Wedding Fiasco Part TWO: China Patterns

The wedding planning hasn’t stopped at my house, or rather, in my head.  Joseph and I are not rich.  I do not have parents who ever planned on paying for a daughter’s wedding, because they have no daughters.  And Joseph’s family is in the same boat, so the wedding that has really started to surface in our plans is a very small, simple, DIY affair.  I wanted to incorporate things that Joseph and I love and want to share with our guests.  This brought me to thinking that our wedding will be a camping adventure for the whole family and would have a woodsy theme. 

I suggested to Joseph that we should plan on serving our wedding dinner on camping dishes.  As a teenager I always imagined that I would have speckled blue dishes for my future house, and that my plates and mugs would be equally at home inside my log cabin as they would out on a prairie picnic.  Joseph, on the other hand, likes tin just fine, but has an aversion to those speckled blue dishes for reasons I have not divined.  And while I was planning to use this move to completely change out my haphazard collection of dishes for something nicer and more matched (albeit cheap camping dishes), Joseph suggested that we allow our guests to keep their camp dishes as a wedding gift.  This I knew was Joseph trying to tell me that he did not think highly of my speckled blue dishes. 

But I wouldn’t let this go.  I could forego my speckled dishes.  In truth, I don’t like them as well as I did when I was a teenager in North Idaho dreaming of the day I would live in my own Ted Kacynski cabin alone in the woods.  (Strangely, I never had a wife in my fantasy of the future.)  I liked the idea that we would use part of our wedding budget to upgrade our dinnerware into something that we would use forever.  And then it hit me, we needed to pick out our china pattern! 

My Grandmother has a rather extensive collection of Currier and Ives dishes that I love.  Whenever I see pieces of it in thrift stores and antique shops, I buy it.  It has a sentimental charm for me that I cannot resist and this was naturally the first china pattern I suggested to Joseph when I said I was willing to give up speckled camping dishes.  Joseph liked the idea of using some of the wedding budget to upgrade our dinnerware.  He thought that a meal with our friends and family in honor of our marriage was probably the best part of the evening, and it should be celebrated with new dishes that we would use for the first time on that day.  But he raised his eyebrows at the Currier and Ives.  That pattern, he said, was wonderful for Gram and Grandpa.  But the pattern was always for Gram and Grandpa, it wouldn’t be our dishes.  So that’s when I launched my second idea at him:  Fiestaware!  Color is one of my most favorite things in life, so what better china for a guy whose favorite color changes weekly than china made to be mixed and matched? 

Joseph’s serpentine eyebrow arched once again at this suggestion so I let my suggestion cool.  But I was bound and determined to think of an amazing patter that both Joseph and I would love. 

Shortly thereafter, I was consulting the Sacred Oracle of the Twenty-First Century.  I am speaking, of course, of Google.  I sometimes use its toolbar to type in my most intimate questions (knowing the whole time that these questions will forever be linked with me and affect my advertising experience on my websites).  I began to type “Which china pattern should I choose?”  But Google, being a sacred oracle, suggested “Which china pattern is made in the USA?”  Yes!  Sacred Google, you have done it again!  Joseph is a stickler for buying things that are made in America!  So I clicked on the suggestion and the very first thing that popped up was a made in America website that touted Fiestaware! 

Armed with this new information, Joseph’s eyebrow stayed put, and I was given the go-ahead to start planning my life in color: Fiestaware color! 

But how to choose a color, or two, or convince Joseph (who hates rainbow weddings) to have our wedding dinner on a rainbow of dishes? 

I began pouring over the Fiestaware websites and imagining color combinations that would look good together and would keep the idea of Frank and Joseph’s wedding alive.  For instance, while I love every color, some colors are more me than others.  And the first color that I took to on the websites was “Peacock.”  In every picture, peacock looked like the very blue of the Mediterranean, which I have seen many times … on Google.  It was an intense blue with a vague idea of green under its surface.  But how would I use this color?  I wanted to mix right off the bat, so that Joseph wouldn’t have to be persuaded later, but Peacock would be my main starting point.  Should it be Peacock, Turquoise, and Chocolate, or Peacock and Plum with punches of Lemongrass?  We almost ordered our first pieces in Peacock, but Joseph suggested we go somewhere to see the colors in person before we made our final decisions.  Okay, but I could already tell I loved Peacock very much.  I liked the Plum and the Turquoise, too.  And I absolutely hated the newest color, Paprika. 

