First let me say that I wish I could invite every single person I’ve ever met to my wedding. I really do. I’m so excited and honored and blessed to be marrying this man, and I wish I could share the day with everyone. But I can’t. So I feel guilty writing about my wedding; I wonder if there are people who read this who I can’t invite, and I don’t want to hurt any feelings.
But today was a big day and I want to put it into the blog that encompasses my adult life. It was the day I walked into the post office on Avent Ferry Road and handed the World’s Friendliest Postman a stack of invitations for my wedding. He took them, placed them in an ugly plastic bin, and off they will go to various loved ones all over the country. Which means: THIS IS REALLY HAPPENING! In a matter of weeks I’m going to get a pretty little diamond and platinum band to wear on my left ring finger, and I’m going to get a new last name!
On Tuesday Allan and I got our marriage license, which was a really fun experience. Neither of us slept very well the night before – we were both nervous and excited and anxious. When we got to the office of the Register of Deeds, there was no line. It was smooth sailing. We signed our names on a bunch of papers, showed proof of ID and BAM! We could legally wed. Then we went to The Cheesecake Factory to have a celebratory lunch, and when I told our server what we were celebrating, he specially made a cute little dessert for us, complete with wedding rings drawn in chocolate. As delightful and unexpected as it was, had we known we were getting a special little dessert, we would NOT have ordered cheesecake! Allan and I both had a massive sugar overload!
Tonight I don’t have to make dinner because – drum roll, please – we’re doing a taste testing with the caterer! It’s probably the highlight of Allan’s wedding planning experience. Coming in a close second: taste testing the cakes.
During last night’s baseball game/thunderstorm.
It’s only halfway through the day and I’m already emotionally drained. Got up, was having a good day. Then I went downstairs and found that my dog exploded in the kitchen. He ate something that didn’t agree with him, so he got rid of it. On the floor. Via his ass. And oh my God, the smell. It didn’t dissipate until I turned off the AC and opened every window in the house, which allowed the stench to leave while the humid, 90+ degree heat crept in.
And then I checked my email only to learn that unless I can arrive at the RBC Center before 5:00 for each weekday event, I can no longer work there. Nor can anyone else. No head’s up, no warning and no explanation given. Right now it’s not a problem seeing as how it’s my ONLY JOB. But in the future, should I find myself gainfully employed, it will most likely be a very big problem. It’s terribly frustrating because – and I’m not exaggerating here – my job at the arena has been the most stable job I’ve ever had. In fact, it’s pretty much been the most stable element of my adult life. Sad, isn’t it? So to me it’s more than just a job – a job I love, by the way – it’s consistency in an otherwise very inconsistent life.
So I told Allan I was having a bad day, a very bad day. I was on hands and knees cleaning dog poop with not-nearly-absorbent-enough paper towels, and then I got a huge dose of stress heaped on top of what is already the Mt. Kilimanjaro of stress currently hanging out in my life. Whee. Fun. Not really.
Then I went downstairs and made a sandwich. I curled up on the couch, watched a DVRed episode of Boston Med, and suddenly saw Allan’s car pull in front of the house. It was the middle of the day, so I was confused – he should be at work, earning your tax dollars. Then I saw him get out of his car, looking very handsome in dress clothes and Ray Bans, carrying two bouquets of sunflowers. And I cried. He held me, told me everything would be okay, kissed me and went back to work. I have a really good guy. A really, REALLY good guy.
Blah, blah, blah.
So, anyway. Allan’s mama was in town last week and we did wedding stuff. Got her a dress to wear, visited the salon that has the unenviable task of making me look pretty for my jaunt down the aisle, roamed around Wake Forest, the town closest to the ceremony site, etc… Lots of time in the car. Lots of time in dressing rooms.
And yesterday we went to a Durham Bulls game where we started out with temps hovering close to 100 degrees and ended with a spectacular thunderstorm. I love thunderstorms and the ones in North Carolina are pretty fantastic, so I was a happy camper. Close friends, my honey, thunder and lightning. Couldn’t have been better.