Geeky Wedding Invites

Our wedding invitations came together like a thing of geek beauty.

The epitome of us as geeks. The great thing about being a geek is you don't have to be limited to one fandom. But it grows with you over time. And who says you have to take the wedding invite seriously?

For us, we have two HUGE families. And it wasn't fair to ask so many people to travel to Washington where we live. So we decided to bring the shindig to them. Twice. 

We're also Italian and Hawaiian...we all know how to throw a great party without including all the fussy stuff. So we're going the laid back route.Sorry wedding industry...you're not getting me to shell out $$$$ for matching napkins and tablecloths. 

A lot of the invitees have commented positively on the wording for the Registry. 

We are fortunate enough to already have the customary items needed to start a home. 

But if you still wish to contribute something to our future together, we are registered at:

We live together. In the 21st century. And we only have one bed. Read into that what you will, but obviously we don't need the same kind of wedding gifts that were customary in the 1950's. I think this is becoming really common regarding modern brides and etiquette is a little hazy. Feel free to steal, fellow brides. :)

I feel horribly awkward asking for gifts no matter what the occasion so i thought good and hard about whether or not to have one at all. However, nor did i want to deal with 12 toasters and 37 towels a recently married friend received. Some people ask for donations for their honeymoon, others for charities that they love. 

For us, we're moving into a house soon, and we NEED stuff...we just can't store it right now. So we used Simple Registry.com...I'll let you know how it goes. Still too early to tell if guests are understanding it. 

Anne's tricks for Ukrainian Easter Eggs (Pysanky)

It's that time of year when I clear off my craft table, pull a box out from under my bed and set up to go back to my roots. It's Ukranian Easter Egg time!!!

A lot of people say "painted eggs". This is incorrect. They're made with a wax resist method. Meaning you cover the color you want to keep as opposed to covering the white area you want to hide. So it's backwards, in a sense. If you've ever written your name in that white crayon found in common easter egg kits, and it magically shows up afterward...well, this is the same thing, but a bit more elaborate.

What I love most about this tradition is that I was raised to make them for gifts only. To give the egg away is to give the gift of the meaning behind the symbols to the recipient. To keep them removes those blessings from your own life. Superstitious I know, but that's what I was told growing up. If nothing else, it makes me happy to see someone admire my work and I can tell them "Here, take it and enjoy.".

I've spent every year scouring my mom's stack of designs and books and pamphlets collected over the last 40 years and more recently, through the internet. On a typical year, I'll make a dozen eggs.  I love finding sites were masters offer their tips and tricks. I don't feel that I'm particularly a master, but I have some tricks of my own passed down through my grandmother and also just from trial and error. I hope this helps.

Disclaimer: This is not a step by step process for pysanky. Merely a collection of tips. I'm only sharing my personal experience of what works, not endorsing anything.

White: Fine, Blue: Medium, Red: Thick

Where do you get your special supplies?
I live in Seattle. And the best place I've found is the University Bookstore (associated with UW). They sell individual dyes, modern and traditional kistkas, and entire starter kits. I'm a fan of modern Delrin kistkas and have never tried an electric kistka, but i hear they are amazing. For large chunks of beeswax, check out a craft store candle making section. They usually sell 1 pound blocks that will last you 4 or 5 years. I break mine up into reasonable chunks with a hatchet or a hot knife. 
I've also had no trouble ordering through this website: http://www.ukrainiangiftshop.com/

What kind of eggs should i use?
If you're just starting, plain white eggs from your grocery store are perfect. White eggs are better because brown eggs will make the dye colors different. My mom swears by "fresh from the chicken's butt" eggs and goes searching all over for them. Whatever floats your boat. Always, always allow your eggs to come to room temperature. Condensation will not allow the wax to stick properly. As you get more advanced, try duck eggs and goose eggs, though be aware of what size jar you have your dye in. 

