reclaiming wife

Weddings

Meg Keene: You're Welcome, Internet. from Rory Gordon on Vimeo.

Party In A Book Store from Rory Gordon on Vimeo.

Dear Team Practical,

I've been writing you letters for years, but this time I just want to say thank you. Thank you for supporting the APW Book and helping it to do so tremendously well that, in month two of the book being out, we're in the third printing (howcrazyisthat). Thank you for coming out on the book tour. Thank you for being smart, articulate, and hilarious, and making a month on the road a total joy.

And what better way to end this whole tour than with some video? The first video is an interview with me, mixed with some fun stuff. The second interview is bits of me speaking. Both of them are me with my most casual, least professional, least NPR voice. Fun, no? Hopefully it will make all of you feel a bit like you came on the tour, or like we had a drink together. It was all shot by Rory Gordon Photo in LA, who's a total wonder-ball, and shoots photo and video for weddings and small businesses. If you've been pondering a bit of video, you should totally call her right this second. She's so easy to work with that the whole thing seems effortless.

And finally, finally. The book tour is over, sort of, for now. Next week, once I've gotten enough sleep that I'm coherent enough to write, I have a bunch of entrepreneurship posts (and some marriage posts) up my sleeve about the broad scope of things I've learned in the past month. Plus, we have a ton of APW projects that we'll finally start getting to show you next week, and then even more projects a few weeks after. So! There is so much more happening. But for now, we'll bring the book tour to a close with this. Perfect.

And, for the record? I've decided I want to do more public speaking. So if you want me to speak at an event in the Bay Area (or can get me to LA), let's chat. I'm quite the talker, and I make good jokes, too.

Thank you thank you thank you,

Meg

I got this excellent email from the now happily married Jessica two weeks ago. I couldn't let such a good thank you note to all of you, about what we crack on about every day, lie unpublished. So, All The Things, consider yourself on notice:

My wedding is a week from today. I was running around today feeling consumed by WIC-promoted Consumerism... thinking, Oh My God, I need to buy a new dress for my rehearsal dinner and new shoes and we should buy everyone in the wedding party more stuff to thank them and what about a cute hanger, don't I need a cute hanger for my dress?! And, and, and....

Anyway, all of a sudden I had a moment of clarity. I turned to my fiancé, who was looking (rightfully) frightened, god bless him, and said, "We don't need All The Things." We already have All The Things that matter.

We hugged and went home. We're about to enjoy a nice bottle of wine.

All in all, my fiancé, our bank account, and I thank you, Team Practical.

P.S. When I emailed Jessica to ask if her wedding survived no cute hanger, she said, "It sure did.  As did the filthy dress (thanks to amazing second line through NOLA's French quarter). It's funny how the joy is the only detail that matters..." Wedding Graduate post coming soon.

Photo from the APW Flickr stream by Emily Takes Photos

I was a bridesmaid this weekend. I always joke that our friends are not the (traditional, bridesmaid having) marrying type, and by and large they are not. That comes from a deeply bizarre mix of growing up around poverty and having slightly bohemian friends. But I've been a bridesmaid twice, both times for my friend Lacey. The first time was ten years ago when we were 20, and the second was this weekend when we were 31. The fact that the wedding party was a group of girls that have known each other for twenty years tells you much of what you need to know about our hometown and the kind of intense loyalty growing up in a very difficult place engenders. For me, the wedding was about the story of the last ten years, the growing up we've all done, loss, and the profound hope of love.

I get a lot of emails about second weddings. I hear a lot about ladies who are terrified how their community might judge them—ladies who are worried whether they deserve a party the second time around. Here is what I learned this weekend: chances are, this fear could not be farther from reality.

As bridesmaids, this was not our first time at the rodeo. We knew a thing or two about getting the bride dressed, making sure the groomsman behaved (at least till after the ceremony—shots!), and setting up centerpieces. Ten years ago, we'd done what on paper looked like the same tasks, and we'd worked hard trying to get it right. But none of that compared to the ferocity of love present at a second wedding with a crowd of women who have walked through the fire together and who know what love and loss look like. Ten years ago, I worked hard to make Lacey happy on her wedding day. This weekend, I would have walked on water to make her happy, and all the other girls felt the same way. When someone you love has walked a hard path with grace and found someone who really makes them happy and adores them just the way they are? That is the kind of love you fight for, curl hair for, set up centerpieces for, wrangle tuxes for, line up groomsmen for, wipe tears for, and throw confetti for.

Going into the weekend, I had a sense of just how hard everyone was loving Lacey and Ric. But I thought, on some level, that we'd pretend the last ten years didn't exist. That to make room for love, we'd let everything else go. What I hadn't realized was the way that weddings allow you to hold many conflicting things in your heart at once. They allow your heart to enlarge; they let you access the rooms whose doors you'd locked.

On Saturday, all of the last ten years were in the room at once. I watched Lacey read her vows (off her phone!) thought about how wonderful it was that she finally had found someone who deserved her. I watched her dance with her eleven-year-old son, and teared up thinking about how I used to spoon baby food into his mouth while gossiping with Lacey about my over-wrought collegiate dating life. I watched Lacey's tiny niece, a flower girl, spin around the dance floor, thought of her as a baby, and hoped for the future.

