Tuesday, March 17, 2015

So You're Getting Married, Part II

Earlier this year I wrote "So You're Getting Married" with a list of a few things I learned while starting the process of planning my wedding.

Today I bring you part II in that series. This is a more focused post, specifically when it comes to vendors.

When I got my first tattoo (I was 16 and had parents who agreed a small flower was fine and being 16 I was too shocked my parents said yes to give it much additional thought. Thankfully I still like it 15 years later!) the man who wielded the needle was a kind older man who looked a lot like Santa Claus. If Santa Claus had a spider web tattoo on his elbow and ink over more than 50% of his body. Maybe he was just an old man with a beer and a bowl full of jelly. Whatever, he was really nice. And I remember thinking, "huh, that's so nice that he's a big bad biker dude (which I, at the time, assumed anyone with that many tattoos had to be) and he's still so sweet to me." Looking back, Santattoo (I just came up with that, right now. That's hysterical.) was probably more terrified of a panicked 16 year old chick with her two parents in tow getting a tattoo than I should have been of him ... Perspective and whatnot. He helped me tweak the design a little bit. Choose a color that wouldn't fade. Even took a break (in the midst of the TINY design that took 15 minutes TOTAL) when I thought I was going to pass out because I saw blood and waited while my dad ran to the gas station next door to get me a Snickers so I could bring my blood sugar back up. (I had NO business getting a tattoo, NONE.)

When I got my second tattoo, the guy was an ass. Told me the design I chose was too small, he couldn't do it in more than one color and he barely spoke to me the entire time. Rushed through the whole thing. And I remember thinking that time, "Huh, I don't think that's how you're supposed to be. Santatto should teach lessons or something." Years later, when I was no longer 18 and (somehow even more) stupid, I realized that should have been a red flag and I should have taken my money and hightailed it out of that place because someone who can't treat a customer with respect has no business leaving permanent markings on them. #LifeLessons.

Now at this point you may be wondering what the hell I'm talking about. Did I get a wedding related tattoo? (No, but now that's a thing I'm thinking about wanting.) Did I ask Santattoo to marry us? (Nope, that's probably slightly outside of the feel we're going for with this wedding.)

Here's where it ties in to the wedding. That lesson was true and extends far beyond just the "ink world". When you have a business that involves some sort of service, you should not be an asshole to people. You just shouldn't. But there are a lot of people, place and companies that stop JUST short of that. I would highly recommend, when it comes to getting married, you avoid those people/places/companies at all costs. Because here's another thing I've learned: weddings are expensive. You are spending a lot of your hard earned money (or if you're lucky, someone else's hard earned money) on one of the biggest days of your life. There is NO place, in ANY of that for someone who isn't nice or helpful.

Thankfully, that is not the experience we have had. For as much as I gush about how awesome our wedding is going to be, I gush *almost* as hard about how incredible our vendors are. They are smart and helpful and encouraging and funny and OH MY GOSH CAN WE ALL JUST GET MARRIED?! (Kidding, I'm all set with just the one fiance.) They have helped me think of the little details I maybe would have never thought of. They tolerate my long lists of questions. They gladly (or at least in front of me) draft up version number 7 of a contract after I change my mind one last time. They take time and sit with Tom and I to make sure our day will be perfect. They've bought us lunch and given marriage advice and made us feel so damn good about the day we're planning.

Basically, my wedding day will be as amazing as it's going to be, due in LARGE part to the incredible team of people we've chosen to work with. And I would like to strongly recommend that you either work with these people or make absolutely certain that whatever vendors you choose, make you feel that same way.

Laura Zastrow Photography - I met Laura 2 1/2 years ago when she photographed another friend's wedding. Before I even saw a SINGLE picture she had taken, I told her she was going to be my photographer if I ever got married. Since then, she's become THE BEST photographer in Madison, according to Madison Magazine. She takes ridiculously incredible pictures (like some of my very favorites below) and she's managed to stay every bit as awesome.

Source: Laura Zastrow Photography

Source: Laura Zastrow Photography

Source: Laura Zastrow Photography

Smoke Shack (Hospitality Democracy) - Specifically Ryan, who's been our catering/wedding planning extraordinaire. Ryan has not only helped us figure out a menu and all of the catering related logistics, but EVERY time I get an email or have a conversation with that man I learn something new/think of something I never would have on my own. (For instance, always include your last names and wedding date in an email signature to vendors to help them keep organized.) He has helped us coordinate details with other vendors, helped craft the most delicious menu and does it all with patience and a smile. Had the BBQ not been enough, Ryan sealed the deal on Smoke Shack.

