Six Weeks To Go

Tomorrow it's six weeks until the wedding. Am I freaking out? A little.

I have my final dress fitting tonight. I'm looking forward to what the dress lady comes out with this time. Last time she tried to push all sorts of bling-y jewellery onto me as well as headpieces (one of which fell out of my hair onto the floor coming dangerously close to breaking – and giving me a near heart attack as it cost at least £100). Then when I said that maybe the dress was a little too tight she told me, "It's a wedding dress, not pyjamas, you know."

Maybe after the wedding I'll sleep in it. It's certainly warm enough with all the layers and our flat has been freezing lately.

It's a strange time – part of me wants the wedding to be here tomorrow because I'm so excited about seeing everyone and celebrating. Another part of me wants to put it off longer so there's more time to get everything done. The last part of me is so nervous I want to puke.

So maybe it's a good time to recount the absolute best story of wedding planning I've been able to collect thus far. Not to talk it up too much (and if you speak to me on a regular basis you've definitely heard it already).

A few months ago it was time to select a photographer. So I made some appointments – one of which was with a guy who has a really lovely online portfolio. To avoid brushing up against England's not-so-friendly libel laws, let's call him Bob.

I brought one of my trusty friends along to meet Bob in the outskirts of London as Future Hub couldn't leave work in time to meet him . The meeting started out awkwardly to begin with, which was a sign of things to come.

First Bob questioned our decision to get married at such a late time in the winter (3.30 pm, FYI). What about the lack of natural light? Helpfully, since we had already decided on the timing for our wedding and shelled out loads of deposits, he informed us that people who get married in the winter typically get married earlier in the day – to catch the natural light. Apparently Bob had never heard of a flash or artificial lighting. In the end, he did look up the sunset time on his iPhone for that day and conceded there would be some natural light left, which might suffice.

Phew.

Then we moved on to family photos. Bob considered himself a photojournalist of sorts (and I suspect was extremely bitter that weddings pay so well and he had to degrade himself by doing them) and explained that he didn't really like taking family portraits. He might do three or four if we were lucky, like the groom's blood relatives, and my blood relatives and then maybe shots with both parents. I kid you not – he actually used the phrase 'blood relatives'. After all, he tried to joke, why would you even want a picture with your cousin's wife, who you don't even know?

This is when I started to get a little snippy. After all, I actually know my cousin's wife quite well and would love to be in a picture with her. As far as I'm concerned weddings are actually about family, so his attitude seemed really off-base. Besides I'm sure most photographers don't like taking portrait after portrait, but tough, that's the job. There are parts of my job I don't either – but I also like to get a pay check.

Then it got even better. He inquired about the first dance. Did we plan to do a choreographed routine? Because if not, it probably wasn't worth it for him to stay after the speeches. I was a little aghast, but I probed further. I told him I'd actually like a few photos of people dancing (not just me and Future Hub) to capture the celebration spirit. Well, if you hadn't already guessed, he didn't do that. For health and safety reasons. "After the first dance, I get off the dance floor," he deadpanned.

As my friend and I walked into the parking lot I said to her: "There's no way I want that man anywhere near me on my wedding day." What a total downer.

Needless to say, the next photographer who I met was completely lovely. He even acted like he might enjoy taking photos at our wedding. I was totally sold.

Related Posts:

• More Parties Please
• People Pleasing
• Upstaged By The Royals

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A Christmas Story (In January)

I've been accused recently of being out of season. Why? I served mulled wine at our book club meeting last night. Mulled wine is clearly on the pre-Christmas side of the calendar in this neck of the woods. However, in Germany, the drink made at Feuerazngenbowle (meaning literally 'fire-tongs punch') parties is a type of mulled wine where a rum-soaked sugar cone is set on fire to drip into the wine punch.

And although these parties happen before Christmas, they also typically happen in January when the weather is cold and you feel like having your friends around to sip a hot warming drink and watch a grown man set fire to a sugar cone. It's a great tradition (our friends who threw these parties have sadly left London).

