Wedding day: girls get ready, boys get ready.

The morning of the wedding, I woke up rather suddenly. I did a lightning-quick assessment of how I was feeling: scared? Anxious? Happy? Excited? None of these was accurate or at least not prominent in my heart. What I felt, (and it made me laugh), was determined. I don’t know what it’s like for James Bond or the guy from Mission: Impossible to wake up the morning of a big mission, but I truly believe they’d feel a bit like I did just then. My brain was practically reminding me, This is what you’ve trained for. You are a lean, mean, wedding machine. You can do this.

Brian and I had made the last-minute choice to have Brian sleep at home with me the night before the wedding. We’d told very few people because even for a highly superstitious Irish girl, I had had enough of the ‘It’s good luck/It’s bad luck’ insanity; everything about a wedding is shrouded in luck-related mystery, and at some point you’ve gotta ignore the hype. We ignored the hype this time, Brian slept at home, and it was a great decision. We both slept more naturally, we woke up smiling at each other, and Brian was happy not to be exiled to a spare room at one of the parents’ homes. Brian stuck around just long enough for the minivan to arrive—with our good friend Jon at the helm—and he helped to fill it with the copious amounts of décor that had taken over our living room. If you have the option and you’re DIY’ing your wedding, let me just advise you now: find someone with a clean, dry basement and take it over as your storage haven. I wanted all my decorations close, where I could muss with them and organize them, but if you’re not obsessive-compulsive, stashing all this stuff somewhere else will save you a shred of sanity around the house.

Anyway, Jon arrived, dropped off Sir Tam, and picked up a van full of decorations plus Brian, who he drove to Brian’s parents’ house in Kanata. We were smart and had asked our friend Rob to take half of the stuff the night before in his minivan, so no one was packed to the rafters. This way, too, Brian had an actual seat in Jon’s van—a nice bonus for a man on his wedding day. They left, Tam and I had a few minutes together, and before we knew it, there was a knock on the door: Carolyn, Brian’s sister had arrived. Minutes later, my cousin Suzie was there. We were ready for action.

We headed to Character Salon for our hair appointments with Lori and Laura (Laura is another stylist at the salon who was awesome enough to gift her time to us). Our amazing photographer Laura met us there, and started snapping photos right away. Hair went smoothly for all the girls (including Tam, who recently coloured her goldish locks a deep bronze tone), though my hair decided that this day of all days, it would no longer be curly. Lori remarked that obviously, as this was the first day all summer that wasn’t horribly humid, my hair had now straightened out…which caused Lori some trouble in creating artificial volume, but because she’s amazing, she pulled it off. In record time, I was sporting my beautiful peacock feather fascinator from Flights of Fancy, with my hair done all messy-pixie-like, and my recently-added green streaks matched the exact shade of green in the peacock feathers. That was a simple added bonus, as I’d bought the green hair dye months before procuring the feathered fascinator. Accidental perfection…or what I call ‘failing forward’.

 

We worked on our makeup, each of us, between getting our hair done and waiting for the others to finish up. Despite my best efforts over the last few weeks, I still didn’t know exactly what I’d be doing to my face; but again, somehow everything came together. I’d recently got myself a new green eyeliner and that turned out to be the same peacock green, as well. A dash of gold, a swish of greenish-turquoise, and voila. I never did find the perfect type of lip colour, but I used one I like a lot—a cheap lip stain pen that just makes me look like I’m blushing—and I felt my face was looking pretty darn good, actually.

We had a good laugh as we made our way back to the car, and then walked to the sushi place near my apartment. We were wearing shorts and tees, with orange and peacock feathers in our hair, and enough makeup to do a Vogue cover shoot. Strangely, no one asked what we were up to, but one lady stopped her young child on the sidewalk, pointed at me, and said, “Look, honey, that lady has peacock feathers on.” Strange to feel like a parade float on your big day, I suppose. I'm going to post a whack of photos right here, then continue blogging below...these are all shots by the outstanding Laura Elizabeth Photograhy.

Take a look at Brian's band, offered to P:P by Magpie Jewelry here in Ottawa. xoxox! Above, take a gander at that stunning fascinator by our beloved Flights of Fancy!

Crazy textile necklace by Morganna the White; bracelet handmade by the bride; and above, the famous 'suit' jacket from Harley Davidson Ottawa--thank you for making our boy look like a REAL cowboy.

The rest of the day and afternoon were painful. Sorry, girls, it’s not your fault…it’s the nature of the beast. It was a lot of ‘hurry up and wait’, and my nerves started to tingle. We ate sushi in my living room, touched up faces and hair, ironed dresses…and generally just provided me with too much time to think. I began double-checking where my accessories were, and that resulted in me ‘losing’ my necklace—until I found it in my other bag, carefully packed for its trip to the venue. I regret to inform, I did give Tam the stink eye on that one, as I’d loudly proclaimed that I couldn’t find my necklace, and she asked, “Which one?” Which, in my hyper-anxious state, sounded like she’d forgotten what was happening today or something, because what necklace could I possibly mean except the one Morganna had given me to wear with my dress! I apologized moments later, however, and once the necklace was found I was the beneficent Dr Jekyll again, Mr Hyde having disappeared back into the depths from whence she came. Adding to my anxiety was the quietness of the room. My girls are generally fairly quiet people by nature, and usually with a quiet crowd I’ll do my best to chitchat, but I was nervy and a bit queasy so I didn’t even try. I told Tam I felt bad about not being a more dynamic host, and she gave me that look she reserves for times she thinks I’m being ridiculous. I attempted to offset my lack of good hosting by sharing our Koko Chocolates with everyone—a serious sacrifice, indeed!

