in front of the lens

Today was a gorgeous day. November 5 and it's 71 degrees in the Chicago area? Wow.

And what wonderful timing that my former colleague who shoots portraits as a side hustle was free to meet us in a forest preserve and capture the three of us with purpose for the first time since those photographers who sucker you into giving them all your money in the hospital when you're still delirious from baby-hormone-joy.

Because there's no time like the last minute, I spent most of the morning tearing through my closet for better clothes to wear than I had originally planned, taking badly angled photos and texting them to the world for advice. Then I raced to the store and bought four more things that didn't work out. Per pp, in her infinite fashion wisdom, I ended up going with an sweater and skirt I've had for years but had never thought to put together.

Ro was fantastic. She just wanted to run and run, kicking leaves and sliding like a base-stealer in the mud. She got to eat a sucker, too, which always makes for a red-letter day. Those gray tights had their moment in the autumn sun, but are possibly too far gone to ride again.

Later, she ran around even more at Kaiya's birthday party, where we all made tortellini under the instruction of her boyfriend, who happens to be a chef. Delicious! It wasn't that far off from making samosas, so I may have had a leg up on everyone else. He said I was ready to open my own pasta shop. Flattery, flattery.

It was really nice to see some of my oldest friends. Highcon is moving back to Chicago, and brought his main squeeze for us to meet. Ri and C's mini posse was running circles around the house with Ro. The wine was flowing. The salted-caramel-mousse cake was scrumptious. There was elderberry infused into the water and Cheerios ground into the carpet.

A lovely day, through and through.

vacation

I hadn't had a non-maternity-related time off of work in something like two years. We went to California for a week, and MAN was that nice. I was stressed about traveling with a 10-month-old, but she was a champion.

September 18, 2015. First time with her toes in the sand! Those swimming lessons paid off, in that she wasn't scared.

We spent some quality time with Jon's entire nuclear family enjoying cottages on the the most beautiful United States beach I have seen (Del Mar Resort within Camp Pendleton) in San Diego, then drove to Ventura (Jon's hometown) and met up with relatives and friends, and visited the resting place of our baby. 

Ro had a lot of firsts:

• First time on an airplane (a few very brief rough spots, but she did really well and took a 1.5-hour nap)
• First time eating In N Out Burger (only fast food she is allowed saved for the rare Portillo's treat)
• First time in a long car ride (took us FIVE hours to get from San Diego to Ventura, but we had to make a 45-min pit stop due to a meltdown. Ro glares at us at the mention of "carseat" now.)
• First time seeing the ocean
• First time frolicking in the ocean (assisted) with her cousin, D
• First time (helping Mommy) roast a marshmallow over a campfire for a s'more
• First time sitting in the sand with Aunt M and tasting it (the gross flavor and texture did not deter her from trying it again)
• First time climbing three (!) flights of steps at her Aunt A's house completely unassisted (and with great vigor)
• First time meeting her great-grandmother
• First time staying in the "Penguin Palace" room her Aunt Madelyn made at her grandparents' house
• First time eating sushi (she LOVED baked salmon and the seared tuna; the teriyaki chicken and rice were just ok)
• First time going to the church her daddy grew up attending
• First time eating guavas from the tree in someone's yard
• First time petting animals (a bunny and a cat), and learning to say "cat"
• First time going down a park slide (perhaps the daycare lady has taken her--but to me it was a first)
• First time actually waving with purpose (favorite person to wave at is her grandma).
• First baseball game at Dodger Stadium (next will be Wrigley)
• First hilltop sunset overlooking the ocean (and remembering her sister)

There were probably more, but she had a blast. It was a really great trip we will cherish forever.  

 The Dodgers lost, but it was still a fun time. September 21, 2015. Ro: almost 11 months

bet your bottom dollar

#8: Finish your story, let go even if it's not perfect. In an ideal world you have both, but move on. Do better next time.

Today was the first day I didn't have enough milk for the baby. Learning to nurse was really painful and challenging for Ro and I, so I feel like I owe it to us both to see it through as long as we can possibly manage. And as hard as that was, accommodating times to pump during work has been even tougher in a place where no one on my team regularly breaks for lunch.

Yes, I realize how lucky I am even to get a drop out for my child. I am so very grateful for what I have. We all do the best that we can. Tomorrow is another day. We will try again.

36

So here I am, on *this* side of 35.
And here we are, on *this* side of 4 a.m.

