Becoming Left-Handed

Get Out the Vote

Frank DiMeo sent me a few more preview images and said he couldn't decide whether he liked this photo better in B/W or color.  I can't decide either.  What do you think?  Post your votes in the comments and let's pick a favorite!

Sneak a Peek (A-Boo)

Coming soon in a holiday card near you ... one of these preview wedding images from Frank DiMeo!

Frank let us take a quick look at some early images so we could use one for our holiday mailing.  Thought you'd like to see them, too.  Frank's hard at work on 2 other weddings and an engagement shoot (not to mention recovering from surgery in the midst of the holidays) before he can really tackle our wedding shoot, but we know it's worth the wait and we are just so grateful for this preview.

Thanks, Frank. 

Oh, and special thanks to the Goddess of the Wind, a.k.a. Rachel, for "blowing" my veil just so!

Becoming Thirty

Today is my last day to be 29.  The last day of my 20s.

My 20s. In the last decade, I have met and worked for Hillary Clinton, I have gained and lost the same pesky 15 pounds, I have held more than six different jobs, I have been in love three times and married my best friend and man of my dreams, I have made friends with professors, bankers, interns, and rogues, I have traveled to Great Britain twice, I have lived in the Snow Belt and on the beach, I have adopted three cats, I have lost and found my way to God, I have raised money and lost money, and along the way, I have written about 1,000 pages of ... stuff.

I've been bravely telling everyone (not really everyone, only those nosy enough to ask how I feel about turning 30) that I'm better at 30 than I ever was at 20-anything.

I like to think that's true. But in reality, I think I'm still me, much the same as I was at 20-everything. The real difference, I think, is that I have found my voice and I am becoming the writer I've always been.

What's In A Name?

In the midst of unpacking and doing laundry from our honeymoon, organizing and putting away our wedding gifts, writing and co-signing hundreds of thank-you notes, traveling to and from LA for work, hosting houseguests 2 weekends running, re-decorating our bedroom with new curtains and comforter, and posting photos and making albums of the wedding, I had to buy a $4 money order.

This should not be a big deal, but for some reason, buying a money order is about as convenient as buying a house. It took me a total of 3 weeks to a) find out from the marriage license office (who referred me to the probate court's office) what the process was for getting my certified copy of our marriage "abstract"; b) fill out the required form, which I carried around in my purse for days; c) buy said money order; d) self-address a stamped envelope for the paperwork, and drop it in the mail.

So, finally, yesterday I received two thin green slips of paper with the raised seal of the Franklin County Probate Court that say, according to the Ohio Department of Health Vital Statistics, that Steven Walter Post and Martha Marie Bledsoe are in fact married. This little piece of paper allows me to start the legal name-change process. I feel compelled to tell you, though, that when I marched into the bank yesterday with my hard-won little green paper, they never even asked to see it as they changed my name to Martha Post on all my accounts. So much for process!

All of this got me thinking about what's in a name. It does seem (as much as I am complaining about it) that changing a name is a grave undertaking that should require many steps. I mean, a name change represents  a new identity, and new identities shouldn't just be lying around for people to assume, despite the bank's cavalier attitude.

And so, dear reader, as I have been giving the name-change issue much thought over these last weeks, I have decided that it is time to re-name Becoming Left-Handed. It seems fitting that my little blog should change its name at the same time I do!

In the one year and five days that I have been writing here, I have realized how vital writing is for me. It is just as important as breathing, perhaps more so. The days I don't blog feel somehow short of oxygen and my lungs feel rather cramped.

You might be thinking that I want to expand my blog beyond "what it's like to be engaged." and write about what it's like to be married. And that's true. But I also want a place where I can write about what it's like to have a love-hate relationship with your job, or what it's like to have your brand-new car in the shop for 9 days out of the month, or what it's like to drive through a writers' picket line in LA in the midst of realizing how much you love writing!

These are the stories I want to share with you. And eventually I hope these stories become a springboard for larger writing dreams, like a freelance career and a couple of books.

In the meantime, I need your help.  What should I call this new blog?

Here are a few of the suggestions I've heard from family and friends. Would you care to post a comment and vote for your favorite, or suggest another option?

Being Left-Handed
Becoming Write-Handed
The Daily Post
Posthaste
Post-Script

What do you think?

Friend Of A Friend

Every bride has certain moments that stick in her mind in blazing Technicolor.

Some of mine have nothing to do with Steve, but everything to do with you, our families and friends.

For example, at one point I watched Sally Lange Witkowski (wine tour game organizer, married to the guy wearing Steve's face, Electric Slider Extraordinaire) pull Jodie Silver (chiropractor, mother of 2, married to Steve's cousin Mike) onto the dance floor and I realized, our friends made friends with our friends!

Of course, we knew you would. We like you. You like us. How could you help but like each other?

In the one month (can you believe it's been one month?!) since the wedding, we've had our siblings emailing one another, our friend B! driving in from Washington D.C. to attend a party in Columbus thrown by our friends Stephanie and Brandon, and numerous other connections being made between (among?) all of you.