Anodyne Coffee - Lindsay, the event coordinator at Anodyne, had her wedding there before she started working there. This girl knows the ins and outs of the place from both sides and is willing to share every last detail she can think of. And, AND, after our first meeting, she sent me a SEVENTEEN page PDF master document that contained every single detail she had for her own wedding. Be still my detail loving, organization needing, Type A control freak heart. Honestly, besides being nice, friendly and patient (sensing a theme here? I ask a lot of questions) a woman who has a master document like that is MY PEOPLE.

Amelishan Bridal Shop -  Jane was the sweetest woman. She couldn't have been more than 5' tall with arms of steel. Seriously, bridal gowns are stupidly heavy for the most part and she would walk through that store with a few on each side, held far above her head (because she's so tiny) getting all the dresses that me, mom and Siobhan would ask for. But, beyond being sweet and incredibly helpful, Jane would say things like, "now remember, when it's altered to fit you, you won't have that bra fat in the back" or "when it's your size you'll have just the right amount of appropriate cleavage" and THAT is the stuff a bride-to-be needs to hear!

Tuesday, March 3, 2015

Goals, resolutions or just getting sh*t done.

Way back in January I decided instead of haphazardly setting resolutions or goals for the year I was going to spend the month figuring out what it was exactly that I wanted to happen this year. I researched how to successfully set goals. What others were focusing on. Whether it should be small actions with combined larger results, or one big giant goal that takes the whole year, or a word to use as a mantra... there's options. And everyone has a reason for their own.

Then, the threat all Type A, control freak personalities face came knocking. I had possibly overanalyzed the decision and became overwhelmed by the information at hand and decided I should just ease up and let it come to me.

Fast forward to present day and it's March and I haven't set any sort of specific goal. (Sometimes I amaze even myself at how quickly I can go from too much control and planning to absolutely none at all. It's truly a talent.) I mean, to be fair, I did totally redirect all control and logistical focus towards planning a wedding, so it's not like I was just sitting on my ass...but still.

So I decided this past weekend to spend a little bit of time figuring out what I wanted out of 2015. I mean, it's shaping up to be a pretty big year for me (did you hear I'm getting married?!) and I know there will be a lot of external situations brining change. I also, for the most part, hate change. So I'm trying to figure out how I might balance the chaos, encourage positive internally driven change and end 2015 feeling like I've actually accomplished what I set out to do.

I've kind of decided on a hybrid of things to focus on but ultimately the come together and work with each other for the greater good of... me.

Present. 
My first major focus came from a quiz I took from a "Commit to You" yoga challenge through Gaiam TV. My mantra that resulted from this challenge quiz was "I am here."

I have always struggled with being in the present. See: being 4 years old and asking for a briefcase for Christmas so I could play pretend "go to work" which was just me announcing "I'm going to work!" and then standing between the storm door and the front door holding my briefcase. I've always been too excited by what's next to truly focus on what's currently happening. I need to be more present in all that I do. Quit tweeting while I'm composing an email while listening to a podcast.  Eat your dinner. Not eat your dinner while you snapchat as you watch Gilmore Girls. Actually BE in the current pose of yoga instead of anticipating the next cue. Truly listen to people when they're talking instead of thinking what my response will be. There's little moments in every single day that make up our day, our week, our year and our life. I need more moments, less milestones.

So, for 2015, I will be present. I am here. Wherever the hell here may be.


Intentional. 
Truly assess EVERY SINGLE aspect I allow into my life. Every task I fill my time with. If I'm going to choose to be in a moment, I must want to be there - either because it's brining me joy or value. For example, I will spend time with people who make me happy, instead of negative forces. That brings me joy. I will workout more. Despite it possibly not making me happy at all in the present moment, it brings a necessary value to my life. That value might be toned arms for a wedding dress. Or preventing an ass so fat it doesn't fit in pants. It can vary from day-to-day. This applies to people, activities, things and even food. (Sweet baby Jesus does it apply to food... It's tough to intentionally eat and find value in a big mac - I mean, I CAN do it, but it's harder than broccoli.)

