I think I am officially All Better now. No longer sick! No longer so tired that just remaining upright makes me weep! It’s all good.
It’s as though I awoke from a fog, looked around, and declared OH MY GOD I’M GETTING MARRIED IN JUST OVER A MONTH OH HOLY HELL WHOSE IDEA WAS THIS? (Answer: It may have been my idea. Back when Otto and I got back together, and I was all about living in the moment, what with my “Do not even do this unless you mean it this time, I’m SERIOUS” schtick.)
So I’ve got about a month to put together a wedding. At least I’m not doing anything else while I do that. HAHAHAHAHA! Lord, I’m having flashbacks to when I planned my first wedding, while still in grad school. I thought that was hard.
Of course, I was 22 and knew everything, so what do you want. I thought it was hard to plan a wedding while being in grad school and having to take classes and stuff. That was probably because I’d never tried to plan a wedding while working, raising two children, selling my house, having a fiance over a thousand miles away, and losing my mind.
(The mind-losing part is optional, but I recommend it. While it may appear, on the surface, to make things more complicated? At least it affords you plenty of interesting conversations with the voices in your head while you figure the rest out.)
Anyway, I thought I’d get some wedding-related stuff done today. Like finally ordering Otto’s wedding ring. So I went online to order it…
… and my internet went out.
After a couple of internet-less hours, my service came back, and I hopped right online to get the ring ordered. Mission accomplished, I moved on to doing some research on how to get a marriage license. (Gimme a break, the last time I got one was a long time ago and about 3,000 miles away.)
My inbox beeped. My order confirmation! Except, what’s this? Not an order confirmation. A note to let me know that the ring I’d ordered was not in stock, and I could have it in about six weeks, if that’s okay.
I canceled the order. And tried not to see it as a bad omen.
After some poking around, I called another site carrying the same ring for nearly twice the price and basically asked them if they would price match. (Clearly I have been buying too many shoes at Zappos; I now believe everyone should offer a price match guarantee to get my business.) The very nice customer service gentleman in Ireland encouraged me to mail in my request to his manager, and told me they’d get back to me tomorrow. Hope springs eternal. Though he did check the other site and say something along the lines of “They can’t possibly even be making any money on that,” so I’m not holding my breath.
Then I spent some time researching local restaurants and poking myself in the eyes with a ballpoint pen. Remember how we were going to elope? Just us and the kids? Well now we’re going to have some immediate family there (I don’t know, something about Otto being the oldest son in his family and how it would break his mother’s heart into a zillion pieces if we didn’t invite any family) and we figured we should probably feed them after the ceremony. As of this moment I am leaning heavily towards pizza on paper plates. But I suppose I may come back around to that whole nice restaurant idea once the ink dries on my eyeballs.
And I do not recall simply GETTING DRESSED to be so freakin’ complicated. Perhaps because I only had to dress myself, last time, and it was really kind of over and done once I found my dress.
Monkey has a suit but no shirt, and I cannot find him a belt to save my life. Apparently when your waist is as tiny as his, you are not allowed to have a plain black leather belt. You must want a canvas belt with whales or monkeys or something on it. (Come to think of it, I might be okay with a belt sporting monkeys. Or scrotums.) I do sort of feel a need to get him clothing as staid as possible, to offset his mop of hair and somehow convey to my new in-laws that really, I am not raising him to be a bum. Because LOOK! At his ACCESSORIES! Clearly he is a pampered, loved child.
Chickadee wants bright pink shoes with heels (not HEEL heels, but you know, a little heel that goes clack-clack when she walks) to go with her dress for the wedding. Guess what’s really hard to find. Go on, GUESS! As Liz was kind enough to explain to me—because what do I know—“fuchsia isn’t really a big color this season.” Who knew? I mean, I thought that for girls aged 0-10, every hue of pink is ALWAYS a big color. Today I ordered her some red shoes, in desperation. If she rejects them, well, Christmas is taken care of (shoe-wise), anyway.
Also, I need to find someone to sew some boobs into my dress for me. What would I find that under in the yellow pages? Boobs? Bridal boobs? Halter boobs? Help My Space-Age Australian Bra Did Not Fulfill All My Boobular Dreams? My phone book is woefully lacking when it comes to categories.
My life is difficult, I tell you.