September is the busiest month...

I am exhausted.

I am trying to make the most out of my weekends now. And what a month for that to be happening - September is just a complete breath of things starting to die and grow at the same time, a month so dynamic I feel like I could burst. I really think my three-year rut of giving in to inertia at every free minute is over. Each moment can be one of three things: downtime, maintenance, or life to the fullest. Spring of this past year I devoted a tremendous amount of mental energy to make "maintenance" the floor and not the ceiling ... I don't feel ready to let go of that momentum. I wonder how long it will take to exhaust this extreme of the pendulum swing? And how long after that until I can expect to reach equilibrium?

*sigh*

For now, Mondays in September are quite the day. It's a thin wall that's tasked with containing all my visceral highs and lows within a mere two days of seven.

I'm hanging in there.

A LOVELY Labor Day Weekend

For over a month, I had been looking forward to the weekend of September 3, not because of the lure of the long weekend, but because I knew there'd be the possibility that it would end with this:

...which it did! For those inferentially-impaired, the above-mentioned "measurements, color, style, price, and size" are that of a wedding dress. My wedding dress. Tee!

I'd scheduled a Saturday afternoon appointment at Lovely, a bridal boutique in the West Village, for myself and my mini-entourage of women: my mom, Chris's mom Maureen, and Chris's sister Kate. Like the rest of the wedding planning process, I wanted dress-shopping to be low-stress and fun, something that wouldn't overshadow the wedding itself, yet would be remembered fondly. I had stayed true to that philosophy thus far - the first time I walked into a bridal shop was completely on a whim, with my best friend and maid-of-honor Jen who was in town for the month. Sans appointment, we stepped into a Main Line boutique, and just like that, I tried on a handful of gowns and found two that I could have been happy with that only barely stretched my budget. No pushy sales women, no opinionated gaggle of bridesmaids, no drama.

But drama or not, what would a dress-shopping experience be if I'd stopped there? And so, with the help of my sister-to-be Kate, I organized a day out for the Chen/Canary women in New York, a metropolis I hadn't set foot in in three years (and which, to my knowledge, still lays claim to my Cloud 9 wallet and Maryland driver's license from my last visit). It was a gorgeous afternoon kicked off by a late brunch of Eggs Norwegian and a mimosa at Pastis in the meatpacking district, followed by a stroll through the shady and lush residential streets before our arrival at Lovely, an unassuming boutique nestled into the brown brick of West 4th Street townhouses. We almost missed it, as the only sign of its presence from the street was a simple chalkboard slate with the store's name written in script, hung from a black iron gate leading to its basement entrance.

From there, I loved every single moment of the dress-shopping experience. From the calming but quirky robin's egg blue walls covered in pleats of folded newspaper, to my mom telling me which dresses caught her eye, to examining trays of bejeweled hair pins and netted veils, to the three racks of draped, corseted, and feathered gowns that we could browse on our own, with no other customers to compete with ... and to being led upstairs to a sunny private salon with couches that stood on curved wooden legs, into which my family plopped comfortably as if they were at home. Oh, and I loved my salesgirl too! Melanie with her knowledgeable but yielding recommendations, earnest tone, and practical knotted turquoise flats put me right at ease and in the perfect mood to pick out a wedding gown.

For any brides-to-be reading this, I recommend creating an Oohs-and-Aahs rubric for any family and friends coming along with you. I could easily gauge the collective reaction of Kate and the moms - which were pretty in sync, mind you - by the sharpness of their

breath intake as I emerged from the curtains of the dressing room each time. The obvious "no" was a lace deep v-neck A-line; the lace made me look too old-fashioned an elicited only a restrained "awww". The more sure-footed dresses were accompanied by more chest-clutching and slower-paced sentences. "That. looks. fantastic." The dress that I ultimately decided on was collectively preferred for its wearability and movement, stylistic complements to the venue, and its overall Amyness. Although it competed neck-and-neck with a Grecian deep-v with a silver-beaded empire waist, I decided that the latter was of a much more common cut that I could find anywhere and wear anytime. The accents on my dress would only be fitting for a single day.

And that - was that! After just over an hour, we made our way back downstairs with my contract and credit card in hand, to find the next set of customers having just arrived and beginning to browse. In under four months, I'll be back at Lovely to pick up and take home the perfect dress, in my size, for my wedding.

Tee!

For more photos, click here.

Last photo courtesy of PRCouture.

Been locked up in my cell...

Q: How long does it take a dunderhead to figure out how to send a cell phone photo to an email address?

A: I have had this cell phone for three and a half years!! The hell is wrong with me... If a million monkeys hacked away at my cell phone for a million years, they would have written War and Peace in a text and I'd still be figuring this one out. *sigh*

Here is the thing with my phone. It's got two amazing features: a slick reflective screen that's great for checking makeup, and a kickass camera. Other than that, I use it for texting and phoning, don't see no other purpose for it, and those fast-talking smartphone salesmen ain't gonna tell me otherwise, dagnabbit. BUT! I've never been able to unlock the magic of Amazing Feature #2, for you see - I know how to take the photo, but I've never known how to get it out of my phone...

Until today.

Ahh, yes. In celebration of this historic moment, let's collectively take a stroll through the masterpieces that have been hidden from human eyes. (Other than mine.)