Less. 
In order to truly be present and intentional, there must be less clutter. Less noise. Less distraction. My second focus of this year is to be minimalistic. I have more stuff than I need. Side note: while I was procrastinating on setting a goal, and after being motivated by my friend Gina who's currently decluttering while raising a toddler, I stumbled upon this decluttering challenge and decided that was a good start. I've been throwing away sh*t regularly and it's pretty freeing! At first, I was all, "But this champagne flute from Alpha Chi Omega formal circa 2007 is VERY special." But then, I was all, "NIKOLAS. You have 17 champagne flutes and have never ONCE had a toast of any kind in this home. Pick 4 and ditch the rest." Unfortunately, the AXO flute wasn't part of a matching foursome and will soon belong to some random person seeking fanciness at Good Will. I have lived in my house for 9 years, have barely had to consolidate a single closet or cupboard. I have things I've forgotten I owned TWICE. 

There are some other little goals I'm working on... eating better, working out more, getting up earlier in the morning, being on time... but they all ladder up to these mantras, intentions, whatever you want to call them. I'm still figuring out how the all come to life in the every day kind of way...but it's working for me. Sometimes I'll intentionally eat some pizza. I'm still going to multi-task because that's a sickness I can't kick. And I'm sure I'll become a nostalgic sucker and keep a damn t-shirt form 1997 because I've convinced myself it's important. But, I'll seek improvement in these areas and that'll be a big fat win. Plus, now it exists on the internet so it's real and I have to stick to it. That's how cyberspace works, you know? 

Friday, February 20, 2015

So you're getting married.

I have struggled with what to post here about this whole "planning a wedding" thing. I don't want it to become a wedding planning blog. I don't want to post all the details here because I want there to be some element of surprise for my guests (who are pretty much 90% of my readership). It's not that there hasn't been activity. True to my Type A, organization-loving, planner-driven personality, basically the whole damn thing is already planned (and has been for weeks). In a few days I'll be sending out contracts for the caterer, dessert, hotels, photographer and rental company. There are a ton of details being worked out and yet I don't really want to talk about those (unless your my mom, in which case you get a call from me every day after work to give you an update on what I've planned over lunch that day).

So instead I'll talk about what the last 6 weeks (post-engagement) have been like. Here are my observations about the post-proposal, pre-wedding planning phase.

I cry A LOT. 
I mean, I always cry a lot but this is some weepy shit. This phase has totally reaffirmed my fear of being a hormone-filled pregnant woman because I will likely just float away on a river of my tears. Sometimes, when I'm driving to work in the morning, I start to think about the wedding day and marrying Tom and I just start crying. I become so freaking overwhelmed by the love and happiness I feel about that day and I cry. On the spot.

Related: There are things I cannot think about. 
We had most of the wedding planned within about a week of the proposal. My incredibly patient fiance would come home each day to a barrage of ideas I found, people I talked to, things we could get, etc. He would intently listen, offer his opinion and help me me make decisions. We have thought about a LOT of things. However, I have quickly learned my list of things I cannot think about for fear of crying myself to a state of dehydration. These things include, but are not limited to:

  • Almost anything to do with Tom and the day of (this includes first look, vows, first dance, seeing, speaking or touching him). 
  • Almost anything to do with my Dad (first look, father daughter dance and GOD FORBID THAT FREAKING TOAST).
  • Most things to do with "my people" (bridesmaids, bridal party, my mom, my friends, everyone being in the same room to celebrate the love I have for that man...oh god, I could cry right now just typing it and I'm not even really thinking about it).
I am terrified of a dress. 
I'm not much of a clothes shopper. For the longest time, thanks to my previously gigantic boobs, dresses were pretty much out of the question. (See: The time I skipped a formal entirely because I couldn't find a dress to fit over them and also fit the rest of my body in THE ENTIRE CITY OF MINNEAPOLIS.) Maybe I still have PTSD from that or something. Basically me trying to find anything other than a Maxi dress (because those are just sweatpants without legs) is like asking a dude to pick up a bra. What are these descriptions? People wear that? WHAT DOES THIS FLAP DO?! I have been super excited about every single part of wedding planning except for picking a damn dress. NBD, just a dress that EVERYONE IS WAITING TO SEE. Just a dress you're going to MARRY YOUR HUSBAND in. Every time I think of what kind of dress I want I basically just hear a little voice saying, "Don't screw this up, Nikolas." So no, thankyouverymuch, I do NOT have a dress yet. I'm going to need to be a little hammered for that part. 

