Wedding Weekend Recap Part 2: The Case of the Seashell Toothbrush Holder

I’d love to go on and on about how wonderful the entire weekend was.  I’d love to tell you about how much fun I had, and I’d love to relate some of my favorite wedding stories.  But I have more important things to discuss…

Erica and I arrived home on Sunday, and after a desperately needed afternoon nap, we sat down to open some of our gifts.  A money envelope here, a set of wine glasses there, and everything was proceeding pretty much as expected…until we opened the seashell toothbrush holder. 

Erica was indignant.  “Who would get us something like this?” she wondered?  “What kind of gift is a toothbrush holder?”  I asked if there was a card.  There was, and I read it aloud: 

“Dear Erica and Joshua,

I was so delighted that your parents invited me to your wedding.  At my age it is a treat to see young love.

 

This toothbrush holder is near to my heart.  It belonged to my grandfather, then to my father who kept it in his vacation home on the Jersey shore.  I was to pass it down to my children, but since Jonas and I never had any of our own, I am passing it down to you.  Use it with love always.

 

Mazal tov!

Always,

Eslma Mole”

  

Our first reaction was to think about what a touching gesture this was.  Erica even said she felt ashamed for having reacted the way she did.  But a moment later, as we looked at the card again, we said to ourselves, “Who the hell is this person?!”  We couldn’t make out the spelling of the name – and we thought we had all of the elderly guests accounted for.

 

I was certain this person was not from my side of the family, so Erica called her grandmother first, then her mom, and then her dad.  Nobody knew anything about the mysterious Eslma Mole.  How do you even pronounce that, anyway? 

 

Finally we decided to take another look at this family heirloom and, to our surprise, realized that it was not, in fact, an heirloom at all.  There were three clues:

1) “Better Homes and Gardens” is printed on the bottom.  2) It says “made in China ” which would not have happened if it was as old as Mrs. Mole claimed, and 3) there was still residual sticky-ness from where the price tag had recently been removed.

 

We knew that that we were the victims of an extraordinarily elaborate gift hoax, and that, most likely, Eslma Mole did not even exist.  We looked at the name again trying to rearrange the letters to see if we could determine who was behind this practical joke. 

 

Unfortunately, we came up with nothing.  We’d love to tip our hats to the perpetrator of this hoax , but nobody we’ve spoken to knows anything about the case of the seashell toothbrush holder.  If any of you, dear readers, have information regarding this matter, please email the tipline at: thegroomwithaview@gmail.com.

 

Any tips leading to the identification of Eslma Mole will be published, upon our return from Bali – for which we leave this evening.  Until then, as they say in Bali , sampai jumpa.

Wedding Weekend Recap Part One: The First Dance

This is a post I’ve wanted to write for quite some time, but due to the secrecy required, I’ve had to wait until now…

I don’t remember when it first happened, but once Erica started talking about an “alternative” first dance, the idea stuck. Of course, at that point, it was just an idea, and while I was outwardly encouraging of it, I was silently dreading the thought that I’d have dance in front of an audience. Not just the usual first dance sway, I mean really dance. I got heart palpitations just thinking about it.

But when I wrote the post about five wedding traditions I could do without, watching a traditional first dance was one of the first things I mentioned. Needless to say, I realized that if I was going to talk the talk, no matter how nervous I might be I decided I had to back it up.

I always say that anything worth doing is worth doing right, so with the decision made, Erica found a dance studio near our apartment and made arrangements for us to take a private lesson. I can’t remember the last time I felt so out of my element. I joked around by practicing plies, if you can call them that, on the dance bar, but that was only because I didn’t know what to do with myself.

I made it through the warm-up just fine and, feeling good about myself, figured that since I’d seen a fair amount (ok, an entire season) of So You Think You Can Dance, that I could do this. Yeah, right. Our teacher, Kelly, showed us two moves. The first was a slide. No problem. The second was a kick. Wait, wait, wait…I have to move my arms and kick? Simultaneously?

I looked like I was having a seizure. I know this because, inconveniently enough, the dance studio was lined with mirrors, enabling me to see just how badly I was doing. No matter how hard I tried, I could not get my arms and legs to work as one. Erica compared me to a bird flapping its wings. Thanks, honey.