How do you store your dyes and for how long?
Wide mouth mason jars are your friend. I get them from Ace Hardware. I keep them in the cardboard divided box they come in and i have 10-12 colors at any time. Every year, the first thing i do is shake each dye and look for "floaties". Light dyes almost always have them, replace them. Check darker ones with a white plastic spoon. Then I do a tester egg. I divide an egg, label each section for a color while its still white, and put it through the dye progression (light to dark) using a wire egg lifter from a grocery store kid's easter egg kit. Slowly, I cover each  labeled section before placing it in the next dye. That tells me what colors are still good. If a color looks odd or is way too light, I dump it and make a new batch. Every other year, I will usually refresh all my colors just to be safe, but if they're still true to the colors, you can go longer. 

Why light to dark?
The color progression goes light to dark because you're replacing the dye at each level. If you put a lot of yellow eggs in a red dye, it will become orangy over time, but go the opposite direction and the dye will turn orangy a lot faster. So light to dark limits the visibility of color contamination. 

How do you keep your lines straight in pencil?
For lines through the middle of the egg (in any direction) i use a 1/4" thick rubber band and trace along its edge. It's a little tricky to hold, so pillow some paper towels under your hand just in case. 
For the side, nothing compares to Wayne Schmidt's toilet paper roll method:



An upgrade from a standard candle:
Candles are the traditional method, and they work well. But another option I like is an Alcohol Torch. It's a medical tool and it burns clean, steady and there's no smoke or wax drips. This is not a good idea around children because the flame is less visible. I got mine off of Amazon for about 15$. It requires high proof alcohol (91%) which I get at a drug store in the first aid section (standard is 70%). Just be careful and it's a handy tool.


My kistka is clogged! What can I do?
My white kistka gets clogged occasionally. First i'll empty the well back onto my beeswax clump. Then i'll heat the kistka until it's really smoking (not on fire). Then i plunge the point into the middle of the beeswax clump several times, reheating as necessary. After that, fill the well with a little beeswax and test it on a practice egg or practice paper to see if the flow has returned. This has always worked for me, but my mom also keeps a super fine wire to feed up the point, which is another method.

When do I empty my egg? And how?
At the end. Why? Because the innards of the egg will help it sink in the dye. At the end of the dye process, I will cover the entire egg in a thin coat of beeswax (Fill the well, heat it super hot, then flip it over so the wide end is down and smear it, reheating often, you'd be surprised how much you can cover with just a few well fulls and a hot kistka). This is overkill but I don't like to take risks with my pysanky. The egg white will ruin the dye so on the off chance I might get a little on my hand, I cover the egg. If you're doing big eggs, this may be impractical, so cover at least the top and bottom 1/4 of the egg. 
Make the hole: I've tried those egg drill that comes in the kit - they suck in my opinion. I don't have a dremel and no...a drill bit in a screwdriver doesn't work well, it cracks the egg from pressure. I do it like my mom taught me: With a corsage pin: the one with the big pearl on the end? yeah. Press the pin in firmly making 4 hole like a square. Then 4 more holes between those to make it more circular. Then more holes between those until you have a little dotted circle. Keep pushing between the holes until the perforation breaks all the way around. I do both top and bottom.
Empty the egg: I've used those yellow squeeze pumps. They work just fine. Just be careful to not suck egg backwards up the nozzle. But, I usually just use my mouth. The beeswax prevents the dye from getting on my lips as I blow in the top, and the egg part flows out the bottom. If you're worried about salmonella, use the pump. 

How do you display the eggs?
Honestly, we just get clear napkin rings from bed bath and beyond. They're the perfect size and while not as nice as the guilted pedestal you see in specialty stores, they're effective and still look nice. We have been gifted several from friends thanking my mom or me for teaching them. They have a special place in my mom's china cabinet (they've been emptied so they won't explode).

