Playing Bride: The Cast of Characters

Well, I still don't know the color scheme. So there's that.

What I do know, however, is that I have some awesome friends standing up for me? with me? near me? on my side of the aisle. (Really, we're not doing sides, because I want everyone to have good seats, but that's beside the point.) They're so great, in fact, that I want to present them to society--in a bridal cotillion of sorts--complete with fun facts and embarrassing pictures.

I am the best, I know.

Now, for the bridal party, organized amount of years they have had to put up with me. :)

1. Caroline Skibinski (Maid of Honor)

Circa 1997-98, the year of the leopard bathing suit.

Nicknames: CC, Carrie, Francesca
Date Met: February 7ish, 1994 (They didn't let me see her the day she was born, okay?)
Fun Facts: I have snapped a branch into her eye, resulting in a very long day at the eye doctor's, and I have knocked out her tooth by running into her bike with my own. Yet she still likes me.
Favorite Memory: Making videos on my camera about a) being out in the wilderness of the local forest preserve, b) running for a fake presidency race in history class, or c) random crap when we had the giggle fits at 11 p.m. on a Saturday.
Reason I Chose Her: Because she is my sister. And my first best friend. And it was one of the few things I knew absolutely needed to happen at my wedding. Also, she has really good taste in clothing and decor and colors and did an interior design summer camp. Also I love her. D'awwww.

Circa 2011. By far one of my favorite pictures of us.

2. Lindsey Webber (Bridesmaid)

Circa 2006, based on the datestamp. I knew it was early high school because I am still sporting the part down the middle to enhance my egghead.

Nicknames: Linds, Bev, Beverly
Date Met: Probably sometime around 1998/1999, but I stopped hating her for her reading prowess in junior high. Now I just envy her, compassionately.
Fun Facts: Our longest, biggest fight was in my senior year of high school. I wanted to do a profile on her for the school paper, but she was in, like, 20 billion clubs, so she/we had to reschedule a lot and I got super angsty about it. I don't remember when we made up, but we did, and all was well with the world. That was an awful fun fact. Let me try again: I still have the scrapbook she gave me in high school. I look at it frequently, and the handwritten note on the inside back cover still makes me tear up. I am a girl. A weepy, weepy girl.
Favorite Memory: That time we Party Boy'd B., our high school physics teacher. Oh geez. Do you have a photo? YES YOU DO!!!

Prom 2007. Because duh.

Reason I Chose Her: In high school, she was my other half. I wanted to talk to her all of the minutes of all of the days, and I strove to be as passionate about the things I loved as she was about all of her extracurriculars and hobbies (Fun fact: Originally, I wrote "hobbits.") and endeavors. The woman was BFFs with Denny Hastert, for Pete's sake. (Who is Pete? Why do we care about him?) Now, she is one of the few people from high school (and earlier) who I bother to keep in touch with. Although our lives after OHS have gone in two separate directions, we still choose to take time out of our journey for each other--to meet in the middle, if you will. And we don't have to communicate every second of every day to be friends. We have our own worlds, but we value each other. And I think that's why we work.

Also, she loves Bingo. So I keep her around.

Circa May 2008. I was going to pick a Bingo picture, but this one, I think, is my favorite.

3. Jason Bena (Bridesman)

Prom 2007. FYI: Jason and I have no pictures together. You should see our Facebook friendship. It is totally empty. He's in the center, by the way.

Nicknames: Jason Behna Behna. It's how Siri pronounces his name on my phone. I do not call him this to his face. He doesn't care for it.
Date Met: 2006ish? 2007. I don't know.
Fun Facts: Jason really likes beer. He also enjoys traveling and bantering with me about Pokemon. He will straight up tell me when I'm being an asshole, which I hate, but probably need. Also, I love his mother.
Favorite Memory: That time he came over, told me I was being an asshole, but then shared his beer with me while we listened to Kyla's ex's broody songs. OR the time I went to his apartment and we went to a party and I met all of his friends all at the same time and wasn't even overwhelmed!
Reason I Chose Him: So. Looking back, I think there were times when I really wasn't a good friend to him. Or, at least, I could've been better. Despite that, he still likes me, wants to hang out with me, and visits me time and again. He's one of those friends where I am confident that he will always be there, and I hope he knows that goes both ways. Anyway, when I grew the ef up, I had a "Kim, you're such an idiot" moment, and realized that he is one of my nearest and dearest friends. Even if we really never take any pictures together and he only communicates with me on Facebook chat because I talk a lot and it's cheaper. :) Like you!

