My future mother-in-law threw me a bridal shower this past weekend. It was the first official wedding event leading up to the big day, and it was a bit surreal.

I wore white like a cliche, and my skin tone nearly matched the dress. I fail at self-tanner so I’m just going to rock the pale look for the rest of forever. It’s better than orange streaks.

I was honestly very nervous about the shower. I’m very socially awkward when I’m the center of attention. But it was beautiful and so sweet of Tom’s mom to put it together.

Bride-tastic!

I wasn’t planning to wear a veil during the ceremony, but this random piece of tulle didn’t look terrible, no?

I really need to lock it up and decide some of these things sooner or later. My outfit and accessories are the least finalized items on the agenda, which makes no sense. You’d think I’d be excited to dress up, but I really don’t know how to make it all come together.

Oh well, as long as I don’t find myself walking down the isle naked (which I’ve already dreamed about once), it’ll all be fine. And hell, even if that does happen, at least it would be a memorable event.

Most of my friends/bridesmaids are going to the shower my SIL is throwing in Oklahoma, but some of my favorites still made it out.

Love this girl! Love.

My friend Unmani (who is also engaged and whose wedding I’m almost if not more excited about attending than my own), my future SIL (and one of the bridesmaids) and another one of my DC friends made it as well.

They made sure I was as minimally awkward as possible. (Which is still really awkward, but an improvement nonetheless.) I owe them my life and many cocktails.

A delicious lunch, a few games (none of which involved me wearing a toilet paper wedding dress) and bunch of wonderful gifts later… this.

There are so many things to say here, but I’m not going to say any of them.

So I survived my first wedding event without saying anything too terribly stupid and had a great little weekend. I may be getting the hang of this bride thing.

Almost two years ago today I drove over a thousand miles from Oklahoma to Virginia. As I was on the road, I knew I would forever be nostalgic for those three days of solitary travel.

Despite all the nerves I had leading up to the trip, as soon as I pulled onto the highway, I felt a strange peace that I will never forget.

The scenery, the solitude and the acceptance that my entire future was a complete unknown was somehow comforting. Despite feeling guilt and unease for leaving everything and everyone I’d ever loved in my rear view, I knew then that I was heading in the right direction.

I remember when the Blue Ridge Mountains first came into sight, so awe inspiring and the complete opposite of the flat Oklahoma landscape that had always been the backdrop of my life.

I felt calmed under the shadows of those looming peaks, a feeling that usually eludes me.

And so I was glad, after all the turmoil of the past month, that I’d planned a trip back to those mountains for the calming remedy that nature can provide.

I will admit that I can be a little prissy when it comes to certain outdoorsy experiences, especially those that involve spiders, but I have always been drawn to nature during hard times.

Tom and I hiked for almost five hours on Saturday, climbing and ambling over eight miles with some of seriously incredible views along the way.

It was my first real hike, and a challenge, but as I focused on on each step, making sure my footing was secure, I felt safer than I have in weeks.

I have a tendency to hide from my problems, to try to drown them out with sarcasm, or food, or wine. I have a hard time reaching out to people when I’m hurting. But up on that mountain I felt like I was facing life head on, in an honest and truly healing way.

I felt so lucky to be there, breathing in the clean air, able-bodied and alive in spite of the pain and sorrow in my heart. To feel joy, you have to know sadness. I needed that reminder.

Okay, I’ll stop now and let you take in the views, of both the mountain and my ass. Gorgeous scenery, indeed.

We hiked the Signal Knot Trail near Front Royal, VA in the George Washington National Forrest. I would highly recommend it if you’re looking for a scenic, challenging hike in the Shenandoah area. It is designed to be a 10.5 mile loop, but since I am a hiking newbie we cut off one overlook to reduce the distance a bit.

The rest of the weekend was very enjoyable as well. We stayed in Winchester, VA which turned out to be quite a quirky little town. We watched Gastby at the Alama Drafthouse Friday night and had two fantastic meals at the Butcher’s Station and One Block West. A perfectly relaxing getaway.

The weekend concluded with a round of golf (Tom played, I watched) and more mountain views on Skyline Drive.

I couldn’t get enough.

I know I skipped over Mother’s Day. It’s a hard day for me for many reasons, but I celebrated the mothers in my life with honesty and many thanks. They are wonderful, and I wish I could have spent it at home with them. But it wasn’t possible this year and I’m learning to accept that that’s okay – not perfect or easy, but okay.

Two years after making that drive east, I’m still confident I’m heading in the right direction, despite the many challenges that arise. All I can do is focus on the path ahead… keep steady… keep going.

