the best part about Oregon

Every time the Mr. & I go to Oregon, we get to visit The Kitty People. No, that's not their actual name, but a) I'm doing my best to protect anonymity here on the interwebs, and b) that's what I call them. Not because they have an uncannny sense of balance & can see in the dark -- at least, not to the best of my knowledge. Those topics have actually never come up in conversation. I call them that because they have 7 cats. And 2 dogs.

The night before our most recent trip to Oregon, my back did something peculiar. I coughed while wearing too-high heels and it spasmed. (Are those details germane to the injury? I don't know. But that's what stood out in my mind as it occurred.) So I was very concerned. Partially with being in massive amounts of pain for the duration of the getting-there, partially with being a giant-ass drag on the planned 4th of July festivities. But mostly because, as I said to Mr. UB, "I can't bend down ... you're going to have to hand me kitties!"

When we got to His Parents' house, I retreated to bed old-lady style: with heating pad and Tiger Balm. Fortunately* this proved to be just what I needed, as my back snapped back into its intended alignment with a quiet pop that left me gasping for air & crying. But hey -- at least I was, once again, ambulatory.

So while everyone else was enjoying barbecued salmon & local microbrews, I was on a mission: Drag Mr. UB away from his dinner every time I located another family member with four feet & fur.
This is Dit -- who always lets me slurp him up first.

Houston -- guess where they found him?

Mo -- you can't tell in this photo, but he's actually part whale. Mo = a lot of cat.

Mo's best friend, Prissy -- the only cat in the world larger than Mo.

Princess knows she's beautiful.

Molly likes to hide under the dining room table. But I find her.

Seemore had to be retrieved from his hiding place in the garage ... amateur.

No, I don't think this is a cat. This is Simon, the dog who may as well be a cat -- he's kind of high strung. As in he hates it when people leave. He used to snarl & bark while blocking the door as soon as the good-bye hugs began. This time he bolted outside when the front door opened, then shook so hard I thought he was going to shatter while his mom held him. I think he's awesome.

I need to get the photo of Barry, aka Doggie #2, from Mr. UB. He's a great big slobbery St. Bernard. (Barry. Not Mr. UB.) I only patted him on the head, and somehow still came away covered in slime. Unfortunately, the bachelor party started 45 minutes ago, so I won't have access to it, or the Mr., until sometime after 5 p.m. tomorrow.**

*Kinda. And lest you think I'm some sort of huge weenie (especially if you knew me when I was a whiny kid) I'm pretty stoic. But that shit hurt.
** Of course the fact that his bachelor party is today has nothing to do with why I'm posting pictures of cats on the internet. I'm above needing such distraction. How dare you!

when procrastination equals planning

I bought the latest issue of Martha Stewart Weddings three days ago, and I haven't read it yet. Not because I'm testing myself, in some sort of weird willpower-that-no one-will-ever-see exercise, but just because I haven't bothered yet. I view this as tremendous progress in re-claiming my sanity.

In other, "real" progress this week, Mr. UB's father, aka His Dad, has come through with a major favor: the Mark Hopkins Hotel, where he always stays when he's in the city for business, is giving our wedding party & guests rooms at $75/night.

credit

It's an incredibly nice hotel, with a bar on the top floor (in a building at the top of a hill) that has views to die for. And in a city that's not exactly famous for its hotel bargains ... as much as I try to keep her in check, my inner snob is very happy. On our budget, I was afraid we'd be at a Motel 6.

I'm amazed at how many things are coming together for this wedding. Maybe I should take another week off from planning, and see if a free-roaming caterer rings my doorbell.

whirlwind venue search breakdown

We saw a ton of places in S.F. on Tuesday, in our attempt to see if there's another venue we love that fits our budget. First stop: Golden Gate Park, which Mr. UB's sister & her husband were kind enough to live near. (Thanks, guys!) Candidate #1: The Shakespeare Garden:
Okay, that's pretty darn sweet. It even has an aisle. The sundial's a little inconveniently placed, but hopeful my Dad would be able to prevent my walking directly into it. (I'm a rare level of clumsy.) Here's the reverse view of the arbor:

(He's so cute.)

The rest of the space looks like this:
It's not very big, but neither is our wedding. And I have a deep affinity for all things Bard. Still, in the late summer/fall, those trees will no longer be blossoming. (I asked. They said no. The nerve.) So it's a "Strong Maybe," but there's lots left to see.

Candidate 2: The Chinese Pavillion:
It's in the middle of a big lake in the park, and it looks really pretty, nestled among all that greenery. Close-up, it's very colorful:

It even has a cute little bridge that we could make into a pseudo-aisle:
But there's a stone (read: immovable) table surrounded by stone stools dead-center in the middle of it. And it has a rail inside that would make seats very hard to arrange, even in the round. Plus, I think Mr. UB put it best: "It makes a very strong cultural statement, which is neither of our cultures." Fair enough. No-go.

There was actually another place next to the Pavillion that we both really liked, but it's way too much work:
Us & our officiant up there on the bridge?

Our guests on chairs down there? Vice-versa? I know, I know ... totally impractical. But maybe some other non-satin shoe wearing bride can make it work. Moving on.

