Monday, March 26, 2007

#40: Two Months. Guh.

In 60 days (give or take) I either will have a) officially lost my shit over wedding drama or b) officially become Mrs. Sir (well not really officially because I don't plan to fool around with legal documents before the honeymoon). How weird will that be ya'll?

We have an officiant! Did I tell you that? Let me do a little happy dance and tell you again. We have an officiant! We signed her up for the Sun/Sir wedding lollapalooza a few weeks ago. And all was good. Then, while visiting the park to pick out our exact location, a ranger (with a nifty ranger's hat!) informed us we needed a permit to get married at the park. Seriously? A permit to let 13 people stand on the beach and say "I do" "I do" "Kiss her"? "Yes," said Mr. Ranger with his not-as-cool-as-I-once-thought hat, "and oh, by the way, we lock the gates 30 minutes before your ceremony is set to begin."

I either looked like I was going to cry or rip Ranger McStupidHat a new one because Sir quickly corralled me into the car. The only thought running through my head was "We're going to have to get a new officiant because of course she won't be able to commit to an earlier time and then we're going to be screeeeewed because it took us so long to find this one!"

But Sir, as he often does, had it under control. He called the Department of Parks and Rec and got the permit info, called the officiant AND the photographer to tell them about the new time and was all cool and calm while I had a meltdown in the corner. (Heh. Sound familiar?) My future husband does come in handy. Although he did tell me that if we ever do this wedding-thing again, we're hiring a planner. I sure do wish I had gotten that go-ahead 18 MONTHS AGO. I honestly thought planning our wedding would be easier than most since we're keeping it to a small, intimate group of next-of-kin, but... no. There are just less people around to help you plan and NO ONE around to take you out to drunkenly celebrate the fact that you're ending your single life, which is a big fat BUMMER.

I have lists, people. So many, many lists. (Give me a moment while I sit here and clutch Oakley and rock back and forth.) Better now.

Huh. When I sat down to write this Column, I hadn't planned on talking about wedding stuff. I was going to tell you about how I spilled scalding tea all over my lap and desk at work the other day and how it soaked into my keyboard and I had to take the walk of shame to the IT department with a wet lap and ask for a new keyboard because I had drowned mine in tea, but it all turned out ok because the only IT guy in his office turned out to be the one who I have always suspected has a crush on me so he got me a new keyboard and didn't say anything when he took the old one and it dripped tea out of the corner all the way down the hall. Again, I was going to try and talk about something besides the wedding, but I ended up talking about the wedding anyway. Well, that's pretty much the whole tea story anyway, except that I still have a little red mark right above my knee where the aforementioned scalding liquid burned its way through my pants. But you would be proud – I was wearing black pants so you couldn't even tell I spilled anything and I didn't even stain the white shirt I had on!

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