*ded*

My first photo on my blog as a new wife is just like me - classy.

So I am back from my wedding, which wasn't nearly as bad as I thought it would be. I had some horrible people treat me in some horrible ways (see "I am not a Bridezilla" and then add another 20 crappy things, only from 'friends') right up until the wedding so I was nervous, stressed and basically on the verge of calling the whole thing off. ("Why get married if nobody will be there!?" I cried.)

It was worth it and I'd do it 100 times. The people that were there... well, they were the ones that mattered, now weren't they? Some of my closest friends came hell or high water, risking even death (!) to come to my wedding!

But now, now I know I have surrounded myself with quite possibly the world's best people. I have great taste, I think. Looking around at my wedding at all the people that were there for me just made me realize that it really isn't about quantity, but about quality and damned if my wedding was based on quality guests, I'd get a fucking medal.

At one point I was standing in the aisle and we all realized nobody had my music! My music! What were we going to do? All of a sudden one of my closest friends says to me, "Wait, I have a solution!" and whispers to me. I forgot. My friend.. is an opera singer. And only usually a drunk one. But there we go, stone cold sober and she sings for me. Sings loud and clear and beautifully for me to walk down the aisle. Screw iPods. Screw predone orchestrated music from a speaker system. I accidentally had a live opera singer sing me down the aisle. Beat that from your friends!

I am looking forward to writing out thank you cards. Wedding gifts rule. So thoughtful, really. I want to describe the things I got but I fear if I forget one, I will be just distraught with horror at the idea of offending someone who gave me a fantastic gift. Let it be known though that there wasn't a single damn gift I either didn't need, didn't want or couldn't use a million times over. And I'm hard to shop for!! Some people actually got me kitchen things I didn't have! Who can do that? My friends!

So now it's all over and my mother is gone, the coffee machine broke during the wedding so it's not on the counter, the dishes are all over the place, my candles are in a box in the garage... and sadly when we got home, one of our parrots had to be taken care of until she passed on, so her cage is missing as well. The house feels eerily empty and like we just moved into it - what with living out of laundry baskets and plates on the counter. I'm working on fixing it up - but we're still missing my adorable parrot sounds.

So it really IS like a new beginning for us, I suppose. We're putting away all our beautiful gifts (sheepskin rugs! two person woven picnic sets! digital photo frames! Tupperware! blankets! booze! GOOD BOOZE! Money! Shit I did what I said I wouldn't!) and even our own stuff so it does feel all brand new.

I feel different, the boy doesn't. I feel older and more mature. Possibly because I nearly killed myself with stress. I think I aged 6 years. I also lost some hair. Okay, I lost a lot of hair. But nobody noticed. Nobody even noticed my missing earring (except just before the wedding one whole person did). I stressed for nothing.

So now it's time for peppermint tea and naps. With kangaroos.

Don't Count Your Fois Gras Before They Hatch!

5 days until I get married. 10 days until baby chickens hatch. 30 days until we have baby ducks. And possibly only a week until we have kittens. Due to an overwhelming oversight in feline Houdini magic, a big fat orange tabby managed to make his way into my home about 6-7 weeks ago to give my 5 month old (at the time) little kitten a what-for. Figuring I had a couple months to fix her after the wedding, I was a bit taken off guard. I didn't witness the what-for and had actually assumed it didn't occur since I only found the behemoth in my garage, not the house itself. Judging by the belly...kittens.

So, I fail at cat ownership. In my defense, the little thing is barely seven months old and was always kept indoors. In my defense, cats are notorious for doing this and I should've just really known better.

However I really seem to WIN at duck ownership. I candled the eggs last night under my newly-nesting Lady Duck, who is Elvis's girlfriend, the muscovy. It appears we have two duds but SIX ducklings. My current problem is I made the mistake of not separating Muscovy eggs from Blue/Silver Swedish and Muscovies take about 4-5 days longer to hatch than Swedes, so hopefully this works. I'm GUESSING that the two duds might be Muscovies because her and Elvis are new to mating and, since it does take longer to grow, might not be duds at all, just slow-growing Muscys.

Lady Duck

So I am excited. I really don't know what kind of ducks she's hatching and I'm pretty sure she doesn't care, she's been stealing the unfertilized chicken eggs (much to my poor hand's distress when I need to retrieve them) and trying to hatch those as well. As you can see, she's plucked much of her gorgeous ducky down feathers and built her nest up with them. I have wild notions of sitting there for hours picking through it all to get enough fluff to make a pillow. Clearly this will end after about 10 minutes of cursing, but I like my wild notions nonetheless.

