Category Archives: Love

Adventures of a Personal Attendant

Posted on January 7, 2013 | 6 Comments

This past weekend, I witnessed an amazing couple get married. I also had the pleasure of being the bride’s personal attendant on her wedding day. However, I have to admit – when she first asked me, I had one major question on my mind:

What the hell does a personal attendant do?

So, I relied on the internet, got a few suggestions from friends, and put a list of duties together (then added more alcohol to that list, figuring if everyone was a little buzzed they wouldn’t notice if I forgot anything).

Prepared with champagne and orange juice for mimosas on Saturday morning, a tote full of supplies, and far too much luggage, I left speeding along 90 headed towards Madison (turns out there’s a lot of traffic leaving downtown Chicago. Weird). I skipped checking in to the hotel and arrived ten minutes late the rehearsal, only to discover I was locked out of the church.

Finally breaking in, I was able to snap a few photos before leaving to check in to the hotel. Where a shuttle was waiting to take us to the rehearsal dinner. Which drove away while I was throwing my luggage in the room. So I hit the road and managed to enter the wrong address in my GPS, not realizing it until I was half way to a different restaurant. So of course I was ten minutes late the rehearsal dinner, and ended up at the kids table.

Which was perfect. I like kids. Especially if they’re cute, like these ones. And turns out when you’re exhausted from work and driving and breaking in to churches, cute kids are exactly who you want to be around. Without having to put any effort into conversation, I found out how Ms. Thompson was the best teacher ever because she let the class skip math that morning. And let them skip morning routine! Three cheers for Ms. Thompson!

Not to be outdone by his sister or Ms. Thompson stories, the gentleman to my right informed me that at age 11, he was much more world traveled than his younger sister. I had to ask where his favorite place ever in the world was. He answered with Captain Bill’s Seafood Restaurant. Red Lobster comes in at a close second.

The kid’s got good taste. Those biscuits are good.

The next morning was an excited flurry of hair spray, make-up, and smiling faces. I headed over to the reception location to pick up a bag of rose petals that were supposed to be in the cooler…only to discover they were in the freezer, placed there on accident by the groom.

Shit.

Planning on keeping it all a secret (Chad, buddy, you could have gotten away with it had you not mentioned it during your speech at dinner!), I tried to save the day. Turns out, you guys, there are a ton of websites on how to freeze flower petals. But none on how to unthaw accidentally frozen ones. Weird.

That one minor incident was, from what I could tell, the only thing that wasn’t exquisite about the day. And even that turned into an endearing story.

The bride was breathtaking. The entire wedding party was a fun crowd. The reception was beautiful. It truly was perfect. And as far as my personal attendant duties, I was grateful for my tote full of supplies and helped out with whatever requests came at me.

My advice, if you are ever a personal attendant, is to role with the day, be prepared for anything, and carry a big bag.

And my advice, if you want to become more world traveled, is to hit up a Red Lobster once in a while. Those biscuits are good.

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Silver Linings

Posted on September 27, 2012 | Leave a comment

Sometimes in life, amidst wonderful news, we find ourselves having to making hard decisions. It’s during these times I’m grateful for those who make a tough situation easier to handle.

When I move back home, I’m living with my parents for a while. For a variety of (very legitimate) reasons, I can bring my dog Hunter home with me, but not my cat Sydney. After we exhausted all possible options, I realized this was something I was going to have to accept and deal with.

And so, sadly, I finally did.

And soon realized this was going to be an even tougher situation than initially thought. After emailing friends to see if someone could take her in, my mom emailing her friends to see if someone could take her in, my mom also posting pictures on her school bulletin, and me emailing and calling twelve different organizations, I found out having a cat who needs a new home is not exactly an easy task.

But then a wonderful person contacted me from Dane County Friends of Ferals. They couldn’t take Sydney in to foster, but had some suggestions on what to do, where to post about Sydney needing a home, and how to avoid scams. It was because of those suggestions that my ad on Craigslist was answered by another wonderful person, Alissa, who runs Paws Prints Ranch in Sauk City.

Paws Prints Ranch, an organization that helps with re-homing as well as pet boarding, doggy day care, and many other services, is taking Sydney in.

I will be so sad to say goodbye.

But because of these loving people who run loving organizations, I can breathe easier knowing Sydney is going to be more than ok.

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Posted in Love, MISC

2012 World War II Marine Reunion

Posted on September 23, 2012 | 1 Comment

Back a few months ago, I had an incoming call from a woman looking to set up a block of rooms and a dinner for a banquet she was planning. We got to talking, and I found out it was a reunion for WWII Marines.