We really appreciated everyone who came in early for the Wine Tour, because that seems to be how so many people got to know so many people so fast.  Of course, you take 50 strangers and put them on a bus with enough wine, and magic is bound to happen!

This seems to be one of the happiest side effects of the wedding so far.  Stay tuned as we discover more!

More Photos

And here are still more photos, this time from Rachel's album on KodakGallery.com.  You can view her shots of the Village Tavern family dinner, the spa day at Mirbeau, the rehearsal dinner and the wine tour. And as always with Kodak, you can order prints online! Enjoy!

The Time Has Come ...

The time has come," the Mrs. said,
"To talk of many things:
Of shoes - and hair - and bridal veils
Of wedding days - and things
And how the day was freezing cold
And if our hearts had wings."   

It's a(nother) Monday night. They just keep coming, I've noticed. My second Monday back at work, my 23rd day as Mrs. Post. I'm home alone while Steve test-drives new cars. And for whatever myriad reasons, I'm ready to write about my experience on Saturday, October 13.

Rachel and I woke up that morning when her alarm went off at 8:00 a.m. There was a little bit of whispered talk as she got up and got dressed to leave, and I dreamed I would be able to fall asleep again. Rachel left, and the second floor apartment at the Champagne House was quiet for about 7 minutes. And then my phone rang. And I thought, "I really hope it isn't going to be like this all day." 

The hair stylist was calling to say she was close to Hammondsport and needed final directions. I called Rachel. "Please call Cheryl and give her final directions," I said, and closed my eyes.

And then I realized that sunlight was breaking, fighting, flirting through the clouds outside and the mini blind beside the bed. I held my breath. I put a pillow over my head. And then I flung back the covers, stood up, and looked outside.

It was a tentative fall morning. The sky looked shy and brazen by turns. The clouds were moving fast, over the hills and atop the trees, deciding whether to stay all day or burn away.

I was awake. It was my wedding day. I texted Rachel, "Can't sleep, going for a run, see you later."

I put on workout clothes and thought, "How bizarre. In a few hours, I will surrounded by satin and lace. Right now all I want is Lycra and running shoes."

I left through the back patio door, and gasped as the cold air hit my lungs. The sun was now playing hide-and-seek with me through the glorious red maple in the back yard of the Champagne House. I walked down the wooden stairs and into the street, pulling my sleeves down to cover my hands and picking up speed so I wouldn't freeze.

I rounded the first corner, at Lake and Vine Streets, and smiled to myself. Somewhere, just around that corner, Steve was sleeping at 18 Vine with his brother, Jim. I wondered if they were awake. I wondered if I'd end up hiding from them on my run. I turned right, away from the lake and the little town and toward the gorgeous hills.

I listened to several really, really special songs that morning on my iPod. The first one, the one I've always said should be the first one I heard on my wedding day, was Alice DeeJay's "Celebrate Our Love."  Then, 10,000 Maniacs, "These Are Days."  Then a whole bunch of Abba.  Then some Celine Dion. 

I ran. I looked around, breathed deep, and thought, "This is my WEDDING DAY."

I passed my friend, Edd Johns, who was driving his new car, heading out for a quick personal wine tour of Keuka Lake before attending our wedding. We did that funny thing where you wave to one another a few seconds too late because you're not sure you saw who you thought you saw. I wondered if I'd see other guests while I ran, and I thought, how funny it is to see these people in Hammondsport!

I passed a sign that said I was a mile from the Hammondsport Motel, so I decided I'd turn around soon, because a 2-mile run was plenty for me that day. And then I came to an open meadow on the left-hand side of the road. I stopped, and stretched, and stood in the open meadow. Tears began to run down my face (I actually think at one point I was running AND crying). It was a perfect morning, cold and crisp, just the way autumn is supposed to be. I said a prayer to thank God, and my special Gardener in heaven, for the beautiful day.

After a few moments, I ran back to Hammondsport.  I walked through the Square, looking at the Grape Pumpkin Festival and heading for the water. As I stood by Keuka Lake, watching the mist burn off and listening to Celine, I couldn't help but feel the most amazing sense of blessings and love just surrounding me. I must have stood on the docks for 15-20 minutes. That time felt sort of suspended. Magical. Absent of time or space.

And then suddenly I was hungry, and ready for a shower, and ready to go get married!

I walked back into Hammondsport and spotted my Dad and Victoria, and my sister Lori, having breakfast at the Park Inn. I went in and chatted with them for a few minutes and then left to start getting ready.  I spotted Barce and Jamie next, as they were crossing the street and looking for their own breakfast. We chatted for a minute, and I got the funniest feeling that, as the bride, I really should be somewhere doing something wedding-y. So I headed back to Champagne House, where I saw Amy and Tammy and said hello to them.

