Archive | August, 2004

Come on Barbie, Let’s Go Party

31 Aug

Since I fired the woman I had planned to do my hair for the wedding, my old hair dresser (the one I’ve been going to for three years) requested that I find some pictures of hairstyles that I like so that she can get an idea of what style I want.

The hairdresser that I fired had done the cutest french braid that started at the nape of my neck. She braided from my neck up to the crown of my head, where she secured the braid and had the rest of the hair done in cascading curls.

I thought it looked great, plus she said it was guaranteed to stay put for the whole night.

The only photo I could find of a ‘reverse french braid’ is this picture of a Barbie’s hair. I kind of have an issue with having a Barbie hairstyle on my wedding day.


Nothing is Easy in Wedding Land Part 3

31 Aug

We’re supposed to have two pre-marital counseling sessions with the pastor before he will perform our ceremony. When the church sent us the paperwork saying this, I called to schedule our appointments.

“Could you call back at the end of August?” They asked.

Sure. No problem. I called back on August 25.

“Could you call back next week? The person that does the scheduling is on vacation.”

Rolling my eyes, I said yes.

I called back today.

“Um, you need to call the wedding coordinator so that she can verify which pastor will be performing your service. Once she’s done that, you’ll need to call us back to schedule your appointments.”

As further proof that nothing can be done in less than three phone calls in wedding land, I’m now up to FOUR phone calls about the counseling sessions, and I still have at least one more call to make.

Perhaps this is a version of Survivor, known as Wedding Survivor. Her’s the premise of the show: they try to make it really challenging for you to coordinate all aspects of the wedding and the reception, just to see if you can make it through all of the ‘challenges’. Then, your reward at the end is that you actually get to go through with the marriage.

*checking for a hidden camera in my office*

The Weekend of Stacy

30 Aug

This weekend was the fourth annual Bullard’s Bar camping trip with my brothers (last year’s trip is chronicled here). It’s a weekend of boating and mountain biking in a beautiful setting.

JB and I arrived late, which was no suprise to anyone. When we walked up, my brother Greg started talking about Stacy. Evidently, the last time my brothers were camping at Bullard’s Bar, a bear came into their campsite in the middle of the day. While my other brother and his wife gathered their dogs and our nephew Jack into their camper, Greg took pictures. I saw the pictures. It was a big bear.

Jack, my three year old nephew, has named the bear Stacy.

Right before JB and I showed up on Friday night, I guess Stacy (or one of her relatives) came for another visit to their campsite. Needless to say, we were very careful about putting food and trash away when we went to sleep, but there were three more bear encounters throughout the weekend.

Two of those encounters happened at about 3 a.m. on Saturday night. I awoke to the sound of something being dropped (most likely a container being pushed off of a picnic table) and then a man in the campsite next to us shouting, “Hey, get out of here!”

That then followed with about 10 minutes of discussion in the campsite next to us as the men recounted their bear encounter. Of course, they then all decided to go to the bathroom, and they all walked by our tent with their flashlights a blazing.

As I lay there listening to them, I determined I really had to go to the bathroom, too. But who wants to walk through the wilderness to the bathrooms when there is a bear lurking around?!

I got out of the tent, put my shoes on, and stood there with the flashlight, looking all around to see if there was a bear lurking about. JB kept encouraging me to “Just go”, because my antics were keeping him awake.

When I made it back to the tent, every time JB moved in his sleep, I was convinced it was something rubbing against the outside of our tent. Then, a pine cone dropped mere feet from our tent, and I swear I jumped about a foot.

About a half hour later, I finally settled down again and went back to sleep, only to be awaken again by a thud of something being knocked off of a picnic table. That was also followed by a man shouting something about a bear, and it was coming from the campsite on the other side of us.

I didn’t sleep too well that night. Can you blame me?! JB, on the other hand, slept like a baby. I guess he has camped in bear country before and was used to it. I kept having visions of an angry bear grabbing us through the tent and gobbling us up alive.

OK, I realize that is a bit dramatic.

Anyway, after mountain biking on Saturday, I emerged from changing my clothes to find all of the men (both brothers, a friend, and JB) gathered around a tree as one of them was sawing it down. They had found a dead tree, and decided they’d help clear the forest a bit and provide us with some free firewood. I sat back with my sister-in-law and watched them push the tree over (it was at least 20 feet tall) and then saw it into firewood. The testosterone levels were surging! Evidently, the batch of firewood I had bought at the grocery store wasn’t enough to feed their pyromaniac tendencies.