And then there was the loss. Continue reading Second Time Bridesmaid: The Fiercest Kind of Love

My boyfriend and I have known each other for over 15 years, been close friends for over 9 and have been dating exclusively for almost 4 years. We are both 28-years-old. We talk about marriage. We talk about the things we'd like to include in our hypothetical wedding. And yet, we're not "officially" engaged. He has told me that he feels like he needs to have a better job before we get married, and he has said that it is very important to him to be the one who proposes. He says he has a plan, but won't elaborate past that. He tends to get a long-suffering look on his face when I mention it.

I have told him that I feel a lot of sadness over not being engaged yet and that the longer I wait, the harder it is for me to hang out in my own personal limbo without losing my sh*t. I have told him that I don't think we should wait, since I want to help support him as he pursues his dreams, not wait in the wings for them to come true. I think he feels that he should have all his ducks in a row before we get hitched. I disagree. I think getting married means that I can come with him while he goes after his education and dream career. I think we can line our ducks up together, and it'll be way easier with two people. 'Cause, you know, ducks are wily.

So I'm really torn. I don't want to pressure him, but I feel like a bit of an idiot just waiting around at this point. What am I supposed to do now? I feel so frustrated and lost, and as someone who has struggled with anxiety and depression my whole life, this feels like the ultimate gauntlet. I try to focus on the fact that our relationship is otherwise fantastic, but it's getting more and more difficult to do that. I just don't understand why someone who clearly loves and admires me, who tells me daily that I am amazing, who treats me as his partner and equal and with whom I have amazing chemistry would still be waiting to propose. Most of the time I am absolutely sure that he is the man I will marry. Other times, I wonder if I'll still be waiting next year and the year after that and on and on until it destroys us. I also feel a little left behind by our friends, who are mostly married with kids now or are planning weddings. Will I be 30, still just plodding along with my boyfriend while everyone I know is raising babies? I don't think I can live with that.

—L.

Dear L,

Well, my dear, ducks are wily. I don't think I've ever heard it put better than that. So, knowing that you're wise, let's dive into this issue. It seems to me there are several things going on here, so let's parse this out.

Ducks Are, In Fact, Wily

Lesson number one: your partner doesn't feel ready to get hitched. He thinks he needs to get his ducks in a row; you think you can get your ducks in a row when you\'re married. And both of you are right. Last year, someone wrote to me saying that she was ready to get married, but she didn't have the money. And I told her F*ck The Economy (Get Married Now). Because, when you're ready to get married, you shouldn't let things like not having a swimming pool full of money hold you back.

But here, I think the issues are a little different. It sounds like your partner genuinely does not feel ready to get married. And that's fair. I'd also argue that there does not have to be a rush. David and I have a timeline spookily like yours. We'd known each other for nine years before we got together, and were in a serious relationship for five years before we got hitched. And for a long time we just didn't feel ready to get married. We knew we wanted to get married to each other at some point, but we wanted to feel like we had our lives sorted out a bit more first. We wanted to feel like we were heading towards careers; we wanted financial stability. While we didn't want all our ducks in a line, we wanted them to at least be toddling towards the place where they might consider lining up, and they were not ready to do that yet, adorable wee duckies that they were.

So it's fair that your partner isn't quite ready to get hitched. And while I'd like to tell you F*ck The Ducks (Get Married Now), sometimes you have to wait on your partner a bit. But what's not fair is his lack of communication around the issue. "I have a plan," sounds great, right till the point that your partner walks out on you because she's sick of waiting (ducks are wily indeed). So that brings me to... Continue reading Ask Meg: Surviving The Pre-Engaged State

On Wedding Friendors

This morning, Carrie talked about Friendors, and discovering that her friends were, in fact, capable of awesomeness, even if they were not indie graphic designer composer wedding dress designers. So I had to share this bit of amazingness from reader Jamie, that I found when going through wedding budgets you guys sent in:

I went to a bridal fair and shmarmy wedding planner guy asked "Can you REALLY trust your friends?"

And I said, "Uh, yes, that's why they're my friends."

Fin.

Have I mentioned to you guys that I share an office with Kathryn of Snippet & Ink? Well, I do. And yesterday I walked into the office and she said, "Meg, the wedding I'm posting tomorrow has you written all over it." And she could not have been more right. When I flipped out over this picture she pointed out that it was basically the same picture taken of me at our wedding. Maybe the bride and I are soul sisters, a little.

The wedding between two London theatre people.... and get this, it took place in an abandoned mansion on North Wales with no electricity, that hadn't been lived in for 60 years. Because that's the kind of parties this couple throws. And Kathryn said, wisely (I'm paraphrasing), "The trouble is, we see a wedding like this and we think that we need to throw a wedding in an abandoned mansion. And we don't. That's not us. But it is them. So we just need to appreciate what it is." Which is so exactly it.

That, and the 30-foot wedding cake was a fireworks bonfire. I'm just saying.

So anyway, go see it all, right this second. You're welcome.

Photographs: Nick Tucker, layouts by Snippet & Ink