Now, while we were busy getting ironed, teased, curled, painted, cleaned, fed, and plucked, Brian sent me texts about his afternoon. His groomsmen showed up, as did our lovely photographer Adam Pap, somewhere around noon. The boys got dressed, had a cigar and some scotch, and had time to fool around as you’ll see in the photos below. The texts I got from Brian were relaxed and cheerful, and with a house full of boys who needed help putting on their pocket watches (our gift to them) and tying their ties, Brian was happily distracted from the magnitude of the day by some of his favourite ‘old man’ hobbies: aged liquor, cigars, pocket watches, and tie knots. Brian was, in fact, so relaxed that he forgot his 'suit' jacket--his Harley Davidson leather biker jacket--at the apartment, which is why it's in my photos. I’ll let the photos do the talking for the boys here, and I’ll continue this entry just below them…these are all by the fantastic Adam Pap.

Dirk and Bri

Handsome lads!

Bri and Eric as teens

Bri and his dad.

Bri's gift for Jordan.

The wedding morning was so weird. Time passed slowly, then quickly, then slowly again. I found that I couldn’t connect with the reality of what was happening at all, that only in brief whooshing moments of near-panic—much like a rollercoaster, now that I reflect on it—I don’t think my brain understood what the day was all about. This was a good, thing, though, as my nerves would kick in later. I think it was a great bonus that we got ready at our house, got our hair done at my usual studio, and even ate lunch at my usual sushi joint, because everything felt familiar and safe. My brief moments of crazy that shone through here and there showed me my hysterical side, so I’m really glad there weren’t more.

I may have mentioned this story before, but it came to mind again the morning of the wedding. Years ago, I worked as a makeup artist and image consultant as a second job. Brides were my bread and butter. One time, I remember showing up to this bride, Devon’s, house around 10:30 or 11am—and found the bride just waking up. She rose when the doorbell rang, and welcomed us in a little sleepily and very calmly. I remember working on her face and having her family members flitting about with the usual wedding anxiety that is such a guaranteed part of the a pre-wedding atmosphere…but Devon herself was calm and relaxed. Her dad even showed up to sheepishly report that someone had locked the keys inside the rented SUV that was supposed to take the bride to the venue, but again Devon was peaceful and was certain they’d find a solution…which they did. I admired Devon that day, and told myself that when my wedding came around, I wanted to be just like her.

Well, I have no idea what Devon was like in the weeks leading up to her wedding; if she was zen-like during that time period, I was not similar to her at all. But on the day of, I gotta say I did pretty well. Those who know me, know that I’m a hyper-anxious, detail-obsessed crazy person who doesn’t handle…well, anything, really…in a calm and peaceful fashion. I tend to approach things with a lot of energy, a flaming sword, and a twitch to my eye. But that morning I managed to be quiet and still; truly, I was only anxious a handful of brief moments, and the rest of the time I felt like even Devon would be proud. Even when we got a text from Jon at the venue saying that they couldn’t find Rob with the other van full of stuff, I managed to stay relaxed and took care of the issue with a quick call.

Okay, so yeah yeah, I was all calm and zen-like and good for me…but I’d be a bad blogger indeed if I didn’t admit this one: as we walked home from sushi, I was joking and talking with the girls, being a lovely person and looking like a Devon-worthy bride; but just before Sir Tam and I entered the apartment, I turned in the hallway to look at her. I felt my face change from jovial to worried, and I think I took her hand because she seemed a little shocked, and I said, “Okay: it’s going to go okay, right?” To which she replied, “Of course it is,” with a serious, concerned look in her eyes. But I felt that perhaps she didn’t know what she was reassuring me of; so before I could even stop myself from saying something so silly, I asked, “And I’m not going to trip, am I?” Tam’s face lit up with amusement and, laughing, she reassured me I would trip. I gave her a hug and we went inside.

Not long after lunch, my dad arrived to take us to the venue in his pretty car. This is where I’ll leave off this blog entry, but don’t worry: the next one will include a story of me hiding on the floor of dad’s car, seeing the venue decked out for the first time, and getting into my wedding dress in a bathroom stall…and the ceremony. You’re gonna love it.

The wedding: the final week, and a video of the big day!

Okay, SPOILER ALERT:  The wedding was a huge success. I give you this spoiler now because I know you’re all dying for details, but I plan to start from the beginning of when I lost all blogging time: the week before the wedding. So before I tell you about our busy activities the week leading up to the big event, I want to assuage any fears you may have had: the day went off perfectly. The ceremony was breathtaking, the reception looked dynamite, the cake was to die for, my dress stayed clean all day, and we both said “I do” and used the right names. That’s all I’ll say for now, but if you’ll all be so good to listen to my account of the last week’s planning, I promise to fill you in on the intimate details and behind-the-scenes accounting of the wedding day itself very soon. But for those who just can’t wait, here’s a teaser video put together of the big day by our videographers, Bytown Productions:

We’ve just spent five days mostly alone since the wedding, mostly ignoring technology, and mostly relaxing. Frankly, it’s been a bit of a shock to the system; but the facetime with my new hubby was a must. My dad, a few days in, remarked that people would be looking for blog entries and shouldn’t we hurry up? I replied that there would be blog entries a-plenty, but they’d have to forgive us for a couple days while we focused on the being married part. He laughed and said, fair enough.

