Two years ago today...

I married the love of my life.

It was 104 degrees.

Sweat took over my life and the lives of the 200 people present. At a certain point I was unable to feel hot because I was so nervous, excited and overwhelmed but I do remember thinking bugs from the grass were crawling all over my legs. Upon further inspection it was sweat raining down my freshly spray-tanned legs. It was HOT.

So hot that people refused to sit down in their seats until I was literally halfway down the aisle. So hot that all the bottled water I bought at Costco got sucked down in 4 minutes and my poor uncle had to make an emergency trip and fill the bed of his truck with pallets of Refreshe. So hot that the beautiful cake my Aunt made melted, the fondant wrinkling like a 90 year old woman's face. We covered it with so many Gerbera daisies that it ended up looking like one of those old fashion flower covered swim caps.  It sure didn't taste like a old fashion flower covered swim cap though, it tasted like the most amazing rum spice cake you ever did put your lips to.

We powered through it and managed to have a very meaningful, beautiful, fun and smooth wedding. All my family was there, all of his family was there, nearly everyone we invited showed up to celebrate with us.  Some of my husbands friends forgot it was a wedding and thought they were going surfing.  It's probably never okay to wear board shorts and flip flops to a wedding that is not taking place anywhere near the sand. 

My dad almost blew the whole thing when he locked his suit inside his van about 10 minutes before the wedding started. He has one of those VW Westfalia vans with the canvas pop-up top. Apparently he had to murder the top with his pocket knife and cut his way in to get his suit. I am trying to imagine him just totally freaking out as he's stabbing his car, red faced and sweating profusely. I'm sure a few passerbys were tempted to call the police. He was able to get in, get dressed and grab me for a stroll down the aisle with a minute to spare. Way to go dad. He looked more handsome than I'd ever seen.

Doesn't he look like the dead guy from Weekend at Bernie's?  I thought so too.  Anyways, the suit looks pretty suave dad.  Men's Warehouse really came through on that one.  So I made it down the aisle without tripping in one of the many gopher holes.  I got into a fist fight with my veil after I had to pull it out of my throat.  I came away naked on the head and it ended up in my bridesmaids hands. 

Note to brides-to-be: Do a spit on finger test to see where the wind is coming from before wearing a veil down the aisle. If you don't, there is a slight probability that it will either end up down your throat or slicing your eyes.  

I finally got to the front and had my husbands hands.  The world melted away and it was just us smiling at each other and nervously giggling.  My step-dad was marrying us and began his speech.  The sun was melting my forehead but I smiled on...until I heard the words "make-up sex in the kitchen." I looked around, wondering where it came from.  Who just said that?  Well, my step-dad had just said that and was continuing to say things of that nature.  How did I not know that would happen?  My step-dad, Bud, sometimes says things that no one should hear.  Like the time he...shoot, he might read this at some point in my life and I should get permission to reveal the other inappropriate comments he's said at inappropriate times.  Another story for another day.  He means well and it doesn't matter if you mean well right?  At least the audience gets a good laugh out of it.

 We were finally announced Husband and Wife and it felt so good to finally be a Mrs.

The following party was a lot of fun.  The beer and wine flowed very freely except for my friend Janet, who's drink was taken right out of her hand by one of my mom's slightly "screw loose" friends who felt the need to cut her off after her first sip.   Maybe she felt Janet was a younger version of her and she needed to step in and take control of her own life again.  We'll never really know her reasons, mainly because I will probably never really actually know her.

I think this offended our parents.  Either that or it made them proud. This is my brother, not the groom.  It's is a very accurate depiction of him.  A flask, shades and a handlebar mustache.  Amen.  Oh, and did you scope my cowboy boots?  I know right?  Awesome.  I didn't have a blister to show for anything. 

It's been two years since that crazy day and there have been some great times, some not so great times, some laughing and some crying.  He doesn't really cry so it's been all me I guess.  We are going strong, still enjoying the heck out of each other and learning more and more everyday...I've learned that I'm actually wrong most of the time and he's learned how to not make me feel stupid for being wrong all the time.  Sometime I feel it would almost be nice to marry someone who is wrong more than me but we don't get to choose who we fall in love with right?

Broken But Not Defeated

Now that this whole ordeal is relatively behind me, I feel confident in getting back on the horse (no pun intended...wait you wouldn't get this reference yet) and writing about the horror that has been my life for the past two months.  I may be writing like a bit of a drama queen but it really did suck and it's just started to suck a lot less. 

