Helping a Pal as her Wedding Day-Of Coordinator

My work pal Allison got married last year to another co-worker, Dave. This was a very fun and significant wedding for me in two ways. One, I have cube right next to Allison and thus see/talk to her more than just about anyone except my dear husband, Justin. She first told me about Dave asking her out in January 2010; a few weeks later they were crazy for each other. I had watched their entire relationship unfold, so it was wonderful to see them so happy as they exchanged vows.

It was also a big event for me because they asked me to be their day-of wedding coordinator. Now, this was easy because Allison is incredibly organized and has a very classic, elegant taste - she was born to plan a wedding. So there weren't a lot of obstacles on the day of. However, I did work my butt off.

Quick background: I used to be horribly unorganized. Too much focus on seemingly unnecessary details has always stressed me out, I enjoy a bit of spontaneity, and the aforementioned ADD made me very distractable from any plan. I was able to make it through high school losing things, forgetting homework, and showing up late to everything. But when I went to college, it was a whole new ballgame, and after a tough first semester I had to start adapting. It didn't happen all at once, but sometime after I moved to DC post-college and officially had only myself to rely on, I became a planner. I sometimes get sick of my own need to organize and plan - but it was really sink or swim, and helped me get a decent job, get my personal finances in order, and plan some awesome vacations. Fast forward to now, and I have been asked to plan birthday parties, trips, and work events, and even helped out with a few weddings. Starting with Allison's.

The job started out a month or so before the wedding with a walk-through at the venue and a lunch "meeting" (where we spent some time discussing the wedding and more time rehashing the latest episode of Mad Men). We went over general layout, the timeline for the day, and who would do what (florist doing centerpieces, baker delivering a cake, my role).

On the big day, I got to the venue at 1pm and set to work putting out place cards and some other small items. I greeted the vendors and made sure they had what they needed (they all did). Most of the day was spent taking care of the little things: strapping a baby seat to her nephew's chair for the reception, finding little missing items, communicating schedule changes. These things seem minor, but since I didn't have a day-of coordinator when I got married, I can appreciate the different it makes to someone. When you're already thinking about a million things and overwhelmed with emotion and just trying to take it all in, you don't want to have to remember to get someone to get a baby seat out.

When the ceremony time came, I directed each of the wedding party members down the aisle, then scurried to my seat. During cocktail hour it was just double-checking things were all set, and then during the reception I sat where I could see the bride, so if she needed something she could just wave. The question that I've noticed always comes up is when and where the photographers will eat their dinners. We got that settled, and I still had plenty of time to enjoy my meal and chat with our mutual friends in attendance.

I stayed on the clock until the boxes were being packed up at the end of the night. I LOVED it - because my favorite things are being helpful, feeling important, and running around a lot. And staying behind the scenes - when I was directing the wedding party down the aisle, I had to stand kind of at the back of the room where everyone could see me and it was my least favorite part. I should have worn some dark brown to help me blend in with the mahogany doors.

Where was my date during all this? He had a job, too: he was recruited to film the ceremony for them using a little Flip camera. I knew he would do a great job, and trusty engineer that he is, he got there early to plan the angles of the tripod (marking the feet positions with tape) and documented other key moments throughout the night in addition to the ceremony. We became known as the "working couple" at the event.

But we had a blast, too! We danced and imbibed and ate delicious food. I was sore on Sunday from all the dancing. I doubt this is part of the job description for most paid wedding coordinators, but since we did this as a favor, I assumed I should pay myself in alcohol and made a killing.

It was really an honor to be there for them, and I'm so glad I was able to make their day better by taking care of the little stuff. Being a wedding guest is fun, but I really enjoyed being a wedding guest with a purpose.

Crown Molding Fail

In my quest to try everything, I've really got to try to find it free when I can, or I may wind up trying the soup line too. I remembered seeing signs for free workshops at the Home Depot, so I signed up for a 1.5 hour course on the basics of crown molding installation.

I consider myself a do-it-yourselfer. I haven't mastered every power tool yet, but I like fixing up old furniture with a sander and some fresh paint, finding old kitchen cabinets at the Habitat for Humanity ReStore and making it into a bathroom storage piece, and general handiness around the house. So I thought it would be fun to add crown molding to the list.

