Tea and Cakes

Well then. Seeing as I don’t seem to be getting around to writing about the rest of the honeymoon (it was fab, Florence is fantastic, Lucca was lovely, we had a super time), I think I should at least talk about the wedding day.

All the pictures in this post are from our wonderful photographers, MaC Photographic. Mike and Ceire were really brilliant. I don’t usually enjoy having my photograph taken, and I don’t know if my picture has ever actually appeared on the blog, aside from knitting shots with the head cut off, so this will be a first, and these are the first photos I’ve had that I really enjoy looking at. If you need photos for anything I can’t recommend Mike and Ceire highly enough.

We had a grey, and mainly rainy day for the wedding. It didn’t matter though – it’d take more than a bit of weather to spoil such a happy day. We started off early enough, with a trip to the registry office with immediate family to get the legal bit out of the way, then popped round the corner for coffee and pastries -yum. Then we divided up into teams and headed off to our respective duties – mine was to get my hair done and get to the hotel to get ready properly and have my make up done. Sarah-Jane is a wonder with make up. I don’t wear any usually, and whenever I’ve had it done before I’ve looked pretty terrifying. Sarah-Jane did it perfectly for me, and made the whole thing totally stress free. She is a make up genius as far as I’m concerned.

E kept me sane through the whole day, and my beautiful flower girls were adorable and perfectly behaved.

Our wedding and reception were at a small country house just outside of Dublin, and we had our own humanist ceremony out there, which was really personal, and just right for us. I was nervous walking down the aisle, I don’t know why, and I was glad that we decided to walk down together, as it meant I had D’s hand to hold.

One of my brothers sang a song that he’d written for us, which almost made me cry: A Song for Issy (The video isn’t from the wedding, but it’s a beautiful song)

Our mothers both read for us, and our friends and family spoke about us as a couple.
We said our vows, exchanged rings, and became husband and wife.

We dragged everyone outside in the rain for a big group photo, took most of the rest inside, but the rain stopped again just long enough for us to get some lovely shots in the garden.

We had a delicious vegetarian dinner, and many, many speeches (well, ok, seven, but I think that’s quite a lot for a wedding), which made us smile and laugh, and we were surrounded by our closest friends and family, and I felt very loved.

Then there was cake, and dancing, and talking, and more dancing, and more friends and family, and it was over before I knew it.

I’ve been unsure about blogging this, but it’s most definitely behind me now, so I’m going to go ahead.

I was quite relaxed in the lead up to the wedding, I thought. I finished work on Monday, went to pilates class in the evening, and then Mum and my step-Dad arrived. All was good.

Tuesday I went out to the wedding hotel with the parents, then had a coffee and scone with them at M&S, and saw them off safely to visit their friends.

I headed into the city centre to buy a few bits and pieces, pootle a bit, and collect some of the wedding suits. I was in and out of Arnotts and Debenhams a couple of times. (This may be important)

When I got back to the car my face felt a bit hot, and I noticed I was getting a couple of spots on my cheek. it had been a warm afternoon, so I thought nothing of it.

I got home, had a cuppa, and waited for L and S to come over so that S could do a trial for my wedding make up. (Incidentally, S is awesome at make up. I don’t usually wear make up and was nervous but she is wonderful).

My cheeks and neck were quite warm, and my skin felt really rough all of a sudden. I freaked out a little bit but the lovely people on Ravelry calmed me down and pointed out that it was probably just a stress thing. That seemed most plausible.

All was good. Late in the evening it got bad again. Itchy, rough, and hot. Off to the late night chemists I went, where I confirmed that I hadn’t eaten anything unusual and had no known allergies.I didn’t mention the make up trial. I knew it wasn’t a reaction to that: it had started before, and was on my checks and neck rather than where the make up had been. Stress, was the diagnoses through the window, and some weak anti-histamines were given to me.

~~

Wednesday morning I still felt bad, so I planned on going to a different chemist to get something stronger. Then I got up and looked in the mirror.

My face and neck were swollen. I looked like the young Monica from Friends. It was not pretty. It was not how I wanted to look on my wedding day.

I rang the GP.

My morning plans cancelled, I sat at the doctors trying not to freak out and cry. What if I was contagious? What if we had to cancel everything? What if my face stayed like that? What about all the things I had to do?

I go to a great doctors’ surgery. They are lovely and friendly and sympathetic and they listen.

The best guess was an allergic reaction. As I hadn’t eaten anything unusual, and my lips and throat weren’t swollen, it seems likely that it was something in the air when I was shopping on Tuesday. Hence the relevance of walking in and out of Arnotts and Debenhams a few times: I suspect there’s a purfume out there that doesn’t like me. Even then, that’s a bit odd. I’m not allergic to anything. I have easy, not sensitive skin. It was all very strange. I’m possibly allergic to getting married, but once should be enough for that anyway.

I left the doctors with instructions to get some better anti-histamines, and prescriptions for antibiotics and steroids. There was talk of IV steroids too, but thankfully that wasn’t necessary.

I went off to meet my Dad and step-Mum at the in-law’s house, took my drugs, and everybody watched as my face went down.

