Welcome back, life, and hurray for team Nardi-Dei!

I hesitate to start this post because it could be a million part series with that heading. Today I’ll have to keep it simple and then in time, get into the details of how my life is forever a work in progress (hopefully not FOREVER), how during my most favorite season, when it seems fitting to start over, start fresh and be optimistic, the rest of my life will begin. That’s what weddings/parties/trips home/life lessons/the start of new seasons are for, right?

Well. So I’m back from Graf. 30 days away from home. I’m only 5 days home now and I have quite the sorting, cleaning, dusting off, organizing and fixing to do. There is never enough time, though. Instead of getting my shit together this weekend and staying home to relax, Chris and I are jet setting to London to celebrate the love of some of our bestest friends, Mark and Kate Nardi-Dei. Instead of using my first post back on the Chronicles to go over my life, my realizations, my wedding and the start to my new life, I’d like to instead talk about Mark and Kate and the start of their new (2.0) life together, as Count and Countess Nardi-Dei of London/Florence/Washington, DC.

No shit, they’re really a Count and Countess but we’ll get to that later. I’m just jealous. So jealous in fact that while I was away, Chris sent me this site to entice me into buying us a title.


We got nowhere, though, because I wanted to be a Dutchess, the Dutchess of Aidlingen, but he didn’t want to be a Duke. He wanted to be a Baron, but I hate Baroness and unless he was the Red Baron, it makes no sense to me and the Red Baron is a plane, well, Manfred Albrecht Freiherr von Richthofen, a German fighter pilot, and jesus CHRIST, we are not naming ourselves that further associates us with German fighter pilots. So then it’d have to be Lord and Lady because Mark and Kate are Count and Countess and we’re not trying to one up them, but let’s be honest, we are pretty regal, too. So anyway, Lord and Lady are fine and dandy but even Lady Marian wasn’t THAT luxurious and I don’t know of any other LADIES that quite exemplify the life I was looking for in buying this title and so we bought no titles but no worries, there’s always Christmas. Ah, I have missed expressing the inner-workings of my brain.

Mark and Kate. I’m so excited to see them. The Beauty and the Brit should be their couple tagline. They are a beautiful and warm and funny and engaging couple that screams timeless and makes you want to put them in a glass hutch for all the world to see, because they really belong on display.

Mark. He is grand and civilised and sweet as biscuits, with a fancy accent to boot, of the London variety, which is the poshest of all posh, or so I’m told. He is a lover of toys, a real Peter Pan at heart, but of the best kind–the one if you win over you can catch and lock in a townhouse as Husband. He would give you the world if you needed it, share his life with you in the quietest and most modest of ways. He brings great, huge steaks to bbqs, has fantastic taste in champagne, uses the most charming British words to describe things (swoon), I think he still sleeps with this monkey stuffed animal thing he seems to love so much, he has a way of making you feel small with one of his hugs and he is a dear friend that I know both Chris and I hope we are never without.

Katherine, or Kate to me. She is classically beautiful. The kind that rivals Audrey Hepburn and closely imitates Jackie O. She has beautiful skin that glows and boasts fantastic hydration. Her teeth sparkle and her eyes light up when she smiles. And she has lips made for lipstick in every shade and we all know I’ve failed in that lipstick trend that looks so fancy. She looks like she belongs on a sailboat and she’s quick with the wine in a crisis, or a non-crisis. She tapes pictures of her shoes to perfectly kept boxes and has taste to die for, taste I will never understand, because if we’re talking taste, she’s always been Nordstrom or Burberry and I will forever be Target. She is a strong, lovely Midwestern girl and if you met her, she’d teach you a lesson instantly about class, without ever having to open her mouth.

So. That is the happy couple. They are hosting a small and intimate wedding in London for close friends and family and we feel very lucky to be on the guest list. Lucky and frantic and white trash. Why white trash, you ask? Because when I asked her what to wear to this high-class affair, she told me to think Four Weddings and Funeral. My wardrobe rivals Pretty Woman, and not the scene where he fixes her. They are really rolling out the red carpet and it’s a 5 star affair. There are fancy dinners involved and penthouses and tours on the double-decker bus that I hope stops at a place where I can get fish and chips. And so tonight. What am I doing tonight. I’m finding a classy and appropriate and modest dress and I’ll be damned if I don’t find myself the biggest, most aggressive, most absurdly outrageous, why is there a nest and a bird on your head, hat IF IT KILLS ME. And long gloves. And maybe one of those long, plastic cigarette holders that allows you to smoke a cigarette that’s a mile away from your face. And pearls. Where the fuck are my pearls.

And so I’ll be sure to take lots of pictures and report back on the Nardi-Dei 2.0 London affair. It’ll surely be an event to remember. 🙂

Cheerio, mates. I’m off to London.