So perhaps that's why I thought to serve mulled wine in January. Along the same lines I'm wondering if it's too late to tell a Christmas story.

But in light of last week's post about skipping the news, I thought that maybe the time was right. Sometimes there are good stories –and parents who do nice things. And who cares if it's not Christmas anymore? I'm so busy right now that I have to just be thankful that I get any ideas for blogs at all!

When I arrived home in New York this year for Christmas, my parents had moved all the furniture around for various reasons, which of course unnerved me to no end (heaven knows how I'll react when they eventually sell the family home and move South in pursuit of warmer weather and cheaper taxes, as they are threatening).

Due to the fact that all the furniture had been shuffled around, coupled with my 24-hour stay-awake-a-thon on Christmas Eve – a day that was populated with a 5 a.m. wake-up, a seven-hour flight, two Christmas parties, a Christmas pageant and a midnight Christmas Eve service – I didn't really notice that the piano was gone.

When I was young I wanted to play the piano more than anything. I had a little toy piano with a minuscule keyboard that I used to play the easy songs taught by my music class teacher. I'm not sure it even had an octave on it. I was only five years old, but was completely obsessed.

But we didn't have a piano. I have no idea what our family's financial situation was at the time (I've never asked), but I assume that plunking down thousands of dollars for a piano was either not an option or not an option at that particular moment. Luckily a family at our church had a spare piano that no one was using, so they lent it to us. They never wanted it back, so it became ours (or mine, I guess) and has been sitting at my parents' house collecting dust while I live my life overseas.

When I finally noticed it was gone this trip home, we had just sat down the four of us to do our 'family Christmas' after the drive back from Grandma's. The tree was sitting it its former resting place so really it couldn't have been more obvious. When I asked where it was, my parents told me "I'd see" what had happened to it.

My parents had decided the piano could be put to better us than sitting there with no one to play it, so they contacted my piano teacher (also a close family friend) and found out if she had any students or potential students who needed a piano. Turns out she did, so the piano made its way into the little girl's hands. My parents had two terms – they wanted a picture of her with the piano to show me and an invitation to her first recital.

When I saw the picture I burst into tears. My Mom said, "Are you crying because we gave your piano away?" (Apparently when she told my brother the plan he assessed, "Well, it could go either way…")

What kind of person do they think I am?

No, I wasn't crying because I was now lacking a piano (that I wasn't even using) but because I was so moved by their gesture and in fact remember very clearly how badly I had wanted to take piano lessons. I was barely six when it arrived and I still remember that day and the excited happiness I felt. And to know that someone else could experience that same feeling (coupled with very bad jet lag and all the general emotional stuff that comes along with Christmas with the family), was more than enough to send me to that teary place and over the edge to actual real crying.

I ended up studying piano for 12 years after the borrowed piano arrived. And I continued to love it. I will study again at some point, but as I talked about in my post on creativity, I do think there's a time for everything and now is not the time for it (we also haven't found a space for a piano or even a keyboard in the flat yet).

Not to brag too much about my parents – but I do think what they did is pretty cool. I only wish I had thought of it.

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To Know Or Not To Know

I'm not sure exactly when it happened, but all of a sudden Future Hub was mentioning current events and my mind was just coming up blank. He was incredulous that I wasn't aware of some parliamentary scandal or another. "You mean, you haven't been following it at ALL?" he said, probably one normal Tuesday evening.

Thing is, one day I just got tired of reading the free newspapers in London. In the morning there's Metro and after work The Evening Standard. Everyone seems to read them and they litter the train seats and the tube seats and the flat bit in the middle of the escalators. There's a lot of highly entertaining stuff in them – restaurant reviews, celebrity gossip and of course news. The regular serious stuff like budget cuts and politics and business news but also pretty much every horrible thing that happens in Britain and the world. Children being tortured and abused, accidental holiday deaths and women cyclists in London being run over by lorries (trucks). The women always seem to be exactly my age. And of course whoever she was, she definitely had a promising career and there's always a pretty picture of her smiling back at you.

