That's MRS Jen But Never Jenn to you.

Repeating what I've posted elsewhere on the interweb ... but:

Weee!

So, yesterday I became a Mrs. It was AWESOME.

Honestly, I wish I could have a wedding every month. Throwing a party where I could get a mini makeover, control the playlist, ply people with appetizers, desserts and booze and only invite guests that I adore is my version of heaven. I will surely be in wedding withdrawal this month. I just couldn't get enough of the evening and was having such a kick-ass time.

When we finally went to bed around 3am, it was only then that I realized that my feet were killing me - I was THAT high on bridal goodness that I never noticed.

Anyway, I won't bore people with too many details but will give a few highlights:
* My peeps got together in my bridal suite (Suites of 1 King West - awesome hotel) and got our hair and makeup professionally done. After Foxy got her lashes applied, everyone wanted them, so my mom made an emergency falsies run to get some.
* Champagne ride in an old white limo was made hilarious by the radio hits playing inside it. Several Office (NBC) jokes were made when "Give Me the Beat Boys" came on.
* Photo session on my condo rooftop ... totally relaxing and the rain went away just so we could sneak it in. Patrick looks handsome and I am so in love.
* The ceremony was crazy fast. Done in 20 minutes. Went like a blur, but people commented on how nice and personal it was. Our officiant was excellent. Hitched!
* A quick, fun on-the-street photo session with my peeps occured afterward while guests dug into the WORLD'S BEST APPETIZERS. I cannot wait to see the pro pics.
* Reception time! More appetizers! Booze! The place looks awesome and intimate and filled with our little touches that everyone comments on. Decor continues to go along with our theme (to see our "look" go to http://www.patifer.com/ )
* My dad surprises me with a slideshow of my childhood during his speech. Tears.
* In the speech to thank everyone I have a complete public meltdown that causes a domino meltdown among my friends and family. Good tears but crazy.
* Dancing, dancing, dancing. It starts off a bit slowly, but picks up suddenly - the guests get down with their bad selves.
* The open bar goes over VERY well.
* Lots of awesome family moments of gushy admissions of adorations for each other.
* The dance floor remains busy, but now everyone is shoeless. All the songs are hilarious and personal and a few favourite tunes literally have some of our guests (and bride) screaming and laughing uncontrollably (in a good way!).
* My parents dance the whole night. My mom dirty dances with a gay boy while my high school friends do shots with my dad. Life is good.
* We leave people wanting more as we have to shut the party down at 2am. Wish we could have another hour but are thrilled to end on a high note.

Some pics, stolen from various Facebooks (in chronological order):
My décor is organized. The little circular cards are trivia (ie: little nuggets of info about my wedding, families or our parents’ weddings) and totally out-dated wedding advice:



Miss Foxy and I showing off our lashes:


The $50 Wedding Dress is revealed (excuse the dumb face I’m making):


The flowers arrive. We decide to go WITH some beads after all:


Getting our ride on to the photos. The girls (my friend since the age of 5 – Anissa, Foxy, my sister, Melanie) look hawt:


Photos on our rooftop:






My Man of Honour does some paper work with our Officiant:


The stage is set:


On my way with mom and dad:


I’m married. And a little bit happy:


On the street as cars honked like crazy and people shouted "CONGRATULATIONS!!!!" …:



… and while guests are mingling:


Our MCs of Awesomeness:


First dance with my husband!:


Dancing with my dad:


Party, Party, Party:










The Happy Couple:



Loved it.

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Tick Tock, It Don't Stop!

We're a month away from the big day and the nightmares are coming on strong.

None of them have anything to do with our relationship, or even dear, sweet Patrick for that matter. Poor guy, it’s like he doesn’t even exist in my Twilight Zone episodes. At best, he’s a bit actor in them, but never a guest star or even a character with lines. So far, the dreams have been about life-or-death issues like centerpieces, flowers, a distant forgotten aunt that demands an invite and nail polish colours. Yes, it’s these important issues that have literally woken me in night in a cold sweat of panic.

In waking reality, I don't even CARE about this stuff, but my subconscious clearly has a very different list of priorities. I’m slightly tempted to request a meeting with Jacquelyn’s dream-analyzing mother-in-law so that all this can be interpreted to me.

In one nightmare, people arrived at the wedding and were ANGRY that my centerpieces didn’t include real flowers. In my dream, I ended up getting on the streetcar and subway (in my dress) during the reception in a vain attempt to find real flowers and appease the masses. My dress got dirty, and all I had to show for it were some lame daisies and baby’s breath found at a 24-hr convenience store.

In another sleep-depriver, a woman claiming to be my great aunt contacted Patrick’s family to vent about not being invited and this vent made its way to me. Because I had never heard of her, I refused to extend the invite and ended up getting in crazy angry trouble with Patrick’s grandmother, who apparently knew this woman through some weird organization (see: cult). In the end, it turned out that the woman was a total scam artist, as were Patrick’s ENTIRE FAMILY.

These dream have got to stop.

An original Paint drawing by The Bride

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Prescription For Attainable Happiness

Dr Jen But Never Jenn has ordered it.

Your Rx:

1. Put on some make-up and do your hair.
2. Slap on a dress and tell yourself that you are adorable.
3. Make reservations at a nearby restaurant.
4. Order a bottle of wine, appetizers, dinner and, most importantly, dessert.
5. Enjoy them slowly over lovely conversation and flirting with the man you love.
6. Come home, have more wine and dance to the song that was / will be "your song" at your wedding.
7. Take a picture.
8. Repeat, at minimum, every 28 days - ideally, every 7 to 14 days.

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Relaxation Interrupted

Today we discovered our condo's rooftop patio (just re-opened yesterday!). It's a wonderful thing - it has some pretty flowers, two beautiful BBQs, deck chairs, patio sets - all so nice. A total urban escape! We live in the downtown core of Toronto among very tall buildings, so while our view from the 9th floor patio was very nice, one can only imagine what the view would be from the 24-floor building next to us. In any case, I'm not complaining. Yay patio!

After my morning's workout, we opted to check it out. Put on some yummy tropical-like sun lotion, grabbed my copy of Chatelaine (my god, this magazine is good), sunglasses and a protein shake and headed up. Awesomeness.

Until ... the phobia kicked in.

I've never discussed this, but ever since 9-11, I've had "a thing". Not crippling, mind you ... just ... a thing. Like most people, I was effected by 9-11 in the usual ways: gutted feelings of horror, a constant nausea that followed me for about two weeks straight, walking around feeling like just a shell of you was left ... Anyway, once that initial stuff passed, I was ok. I went on flights. I took elevators up tall buildings. I visited New York. It was all fine. Didn't bother me.

One thing, though, still gets my spine tingly ... my throat clenched ... anxiety shooting through me: a low-flying plane. Or at least, what I perceive to be a low-flying plane. For whatever reason, I feel like I'm about to witness the plane going into a building. My workplace is near an airport, so I deal with these sightings constantly. Gradually, I've gotten better.

But today did me in.

Imagine, if you will, you are in a downtown area filled with supremely tall buildings, all surrounding you. Coincidently, you also happen to live near an area where tourists can gather. To watch things. LIKE AIRSHOWS.

SWEET JESUS.

Even Patrick yelped when one of them came in, I swear, down our street, making a big u-turn in our faces. It didn't help one bit that a few of these were WWII bombers - because if I could have a Number 2 Phobia, it would probably be Nazis. Nazis in low flying air planes cruising by my head = Jen's heart shitting itself.

We Googled, and this was just a practice day for those in an airshow. I will certainly be in my room, rocking myself gently in a corner when the real deal goes on.

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