Pre-wedding jitters #1

My favorite ways to pass the time on the L are to read a girly magazine or daydream about my wedding. The other day I was daydreaming about walking down the aisle in this one particularly precious gown when a beep-beep-beeping from below my blouse brought me back to reality. That silly insulin pump of mine! It always finds a way to send me a noisy warning at the most inopportune times. Like when I'm in a meeting with my editor (happened last week) or when I'm on the L and too cramped to break out my pump paraphernalia. The occasion for this round of beeps was a low reservoir meaning I had 9 hours of insulin left in my pump. Sometimes it beeps if the battery is low, sometimes it beeps if there's a lot of static in the air, and sometimes it just beeps. For the fun of it.

This got me to thinking (panicing): My pump is 100%, for sure going to beep when I'm walking down the aisle. I can see it now - everyone glancing to the back of the room as I approach the aisle. Queue the strings. OOh, ahh. Tear. Beep-beep-beep. At which point I have to shove my hand down my skin tight dress and turn the darn thing off. (Side note: I plan to have a special pump-equipped bra for the big day.) Although my mother assures me that we will do everything possible to prevent such drama, I am already mentally prepared. These things happen to me.

What I really pray for, even more than a pump that cooperates with me on my wedding day, is a healthy day. No highs, no lows. Sugars in the 90-120 range would be perfect. Thanks to President Bush and his immoral veto of H.R. 810 a few days back, my blood sugars soared. I was furious, crushed, and the reading on my meter reflected just that. Stem cell research offers opportunities too great to ignore. President Bush betrayed millions of people with his decision and not just people with chronic illnesses like myself but parents, friends-- anyone and everyone who believes in the power of scientific research. If my pump makes so much as a peep during my wedding, I'm blaming it on the president!

My Boys

Here's a photo of me with two of the most important men in my life - M and my brother, T (missing from photo: Dad). The photo was taken at the Rock around the Block festival in Chicago, right after T ate a burrito bigger than his head and amazed us all. This is a boy who lived on salad and blue cheese in his younger years so I was thrilled to see he finally eats more than I do. After a few spins of wheel of fortune at the careerbuilder booth I finally landed on the grand prize -- the monkey pad that M is so enthusiastically holding across my chest, and a whopee cushion, frisbee and lip balm that didn't make it into the photo. What a lucky gal I am!

Having T in town for the weekend was really special. He's definitely all grown up now - a college graduate, soon-to-be employed, fun-loving guy. He'll always be my little brother though and I'll forever continue to treat him that way. On Saturday morning I found myself waking up early to go get T a fresh bagel and cream cheese, just like my mom would do on weekend mornings. Due to our 4 1/2 year age difference, T and I have been in different places at different times. Me in Philly when he was in Ardsley, he in Boston when I was in New York, and now me in Chicago while he is back in Westchester. What matters most though is that we're awesome friends. We've reached that point where he's the person I call when I'm stuck waiting for the L and just need to chat to pass the time.

With that said, it brought tears to my eyes on Sunday night when M asked T to be a groomsman. Since I wasn't in the room when M popped the question, I asked M all the details of the moment (just so I could capture it here). M told me that T was thrilled and, even though it's customary that the bride's brother be part of the wedding party, was genuinely surprised. When I asked T later why he was surprised he said, "How would I know? It's not like I've done this before." True, it's not like a 22-year-old guy is supposed to know wedding etiquette.

So now the score is 2-0. Matt has 2 groomsmen - my bro and his bro, A; I have 0 bridesmaids. Stay tuned...

Center Stage

As a bride-to-be, you have to learn to love the spotlight. If there's ever a time to put all modesty aside, it's bridal time. I don't really love the spotlight and I consider myself a pretty modest person so I must say being a bride-to-be has taken some getting used to. I'm getting used to it though, no worries. When M and I first got engaged it was non-stop celebration. A party in Chicago, a party in New York. All fun, all the time.

But the bridal spotlight and all the hoopla aren't for everyone. Case in point, my bride-to-be cousin L. My cousin L is one of the most sophiscated people I know and had a bridal shower to match. It was largely a wine tasting, partly a charity event, and slighty a shower in the traditional sense. At the Hotel Gansevoort's hip Ono restaurant we sipped a new glass of wine with every spicy tuna roll and shitake mushroom skewer that touched our plates. Instead of shower gifts, L asked that money to be donated to a scholarship she created in honor of our Pa, to send children from a Harlem school to college. What a saint! How in the world can I live up to that?! In any case, for the beautiful bride-to-be that she is, L shuns the bridal spotlight. Looking at my cousin N, who recently gave birth to an adorable baby girl, L joked that everyone was actually there for a baby naming. And that it was my aunt's birthday lunch. And that it was a luncheon to celebrate the World Cup finale. Anything but a shower.

This leaves me to ponder one crucial question: Will L's wedding be in the Sunday Styles? She's surely got the credentials. Top schools. Top law firm. Philanthropic woman of the world. Fabulous reception site. And I bet L and her fiancee would take the perfect eyebrow to eyebrow photo. It's a sure thing. Eh, she probably hasn't even thought about it.

As the year goes on, on the scale of L to super bride, I think I'll be a little to the left of center (as always). Definitely not all about me all the time, but also enjoying my time in the spotlight. By the end of L's shower I was already discussing potential options for my NYC shower with the powers that be. I'm thinking Soho. Stay tuned...

Flying me crazy

I probably spend just as much time in the air these days as I do on the ground. And when I am on the ground, a chunk of that time is spent waiting at O'Hare for an inevitably delayed flight to somewhere. I fly so much that I dream about frequent flyer miles. In my dreams American Airlines accidentally credits me 50,000 miles instead of 500 for my last trip to D.C. That means two roundtrip tickets to White Plains to visit the fam. Score! Too bad it never happens and I continue to slowly accumulate, one mile at a time. But with weddings, wedding showers and bachelorette parties to go to, and a wedding of my own to plan, such is life. I fly on.

According to a report in the Chicago Tribune today, there is a 30% chance that a flight out of O'Hare is going to be delayed. Seems to me like that number is closer to 99.9%. Not to mention there is a 100% chance that the delay is going to occur when I really need to get somewhere. For example, when I need to get to Los Angeles to attend my friend's wedding rehearsal! My 11 am flight, having departed many hours after the scheduled time, caused me to miss AS's rehearsal and make a less than glamorous entrance to the hotel lobby just as everyone was arriving in their cute rehearsal dinner clothes. No worries though. After a few glasses of Pinot I was in all my glory with my best friends, toasting the happy couple. A mutual friend of the groom and my fiance recited a touching quote: "May the best of your past be the worst of your future." I asked him to say the same thing at my wedding...

Tomorrow after work I head back to O'Hare. I pray to the airline gods that my 6:30 flight to White Plains really truly takes off at 6:30. US Weekly, New York Magazine and the Penn Gazette are all in my carry on, just in case extra reading material is required. However, i'm hoping that by the time I finish my McDonald's asian grilled chicken salad with lowfat ginger dressing (the best somewhat healthy dinner option at O'Hare) and tear out a few pages in Instyle Weddings, i'll be flying over Martha Stewart's Bedford estate and coming in for a landing.