With our Anniversary being on Sunday, I have been thinking a lot about our wedding and all the surrounding chaos and bliss. For those of you who don't know, Jess and I decided to elope...well that wasn't happening...so we decided to elope with 40 close friends and family members to Cabo San Lucas, Mexico. We chose an all-inclusive resort because HELLO they have all-you-can-drink and all-you-can-eat everything and if you've ever been with me to a buffet or a bar, you'd be all that girl doesn't just have a hollow leg, she's got a hollow liver as well. Unfortunately, with all-you-can-eat and all-you-can-drink everything, there comes some side effects. This man wasn't part of our wedding group, but heavens, I wish he had been.
Since Hofberger is not the easiest name in the world (it's no Brown), I think I'll be saying this alot from here on out. It's official, Jess and I are married! We just returned from Cabo San Lucas where we had the most amazing time! Our actual wedding was on April 12th, but was surrounded by mucho events. 40 of our family and our closest friends joined us in what turned out to be the best week of my life!
I apologize for not posting, but as you can see, I've been a bit distracted. I promise to get back on the wagon (or would it be off?) when it comes to my writing. See you all soon!
Today is Jess's birthday. I wanted to celebrate by staying in bed all day and eating bacon. Nonstop. Isn't that what Birthdays are for? Lie ins and bacon? Not Turkey bacon, or that cheapo bacon, mind you. The thickest, most delectable bacon would only suffice. To me nothing says love like bacon.
Unfortunately Jess had to go to work, so I had to forego the bacon plan. I settled on delivering a huge singing balloon and a neon colored cake from Sam's Club to Jess's workplace. FYI - When Sam's Club says "filled with strawberries" they don't mean it. What they do mean is "filled with nasty gelatinous Strawberry filling which is reminiscent of the fluoride flavor dentists used in the 1980's". I should demand a disclaimer.
Today was a busy day and with each errand I ran and each person I talked to I found it hard to believe that they did not know, did not seem to care, about Jess's birthday. Granted the girl that served me coffee doesn't know Jess, nor my accountant, nor the painter, nor the handyman, nor the gal at staples. All of this is besides the point. The fact is that my world rises and sets around this man and I feel like EVERYONE should know that he takes his coffee black, or with half and half if he's feeling 'crazy', that he'll take a dirt road in the middle of nowhere to the middle of nowhere just to be sure he's in the middle of nowhere, that he's probably run 5,000 laps around Liberty Park in the past year, that spontaneity is not his thing and I can't even tempt him with his favorite restaurant or activity if it's at the last minute, that he adores his mom, that he always goes to bed at 10:30 - never earlier, rarely later, that he is the only person in the history of my life to not fight me back when I take irrational fits to new levels, that he has this way when we're driving where he puts his hand on my knee and kind of looks at me from the corner of his eye that makes my hands clam up and my heart start beating so fast I have to convince myself out of needing medical attention, that he loves his dog more than anything else in the world and that "stupid little shit" and "I hate you, dog" are really terms of endearment, that he would hunt every day of his life if he could, but never judges his hunt by amount killed, has a reverence for Chuck Norris and quotes him more than necessary, can consume a whole jar of peanut butter in one sitting, often does, then wonders why his stomach aches, and that every night when we go to bed he nuzzles his nose into the back of my neck and I feel like the luckiest girl in the world.
There is, however, one complexity about Jess that I think stands out above and beyond the rest...
He thinks he's a great dancer and often likens himself to Will Smith. Yes, I know, but some delusions are left untouched.
So I just smile uncomfortably and let him dance. And you know what he says? Honestly, truthfully he will look at me and say "I just gotta dance" "Would you try to stop Will Smith from dancing?"
"Uh, well... no babe, I wouldn't try to stop Will Smith from dancing. Tell me something, though, just what about your 5'9, 170lb, cracker white ass is similar to Will Smith's? I'm not saying there are not similarities, I'm just curious as to what they are?" This is where I get the glare and he stomps off obviously not willing to grant an answer to such a ludicrous question.
So today on his big day, I am giving him the gift of what I like to call "The Will Smith Delusion", which means the second he walks through the door I will say something along the lines of "I can't quite put my finger on it, but there is something quite Will Smith about you today". I encourage you all to do the same next time you see him. It will be the gift that keeps on giving.
Oh, and I'll try to keep his dancing to a minumum. For us all. That Jess. He's a Keeper. Will Smith delusion and all. Happy Birthday, Babe!
