Category Archives: The Extras

Prep: Him.

As opposed to my 3.5- to 4-hour process, Aussie’s apparently only took about 15 minutes. Sh*t, shower and shave, I’m sure. Therefore his time was spent, more aptly, hanging out by the pool, drinking beer, etc. Lucky bastard.

Vows.

The predecessor.

Smiley Rusty.

Good thing there's a doctor in the crew.

Gresh.

Brace yo self.

Cool.

Proud Mama.

See how easy and painless it was for them? Well, painless except for Gresham’s leg, that is. And don’t they look so handsome?

Aussie’s Shirt: Express for Men
His Shorts: Volcom on Dogfunk.com
Pocketwatches: Amazon.com

All photographs by Persimmon Images.

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Prep: Me.

Once we got back to the hotel and stood awkwardly around for a bit, then ran around doing some last-minute errands, it was time to shower and begin the process of getting ready. Of course, being me, I allowed entirely too much time between returning from the Love Pond and my appointment with Mara. So I sat around for a while. I wrote a blog post, checked my FaceSpace, drank a warm beer and just kind of chilled. Kat showed up and started taking pics of the extraneous little things, and eventually Mara showed up to get the surprisingly long process of making me all purdyfied out of the way. Remember how I wanted my hair originally? Yeah, well, my hair doesn’t do that. But I dug the end result.

*P.S.: There’s some bra action, though minor, in this post. Divert your eyes/computer screen, if you must.*

Pretty sure I'm telling Shane to keep the beverages flowing.

Beginning of the braid dilemma.

Solution to the braid dilemma.

Mimosas ease frustration. It's a fact.

Another awesome thing about best friends? They actually force you to eat. Burgers.

The finger waves that never would.

My hair is, apparently, as stubborn as its bearer.

Let Round 2 commence!

Moar?

Airbrushing: Good for nixing forehead spots and tan lines.

Mara totally had the set up. Even if there was an obscene amount of pink.

I begged for this. And ran out of time to put it on.

More failure!!!

Damn you, follicles!

Shane likes to carry big black garbage bags around. Whatevs.

Mama Sooz.

Loves.

My favorites.

It takes a team.

Shaner trained for months for this.

Smells like team spirit.

Mama's job.

The whole process took about 3.5 to 4 hours, which was considerably longer than I’d thought. My hair refused to cooperate, which dragged the whole experience out. Mara was such a trooper, and finally after about the third try on the finger waves, she asked if she could just sweep my bangs to the side. At that point, I was totally for whatever she was suggesting. She did such a fantastic job and fully put up with all of our goofiness.

Hair and makeup: Mara at Lilikoi Hair Studio.
Venue: Mauna Lani Bay Hotel & Bungalows
All photos by Persimmon Images.

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Tough.

Throughout the engagement and planning process, much like the question we hear now, nearly everyone around us would ask us the same thing, or a variant of such:

How are you doing?

How are you feeling?

Are you nervous/anxious/ready?

We understood it was all well-intentioned.

During the earlier stages, the question was one that would invite a lengthy response which usually corresponded with more intricate details about plans, ideas, giddiness, etc.

However in the immediate days prior, it became like that damn mosquito that hovers near your ear when you’re trying to sleep, just to flit out of reach as you go to conquer it.

It felt as though every time someone asked us, we melted a little more, and not in a good way.

This all came to a head the night before, during a joint family barbeque put on by mi familia. We were tired, frazzled, anxious, overwhelmed, underwhelmed … we were, indeed, ALL THE THINGS.

We appreciated, and still do, everything everyone did for us. But at that point, we’d traveled for three days, had reunions galore from halfway around the world, partied for our hens and stags, missed one marriage license appointment, had another that very morning, finalized all the details, had some miscommunication meltdowns with the coordinator, done a run-through, were under pressure to see everyone we hadn’t, got lost on the way to the barbeque and here we were. With many asking us how we were feeling.

Cue: Meltdown.

It, unfortunately, was one of my sweet, poor, unsuspecting aunts who triggered it. Luckily, she’s got a good head on her shoulders and took it quite well when I turned to her and said:

“Quite honestly, if one more person asks me that question, I’m going to lose it.”