Circa Monday. He's basking in the sunlight atop some sort of peak. I almost Photoshopped myself in.

4. Nora Fergus (Bridesmaid)

Circa...2010? Originally, we dressed up to mock 16 and Pregnant, but it escalated quickly. Into this.

Nicknames: Rah Rah? Did I just make that up? Probs.
Date Met: Sometime in fall/winter 2008-2009. 
Fun Facts: Much like with Lindsey, I hated Nora the first time I met her. (I guess this is how great friendships start?) See, I was interviewing a group of new friends-ish for a story at the Star, and she shows up with them and wants to hijack the whole interview--even though I told her I have plenty of info for the story. Yet she still cut people off while they were talking and went on ridiculous diatribes anyway. She annoyed the crap out of me. But after two weeks (and one hilarious moment on the cafeteria stairs), we were buds.
Favorite Memory: "It's the Chronicles of Narnia up in here!"; reaching for the green light; Cinco de Mayo; that boat birthday surprise I totally ruined; learning Spanish while playing basketball; joy riding with Taylor Swift blasting in Corey's thumbtack car; pretty much any memory ever was a happy one.
Reason I Chose Her: Everyone needs a Nora. She is fly-by-the-seat-of-her-pants wacky and I love it. She stuck by me through some weird college drama, and she taught me (without knowing it) that being yourself is okay and acceptable and people will love you so just do it. I never thought I ever spent too much time with her; I regret not spending more time with her when we lived minutes apart. She has a love for life that is unreplicated, and I am a happier, better woman for knowing her.

Circa 2009? Ish. We wiped out so hard on these ice skates. Like pros.

5. Leslie Adams (Matron of Honor)

Circa September. Pre stomp.

Nicknames: She keeps asking me to call her Les, but that's weird for me. I would probably go for Lez, but I don't think she's as into that. We're not at the nickname point yet.
Date Met: March 18, 2014.
Fun Facts: I didn't know her name when I first started at PatientPoint. I casually tried to avoid saying her name in any conversation, and when she gave me her number, I panicked and put in "Designer Lady." Smooth, Kim. So smooth.
Favorite Memory: The first time she ripped my closet apart in order to make me cute outfits. And/or the first time we awkwardly agreed to hang out. I am not good at initiating friendships, guys. I get so nervous and sweaty. It is not cute. OR when we had a really sappy (read: bawling) moment in my car in the Walmart parking lot and I asked her to be my matron of honor and then we ate Teddy Grahams.
Reason I Chose Her: In the grand scheme of things, our friendship is relatively new. But I have never met someone who has invested in me and her relationship with me so quickly and with such compassion. She is so kind and so supportive of everyone around her, and within seconds of meeting her, you can just tell that she cares. Genuinely. 100 percent of the time. And because of that, I'm like yeah, cool, I'll walk through fire for you. I'll jump off a cliff for you. Let's go do something fun. Or just stay home eat. Who cares! I have no doubt she and I will remain friends forever, and we will die, holding hands, Notebook-style. Was that weird? Am I being weird? Meh. It doesn't matter. We have a banter now; she's stuck with me.

Circa Halloween 2014. Because tutus.

Playing Bride: A Hot Mess on Wheels

Well, it's been a few months. My bad. I've learned very, very quickly, that as soon as a ring gets slapped on one's finger, one IMMEDIATELY becomes consumed with all things wedding. What started as picking up three bridal magazines turned into a crazy organizational nightmare. I now have a (green) wedding binder, a complete wedding workbook and book book, multiple Excel spreadsheets chronicling all sorts of budgets and listings, a monthly planner that I attempt to use religiously but have failed for the past two weeks, random scraps of paper, two Pinterest boards, a few checklists detailing my life for the next 10 months, and a slowly growing pile of receipts in a drawer.