***

I've never been melancholy on my birthday, but during the last few months I've found myself at the top of the world, taking in a deep breath of gratitude...then BAM, I get a glimpse of the straight drop ahead and my stomach is suddenly in my throat. I guess the only nice thing about emotional rollercoasters is that if you (and your understanding family) can ride it out, you're back on an even keel soon enough.

Last week, Syar turned 26. Do you guys remember when she was a precocious 16-year-old commenting here with all the wisdom and wit of a much more experienced person? Then how we blinked twice and now she's a grownup lady? It's so crazy how much she has grown but stayed the same. And how I feel like I know her, yet never have met her. Oh, blogs.

***

My mom has always taken the day off work on my birthday. I never understood why, especially when I still had to go to school. I mean, if she can't hang out with me--and this day is all about me, after all--then what's the point? Even now, 36 years later, she took the day to be home, cooking and shopping and who knows what else while I was dealing with conference calls and frantic instant-messenger requests and mounting email, attempting to solve problems.

But now that I may get to bring somebody new into the world, I kind of get it: My mother might just want a day to herself to think. Maybe remember all the stuff before I showed up and what she had to go through to get me out and all she had to do to make sure I even made it to 36. I wonder if 36 years from now I might take my child's birthday off to think about these months of bed rest and no carbs and having to walk around like an 96-year-old and only going to the store once a month (if they have a scooter/wheelchair). And how it makes my damn day every single time this baby kicks me to show me that she's doing ok so I don't freak out. Is it possible to believe you have a great kid even before you've met her?

People kept asking me what I had planned for today, and honestly, there was only one thing I can say for certain. There will be ice-cream cake. There is always ice-cream cake. It'll be one sad, sorry August 14 when my mom isn't around and there won't be ice-cream cake. It just doesn't taste as good any other day. I'm sure I don't have to tell you that she didn't disappoint.

***

In general, I have a pretty low threshold for decision-making. You know, decision fatigue, when you are supposed to be making a lot of important choices in a row, but the weight of all that deciding has piled up on you so you are standing in front of the refrigerator, paralyzed and frustrated because you JUST DON'T KNOW WHAT TO EAT. Just choose! Whatever you want! It doesn't matter, just pick something! Like, now! You haven't decided? Hurry up! Everyone is waiting on you! I feel like the world is my refrigerator with its French doors flung open to reveal thousands of delicious choices, and everyone is demanding that I make up my mind RIGHT NOW. Except I can't make my mind do anything at all, let alone make that final choice between spaghetti and soup. Because what if I take a bite of spaghetti and immediately realize I should have gone with the soup? Doesn't the world understand that scenario is a risk I'm just not willing to take?

What scares me is that I am soon going to have to make hundreds of decisions a day for a person incapable of holding up her own head. And I'm sure that by the time I actually figure out how to comfortably make those choices, she won't want me to decide anything for her anymore.

***

Being alone all the time is getting to me. All day, every day. Thank God for conference calls.

I hate to be alone. I would certainly be one of those people who were asked to sit in a room with an electrical shocking device for 15 minutes with their thoughts who ended up shocking themselves to avoid having to be alone with their thoughts for 15 minutes.

It doesn't matter if the other people are somewhere else in the house doing their own thing and not interacting with me at all; just knowing they aren't far is good enough. I used to lie awake at night in my dorm room, only able to fall asleep when I heard my roommate's key in the door. Perhaps that was because I worried she'd be jumped on the way home from the library, but still.

***

I just spent 15 minutes trying to put a cover on one of those snuggly, noodly pillow things that pregnant ladies cuddle in order to sleep for more than 10 minutes at a time. About three-quarters of the way through that ordeal, I realized the thing already had a cover on it, which is probably why it was so difficult.

Pregnancy brain is real, people. And at this age, I don't think I will ever get my wits back.

9/9

Today is our beautiful nephew Declan's first birthday. Just 366 days ago we were hoping to get a glimpse of the guy. And for the last 365, people all over the country eagerly await each photo update and hope for the briefest chance to hold him. A curious little man, he's crawling at top speed, tasting everything that's cold and shiny, and climbing stairs. They're taking him to his first professional football game (San Diego Chargers) to celebrate. As far as I can tell, he's having a blast. I'm sure Uncle Jon approves.

Today is also the 92nd birthday of my Godmother's mom. Everyone knows her as Ma. She's sweet and vibrant, and she can hang with the multiple energetic great grandchildren she watches during the week. She made me her time-consuming family recipe, Methi Laddu (Fenugreek bars full of all kinds of nutritious stuff that's helpful for post-delivery moms) to help me get strong after Baby. She added extra sugar to cover up the bitter taste, and I ate every last one.