Through my father's side, I'm 1/4 Ukrainian. Ironically though, it's my mother, who has no Ukrainian heritage, that has passed on this tradition to me. My father's mother (full blood Ukrainian) taught my mother soon after they were married, finding that she had artistic talent. I think I started picking it up around 7 or 8 years old and have looked forward to it every year since. I hope I eventually have a kid to pass this onto myself.

All of these were made in the traditional wax resist method by me. No paint was involved.

I love the tradition and craftsmanship of this method. It's not unusual for me to sit for 4 or 5 hours, working on 2 or 3 eggs at a time. Truly, I enjoy it that much. I only do it for the few weeks of April, leading up to Easter, then the box goes back into storage until next year.

A mom with no makeup

I remember, in Junior high all the girls would start experimenting with makeup.
And they always looked so good.                        When i experimented, it looked like this:

    
I had NO idea what i was doing. My friends would expertly correct me with deft brush strokes i couldn't mimic. I would ask who showed them what to do and they always said "oh my mom". This kind of left me in a conundrum.

The first time i saw my mother wear makeup was her 25th Wedding Anniversary. She wore lipstick and that was it. I was about 10 at the time and i swear it threw me for a loop for a couple of hours.

That was also the last time i saw my mother wearing makeup and they just celebrated their 43rd wedding anniversary (can i get a WOW?-for the anniversary, not the makeup thing).

I was forbidden to wear makeup until i was 16. Which meant i started hiding makeup in my locker at 13. I thought i was being so sneaky but mom knew, mostly because i would forget to wash it off before walking home. My feeble attempts at self expression through pigmentation usually led to my mom scowling at me saying "you'd look better without all that nonsense". and she'd make me wash it off with cold cream (which i now irrationally hate)

So by the time i got to college, i had gleaned enough tricks and information from my girlfriends to apply a decent made up face. Mom gave up the battle and just said i looked nice.

From my mother, I never learned things like how to moisturize properly, or what my colors were, or how to pick my shade of foundation. And for years i yearned for that kind of motherly advice.

But what i did learn turned out to be so much more valuable.

Somewhere in my lifetime I realized that makeup isn't necessary to have a good day. I could leave the house with no makeup at all. It wasn't required for me to take pride in my work, to look people in the eyes, to smile and say good morning. Even when i did feel like putting some on, it would look better with some simple touches as opposed to a full spackle and paint job. When i do a full face of makeup including foundation, i call it putting on my war paint because it's usually what i do when i know i'm going to be meeting with someone who will clearly be judging me. Like for dates or interviews or meeting with executives.

I think my skills would fit in perfectly at this job

Friends who had makeup wielding mothers often would say "oh i can never leave the house without at least mascara or tinted chapstick" or something that was their shield against the judgement of others. And i respect their preference. I don't feel that i'm better or anything. I just marvel at the different priorities that seem to derive from our mothers.

I went to the Wedding Expo and one of the hundreds of things i signed up for was a Mary Kay party to which i invited my mother. (for the record...I just wanted to play with colors for my skin, and did not enjoy being terrorized and bullied about the impending wrinkles by my consultant for 4 hours.) It was the second time in my life that I saw my mother in makeup. And it was WEIRD!!!!!

She looked nice and was an amazing sport for the party. I figured she would humor her two daughters who both wear makeup occasionally and then just be herself for my wedding. But now apparently she wants to wear makeup for my wedding. So i'm in the totally backwards position to teach my mom how to augment her features with makeup.

 I have no idea what changed her mind or if she somehow thinks that i want her to change. To me, she's my mom who may have the same pair of pants in 6 different colors and the same pair of shoes in 4 different colors. She's also this indomitable force against the fashion and makeup industry. And she taught me to see my beauty as a mixture of imperfections that do not require camouflage.

Maybe my sister and I have shown her that a little bit of makeup can be a fun enhancement. Or maybe mom's just trying to keep us on our toes.

