Florida Dream Wedding.

We had an incredible time in Florida at Devon and Patrick’s wedding.  The weather was beautiful and the whole scene was just plain welcoming and relaxed.

Devon is C’s very good friend from his days living in D.C.  She was the property manager of the building C lived in at 14th and P.  C told me that when he went for a visit to choose a place to rent before moving, he was in a unit in the building with Devon and said to her, “Well, I’ll continue looking around and see what else is out there.”  Devon looked at him and said, “This building is one in a million.  This unit will be gone tomorrow.”  He wrote her a check for the deposit 10 minutes later.

On Friday afternoon we arrived in Jacksonville.  After a long drive through Ocala National Park, we arrived at the rehearsal at the plantation house where the wedding was held and where we were lucky enough to be staying with other wedding guests and the bride (and eventually groom, after all the vows were delivered)!

We got dressed and headed to Devon’s mother’s home for the rehearsal dinner.  Two weeks before the dinner their contract with the barbecue company who was supposed to cook was broken and Devon’s mother threw herself into a frenzy, cooking an INCREDIBLE Italian meal for 45 people.  She did an amazing job.

Devon’s mother’s house is just adorable.  It’s a little camp built in 1915 across a country road from a lake.  There are very large trees in the yard covered in Spanish moss and a big, comfortable porch with lots of wicker furniture.

The inside is just as lovely.  The cottage is rustic and homey at the same time.  Devon’s mom and late father bought the place nine years ago in the hopes of restoring it together.  They did quite a bit of work — peeling off bell-bottom era paneling, shoring up the foundation, moving a staircase and replacing windows.  There’s more to be done now that Devon’s father has passed away — enter the newest member of the family, Patrick,who has already built some shelving in the kitchen.  The newlyweds are moving into the tiny guest house on the property and sweet grandma is moving in with Devon’s mother in the main house.

The next morning, back at the plantation house, from our large bed up on the second floor, we woke to the BeeGees playing somewhere downstairs.

When we walked into the dining room, Devon was sitting at the table, calmly sipping tea and reading the news online.  She had set out breakfast on the buffet and asked us if she could get us anything.  She was so relaxed.

We walked for a bit out in the yard with mugs of coffee.

And then we saw a little ‘gator swimming in the lake.  He was just a tiny thing, as people kept telling us, only ’bout five foot.

I set to work on a banner for the photo booth for the reception and Rob helped me “improve” it.

Then outside folks started arriving — hair and makeup and photographers and family members.  The girls showered and got dressed on the third floor.  Devon’s darling [precocious] niece was charged with “watching the baby” – her brother – to make sure he didn’t roll off the bed.  This also ensured she wouldn’t continue to muss her makeup and princess hair.  After she was caught in the backyard being pushed on the swing by C, she was immediately called upstairs.

“I don’t care to watch him,” she said.  ”Can’t a girl just play?  I want to swing on the swing outside with Mr. Chris!  I want to watch the ‘gator!”  It was pouty and so cute.  Her mother just thought it was pouty.

The sun was bright and beautiful by the time Devon and Patrick became Mr. and Mrs.

The cocktail hour was in the front of the house and there were lawn games and lots of cocktails.

I love this photo of Devon and C!  Hooray for good pals!

After dinner we danced.  A lot. The band played all our favorites.

The sky got dark and the party kept going.

By the time the night came to an end with sparklers, my flip flops were on and my hair was a disaster.  Humidity and swing dancing will do that to a Yankee.

Cheers to the happy couple, Devon and Patrick!

 

 

 

Denver Does Vegas.

We loved Las Vegas.  I guess I should say I loved Las Vegas…because C had already made it clear that it’s totally fun long before we booked our trip.

We arrived late Thursday night and had already missed dinner because our plane was delayed by monster rainstorms in Nevada.  Luckily, by the time we arrived at 10:30 p.m., it was perfect timing to get on our dance clothes and head out on the town.

The night ended the next day after a lot of dancing.  At 2:30 a.m. I ate the largest piece of quiche I’ve ever laid eyes on and was satisfied until second breakfast at 10.

We took all of Friday to explore the strip.

It was just beautiful.

We spent nearly the entire day walking.  We rode the roller coaster at New York, New York, walked through the Luxor, Bellagio, Cesar’s Palace and Paris.  I played tourist very well.

That night we had dinner at Jimmy Buffet’s Margaritaville.  It was like I had stepped into someone’s demented dream.  Every hour there was a show at the restaurant that consisted of a bikini-clad woman climbing a large plaster volcano.  When she got to the top, she slipped and fell in, causing it to erupt!