That being said, I’ve had a hard time keeping my fingers off the keyboard, as I do love writing and I do love blogging. I thought a good place to start, especially as we wait for more and more photos from our photogs to come in, was with a recounting of the day from our perspectives, with a little preamble first…

As the week before the wedding came upon us, with the BIG DAY looming ahead and scaring us both silly, we had some people provide moments of simple happiness along the way. Jen Winter of Koko Chocolates delivered a box of truffles to us as a wedding present. Fearing that they would spoil, we immediately set upon them. There’s nothing quite as awesome as losing yourself for a brief moment in the centre of a handmade chocolate, as every neuron in your brain is firing, trying to identify the myriad subtle flavours of the chocolate, the filling, the textures. So, a big thank you goes to Jen, who provided me several moments of zen-like ‘now time’ as I lost myself in the heaven of truffles.

Judy Ruggles, our consummate seamstress extraordinaire, also kept us sane through the last week, primarily by being a rockin’ awesome genius in her profession. Judy’s vests, seen on the boys in all the pictures, were stunning. One of the guys had mis-measured himself and Judy had to rebuild the vest from scratch, but it didn’t slow her down one bit. I found myself obsessing about a pleat in my dress that seamed to be sticking out, and Judy steamed that sucker to perfection. My crinoline was dramatically altered to fit the style and length of my dress, and overall, Judy just never let us down. I have determined that one of my first pieces of advice for anyone planning a wedding is this: no matter how tiny your budget, no matter what you have to trade, beg, or do to have this happen, you must have a killer seamstress on standby. Not the one at the bridal salon, who will often be too busy to help or who may work at a shop that’s not open 2 days out of 7. If you’re in Ottawa, go with Judy; if you’re in another city, ask around ‘til you find someone who can be super available, who is fast, friendly, patient, and creative. (Those of you out of town: good luck. Those of you in town: just go with Judy, save yourself the headache.)

We also received, though I failed to mention earlier, a lovely package from my friend Allison B in Newfoundland. Allison lives out there and writes a lovely blog talking a lot about cooking, and sometimes about her dog (that she is going to give to me one day, I know it), and once about wattles—not the turkey kind. Allison sent us a box of the coolest little pieces of nature from all over and around Newfoundland, for us to display on our In Spirit table. We did, and it was wonderful. I stopped and touched the worm-eaten wood at one point in the evening, and felt grounded despite all the colour and music and people around me. Allison, the arrival of this package was such a bright spot leading up to the big day. Thank you.

Photo by Adam Pap

Big love, as well, to Jon H. Jon is Sir Tam’s (the matron of honor) husband, and he saved the day a dozen times leading up to the wedding. He took over the task of the graphic design work for our cool placemats-cum-placecards that everyone’s been photographing from the wedding…a task that I reluctantly delegated simply because it would have been fun to do, but we had to start sharing the load. Jon made us such a beautiful design, and I think that shows in how many people photographed such a simple thing! Jon also came to our rescue by finding a freaking ton of cool lawn games for the big day, which we’ll talk a bit more about later…but considering all I was looking for was a soccer ball and some lawn darts, the horseshoes, croquet set, and baci ball were amazing! Thank you, Jon. You know what a role you played, and we love you for it.

Probably my favourite part of the week leading up to the wedding was my day out with my mom. Mom wasn’t at my bachelorette party (and that was a good thing, as some of the games we got up to, I just couldn’t play in front of a parent), but I was sad not to have some special time with her. So we took Friday off before the wedding weekend (crazy, I know) and spent the day together. First we went to my mom’s friend’s studio to have our nails done. Joanne did our toes and fingers for us, and we all chatted away while I got to hold her incredibly adorable puppy (note: there should be more puppies in every type of daily activity). Joanne didn’t charge us for the service and sent us home with the bottles of orange polish we’d used, so a huge thanks also goes out to Joanne for being a wonderful lady and taking good care of us. We then went for some lunch at a place called Bottega in the Byward market, splitting a sandwich and salad big enough to take down even Brian. After that, a flurry of shopping occurred as I searched for (and eventually found) a robe I’d feel comfortable wearing at the Bed & Breakfast after the wedding…I also picked up a little charm that I’ve been eyeing for weeks. It’s a compass, and Mom helped me pick it out. We both felt it was a symbolism for this era in my life. The day ended almost too quickly, with our extremities painted, our bellies filled, and our pocketbooks a little lighter. That happy day sustained me through the rest of the stressful week that followed. So, Mom, thank you for spending the day with me; it’s one of my favourite memories from this whole ten months of planning.

I feel like I should fill you in one some last-minute catastrophes or mixups that must have occurred in that last week; but truly, it was pretty darn low-key. I think a huge part of that was the fact that I realized there was no time left to fix much of anything, so anything that fell apart now was simply a casualty of war and we’d have to move on without it. I felt very at peace with this, with the exceptions, of course, that nothing could happen to the wardrobe, the cake, or the centrepieces…all the things that I felt would be the ‘pillars’ of the look and feel. With six pages of meticulous instructions printed out for the setup crew to assemble the décor correctly (I’m not joking, I did that), there was little room for error. Really, the last week was the best week for just drinking it all in, loving on good people, and being grateful for last-minute helpers.

Next entry, we’ll chat about the morning of the big day, and the ceremony. Hopefully with lots of pictures. Stay tuned!

On /A\ Morning: Television Interview Post-Wedding

Hey everyone!

We haven't forgotten about you; we are just giving the photogs a few days to get some photos together (the more, the merrier) while at the same time enjoying a very low-key couple of days off together. Hope you understand!

