The End

Let's pretend for a minute

If Matthew and I had been in the New York Times, which we were not (damn that stupid paper), our announcement would have sounded a little something like this...

Tori Lynn Katz, the daughter of Charles and Frandi Katz of White Plains, N.Y., was married last evening to Matthew Frederick Bender, a son of Michael and Marcia Bender of Highland Park, Ill. Rabbi Lisa Izes officiated at the Harmonie Club in New York.

Mrs. Bender, 27, is a communications manager at the American Dietetic Association in Chicago where she covers Medicare rules and regulations related to nutrition services. She graduated from the University of Pennsylvania with bachelor’s degrees in political science and Spanish and received a master’s degree in journalism from the Medill School of Journalism at Northwestern University.

Her father is the vice president of sales for Profile and Russell Athletic Big & Tall, a men’s sportswear manufacturer in New York City. Her mother is a child permanency mediator for the New York State Unified Court System. Her mother is also a mediator for the Better Business Bureau of New York State.

Mr. Bender, 30, is an equity analyst and principal at Harris Investment Management, Inc., an asset management firm in Chicago. He graduated magna cum laude from the Wharton School at the University of Pennsylvania and received an M.B.A. from the Kellogg School of Management at Northwestern University where he was a Brooks and Abernathy Graduate Scholar.

His father is the director of client services at Omnicare Pharmacies of Northern Illinois, a provider of pharmaceutical care for seniors, in Des Plaines, Ill. His mother is a pre-school teacher at North Suburban Synagogue Beth El in Highland Park.

As a result of our lack of publication I officially boycotted reading the Wedding pages. For the day.

3,2,1...

At 4:15 pm on Monday my boss kicked me out of my office. She said it was time to step away from the computer and get married. So I did. And now work is just a distant memory.

And so here I am in New York, staying with my parents and brother until the big day. Tensions are running high and I slightly wish I were back at work. It’s 3 days before the wedding and my mother just stormed out of the house on a mad dash to tailor’s. She doesn’t like the way her dress looks. Nothing like last minute, impulse alterations!

I went for my last fitting at Vera Wang yesterday. Everything was perfect except for a minor incident in which the fitter cut me with a zipper. There was a little blood, but really it was no big deal. It’s my bridal badge of honor.

A few months ago I imagined that I’d be completely calm the week before my wedding. I assumed everything would be done and there’d be nothing to stress over. Turns out, last minute tasks fall out of the sky!

While discussing the final chapter for this blog, my fellow bride to be MRB and I decided an announcement in the New York Times would in no way be the perfect ending. In fact, not being in the Times would provide the perfect opportunity for so many additional well-researched articles:
How my non-famous parents kept me out of the Times
Westchester brides are boring
Ivy League means nothing
In the era of diversity, two Jews can’t make the cut

Gotta run...Stuff to do. Wish me luck.

10, 9, 8....

With 10 days to go, I’m experiencing serious name separation anxiety. How can I be TK if there’s no K? What will my friends call me? When I ran for vice president of the student council in 8th grade my slogan was: Don’t be dog, Vote for Katz! What happens if I run for President one day? What could possibly top that?

Luckily M returned from his bachelor party in South Beach with only a few scars. The poor thing took a bit of a whipping but luckily Dr. Pepper was there to nurse him back to health. Apparently the other TK had to sit through some stories that no brother should hear about their sister, but luckily none are true. So there.

And while M was in South Beach I was at a leadership training conference in San Diego. Note: people who know what they want, get what they want. And that’s some free advice for all of you. On my trip home I started a new book called Eat, Pray, Love. It’s a wonderful story about a woman who realizes she doesn’t want children, doesn’t want to be married and instead leaves everything for a romantic year of travel abroad and sexy Italian men. Nothing like a good story about divorce and noncommittal affairs to prepare me to get married next week…

I have devised an ingenious strategy to avoid crying when I walk down the aisle. I am playing Cannon in D over and over and over again on my work computer. I want to be so sick of the song by time I walk down the aisle that I’d rather scream than cry. My co-workers happen to think I’m crazy, but so does everyone else at this point, so why stop now.

