• September 2010 Archive •

Skirtin’ Around the House

I sometimes question how Chase lives with me. There are times I don’t even want to live with myself. For Chase, I’m sure it must be nice knowing that if his belongings “accidently” become scattered around the house, they will eventually find their way back to the proper place without his assistance. It’s as though a magical fairy visits 20 Larkspur Court each day to make the bed, fluff the pillows, prepare dinner and wipe the countertops. My stepmother-in-law warned me that if I consistently pick up after Chase he will turn into his father and become accustomed to having it done for him. There is no question; he is his father’s son.

I frequently have to remind myself of how clean Chase really is and how fortunate I am to have a husband so willing to help out with the upkeep of our home. The problem lies with me. I’m a neat freak to the umpteenth degree. I’m self diagnosed with OOCD, Obsessively Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. In my eyes, no one can ever clean, make the bed or organize the house as good as I can so there is really no need for anyone else to get involved. I owe an immense amount of credit to Chase for complying with my ridiculous requests. Keeping the spices alphabetized, ensuring the pantry contents are organized from tallest to shortest, making certain all of the labels in the fridge are facing forward and centering the sink faucet are just the requirements for the kitchen. There are still about ten rooms to go.

This past weekend I traveled from Raleigh to Charlotte, Charlotte to Hickory, Hickory to Boone, Boone to Hickory, Hickory to Charlotte and Charlotte to Raleigh. Following Saturday’s wedding in Charlotte, I had one goal once I finally reached home – take a shower. The entire car ride home smelled like a sweat flavored wedding cake and I couldn’t wait to wash away the stink. The unfortunate thing about a two hour car ride is the fact that it gave my OOCD brain time to think about everything that needed to be done before Chase’s mom comes to visit. One to-do stood out and couldn’t be ignored. The guest bed needed a bedskirt.

When I finally reached Raleigh, I made a pit stop at the local Target to pick up a bedskirt which then turned into buying a bedskirt, a comfy mattress pad and linen freshener. It was as though I was trying to turn my guest bedroom into the Ritz Carlton. Any normal, practical, smelly human being would then go home, promptly take a shower, wait for their manly husband to get home to help and then worry about putting the new bedskirt on the bed. Not me. I made it home and I made it to the shower but not in the shower. I’m embarrassed to admit what I did next.

With the hot water prepped and ready for my arrival, my mind simply wouldn’t let me bathe until the guest bed was complete. Butt naked I proceeded to disassemble the bed, power lift the top mattress and strategically place my new bedskirt on the bed. I can only imagine what Chase would have thought if he would have come home to find me playing Martha Stewart in the nude.

As I finally stood in the shower, I didn’t reflect on my absurd behavior. Instead, I obsessed over the fact that I hated the color of the new bedskirt. It simply did not match the way I had envisioned. I promptly returned it the next day and purchased another, different colored bedskirt.

The entire situation made me realize what a pain I am to live with. I applaud my husband and my past roommates, Carrie and Brie, for somehow putting up with my obsessive antics. This epiphany doesn’t mean I plan on changing my ways anytime soon, but it does mean I’ll consider putting on a skirt before I try to dress a bed.

xoxo, Priscilla
Egyptian Infused Raleigh Wedding at the Borden Building

It’s always flattering when friends become clients but even more meaningful when clients become friends. I first met Deena and Chris at one of my offices – the Starbucks at Cameron Village. Deena and Chris had most of the major details secured, but desired direction for the remaining items as well as reassurance that their wedding day would run smoothly without enlisting the supervision of a friend or family member. I was thrilled to take on the responsibility and provide guidance and support for Deena and Chris. For the months leading up to their wedding, it was as though Deena and I were lifelong friends picking out the groom’s tux, selecting linens, choosing flowers and finalizing plans. I was honored to attend Deena’s final dress fitting and help her with her wedding day hairstyle. It was a reminder of why I’m in love with my job.

I couldn’t have ordered a more beautiful May Saturday for Deena and Chris. They said their vows under a vine-draped arch in the garden at the Borden Building. Guests enjoyed an afternoon reception by sipping punch on the porch and mingling throughout the house as a string quartet provided the background music. To show appreciation for Deena’s Egyptian heritage, a belly dancer performed periodically throughout the reception. In lieu of the traditional bouquet toss, Deena presented her mother with the bouquet to honor her for helping with the wedding. From start to finish, the wedding was a true representation of Deena’s past combined with the promise of her future with Chris. Thank you for allowing me to be part of your lives, especially on your wedding day.

Check out the Orangerie Events Facebook Page for more pictures.  A special thanks to Rita Lewis Costa and Ronnie Tomany Jones for allowing me to showcase their mad photography skills!

Wedding VenueThe Borden Building

PhotographerRonnie Tomany Jones

FloristWatered Garden Florist

Wedding CakeCatering Works

LinensCE Rentals

Belly DancerMahsati Janan

xoxo, Priscilla
Work in Progress

My head hasn’t been in the game. In fact, I’m not even in sweats on the sideline. I forgot to show up. I’ve been procrastinating procrastination. It’s that bad. I’ve put off doing something that needed to be done weeks ago and instead of doing it, I’m writing about not doing it. How bad is it? A few Saturdays ago I convinced myself a client’s final dress fitting was at 10:30am. 10am and 10:30am are entirely different times, especially when driving from Raleigh to Charlotte. Needless to say, when I called to inform my dear bride that I was going to be five minutes late, I was told I was actually 35 minutes late and the fitting was over. Hello iPhone calendar with timed reminders. Goodbye pen marked day planner.

I had a dream last night it was Christmas morning and I had somehow missed all of the festivities leading up to the holiday. It was as though I had gone to sleep in September and subconsciously woke up on December 25th. I double checked the radio stations this morning just to make sure the airwaves weren’t filled with “Jingle Bells” and to verify I was still living in September and not in a coma. I’ve been so busy lately that it wouldn’t surprise me if I was in the wrong month. I can barely keep my days straight. It is Tuesday, right?

I’m not complaining. I love being busy and I love helping clients even more. My blog has suffered though and I feel guilty about the lack of attention I’ve given it. Many readers probably speculated I had convinced my family to finally join the traveling circus. Others may have assumed my time has been consumed by my hardcore P90X workouts. Most of you probably don’t even realize I last logged into my blogger account on August 4th, but I realize. I have a constant thought bubble looming over my head that says, “You need to blog!!!” I try to swat it, pop it or even just remove a few of the exclamation points but to no avail. It’s a daily reminder that I’m slacking. The truth is my family isn’t yet employed with the Ringling Brothers and I still look nothing like Marissa Miller. Life happened. You know – that beautiful thing filled with twists and turns and purchases and returns.

In a class I recently took to learn the basics of Photoshop, the instructor required us to label our working layer as “WIP” meaning “Work in Progress.” That term has resonated with me lately as I’ve tried to remind myself that I’m still a work in progress. I’m human. As evident from my opening paragraph, I make mistakes. The best lessons are often learned when we fail miserably. I’ve realized that the final product of “me” won’t be ready on my time or by my standards. There is a much higher power that will determine that.

So despite my faults and minor hibernation period, I’m moving forward and I’m ready to play in the balancing game. Learning to balance the husband, the dog, the family, the friends, the job, the career and the checkbook takes patience and trial and error but I’m still up for the challenge. I’m proud to be a “WIP” even if it means I’m not the “MVP.”

xoxo, Priscilla