This morning, the leaf mobile found a friend. I’ll show it to you in a second. First, you should know, I’m listening to this song and drinking Nespresso on the floor in front of the fireplace. Whiskey and I are wondering if the rain will lighten up long enough to go for a walk before work. Ash is gone to Orlando. Well, not quite. He’s at the airport. Probably holding an Americano and an Economist. Ash loves the airport. It’s his place. Travel overwhelms him with a sense of stillness that daily life does not. He sleeps with a fierceness on holidays that I love. Except, this is a work trip and he doesn’t seem that happy about going. Last night, I came home and found him reading the newspaper, waiting to surprise me with this:

A care package. Are you crying because you’re happy? he asked. Yes, because sometimes a busy heart can find its calm in the care of someone who loves it. Someone who would stroll through the aisles of Meinhardt and pick all the things you love off the shelves and make the sales lady wait to wrap it until they got back with this: can you see it? It’s right there in the heart of it all…

Veuve Cliquout. And what you don’t see (because milk doesn’t take a very pretty picture) – the litre of Island Farms in the fridge for my coffee this morning and the note on the counter that tells me the next time he gets on a plane it will be to Mexico as my husband. Sigh. I feel it all. Now back to the leaf mobile:

I borrowed the now-crusty leaf mobile to show you our Rehearsal Dinner invites. Every Jot and Title did the handy-work of creating two silhouette tags (she even included the string), customized with our rehearsal and dinner information on the back. Wouldn’t this make a great wedding invite too? And they were seriously inexpensive. I loved them so much, we did a photo-shoot, as I often and oddly do with my mail these days:

What is love but a messy string between two people and the resolve to tie a million knots to keep it strong?

An endless row of knots for you, Ash.

Mine heart is full.

Throwing parties is a lot of pressure. I give you Exhibit A – the Bitchin’ Camero Bash. An event safely locked in my memory’s hall of fame, the concoction of Jaimie, Leanne and I’s temporary ruling of the world. I am glad there was a time in my life I felt indestructible enough to walk the streets with these two ladies inviting anyone who caught our fancy – stranger or friend – to the event of the year. The actual party matters little in reflection.

Somehow (ouzo), Greek Fest 2008 turned into a success. But no one will ever know how nervous I was. Will people show up? Will they have fun? Will they talk to each other? My past is spotted with various sized-feats of party-throwing panic, most of which have gone to prove I am best as a guest. As Ash and I began to grow into a couple, we started a very adult party tradition of hosting Christmas Eve breakfast. This party more than any other has the feeling of permanence, the longevity of family and predictable (but growing) guest lists. I give it three more years of trial and error until it is my favourite party yet.

Then, of course, there is the party of my life. Of our life. Thirty days from today…

But first, there’s Halloween:

Have you ever seen such a beautiful peacock? And check out that dinosaur and trout!

My mind wanders here.

Or more precisely, here.

Where’s Ash, you ask?

Oh, he’s just run down to refill our margaritas.

Hello, honeymoon. My name is Jen.

Please enjoy, but don’t come.

Photo via Desire to Inspire

A little sneak peak at the ring pillow. I am pretty sure this isn’t normally a bride’s first concern when planning a wedding (especially before things like invitations), but when I saw this pillow on Etsy, I just couldn’t resist. If I could, I would wear it. And I can barely stand to think how cute my little nephew, David, will look waddling down the (un)aisle with it.

The pillow was handmade by Marie, creator of Emici Bridal, who included a little note declaring the pillow a “bridal heirloom”. Suddenly, an expanse of life flashed before my eyes. A life to come, full of wooden trunks in bedrooms, and little people to pass things on to.