Candidate #4: The Fuschia Garden:
I hope it's more spectacular when things are blooming, because at the moment it looks like a nice little corner, but that's it. We both want something a little more ... special for our wedding. I'm sure that lady on the bench was wondering why the hell I took her picture, though.

Not-really-a-Candidate: The Conservatory of Flowers:
It's not on our list because it's too expensive. But we walked right past it & I liked the building so I took a picture. Another reason why it's out of the question: it's basically a giant hothouse. My hair would frizz.

Lest we lose our minds, a brief time-out: Random stuff in the park that made me happy:
I don't know what kind of flowers these are, but the sun was illuminating them beautifully. I felt like I was pretending to be Peonies. And speaking of Scottish people:

A free-roaming bagpiper, fully kilted-out. I love the sound of the bagpipes, but when they're played badly it sounds like cats being walked on. This guy rocked.

A cellist on the run.

The architecture junkie in me loves the deYoung Museum. You can go to the viewing platform on the top floor for free. (Hooray, free!)

You can see the whole city from up there. This is the street His Sister lives on.

The Golden Gate, peeking over a hill.

Okay -- enough screwing around. We're on a freakin' mission here, people. Back to work!

Candidate #5: The Music Concourse:
His Mom suggested it, and it is pretty. But it's exposed to one of the busiest areas of the park (between 2 museums). Oh, and it's being earthquake retrofitted, too, just like our original venue. We're not doing that again.

Leaving GGP ... Candidate #6: Levi Strauss Park:
Another place suggested by His Mom. (And by the way, our people have been amazing at rallying to help us solve this.) It's a tiny little park down by the Embarcadero. And again, it's very pretty, but the only area where you could possibly have a ceremony is tiny:

(Stoopid people walking into my frame.)

It's also privately owned, which might complicate renting it. Oh, and the only parking around it is meters, which cost 10¢ for every 2.5 minutes!!! What. The. Fuck? Never mind.

And finally ... because I made him go take a look ... Candidate The Winner: The Palace of Fine Arts:
I mean seriously, people. Look at that. And it costs the same as the other places we looked at -- $650 for three hours. It's available from May 15 until August 15. August 15th could happen.

I've obviously been thinking a lot about this whole location drama, and wondering if the urge to dig in my heels is perhaps the slightest bit 'Zilla-ish. Lucky for me, my friend Tolley called:

Her: I don't know if anyone's had this conversation with you, so if I'm over-stepping my bounds, let me know.

Me: Okay?

Her: I read about your date/location dilemma in your blog, and you're being very practical.

Me: I'm trying!

Her: I just wanted to point out that it seems like having your wedding at the Palace of Fine Arts has become your dream. Maybe it didn't exist before you acquired the ring, but it exists now.

Me: Kind of, yeah. I'd agree with that.

Her: Then will you please stop being so damn practical, and be a fucking bride for a moment? If you want that to happen and the date has to change, the people who love you will be there.

Me: Thank god you called ...

I have good friends.

This post has gotten very long, but I'm going to write more soon about this part. The "It's not the absolute cheapest way to make it happen, but it fits our budget and we love it" part. Consider yourselves warned.

gathering my thoughts

We're back, Mr. UB & I, from our lightning-fast jaunt to San Francisco, during which:
... a) we hung with his sister & her hubby (by virtue of the fact that they put us up.) They celebrate their 1st anniversary this Saturday, and how cute are they?!?:

... b) Mr. UB met my dad & my non-Cali-dwelling sister for the 1st time. (Because why not throw that in?) It went very well. My dad's a pretty laid-back kinda guy. Especially once you've asked him, as a total stranger, for his daughter's hand in marriage. Yes, I've mentioned that before. It still impresses the shit out of me.

...c) we visited 2 restaurants recommended by my Beer Babe as possible locales for a post-ceremony dinner. Verdict: we want a deal with Restaurant A to be managed by the Guy from Restaurant B. Can you set that up, Duchess? Lovely!

...d) we walked our tootsies off, searching for another ceremony location. Outcome:
** Golden Gate Park is pretty
** San Francisco is infinitely superior to Los Angeles
** I have terrible judgement regarding suitable walking shoes
** we need to see if that place in Malibu makes moving the whole thing to L.A. worthwhile
** I still like the POFA, and I'll blog soon about the advice that backs me up
** said blog shall include pictures, many of which are random.

I'm sure I meant to write about something else, but after driving back from SF & going straight to work, I've acheived the sort of tired that officially qualifies as a mental defect. I'll figure it out tomorrow.

Oregon, part 5

Once the snow stopped falling, and it "warmed up" to the high 30's, we were able to take the snow chains off the truck. Being able to drive faster than 35 mph meant that we could finally (!) do some of the fun stuff we'd been planning before we got snowed in.

First stop: the Aviation & Space Museum. I am a total geek for all things flight & space related. Last year we got to check out the Spruce Goose & all sorts of cool history-of-flight stuff on the avaition side. This year, we explored the new wing, which was all about the space program. A capsule from the original Mercury program. So cool! A Titan rocket -- all 100+ feet of it.

