Meaningful words

"I really care about you."

Funny how five little words can mean so much.

Hearing them felt like someone hugged my heart.

These were pretty nice to hear, too:

"You make me so happy."

"I want to make you feel special."

"I can't wait to see your beautiful smile."

Yep, I think he's a keeper. :)

Image via we heart it

Status update

Ok. So I'm hoping this post doesn't make me come off sounding like a lonely and bitter witch. 

But, as I was about to post about more stuff—which, don’t get me wrong, I love me some pretty stuff—I thought that maybe I should write about what’s really on my mind.

And then after writing it all out, I debated actually posting it because, well, it's not easy for me to be so open and vulnerable on here.

Still, I’m guessing there are some of you out there who will get how I feel. So here goes.

It seems I am at the age where everyone I know—friends, acquaintances, coworkers, former high school classmates, you name it—is getting engaged, married or knocked up. Well, the better way to put that would be to say they are starting a family.

Now, I know that this is the normal course of life. I’m a 20-something, approaching 30, these things happen. But I think certain platforms like, ahem, Facebook, make me hyper-aware of the situation. Every day it seems people are updating their statuses with life-changing news. Look at my sparkling new ring! Check out my wedding pics! Isn’t my darling baby darling?!

But don’t misunderstand. I am thrilled for my friends when I hear this type of news and when I write “Congratulations, I’m so happy for you!” I am completely sincere. Really and truly. But there is this little nagging part of me that wonders, “When will that happen for me?”

Even proclamations of, “I got my dream job!” or “Just closed on my new home!” can elicit that kind of inner, heart-sinking response from me.

I wouldn’t describe it as jealousy. Just a feeling of not being where I wish I was—the sort of ache that keeps me up at night when those self-defeating, woe-is-me thoughts creep in.

And yes, a tinge of loneliness. I am lonely. (But I am actively warding off a turn into bitter-ville.) My ex and I broke up six months ago and although we are still friends and talk often and hang out—a kind of odd relationship that is hard for people to understand—sometimes you just want someone to hold your hand, you know?

There it is. I guess I’ve been feeling a bit sad, a bit restless and a bit stuck. I’ve probably driven my best friend crazy with these feelings of insecurity! But really, I’m sure there are others out there who feel or have felt like this. How do you shift your negative thoughts and get out of a funk?

I know everyone has their own path to follow and that many of the things I’m looking and hoping for will happen when the time is right. But I'm also a believer that sometimes you have to take the reigns of your life and make a change when you’re not happy or to get where you want to be. Change is something I tend to avoid like the plague, but I’m thinking it’s high time I become more of a risk taker.

So here's to being patient but enjoying the ride, and being proud of my own life (thou shall not covet, right?) while taking baby steps forward to make tomorrow more like my dreams.

xoxo,


Love-ly photos via we heart it: 1, 2 and 3.

Life stories, preserved

StoryCorps has made me laugh and cry once again*. This is such a sweet and funny story about the life of a strong-willed lady with no regrets. I literally laughed out loud while watching the animated short last night and a minute later I had tears in my eyes. I love StoryCorps for its mission to provide Americans of all backgrounds and beliefs the chance to record, share and preserve the story of their lives. What a gift for the families who participate and a gift to all of us who have the opportunity to listen. It may be their story, but it is all of our history. Beautiful.

You can check out StoryCorps' YouTube channel here and learn more about the Brooklyn-based nonprofit here.

*I fell in love with StoryCorps for the first time after watching "Danny and Annie." If you watch it, have a tissue handy. You'll need it.

Breaking up is hard to do

Wow. Being the breaker-upper is not much better than being the breakup-ee.

As some of you may have gathered from my last post, or from my facebook status change last week, my boyfriend and I broke up.

I’m the one who did the breaking. It was something that I’ve needed to do for a long time. Safe to say we both saw it coming and yet we both didn’t really want to do anything about it. I finally made the move.

We were together almost four years. It would have been four years April 15.

Like I said, I know it was the right step to take but it wasn’t easy. Despite my own feelings, despite my friends’ prodding, I put it off and off and off because I was afraid. Afraid of being alone. Afraid of losing a friend. A best friend, really. Afraid of how I would feel after. Afraid that I wouldn’t find anyone else to replace the empty feeling in my heart that I knew would only get bigger once I actually said the words that needed to be said: I think we should break up.

