Terry and I, convinced that we simply research rather successfully, only met with two photographers before deciding that Rhee is "the one." Of course, my hours on the Internet searching for a true photojournalist with experience at our venue and decent prices could only result in at least somewhat promising meetings, but we certainly did not expect the love-at-first-sight experience we got with Rhee.
Rhee's name shows up on every preferred vendor list in Northern California, and with good reason. She maintains a professional and light-hearted demeanor, treats her clients with respect, knows our venue well, and creates unbelievable work. Terry and I felt incredibly comfortable in our meeting with her and knew that she would preserve our memories beautifully for the wedding. Rhee's warm personality ensures me that our guests will feel comfortable enough to remain candid for all of the photos, a must for photojournalism.
Rhee's photography package includes an engagement session. We already have some awesome pictures from Rox, and we'll be taking more at UCLA this month, but we figure the engagement session with Rhee will provide us an opportunity to get to know her better before the wedding. Plus, we can take some pictures in the Bay Area, my favorite place!
We can't wait to get to know Rhee better over the next year! Meanwhile, check out her incredible portfolio. She is brilliant!
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
Saturday, May 1, 2010
The Ring Story
No, this isn't the real story of how Terry got the ring. For that, you'll need to check out our previous post. This story, much more recent, makes me appreciate my ring all the more.
When Terry and I started talking seriously about marriage, we ventured out to Tiffany's to check out styles. The "experts" at Tiffany's, likely disappointed to find out we already had a diamond and would therefore not purchase a ring through them, promptly and with annoyance announced that my ring size was 6. Armed with our new knowledge, Terry proudly told Jeff, our jeweler, the proper size and his desired specifications. Jeff created my dream ring, but I have been dealing with it sliding side to side for eight months, and we finally brought the ring, along with the wedding ring, in for a legitimate sizing the last weekend in March. My parents would be coming down to LA the following weekend, so they would bring it with them.
The plan seemed perfect. How could it go wrong? Well, that's where Dad steps in. A brilliant man when it comes to police work, yard work, and navigating any roadway, my father is apparantly less than brilliant in understanding the intricacies of engagement rings versus wedding rings. You see, when my father proudly presented Terry with the "fixed ring," Terry smiled and thanked him. But it took a few minutes for us to realize that the wedding ring was what my dad thought was the engagement ring. Soon we all figured it out.
He had brought the wrong ring.
Now, of course, it wasn't the end of the world. The engagement ring sat safely at home in Fremont, and obviously the wedding band was safe. But, much to my dismay, I would suffer without a ring for a full month before I could get to the Bay Area.
Of course, my dad felt awful, but I assured him it would be okay. I tried my best not to make him feel bad, but I think that made him feel worse. The next day, incident forgotten, my dad presented me with a beautiful ring. To remedy his mistake, Dad had bought me a legitimate-looking cubic zirconia to stand in for my missing ring. He and my mom had both had the same idea while shopping at Macy's, and I was rather grateful to have something on my finger again.
While I wished to have my ring, I have to admit that my dad was quite sweet to pick up the rings from the jeweler, bring one (although the wrong one) to LA, and then purchase an $18 replacement to get me through the month. Plus, it's an awesome story.
Finally, after a month of yet another too-big ring, people asking where my real ring is, and missing the one Terry gave me, I have my ring back. We are keeping the fake one as a keepsake, but it's great to have the one Terry bought and designed for me. So that's the ring story.
Oh, and it fits!
When Terry and I started talking seriously about marriage, we ventured out to Tiffany's to check out styles. The "experts" at Tiffany's, likely disappointed to find out we already had a diamond and would therefore not purchase a ring through them, promptly and with annoyance announced that my ring size was 6. Armed with our new knowledge, Terry proudly told Jeff, our jeweler, the proper size and his desired specifications. Jeff created my dream ring, but I have been dealing with it sliding side to side for eight months, and we finally brought the ring, along with the wedding ring, in for a legitimate sizing the last weekend in March. My parents would be coming down to LA the following weekend, so they would bring it with them.
The plan seemed perfect. How could it go wrong? Well, that's where Dad steps in. A brilliant man when it comes to police work, yard work, and navigating any roadway, my father is apparantly less than brilliant in understanding the intricacies of engagement rings versus wedding rings. You see, when my father proudly presented Terry with the "fixed ring," Terry smiled and thanked him. But it took a few minutes for us to realize that the wedding ring was what my dad thought was the engagement ring. Soon we all figured it out.
He had brought the wrong ring.
Now, of course, it wasn't the end of the world. The engagement ring sat safely at home in Fremont, and obviously the wedding band was safe. But, much to my dismay, I would suffer without a ring for a full month before I could get to the Bay Area.
Of course, my dad felt awful, but I assured him it would be okay. I tried my best not to make him feel bad, but I think that made him feel worse. The next day, incident forgotten, my dad presented me with a beautiful ring. To remedy his mistake, Dad had bought me a legitimate-looking cubic zirconia to stand in for my missing ring. He and my mom had both had the same idea while shopping at Macy's, and I was rather grateful to have something on my finger again.
While I wished to have my ring, I have to admit that my dad was quite sweet to pick up the rings from the jeweler, bring one (although the wrong one) to LA, and then purchase an $18 replacement to get me through the month. Plus, it's an awesome story.
Finally, after a month of yet another too-big ring, people asking where my real ring is, and missing the one Terry gave me, I have my ring back. We are keeping the fake one as a keepsake, but it's great to have the one Terry bought and designed for me. So that's the ring story.
Oh, and it fits!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)