The good news is that I feel fairly confident that I could hang our crown molding. The bad news is that I certainly didn't learn anything from the class.

I showed up right on time - 1:00pm on a rainy Sunday afternoon. I stopped at the customer service desk to ask where the class would be held, imagining an industrial-looking classroom with sawdust on the floor somewhere. They directed me to Doors. I arrived at Doors to find a single 6x3 folding table with some pieces of crown molding, a miter saw, and a regular saw - but no signage or instructor. Well, no signage other than the table cloth that clearly opposed the message of do-it-yourself.

I looked around and saw another woman looking confused. We connected and starting chit-chatting about home improvement while waiting for the instructor.

Around 1:15pm, a stressed-out gentleman appeared, reading through a stack of notes that had to be at least 25 pages long - and by reading through I mean that he was on the first page. He asked if we were there for the class, and when we nodded, nervously chuckled and said, "It'll be just a minute while I look over the content, they kind of threw this on me last minute..." Not a great sign.

We chatted more, and another eager student arrived. All of us seemed to have done some work on our house ourselves. Finally, around 1:25, Nervous Teacher asked us what our objectives were for the class. We all said, "Um, learn the basics of crown molding." He nodded, and went back to his notes.

1:30 rolled around and he started speaking, startling me from my deep thought about if my blog post was worth this much time with no educational gains. He said, "The first step in crown molding installation is to measure. Measuring is very important. There is a saying, 'Measure twice, cut once.'" Dramatic pause where he looks at each of us proudly, really letting that one sink in. "Let's practice measuring."

I look at one of the other women, the most DIY-accomplished sounding one, and see her jawline is set. I really want to bolt - and she beats me too it! She dismisses herself with a friendly wave.

Nervous teacher has now gone off to get some boards for us to practice measuring. He returns; it is 1:40pm (class is scheduled to end at 2:30). He starts to speak again, and is interrupted by someone from his department, asking where a customer can find something. They chat for a few minutes. He looks back at us. "So it is important to measure. Measuring is the first step. I will set this up for us to measure."

That's as far as I got before I could not stand it and left. I KNOW, I should have stayed for the story. But I guarantee you that after quickly glancing at the pieces and then some consulting the interwebs after I got home - I know more already than I possibly could have learned in the remaining 45 minutes, at the rate we were going. Wait a minute...was the table cloth a hint that they are trying to keep us ignorant, so we pay for their services?

Learn more:

• Web: http://www.thisoldhouse.com/toh/how-to/intro/0,,214981,00.html
• Classes: http://workshops.homedepot.com/workshops/home (Nationwide)

Sniffing Hops

I have many friends-of-friends who homebrew, and many more who know their way around a fine craft beer. I used to be just fine with a case of PBR until we went on an amazing adventure to Germany and there, Oktoberfest - after which I've never been able to stomach a domestic big-name beer. I don't mean to sound like le douche; I assume everyone has something like this. Perhaps you've never been able to buy shoes at Target after getting your first Jimmy Choos. Or something. Is that still a popular fancy shoe brand?

Anyway, if you aren't familiar, homebrewing is the popular past-time of brewing your own beer at home. In the U.S., it is legal as long as you don't brew more than 100 gallons a year for one person, or more than 200 for two or more people. And you can't sell it. But if you want tasty beer to drink at home and trade with your homebrew buddies - or barter with your friend who makes artisanal soaps - you're all set. 

I like cooking and I like good beer, so I signed up for a class offered through LivingSocial, one of the group couponing wunderkinds. They have their own event space in DC, which I hadn't seen before, and they hold a variety of classes, from wine tasting to pole dancing to the art of bonsai. Accompanying me was my husband, Justin, a fellow fan of good brews and also of self-sufficiency lest there ever be an apocalyptic event that leaves us living in the woods to sew our own clothes and make our own booze. 

The venue was much cooler than I had anticipated. The facility took up the whole 6+ floors with classrooms and event spaces, plus a subterranean bar. The building was beautifully restored - I couldn't find the year but it seemed like early 20th century to me and had subtle art deco touches scattered throughout. The halls were dark with rich blue lighting bouncing through the stairwells around the central elevator. It felt cool, important. 

Our instructor was a guy named Mike who started homebrewing in college just short of a decade ago. He had such success that he's written for a variety of industry publications and has his own book coming out soon. He also writes a blog called The Mad Fermentationist. Mike knew his shit. 