When we finally moved on, Kelly attempted to teach us a move called the Roger Rabbit. I didn’t think it was possible for me to be more spastic than I already was, but sometimes I surprise myself. This was one of those times.

At the end of the lesson I was sweaty and beaten down, but I was determined to nail these moves. I’m not an uncoordinated person and I knew I could do it. I just had to practice.

So, a week later when Erica was out for a few hours, I sat down at the computer and Googled something I never, ever, thought I would: “How To Do the Roger Rabbit.” I found a video lesson, pressed play, and proceeded to practice. You know that song from Sweet Charity “If My Friends Could See Me Now”? All I can say is I’m eternally grateful my friends did not see me, because I would never be able to live it down. Frankly, I was tempted to make fun of myself -- that’s how ridiculous I felt.

I carried on because I knew I was doing it for a good cause, but if you were at the wedding then you know the Roger Rabbit did not ultimately make it into the routine. Why? Because I never got it right.

But I did get better on the kicks, and after three lessons, we managed to fill out a routine that lasted just under ninety seconds. Now it was up to us to practice. The week before the wedding we practiced three straight nights. I was so into it that at one point I found myself walking down the street silently mouthing eight-counts. We even practiced in our hotel room before the rehearsal dinner.

By Saturday, we were ready. I even felt good about it. The only question was my nerves. I was surprisingly calm the entire weekend, but the one thing that had me slightly nervous was performing this dance.

When the time arrived, we made our way to the dance floor and proceeded to sway innocently back and forth to a Harry Connick tune…But the plan called for the band to interrupt us and then put on our “real” first song, You Can’t Touch This, by MC Hammer. We missed our cue but got on track quickly, and, if I may say so myself, went on to rock the house for the next minute and a half.

It was a blast. Nobody knew it was coming. Not our siblings, not our parents, and not our friends. We set out to surprise everyone and set the tone for the party. I know it worked because a few minutes later I was talking to some friends and my cousin’s wife came up to me – apologized out loud to everyone for her language – and said, “That was f&%$ing awesome!”

Wedding Weekend Recap Part Two coming next week…

Am I Freaking Out Yet?: Part 2 (plus NPR update)

Am I freaking out yet?  To hear my co-workers and friends tell it, I should be.  If I paid attention to what they said I should be cowering in a corner believing that on Saturday, any and all freedom I currently enjoy will be gone forever and that life as I know it will cease to exist.  Of course, I don’t believe it for a second – but that hasn’t stopped them from telling me, anyway.

It can’t really be that bad. Can it? 

So, no.  I am not freaking out yet, though I am getting slightly nervous.  Not about losing my freedom – I certainly don’t feel trapped into getting married – but the idea of getting married in front of 170 people is a bit daunting.   More than a bit daunting.  You see, I’ve never been one for public speaking, and I definitely do not like being the center of attention.  I understand that I’m going to have to get over it sooner or later – I just hope that “sooner” means before 6pm on Saturday.

To be honest, I’m kind of surprised I’m not more nervous.  I am, however, a little worried that I’m repressing my fears and that on Saturday they’ll suddenly, and without warning, manifest themselves like they did with Chris Elliot’s character in “There’s Something About Mary.”  You remember Woogie, don’t you?  He got so stressed out over Mary that he broke out in huge blotches and began itching uncontrollably.  I don’t really think this will happen to me, but then again, I’m sure Woogie didn’t expect it to happen to him, either.

What will I do to combat my growing nervousness?  I’m not sure.  I do know that on Saturday I’d like to watch the US/England World Cup match, during which time I will resist the urge to drink several pints of Newcastle.  Erica would not be happy if I showed up to the ceremony acting like a hooligan, waving a flag, and chanting incomprehensibly.

I suppose I’ll figure it out on the fly, as I actually have no idea how I’ll feel on Saturday.  If I were a betting man, I’d wager on a mix of excited and nervous, with an extra dose of clammy hands thrown in for good measure.  Until then, we’ll continue to finalize the details and look forward to seeing our family and friends.  As long as I don’t break out in too many blotches, I’m sure it will be a great weekend.