For those of you who know me, you know that I have an affinity for a certain store. A certain store that in my eyes is the store to beat all stores. I often go there when I'm hungry, and even when I'm not. I go when I'm happy, sad, anxious, and lonely. This store cures all ailments and is always a constant in my routine.
This is why in Mexico when things were not as "happily ever after" as I had hoped, I asked to go to the one place that would make it all better...the one place that could and would make me feel whole again.
That's right. Costco. And you know what? It is the exact same as in good old Utah. Down to the Polish dogs, and Churros.
And it did make me feel better. Just knowing that I can walk into any Costco in the world and march right over to those yummy chocolate chip cookies (in the EXACT same spot as in my Costco), and with a few more steps be eating a delectable piece of chicken pot pie served to me by the Ethnic counterpart of Ruth (my favorite sample lady because she never calls me out when I go back twice, or 3 times. She just pretends that it's my first visit to her booth. "Made with real chicken", she says, as I nod and enjoy my third helping). Jeez. Sorry, I can never stop a confession once started. ANYHOW...I just can't help but feel that Costco is one of the many things right in the world.
Jess again. The wedding is a GO! I am absolutely certain it will be wonderful, and almost nothing like we expect. Still, the PLAN is great-- thanks to Sarah. I am now excited not only about the marriage, but also about the wedding! Sarah and I have returned to the U.S. of A. and I have to admit I’m feeling pretty positive about the whole wedding planning trip. However, that may be just the distance talking, because things were touch and go for almost the entire time we were there.
As you may remember from my last entry, Sarah and I had an appointment at noon with Daniella, the
Mexican Whore Wedding Planner. We arrived at the appointed hour and were seated in the classy lobby of the Hotel Riu Palace by one of the uniformed security guards.
The half-dozen or so attendants at the check-in desk immediately engaged in a whispering sidebar about as subtle as a Shakespearean conspiracy scene-- complete with furtive glances in our direction followed by a surreptitious huddle. In due course, we were informed that Daniella would be delayed, as she was in another meeting. I could see the tension begin to set in around Sarah’s jaw-line as she imagined Daniella prancing around the grounds with some other smiling couple in our time-slot. However, the quick thinking security guard saved the moment by procuring two delicious pina coladas. Nice save Raul! And a thanks to you as well, Mr. Marlboro man. I sweat, Sarah glares.
Twenty minutes later the check-in conspirators were forced to admit to themselves that, quite contrary to their hopes, we had not disappeared and would need to be dealt with. Thus, they informed us that Daniella, along with every other manager in the hotel was in a corporate meeting, scheduled to last four more hours. Ouch. I saw Sarah physically flinch as if slapped across the face. To her credit, and my relief, she remained stoic and took the news with the equanimity of a Buddhist monk. (As an aside, I’ve been practicing a little Eckhart Toll Buddhism myself lately, the wedding planner is neither good nor evil-- she just is.) In any case, it looked as though we were about to get torpedoed-- and hard.
My first inclination was to just try and ride this out… hang around until something happened. One look at my betrothed put that notion aside. Action was the thing! So I argued my case to the apparent leader of the check-in conspiracy and was met with the most final words in the Mexican service industry-- “there is nothing I can do, my manager is in a meeting.” So final, so inarguable.
Trying my luck elsewhere, I finally got the concierge, Omar, to concede that I had been treated poorly. He agreed that it would be reasonable for us to be allowed into the hotel to look things over and have a little lunch, but alas, his manager was in a meeting and what could he do?
Fortunately, there is an unwritten rule in Mexico, no one should go beyond the narrowest interpretation of “their job”. So Sarah and I graciously tipped our hypothetical hats to Omar, agreed that he could do nothing about the situation, and went directly into the hotel. Once inside we were free to do as we pleased, because security is assigned to watch the door, bartenders pour drinks, waiters wait and no one inspects the wristbands of those already inside the hotel.
A delicious and luxurious lunch improved our moods and when we returned to the desk some time later-- there stood Daniella. How long had she been there? If we hadn’t returned, would she still be there today? Ahh, Mexico, so mysterious. Daniella took us silently to her cramped and disheveled office where she began, without apology, “What can I do for you? Why are you here?” I heard Sarah’s jaw click, saw her fist tighten, and visualized her flying across the desk to strangle this woman. “To plan our wedding” came the polite answer. Now I was really frightened.
Long story short, Daniella is not up to the task of planning up to three weddings a day. Nor is she a “people person”, nor is she good at solving problems, presenting options, making suggestions, or planning weddings.