I realize I have been saying it lately--maybe I'm just getting old-- but it's amazing how quickly the time goes tripping along.

Here is Declan last February, finally big-ish enough for his raccoon costume.

Declan at 4 months.

coffee is crack

I had a medium-sized coffee this morning at 7:30. It's 10:15 pm and I'm still twitching. My coworker thinks it's a placebo effect, but my hands are literally shaking. Caffeine sensitivity is a real thing. There is a reason I rarely drink it--only on those days when I really need the boost. Or need to be awake for two days.

But here's the thing: When I'm on coffee, I'm more confident, I have more pep in my step and doggone it, people like me!

Is this what drugs are like?


time to cut off the supply
In which I admit I may need an intervention.

joey's favorite food

Sandwiches.

The first sandwiches we had after that crazy diet. OH MY GOD were they good.

I've always believed that my college roommate, pp, makes the best sandwiches in the entire universe. Even if I were to use the same ingredients, stack them in the same order and present them the same way, her sammies always taste just so much better. Must be magic. 

But I think Jon has it too! Recently, his turkey leftover sandwiches have been to die for. So good that I have been thinking about relishing in their deliciousness for the entirety of three-hour, after-lunch meetings in the office.

I would have taken a picture, but sandwiches just don't last very long around here.

always reliable

In which I am impressed with the service at a sandwich shop but somehow manage to put a black lining on the situation.

thanksgiving with a side of cheese

Happy Thanksgiving! We celebrated with my mom's famous spicy turkey and all kinds of other sides, and finished the meal with Jon's famous pie.

In the middle, we enjoyed a little snack on this:

 

 It's called a Raclette, a grill from Switzerland/France where you can grill up some veggies on top, and there are these little drawers that slide in underneath, in which you can melt cheese to top them with.

 

Apparently the word Raclette comes from the French word "to scrape," because you scrape the melted cheese off onto your plate.

A big plus is that I was able to find actual Raclette-brand cheese when I was up in Wisconsin for training. It melts like a dream; as though it was made for this kind of thing. 

 And it was delicious!

Too bad we were so stuffed from all the other delights to discover what else this bad boy could do. I'm thankful to have opportunities to try new things, enjoy the company of family and good friends and for overall health and happiness. Also, a shout out to cc, who gave us this thing more than a year ago--we love it!

unsupervised

A few weeks ago, everyone at work got a bag full of candy for halloween (team-building stuff that means well but really, no one has time for). All these weeks I have been so well-behaved and only ate one or two pieces, even though it was calling to me from the drawer every time I needed a Post-It.

I've been in the office today and it's a ghost town. As usual when I am alone with access to my phone and the Internet, it's been tough to focus. So the siren song of that dang bag of candy kept cooing me to open the drawer. No one would have been the wiser, but I feel guilty, so I must confess: I ate the candy. ALL of it. In practically one sitting.

I wish I could say the sugar rush made me more productive, but sadly it made me just want to go home. 

when your boss dreams about your boyfriend
In which my old boss had a dream about trick-or-treating with Jon dressed like Aquabats before Jon moved here (they have similar taste in music). 

clase de cocinar

Several years ago, Jon gave me a gift certificate to a cooking school in the city, hoping we could take a class together. It was so sweet and we have been meaning to schedule a class...

This year, I decided to flip it around and give it back to him (kicking in the extra cost because obviously the prices had gone up in all this time) for his birthday. He was happy that I used a gift certificate for a change.

We signed up for "Date Night: Two to Tango" at The Chopping Block. We were going to learn how to grill steak, make our own papas fritas (French fries), chimichurri, dulce de leche flan and--the one I knew he'd be most excited about--chicken empanadas. Unfortunately, the class started at 7 and we rolled up at 7:25 thinking we were five minutes early. Whoops.

Jon was parking the car, so I ran upstairs to the kitchen area and stood by a chopping-block island that looked like it had space for two more. There was an ridiculously thin girl with a nasty disposition yelling at her dude, who was glowering over the stove. She looked like she wanted to leave. Both of them saw I was there and turned their backs. Classy.

No one approached me for nearly five minutes. Then Jon appeared, and one of the Chef's helpers took him aside and recommended against joining the antisocial couple, who had decided to stop arguing and were fumbling around trying to catch up.