"Number 1 Bun" January 2007

Note the contrast of dark and light. Also note the newly retired phone by the tissue box - size of a pea but no camera feature! If you extrapolate from this the rate by which I upgrade my phone, I'll own an iPhone by the 50th anniversary of my death. This was the first photo I took on my current phone.

"Giant Sack o' Bras" March 2009

I'm struggling to add any qualifiers here. It's pretty much a giant sack o' bras from when I worked at Victoria's Secret. Disney sack, to be precise. Net worth: over $2000. How do I know that? We caught a few thieves trying to steal it. They dropped it and ran away when we called the cops, who then asked us to tally up the retail cost. My Aldo bucket bag is resting right behind it, for size comparison. Yup. Giant sack o' bras.

"Grundton in Repose" March 2009

One of the many in the "Grundton in Repose" series.

"Phillies v. Nationals" April 29, 2009

There is simply not a bad seat in CBP! Lately, I don't even sit anymore - I stay in the 100-level behind the wheelchair rows and get a damn good spot. We lost this game 4-0. We are terrible, just terrible, against the Nats. Stay tuned for some payback...

"Do I look flat in this?" April 2009

This was a period during which I became increasingly paranoid about the state of my car, even though there was nothing wrong with it. Not a thing.I took this photo and messaged it to Chris in a panicked frenzy after driving down to the TFA office to interview for the Program Director position with Mike Wang, freaking out that my car was going to fall apart while I was 76. Turns out the churning in my stomach I attributed to non-existent car problems was just interview nerves. This is what a normal car tire looks like. (Forgot my dramamine that day.)

"Good Luck Amy" May 2009

My last day at Vicky's was marked by a sweet ass cookie-cake from Vicky (the human, not the corporation). Thanks Vicky, and much luck to you as well!

"Einstein's Lappy" August 2009

This statue fucking rocks!! I found it with my mom when we were walking around D.C. Note my strategically placed hand. He gave to the world the photoelectric effect, the theory of general relativity, and the equivalence of matter and energy. But I will always love him for his giant bronze lappy. God bless you, Einstein!

"Homies versus Couchies" December 2009

Winter in the warehouse is bitch, but so is anyone who tries to test their billiards skills against the Homies (Android not pictured). They know their way around the Hungry Hungry Hippo. 'Nuff said.

"A Dooey Pile" March 2010

OK, I see these trucks all over Philadelphia. They really couldn't have found a better name for the company that "brings the highest global standards of safe and secure chemical transportation"? I don't want to associate chemical handling with a dooey pile. On their website they call all their employees "Pyle People", which just sounds bizarre and makes me picture a bunch of tiny Lego men for some reason. It's not just me, right??

"An Asshole" August 2010

I have to share a parking garage with this asshat.

OK, we're almost done. Stay with me, here.

"Phillies v. Nationals, Part 2" August 22, 2010

We are all caught up in my life in cell photos. This was yesterday. We were 4-0 in the 7th inning when the long-anticipated scattered thunderstorm of the day finally came. Geoff, Jule, Chris, and I got to see the groundscrew unroll the tarp, and for the hour-and-a-half delay, we watched people in the 100-level gradually leave the ballpark while we plotted to steal their seats. After four hours of standing behind the wheelchair row, my dogs were barking! Patience, my pups... One of the ushers will be turning away any minute now...

"Phillies v. Nationals, Part 2b" August 22, 2011

Our coup de grace!! After being foiled once, we finally nabbed some sweet seats right by the first base line as it stopped raining. Cosmic justice for our patience was doled out almost immediately with an Ibanez two-run homer once the rain delay was lifted, and we ultimately shut out the Nats, 6-0. Of course, cosmic justice for our thievery was just as promptly handed down - as soon as we left to start the trek back to our car in FDR park, a sunshower broke out and completely doused us.

So there you have it! Three years' worth of cell phone photos crammed into a single blog entry, culminating in a kickass view of Citizens Bank Park. Much love to my dinky little phone, without which you wouldn't have wasted the last five minutes of your life reading this.

Until next time :)

I Will Not Even Dignify It With Its Proper Name.*

The bowling alley on the corner of City Avenue and Haverford Drive is, hands down, the most ghetto bowling alley I have been to in my life. It is seemingly manned by a single individual behind the shoe rental counter. The bowling ball racks were about 20% filled, and one of the balls that Chris encountered had all 3 finger holes parallel to each other. Halfway through our first game, a mysterious, unidentified object appeared in the lane gutter and wobbled like a seal trying to shimmy itself up a hill. Our keypad was held together by a piece of duct tape, and the leader of the group three lanes down from us kept yelling, "FAGGOT! FAGGOT-ASS!!" every time he bowled poorly. And there are no concession stands, so one is required to experience the evening completely sober.

I am ashamed to type these words, but this is the bowling alley that Chris and I took our friend Geoff to on his birthday. Had we taken him to the Sizzler it probably would have felt like the Ritz. If you read this, Geoff, please accept this very public IOU:

We, Chris and Amy, owe you one night of bowling-until-your-fingers-die at North Bowl or another swanky bowling alley of your choice.

For everybody else reading, please consider this a public service announcement of the perils of the bowling alley at the corner of City Ave and Haverford.

That is all.

*Center Lanes. You have been warned.