In full bloom

With just four weeks to our wedding eve (!!), it's time to start hammering out those final details. Today's task: flowers. This task was listed way down at the two-weeks-to-go category of my final month to-do list, but everything changed yesterday when I walked past some florists. First I saw these, and was completely smitten.

Why, hello, king protea. And how are you today?

The king protea is the national flower of South Africa, where it originates. It is part of a ancient flower family that originated over 100 million years ago, and it certainly has the looks like it could have been plucked straight out of Jurassic Park. These large, pink flowers have become particularly trendy in wedding bouquets over the past few years, though brides in the Southern Hemisphere have been using them for much longer.

Then I walked into these gems, and immediately fell for them.

Rainbow roses! Who'd have imagined?

I shouldn't have been surprised that in the gay capital of the UK (Brighton), florists randomly stock rainbow-colored flowers. After some consulting with family members as to whether straight people are allowed to decorate their weddings with rainbow roses, I had the go ahead. So today, I filled a trial vase and placed the floral order for the floral arrangements for our reception table.

Floral arrangements for the reception? Designed and ordered, check and check.

Then I was off to the big league: Hunter Florist, home of Brighton's stock of king protea. I tried to place a pre-order for my bridal bouquet, but it turns out that this notoriously difficult flower is hard to come by, and can never be guaranteed. Noooo! I'd already spent an hour finding the perfect king protea bouquet inspiration the previous evening. Here it is, by the way.

Wedding bouquet inspiration, courtesy of theknot.com

As I watched my bouquet dreams circling the drain, the florist informed that the king protea dry beautifully and can still be easily incorporated into a floral bouquet after drying. Problem solved! Now the guest room just has some unusual décor for the upcoming month.

The focal points of my future bridal bouquet, adorning the guest room

With the reception flowers ordered and my bouquet's central flowers chosen, the rest is in my floral expert of a mother's hands. She'll be making the bridal bouquet as well as all boutonnières and corsages for family members. For now, I'm checking flowers off the ever-shortening to-do list and keeping an eye on that countdown clock. 29 days to go!

Accessories fit for a wedding day

I have allowed myself— or rather, been unable to resist— the pleasure of discovering a new favorite designer in the midst of all this wedding planning: Mary Frances. It all began one fateful day while wandering through the North Laine in Brighton. An innocent peek inside Pretty Eccentric, lured in by the SALE sign in the window.

Oh, Pretty Eccentric, you Pandora's box of accessories

Before I knew it, I was smitten. Mary Frances is a San Francisco Bay Area-based designer whose love for big jewellery morphed itself into the design of hand-beaded bags with three-dimensional motifs, starting in early '90s. She's come up with thousands of original designs, all of which are hand beaded and embroidered in the Philippines. While her prices, ranging from $200-$300, are very reasonable compared to her competitors (her lines were awarded "Best Design" in Milan in 2013 and 2014), they're hardly in the price range of a not-so-freshly unemployed bride in the midst of wedding planning. But I couldn't help myself. Prices out of my range? Challenge accepted.

With several interviews looming large, the only thing to do was prepare, prepare, prepare! Naturally, I shopped. And boy, did ebay deliver. I got Mary Frances accessories for my wedding day (and beyond), as well as gifts for our maids of honor, all at 90+% off sticker price. Finally back from my travels Stateside, I got the pleasure of opening the last of the packages and admiring (and sharing!) the entire collection.

Purses for myself, including a silver ("mercury rising") bridal accessory, and gifts for the maids of honor (right, top & bottom)

Aren't they lovely? Whoever said retail therapy wasn't worth it?

My dancing shoes

I had grabbed a plain pair of white satin ballerina flats for the wedding day. But that was before I knew I'd be wearing a tea-length dress to my reception (read: shoes will be seen). It was time to take my footwear up a notch. And I knew just the thing.

The simple satin flats I'd been planning to wear on my wedding day, now a work-in-progress

Every time I walk past Beretun Designs in Brighton's North Lanes, my heart melts a little. Each cute and cleverly designed item in that shop makes me wish I had bottomless pockets. So, this once, just this once, I went for the splurge: I brought in my white satin ballerina flats for some hand painting.

