Monthly Archives: May 2003

After the party

Jacques, the day after, Canon A1

When you’re about to get married, people always say, “This will be the best day of your life!” and of course, I would always cringe and think, “What if it isn’t?”

Well it was! And it blew our freaking minds.

Because we had the best photographer in the entire world, (we love you Rikka!) and are waiting for the photos to be printed, I will take you on a virtual tour of some snapshots in my mind’s eye…

Morning of the big day. Eating breakfast with my sister. Me, shoving bacon nervously into my mouth, my sister, beaming, grinning harder than I have ever seen.

Sneaking over to the ranch, hours before the pre-ception (cocktail party before the ceremony) to see the decorations. “Take the aromatherapy tour!” said Jacques, as he led me through the delicious garden dripping with colorful leis hanging from the trees, brightly colored flowers in the mouths of wooden tikis, hibiscus and ginger and succulents everywhere, Balinese umbrellas, wine glasses waiting to be filled, and the smell of plumeria and tuberose in the air.

The taste of cool white wine as my sister and friend Laura and I waited, nervously for the time to put the dress on.

The laughter that ensued when, as my ladies and I were taking our formal photos, I realized I had stepped in poop!

“Porta fortuna!” my italian friend Stefano assured me.

The dreamy light we woke up to that day. Initially disappointed there was no sun, then realizing the gift of this balmy, shadowless, still, white afternoon.

My 3-year-old ring bearer cousin Josh, who got nervous and instead of handing the rings to us, hurled the rings as hard as he could. We watched them sail across the chuppah and land at Matt’s feet. Brilliant!

Matt’s black and white pin striped suit, tangerine colored tie, and blue eyes that filled with tears when he saw me for the first time that day.

The cacophany of sound that emanated from our family & friends as we processed down the aisle with our parents. Every single person at the wedding had a musical instrument, a drum, a shaker, or a shout of joy for us. It was loud, raucous, celebratory, and I’m certain it shook the earth that day.

Thank you all for your wishes.
We felt em’.

Photos to come!

The newlyones

Matt & Andrea, Nikon coolpix 4500

We’re gonna do it!
Keep us in your heart on Sunday, May 25th*

Stop the froth!

Sasha in her frothy hat, Nikon coolpix 4500

I’ve been stressed out lately. Really, really stressed out.

In fact, I am like a lab experiment for myself of all the ways that stress can show up in my body. It’s fascinating and awful.

It’s also reasonable due to the fact that I’m getting married in about a week, but wow, is there a way to do this without wreaking such havoc on the body?

I discovered yesterday at the dentist that the reason two of my teeth chipped (see crumbling girl entry) was because I had been grinding them to bits. Grinding my teeth into dust!

My acupuncturist, Carol Fong, has been helping me with my digestion since I have been so nervous for the last few months I can barely digest my food.

It seems that instead of lashing out and being a complete Bridezilla bitch-athon, I have lashed inward, and as my acupuncturist says so sweetly, “Your body suffer.”

I mentioned this to my dear friend Sasha and she concurred by saying, “I know! I’ve been whipping myself into a frenzy lately, just whipping myself into a froth!” and I laughed so hard imagining her adorable head of curls whipped into the peak of a cappuccino.

She has been sending me priceless emails all week that say, “Stop the froth!” and this does two very important things for me:
1. Reminds me to laugh.
2. Reminds me to slow down.

And so, I implore all of you out there, I beg you, I plead with you, STOP THE FROTH! Please! and check out this web site because it is the best thing that happened to me all week. (Be sure to read the text that goes along with each individual recipe card)

My man

Matt, Canon A1

When I first looked at this photo I noticed something different about it but I wasn’t sure what it was.

When I showed it to a friend she said, “I love this! It’s a photo of how you see Matt?” and I think she’s right. What Matt shows to the world is something so exuberant, so wild, so funny. He is the life of the party, making people laugh with this quick wit, his silly oversized Anne Klein glasses he breaks out for parties, his assless overalls, (Have I mentioned these before?) and his warm laughter and confidence.

