#20, or where has Pinot Noir been all my life?

This blog, for those who care, was originally about more than just my wedding. It was about something bigger, something more potentially life changing. Well, I seem to have fallen off the bandwagon (as I am wont to do, really), but I'm putting my foot down now. Let me just have a glass of wine.

But not just any wine. Red wine. Something that, up until a couple days ago, I hated. First of all, it's served room temperature, and I really hate that. I like my drinks hot or cold, depending on what it is, i.e. coffee or tea either way, water cold, hot chocolate, well hot. Second, the taste. For me, red wine always looks really good. I mean, it's a gorgeous drink, a really beautiful color, and god knows I love the look of wine glasses. So all in all, very pretty. It looks like it should taste fantastic, and I suppose to many people it is. But you know when you see something that looks really good, and you are really excited about until you actually take a bite, and you find it's nothing like you expected, and you really don't like it? You know that face you make when that happens? That's the face I make when I drink red wine.

But there is something so romantic about it to me. I've always thought it was a really adult thing to do, to go to a restaurant and drink red wine. I don't know why I think this, but it's something I associate with being an adult (I know, there are teenagers across the globe drinking cheap Merlot out of plastic cups who are definitely not adults). It's a sophisticated drink. To me, it says, "I'm an adult who knows what I'm talking about." Even if you really don't (and I know most probably don't, but bear with me).

Most of the time I feel like I'm just pretending to be an adult. I'm 23, almost 24. I have two degrees. I manage to make some money freelancing while job hunting. I can do my own laundry without losing socks (a real triumph), and I'm getting married, but I still feel like a kid. Whenever I go out with John's friends, who are all slightly older than me, I feel like I'm masquerading as one of them.

Which, in some ways, is kind of funny, because I don't know I've ever seen any of them drinking red wine. I'm pretty sure I've seen more of my age friends drinking red wine than his, but still, this is how I perceive it.

So, the other night, I decided to go out on a limb and give it another try. While at the grocery store, I purchased a bottle of Pinot Noir.

The (Illustrated) Story of Us: Pinot Noir & Me



I chose this specific type of red wine because I really like Pinot Grigio, so it seemed like a good place to start. I chose this brand because I really like its Pinot Grigio. And it was seven bucks, and that's about all I was willing to spend.



I carefully read the bottle. As you do. Well, at least as I do.



And then I took a sip.

And another.

And another.

The verdict?



I liked it. Even better, I really liked it. I might even say I love it. I could go as far to see it might be my new favorite drink, but my love for vodka tonics is long and strong, so I don't know about that. But I definitely enjoyed it much more than I thought I would.

I was honestly I little surprised it was as easy as this. I don't know if it was the kind of wine, the brand, the fact that no one is breathing down my neck asking, "Did you like it?" or what. But regardless, I like it. Maybe it's psychosomatic, but I really don't care. Even if I never find another kind of red wine I enjoy, I'll always have Bella Sera Pinot Noir.

And no, I don't automatically feel like an adult, but I do feel a little more sophisticated, a little more exciting, and adult-ish. Which is better than pseudo adult any day.

Wedding dress success

I went wedding dress shopping yesterday, and it was an experience.

If you remember, I had some qualms about going wedding dress shopping. Yesterday morning, I had a case a nerves similar to those I would get on the first day of school. Not entirely sure what to expect, but still excited for the experience.

I had made an appointment at Southern Bridal, a boutique in Mandeville, Louisiana, where I live. Overall, I had a great experience. Here are 5 things I learned about wedding gowns while shopping for wedding gowns:

1. There is no such thing as a standard sample size.
Southern Bridal, though small, had a lot of dresses, and several designers. I found myself confined to only two or three designers because they had samples in "larger" sizes (and my larger I mean 10, 12, or 14). If it was any smaller than a 10, as they say, fuggedaboutit. My maid of honor brought me in a beautiful dress that was a size 8, and I couldn't even get it on.

2. Forget standard sample size, there is no such thing as a standard sizing system. Period.
A 12 in one designer would fit, but be too snug in another. Also? I learned I could fit in a size 14 in certain dresses, if they were a certain style. I didn't really want a mermaid style dress, but in the interest of being open-minded, I decided to try on some. Well, once we were in the dressing room with them, I couldn't even get them on. Clearly, the sample sizes were not meant for someone with hips. They could have been beautiful on me, but we'll never know. Oh well.

3. Those bitches can be heavy.
You just don't realize how much tonnage beading, lace and embroidery can hold until you are trying to get a dress with a fully beaded bodice and train on.

4. A dress might be gorgeous, but breathing is never overrated.
I tried on a discontinued dress that was breathtaking...literally. I mean, it fit, but it was TIGHT. The people at the store "thought" there was enough fabric to let out, but really, on a purchase like this, I'm going to need a more positive answer then "I think." Also, some of the beading was loose, and in general, my mom and I were hesitant about buying a sample dress, even if it was 50% off (for the record, the dress was pretty pricey to begin with so, the discounted price was okay, but with alteration fees I'm not sure it would have been that much of a steal).