My fiance made a sook last night because I was excitedly telling people of my ducklings and kittens. "You are more excited about babies than you are about marrying me this week," he said. I felt bad, but he's not right - it just appears that way.

See, when you're about to get married, you talk about it a lot and people get, well, kind of sick of it. So you try not to talk about it as much. Only... the day gets closer the less you try to talk about it. So you feel like a rubberband about to snap wanting to describe your dress for the 1056387th time to your friend because the day is only a week away but you know you're just going to get an evil glare, so you don't.

... but this is my blog, so fuck you guys.

My dress is gorgeous! And the amazing tailor at Admiral's Quarters in Brisbane CBD really knows how to take care of people. Not trusting any tailor with Glynn's first suit, especially at Hugo Boss prices, I knew this particular tailor was, well, good. I've used him before. He has excellent prices, takes pride in his suits and it always willing to help you out and make you feel great - even if you're the 10,000th bride he's seen that day. He'll excitedly whisk you into a beautiful dressing room and professionally but nicely compliment you and help you any way he can. The whole experience is over before you knew it began - and the whole thing is relatively painless. Even the price - so I thought I'd put a little advertisement here for them. Stuart's Suits is just below (but inside) Admiral's Quarters and is fan-fucking-tastic.

Truth be told, I'm panicking just a little. Didn't think I would but I think my mother makes me panic and well, she's here. So I feel like I've got to entertain, plan a wedding, make sure she's proud of me, farm and get married all in the same week. All while feeling scrutinized beyond recognition. It's been making me nervous and I've been dropping things, stuffing up recipes, feeling sorry for myself and even crying - which is something I really don't do these days.

It's not hard, I'll say that. It's easy, life. It's just complicated. So many things to do, I feel a little overwhelmed but I don't feel so terribly challenged. I know I can do it. I know it'll be fine.

This might also be why I just start going on about ducklings and how excited I am 5 days before my wedding. Because actually talking about the wedding makes me start hyperventilating.

6 ducklings!!! 6 beautiful gorgeous roasted ducks. 200 bars of duck fat soap. 24 litres of duck stock. 3 gorgeous duck down pillows or 1 duck down blanket. 6 servings of hand-made fois gras.

DUCKS!

Honeymoon

I'm thinking about my honeymoon right now. I keep telling everyone my fiance and I plan to see Greece but I'm not entirely sure anymore. I wanted to go to Prague awhile ago but money problems arose from my last relationship. So I seem to have a general lust for Europe. I just switch sides.

However, I thought, why does a person need to do all the stereotypical things on a honeymoon? Why can't I go out and do something completely different? Something that might change my whole perspective on life and freedoms? Well, maybe because that's not like me at all. Of course not! I would never go randomly into a new country and follow a road less travelled. Of course not. Never done it before.

So I present to you, my idea. I want to walk the El Camino de Santiago, the Way of St. James, to Santiago de Compostela. I have been studying it here and there over the last couple years and it's something I definitely want to do before I die. I've spoken about it often to friends and even made pacts with friends I deemed 'good enough to spend a few weeks hike with' to travel this road together. I promised even if I did it, I would do it again just for them and be their guide. This is the way of the road.

I read stories of the Templar Knights and of the promises made to the people and of how it all came crumbling down. I've read about the scallop shells and the protection and magick (though the Christians might not like that part) surrounding the road beneath the Milky Way. Follow the stars, follow your heart, follow your dreams - travel through history and become a part of the world as it once was.

I want to earn my Compostela, which is a certificate presented to pilgrims who have travelled 100km or more by foot. I want to do a little more than this, as this is one of the shorter routes, only taking about a good strenuous 2 days hike or 3-4 days with stops and relaxing. I would like to collect all the stamps possible in a two weeks period, before ending up in Santiago, with a prayer and a compestela.

Not your classic honeymoon destination, I wouldn't think. However, it would be one you would never forget, not for a moment. "Remember how after we got married, we strapped backpacks to ourselves and walked the Road to Santiago?" And we'll display the stamps and compestela in the glass cases of our house and speak fondly of those days until the road calls us back to be guides for the next pilgrims.

Sure, in my head it's fantastical and romantic. I know it's rough and complicated and dehydrating and the packs are heavy. I know it's a lot of walking. I know it's a lot of remembering some semblance of the Spanish I was once fluent in. I am fine with this. I would be proud to undertake the challenges of the Road in the name of Gd and feel history beneath me feet.

If not for my honeymoon, another day. I hate saying 'another day' though, because that's what people always say before they tuck away their dreams for a day that never comes. Still, I speak fondly of taking this trip every time the topic of travel comes up. Maybe it's not the worst idea I've had. But then again, I've had some pretty bad ideas.