A December to remember

My twin sister Joy said a co-worker came into her office recently and asked how to pronounce her last name.

“That’s weird,” I said. “Our last name is, like, one of the top five most common names in America. What an idiot!” (Actually Census says it's number 65)

Joy paused.

Then I paused.

"OH DUH!!!!!!"

“Of course…your ‘married’ name.” 

(For the record, her new last name isn't even in the top 1,000 most common last names in the U.S.)

(I guess that coworker wasn't an idiot haha)

It feels like only yesterday that a such a major life-changing event occurred, but in fact, it was a year ago.

One year ago EXACTLY, in fact.

A YEAR AGO THAT MY TWIN SISTER GOT MARRIED!!!!!!!!

I know it’s hard for most people to remember what they were doing a year ago.

(I’m not real clear about what I was doing a week ago.)

But on this day exactly a year ago, I know exactly what I was doing—getting scolded by my mom for my makeup.

“YOUR FACE LOOKS TOO ORANGE!” my mom said, across the large, airy room at a rented beach house on Folly Beach, South Carolina. “IT NEEDS TO BE BLENDED MORE!”

I took a sip of champagne (also met with displeasure by our mom haha) and apologized to the makeup artist for my whiteness.

Seven bridesmaids were all lined up to get our hair and makeup done and I felt like I was getting ready for the Academy Awards.

We all wore gorgeous matching silky robes Joy bought us and the day could have just ended right there and I would have been happy.

But then, we looked out the window and saw the group of men approaching.

All wearing matching charcoal gray suits walking up the wooden dock to the beach house, sticking out like sore thumbs against the sand and the shore.

“OMG there he is!” Joy said, seeing her soon-to-be-husband for the first time that day. 

And then she teared up.

THE MAKEUP ARTISTS SHOULD HAVE KNOWN NOT TO APPLY THE MASCARA YET.

“Well of course there he is!” I said, confused. “There they all are!” 

(Some of the men included the husband/significant others of bridesmaids.)

But the married bridesmaids knew the importance of this moment. The moment you think about when you agree to say YES to someone.

And just for a second you forget about the wedding planning you've been stressing about for months and months.

Because all that matters is that there he is.

And there you are.

And there we ALL were.



(...errr some more orange than others.)

From that moment at the beach house, everything that happened on December 5, 2015 has been etched permanently into my brain.

The limo bus to the chapel, where I filled everyone glass with exactly two sips of champagne. 

Posing for every possible combination of photos for the photographer. Waiting in the “bridal suite,” at the chapel, peeking out to see all the guests arriving.

Even walking down the aisle, which felt like it was twice as long as it was the night before.

Tearing up as Joy walked down the aisle with our dad.



...And then holding her very heavy bouquet and realizing the terrible logistics of having to wipe tears from your eyes while holding a bouquet of flowers in each hand.

The entire thing was just perfect.

And then, if the day couldn’t have gotten any better, I had every single person I know and love, to hang out with for the rest of the night.

Now, I don’t know if you’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing all 130(ish) people at a party, but it’s amazing. You’re never in a corner, never at a table alone. No one turns you down for a dance. 

Everybody tells you how great you look (Lol). It was remarkable how many people I was able to catch up with in four very short hours. 

My maid of honor speech went over VERY well (thanks for asking) and after an insane amount of BEAMING from everyone on both sides of the new family, tons and tons of eating and dancing, memories and jokes, photos and singing, pans and pans of shrimp and grits later, it was time for the send-off.

I arranged a boat charter captain to meet at the dock right outside the venue so Joy and Daniel could leave the wedding on a boat. (Who needs wheels?)

We added battery-operated holiday lights on both sides of the boat, just like Cinderella’s carriage, only with…uhhh…different kind of horsepower.

And the saxophone played “When the Saints Go Marching In” and the boat puttered away into the distance, capping off the best December 5th I’ve ever had in my entire life. 

And then, just like that, everything went back to normal.

Well, except Joy’s new last name.

(Duh)

#hurrayFarrae

12.5.15

-Jenny

(Priscilla Thomas photography)

Contract sports

Last name redacted; nobody LinkedIN me

My mom emailed me this bizarre typed “contract” I signed in high school that she found buried in a file cabinet, in which I agreed to be in bed by 10 p.m. every night or else I couldn’t go to the next morning’s 5 a.m. swim practice.

My parents were constantly making me and my twin sister Joy sign “contracts” all throughout childhood about all kinds of things—about being home for dinner at 7 p.m., about drinking milk, not smoking, doing chores.

One time we had to sign a contract that Joy and I wouldn’t laugh at the dinner table because it was “disruptive” and no one could hear how our brother Franklin’s day was.