The hair stylist was running early (she was FAST!) so I touched base with Frank, our photographer, and then jumped in the shower. But right before I turned on the water, I put a note in the door that said, "Bride Still Inside" in case Steve dropped by early.  It turns out it's a good thing I used that note, because Jim stopped by a few minutes later and saw the note, and knew he needed to keep Steve away a little longer.

I got to the Blushing Rose around 11:00. It was very relaxed there, most of the girls' hair was done and it was almost my turn. The girls tried hard to keep me calm and relaxed, and I switched between chatting, taking pictures, drinking tea, and copying my reflections to read to Steve during our ceremony. The reflections were written on my computer, and I had printed them out, but I'd been editing them all throughout the week and I needed a final version. 

Frank was there, shooting the dress, the shoes, the rings, and all the hairspray and makeup-coated chaos of wedding preparations. And then Frank did serious double-duty, helping with a toenail-polish emergency while Shai laughed and shot pictures!

We were ultra-relaxed, through lunch and everything. We had plenty of time. Soft music was playing. I was reading my journal. We were completely calm. All except my stomach, which was far from calm.

We got to the winery on time. According to the timeline, we were almost early.

The first person I saw at Heron Hill was Sally, the caterer, who asked me if I wanted to see the tent. I walked inside and just stood for a moment, mesmerized to see a year of planning in front of my very eyes. It looked even more amazing that I had dared to hope. Everything was ready.

I went into the Conference Room and said, "Okay, I'm ready to put my dress on!" and Rachel said, "Um, you're not wearing any makeup."

So, Alison put my makeup on me without any natural light (every time we opened the curtains, a brown tux would walk by and we'd squeal and let them drop!) She endured my incredibly shaky hands and head, and even managed to get me to fix my own mascara issues. The pace was picking up. The steamer was bubbling away and sounded like a marching band in my head. People were running in and out of the room. There were cameras, video cameras, and questions flying at me. I was shaking so hard I could barely hold the glass of wine they gave me. I remember I put on dance music so I could translate some energy into my feet and hopefully stop shaking.

And then, I went the bathroom and saw a wedding guest who said, "Oh, I guess I'm not late!" and I said, "Well, if you're late, then I'm REALLY late!"

The next thing I knew, it was time to put on the dress. I held my breath. It zipped. And my shaking stopped.

Frank took the camera down from his eyes long enough to say the dress looked better on me than on the hanger, made my waist look amazing, and my high-heeled shoes took 15 pounds off my figure. What other compliments can a girl hope for?

Well, I opened those blasted curtains for a photo op, and Steve's (MY) sister-in-law Denise saw me from the patio and started crying. It was quite the compliment, and very surreal.

I remember thinking, "we have plenty of time" and then Doni came in and said, "What do you need? 10 more minutes?" and all of a sudden it was like we were hurrying.  I remember my dad materialized out of nowhere, someone handed me a bouquet, and we were lining up. Our flower girl, Katie, turned to me and said, "I've never even SEEN a wedding before!" and my dad said something funny to her, and we were suddenly walking. 

Through the kitchen, where the caterers were plating our truffles. Up the stairs, where I thought for sure I would fall. Onto the roof, down the driveway, and then all of a sudden I could hear the music. The music I picked, and burned onto a CD myself. I could see John K, of Atlas, and Doni signaling him for the right songs. I could see the last row of guests through the trees. I couldn't really see Katie's walk down the aisle, but I could hear the laughter and knew she was adorable. And then all of a sudden, Rachel was moving ahead of me and we were taking our place to be next down the driveway.

Doni asked if I wanted her to carry my dress and I just said, "No, thank you, I think I've got it."  The music changed, and my beloved Anne's Theme wafted over the autumn air.

My parents and I managed the hill. We cleared the tent straps. We had to pause so I could lay down my dress behind me, and then we were walking down the aisle. My first step sunk into the grass, my second step held firm, and then I was suddenly walking slowly, seeing smiles and friends and family looking at me.

All I can remember from that point on is that I had to see Steve. Once we turned that corner and  I saw him, I forgot my parents were with me, I forgot the guests were there, I forgot it was cold. I locked onto him and walked toward him as if there was nothing else on this earth. I got to the front, and was mildly surprised to realize I had to turn and hug both parents so they could sit down. I would have forgotten, had Barb not been there to nudge me with a smile.

The ceremony? I remember my brother-in-law Doug reading from 1 Corinthians because I looked at Rachel to see if she was crying. I remember Steve asked if he could kiss me after my reflection, and I remember his voice breaking when he told me, during his reflection, that he loved me with every fiber of his being. I remember the congregation laughing during his reflections, and I remember the way we paused before walking back down the aisle as husband and wife. 

There are lots of other tiny scraps of memories from the rest of the evening, but mostly I remember thinking, "This is amazing."

Our Snapshots

Sorry everyone, I just found out this link had not been working.  Here it is again:

Here's a link to one of our online albums - this is what we got on our own camera on Friday night for the rehearsal dinner and Saturday for the wedding.  Soon we will post what we shot Tues-Fri of wedding week. Enjoy!