A week ago the header read: Mother and Son Killed in Bathtub. Apparently they were electrocuted when an heater fell into the tub. I didn't read the story, just peered over at it across from the tube aisle (which also toughened my resolve to write this particular blog soon).

I am aware that horrible things happen in this world. Everyday, all day long. But does it do me any good to read about them morning and evening, day in and day out? Perhaps it would be useful to know not to keep electrical appliances close to the bathtub, however, my Mother has hammered that lesson into my head for as long as I have been alive. And in Britain they don't even have electrical sockets in bathrooms, such is the fear quotient about mixing electricity and water (which begs asking how this freak accident actually happened – and I don't know, not having read the story).

I'm not suggesting totally cutting oneself off from the news flow entirely. For work I need to know what's happening in financial markets, so I read the free business newspaper (City A.M.) every morning and also get to the Financial Times later in the day as well. I also digest all sorts of trade journals about my particular industry.

But do I need to know about every terrible thing happening in the world? Does it help change things in any way? Would I be more likely to make a difference in this world being a calm, happier person who doesn't dwell on every real-life horror? I hope so. Because that's the particular tack I'm taking at this moment. Not only does reading the daily free papers upset me, but it also takes up precious free time when I could be writing or reading books on my long list, or spending time chatting with friends (here and abroad).

And I still find out about stuff. It's amazing how much people tell you about current events. If you're interested in something in particular you can then go and read about it. Even just reading the Saturday paper once a week will tell you more than you need to know about anything that has happened in the past seven days (if indeed you want to know about it).

'They' say knowledge is power, and it is, but is all knowledge power? And there are always things we'd rather not know. Does idle horrible gossip about friends or co-workers help anyone? I say, when it comes to knowledge, be selective. Pursue what you're interested in, challenge yourself, but don't think you need to know everything that's going on – all knowledge certainly isn't equal.

Related posts (on attempting to avoid some stress):

• Silly Stress
• Success Is Fun But Work Should Be Too
• Email: Channeling Josephine

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Creativity: This Time It's Personal

I often hear people saying they're not creative. And I say: rubbish! Creativity is personal – and therefore it comes in all shapes and sizes, just like people. And I also think it emerges in different forms throughout our lives.

When I quit my job as a journalist and started my current one I wasn't doing any creative writing. I suddenly had my sanity and my evenings back and I found I had a lot of energy to cook. I tried all sorts of things. I deep fried for the first time – making onion bhajis for a somewhat shocked Future Hub. Who knew you could deep fry right on the stove top with a regular pot and some vegetable oil?

I was sort of lost at the time, but downright happy. After nine years as a journalist I was surprised by finding some spare brain capacity and energy to try something new. So I cooked – quite a bit – not anywhere near that whole Julie/Julia level, but still, I picked up recipes in the supermarket all the time and altered them to my own taste, writing them all down on index cards in a recipe box.

Future Hub's favorite is my Cincinnati Chili. I am partial to (and still somewhat shocked by) my Chicken Piccata.

Since I started this blog and we bought the flat and started planning the wedding I've just rolled out all the favorites time and time again. Plus there's been a little help from Waitrose's 'Easy Cook' range.

Creativity takes all forms. From thank-you note writing to cake baking, gardening to applying makeup, I believe there aren't boundaries when it comes to what constitutes creativity. There are people who can make you a good meatball and those who can make you laugh until tears are running down your face. It takes all kinds. Some people amaze me just when they speak – the phrases they use or their certain type of humor. I wish I could write it all down sometimes.

I think everyone can be creative, but here's what I think is the most important way to develop it: space. Just yesterday I wrote about this a little. Giving myself space in the morning (I hope) will be good for my creativity.