HAHAHAHAHAHA

F.Y.I. Franklin never had to sign any contracts.

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

Anyway.

After I was done scratching my head about why my parents still have this piece of paper, it got me thinking about sacrificing things for sports.

It’s good timing, because I’ve been obsessively watching the 2016 Olympics in Rio.

Since I grew up in New Orleans, many of the high school sports I played were “Summer Olympics” sports: Swimming, track and field, soccer. Even gymnastics, from elementary school through high school.

I was never good enough at any sport to play at a high competitive level (outside the Catholic all-girls high school competitive level, in which I RULED), but I still gave every sport all I had, 100 percent.

And I still remember the feeling of competition like it wasn’t 15 years ago (UGGGHHH).

The starting line of an early morning cross-country race, on the starting block at a Saturday morning swim meet, a 3 p.m. track meet after school, green aluminum relay baton in hand, already gathering sweat from my palm before I even start.

Maybe that’s why I’m so hooked on watching the Olympics. I think I’m in it for the start of the race.

Remembering the jittery stomach flips as I waited painfully for the 400 meter starting gun to go off, knowing that any second my relaxed state of being was going to fall to heavy breathing, fatigued legs, LOWERING MY SHOULDERS AWAY FROM MY DAMN EARS, COACH, darting eyeballs to my peripheral vision to see if any runners were coming up on either side.

Controlled stress building up in my chest as I concentrated on nothing but the starting gun and the patch of red rubber track five feet in front of me.

And let's not forget the icy cold pool water hitting my face and I dove in at the start of a race, enveloping me like a body bag.

Concentrating on the black lines painted on the bottom of the pool, fuzzy through my goggles, as I got closer and closer towards the end of the lane designated by a “T” horizontal line. Watching the top of the T get closer and closer.

There was a time in high school where I went to swim practice every morning at 5 a.m., went to school and then went to track practice after school. And I loved it.

Maybe that’s why I’ve played so much kickball in my adult life; I've been trying to re-create the feeling of success in an athletic event.

The feeling of catching a fly ball. Sticking a landing. Reaching the wall of the pool first. It’s immensely satisfying. 

It can not be duplicated, except with more athletic endeavors.

Even watching Olympics commercials about “early morning practices” “late nights on the field” and “unwavering commitment” makes me tear up.

Hearing what the athletes give up, what they sacrifice to be at the Olympic Games.

(Hint: It’s way worse than being forced to go to bed every night at 10 p.m. when you’re almost 18 years old.)

If you’re like me and can’t fast-forward Olympics commercials because you’re cheap and have an antenna, you’ve probably seen or heard the commercial where athletes say thank you to their parents.

Images of athletes being dropped off at practice by their parents (in a Toyota), picked up from practice by their parents (in a Toyota), waving to mom on the rain-soaked bleachers from the field.

They strangely don’t include the situation where the athlete is old enough to drive herself, but still needs her mom’s good sense to convey the importance of taking your sport seriously enough to get at least seven hours of sleep.

Or the sense of commitment that once you sign up for something, or, in our case, sign your name on the dotted line for something, you better take pride in it.  

So thanks mom.

(Uh you can throw that contract away now.)

Signed,

Jenny 

Preparing my presidential candidacy on my birthday

Today I am 33. Which on one hand (well not entirely one hand….more like 6.2 hands…uhhh nerd) sounds really OLD and then on the other hand, I still can’t run for president so I’m not old enough to officially be responsible for a nation.

So, I’m still young.

It’s also my twin sister, Joy’s birthday…her first birthday as a MARRIED woman, which is exciting and all, but she’s also not responsible enough to run a nation, ring or no ring.

Looking back, 32 was the year I noticed that my body was no longer Superhuman and there are repercussions for my constant gallivanting around town.

Hangovers started becoming crippling, for one thing. Trips out of town for vacation took longer to recover from. (I know, life is so hard.)

JESUS, WHERE IS MY CANE.

I can’t just work out at the gym for a week and see results immediately anymore.

I have to wear glasses almost exclusively now.

I turn down complimentary bread at restaurants with the excuse “older people” use about how “no thanks, I’m already ordering pasta and I don’t need any more carbs to go to my THIGHS!”

Ya'll...I SAW AN OLD DVD OF MY SO-CALLED LIFE AND IDENTIFIED WITH THE PARENTS.

(I will turn in my cool pass now.)

But 32 was a bitchin’ year all the same and I did a lot. More than some people do in a lifetime.

I traveled to Austin, Texas, Suwannee, Florida, Los Angeles, the Dominican Republic, New Orleans FIVE times, Edisto Beach, SC and Washington D.C. These were not work-related trips.

And yes, it took me a week to recover from each. 