This was the first weekend in a long time that I wasn’t with my family in some capacity. I’ve lived away from home for almost two years, and I’ve adjusted to not having them nearby, but all the recent togetherness has been nice. Without it, I felt a little blue.

Luckily, I have Tom’s family here, and spent much of the weekend with them. Tom and his brother were fitted for their suits for the wedding on Friday, and afterwards we hit up Hogo for drinks and then Churchkey for beers and bar food. Delicious bar food.

Right: Bro Sandwich Left: Tiki drink at Hogo Bottom: National Harbor for a Food & Wine Festival (which should have just been called “Booze Festival, with maybe a couple of cubes of cheese if you’re lucky”)

As a result of the aforementioned booze festival, Sunday was a couch day. Tom played golf, and I watched a bunch of TV, including game one of the Thunder/Grizzlies series. An awesome game, but basketball gives me heart palpitations. Does it have to be that close every time? Kills me.

I calmed my nerves with a Corona Light, a beer that I don’t really even like but drink when the situation calls for it. And by situation I mean a holiday that means nothing to anyone except for a reason to drink and eat, otherwise known as Cinco de Mayo.

I had grand plans of creating a delicious Cinco de Mayo feast for me and Tom, because a crowded bar on a Sunday just didn’t sound like fun and the Mexican food around here leaves a lot to be desired.

I chopped cilantro and jalapenos.

I juiced limes.

I threw together a lovely red cabbage slaw.

I made chicken verde for taco salads, in cute homemade tortilla shells.

I concocted really terrible, super strong margaritas.

I baked skillet jalapeno cheddar corn bread.

The result?

A lot of work, a messy kitchen and a mediocre dinner.

This is why I like eating out. A chef I am not.

The slaw was delicious though. I pretty much ate all of it. Which amounts to about an entire head of cabbage.

Not recommended. That’s a lot of roughage.

Next weekend I actually have plans that do not, for the most part, revolve around food or drink. It will be a foreign experience, that is for certain.

Since the last post regarding my pending nuptials, my excitement over the big day has been steadily increasing.

I still wouldn’t say that I feel super bride-y, but it is starting to feel real and with the realness I feel anticipation. The good kind of anticipation. For the most part.

I think it really hit me Tuesday, when we met with our officiant again to start planning the ceremony.

I kind of thought that when you got married you just showed up at the altar and the officiant led you through the whole process, but apparently these things have to be planned in advance. Who knew?

It feels kind of strange to think so much about this little 30-minute pocket of time, but it’s also very romantic. Tom and I have been talking a lot about our vision for the wedding, what we want and don’t want and our vows.

And while I’m still not excited to be the center of attention, I think we’re going to have a really beautiful ceremony.

As part of the planning process, our officiant asked one of us to draw our vision of the ceremony. It seemed a bit ridiculous, but I got a huge kick out of Tom’s rendition.

That’s our fictitious boat in the background, obviously. There’s still time for someone to buy us one as a wedding gift. It could happen?

I also love that I’m so thin in Tom’s mind’s eye, and taller than my dashing groom, who looks kind of malnourished himself. Hopefully we get plenty to eat at the reception.

Speaking of which, our wedding coordinator ensured us that she would make us sit down to dinner so that she doesn’t have to carry us home at the end of the night. I appreciate that.

Most couples say that they didn’t have any time to eat at their wedding, but after all this planning you can be damn sure I’m going to get my money’s worth. And a couple slices of cake. At least.

As for the rest of the planning, things are going pretty well. We should have the invitations ready to send out next week and now we’re down to the little things like buying gifts for everyone, choosing songs and whether or not we want to do all the traditional stuff like the bouquet toss (I don’t – I have bad aim).

And I guess it’s good we’re making such progress, because we don’t have all that much time left. It’s less than four months away now.

In four months I will be married, which seems both perfectly natural and absolutely crazy. Okay, mostly crazy. But the good kind of crazy.

Last week, in a fit of frustration, I cancelled my Weight Watchers subscription.

By no means does this mean that I think the program is ineffective. I, however, am very inefficient at losing weight. It’s just the truth.

When I started WW, I was pretty gung ho, as people tend to be when they start a new weight loss plan. It taught me that I tend to make pretty shitty choices when it comes to eating. Y’all know. I eat a lot.

So I cut back and lost around five pounds relatively easily (which was good because I was getting close to an unhealthy weight at that point), and I’ve kept it off for the most part.