I didn't know how much I wanted to cook until I had the space to make that choice. And when I decided it was time to start writing, it took me a long time to figure out how I was going to do it. Not that I'm even close yet. But I took a summer narrative non-fiction writing course and it was wonderful. I was excited and I wrote a lot, but then for months and months afterwards I couldn't figure out what to do next. So I mulled and met with other writers and I waited until the blog idea finally came to me (and I was brave enough to actually do it).

Creativity is not a rush job. It must unfold in its own time. The most important way to lead yourself to it is to do something you're excited about. Whether it's cooking or writing. For me, I'm not sure if I would have gotten to the writing if I didn't have the cooking. It also gave me time to heal, and practically, time to do my physiotherapy exercises. I had had a hard couple of years (read The Whole Story if you're not familiar) and I needed to find some joy again.

And to me, when it comes down to it, that's what creativity is about most of all – joy. I think the best way to find your way back into life when things get tough is to seek some joy through creating. Because as long as you're creating, you're living.

This post is part of the Self-Discovery Word by Word Series which Margarita (of the great blog Weightless) kicked off this month by choosing the word creativity. To read more, check out her original post for the series on Body Image & Creativity

 Related Posts:

• Gratitude: Pumpkin Pie Mix In England
• Vulnerability: Being Broken Isn't So Bad
• Authenticity: Being True But Growing Too

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Making Morning Space

As you may or may not have noticed, I took last week off from blogging. Wasn't intentional, but last weekend we were in New York partying it up pre-wedding. And then, back to work, dealing with jet lag and a pile of work to tackle after being on vacation for (gasp!) two weeks straight. Blogging just wasn't in the cards.

Plus we're gearing up for the stretch of time right before the wedding when things really need to get sorted out, so I'm kind of busy panicking.

However, I have made some progress on the morning front! I thought I'd share, because you all know how much I have struggled with this. It's probably too early to even talk about because I've had a lot of false starts before, but as is always the case, I am hoping that this time is different.

Here's my new approach. In the past, I was trying to get up earlier to get something done. Most recently writing. However, I think this may have been where I was going wrong. This past week (and mind you, I was jetlagged) I started getting up earlier but avoided doing anything more than I typically do before work – you know the drill: shower, dressing, eating, getting to work. This week I just gave myself more space and time. Time to actually put on makeup, time to make a nice breakfast, and an actual feasible time for commuting.

The results were astounding. Not faced with a new task to get done but just more time to enjoy getting ready in the morning and subsequently not feeling rushed and panicky has done wonders for my mood in the morning. I'm getting into work before 9 a.m. – instead of wondering how late I'm actually going to be that day.

And because I don't feel rushed or stressed I am not so devastated when I don't get a seat on the train or the tube. I'm even feeling like I'm more productive at work because I don't start the day feeling behind.

One of my issues – I believe – is that my stress over needing to be more productive is actually detrimental. Because I'm always trying to 'do' so much, I don't have time to just 'be' and that, counterintuitive as it may be, actually impedes creativity and productivity.

Perhaps – and one can always hope – that this time I have it cracked. I spend so much time trying to be something else, someone better, someone more interesting and more productive. Maybe for me the morning isn't a time to get more done, but a time for me to just let things go and make more space for being.

Again, as usual, I'm worried this is the millionth false start. But I'll keep you posted.

Related Posts:

• The Magical Life Of The Morning Person
• I'll Never Be A Morning Person, But...
• Jekyll And Hyde

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Book Review: Women, Work and the Art of Savoir Faire

I have mixed feelings about Mireille Guiliano, author of Women, Work and the Art of Savoir Faire. Although I think there are truly great parts of her French Women Don't Get Fat two-book series, and I do think she has a very healthy relationship with food, her philosophy on weight loss in the books cuts a little bit too close to a diet. Although she does advise eating everything in moderation, she also tells readers to do a weekend leek soup fast to kick start things and then cut out certain types of foods until the weight starts to drop off.