My grandpa was a marine in WWII and before I knew it, we were invited to participate in the activities. I took off of work Friday, as did my dad, and we spent Thursday night, Friday, Saturday, and Sunday morning with a wonderful group of our country’s finest.

Grandpa sporting the USMC hat & shirt my uncle bought him for the trip!

Friday was lunch downtown, followed by a tour at the Wisconsin Veterans Museum. As it turns out, our tour guide was also a marine, which was a nice surprise. He was honored to be speaking to these WWII gentlemen, and they were excited to hear from him.

Before the tour.

The division symbols – my grandpa was in the 3rd division, signal company.

The guys posing with the tour guide.

After resting, heading out to dinner, and answering the first round of questions from grandpa as to when I am going to get married already, we were ready for bed.

Saturday morning started with breakfast on a farm by the hosts of the reunion, complete with a harp player, homemade food all from their farm, and great stories. Turns out this group has been meeting for years now, and most of the people there were from out-of-state.

Later that evening was the banquet where we gathered to connect with everyone and celebrate. We made it through to Sunday morning with only a few more comments on how grandpa just wants to see me walk down an aisle already, dad reprimanded me like a four-year old in front of everyone only a couple of times, and I heard the same old jokes repeated only about fifteen more times.

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But that’s family. And I’m proud and thankful for what my grandfather and others have done for our country, and that I got to spend one of my last weekends in Madison with them.

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Top Five Friday: Top 5 Personal Attendant Duties

Posted on August 10, 2012 | 6 Comments

Last night a great friend asked me to be a personal attendant at her wedding and omigosh I’m super excited! She is gifted at her career, which happens to be in the wedding industry, so you just know the reception is going to be ah-ma-zing. Also, the most important thing – the couple is one of those loving partnerships us single girls aspire to be a part of one day.

But here’s the thing: What exactly does one do as a personal attendant? Having never been one before, I took to the powers and wonder of the internet to find out. There were many duties, but five main ones that stood out.

5. Organize. Everything.

When I hear the word “Organize” I get excited. If I could list one super human talent I possess, this would be it. So far, so good.

4. Help the bride get dressed.

I know how to get dressed in the morning, so I feel pretty qualified to handle this one. Easy peasy.

3. Various “go-fer” duties.

Which gives me total access to walk around with a purpose, checking out all the single dudes. This is the best job ever!

2. Hold a touch-up / emergency bag.

I’ve actually brought these to most weddings, just because. Traditionally I include band aids, hairspray, clear nail polish, nail clippers, nail files, deodorant, and breath mints. Done!

1. Make sure the bride is not stressed.

Challenge: Accepted. Current adding liquor to my touch-up/emergency bag.

I guess it actually doesn’t really matter. The bride essentially told me I just have to show up, keep her sane, and have fun.

Done and done!

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Two girls walk into a bar on their way to see a psychic….

Posted on August 5, 2012 | 7 Comments

“OmigoshI’msonervous.” I tend to speak rapidly when I’m nervous.

“I wasn’t earlier, but now…me too.” To tell the truth, Jen did look a little pale.

“You know, after we down this beer, everyone sitting outside on State Street is totally going to watch us walk in to a psychic, right? They will probably talk about us. About those two single girls in their 30′s going to see a psychic on State Street.” This is when I really need to learn not to vocalize every thought I process.

“Yeah. Yeah, they totally are.” Great. Now Jen looked even more pale.

And the weird thing? This wasn’t even my first psychic visit this week. But to explain how I ended up going to two different psychics, in two different states, in one week, I need to back up.

It all started Monday night over dinner with an old friend during an out-of-state work trip. While talking, I happened to mention that Jen and I made an appointment for a psychic reading in Madison, just for fun, and were going as soon as I got back.

“I have always wanted to do that.” Sarah’s admission made me feel excited about my future plans. “I used to live in this area. There’s a tarot card reader in a house just a block up the street. We should totally go.”

…why not?

So we made our way down the street to my first occult experience of the week.

Entering a home with a neon Open sign glowing in the window, we situated ourselves in the living room as directed. The woman was warm and friendly, so I felt at ease. Or maybe it was the extra glasses of wine our server kept sneaking us at dinner. Either way, I was comfortable and ready to hear about whatever visions she saw.

For a tarot reading, you are handed a deck of cards and instructed to think of any issues you seek clarity on, while shuffling. The psychic then cuts the deck and you pick from which half you want your reading done. I chose the left.

