Chris and I will be getting married eight months from today.
It’s funny to think about that number. On one hand, it seems like a ton of time. In excited, impassioned moments, it feels as though the date is entirely too far away. What can I say? I love this man, and I can’t wait to be his wife. On the other hand, I know it’s going to be here before I realize it, and I haven’t found my dress or picked out the flowers or decided on the music.
But we still have eight months. I’m trying my hardest to take them as they come.
Chris and I had our first date on the 13th of November a little over three years ago, and have decided to get married on that exact date this year, on our fourth anniversary of dating. For the first three years of our relationship, the thirteenth of every month was about accumulation for me. I counted and collected those months, marveled at how quickly they’d passed but how, at the same time and even more overwhelmingly, it seemed as though we’d always been together. How could it have only been three, four, five months? I watched them add up and I saw them turn into years.
Now it’s different. Today, as I took note of the date on the calendar, I didn’t count back. Off the top of my head this very second, I couldn’t tell you how many months it’s been since we started dating. Instead, I counted forward. Forward to our wedding date. And I had the realization that, during this very unique time in our life, I’ll no longer be watching the months add up. I’ll be watching as they count down to the end of one part of our life together and the beginning of the rest.
It’s a powerful feeling.
Eight months from today, nearly to the minute, I will be exchanging vows with the man that I knew from day one would be my husband. My name will change and my place in this world will forever be altered. Only eight more months. Still eight more months. So much life ahead.
There is something I’ve been wanting to talk about for a while here, but haven’t. It isn’t about being gluten-free and it has nothing to do with food. I’m still figuring this whole thing out and learning when to censor myself, which I’m certain I still do far too often. I don’t know if my writing about these things here will help anyone or change anything, but I know that I feel a need to share these thoughts. So I’m not going to second guess myself right now. Please be advised that the subject matter I’m going to be speaking about is sensitive and may be difficult for some people to read.
I had a pre-Valentine’s Day post all lined up. I was going to tell you about how freaked out I get over it. How it wasn’t always this way, but how the days leading up to it now remind me of the feeling I get when considering a cartwheel since grotesquely breaking my arm mid-tumble as a child.
Romantic, right?
I’m glad I waited on this post. This year, Valentine’s Day was very, very good.
It was French toast good. Gluten-free French toast that I didn’t have to make good.
It’s not often that Chris takes up a whisk—probably in part (or, you know, mostly) because I tend to dominate the kitchen. It would have been easy for him to sit back and let me whip up some pancakes or something, but he cracked a few eggs and made breakfast for us. And look at how beautiful it turned out!
I think we need to get him in the kitchen more often.
Post-breakfast he surprised me with tickets for the Sunday matinee of Time Stands Still on Broadway. I won’t go into great detail, except to say that it was well-performed and I left thought-provoked with a lump in my throat. If you’re looking for a cry, this show is definitely a good option.
Our day culminated with an early dinner at a restaurant I’ve been wanting to visit for several months now—a raw, vegan, GF-friendly place called Pure Food and Wine. The restaurant was offering a four-course Valentine’s Day tasting menu, and while the options all looked great, it was the a la carte menu that really caught our attention.
So you know the site Cake Wrecks (it's also a book)? Well if you don't, you should. I can't remember how I first found it but it's one of those sites that had me cracking up uncontrollably within the first five minutes. You know, the kind of laughter that makes your belly cramp and your face go funny? And then, because you're laughing so hard, your significant other looks at you curiously from across the room, and you want so badly to let him in on the joke, but every time you try to explain the hilarity your words sputter out in incoherent, tearful giggling? If you haven't seen the site yet, go now. I'll wait here.
Okay, see what I'm talking about? Now that you're up to speed on the reference, I can show you this. This is what my future husband gifted me with last night:
I’m not saying this in the hopes that I’ll get a whole mess of Happy Birthday wishes dropped into the comments section below. In fact, I don’t much care for birthdays. Well, mine anyway. I have a long history of bad ones, some borderline horrific even. No matter what happens, I always seem to wind up disappointed or in tears.
I think this is the year that all turns around, though. (Knock on wood.)
In addition to being my birthday, this is also my first official day off of work. It feels good. Really good. I’m here, I’m free, and I feel fantastic. And I’ve been up since 6am. Most mornings I hit the snooze button until about ten minutes to eight, which was the very latest I could stay in bed and still make it to work at a semi-reasonable time.
Not today. Today I saw the sun rise. I had things to wake up for.
I’m excited about 2010. It’s going to be a good year. How could it not? I mean, just look at that number—round, even, balanced. It looks like a good place to start.
This is a particularly good thing since I think 2009 wasn’t the exactly easiest year for a lot of people. I know it wasn’t always for me. That’s not to say it wasn’t a good year and that a lot of good things didn’t come out of it, it was just a lot of work to get through it all. It was a year of transitions. I foresee 2010 being a year of happenings.
Of course I may be a little biased. I am getting married this year afterall. Clearly a major happening. (Okay, I promise not to bring up the wedding every single day for the next ten months.)
There is also going to be a lot happening on this blog. As you may know, I’m leaving my job (my last day is Friday!) to spend more time here. I want to make this space bigger yet more focused. I’ve been speaking to a lot of wonderful g-freers lately and the input has been very valuable. These conversations have reminded me that this isn’t an easy or obvious lifestyle for everyone. I tend to forget that I was an avid cook and a burgeoning foodie before I had to give up something that is practically a staple in most western diets. For people who don’t spend a lot of time in the kitchen, I can see how it could be difficult to figure out where to start. The improvements to the site will strive to offer more comprehensive resources for those who are newly gluten-free, provide inspiration for GF veterans, and tempt even the gluten-tolerant into expanding their pantries and palates.