However, her newest book is not specifically about food or lifestyle, but about women and work. She does put a fair dose of lifestyle advice in there – and I don't object to that. In fact, it's a good summary of things we already know but probably should be reminded about from time to time, like 'get enough sleep' and 'decide what you're going to wear the night before'. These things can actually save a lot of stress when it's time to get ready for work (it's a no brainer – but I still need to be reminded about them quite frequently).

Guiliano's writing style is engaging and her anecdotes in this book are very interesting – in fact, I think the book might have been better if it actually was written in memoir style instead of as a self-help book. My feeling while reading this book was that of confusion – which is it exactly? I felt that the lessons she was painting were good ones, but everything was so specific to her own experiences that I wasn't sure I could really apply them.

I've read a few books about women and work and have been helped the most by very specific advice that can be applied in a variety of situations. Like, 'don't apologize (which women tend to do) unless there's a very good reason for it', and 'treat work like a game, not a meritocracy' (something women – probably from years of conditioning – also tend to not 'get').

That said, I think reading a book about one very accomplished woman's experiences with work, particularly as an ex-pat woman in the male-dominated drinks industry in the US during the 1980s was fascinating (she was a senior executive and spokesperson for Veuve Clicquot). There's always something we can learn from reading about someone else's experiences told from their unique point of view.

There is one other issue. Guiliano chose not to have children. And she doesn't really address how she thinks this may or may not have affected her career path. I raise this issue delicately as I don't want to imply in any way that her success is linked with the absence of children. In a recent column in the Financial Times, Lucy Kellaway (who writes about work life) addresses the same issue. She didn't do any scientific research, but trawled through a list of prominent women CEOs and found that what they generally had in common were husbands who either had more flexible working schedules or worked for themselves and were able to pitch in more than their fair share on childcare and other family-related tasks.

Most women (and men) don't make it to the echelons of their company's highest ranks, so Guiliano's success does raise this kind of question. Would things have been different if she had children?

If you like reading about other people's experiences, want a good few common sense tips, and don't mind feeling slightly inadequate (I mean, she does sometimes seem like a superwoman), I think this book is a good read. But don't expect to get any heavyweight insight into how to climb the corporate ranks at your company – I'm just not sure there's enough advice packed in.

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Unhappiness

I've finished reading both books that I brought home with me for vacation, so my Mom gave me another book to read – one which she has really enjoyed. It's The Art of Racing in The Rain by Garth Stein and it has testimonials all over the back cover from authors I respect, so I'm sure it must be pretty good. However, I read the first chapter on a train ride to visit one of my friends and by the time I had finished it, I had to use all my strength to keep from sobbing in public.

I'm not sure if I can handle reading this book. I'm going to try again, but the beginning just reminded me so much of the ending of the movie Marley & Me that I felt it was insurmountable. I watched Marley & Me on a flight once and let's just say that although I'm not the biggest animal person (spoiler alert), by the end of the movie I was in pieces, as if my own dog had died. I turned to Future Hub and told him we were never having a pet and 'I don't know why people put themselves through this sort of thing'.

Why would you subject yourself to an unhappiness you know you will experience?

I suppose what people who give cats and dogs (and other animals) a home believe is that the happiness they will experience over the life of their pet will much outweigh the sadness they know they will eventually face when that pet passes on to the big farm in the sky.

Life is full of unhappiness. So how do we cope?

I think that humans are very capable of handling it. And on some level we know that we must experience sadness with all the good stuff too. I've read numerous times in books and articles that people who consider themselves happy actually don't experience less pain or periods of sadness than others, it's just that they are aware that they get the bad with the good and know they will experience thoughts of sadness, depression even, bouts of anxiety, self-doubt and just that general feeling of itchiness and nothing being right – and that it too will pass.

I am reminded of this all the time. When I'm having a crappy day, just feeling down for no particular reason, I think, I will feel better again. I just have to ride this out, be kind to myself, not try too hard. It helps.

I'm going to make another attempt at reading that book. Mom says it's really great – as long as you can get past the bit in the middle when you get really angry at some character or another. I'll just try to ride it out.

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