You should marry a good man. 
I guess I kind of knew this one before I got engaged, but it's become very apparent in this post-proposal phase. Planning a day to commit your life to another person should be, and for the most part is, a very happy experience. However, there are undeniable logistics of a wedding that inevitably make things temporarily not as happy. Money, numbers, crazy family members, whether there is brisket on the menu, etc. (some of those may be more applicable to my wedding than yours). Tom has been amazing. He's interested, he's engaged, he's contributing. He was willing to visit an entire warehouse of vintage rentals and even held a pro/con session of his own between two different sets of table numbers. He's understanding with me when my Type A (which sometimes stands for "asshole") takes over and loses its shit about some stupid detail that doesn't matter at all. He's helpful when I get deep into an excel file and start to get an overwhelmed look on my face. He's patient when I ask the same question 100 times a week despite knowing there will be no change in answer. If you're going to plan a wedding and marry someone, make it someone good. I can't imagine doing this whole thing with someone who sucks. 

My people are awesome. 
I knew this. I've known this for a very long time. But nothing makes you get all gooey inside like thinking of all your favorite people being in one spot at the same time. And then, when you get to ask people to stand up with you when you marry that man that you weren't sure you'd ever find and then you did and they love him and he loves them and it's ONE BIG GIANT LOVE FEST. Oh man, that is some good stuff right there. One of my favorite parts of planning a wedding so far has been asking people to be a part of the big day. I still have a few asks left and I think I might be intentionally procrastinating. This has turned into my favorite drug. The excitement leading up to it, the thrill of asking, the burst of love when they respond. Ugh, it's GOOD STUFF. I don't want it to be over. So sorry to the "yet-to-be-asked" list...y'all might be waiting a little bit longer. 

Monday, January 19, 2015

That Time I Got Engaged.

(I'll be honest. I've put off this blog post for a while because I've known no matter what I decide to write, it's never going to fully capture what happened. That's a very stressful place to start a blog post at, but I'll do my best.)

I have said yes to a lot of stupid things in my life. Skipping most of Econ 101 my junior year. The Apple River Trip of '04. Almost every shot of whisky consumed. I have also said yes to a lot of really amazing things in my life. The University of Minnesota. Alpha Chi Omega. My house. My current job. In all my 31 years, not a single "yes" has ever been more confidently, emotionally, or excitedly uttered as the one I delivered (through sobs and laughter) on January 10, 2014.

This guy, my best friend, the one who makes me laugh until my sides hurt, swoon so hard I fear I may never recover and makes every single minute of my life better, asked me to marry him.


I should have been suspicious when a friend randomly called to celebrate my birthday. I should have questioned why she would be willing to come and pick me up AND drop me off. I could have gotten confused when she randomly called an audible and suggested drinks at the Iron Horse after dinner. But it wasn't until we got out of the car and she took off running inside. It wasn't until I saw my Tommy standing in the vestibule of the Iron Horse Hotel that I knew for sure something was happening. There he was, in my favorite flannel the man owns, looking nervous as hell.

Now let me tell you, this man has, on more than a handful of occasions, brought me to tears by just randomly telling me how he feels. He's got a way with words and he's not afraid to show it. (Even if he's showing it in a Farm & Fleet parking lot as we're about to go look at grills and it catches me so off guard I end up sobbing my way through the bird seed aisle. True story.) So when he started to talk and his voice quivered and I saw tears, I knew shit was going down.


He walked me over to a corner of the patio in the front of the hotel. I know there was screaming from inside. He took my hands. I don't remember everything he said. (It felt like maybe I blacked out from happy?) I know he told me he loved me. And I remember just before his voice cracked completely and he started to really cry he got down on one knee. Then, he asked me to marry him. And I remember a flood. Of memories. Of emotions. Of moments in my life that made me question if this moment would ever happen for me. (You don't spend a three year block in your late 20's/early 30's without that coming into question more frequently than you'd care to mention.) And once the flood passed, I remember feeling a relief that I can't find words for. An affirmation that I found him. My partner in crime, my best friend, my future husband. 


And then, I realized, right before he got down on that knee I had heard a noise I knew. See, my inability to contain tears is a direct inheritance from my mother. Except she tries to pretend she can lock it up. And she does ... until she can't anymore. And when that moment happens a little gasp comes out. I realized right as he took his knee I heard that all too familiar gasp. As we hugged and kissed I heard more screaming. Tom asked, "Do you want to go inside?" to which I responded, "Do I know those screams??" 