Somewhere Over the Rainbow hand-painted shoes by Linda Johnson, Beretun Designs

I've gone for a personalized version of the Somewhere Over the Rainbow model pictured here, in reference to our processional song by Iz Kamakawiwoʻole. The twist: Brighton will be Oz. The Emerald City? An emerald Royal Pavilion. Dorothy's house crushing the Wicked Witch? The Brighton Bandstand. The munchkin village? Typical Brighton Edwardian houses à la local artist Sonia Canals. Green grassy fields covered in flowers? Swapped for pebble beaches and blue seas.

After a month and a half of eager waiting, at last, here's final result! I know I'm spending far too much for a (still) unemployed future bride, but can you believe I get to walk down the aisle, and glide across the dance floor (okay, glide might be generous), wearing these works of art?

A once-in-a-lifetime pair for a once-in-a-lifetime day:
Brighton becomes Oz in my Somewhere Over the Rainbow wedding shoes

Unconventional? Yes. Unique and perfectly personalized? Unquestionably. 37 days until I get to wear these little paintings!

A month of interviews and other things

Through a blur of jetlag and your classic English fog, I'm hashing this out at the nearest Starbucks. It's been nearly a month since my last update, and I've had more than enough material. But those winter blues, unemployment, and the wedding planning have lumbered my way, taken a seat right on my chest, and have left me winded me of all inspiration. So, where to begin? First, there was Hamburg. Yep, I went to Germany.

I went to Germany, and this is the only photographic proof I have.

And that photo is all I took. Tourism had to take the backseat to my powerpoint presentation, because the day after I arrived in Hamburg, I had my first job interview of 2017. (Eek!) And as soon as that was done, I taxied my way back to the airport, with no chance to check out the town, as I'd had travel booked that weekend to fly me back to the States.

I didn't fly back to the States. Well, not just yet. Instead, I enjoyed one last weekend in Brighton and, that Monday morning, I hopped a train Cambridge (UK)-bound, for job interview #2. At least this time I had a few hours to spare for touring the town and pretending to be a proper scholar, lunching in a university dining hall and all. (By invitation, not just my trying to pass for an undergrad.)

Next stop: Cambridge

After Valentine's evening in Brighton, I caught my rebooked flight out of London on Wednesday the 15th, direct to New York.

At least that last minute interview in Cambridge gave us the chance to do Valentine's right.

I gave myself a night in the Big Apple before bussing my way up to Cambridge on the other side of the pond, and to my alma mater, MIT.

Although I spent the next three days in just one city, there was hardly more than an hour spent in the same place. It was surprisingly familiar despite the years away, though I did enjoy the snippets of the Resistance rising up in response to our new So-Called President. The three days were a blur of networking appointments and evenings filled with reunions with old friends from many places all pulled into Boston's gravitational field.

Snapshots of Boston and America's Cambridge

Thank goodness for friends. I don't know how else I would have gotten myself and my suitcases onto a 7:30am bus back to NYC. Several hours later, it was time for a family afternoon in NYC and then, in case I hadn't traveled enough, an evening ride down to the suburbs of Philly.

The trip to NY included a stop at Treat House, self-proclaimed home of the world's finest marshmallow and crispy rice treats. (This is about the only thing I thought to photograph that afternoon.)

I had two days in the Philadelphia area to power through the calligraphy on over 40 US wedding reception save-the-dates and to complete my preparations for yet another upcoming interview. (Fat chance for the latter: that deadline wasn't until Friday.) I might not have finished all my powerpoint slides, but I did manage to make my way in to the Philadelphia Union League for a luxurious reunion, complete with foie gras (guilty drool), on the night before my next flight.

Sylvia, Peter, my parents, and I enjoyed a fantastic meal at the Phildelphia Union League

Soon enough I was back in the air and discovering just how long it takes to cross the American continent. (Comparable to a trans-Atlantic: who knew?)

The flight to the West Coast spent hours chasing the sunset, painting quite the color palate outside my window seat.

But the long flight was worth every minute because it brought me to San Francisco, home of my dream job (does saying that jinx it?) and more friends than I'd realized had made the trip west. Yet again, it was time for some power-prepping on Thursday before grabbing a hearty American-portioned breakfast and an uber out to South San Francisco bright and early Friday morning for interview #3. I knew I was in Silicon Valley when I entered the office building and asked for directions to the bathroom. "Just past the bar and before the bowling alley," the receptionist said in her accented voice. But the accent did not mislead.