That evening I went to hang out with a bunch of my family, and if anyone noticed they were too nice to say. It was a lovely relaxed evening and I’m glad I ventured out, I wasn’t sure about it at first, the way I looked.

Back to the doctors again the next day, with more wedding preparation plans scuppered. More waiting, more prescriptions, but a lovely doctor who didn’t charge me for the second visit, and who assured me that all would be ok in the morning, which it was.

The family and friends that knew what was up were brilliant. I know that there are loads of you reading this now who would have helped too, if I had asked. I didn’t want the wedding to be all about me and sympathy for my swollen itchy face though. I wanted it to be about my love for Donal, and the two of us making a commitment, and having a lovely party with our closest friends and family. Which is what it was.

~~

Unfortunately, as my cheeks and neck cleared, the side effects from the steroids kicked in, and the day after the wedding my forehead broke out into really nasty acne. I weaned myself off the drugs sooner than I was supposed to (but still gradually in case anyone is worrying), and my skin is almost clear again.

So.

Our first full day here in Tuscany we spent relaxing outside until the sun went down over the mountain across from us. It was lovely.

The mosquitos think so too. I have 19 bites. My neck is clear, my cheeks are clear, my forehead is clear, and my legs look like I’ve been attacked by a small octopus.

Still, my heart is happy, my brain is happy, and we’re off to Florence for the day tomorrow, so there will be no more self-pitying posts.

In an attempt to start blogging again, I’m copying Chris, and posting a list of things. This is mainly because I have too much that I want to say, and don’t really know where to start, and I’m finding it a bit overwhelming. I’m finding a lot of things overwhelming, at the moment.

Thing 1: I’m supposed to be studying right now. I’m not though, clearly, but I’m not beating myself up about it. Instead, once this is done, I will make myself a cup of tea and sit down to read some more of my book.

Thing 2: I’m currently reading The Robber Bride by Margaret Atwood, and for the life of me I can’t work out why I haven’t read it before. It’s hard to tear myself away from it to do the other things that have to be done, like housework and washing clothes.

Thing 3: Even though the sun has gone in I have clothes outside on the patio on the airer. Technically this is against the rules, and it’s probably not much use anyway as it’s a bit chilly today, but I do like my clothes to get some fresh air every now and then, and if the sun would come out for just a little bit too it would be super. So much nicer than clothes dried in front of a radiator.

Thing 4: I should really also be sewing the many ends in on my Six Nations cardigan, which I finished yesterday. It started out as my Knitting Olympics project, but I didn’t finish in time, and worked on it in front of most of the rugby matches instead. I should be taking advantage of the long weekend to get it washed and dried while I’m home and can leave things outside to dry. I’m not sure I like it though. Which is often how I feel about the bigger things I have knit. I will get it finished and washed and dried and I will take pictures.

Thing 5: I got engaged. Or rather, we did. That was a little while ago now, but it’s been more than a little while since I blogged. I have a beautiful ring that’s from my paternal grandfather’s family, but right now it’s with the jeweller waiting for the goldsmith to have a look at it and see if it can be re-sized down enough to fit me.

Thing 6: I’ve spent some time finding out about family recently, and have some lovely photographs and interesting histories, and I might put some here, for me to remember.

Thing 7: This is me. I’m quite fond of this photo.

So.

Hi there.

It’s, erm, been a while.

I’ve found that in the last few months I’ve been more of a consumer of the internet, and less of a participant. I think Twitter may have broken me, and any input requiring more than 140 characters is too much.

Sorry about that.

I’m working on it…

A few months ago I started pilates classes. I’m not good at exercising, and signing up for a class means that I go regularly.

The Gurrier has nicknamed pilates German Torture Exercise and I have to say that’s a pretty good description. Sure, it looks like it won’t be that bad, just waving your legs in the air a bit, but it’s not. It’s hard. It involves crunches, and an exercise called ‘the 100′. 100! That’s a lot.

Now, if you go along with the multiple intelligences view of, well, intelligence, spatial-awareness and bodily-kinaesthetic would not be my strong points. Put more simply – I’m crap at gym. It takes me a few goes to ‘get’ a movement. I need it described, slowly, and I need to see it done at the same time, and then to practice it. Also, I still need to hold my hands out in front of me to work out my left and right, so it takes a few seconds longer for me to work out what everyone is doing. If you’re ever in a class with me, don’t look at me to see what you should be doing, because there’s a strong chance I’ll be doing it backwards. Or not at all.

All of this has made pilates a bit of a challenge, but it’s one that I’m enjoying immensely. OK, after a couple of classes it hurt to sneeze, but apparently there are fledgling muscles under my belly! I can’t see them yet, but I can feel them, so I know they’re there. I feel like I’m getting something out of the classes, and I can see signs of improvement, so it’s quite satisfying.

Then, about a month ago I started doing yoga classes too. They’re a couple of nights after pilates, which is great to work out the kinks and stretch me nicely. It’s a very gentle hatha yoga, with lots of guided relaxation thrown into the mix, and is a nice contrast to the pilates. Some of the movements are very similar, but instead of being told to clench my stomach and pelvic floor muscles, I’m told to relax. The two complement each other.