We moved over to another island, where a very lovely couple close to our age were finishing up their caramel. Chef came over and used their stuff as an example. All we had missed was making the caramel flan top and mixing the pre-measured ingredients. The rest of the class was fun, and the food was yummy! The rude couple even came over to ask some questions because the instructor kept using us an example (the entire rest of the class was made up of people our parents' age who were quite obviously hammered).

I think Jon was trying to look intense. But the empanadas were delicious!

Later as we sat to eat our creations, we discovered the our cooking partners had only been married 29 days, so we showed wedding photos. We warned them that 1-year-old cake really doesn't hold a candle to the wedding-day cake, but they had been smart and ate the top layer after their reception. Apparently our new friends had originally been paired with the antisocial couple, who scrunched up their faces and said "We'd really rather do this by ourselves." Even though we were seated at benches at a table, they both managed to turn their backs to the rest of us by sitting at the corner. They ate their dinner off a single plate, got up and left. 

photos by and Jonathan Muller
 Steak! I wish the fries were crispier, but they were tasty!

We were very lucky to have been partnered with the nice couple--I think it wouldn't have been nearly a nice time with the pair of grumpy pants, who didn't speak to anyone the entire evening. If we do this again, we definitely want to bring friends! And maybe a bottle of wine. 

This is something I will definitely be making again soon!

I didn't forget about the flashback:
3!
In which I celebrate three years since Jon and I discovered each other. That number is now up to 7 (and counting). I'm so glad cooking together doesn't make us fight. Or antisocial.

paying the farmer is expensive

Here's the most compelling reason why Jon and I will not be making a Whole30 diet a lifestyle change: what slimmed down the most was our bank accounts.

Once we realized we could not shop at "Whole Paycheck" grocery store for everything, we tried to make it a mix of local grocers, Trader Joe's and Whole Foods.

Even then, during the month of October, Jon spent about $294.00 and I spent $646.60 (that's 940.60 for people who aren't into mental math). That is almost three times more than we normally spend a month on food and more than some people pay in RENT.

But I guess medical bills for being sick and feeling yucky from eating junk end up being more expensive than high-quality food. That's what we're telling ourselves. And maybe now--before we have a mortgage and a college fund to throw money at--we can get used to spending on healthier food so it won't be such sticker shock when we try to do that for a kid in the future.

What an eye-opener.

Here's a flashback that doesn't have much to do with groceries, but it is about shopping:

there's a reason it's called Victoria's SECRET
in which I explain how it would be so nice if I could buy underwear without the company of strangers.

Whole30: the recap

So Jon and I completed the Whole30 a few days ago.

I didn't think I was going to make it! No added sugar? No bread? NO CHEESE!?!

Jon was waiting for this *burst* of energy we were supposed to get, but he was disappointed. I listed a few benefits I got in the update post from the middle of the month (less tired, not dizzy at the gym, nicer skin, etc). Also? I lost some weight,* too.

But here's the biggest one: my mouth is not hungry 24/7.

See, I have this thing where I can have a really filling, delicious meal, but then ten minutes later--even if my belly is bulging and I can hardly move from the couch, my mouth has a taste for something else. It's bizarre! I try to drink water, or wait 20 minutes, but it's there. All the time. This leads to way overeating and ridiculous snacking. And it was getting to be a problem.

But cutting out all this stuff from my diet? Made the cravings go away.

Not sure what it was, but I do consume a lot of dairy--yogurt, milk in my tea, lots of cheese. I have a feeling that hormones in that stuff has something to do with it.  But I'm no doctor.

Last night (Jon's birthday) we went out for hibachi/sushi and dove into bowls of rice. The idea was to introduce one forbidden food first to see how our bodies would handle it. Right away, we both felt really full. My tummy was not immediately pleased and there was more um, air, in my system, but otherwise I did all right. But I realized I would have been just fine eating the veggies and the meat and just a little rice.

This afternoon I had a burrito bowl with brown rice and felt the same way--I would have been way more satisfied with double the veggies and half the rice. My stomach wasn't in pain, but felt a little weird. I was scared to eat any candy--especially with the overflowing bowls all around at this time of year--but I had a mini PayDay today and it was SCRUMPTIOUS. I'm afraid once I eat chocolate, I won't be able to stop.

Like I said on Day 18, this simply can't be a way of life for me. It's just way too hard on my friends and family--being on a weird diet not for allergy reasons makes hosts feel bad and dining out really tricky. But it really made me stop and think about what I'm putting into my body. And I will definitely be making some changes, like less pasta and rice, more cups of tea with coconut or almond milk instead of cow's milk, and way more vegetables.