And I had never broken up with anyone before. (I was the one who was completely devastated-- several times I might add-- by my high school-into-college boyfriend.) I wasn’t sure what to do or how to say it.

As far as breakups go, this one was … nice? I don’t know the word. Calm? I simply said that things weren’t working out and that we both deserved better-- to find someone who truly makes us happy and gives us what we need. I didn’t feel it was necessary to delve into all the things that I think he has done wrong. Or how he hurt me. What would be the point, really? I knew that once I got those words out-- I think we should break up-- there would be no going back. Nothing he could do to change my mind. Pointing fingers wouldn’t solve anything and we still have a dog together that we both love. And mutual friends. We will still occasionally talk and see each other so I wanted to make the breakup as “nice” as possible.

I think he did, too, because he didn’t get defensive either. As sad as this fact might make me, he pretty much agreed with what I said. It would have been nice if he had tried to fight for me, but I knew going in that wouldn’t be the reaction and it wasn’t. Which is exactly why I knew it all needed to end. So it did.

Luckily, last week was as busy as usual and work kept my mind off of what had happened. Valentine’s Day was a Monday and I had a horrific City Council meeting to attend. (Horrific because it lasted six hours. Longest meeting of my life!) I had meetings almost every night last week in fact. And those deadlines to meet. But then the weekend came and bam! Everything I didn’t want to think about has hit me. The rainy, gloomy weather didn’t help either.

I never really talked about my relationship here and in general I try not to get too personal, but I decided to write this all down because I just called the ex and it left me a bit rattled. I called because he still owes me some money and the bill is coming up this week. (Another reason I did my best to keep the split amicable.) I was slightly dreading calling him but it was harder than I imagined it would be. 

The moment I got on the phone with him and he asked me how I was, it took all the strength within me not to burst out crying. My voice cracked a little and I had to cover my mouth. I didn’t want him to know that I was hurting. It was me, after all, who did this. Surprisingly, for an ultra-emotional girl like me, I didn’t cry that much during the actual breakup. But this weekend, in the privacy of my room, under the covers of my bed, tears have soaked my pillow, coming down heavy like the rain outside.

I still know that I did the right thing. For both of us. But it still hurts. My heart aches because I miss my friend. Heck, I miss my dog. And I hate feeling so incredibly alone. Thankfully, my best friend just returned my call and I’m already feeling a bit better, just being able to talk to her and let out all these emotions swirling inside. Writing it all down has lifted some of the weight, too.

Today, the sun broke through the clouds and I know that this internal storm will also pass. Until this weekend I wasn’t letting myself feel the pain and I’ve realized that even though the breakup was expected and needed and my own doing, it is still okay to feel sad. I spent the last four years of my life loving this man, even if he didn’t love me back the way I needed. I shared my hopes and dreams and fears with him. He saw me laugh and he saw me cry. He was there to talk to when I had a bad day. He was there to go to dinner with and see the latest movie. It’s hard to lose all that. So it’s okay to be sad.

I’m going to let myself feel that for a while and then I’ll get back to the regular, cheerful programming. If you made it this far, you’re awesome. Thanks for reading.

xoxo,


Saw this photo today on Etsy and it seemed to capture my feelings. Find it here, by tamgutlich

The right hands

A heart is a funny thing.

It can be so strong

for the people it loves

and yet those are the very ones

who can break it so easily.

Still,

when held in the right hands,

a heart can be so full

and so light

all at the same time.

So while 

it may not be smart

to keep giving away my heart

so freely,

I will keep on giving

until the day that it finds

the right hands.

penned Feb. 2, 2011

felt again Feb. 12

still feeling today

Image via we heart it

Hello, 2011.

It’s that time of year again. Time to self-reflect. Time to set goals. Time to beat yourself up over what you didn’t get done last year. Ha! I’m kidding, kind of.

See, looking back at last year’s resolutions, I’d have to say that they mostly all still apply today. It’s a bit discouraging seeing that I haven’t made much progress in the past year-- though I have in the last two weeks stopped biting my nails. Right now I even have little white tips. It’s all very exciting. I hope this time it sticks!

