with them at their hotel and had a few drinks before heading out to a quaint little French restaurant. It was in this place that we had our most tasty and expensive meal of our entire honeymoon, so thanks Westinghouse for paying for that one. Though I must admit what a trying and nerve wracking experience this was for me – I really hate to look like I don’t know what I am doing, especially in front of French people. But I didn’t know what I was doing since the menu was in French, and the waiter was speaking in French to the other French people. So then, I didn’t realize that we had to order courses, and that a bottle of wine was already purchased for the entire table. Also – it’s worth noting that I am a very picky eater, and some of the options were really out of my comfort zone. When I picked the goat cheese, chorizo and arugula starter, I was very nervous about how it might taste. Luckily, it was excellent and so was my entrée and dessert.

After our delicious dinner, we headed back to the hotel and packed up all of our stuff. Dan was taking the rental car to work and would meet me in Paris at the airport hotel we had booked for the last night of our trip.

Day 18

Dan insisted that we leave the window open on night 17, and so we both woke up fairly early due to the noise of the birds and excess sunlight. We packed up the car with our luggage and I decided to travel light – just my little bitty purse and tiny digital camera. Dan had everything else, including my phone so that he could guide himself back into Pairs at the end of the day.

We ate breakfast in our hotel that morning, which was not that good, but I was glad we did when our bill showed that they charged us for it both days whether we ate it or not. Dan dropped me at the train station and then headed to Westinghouse. It was about 8 a.m. I’d say, and I couldn’t help but wonder if this is what our life would be like if we lived in France.

In Paris outside Notre Dame I realized that I had left all of my maps in my big purse in the car, and so I waited for the tourist booth that I had visited the day before to open. At 9 they were closed. At 9:30 they were still closed. When 10 a.m. rolled around and they hadn’t opened yet, I decided to just get walking to the Louvre and see if maybe they had a tourist booth that would be open at 10 am on a Friday morning.

They didn’t… so I kept walking.

I’d say it was about 11 a.m. when I stumbled into a shop called “Bathroom Graffiti” that had an American flag in the window with a bust of President Obama. I laughed out loud to myself about that one – Obama as bathroom graffiti. Anyway the shop was pretty cool and had some unique items. One of which was a coffee table sized ping pong game.

“This is perfect!” I thought to myself, and so I purchased Joey his very belated Birthday present. What I did not consider however, was how much of a pain in the ass it would be to lug that around with me all day. But I also still thought that if I walked to the Hotel des Invalides, I would find an info booth that would provide me with a map so that I could find a street market to buy some wines and cheeses to bring home.

But the Hotel des Invalids did not have an info booth. Also, it wasn’t anywhere near where I thought it was, so I had done some excess walking to find it. On the way, I found a wine shop where the merchant spoke English, so I bought a bottle of a local red and added it to the extra weight I was trekking all over Paris. When I finally arrived at the Hotel des Invalides, I was starving so I ventured into the little cafeteria and got “toast”. Don’t be fooled, this was not anything like toast. In fact, it was a mushroom, ham and cheese sandwich that was engulfed by another piece of cheese that had melted onto everything. Then it was baked and somehow in the process, became exceedingly soggy. Don’t give me a soggy sandwich and call it “toast”. That’s just not right. I ate the corners (which were a little bit crispy) and couldn’t stomach the rest. What an excellent waste of 10 euros? And, not like I have to say this (because at this point, you should already know) but the water I got to drink was terrible and not cold.

By 1:00, I still had no map and no way of finding the street market. So I decided that there would definitely be an info booth at the Eiffel Tower, right?

Wrong.

Now it was 2:30 and I was really sick of walking. Supposedly in Paris, a metro stop is never more than 500 meters away. I must have been walking a path that was exactly 500 meters away from every damn metro stop in Paris because the harder I looked; the more impossible it was to spot any kind of public transportation. During this search I was able to find a cheese shop however, so I went in and asked for anything that could be left out of the fridge for more than 24 hours. I was a bit disappointed that I wasn’t buying it outside at a “market” but that’s when I walked out of the shop and turned the corner to find the Rue Cler – the Street Market I had been looking for all damn day!