I then stepped away, with Aussie, and cried. Not for being sad, not for being scared. Just for being so overwrought with emotion and stress and pressure. We tried to return to the party, but we couldn’t even finish a beer. A sure sign we were finito.

Luckily, our amazing photographers who’d been there, done that, and my super awesome pseudo-mama, Sooz, took notice. The three came over and told us, under no uncertain terms, that it was quite all right for us to bow out and go back to the hotel.

So we did.

We flopped on our bed, curled up together and just stared. After a while we put on an episode of whatever show we were watching at the time. And we passed out.

We really did appreciate all the concern and checking in, but weddings are hard. I’m happy we didn’t go ‘zilla, but it wasn’t a graceful moment.

Planning weddings is stressful. Being around a ton of family and friends, especially when you haven’t seen them in a while, can be stressful. Add all the elements together? It’s a recipe for implosion.

We survived, obviously, and being with our friends the next morning helped to ease the tension.

We learned, through this experience, that even though we knew the wedding wasn’t about just us, nor was it just about our families, etc., it was about weathering the storm together. It was likely (maybe with the exception of a moment or two during the hens/stags) our most graceless moment, and one I’m not happy about.

But, it did set up boundaries, boundaries we badly needed. We needed to step away and just have some us time, time we hadn’t been able to have up until that point. It’s unfortunate it took that moment, those actions, for us to realize it, but that set up a template for us to be able to recognize it in the future. Which makes knowing what we need, what our boundaries are, not so tough right now.

Juju Ivanyuk by Ben Hassett for Numéro #128 on Fashion Gone Rogue
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Morning.

The morning of the wedding, we decided we wanted to do something with our friends. Just something low-key, hang out together and not feel rushed into the “Omigawd I’m getting married and must act like a crazy person trying to escape zombies, werewolves and unicorns” bit.* Especially since we’d decided long before that we weren’t going to stick with the whole “not seeing each other” tradition. Which would be tough anyway, since we were sharing a hotel room.

So, we did.

I’d read in one of my favorite guide books that there is a “secret love pond” on the grounds of the Mauna Lani that you can actually swim in.

It’s a natural salt pool filled by the tide. There are little shrimpies (redundant?) living in it, so you can’t wear any sunscreen/chemicals/etc. And it’s surprisingly chilly.

So, off we went at 10 on the morning of our wedding.

Meandering along the eel pond. Those suckers are eerie.

Nestled back among the fish ponds.

Oh, my 18-year-old tat on full display. Le sigh.

They're starting to catch on ...

Lurvely Laura.

Gresh couldn't get in because of some "beer bottle shattering" incident. So he said ...

Those steps were slippery as sh*t. We almost had a couple casualties.

Splish splash. Obvious necessity.

You got got!

Bemused.

Amused.

Well, that was fun.

Low tide.

Crikey! It's a whole herd of Australians!

It wasn’t an especially eventful morning, but it was relaxing.

All photos by Persimmon Images.

*It’s Halloween. Obv. This is how my brain is functioning.

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Hens.

On the chickadee side, my bestest friend and Lunchbox Brigade Leader Shane planned some awesomeness, even if the Usual Suspects Leader Andrew did usurp it. She had originally booked the party bus, so we took it after the boys. We stopped at a bar in downtown Kona, which was really cool because I’d actually been there on my first and only other trip to the island, when I was 16. Then it was off to KBXtreme to join the boys for a little karaoke action. Kim and Shane teamed up to dress me in a pink sash, a Bride-to-Be ballcap with a veil attached and a bunch of balloons with a penis sucker (which was horrible) and straw attached. I’d mistakenly told Kim I hated these types of things … that’ll teach me.

Poor Alex decided to join us ... don't think he knew what he was getting in to.

Sooz is ALWAYS the life of the party.

Two of my new favorite people.

I'm even drinking pink! Ewwww.

Party Karate!

Shots!

Bottoms up ...

And down the hatch.

She's a wily one.

Boobage.

His face may be a foot, but I love him.

Bus: Koki Entertainment

All photos by Persimmon Images.

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Stags.

