Pasturized

My wedding plans have come to a screeching halt. Since entering the work world, my mental exertion is the size of a pea. But! I am pleased to be part of the norm. The nine to fivers. It is such a treat to spend the weekend with friends and, most of all, Shane. Smile. Twinkle. Indeed, I do sit in a cubicle producing presentations and responding to emails all day long. I don't mind the humdrum at all.

Working in the kitchen was definitely, to say it mildly, different. As a female, I was circumcised of all sensitivity except for my tastebuds. My right forearm is scarred with burns. My face was a slate of grease. I was always swimming in my chef's coat, because it was ten thousand sizes to big, and my chef's pants was always sliding down my waist, as my panties rode up.

I was on my feet from one o'clock prepping my mise en place making sure my station was ready by service, which I never was. It was a straight shift of literally working in hell. The heat from the flattop blazed in my face like the hearth of Hades. I was a mess of sweat.

The open kitchen was like being in a circus. The diners ogled as the cooks, with composure and temper, walked the tight rope. This was the ebb and flow of working in the Cortez kitchen. The kitchen was home to pop trivia, culinary minutiae, sexual overtones (usually headed by me), cursing and cussing, bad ninty song improv, manifesting gossip and neverending sweltering heat. From this flux of lunacy and hellish conditions, born many beautiful dishes.

The service part of work whizzed by like a bandit on wheels. Service called for my full attention, a challenge in itself coming from a person with a short attention span. The expeditor called out picks in no more than twelve items. I would than proceed, with no finesse, to fulfill that pick with eagerness breathing down my neck. The work was meticulous, yet grueling with the supervision of the chef making sure each of the many dishes were prepared with proper perfection. He usually communicated with great furious temper tantrums, banging and clamoring.

So you can understand why I was gungho for cocktails to blow me to smithereens everynight after work. I would head to the local bar around the corner a.k.a. The Hightide where the usual shady faces sat in lit corners. My happy hour was over when the bartender screamed, "last call!"

So you see I have grazed on different pastures of green. I must admit, I do miss working in a kitchen and all the electricity that was conducive in that insane environment. I don't mind sitting on my ass for most of the day in an air conditioned office that looks out to the bay bridge. So what, if my colleagues are mundane people. At least, I'm getting paid! Phat.

Most of all, I am more intoxicated with the moments that I now spend with Shane. Shane always said to me, "do whatever makes you happy." So I dared to chase my culinary dream. Meanwhile, our relationship gradually began to capsize, because our work hours was not in sync. I made the decision that I would rather make my sweets, Shane, smile with glee than chase this bittersweet dream. That, my friends, is what makes me happy.

This is Shellie, with all the preservatives, from her overprocessed Cheez Whiz factory bidding you good glop.

Knit & Hacheu

I haven't progressed much in the wedding planning department. Yet, I haven't regressed either. I'm just hangin' in that new galaxy called limbo. Taking it easy. You know how I like to do it.

Meanwhile for the past two months, I've been suffering from a gnarly allergy attack that seem to rear it's wretched head in the early morning. Sneeze. Snot. Blow (my nose). Snot. Blow. Sneeze. Blow. Blow. Damn to all hell blow. I've blown my nose so much, that I should be a desccicated bark of a shrew. I've sneezed so much that my brain should have projectiled far into space by now. I've been steering away from over-the-counter allergy medicines, just 'cause the side effects is never a fair trade. Indeed, my allergies will disappear, but I'll probably grow a second head between my butt cheeks. Who wants that?

On a lighter note, I've discovered the secret to enlightenment! It's not drinking a dixie cup of kool aid. It's not meditating in the eye of a vortex waiting for outer life intelligence to take you on a magic carpet ride. It's knitting! Joy! Jump! Joy! I thought knitting was just for land folks. You know the farming type. The ones that milk their cows to make cheese and butter. The ones with kids that walk a thousand miles to get to school. The people where, in some cases, their sister is also their mother.

The other day, Maxine hosted a stitch-n-bitch session at her house. I would like to say that I thoroughly enjoyed it. So what, if I had to start all over like a trillion times. Did I forget to mention, in great desperation, I popped four benadryls and enjoyed a couple glasses of wine! She had a cat! Hiss! Dander! Evil! I forgot to read the warning "do not mix with alcohol" label on the back of the packet. In any case, I was soaring high and dangled at the height of peak. Woo hoo! Over the counter drugs rule!