The middle one did not look that awesome and glowy in person

The long classroom-style tables were set with a handout and three small beer samples. The samples were delicious, although I was a bit disappointed to find we didn't receive any tips or references to how to create these beers throughout the course. Instead, the beer samples seemed to be there to appease us. The other students were all hovering in the 25-35 range; about one third were furloughed government workers (as determined by a show of hands). 

Mike fired up a presentation on the two large TV screens at the front of the room and proceeded to fly through a very superficial overview of the homebrewing process in 90 minutes. He had a mad-scientist style set up at the front with a bubbling pot of water to steep grains in, some jugs with tubes in them that would be used for siphoning the beer out of the hoppy, grainy water and then cooling it off, and containers of grains and hops for us to smell. He used the set up much like a TV chef, showing us one step and then asking us to pretend it had been an hour and it was time for the next step. I appreciated the effort, but I don't feel like he showed us anything I couldn't have conceptualized otherwise. For example, I am quite familiar with the way steeping something in boiling water works. 

I dazed off about halfway through the presentation. This was no fault of Mike's - he was an excellent presenter and clearly well-educated on his subject matter. It just got a touch too reminiscent of high school chemistry for me, and the ol' mind started wandering, and next thing I knew I'd missed the part where the bubbly liquid actually became alcoholic, which many would argue is the key part of a beer.

The most interesting part to me was finding out more about this subculture of homebrewers that live among us. I've known people who enjoy homebrewing, but I didn't realize that there are multiple clubs and meet-ups and other social events geared around people who live to turn hops into suds.

Overall, I think the course would be great for someone who had some exposure to homebrewing (maybe had bought a book and started thumbing through it) and wanted face-time with a master to ask questions. For someone with no experience, I left feeling no more prepared to make my own beer, but definitely more educated about where I should start if I did want to. For now, I'm happy to leave the brewing to Mike and his brethren (and the fine folks in Germany).

Learn more:

• Web: www.TheMadFermentationist.com
• Book: How to Brew, John Palmer
• Classes: www.918FStreet.com (Washington, DC)

I Started a Blog

Hello, I'm The Apprentess.

You know your friend who loves sports, or video games, or political blogging? Your cousin whose "thing" is cooking, and everyone always knows what to get him for his birthday? I'm not that person. Growing up, I quit piano lessons twice, stayed in band just for the football game road trips, and was, for a short while, a roadie for some friends' Christian punk rock band - but never actually listened to their whole CD. I played tennis for six years and was pretty decent at it, but my senior year I spent a few months thinking maybe I wanted to be a landscape architect so I ditched an important tennis tournament to go to the regional horticulture competition. It didn't go well, and I didn't become a landscape architect. Within minutes of trying anything and marginally succeeding, I have fantasies of uncovering a dormant hidden talent and becoming the next great soccer star, interior designer, or chef. As quickly as the mood strikes, though, my cleats, paintbrush, and pastry knife are gathering dust. This isn't to say I don't think I'm good at anything - more that I rarely stick with things long enough to achieve expert levels.

In college, I was a classic liberal arts major who studied what I enjoyed learning about with no real goal of what I would do with it afterwards. I took a semester of German, one of astronomy, and a bunch of other sociology and other really fun classes where we sat around and talked about thoughts. I got one job, and that eventually led to another, until I settled into my current position as a program manager at a Washington, D.C. area trade association. Being a program manager at a small organization is the job description equivalent of the junk drawer in your kitchen: it includes basically anything you want to put there, and everyone needs one.

So here I am, a few decades in, a jack-of-all-trades and master of none.

I saw this as a defect until very recently. Out of the blue one day, I realized that my passion, my talent, my "thing" wasn't escaping me - my "thing" is trying just about everything once. Learning just enough about a multitude of subjects to strike up a conversation with anyone. Proudly knowing just a little bit about everything. Being really supportive of and excited for the people who do really love political analysis, or sports, and kung-fu. So I'm going to document that here, and maybe you'll be inspired along the way to pick up a new hobby (or two), or explore a new career path, or just do something out of your comfort zone today.

I'm up for anything - feel free to email me at TheApprentess(at)gmail.com with suggestions. Free or cheap seminars, classes, or job shadowing opportunities are even better!