The long and short of it is, I broke my ankle.  At this current minute the bones have re-acquainted themselves but as of the end of June they broke up.  I'm almost relieved I actually have a good story to tell when it came time to tell it to the 8 million people that asked "What did you do to yourself?"  It would have been super lame to have to recite the fact that I tripped over a pile of dirty clothes or miscalculated a step or worse, I tripped over my own feet.  All of which I do on a daily basis.  No, the reason my ankle broke was because my 1200 pound horse landed on it after he tripped over his own feet.  Good thing he doesn't have to tell his story, cuz that would be totally embarrassing. 

We had just finished up a three hour trail ride that consisted of a lot of difficult terrain...up and down steep hills, chasing cows, jumping ditches, splashing through creeks, and maneuvering through overgrown paths a foot wide.  It was totally fun and we both had a blast.  I could literally see the barn, and in three minutes I could have been off and untacking but instead I ended up off and halfway under my horse after he and I fell down a ten foot drop because he forgot which foot went first at a very inopportune time.

 Inopportune time = a cliff

After he rolled off of me and used my ankle as leverage, he shook it off and grabbed a grassy snack.  Thanks Buddy, anytime you need an ankle you know where I'll be...what a gentlemen.  Thank the Lord above that I was with someone, and that someone was white as a ghost and telling me desperately "Don't move, don't get up."   I tried to get up a shake it off but when I took a step I hit the deck.  Yup, something was definitely not right with my right ankle but the fact that it was broken never crossed my mind.  I guess I imagined breaking a bone to be excruciating and undeniable pain. This was no fun in the sun but I guessed it to be a bad sprain.

I got back on the beast with my foot hanging out of the stirrup, finished the ride and drove myself home with my toes.  I'm still in denial at this point, the enormous amount of swelling is just a mirage. The gnarly red and blue coloring is just my contacts getting dry...I'll stop sleeping in them.  I'll be back on my feet in a few days, I'll ice it when I get home and call it good. 

My denial came to a shattering end when x-rays revealed a fractured medial malleolus the next day at Urgent Care.  It's the fancy term for saying I broke the end of my Tibia where it meets the ankle joint, you know the bony part that sticks out on the inside of your ankle?  Yeah that.  Crack, right off.  This is a photo of what it looked like in the x-ray.  This is not MY x-ray as I was too chicken to ask for a copy but I found someone else's unfortunate break on google that looks just like mine did....except for they have bigger calves than I do.  Just saying, I've got chicken legs...

It doesn't really look like a big deal right?  It ended up being a big deal.  A big, dumb, lame, stupid, freaking sucky deal.  Cast and crutches for six weeks, a boot for four more and then a brace and physical therapy for ever and ever and ever. Seriously?  I cried when my doctor told me all this.  I literally lost it in the exam room because on top of that she told me I couldn't drive either because it just so happened to be my driving leg.  My summer, ruined.  All the weddings, bachelorette parties, and showers I would have to color coordinate my cute dresses...with a big 'ole cast.  Super cute.  Not. 

This was my "swelling" cast.  I had it on for two weeks while my swelling subsided.  If I was grateful for one thing it was that I got a pedicure the day before the fall. I wore this cast with a cute purple dress for a baby shower and got alot of pity compliments.  I'll take what I can get at this point.  During this two weeks I nursed palm callouses from the crutches, learned how to shower on a bucket with my leg in a bag, called on every friend and family member for rides and hated every minute of it, learned that icing the back of your knee helps your ankle swelling, refused narcotics, watched alot of Desperate Housewives, and didn't have to pick up any poop at work. 

This was my second cast that I wore for a month.  This one I paired with a cute black and white dress to a wedding in Lodi that got me so much pity I could cut the sympathy in the air with a knife.  Wearing a cast really gets you noticed...for all you girls who think you need breast implants or short skirts...just get a cast.  It will get every door opened for you and every bag carried for you.  It will not fail to start up a conversation with anyone you come into contact with.  I found myself in the parking lot at the grocery store surrounded by four cute guys all talking about the time they broke their ankles and legs. 

It will also cause your leg to come out like a toothpick and as hairy as a pirate.  The final revealing was not a good moment for me.  If you think I'm going to show you that picture you've lost it. 

Now that I've ditched the casts and buried the crutches, I'm in THE boot.  I can drive again, I can function at a normal level again and my spirits have risen from the gutter.  I can fit my jeans over the boot and that's a wonderful thing.  Of course I did have to wear this...

...to a bachelorette party and although I paired it with cute Hudson jeans and a sexy black sequin top, it really cramped my style and put the kibosh on any dancing that didn't include the robot.  I think I even got a few snickers from girls in mini skirts and sexy heals as they scoffed at the girl in the boot on the dance floor.  Whatev.  Their time will come...and probably from something stupid like tripping over their feet as they do the walk of shame from some dude's hotel room.