I bitched my way through each mistake like it was a turret parade, but I got the gist of it. I tell you what? I loved it! I have come to appreciate the hats, scarves, sweaters, socks that I've taken for granted all these years. I now have a higher appreciation for yarn.

Sure it'll probably take me to the end of this year to finish my scarf, just in time for winter!

This is the patient little grasshopper bidding you good knit!

Chop! Chop!

So I found a caterer. Not only did I get a prompt response, but I got a quote the next day! Sh*t yeh. Anyway, their's still some kinks to work out such as the menu. I've come to the conclusion that working with a caterer is like running with scissors in your hands, sometimes you just want to ram it into them.

First of all, the caterer suggested a plating service. Aghast, I think my heart stopped for half a second. I've been a cook for years. I don't know a lot, but I know that food is useless when it's being plated for a hundred plus guests. Well, unless your Wolfgang Puck. If I wanted my meal to taste like cold contrived cardboard, I'd eat airplane food. But don't insult me. Christ.

Than they proceeded to advise that I omit the dessert station? Yep. I thought they were kidding, but they were serious as walnuts. I'm not a fan of sweets myself, but gimme a break. No desserts? Why don't we cut out the oxygen flow in the atmosphere while we're at it.

The audacity of it all. I replied to their email, of course with a professional etiquette manner, to "bite me".

This is Shellie reminding you that leather is not a healthy source of protein, back to you Bob at the Studio.

I do

All this wedding planning has got my head going whimsical. There's so many people that wait their whole life for this. Those girls that suffer from PPD, Pathetic Prince Disorder, waiting for that perfect man to save them from their prisoned tower.

Me, my opportunity to be someone's wife was the size of a germ and shrinking as every year passed. I suffered from SPR, Scarred by Previous Relationships, the skeletons in my closet I buried six foot deep. I locked myself behind padlock and key. I never wanted to fall in love again. Love was for suckers. Until one day...

I wanted to switching gears and downshit. We plan for a wedding, but we never plan for the the afterlife a.k.a. life after the wedding. After the honeymoon's over and the registered gifts are collecting dust, enters the marriage monitor scaling the hallways for mishap.

What am I pawing at? Well, I've been thinking long and hard about the future. Meanwhile, I come from the generation of divorce. The committed are dropping like flies. It's all about fifty fifty and I'm not talking about split assets.

I have the strongest support system, my parents. I have the pleasure of following in the footsteps of my parents. I am so proud to present that next July is their 50th wedding anniversary. They had seven boys and three girls. One word, Catholic. That's right. I look up to my parents for really taking the vow of marriage seriously. My dad is the sporadic ocean and my mom is the land that gently embraces him. Together they are my world.

The vow of marriage is vital to me. It's not just words repeated, it's a way of life. A promise.

I'm not embarassed to say that I am my mother's daughter and my father's little girl.

Dress it

I'm glad I purchased my dress when I did. I called the bridal salon to anticipate the arrival so I can send it to the seamstress. Ahem. I was given the response that it would arrive on or around July 14. Gulp is right. I'm just delighted that I'll have time to take it to a seamstress.

I know right? You think that a dress that was made to order should fit perfectly? Nope. Not in this galaxy. It's all about nip and tuck and I'm not talking about my belly. Well, it all fits into my timeline and that's all that matters. Smirk.

On the otherhand, Shane and his crew are lucky. They just need to go in and get fitted for their purple and pink ruffled tuxedos. I think the cane and the tophat is included with the package. I'm not sure.

All in all, it's slowly coming together like a slow moving car crash. Shrug. I just keep rolling the dice. Come on snake eyes.

La familia

I am thankful for laughter, except when milk comes out of my nose. ~Woody Allen

Now my family in Hawaii is up in arms. When I mean up in arms, I mean furious. Of course, I got this second handed communicado. Yikes. I think that everyone needs to SIMMAH down. Simmah. Simmer. Simmah down now. Really? Shrug and smile (teeth and gums and all).