(Especially Austin, I searched Twitter a week after my flight to see if anyone had posted a picture of a passed out blonde girl in cowboy boots sprawled on the floor of Concourse B.)

I was in three weddings at age 32.

Simultaneously, I joined, and then quit, Match.com. 

LOL

I got a dog! (No I did mean to non-sequitor DOG after mentioning Match.com, but it’s fitting, and it stays.)

I quickly learned that dogs get up at 7 a.m. every day to eat.

I’d like to think that even if my body is getting DUMBER each year (since when is it OK to just start rejecting my nightly bottle-of-wine-and-Netflix life choices, body???) 

...My brain is getting smarter.

I am realizing the financial benefits of staying in sometimes. (seriously, take away my cool card.)

I’m trying to be a better cook. 

Joy and I are finally selling the house we bought 8 years ago. These are all "smart choices," or so says Money Magazine.

Also, I’m reading Money Magazine.

In fact, currently, I am hobbling around because I pulled something in my leg while painting the ceiling of the bathroom last night.

(At least I didn’t try and balance on a bar stool in the tub this time. See? Getting SMARTER.)

At midnight last night, when it was officially my 33^rd birthday, I was scrubbing the sh*t out of my oven, head completely inside of it, like the witch from Hansel and Gretel.

…Not out with friends taking a tequila shot.

OH GOD, I’M OLD.

But even so, I’m hopeful and excited about what 33 has in store.

Because say what you will about my life choices, they aren’t boring. 

(Or cheap! –Citibank)

(BITE ME CITIBANK)

I'm going to try and write more. I am currently writing a pilot for a TV show, a mystery novel, a children's book and a young adult novel in which I hope to include a vampire. (#NeverStopHustling)

That should keep me busy for the next 365 days.

But if somehow, SOME WAY I find myself bored, it's good to know that in two years, I’ll be able to run for president.

:)

I think my dog will enjoy the White House lawn.

Oh, and, obviously...Joy for Vice-President. 

Here's to the BEST 33rd year ever.

-Jenny

VOTE FOR ME!

TOOLBAG TUESDAY

Ahhhh...there’s nothing like the holidays to bring out the hypocritical control freak in your significant other.

LOL

To be fair, this story really could apply to any time of the year where you meet your significant other’s hometown friends—a high school reunion, a wedding, uhhh...Jazz Fest.

But this happened to be at Christmas, when my friend Hannah came to New Orleans with her boyfriend Scott, who is from New Orleans. 

She met all of his hometown friends for the first time at a Christmas event in City Park.

It was a fancy Christmas event, people dressed up and drinking cocktails among the carousals, bumper cars and a tilt-a-whirl (whyyy??) plus people walking around all these sculptures of popular children’s nursery rhymes like Old Mother Hubbard’s shoe.

Hannah met Scott in New York, where they both lived, and they went on very nice dates and seemed to have a good time together. He had a fancy job where he had to pay attention to things like the stock market.

They went to the park event where Hannah met all of Scott’s hometown friends and she said she clicked with them immediately—joking around, laughing and drinking heavily from the open bar.

His friends were getting super rowdy (NOLA boys), peeing in the whale from Pinnochio’s mouth (sorry kids hahaha) and Scott was laughing hysterically about it.

“Gross!!” Hannah said, running away toward the statue of the dish that ran away with the spoon.

She said she was on her way to get another drink, leaving the guys to their potty humor, when suddenly Scott was behind her in the drink line.

“I think you’ve had enough,” he said to her, sternly.

“What?” Hannah asked.

“You’ve had three drinks, and that’s enough,” Scott said.

????????????

Excuse me?? Baking powder?

He was counting her drinks??

Hannah said this was the first time in their dating history that he ever said anything like that. And they definitely got drunk off bottles of wine before.

“What are you talking about?” Hannah said. 

“I think Max is the one who’s had enough,” she added, pointing to HIS friend who was humping Jack and Jill.

“Yea, well, they can drink all they want, but my GIRLFRIEND doesn’t get DRUNK,” Scott said, like this was a statement of fact. 

“...NOT in front of my friends.”

LOL

LOL

LOL

“NOT IN FRONT OF YOUR FRIENDS?" Hannah asked. "You mean the ones who are pissing in the whale’s mouth?”

She stayed firmly in the drink line.

“I mean it,” Scott said. “Don’t order another drink.”

LOL

LOL

LOL

(Ed note: God, how UN-New Orleans)

Hannah said she stepped out of the drink line and glared at Scott while his friends did cartwheels on the lawn.

She said she didn’t want to get into a fight with the person she was staying with and stuck strictly to ONE glass of wine each night for the remainder of the trip.

(God, how UN-New Orleans)

Scott didn’t pick up on Hannah’s cold shoulder and continued to re-live the “hilarious” time in New Orleans once they got back to New York.