So like a four-year-old on December twentieth waiting for Christmas, I waited, too. 

And finally, yesterday, it happened!  We went to Macy’s in the Tacoma Mall, and saw the Fiestaware for the first time with the intention to buy.  And it was beautiful, all those colors paired next to each other in stripes of cups, saucers, and medium sized canisters.  Like a moth to a flame, I walked straight to the Peacock and picked up a mug. 

But something was wrong. 

This was not the blue of legend I had seen so much of on my beloved Oracle Google.  This was a primary blue.  A flat, though intense sky blue.  A Crayola dream of Easter Egg Blue.  But it had none of the mysterious notes of green beneath its glaze.  When I held it up with Turquoise, I felt a little disappointed.  When I put it next to Chocolate, I felt a little sick.  And when I tried it with Scarlett red, I felt like Superman.  And while I do love my Super Friends, I don’t want people to think of them on my wedding day. 

Joseph did not like it, either, and his stupid eyebrow made no bones about telling me.  I’m sure Peacock is just fine for many people, but it was not fine for us. 

“So,” Joseph said, “which colors do we like?” 

And that’s when we began to really pour over the glazes as though we were visitors in the ruins of some lost civilization, looking for those colors that would speak to us.  One color, that for me, was Fiestaware’s best supporting actor was Lemongrass.  It’s a funky, retro yellowish green that shines brightly with every color it is paired with.  It makes the perfect companion with everything.  And even though I didn’t like it as the main color, I knew Lemongrass was my favorite, and would be a part of my collection.  But we wanted to have that main color, and we found it. 

Just as much as Peacock looked good on a computer screen, Paprika looked bad.  But in person, it was warm, understated, and vibrant.  And the best part was, it sang when it was paired with Lemongrass.  And, best of all, Joseph loved Paprika.  It has a terracotta toned brown hue.  It feels like a cabin’s warm logs in firelight.  We were on the hunt for a covered butter dish to start our collection, which Macy’s didn’t have in our new-found Paprika.  So, we took our show on the road and went to the Fiesta Store on Proctor in Tacoma.  Here we not only found a Paprika butter dish, but Joseph found pasta bowls in Evergreen, a discontinued color that makes a nice teal-green contrast to the Paprika.  We bought all three pieces, which drained our wallet a little faster than we expected, which lead to our next thought: we might need to register for Fiestaware. 

But registering should be easy, right?  At least we know which colors we like. 

Quilting Comfort

On a trip into town today I had a sudden urge to stop and look at the quilts.  The fabric store, Island Quilter, used to be across the street, but has taken over the old furniture store building.  It was here that I met Christine Millican, the president of the Vashon Island Quilt Guild. 

I was able to chat with her about the Vashon Island Quilt Guild.  She says that they are a group of quilters from both islands: Vashon and Maury.  (She’s quick to admonish herself by saying that the title of the guild should include Maury Island.  She is a resident of Maury Island.  For any off-islanders who may be reading, Vashon and Maury islands are connected by an isthmus.)  She told me that the group gets together one the third Tuesday of every month at the Presbyterian Church.  Visitors are welcome; they are a group of mixed skill levels.  They use the ample floor space in the new shop to present their work in monthly shows.  This show, Christine had the quilters bring in their favorite pieces and the multitude of colors and styles dazzled. 

The quilters also quilt for worthy causes.  They are involved in the American Heroes Quilts.  Their members donate pieces to cancer patients of Fred Hutchinson’s Cancer Research Center.  And I have to say that the notion that women and men in my own community working to reach out to those that need it fills my heart with a warm, happy feeling. 

The quilts themselves make me feel warm and happy, as they are a mash up of old-school and more modern styles; of spiced colors, cool colors, and bold bright colors; and of different points of view: bohemian, traditional, eclectic, and modern.  I enjoyed looking at them very much and would encourage anyone who can to do so as well. 