I’ll be back next week with recaps and other items of interest.  In the meantime, my interview with NPR’s Here and Now is scheduled to air tomorrow (Thursday) toward the end of the show.  The broadcast is from 12 – 1pm EDT.  There are various ways to listen, check out this website for more details: http://www.hereandnow.org/ 

The One in Which Erica and I Debate the Name Change

http://www.brides.com/blog/weddedbits/102/2010/06/25712/the_groom_speaks_the_case_for.html

Are You Freaking Out, Yet? Plus other news and notes...

I always assumed that right around now I’d be posting a blog titled “I AM FREAKING OUT!” but I’m pleased to tell you that is not the case. Unless you consider the recurring dream I’ve had this week in which I’m hosting a barbecue for a bunch of people and nothing seems to go according to plan. But in my waking hours, however, I’m getting more excited as the days go by. It’s been insanely busy lately trying to tie up all the loose ends and get ready, but overall, and a bit to my surprise, I’m feeling good.


Onto the news and notes:

1) A lot of people came to this site looking for news about my bachelor party. It was a great time but there wasn’t all that much to write about. There is some hilarious video footage of me falling – twice – during a relay race, but due to the time constraints/technological inability of my friend who shot it, it has become harder to find than the missing segments of the Watergate tapes. If and when that footage surfaces, perhaps I’ll post it here.

2) I promised Erica that I would get a decent haircut for the wedding, so last week I made my way back to the infamous Bumble & Bumble. I must say, It’s not nearly as intimidating the second time around. I knew what to expect and donned my robe with great aplomb. Last time I was so afraid of what might happen to my head that I failed to notice the artistry with which Lily cuts hair. It looked like she was playing a cello! Contrast her style with my regular barber, who cuts hair like he’s playing air guitar and it’s no wonder she’s so expensive.

3. Last weekend we tackled the seating chart, the idea of which, had me very worried. I’ll spend an hour trying to find the best arrangement to seat eighteen people at a Seder, and now we had to figure it out for 170? I thought for sure that I’d drive myself (and Erica) crazy trying different combinations until we had it exactly, exactly right. Miraculously, and thanks to some side-work done by our parents, it only took us about an hour. I had mentally blocked off the whole afternoon for the task so when we finished early, I decided to reward myself with a nap.

4. Yesterday I picked up the rings at the jeweler, and, naturally, tried mine on for the first time. It felt ok when I put it on, but I had to ask the girl at the counter to confirm whether or not it fit because I don’t have the first clue as to how judge such things. I considered wearing it out of the store just to try and get used to it, but I don’t think a week will make much of a difference.

5. Erica asked a couple of her students to design the programs for our ceremony. It seemed like a good idea, and I was all for it. Of course, when you’re seven “design” basically means draw as best you can and pray it turns out well. I think it’s fair to say that they turned out kind of well. Maybe almost to a little well would be more accurate. Anyway, yesterday I was having second and third thoughts about it so I showed an example to my boss. “If you were handed this as a wedding program,” I asked, “would you think we were crazy?” Ok, so it probably wasn’t the best way to phrase the question. “Yes,” she emphatically replied. “One of Erica’s students made it,” I told her. “Oh,” she said, “Then I guess it’s kind of cute.” I decided I can live with kind of cute. Afterall, we still have plenty of things to worry about.

Be sure to check back next week for another installment of “Are you freaking out, yet?”

Now on the Air...soon, anyway

If, for whatever reason, you've been dreaming of having the soothing, dulcet sounds of my voice broadcast into your kitchen, car, or laptop -- your wish is about to be granted!  Today I was interviewed by Robin Young of NPR's Here and Now, a daytime news magazine that airs on 125 stations nationwide.  The discussion began with a topic similar to the article in the Wall Street Journal, but also touched on some things covered in previous posts here on the blog.  No word yet on the air date, but hopefully it'll be before June 12th.  Updates to follow...

Serenity Now!

"I can't wait until this is over," I've found myself saying recently.  We've been so caught up in finalizing details that the present has become a blur.  I have wedding on the brain and barely ten minutes goes by without it somehow creeping into my consciousness, so it seemed only natural that I started seeking relief in the future.  

