Okay, last post for a while, I promise. I’m moving to the laptop where I will write.
For a while now I have been sneaking tastes of Going Bridal, a truly well-written blog that details a bride-to-be’s insanity of planning her wedding. Having gone through this personal hell not once but twice, I enjoy her site immensely. (Just to be clear, I only actually got married once.) Anyone who has been through Wedding Hell should check it out.
I don’t know if I could have been that erudite whilst in Wedding Hell. I recently found a whole file of e-mails to people during the six months, however, and I appear to have had some sort of sense of humour. (Except when it came to the co-ordinator at the McMichael Gallery, where we had our reception, who tracked me down at 8:30 am the day of my wedding at the hairdresser’s to tell me that everything was under control and not to panic. Not to panic? Well, thanks; now you’ve got me worried, passing your worry-germs on to nice, calm me, who was actually having fun with my maid of honour and the hair stylist until you called.)
Example: On September 10, 1999 (that’s fifteen days before the wedding) I found this in an e-mail I had written to our musician, a lovely flautist:
“Well, the wedding hell that everyone warned me about with such glee is beginning. The odd thing is, it seems to be everyone else who’s obsessing about it, not Ron and I, nor our parents!”
And warn us with glee they did. We planned everything down to the last minute and the co-ordinator at the McMichael still managed to mess things up, forgetting we had asked for a full bar service (fixed seven days before the wedding, thank goodness), forgetting we had asked that the gallery be open to our guests (fixed two days before the day), and conveniently forgetting our entire schedule so that the reception room wasn’t ready for the guests when they arrived. (With grim and great joy my husband sent Taras and MLG after her. Muah-hah-hah-hah-hah.)
Also found this gem from the same day:
“Ah, yes, that game called “Real Life” where if you miss your perception check you either end up owing a lot of money or with a healthy chunk of foot in your mouth. In the words of the Immortal ROb, “Real Life? I hate that game”.
You forget, Marc, this is the guy who said he had until Aug 25 to tell us if he was coming or not. […] Or maybe he’s just trying to be funny. Please note that the very stressed bride-to-be isn’t laughing.
Rain “rescue me from wedding hell” Murphy”
That “guy who said he had until Aug 25 to tell us if he was coming or not” was in fact the best man. He eventually sent us his reply card so he could actually be counted among the final number in order to be fed.
A day later, September 11, 1999, the subsequent message sent out to the same people:
“Apology graciously accepted. Things aren’t funny these days, just very irritating. If one more person asks if I’m nervous I’ll eat their liver. No, I’m not nervous; it’s everyone else’s stupid questions I have to put up with. And that includes the wedding co-ordinator at the McMichael and the attitude-problem minister in charge of the Doctor’s House. I’m fine; Ron’s fine; the parents are fine (even though Ron’s great-aunt is positive his mother collapsed of stressing out over the wedding (ha!)). We’re not stressing out over details like people seem to keep gleefully hoping. We’re stressing out because we’re trying to keep up with normal lives while making final lists for travel, outfits, scheduling, putting up with stupidity and people not thinking things through on their own. […] You know how much I hate organizing things and making sure everyone is set. Well, some people are conveniently forgetting that. All this to say that tempers are short and please be careful.
“Gods this was depressing. My deepest apologies back at both of you. I – we – are going to need a lot of support and understanding in the next thirteen days. Yes, thirteen days. And I *still* have to buy stockings. Sigh.”
I think I ended up buying stockings less than a week before the day. Yes, I bought two pairs – just in case. One is still in the package. The other pair which I wore doesn’t even have a run.
That’s as bad as I got, though. Didn’t lose my temper with my husband-to-be, or with any parental unit. I remember being surprised that we were as relaxed as we were. (I sincerely hope we disappointed the McMichael co-ordinator, and all of the elderly relatives who were being doomsayers.)
No, I certainly don’t miss organising a wedding. But I am enjoying being a voyeur over at Sara’s Going Bridal. Especially since she’s making a corset to wear under her dress. Ooooh. Maybe instead of a nice blue patterned satin I’ll do one in sage green.