As hard as it was for Jon and I, the person who suffered the most this past month was my poor mother. It was absolutely KILLING her to not be able to send over some food. She even researched the diet and made a very tantalizing homemade chicken soup, but looked crushed when I told her we couldn't have peas. I think she felt a little better when I picked them out and ate the rest in front of her. But only slightly. Because she's a graduate of the school that preaches, "Food is love," and a mommy who can't share love is a sad mommy indeed.

the ones that won't let you down
When I was stuck in the dungeon on Thanksgiving, my mom cooked up a mini-feast just for me, and the family brought it 35 miles into the city for me. My mom said, "the turkey just wouldn't go down my throat knowing that you weren't having any."


*I lost half an inch from my bust, waist and the widest part of my hips (I only had "before" measurements required for sewing). I will probably weigh myself when I get back to the gym where I had taken that particular measurement a few weeks before this experiment.

i'm pretty sure this guy knew his time was up

Chocolate cake topped with chocolate mousse, dipped in chocolate sauce, topped w icing eyes. If I could purchase and deliver this to Ri and C without giving into temptation, I have more willpower than I thought.

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Whole30: Day 18

I'm getting older. And I sure am feeling it.

I don't bounce back easily anymore. I have to prop my head up with a stapler every day at 2:30 p.m. One minute of jumping rope makes me feel like falling down.  My real-people clothes (read: not scrubs) are too snug* to be sitting in them all day. Also? I have a hard time falling asleep and an excruciating time getting out of bed in the morning. My monthly ladyfriend brings the pain and at least one pimple. And I don't even want to think about what would happen if I tried to pull an all-nighter. All of those were getting me down.

So when I heard about the Whole30, I thought I'd give it a whirl. See if at the very least I could stop that vomitous, lightheaded feeling while jumping up and down for 60 seconds (for awhile I was convinced I was going to drop dead of a heart attack).

There's a ton of stuff on the Interwebs about this, so I'll just say the very basics:

1. No grains
2. No added sugar (fruit is ok)
3. No dairy. Not even a pat of butter
4. No legumes or beans
5. No soy
6. No peanuts 
7. No peas
8. No potatoes
9. No alcohol

Way harsh, Tai, right?

Shockingly, it's been going pretty well. Despite his distaste for (so) many vegetables, Jon is doing it with me for solidarity. I have not cheated (except for when I realized the splash of Coconut milk I was putting in my tea has some cane sugar in it). As far as I know, he hasn't cheated, either. And now that we have made it 18 days, there's no reason not to go all the way to 30.

This is what I've noticed so far:

1. I fall asleep within 10 minutes, max. 
2. I don't feel nauseated or lightheaded during or after working out. 
3. Jon says my skin looks better (didn't get a pimple this month). 
4. Ladyfriend was kinder and had a shorter stay!
5. Still hard to wake up, but that's been a problem since I was like 8. 
6. I actually like eating more fruit (even the occasional banana**) 
7. No 2:30 p.m. slump!
8. Waistband is a bit loose on some of the pants (haven't tried Ring Of Fire yet).
9. And the biggie: I have ZERO problem sitting next to my coworkers as they eat McDonald's french fries, chocolate cake or other treats that would normally make me want some. This was unfathomable to me when I started it. Passing the bakery or noodle shop is a whole different story.

Jon and I have been cooking everything from scratch, using fresh vegetables and trying to find the healthiest meats we can afford (we are completely broke this month).  Everything has been delicious so far and my coworkers are curious to see what I bring in every day. We just had dinner of pork marinara over julienned zucchini (I know how pretentious that sounds, but it was really tasty). 

I am terrified about what is going to happen as we reintroduce the banned stuff at the end of the month (which coincides with Jon's birthday). I've heard there are headaches and tummyaches and internal plumbing issues. But it's a great way to figure out what a person's body is truly sensitive to-- bring back stuff one at a time--and see where the tiredness is coming from. For me, I have a feeling it's from hormones in dairy and meat. Not sure what Jon is going to find out. We will see.

One thing is clear: I don't think we can live this way all the time. Jon not baking is just depriving the world of heaven in a cupcake wrapper. And this diet leaves zero room for grabbing something quick and easy. Even steaming up some green beans takes prep and planning. But we have no-prep stuff like boiled eggs in the fridge for a quick snack. It's been a lot of meat, though, which made me realize I was pretty much eating vegetarian before. Also, going out to eat with friends can be a little awkward and make friends feel bad. That I can most certainly live without. Not to mention all the additional dishes to wash.