These are all things I love about Matt, but what this picture speaks of is another part of Matt, the quiet side of him that feels vulnerable and afraid and looks deep into my eyes and asks, “Do you still love me?”

I’ve been struggling lately with our wedding ceremony and vows. How do you encapsulate all of the beauty, all of the goodness, all of the pleasure, all of the safety into a few concise sentences? How do you prove to your entire family and community that what you share is real and good and will last? How do you do it the honor it deserves?

I’ve been considering all of the angles I might approach this from. A list?

I love Matt because… he makes me laugh, he is generous, he gives great hugs, he is creative and smart and emotionally evolved.

Do I describe the moment when I knew he was the one, when that poem came through over email that made me fall in love?

Do I describe the time when, before I flew to Mexico, Matt wanted to give me a strip of photobooth photos to take with me, but the machine broke so he acted out each frame of the strip that was stuck in the machine?

Or do I just describe the profound joy I feel, at those moments when he?s not doing anything at all, and somehow I can just see him, like in this photo.


party at the beach, Canon A1

Sometimes the weight of sweetness is hard to bear.

My friends planned a party for me this weekend, a bachelorette party of sorts. My dear ones gathered in a cozy house by the beach waiting to celebrate me. So much sweetness there.

The sweetness of the kimonos they all wore and their cherry lipstick and brightly colored scarves. The sweetness of the lemon drops they served in martini glasses with powdered sugar around the rim. The sweetness of their secret surprises, the strawberry rhubarb pie, the sparkly nail polish, and the “this is your day!” and “whatever Andrea wants!”

The sweetness of allowing yourself to be celebrated.

“We are your maidens!” they cried, and led me out to the fruit trees in the back yard where there was a web made of string tying the trees to each other. Gifts wrapped in lavender tissue were tucked away in the branches and I was instructed to gather them all.

I looked back, and they were all grinning, martini glasses in one hand, cameras in the other, like my mothers…eager for me to find every easter egg to fill my basket.

The swarm

Bee keepin’ goddess Camie, Canon A1

I’ve been afraid of bees my entire life.

I think I inherited this fear from my mom, who upon seeing any variety of stinging insect would RUN, literally, run away. I think this is the only running I ever witnessed my mom doing.

Like an obedient offspring, I have to fight the urge to run when I see a bee coming. When I moved into Matt’s house, I had to make peace with the bees that our dear friend Camie was keeping in the back yard.

I’ve been relatively comfortable with the them, but only from a distance. I stare at them from the kitchen window, rarely going into the backyard. Every once in a while, I entertain getting over this fear by doing something a bit risky. Like last week, I watched (and didn’t run away) when Camie went into their hive to retrieve some honey.

When she returned, honeycomb in hand, she said, “They weren’t happy about this.”

And then, a week later, they swarmed.

Several people were in the back yard doing construction, when a loud hum like an airplane motor filled the space. They all looked up, and the bees, all 40,000 of them, had risen up in a plume of smoke and hovered over the yard. In perfect formation, they migrated, united in their escape, and moved into the tree in our neighbor’s yard.

Whoa. It was a very X-Files moment.

When we told our neighbor that there was a beehive in his backyard, he said, “No problem, it’s fine.” Then Camie explained, “No, you don’t understand. There are 40,000 bees in your backyard.”

“Oh,” he said, “Should I be worried about that?”

Yesterday, the bee club dude arrived for the big rescue. He and Cam, all suited up like crazy astronauts, whacked the branch of the tree where they settled, and in one big THUNK, the entire hive landed in the cardboard box they held below it.

They duct taped it closed, poked holes in the top, and just like that, it was over. The bees were gone.

I’ve been trying to figure out what inspired them to leave, why they chose that particular moment to flee. Had they been planning it for a long time? Did they hate their queen? Were they peeved that their honey was stolen? Were they just ready?

It made me think of my dear friend who has been living in Brazil for more than five years now. She emailed me this morning and told me she’s ready to leave. She had been planning to move back to California, but it just hit her today, suddenly, that it’s time.

Has it ever just hit you, like a swarm of bees, that it was time to go?