Sometimes, a discovery makes you bubble with excitement. Like, want to get up and dance a really embarrassing dance, all the while clucking cheerfully.

Or maybe that's just me.

I was responding to a Northeast Ohio photographer who wrote me today, explaining that she'd seen the blog and wanted to photograph our wedding, and I wanted to give her a sense of the type of exposure she could anticipate if she were to become a vendor of ours and receive mention (probably multiple mentions) on this blog, not just in a "hey, this is our vendor" way, but also in entries that share wedding advice.

So I accessed the traffic counter on this blog, and added up each day's unique visitor count, and OMG, was I pumped. In the past month, since The Bartering Bride really got going, it has been visited by 905 unique visitors. Today alone, nearly 190 different people visited this domain. How exciting and humbling.
My head's not bigger. My resolve is. If so many people are visiting, that means I need to step up my game: Offer more bartering and planning advice. Keep sharing my journey and my missteps, so others may learn from (and avoid) them.

Part of that, though, is knowing what other brides and grooms want to know more about, so please don't hesitate to comment below or email me at [email protected].

In the meantime, no matter who you are -- another bride, a vendor, a friend -- I thank you for taking an interest in me and my bartering/planning/trying-not-to-become-a-zilla journey.
 
We'd been at it for hours (again) -- bless my friends and family for their patience (again).

After today, I've logged more than seven hours of trying on more than 20 dresses. We narrowed it down to two at the boutique today, and then I asked my peanut gallery to accompany me back to David's Bridal, where I'd fell in love with (and cried about) one particular dress (which shall remain undescribed in case a certain husband-to-be actually reads the blog I pen about our wedding, ha).

When I stepped out and faced the mirrors, a lot of the same feelings rushed back to me. I love the dress itself, but I love more the way it makes me feel. Beautiful. Like a bride. And it makes me think about him and how he'll react.

My friend, Amy, was gunning for another dress back at the other boutique. But she'd missed last week's shopping marathon, so I was most curious about her reaction to this one.

That's the dress, she declared.

Why? I asked her in typical reporter fashion.

When she responded, she cited something about the dress, but what resonated most was when she said I looked happy in it. Indeed, I feel happy in it. The bridal consultant asked me if I was sure, and I most definitely am. Then, they asked me to make a wish and ring the bell, signaling I'd made my decision.

So, this is the one, and I am THRILLED. I cannot wait to see his face when he sees me in it, when I am HIS bride.

And that reminds me of another question I've been weighing: When should he first see me in it?

I've come to find out through my ongoing photography research that there's something called "first look" photography, where the groom and the bride actually see each other before the ceremony and are photographed as they do. I've actually cried upon seeing such images, notably that of Cavanaugh Photography. But I wanted to gauge other people's opinions (part of my whole need-to-do-research schtick): 
The responses were varied and helpful. As I suspected, some see the beauty of stealing away for a few intimate moments with your betrothed. Others see the beauty in the anticipation of, and the experience of, the aisle reveal.
If I had to choose today, I think I'd choose to have a "first look." But I don't have to choose today, which is good because I can only handle so many choices in a day.

What I will say is this: If you're a bride who's going dress shopping and plan to make a marathon out of it like I did, bring water and snacks (even if they have to be stored in your car for your "judges" because the shop doesn't think food and dresses mix, imagine that). And, if I may say so myself, my decision to bring scoring cards was clutch. Opinions get muddled, but when people are asked to rate a dress in a uniform system like the one I created, it becomes very clear when a dress is adored.

Above all else, find a dress that makes YOU feel transcendent.
 
I came mostly prepared. I'd made voting cards and stored snacks in my car should hunger strike my judges. But what I didn't come prepared for was the moment I exited the dressing room for what probably was the 12th time, looked up and saw my sister tear up.

If you've ever tried on wedding dresses, you know there are no mirrors in the dressing room. So I hadn't seen the dress now making her emotional.

Then, I did. I turned around to show off the train. When I returned to face my peanut gallery, my consultant asked, "Are you crying?" I totally was. Then, I really started crying.

What ensued was a moment I'd come to think probably wouldn't happen (not that I'd expected it to). I literally was on my 12th or 13th dress and no one had cried yet. I hadn't felt unquestionably beautiful yet. Isn't that what The Dress is supposed to do, even if a girl dislikes her arms and her hips?

