|Dear Karma, take note: I expect the day itself|
to go well and be 100% free of dogs peeing on me.
No, no, there's no drama going on with D and me (sorry, as I know that'd make for a more salacious post). It's not the marriage that is being threatened. It's the universe refusing to play nice on this whole already-a-hassle logistics phase of planning a major event.
- Out of the six caterers and bakers I have reached out to thus far, only two have called me back. One to say that they're taking a company vacation the week of our wedding. I have already pretty much decided to work with a baker I like here, and risk transporting the goods a couple hundred miles away. That IS an option for the cake course, but would be harder to pull off for the dinner... CALL ME BACK, CATERERS.
- We ordered Save the Dates a month ago... which still haven't arrived in anyone's mailboxes. The fiance has been quite diligent about calling and hounding the mailing service. They keep pushing back the delivery date: "Oh, well, because of the package you picked, it takes up to 12 business days." After twelve days: "Oh, actually, that package can take up to 22 business days." What. The. AITCH. They're also really awesome save the dates, and I'm afraid some Buzzfeed addict found them and is gonna Photoshop out our faces and use them as their own...
- Also, looking at the big picture: according to all but one of the dozen or so planning timelines I've glanced at, I am approximately one year behind in my wedding planning. The one that says I'm only about a month behind has been printed out, highlighted, and tossed into my car for frequent, crumpled reference. The eleven others claiming I'm a year behind have been cursed and given the stink-eye.
But, um, weddings are like theater, right? I just keep thinking about that breaking point in the rehearsal process. You know, that night where everyone is supposed to be off book but no one knows their lines, and the set's not built, and no one is buying tickets and the costumes aren't done and you're beginning to fear that this show is doomed and you're going to wind up with a bunch of naked actors on a bare stage fumbling the text to a nearly empty house. You're having the actor's nightmare every time you close your eyes. It's all gone horribly, horribly wrong.
Then, suddenly, it all comes together. The stars align, the set goes up, the actors get their act together, and you have a show. We call it "theater magic."
So, like - "wedding magic" is a thing, right?