I fluctuate +/- 3 pounds of that loss every five minutes. And while I wish I could lose more, and really do want to lose more by my wedding (in a perfect world), I just really think it’s time to admit that it ain’t gon’ happen.

Between Easter, all my travels lately, visitors and other general fun having (or, I admit, emotional eating) I was tired of staring at how many points I was going over each week and feeling bad about it.

I don’t want to go on some big schpeel about how I just want to do what I want and eat what I want because life’s too short not too. I’ve said that before, and then I’ve gone on a diet. So… clearly I’m a tad wishy washy on this subject.

But still, I guess I just need a break from focusing on what I’m eating. I still want to try to eat healthy things, but I don’t want to track calories or points for awhile. I probably will again someday. Like I said, I think WW is a great program I’m just suffering from user error lately.

Last night, I wanted comfort food, but I did it in a healthy way by recreating a meal my grandma always used to make for me when I was a little girl – barbecue chicken and mac and cheese.

I baked the chicken, which is a low-fat/carb, high protein meal component and then made a somewhat lighter version of the macaroni and added roasted squash.

It’s been months since I’ve cooked a meal this satisfying.

My stepmom has been on a cleanse and a super clean diet, some of my friends are too, and when they start to talk about all their weight loss it sounds tempting. But the truth is that I just know I won’t ever be able to follow something like that. And I’m tired of setting myself up for failure.

Plus, it gets really tiring listening to someone strategize every bite of food their going to eat just so they can be skinny and I certainly don’t want to be annoying. I do this in the interest of the people who must conversate with me. Always a giver, I am.

I’d rather have a piece of cake and talk about Sunday night’s episode of Mad Men. Sounds like more fun, fight?

I work out a lot, and I’m in good physical shape. I’m just a little fatter than I’d like to be. There are worse things.

Lately I’ve had a hard time determining at any given moment where I am geographically.

Last Saturday we flew home last minute for my grandpa’s funeral, flew back to DC Wednesday and then returned to Oklahoma this past Thursday. In between that I had a visit from my sister-in-law, which made DC feel like Oklahoma a little bit.

There have seriously been moments where I’ve had to close my eyes and focus on my whereabouts before knowing for sure where I was.

It’s taken a toll on my health too. All that flying really screws with a person’s sinuses. But antibiotics and gallons of Mucinex cough syrup can fix that right up.

This past trip was wonderful. We arrived earlier than usual on Thursday and got to have dinner with my brother and SIL, and then from the moment we woke up Friday it was non-stop.

I got to spend lots of time with my grandma, who is struggling with so much right now. I wish I could do more to help her, but being with her when I can means a lot to both of us.

Other highlights of the trip included:

• Mexican food.
• Talking my brother into visiting DC for the 4th of July
• This cake:

Strawberry Bavarian cream cake from La Baguette Bistro. This place used to cater the dessert station at the cafeteria when I was in college. I definitely ate cake for lunch multiple times a week.

Despite how much fun I have while on these visits, I always start to feel bloated and generally shitty by the third day. We don’t get much sleep, and food and alcohol are always in abundance. These people are the ones who taught me how to party and overeat, so when we all get together – watch out.

And even though we made it to the hotel gym Friday morning by some miracle, working out rarely happens. And, if I’m being honest, neither does me washing my hair. It’s a hassle to wash it while traveling. But it also makes me feel disgusting by about the third day.

See how it gets all flat and shiny? Not cute. But who cares when you’re reuniting with a best friend you haven’t seen in forever?

The trip concluded with my family and friends gathering to watch the Thunder win their third game in a row against the Rockets. After losing our star point guard just the day before, it was exciting.

Everybody loves Tom.

That picture makes me happy. Even though it’s pretty much proof that everyone likes him better than me (where am I in the photo?). Maybe it’s because he washes his hair…

Last night, in order to fall asleep, I found myself repeating the Serenity Prayer over and over. This isn’t really a religious-y post, but if that turns you off, I understand. I’ll explain though.

When I was younger, I hated if anything was out of my control. Little things. Things like not getting the class I wanted next semester or the boy I liked not asking me out. Those things bothered me a lot, but they were stupid. I knew they were stupid, but I cared anyway. A lot of us are that way, I think.

But as you get older you only realize how much more there is out there that you have absolutely no control over and those things get more and more real – and if you don’t find away to accept them and find peace it would be very easy to become self destructive in order to cope.

That said, I was a mess yesterday. I’ve tried really hard lately to remember that I’m not the only person who has ever lost anyone. Everyone experiences loss and everyone has their own battles. But I guess I’ve been holding things in, and a lot of it hit me at once.