Lapping everyone on the couch

My last post, i talked about all the changes that made the second half of my 2013 year SUCK. Needless to say, i wasn't focusing on ME at any point. I knew i was getting heavier and stress eating. So I avoided the scale and stairs like the plague.

About a week after Jon proposed, (so we're still back in November) we were scheduled to participate in a "get your numbers" health promotion which i was not looking forward to one bit. You go in, get poked and prodded and they give you your health numbers. Weight, BP, cholesterol, etc. Then counsel you on how to be healthy. Yeah, sounds like super duper fun, right?

But Jon wanted to do it especially with his workload he hadn't been taking care of himself either, and we both knew we needed and wanted to get our eating habits back in control. This would be a perfect opportunity to find our starting point. I put on a brave face, knowing my blood pressure numbers would make the nurse look at me in horrified shock. And indeed, he looked me square in the eye and said something cautionary about the variety of ways it could kill me too young.

But it wasn't until I got a reassuring look from Jon from across the room, that something clicked in my mind.

I'm getting married to this amazing man, and we only get the rest of our lives to be together. Do I want to cut that short?

Here was this future, that I had never considered the correlation with my health, staring me in the face. It wasn't all about getting thin for a wedding dress, though even I'll admit it's spurring some early extra effort. But my main reasons now are to live and spend as much time as possible with Jon. To be healthy enough to have children. Being healthy enough to help them grow and learn to be healthy as well.

I don't know why it took getting engaged for me to reach this realization. But, i hit my crossroads and turned to the harder path of weight-loss.

That week (still in November), i finally went to my doctor and to a local gym. In the past, I had dangerous collapsing issues. Aside from blood pressure, doctors couldn't figure out why it was happening. I tried to get my blood pressure under control, but i wasn't rich enough to handle the cost of multiple visits to the doctor. So i just tried to ignore it til it went away. Doctor Shiva-the-destroyer (she's scary when she's mad) seemed dubious that this time my resolve was real, but she started the process to control my blood pressure and approved me to start a workout regimen under a trainer's supervision.

The gym was all too happy to sign me up early before adding me to Jon's insurance. They assigned me a trainer named Ally, who was a former nurse, for a trial personal trainer session. She was one of those ladies that clearly has never been overweight and is determined to be your own personal cheerleader for the smallest things. I found her extremely annoying. Those "i know you can do it"s were just frustrating. My experience told me that just when i thought i was doing it, i would collapse, stop breathing, and probably konk my head on the way down.

She had me do a maneuver i had told her had caused tunnel vision in the past (my warning signal), so clearly something i already didn't want to do. And sure enough, i was breathing hard and very nervous when she got down on her knees in front of me and said "I'm right here, i'm not going to let anything happen."

I believed her. Really, truly, fundamentally BELIEVED her. For the first time, i felt i could trust a stranger to see just how much this scared me. I couldn't help myself, i started tearing up. We talked past our allotted time and she kept saying: "The hardest thing you have to do, is come back the next few times. Despite the soreness, despite the worry, despite the scheduling. Make it happen the next few times and it will start getting easier."

By that point i was so emotionally raw, that i was almost ready to believe her if she said the moon was made of cheese. Almost :). But it made sense, so i bit the bullet and committed to SIX MONTHS of the 1/2 hour trainer sessions 2x a week. I had gotten a promotion and a raise which certainly helped a LOT with the budgeting, but i knew i had to make it work. Plus the six months was now paid for so my frugal side was now determined to get my money's worth.

I wasn't sore after the first workout, but the second, third, fifth, tenth....oh yeah! I could barely move for the first month after every session and i was convinced my workouts were negated by the couch potato i was becoming because i was too sore to move. I complained incessantly to Jon about how i hated being sore every minute of every day in every place imaginable.