Anyway, like I was saying, it is a bit of a bummer to look back and feel like you didn’t accomplish the goals you set out for yourself. But, there’s no point in dwelling. Just keep swimming! (Gotta love that Dory.) Perhaps I should print that 2010 post out and hang it on my bathroom mirror so that, while I’m brushing my teeth of all things, I’m constantly reminded of what my resolutions are. I really might just do that but while I’m not going to add a bunch of bullet points to that list, I will talk a little bit here about a few personal goals I’d like to work on in 2011.

In the online world, my perpetual resolution is to be a better blogger-- post more, comment more, you know the drill. But in general, I’d like to work on being a better friend, which can happen online but more importantly in real life. I work so hard at being a good employee and yet I still feel like no matter what I do it’s never going to be good enough. I think if I put my effort into being a better person, a better friend, that would be infinitely more fulfilling. And yet it is so easy for me to let the busyness and stress of daily life get in the way of doing the things I love and spending time with the people I love. I have found, particularly in the past year, that it is all too easy to neglect the things that make us who we are and make us feel good to concentrate on the things that we are supposed to do, demanded to do-- even if those things aren’t what build us up and inspire us. 

There’s a balance to be found, for sure, and it is a difficult one to master. There shouldn’t be all work and no play or the other way around, though that way would definitely be more fun! But I guess what I want to strive for is that "timeless" adage: work hard and play harder! What a motto, right? I sound like a sorority girl. (Oh wait, I was one.) But, hey! I’m only 25. I don’t want to look back on my life and only remember all the sleepless nights spent toiling away at my computer. If there is sleep deprivation in my future-- and I know there will be-- I hope it is more often a result of dancing till my feet hurt or spending hours chatting about life with a girl friend, not stressing out over work. Here, here! (Cue me raising a champagne glass.)

My overarching desire for 2011 is this, and I’ve said it before: to be happy. I want to discover true happiness, in all its forms. I want to find what makes me happy and do those things more. If it means taking risks, then I guess this timid, afraid-of-change girl will just have to find her courage, too. 

On the flip side, I want to find what doesn’t make me happy and then do my best to change it or cut it out of my life completely. I’m sure that exercise will be more difficult than it sounds but I really do believe joy is a choice and if you are letting things into your life that stomp all over joy, then really who is to blame for your unhappiness but yourself? So yes, finding, grabbing and holding onto happiness is my simple yet profound goal for 2011. Sure, to really stop biting my nails for good is definitely on the list again too, but I’m thinking that a happier me will be less prone to nail chewing, don’t you?

So here’s to a 2011 with more smiles, laughter and adventure. And here’s hoping your year is full of that, too.

xoxo,


Images via: 1, 2, 3, 4 + 5

Playing catch up

On Sunday night, the boy and I met up for dinner with my big sis, Abby, and her fiance, Andrew. Don't let the fair skin and blonde hair fool you-- I didn't suddenly gain a sister I never told you about. But we are sorority sisters, in Alpha Phi.

Can you believe that we hadn't seen each other in four years-- since she graduated? I couldn't! Sure we had stayed in touch via Facebook and she sent me presents occasionally. (Such a thoughtful big sis!) But when she told me a couple months ago that she'd be in town (from Colorado) to attend a wedding, and that she would love to see me, I jumped at the chance. And it was so wonderful to actually see her again and catch up. Yeah, the food at Paradise Cove in Malibu was good-- with gigantic portions, mind you-- but the conversation was even better. It was almost like no time had passed. We both said the other looked exactly the same and we quickly clicked back into our old friendship. The night consisted of laughing and joking, swapping "how we met" stories, venting about work, chatting about girl stuff, learning we both share an affinity for Pinot Grigio and generally giving our boys are hard time.

We were at the restaurant for four hours-- the first one we spent at the bar, waiting for a table-- but the time seemed to fly right by, and at the end of the night it was bittersweet to say goodbye, not knowing when I'd see her next. Though I will, without a doubt, book a flight to Grand Junction and be at her wedding next June!

One of the things we did talk about Sunday night was how difficult it is to stay in touch with old friends after college (or high school, for that matter). It's not that you don't want to keep in touch but life sort of steps in and takes over. Following graduation, everyone goes their separate ways. One day, you're surrounded by friends; always have someone to talk to, go shopping with, eat lunch with. The next, you're in the real world. And if you're in my world, your good friends from college live hours, if not states, away, your bestie is just as busy as you are with not much time to hang out, and you work from home, which means no colleagues.