My mom jumped up and hugged me, tearing up, too. My sister cried more and grabbed me in a hug. Then we fixed the veil and I stood, soaking in what could very well be The Dress I wear to marry the love of my life.

It certainly made a mark on my bridesmaids and my mom:
Other dresses did not. (I'd show you them, but the husband-to-be might see!) See how assertively my mom is saying no?
I almost paid for the dress that made us cry. But I wanted to mull it over. And I'm glad I did. I know myself. I'm a reporter. My best work and my best decisions are made when I feel comfortable with the extent of my research, and I knew, even amid the excitement of the find, that I wasn't there.

So this Sunday, we visit another bridal boutique, and if nothing beats Contender No. 1, nothing beats Contender No. 1.
 
I mailed our contract to officially secure the venue today. But, before that could occur, there was the Message Decision.

Toward the end of the contract, the venue coordinators ask each bride and groom to provide a message they would like displayed on the outdoor sign on their big day. 

We didn't just want congratulations, but we weren't sure what we did want. So I set a piece of paper and a pen in front of both of us one night this week and initiated the brainstorm. Here's what my super-focused fiance wrote:
"You said whatever comes to mind, and I went with that," The HTB (husband-to-be) retorted when I called into question the relevance of his last two suggestions. And G.O.A.T.? Apparently, it's an acronym for Greatest Of All Time.

In other wedding developments, our tree trunks are here, and they are exactly what we wanted. Straight-out-of-the-forest authentic! In the coming weeks, Steven and I plan to have a thrift-store hunt for some super-cheap glass jars and other centerpiece items.
And now, I reveal to you the reason there will be glitter in our rug and on the hardwood floors for, probably, forever: My first crafty project in, oh, a decade. My very best friends (minus one who's out of town), my sister and my mom will be my peanut gallery this Sunday as I try on my very first wedding dresses. (This is actually a moment I would want a videographer to capture, if, well, THAT was in the budget.)

I think first impressions say a lot, so to lend some uniformity to the rounds of first impressions I'll bear witness to, I created scorecards for my five judges:
As with anything that involves paper on the floor, a certain Cora cat found it supremely torturous that I insisted she not fluff all over my sparkly creations.
 
Some of the best lessons learned and moments lived have occurred for me immediately after rejection.

Of course, that's never easy to remember in the heat of rejection, when you're told by a photographer with whom you've been talking for more than a month, who told you she'd booked your date for you: Never mind. I don't want to barter after all.

I thought about not sharing this. It's humiliating, and it hurt my feelings. But, once again, in vulnerability, I've learned something about me, something about Steven and something about life.

Late Tuesday night, I started anew my search for photography. I found it hard to sleep. Wednesday morning, I awoke to discover that my husband-to-be had stayed up until 3 a.m., wedding planning. He's never done that before. But in my moment of defeat, he stepped in. (Reason #34,891 I'm so in love with him.)

He refined our invite list to make dinner more affordable. He spent hours researching centerpieces. And then, he proudly told me while I brushed my teeth that morning, he struck his own bargain on eBay. He managed to buy eight of these for $50 instead of six for $60 like the seller pictured below:
I think these could look beautiful with some sort of lace detail on our tables, maybe like this:
Tuesday night, at about the time I was lying in bed, restlessly worrying about my ability to find someone who had a need for a seasoned writer, an email arrived in my inbox from a photography company interested in a blogger. A surge best described as a flutter started beating its wings. My confidence was creeping back.

Another silver lining: The photographer rejected our agreement BEFORE the Today's Bride bridal show on Wednesday. So, I revised the flier I'd written (designed by my sister) to reflect that I still needed someone to capture our moments and set out to spread the word with Steven and my "entourage":
I wanted people to know that I have something to offer THEM, too.

The show was informative, yet intimate. I chatted with my DJ, for whom I'm ghost-writing, and PartyPix, the photo booth company with which Something New Entertainment collaborates often. Here's a photo we took wearing their ridiculously bright props:
Actually, we played in two photo booths. My advice: Proofread future husbands who can't read...
So it's the day after the show, and I've received a phone call from a different photographer potentially interested in my blogging for his company and creating a Story of Your Life about the 10-year-old enterprise. I also received an email from someone who shared her packages but said she didn't need writing or editing. I appreciated her honesty and her other cost-cutting suggestions: no engagement session, fewer coverage hours, the exclusion of a second photographer.