We walked inside the doors and just when I thought I couldn't possibly feel more love than I did in that very moment, I was hit by another flood. This time in the form of my family and my best friends and the people who loved me while I waited for him. The people who carried me when I couldn't anymore. The people who kept hope alive when I wanted to give up. The ones who assured me with each break-up or bad date that somewhere out there HE was waiting for me. And they were right. And I was so damn happy to be immediately surrounded by all those people with him. One by one, they threw their hugs around me and my (at this point VERY) ugly cry face. Friends from Milwaukee, my mom & dad, friends from Minnesota, my brother and sister-in-law, friends from Texas, friends from high school, my nephew, friends from the internet. All of them, right there champagne in hand, ready to toast me and my new fiance. 

It was, without a doubt, the most incredible night of my life. The next few hours surrounded by all those amazing people flew by. I have never felt such deliriously high amounts of happy and love in my whole entire life. 

I'm so thankful for Tom for planning such a special night for me. I'm thankful for my mom and Sukie and Holly for knowing when my Tom wouldn't be able to handle ALL the planning and stepping in to assist. I'm so thankful for the friends who made it to the occasion. I'm BEYOND thankful for Danielle bringing a camera and capturing what I couldn't possibly remember all of. I'm thankful for whatever I did in life to deserve these people and this man and the ability for it all to come together in one night of stupid levels of happy. 

Oh, and of course...I'm pretty happy to have this pretty lady adorn my left hand.





Tuesday, November 18, 2014

Adventures at Home - Meet Ralph.

Not to go all night before Christmas on you, but last night as I lay nestled all snug in my bed, there arose such a clatter. Instead of springing from my bed I just yelled "What the hell?!" (It was 2 a.m. I don't spring out of anything at 2:00 in the morning.)  Turns out, some creatures were stirring and one was a mouse.

For the last few weeks, Gracie has been completely entranced by the area near the stove. She's spent hours staring under the dishwasher. And for the last week, every morning when we wake up, she has opened the cupboard door under the sink. I've been saying it's a mouse but after we looked EVERYWHERE for a sign of one, we chalked it up to a friendly ghost and let the little monster do her thing.

Until last night, as I'm sleeping and I can hear furniture being moved down stairs. My "What the hell?!" was met with "I found the mouse." Tom had gotten up to get some water when our littlest and newest house mate went for a quick run across the kitchen.

Now my first thought was, we've got a cat. She'll take care of this. That's when we learned that Gracie is more interested in playing with a mouse than killing it. She'd chase it throughout the house but if she caught up to it, she'd slow down and just follow closely. Her favorite part about this game of cat and mouse was actually when the mouse would be hiding and she could just watch it. (Which I imagine made the last few weeks the most fun for her. We've actually began to wonder if she's been opening the cupboard door to let her little friend out to play while we're sleeping.)

I will be the first to admit I knew I was going to be possibly the least helpful component of this little battle. I immediately think of Ralph from the Mouse and the Motorcycle and how scared that little bugger must be and honestly he was probably just trying to keep warm, I mean it's REALLY cold outside. But at the exact same time I'm having and expressing those thoughts I'm also SCREAMING that I'd like the mouse removed from my house immediately because EW. (Helpful, no?) So I figured I'd just post up at the top of the stairs. I could watch for it from there and also conveniently bark orders about how I'd go about catching him, you know, if I had the guts to actually try.

This is also when we learn I won't be the LEAST helpful in this equation, that coveted position was (at no surprise to anyone) held by Bella. Having absolutely NOT A SINGLE CLUE as to what everyone was doing, she just wanted to be in on it. She'd chase Gracie around, which would freak her out enough that she didn't want to be near the mouse. She'd sniff around and paw at stuff (which was no where near the mouse but loud enough to make it run scared from whatever corner we had pinned it into) and she tried to get out of every door we had propped open for when we actually did catch it.

Gracie managed to get so freaked out by the combination of Bella and the weapon Tom had been carrying (a lacrosse stick) that she refused to go anywhere near the pile of shoes where Ralph had taken up residence. I found a shoebox upstairs we could use and threw it down to Tom (seriously, I'm not going anywhere near that adorable and disgusting little creature).

So here we are. I'm at the top of the stairs trying to convince Bella whatever is happening down there is not NEARLY as cool as what I've got going on upstairs. Tom's got a lacrosse stick in one hand and a box in the other. Gracie has decided she'll come back over because Tom has a box in his hand and that girl LOVES her some cardboard condos. She's trying to get in the box, Tom's trying to coerce the mouse into his lacrosse stick (because that man is a lover and desperately doesn't want to have to hurt the mouse), I'm screaming and cooing at the fact that it IS really cute and that's so adorable that you're giving him a chance to climb in the stick. Until it moves and I'm screaming bloody murder about how "IF THAT DAMN THING COMES UP THESE STAIRS..."