Suffice to say, I wouldn't be one to argue if all my long lost Pepperdine buddies decided to move back to California.

Until then, I will take advantage of and savor every chance I have to play catch up, to reconnect with those people who have left footprints on my heart. Because friends really are one of life's greatest gifts.

Are you good about keeping in touch with old friends? Have you reconnected with someone recently?

By the way, thank you all for being such lovely friends, and catching up with me in every post.

xo,

Friends Forever

This week, I finally got a chance to crack open the May issue of Glamour. The current issue is all about friends (Former "Hills" star Lauren Conrad is on the cover, and an interview and adorable photo spread with her posse-- Whitney and Lo-- is inside).

Every month, the magazine's masthead features a question posed to Glamour staff. This month's is "Who is your best friend, and how did you meet?" The moment I read this, I started reminiscing. Like marketing manager Julia Olson, I found my bestie on the elementary school playground.

It was third grade. I had recently "broken up" with my first best friend, Kristen. Kristen was the reason I went to White Oak Elementary School instead of a private school in Simi, like my brother did. She lived right around the corner from me and we became fast friends. But soon enough she started hanging out with the more popular kids and suddenly I didn't cut it. I'd call to come over, but she said I couldn't; she already had a friend over. Eventually, I gave up. For a 7 year old, you can imagine the devastation I felt.

So, like I said, it was third grade. One day during recess-- or maybe it was lunch, I can't remember-- I was sitting on the blacktop, my back against the handball court, looking at the world and wishing I had a friend to play with. While scanning the playground, my eyes fell on a group of girls sitting at a picnic table. They looked like they were having so much fun. If my memory serves me correctly, I think they were forming a pretend club and assigning each other pretend titles, you know, president, vice president, secretary. Somehow, shy me mustered the bravery to walk over and ask, in a timid voice, "Can I play with you?"

The answer came easily from Marielle: "Sure." At the time, fun-loving, gregarious Marielle didn't realize how much this simple welcome meant to me. But as they say, the rest is history. Seventeen years later, we are still best friends.

Sure, we've been through our ups and downs, had a handful of fights, shed a few tears, struggled to find the time to get together as our adult responsibilities have taken over. But no matter how long we go between visits, we always pick up right back where we started. We can be so different at times and yet, we get each other, we understand each other-- sometimes better than we know ourselves. I can always count on her to give it to me straight, there's no sugar-coating with her. And I am always there to lend an ear when she needs to vent and I never judge her like others have. We simply love each other unconditionally. What more could a girl ask for?


So now I want to know: Who is your best friend, and how did you meet?



Swings image via ffffound

A castle wedding

Like a fairy tale, my lovely friend Brittany married her one true love, Steve, in a garden beneath an old, ivy-covered castle in Victoria, B.C. The weather was brisk as we waited for the ceremony to start. In our jackets we strolled the grounds and took in the view. There was so much to look at: the castle, the sea, the flowers, the peacocks parading around the ground. A few even sat perched on a stone wall bordering the garden, as if they were waiting for the festivities to begin, too.

Close family and friends filled the rows of white seats. It was an intimate affair, which seemed fitting despite the grand setting. The ceremony was traditional and yet personal-- the officiant shared with those gathered how the bride and groom met and just what they thought of each other, a moment that was both funny and sweet. The couple recited the vows many of us are familiar with, but they also exchanged their own sentiments that were truly from the heart. I don't think there was a dry eye in the house; I know I shed a few tears. I always get emotional at weddings, I'm such a sap, but it was more than that. I was so very happy to see the love between Brittany and Steve. Their feelings for each other were palpable, undeniable. It's so great to see a couple so completely in love.

After hors d'oeuvres and champagne on the patio overlooking the garden, the reception moved inside the castle. Completed in 1908, Hatley Castle's interior is as impressive as its exterior. Think oak and rosewood paneled rooms, a baronial fireplace, teak floors and sparkling chandeliers. One could not imagine a more perfect place to get hitched. After a hearty dinner, the cutting of the cake and toasts from the father of the bride and the mother of the groom-- words that, again, pulled on my heartstrings-- guests made their way to the dance floor, which was situated between a grand dual staircase. The first dance, to Jack Johnson's "Better Together," kicked off the night of celebration that ended a few hours later in the most romantic way: with a sparkler send off and an old Rolls Royce as the getaway car.