Naturally I have the exact same issues in yoga as I do in pilates, but I’m doing ok. Then last week something very exciting happened.

We learned the half shoulder stand (eventually we’ll be doing headstands, but this is the start).

I can do shoulder stands. It’s the one thing I was able to do as a kid in gym, and I really mean the one thing. Because I could do it I did it a lot. Mum’s a PE teacher, and my cousin used to be into gym (and is a PE teacher too now so probably still is), so when we’d be out in the garden in the summer my cousin would be doing handstands and handsprings and cartwheels all over the place, and I’d be doing my shoulder stand. It’s been a while, as it’s not something I’ve been called upon to do much in my adult life, but muscle memory turns out to be a wonderful thing, and I was able to execute a pretty good attempt at a full shoulder stand on my first try.

At the end of the class my teacher came up and praised me on it, and after the class The Gurrier was congratulating me quite effusively. I tried to explain that really it was no big deal, it’s something I used to do a lot, when I was interrupted: “But Is”, he said. “It’s the first time I’ve seen you try a new movement without falling over.”

This morning I went shopping.

Not for books, or yarn, or chocolate, or stationery, or the things I enjoy shopping for.

For clothes.

I don’t enjoy clothes shopping. As mentioned before, I’m most comfortable in jeans, a black t-shirt and runners. I don’t really like shopping for them, but I can deal with it.

Today I went shopping for other clothes. I think that was my first mistake. My second was to go out without a morning cup of tea.

Anyway. I was fairly successful. I managed to buy a new pair of jeans and some plain black trousers, and this made me cocky and over-confident. So, when I saw a little black top on sale for a fiver, that wouldn’t be something I’d usually wear, I figured it couldn’t hurt just to try it on. It was sort of corset-like – sleeveless, tight fitting and structured. Note the tight fitting bit. It unzipped most of the way down the side, and then slipped on over my head. It was ok. Not hideous. I considered buying it.

Then I tried to take it off.

I couldn’t.

I was stuck in it. Completely stuck. The top would not come off. I tried wedging my arms down into it and wriggling it up over my head. I tried turning it inside out and crossing over my arms over my head while reaching back down to pull it up. In a particularly delusional move I took off my shoes and trousers to try to wriggle it over my hips. I considered claiming to love the very much evening wear top so much that I wanted to wear it immediately, despite it being mid-morning. I almost considered shoplifting. I cursed the fact that I took up yoga two weeks ago rather than two years ago. I thought about tearing the top off (it was only €5), but couldn’t. (I then cursed coming out without my sewing kit).

Eventually and after much wriggling and clothes wrangling I managed to remove the top and put my own t-shirt back on. I’d pulled muscles in both my arms but I was free.

I didn’t buy the top.

I’m not really a huge fan of the whole St Patrick’s Day thing. Although I live here, I’m not in any way, shape or form Irish, nor do I pretend to be. So I find it odd seeing people visiting Ireland and on the telly talking about how they’re Irish when, well, they’re just not. Irish-American, yes. Irish, no. It’s a tricky one I know, because it gets into questions of identity, and that’s not always clear cut for everyone. And although I’m pretty forthright on some things, in general I prefer to live and let live, so this shouldn’t bother me as much as it does.

Anyway. There are 2 things I will not tolerate: reference to “St. Patty’s Day” (Patty? Really? I don’t know anyone called Patrick who would be happy with that as a nickname. Paddy or Pat, but not Patty), and green beer. Green beer is wrong.

I don’t dislike the idea of having a day off work, or object to the festival at all, but the fake leprechauns, and stupid giant green hats, and, well, pick anything you can find in Carroll’s gift shops as a starting point – they annoy me.

So, instead, I stay at home. Much nicer.

Today was a lovely sunny day that felt like the beginning of spring. I’m feeling spring like at the moment – I’m getting on top of my to-do lists slowly and I’m getting my hair chopped short again on Friday. Anyway, a nice sunny day in Dublin means it’s a nice day for a walk in the Phoenix Park.

I love the park. It has so many different faces. We started our walk on a small slightly overgrown path that neither of us had been down before in the Furry Glen, and quickly realised why neither of us had been down there before, and made a mental note not to again, especially at night. Ewww.

Anyway, the rest of the walk was bright and fresh and lovely.

Nice wooded sections

Cute park ranger’s cottages

The pope’s cross and American ambassador’s residence across the 40 acres. The fallow deer are off to the right but out of the picture.

And finally, a cliche but not that unusual a sight the in park:

Then home for a nice spot of lunch and a big mug of tea. Perfect.

Right then. I’ve gone a bit quiet. Sorry about that. You know those times when weeks fly by, and you’re not really sure where they’ve gone, but you know you’ve worked loads, got lots of things done and seen some friends but horribly neglected others?
No? Really?
Well, that’s how my life has been recently.

There are some friends and family who I really need to email, but I’m also going to make a bit of an effort to blog a bit more too.

We’ll see how that goes.

Gin, cointreau, oj and honey, with toast on the side.

—- ?Sent using a Sony Ericsson mobile phone

Nom nom nom

—- ?Sent using a Sony Ericsson mobile phone