Cutest, Most Unhappiest Truffle Maker Ever

A few weeks ago, I had this grand idea that Ben and I could make chocolate truffles for the wedding favors. We found these cute boxes, and the thought of truffles inside of them seemed perfect. I asked Ben how much trouble they would be and he said they were time consuming, but we could do it. The idea was grand until last night.

Having made all the filling, Ben started to ball the truffles...all 450 of them...everything is fine. Then the trouble began. After they are balled, the truffles need to be dipped in chocolate and rolled in cocoa powder. The first nine truffles turned out awesome...then something happened, and there was a serious malfunction. We're not sure what happened with the truffles, why they wouldn't settle, but I will say there was chocolate everywhere, a truffle graveyard in the sink, many foul words still hovering in the atmosphere...and one very, super unhappy truffle maker. 

Basically we had to abandon truffle making last night...get a good night's sleep...and then Ben started up at 7:45 a.m. this morning. There have only been a few swear words, but mostly it's pretty quiet in the kitchen, and I'm trying to stay far away. We still have chocolate everywhere, but they seem to be settling...and I can humbly admit that maybe my truffle idea wasn't so grand...next time we'll buy....but until then, I hope everyone enjoys the chocolates at the wedding.

11 days...

11 days...and 45 billion things to do...

small things:

• write vows...(oh wait, that goes under big things)
  

nevermind, i guess they're all big things...

• create slideshow (fyi, the pictures of ben as a little boy are so cute it's ridiculous)
• make 300 plus truffles for favor boxes
• create music playlists for mingling and the dance party
• get bridal party gifts
• make sure the hair/make-up team, photographer, violinist, minister, etc. etc. etc. are all on the same page...not sure which page...maybe 84
• order food, wine...
• hope it doesn't freeze so there are still flowers at the farmer's market (not really a to-do, just a small dance to the rain god every night, about keeping it liquid, and not ice)
• write thank-you's to...well...everyone...(this is actually very relaxing...i know i'm kind of sick)
• and what was "GC"? i wrote it on my to-do list and now don't know what it was...urgh
• keep family in check...i swear you never know the lovely intricacies of your family until it's wedding time.
• and just a few more things...

not complaining...love planning the wedding...and not stressed...just a little overwhelmed that there isn't enough time in the day....maybe i should stop blogging...okay...bye.

Trapped

This past weekend Grace and Phil got married. Grace is one of most dear friends from high school and Katie and I had the pleasure of being in her wedding party. Overall the wedding was a blast...beautiful, elegant, fun, and very reflective of the bride and groom--I mean who else would have a treasure chest of costume props for guests to take polaroid pictures with for the guest book? Tons of fun. 

Yet, one of my favorite moments of the weekend was not at the wedding, but the night before, because something chaotic must happen for every wedding. I seriously think it's a part of the wedding check list, but one that got accidentally cut-off due to the printer. 

Wedding Dress? Check

Flowers? Check

Something totally crazy, unexpected and involves a little bit of panic? Check

After the rehearsal dinner we all went back to the Best Western Loyal Inn in downtown Seattle. As her last night as a single girl, Grace wanted to go to the bar and play pinball. Fair enough. The whole bridal party was staying on the 4th floor (top of the building), so we all piled in. Doors shut, elevator moves a floor, and...stops. Nova. No go. Nervous giggle by everyone.

Now when I say everyone, I literally mean all 16 of us...like sardines. Yep, 16 of us thought we could pile in and that if we went over the 2,500 lb limit, the elevator would beep, or not move, or something safer than just stopping between floors two and three. After a minute of staring at each other and giggling, we pushed the panic button (well someone did, b/c truthfully you really couldn't see past the person two inches from your face). The conversation with the frontdesk kid went something like:

Best Western: Uhh...are you guys stuck?

Collective 16: YES!

BW: How many of there are you?

Elevator: (with hesitation)...umm 15?

BW: Are you serious?

Elevator: ...well...16...but that is beside the point...We're STUCK!

BW: Um...okay, that's probably the problem.

Collective 16: Thanks genius.

Silence...

waiting..

taking pictures to try and pass the time...

wave at the people outside...(thankfully one of the walls was clear and looked outside, otherwise i know there would have been pandemonium).

waiting..

anonymously entering our weight into a cell phone to see if we were over the limit (83 lbs over to be exact)....

calling loved ones...

Finally, we pushed the panic button again.

BW: Oh-yeah...the fire department is on the way.

Me (in my mind): Oh-gee thanks buddy. Thanks for keeping those stuck in the elevator up-to-date on what is going on...I mean couldn't you have told us that after you called them....hate being stuck in this elevator...is there enough oxygen, will Erin freak out...get us out!

After 20 minutes in the elevator, the fire truck rolls up-and for future reference, they don't come sirens blaring-you'll just have to sit and wait. Lights off. Power off. Doors pried open. Nice, oh so very nice, firemen pull us out. Many thank yous...and then on to pinball with a good story to tell.

The fire department shut the Best Western elevator down until they installed specific safety features. Regardless, if it worked or not, I took the stairs the rest of our stay. 

After the fiasco, Grace and Phil had a marvelous, chaos free wedding.

Poop on my Leg

I should just leave the title and not offer an explanation. I mean, doesn't the title tell the story? And, I'm not sure why someone would tell this story about themselves, but hopefully wherever Pablo is, he'll get a good laugh.

Last week I went to school and then to the gym. Upon leaving the gym in my workout gear, including shorts, I hadn't noticed that it started to rain (aka pour), so I sloshed my way to the bus-stop kicking water and mud up my bare legs. The bus ride home was the same as usual, walked the five blocks home, said hi to Ben, and headed for the shower. 

Now before getting into the shower I noticed a particular large clump of mud on my calve...or so I thought. Innocently thinking I would wipe the big clump away, I did just so...and noticed a rather un-mud-like consistency. 

This is when I started to dry-heave because as the title implies there was poop on my leg.  I'm not sure how it got there, because it wasn't my poop and there was no poop on my shoe to think I had flung it up there on my travels. My guess is that some sicko wiped poo on the lower seat of the bus, where my calf innocently rested, waiting for some poor drenched girl to take it home. Gross. And come-on...who does that happen to? Me. Lame.

Watch where your legs lie...or suffer my poo on the leg fate.

Pablo Remembered

A lot has happened since my last post, which I will write about another day and time. Today I would like to celebrate a friend who passed away this last week Paul "Pablo" Reiter. He was a remarkable man, genuine, funny, kind-hearted, and loved his wife of 21 years and son of 16 to an amount greater than any other. He will be missed, and our hearts and prayers are now with Lori and Zach.

Jen put together a blog of photos of Pablo if you want to see this great man in action.

http://pabloremembered.blogspot.com