It was the first day that grandpa’s death felt real. I don’t know why, but it really hit me in a way it hadn’t yet.

Additionally, my grandma had tests yesterday to make sure a benign spot that had been found in her lungs awhile back wasn’t growing or spreading.

On top of that, my mom and I had an issue after grandpa’s funeral (which tends to happen with us during a crisis or whenever she has to see my dad) and we haven’t reached a resolution.

For a person who gets seriously frustrated if the grocery store is out of my favorite cheese, these things felt insurmountable.

But, I tried again to deal as positively with the negative as I could. And so I took some time to reflect and to rest, and found myself reaching for this prayer.

I’ve admitted that I don’t have the strongest faith in the world (though I’m working on it), but I think even if you take God out of this prayer – there is still a comfort in the words.

What else can we do about the things we can’t control or change other than accept them? Not a revolutionary idea by any means, but for some reason yesterday was the first day I truly believed it.

Grandma’s tests did not come back good. There is such a big part of me that wants to be irrationally angry, to break down or give up. But whether or not I choose to do that is something I can change.

I try to remember my grandpa who even up until his last breath made jokes and smiled and radiated gratitude.

I sadly do not know any jokes. I didn’t inherit my grandpa’s deadpan humor, but I learned from him how to smile and be grateful, and try to find peace and solace where I can.

He never tried to change those things that were out of his control, he just found serenity in any way that he could, which is all any of us can do.

These are not lessons anyone wants to learn, and for some reason it seems like you can’t learn them until you’re backed up against a wall, but there is power in realizing that you can find peace in the midst of terrible circumstances.

And I’m trying to be grateful for that.

Smiling will come later.

This weekend, like many others, was full of eating lots of delicious food. Unlike many others, it was also full of me trying to squeeze into hundreds of dresses minutes after gorging on things like gnocchi bolognese, chicken and sausage jambalaya and about 150 corn muffins with honey butter.

Not a pretty sight my friends.

The SIL came to visit to accompany for my first wedding dress fitting.

Before that we ate Cajun food at Acadiana (I took pictures and was planning to write a review finally since it’s one of my faves, but an iPhone death resulted in the loss of said pictures) and then murdered the bread basket at Sou’wester and had some fish and stuff.

Afterward, we sat at the bar and I had my way with the bar nuts.

You’d think that when one knows they need to be in some decent sort of shape to try on a wedding dress the next day they’d afford the hording of carbs, fat and salt…

Needless to say the fitting wasn’t the most fun experience of my life. But the seamstress seemed really good and I am fully confident that the dress will look great come my wedding day (even if I don’t).

After that we dined Italian in Georgetown before doing several hours of shopping for more dresses (for the showers, rehearsal dinner, etc. – only found one winner out of 1,000) and then retiring to the waterfront for wine and views.

I only really go to Georgetown when I have visitors. It’s lovely, but not my favorite place to go in the city – especially for food.

So eventually we left for dinner at Founding Farmers, which is one of my favorite dinner places in DC. I always try something new and it’s always delicious. This time I had meat loaf. I’ve been in a very meat loafy kind of place lately.

I think it has something to do with the inclusion of mashed potatoes.

Tom got chicken and waffles and the SIL had diver scallops with risotto. Everyone was very happy with the food, and I had a major lady crush on our server. I may have hit on her a little bit. Good food makes me inappropriate.

Sunday morning we got around slowly and then went to Alexandria for brunch, ice cream and a bit more shopping. We dined at the Wharf, which was just okay, but I’d actually thought I was making reservations at another place and was disappointed in my lack of planning and hosting skills. Another time, perhaps.

The Alexandria waterfront is so pretty. I don’t know why I don’t venture down there more often.

Such a fun weekend. I’m so lucky my brother chose to marry someone I actually like. Having family who are friends makes life sweeter.

I’m excited that I get to see my family again this weekend, but I have some sort of sinus infection fun to clear up before then. All that fun in the outdoors wasn’t my smartest idea.

Happy Monday!

Thank you all so much for your kind wishes about my grandpa. We left Saturday afternoon to spend time with my family, and returned yesterday afternoon.

It was a sad and exhausting visit, but also such a blessing. We tried to make it a happy goodbye.

I spent every minute with my family, and despite our sorrow we shared many laughs and drinks and a ridiculous abundance of food.

My grandpa would have been so happy to see us as family from near and far got to know each other better and told and retold our favorite grandpa jokes.