In the meantime, here's a TV interview we did this morning on A Morning Ottawa to tide you over!

Keep your eyes out, more posts are coming your way!

WE ARE MARRIED!

Hi, everyone!

As much as I love you, I'm not writing right this minute. I'm just gonna share a couple photos that came in this morning from Adam Pap, our lead photographer. There are a hundred thousand more to come.

All I'll say is, thank you to everyone, whether you just read the blog, or you gave or loaned something to us. Thank you to Stanley's Olde Maple Lane Farm and thank you to Splendid Events. Thank you to Alan Viau, and...okay, I'm stopping now. We are having a wonderful morning, tweeting still, and will blog to you later!

The blindfolded gift exchange with the groom.

happy!

..and a couple off of Twitter:

One day to go: car dies, Brian freaks, and Jordan has no woodland help

Tomorrow morning, we will get up and get ready and get married. We’re both excited, yes; but we’re both very nervous, too. When I tell people that, they tilt their head, wrinkle their brow, and said, “Ohhhh. Really?” Like the fact that I’m nervous means I’m having second thoughts, or that I’m not a ‘good’ bride; that I should be skipping around the house each and every minute feeling great, as little birds and woodland creatures sneak into the apartment and sing songs to me while tailoring my dress and folding all my tissue paper pompoms with their teeth. The misconceptions we have of weddings and brides and the planning of weddings is atrocious. I mean, yes, if woodland creatures ran in here, Sleeping Beauty-style, and started organizing my living room full of decorations, while bathing me with buckets of rainwater and weaving flowers into my hair, I probably would feel excited every minute of every day leading up to this thing. But since they haven`t shown up yet and we have a large (and rather unusual) wedding we’re working on, and the closest thing to musical woodland help I have is my fiancé, who occasionally and inexplicably breaks out into ‘Man, I feel like a woman’ by Shania Twain…yeah, thanks for asking: I’m nervous.

Worse part? I’m nervous on two levels; and worse than that? People judge both. I’m nervous because I want our amazing project to conclude beautifully, with everything working well and everyone’s contributions shining; and then I’m nervous because we’re about to embark on this major rite of passage, this thing called ‘getting married’ where you go from a “Miss” to a “Missus” (or a “Mizz”), and people ask about kids and don’t believe you when you say “All I want are puppies.” I will be called ‘ball and chain’, ‘the wife’, and possibly even ‘nag’. Nooo, no: I’m sure I’ll be called nag. We are legally and spiritually bound to each other, and there’s just a real feeling of weightiness to that. So I spend my time oscillating between worrying about the wedding, and worrying about getting married. But, though I’d like to focus on the getting married portion, we’ve spent the last few days hyperfocused on the wedding…

I worked for hours yesterday on our seating plan, making sure everyone has a seat, and that everyone has a placemat with their name on it, and that the placemat has their table number and seat assignment on it. Then I redid several tables as people changed their RSVP’s. Then I redid it again when more people changed their RSVP’s.

Brian did a hero’s worth of little tasks, all these things that needed to happen last minute: putting tape on the back of a sign, coordinating rides for groomsmen, planning to get our car over to the hotel so we don’t have to drive the day of our wedding. He kept complaining of feeling lightheaded and I kept shoving glasses of water at him.

I had to call my parents several times to ask questions about the tiniest details, and to check on my dad’s car—the car that is driving all the girls plus myself to the venue—because its brake line gave out on Thursday and Dad had been left with nothing but a parking break on the middle of Fallowfield Road. Oh yeah, I don’t think I mentioned this yet, but the cool vintage car that was supposed to be my ride to the venue? Yeah, it broke down, too. Afraid to take a risk on an antique that none of us have ever driven before, we declined to see how the repairs turned out and opted to take Dad’s car. Then the brakes went. Well, they’ve been fixed but it’s been a helluva couple of days and I was so worried about my dad.

Anyway, then I kept wandering in and out of Base Camp, formerly referred to as our living room, trying to make sure that the fifteen boxes of decorations and incidentals was fully stocked. In the late afternoon, Brian just looked terrible. He’s very empathetic and the amount of stressed-out people that we were talking to, plus the ranting-raving stress of his blushing bride, meant he’d had his fill. I breathed in and out a few times and suggested he go for a climb at the rock climbing gym. I thought I’d have to really push to get him to go, but we both knew he needed it. Out the door he went, into our car, which has been notoriously loud for the last week…ah yes, if you’re not on Twitter, you haven’t heard, but Jude (our car) needs a new muffler, resonator, brakes, and drive belt. $1000 of repairs, all diagnosed by the mechanic as ‘Not critical and can wait ‘til after the wedding’. Phew.

About an hour later as I’m working away on something for the wedding that I, no joke, have already forgotten, I get a call from Brian on my cell. His voice has that gruff choked sound that he gets when he’s wept over something. And do you know what he says? “Hi; how are you?” Even though I can hear he’s in distress. He does this every time, this terminal politeness, and it means my response sounds jerky, but I just cut him off and say, “What happened.” He says he was driving home, and there was a terrible sound, and the exhaust system’s pipe fell down onto the pavement. He says he’s almost home but he has to drive really slow because the pipe is dragging the whole way along and the engine is very loud. This is where I go into Crisis Mode, which (lucky for us all) is where I become very calm, clearheaded, and resourceful. This is why I do well in social work: I am genetically built to deal with this kind of stress and get everyone through it together. I tell Brian he’s doing great, and to just get the car home. Then I hang up, try to get my dad on the phone for some advice, and only have a minute of puppy-like whimpering when I can’t get him.