And it was HARD. Hard going in and watching fit women strut around in their workout bras and short shorts (Strange that even my perception of fit women has changed, I used to call them "twigs", so rude of me). Hard trying to find workout clothes in my size (come on, if we're supposed to get down to those sizes, give us cute clothes to start with!). Hard changing your eating habits from chocolate to dried fruit. Hard going into a yoga studio with 15 other thin people who don't know what it's like to have your boobs try to smother you in bridges or twist yourself into a pretzel with fat thighs getting in the way!

I don't know who you are, but you rock lady!

But with Ally's reminders at the end of every session "just come back", and the money already spent...i kept going in and teasing her about what new torture she had in store for me today. The first month, i thought i saw or felt a few changes, but it was nothing i could point at and say "it's gone!". The second month, i noticed that certain spots were less squishy, and i had bulges from muscles that were not there before. And then i realized recently, that i wanted more; I wasn't even tired after the 30 minute sessions. So i asked Ally for more butt-kicking.

It's been 3 months with Ally's ministrations and keeping my blood pressure in check.

• I'm just a few pounds shy of my first 20lbs
• I can do a full set of 10 pushups
• I can do almost 45 seconds of planks
• I'm not gasping for breath at the top of the stairs of our 3rd floor apartment
• I'm doing yoga weekly, increasing my flexibility and endurance
• I've only had 2 dizzy spells but no collapses. 
• My energy level has skyrocketed
• I can take my jeans off without unbuttoning
• Subsequently, I now require a belt
• Both Jon and I are eating healthier
• Co-workers have started commenting that i look like i've lost weight. 

In the scope of my goals, this is only the beginning. There's a long way to go and i'm thankful every day for Ally being my personal trainer and cheerleader. I'm thankful Jon is so supportive: Jon even signed up for his own trainer and regimen citing me as inspiration. "If you can do what you're doing with all the extra health crap on top...i have no excuse."

Don't think i've ever been someone's health inspiration before. It's still so tempting to eat a pint of ice cream, or an entire bucket of extra butter popcorn. It would be SO easy to just go back to ignoring it.
I don't think i'll ever WANT to workout over a netflix marathon. Or consider half a sandwich a meal. But it's becoming easier to make the choice for the healthier options.

For now, i know that i'm re-upping on the personal trainer sessions when the six months expires. I'm not confident enough to workout alone with the risk of collapsing still there. I'm thrilled to be seeing some tangible results, but I'm not satisfied yet. I never expect to be super thin or on the cover of a fitness magazine. Heck if i manage to make it to size 10, i'll be thinner than i've been since i hit puberty. Even if i'm never running around in a pushup bra and short shorts, just getting my body healthy will be enough for me. I just want to be healthy enough to live out my life.

Oh, and do the splits again. Yeah, that would be awesome at any weight.

Been a while...Been a crappy summer

I haven't posted anything since June 18th. that's over 6 months now. I had an immensely crappy summer followed by an even worse fall, then November hit and there was an even bigger surprise. Mostly there was so much going on that i never had the emotional time to get all my thoughts out into a post. The rest of it was not the sort of things i want the details of all over the internet. I'll try to tell the stories as best i can without revealing too much.

In my last post, i talked all the things that were gone.

Such as Boyfriend Jon's work schedule. That started in April....and didn't end until late October. 12 hour days, almost every day of the week. He was exhausted and frustrated nearly all the time. To each of our credit, we only had one blowout where our emotional turmoil got the best of us and we took it out on each other verbally. But even that only lasted one angry phone call and we made up a few hours later. I don't want to sound like i'm a needy clingy person...but i missed him whenever he was gone. Our time to be together became infrequent but precious. Still we managed to get in a few camping trips and a couple weekends where literally all we did was simply BE at home together.
Of course...when the schedule ended, it was weird. And i ended up having to ask him to be out of the house so i could finish his christmas gifts without him seeing. A compromise was found where i worked behind a screen (a folding table leaning up against the couch blocking my work from his view...but he could still see my face).

