So our first major accomplishment of the week was finally sending out all our wedding invitations. Leaving them at the post office on Thursday morning felt much like I imagine abandoning one's precious firstborn at preschool must feel like: which is to say, AWESOME. I mean, man, I love those invitations, but I was so sick of seeing them.
"Well, finally. Took him long enough!"
"How's the planning going?"
"Wow, you're getting close, huh?"
"How's it all going? Getting stressed yet?"
"I can totally tell you've lost some weight. You look skinny now!"
"Only eight weeks to go! My god, how are you going to do it all?"
"So how's that planning going anyway?"
"Have you thought about your bouquet?"
"And your cake?"
Could just be that I've lived in San Francisco too long, but I've always believed that the body will express the feelings the mind often can't. Wow, did you read that sentence I just wrote? Sign me up for a chakra-centering workshop, stat! Bring me my patchouli! I've got crystals and mung beans and a tie-dyed Grateful Dead shirt from 1972 and I'm not afraid to use them!
Every time we go down to San Diego, like we did this weekend, we get so much done that I start to go the opposite direction of worrying about the wedding, and instead I just get pleasantly complacent. Wedding? I shrug, what wedding? Oh right, THAT wedding. Eh, it'll all come together. This is either because we get so much done down there that my buckling to-do list bounces back into something resembling approachability, or because Virgin America---recognizing a harried bride when it sees one---is habitually slipping Xanax into my diet coke on the plane.
Is it just me or is anyone else pathologically polite to the people who work in the dressing room? I mean, I'm polite to everyone---or at least I try to be---but my manners, for some reason, zoom into overdrive when faced with a dressing room attendant.
I have. I really have. I've actually gone insane. Why else would I decide today to buy a hundred paper cocktail napkins and stamp each one with a stamp set purchased especially for the occasion? AND ENJOY EVERY SECOND OF IT?
I mean, that's the really sick part.
You know what I've been thinking lately? This is going to sound sappy, so bear with me, but I've been thinking this: I really feel like the Internet has been helping me with my wedding.
Okay, that came out totally wrong. That came out, like, "hey, have you heard of this great thing called the Internet? You can order things on it FROM YOUR COMPUTER. I know! From a little box! And you can do research! On the same little box! Boy howdy, this "Internet" thing sure is helping me out with my wedding. By the way, is it still 1995?"
I didn't go to the BlogHer conference this year, but it sure was interesting to follow along from afar. As far as I can tell, for instance, from piecing together various tweets and blog posts, a baby got elbowed in the head. Is that right? Did that happen? Did a baby really get elbowed in the head? What the hell did that poor baby do, steal someone's last drink ticket? Get your own vodka-cranberry, baby! This is mine! Pow! That'll teach you! You probably write compensated reviews too, don't you? I thought as much! How'd you like to review this knuckle sandwich?
I was in Hawaii most of last week for work---yeah, yeah, I know, you don't have to say it---and the result has been that I seem to have lost touch with reality a little since getting back. When I woke up this morning, for instance, I realized it was already the second day of August---August!---and do you know what comes after August? A TIME WHEN I NEED TO HAVE MADE AN AWFUL LOT OF PLACE CARDS AND MENUS AND PROGRAMS, THAT'S WHAT.
Hey, I'm getting married next month!
Got a travel question? Need some advice? Drop me a line and we'll work it out together, in front of the entire Internet.