Jack and his mother, Jane, had baked a birthday cake for myself and my brother Chuck, who also had a birthday this past week. Everyone sang happy birthday, including little Jack, and we feasted on the delicious cake. Yum!


Here is a random picture of JB and Chuck munching after we returned from boating on Saturday.


I took a pretty nasty spill on the kneeboard Saturday, and my poor neck and back are still paying the price. Darnit.

Anyway, on our way home, JB and I ran across the car below, which we’re pretty sure was headed for Burning Man.


A New Mexico Wedding Themed Weekend

25 Aug

I’ll try typing this entry a second time. I’m seriously annoyed that my computer lost it the first time around, because I’m sure my writing was much more inspired and witty. Today, I’m likely to just sound annoyed. Forgive me if I do.

I went to New Mexico this past weekend for my bridal shower. I arrived in Albuquerque around 10:00 pm and went to go meet my parents by the security gates.

They weren’t there. My parents have NEVER been late to pick me up at the airport, so this struck me as a bit odd. I continued walking down to baggage claim, and they weren’t there either.

10 minutes passed. I called them at home and on their cell phone. No answer either place.

20 minutes passed. This is SO abnormal for them that I started having visions of bad things that could have happened to them, like them being crashed in their car on the freeway. Not a pleasant thought. I started to wonder at what point I should get a cab, or call the cops to see if there had been any accident reports.

After about 30 minutes, Mom came running in to the airport. Evidently, the freeway had been shut down due to construction, and they had been caught in traffic at 10:00 at night. In Albuquerque. Go figure.

We made it home by about 11:30 and cut into the raspberry tart that Mom had made in honor of my upcoming birthday. I discovered my love for raspberry tarts while in Paris with my Mom, as we managed to find one almost every afternoon we were there at the numerous patisseries that we frequented.

Back to this weekend, though, Saturday started with Mom and I going to a kick boxing class at her gym. Do I need to say how cool it is that my Mom can kick box? OK, it’s more like Tae Bo, but still, that’s awesome.

After our workout, Mom and I headed to the stores for a 5 hour marathon shopping day. If there is one thing you should know about my Mom, it’s that the woman can shop. I, on the other hand, didn’t inherit the shopping gene, but I managed to keep up with her on Saturday.

I got a make-over at the mall for my wedding day make-up. We went to the same woman that has done make-overs on my Mom for quite a while. Since the woman knew my Mom, she would put on a bit of make-up, then push my chin in my Mom’s direction saying, “Now doesn’t that look beautiful?” I found it rather humorous every time the woman pushed my face in my Mom’s direction. It was always show Mom first, then let Lynn3tt3 (numbers added to fool search engines) look in the mirror, when I would agree with her that it looked just beautiful. I walked away from the counter with make-up that was a bit too dramatic for our shopping excursion, and a bag full of wedding-day makeup supplies.

The next project of the day was wedding shoes. I’ve already hit four stores on my own trying to find the perfect pair, and have walked away empty handed four times.

If you are a shoe salesman, I warn you to turn and run when my mother and I come in to try on shoes. We’ll usually buy a pair, but the amount of shoes we find to try on is always impressive. I think I tried on about ten pairs of shoes when I settled on a pair of white satin sandals with 3 inch heels. I guarantee you I’ll be limping around by the end of the night, but I was so sick of looking for these darn shoes that will most likely only be seen during the garter toss that I just gave in and bought them. Do you think anyone will notice if I change into my running shoes after the garter toss? I don’t, and it’s a really tempting thought.

We then headed to the pantyhose department, where I picked up my wedding day stockings, with the help of a grumpy old saleslady that kept sarcastically calling me Dear. I was rather tempted to say, “Dear, if I’m such a bother, I’ll get my stockings elsewhere,” but that would have meant taking the effort to go to another store, so I sucked it up and bought them from her.

Much more happened on our shopping excursion, but I’ll get to the stuff you really want to hear about… The Bachelorette Party. The culprits involved were Amber, my matron of honor, and Sami, a bridesmaid.

Before the girls showed up, Dad got a sullen look on his face, and said that he didn’t understand why an engaged woman and a married woman (Amber) would go out to a bar without their mates. He said that he thought it was inappropriate. I countered with the fact that many men had strippers at their Bachelor parties, and that us going to a bar together would be completely innocent.

“But are you going to dance with men?” He asked.