According to a woman in Arlington, VA, I am going to lead a long and healthy life. As is everyone in my family. I will get married and it will be a happy marriage, with 1-3 kids.  I need to focus on being more open-minded, as this person will not fit my traditional “type.” In fact, if I am open-minded I can meet him as early as tomorrow. Most likely though, I will meet him at the end of 2012 or the beginning of 2013. We won’t start dating right away, rather it will take about four months after meeting until our first date. I will be successful at whatever I do, and my book will become published. I will have a writing breakthrough mid-August.

Sarah  will be successful as a mother, wife, and career woman, balancing it all. She will stay at home with her daughter for another year, at which point she will become passionate about opening her own business and have many people reporting to her.

And we both have really great auras. I like it.

Fast-forward to sitting in a bar with Jen in Madison, WI, I took a deep breath and reminded myself how well everything went on Monday and that I had nothing to be nervous about.

We anxiously took one last sip of our beers and headed next door. And I quickly missed my warm and friendly Arlington, VA psychic.

In life, I have learned that if someone claims they “unapologetically tell it like it is,” they tend to have an abrasive personality. And this woman was no exception. We both chose a psychic reading vs. tarot cards, and handed over our phones as an object for her to touch and get a “read” off of us.

It started out ok. She definitely nailed some things on the head. Things that were so accurate it was almost scary. But then things got weird. She started responding to text messages on her phone, had our two phones switched around in her hands (we don’t know for how long, her hands were under the table), and said some entirely inaccurate things. I felt disconnected to her visions. The appointment ended with her letting us know our chakras were so messed up, it was some of the worst she had ever seen.

Oh, and by the way, for a hefty fee she can fix all of that.

…right.

So are psychic readings real? And if the whole thing is real, how do you know you are going to a legit psychic? The thing is, you don’t know. And you never will. Which is why we approached everything from a fun angle, vs. a truth-seeking angle. We had some laughs, had some drinks, and went outside of our comfort zones for a new experience.

But just in case, I’m going work on being more open-minded.

Just in case.

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Posted in Dating, Friendship, Love, MISC, Traveling

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Top Five Friday: Top 5 Things Not to Say to a Single Girl at a Wedding

Posted on August 3, 2012 | 5 Comments

Wedding season is upon us, which means Saturday evenings full of taffeta, tulle, and too many beers. We tear up as we watch our friends walk down the aisle, full of happiness and excitement for the new couple as we join in their celebration.

As a single girl attending weddings without a date, attention sometimes clings to your dating status. And God forbid you show up sans date after age 30! Inevitably, you end up being cornered to supply answers to any or all of these top five most awful questions to ask a single girl at a wedding:

5. When’s it going to be your turn?

Does anyone actually think the person they are asking knows the answer to this question? I’m currently taking any suggestions of smart-ass-without-being-mean responses to use. And really start to appreciate the open bar at this point in the evening.

4. Don’t worry, when you stop looking the right guy will come along!

Oh. Ok. So I’ll just be over here at the bar then. Here I am. At the bar. NOT LOOKING. Just hanging out trying to think of a smart-ass response to your first question.

3. Are you looking? Because you really should be putting yourself out there if you want to find anyone.

I’m so confused. Isn’t this opposite of what that other person said? Bartender? Help.

2. I just let that cute single groomsman know that you are available and looking. I bet he comes over here any second!

Oh dear God. If that doesn’t scream desperate, I don’t know what does. Not to mention that by now I’m on my third glass of wine so if the super cute and single groomsman does happen to make his way over here, I’m toast as soon as I open my mouth. Someone hide me.

1. Wait, isn’t that your third piece of cake?

Ok. My single status you can question all night. But chocolate cake consumption?

Now you’ve gone too far.

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Posted in Love, Family, Friendship, Dating, Top 5 Friday

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It’s All Greek to Me!

Posted on April 9, 2012 | 2 Comments

When I’m home for a family event, at some point I always start to wonder if my family belongs in a sitcom.

Easter this year was spent in my hometown of Chicago. I did normal suburban stuff all weekend before we ventured out to downtown Chicago on Sunday. The day was spent with my mom and dad, Aunt Candy, Grandpa, and littlest brother, Matthew.

We arrived early to ooh and ah over my brother’s new condo before heading off to lunch. Reservations were made at a restaurant within walking distance. And so, six loud-mouthed Polish-Italians all piled into to the Greek Islands Restaurant at noon on Easter Sunday.

And immediately found a way to stand out.

