My dad used to tell me before my swim meets and basketball games that my nervousness only meant that I really cared about what I was doing.
I woke up at 5 a.m. on my wedding dress shopping day. I had booked three appointments to try on dresses.
I was 13 years old when I went to my friend’s grandmother’s funeral at Our Lady of Guadalupe Church. On the altar was the most amazing mariachi band.
Our friend Dan Kollar sent us the best email ever: “I have a dilemma. I wish I had two of your Save-the-Dates
In 2007, I ate 46 pieces of wedding cake. I know — I sat down and counted.
I am not photogenic. Look at my high school yearbook pics. No, really, don’t. Please.
I’m one of those girls who dreamt of their wedding day since I was a little girl.
Maybe it was because that’s where my mom and I would escape a household of boys for brunch on Sundays,