Like I said, it was a wedding straight out of a storybook. And just like the fairy tales we've all read as children, I have no doubt they'll live happily ever after. In Costa Rica. Or wherever their hearts take them.

Here's some more pictures, if you'd like to see...

Strolling through the garden, the evening sunlight streaming through the trees.

The garden's colorful blooms were the perfect backdrop for saying "I do."

Snapping a pic before the ceremony began.

The Italian Garden at Hatley Castle.

Exchanging vows. The bride's sister was the maid of honor, the groom's brother was the best man.

A big smooch sealed the deal.

So glad to be Mr. and Mrs.

I think they look like movie stars here. And I'm the paparazzi!

A view of the garden. The wedding party was finishing taking photos.

First dance.

They were definitely queen and king of the castle that day.

I heart weddings.

The bride gets down to "Bad Girls" by Donna Summer with her sister and mom.

P.S. I updated my blogroll yesterday so if you haven't looked in a while and feel like browsing, definitely check it out. There are some great blogs on there!

Moments in reading

Note: I wrote this post about two weeks or so ago, but didn’t get to posting it until today. I’ll blame it on the vacation… but really, I was debating back and forth if I really wanted to be this honest. Oh, well, here goes...

Have you ever read a passage in a book that seemed to completely define where you are in your life at. this. very. moment?

That is what happened to me the other night. Bored with baseball, I decided to make good on my promise to myself to read more books. I picked up a memoir that I have been “reading” for quite some time. More accurately, I brushed the dust off a memoir that I was reading months ago but had neglected for quite some time.

(I am slightly ashamed to admit that the memoir I am referring to is Eat, Pray Love by Elizabeth Gilbert. I am ashamed because I wrote about my needing to get back to the book in April! My seeming inability to finish the 331-page book is in no way a reflection of its merit. I really do love the book, so far. Full disclosure: I have read to page 119.)

Anyway, I flipped through the pages and opened up to where I bookmarked: Chapter 28. As I began to read, my heart swelled and at the same time, a lump developed in my throat. She is talking about me, I thought. Wait. No. She is talking about herself, but it might as well be me. Maybe its not the exact same situation but it is the exact same feelings. Which, in my book—pun kind of intended—matters more.

From pages 83-84:

“There’s a constant level of closeness that I really need from the person I love . . . But it just destroys me to not be able to count on that affection when I need it.”

". . . but who amongst us lives without sacrifice?

And the question now for me is, What are my choices to be? What do I believe that I deserve in this life? Where can I accept sacrifice, and where can I not? It has been so hard for me to imagine living a life without David in it . . . But how can I accept that bliss when it comes with this dark underside—bone-crushing isolation, corrosive insecurity, insidious resentment and, of course, the complete dismantling of self that inevitably occurs when David ceases to giveth, and commences to taketh away. I can’t do it anymore. Something about my recent joy in Naples has made me certain that I not only can find happiness without David, but must. No matter how much I love him (and I do love him, in stupid excess), I have to say good-bye to this person now. And I have to make it stick.” 

This experience of self-identification in the words of another has just reinforced what I have known all along. Read more. Books, that is.  Somehow, it makes me feel less alone. More understood. Happier even, to see my life mirrored in someone else’s, to know someone else has walked where I now stand and somehow made it through. And that today, they are better for it.

For me, reading those few pages was like talking to a best friend who knows exactly how I feel and what to say. Kind of like Liz and her Italian-language tutor, Giovanni, who upon seeing Liz break down in tears after breaking up with David says in perfect English: “I understand, Liz. I have been there.”

Quote via Design Crush

the More the Merrier

Last weekend, and most likely this weekend too, I spent my time trying to clean and organize the apartment. There was also a considerable amount of money spent on buying things to help me clean and organize the apartment. Why, you ask? Well, it is certainly not because I enjoy such tasks. I wish I could list "neat freak" as one of my personality traits but, alas, I live more in a state of "organized chaos," as I like to call it. Though, others—ahem, my boyfriend—just call it a bona fide mess.

Anyhow, the reason for the cleaning and organizing is... we got a new roommate! Yes, the boy's friend and co-worker (well, technically, the boy is our new roommate's boss... details, details) named Brook moved in with us last weekend. He needed a place to live and the extra rent money would really help us out, so it was a win-win for everyone. 