It makes me wish I were a quilter.  But while I may have a willing mind, my body and skill level soon have me punished for ever thinking I could sew, although, I tackled the project of the Laura Ingalls Wilder sunbonnets.  Maybe I should give quilting another shot one of these days.  After all, with all this inspiration, it would be hard to decide I could never do it before I even tried. 

Cupcakes and Cleaning

In spite of some very pesky snow a week or so ago (wow, say that five times fast), spring seems to be coming along as expected.  The trees are swelling with buds.  The robins are swarming the muddy yard looking for tasty worms.  And I’m starting to feel restless.  I did not get hit with that usual bout of spring cleaning in February as I usually do, but that may be a sign of my adjusting to a new diet. 

            Well, actually it’s an old diet.  Joseph and I have been on Weight Watchers before.  We use the old point system, because it really does work for us.  Portion sizes are metered out with the new kitchen scale Joseph bought, and the Nutrition Facts are read religiously.  And for those of you who know me and are quick to flatter me by saying that I don’t need to be on Weight Watchers, I will say this: men’s metabolisms slow down after thirty, and it sneaks up on us until suddenly we are overweight forty-somethings looking in the mirror.  I have noticed those unwanted pounds sneaking up on me, and I don’t want to sink into middle-aged obesity without a fight. 

            And here’s a tip for a happy home: if you can healthfully be on the same diet as everyone in the house, then by all means do be on the same diet.  Joseph can use the high-fiber, low-fat sentiments that Weight Watchers instills on its adherents.  I certainly can, too.  High-fiber and low-fat fits almost everyone except for those with wasting illnesses and malnutrition issues.  So, I follow it.  Eating together, planning meals together, and being on the same nutrition page, even if you don’t have to be, makes a family tighter in my opinion.  Joseph and I tried eating separate meals, once, when we were a new couple.  That resulted in a disjointed household and an unsuccessful completion of a diet or two. 

            So Joseph and I have been “dieting.”  But last night didn’t feel like a diet.  Joseph made a homemade pasta sauce, threw it together with some whole wheat lasagna noodles, added low-fat ricotta cheese and a moderate amount of shredded mozzarella and lean ground turkey and put it all into a few ramekins.  He diligently weighed every noodle and measured every scoop of ricotta.  This resulted in a handful of frozen ramekins of lasagna we have cooked at our leisure.  We finished off the last two little lasagnas last night with a cabernet-sauvignon, some whole wheat bread toasted with butter, and a movie.  Meals like that don’t feel like diets.  They feel absolutely delicious! 

            Even so, we have our weaknesses.  So we decided that once a month we will have a cheat day when we can go out to eat or make our favorite foods and just not count it.  The results will show up on the scale, but the day feels like a happy little light at the end of a tunnel.  And if we put on a quick pound, it will only give us encouragement to stick to the plan. 

            Maybe next time I will have a cupcake for breakfast.  Those are the best breakfasts.   

Cottoning onto Color

The days are filled up with little wedding ideas and my mind has been aflame in colors and schemes; themes and favors; flavors and guest lists; lists and venues; venues and menus.  I must stop!  I have to check my speed.  The date we’ve set for our nuptials are a little more than twenty months from now and I don’t want to let my enthusiasm burn up before I have had a chance to enjoy it.  This is a wedding, and I have always wanted one. 

a cascade of color!

I was passing by the local quilt shop today, and I saw this amazing quilt.  I had to take its picture!  These colors are amazing together.  They make me feel like anything can be possible in my own search for the perfect colors for my big day!  (Joseph’s no help, I asked him what he thought about orange and pink, and he said, “well, they’re orange and pink in color.”)

So here it is, a work of local color:



Wedding Fiasco part ONE

Washington State’s Senate and House of Representatives both passed a Gay Marriage bill, which our Governor signed into law.  It will officially become law on June 6^th, unless the opposition raises 120,000 signatures, in which case, it will go to ballot this coming November.  This is the closest Washington has come to allowing Gay Marriage.  We currently have a domestic partnership law that says Joseph and I get all the benefits of a married couple in our state, but the actual word marriage has been denied to us all this time. 

