Greetings from Invitation Central, Internet! The weather is fine and I wish you were here. No, I really wish you were here, because then I'd have someone to help me glue seventy-five tiny doilies into seventy-five tiny RSVP envelopes. Yeah, I know, that sentence sort of reads like a deranged orangutan took control of my computer and wrote it---doilies? in envelopes?

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That's what Sean said in the linens section of Bed Bath and Beyond yesterday afternoon---I'd accidentally picked up a flat sheet, instead of a fitted one---and the fact that we laughed so uproariously at this hilarious pun (sheet! sheet! get it?) is proof that, at that point, we'd been in Bed Bath and Beyond a full two hours longer than anyone should ever be in Bed Bath and Beyond, which is to say thirty minutes, tops. 

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* Sushi

* Star Wars

* Robert Pattinson

* Group dining

* Cetaphil

* Broth-based soups

* Engagement photos

* Don Draper (I prefer Pete Campbell)

* Margaritas

* Dancing With The Stars

* Tarte Cheek Stain

* Speaking in LOLcat

* Eat, Pray, Love 

* Las Vegas

* Madonna

I mean, what am I missing here?

(And by the way, feel free to add your own.)

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One of the things I've always wanted is an engagement party. Funny thing about an engagement party, though: you can only have it at a very specific time in your life. It's not like saying "you know, one of the things I've always wanted is a really awesome Mac computer" and then running out to the Apple Store and buying yourself a really awesome Mac computer. No, an engagement party is far more elusive.

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So I went with Dress C  in the end, which was kind of a no-brainer---at least according to the comments---and also secretly my favorite anyway. Thank you all so much for making my mind up for me; I've decided I'm no longer going to make any important decisions myself, I'm just going to put them to a vote on the Internet instead. So much easier than actually having to think. How do you feel about smooth peanut butter versus crunchy?

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So I have a new trick, and the trick is this: every week, I write my to-do list as though the President were asking me to do the things on it. Genius! I know! Because then I'm all "Well, Obama wants me to order my new contact lenses and email that guitarist about playing during the cocktail hour and fax the contract to the caterer. So: DONE!"

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I haven't written a Best Thing Ever in a while because I haven't really found anything worthy of the title---ah! malaise!---and also because perhaps this Best Thing Ever malarkey is getting just a little old. I mean, can one be so relentlessly upbeat about new discoveries all the time? I think one cannot. Especially when one is planning a wedding with every spare millisecond of one's time. Hey, you know what would be the Best Thing Ever? IF ALL THE VENDORS I'VE EMAILED WOULD ACTUALLY GET BACK TO ME FOR ONCE. 

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So somebody needs to alert the FBI because the First Lady is definitely stalking me. Did she read my post about her husband writing my to-do list? Is she mad at me for taking up his time? Because I tell you, Internet, Michelle Obama is totally following me. And I don't mean on Twitter.

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I am finding it impossible to see past September 5th, 2009. It's like I have tunnel vision, the date looming ever closer in my mind, blinders around everything else. And while I can visualize every single tiny detail of September 5th---indeed, visualizing every single tiny detail of September 5th has been what I've been doing since we officially set the date at the beginning of the year---I can't even begin to imagine what September 6th, 2009 will be like. 

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Sean and I went to see Wilco at the Greek with a couple of friends on Saturday night, and if you don't know what the Greek is, it's this wonderful outdoor amphitheater on the Berkeley campus; probably the best place you can ever see a show. From the grassy bit at the top you can see the Golden Gate Bridge if you squint, which is something, at least, because you can hardly see the band.

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I just wrote half an entry about how wedding planning is haaaaaaaaaard, no-one ever told me it would be haaaaaaaaard, why is it so haaaaaaaard, but then it made me want to kick myself in the teeth and punch myself in the clavicle and karate chop myself in the pancreas, and so I deleted it instead. And then I thought "well, what am I going to post about now?" And then I remembered.

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