Look. As far as family goes, my family is like a brick house. You can huff. You can puff. Cadelinia's ain't going nowhere. Just like JayZ says, go on and brush your shoulder's off. Where do you think I got this thick skin from? It's not from drinking powdered milk. (Okay, if you didn't laugh at that powdered milk joke...you need to see a therapist.)

This blurt of my wedding madness is to appease my craze. A vessel to ventilate, if you will. My family's very strong and personal and private people. I understand that my representation of them is not the most stellar, but that does not take away any positive aspects of my family. The Cadelinia's are resilient in their own being. We've gone through tougher times and I can't believe that my blog tests their temper.

Just for the record, I would like to see a show of hands, if there's never been a moment where your family has not driven you up the damn wall. I have an instinctive feeling that everyone raised their hands. Crazy has always been the norm when in comes to family. So what we're all crazy, that's what love is all about.

I would like to preface the purpose of this blog. It is not out to hurt or injure anyone. The blog is my voice toning to a perspective that will come to pass. Surely, you must understand that? Yes, it is personal and yes, it entails the trials of the hardships of coordinating a "destination" wedding. Why hold on to frustration? It's just wasted energy. This blog is my emotional wasteland be it bliss, sadness, frustration, laughter or anger. Emotions are a part of life and my lifeline.

I apologize for those ultra sensitive types, but my words are merely a confession of my feelings. God forbid, I hold my feelings in. That's not gonna happen. I think that everyone needs to lighten up. Seriously. This blog is really a jest of the jabs of my life.

I do not have another outlet to vent. Sure, I could take up alcoholism (does champage count as alcohol?), drug addiction, bulimea, bank robbery, serial killer, or cannibalism. (Okay, for you sensitive types, that was a joke, so laugh damnit.) I choose the sword to write.

Enjoy the journey with me (laugh) and be glad that your not in my shoes.

This is the word according to Shellie, I bid you peace out!

Word to your mutha!

Back to Life

Since my unfortunate departure from working in the kitchen, I have not been working. In result, the wedding plans have been my primary enemy, gnawing at my brain like a rabid dog. I must admit I had more than free time on my hands. In the beginning I enjoyed it like any person sleeping in till noon, preparing a nice lunch, taking a nice walk, meeting up with friends for dinner and drinks. My time with Shane is an absolute treat. A couple of weeks go by and my attempts to be productive turns into working out at the gym or outdoors, meet friends for lunch, grocery shopping, cooking, dinner party. Once or twice a week, Happy Hour at Tsunami half off sake infused drinks and two dollar hand rolls. Yum. It sounds good and all, but it gets lifeless.

Slowly, but surely, I began to miss the interaction with people. I began to miss the day to day routine. The need for structure and purpose starts to sink in. It was time. I decided to go back to work. Between you and me, the grass is greener on the office path. No more grease on my face and no more sweat swamp. No more uniforms. For you kids at home, just say no to low wages.

I landed a job that I am so lucky to have. Besides, the daily free lunch, free flowers, free parking and travel reimbursement, free annual trip to aspen. Did I forget to mention benefits? Oh and the pay is obscene. I am grateful to Tim, Kurt and Jon Fast for being such troopers!

There is not one moment in the day that brings joy to my heart, because of the people that encompasses my life. Smile. Giggle.

This is Shellie Cadelinia coming to you from cloud nine, back to you Bob in the studio.

Yeeha

The questions of color scheme was aimed to me as soon as the wedding plans began. One, I couldn't decide on a color scheme. Two, what the use of a color scheme anyway? Because of my indecisiveness, I couldn't really proceed in bridesmaid dresses.

For time management sake, I perused those bridesmaid magazines and bridal salons for the perfect bridesmaid dress, but to no avail. All of these dresses really is a one time only wear. I didn't want that for my bridesmaids.

I quickly gave up on bridal salons and magazines. Thank the lord for Macy's! I am one braincell stronger. All of the bridesmaid loved, love, love their dress. Besides finding the dresses, I also discovered the color scheme. Spontaneity is a good thing. I am just thrilled, because it's all downhill from here.

On to the next obstacle, flower girls. It's all frill and fuff.

Pettydestrian

According to a mere one percent, a person that will be referred to hereonin as "Petty" thinks we're, well more like I am being selfish with our wedding plans. "Petty" cursed me in different degrees that I am simply self-centered.