Brian arrives, and I know this because I can hear Jude growling and screeling along from about four blocks away. He pulls into the parking lot and we both look under the car: there’s the muffler pipey thing, with the part that attaches at the front of the car dragging along the road. We discuss, with Brian using a lot of car words like ‘bracket’ and ‘pipe’ and ‘manifold’, maybe, and ‘warp core’ and ‘dilithium crystals’ I think; I say, Okay but we need a garage, yes? We have one we like, but we need the closest thing possible, so that’s Canadian Tire, 2 km (about a mile) away. Ohhhkay. I peek at the clock and see that we’ve got fifteen minutes before they close for the day, but I don’t say a word and I don’t say we need to hurry. I just let Brian drive Jude up the hill.

As we’re driving along, Jude is so loud that I feel pain in my eardrums. The jingly-clattering sound of the pipe is horrible and I keep worrying it’ll snag a pothole and somehow stop the forward momentum of the car or something. I keep looking over at Brian, with his tear-filled eyes, and back at the pedestrians along the way, who are gaping at us with complete shock. You can tell that every one of them thinks we mustn’t possibly know about the pipe, or that we’re lunatics for driving the car like this. We’re both so tense, though, I realize they have to know we’re not out for a joyride. Somewhere after the tenth or twelfth startled pedestrian, I start laughing. Brian peers at me from the corner of a watery eye and starts to snicker, too.

We get Jude booked in at the mechanics and reaffirm that the garage is open on Sunday and can work on her. I call my friend MJ, who lives just up the street, for a drive, and we sit on the curb to wait. I ask Brian, “Okay, so walk me through this one more time.” He retells the tale of leaving the gym, the desk guy giving him a free Gatorade, and the car falling apart on the parkway. The second time through, I stop him mid-story and ask, “Waitaminit, honey. It wasn’t the car that made you cry?” No; turns out it was the Gatorade and congratulations-on-your-wedding handshake from the gym guy…though the car, later, didn’t help. Well, I start to laugh; I’m not being mean but I’m sort of relieved. I thought the car was the last straw on poor Bri’s back, and it wasn’t: it was a bottle of juice and a handshake. Then Brian starts to laugh a bit and we laugh about how this sucks. We both say we are never, ever, ever getting married again, and then we kiss a lot.

MJ shows up, takes us home, and we splurge on some takeout from a pub on the corner. We eat in the bedroom—the only room free of wedding crap—and then we work on some more tasks, but at a slower pace with the list divided up into things that can be handled the next day. Around ten o’clock we turn on some old 30 Rock episodes, and somewhere in there, we must have fallen asleep. And here we are on Sunday.

We’ll update you hopefully later today. The car may be fixed on time, or it may not, I can’t control that. What I can control is organizing the bleep out of this wedding crap here at home. I can make sure everything is ready, and I can take good care of my sweetie, who needs a day of accomplishable tasks with rewards at the end. I think this wedding planning business is just an opportunity for a couple to practice being married, really: working together, dealing with stress, threatening to kill each other’s family…after planning this wedding, regular daily living will seem way more like a Disney movie than planning this thing ever did.

One day to go…

The full monty: our offbeat photoshoots

Three days ‘til the wedding. I find myself thinking a lot about photos, and wanting to share with you about Aiden Wolf Photography, the photographer who is doing our nude ‘wedding night’ shoot with us. We’ve had to postpone the couples’ shoot ‘til after the wedding for logistical reasons (which is actually alright because it’ll be fun to do it when all the stress is over with and my eye stops twitching), but we did our individual shoots a while ago. I think the feeling that all eyes will be on me in a few days has me thinking about that photoshoot, how nervous I was and how it all went down.

You know, this may surprise you, but it’s not every day that I take off my clothes in front of a near-stranger. I mean, like many teen girls I did wonder about being a model, and educated by film and television, I knew that would mean coming to terms with getting photographed naked…and that’s exactly why I never pursued any modelling. I have no problem being naked, and I’m definitely not a prude, but doing this kind of thing in front of a camera…it just seems so insane. And that’s exactly how I felt until I had my breast reduction, when I very suddenly changed my mind and decided I wanted photos done.

My reduction was a huge process, taking years for me to find the best surgeon and years to prep for the physical aspects of it. When it was done, I was able to move so much more easily, and except for nerve damage in my back that took a few more years to really show signs of healing, I felt like a new woman. It wasn’t out of vanity, but out of pride for my courage and perseverance that I found myself wanting a shot, just one good shot, of my new silhouette sans clothing. But, as I’ve already mentioned, I’m a scaredy cat, so I put if off for, ohhh, about five years.

When Andrew of Aiden Wolf Photography came along and offered to do some shoots with us in the buff, I realized my time had come. I’m in the best shape of my young life, I like my hair, and the simple fact is, this whole wedding project has been about ‘feeling the fear and doing it anyway’. So we said yes, and schedule our first shoots: the individual shoots that would provide us with some great shots that we could give to each other on our wedding night as gifts.

To say I was nervous leading up to the shoot would be an understatement. At one point the day of, I thought I was going to have to cancel or risk throwing up on Andrew. But I texted him throughout the day, asking questions and joking around, and he calmed me sufficiently to get me there. And, after only about the first half-hour, I was really quite relaxed, after all! Andrew has a very friendly, human way of talking to you while you’re in this incredibly vulnerable position, a little cold and stunned into silence by the glaring floodlight that’s illuminating your bare skin. Once we both laughed a few times, I could feel my muscles begin to relax and Andrew didn’t have to pose me as much; I started naturally falling into good positions. We did some shots with the full monty, but many with bits and pieces of wardrobe, and I like both types of shots equally. At the end of the shoot, I was genuinely sad it was over so fast.