I also received an email from a photo booth company whose owner asked me to visit his web site and explain how I would improve it. I will. (I've been in talks, though, with another photo booth company for months, and I want to be fair. I guess it comes down to details and contracts, who feels I can benefit them most and who I feel will benefit us most.)

My confidence is at full-flutter again. If I may, I'm going to steal, while citing, a line written in a recent blog by Jasmine Star that really resonated with me throughout all of this:

"None of us are above doing what we need to do to get things done in the name of our dreams."

I'm certainly not. Indeed, it's the premise that drives all of this.
 
One of the perks of ghost-writing for my DJ's blog (other than her highly recommended entertainment, eventually) is sound wedding advice. Case in point: I recently completed a blog about how brides can guarantee guest comfort, and without it, I doubt I ever would have thought of providing flip-flops for all of the ladies. Or restroom amenity baskets. For each of these pieces, I interview my DJ and wedding planners, so this is solid, professional advice.

And yesterday, I interviewed a bride and groom for a profile I'll pen about their wedding and their musical selections (they outlawed the chicken dance, and I can't say I blame 'em), and from them, I gleaned a personal touch I want to, well, personalize.

They created picture frames for each table, and on each, they wrote memories. This prompted their guests to migrate from table to table when the opportunity arose to read the different memories.

So Steven and I have settled on a rustic theme, right? A la this:
And this:
(And don't think I'm too proud to go rooting around in the park near which I live to get twigs for this! Because the park can barter, too!)

Oh, and this, which is probably my favorite of the three:
So here's the related idea with which Steven and I are toying: For each table, we'll create cards (hopefully designed by my designer sister) titled "Rooted in Love," and on each, we thought we'd share some of the memories we've created together (like that time we went to Hocking Hills by ourselves and thought -- foolishly -- that bringing only horror movies would be enjoyable, but then, oh so surprisingly, it resulted in a nightmare so awful he woke ME up screaming, awesome). But I digress.
And now... the rustic touch we won't be incorporating. Not one person (not my mom, my sister or Steven) seems to find this appetizing, and seeing as we don't really want a cake, I'm not arguing the point. Sorry, tree treat.
 
I had begun to think that expecting to walk into a place and know instantly it was THE PLACE was idealistic and unrealistic. Then, today, I stepped inside here and knew.
Choosing a venue has been a task. Without naming names (because it's no one's fault that we cannot afford most venues), here's a summary of our search:

A few weeks ago, we met with a caterer and salivated over the pasta station, the fajita station and the crepe station their event planner described. Then, we learned that the cost of the food ALONE would fall a few hundred dollars short of our entire budget.

On to the next.

This past Saturday, we went to see a fairly well-known and frequently suggested venue about 45 minutes away from Cleveland. It had a lot of character and a pavilion by the lake for ceremonies, and its pricing was more reasonable. In fact, everything included (food, alcohol and service) totaled what the first place's food totaled, which meant it was more affordable but still cost-prohibitive.

Also, though the event planner there showed interest in my writing content for their incomplete web site (one of its pages says, content coming soon, and another is blank), she said they wouldn't know until January if they would be willing to barter and offer us some kind of discount. In the world of wedding planning, that's an eternity, especially when Steven and I want to marry on Labor Day weekend (so we can take advantage of Sunday rates without inconveniencing our guests).

So, we visited a restaurant today (it was OK, but had sailboats sailing all over the walls), followed by this cabin-y community center, which is super rustic (made of logs in the late 1800s) and fits perfectly with the rustic theme we want. Its enclosed patio and pavilion overlook Lake Erie, plus it has a stage that will be SPECTACULAR for the karaoke we will have, courtesy of Something New Entertainment, the company with which I've traded blog-writing for DJ, karaoke and uplighting services.

So our deposit is made, and the date is saved. In a little more than a year, I will be a married woman. It. Cannot. Come. Fast. Enough.
 
My love asked me to marry him on April 16, 2012, with craft beer (mmmm!), orange roughy (fish) and the ring tied around our Cora cat's neck (safely). He is incredible. Patient. Loving. Selfless. Sports-obsessed. Very self-deprecating at times.

I figure, how could I write a blog about writing to make our wedding happen without introducing the person who makes it all worth it?