The museum is owned by a local avaiation company that's run by someone generally accepted to be a total asshole. But it has enough money to acquire some very impressive things. (Rumor has it they're going to buy one of the space shuttles NASA has on eBay.) Being there was giving me the urge to rent "The Right Stuff" again.

As more snow melted, we ventured further afield: Portland! Pretty Christmas lights in the city center. I have to mention how awesome Oregon is, with its absence of a sales tax. Sure, it might've been nice for them to have, say, a second snow plow ... but it's awfully cool to see a $40 price tag & just hand over two $20 dollar bills and be done with it.

We also went to a really yummy Irish pub for dinner, where they had flights of whiskey to sample. Why doesn't L.A., with all its freakin' restaurants, have anything that unique & interesting? (Oh, right -- because L.A. doesn't know what either of those words mean. But I digress.)

The day after Portland, we got to do something I'd been excited about as soon as I knew we were going to Oregon: we went to see the Kitty People. (That's not what they're technically called, but that's what I call them.) They're family friends who have lots of animals -- something that always makes me happy -- and by lots of animals I mean 7 cats and a dog. My glee must've been visible as we pulled up to the curb, because His Dad turned to me and said, "When it's time to leave, I'll just look for you under one of the cats." I pretty much spent the whole afternoon carting around the felines, one at a time, and playing with Simon the Dog. Pure bliss.

On the drive to the Kitty People's house, I spotted a sign for a town called "Rickreall" ... this is Mr. UB actively ignoring me while I rick rolled the car:On our last day there, it was still too icy to get the car anywhere near the house, but we could at least make use of The Gator to get down to where the car was. You know you're not in L.A. anymore when you find yourself cheerfully posing for pictures with a piece of farm equipment. As much as I'd enjoyed getting a chance to stretch my legs on hikes to the car, I was very relieved to know that I wouldn't be dragging my suitcase back down the hill when it was time to leave. Also, I learned that farm equipment has more entertaining warning labels than one usually sees in the city:Good times.

On the day we left, the weather was being uncooperative once again, but fortunately not to the south. (People attempting to fly east were pretty frustrated.) We took off just under an hour late, as the snow continued to fall. Our flight stopped in Oakland, where I finally felt myself starting to thaw:When we landed in Burbank it was 82' with bright blue skies and no wind, and the PA system at the baggage claim was playing "Relax" by Frankie Goes to Hollywood.

It's good to be home.

Oregon, part 4

Christmas morning:
Just after we opened presents, His Parents made a yummy pancake breakfast. This was the meal that made us all realize, "Gee, we really need to get more food!" and hence make the grocery run described in my previous OR post. But first, the Christmas morning goodness:

First, the tree:The upshot of not being entirely sure what all the settings on your camera do = unintentionally cool "mood" shots. Mr. UB got me the most rockin' gift ever (after the ring, of course): Cheese of the Month Club! I am only recently rehabilitated to the marvels of cheese. Suffice to say that, since I've jettisoned the eating disorder, I've discovered that Tolley was right: Life just isn't worth living without cheese. And we've now got 6 built-in Date Nights for the rest of the year.

Here's Mr. UB modelling my present - front-side:and back-side:As long as I can't coax him out of t-shirts, I can at least give him reasons to stop wearing that silly video game swag. Right? And lest you should be unclear about the meaning of said t-shirt, please check out my company's site here. I teach classes in L.A. If you're local, leave a comment & I'll hook you up with a free class. Hooray, Free!!

Oregon, part 3

On the third day, we made it to the grocery store. Which was a good thing, because His Mom was worried about us running out of food. This was a parental version of running out of food, in which a couple who clearly enjoys cooking was having trouble organizing nice meals, as opposed to my version of running out of food, which means I've finished all the saltine crackers & I'm noshing on that jar of pickles from the back of the fridge. But still: for the sake of both our tummies and our psyches, a trip to the local grocery was a very welcome diversion. And thank goodness we found one that was open on Christmas Day -- no big deal in L.A., but something that had us worried up in Snow Prison, OR.

Except for that one nagging detail: the impassable driveway. The hike to the car was the usual pleasant, if chilly, stroll downhill past the llamas (hi, llamas!!). But the return trip was uphill. For 3/4 of a mile (have I mentioned that bit yet?) Loaded down with groceries. Through lots of snow.

I offered to take the bag with my supply of diet cola in it -- I'd been without for two whole days, but I didn't expect anyone else to lug it for me -- but Mr. UB gallantly refused. (Thanks, babe!) As for His Mom's rather absent-minded stock piling of canned goods ... well, let's just say that "next time" I'll speak up about that in the store. Because us young folks were naturally going to take the heaviest bags ... but we didn't want to make more than one trip.
The beginning. Llamas just out of frame to the left.
Coming around the first curve. That's the truck of the guy who lives even further up the hill.

Still going. At least this is the flat part.

Into the woods.

I think I see the house ..? Wave to the Klansmen trees, keep head down, keep putting one foot in front of the other. Make mental note that you'd like your next visit to be in the summertime.

Dammit the last part is steep. Why do people live where the snow is?

I'll be here if you need me.