“Did you see Laura almost fall out of her bar stool because she was so drunk?” Scott asked. “I’ve never seen her so sloshed!”

That was the last straw.

“Yea, well, I’m glad you find THAT hilarious, and I can’t even order TWO drinks,” Hannah said.

THEN...OMG.

Scott replied, “Yea, well, I’m not dating Laura. I’m dating YOU. Have you ever heard of, ‘Lady in the street, freak in the sheet?’”

LOL

LOL

LOL

WHAT??!?!?

Was that a rap song???

WHO SAYS THAT??

That's the worst nursery rhyme ever!!

“So, you want me to pretend to look prim and proper in public and then I can drink all I want in private?” she asked.

“Yes,” he said.

HAHAHAHAHAHA

AHAHAHAHAHAHA

Well. Scott certainly got the FREAK part right.

Control freak.

Hannah broke up with him the next day, of course, and included the line, “You’re going to make someone really miserable one day.”

HAHAHAHAHAHA

She should work that line into a nursery rhyme.

-Jenny

Tears of Joy

The bottom line is that there isn’t anything I can say that could be profound enough to mark this momentous occasion.

Not in a Facebook status, not to co-workers who ask me where the H I’ve been for the past week, or anyone else who asks me “how’s it going?” when they hear that my twin sister is getting married tomorrow.

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Come again?!?!??

MY TWIN SISTER JOY IS GETTING MARRIED TOMORROW!!!!

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

My best friend in the whole world!!!

How can I possibly put this into words?

What can I say about something so magnificent and life-changing, about how perfectly life works sometimes?

Ok, I’ll try.

The most touching thing I've witnessed from observing Joy and Daniel is that they bring out the very best version of themselves to each other.

It's not to show off or anything. It's because that's the version of themselves they see when they look into the other's eyes.

:)

And you don’t want to let someone down by not being you.

:)

OK, so THAT did NOT make it into the speech I’m going to give tomorrow night.

Hahahahahaha

(Cue the violins)

Here’s my real speech:

For those who have known Joy and I since...oh, one year old...know that we often get into these giggling fits.

It’s very exclusive giggling fits, episodes that can only come from an incredibly strong connection with a best friend, where a quick glance at each other following something as subtle as a “word’ pronounced funny by someone can trigger an identical emotion of pure hilarity and joy that things like etiquette and manners just go right out the window.

you both find the same thing funny that no one else does.

Our own world where we just get tickled by something, a shared world that no one else understands.

I always knew that when Joy got lucky enough to find someone to laugh with her like that, he’d be a keeper.

Laughing, especially shared uncontrolled giggling. The kind of laughing people on the outside raise their eyebrows and look uncomfortable as you start crying from the laughter. It’s a true sign of having a special connection.

I first noticed that connection with Daniel, when I moved back to Charleston from New Orleans two years ago. Where I’d see them sneak glances at each other and crack up laughing without saying a word.

It is always the things you notice about a couple when they don’t think their being noticed that shows you they are a perfect fit. Like being extra thoughtful by cleaning his coffee mug in the morning, or offering to drive them to the bus every morning, hahaha even in a wedding rehearsal, where they automatically, natural held hands without any prompt, asking a few minutes later, “Wait, is this OK? Is this how we’re supposed to stand?”

It’s that ease and comfortableness that makes me so happy that Joy and Daniel are now man and wife, and will do these things for the rest of their lives.

I remember when Joy started referring Daniel to the man she wants to marry. (There wasn’t a giggling fit then)

And, in addition, to all the things that are obvious to everyone here today: How Joy and Daniel bring out the best in each other. Because the best version of themselves is the version that they see in each other’s eyes.

I would also like to add that remember thinking that Daniel would make Joy happy for the rest of her life, simply by way of laughter. Inside joke, uncontrollable riduciolus laihging. Even laughing alone just envisioning your best friend there Can’t wait to home and tell a story so you can laugh about it twice.

I hope you giggle on forever, inapproparite laugher in a huge room of people where you have to pinch yourself to snap out of it.

Where you know that no matter what life will give you and throw you, you can crawl up and remember a funny moment, repeat that word

And I love you.

DUH I’m not giving it all away here!

But I did want to drop a note to everyone in the internet space that JOY’S WEDDING IS TOMORROW!!!!!

And it’s going great. 

It’s been a week-long whirlwind of family and love and wine and laughter. As usual.

I already cried like a baby when Joy walked down the aisle at rehearsal yesterday...(wait for it)...tears of Joy.

Because it's the happiest I've ever been.

:)

Happy (almost) December 5, ya’ll!!!!!!!!

What a wonderful world.

-Jenny