I don’t know if you know this about me, but I’m kind of into music mixes. Back in junior high and early high school, it was mix tapes a la “High Fidelity”– carefully crafted masterpieces that required hours of searching through stacks of records and CDs. In college, it was the less time-consuming but equally painstaking mix CDs. The first present I ever gave Brian was a mix CD for his 22nd birthday, a month after we started dating (and by the way, it was damn hard to find good songs that wouldn’t make him think I was a creepy stalker). We both love all different kinds of music, and we’re both pretty ADD, so creating mix CDs for our wedding favor is the perfect idea. Inexpensive, fun and more useful than Jordan almonds (not that I don’t love them).

The problem is, how do we narrow down all the songs that we love and that are meaningful to us into just one CD? When we were driving back from our mini-vacation in Memphis back in April, we spent a few hours scouring our iPods and making a list of potential songs. Here’s what we came up with…

1. Better Together- Jack Johnson. (unofficially “our song”) “It’s always better when we’re together.”
2. Stickshifts and Safety Belts- Cake. “I need you here with me, not way over in a bucket seat.”
3. Lovesong- The Cure. “Whenever I’m alone with you, you make me feel like I am home again… However far away, I will always love you.”
4. Sweet Pea- Amos Lee. “Sweet pea, apple of my eye. I don’t know when and I don’t know why. You’re the only reason I keep on coming home.”
5. All I Want is You- Barry Louis Polisar. (On the “Juno” soundtrack and perhaps the cutest song ever. Melia and I used to listen to Barry’s “My Brother Thinks He’s a Banana” album when we were kids.) “If you were a wink, I’d be a nod. If you were a seed, well I’d be a pod. If you were the floor, I’d wanna be the rug. And if you were a kiss, I know I’d be a hug.”
6. When I’m 64- The Beatles. “When I get older, losing my hair, many years from now, will you still be sending me a Valentine, birthday greetings, bottle of wine?”
7. WWOZ- Better than Ezra. “Let go of you fear, let’s grow old together. Find a place along the way. Let’s reel through the years, each makes the other better.”
8. Hey Girl- O.A.R. “My friends say I’m crazy and I agree, but that’s okay cause that’s the way I like to be. Hey, girl come with me and let yourself go.”
9. Life is Beautiful- Keb’ Mo’. “So easily forgotten, the most important thing is that I love you, I do. And I want to spend my days and nights walking through this crazy world with you.”
10. Mushaboom- Feist. “I got a man to stick it out and make a home from a rented house. And we’ll collect the moments one by one, I guess that’s how the future’s done.”
11. I Only Have Eyes for You- The Flamingos. “My love must be a kind of blind love; I can’t see anyone but you.”
12. Fool in the Rain- Led Zeppelin. “And the warmth of your smile starts a-burnin’ and the thrill of your touch gives me fright. And I’m shaking so much, really yearning, why don’t you show up, make it all right?”
13. Somebody Loves Me- The New Orleans Jazz Vipers. “Somebody loves me, I wonder who. Maybe it’s you.”
14. The Way I Am- Ingrid Michaelson. “If you are chilly, here take my sweater. Your head is aching, I’ll make it better. Cause I love the way you call me baby. And you take me the way I am.”
15. Grow Old With You- Adam Sandler. (yes, from “The Wedding Singer.” It makes me verklempt.) “So let me do the dishes in our kitchen sink, put you to bed if you’ve had too much to drink. I could be the man who grows old with you.”
16. I Will- The Beatles. “Who knows how long I’ve loved you, you know I love you still. Will I wait a lonely life time? If you want me to, I will.”
17. Short Skirt, Long Jacket- Cake. “I want a girl with uninterrupted prosperity, who uses a machetti to cut through red tape. With fingernails that shine like justice and a voice that is dark like tinted glass.”
18. Colors- Amos Lee. “When you’re gone, all the colors fade.”
19. Extraordinary- Better Than Ezra. “Your love’s extraordinary… ain’t love such a sweet thing, baby.”
20. Black Water- The Doobie Brothers. “I’d like to hear some funky Dixieland, pretty mama come and take me by the hand.”
21. Banana Pancakes- Jack Johnson. “Maybe we can sleep in, I’ll make you banana pancakes, pretend like it’s the weekend now.”
22. L-O-V-E- Natalie Cole. “L is for the way you look at me, O is for the only one I see, V is very, very extraordinary, E is even more than anyone that you adore can.”
23. You Send Me- Sam Cooke. ” At first I thought it was infatuation, but oh, it’s lasted so long. Now I find myself wanting to marry you and take you home.”
24. My Sweet One- Phish. “Oh with you, I’d travel thick. And with you, I’d also travel thin and all the spaces in between.”
25. Iko Iko- The Dixie Cups. (OK, it’s not a love song, but it’s a great Mardi Gras song) “Takin’ ’bout hey now, hey now, Iko! Iko! an de’. Jackomo fe no ane’, Jackomo fe nan e’.”
26. Night Time (is the Right Time)- Ray Charles. “You know the night time is the right time to be with the one you love.”
27. Brown Eyed Girl- Van Morrison. “Slippin’ and a slidin’, all along the waterfall with you, my brown eyed girl.”
28. Ain’t No Other Man- Christina Aguilera. (Shut up, I love this song) “Ain’t no other man, can stand up next to you. Ain’t no other man on the planet does what you do.”
29. Signed, Sealed, Delivered- Stevie Wonder. “Here I am, signed, sealed, delivered– I’m yours.”
30. Sunday Morning- Maroon 5. “In darkness she is all I see. Come and rest your bones with me. Driving slow on Sunday morning and I never want to leave.”
31. Sea of Love- Del Shannon or Cat Power. “Come with me, my love to the sea, the sea of love. I want to tell you oh how much I love you.”
32. The Way You Do the Things You Do- The Temptations. “You make my life so rich, you know you should have been some money. Baby you’re so sweet, you know you should have been some honey.”
33. Dance Me to the End of Love- Madeleine Peyroux. “Dance me to the wedding now, dance me on and on. Dance me very tenderly and dance me very long.”
34. Baby It’s Cold Outside- Ella Fitzgerald and Louis Armstrong. “Where could you be goin’ when the wind is blowin’ and it’s cold outside.”
35. One of the Johnny Cash/June Carter songs. ??