5. In the end, you may pick out a dress you never envisioned yourself in.
Needless to say, I've thought about John and my wedding day a lot. Of all the factors involved in a wedding, my wedding dress has been the one that has changed the most. I guess it's because I hadn't tried any on yet, but every time I envisioned our wedding day, I saw something different. With that said, the dress I picked yesterday is nothing like I ever thought I would wear. It's absolutely beautiful, of course, (I can't describe it here, but if you want to know more about it, email me at secretbrideblog (at) gmail (dot) com) and it was the only dress that when I put it on, I felt like a bride in. Not just any bride, but John's bride. This was the dress, that when I wore it, I could see myself walking down the aisle in. This was the dress I wanted to marry John in.

I just re-read that, oh my, is it ever sappy. But I guess weddings are sappy affairs.

Also, on Twitter the other day I asked what undergarments to wear while trying on dresses. Thanks for all the replies! I ended up going in a bustier and Spanx, and both made the dresses fit really well (when I could get in to them!).

In the interest of entertainment, here is a photo I posted on twitpic yesterday, of the aforementioned size 8 dress I couldn't get into.

Wedding dress fail:


ETA: I still can't believe I found a dress so...easily. I honestly thought it would be much more difficult, but I am relieved it's over, and so happy I found the perfect dress for me. (Granted, it was the first dress I tried on, but of course I tried on about a dozen or so after, just to be sure. What can I say? I like to be extra positive :P.)

Carbs make the world a better place. Especially when you spent a Sunday night drinking a lot of alcohol. Hey, I don’t judge you (okay, maybe I do).

This was written yesterday, posted today, so just pretend you are reading this on a Monday, okay?

Last night my uncle (who I live with) took me out in Boston to celebrate finishing my master’s (which technically won’t be finished-finished till December, but whatever) and also my moving out of his house, something I suspect he is both looking forward to and dreading. We started our evening at a restaurant called Rocca, where we were supposed to have dinner, but because apparently the main dining area is closed on Sunday we decided to have a drink there and relocate for dinner.

(I realized I should have been taking pictures, but I am notorious for bringing my camera out with me, and then never taking a single picture. Oh well. As a result, we are going to play the “Let’s Google Image Search things I would have taken a picture of had I remembered to” game.)

So, anyway, we ended up having the best drink I’ve ever had at Rocca. It’s called a Strada 6A, and if you are ever in Boston and find yourself looking for a cool place in the South End to have a drink GO HERE AND ORDER THIS ONE. It was super tasty.


After the tasty drink, we went to Masa for dinner. Masa is like an upscale Mexican restaurant, which at first I was really excited about, but after reading the menu, finding most EVERYTHING in Spanish, so I wasn’t 100% sure what I was ordering, and not seeing a taco or burrito in sight (yes, I know this isn’t authentic Mexican, but it’s what I’m used to), I was a little wary. In an effort to be daring, and knock another thing of my list, I decided to try mahi-mahi, mostly because my mother once said I would like it, and I usually trust my mother.

It should be said I don’t particularly care for fish. I hate the way it smells; I hate the way (most) tastes. Unless it is deep fried, I usually stay away from it. But, I didn’t want to be lame and order the chicken.

Well, my dinner came, I hesitantly took a bite, and to my chagrin, I really liked it. It tasted nothing like fish, and, I really hate this saying because it’s so cliché, but it tasted like chicken.

This was not my dinner, but it kind of looked like it:


I just Google imaged searched mahi mahi, because I realized I’ve never seen one, and now I feel really bad, because it’s actually a really pretty fish! I’m sorry, little mahi mahi! Just in case you have never seen one either:


Anyway, pallet = expanding. I consider this a small personal victory, because when it comes to food, I am really picky. Mostly I just don't like the way a food sounds or looks, or I didn't like one type of a food cooked a certain way (as it was with fish), so I avoid it all together. I've been meaning to work on this. There is something very...young about saying, "I don't like _____, it tastes/feels/looks weird." So, good for me, I guess?

After dinner, we went on a tour of Boston gay clubs, starting at Club Cafe, where it was apparently piano bar night, where I had the following run in:

Attractive gay man carrying 2 drinks: Excuse me.
Me: Sure.
Attractive gay man, who has now bumped into me in the chest area: Oh! Sorry about that. Nice boobs though.
Me: Thanks.

This is why I love gay bars. Because you can have instances like this one and it's not all awkward and creepy, and it's funny and light and self-esteem boosting. Every girl should have a few gay friends for exactly this!

We then went on to Fritz, where I was literally the only female in the bar, and then closed the evening at the Eagle. And now it is the day after, and I am paying for my evening of fun dearly. Apparently I just can't bounce back as quickly as I used to, which is sad and unfortunate.

P.S. I am moving back to Louisiana in 3 days! And I get to see John in 2! This has nothing to do with anything, but I am really excited about it :). We've been doing the long distance relationship thing for a year now, and let's just say I was ready to be done with it a year ago.