The funeral preparation was hard, but the service was beautiful and full of humor – just as he would have wanted. Having served in both World War II and Korea, he had a military burial – the first I’ve been to. It was one of the most resonating moments of my life so far.

So many people came by to visit with us at my grandma’s, at the funeral home and at the church. He was loved by so many people and touched the lives of almost everyone in the small community where I grew up.

The hardest part has been watching my grandma grieve. They were married over 60 years and were the perfect (and rare) example of real, enduring love. She held herself together well, but admitted that she couldn’t imagine what life would be like without him.

Apparently she hated those shoes. I think they’re pretty fabulous.

Funny story about the picture above: Grandpa was known for getting grandma extravagant jewels for birthdays and Christmas, so one year she told him she absolutely didn’t need any more jewelry and to get her something more practical. That blue ensemble up there is what he chose. She hated it. But she loved him, as you can see.

I know she is a fighter, and she’ll be okay, but my heart aches for her loss most of all.

It’s hard to look at his passing as a tragedy – he was at peace and ready to go. I will miss him more than I can ever express, but my sorrow is nothing compared to those who are grieving the loss of loved ones in the tragic events in Boston and Waco.

It is hard to maintain faith in humanity in the face of so much violence and loss, but then I remember my grandpa’s positive smile, his radiance, and remember that there are good people in the world and focus on that. I have to choose to focus on the good, as Parita described beautifully here.

Speaking of good people, I was so thankful for Tom during this experience. I know there is absolutely no fun to be had in flying last minute to Oklahoma to plan a funeral and watch people cry, but he did it with zero complaint and kept me steady during the hardest moments.

When I spoke to my grandpa for the last time, he told me that he was so glad that Tom was in our family and that he loved him very much. It makes me happy that they got to know each other, two of my favorite people, if only for a short period of time.

At the end, all you can do is be thankful for the times you have with the ones you love. I had 27 wonderful years with my grandpa, during which he taught me innumerable lessons and loved me unconditionally, always building me up and helping me to believe in myself. I will love him always.

Sorry these words are so scattered, it’s all still new and my thoughts aren’t completely formed. But I am doing fine. My sister-in-law is coming to visit me tomorrow, and I’m still taking an already planned trip home a week from today. Knowing that I have more time to soak in my family is a huge comfort.

On Friday, I wrote these words on my other blog:

I woke to the crackle of thunder, for the first time in years. It boomed me back to Oklahoma. These beating skies were my white noise in the turbulent place I call “home”.

I’m over a thousand miles from there now, in a quiet and rested place. Tom lies next to me, I could reach out and touch him but I’m frozen in place. Our bodies sink back into the mattress, slowly knowing that everything is okay. Hoping.

They talk, joke, on TV about nuclear war.

Waking up to a bomb is unnerving, but we are Americans and our ability to shake off the danger is strong.

I roll over, my heart beat slows. I fall back asleep and dream I’m standing in a wheat field. In the Great Plains, you can see ahead of you for miles. The threats in the distance dance like twisted fairies, swirling into a dizzying twister.

What I thought were just words in response to a Five Minute Friday prompt turned out to be a foreboding.

It was a wet, sticky morning, a windy and humid afternoon. I spent the day feeling restless, wanting to get out of the house. When Tom got home from work, we left with plans to eat dinner before going to meet friends for a birthday party.

On our way there, my dad called to tell me my grandpa had taken a turn for the worst: my worst fear for the past year realized. It didn’t seem real.

I called him, in case I couldn’t make it home in time, and in the shelter of the Carnegie Library I said goodbye. He passed away in his sleep later that evening. He was ready to go.

I’ve written many times about my love for this man, and in the middle of my grief I’m unable to express it properly now.

I feel a shift in perspective. It’s like when I was in first grade and my teacher caught me squinting in the back of the classroom. A few short days later, and I had my first pair of glasses.

The world looked so different, clearer and yet more ominous. I’d had no idea I was missing out on all these images and realizations until the moment I put on those glasses.

There was an adjustment period, where I accepted that what I was seeing was now my actual reality. It took a while for the cruelty to wear off, to feel safe again.

But I did, and I will again.

I’m in Oklahoma until Wednesday. Yesterday we spent the day together as a family making funeral preparations and just enjoying time spent with each other telling stories about a great man.

Before he went, he told us not to be sad, and to suck it up and move on. Tough advice from a man who was loved so much by so many, but we’re all trying to grant him his last wish and laughing as much as we cry, if not just a little bit more.