On the Road to Domestic Rapture...

Every time I select my font Georgia, I have to sing it silently to myself, 'Georgiaaa.'


Every girl gets one shot at a bridal shower. Think about it, you only get one. Even if you remarry eighty times, you still only have the one, the first one. Baby showers aren't even that final; if you have three boys then a girl, I bet some family member or friend throws you a 'change of sex' baby shower. Bridal showers, however are where friends, family, girls in the wedding party, sisters and mothers throw the bride a party to 'shower' them with all the goodies that make for domestic bliss. Yes, let me tell you, a Kitchen Aid in green apple does make for domestic bliss.

On this note, let's look back on December 5th, 2008. The Lord and Lady were not engaged. An awkward moment was not exchanged between them; the one where Lord Derringer is on one knee, gazing hopefully into the Lady's eyes. Where the Lady, then overcome with surprise and emotion, begins to sob deeply and help the Lord off the ground.
Well, maybe that's not so awkward after all.
Anyways, a ring was purchased and they had plans to marry, eventually. Ofcourse, plans were made, ideas tossed around, and they ended up at the court house with rings in tow. Needless to say, the one shot I had at a shower was gone.

Well, was gone. My opportunity to experience domestic bliss through toasters, silverware, plates and Pyrex containers is only two weeks away.

I guess the other little thing I haven't mentioned is, I want my homestead to be like my mother's, grandmother's, great-grandmother's: where the wife cooks, cleans, quilts her quilts, embroiders her dish towels, makes her curtains. Oddly enough, the first thing I'm making myself isn't an apron or quilt, but my dress for the shower. I have boxes of vintage patterns and yards of extra material. I've opted for a dress pattern from the '50s and yellow eyelet.


Much to my surprise, I found I must of already attempted this pattern in the past because the whole skirt was cut out.


After the series of steps required in dress-making: cutting, basting, arm holes and hems; I faced another surprise at the end.


In my previous attempt at the pattern, I had only cut out one front side panel and one back side panel of the skirt. The skirt requires two of each. The worst part, I hadn't purchased enough material either. Look like the dress is going to be a little different then I had originally intended.

The Lord and Lady Travels...

December 5th, 2008 marks the original beginning for my new life. Lord Derringer (an appropriate nickname for my hubby, Jeff) and I, the new Lady Derringer were married that day in a little court room about thirty minutes from where he and I grew up. We were leaving for Europe the following week, and unable to marry abroad, thought this would be just as romantic.

I would like to share with you the details and photos of that trip. Originally, it was to last twenty-one days and cover an impressive twelve countries. Instead, we traveled for sixteen days and saw six countries. We planned and traveled completely by ourselves. We purchased 21-day boarding passes for the Eurail and had at it! You'll notice both the good and the bad at attempting such a feat.



December 12th, 2008: The day before we were to leave for our adventure, my cousin Jennifer and her fiancee, Jeff (yes, another one. And might I add, that my Jeff and her Jeff are only a month apart in age. Jenn and I are four months apart in age) were married by a Justice of the Peace with a small ceremony of family and friends. I was to be her Maid of Honor (well Matron of Honor now, but no one knew of our little... escapade).

The anxiety of my decisions were running havoc on my stomach the morning of December 12th. I awoke early that morning to stomach pains so severe, I was unable to leave the bed. By 7am, no fluids were left in my body. I had no idea how I was to get up, get ready, pack (which I saved for the very last minute, unable to believe I was really going to get the opportunity to travel to Europe), let alone have the strength to stand the length of the ceremony or stomach dinner afterwards. Please allow me to share some advice, unless you have a stomach of steel or no family, DO NOT run away, get married and not tell anyone for a month.

After being heavily medicated, I was able to dress myself and make the attempt to stand with Jenn on her important day. I did fail however, in not being ready in time to help her get ready, take her to the ceremony or attend the dinner afterward. Three months later, almost exactly, they were blessed with the birth of their son, Dominic (which, thankfully I was not sick then and was able to see him the day after his birth).

That evening, while everyone was enjoying themselves and honoring the marriage of Jeff and Jenn, I sat on my couch, with my Mother, expressing my fears, worries and anxieties of the impending trip. I had waited months for this opportunity and was convinced it would fall through. As I explained to everyone and anyone who would listen, "Some people want to be doctors, some people want new cars and big homes, I want to go to Europe." Since I've NEEDED this trip, wanted it with my whole being, I was convinced I would not get it. I guess that's what some specialists would call low self-esteem or possibly pessimistic? To calm my fears, my Mom suggested I call another cousin, Melissa. Melissa, along with her husband, Ryan traveled through France and Italy 'by the seat of their pants.' They made no reservations at hotels, no plans for any particular places, just traveled by train to wherever sounded interesting and made plans and reservations as they went. Thank you, Melissa. You would never believe how much you helped put my anxieties to rest. I thought of you often throughout the trip as well, wishing I was as spontaneous as you, imagining what you would do in a given situation.


December 13th: The morning of my departure, my Mom, Lindsey (my sister), Aimee (my cousin), Aunt Pat and Aunt Beth (no explanation needed as to who those two are to me) had breakfast at Panera. Since I was just coming off of that horrid stomach 'thing,' my breakfast consisted of Iced Green Tea (which I highly recommend to anyone who dines there!). It was a nice way to see everyone before I left.

After hours of packing, unpacking and repacking, my Mom and Lindsey drove us to the airport. Tears and hugs were inevitable.
I sniffled my way into the airport undertaking a whole new part of my life.

As Jeff and I prepared for our flight: checking in our baggage, security, waiting... I thought back onto one winter-y night during a major blizzard that hit our area. My father, who worked for the Department of Transportation for our state, came home from a long shift and wanted to take my Mom, Lindsey and I for a ride in the country to admire the scenery. As little girls, there was nothing better then going for a ride! We piled into his little Toyota pick-up and chugged up and down the snow-covered country roads. Realizing the snow was not letting up like expected, but instead worsening, my father attempted turning around in a large parking lot. We were stuck. My dad with all his might, with the blistering snow whipping around him, could not push us out. I recall that feeling, of seeing my Dad lean into the car, with a handkerchief wrapped around his mouth and nose, asking us to rock back and forth while he pushed. I was absolutely terrified. I never saw my parents worried, especially my father. As we rocked back and forth, like my Dad asked, Lindsey and I began to cry. My Mom, being the trooper, laughed and told us to 'think of this as an adventure. Like Indiana Jones or MacGuiver.' An adventure, this was what Jeff and I was embarking on. Yes, an adventure, to say the least.