Above all that, I don't want to live in a world where pizza makes me sick. Let's hope that doesn't happen. Only 11 more days until I find out.


*PP has a friend who calls looking at your belly at the end of the day and being able to see the imprint of the inside button on your office pants "the ring of fire." So apt.

**Anyone who has known me for ten minutes will be shocked because I don't eat bananas. My mom made me eat them every day when I was a kid and I was so over it. But they're not terrible. Don't tell my mother.

nope, that's just where I put away all that string cheese and doughnuts

Yesterday, my coworkers and I walked a 5K for charity. Before the race, three women from my old department told me there is a rumor circulating that I am pregnant.

Naturally, I blame my mother.

Last week one of her friends called her at work to say she was saving baby stuff for me--whenever I got around to it. Even the staplers have ears in that department, so by today everyone had already started placing bets on due dates.

Another factor could be the extra girth I've acquired since I started the new job. I've put on about two newborn babies' (or roughly one and a half non-Indian babies) worth of weight since transitioning from running around the hospital 40 hours a week to sitting in a cubicle for 50 then coming home and sitting around some more. If I have to go up another pant size I think I may kick someone.

However, along with the job I have also transitioned my exercising: I went from halfheartedly doing a yoga DVD at home to sweating down to my scalp at a yoga class that is probably too advanced for me and having my behind handed to me at boot camp four days a week. Sure, I've put on some muscle, but unfortunately my clothes are not fitting better.

This is probably because I come home and eat everything in sight when I exercise--mostly stuff like pasta and rice. I will finish a perfectly good meal and still feel like "my mouth is still hungry; maybe I'll have some string cheese and crackers. Or a bag of chips. Or a sleeve of Oreos. It's totally okay because I just held a 'Bird of Paradise' pose without falling on my head." Hmmm. Also? I'm tired ALL the time, no matter how early I get to bed. Or I lie down and cannot actually sleep until two hours before the alarm. I have a hard time concentrating at work, and all I want to do when I'm not there or at the gym is lounge on the couch and watch tv (ok, that's a lifestyle habit I'm not sure I'm ready to give up). I don't even have the energy for knitting!

A few days ago, while trolling around twitter, I saw that Shalini of Reading and Chickens described herself as eating like a fratboy and then said she wasn't going to do Whole30 because she doesn't like meat. I eat like a fratboy! I've never met a cheeseburger I didn't like! So I got to googling: Basically you can't eat dairy, grains, sugar or much of the other stuff that I seem to be unable to live without. It especially targets stuff with hormones in it--and without going into detail, my body does not react well to non-Cadiz-produced hormones--so maybe there's something to this? I'm going to try it this month. Jon is too, for solidarity. We will see what happens.

I'm hoping to feel better, and maybe drop the weight of at least one infant. I just hope I don't pass out in yoga. Because everyone knows I get my strength from Oreos.

i looked and i said, "no ma'am"

I am OBSESSED with this. What's not to love? Cute kids, head-bopping beat and after-school snacks. I am not ashamed to say I first heard it on NPR.

the mehndi

Two days before the wedding, after I was showered and fragrant from my Ros, we headed over to my godmother's house for the mehndi*. My mom had bought a very lovely outfit from Devon for me to wear to the event, but it was obvious this was the first mehndi in our family, because it was floorlength and would have been a huge hassle to keep up over my knees with both my hands and legs unable to move. Good thing my godmother's daughter-in-law had the perfect short and pretty kameez at the ready for me to wear with leggings. Problem solved.

My godmother and her family rounded up a ton of saris in varying shades of green and blue, big paper decorations, and they even put up a tent on their front patio by the water fountain. It was so beautiful, I was sad that the weather was chilly so we couldn't set up our stations outside. And she had a ton of food--including this fried rice my godfather makes that I can't seem to get enough of. I knew that I wouldn't be able to use my hands or even move that much, so I was inhaling as much of everything as I could before I had to take up the spot I'd be in for the next four hours.

I love plants almost as much as my godmother does. I don't know how she knew that I love gladiola (gladiolas? gladioli?). So pretty. I really wish I had taken more pictures of the decor. It must have taken a lot of work and the whole place looked wonderful.