The woman toppled out of the volcano right into a blender large enough to be a hot tub.  Then a giant fish hook came down from the ceiling and she grabbed a hold of it and it pulled her out.  The whole time this was happening, Margaritaville was playing over loudspeakers and there were characters on stilts walking around to people’s tables making them balloon hats.  The first time I saw the show I thought it was silly, the third time, I thought it was pretty fantastic.

We attempted to walk off dinner and caught the fountain show at the Bellagio.

After being caught in Paris for a while, we headed down to Fremont Street, or Old Las Vegas.  It was kitschy and loud and bright and I loved it.

Friends started leaving early Saturday morning and I found myself a little place on the “beach” at Mandalay Bay.  I fell asleep for a solid hour before realizing there was a party going on around me.

Of course, there’s a lot more to our story.  But what happens in Vegas…

Tuesday at Noon: Big Sky Country

I have been working on a construction project at work for the past two years.  It’s been long and drawn out due to the location of the project – on the remote northern border of the U.S. and Canada in Montana and North Dakota.  We are managing the project mainly from Denver, so I have not met many of the people who are on the project team.

The hired contractors who are working the project are absolute characters.  They’re cheerful and funny and say the darndest things on our conference calls.

They are a brother/sister team and it’s definitely a family affair in their office, which we’ve deduced is located in their home.  We’ve also figured their mom is involved in the business as well.

On one of the first conference calls we had, the brother contractor, let’s call him Ronnie, was talking about getting estimates for some gates we are installing at one of the sites.  Mid-sentence, he stopped what he was saying, covered the receiver with his hand (we imagined) and asked his mom to save him some of the sandwich she was eating.  The project manager and I made wide-eye contact with each other and smiled at each other.

Soon after that, on another call, Ronnie was not on mute and yelled to someone in the room with him, “Can someone get this dog off ‘a me?  I’m on an important call here!”  More smiles across the meeting table.  Hilarious.

Our third Ronnie story comes from last week.  Unfortunately, he was unable to join the call when we started.  One of the fencing contractors was on the line as well as Ronnie’s sister [we'll call her] Jenny.

The project manager on my team asked if Ronnie was able to give a status update and the fencing contractor said, “Uh, got some bad news, Denver team. Ronnie’s not here.  He’s at the vet with his dear dog.  Seems the dog swallowed a razor blade.”*

It is absolutely not funny.  Of course.  But we could not help but put the phone on mute and laugh anyway. “Only Ronnie!”

*The happy end to this story is that the dog did indeed swallow the razor blade which happened to be attached to a disposable plastic shaver.  But he’s a big dog and he’ll be just fine.

 

Takeoff for Sin City.

“Tighter and shorter than what you normally wear is the rule of thumb,” C said a few weeks ago when I asked him what I should wear to Las Vegas.

I don’t know if that’s necessarily a “rule of thumb,” but I am ready to go with it and have packed both kinds.

We get on a plane to Sin City this evening for my first time and our first time as a couple with some really fun friends.  We’re celebrating October birthdays, a weekend of fun, and the luck of October 11, 2012 – 10/11/12.

Shorter, tighter and here we go!

 

 

Proven.

I was washing my hands in the ladies room at work last week when a woman in my office asked me if I had lost weight.

“Oh!  I said.  ”Thank you, but no.”

“Well, you look great!”

Why thank you, I thought.  And then I caught a glimpse of myself in the full length mirror as I left the room.  I looked…thin.

I knew it had to be my shoes: nude pointed toe leather pumps.  I picked them up for an unimaginable deal ($15 on clearance) at Off Broadway Shoe Warehouse at the beginning of summer and haven’t looked back.  I love their height and their ability to go with just about any skirt or dress.

Black pointed toe pumps are essential to my office and every day wardrobe.  I have several pairs – from patent leather to kitten heal – and I’ve been sporting them since ’04.  But am I on to something with the wearing of the nude?

Maybe so.

Today, while browsing blogs, I came across this site which sells all sorts of lovely paper prints – calendars and note cards.

I have just added the notecards with the above print to my online shopping bag at Inslee By Design after reading the description:

Shop

Stems

A wise woman once told me that I should never be without pointed toe nude pumps. She said they go with every outfit and always make you look thinner. I figured, why not test this theory on note cards. Box of ten 4×6″ flat cards printed on 100 lb cover stock and white envelopes.

My goodness.  If two people say it is it a fact?  I’m taking a Critical Thinking course through work for two days later this week, I’ll get back to you on that one.

I am smitten with Inslee’s whimsical illustrations and seemingly simple concepts of ladies in dress.

Happy browsing!