I have been trying to figure out how to blog about this shoot for some time (and had originally hoped to blog about both the individual and the couple’s shoot at the same time, but scrapped that when I woke up this morning). The difficult part was figuring out, as a shy and not overtly sexual person, how to explain what these photos are like. Not one single shot has me licking my fingers or pouring icecream toppings down my chest. These are not Playboy photos, and wouldn’t even really be scintillating in a rap video. They’re just really beautiful portraits of my body, now as it will never again be, with lighting and talent to help amplify the pretty lines and underplay the…squishy bits. During the shoot, and upon seeing the photos after, I felt like Andrew had provided a safe place for my body to speak for itself: the scars, the muscles, and the softness, too. They’re not as sexy as they are beautiful, and that’s perfect.

Brian did his shoot with Andrew a couple weeks later. I have asked Brian repeatedly to tell me about it, and he just keeps saying it was great. I sometimes struggle with the fact that very little seems to scare Brian, so there was no internal journey for him to take off all his clothes and pose in front of another person. For Brian, he literally just thought, Now it is time to take off my clothes. It’s frustratingly zen of him, the way his brain works. Regardless, if Andrew had been creepy, rude, or awkward, that Brian would have commented on, and when I asked Brian said that he really liked Andrew and it was fun. I think he may share more with me after I get to see the photos, since I think he thinks I’m trying to find out clues about what they look like.

The couple pics here in this entry are to give you a tiny taste of how everything came out; we both chose ones that we’d a) be okay with showing each other a little early, and b) are okay with showing everyone on the internet. There will be a few more up on Aiden Wolf’s website, and you can always book an appointment to talk about your own nude (or fully clothed, traditional wedding) shoot, at which point you’ll probably see more of us in his hardcopy portfolio. But I warn you, be careful: some things seen can never be unseen, and I learned that the hard way when a former boss of mine was nude in a musical production I went to see; if, at the wedding, some of you blush when we try to make eye contact, I’ll know you’ve been checking out our photos, you sly boots.

The wedding day: you can follow LIVE!

This is a super-short post:

As we couldn't invite the entire internet to our wedding, some of you didn't get an invite in the mail. Sorry about that. Next event, we'll get a bigger venue. :P

In the meantime, for those who would like to keep up with the wedding while it's happening, we will have a hashtag on Twitter that day to help you! Don't use Twitter? No problem. Let me show you how see the tweets without signing up:

On twitter, there are little things called hashtags. A hashtag is a word with a pound sign (#) before it. It causes that word to highlight and become a clickable link…if you click this link, you will see a list of all tweets that have that hashtag in it.You can do this with any word at all: #dog, #train, #wordsalltogether, #anythingyoulike.

So, for the wedding, we are declaring #ppwedding to be our hashtag. (Stands for, of course, ‘Project: Priceless Wedding’) Guests at the wedding will be able to use this hashtag in their tweets, for example,

I am having a great time at #ppwedding though I do wish the groom had kept his pants on.

You can search for the hashtag by writing it into the search bar on Twitter’s homepage, even if you don’t use Twitter normally, and if you do tweet, you can use at any time. In prep for the wedding, we have already been using it! Just be sure that Twitter is showing you ALL tweets with the hashtag, not just the ‘top’ or ‘most recent’ tweets…otherwise you’ll miss some fun.

If you want, you can also view our Twitter profile by going to http://twitter.com/#!/prjectpriceless . Here, you will see specifically any tweets that WE write, plus any tweets where people name us by writing our screen name (prjectpriceless) with an '@' symbol before it. This also makes it a hyperlink within twitter. So you may see tweets like this:

Hey @prjectpriceless, having fun here at ur wedding but if ur looking for the groom’s pants, they left in someone’s trunk.

The easy way to remember the difference: a hashtag (#) is talking ABOUT someone, and an @ symbol is talking TO someone. The easiest way to follow the tweets, though, will be to search and follow the #ppwedding hashtag. Keep it simple.

And guests will be encouraged to send us their photos that they take with their phones by emailing us the photos…but there may also be some who tweet the photos. You’ll see a hyperlink in a tweet and you’ll be able to see the photo, for example:

Again not sure why groom took off his pants. #ppwedding. But here’s a pic: http://pan.ts.ly

We hope people use twitter tons that day. We’ll be running the tweets on something called http://visibletweets.com/ where you can put in the hashtag you’re looking for, and it’ll display the tweets in a fun way. Try it out!

Hope to have you all follow along!

So, to summarize:

 Our Twitter account is http://twitter.com/#!/prjectpriceless

Our wedding's hashtag is #ppwedding

And Brian's pants may go missing.

Seven days to go: aesthetics galore!

Seven days to go, and the focus now shifts to looking good. We are about to take photos that will follow us through history, and that means we both want to look at least a little more spruced-up than usual.

We’ve started with our teeth. Dr Hill of Holland CrossDental offered us, many months back, two complimentary whitening packages as an offer for Project: Priceless. We said yes, and I especially was excited as I quit smoking last November and have really wanted to do this. We didn’t realize (I don’t know why) that we would be waiting until just before the wedding to do the treatment, though. Well, we went about a week ago and started the process.