So I didn’t get my cheese or wine outside, but I did buy some baguettes and sit down to revel in the scene. That is what I think of when I think of Paris, the stalls of flowers and breads and fruits and wine, not the Eiffel Tower. It was 3:15 when I headed toward the metro (amazing how when you find the one thing you have been looking for all day, the other important things are right there). I had to buy a series of tickets to get to the airport and I’m fairly certain I was overcharged, but I didn’t care: I could finally stop walking, and I wanted to spend all of my euros anyway.

Following a series of metro and train rides, I arrived at the hotel anxious to get into our room and wash my feet, then prop them up and watch TV until Dan arrived - it was right around 4:30 and I had walked all over Paris in zigzags. Go ahead and look at a map of Paris and search for those landmarks I mentioned, they are nowhere near each other! But guess what… they wouldn’t let me check into “Mr. Sadlon’s room” even though I had specifically heard him say, “my wife will be check in before me, is that all right?”

So it was 4:30, and I had no phone, no computer - and the hotel’s computer was on a “pay per minute” basis - and no way to get into our room. At the Hotel bar, sodas and water and beer were all the same price. What would you buy?

When Dan arrived at 7:45, I was pretty happy to see him. I was also starving and sick of carrying around all of the stuff that I bought. After they let him into our room, we decided to return the rental car quickly and then come back to the hotel and have dinner. Obviously, since we were in France, there was nothing “quick” about it. Once we found out how to get to the rental return area, I waited for a solid 20 minutes for them to process the paperwork. Then we had to take the airport train back to our hotel – sounds way more simple than it actually was. Again, you have to remember that everything is in French so you can’t just read a sign and know what is going on. Then, to make things interesting, this atrociously smelly man kept asking Dan how to get to the train, and he kinda followed us onto an elevator, then onto the crowded train. It’s France though so keep in mind there is no air conditioning to keep the stanky air away from my nostrils. It wasn’t the worst train ride of the trip, but it was absolutely the least sanitary.

Once we were back at the hotel, we shared a club sandwich and some fries and finally were able to get into bed. It was 12:00.

Day 19

I don’t think that words were able to express my excitement when we woke up at 7:00 a.m. (1:00 a.m. EST) on Day 19 – we were finally going home! Note to self: 10 days is the longest trip you should ever take.

So then we boarded the train to the airport and started what seemed like a never-ending day of standing in line. It started at baggage claim as we waited for a solid 10 minutes to drop our bags… and then we got some real interesting news: Our journey home was broken up into 3 legs: France to Dublin, Dublin to Chicago and Chicago to “Hartford”. The first 2 legs were with Aer Lingus, the last leg with United. Since those are separate airlines, Aer Lingus kept informing us that our journey ended in Chicago. You can probably imagine that this was not comforting news… so we pulled up the info on my phone to prove that we indeed were going to Connecticut. Aer Lingus (France) didn’t really care, they said to bring it up with the Irish when we got to Dublin.

We went through customs as we left France, and then went through the world’s most ridiculous security – they examined all of my camera gear for a solid 15 minutes. I’m not kidding, they made me take each and every piece out of the bag and explain what it was. Imagine you’re a French security guard at the airport and you start slowly examining an American’s camera gear. She pulls out a polarized filter and then says, “It’s a polarized filter.” Your English isn’t that great, and even if it was, do you know what a polarized filter is? So why bother asking? Anyway we sit at the gate and keep our eyes peeled because the airline changes our gate 3 separate times without making an announcement. Then, at 10:30 we flew to Dublin, Ireland.