"How?" you ask?  Well, a few weeks back I started visiting the websites of the hotels we plan to stay at in Bali.  Picturing Erica and myself near the ocean, the mountains, and in the lounge chairs with ice cold drinks, was a little slice of mental heaven.  Every time I clicked on one of their pages I felt like saying, “Calgon, take me away.” Unfortunately, I visited the sites so often that looking at the pictures suddenly became as enticing as looking at the wall of my cubicle.  The mountains and the beach were no longer enough.  I tried counting backwards from ten, and I tried screaming “Serenity now!” like Frank Costanza, but nothing seemed to help. 

On Sunday morning, though, I thought my prayers had been answered.  Erica had her bachelorette party on Saturday night, and when she woke up, she began to tell me the story of how it unfolded. It all started with a scavenger hunt, and one of their first stops was a store called Ricky’s.  At the store, the girls were given ten dollars and ten minutes to buy something for Erica to use on our honeymoon.  Ricky's, in case you were wondering, has not a single product that could do anything to enrich our enjoyment of Balinese cultural heritage.

I saw some pink, lacy things peeking out from the top of the bag, and like I said, I thought my prayers had been answered. I figured that if looking at photos of saltwater pools were no longer able to bring me moments of mental relaxation, certainly imagining Erica in said pools with any of the undoubtedly titillating things she was about to pull from the Ricky's bag, would do the trick.  But you know me, I wanted to play it cool.  “So, what’s in the bag?” I asked casually.

She fished around for a moment, apparently wanting to find the right item to reveal first, and then pulled out something called a “love mask.”  I’ve never understood how just because something is red and soft that automatically qualifies to have the adjective “love” attached to it.  It’s a blindfold, isn’t it?  “Love masks” sound like they should be used in  ancient tribal rituals – but then again, maybe those rituals take place in Bali, so I decided to withhold any comments. 

The next thing I knew Erica threw me a small package that turned out to be “pleasure tape.”  I started to make a comment about how kinky her friends were, but any and all thoughts of enjoyment went out the window when I realized that this “pleasure tape” looked exactly like the stuff I used to put on the grip of my tennis racket.  I told her as much and was admonished for not getting into the spirit of things.

“What else ya got?”  Gummi-panties!  Oh good lord.  They looked to be the equivalent of about forty or fifty Gummi-bears – can you think of anything more repulsive?  I get nauseous after eating any more than seven* .  This was not going as I had hoped.  Whereas five minutes earlier I was envisioning the possibility of Erica wearing several sexy things, I was now thinking about tennis and barfing.  All of a sudden, that saltwater pool – the empty version – was looking a lot more appealing.

In successive order, Erica then handed me a set of pasties (burlesque hasn’t been sexy since the 1930s), a lacy pink skirt that looked like a tutu, and the big winner, a bottle of something called Sexo.  I honestly had no idea what it was.  There were no instructions – just a picture of a jalapeno.  Is it a lube of some sort?  Body oil?  And if so, is there capsaicin in it?  Because that stuff stings!  

Thankfully that was the end of the gifts, because I was getting more turned off by the moment.  The contents of this bag were not what I’d hoped for.  But then, I thought, what was it that I was really hoping for?  Thinking about the honeymoon – even with Erica in various states of sexy repose – only gets me so far, and I realized that looking to the future for relief from the present is not the answer.

I began thinking about what my dad told me, that I should enjoy this time because it’s a happy one, and it only happens once.  It’s a nice sentiment but harder to practice than to preach.  Although, once the shock of those gifts wore off, Erica and I started cracking jokes about them, and suddenly, there we were having a nice, relaxing Sunday morning, laughing about her bachelorette party, and gasp, enjoying ourselves.  

I don’t want to be overly dramatic, either.  It’s a wonderful thing that we’re doing – it’s just that sometimes the stress of the preparations get the better of me.  We only have a few weeks to go, so I will try to heed my dad’s advice and enjoy what’s left of the process.  And when I do get stressed out, I probably won’t be visiting any more hotel websites, lest my mind return to thoughts of tennis and barfing.  How will I cope?  I’m not sure.  But if you hear someone screaming “Serenity now!” at the top of their lungs, don’t worry, it’s probably just me.



* Just an estimate.  I have never actually counted how many Gummi-bears it takes to make me nauseous.