In the end; however, we overcame her limitations and I believe we planned a lovely wedding. We even got her to spring for dinner so we could try the food. Well, actually she had to get the Hotel Operations Manager himself to approve such an extravagant expense (leaving us alone in her office for 20 minutes by the way) but I’m glad we got to eat there. The food is really great and that is one of the reasons I am looking forward to returning. (The other reason of course is to marry my true love.)
I won’t spill the beans about all the wedding details, but let’s just say that I am more than a little excited for the wedding. I think everyone who comes will have a wonderful, tropical time and I think our marriage will get the beautiful, intimate, start that Sarah and I have been hoping for.
One last thing, this planning trip, this wedding and this marriage would be nothing without the daily efforts of my betrothed. I love her and am deeply in her debt.
Jess and I are back from Mexico and I am slowing digging myself out of what I sincerely refer to as a "Mexican work" hole. Yes there are e-mails to return, phone calls to make, people to evict, and meetings to attend. How I wish I was still in Mexico!
We decided to go to Mexico spur of the moment last Thursday when I discovered that my wedding planner A) doesn't speak english, B) doesn't return e-mails and C) sucks in general. NOW that I'm home and have had the opportunity to meet with her, I realize that she A) doesn't speak english, B) avoids people at all costs and C) sucks in general. Jess feels the trip was "wildly successful" and feels I need to embrace any cultural differences that she and I may have. I'm all "Can I do that when it's more convenient for me like NOT on my WEDDING DAY?" On a brighter note...
We flew first class on the way down. That's right. I told Jess "Look, this is the way it is. I need comfy seats, ample leg room and an open bar if I am to prepare properly for this wedding"
"Oh, and Jess, I NEED to stay in an uber romantic room that is authentically Mexico with a mosquito net over the bed and an inroom Jacuzzi."
And Jess, just one last thing. Get up there so I can see exactly how it will be. O.k. now lean over. Pretend like you're kissing me. good. a little to the left. No switch sides. Left is my best side, you know. Hmm. This light is iffy. O.k. good enough. Thank you.
Alright, alright. I'll fess up! We have no idea how we ended up flying first class, more than likely a computer glitch. The uber romantic room was an accidental reservation on the 3rd floor of an inner city hotel on a busy street with a noisy taqueria below. And Jess doing my bidding is just a dream. One that I'm definitely holding out for, but for now, just that.
I believe this version of the truth is what they call COPING. I hope to perfect it in the near future.
Jess here. Excuse my appearance, it's "early", I'm in Mexico, and someone poured a couple pitchers of margaritas down my throat yesterday. Did I mention that I didn't eat at all the day before? Beach wedding you know. The point is, I'm not really a thinker.
I'm sitting in a perfectly comfortable chair, at a disturbingly Mexican table, in a jungle-like courtyard, separated from the traffic rushing by on the street by half a vine-covered wall which is mostly composed of the remains of an old brick barbecue, and a counter-top which supports a giant pot of coffee. So there's coffee. Which, this morning in particular, makes writing this post possible. It smells nice here, like jasmine? Sarah is taking it a little easy this morning- apparently, plotting her imminent meeting with THE WEDDING PLANNER. (My pobrecita Rosita had better bring her "A" game, today!)
We're in Cabo, at a cute little "Inn" which Stanley the American and his wife Maria have built into a sort of grotto, filled with plants and flowers and an overgrown dog-water bowl referred to as the "social pool". (No one here apparently swims.) From the decor I'm guessing Maria is German, but her Spanish is exquisite. Is she the daughter of an escaped Nazi? Looking over her list of hotel rules, I wouldn't bet against it. I may bust out a Sig Heil and see what kind of reaction I get.
This place is terribly cute, and reminds me of my traveling days when I was younger and poorer. I hope Sarah and I get back to this sort of traveling more often. I'm already on the toll-road to poorer.
As mentioned, today we meet with THE WEDDING PLANNER to hash out the details of the big day. We actually snuck into the Palace (future nuptial temple) yesterday afternoon. I was psyched. It's big and brassy and full of wood and metal. There are banquets of food, beer taps always within reach, swimming pools and movie stars-- real Beverly Hill Billy. Unfortunately, Sarah agreed with my assessment-- and was not excited. This has caused a general unease to pervade the trip. However, I am confident (or so I say) that when we go back today she'll take a closer look at the cute little nooks and crannies of the place-- the spaces which are more Humphrey Bogart and Orient Express, than Cancun road-trip, and come around. If not, we're in for a long couple of months...