            There are a lot of “ifs” involved in the Gay Marriage law.  And Joseph has tried to get me to be more settled, and not get my hopes up.  But, darn it, I love a good wedding.  And I started planning ours with abandon.  And if the Gay Marriage Bill does go to ballot, and it does get voted down, then I guess I will just throw myself and Joseph a big party and invite all the friends and family. 

            The unfortunate thing is that I have so many plans regarding this wedding, I’m hard pressed to narrow my ideas down.  Joseph’s no help, the things he actually likes are so boring that I can’t find the heart to even smile at them.  He likes all his colors in one place.  He likes muted, somber tones with punches of color.  He wants a white and blue wedding theme color with just one blue and we’re planning our wedding for the fall, which means our colors would be very wintery indeed. 

*me and my wild chicas living it up*

            Now, Joseph and I are no strangers to wedding ideas.  In 2009 we hosted our SECOND wedding dress party where all my best friends showed up in their wedding attire and we ate wedding cake (which talented Mr. Joseph made) and drank cosmopolitans … a LOT of cosmopolitans.  We both have very strong points of view when it comes to these wedding ideas.  Joseph comes from the masculine, linear, organized side of the ideas.  I come from the flighty, lovely, airy-fairy side of the wedding point of view.  This whole wedding thing might come to blows.  Just like a real marriage!!! 

 *Joseph's amazing cake*

            We’ve decided to set the date for October 2013.  This will give the bill plenty of time to decide if it is a law or not and if it’s not a law, well, it’s silly to have a wedding ceremony, we’ll just have a party.  But if it is a law, well, someone is going to be very excited!  (That someone is me, by the way.)

            For an October theme, I thought I would take something very seasonal and very harvest-time and turn it into a theme.  I was going to buy up a lot of white pumpkins and arrange them as floral themes throughout the big event.  But when I mentioned white pumpkins to Joseph he almost laughed his stupid coffee out of his nose, and I was left with the idea that white pumpkins were either too Halloween or too Cinderella.  You should know I love both Halloween and Cinderella, so I failed to see his point, but I had to scrap pumpkins all together because he didn’t like them. 

 *me in my bridal finery*

I also thought it would be nice to put together a theme involving blue flowers with bright fall colors like orange, gold, and green.  But Joseph thought that was way too many colors.  He thought they looked messy all together.  His thought was that we just have blue with a little green and when we did up bouquets, all the blue flowers would be in one place with all the greenery in another place.  He does not like mixing things. 

I thought a sea of paper lanterns in many colors hanging above a dance floor would be ideal.  But Joseph thinks paper lanterns look cheap and tacky.  Although, given that he probably thinks florescent lighting is cutting edge modern, I have very little to say about his tastes on the subject. 

It was about this time that I decided that I wouldn’t listen to a word of what Joseph says he likes or doesn’t like.  I am just going to go crazy and do all the craziness when his back is turned.  I don’t want a somber wedding full of alphabetized flowers.  I want a mad jumble of wonderful ideas and dimensions.  I want everything and I want it to be so amazing that I can look back on it and always think, yes, that was a beautiful and timeless ceremony, and those paper lanterns did in no way look cheap. 

 *good times are rolling*

So, Joseph came up with the idea of starting a wedding idea journal.  Yesterday we went shopping at frame stores and craft stores to find the right scrap book in which I can paste all my ideas.  I think Joseph thinks this will give my overly-wild juices an outlet, but I think he just threw gasoline on my fire.  I have already completed one wedding concept page based on one of my most favorite things: the mermaid.  But I think she needs a little tweaking, because I would also like to combine the concept of a mermaid with the gold of autumn.  No easy task, I assure you.  Most people think summer when they think mermaids. 

I think my next theme will use clocks and looking glasses and have an Alice in Wonderland spin to it …

Well, I have a lot to think about in the next year and eight months!