“Yes, Dad, I may two-step with a few people.” He shook his head. Evidence of a large generation gap.

Amber came over and outfitted me with a veil and a tiara, and buttons that said things such as “Bad Girl” and “Vamp”. It was pretty funny. She and Sami both donned buttons of their own and some Mardi Gras beads, so as to associate themselves with the Bachelorette Party.

I had forgotten how people seem to flock to Bachelorette Parties at the bar. And having never been the actual Bachelorette, it was a real treat. In fact, at times, I would forget about the veil on my head, and would catch people turning to look at me. That’s when I would remember that I really stuck out at the bar with the veil and tiara.

Countless people came up to me and asked me, “Are you getting married?”

I am a firm believer that a really stupid question at times deserves a really stupid answer, so I would look each one of them in the face and give them a confused look as I said, “Noooooooooo…..”

Their reactions were pretty funny. Especially the girl that came back up to me about five minutes later and said, “Really, are you getting married?” And, of course, I again told her no, enjoying the confusion on her face.

Come on people, isn’t it obvious?!

We ran into a few people I knew from high school and college. Damon, a guy I knew in college came up to me and we chatted for about 5 minutes about what he’s been doing with his life. Then he turned to me and said, “So, what’s new with you?”

Do you not see the giant tiara and veil on my head?!

Anyway, the night flew by way too fast, and we all had a ball. I two-stepped with three guys, each of which were perfect gentlemen that congratulated on my pending nuptials, and were very patient as I stumbled on the dance floor in my three inch platform sling back shoes.

Now, on to Sunday, the day of the shower. The shower was thrown by my Mom’s friend, who also happens to be Sami’s mother. Sami and her Mom did an incredible job, and I was amazed with the attention to detail. There were red streamers and red roses (red and red roses being part of my theme) and they were playing Italian music in the background since JB and I will be honeymooning in Italy. The shower was in the back yard, which has amazing landscaping and a cute little fountain. They had brought out the fancy table linens and the fine china, and I felt like a princess.

Amber was in charge of games, and she did a great job. No toilet paper bride games at my shower! She wrote up a game that was a quiz to see who knows the bride the best. I think the readers of this site would probably do pretty well on that quiz. Here are some of the questions:

  • What place out of 1000 did Lynn3tt3 get in the Alcatraz Shark Fest Swim?
  • What is the name of Lynn3tt3’s dog?
  • Lynn3tt3 has two cars, what is the fun one?
  • What are the names of Lynn3tt3’s brothers?
  • What were Lynn3tt3 and JB in the middle of when they took a break and he proposed?

I won’t bore you with any more questions, but since Amber couldn’t play (she wrote the quiz) and we disqualified my Mom because she’d know all the answers anyways, Sami walked away the winner. Yeah, Sami!

While at the shower, several of my Mom’s friends mentioned that they had been to my site, and a few were even recommending to the others that they should go check it out. So, welcome aboard to all of Mom’s friends. I hope you enjoy the ride!

After being showered with wonderful presents, I packed everything up and headed to the airport. I was back at home in JB’s arms by 11:30 Sunday night. *sigh*

So thank you to everyone that made this past weekend very special and memorable.

Tango Dreaming

19 Aug

I had a dream about the wedding reception last night. It all centered around the band. The band played for a while, everyone was dancing, and then they went on break.

The band was on break for forty five minutes, in which time, most of the people had decided to leave the reception. After a while, I went to search out the lead singer, and went up to her screaming, “Where the *bleep!* have you been? It has been 45 minutes and all of our guests are leaving!”

She was rather nonchalant, and I tried to calm down, telling her to put on a CD of our Frank song so that we could do our first dance.

She put on a CD of the wrong Frank song. The box step didn’t work well with it, and all of our cheography was worthless. After about a minute of stumbling around on the dance floor, I stopped, and went up to the lead singer and told her it was the WRONG Frank song, and she said that the band could play our song.

So the band started to play, and once again, it was the wrong song. JB and I were fumbling around on the dance floor, but this time, I decided we had to run with it. We started to do the swing, and next thing I knew, I had fallen onto my back. JB then asked what I wanted him to do.

“Help me up!” Was my angry response.

We then started doing the tango. Strange, I know.

After our dance, I requested a certain song for my dance with my Dad, and the band managed to screw that up, too. By that point there were about 10 people left at the reception.

And then I woke up, thinking that I need to call the band and review the play list with them.

The good news? Our band doesn’t have a female lead singer, so this all couldn’t be an omen…. Could it?