Wedding planning, my friend, is daunting.

Apparently, regular human girls dream up their wedding and plan it a million different ways as they progress through puberty and, well, life. I never got past the dress. What can I say; I just like dresses. And now it's like the nuptial version of "If You Give A Mouse A Cookie." If you give a Kim a pretty ring, she's going to want to get married somewhere cool. If Kim chooses somewhere cool to get married, she's going to want a wedding dress that makes her butt look awesome. If she finds that dress, she'll first ask the consultant if she can walk around the entire store to check out said butt, and then she'll realize she actually wants to wear the veil with glitter trim. Do you see what my life has turned into? Can you see what I've become?

 Here's what I've we've done so far:


We set a date!

September 26, 2015, to be exact.

Let me tell you, that makes this ordeal a whole heck of a lot more real.


We found a venue!

So I crashed a wedding and took pictures of the setup. Sue me.

Story time: For three summers during my high school/college career, my dad's side of the family took family vacations to Camdenton, Missouri. Everyone stayed in condos on the lake, and we spent a week lounging on boats, water skiing, and genuinely enjoying each other's company. Afterward, we'd gather at someone's condo to eat and play Phase 10 with the cousins late into the night. Those vacations were, hands down, the best (and most relaxing) of my life. Seriously. I would cry off and on the whole way home. I'm pretty sure those days were little pieces of Missouri Heaven.

While vacationing, we stopped by this winery, Casa de Loco, which sits on a cliff and used to be an insane asylum. It wasn't officially open yet, but the owner took us on a tour of all the rooms and renovations. I loved it. And I wasn't of legal drinking age yet, so you know it must have been something special. Or it could've been the space-age showers. Who knows.

So I returned, with Leslie, fiveish years later to see if I still loved it. And, surprise, I did.

D'aw. We're so cute! Minus my half lazy eye.

Hey girl heyyyy! Guys. They have wine on tap. I want to go to there. Tomorrow.

I was being an artist (aka buzzing), so here's an artsy shot of Leslie looking off into the mosquito-filled distance.

That view. Worth it.

And then we won a grape-stomping contest, so we came back with our men and wore fancy hats to the wine tasting. And, much like those vacations, we spent the evening relaxing (drinking) and playing cards (Cards Against Humanity). It was a grand ol' time.

These are the people I choose to hang out with.

I don't have any real ties to Arkansas, my dad's side of the family still is in Illinois, my mom's side is all over the place, and let's not even get started on Jason's family. No one lives in the same spot, so we made up our own -- and it's kind of, sort of, in the middle. Ish.

We took this before we went to Casa. At a castle. Because 'Murica has castles, too.

I found a dress!

I can't say much about it because, contrary to popular belief, Jason can read. So just know that I have it, it makes my assets (lolololol butt) look great, and everyone cried. Even Caroline. Lindsey was in town, so we also went kind of bridesmaid dress shopping. I was eh about the selection at David's, but I was on a dress high so I took pictures.

Using my powers for evil. Womp womp.

We chose our wedding party!

I'm actually going to write another post about this later (with embarrassing pictures), so I'm not going to give a lot away. The important thing to take away from this is that I have a bridesman and Jason has a groomslady. Take that, social norms!


We took engagement photos!

I think I really, really like this one. Winner!

Remember all those mushy photos on Facebook that looked really well planned? That was not me. That was Leslie's saint of a friend, Heather, who owns and operates Roeh Photography. She was absolutely wonderful. She was in "go" mode the minute we met her at the first location, and I felt like I was a model. Seriously. You never know what constant interjections like "awesome" or "you look amazing" can do. You also don't know how weird it is to hear someone you've met only twice before this shout, "Okay kiss him!" or "No, really, kiss him," while pointing a really expensive lens at your face and hitting a tiny button all rapid-fire style.

When the photographer says kiss, you kiss. You don't ask questions.

I think it went well.
  