Dr Hill has an office at the Holland Cross building on the corner of Scott St and Holland Ave here in Ottawa. We’d never been there before and we were really impressed when we went in: the office is very modern, bright, and huge. Several dentists use the space cooperatively, and the procedure rooms are small but very nice, indeed. My room had a flat screen TV installed in the ceiling, and I couldn’t help but think how much nicer that’d be to stare at during a filling than the poster of hot air balloons my own dentist has. The staff were super friendly, working quickly and cheerfully even when I started to gag and panic while they filled my mouth with some sort of quick-drying rubber that would become my dental impression. We were in and out in a flash after a quick hello from Dr Hill, and off we went to wait for the moulds to be made.

We picked up our equipment a few days later, got very specific instructions, and then began our whitening procedure. It’s a little intimidating, these two clear trays that slip over your teeth, filled with hydrogen peroxide-based goo, and let sit for up to an hour. But we bit the bullet (or the tray) and gave it a try, and now we’re several days in to the 14-day treatment and already showing results. So thank you, Dr Hill and the Holland Cross dental staff; our photos will stand as a testament to your generous gift!

We also saw Sarah Rogers at Living Colour Tattoo Studio this past week in downtown Ottawa. Sarah has been ill, but is on the mend (yay!) and was finally back on her feet enough to finish our wedding tattoos. Mine went splendidly, and I got to go first this time which I much preferred; and Sarah did well, looking healthy indeed and well-recovered; but Brian said this round hurt way worse than the first. We all decided it came down to simple biological reality: if you show up at a place at 4pm full of adrenaline, but have to wait ‘til 7pm to start the activity, you will have less adrenaline to use up. No matter; we gave him Sprite and suckers and kept him talking about other things, and Sarah did all the hardest parts of the tattoo first, so that eventually the pain wasn’t really that bad, after all. And the end result? You’ll have to wait a little bit while the healing finishes up…but it is absolutely gorgeous and Sarah is a genius with a tattoo gun.

I went for my hair trial the same day as our tattoo, as well. Character Salon is donating us the styling for myself and my girls on the big day, so I went to see my lady, Lori, for a trim and a practice run. Poor Lori remembered how freaked out I was halfway through the first attempt we’d done about six weeks back, but by the end of it I’d loved it, so I was pretty relaxed this time through. I love this salon, and I love Lori, who didn’t panic when I reminded her I was putting emerald green streaks into my hair, but instead gave me advice for optimum placement. I left with my fascinator in place, my hair done up fabulously, looking only a little silly in shorts and a t-shirt. On the way home I got a handful of compliments, so that tells you how awesome it’s going to look! I’m genuinely excited about the hair. I think it’s going to suit me while still being really funky.

Purple Urchin swung by Brian’s work last week as well, and dropped off the most delightful package. If you’ll recall, Purple Urchin (afantastic homemade soap company) offered to provide gifts for our wedding party, and we happily accepted. Sarah of P.U. dropped off a bag of wonderfulness, but I only go to see it after she was long gone. When I opened the bag, I saw gifties for Brian and I, as well! Sarah had included some of her irresistible Root Beer-scented lip butter (thank god, because all the stress has had me chewing up my lips), plus an extra aptly-named ‘Man Soap’ for Brian (same as his boys will have) and an extra Cocoa Butter Coffee Scrub for me (same as the girls, and my favourite product from Purple Urchin). I am thrilled, and very happy that the scents of oatmeal, chocolate, and coffee will be wafting all around us while we give each other root beer-flavoured kisses. Thank you, P.U.! (And here’s a hint for those who’d like to try, or are already addicted to, P.U.’s goodies: there’ll be an announcement soon about a permanent 7-days-a-week place to get your soapy goodies…shhh! Stay tuned.)

And we had one more aesthetics-related adventure recently. You may remember that the lovely Daya Organic Spa offered to do the makeup for myself and my girls. I went in and saw the spa, which is a lovely place; it has a very comfortable atmosphere and the vibe is actually very different for a spa, with lots of natural wood and greenery instead of the more typical sterile white atmosphere. Sara (have you noticed how many Sara(h)s we’ve had help out?) took me around and showed me the makeup line they use, plus how they avoid cross-contamination and maintain good hygiene practices. As a former makeup artist myself, I have high standards for these things, and with three finicky bridesmaids, I had the responsibility of scouting out the joint. I deemed it fit for faces, and we set up a trial makeup appointment.

I went in on my allotted day, and Sara did my face up. We did green around the eyes, and a light blushy colour on the lips, and a layer of foundation to hide my stressed-out skin. I left feeling like we had a good plan of action…and then something happened. I don’t know exactly what, but something. I went home and looked at the makeup, and felt like something wasn’t right. I left the makeup on and kept looking at it, but I couldn’t figure out what was worrying me. There wasn’t one particular thing that was standing out or looking unusual…and that’s when I realized what had happened. It was simply all unusual. I looked like a bride, not like Jordan. I was utterly and completely outside my comfort zone.