I know we’re missing some good ones, and I know we’ll have to cut this list by about half eventually. What do you guys think? Suggestions? Comments? Favorites?

I’m a little obsessed with food today because I’m a psychotic masochist and decided to deprive myself of it all day. No, I’m not going all Nicole Richie on you, nor have I been swayed by all the Facebook “Hey, fat bride, you’d better lose a few pounds or your future husband will stop loving you” ads. I just thought I’d try a “detox” diet for a couple days after the complete gluttony I embraced while friends visited throughout April and May. In the last week alone, I consumed a ginormous Port of Call burger, a Domilise’s fried shrimp po-boy, a Camellia Grill BLT and chocolate freeze, various Memorial Day BBQ treats and countless daiquiris, High Lifes and whiskey and cokes. I’m pretty sure if I challenged contestants on “The Biggest Loser” to an eating contest, I would kick some serious ass. And then pass out from overconsumption and malnutrition.

Thus, the detox, which Katie Ide appropriately defines as “just another word for ‘starvation.’ ” I read the book “French Women Don’t Get Fat” a few months ago and loved the cute little Parisian Mireille Guiliano’s approach to healthy living– reasonable portions, moderation, occasional indulgences, fresh foods in season, red wine every day and lots of walking. I support all of this. The only problem is that she recommends you start with a clean slate by detoxing and eating her “magical leek soup” for two days, which is really just onion-flavored water. Kaila and I gave this a good effort today, drinking the broth every two hours as directed and eating actual leeks when we really got hungry. Too bad neither of these things actually stopped us from being hungry. I’ve never done well with fasting (I almost passed out one Good Friday when I tried it) because it simultaneously makes me stupid and mean. By the middle of the afternoon, I found myself wandering aimlessly around the Tchoupitoulas Wal-Mart (since when do I go to Wal-Mart?), trying to remember why I was there and trying not to growl at the cheery greeters.