So now what?

Well, I just got these photos from Heather, so you better believe I'm looking at save-the-date postcards on Zazzle. I'm also looking for cat cake toppers. Priorities.

In conclusion...

In an attempt to hold onto my sanity, I'm going to chronicle the roller coaster of emotion that is wedding planning here. Because...why not? It's not like I have anything else to do.

Well, I'm off. It's about time to have a meltdown over color scheme. Again.

The Plan

The day I moved in to my family's home in Oswego, I made my first new friend. It rained most of the drive back from my grandparents' house, and I'm pretty sure Grandpa missed the turn to the subdivision and had to double back. But we made it, and although it likely was muggy and sloshy, my parents let me out back to play on my swing set. I mean, it was the entire reason they bought the place. I didn't want to wait another second to climb into the fort or learn to flip on the hanging rings. Caroline was too young to play without mom or dad watching her (she was 2ish at that point), so I had it to myself for the time being.

And then Michael showed up. He was 5, his hair was short, and he squatted down in front of one of my blue swings, poking at the muddy hole beneath it with a stick. He and the boy who used to live there made it. They were best friends, and the boy was going to come back and visit him soon. I didn't give two hoots about this old boy neighbor, but I decided Michael seemed nice enough, so I picked up a stick and poked at the muddy mess with him.

What started out as catching frogs or constructing bridges here or there grew into a daily ritual. Michael would wake up, eat breakfast, and head outside to shoot hoops. (His first two initials were MJ -- Michael Jordan -- or so he led me to believe.) I woke up to the thumping of the basketball against the cement driveway or the occasional clang against the metal rim, and rushed out to join him. And that's pretty much how it went for the next six or seven years.

One day, he and I hatched a long-term, super serious plan. (I call it super serious because I'm fairly certain we pinky swore on it, but I was a liberal pinky swearer, so I could be wrong.) When we grew up, we decided we'd get rich, buy our parents retirement villas in Florida or Arizona, and move into our childhood homes. I'd take my house, Michael would live next door, and we'd boot out the neighbors we didn't like so my sister and his brother could live near us. (Fun fact: Michael also has two younger sisters. One of them did not exist when we made this plan, and the other, if she did exist, was too young to pencil in. My guess is he wasn't too fond of his sister when she was a baby. But he was a kid; could you blame him?) We'd fill in the rest of the houses with our favorite neighbor friends (who, I presume, also got rich), and our kids would be friends with their kids, and we'd all grow old together.

Pretty nice, right?

As an adult, I acknowledge the odds of this plan panning out are slim to none. I can safely say we are not rich yet, and I now live whopping two to four states away, depending which way you drive down. Still, it gives me comfort to think about our pact on the nights when I don't quite know where my life was going, and I hope that Michael at least remembers it, if not laughs about it, from time to time.

I'm replaying that little moment in my mind right now (and I know I'm burying the lead here) because I found out today that my mother sold my childhood home. I'm a little pissed, a little understanding, and incredibly sad. Adult me knows it's a logical move. I live out of state, my sister's in college, and it's a big house for one person and an old golden retriever. So I get it. But I also get that I'm entitled to my emotions, so I'm going to continue being sad for a while and see where that takes me.

And I still see my room circa 1998, lined with teddy bear wallpaper that my sister tore. I can open my closet and look at the shelves piled high with Lisa Frank crafts and multiplayer board games. I know where I kept the tub of Legos and how I organized my books (never by author; always by genre). If I peek around the corner, I can watch Caroline play Barbies or hear the steady clicking of the mouse as my dad channels the pros while playing a virtual PGA tour.

And I blink. And it's gone. And I miss it.

Maybe fulfilling the plan wasn't in the cards for us. We were too young when we pinky promised. Michael never became a basketball star. And I somehow decided the best way to get rich was to start a career in a field that has been, for all intents and purposes, dying for the past eight years. We won't make it back to our little row of houses, but I'm going to hold onto the hope that maybe, one day, our great-great-grandkids will all end up on the same cul-de-sac, poking around in the mud, promising each other that they'll stick around for a while.