The only thing is, the boy is not used to living with other people and sharing his space. He is 35 and having roommates is kind of a thing of the past for him. I, on the other hand, am very used to living with roommates. Did it all throughout college and after college, until I moved in with the boy. I have lived with all types and I can pretty much get along with anyone. But the funny thing is, even though the boy and Brook are good friends, I think the boy is feeling like he is on Brook-overload. I'm not worried though; I'm sure we'll all settle into the new living situation soon. 

Still, there is one thing I am quickly realizing: With another boy in the house, I have lost my "veto" power when it comes to watching hours and hours of sports (at the moment, baseball). Before, I could just nag the boy to change the channel when I simply couldn't stand to watch another pitch. But now, I feel outnumbered! 

Oh, and I can't just walk around in my bra anymore. Haha, the joys of living with a male roommate. But trust, I would NEVER let another girl move in here with me and my guy. Even a friend. Funny double standard, huh?

So, what's your take on roommates? Love 'em or leave 'em?

And, what on your weekend agenda? Like I said, I have much more cleaning and organizing to do. It never ends! But maybe I will squeeze in some time to read one of the many unread books lining the shelves of our new bookcase (one of those organizing things we finally bought even though we've lived here for 6 months). I have so many options, too: "Julie & Julia" by Julie Powell, "Animal, Vegetable, Miracle" by Barbara Kingsolver, "The Lucky One" by Nicholas Sparks, "The Almost Moon" by Alice Sebold, "The Secret Life of Bees" by Sue Monk Kidd... oh, the list goes on and on. If you have an opinion, which do you think I should read first?

P.S. We went to the county fair last night. Stay tuned for pics!

Image via i can read

Wedded bliss

At the wedding this past Saturday, I was a bundle of nerves. And here’s why:

• I saw, but did not speak to, an old flame. There was an opportunity to break the ice while standing in line for hors d’ oeuvres and I should have taken it, but didn’t. I am such a wimp.
  
• I chatted with an almost-boyfriend, if I can call him that. Maybe it would be better to say he was my date to senior prom? Or ever better to classify him as the “rebound” boy who, though we never even kissed, reopened my heart after the old flame broke it? You get the idea.
  
• And I randomly—surprisingly—bumped into (well really, he bumped into me) a crush from elementary/junior high/high school. The experience took me aback and made me an awkward mess. Seems those butterflies can still come back after even 10 years.
  

Ok, enough about my boy drama. On to the wedding.

It was a lovely wedding. Very personal and intimate. Stephanie looked beautiful in her dress and I think she was just glowing with happiness. It felt a little surreal to me that one of my longtime friends is now a married woman—a wife. But at the same time, I am very happy for her and Ryan, who I both consider good friends, and I can only hope that one day I find the same true, deep, lasting love that they have found in each other.

Here’s some photos from the day: (sorry, no pics of the guys mentioned above!)

The wedding at Cornerstone Church.

The reception site. Can you believe this is a backyard? Gorgeous.

The first dance.

With the happy couple.

With my friend Anna.

With my mom and dad.

Me and the boy.

Finally, because it probably took an hour to wrap, I have to share this photo of my wedding gift (which were a pair of floral throw pillows) to the happy couple. Orange and watermelon were their colors, so I wanted to jazz up the somewhat boring black and white wedding paper with tons of ribbons.

Though they can be a bit stressful, I do love weddings (I have another one to attend in September, in Canada of all places, yippee!). I count Whose Wedding Is It Anyway? and Say Yes to the Dress as some of my favorite shows! But even though they are celebrations of love and happiness and bring out the sap in me, I can't help but feel a little down after I come home and slip off my heels. I think, when will I get married? Who will I marry? 

Though I have tons of ideas of what my wedding dress, hair, makeup, reception site, etc. etc. should look like, I have no idea about who I will wed and when it will be. Yeah, yeah, I'm too young to worry about it and in time I will be able to fill in those blanks, but the truth is, with so many friends getting engaged or married lately, I have started to feel like the clock is ticking. Next year I will be 25 and when I was younger I thought, naively, that I would be hitched by then. But as I have come to realize, as we get older, we have to shift our expectations. One thing is for sure: Nothing ever goes as planned.

So, do you ever worry about these things, too? And on a lighter note, what would your dream wedding look like?