Q: So how I am feeling with a little more than a week to go?
A: How you do think? I am totally wired. Could use a sedative.

Never give up

What I find so hysterical and heartwarming is how many people have taken a genuine interest in my fascination with the New York Times. The other day I received an out-of the-blue email from a guy I’ve never met before. He lives in New York City and has a friend who fetches coffee for staff at the Times. He emailed to tell me he contacted his friend on my behalf and unfortunately she has no pull. I couldn’t help but chuckle when I read his email. How very sweet it is that people I barely know are looking out for me. And at the same, it’s so funny that people I barely know must think I’m absolutely crazy.

I received a similar email a few weeks ago when a friend asked his friend who supposedly knew someone who worked at the Times if they had any pull. My friend emailed to say that while this friend of a friend worked at the Times, they worked in the mail room or something, and hence had no pull.

When M and I met with the band not long ago, the band leader also was ready to pull some strings for me. After I told her the story of how we got engaged, and she told me she got engaged the very same way, but on the cover of the Daily News, she began to rattle off a list of contacts. She thought for sure her neighbor, an ad sales exec for the Times, would have some pull. So now an intern, a mail room clerk and an ad sales exec have all heard my case. Sounds promising, no?

So if you happen to know a janitor or a secretary at the Times, please, please, please tell them you know me. The paper boy might be a good in too.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
This weekend M and I had our auf ruf, a pre-wedding ceremony. It’s basically an excuse in the Jewish religion for the congregation to nail the bride and groom with candy. I got scratched in the head with a flying Sunkist jelly by none other than my future brother in law. Nice.

Sunny skies and a lovely shower

Pardon me for falling behind on my entries, but to be honest I needed a break from all things bridal. Hence the Memorial Day bbq where I lost all recollection of my super snug gown and took the diet, shmiet approach.

Now back to the important stuff-- my shower. My Aunts B and K threw me a luncheon shower at Eleven Madison Park – right across from the Shake Shack for those of you, like my fiancé, who know New York City not by street corners but by hamburger joints. Shower # 1 was great, don’t get me wrong, but shower # 2 was a party with all my nearest and dearest friends and family. There were faces I hadn’t seen in years and friends from faraway that I talk to daily but only see occasionally. In addition to pillows, baking pans and blenders, there were even some Euros and travel checks for my honeymoon thrown into the gift mix. Finally something I know how to use!

Some of the memorable moments of the afternoon included:

a presentation of special occasion wines from my bridesmaids including: one month anniversary wine, making up is fun to do wine, first shabbat wine and It's a...wine.




AS printed out all of my blog entries and put them into an album!









With new initials comes a new monogram bag.






And my fiancé showed up at the end bearing gifts!

The Bachelorette Party...

5:55am: I can’t sleep. I’m too excited. I look over and there’s AS sleeping next to me and SM is on the floor.

8:00am: Time to wake up and work out. SM and I have boot camp at Equinox in an hour and we need to get there early to fight the diehards for a spot in the class.

12:30pm: I am at brunch at Essex on the Lower East Side and just about to start my second of many, many mimosas. AS, KP, MB, LM and SM are giving me a lingerie shower and the guys at the table next to us find our little party quite amusing. My friends know I love my sweatpants. I usually sleep in boxers and a t-shirt. Bu today they tell me it’s time to have some grown-up PJs. My new wardrobe includes ivory silk, gold lace, royal blue mesh and even a pair of Wifey slippers. The girls give me a little quiz to make sure that I know everything there is to know about my fiancé. Q: When did Matt first tell you he loved you? Me: Umm….S—t! I don’t remember. A: Valentine’s Day 2002. Q: Who is Matt’s favorite baseball player? Me: Umm…Derek Jeter? A: Frank Thomas. And with each wrong answer I take a sip of my mimosa.

4:00pm: I am exhausted. A woman is walking on my back. There’s nothing like a good massage after a morning of squats and lunges and an afternoon of drinking.