When Tom finally traps it in the box. I hold the door open with the lacrosse stick, the dog in the house with my foot and thankfully my screaming kept the cat terrified in a corner. After my heart rate returned to a tolerable pace, I said to Tom, "How did you manage to get it in the box?!" To which he responded "I mean, I'm pretty sure it was in there."

"Fuck it, I'm going to bed." I mean, it'll probably ride it's motorcycle straight outta dodge after this hoopla.

Tuesday, October 14, 2014

Checking in…

…mostly out of guilt. (Kidding! Thanks Rach & mom for the little nudging.)

I was going to start this post by saying that I haven't posted much because I didn't have much to say, but I guess that's not true at all. I just haven't had the mental gumption to string together a bunch of thoughts into a cohesive post. So I've got a list of things I can write about. Today we'll start with work.

I started a new job! I'm officially over one month in and I absolutely love it. It's a much better fit for my personality type (as in, they appreciate my personality type) and the overall vibe in the agency is much more what I hope for out of a workplace. I like fun and I like laughing and so do people here. So you know, that makes work far more tolerable.

Also, I'm back downtown. And while some days I might curse the traffic or the stupid people on the road causing my commute to go from 30 minutes to closer to an hour, I love being back in the hustle and bustle of downtown.

I get to drive over my favorite bridge in Milwaukee every day.




I get to see views like this from my parking spot.


There are views like this from my conference room. 



I get to go on walks through the city and find new buildings to look up at like this.


This job will challenge me in new ways, force me to perform at a more engaged and strategic level and the people here make doing that all the more worth it. Plus they say nice things like this about me. I'm thankful for the opportunities that got me here, but I am already in a much better place professionally and personally having taken this job and finding these people to work with. The mantra here is "We" and it's one that I personally believe strongly in and am happy to find a workplace with a leadership team who believes just as strongly in working together. 

Also they take pictures of me like this. I think I'll keep them. 





Monday, September 8, 2014

Surviving the Weekend: Whole30 Edition

On a weekday, where I wake up at home, make a lunch to eat at work and return home for dinner I can essentially pretend there aren't any cheeses/grains/pizzas/beers to be consumed and I'm merely just eating what's available. I can convince myself that spaghetti squash with cheeseless, bread crumbless meatballs are basically the same thing. And when that doesn't work? There's bacon.

But low and behold, eventually a weekend came along and sweet baby Jesus that shit is real. And it is in your face. And basically, I'm sorry I'm not the least bit sorry that I spent most of the weekend sleeping or locked in my home because it's scary out there for a girl trying to avoid eating all things delicious.

Now we're not following strictly and we kind of knew that. September lent itself to being the perfect month to test this out, however we have known all along that September 13th we were having a once in a life time opportunity to go and see Garth Brooks with my parents. And before you go all "Angie, you can be sober for a concert" preachy on me, know this. I can be sober for a concert, in fact I'll do it this Thursday when I see Chase Rice. But I'll be damned if I'm finally going to see Garth Brooks and not raising my cold beer to cheers him as the thunder rolls or we talk about our friends in low places.

I have listened to Garth since I was a kid. I remember my dad playing it out on the garage as he tinkered around on Saturday mornings. The first time I ever performed karoake I was 12 years old, it was the Waukesha County Fair and I belted out "Friends in Low Places" in the best Garth impression I could. I remember my dad telling me, as I grew into the not-so-pleasant teenage years that no matter how angry you are or upset you think you might be with someone, you tell them you love them. Because some day "Tomorrow Never Comes" and you'll wish you had, just like he wishes he and his dad had done. To this day "The Thunder Rolls" can't start playing on a radio without my dad saying "Ooooh, good one!" and cranking it up.

The "Rules" of whole 30 clearly state, if you slip up, you start over. And I get all the science and explanations of why. And I support it. But I also support sane living. If my man needs to indulge in a sandwich to keep from losing his shit, indulge. If Garth comes calling, we're celebrating. We'll call it our own version of figuring out how the hell to eat. 

I have MANY good things to say about whole30 so far, and I look forward to feeling MANY more benefits from it. I have already felt a change in the way I approach food and why I need to change what needs changing. But I'll be damned if I'm not enjoying the hell out of a concert that I've been dying to see for the better part of three decades. We'll be back on the train come Sunday morning.