We threw in the towel tonight at dinnertime. Water is not food, I don’t care how many leeks you boil in it. Kaila and I made a delicious and healthy meal and paired it with a $6 Cabernet Sauvignon, and I don’t think I’ve ever been so thrilled to eat solid food. I got home and started reading all my cookbooks and reviewing the menu Brian and I chose for our reception at Mulate’s (making me hungry all over again).

Call brand open bar (beer, wine, liquor, plus hurricanes, Bloody Marys and margaritas)

Appetizers:
Mini po-boy sandwiches (half with no mayo at my request)
Broiled stuffed mushrooms
Bite-size catfish
Blackened alligator

Buffet dinner:
Crawfish etouffee
Red beans and rice
Chicken and sausage jambalaya
Vegetarian pasta

And I have recovered from my temporary insanity. I’m back to planning dinner while eating lunch… or salivating over a dinner I won’t eat for another eight months. Hallelujah.

Creative Commons image courtesy of austin tx’s Flickr page

I’ve found myself going “church shopping” lately, which is pretty much the equivalent of me going “gun rack shopping.” It’s not that there’s anything wrong with that; I just don’t usually have the need for one. But since I am technically Catholic and marrying into an actually Catholic family, I have rediscovered religion. The prodigal daughter has returned.

I was kind of hoping getting married in the Catholic church would be something like getting my First Communion. I wear a beautiful white dress, everyone tells me how pretty I look, we sing fun songs at church, then we get to have a big party, yay! Apparently, there’s a little more preparation that goes into this sacrament. We’re only starting this whole process, but I’d like to start sharing the enlightenment I gain along the way. Oh, enlightenment is the wrong religion, isn’t it? What are Catholics supposed to acquire (besides guilt)?

What I’ve Learned So Far:

1. Marriage Ain’t Cheap. I figured the ceremony would be one of the cheapest things we’d invest in for our wedding. Come on, how much would a church charge us to receive a sacrament? Ha. Ha. Perhaps I should have laid off the baby Jesus jokes before I started looking. Old St. Patrick’s Church on Camp Street, a beautiful church less than a mile from our reception location, charges $2,000 for non-parishioners! For an hour-long ceremony (45 minutes, if we’re lucky). It also has an incredibly scary downloadable Web form outlining everything you can’t do. Some highlights:

• Under no conditions is a flower arrangement to be placed directly on the altar or credence tables. Please place the arrangement on a clear plastic saucer.
• Unity candle is not allowed.
• Popular music is not to be performed or sung in church, either before or during the wedding.
• Keyboards and guitars are not permitted at St. Patrick’s Church.
• The photographer must not be conspicuous nor obstruct the proceedings in any way. During the ceremony, all photographs must be taken from the choir loft.
• Strapless attire is not permitted for the bride and/or the other ladies in the bridal party.
• NO ALCOHOL IS ALLOWED INSIDE OR AROUND THE CHURCH AND SACRISTY.
• Do not taunt Happy Fun Ball.

I sure am excited about my special day after reading all that.

Thank goodness for a little church called St. Theresa of Avila. It’s on Erato Street, about a mile from Mulate’s, and just gorgeous– small but big enough, newly renovated, high ceilings, stained-glass windows and a working organ. It’s also run by the cutest priest ever, Father Agudo, who has a thick Spanish accent and who told me there weren’t really any rules for the church, just “common sense.” I just want to put him in my pocket. And it’s only $300 to have the ceremony there. Done.

2. The FOCCUS is a More Amusing Version of the SAT. The Facilitating Open Couple Communication, Understanding & Study is a multiple-choice Scantron exam, much like the standardized tests we had to take in high school. Except instead of reading comprehension questions, we get to agree or disagree with statements like, “I sometimes fear for my safety when with my future spouse,” “I think my future spouse drinks too much” and “I will be uncomfortable with my future spouse seeing me naked.” I completely understand why they have couples take the test– I’m sure it weeds out some of the unwashed masses who shouldn’t be getting married in the first place. That said, it makes me giggle. Especially when it switches from “I do feel” to “I don’t feel” statements arbitrarily, causing me to answer an important question very inaccurately because I was going too fast. The overachiever in me wanted to go back and get a do-over, but Brian said I can’t. But I deserve 100 percent!