Down in Dublin we went through security to get from one part of the airport to another. Then we tried talking to the official Aer Lingus folks – they also said there was no way for our bags to get from Chicago to Connecticut because as far as they could tell, our final destination was Chitown. So Dan and I had to strategize: once we landed in the states we would need to go down to baggage claim, grab all of the bags and then get through customs, go back in to the airport and check the bags (this time we assumed, having to pay for them) go through security, get to the gate for our United flight and check in… all within the course of 1 hour and 50 minutes. It seemed we were screwed. Dan thought that if worse came to worse, he would stay with the bags (thus surely missing our flight home) and have his work pay for another ticket, while I ran to catch the flight.

But we were still in Dublin, so we had to get through another security check, and then go to pre-customs. It’s a new thing apparently, where you go through American customs before you touch American soil. Makes sense if you ask me. At least this way if you end up being unable to enter for whatever reason, you don’t have to endure a 9 hour flight there and a 9 hour flight back.

Speaking of 9 hour flights, ours was not terrible. We had the OnDemand screens in each of our seats, so Dan and I were able to each watch 3.5 movies… separately. The very unfortunate thing was that the couple in front of us had 2 small children who cried hysterically (not sobs, more like screams) for about 80% of the flight. Ask Dan, I am not exaggerating. We can go back and forth on how annoying this was, and how those parents should have drugged their children (hello friendly little pink pill) but the point is: the parents did nothing to stop the crying… they didn’t walk the kids around, they didn’t force feed them, they just didn’t give a shit that their kids were ruining this exceptionally long flight. If we didn’t have the headphones and movies, I may have gotten irate and been rude and caused a scene. Like I mentioned, luckily we had the videos to drown out the screams.

When we finally did get back onto U.S. soil, Dan spoke to an Aer Lingus rep while I used the bathroom. “They will transfer our bags” he said. But I didn’t know if I could believe him or not, and he must have told the rep this because when we walked back over there together, she looked at me and said, “don’t worry about it, we will check them on United to Bradley for you.”

I was too tired to argue, and I didn’t really want to carry my bags. We made sure that we kept the little sticker tags that give your baggage number, just in case. But I have to admit that I did feel pretty good about it, because when they scanned our passports in Dublin, pictures of all of our bags came up on the screen. So at the very worst, we would have to wait a few days to get our stuff. I was too happy to be back in the states to care. For the first time that day, we were at our gate early enough to sit down, eat something and wait for our plane. I drank Poland Springs. It was the best.

Our flight landed in “Hartford” at 8:05, right on time… back in France it was 2:00 a.m. on Sunday. My parents were waiting in a nearby lot to pick us up, and I told them to wait til I called them with our bags to drive up. Dan took a bathroom break as I sat at the baggage claim thinking I might be there all night. But, much to my surprise (I think that I actually laughed out loud and then said “I can’t believe it!” to another passenger) our bags came out on the belt before Dan even got back! I could tell by the smile on his face that he was just as shocked as I was.

So we piled all 6 bags into the back of my Dad’s truck and headed back home, talking incessantly about how surprised we were to see our bags, and how nice it was to be home. The trip was completed when we unloaded our luggage and finally got to say hi to Aero and Bruno. I promised them that I would never leave them for that long again, but I think we all know that was more of a reassurance to me than to them… they don’t care.

We stayed up sharing our French cheese, bread and wine with my parents and talked about all of the things we did, and all of the reasons why European people are terrible.  I think we finally went to bed at 11:00 p.m. - meanwhile in France it was 5:00 a.m., and we had been awake for nearly 24 hours. We would only be home for a week before we had to go away again (back to Maine of course), but it was a wonderful feeling.

Liar, Liar, wish my pants were on fire...

So it seems that in my last post I had promised a craft. I think the title of this post really sets the tone here... I do not have a craft to share. Here is why:

On Saturday, just as I finished sanding and cleaning my very last dining room chair we lost power. It was around 3:30 p.m. I'd say, and I made sure that I ran out to buy some paint at the last minute when it started snowing. I thought that I could spend the weekend painting since I would surely be stuck in my house due to the freak October snow storm. What I did not realize is that it's pretty near impossible to paint without lights, or heat.

