Reason No. 1* that you know you're married

As you move about the house, attempting to unpack the mountain-load of boxes while your sweet hubby is watching football (note: you consented to this, trying to be a good wife), you realize you are sweating profusely. Why? Because the thermostat is at a balmy 77 degrees. Why? Because hubby likes it warm. And now that you don't have a steady income, having changed jobs after the marriage, you can't afford to keep the thermostat how *you* like it: 65. Just enough to where you need a blanket to cover your legs.

Back to unpacking.

*This is unranked. I figured I'd start with one and move up.

We're back!

So, I'm officially a wife now. We're back from our honeymoon and we had a blast. Highlights: A soccer game in Buenos Aires; seeing M.I.A. at 3:45 a.m.; having lots of fabulous steak and red wine for insanely cheap prices. Oh, and we took a tango class too. C.'s got skills.

Too tired to write more, as we have literally been traveling since yesterday afternoon. (And it's now midnight!) Will catch up later.

But it's nice to be a wife. So far. My only question is this: Will this box-filled space we call an apartment ever become liveable? Will we ever unearth that darn comforter and actually *use* it??

Moving in with the hubby-to-be

It didn't hit me that I'm actually moving in with my fiancé until Saturday night, when he put the bed together. (As an aside, I was asleep on the couch, totally exhausted after going to sleep at TWO A.M. on Friday night and waking up at SIX THIRTY A.M. to start packing.) I walked in, bleary-eyed, to our new bedroom and thought, "What's my bed doing in his apartment?"
But it's our bed now. *Our* bed!

Then yesterday morning he made me oatmeal.

I said, "Can you put some cranberries in it?" He said sure. But I get the bowl and it's almost all cranberries, and just a teensy bit of oats. "Doesn't this man know that I don't like this many cranberries?" I think. But no, he doesn't, and so I eat it until I'm just about to explode from all that cran flavor, and then when his oatmeal is finally ready I pass him the little mound of cranberries I've piled in my bowl. Because there were really that many.

"Hmm," he says, chewing. "A little bit of cranberry really goes a long way. You can't just pop these things like raisins."

So, we're in for an adjustment period. (There was also an incident with a half-gallon of expired milk this morning, but I won't go into that.) It is all worth it, though, when I think about times like this morning, when I was in my bathrobe and he was brushing his teeth, getting ready for work. I was drinking coffee. We had KEXP playing in the background and newspapers strewn all over the bed. He just looked so cute, and I was so happy to be near him.

We're getting married!, I thought.

Twelve days. Y despues, estaré la wifa.

Wedding Nightmare #2: "The reception's today?"

I seriously thought it was real. How could my mom have NOT understood that our reception was immediately after the wedding? Instead, she thought it was the next day, so she told the man who managed the hall -- this was a new hall we decided to book at the last minute -- that we didn't need it. Meanwhile, I'd already told the Southwest Craft Center that we didn't need their chapel, because we already had another hall! The thought of people not being able to eat or dance was sending me into convulsions of pure terror.

(I think this was all in Rancho Cucamonga, by the way. The first hall was some strange house up in the mountains. Kinda Heidi-esque.)

Then, to top it off, I forgot my earrings and for some reason was wearing my navy blue slacks to the wedding -- albeit with a cute, long-sleeved ivory lace top.

We ended up being an hour late to the wedding because we were sorting out the hall fiasco. And we never got to do our vows!

Very strange.

Sixteen days, by the way.

24 Days!

I really should be packing, or finishing up packing, to go to Denver right now, but since I like to fly by the seat of my pants, I thought, "Why not write a new post?"

Wedding plans are flying along. I'm like the woman holding on to the back of the speeding 18-wheeler, clinging for dear life. It's really not that stressful -- just tons of stuff happening at the same time. As I wrote to my illustrious bridesmaid Bri, Note to self: Do not attempt to get married, move, and start a new career path all at the same time. Although freelancing may not technically be considered a new career path. But it's going to take a LOT of work. If anyone can cut me a deal on an ergonomically sound chair, let me know.