These past two months have been big. Big fun, big trips, big decisions. Last week, I was presented with the biggest question I ever been asked. And I’m happy to say that it was the easiest I’ve ever answered.
Last Wednesday after taking me out for lunch mid-workday and swinging by the Cupcake Stop truck for a couple gluten-free cupcakes, Chris suggested that we head home instead of returning to work. I happily obliged. When we arrived home, I was advised that I needed to pack a bag and would need two nice outfits, one a bit nicer than the other. We threw together our bag in half an hour and hurried out the door. There was a car waiting downstairs to take us to the airport.
Now, I can’t say that I was entirely surprised, though this is not Chris’ fault. Friday was our impending third anniversary of dating, and I’d been on high alert since first thing on Monday. One of my coworkers sat me down that morning so we could plan out the week.
“So uh, I was thinking maybe we should plan to get stuff done a little early this week. You know, just so that we can take it easy the last couple days. And I might have a….um…conference to go to on Friday, so maybe we could try to get things done by Wednesday morningish….”
To his credit, he really did much better than this—quite well actually—but this is how it sounded to me. I have a degree in acting from NYU. Don’t mess.
So, I knew something was up. It also didn’t help that one of Chris’ coworkers asked us at a company event that night if we were going somewhere that weekend because Chris’ calendar showed he was out Thursday and Friday—oops. Chris went white as a sheet (I almost reached over and checked his pulse) and shook his head. On Tuesday, when he asked to take me to lunch the next day, the “getting work done by Wednesday morning” thing officially clicked. I knew it wasn’t likely that I’d be back to work, so I scrambled and finished all my stuff. I was ready to be surprised.
When we checked in at the airport, I discovered that my first guess as to where we’d be going was correct: Seattle.
I’ve noticed a huge, glaring pattern in my life. I don’t know that it’s something I’ve ever avoided or ignored, but it’s something I’ve decided I need to learn to embrace, tightly:
The best decisions in my life are always the big, scary ones. You know, the kind that make you feel as though you’re standing at the edge of a terrible cliff, curling your toes over the lip, feeling the dizziness of being unsafe and too high. The kind that make you want to run screaming and hide somewhere dark and warm until everyone forgets your name. The kind that you know need to be made, for one reason or another, and that can only be made by letting go and falling. Down. Fast. That kind.
Atlanta? you may be asking. Yes, Atlanta. Toward the end of the month, I took Chris on a surprise birthday trip to Atlanta, Georgia.
No offense to what I found to be a very nice city, but I've honestly never had any desire to visit Atlanta. I didn't realize there was anything there to see. And then we heard about the Georgia Aquarium. It turns out that it's the largest in the world. It is also home to four specimens of the largest fish in the world. The whale shark. Aquariums and whale sharks--two of Chris' favorite things. We had to go.
Oooh, whale shark. Looks menacing, right? Hardly. The whale shark is a filter feeder and fills it's belly with a diet of krill (aka itty bitty shrimp). They're gentle giants and are excellent swimming companions. I could have told you that a year ago, except for the fact that when Chris and I tried to swim with them on our trip to Mexico last summer, I spent the whole time throwing up over the side of the boat. Food poisoning and sea sickness are not a good combination. Oh, and quick travel tip: don't eat beef carpaccio at an uber-touristy eco theme park. Seems obvious, I know, but just in case you're feeling daring. Don't. Anywho! I can tell you that they're fun to take a dip with now, because Chris and I squeezed into wet suits and jumped in with them at the aquarium. Pretty cool, right?
No? It would have been much more awesome if we'd swum with something scarier?
October was not at all the month I expected it to be, full of waiting, struggle, and stress. It became a month of transition and doing and planning, a month of many memorable experiences, some of which seem surprisingly far away now. Nonetheless, I wish to recall two of them for you before the rush of the next two months pulls their relevance away entirely. Out of consideration for you, reader, I have broken these events into two separate posts. The first is below.
I want to start by saying that I’m very glad that this is something that Chris and I decided to do. There are so many wonderful events that happen throughout the year in our city, and we have the unfortunate tendency of letting them pass right by. Part of it is that we’re busy people, part of it is just that we’re both pretty low-key and perfectly content to spend our rare and prized weekend days at home. When I started seeing the posters this year, though, I knew we couldn’t miss it. Tickets were booked in August and the excitement was immediate. I wanted that day to be here now.
I chose our events based on what was available (those featuring the likes of Giada, Rachael, or Alton were completely booked) and what looked safe and enjoyable for the gluten-free. There was a cheese and olive oil tasting that I knew we both would have loved, but I assumed the vehicle for the oils would be none other than bread. Not ideal. So I booked us for a culinary demonstration by Rocco DiSpirito and a “Tour de Beef.” The latest studies tend to agree that cow is gluten-free.
We arrived at the culinary demo and it was packed. Now, I can’t say that I really know Rocco DiSpirito’s work or cuisine, but I’d seen him on various shows and sometimes it’s fun to see someone that has a name, just because. The whole thing was very entertaining. Rocco came out and immediately told everyone to ignore the guy who had just said that we weren’t to take any pictures (My one regret of the day—that I didn’t bring my camera. Not that mine is anything special, but the iPhone can only do so much). He said the setup made him feel like John Edwards and began “reading” the audience, going around from person to person, making all the young girls blush and giggle.
)? Well if you don't, you should. I can't remember how I first found it but it's one of those sites that had me cracking up uncontrollably within the first five minutes. You know, the kind of laughter that makes your belly cramp and your face go funny? And then, because you're laughing so hard, your significant other looks at you curiously from across the room, and you want so badly to let him in on the joke, but every time you try to explain the hilarity your words sputter out in incoherent, tearful giggling? If you haven't seen the site yet, 