I talked it out with Brian, and he understood what I was trying to say. There are many aspects to our big day that we hadn’t always planned on having, and in the end, our wedding is actually far more elaborate and fancy than we ever expected…and this is wonderful, but I knew there’d be a line somewhere that I wouldn’t want to cross. Naturally, it would be my appearance, as that is definitely the most intimate (and controllable) portion of the day. As I looked at my face with so much sparkling colour, I realized that I felt too many steps away from my ‘real’ self. I laughed at myself that the ivory taffeta dress hadn’t done it, nor the peacock feather fascinator or the miles of green crinoline. I suppose there is something about one’s face, however, that would make it a bigger deal than any of the rest. Well anyway, I explained the situation to Sara, and that (I guess, naturally,) my girls wouldn’t want to go without me, so to my utter shock and surprise at myself, I was turning down this enviable offer. I surprised myself with this one, as we’ve turned down so few offers (unless we had too many duplicates) through this whole process…but having done wedding makeup about a thousand times, I always knew just which brides were the ones that would panic last-minute and would rub their faces clean the moment I left. Usually the less princessy the woman, the less she’d want that makeup on her face…and guess what, I’m not a princess. I was never able, given my job, to tell those non-princess brides to send me home and do their own faces; but I can do that today with my own face, and that’s what I’ve done. Sara was a complete and utter sweetheart about it, and I will thank her in person for her awesomeness when I go in this week for a short grooming appointment (I’m sure I’ll write about it, my first waxing experience). In the meantime, I’m experimenting heavily at home with colours and shades of my existing makeup collection, til I find something that feels really right.

That’s it for now, I think. Seven days to go. I woke up this morning with so much adrenaline pumping through me that I thought I might choke. Brian, to my awe and disgust, is sleeping in with absolute ease. Boys.

Mini-post: from ogre to human in one great massage

We’re getting down to the wire now, and naturally, various hiccups are happening. None are that big, but all are so frustrating. I’m learning a lot through this project, and one of the truths I’ve discovered is: there is a point in planning an event where you can’t do much more good and the remaining time just seems to breed challenges. When our cake lady, for example, informed us that she has a family issue to deal with (our hearts are with you, Isabelle), and would no longer be able to bring the cake to the wedding, we found ourselves scrambling to find a cake-savvy person to help us out. Shakira of Little Cakes was our first (and only) thought. I sent her an email and then threw my hands together, looked up at the sky, and surprised myself by saying, “Please, Shakira…” instead of “Please, universe/god/other diety.” It’s funny who we pray to, depending on the situation. Anyway, these little fires get put out—Shakira is coming and bringing the cake, something she is very used to handling—but the result is one stressed out couple. So the timing of our massage appointment was, indeed, perfect.

We visited Body Poets Massage Therapy this week, to have a massage—this was an offer from early in the project, and the moment they suggested giving us rubs close to the wedding, I knew this was a godsend. Sure enough, as we hobbled into the car and drove, hunched and tense, to their location on Kent Street, I knew this was excellent timing.

The studio is in an old converted house, on the top floor, and right away I liked the place. There’s something about having a massage in an office building that’s intrinsically uncomfortable, and I liked that this space felt old and solid and homey. Ellen Symons, owner and the RMT that worked on my wretched body, said she’d looked for a few years before finally finding this location, and I think it was worth the wait.

Brian was taken off to a different massage room by a therapist named Janet, and I was probably the most excited for him. Except for the physio-type manual therapy he’d tried with Katerina Pek, Brian has never had any sort of massage therapy. Considering the number of high-impact, full-contact sports he’s played, this seems a travesty. Off he went, and Ellen took me over to my own cozy room. Right away, I was please and impressed with how things went: Ellen said I could take off as little or as much clothing as I was comfortable with, which actually helped me relax more than usual and I stripped down to my skivvies without another thought. Ellen also took time to be sure I knew some basic ground rules: that I should be comfortable and okay with the treatments used, that I had complete say in what was done, and that basically we would stay within my comfort zone, both physically and internally. Again, I felt some of my nerves relax as she shared this, and I felt really safe to start the treatment.

I lay down on one of the most comfortable massage beds I’ve ever been on, and Ellen began working on my lower half. I should explain: I had written to Ellen a few days before the appointment and asked if she could work on my body from the hips down, instead of on my back, as this seemed to be where I was carrying my stress and pain these days. Ellen happily agreed, and she reviewed what my pain symptoms were, then went to work. We found a dozen sore spots that I didn’t even realize were sore, and Ellen worked on them, checking in with me consistently to be sure we didn’t exceed my pain tolerance.

I absolutely loved my massage. I felt the circulation increasing and moving under the pressure of experienced hands; tight muscles I’d stopped paying attention to were found, worked on, and released in better shape. I felt a bit sheepish partway through my massage as I realized I’d slowly disclosed about a half-dozen injuries and damages I’ve done to myself over the years, and wondered if I sounded as much like a ‘lemon’ as I felt. But I’m certain that a long-time pro like Ellen has heard far worse before.

We finished up and I got dressed, and met Brian back in the reception area. I knew right away he’d had a wonderful massage by the beatific grin on his face. Janet had treated him to some good rubbing on his (always sore) mid-to-lower back, but his favourite part was the cranialsacral therapy: a type of massage done to the head and neck. He talked happily the whole way home about how nice Janet was, and how they’d chatted away, and he continued to grin a little foolishly the whole way home.

I suffered a bit the next day when my calves, rubbed pretty intensively, decided they would fight back a bit and become stiff and sore. I did a yoga podcast on the living room floor, though, and at the end when I went into the resting pose, I fell asleep for a half-hour. Naps don’t really come naturally to me, so this is a good sign of how relaxed my body was. And really, the best testimony to the work of the women at Body Poets would have been a photo taken of Brian and I driving home from our appointment: both of us would have appeared several inches taller in our seats, and much less like hunchbacked ogres than we’d seemed an hour before.

Big thank you’s go out to Ellen and Janet at Body Poets Massage Therapy. Thank you for the wonderful treatment and for being a part of P:P. We heartily and happily recommend this wonderful place to all our readers; I am certain that we’ll be back, ourselves, if only to see that silly relaxed grin on Brian’s face again.