Please Happy

So, I thought this post was going to be about how lonely I was shopping for my wedding dress alone. How much I miss my mom right now. How much I wish my sister lived closer than Brussels. How, I waited until the last second to invite local friends. Maybe because I didn’t want to put them out. Or, I didn’t want them to think I had no one to go with me. Maybe I don’t know anyone out here well enough to really feel comfortable asking for company to such a meaningful experience.

But, this post isn’t about those things. It’s really just about a drive down the 110 and across the 105, then back across the 105 and up the 110.

Sunday morning, I drove, alone, down to Manhattan Beach. That’s where Encore Bridal lives. It’s an online shop that opens its doors twice a month for brides-to-be to see if the Vera Wangs and Monique Lhuilliers actually look as good on real bodies as they do on the models’. The site promised champagne bonding with fellow brides. I was nervous. I wanted Jake to come. I wanted someone to be there. And, I also wanted to be alone.

It took 20 minutes to find a parking spot. Sunny day, sidewalk dining, great surf = no parking. When I finally walked up to the shop sweaty from the seven-blocks-away parking spot, I expected to be stuck at the end of a long snaking line of beautiful betrothed women with way more style, makeup, height, boobs, organized wedding binders, money, smarts, _______ than me.

What I found was a locked door. An empty store.

I waited.

I called the owner and left a message.

I waited.

I saw a couple with a dog, the woman carrying a padded blue cage on her back. Inside, a grey pet parrot.

I waited longer. Called the owner again. Checked the website.

Saw a flyer next to the door that said the next event is August 29. Not August 22.

The website had been wrong. The Internets had deceived me!

Walked the seven blocks back, happy I hadn’t dragged along a new friend. Drove back east, then back north. Listened to NPR. Relieved and regretting.

So, I’ll go next week. I will plan ahead. I already know what to pack (see the essentials below). And, two of my friends here who are getting married some time in the next 13 months, will also come. And we can be girly. And find gaudy garters. And sip champagne. And enjoy it together.

Essentials (from top to bottom of picture):

Shakespeare and Co. bag to remind me of Paris and to hold all my stuff.
Passport (for buying and for driving because I lost my Wyoming license).
Seltzer water.
Scarf from sister Anna.
Notebook and pen (always).
Leica (always).
Checkbook (you never know.)
Wallet.
Padded bra (strapless dresses need something to hold them up).
Wishlist print out.
Headphones, charger for iPhone power and car talking.
Best American Short Stories 1989 (to read while waiting in the long line of brides).

Sue surprised us at Grandpa Whaley’s house with these engagement goodies. Delish. And hilarious. We also got books that quizzed us on How Well Do You Know Your Bride, asking questions like Would She Take the Last Cookie on the Plate? a. Yes. Yum! b. Yes, but she’d feel really really guilty. Or, c. No way.

He answered b. And he’s probably right.

Now, we have champagne glass garters, His and Hers.
And so it begins.

OK, well the ‘port is in Denver. But, I’m pretty sure this guy was from Boulder.

OK, I’m a huge fan of OK Go! And stop action vids. And Echo Park Lake. And Love. So, this video, well, it feeds all my needs. I just wish they had invited me to participate in the picnic. Love the geese!

Thank you, OK Go for being so kooky and creative and awesome. I am so grateful to share a zip code with you!

Pic of the day from yesterday, the annual celebratory last day at Teton Village. I won’t embarrass myself by revealing how few days I used on my season pass this year. But, I will show what a stud Anna Davis and I were while skiing Powder 8s – Aspen Extreme, Hot Dog style – on a groomed run in the sun. Pretty much The Hotness. Note the skeptical green-haired, flame-pants-wearing skier in the background.

1. Mustaches are sexy.

2. Growing them is back in style. Though there are men like Grandpa Whaley who have always had one.

3. Some folks grow them for children’s social and medical service organizations.

4. Some folks grow them during the month of March for a charity of their choice.

5. Girls who are jealous of the facial hair or just like dressing in drag can buy stick-ons in a variety of shades and sizes (in my case, introduced by Rachel Lauren Marie Stevens, the girl with the two coolest middle names ever)

Yes, they’re a little child-molester-drives-a-scary-white-van creepy, but seriously, when you think about the awesome people with mustaches and how so totally rad and hot they all are (Tom Selleck, Chuck Norris, Salvador Dali, Wilford Brimley and the cop from the Village People) it’s nearly impossible not to want one.

If the I’m Growing This Mustache for a Needy Child doesn’t work on the babes in your town, come to Jackson. I know several mountain women who’ll dance, swoon and/or make out with you.

Just flash the ’stache.