Hello, Silicon Valley: The office where I went to interview came complete with bar and bowling alley.

By now you'd think I'd be getting the hang of this, but nerves still gnawed progressively at my gut as I did my best to finesse my way through the six-hour interview. Luckily, I had a crew of supportive family and friends waiting for me on the other side. Friday evening kicked off the California Cousins' Weekend, with Ryan coming up from LA and Jake from San Jose. We drove across the Golden Gate, wandered through the Palace of Fine Arts, tested ice cream cookie sandwiches (turns out caramel sandwiched between two oatmeal raisin cookies rolled in coconut is a real winner), walked the boardwalk of Santa Cruz, and tested California's finest craft brews. A real weekend of champions.

California Cousins' Weekend!

At last, at the start of the following week, I stumbled across some proper down time, in between the visits with old friends. It was hard not to think too much about San Francisco's different neighborhoods and what it would be like to call them home.

Exploring SF

I even had the chance to get down to Stanford for an afternoon to visit a friend and to really experience the micro-climates of the Bay Area: it may just be an hour away by train, but Stanford is much sunnier and about ten degrees warmer than SF. Apparently every town in the Bay Area has its own pocket of local weather trends. Toto, I don't think we're on the East Coast anymore.

An afternoon discovering Stanford and the micro-climates of the Bay Area

But life didn't let me off the hook for too long. On Wednesday, a week after landing in SF, I was once again in the air, again NY-bound.

Returning to the East Coast after a week in sunny CA

Back in the Big Apple by nightfall

The Big Apple was just a pit stop once again en route to Cambridge, where I'd landed a couple of informal networking meetings thanks to my MIT connections.

Back in my Cambridge, surviving the chilly weather around MIT and Harvard campuses

And as an added bonus, I even got an early birthday party on Friday the 3rd, which turned out to mostly be a Pasteur Institute Happy Hour in Boston, with the essential ingredient for celebrating my birthday: Earl Grey Martinis.

They say history repeats itself, but normally not with such frequency: the next morning, I relied once again on a wonderfully generous friend to get me to a bus on time for another family afternoon in NYC. At least this time we made a point to explore a few sites: The Cathedral of Saint John the Divine, a cathedral-come-art-museum and home of the Christa Project (a sculpture from the '80s of a female Christ on the cross), as well as the Hungarian pastry shop across the street, and a local bookshop around the corner.

The visit to the Cathedral of Saint John the Divine, capped off with some delicious Hungarian pastries.

On Sunday, I awoke in the suburbs of Philly, officially starting another decade in a childhood bed surrounded by toys and artwork I'd long since outgrown. However, the day rapidly snapped me from my past to present life when the family went to my birthday brunch at Bella Tori at the Mansion, where Nicolas and I will be holding our US wedding reception. The food was as delicious as my parents had assured, and the staff was warm and welcoming, two perennially good features for a wedding.

My birthday brunch at Bella Tori at the Mansion, where Nicolas and I will be holding our US reception in July

I even found a moment to firm up a few Stateside wedding details in my final 24 hours on this side of the pond: we settled on our photographers, BG Productions, for the joy and laughter they are able to capture, just the thing we want in someone exclusively documenting a reception. And I even found a salon for our hair and make-up that's actually open on Sundays, and is less than ten minutes away from the venue! So it's still smooth sailing on the wedding front, at least for now.

The biggest scare of this whole wild month came at the tail end, after landing in the UK two days ago. The border guard was not at all happy that I'd been spending so much time in the UK (although I'd only spent five days in the country in 2017 without traveling on a UK visa). She decided to confiscate my visa, though still valid, as I made the mistake of letting slip that the job associated with it had gone up in thin air. She informed me that, although Americans have the right to six months out of every twelve in the UK, if it appears that I am living in the UK, a border guard has the right to refuse me entry. And so, she explicitly informed me, my next departure from the country had best be for more than just three weeks. With that, my plans for a weekend in Italy at the end of the month evaporated.

You better believe that, with that kind of warning, there is no way I'm about to risk stepping foot outside of this country before my wedding day. 38 days and counting!