That brings me to my next point: I do wish my pants were on fire because then at least I would be warm. See, not having power for 3 days brings the thermostat down quite a bit - to about 50 Fahrenheit, and that's not super warm. Also, by some great injustice of the universe, my place of business has power (hence this post). 95% of the town that I work in is without power. How did my office get to be in that 5%? Terrible luck. It's not easy to get dressed for work when it's 50 degrees in your house, and dark.

Anyway, the point is, I don't have a craft to show you, for which I apologize because I really thought I would be done with my dining chairs by now. But, while we're on the subject... you should probably never believe anything I say. Just to be on the safe side.

In related news, I did spend the day at my Mom's house yesterday where she had plenty of power and heat to go around. We primed some of her (formerly my) dining room chairs, and re-upholstered the remaining 2 regular seats for my chairs. There are 2 arm chairs that still need to be done, but since I took the leaf (that has to be incorrect spelling) out of my table, it only requires 4 regular chairs.

In new news, I decided last week that one of the things I would do for this new blog is a series. I was inspired by a bunch of fallen limbs that still had the pine cones on them. So then, the idea "30 Days to a Winter Wonderland" was born. I am going to do 30 days (not always consecutive) of crafts with things that I already have, got for free or real cheap (my total budget for the entire 30 days in $100). All of the crafts will be on the theme of Winter Wonderland - which is what I am going for my Christmas Decor this year.

Today was going to be day one, but since I don't have power, it would be kind of difficult. Hopefully tomorrow? Whatever the case, if you want to follow along, the first Day requires that you buy a bunch of candy. That is why it coincided with the day after Halloween. So I do plan on buying candy today, and if you want to keep up, you should buy some candy too... you know, if your local walmart or target actually has power.

Keep tuning in... one of these days there will be crafts!

Day One Here!

PS - HAPPY BIRTHDAY to my little sister Katie - 22 seems too old for you!

Moving On

It's strange that my first blog post should be called "Moving On", but that is exactly what I am doing. Since I am no longer a D.I.Bride... or a bride of any sorts, I can't very well post there anymore. Additionally, I'm not in another country, or state, or even anywhere that is exciting here in CT. So then, a new blog with my new married-life adventures.

But don't worry, it's not a boring marriage blog. I'm sure there are plenty of those out there. I always wonder who has the nerve to decide to give marriage advice. "Do this, don't do that." Because clearly, every relationship is the same.

But I digress.

This blog is far more riveting than all of that. This is a blog dedicated to my pursuits in the areas that I find extremely interesting: housewifery. Now, that said, I actually do have a full-time job and zero children (unless you count dogs). But, I do like to learn new skills and then subsequently, show them off. So then! If you are into what I call "crafts" you just might like it here.

And just so you know what you are getting in to, here is what I would consider a "craft":

1. Capturing Street Treasures
2. Home Decorating
3. Holidays
4. Cooking and/or Baking
5. Sewing
6. Remodeling Stuff
7. Jewelry making
8. Scrapbooking
9. Card making
10. Anything that requires the use of a hot glue gun!
11. Spending too much time and money at JoAnns, Michaels or AC Moore
12. Thrifting and other shopping adventures
13. Pinning your life away
14. Taking too many pictures and finally...
15. configuring your craft room to somehow squeeze in more supplies without letting your husband know that you just brought home a new street treasure or project or supplies for a craft TBD.

Let's just agree that #15 is a very fine skill that requires quite a bit of work and should definitely be considered a "craft". Also, since I'm divulging information, this list is definitely not all-encompassing. Don't be mad if I decide that I am going to build something someday, or reupholster a wing chair. That's the kind of thing I would do, you know?

OK then, enough of my ranting. The next time you hear from me, it will be about an actual craft. Promise.