Greek Islands is one of those great authentic restaurants you immediately assume to be family owned. Most of the staff, it seemed, were walking and talking Greeks. Who spoke to each other in Greek. At the host stand. Which was stationed in front of my WWII Marine Veteran grandfather. Who made it a point to ask me, rather loudly, if we were still in the United States of America.

“Grandpa!” I hissed.

More Greek talk.

“I’ll take twelve!” Grandpa said.

More hissing from me. More Greek talk from the host.

“Well…it’s all Greek to me!” Grandpa joked.

(and if you thought this was the last time this was said on Sunday, you thought wrong).

Somehow, being amidst another culture prompted my aunt and grandfather to talk about our Italian heritage and the origin of our family name. We’ve always been told our last name means “House of Many Beds.”

“Yes,” Grandpa continued with his joking, “the first of our ancestors owned a whore house.”

“Grandpa!” me again, hissing, “OR, a hospital.”

He agreed it could have been a hospital, or a hotel, (or a whore house), and I decided to raise the white flag and stop hissing at him. The man is 86 years old, set in his ways, lost the love of his life just under a year ago, and was in a great mood.

Who am I to blow against the wind?

We took our seats and I made sure to sit next to Grandpa.

My mom and aunt are both teachers. Much to my delight, the conversation often steers to entertaining stories of idiotic things children do. For instance, were you aware the “kids these days” rub a thin layer of glue on their hands, let it dry, peel it off, and then eat it?

“Well, that’s a sticky situation.” Grandpa responded to the glue story.

Once I had let go of caring what others thought of our conversation, I managed to get caught in a fit of giggles every quip Grandpa made. Which only egged him on more.

“Well,” Aunt Candy replied, shaking her head at more examples of moronic kid antics “I can’t keep them from doing everything. You can’t even keep them from sticking their fingers in the light sockets anymore.”

“Well, now that story is just shocking!” Grandpa, again, with the jokes. Me, again, with the giggles.

And given how loud we all are, I’m pretty sure by this point all the surrounding tables were trying not to stare. But we just kept going.

Grandpa’s response to biting into an olive that still had a pit in it:

“Careful. If you eat these olives, you’ll get stoned!”

Grandpa’s response to my aunt declaring that eating salmon is good for your skin:

“Now that’s a fishy story!”

We just kept laughing. Laughing over the insane amount of duct tape my aunt admitted to sticking on the outside of her old car to cover up scratches and door dings. And then later, using more of it to repair tears in the seats. And, much later, to fix almost everything else.

We laughed over the first time Matthew used the dishwasher in his new place. And how, when he first went shopping, he didn’t know there was a difference between dish soap and dishwasher soap. The debacle managed to occur at the exact moment every single one of his towels was soaking wet in the washing machine and he was forced to clean up the suds with clean clothes. Thankfully (or not?) enough people have done this before and he was able to Google a quick solution.

We laughed. And ate. And laughed. And eventually hugged and kissed each other goodbye, with promises to see each other soon.

Later that night, when my uncle called him from Texas, my grandpa had already forgotten I had been at Easter.

And despite sometimes believing we may belong in a sitcom, I’m just grateful to have spent time laughing with Grandpa.

Happy Easter, to you and yours.

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This single girl’s take on Valentine’s Day

Posted on February 7, 2012 | 2 Comments

You guys. I have a secret: I’m single. And I don’t totally hate Valentine’s Day.

In fact, quite the opposite.

How many of you out there watch How I Met Your Mother? For those raising your hands, hold tight a second. Everyone else, I need to fill you in on a reference I’m about to make.

Almost exactly a year ago, on Valentine’s Day in fact, HIMYM aired its 128th episode titled Desperation Day. Barney, the totally awesome womanizer of the group, gave this name to the day before Valentine’s Day. His theory was that single women would hook up with just about anyone on the 13th, desperate to land a last-minute date on Valentine’s Day

That night, Robin and her friends have a girl’s night. They pointedly wear purple as a protest against the holiday. Joining them later is their co-worker Nora. She shows up in yellow, claiming to have forgotten their pact to revolt against the color of love and the need to have a man on February 14th.

The thing is, Nora was keeping a secret. She didn’t forget to wear purple. She wore yellow because she was protesting their protest.

And truth be told, I’m on her side.

Yes I know it’s become a bit of a commercial holiday. Yes I believe it would be nice to celebrate it with a guy. And yes, at times a very small part of me could really care less about it in general, single or not.

