Weekends often bring parties, but this past weekend brought the motherload of them all. The Schwartzberg Wedding Extravagalanza!
For me, it was all about pacing myself. Which meant skipping some of my usual vices – eating too much and drinking too much. And let me tell you, it wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be.
For the past few weeks I have been learning the lesson of “you can’t do it all,” and this wedding weekend put me to the test. Everything was THIIIIIIIIIIIS MUCH FUUUUUUUUUUUN! I mean, I knew this wedding was going to be a lot of a lot, but when I walked into the dining room at our hotel, the famous Madonna Inn, it really sunk in.
I was going to have to make some choices. I was going to have to prioritize. I was going to have to stay connected to my goals because there were distractions at every turn – pink dining rooms, nostalgic moments, reunions with old friends, lots of good food & drink and one of the best-looking guest lists of all time – that threatened to derail my plan.
And what was my plan?
My plan was to dance for as long as my broken little body would allow on the night of the wedding. And to not rip my dress. And that meant I was going to have to pace myself. It meant drinking lots of water, sitting down from time to time, going to bed at a reasonable hour on night #1, and constantly checking in with myself to see how I felt. Hungry? Thirsty? Tired? Awkward? Neurotic? The hungry thirsty tired part was easy to deal with. The awkward neurotic part was a little more challenging. At one point after an awkward hugging moment with someone I wasn’t sure remembered me, I covered my face with my hands and exclaimed, “I just had such an awkward moment!” To the person who hugged me! Gah! It makes me cringe just thinking about it. But eventually I eased into myself and was able to focus on the task at hand – get to the dancing.
Here were the obstacles at hand.
Emotional ceremony in the hot sun? Check! Made it through with lots of water and a parasol.
Delicious menu of delicious comfort food? Check! Filled my plate with tasty goodness, stopped when I thought I was full then wrapped a biscuit in the bib (yes, bib) they provided and put it in my purse in case I got hungry later. And yes, it did come in handy, but mostly as a good Jerry Orbach-style zinger when throughout the night I offered my hungry friends “a bite of my biscuit.”
And finally. It was here. The dancing. I made it.
It was everything I hoped it would be and more. Because after a solid hour and a half of good times, they loaded us into shuttle buses (bonus – my bus had a very loud sing-a-long – score!) and dropped us off back at the Madonna Inn for 3 more hours of after-party dancing. I was in activity point heaven!
And so it was. Yes, I pushed myself. Yes, I’m still a little sore from dancing. Yes, it’s going to take me this entire day to recuperate and rest. And yes, it was worth every skipped beer and brownie. Because I got what I really wanted. I got to dance. And it was awesome.