Where are the Speedos?

18 Aug

One thing I love about the Olympics is watching swimming. I’m one of those freaks of nature that just loves to watch swimming. And once every four years, swimming is broadcast on prime-time airwaves.

I must say that it has been hard for me to get used to the new breed of swim suits. I actually kind of miss the old Speedos that the men used to wear. Competitive swimmers in Speedos is truly a lovely sight.

When I was a competitive swimmer, my coaches used to have us watch the Olympics so that we could pick up stroke techniques. Then, when I became as a coach myself, I made my own swimmers watch as we analyzed the races.

Now days, I watch in awe from our living room, checking out the new techniques and analyzing strokes. I’m like JB’s own private commentator.

And he eggs me on, asking me questions, just to see me get all excited and actually demonstrate the technique that I’m talking about.

Of course, it’s only after I’ve demonstrated the strealine into the under water pull that I notice that JB is snickering because he got me to physically demonstrate it.

My only complaint is that the Olympics air so late that I’m a bit low on sleep this week.

Honeymooning in Italia Per Undici Giorni!

16 Aug

Honeymooning in Italia per undici giorni! In other words, we will be honeymooning in Italy for 11 days!

That’s right, we have booked the honeymoon. Too bad I won’t have a handy dandy website translater with me on the trip! We’re planning on spending 3 days in Capri, a few days in Florence, perhaps a day trip to Cinque Terre and a few days in Venice. The rest of the time, I think we’re going to decide at our liesure in Italy.

Going along with the theme of Nothing is Easy In Wedding Town, this is what our day was like on Saturday:

  • Saturday morning, I decided to book the airfare for our trip. I called Orbitz, since I wasn’t how to book a flight that was arriving at one point in Italy and departing from another. The woman quoted me a price for the tickets, but then said she’d just show me how to book it online myself. Not a problem. So I went through, selected the flights, selected our seats for EVERY LEG OF THE TRIP, entered all of the billing information and frequent flier information, and clicked on Book It. After cranking for about 5 minutes, I got an error saying that the flight was no longer available. What?! So I went back into the system, searched for flights, and found the same flight listed there. So I went through the same process, and got the same error again. I then called Orbitz, and the girl went through getting all of the above listed information, and then when she tried to book it, she got the same error. After waiting on hold for about 20 minutes, she came back and said there wasn’t enough time between my International Flights, so the airline was blocking the booking. Lovely. That fiasco took about 1.5 hours. I had to take a break, and later that afternoon, I came back and booked another flight with a much less attractive departure time and hellaciously long lay-overs (4 hours in Dallas Fort-Worth — blek!). But we’re going to Italy, so it’s all good, right?
  • We went to get JB’s ring. Of course, the first jeweler we went to didn’t have any plain gold wedding bands. Excuse me?! What kind of jeweler doesn’t carry plain gold wedding bands for men? So we perused a catalog, found what he wanted and ordered it. I then suggested we go to another jeweler so that he could try rings on, considering the man has never worn a ring in his life. We found an identical ring for much less money, but for a reason I won’t say here, JB didn’t want it. So we know exactly what kind of ring he wants, but still no ring in hand.
  • On to the tuxes. We decided to go to a tux shop in Carson City, as it would make things easier on JB and the groomsmen the week of the wedding. There aren’t any national tux shop chains in Carson City. The first one we went to, we walked in, and the shop didn’t have anything on display. A woman walked out from the back of the shop and said, “May I help you?” And after we told her we were looking for some tuxes, she said that they were now out of business. (So how could you have “helped us” anyway?) We then went to a second shop, that was out of business. (Mental note: don’t open a tux shop in Carson City) The third shop had tuxes, but no air conditioning. So after sweating it through our selection process, we have some tuxes, people!
  • The man at the tux shop mentioned that we could go get our marriage license that day, and that it was right down the street. Yippee — one less chore to do another day! We went to the wedding license place, and they had closed 2 minutes earlier. We went back on Sunday, though, so that is crossed off the list.
  • Finally, we went to get JB’s passport photo. We stopped by Kinko’s. There were no other customers in the store, so a logical person would think that we’d be in and out in a jiffy. Oh, no, people. We were there at least 40 minutes, as the first three sets of photos didn’t develop well. Thankfully, the fourth set did develop, and we were out of there!

So, many wedding tasks crossed off the list, but I have yet another entry to prove that nothing is easy in Wedding Land.