8:30pm: Dos Caminos Soho. I make my way to the back of the restaurant to a table my friends have decorated with balloons and penis confetti (I said no hats, t-shirts or lollipops, but confetti I can live with). Specially printed “Tori’s Bachelorette Bash” menus are at each place setting. My mom orders the first round of shots.

blowing kisses at dinner

11:30pm: My dad arrives at Dos Caminos to pick up my mom. He sits at the table, completely oblivious to the confetti and the banana and whip cream martini in front of my face. SM comments this could be the first bachelorette party ever attended by a bride’s dad.

dad and me

Friday, May 18, 2007

11:30 am: Time to decide how I am going to wear my hair to the wedding. I am back in my old hometown of Ardsley to meet with Thomas, my hair and makeup stylist for the big day. I’ve lived all over the place, tried a thousand different hair salons all over New York City and yet here I am, down the street from where I grew up, at hair salon next to the CVS where I spent hours in high school buying makeup with my friends. It’s strange how life comes full circle.

I was absolutely traumatized by my prom hair experience so Thomas has been warned that doing anything to my hair involving hair spray is likely to freak me out. After a heart-to-heart I put a little faith in his abilities and allow him to do his thing, within reason. After a little of this and that, we agree upon a very simple, slightly wavy style.

Being back in Ardsley meant I was subjecting myself to running into absolutely everyone from my childhood. By the time I left the salon I saw my old neighbor, my friend’s mother, an old classmate, and even scarier, pictures of her children. Everything in my old town was just like I remembered it. The same people gossiping about the same things.

1:30 pm: My mom and I meet my Aunt K at Lulu’s Bakery in Scarsdale to design and order a special wedding dessert. We walk in super excited. We ooh and aww at all the fabulously designed edibles. But suddenly our bubble is burst when Mr. Pastry Chef isn’t quite as excited as we are. Something about delivering to a New York City venue in June makes him nervous. He’s afraid one of those street fairs (the fried food, ugly fake purses kind) will prevent his truck from being able to make it to the Harmonie Club. The conversation precedes something like this:

Me: Nooooo! You can make it. I know you can!
Mom: I work at the Better Business Bureau. That is no way to talk to prospective clients.
Aunt K: That’s ridiculous. If 5th is closed, take Madison or Lexington.

After much back and forth and a phone call intervention to my wedding planner who recommended this place, we reach an agreement. We taste, design and order exactly what we came in for. And the rest is a secret.

The problem with this whole pow-wow is I am now about 30 minutes behind schedule. Mom and I run to the car and head into the city for dress fitting number 1.

3:20 pm: Mom and I are stuck in traffic on the wrong highway headed in the direction of Mount Vernon instead of New York City. Directions have never been my forte and for some reason, on this very hectic today, I swear to her we need to go east, not west. We quickly realize we need to go west, not east. My fitting is scheduled for 3:30 pm. As you can imagine the conversation inside the car sounds something like this:

Me: S*&^%HJWK!!!
Mom: F(*&^JWA!!

3:49 pm: I arrive at Vera Wang exactly one minute before my appointment is canceled. I tell the receptionist I came straight from the airport and my plane was delayed. Just a little lie to make me feel better about taking the wrong highway from Westchester to New York City, a trip I have made thousands of times.

4:00 pm: I am in my dress and as cool as a cucumber. Oh how I love you wedding dress. You make me forget that I’ve been stuck in traffic and swearing at my mom for the past hour. The sparkly but terribly uncomfortable Stuart Weitzman shoes I returned in exchange for a simple pair of comfortable heels turns out to be the right move. The shoes go perfect and dress maker goes to work.

The Bachelorette Party!

6:00 pm: I’m finally in a cab heading downtown. I make a quick stop at 54th and Broadway to pick up SM from work. Time to get ready for my bachelorette party.

8:30 pm: SM and I head to Otto to meet my friends for dinner. Over a bottle of red, a bottle of white, eggplant, artichokes, mushroom pizza and chocolate-hazelnut gelato we toast to being together and a great weekend ahead.

Thursday, May 17, 2007

9:45 pm: I arrive at Westchester County Airport on time after an easy, breezy flight from Chicago. No delays, no lost luggage. It must be a sign from g-d. There’s my mom, she spots me making my way to the exit. She’s waving one arm in the air and grasping her cell phone with the other. I run over to her and she smothers me with kisses. I’m home. Let the marathon begin.