For years when I'd go to their house, I saw loveseat-like bench that has an indoor arbor over it and thought, "Self, this would be an awesome seat for a bride and groom." Guess where Jon and I were sitting? My godmother's 89-year-old mother said a prayer for us and then we all got down to business. Personally, it means a lot to me to have her blessings, and of older people in general, mostly because aside for that one year I had with my nani when I was seven, mine have always been so very far away. And now they're all in Heaven, where I'm sure they're sending their blessings. But it's always nice to hug a grandma in real life.

My godmother hired two mehndi artists--one dedicated to do mine--to do the mehndi for most all the women. A lot of my family, friends and parents' friends came at different times throughout the day and evening. You want to let the dark green paste dry to black and let it flake off to get the best dye on your skin, and the palms have more keratin (thanks, s, for that tidbit) so the color comes out better there. But it's a huge inconvenience not to be able to use your hands for so many hours, so many of them only got a design on the back of one hand. You know, so they could drive home.

Here are some highlights of their mehndi:

Tomorrow: Jon made a time-lapse video of mine.



From wikipedia: "Mehndi is a ceremonial art form which originated in ancient India. Intricate patterns of mehndi are typically applied to brides before wedding ceremonies."

the cake

There's a girl at work, Brenda, who bakes. In fact, back in the day she made cakes for events until it wasn't fun anymore. Her stuff is AMAZING, guys. I pretty much love most any type of dessert, unlike some people [cough, mom*, cough] whose praise peaks at "it was okay" for pretty much anything. Even she says Brenda's stuff is "pretty good" (read: blue ribbon!). It's sweet without being cloying, fluffy but still has substance and it's just all-around scrumptious. She makes her own frosting that's so light I never want to scrape any off before digging in. And the cakes look amazing, too--she's got a fat binder with all these "Ace-of-Cake" type photos and letters from people who love her stuff as much as we do. I've known I wanted her to make my wedding cake long ago, even before she created that awesome underwear graduation cake for my brother.

I'd seen Brenda turn people's requests down. She's in nursing school and working and has a family and lots of stuff going on. And I can only assume that the kinds of cakes she makes take a LOT of tender loving time. I was worried she'd say no. Somehow, my mom got her to do it.

Unfortunately Jon and I like things very simple, which can come off a little boring. We were thinking a really small, one-tier cake with maybe a ribbon around it for us to cut in front of everyone, and then a couple of sheet cakes the back (made by her, of course). We wanted to make the least work for Brenda as possible. But she wanted us to have a much bigger and fancier cake, with different layers in different colors. She convinced us to go with a three-tier cake featuring a white-on-white design that Jon liked. And then she made two extra sheet cakes as well. Yellow cake with strawberry filling. If anyone knows about the Jewel strawberry shortcakes around this area, it was better than that. And she made chocolate cake, too.

Before the wedding, Brenda had gone with me to the floral shop at the hospital. In a flash of reality a few weeks before the wedding, when mfm was trying to explain to me how far gone I was, I made the smart decision to have the florist make our boutonnieres and corsages because we were teetering on the precipice of too much DIY (before this wedding, I would have said there was no such thing, but I HAVE SEEN THE EDGE, PEOPLE, AND IT IS TERRIFYING). I had picked out some orange spray roses for Brenda to work with.

From the four or five bites I was able to inhale that day, this cake was every bit as good as I had hoped.

As per Syar's request, here is a clearer view of the detailing on the cake. I hope it's a little better.

You noticed the oddly misshapen stick figures on the front of the cake's middle tier? Yep, another sign the DIY train had been way too close to the cliff without a guardrail. My plan was to make a stick-figure caketopper out of floral wire as a callback to our invitations. It was a decent idea--just not one I should have been executing THE DAY OF OUR WEDDING WHILE SITTING IN THE MAKEUP CHAIR. I rave about my photographer not only because he does awesome work and has a great personality; he whipped up the "bouquet" the stick-figure bride is holding while I had to put down the pliers and look to the ceiling for mascara.

I realize that caketopper is not my best work. Another lesson I learned with this wedding is to just let things go, so I got over it. In fact, I'm just happy it was on the cake all: Jon and I were standing behind the cake when we cut it, so when I didn't see it on top of the cake, I assumed it wasn't there and was sad. I never should have doubted my sisters-in-law, cc and pp; they made SO much happen that I didn't even hear about until later. I only realized the stick figures had been on the cake all the time when we went to pick up the top tier and they were there in the box.

Don't take my word for it: There was a three-tier cake, plus two sheets in the back. And, aside from the top we got to save for next September 17, there wasn't a single piece of cake left over.

