So now that our wicked, ungodly relationship is now considered boring enough to be sanctioned by the state we’re suddenly in a fevered pitch to get this party started.
We’ve got the date, the venue, the minister, the food, the cake, the flower girl, the ring bearers, the best (handy)man, and the invitations dealt with, or in progress.
Oh, and I can barely type because of this:
We picked up a bunch of odds and ends today: the flower girl’s basket, the boxes the ring bearers will bear the rings in, the invitations we’ll be mailing, the book we’ll use as a guest book, etc.
I’m too practical to engage in the wedding machine too much — you can spend a lot of money, even at an inexpensive craft store, on specialty items for a wedding, but I just can’t see buying a little white satin pillow that will never be used again to carry the rings fifty feet up an aisle. Not for twenty bucks, especially. And we’d have to buy two because we have two ring bearers. I’d rather spend the money on things that matter, like the rehearsal dinner. And booze. Plus, with three kids and a handyman to support, every penny counts!
Except I want a big rock. The end.