From what I hear, it was a wild night. Obviously, what happens (for the most part) on a party bus in Hawaii stays on a party bus in Hawaii. But, since Kat and Justin, respectively, joined us for the hens and stags, it’s only right to showcase their work and highlight just how much fun can be found in Kona when you mix unwitting older Americans, some awesome Aussies and one rockin’ groom. Oh, and a little karaoke.

Three out of the four G-men.

For Gresh, it's all in the moves. For Rob? It's all in the laughs.

Dad and uncles along for the ride? Oh, the horror!

It's been said that a Moynihan singing is a crime against humanity.

But the show must go on.

"Can you feeeeel the love toniiiight ... "

Smooth criminal.

The club can't handle him.

Finish with flourish.

How refreshing! How Heineken!

Refreshing, indeed.

Sing for the laughter. Sing for the tears.

Can't stop rock and roll

Clean up, Aisle 3.

Bus: Koki Entertainment
Karaoke Bar: KBXtreme

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Detail: Attire.

I love my dress. Note I didn’t say “loved” but rather “love.” I pulled it out last weekend to show a friend and totally went “squee!” all over again. It’s so … perfect for me. From the personalized detail to the fit to the all-around look of it, it screams my name from the top of its bejeweled straps. And while we didn’t necessarily build all the other details of our attire to go around my dress, they did just happen to perfectly coincide. Which … rocks. Aussie’s mum got the shoes I ended up wearing (remember how many I had?) after donning my flip-flops (which have gone missing) and before opting for bare feet (which resulted in a minor injury). She also procured the petticoat. I ordered the buttons and the pearls and Aussie’s suspenders. Somehow, all of it ended up matching perfectly.

My dream of turquoise peep-toe slingbacks came to fruition.

The ubiquitous Chucks.

See? Buttons match the suspenders.

One more shoe pic ... you know, for good measure.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Dress: David’s Bridal
Buttons: LiDDesigns Supplies
Shorts: Volcom via Dogfunk
“Forever” hanger: Lila Frances

All photos by Persimmon Images

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Surprise Treat.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Offbeat Mama, one of the spawn of the Offbeat Empire, the brainchild of Ariel posted this today. I thought it would be rad for favors.

You all know how much I love balloons, and surprise treats are super awesome too.

What about putting those little chocolate Champagne or liquors in there? Or you could do some of the things mentioned on ESB and in the comments if you really want to go ballz-out crazy.

It’s kind of like a pinanta alternative.

I dig it. Everyone digs surprise treats.

P.S.: I loved this dress by Steven Birnbaum … but Aussie didn’t like the high neckline. Also, you know how I feel about pink, but she’s got balloons.

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Detail: Bouquet.

The disc of our images came in! So now, finally, I get to show off the awesomeness of Kat and Justin‘s work. I’m going to start with detail shots and slowly work up to all the real stuff. Kat said she’s still trying to get me into the blogiverse, so I don’t want to put up too much in the case of it actually happening.

So to kick it off, I’m going to start with my gorgeous brooch bouquet. My mother gave me many of her brooches a couple weeks before she passed. My boss gave me an awesome one that looks like a 1920s flapper, Susie gave me some that had been in her family and Kath, who contributed some of hers and bought a few, put them all together. The thing was SUPER heavy, but turned out beautifully.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 
Not being super into flowers, I figured a brooch bouquet would be a suitable alternative. Plus it enabled me to carry something sentimental and unique.

Kath wrapped it in white organza and sewed those blue beads on to make it look like pins in a normal bouquet. In the locket are photos of Aussie’s maternal grandparents and my paternal grandparents on their wedding day. I also had a Red Sox pin in there … with a PBR pin.

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Smile.

Offbeat Bride has a rad post up about being serious in your wedding photos.

There’s exactly ONE photo where Kat told me not to smile and it seriously looks like I’m ready to murder the camera. And I think she realized that, because I’m goofing off for realz in the rest. I just shouldn’t fake seriousness … ever. Unless, you know, I’m ACTUALLY being serious. Which is few and far between.

Read it. Then tell your photographer you refuse to not smile. Unless, of course, you’re holding a flag that screams “Yay!” whilst you’re pulling an American Gothic.

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