Another thing is gone...and all i can say is good riddance. Someone i care about deeply was in a relationship with...well....the only way i can think of him now is as a con artist. Because that's what he did. He came in like a whirlwind and swept a very grounded person off her feet. He charmed her and wooed her and even put a ring on her finger.
But then things started to sour over the summer. He had tales of woe about his finances and he worked all the time. He was a very private person so he didn't want her talking to others about the problems he was having. So quietly, she helped fund so many things for him. Because she loved him, completely. Even moved to a different city, into a house that was awful for her elderly dog and had spiders infesting the lawn....but the money started running out. And things started to get worse. We all knew something was up, but she wouldn't tell us any details.
And one day...in an email...he ended everything and said he was moving out and only showed up once more to get his stuff, clearly having tried to time it so she wouldn't be there.
With a lot of coaxing, the whole story started coming out. The family and the friends were all shocked. We had all been conned by his entrancing stories, the seemingly unbreakable devotion he displayed for her, the simple fact that she was completely in love. He conned everyone, myself included, and shattered her heart.

So we did what friends and family do best. We circled the wagons around her and helped her get back on her feet. We talked, hugged, and helped until she was grounded again.
I'm so proud to say that she used this crappy experience to change careers into something that made her happy (and made her more money), she moved out of that house and into a new temporary place until she can move back to the city that suits her personality, and she is making plans to go back to school. She really channeled her anger and hurt into a very positive path.

Fast forward to September, and i'll tell you the rest of my crappy 6 months.

My uncle fell off his deck onto his head/shoulder area. Even worse luck...his head managed to find a single loose brick on the ground for it to land on.
Thankfully, someone was home and heard the crash and found him almost immediately so he was able to get help right away.
The tally of injuries were as follows: His left ear was nearly severed, a massive concussion, broken collarbone and shoulder blade, 5 broken ribs on his left side and 2 on his right, and he somehow managed to rip his toenail off. He was on a breathing and feeding tube for 2 full weeks, and in the ICU at Harborview for 2 months, then he was kept in the Acute care for an additional month. Thankfully the amazing doctors and nurses and PT trainers did an amazing job and my uncle is almost back to his usual self.
During this time, tempers and emotions were high to put things mildly. Somehow my mother and I ended up trying to be the peace keepers between certain members of the families, both working from opposite angles. That took up every ounce of my mental and emotional strength since i could see both sides merits and shortcomings.

I celebrated the day my uncle was able to go home with some reservations. I was so so so happy that he had recovered enough to go home. But i worried about the emotional healing and the fortitude of several parties involved.
Things seem to have found an unsteady equilibrium, but i check in every now and then to see if i can lend an ear or a different perspective.

Then when i thought i couldn't take another major change, November 1st hit.

Standing in front of my NaNoWriMo group of dear friends, Boyfriend Jon, not typically a big speech maker,  put his arm around me and started a countdown, explaining all our milestones:

6 NaNoWriMo's have been done while we've known each other
5 NaNo's that we've done together as a couple
4 year anniversary
3 cheers for all the work i put into my meetings
2 writers in love
1 simple question

and he got down on one knee and asked me to marry him.

to which i replied, with my usual eloquence,..."oh hell yeah."

Honestly, i could never have gotten through the shit storm that was my 2013 summer and fall without him by my side. And it was an amazing turn around from all the awfulness to have something so wonderful to celebrate.

I listened to my grandmother's uncouth advice when i picked him: "Will you still love him when he farts and has sagging parts?" and the answer is yes. I've never imagined being married to anyone until i met him. there was always a family, but the future husband was always faceless and abstract in my daydreams. Now i see Jon, clearly, across the daydreamed dinner table with kids screaming about not wanting to eat peas, and i can already hear the jokes he's going to crack. Or the calm and sage advice he'll pull out just when i'm ready to tear my hair out over a really bad day. I don't need a diamond and a huge party. I just need him with me to face whatever the future brings.

So it is my pleasure to introduce you to my Betrothed.