"Petty" was so ill with me. Of course, I was oblivious, that I received an email telling me like it is. Listen people, I am not a mind reader. But, you gotta let me know, before things get out of hand. Passive aggressive. Isn't there pills for that? A simple textbook case of crazy.

I accept everyone for who they are. Flaws to me are like freckles. Without flaws personalities would be stagnant. I embrace the people that surround me like a breath of fresh air.

Our wedding website really hit a nerve with "Petty". I apologize in advance for anyone that I insult or injure, I don't mean any malice. I went ahead and made revisions to my websiste, because this pedestrian person thought my story was a bit bluff.

This website was a mere jest. A joke. Not to be taken completely serious. I can't fathom being rolled up in a ball so tight, it must really suck.

If there's anyone out there whose coordinated their own destination wedding, raise your middle finger. It's no walk in the park. I wouldn't wish this hernea on anyone.

Since I'm on the cigarette and caffeine wagon, my vices do not succumb my anxiety. This blog only serves one purpose and that is to record and alleviate the insanity of this experience. If my self centered, swelled head, egotistical, superficial tangents offend you, go read someone else's flippin blog.

If there any takers, please list your concerns with me on this blog, it's very easy just type in the section after every entry that says comments? Just be brave enough to sign your name at the closing of your comment. My blog does not discriminate against ignorance. I dare you.

Signed,
Friendships fade and grow, but scars are forever

Colorblind

The wedding date and location is making a chomp out of me. I chose the wedding date, regardless of everyone's concerns. Remember? Previously, I was so fed up about everyone's do's and don'ts that I just did.

What sucks is...four of my nephews, whom I love dearly, won't be attending. You know, because of school. A stab in my heart. I always thought that the people that were most important to me, would be there come alien domination or world peace.

It makes me think that my wedding is insignificant. In fact, it is a true reflection that the world doesn't revolve around me. Godamnit, it should, on my wedding day.

On this one day, I truly wish they could miss a couple days of homework just to be there. This is a one day event. A once in a lifetime. Should children be given a choice? Truly, should they be allowed a decision? I am not a parent (god forbid), but you'd better bet your tonsils that I would drag my kids (by the their hair, if they were putting up a fight)to a relatives wedding, kickin' and draggin'. These are memories that is forever. School work is something you makeup. You can always makeup your test scores and homework. You can't duplicate memories.

I thought I was prepared for the repercussions, when I went forth with the date. My theory was that in everyones' heart of hearts, will be there. My own family can't afford to be in Kauai. I just feel in a knot about things. Shane made a good point. What would my family do, if it was in San Francisco, New York, Costa Rica? Would my family afford it than? If the shoe was on the other foot, we would do it for any of our loved ones come hell, wind and highwater.

I should accept it for what it is. I am just thankful that everyone that can be there, will be there.

Just sometimes it hits me. I'm human. I have a pulse. It hurts.

Sweet

I awoke this morning greeted with fresh rain and a gentle breeze from the west. Today, my friends, is a brand new shiny day!

I wanted to thank Keri and the Krstovich's for their support. Keri left me a lovely message today to simply take a deep breath. Thanks you guys for listening. I really appreciate your observing my skitzophrenic patterns. Ha!

My yoga teacher finishes her class with this:

"Everyday is different. Don't push or judge yourself. Accept yourself for today. Take this feeling into the world and don't let anyone take that away from you."

This calms me when I'm being tested from all angles. Well enough of that granola stuff. I'm taking off my straightjacket to venture in the outdoors, for it is a beautiful day!

Shellie "Can't wait for Happy Hour" Cadelinia

Embrace the Monstrosity

Like a zit, this obstacle protruded it's ugly head. Once again, I'm sucked into the undertow.

Since working in the kitchen, I couldn't afford to breath; hence, fly to Kauai. In great desperation, my wedding coordinator checked out my wedding location. Guess what? The location is basically a joke. A thumbs down! A farce. Aargh.

I have to start from scratch! Literally! So I scrambled around on the internet for a wedding reception location, like a skitzophrenic breaking loose from the mental hospital. The first real estate agent I phone, has a vacation home that will allow weddings. This house is in Anahola, on the East Side of the island. Definitely prettier than the last location.

