Have a bootiful day!

I might be anti-Halloween, but I love candy! Since there’s no room on the bridal diet for peanut m&ms (one of my favorite treats), trick-or-treaters who knock on my door will receive Pez. I know: boooring. I followed the advice of every diet web site out there and bought the one thing that would tempt me the least. Fortunately I don’t expect many little ghosts or goblins at my place tonight. I’d hate to see the look on their faces when I drop handfuls of Pez into their bags. Just for fun, here’s my all time top ten favorite Halloween treats:

1. Raisinets
2. Candy Corn
3. Tootsie Rolls
4. Peanut M&Ms
5. Twizzlers
6. Kit Kat
7. Rollo’s
8. Reece’s pieces
9. Junior Mints
10. Hershey bars

Just a funny story

Last night MFB and I met friends at a local Asian BYO called Pingpong. On our way to dinner we grabbed the only chilled bottle of white wine left in our fridge—a fluorescent blue bottle of kosher Moscato. The bottle had been in our fridge since Passover and we’d debated opening it over a dozen times. It was given to us by M’s dad, who assured us he wasn’t just trying to get rid of it, but that it really was a tasty Italian wine regardless of the kosher label. I’d been skeptical since day one but finally agreed to satisfy M’s curiosity and take the wine to dinner.

Pingpong is a popular spot in our area so the 45 minute wait was no surprise. The mix of unoriginal/slutty Halloween costumes on display kept me occupied, while my fiance found it amusing to create hand images on the wall art. Recognizing our need for a drink, the host offered to open our Moscato. M tasted it first. “Oh, you’ll like it,” he said to me with utter confidence. I smelled it. Tasted it. Blech! “I’m not drinking this! It tastes….kosher!” By kosher I mean it tasted like cheap chardonnay mixed with 4 packets of sweet n’ low and a little seltzer for some fizzle. I brought our glasses back to the host and told him to ditch the Moscato.

I sent M 5 blocks away to the nearest wine store. Thus, I happily enjoyed my mu shu with a non kosher glass of pinot grigio. Mid meal I noticed M intensely staring at the table behind us. I glanced over my shoulder only to see the fluorescent blue bottle of Moscato chilling in a cooler only a table away. Could it be? I turned again, at which point M and I catch the random patrons cringing at the smell and taste of the wine. The man turns the bottle giving us a clear view of the label. Yup – that’s it. The label even has M’s name written on it. The host probably thought he was hooking it up for some lucky couple. Somehow those folks managed to battle their way through the entire bottle.

Moral of the story: There will be no kosher wine at my wedding. Or in my fridge. Ever again.

Warning: This has zero to do with my wedding

We’re in the height of campaign season and that means endorsements and political ads are bombarding the airwaves. Although the mudslinging has been particularly nasty this year, I’m happy to see that embryonic stem cell research is getting the prime time attention it deserves. With a number of seats up for grabs and the election only a couple weeks away, thankfully the Democrats have produced some feisty political commercials to get people off their couches and to the polls.

Perhaps you’ve already heard the controversy over the Michael J. Fox ad which asks viewers to support stem cell research by voting for several Democratic candidates in Maryland, Missouri and Wisconsin. During his plea, Fox’s body shakes and sways as a result of Parkinson’s disease, the neurological disease that brought an unfortunate end to his acting career. The ad is difficult to watch. Fox barely resembles the Marty McFly we all remember so dearly. However, as an advocate I believe Fox is taking on his most crucial role to date. With his star power he has the ability to effect change. It’s a brave thing to do—to be so revealing in front of millions of Americans.

Shame on Rush Limbaugh for rushing to discredit Michael J. Fox. Limbaugh recently told his listeners that the actor either “didn’t take his medication or was acting.” There’s no sense in me challenging this man’s credibility because it’s been done a million time already. He’s pathetic.

Another congressional ad of note features a teenage male, a woman and a young girl speculating how stem cell research might benefit them in the future. The ad is particularly powerful because it plays on everyone’s fears: What if you or someone you love is in a car accident? Or develops Alzheimer’s? Or your child is diagnosed with diabetes (hello!)? The potential in stem cell research is too promising to ignore. The ad is being featured in districts where stem cell research is a hotly contested topic and was produced in part by my dear friend AJS. Check it out.

Pass the Xanax

Should it be that with 242 days until my wedding the nightmares have already begun? The tossing and turning, talking in my sleep, waking up in a cold sweat; could it all be here to stay? Can someone please tell me if this is normal?

The other night I had a dream that my mother was forcing me to marry a gastroenterologist. He was tall, lanky and had dark hair, and wore enormous tortoise-shell glasses (not the trendy kind, the dorky kind). He was boring. Off in the wings, watching me with Mr. Weirdo Gastroenterologist was my fiancé. I was reaching for him. My heart ached.