That’s all I’ve got for the moment, but I’m sure the pre-cana classes, the liturgical readings and the music will give me plenty of material for this ongoing series of “Catholicism for Sinners.”

I am so proud to be a Californian today (even more so than normal, and I am usually pretty obnoxious about it)! This morning, the California Supreme Court declared the state’s ban on same-sex marriage is unconstitutional. Yes! It is about damn time all couples are allowed the same rights. I got a little verklempt reading the news just now and virtually high-fiving my friends back in San Francisco. I can’t wait until I can celebrate the (legally recognized) marriage of two brides or two grooms who are giving this forever thing a shot just like everyone else.

Today is a huge victory, not just for gay marriage, but for love and tolerance and all those crazy things California hippies love so much. For once, I can give my fighting words a rest and enjoy this triumph. Congratulations everyone, and keep up the good fight!

Sorry this follow-up post has taken so long. I was busy stewing in my rage… and Brian was in town.

For a few weeks, I tried my best to repair my relationship with Embassy Suites New Orleans. I called, I wrote, but apparently the catering manager had decided to break up with me by avoiding me altogether. I was more than a little insulted. I haven’t gotten this kind of treatment since freshman year of college when some guy I was seeing (who I didn’t even like that much) stopped returning my calls. No! This is all wrong. I should be the one doing the breaking up. Don’t you know that I am a catch? I am totally cuter and smarter than you, and… I mean, don’t you know that our wedding is a good sales opportunity?

I grew tired of our little game of “playing hard-to-get” and called her boss, the assistant general manager of the hotel. I explained who I was, why I was calling and that I had been trying unsuccessfully to get in touch with this chick for more than two weeks. Silence.

I tried a different tactic, using my friendly phone voice and describing how much we loved the space and how we really wanted to work out a way to have our reception there.

Me: We really love the Embassy Suites’ atrium, and we want to have our wedding reception there. The only problem is that we had negotiated a six-hour reception from the beginning, and your catering manager said that was fine, but at the last minute, she said we can only have it for three hours.

Assistant General Manager (who I suspect might be the “assistant to the general manager”): We only do three-hour receptions.

Me: OK, well, she told us we could have a six-hour reception. Why is that changing now?

AGM: We only do three-hour receptions. (long pause) I can maybe stretch it to four hours.

Me: (now I’m really imagining this guy is Dwight. “Bears. Beets. Battlestar Galactica.”) Seriously? We are talking about a wedding in New Orleans, right? Why won’t you do more than four hours?

AGM: (slightly irritated, condescending tone, as one would speak to a slightly challenged five year old) Ma’am. It is a liability for us to serve alcohol to people for more than four hours. If someone were to get hurt, we would be responsible. It’s just not possible.

Me: (talking in my own babysitter-who-has-a-difficult-charge voice) By all means, you should have the right to refuse service to anyone you think has had too much to drink. Would that allow us to have a longer reception?

AGM: No.

Me: What if we switched from a full open bar to just wine and beer after four hours? Or supplied our own alcohol for the last two hours?

AGM: NO. I am not flexible on this matter. Our maximum is four hours. You won’t find anywhere else in this city that will give you more than that.

Me: (in my “Oh, really, fool?” voice): I find that very hard to believe. This city has bars that never close. I’m sure we can find a reception venue that will serve alcohol for six hours. By the way, is your catering manager on vacation or something? She hasn’t gotten back to me.

AGM: No. She’s the one who gave me your number. Do you want her to call you?

I was all kinds of riled up when I got off the phone, and Brian and I made it our personal crusade to find another location. Call me crazy, but I just didn’t feel like forking over a few thousand dollars to these teetotalers. (And that woman never called me back, by the way.)

We trolled the Warehouse District and the French Quarter looking for the perfect spot, and we found it– Mulate’s Restaurant. It’s funky, it’s also on Julia Street, the food is fantastic, the space is huge and the people are nice. Where do we sign?