I felt like that dog in Pavlov's experiment. Instead of salivating, I felt physically and mentally abused. Resolution turns into skepticism which results in sweating, cowering and foaming at the mouth. Rabies anyone?

Repercussion? Yes, the reconstruction of my guests' accomodations. Talk about pissed. I'm embarassed! Most of all, frustrated. Anyway. Breath. Exhale. Alright. Everythings okay. I think. Serenity? Maybe later. Phew!

If things couldn't get any darker, I called home and my older brother proceeded to give me a talking to i.e. give me shit. He had heard through the grapevine that I hired a coordinator. He was insulted that I didn't extend my madness to one of my family members. As if? I am at constant guilt when it comes to asking family for favors. It's true, my cathol guilt runs deep. Gulp. Or just maybe I've exhausted my "get out of jail free" card. I'm one of those family members that are more of a burden than a joy a.k.a. pain in the ass.

Than my brother further proceeds that I'm asking for too much when it comes to my wedding. It's not like I requested hybrid tea roses in the perfect hue of rasberry fuscia with a diameter no larger than 5 centimeters. Even better, I'm not releasing a thousand butterflies specially shipped from africa to be released into the wild so they can destroy the eco-system on the island. Although we were contemplating whether or not to fly Cirque D'Soleil performers in for the wedding. Psyche!

All we want is a simple beach wedding alongwith great food and booze? Most importantly, we are just hoping to establish unforgettable memories. We are more worried about our family and friends enjoying their stay at the wedding. Our friends and family from the mainland (flying in from farther distances), to say the least, is completely ecstatic to be coming to the wedding. On the other hand, I feel like my family feels inconvenienced by the outer island travel. I am completely sideways. Topsy Turvy, if you will. Head Hurts. Make. It stop.

So all in all, it's been a bad day. Isn't it funny how family members can be the most crucial, just because they can? I feel that things happen for a reason, and I was meant to have a beautiful beach wedding. The price I pay for this simple want is the usual restless night chasing after shadows, catching them and naming them. Cuckoo. Cuckoo.

This is Shellie bringing her tangent to a close, I bid you adieu.

It's Crunch time!

I've been going to the gym more than the average person, you know free weights and cardio, yet my indulgent eating habit and my lethargic metabolism just formulates to bulge. Damn you french triple cream cheese! I curse you rice, pasta and potato! I beseech you, butter and all your alliances!

On Monday, I begin my strict workout and diet. My consumption plan will consist of strictly protein, fruits and vegetables. Plus to maintain my regularity, loads of water, aloe vera juice and multi-vitamins. Therefore, the unsightly existence of sugar, pasta, bread and rice and all associated evils will be condemned from my kitchen.

To assist in my insanity, besides the usual (criscross crunch, reverse combo crunch, limbo leg double crunch twist), I will combine hardcore cardio. Cardio is the savior that will resurrect these abs of steel. I know it's somewhere underneath all this jiggle and shake. It just needs a little excavating, that's all.

Sadly, it's taken a particular day to motivate me. I've gone many days careless of what others' think of my body. I've succumb to the fact that I'll never be able to wear midriffs again. I've also embraced that gravity is now my new arch nemesis. And I'm cool with it. Until, that meddling day. My wedding day. This wedding has transformed me into this insecure monstrosity of an individual. Me, the person that has accepted my love handles as special compartment features. Shellie, the person that accepted the fluctuation of her belly like the change of the ocean tides.

What happens after the wedding? Do I resume to stuffing my face with a heart bypass sandwich? Do I continue eating like a rabbit? Is there a medium? Can I maintain? These manic thoughts meander in my thunderdome of a mind.

Once, a stranger in a smoky bar butted into my conversation, and attempted to convince me that when pigs fly, is the day I quit smoking cigarettes. This nosy stranger was convinced that nicotine would conquer. Guess what? I quit smoking. Furthermore, with all the genetically toxic engineered food, I forecast that pigs will have wings in five years.

Lesson for today? It's okay to forecast the future, but you can never predict it and in the meantime bathe in the sunshine of the present, you loathy louse. This is Shellie from the equator of her zenith, I bid you namaste. Place the hands together at the heart chakra, close the eyes, and bow the head.