yesterday i started step one of many steps required to legally change one’s name.  i’m not going to lie, the… feminist? liberal? woman?… inside of me died a little inside all the way through it.  i mean, look, i’ve had this name my whole life, we’re friends, we know each other, and more importantly: it’s a GREAT name!  Charlotte!  Anne!  Cohen!  It’s a perfect name!  And no need to go ruining it with hyphens thank-you-very-much!  I’ve been stewing about what i should do with my name since before we got engaged but always seemed to walk away with the notion that I didn’t need to worry about it yet so why grow MORE gray hairs over it.

and then it came up that i needed to renew my license so I finally had to make the decision to go through with it now or potentially never (i’m a grade A procrastinator).  so i buckled down and took the first step which was researching the crap out of how to do it using the interwebs.  i gathered all the documents i needed and headed out to BFE to wait in the shortest government department line i’ve been in (aside from when we got the marriage license) to meet my new friend: my license liaison if you will.  who just so happened to have the EXACT same birthday as me.  what are the odds???  and just a heads up, don’t ask that around my father… HE WILL TELL YOU WHAT THOSE ODDS ARE.

i had already been thinking that I would have two middle names: my given one and my maiden name but it was hard to convey this information on the form i had been given.  and i kept waiting patiently for my license liaison to ask me about my name but the moment never seemed to arrive.  she checked all the paperwork, scanned it, stamped it, signed it, had me sign it, i paid for it, we did the small talk dance and then… she printed out my paperwork with my new name… minus my maiden name.

and as we know i’m always worried my food will get spit in if i complain.  but i took my big girl pill that morning so i took a deep breath, smiled, and asked my new best friend how i could incorporate my old last name in to my new name.  she smiled at me, as if we were conspiring, leaned in and said, “Oh honey, I kept my maiden name as part of my new name too!”  I told her my plan of having two middle names and she said, “No, no, you are just as fabulous as me and what YOU need is two first names.”

For some reason, I kind of fell in love with that idea:  yesterday I was Charlotte?  Today I’m Charlotte Anne.

So I walked out of the DMV that morning with another awesome DL photo and my brand new name, which at that point was starting to feel like new school supplies, new backpack, new jeans AND new shoes all rolled into one.  But I guess a better metaphor would be new panties: no one really notices but me… and my husband

on Friday night Aiden and I decided to drive up to Park City to see if we could check out some of the meteor shower that had been going on.  Of course, first we had to stop at the GAP outlet to see if there was anything for me us to buy and then we had to get some chocolate from the Rocky Mountain Chocolate Factory to snack on while we were watching the shooting star show.  By the time we settled onto the marble benches to stare up at the sky we had pretty much spent 2 hours rehashing everything that had happened that week and decided that neither of us wanted to talk about our workplace anymore.

Silence.  And then…

Me: Do you think they make a TomTom voice with Jemaine?

Aiden: If they don’t, they should.

Me: But not just Jemaine, specifically Jemaine from the Albi show.

Aiden: Turn left at the very scary, very dark cave.

Me: Turn right… laughed the boy.

Aiden: You have arrived at your destination, which we all know, turns to jellybeans!

Me: Your destination, well, it wasn’t racist… anymore.

Aiden: I don’t think we’re making any sense at all.

Me: Noooo Albi, we’re just very badly burned.  And we’re different.

And this is why things will just never get boring with the two of us.

I’ll be honest that my main concern about living with Aiden were the chores.  I have been on my own for long enough that I have basically adopted a routine that involves going through all the “chores” in one week.  I knew that we would need to talk about dividing up the chores and doing equal amounts of work – but the problem was that there were too many things that I wanted done my own neurotic way and was therefore unwilling to give up.

But I was beyond shocked when I noticed that Aiden made a huge effort from day one to do things (and this is his incredibly polite terminology here): the way I’m used to doing things.  He cleans up the kitchen after we’re done eating because he knows I can’t go to bed with a messy kitchen.  He doesn’t put knives in the dishwasher AND he doesn’t put them in the sink.  When he does the laundry he uses cold water.  He helps me make the bed AND helps me make sure the sheet hangs over the sides evenly.  I try to let him help and he never fails to surprise me because I never thought that anyone would care to do things the crazy way I want them done.

Like the crazy way I fold.