Brenda, if the nursing thing doesn't work out, please open a bakery.

now wouldn't that be something to talk about while we cut the cake?

My parents are from India. And one thing Indians know how to do are MUSICALS. As luck would have it, my parents enjoy Hindi music, and my father in particular loves him some Bollywood jams*. So the stuff was always on at my house growing up. And LOUD.

Ever since I can remember, on the weekends my parents would play (read: my dad would blast) Hindi music videos while making breakfast. If you want to give me a perfect Saturday morning, wake me up with the smell of fresh parathas and the sound of "the Indian show." Then follow it up with an episode of "Saved By The Bell." I'll be your best friend. For life.

One of my favorite songs of ALL TIME is this 1980 gem from Qurbani, sang by 15-year-old Nazia Hassan:

Dude, this was NINETEEN-EIGHTY. Before the Internet. And 1980 India was more like 1973 in the states. 

I distinctly remember being about three and singing this song ad nauseam at the top of the stairs with a hairbrush. A lot. In 1995, I taught my friend Kai how to sing it, even though she's Taiwanese and doesn't know more than a few Hindi words. She can still sing it to this day, but I'm pretty sure she's forgotten that it loosely translates to "If someone like you were to come into my life, that would be something to talk about/make news." Hindi never translates well. Which just adds another layer of entertainment when you stop to read the subtitles.

I wasn't sure how to go about asking Jon if we can have this cheeseball Indian Disco jam play as we'd cut the cake. I mean, in all the episodes of "Namaste America" I've made him sit through these last six years, I'm pretty sure "Aap jaisa koi" was not featured (though it REALLY SHOULD BE. Are you reading this Obaid?). I finally managed to make my request and Jon says, "Ok, but on one condition, okay?" [Dramatic pause.] That this is the final answer and we WILL NOT BE SECONDGUESSING THIS DECISION."

We didn't. And I was happy.

People came up to me later professing their love for the song, too. You like it? Maybe you'll also enjoy this:

The part that anyone can ever remember starts at about 0:55. And ends at about 1:10. I didn't even bother watching the rest.

the food

Jon has said that the best wedding meal he ever had was at his sister A's wedding. Apparently every single person at the reception was served their meal at the same time and it was warm, cooked well and delicious. So he really wanted a sit-down meal. I really wanted Indian food, which generally consists of a buffet. So we compromised on serving our wedding meal family-style: 18 items laid out on a big square table for 12, so people had plenty of stuff to choose from and didn't have to get up or stand in line.

The place where we held the reception (and the wedding itself) is owned by the restaurant who catered the meal. It's been nearly two months since the wedding and people are still commenting about how much they loved the food. And because people had been telling me for years that the meal is one of the few things guests actually remember about any wedding, that makes me very happy. Especially because the food Jon and I had tasted before making our selections was good, but not phenomenal. However the dishes served to us at the sweetheart table were some of the best Indian food I've ever had outside of my mother's house. We were wondering if our meal was extra scrumptious because it was our wedding day, but hearing everyone's rave reviews, I'm very glad to say it was all very good.

Indian food is not for everyone. Cc's son b enjoyed the Penne Alfredo, and some of Jon's family members who weren't so sure about the ethnic options seemed to like it, too. A family-style meal (when someone else is choosing the selections) is a great place to try it if you haven't had the opportunity. It was the first time for the husband of my coworker who made our phenomenal cake, and he enjoyed it so much that he's asked his wife to start trying out recipes. My mom has been sending some samples home for him with her.

Of course, there's always something that gets lost in translation. The day after the wedding, the boyfriend of a coworker facebookposted this picture of our menu, describing the gulab jamun dessert.

His caption: "@ a wedding and has Golden Fried balls of milk!!! WTF!!"

I commented that I knew how that was going to look when I made the menus, but it's really hard to describe them any other way (there isn't!). She was worried I was offended, but I think it's just as funny. That said, one of my brother's best friends here asked my mom if she would make him the "sweet balls" the next time my brother came to town. Now that he's moved back home, I'm pretty sure she'll be making them all the time. 

I made Jon get up during dinner so we could visit all the tables. But then we got to talking and only made it to about four before it was time to get on with the program. I felt sad about not being able to greet all our our guests personally after not having a receiving line (though my parents did manage to make it to every table; they didn't eat much) before the dancing. If I had known that I wouldn't be able to say hello to every guest, there's a good chance I'd have gotten myself some golden fried balls of milk.