But the thing is, I think it’s sweet hearing about all the nice things people do for each other on the 14th. It’s a date on the calendar that reminds people in relationships to stop and smell the roses (pun intended). To show appreciation. And, with all the terrible stories you come across on the news, why not indulge in a little more amore?

I may be accused of loving love. And I’m ok with that.

And in one week from today, if you see me wearing yellow, you’ll know why.

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A Letter to my Friends

Posted on January 2, 2012 | Leave a comment

Dear Friends,

Thank you for a wonderful time in St. Louis, ringing in the new year!

Thank you for all the research done on restaurant options, various activities around the area, and for always being willing to snap picture after picture so we can get the best one to put on an online dating profile.

Thank you for the hilarious stories and reminiscing about our college adventures.

Thank you for your willingness to partake in new adventures.

Thank you for making the start of 2012 wonderful!

Cheers to another year with great friends!
xoxo,
Nic C.

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The Holiday Time Warp Phenomenon

Posted on December 26, 2011 | 1 Comment

Ah, the holidays. A time when we lovingly co-exist under the same roof together, yet again.

Also known as: A time when we are all close enough to choke each other, but thankfully close enough to a refrigerator stocked with wine.

Those hosting the event (in this case: my parents) rush to get extra sheets washed, food taken care of, and arrival times memorized. Those of us traveling (in this case: myself, my grandfather, and my sister-in-law’s brother) rush to get our errands run, laundry done, and suitcases packed with gifts for another family adventure.

However….beware the phenomenon that plagues unsuspecting families on the holidays. No matter your current life situation, once you enter back into the dwelling of your childhood home, you become your childhood self.

Responsible home-owning sales manager, age 31? Doesn’t matter! After spending just one night back home, sleeping in the spare room on Thomas the Train sheets, you suddenly time warp back to your Junior High being. In order to get up in the morning, your mother has to turn on the lights in the room, open the shades, and send in the dog. And threaten you. Twice.

And siblings! The precious beings that share so much of your DNA and have known you, literally, forever! Just five minutes into the festivities age-old antics will arise and you will want to club each other.

We celebrate the holiday on Christmas Eve. Each and every year starts out with a whole lot of built up stress which, obviously, must release itself somewhere. An hour before we leave for church and it’s time to cue the Yuletide Yelling! Things get even better when you don’t show up your usual hour early for Christmas Eve Mass and you have to spend service in the overflow room.

Merry Christmas from...a gym?

Of course, with a pretend plastic baby Jesus, songs, and children desperatly waiting to get out of church to open presents reenacting the story of Christmas, things calm down for awhile. (sidenote: this also may have been because we were in public and had somehow regained our ability to act like adults for a moment). Once church was over, the plethora of police people directing traffic got us safely onto the roads in time for our next adventure of the day: dinner!

This year we revisited the same nice restaurant where we dined on Thanksgiving. As we were taking our seats, my youngest brother informed everyone that he would like us to take a family trip to Italy. Both brothers quickly decided I was not to be invited. The most recent executive brotherly decision, it seemed, is that I had been “voted off the island.” Somehow, repeating this phrase over and over again made it funnier each time. To them, only (turns out I was not the only one suffering from the Holiday Time Warp Phenomenon). I have found over the years that I have to change-up my reaction to their comments, or they grow immune. A long, simple blank stare did it this time. It was at least a whole hour until my marital status and weight were brought up! Win!

I’m sure no one would be surprised to hear I didn’t feel an ounce bad when my other younger brother then accidentally flung his expensive steak on the floor. Yup. Right there in the middle of eating Christmas dinner. And since he laughed at my being “voted off the island,” I figured it was only fair to return the favor.

I also figured I owed it to inform the rest of the table, seeing as they were inquisitive as to what had prompted my laughter.

You dropped your steak where, dad?! Ha!

My father, not wanting an expensive steak to go to waste on Christmas, flagged down the waitress. He explained what happened and asked if she could take it back to the kitchen to throw it on the grill for a couple of minutes. You know. To cook off the dirt and bacteria and stuff.

My brother was mortified. I was delighted. Take that, Mr. Co-Vote Me Off the Island! The waitress came back with a brand new steak. Turns out due to some sort of “health code violations” they are not allowed to throw expensive dirt-crusted steaks back on the grill.

The rest of the night was spent exchanging gifts and laughing. We missed grandma. We delighted in watching Grace open and play with her mountain of presents. We drank wine. We didn’t club each other. Mostly due to the fact that we were drinking wine. All while moving back and forth between “adult mode” and “time warp mode.”

And we all left even more spoiled than when we arrived. I’ll file that under: A Christmas Success.

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