Look… what is the point of folding things if you can’t stack them neatly in a drawer.  And the key to being able to do that is making them a uniform size and shape, right?  And well, unless you want to sit there all day you need to use something to help you get everything just right.  I mean… I’m not the only one who folds their clothes using a clipboard… am I?

The other day I got home from work and I had put off the folding two nights in a row because we had been preoccupied with other things.  When I got to the living room Aiden was walking out holding neat piles of shirts looking incredibly proud of himself.  I am ashamed to say that I was a little shocked and asked, “How did you do that?”

He smiled and responded, “From watching you.”

I mean… that’s love isn’t it?  Watching my crazy and copying it rather than making fun of it?  I will never understand what wonderful wonderful things I did to deserve him.

A few months before I was born, my parents went to Hawaii and while there decided to visit Ku kaniloko, or the Royal Birthing Stones.  So for kicks, my mom touched them, and then decided that this meant that once born I would be Hawaiian Royalty.  You see, I tell people that my mother is crazy and no one believes me.

So every time someone asked Aiden and me where we were going for our honeymoon and we told them Hawaii that person would ALWAYS ask, “Have you ever been there?”  Aiden would respond that he had and that I hadn’t.  Doing this in front of my mom would cause her to pipe in, “Yes, Charlotte HAS been to Hawaii but it was a very long time ago.”

The person, being polite, would then ask me how old I was when I was there and my mom, not to be swayed by any normal conversation etiquette decided to announce to the room at large that, “Oh, Charlotte wasn’t born yet.”  And add a cheeky knowing smile.  I wouldn’t know how to respond to that and I used to live with her.

But you know… the view from our table each day was just enough to wipe away any fear that I will one day haunt my children with my crazy… just enough.

things have been pretty nuts and everything has pretty much been non-stop around here and i would give just about anything to be able to hit a fast forward button past the moving and all the parties and just get to the part where i’m at the top of aisle and then press play.  one nice thing has been that aiden finished school last week and has assigned himself the job of being my very own farm boy.  thank you cards need to be mailed?  as you wish.  furniture needs to be sold?  as you wish.  shoes need to be picked up?  as you wish.

it is kind of like having my very own personal assistant except that i don’t have to pay him and it isn’t against company policy to sleep with him.

and i know, i know, it is going to just keep getting more insane.  so before i go all out to the deep end i just wanted to take a moment and really be thankful for the man i’m getting into this with.  i have a guy who loves me for who i am despite the fact that i’m a stubborn princess that insists on trying to save myself before i will ask for help.  he is patient with me.  and even if he doesn’t always get me he sticks by me.

so thank you for picking me.

this is true love, after all, do you think it happens every day?

there is a lot of shit stuff to decide when you are planning a wedding.  some of the things are fun like picking a wedding dress, flowers, and creating a wedding registry.  and then other things aren’t as fun, even if you think that they would be, like planning a menu for 150 people, picking out invitations, and finding shoes.

honestly, i am so fucking tired of shoes right now.  first the bridesmaids needed a color of shoes to wear.  i decided to go with gold because the other option was ivory and really, who wears ivory shoes outside of 80s parties?  or i don’t know, maybe people do.  i don’t really speak fashion fluently i just participate.  and then beth informed me that there aren’t any good gold shoes out there for her.  and honestly, look, i don’t fucking care if they wear shoes.  so i told her to expand to silver if she needed it because i firmly believe a happy bridesmaid makes a happy bride.  and then i needed shoes because i guess i can’t get my dress fitted until i have shoes.

i had this really great idea to wear dark blue peep-toe sling-backs because i saw a pair of ridiculously cute jimmy choos and i thought they would look really neat with my dress.  and then i found out that they were 576 dollars.  and then beth pointed out that they were actually 576 british dollars and actually closer to $800 american dollars.  i know this marriage is a one time thing but no fucking way i am paying for shoes that cost more than my dress.  and so the great hunt began for shoes that looked like the jimmy choos but didn’t cost like the jimmy choos.  and that got old fast because shopping is not a hobby of mine.

and so i twittered about it and my lovely, talented, and very fashion forward maid of honor, kit, came to my rescue with a website that led me to these shoes which i could have dyed dark blue or buy in ivory – which kit informs me is perfectly acceptable and actually quite common.  and then my very favorite new york reader, and quite possibly only new york reader, PANTS sent me these incredibly awesome shoes without even knowing that i was looking for.  and so i’m trying to decide between dye-able or ivory shoes from kit’s site and then another function where i can wear the kick-ass shoes from PANTS’s site.

and this just in, aiden would like me to tell everyone “Hello”, i think he is afraid that this is all just incredibly boring to everyone.

anyway.  i have no idea what to do but i have to make a decision by saturday and order the damn things already along with the flower girl dresses.  so much to do and every day i have less time.  and i always wondered why people elope…

I hate talking about the wedding and there is an actual reason why. Here is how the conversation usually goes.