At least I get to go to Argentina? We already got our guide book.

So. I leave work Oct. 7 and move Oct. 8. I will spend next week trying to pack and/or not freak out.

Denver's going to be fun! I need a break from the madness.

My first shower: A surprise, and then menudo

Got back from the San Diego shower yesterday. It was a blast! As fun as expected -- even more so, actually. Saw everyone, including old school Cali peeps, and my extended family, who is even *more* old school. (I haven't seen most of them in three years.) My once-baby cousins are now totally gorgeous and my aunts are more fun than I remembered. We also got tons of stuff, which totally blew me away. I'm still in shock that my aunts gave us all of our dishes -- all 12 sets! And my mom went to town on the cookbooks and silverware, which was so sweet.

And then I got the best surprise of all about a half-hour into the shower: C. showed up! My mom kept telling me to sit in this chair draped with a serape, and I kept asking why, and no, I didn't want to sit in the chair, I wanted to eat some chips and homemade guacamole -- this guac was *good*, creamy and just the teensiest bit picoso -- but she just kept saying, "Sit in the chair," and then finally I did and looked around and then in walked Crayton. He was supposed to be in Dallas. He'd said he didn't want to come, but it was all a big ruse. My mom flew him out. I saw him and started crying.

It was so, so nice to have him there.

Then Sunday we woke up and had homemade menudo, prepared by my mom's stepmother, Terry. It was the best menudo I've ever had in my LIFE, and I'm not even the hugest menudo fan. I think I've just been having menudo that was prepared wrong. Gosh, it was so good. Oh, and we ate these fresh sweet rolls from the Filipino bakery down the street. ("Chinese," my aunt called it. "Filipino!" my cousin immediately corrected. It was funny.)

So now I have to start the thank-you notes.

But at least I have other wedding stuff done. Meena came over tonight and we made the tags for the out-of-towner bags (they are SO cute, Joaq rules!), and then we scooped wax out of our religious-size pillar candles and trimmed the wicks, in order to comply with our venue's regulations that all flames must be below the lip of the glass. Sigh.

What's left: The guestbook, finishing the picture boxes, tying ribbon on the goblets, and returning a few picture frames. And gathering pictures. Oh, and creating the seating chart, but that shouldn't be too hard. We're not assigning seats, just tables. Who wants to sit at "El Borracho"? (Just kidding, family members who read this.)

Nothing in Vegas is free, unless you're on the list*

I got back on Sunday, and most of you who read this already know the insanity that was SATURDAY NIGHT. Can anyone say "Thunder From Down Under"? Endless rum and Diet Cokes? A veil with a little plastic bride and groom on the top? A sticky dance floor at Harrah's that for some reason, didn't render me completely dance-less?

But back to Thunder From Down Under, because I know you care. It's this Australian male review (voted by the Las Vegas Journal, or some such paper, as the "best male dancers on the strip"), and I won a picture with all the hot guys! It was pretty cool. I think maybe I'll get to see it before Crayton torches it in the fireplace. Ashley is currently holding on to it for safe keeping.

Oh, and outside seeing the show, we also relaxed by the pool at Green Valley Ranch and got spa treatments. And rented a cabana AND a limo. It was really, really nice. I love my girls.

So now I gotta get back in, knee-deep, to wedding planning. Met with the caterer today to die up some last-minute details. Also still gotta book my U-Haul to move to Dallas, tie these ribbons on these goblets, tie more ribbon around these packages, prepare our welcome bags and all the items that go inside, finish the programs, do the guest book, figure out who's coming and who's not (which will actually be fun), try not to get stressed out, and on, and on.

I wish they had a perfume called "Eau de Green Valley Ranch," and then I could just spray it and feel better. Or maybe I mean "Eau de Thunder From Down Under"?

*My new motto for Vegas.