Brian and I have been basking in the glow of our own awesomeness lately, perhaps a little prematurely. Over the last few months, we have lovingly created the Mother of All Google Spreadsheets with research on photographers, churches (more on that in future posts) and, most importantly, the place that will keep us in food and booze during our party.

Honestly, the reception venue is the most critical decision after the extensive “DJ, if you play [insert Village People/Celine Dion/James Blunt song here], I will fight you” list. What if we pick a place that has bland jambalaya or a bartender who makes weak drinks? I shudder at the thought.

We initially had our hearts set on the Elms Mansion and Gardens on St. Charles Avenue because it’s beautiful and I have a soft spot for gazebos, but having a January wedding outside is a little stressful. And expensive. Turns out a tent for 200 people costs $2700. To rent. Next!

We checked out the other popular New Orleans wedding venues– House of Broel (too hoity toity), Rosy’s Jazz Hall (too small), Magnolia Mansion (too pricey)– before finding the perfect place: Embassy Suites. It’s a gorgeous, colorful hotel on Julia Street in the Warehouse/Arts District, and the indoor atrium is just what we’re looking for. A space big enough for everyone to eat and dance and make merry, big windows and skylights, funky murals on the walls and an outdoor feel without actual exposure to the elements, all for a reasonable price tag. It’s also a hotel, which means we can go out after-partying in the Quarter and easily crawl up to our rooms afterward. Perfect.

I was about to sign the contract and put down the deposit a few days ago when I noticed the contract only reserved the space for three hours. The basic wedding package is only three hours, but we had said from the get-go we would need to extend it to at least five or six hours (I mean, let’s be honest about our crowd here). The catering manager quoted us a price for each additional hour, and all was well. That is, until she told us they didn’t want to serve alcohol to any group for more than three hours. But we could work out “alternate ideas.”

Uhhhh. Exsqueeze me? What kind of alternate ideas? Sippy cups of Kool-Aid? We’re talking about a wedding. In New Orleans. It’s practically a city mandate that we throw a ridiculous party where everyone from the best man to Great Aunt Edna gets a little tipsy on too many mint juleps. A three-hour reception is just not gonna cut it, and a six-hour reception with three hours of liquor might incite riots. Brian and I are pretty chill, but you just don’t mess with our food or alcohol consumption. It’s just not a good idea.

I’m still waiting on a response to my strongly worded e-mail. I’ve got my hard face on. More to follow.

Just to be clear, I was never the girl who had her entire wedding planned out before hitting puberty. I didn’t dress up as a bride for Halloween. I had no idea why a princess-cut diamond was superior to any other or why I should care. I never held weddings for my Barbie dolls (though I did try to create Mattel’s first transgender couple by switching Ken and Barbie’s heads…. Note: Barbie’s head does not fit on Ken’s football-player neck without help from duct tape).

Fast-forward a few years… I’m 24, engaged and still totally confused as to how this whole “wedding” thing works. I mean, I’m a pretty darn good party planner, but that usually just involves making sure someone has a keg tap and cutting up a thrift-store skirt for my pirate costume. This is different. Flower arrangements, guest lists, catering contracts. Apparently, I missed this class while I was getting my MRS degree. I equate theknot.com with the seventh circle of hell, so it’s hard to find wedding resources that are not intended for “That Girl” (read: that don’t make me physically ill).

Brian and I are now navigating the strange and expensive waters of wedding planning, trying to figure out how to throw an amazing party on our terms and on our budget. I just about had a heart attack when I read the average cost of a wedding in the U.S. is close to $30,000. I checked out this site where you can calculate the average cost by zip code, and it’s $24,480 in New Orleans, where we’re getting married. That’s close to a year of grad school, people! We’re going to try to do it for $15-17,000, which still seems like an insane amount of money when we’re trying to pay for a lot of it ourselves (hence the name “No Dowry”).

The big day is in January 2009, so for the next nine months, I’ll be sharing the pearls of wisdom I pick up as I figure out how to plan a wedding without selling my soul to Modern Bride or selling any organs on the black market.

Creative Commons image courtesy of sparktography’s Flickr page