What are you reading?

Have you seen this blog?

I adore it.

The Underground New York Public Library (UNYPL) is dedicated to New Yorkers who read on the subway.

I have never lived in New York City but I am a huge fan of public transportation in other cities I’ve called home.  I know how great it is to let someone else do the driving and get some extra pages in on my commute.  Especially before and after work, getting on a train or a bus is like a forced breather.

A Labor Day homecoming.

Being home over Labor Day weekend was a very good thing.  Fall was happening there and it was absolutely gorgeous.

I got that happy feeling I always used to get at the end of the summer in Columbia County.  School was about to start and our family had one last long weekend to celebrate by living it up at the lake and going to the fair.

I spent time with my parents on the boat napping and catching up.

And Micaela drove out from Boston and we cheered on the county fair together.  The fairgrounds looked a lot more crowded from when Chris and I celebrated our wedding reception just a few months ago.

There were cows and prize chickens, blue ribbon wool and lots of carnival rides.  Each day boasted amazing weather.  It was as much as my dad and the rest of the fair board could ask for, as great weather generally equals stellar attendance.

We took a drive down to Berkshire Pottery in Hillsdale and were driving back just as the sun hung low in the sky.

And I always come down with a mild case of homesickness after I get off the plane in Colorado.  I daydream of rolling fields of drying cornstalks and the evening autumn sun disappearing into the woods.

Then I snap out of it and settle back into life in Denver.  This past weekend I spent Friday night with girlfriends writing at a coffeehouse.  On Saturday, C and I rode bikes all over Congress Park, we tried out a new church, tested some sleeping bags at REI and then had dinner at My Brother’s Bar.  This morning we had brunch with C’s mom and her husband and then went to H Mart.

It’s good here.  Very good.

The leaves are just starting to turn in the mountains and Aspen is right on track to turn in the next two weeks.  From a thirsty deep green to orange and yellow.

And we’re lucky to be going back to Columbia County in two weeks for my cousin’s wedding to experience a little more of that beautiful fall.

Three cheers!

A fine rain.

The night before last I woke up to what I thought was wind.

That’s what we get here sometimes.  Wild, whipping pockets of harsh wind that blow the cushions off the rockers on our balcony.

Lest you think Denver is like Annie Proulx’s literary Wyoming plains, we live on the seventh floor of a high-rise building.  It’s always a bit windy up here.

But it wasn’t wind I heard.  It was something I’ve not had in a long while.  It was rain.  And it continued.

At eight a.m., it was dark and cloudy and coming down just beautifully.  At 10, at noon and at three.  Still raining.

Everyone was talking about it.

Meeting after meeting yesterday people were saying how happy they were.  ”Isn’t it beautiful outside?”  We said to one another.

A project manager I work with said he prepared to drive his kids to school as they normally ride their bikes.  When he offered, his second- and fourth-graders both begged him to pedal in the rain.  ”We’re not made of sugar, Dad,” the fourth-grader said.  ”Rain is good for us.”

Indeed it is!

 

Apartment living at its best.

On the days I mobile work from home I often do laundry.  Generally, the first load goes into the washer at six a.m.

We share the machines with the rest of the floor, so it’s important to keep a timer as a reminder to switch out your load just in case a neighbor is waiting for a machine to open up.  In a stroke of luck, our floor is full of considerate neighbors.

Every Tuesday, one of our neighbors has a sweet housekeeper, Caroline, visit her home.  Caroline cleans the apartment and does laundry.

So today, in between conference calls and real estate fires that needed to be put out in Utah, I forgot I had ignored my alarm and when I made it to the laundry room, my neighbor’s laundry was in the machines…and my dryer load was on the counter, folded and neatly stacked.

I felt rewarded for being inconsiderate.

As I collected my clothes and walked back down the hallway, I heard my neighbor’s door open and I turned around to see Caroline making her way to the laundry room.  She is a piece of cardigan-wearing sunshine.

“Did you fold my laundry?!” I smiled.

“Sure did, honey!  And for heaven’s sake, I put in a dryer sheet in for you because, little miss, you could have electrocuted yourself with the amount of static in that machine!”  Caroline has a little drawl that is pleasing as peach pie.

I do declare I’ll have to do laundry again next Tuesday in the hopes of running into her again.

I wonder how C feels about hiring a housekeeper.

I wonder what Caroline does on Wednesdays…

P.S.  Years back, our neighbor shared a housekeeping secret with us.  Caroline has created what Micaela and I know as “Magic Cleaning Solution” for mirrors.  It’s one part rubbing alcohol to one part water.  Your mirrors have never looked better.  Promise.