Twinkle twinkle little fish

There is something about a starfish that has always struck me as magical.  It’s as though a child drew a star and magically it came to life.  I’ve seen them in all different colors and all different sizes.  The babies are always brighter, like fishing lures in magenta and tangerine.  Once the tide was very low on one of my dog walks and I saw the beach full of glistening, fleshy constellations.  Starfish spangle the tail of my mermaid tattoo, and I always imagined I would wear them somehow—half pets, half accessories—if I were a mermaid.  Stars are my favorite shape; and mermaids have to be the shape my soul would take; and in starfish these vital essences collide for me.  I love them. 

Starfish are definitely one of my favorite things. 

Eating Your Heart Out with Relish

My mother will tell you that my favorite fairytale princess was always Snow White.  One of the biggest reasons my mother knows this is because she was one of those women who threw all of her talents into motherhood and in the morning her question (when it just happened to be a pancake morning) was, “What do you want for your pancake?”

Now, this question might mean something like, “Do you want syrup or jam?” in another household, but in ours, Mom was an artist.  So my answer was always, “Snow White.” 

Out came my Disney story book.  Mom would find a suitable picture of Snow White, and using a little spoon would dole out a small line of batter and recreate the picture on the pancake griddle.  Then she’d let this outline darken a bit and fill it in the rest of the way with batter.  The result was a Snow White shaped image, complete with shadow and detailing that flipped right onto my plate and filled my morning with a lovely montage of singing birds and mining dwarfs.  

When I got older and actually made it all the way into the third grade, our teacher decided that we were ready to put on our first school play!  The play was “Snow Prince and the Seven Dwarfettes.”  I was little and scrawny but I rocked the auditions so thoroughly that my teacher had to track my Grandma down in the super market one day to tell her that I should be in more community theater.  (I know, I am awesome.)  So, scrawny or not, I was given the role of the evil king who wishes only to be the strongest strong man in the land.  This was my motivation for wanting to kill Snow Prince with a poisoned apple.  While preparing for this role, I read the actual Brothers Grimm version of the tale and was shocked that Disney left out scandalous details like the Wicked Queen being forced to dance in red-hot shoes made of lead in the end.  But one striking detail captured my imagination when I read the line regarding the pig heart the huntsman gave to the Queen, “She ate the heart, I am sorry to say, with relish.” 

“Gram,” I said one day while she was preparing one of our own chickens to eat for supper.  “Do people eat hearts?” 

“Why yes, they do,” Gram said.  “Do you want me to cook you this chicken heart and you can try it with dinner tonight?”

“Yes!”  Oh, I was excited.  Not only was this a secret detail of my most favorite fairytale, this was also a chance for me to really enhance my eight-year-old acting skills with a little method acting.  So that night a small lump of browned flesh was on my plate and without any hesitation whatsoever, I ate the heart with relish (which I read as “gusto,” but only now am thinking the Queen might have eaten it with some sweet relish).  And do you know what?  I loved it. 

Eating the heart became a little secret between me and my Gram.  She always cooked it for me and I always ate it with relish (gusto).  Every now and again, I will retain the heart from my turkey or my chicken (store bought, not farm raised, unfortunately)and cook it.  Sometimes I use a sprig of rosemary to pin it to the breast of the bird I’m cooking and I’ll eat the heart and think of Gram and the farm, and all those days I spent honing my performance as an evil king. 

So last night, Joseph decided he would cook.  He must have been feeling particularly Southern (as it comes on more strongly from time to time), because he bought gizzards and hearts of chickens at the grocery store.  He bought the hearts for me.  He made a breading from scratch.  He got our kettle of oil hot.  And he deep fried all the hearts and gizzards for our dinner.  The breading smelled good.  The sizzle sounded wonderful.  And then he pulled out the pieces for us and I popped one heart into my mouth and bit down.

Squeak. 

I just couldn’t do it.  I couldn’t.  For whatever reason, the chewiness of that heart just wouldn’t allow me to swallow it.  So for dinner, I had a bit of bread and some red wine we made from blueberries, and I allowed Joseph to eat his chicken pieces with relish (gusto) on his own.  He laughed at me for a good long chuckle, but I felt sad as I pondered the question you must all be asking, “Have I lost my evil kingliness?”