Random Friend: Have you picked out your dress?/How is the wedding planning going?/Random wedding question?
Me: Yes.
Random Person Who Overheard: OMG When is your wedding?
Me: June
Random Person Who Overheard: OMG, I will so be there!
Me:… Um, I didn’t invite you.

The other day a person asked me if she was invited to the wedding.  What made this situation incredibly awkward is that she is the ex-girlfriend of a friend I can’t even invite to the wedding.  While I was trying to come up with a polite response she proceeded to tell me that she didn’t need to be invited to the wedding, just the “party” so she could drink and meet cute guys.  Um… what?!  I have actually had a girl I barely knew ask – in all seriousness – if she could be a bridesmaid, and when I politely turned her down, she asked if she could be the ceremony officiant. When I said no she quickly informed me that one can easily become an officiant online in case my hesitation was that she wasn’t legally able to perform ceremonies… I still said no. Um… seriously?  And could I say “um” a little more?  What is that about?

Having a Catholic Italian and Irish heritage I am related to a million people and then having two hippie uncles adds even more cousins into the mix – i’ll show you my family tree and you can try to figure it out.  My dad has 6 siblings and 6 cousins – don’t get me started on their  marriages!, I have 34 first cousins and 9 first cousins once removed.  I have second cousins that I see on a regular basis that I can’t invite to my wedding – actual people related to me that I had to create a cut-off for so that I could invite some of the people that I see on a daily basis.  And there are about 20 friends that I WISH I could invite to my wedding because I would love to have them. I can’t invite everyone I want to invite. It is impossible and I really really hate it, but that is the way it works and i’m pretty sure that life will go on.

But what makes this process so much more difficult are the people who think that they are entitled to an invite because they have met me/talked to me/heard about me/ breathed on me once. They ask, just like that, without any embarrassment or hesitation if they can come to the wedding as if it is some type of carnival.  when it comes down to it, it is a ridiculously expensive dinner and i have the unfortunate task of creating a balance between the people i want there and the people who “have” to be there.

Why are people so damn rude? If I want you to be a bridesmaid, I’ll ask. If I want you to be the officiant at my wedding, I’ll ask. If I want you to be at my wedding, you will get an invite… and unfortunately, if I want you to be at my wedding you might not get an invitation. Please don’t make it harder on me by making me explain why you aren’t invited or expecting an invitation to my “party” for you and all of your friends.

I mean, am I the only one who doesn’t ask for an invite to someone’s wedding?

i asked kit to be my maid of honor for the wedding.  which makes no sense since she is married, but kit doesn’t like the word “matron” and i have no problem using my bridezilla powers for good so… voila, my married best friend is my maid of honor.  since i’ve picked out and ordered the wedding dress, finally gotten the colors chosen, and found the designer line for the bridesmaid dresses kit has moved on to helping me with the suits for the groom and groomsmen.

me: aiden just has the weirdest taste in suits, I’m just praying he’s kidding but I’m afraid to ask.
kit: ok, but the last time aiden had a suit was for prom how many years ago?
me: do public school students wear suits to prom?
kit: yes. what the hell do private students wear?
me: money. we just tape money all over ourselves. and talk about all the money we have.
kit: obviously.
me: yeah, i don’t really want vests or cummerbunds, i just want it relatively simple.
kit: ties. ties are the way to go ESPECIALLY the slim ties that are popular now. those are sexy! but i’ll go with more classic for aiden.
me: yeah… also I think a slim tie would make his giant head look even bigger.
kit: …
me: like a balloon with a string attached.
kit: … you guys are a love story for the ages.

Yes, he did it.

Seriously, I love her but this pug is after my fiance.  Bitch, please.

Should I be worried that he now has her on speed dial?