To add to my misery, the flowers were absolutely awful. Gigantic vases filled with murky water and dandelions destroyed the room. On one table one lonely tulip floated in a vase with a pathetic green string tied around it. I cried and cried. My wedding wasn’t even in New York City. It was on an air force base.

And then I woke up. Happy to see that M was still beside me but shaken to the core. Who was this gastroenterologist that invaded my beauty sleep and can he please never come back? I don’t even go to a gastroenterologist. If mystery man was an endocrinologist then maybe I’d get it. On the phone last night AS provided me with some deep analysis (something to do with past relationships) which further shook me to the core.

I’m starting to see how this bridal thing becomes stressful. Lack of restful sleep equals bags under my eyes. Bags under my eyes equal ugly pictures on my wedding day. Ugly pictures on my wedding day equal many tears. Ah!

I got it!

It’s the wedding dress of my dreams and it’s all mine. I wish I could describe every last detail but you’ll just have to wait until June. What I can say is that I love it so much, I dream about it. It’s a little bit Hollywood glamour, a little bit Saturday night in New York City. It was the very first dress I tried on in the presence of my mother, the ultimate judge in the bridal gown category. So even though I dabbled in a few Chicago-area salons, no dress was a contender until it was viewed by FHPK. From the second I put it on I knew it was the one. It sounds corny, but it’s true. Then those magic words “tall and skinny” rolled off the tongue of an onlooker. Done. That’s all I needed to hear. Ironically, the dress is made by Vera Wang. If you recall it was in a Spring 2007 Vera Wang that I practically suffocated only a few months ago. How about that for a comeback.

Want to know what I did right after the big purchase took place? My mother and I went to Pick A Bagel on 77th and Lex. Talk about the anti-bridal diet. I think it was the combination of being so excited, feeling so guilty that my mother just agreed to pay all this money for a dress I will wear once, and anticipation of having to give up carbs soon enough that made me do it…I ordered an everything bagel with chicken salad. I’ve never tasted anything quite so salty and doughy and yummy. A hefty purchase deserves a hefty lunch I guess. And as I sat at the window counter with my mom, watching all the Upper East Siders scurrying around, we chatted about life and marriage… And how my mother refuses to wear a typical mother of the bride gown. She wants to look hot. Though I assure you for this endeavor there will be no $675 stylist.
I was watching Platinum Weddings the other day and this totally over-the-top bride wore Christian Louboutin heels under her dress. My fiancé is pushing for white Air Jordans. I think I’ll aim for something in between.

We had friends over for dinner the other night (I actually cooked!) and my friend JG glanced at last weekend’s edition of Sunday Styles on my coffee table. “What’s this?” she asked.
“What’s this?!” I replied, completely flabbergasted. “It’s the holy grail of wedding literature, the sports pages for women! How have you never seen the Sunday Styles?!”
With that I proceeded to walk her through Weddings & Celebrations, where in 248 days M and I will god willingly announce our nuptials to the world.

What’s it gonna cost me?

Let me start this entry by saying that being a bride is just like being a tourist in your own city. Vendors know you have money to spend and they want it bad. They try to capitalize on your fairy tale wedding visions by charging enormous sums and charging you even when you don’t think you’re being charged. Like a tourist, a bride can be a vulnerable target, lost in la-la land.

I nearly fell off my chair when a florist came back to me with a $20,000 proposal. Wait just a second - what part of my budget did they not understand? I realize flowers are one of the most important parts of evening, but let’s be realistic here. Do I really need an $900 bouquet? I think not. So the search continues for the florist who can orchestrate my orchid inspired wedding for an amount that is not bordering on my yearly salary.

Now here’s a good story. An acquaintance of my mother’s (let’s call her Sue) is a stylist. She’s been on those Fox 5 style segments you might catch on weekday mornings and a variety of other fashion reality shows. When I got engaged Sue graciously offered to go dress shopping with me when I came into town. She said she could get me in to all the top places and maybe even finagle a discount. She’s very cute and dresses impeccably so of course I took her up on her offer. Soon after, we spent one weekday afternoon in NYC (approx. 4 hours) frolicking from one bridal shop to the next. I would model for Sue and my mom, and wait for their thumbs up or down. At the end of the day we all enthusiastically agreed on a winner. Within a few days of our outing my mom received a bill in the mail from Sue…for $675! I felt completely taken. I thought she was doing this out of the goodness of her heart. Was I simply naïve?

What I’ve learned from this experience is to always, without fail, under every single circumstance even if it’s just a phone call, ask: what’s it gonna cost me?